#i can tell the Woman Times are near because I feel like im slipping into insanity

[abyssalcitrus]

Hate my brain because I have things I say I love, but do I actually know a lot about it?? No !!

Claim to be a fan of outer space. Dont ask me anything about it

Same with the ocean. Ur a marine biology major I'm gonna be leagues behind u

Literally building my own dang story around ancient Scottish history. My entire lower bookshelf is all Scotland. Have I read any of it ??? Not really !!!!

im a fraud

[lemmetreatya]

garbageman!endeavour who notices how you only seem to remember to bring out the trash once you hear the truck rounding the corner of your street — sporting your fluffy pink gown and equally as fluffy pink sliders as you waddle out of your house with multiple bags in tow.

and because garbageman!endeavour is on road ahead duty, he always catches you do it whilst hes leaning against the brick wall of your apartment complex, sly smile on his face as you seem to struggle.

“need any help?” he’ll gruffly ask each time, and you always reject.

but garbageman!endeavour knows the only reason why you reject his help is through pride, because when you come up to him for quick chats after you’ve dumped the bags, your breath is always haggard.

“no. but ill tell you when i do.”

and garbageman!endeavour has to think twice about whether the way you bat your lashes at him, or the way you always comment about how big he is, means anything. it can’t, because surely you see the fat silver band that he always adorns on his left index finger and heed the frequent passing mentions of his kids.

but one week, garbageman!endeavour notices you’re out earlier but with no bags in tow and how the cut of your gown is much lower than it needs to be.

he nods you a good morning from the wall, no words leaving his mouth in case they end up betraying him but he didn’t have to — you were ready to do that for him.

”not gonna ask if i need any help today?” you muse

garbageman!endeavour cautiously looks between you and the garbage area behind you.

“you usually dont need my help”

“but today i do.” you say as you start to walk towards the side gate of your apartment complex building.

garbageman!endeavour knows he shouldn’t have followed you back there, and mentally apologises that his wife forgive him, because you don’t even have to initiate anything before he’s pressing you against the wall and laps his lips against your exposed skin.

it doesnt take long for things to escalate. garbageman!endeavour knows hes short on time and so hes frantically tugging the rope of your fluffy gown instead of simply untying it. when the gown parts, hes trying his best to get an eye full of your voluptuous body, even tells you to ‘leave it on” once he sees you trying to shrug it over your shoulder

garbageman!endeavour easily frees his cock from the restraints of his grubby work trousers rather than tug it down, his weapon long and flushed pink at the top. you want to marvel in it’s length and size but garbageman!endeavour isn’t giving you the time to as he quickly scoops you up with no qualm at all — one hand on your back and the other underneath your ass — and hovers you over his cock. he easily slips himself inside of you, and he lets out the most desperate moan because your cunt is so much warmer and snuggier than he could ever imagine.

garbageman!endeavour doesnt even let you adjust! already his hips are pistoling back and forth like an animal in heat, his big hands surprisingly holding you securely in his grip.

and you feel so thrilled yet so disoriented because who knew a man was strong enough to hold a woman like you without any support?! not forgetting how full you feel taking him because he fills you up in all the ways you couldnt imagine.

the two of you romp as garbageman!endeavour holds you mid air, your insides clench over his mighty cock and garbageman!endeavour is sure he’s seeing stars

the position isn’t sturdy concerning garbageman!endeavour is holding all your weight and so you latch an arm around his shoulder. but still, hes got you good enough that you’re able to use your other hand to clamp the fat of your breast and pinch at the perky nipple, the sensation euphoric in accumulation with garbageman!endeavour long thrusts.

but time is growing short because garbageman!endeavour can hear the churn of the truck and the shouts of his colleagues nearing your corner — but still — he’s determined to finish what he started.

“shi’. shit im gettin’ there.”

he feels your hand try to push away from him but your moans are just as wanton as his.

but garbageman!endeavour’s too committed, too pussy drunk to heed your signs seriously. because he’s so determined that he needs this. that he needed to leave you with a reminder of him, a reminder that you needed his help.

but in all honesty, you already knew this was going to be the outcome. clearly, seeing as he was a man with four kids.

“f-fuck, imma…i ha’v tuh—”

before you know it garbageman!endeavour is slightly hunching over as he unsolicitedly pours his wet seed inside of you, his groan guttural as he finishes loudly besides your ear.

garbageman!endeavour was a fan of the experience — surprised he didn’t feel much guilt afterwards either. the man was wretched enough to sleep besides his wife each night with no qualm or plagued mind about what he’d done.

that is, until a few months down the line, he notices how you still waddle to bring the garbage out front, but because of your rounding belly that peaks from underneath your gown.

[writingjourney]

Papa(i cant decide what number 1-4) : angry at his lover, because she avoids him..

Reader in her bedroom: p-please love...kill me i have a fever

https://themidult.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/painting-woman-ill-sick-fluey-unwell2-800x500.jpg

(sorry for the link im too shy to send this ask as me, but i think its kinda funny)

ghosting | papa x gn!reader

I could not decide on a Papa either, so I kept it as neutral as possible and (I hope) you can all imagine the Papa of your choice :) and anon, you need not be shy, I am so grateful for your ask <3

summary: your papa thinks you're avoiding him but once he finally finds you, he realises that he got it all wrong.

content: 2.5k words, sick care, some suggestive remarks, fluff mostly

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Papa scoffs into his afternoon coffee, nearly spilling the hot liquid all over his papal robes. Still nothing. He’s staring at his phone, the screen cracked from when it slipped out of his pocket while he fucked you on his desk two days ago. And yet he can clearly make out the two blue hooks indicating that you’ve read his message from this morning.

What he also sees is that there is still no reply. Your silence, your absence, the uncertainty – it drives him mad. He is so used to having your undivided attention, seeing your name pop up on his screen with a frequency that keeps him from getting any work done as of late. Not your name, though, no. He saved you under “amore mio” a long time ago. Not that you’re aware of it just yet, but his feelings for you have long since surpassed mere lust and friendliness.

His mind constantly wanders to you. Knowing your schedule by heart, it is easy to imagine what you’re doing, what may have you so distracted. Right now, you should be helping in the gardens, sweaty and panting from the exertions in the warm afternoon sun. He knows how pretty you look like that, even more so when you’re sprawled out underneath him as he gets lost in the soft curves of your body. He yearns to lick the salty sweat off your heaving chest, to hear your whimpers as his lips leave not a single inch of your skin untouched.

Alas, he is stuck in his office, brooding over paperwork.

He’s trying hard to concentrate on the words in front of him, not to stare at his screen all day like a depraved, starving man. Impatient, he even set the phone to vibrate but despite knowing he’d get a notification if you texted him, he taps the screen every two minutes to check. Just to make sure he doesn’t miss it. 

Oh how he’s longing for even the most delicate touch, a simple kiss on his cheek as you tell him to take it easy today, your hand squeezing his across the table. You used to do that, visit him in his office at least two times a day. Not always innocent. Actually, very rarely innocent. He can almost hear the echo of you screaming his name for half the abbey to hear. And yet, you have not been anywhere near these four desecrated walls in almost two days. Not since the last time you were intimate with him.

Why won’t you reply? A flash of doubt and a pang of anger. Could you be getting tired of him? Did he come on too strong? If that were the case, you should tell him. He’s a busy man, you of all people know that, and yet here you are practically ghosting him, as the younger Siblings call it. By now it’s almost dinner time, you must have had a chance to at least type in a yes or no. Papa knows if he can’t see you tonight he is going to lose his mind. He needs the confirmation or he’ll be nervous and distracted for the rest of his day.

Generous as he is, Papa gives you another hour, finishing up the dreadful paperwork before he has a quick dinner of reheated pasta from the day prior. It tastes like nothing to him and the emptiness of his quarters only adds to his foul mood. His eyes are still trained on his phone, the battery still half full, unused with the lack of texting. The only time his screen lights up this evening it’s to remind him that his screen time has gone up by eighty percent over the past week. It seems like that’s an issue you’re solving for him right now.

Papa knows he cannot go another night without seeing you. He needs to confront you, ask if you really lost interest or if you just need more space. Whatever it is, having clarity will be easier to bear than silence.

Entering the dorms is always risky business. People gossip, someone is going to see where he’s knocking, and while everyone knows the two of you are… something, he’s not keen on everyone speculating about why you’re suddenly on cooldown.

But when he knocks, nothing happens. He repeats the motion, rapping his knuckles against the wood three times, louder now. Nothing. He hears music, some sort of electronic beats, the tunes wafting over from another dorm room. A party, surely. Yours however remains eerily quiet. In a last attempt to find out if you’re even home, he tries the door.

It is unlocked, so you must be home. For a moment he considers leaving again but then a painful thought hits him: If you’re home, not opening up… it means you’re avoiding him. Clearly. 

What crime did he commit to deserve your ignorance? His anger propels him to enter, despite knowing he’s invading your privacy. But he cannot go back to his quarters without confronting you, not when he’s already in such pain. He’s feeling the anticipatory grief over losing you and it’s all because he let his guard down way too fast, leaning into your kindness, your loving nature. He always had a feeling that this was too good to be true, that despite thinking this time would be different, he’d end up in pain. Everyone just wants the sex, the fun, not the commitment that being with a Papa, maybe even loving a Papa, meant.

Fiddling with the doorknob, he feels awful for even thinking these things. You never gave him reason to doubt you, but it is just so easy to slip back into his old insecurities. Certain that he’s just seeing ghosts, Papa pushes the door open silently.

Upon entering the small antechamber that leads to your bedroom, he hears you moaning. He hears the rustling of sheets, the mattress creaking. A loud fuck.

Papa stops dead in his tracks, nearly toppling over as a wave of nausea hits him. For a second, his worst fears and his deepest insecurities melt into one big gooey ball of panic. He wants to be sure that what you have is special, but you never openly decided to be exclusive, that you wouldn’t see other people. He’s been meaning to ask, to tell you how he feels… too late, it seems.

But no. He soldiers on. If anyone else dares to touch you, they will receive all of his demonic, unholy wrath. He has a whole company of ghouls who would love to get a taste of human flesh again, if need be. Papa opens the door to your bedroom, anxious but driven, ready to face whatever lies behind. And he does find you in bed like he expected, only… you’re alone.

You don’t even look up. Are you sleeping? The room is stuffy, curtains closed and all he hears is your whimpering.

“Hello?” he asks quietly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“P-papa?” 

Your voice is barely audible. His anger turns into concern as he hurries to your side, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Immediately you reach for his hand in an attempt to squeeze, but it seems like you’re too weak to clench your muscles.

“Kill me, Papa. Release me from this torment,” you whine. “Please.”

“Tesoro, what is going on?”

You groan in reply, a sound only made more horrifying by the soreness of your throat. You sound like a dying animal and if he’s honest, you kind of smell like one too. He wonders how long you’ve been in this position.

“I am dying,” you whisper.

“What happened? Are you injured?”

He’s scanning your body but most of it is covered. Before he can pull away the duvet, you try to squeeze his hand yet again, this time with more vigor.

“S-sick,” you choke out. “The flu.”

“The flu?”

Papa ignores the bad conscience that’s settling in his mind and gives into his worry. He jumps up, opening the curtains and the window to let in some fresh air. You hiss like you’ve been burned, despite the sun already setting. Disregarding your complaints, Papa finds a thermometer and pain killers on your bedside table.

“We need to check if you have a fever, tesorino, can you open your pretty mouth for me?”

You giggle at his words. “I’m too sick for that, Papa.”

“You clearly have a fever if you think I’m going to laugh about this right now,” he states, removing his gloves and throwing them aside. His scowl is not in earnest, he’s not annoyed, of course, but he needs you to know your health is paramount.

“You’re so dramatic,” you whisper but you let him slot the thermometer between your lips anyway.

“I am dramatic? Who’s been locked inside their room like they have the plague without replying to my texts?” 

Papa presses the backs of his hands to your hot cheeks, acting like a mom who doesn’t trust the thermometer. You’re burning up, worrying him even more. Your skin is ashen, hair tousled, and he can see you shaking slightly.

At his words, your brow furrows. “I texted back,” you say, words muffled by the device in your mouth.

“You did not, amore. I have been wondering what I did to upset you so,” Papa admits. “I thought you were avoiding me. Ghosting me, as they say.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and as soon as Papa pulls out the thermometer, forehead scrunching up as he reads the 38.9°C, you start babbling.

“I was not, Papa. I would never. I was so sad I could not see you.” You swallow, groaning as the pain in your scratchy throat hits you. “Can you check my phone? I dropped it.”

Papa finds it under your bed. He lets you unlock it and you’re right, you did reply, only you never hit sent. I am sick in bed, Papa. I miss you too, but I would not want you to catch the flu. ♥︎

“I would never avoid you on you purpose,” you whisper, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

He bends down to kiss your feverish forehead, feeling the heat against his lips. “I know that now, amore, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I ever thought such a thing.”

“Amore?” you ask, grinning through a thick layer of haze. “That’s new, Papa.”

He can practically feel his cheeks turning rosy under his paint. “You know I like you, gioia mia, that is not new.”

“But amore is not just liking, right? It’s–”

“You have a fever, dolce. I need you to take the ibuprofen. Where do you keep your glasses?”

You pout at his interruption and with one last look at your puckered lips, he jumps up, avoiding not only your question but also the intense urge to kiss you. You’re in no condition to have a deep conversation right now. He searches the cupboards in your tiny kitchenette until he finds a glass he can fill with water. By the looks of it, you have not eaten all day, it’s far too clean.

“I don’t know if I can swallow,” you whine upon his return.

“We both know you’re very good at swallowing, amore. Open up.”

You frown without any real intensity and it’s an adorable sight, even in your messy, unkempt state. “I thought we weren’t joking about this.”

“It is allowed when I do it,” Papa says, practically shoving the pill into your mouth. “Drink, amore. You need liquids.”

You manage to swallow and the water feels like honey but only for a moment before the pain returns and your throat protests wildly. Even so, your mind still clings to his words.

“Papa,” you whine, reaching for his hand as soon as he’s set down the glass.

His mismatched eyes flicker to yours, still worried. “Yes?”

“You never answered.”

“We should talk about this tomorrow, sì? When you feel better.” At your sad expression he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “I will go find some soup for you now, some other medication.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“I will come back, dolce, you don’t make that pretty head worry too much, eh?” 

You whimper dramatically. “But what if I am dead by then?”

Papa sighs but it’s followed by deep chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “You win, amore, I will text one of the ghouls.”

As soon as the text is sent, Papa closes the window again and starts to undress. From your position on the bed you’re watching him like a hawk, pulling a fuzzy blanket over your mouth to hide your grin. He can’t help but find it endearing and suddenly he feels even worse for assuming the worst today. Once he’s in his briefs and undershirt, he crawls into bed behind you, pulling you close. You’re a little sweaty, not exactly smelling fresh, but he doesn’t mind. Feeling your warmth, having you tucked against him, it’s all he really needs. 

And as his heart does a flip, racing thanks to your proximity, he gently cups your cheek. “Do you think you can give me a kiss, amore?”

“But you’ll get sick,” you whisper, the protest dying as soon as he tilts your chin up.

His lips graze yours, softly pressing in more and more until you melt against him. Even your lips are warmer than usual and he keeps it chaste, breaking away to look into your eyes again.

“Papas don’t get sick, eh?” He gives a tender kiss to your forehead, gently running his fingers through your hair before they settle on your back. “Now, you wanted an answer.”

Your look is pleading and it’s like your shining eyes are trying to lure the words right out of him. He wonders how he ever worried you may not feel the same when it’s written all over your face. His nerves start showing then, fidgety fingers drawing tiny patterns on your back, and he can feel your hands pressing into his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you,” he finally says. “You are my amore, my love. Tieni il mio cuore in mano. Please, I want to ask you to be mine.”

“I love you, too.” A big grin spreads out on your face. You lean in to kiss him again, softly moving your lips against his, and you stay impossibly close as you whisper. “And I am yours, forever, if you are mine.”

Papa smiles against your mouth and for a moment he forgets that you’re sick and kisses you harder. When he breaks away, you’re breathless, coughing softly, but he can tell by the happy look on your face that it was worth it.

“I am yours, amore,” he says. “I am yours forever, if Satan allows me.”

You settle against his solid chest, warm cheek pressed to the skin just above the neckline of his shirt. After today, your Papa vows to take better care of you, to trust you fully and cast any doubts aside as soon as they arise. And so he wraps his arms around you even tighter, whispering soft praises  into your hair until you’re finally asleep again, the only sound in the room your soft and even breathing.

non vedo l’ora di baciarti – I can’t wait to kiss you

tieni il mio cuore in mano – you hold my heart in your hand

[not-alien-girl-v]

Lost In Reality (George Daniel)

warning: drinking, mentions of sex

note: this took me like a week to write. im so lonely wish i had a clingy lovesick george

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

r&b music is pumping through the speakers of the club. it’s dark in the vip section where you sit and a bit damp with sweat, everything is.

adam went home early tonight, you all bid your goodbyes and a parting farewell hug to him before he slipped out the door a few hours prior. it’s now nearing midnight and your fresh nail polish is chipped.

you sit alone in the private booth with ross. the two of you are tag-teaming being designated drivers tonight, figuring if you both only get mildly tipsy tonight, you can both be equally responsible enough for your two knuckleheads you’re supervising tonight.

speak of the devil, knuckle head #1 comes waltzing up to the table, looking a little lost, but when his gaze meets yours, he freezes in his spot like he’s just remembered he left his stove on, then squeezes in next to you.

“scooch over, i’m tired,” george whines, spilling onto you over the leather seat and your velvety dress.

you give hime a quick smile, feeling as though it sufficed as a brief greeting to your lover as you continue your conversation with ross. “i saw your dad at the store the other day, it was weird, he recognized me and everything.”

ross chuckles, “what was he buying?”

“i think it might have been like a few apples, maybe a-“

knucklehead #1, however, does not feel quite welcome enough, so he scoots even more into you, hand on the back of your neck, right at the roots of your hair and the other gripping your waist. “hey.”

you pause to stare at him, “hey.”

“and what else?” ross tries through stifled giggles to reanimate your dying conversation. george busies himself placing wet kisses to your neck.

“a carton of orange juice, laundry detergent,” your words are broken apart by george and his suffocating attack to your neck. when he realizes you’ve stopped talking, he uses his grip on your neck to his advantage and pulls you in for a full, smothering kiss. you humor him, not entirely enjoying the taste of tequila on his tongue but bearing it because he’s clearly needing something from you.

he pulls away, surprising that he chose to before you did, and presses his cheek into your chest for a moment, “ross, this is my woman, did you know that.”

“i did, mate.” ross glances back at you repeatedly, making fun of george without even having to say anything. george evidently does not pick up on this one bit.

“and did you know that i love her?”

“mm, it’s news to me. maybe you should let everyone else know, too.” you shoot ross a deathly glare, knowing that he knows how much you hate making a scene and you can tell he’s only joking but the knucklehead didn’t quite pick up on that.

with a cackle, he stands up, much to your horror, clinking a fork onto your glass and pulling you in close to him. you’re mildly freaking out, glad that the music in here is just loud enough that the entire establishment won’t hear this, maybe just the people near.

“everyone! listen up, im sorry. i am in love with this gorgeous woman right here! she is the love of my life! i am going to marry her!”

you swear your heart almost stops as people begin to clap. you try to pull him back down to sit and be out of the public’s eye but he resists. “kiss?” he puckers his lips already and points to them with a finger and you pout at him for only just a moment. you soon realize it’s the sole way to get him to stop, so you cave

you mean for it to be a small peck but he holds you in like he always does, the one thing that never changes about him when he gets drunk like this, pressing his lips messily to yours and holding your head too tightly that it roughs up your hair. you pull away this time, pushing him down to sit in your previous spot in the booth, trapping him in as you sit at the end.

“wow, that was beautiful, george,” ross grins wickedly and you set a mental reminder to shave his eyebrow off in his sleep when you get the chance. he’s a deep sleeper, you might just get away with it

“she deserves it. this woman right here, she single handedly saved my life. i love her. will you go to the bathroom with me?” you don’t even realize the last sentence is towards you until he nudges you with his elbow.

“to do what?” ross raises an eyebrow, wondering why he’s so involved in this conversation that has nothing to do with him.

“so i won’t be lonely.”

with an eye roll, you stand up, holding out both hands to pull your boyfriend up, “come on, big boy.” he laughs at the pet name and it’s not missed by you just how hot he is when he laughs like that, you never do.

he wraps an arm around you and you lead him outside instead of the bathroom, as fun as it sounds to take a piss hand in hand with him, you’d rather get your man home.

he stumbles outside with you, nearly taking you down with him but you steady the both of you with gentle hands on his waist. “hey. you wanna get out of here?”

his sly grin is valuable in your gaze, “any time, baby.”

“i mean, i’m going to take you home, okay?” you realize your second attempt doesn’t sound all that better.

“your place or mine?” he smirks. you decide to just let him have it if it means he’ll agree to leave.

“yours, sweets.”

he calls a cab for you, glad that he remembered how much you suck at doing so.

you snuggle up to him in the backseat while he informs the driver of the address. your rest your head on his strong shoulder and he rests his broad hand on your thigh out of instinct.

“you okay, honey?” everything about him is comforting, from his overwhelming kisses and public proclamations of love to the way that he constantly has the urge to take care of you in any way he can, even when he’s wasted. you almost feel bad about how bad his hangover is going to be tomorrow morning.

“i’m alright, handsome.” adding in the last bit just to mess with him and it works as well as you expect, his cheeks blush and a shy smile breaks upon his face.

“you really think so?” it’s not like him to ask for a bit of reassurance like this so you lean in to kiss his cheek.

“of course. i love you. so much.”

“that’s the first time you’ve said it tonight.”

you kiss his cheek again, “but do you really need me to say it for you to know?”

he smiles warmly, “no.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

you sent ross a text informing him that you had left and he replied something about how he had assumed so, doubting the pair of you spent a half hour in the bathroom.

you tucked george in with a loving kiss to the forehead and he was passed out asleep before you even climbed in next to him.

it’s now hours later in the late morning, and he was still asleep when you woke, so you decided to set up camp on his couch, mentally double fisting watching supernatural on the tv and reading a book.

it isn’t until 30 minutes of this quiet time alone that george comes slumping in, groggy and tired but awake. he stands in the doorway, looking around in confusion for a moment. “did we fuck last night?”

“no.”

you’re scared he’s going to continue with this, getting into some speech about how you’ll always have his consent, no matter what. it’s something you already know, something you’ve already established with him, but you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to be intimate with him when he isn’t fully present for it.

you know that he’s the same way when it goes for you, that he’d never lay a hand on you if you hadn’t explicitly agreed to it.

he doesn’t, however, and you’re even more grateful when he shuffles to the kitchen and begins to cook breakfast out of habit. you let him be, coexisting with him in the open floor plan of the room, you with your book and your show and him with the food and the stove.

after a good chunk of time, he returns to you, two plates in hand. passing one to you, “careful, love, it’s hot.”

“thank you.” he doesn’t say anything, feeling like he shouldn’t be thanked for simply cooking you breakfast, it seems like the least he can do.

he settles down next to you and your stretch your legs out over his lap, allowing him to rest a hand over your thighs.

you eat in comfortable silence for a moment until he interrupts it. “have you started your period?”

you almost choke, “pardon?”

“has your period started yet?” he doesn’t elaborate any more, likely until you give an answer.

“how did you know?”

he rubs up and down your leg. “i track it for you. cuz i know you always forget to. it also helps me plan our date nights better.”

“why? i mean, thank you, but why?”

he shrugs. “because i care about you.”

you study him over your slice of toast but decide to leave him be. if he chooses to show his love to you in unconventional ways, that’s his decision and you’ll accept his affection in any way you can get it.

once he finishes his plate, he sets it to the side on his coffee table and begins to busy himself with kneading and pawing at your legs. he focuses in on the fleshiest part, your inner thigh and you continue to study him like an creature nearing extinction.

“this is the best part, this right here.”

“of my thigh?” he nods.

“it’s good thigh. prime thigh.”

“ok.”

he sighs now, not loud and dramatic like you do, but a forced exhale. “i’ve got to go to the studio today, my love.”

“so go.”

“i don’t want to leave you. barely seen you this week. finally got you to myself and i’ve got to leave again.”

“i’ll stay here. i’ll be here when you get back and we can hang out some more.”

“is that too much to ask?”

“course not, babe.”

“thank you. i just love the idea of coming home to you. keeps me going. and i hate coming back here after a long day away and being all alone.”

you giggle and poke him with your foot, “god, you’re so obsessed with me.”

“i know, baby, im sorry,” he pushes off your legs and sets your plate to the side, not caring that you hadn’t finished yet. he crawls forward to lay between your legs and rest his head on your sternum.

“don’t be.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

taglist: @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @indierockgirrl @milkluvr8 @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

[snowseasonmademe]

Got you a mini me

warning ‼️: i guess you can call this angst

word count: 1,574

pairing: levi colwill x black american female reader

summary: levi left you at your lowest, breaking your heart, but you turned the pain into music and rose to fame—only for him to regret it all when it was too late.

note: i’m feeling generous today so here’s something for the levi girls :) i really like this song and wrote this fic last night. also i added a tiny sprinkle of some uk slang i’ve heard around, it might be kinda cringe when you read it because im not well versed (obviously). just wanted to give a heads up lol. as always enjoy and tell me what you think !!!!

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

The night Levi left was burned into your memory like a bad tattoo. You’d been together for three years—three damn near perfect years. You were the couple everyone envied. Instagram was flooded with your vacation shots, candid moments, and those late-night snaps of you writing lyrics while he lay on the couch beside you, humming along to melodies that weren’t even finished yet. You were the blueprint for love.

Until you weren’t.

It started small—missed texts, late replies. Levi, who used to fly back from away games just to make it to your shows, started canceling without much of an excuse. The man who once told you he couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice at night started letting your goodnight calls slip away.

The breaking point came on the night of your performance with Brandy Norwood. It was the biggest moment of your career to date—performing live at Madison Square Garden with your idol, the very woman whose music you grew up singing into your hairbrush as a kid in Harlem. It was supposed to be the night you remembered forever, the night he’d promised he’d be there for.

But Levi wasn’t in the crowd.

“I told you I had a match the next day,” he said later when you confronted him, standing in the doorway of your shared apartment.

“And I told you this was important to me, Levi,” you shot back, Harlem fire blazing in your voice. “This wasn’t just any performance—it was Brandy. Madison Square Garden! Everyone was there except the one person who was supposed to be my biggest supporter!”

“I am your biggest supporter!” he snapped, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard it.

“Really? Then why do I feel like I’m not enough for you anymore?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why does it feel like I’m chasing after you, trying to make you care the way you used to?”

He sighed, running a hand through his curls. “It’s not that simple, alright? I’ve got my own pressure, my own career to focus on—”

“Pressure?” you interrupted, laughing bitterly. “You think you’re the only one under pressure? I’m out here grinding my ass off, chasing my dreams, and all I asked was for you to show up for me once. But nah, you couldn’t even do that.”

The argument spiraled from there, words they couldn’t take back flying across the room. And then… silence.

The next morning, Levi was gone.

At first, you told yourself he just needed time. Hours turned into days, and every time your phone buzzed, you hoped it was him. But it never was. Days turned into weeks, and the silence became unbearable. You weren’t eating, weren’t sleeping, weren’t even writing—something you had always turned to when life got heavy. The man you thought was your forever, your partner in crime, had left you without so much as an explanation.

And then you saw the pictures.

It was a random scroll through Instagram that did it, a Premier League gossip page posting snaps of Levi at some event, arm slung casually around a woman who looked like she was created by someone Googling “how to copy [Y/N].” She had the same rich dark skin, the same natural curls—even styled the same way you used to wear yours. She wore Harlem-inspired streetwear, but it was obvious she was mimicking something she didn’t fully understand.

The kicker was the golden retriever puppy in one of the photos. The name? Peaches.

The nickname wasn’t random, not by a long shot. Levi had given it to you early in your relationship, back when you both couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You always had a thing for high-waisted jeans, the kind that accentuated your curves, and Levi had a habit of placing his hands on your hips or sliding them a lot lower every chance he got.

“You know why I call you Peaches?” he’d murmured one night, his hands trailing over you as you lay tangled in bed.

“Why?” you asked, laughing softly.

“’Cause I can’t keep my hands off you. Your back’s mad” he admitted, his voice low and full of affection.

Now, to see your nickname attached to someone else—a dog, of all things—was like a slap in the face.

The heartbreak, the betrayal, it all came pouring out in the studio one night. What started as a melody turned into the most vulnerable song you had ever written—a raw, emotional anthem about the man who broke your heart and left you for someone else. When the song dropped, it went viral overnight. Within days, it hit number one on the charts, making you not just a star but a household name.

Two and a half months passed, and you did what you did best: turned your pain into power. Your songs were unapologetically fierce, your energy magnetic. The Grammys rolled around, and you walked away with three awards, solidifying your place as one of the brightest talents in music.

And just when you thought you buried Levi in your rearview mirror, your phone lit up with his name.

“What?” you answered, not even bothering to hide your annoyance.

“Pea—” He stopped himself. “Sorry. I mean… hey.”

“Not you calling me after two months of radio silence” you said, leaning back on your couch. “What do you want Levi?”

He hesitated, and you could almost picture him running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you knew all too well. “I just… I saw your performance at the Grammys. You looked amazing.”

“I know” you said flatly.

“I miss you” he blurted out, the words tumbling out like he couldn’t hold them in anymore.

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You miss me? Really? You don’t get to say that Levi. Not after what you did.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Don’t hit me with the ‘you don’t understand’ shit” you interrupted. “I do understand. You ghosted me after our first argument, then popped up with someone who looks like she Googled ‘how to be me’ and took notes.”

“It’s not like that” he said quietly.

“Oh, it’s exactly like that” you snapped. “You left me, Levi. For her. And then you named your dog after me? Who does that?”

He exhaled loudly. “I wasn’t thinking, alright? I messed up. I know that.”

“Messed up? Nah, you didn’t ‘mess up.’ You made a choice. You chose her, Levi. And now you have to live with that.”

His voice softened. “I just… I wanted to hear your voice. I’ve been thinking about you, about us.”

“Us?” you repeated, tour voice incredulous. “There is no ‘us.’ You traded that for a bootleg version of me and a dog named after my ass. Congrats on the upgrade.”

“Peaches…” he started, but she cut him off.

“Don’t. call me that” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could hear the regret in his silence. But you didn’t care.

“I hope you’re happy” you said, your tone ice cold. “Does your little mini-me know her dog is named after her boyfriend’s ex and how he couldn’t keep his hands off her fat ass? Nah, I’m guessing you skipped that part.”

“Come on, don’t do this” he pleaded.

“Oh, I’m doing this” you shot back. “Tell whatever her name is—Elena, right?—that everyone can see she wants to be me. You traded me for a knockoff Levi, and she’s out here acting like she’s the original. It’s embarrassing.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Fair?” you interrupted, laughing bitterly. “What wasn’t fair was me giving you everything—all my time, my love, my support—just for you to leave and settle for…..her.”

“Why do you think I called then?” he snapped, frustration bleeding into his voice.

“Oh, I don’t know” you said mockingly. “Maybe because you know I’ll always be better than her. I actually had you. You were mine. And you still are because here you are, calling me while she’s away. Admit it Levi—you’ll always be mine. But I’ll never be yours again.”

The line went quiet for a long moment, his breathing the only sound. You felt tears sting your eyes, but you refused to let your voice break.

“You know what’s funny?” you continued, your tone shifting to one of sly amusement. “I should’ve cheated.”

“With who?” he asked, his voice sharp with jealousy.

“Noni” you replied without missing a beat.

“Noni?” he repeated, his voice rising.

“Mhm. He always knew how to treat me right. Always respectful, always sweet. Bet he wouldn’t have ghosted me for some raggedy hoe”

“That’s low” he muttered, his voice tight.

“Not as low as you replacing me” you fired back. “But hey, maybe your little copycat will stick around. Or maybe you’ll just ghost her too when it gets hard.”

“You don’t mean that” he said softly.

“I do” you said, your voice cold. “Now, lose my number, Levi. And good luck with Peaches 2.0.”

You hung up before he could respond, tossing your phone onto the couch as you fought back tears.

Levi stared at his phone, the empty line buzzing in his ear. He had thought he could move on, thought Elena could fill the void you left. But now, sitting in his quiet apartment, he realized the truth:

He hadn’t just lost you. He’d lost the best part of himself.

[fight-the-corn]

sbi x reader part 8

A few days later, Wilbur reached out to me. I felt my phone buzz and when I checked it, I saw the following message:

W: hey! how r u?

I smiled as I responded.

O: im good, hbu?

The answer was instantaneous.

W: ive been good! u wanna come over to our house for dinner tmrw? we miss u!!

Dinner. Usually, I had to get food made for my parents. But, if I timed it right, I could feed them then sneak out?

O: what time were you thinking?

W: probs around six? if I wanna change it tho that's fine idc

O: any chance we could do seven, or is that too late?

W: great! that totally works!! looking forward to it!!

O: loved " great! that totally works!! looking forward to it!!"

That have me enough time to get food to my parents by six, then be at the Craft's house by seven. Call it stupid or selfish for choosing the villains, but at least they made me feel safe. I went to bed that night with a smile on my face for the first time in a while.

---

I got through the next day happier than normal, having something to look forward to. By early evening, food was done and two plates were made up. It wasn't suspicious that I didn't have a plate, I don't usually get one. My parents prefer to eat alone.

At six o'clock, I set their plates on the table, ran upstairs, and slipped out the window. My heart was pounding in my chest, terrified of the punishment I was risking by leaving. It was worth it though, I reminded myself. I was going to get to spend time with an amazing family, and I was going to have fun, and it was going to be awesome.

I made it to the Craft house by 6:30, knocking on the door. Tommy opened it, grinning. "THE WOMAN HAS ARRIVED! Come in, come in," he beckoned me inside. I smiled as he led me to the table where I sat, and Phil brought a plate over and they all sat around the table.

Dinner was fun. Lots of jokes, lots of smiling. No alcohol in sight. I was getting comfortable with the family. Techno suggested game night, then wiped the floor with us in Scattergories. After, Tommy insisted on Twister, which led to Phil calling colors and Wilbur just trying to get in Tommy's way as much as possible. I fell over second, after Tommy, because Wilbur had tripped him and I laughed so hard I fell. Phil then offered up Clue, which suprisingly, I won.

As all good things must come to an end, it was getting to the time I needed to get back home. Finally, I called it.

"Ok, I think it's time for me to go home."

" Awwww, one more game? "

"I'm sorry Wil, I have to go."

Phil stepped in. "Do you need a ride?"

" Yeah, actually, that would be awesome. "

"Ok, I'll take you home. Boys, you're on cleanup duty."

Tommy whined, but Tommy always whined so everyone ignored him.

---

The ride home was nice, I chatted quietly with Phil the whole way home. I learned about his love for gardening, and he told some stories about the boys that almost had me in tears I was laughing so hard. As relaxed as I had felt the whole evening, I couldn't shake the underlying fear that gripped me the whole time. What if my parents found out I was gone? What if something happens with the Crafts, and they decide they don't want me anymore? Even though I've lived with nobody in my corner for so long, it would be so much more painful now that I know what it's like to have people who I feel safe around. As we neared my house, I tentatively spoke.

"Is there any chance you could drop me off around the corner? My parents kind of don't know I went out." I ducked my head as I spoke, not sure if how he would react. Would he be mad? Hate that I was lying to my family?

"Why didn't you tell them?"

" Um, they can just be a little strict sometimes, but I really wanted to come to dinner. I swear, I don't usually do stuff like that. "

"What would happen if they caught you?"

"They probably wouldn't be happy with me. I'd just get in trouble."

" Your shirt slipped during twister."

I froze. He silently pulled over and turned to face me.

"Why is your stomach so bruised?"

I open my mouth, then close it. "I'm clumsy?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you know that I used to be an emergency foster placement care parent? I've seen after effects of some bad homes."

I blink, then duck my head. "I have it under control."

He's quiet for a moment, then: "We can't help you if you don't let us."

My eyes fill with tears at the gesture, because not only was this the first time anyone has offered to help me, but Phil is offering his help after I've been nothing but a pain, spending days in his house recovering, eating his food, crashing his family game nights.

"I understand it feels like a really big thing, but honestly, any paperwork is worth it. We have the money and the resources, and our family loves you. You would be safe. "

I debated it. I really did. I looked up and met his eyes.

"What if I just promise to call you if it gets too bad? "

"I don't want you to have to get to the point of too bad. Also, I don't know if you can fairly identify 'too bad'."

"I called someone that night in the snow."

"Only after you had been out there for multiple hours."

I stay quiet at that. He has a point.

"Look, just call me if you need, okay? Any of us, anywhere, anytime. We can help you."

I nod.

"And I mean that. Even if your parents catch you sneaking back in tonight, or something happens at one in the morning, or you're two cities over, call us. Ok?"

" Okay. Thank you Phil. "

"Of course. Anytime."

I get out of the car. He gives me a hug. I turn, and walk towards the house that is the source of all my darkest fears.

[augustborders]

Mermaid story 1

I have been in the end before but the end has never been like this. This is a new end, and  it must ,ean a new beginning for me even if every time I must say ´´me´´ words like ´´we´´ still slip through my lips, which you wanted to be sealed. This isn’t supposed to be happy, or apologetic or damaging to you in any way. I brought this to you, end of the story you do whatever you want with it. It’s hard trying to go back to how things were before because time has run it’s course and the only way out of this is forward. You and I both know this, I am not the woman I was anymore. Everything I have gone through made me the person you so much admire. In this bed that  I write this, I sit with despair wanting to get close to you, reach you somehow, but something tells me no. All I can think of instead is you. Like if you are with me when I'm alone like a ghost that haunts me, but  instead is your memory that does.  I know you must be feeling murky inside with all the things you are struggling with right now. Yet here I am hoping that everything works for the best in your way, trying the best I can do  to not let my angry feelings get the best of me and pour my good intentions out. I want to see you, smother you with kisses, and embrace ourselves in what will be the momentary joy of  seeing each other once again. But you are right, seems like at the end of these trials you finally deigned to be honest. And you leave, leaving the salty water we were crafting this egg into, feeling sweeter and I can’t cry. I am a lonely mermaid in the sea. Every day I go to the place we drifted apart, near the surface, stick my head up from the water and re-live that time I saw you stumbling on your  two feet. I guess you couldn’t breathe under the water for too long after all. You confirmed it ´´I can’t take it anymore´´. Now as Im falling ill I reminisce of all the  tears I  once shed  for fake lovers that proving to be no less than other “learning experiences” that I end up bathing in every day. I miss disappointing you, I am still confused. I thought this is what you wanted. Guess I asked you to come too close too many times. There is an emotion I seek, yet I am unable to describe yet mermaid yet a human are we able to understand the consequences of our acts? He left that night, I saw him stumbling through the rocks,again.

He was making his way up to the land as  the waves hit my back and the tides started to rise. It was alright. You said you loved me,that  you would come back. Asked me not to follow you into the surface , it was decided. I don’t want to go after you, you must learn how to walk your own new path. But I don’t want to wait for you, I know that´s the right thing to do for me nonetheles, I don’t.When will you come to look for me in these ocean waters? After all we have been through, will you find me again?

[watchmegetobsessed]

WILDEST FANTASIES (part 10)

⚫️A/N: yaaay its WF day! i hope you guys are not sick of the story yet lol bc im def not done with it! thank you for all the messages and comments, i love reading your thoughts and conspiracies haha! keep 'em coming!

⚫️PAIRING: Professor!Harry X Reader

⚫️WARNING: sexual content

⚫️WORD COUNT: 5.1k

SERIES MASTERPOST | SUPPORT ME!

You basically fly across the room when you hear the ringtone, your phone vibrating and flashing, letting you know that someone wants to FaceTime you. You almost slip in your fuzzy socks as you rush from the kitchen into your bedroom, the oatmeal you were just about to make long forgotten on the kitchen counter, breakfast can wait when your boyfriend is calling you from across the world.

“Hey!” you pant as you throw yourself onto the bed holding the phone up in front of you. Harry’s face appears on the screen, his curls messy as always, wearing a black hoodie from what you can see.

“Hey, did you just finish running the marathon?” he chuckles and your heart pitter-patters when you see his pixelated dimples.

“It felt like that coming from the kitchen, yeah,” you grin. “What’s up? How is the family?” you ask, making yourself comfortable in the sea of pillows.

“Everything is great, mum is having a blast with everyone around,” he smiles, rubbing his nose. “And Gemma has been bugging me about my alleged new girlfriend.”

“Oh, you told them about me?” you ask, truly surprised. It’s been only a few weeks since you made it official, you weren’t expecting him to tell his family a thing.

“Of course. Not in many details, but I told them I’m dating someone. Mum immediately asked why I didn’t bring you home with me,” he laughs shaking his head.

“Your mom sounds like an amazing woman. Tell her I said hi,” you grin.

“Will do. Now, tell me, what have you been up to?”

Harry has been calling you every chance given and you know it’s because he feels bad you are spending Christmas alone. Both Ramona and Kostas left on the twenty-third, so it’s your fourth day on your own in the apartment. It’s weird to be here without Kostas gasping every few minutes at some gossip someone sent him, or Ramona’s loud laughter that sounds like a seal is choking, though you haven’t heard that in a while with the whole Dean situation. You’re hoping the holidays are gonna beat sense into them and they will realize they need to be together.

You’ve been using your quiet alone time to write your thesis, you’re already ahead of your planned schedule with it and when you’re not on the phone with Harry or sitting in front of your laptop, you’re watching Christmas movies nonstop, baking and cooking, destroying the kitchen and enjoying that Kostas is not here to start cleaning up after you right away.

It’s been a bit lonely, but you don’t mind it. You’d rather be on your own than anywhere near your mother.

“I was just about to have breakfast. I think I’ll take a walk later and then, just the usual,” you shrug.

“What movies are you watching today?” he smirks.

“Probably Frozen,” you giggle. “Have you seen them?”

“I had to watch them last year with my cousin’s kids, so yeah.”

“I bet you enjoyed them more than the kids,” you tease him.

“They weren’t half as bad as I expected, I admit,” he grins and it seems like he lies down in a bed, taking a similar position you are in. “Are you sure you don’t want to give your grandma’s sister a call? Maybe you could have lunch with them or something.”

“Harry…” you sigh. It’s not the first time he is bringing it up, it seems like your lonely holidays bother him more than they bother you. It’s sweet of him, but you also know exactly what you do and don’t want to do.

“I know, you felt out of place there. But it could still be nice.”

“I promise you, I’m fine alone. Don’t worry about me,” you smile at him warmly and you truly mean it.

“It just doesn’t feel right that I’m here with my family while you’re on your own. Maybe you really should have come home with me.”

“No, I shouldn’t have,” you chuckle. “Meeting the family when we’ve been together for less than a month? No, thank you.”

“Alright, I see where you’re coming from, but it’s different.”

“How come?” you cock an eyebrow at him.

“One, my family doesn’t live on the other side of town, I only see them like twice a year, next time I’ll be here will be in the summer. Maybe it wouldn’t have been too early.”

“It would have,” you protest, but smile at him.

“And second, I’m pretty sure nothing we do is by the book, so it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Okay, I hear you, but still, it’s better like this. Next time,” you smile and he returns it with a nod.

“Alright, next time,” he sighs.

For the next about thirty minutes you just ramble about anything and everything and Harry listens as if you were telling him about the meaning of life. You love hearing his laugh and you sneakily take a few screenshots of him because he is looking extra cozy today. You wish he was here with you so you could shower him with kisses and then tear that hoodie off of him and show him just how much you love having him around.

“I gotta go,” he sighs after you hear a female voice from somewhere in the distance through the call. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. Have fun,” you smile and he returns it before the call ends.

Sighing deep you just lie there for a bit, staring up at the ceiling, his voice still ringing in your ear. You count how many days until he comes back and you come to the conclusion that it would be too many even if it was just one. Being away from Harry is the only thing that bothers you right now.

You carry on with your day just as you planned. Taking a little walk around the neighborhood you decide to ditch the cooking today and just grab something to eat on your way back home. It’s not too cold outside, but you truly appreciate the heated apartment when you finally arrive back. You eat in the living room while watching the first Frozen movie just how you planned, everything is peaceful and uneventful.

Even though Harry said he would call later, the afternoon passes by without hearing from him. You assume he is out with his mum and sister somewhere, it doesn’t even occur to you to bother him for not paying you attention, you want him to have a great time with his family.

After you finish watching the Frozen movies you go for another thesis writing session to keep you busy and hopefully tire you out so you’d go to bed at a reasonable time. Buried deep in an article you’re planning to use in one of the chapters, you jump when you hear your phone ringing on your bed. Thinking that it’s Harry, your heart skips a beat as you snatch it from the comforter, but your face falls when you see an unknown number.

“Hello?” you answer the call hesitantly.

“Y/N?”

You recognize the voice right away and it makes your stomach drop in an instant. It’s your mother.

“What do you want?” you ask not even trying not to sound hostile. She is not calling to say merry Christmas, she has ulterior motives, that you’re sure about.

“You still have the sassy attitude I passed on to you,” she chuckles, as if this chit-chat was a normal, everyday thing.

“You didn’t pass on anything to me. Now what do you want?”

“Just wanted to check in on my daughter, is that a crime now?”

“Carol, you haven’t talked to me in over a year. I don’t believe this bullshit, I know you called with a reason that has nothing to do with anything a mother would do.”

You stopped calling her mom in middleschool. It started as a way to get on her nerves when she was making you mad, but then it stuck, because it felt more fitting to call her by her first name than refer to her as mom. She did not act like one.

“Jesus, what’s gotten your panties in such a twist? It’s Christmas, can’t you be a bit nicer to your mother?” she scoffs, pretending to be the victim, as always. You never found out how Carol turned out to be the way she is when she was brought up by your grandmother. Helene was a saint and it definitely wasn’t her fault your mother turned out to be like this. She never wanted to talk about what went wrong, but if you had to guess it was because of your grandfather who she divorced when Carol was only five. She spent summers and winter breaks with him in Florida and though your grandmother never liked to talk shit about others, even if they deserved it, you just know he was the one who messed it all up.

“If you just called to piss me off, I’m ending the call,” you warn her and that finally brings out her true intentions.

“Wait! Okay, alright! I called because… I need your help.”

Ding, ding, ding! We’ve got a winner!

When you don’t answer, she decides to go into further details.

“I want to move out of my boyfriends’, but I can’t really afford the cost of it, but it’s pretty urgent. I thought that maybe you could help me out with some money you got from your grandmother.”

And you’re back to the one thing that truly destroyed your relationship with her. Your grandmother left most of her savings and her house that you sold a year later to you, while Carol only got a bit of money and that’s it. She was vivid when she found out about it and tried to get more of it any way possible.

She didn’t succeed. But it seems like she is still not over trying. While she probably spent all of the money she inherited in about a few months, you’ve been using it wisely, supporting yourself while in school so you don’t have to worry about having a job while studying.

“That is none of my problem,” you answer coldly.

“It’s an emergency, Y/N. And I would pay the money back, I just need to get out of his place as fast as possible.”

“Why?” you ask, because if it’s an abusive household, you will of course help her, but you have a feeling that’s not the case.

“Because… God, I just don’t want to be here, okay? He is suffocating and I’m done with him.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound like an emergency.”

“It is! Come on, you’re sitting on all of that money and you can’t lend me some to help me out?”

“I’m not sitting on it,” you grit through your teeth. “I’m saving part of it and putting the rest into good use.”

“This would be a good use as well,” she argues and it pisses you off how entitled she thinks she is.

“Don’t you feel ridiculous for coming to me to beg for money when you haven’t talked to me in ages? You really don’t have any shame in you, do you?”

“Shame? Why would I have shame for asking for help from my daughter?”

“Oh, how convenient that now I’m your daughter, but what about the rest of the year? When I hear nothing from you?” you scoff rolling your eyes.

“You know, this works the other way around. You could call me too, but my phone hasn’t been blowing up lately.”

“I’m already over the trying, Carol. Did that in high school, but you were too busy living out your second teenage phase. I’m not trying to go back there.”

“Come on, you can’t be mad at me for shit I did ten years ago,” she growls.

Clenching your jaw you shut your eyes closed, you are not in the mood to get into a screaming match about who messed up what and this is definitely heading in that direction.

“How much do you need?” you ask sighing.

“Just a couple thousand.”

“Just? A couple?” you scoff at the way she just presented it as if she was asking for twenty bucks.

“It’s not that much, Y/N. Do you know how expensive apartments are these days?”

“I do, because I live in a rented place as well, but I assume you are not trying to live with roommates to lessen the costs and you also haven’t even looked at humble, smaller places that cost less.”

“I’m sorry that I’m not trying to live in a fucking… pantry!”

“Whatever,” you growl, completely running out of patience at this point. “I’ll think about it.”

“What is there to think about this?” she scolds you as if you were obligated to just throw thousands at her.

“A lot, Carol. There’s a lot to think about when it comes to you.”

“Oh, you just love to pretend like you’re better than everyone, right? Your grandmother loved to do that too, acting like you’re superior, like you have no flaws and you make no mistakes!”

“Don’t fucking bring her up!” you snap at her. You’ll not let her disgrace the memory of the woman who brought you up when she was away doing God knows what.

“I can bring up whoever I want! You both have always tried to guilt me into thinking that everything is always my fault, but you’re not perfect either, Y/N. No one is! I don’t know how people put up with your attitude, I bet you have no friends, let alone a man who—“

“Good luck with getting the money you need. Don’t call me again,” you cut her off and end the call before she could get another word out.

Tears are bubbling in your eyes as you stare up at the ceiling with trembling lips. Most of the time it’s easy to be unbothered when it comes to your mother, but not when you’re facing her directly, when she is coming at you, targeting you with her toxicity.

You’ve been acting tough for so long, even you believe that the dysfunctional family background you’re coming from has no effect on the person you are today, but deep down you know it’s just the surface you’re showing to the world, but it hurts to know you never mattered to your mother enough to take good care of you and you had believed for a long time that it had something to do with you, that you weren’t lovable enough, that you were the reason why things turn out to be the way they did.

Now you know it wasn’t you and you should never take the blame for her mistakes, but that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt to think about everything you missed out on.

For the first time since your home vacation, you don’t want to be alone so you call the person you want to be with the most right now. You tap on Harry’s contact without hesitation, but it goes straight to his voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Harry. I can’t answer the phone right now, so leave a messa—“

You don’t wait for the recording to finish, just end the call as you feel your chest tightening. Seeing the time on the screen you realize how late it is in the UK so that’s why he is not answering, but still, it doesn’t help with your desperate need to at least hear his voice.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, wiping your cheeks from the tears that has escaped your eyes. Throwing your phone to your nightstand you just get under the covers and close your eyes, your body still shaking slightly as you decide to just sleep it off and then never think about this day again when you wake up.

You awaken to your phone ringing and buzzing on the nightstand. Your head feels so heavy and you need a few seconds to adjust to the real world. It’s still dark outside, your laptop has shut down since you left it on when you decided to sleep your problems away. Grabbing the phone you see two things. One, that it’s about three in the morning. Two, Harry is calling you.

Swiping your finger across the screen you move the phone to your ear, your eyebrows knit together, still kind of half asleep.

“Hey,” you speak up groggily. “I hope you do know it’s three am over here.”

You hear his chuckle first before he answers.

“I know, that’s why I would appreciate it if you let me in.”

Eyes popping wide open you shoot up into a sitting position as if you were just shocked by electricity. Did you just hear that right? He wants you to let him in? Is this supposed to be a metaphor or something?

“Um, what?” you ask clearing your throat as you kick the covers off of yourself, standing up.

“I’m at your front door, Y/N. Can I come in or should I go home?” he asks and you can hear it in his voice how funny he is finding the situation to be.

Dropping your phone onto the bed you rush out to the front door and swinging it open you’re shocked to see that he is indeed right there, standing on the doormat with a duffel bag in one hand, his phone with the call still going in the other as he smiles at you. He ends the call and shoves the phone into his pocket as he tilts his head to the side.

“Surprise?” he chuckles softly and the next thing you know is that you’re throwing yourself at him, arms and legs wrapping around him tight as he drops his bag so he can hold you up with both hands. “Woah, I assume you missed me, huh?” he chuckles, kissing into your neck as you have your face buried in his, tears stinging in your eyes at his unexpected arrival especially after the evening you had.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you mumble, your words almost completely muffled.

“It didn’t feel right to let you be alone. I might have missed Christmas but there was no way I was gonna let you be on your own on New Year’s Eve.”

Your heart is about to jump out of your chest at his words, this is hands down the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you. Peeling yourself off of him your feet get back on the ground again and you finally let him inside, closing the door behind him before taking his face in your hands and kissing him to tell him how happy you are that he is here without words.

“I called you a few hours ago and only reached your voicemail, so you must have been on the plane then, huh?” you hum against his lips.

“Yeah. But why did you call so late? Did something happen?” he asks, quick to count back what the time was in the UK when you called. Then he realizes that something is off about you. “Hey, have you been crying? Your eyes are puffy, but not the sleepy kind.” he cradles your face in his hands to take a better look at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Can we just… sleep? I really don’t want to talk right now,” you plea, too tired to go into any details at the moment. It’s obvious he is worried and wants to know what got you so upset, but he would never go against your will.

“Okay,” he nods before kissing your forehead. “Can I take a quick shower?”

“Sure.”

While Harry is in the shower you wash your face and change your clothes, just hearing another person in the apartment is so relaxing, the silence you’ve been living in the past days now feels so much more suffocating.

You’re already in bed when Harry finishes in the bathroom and walking into your room he looks around as he sits on the edge of the bed. It’s the first time he is here so it’s his first glimpse of your personal space. Though he would love to snoop around a bit, he is about to pass out from the long flight and he wants nothing more than to hold you in his arms.

When he gets under the sheets, you’re quick to cuddle to his side, laying your head to his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“Harry?” you speak up, voice barely louder than just a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you murmur before closing your eyes and letting yourself drift back to sleep, now a lot more excited for morning to come.

When you wake up in the morning your first thought is how realistic your dream was about Harry showing up at your door at three in the morning. But then you feel a strong arm draped across your waist and someone quietly snoring and puffing air out behind you and it hits you hard in the head like a brick.

It wasn’t a dream. Harry did fly back earlier than he planned just to be with you.

Blinking your eyes open you’re met with Harry’s puffy sleeping face, squished into your pillow just inches away from yours. It might look creepy, but you take a few moments to admire him. It’s crazy how you get to see him like this, how he is allowing you into his personal space when just about two months ago you were just a student in his class, drinking every word that left his mouth, fantasizing about things that are your reality now.

He stirs in his sleep, his hand on your waist squeezing you as he scrunches his nose before his eyes slit open just a tiny bit, his long lashes fluttering gently.

“Good morning,” he mumbles groggily and you bite into your bottom lip, because even half asleep, wrapped in your light pink sheets, he still looks so irresistible. He pulls you closer until your chest is pressed up against his, a gasp and a giggle slipping through your lips.

“Good morning,” you grin, nuzzling your nose against his before finally kissing him softly. “I thought I dreamed that you showed up here in the middle of the night.”

“Definitely not a dream,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Does your mom hate me because I was the reason for your early departure?”

“Are you kidding me? She was basically kicking me out the door when I told her why I’m coming back earlier. She wouldn’t have let me stay longer even if I wanted,” he chuckles.

“Your mom is an angel.”

“She is,” he hums, nodding into the pillow. Closing his eyes he sighs comfortably and you think he has fallen back asleep, but then he speaks up, flashing his gorgeous green eyes at you again. “So, want to talk about what got you so upset?”

Chewing on your bottom lips you play with the thought of keeping it to yourself, not too keen on bringing up your mother again, but part of you also wants to share it with him.

“My mom called me last night,” you finally admit then.

“Oh! And… how did it go?”

“Awful,” you breathe out. “She asked for money to move out of her boyfriend’s place. She knows I have a big saving from my grandmother and she’s been trying to get a hold of that, this is probably just another attempt.”

“What if she really does need the money?”

“I’m sure she does, but I’m definitely not her last choice. I know she didn’t even try to earn the money herself, she just wants me to hand it over to her.”

“Mmm, I see. And is it what got you so upset?” he asks, sensing that there’s more behind it.

“We kind of got into a fight… She basically said that I’m entitled and act like I have no flaws and then went on how I must have zero friends and… the message she was sending was clearly that I’m unlovable.”

Your throat starts to close up and your voice dies down as you say the last words, avoiding to look at him. The last person you discussed the situation with your mother was your grandma. She never told you, but you always suspected she felt like she failed you and Carol as well and wanted to make up for the things she messed with her by taking good care of you. She was the mother you never had, but that never changed the fact that your real mother could never love you like her daughter.

It’s a messed up situation that you like to keep bottled up, but last night, the bottle got knocked over and it seems to be leaking. Tears are dwelling in your eyes again and you hate that she has this much power over you still.

“Hey,” he speaks up softly, brushing your hair out of your face before he cups it in his hand. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“But I don’t want to be. Not over my mother,” you whine with a grimace, trying to swallow down your tears. “She was never there for me, I’ve promised myself so many times to just simply forget about her, but…”

“But she is still your mother, no matter how bad she messes things up,” he finishes up your thought and you nod with trembling lips.

This is where people usually start telling you how it’s not your fault, that you did nothing wrong and you should be strong. You know they mean well, but you hate hearing these. Surprisingly, Harry says absolutely nothing. He just gathers you into his arms and pulls you to his chest, lets you calm down in your own pace, giving you the silence you truly need. When the tears dry up and you don’t feel like your throat is all closed up, you lift your head so you can look into his eyes. He gently runs his fingers down the side of your face, tracing your features before combing through your hair, giving you tingles from his little touches.

“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you find yourself asking and your heart is beating so hard in your chest you know he can feel it. “That maybe that’s why she can’t stand me?”

“I can assure you, that’s not the case. Some people are just not cut to be a parent and your mum is one of them. Unfortunate events sculpted your relationship and maybe you’ve made mistakes as well, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be loved.”

Pushing yourself up, you swing a leg over him and sit on his hips, his hands moving up to rub your thighs that are bare thanks to the fact that you’re wearing just a pair of shorts with your oversized cotton shirt.

Reaching forward you place one hand next to his head, leaning onto it while cupping his jaw with your other, running your thumb along the line of his bottom lip. It feels like time has stopped and nothing else exists, just the two of you in your slightly messy bedroom, staring at each other, memorizing the other’s face down to the tiniest details.

It’s scary and relieving at the same time, the way you are feeling about this man. You never planned any of it, in just a few weeks, you went for needing and wanting no man in your life to depending on Harry to the extent that he is in almost every thought that runs through your head.

Leaning closer you hover above him, nose almost brushing against his.

“Do you think you could love me?” you ask and though you expect him to hesitate with his answer, he speaks up right away.

“I’m already close to it.”

You kiss him in an instant, needing to be as close to him as physically possible, that’s the only way you can express how you feel. Harry returns the kiss just as passionately and vehemently, his arms wrapping around you tight and you both gasp when you grind your hips against his.

Rolling the two of you over he presses you into the mattress, your legs circling around his waist while his hand is quick to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and ridding you from it, leaving your chest completely bare. Moving his lips down your neck he focuses on your chest, peppering your heated skin with his kisses and it all feels so different from the previous times you’ve been together.

He is not trying to be dominant, there are no games involved, it’s just the two of you, equals and desperate for each other.

“There are so many things about you to love, Y/N,” he murmurs against your skin, still kissing wherever he can reach while his hands work on the shorts. He pulls back just to take them off and do the same with his t-shirt too before he returns to kissing you, but this time on your lips. “You are smart,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re beautiful.” A kiss to your nose. “Passionate and I’m not only talking about sex,” he grins, placing a soft kiss to your lips again.

He moves down, a few more kisses on your jawline and neck before he lifts his head up as he pulls his pants off of himself, the last layer of clothing keeping the two of you apart.

“You’re so caring, to your friends, to me, to the people you think deserve to be taken care of.” His hand squeezes your thigh before moving up to your hip, then your waist and ribs, as if he is feeling you up, making sure you’re real. Turning your head to the side you press a kiss to his arm that’s beside you, holding him up above you. You run a hand up that arm until it meets your other behind his neck, pulling him down. His hips press against yours and you feel how hard he is, a soft gasp slipping through your parted lips.

“It’s hard not to love you, Y/N,” he smiles softly, brushing his lips against yours, but not kissing you. “You’re so perfect, everything I’ve ever wanted. It really is hard not to love you,” he repeats, “and it's scary and I’ve been fighting it, believe me.” Your heart beating so fast you fear it’s gonna burst right out of your chest. Harry stops when he positions himself to your entrance and you’re so desperate to feel him filling you up, you’re just seconds away from crying. Harry looks you in the eyes and before he thrusts inside you, he adds: “But I’m losing the fight.”

You cry out the moment he fills you up, his hard cock stretching your walls perfectly and finally, you feel like you’re exactly where you should be.

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed!

[idy-ll-ique]

Paparazzi.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: TOO META, m*sturbation, mentions of s*x

Requested: nope

Summary: I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me... Y/N Y/L/N writes Marvel fanfictions. One day, Sebastian stumbles upon her account and, unable to help himself, reads all the stuff she has written about him. He didn't mean to fall so hard for her but he does. How can he not? She has shown him parts of himself that he never even knew existed.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay so a few weeks ago I read a similar (but dark) fanfic and I really wanted to write a softer version of it... Enjoy!

---

Same old, boring routine.

Y/N hit post and slumped against the headrest of her bed, sighing. She waited; a minute, then two passed and she noticed that someone had liked her post. She smiled to herself as she kept her phone away. Though boring, she wouldn't trade her life for the world. Y/N… well, she was a university student first and foremost but she was also a writer.

Being a big fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she had started writing fanfictions a few years ago. She posted them on Tumblr, where her blog, though not very well-known, stood out enough for her posts to get around 800-1000 likes per post. She loved it; she loved writing, she loved posting her stories and especially, she loved the feedback.

Sometimes people were rude, but most times, the reviews she got were fantastic. She read each and every one of them, smiling goofily as people freaked out over her fanfictions. It warmed her heart. A smile automatically blooming on her face, Y/N lay down on the bed and decided to go to sleep, it being almost 3 am.

Unbeknownst to her, someone else was up at the same time, tossing and turning in his bed, restless.

Sebastian sighed as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. He drank some water and lay down again, closing his eyes but it was like sleep was mad at him. Refused to be anywhere near him. He groaned to himself and picked up his phone from the nightstand, deciding to go through Instagram, hoping he'd finally fall asleep to the glare of the screen.

As he logged into his account, he skipped the activity page and went straight to the explore page. Bored, he continued scrolling until his eyes landed on a specific photo. And the breath escaped his lungs when he clicked on it; the woman in the picture was absolutely gorgeous. He just couldn't resist going to her page, smiling widely when he read her bio.

It gave him her basic information; her name, her age, the university she attended. But what caught his eye was the link below the bio. My Marvel Fanfictions Master List. Marvel fanfictions? She was a writer? Smirking, he clicked on the link and it took him to Tumblr. Of course, he'd heard of the site, but didn't have an account on there. At 3 am, his mind sure wasn't working right.

A post popped up on the screen, the same master list she had mentioned earlier. And his eyes bulged out of their sockets; damn, those are a lot of fanfictions. He went through the whole thing, smirking again when he noticed that she had written the most fanfictions about him. Not Bucky Barnes, no, Sebastian Stan.

He clicked on the first one. The date of posting was way back, in 2019. He started reading; nothing about it felt weird to him; he was intrigued, if anything. And as he continued reading, he couldn't help but imagine her being in the stead of the female protagonist. Her, the writer. The woman whose picture had made him end up reading in the first place.

When he finished the story, his heart thudded wildly in his chest. Wow, she really has a way with words. And he had also noticed how in the author's note, she used a lot of slang but reading the story had made him realize that she had an amazing, extensive vocabulary. He went back to the master list and clicked on the latest post under his name.

Posted: 15 minutes ago.

His breath hitched in his throat when he read the warnings: there was going to be sexual intercourse in this one. For one moment, he hesitated; did he really want to read this? "Oh fuck it," he huffed and scrolled, starting to read. The more he read, the more his shaft twitched in his pants. He wasn't really like that during… but oh damn, he wasn't complaining.

"Oh, Seb…"

His hand slid down and he rubbed himself through his boxers, unable to take his eyes off the text in front of him. His strokes got harder and faster as the sex got steamier. "Ungh, I'm gonna cum—" And he suddenly came in his boxers, groaning. Slumping down on the bed, he quickly finished reading the rest of it, going back to the master list.

He took a screenshot with the account's name in it and then went back to her Instagram account to take another screenshot. Keeping his phone away, he slipped out of his boxers, cleaned himself and pulled the covers on top of him, finally feeling tired enough to fall asleep.

---

Y/N was walking across the campus of her university, going to the cafeteria when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Taking it out, she opened Tumblr to read the message someone had sent her just then.

his-username: Hi there! I was binging your account last night, you write really well

your-username: Omg thank you!!!! I really appreciate it, I love getting feedback! 🥺❤

his-username: You're welcome! Especially your latest post, that was really good ;)

your-username: hehe 😈 glad you liked it!

Smiling widely, she kept her phone away and continued walking, not knowing that the person who had texted her was the same man she had written about. Sebastian smiled to himself when he read her text. After getting up in the morning, the first thing he had done was install Tumblr on his phone. Then he made an account for himself.

Figuring out the app was easy; he found out that there was an option to keep your liked posts and the accounts you followed hidden, and selected it immediately. No one needed to know what he did on the app. Then he went back to her account, pressed the follow button and started binge-reading her fanfictions again. Last night had he read only two, and that had left him wanting more.

Funny how much things can change in a night. He liked and reblogged all her posts without a second thought; he even read all her Bucky Barnes posts. She understood his character so well, put him on what he thought was an undeserved pedestal while writing about him. Some of the stories were AUs, which he found out stood for Alternate Universes. Mostly mobster or mafia stuff.

He had the day off, and he spent the entire time cooped up in his apartment, on his bed, reading. The more he read, the more he started fawning over her, over the version of him that she put out to the world. Dominating, suave and just perfect. He loved it. At the end of the day, he decided to text her again, hoping she wouldn't think he was weird or find out the truth.

his-username: do you wanna be friends, maybe? I'm new to the app, don't really have any friends here ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

That was a lie, he knew Mark Ruffalo had an active Tumblr account. But it's not like he could tell him.

your-username: Yes sure!!!! I was also thinking of making some friends on this app lol

his-username: You don't have any on here? But you've been here for years, haven't you?

your-username: haha yeah, but I don't really reach out to people much. Sometimes people leave their feedbacks on my posts, text me but that's that

his-username: Ohhh

his-username: well, let's start with names. Mine's Sebastian

your-username: Really?????? omg that's so cool lmaooooooo (didn't think you were a boy but 😳👀)

his-username: Not a boy, I'm a man 😤😂

your-username: 🤣 im y/n, btw

his-username: Y/N, that's a nice name

your-username: thank you!!!! So, what do you do?

his-username: nothing really that interesting, I'm in theatre

your-username: theatre is nice! I'm studying at [university] in New York lmao

his-username: Wait you're in New York? So am I!

your-username: ASDFHKSHKGF that's awesome!!! also I noticed that you've been going through my account the whole day 😏 notifications upon notifications keeping my phone busy

his-username: Oopsie?

your-username: 😂😂 I really don't mind, it was great! Despite the amount of likes on my posts, I only have a few loyal followers lmao gaining one more felt nice

your-username: You a big fan of Sebastian Stan? Cuz I noticed that you were only reading his and Bucky's fics 👀

Sebastian's face heated up.

his-username: kinda yeah 🤷🏻‍♂️😁

your-username: Cool cool cool, I'm a big fan of his too!!!! also got a crush on him but whatever 😳

Sebastian smirked at his phone. A crush on him, huh? That… was acceptable. He suddenly felt his cocky side coming out; the one she described in nearly all her fanfictions.

his-username: wouldn't blame ya, I mean, look at him. You have also written the most fics about him and Bucky

your-username: right????? damn that man has raised my standards. Anyway, I gtg now, I have to finish a paper before midnight. ttyl!

his-username: Bye! 👋🏻

He kept his phone away and took in a deep breath. This was the most fun he had had in years, and he was not letting her go so easy. He realized he was quickly falling for her; rather unhealthy, but he couldn't help it. Look at her. She looks like a goddamn angel, writes like one, makes him feel like one, do you really expect him not to fall for her? That's insane.

---

Months passed by like a breeze. Y/N and Sebastian had become very good friends, and he knew his way around words just enough to keep her from finding out his identity while not lying to her. Y/N also appreciated his friendship, because he was the one to whom she could rant about her most favorite man in the world— Sebastian Stan.

Sometimes, she thought about how weird of a coincidence it was that her new friend and the actor shared the same names, but then she used to brush it off; that was a common name, right? They talked for hours on end; Sebastian (her friend, not the actor) was extremely witty, smart and fun to talk to, she had to admit. Sebastian felt the same way.

His feelings had worsened. Y/N entirely owned his heart now. Somedays, he'd just go on Instagram, go to her account— her username memorized by him— and stare at her photos until he grew tired; he'd never get tired of looking at her beautiful face but his stiff body afterwards begged to differ. She was just so Elysian. He longed for the moment when he could meet her in real life.

His personality had also changed majorly, and people had caught on. Especially his Marvel co-stars, who knew him to be introverted, shy and, in Anthony Mackie's words, "boring". They were surprised at his sudden change in attitude; he knew his worth and Y/N had helped tremendously in finding it. Now, all those adjectives that she used in her fanfictions fit him perfectly.

Sebastian was never tempted to read fanfictions about himself from authors other than Y/N. No, he only loved her work. He was sure no one else could write as beautifully as she did, he was her #1 fan. Y/N even sent him funny Marvel memes she found on the app and he used to enjoy them heartily; God, the others have no idea what they're missing out on. Our fans are awesome.

Everything was going well.

Until one day.

Sebastian was getting bored at home, so he decided to go to the nearby library to clear his mind. He had read not one book in the past few months, hung up on Y/N's fanfictions. At this point, he was obsessed with her and he knew it. It was nothing dark, per se, it was— it was similar to how Y/N was attracted to Sebastian. How she was a fan of his work.

Just the same. He was a fan of her work in the same way. Just how she was attracted to him, he was attracted to her. Walking into the library that he visited often, he gave the librarian a smile and ventured further into the dark place. He checked his watch; the library closed at 12 am, it was currently 9:30 pm.

Not many people were around, heck, nobody was around. He thought himself to be all alone until he heard it. A sigh, coming from a few aisles away. He walked in that direction and peeked around the corner, freezing when he saw the other person. Y/N? Her books were strewn all across the table as she sat alone at the booth, rubbing her temples.

"You okay?"

She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. I'm dreaming. This is not real. Now I know for a fact that Sebastian Stan is not standing in front of me, asking me if I'm— "Hello?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I, uh— I'm— h-hi," she stammered and he almost chuckled. "Hi." She gulped visibly and blinked at the table, not meeting his eyes.

"Can I have a seat?" He wants to sit with me?! "Y-Yes, sure, sir," she blurted out and he easily slid into the booth next to her. "Hey, please, call me Sebastian. What's your name?" He gave her a friendly smile, even though all he wanted to do was push her back into the booth and kiss her wildly. His shaft twitched just by thinking about it; Y/N was a thousand times more beautiful in person.

"I'm Y/N, it's very nice to meet you, I'm… I'm a fan," she admitted, playing with the ring she wore on her left thumb. I'm your fan too, sweetheart, the biggest one. "Y/N, nice name. You come here often? I haven't really seen you around." She shook her head. "Oh no no, I moved to this part of the city just a week ago, this is my first time here. The library is cozy," she shrugged, easing out of her tense position.

Sebastian nodded. "Yes, I know, this place is awesome. Got all my favorite books here," he chuckled and she smiled at him. "What's all this?" A groan left her lips. "Ugh, stupid university work. I have to write a book report but I don't even know what to write about." He smiled gently. "Well, I have a few favorite books, would you like some suggestions?"

"Oh, please! Tell me!"

He started listing some of his favorite works and Y/N noted the names down until he said the last name. At that, she froze. That's the name of my latest— She looked up but he had a smile on his face. "Oh, and the last one is by my favorite author." He took a pause. "Y/N Y/L/N." She froze completely, staring at the man with her jaw dropped.

Sebastian grinned. "We finally meet, Y/N, I've been waiting for months." Her mouth opened and closed several times as she recalled every interaction she had had with her online best friend— scratch that— her celebrity crush. All the times she had confessed her love for Sebastian Stan, all the dirty and inappropriate memes that she'd sent him…

Embarrassment flooded her entire body as she exhaled shakily. "It was you," she croaked out, "On Tumblr, the account— I'm so sorry—" Sebastian frowned in confusion when she blinked back sudden tears, a few still rolling down her cheeks as shame replaced embarrassment. "Y/N, please don't cry…" She looked up at him, his figure blurry due to her tears.

"You've read everything, haven't you? I just— I'm sorry, I don't want to make you uncomfortable—" He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Y/N couldn't hug back, though she appreciated the hug especially since it came from him. "You don't know how much you mean to me, doll," he mumbled into her shoulder, using the nickname she often used in the stories she wrote about him. He grew accustomed to it easily.

"Huh?"

He pulled away to wipe her tears. "It was an accident," he admitted, "But I stumbled onto your Instagram account from my explore page. Then I clicked on your account, saw that you wrote Marvel fanfictions and I just couldn't resist the urge to read what you had written. Blame it on 3 am me, to be honest. You're a great writer, and I was immediately drawn to your works. They're awesome.

"They've helped me so much in the past few months. You see this changed attitude that everyone's been talking about lately? All because of you, sweetheart. I'm sorry for keeping my identity secret, but after reading your works, I knew I had to get closer to you. I made the Tumblr account just for you, just so I could talk to you. I'm sorry for lying, but thank you."

Y/N dumbfoundedly stared at him for a few moments, her heart beat getting steady with each thump. Here was a man she admired, loved more than anyone else in the world, telling her that he harbored the same feelings for her. How crazy was that?! Not trusting her words, she simply pulled him into another hug. Sebastian wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her flush against him.

"Can I kiss you, doll?"

She slowly pulled away from him and nodded, shyly biting her lip. Grinning at the endearing gesture, Sebastian cupped her face and leaned in, gently pressing his lips to hers. The kiss grew hungry in a matter of seconds, and Y/N responded just as eagerly. His hands slid down to her waist and tugged on it, pulling her on his lap. She straddled his thighs as they continued kissing.

"Fuck," he groaned when they finally pulled away from each other, out of breath and panting. "You see what you do to me, doll?" Sebastian spoke huskily as he took her hand, placing it right on top of the tent that was forming in his pants. "Oh," Y/N whimpered when she felt him, the sound going straight to his shaft. "How about I take you home and we recreate some of the scenes from your stories, hm?"

"O-Okay."

"Good girl."

---

A/N: What a meta experience 🤡 Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[9tzuyu]

closest to me

prompt: coming out to natasha as nonbinary

note: totally meant to write this months ago, but whateverrrr. and yes, i am aware that not all nb people use they/them, this was just my own little work :p.

warnings: being scared to come out to ur sexy redhead russian of a gf :[

i’d tag but i also don’t want to somehow trigger someone :[

thank u moli for proofreading i love u to the moon and back.

. . .

you’d come out to two of your close friends, ones you knew wouldn’t judge you. they’d taken it just as expected, but that was no surprise when you’d known them your entire life. your shared opinions and thoughts were what brought you together in the first place. 

your friends immediately began using your correct pronouns, and you’d never felt more right in your life. it was refreshing to hear yourself being referred by they/them rather than she/her. their constant support made you feel normal again. after so much struggling, things were finally being put into place.

but there was one person, one very important person whom you hadn’t come out to yet, and that was your girlfriend.

natasha.

the thought of having the conversation alone with her was terrifying. granted, you knew she’d never be anything but supportive, but all the what if’s came flooding through with each attempt you made. 

your fingers trembled as you fiddled with the silver chain around your neck, a nervous habit you’d seemed to form over the years of wearing it. 

god you wanted to tell her so bad.

but as you stood in the kitchen, natasha’s hands around your waist, you began to panic all over again. the familiar fear of judgment wrapped around your throat. 

you didn’t know natasha the majority of your life like you did with friends, so you weren’t really sure what her exact opinions on different pronouns were. sure, she was part of the lgbt community, and of course she was supportive of trans people, but it still made you wonder how she’d feel about pronouns that weren’t he/him or she/her. 

“what’s on your mind, baby? i can practically hear the gears turning in your head.” 

you sighed. natasha always knew when you were lying, so you couldn’t make something up off the top of your head. she wouldn’t force you to talk either though. she’d give a push, but nothing more until you were certain you were ready — or in some cases, when she knew it was becoming too much to bear on your own. 

“just dumb stuff. i’ll get over it soon.” 

natasha nodded against your back, containing her concern for now. “you know i’m here.” she whispered, taking one of your hands away from your necklace.

“want to go downtown? we can look at some of the new shops that just opened up” 

you smiled, “sure.”

for the next few weeks, you weren’t seeming to find any relief though, and natasha picked up on it. she tried her best to make things easier for you, but none of it seemed to work. 

time and time again you reassured her that nothing was wrong, that things would clear up on their own, but another month down the road and natasha could still sense that something was eating away at you.

it’d gotten a little more obvious now. you didn’t go out as much with her when she was with her friends. the constant referral to you as something, or someone, you weren’t was a steady reminder of how outcast you’d originally felt when coming to terms with who you are. 

“she/her” felt like a slap in the face every time you heard it. the words were exhausting, damn near agonizing to hear. but day after day you tried to suck it up out of fear of being rejected by one of the very special people you loved most. 

it wasn’t until one sunday night when natasha came home to you crying in your shared bed when she’d finally had enough. her worry was through the roof and seeing you struggle so much pained her. 

she dropped her keys on the nightstand and crawled into bed behind you, securing her arms tightly around your figure. 

“talk to me. whatever it is, i want to hear about it.”

but that only made you cry harder. you couldn’t help but feel more alienated than you already felt. why were you crying over such a stupid little thing? you could already hear the false words slip from natasha’s lips.

“hey, baby. shh, shh, you’re okay.”

you turned your body to face natasha, teary eyes looking into hers. “you might hate me, or think i’m weird, or a freak, or that i’m just confused.” 

your girlfriend gently combed through your hair with her nails. “i could never think those things about you. please tell me what this is about because i have no idea and i just want to help.”

her steady hand movement rubbing your arm while the other twirled your hand between her fingertips eventually brought you to a more reasonable state. 

“you know how trans people typically go by their opposing pronouns?”

“mhm.”

“well... i don’t- i just- god this is so frustrating!” you frowned, unconsciously grasping at the chain around your neck.

“are you trying to tell me you’re trans?”

“no, no, it’s not that. well, i don’t think so, depends on who you talk to. some people like me consider themselves to be classified under the trans umbrella, but not everyone.” 

natasha hummed once more while tracing small shapes against your skin. 

“what do you think of nonbinary people? like, you know, those who don’t use she/her or he/him?” 

she shrugged, and your heart sank for a brief second before she spoke. “i don’t have a problem with it. why?”

“i don’t like being referred to as she/her. my pronouns are they/them. i’m not a man and i’m not a woman... will that ever bother you?”

a smile broke out across the redhead’s face. “doesn’t bother me one single bit. i love you for you, y/n. not for who you think you’re supposed to be.” 

relief was all you could feel. as cliche as it sounded, the weight of the world felt like it had been lifted from your shoulders. you didn’t have to worry anymore, not while natasha was around.

“is this what’s been bothering you for so long?”

you reached over and grabbed a loose red strand, it was your turn to play with her hair. “yeah. i knew you wouldn’t judge, but-”

“what if.” she confirmed and you nodded. 

“does anyone else know?”

“just my two friends i grew up with.”

“no one else?” you shook your head, looping a red curl around your finger. “nope.”

“is that why you stopped hanging out with me, tony, clint and the rest of them? because everyone referred to you as she and her?”

“yeah, felt like a punch in the stomach every time i heard it. made me feel weird, not normal i guess.” you mumbled, almost embarrassed by the confession.

natasha placed a long kiss on the top of your head, rubbing your back for extra support. “they would never judge you, i’d cut them off in a heartbeat if they did. if it helps any, i can ask how they feel about it? poke around some and let you know what they say? then when they don’t have a problem with it, which they won’t, you can come out when you’re ready, yeah?”

you nodded again, although it was slightly hesitant. “sounds good.”

“forgive me if i mess up a couple of times. i’ll try not to make a big deal out of it and just correct myself.” another kiss was delivered to your head.

“oh! last question. promise.”

“yes?”

“when im around other people and you’re not with me do you want me to use they/them? i don’t want to out you when you’re not ready.”

“i swear you’re perfect,” you giggled. “but you can use they/them both when im with you and when i’m not. just try to keep it casual? please?”

“anything for you, sweetheart.”

[younghosfavewhore]

wanna experiment?

 [s]

plot; you and yuta experiment in bed. 

pairing; hard dom!yuta x sub fem!reader

warnings; MATURE CONTENT!!!, kinda angsty, edging, very smutty, rough, anal, overstimulation, slight exhibitionism, filth ngl

wc; 1.9k

"y/n” yuta calls from the kitchen. “come here.”

his tone was oddly calm, considering the argument that just ensued. it was a typical, petty argument. you got a little too touchy with the other members during an event and he lectured you for it. you explained that you’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions, but he would refute and say that you’re his. only his. arguing with yuta was a never-ending battle. there would be times you wouldn’t talk for days after an argument; trudging around the house as each of you waited for the other to apologize. and typically you’d be the one to give in first.

you walk into the kitchen, the sight of yuta hunched casually over the countertop was almost relieving. did he plan on apologizing this time?

“yes?” you say nonchalantly.

“i want to experiment.” 

“what?”

“do you know what edging is?”

“edging? as in sex?” 

“yes.”

“are you really talking about sex right now? could i at least get an apology for eariler?”

“why would i apologize because you don’t know how to control yourself?”

“what-”

“i’m not apologizing. we’re done talking about it.” he dismisses you. “do you want to experiment with me or not?”

you could hardly believe yuta’s blunt attitude. it was so disappointing, but so typical of him. if you say that you want to do this with him, what do you gain? so much pleasure, you think. no matter how much of a dick he can be, sex with him is fucking amazing, you admitted in your head. 

“answer me.” he demands.

but your pride, y/n. you go back and forth in your head. you can’t keep letting him get away with treating you like your feelings don’t matter.

“5...4...3...” he starts to countdown.

fuck.

“i’ll do it.” you finally avow.

“that’s what i figured.” he scoffs. “we’ll do it now, come on.” he grips his hand around your arm and practically drags you to the room.

he closes the door behind you, “on the bed. strip.” he commands without even glancing in your direction. he reaches into his dresser, taking out a black bag. 

you start to strip down, still watching as he fidgets with the bag. he pulls out a small storage trunk. 

“where’d i put the fucking key...” he mutters to himself. he finally gives you a glance, taking a second to admire your now-nude body. he licks his lips and goes back to raking through his dresser. 

he eventually finds the key, he opens the trunk, revealing all sorts of toys; cuffs, vibrators, dildos, some even dual-ended.

“yuta? where did you get that stuff?” your eyes widen.

he doesn’t answer, instead, dumping the trunk out, pouring out even more toys.

“yuta-” you gasp at the sight. you’d known he had a few toys, but this?

“how far do you want to go?” he asks, rooting through the toys, picking a few out of the pile.

you hesitate to answer and he turns to glare at you.

“hello? how far?” he repeats.

“i-im not sure...” you say as your eyes still scan the mound of toys in front of him.

he sighs and rolls his eyes. “safe word is ‘eleven’” he stands up, walks towards the bed and places a few toys on the dresser; a few vibrators, lube, plug, and the cuffs. “ass up.” he mutters, grabbing a condom and walking towards you.

you do as he says, flipping onto all fours and propping your ass up.

he places a hard smack on your ass, rubbing and watching it as it turns red.

“i won’t be too rough. you can’t handle it,” you took someone offense, but ultimately he was right. “but i won’t be gentle.”

he grabs one of the vibrators, a blue egg-like shape. he grabs the lube next to it, pouring it along two of his fingers. he glides his fingers around your butthole, placing another smack on your ass cheek.

“so tight... you’ve never been fucked in your ass, have you?”

you shake your head, “no...” 

“good; nice and tight. i want to be the first to stretch it.” he whispers.

he gets on his knees behind you, grabbing the lube and the silvery-pink butt plug next to it. he applies the lube to the plug, grazing it against your asshole. 

“you’re gonna stretch; it’s gonna hurt at first. ‘eleven’, remember?” you nod, you appreciated how yuta could walk you through these things, even though he’s mean to be rough, he still has that soft aura to him.

he slowly slips a finger into your asshole. the feeling was slightly unpleasant, not painful, just new. you could feel his finger plunge deeper into you, squirming as to not slip out. you whimper a bit at the new feeling. yuta moves a finger to your clit, giving it a few flicks and watching your hole clench around his digit.

“i’ll add another.” his tone sounded bored, uninterested; but his hands told a different story. his hands were busy as they explored you.

he adds another finger, slipping the slick digit into your tense hole. the discomfort began to subside, the feeling still wasn’t exactly pleasure, but you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy it. he pumps his fingers into you faster, still squirming them. you let out a slight moan when his other hand drops back to your clit, pinching the small nub between his fingers.

he grabs the blue vibrator, turns it on, and presses it against your clit. at the same time, he inserts the butt plug. the sudden stimulation shakes you and a loud moan spews from your mouth.

“not too loud, baby...” he whispers, gliding the vibrator up and down your slit.

“yuta...” you moan at the unfamiliar pleasure. he turns the vibrator up to the next setting, “f-fuck!” you exclaim.

he slowly starts to move the plug, you had nearly forgotten it was there. “you like this don’t you... when i treat you like my toy?” he smirks.

“y-yes... i love it,” he places another hard smack on your ass, causing you to lose the arch in your back, almost thrashing. “i’m close.” you whimper.

“mmm,” he grumbles, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit. 

your seconds away from your orgasm, your eyes already clamping shut. just then, he pulls the vibrator away. edging. you remember. fuck.

he chuckles when you whimper. he watches your pussy clench, obviously disappointed at the loss.

“you could barely handle that. can you take more?” he taunts, but at this point you were desperate.

you nod, the pleasure was too good to deny; and you needed more.

“flip over.” he says.

it wasn’t until now that you acknowledged the plug again. laying on your back, the plug had a new angle, which again, wasn’t exactly unpleasant. you lie face up on your back. yuta is quick to hover over you, opening your legs and placing pecks along your neck. you bring your hand up to his hair, but he moves it away. “no touching.” he says bluntly. you obey, pulling your hands to the side of your head. just as you do so, he reaches beside you and grabs the cuffs; another delight you’d forgotten about. they weren’t the fun, furry kind, instead they were solid gray in color and heavy, it made you wonder,

“are these real?” you ask as he locks them in place, setting the key on the nightstand.

he doesn’t answer, he just smirks. he drops his hands down to squeeze at your breasts. “before i forget...” he interrupts himself and reaches to the nightstand, “blindfold?” he asks, holding up a black blindfold.

you nod and he slips it over your head, covering your eyes.

his lips immediately meet your nipples, latching onto the soft flesh. you weren’t sure why, but the lack of your senses only made you want him more. his other hand toyed with your other breast, pinching and rubbing it.

the movement suddenly stops, you feel the bed dip beside you, meaning he was grabbing something off of the dresser again. “here,” he uncuffs one of your hands. he places something in your hand, it’s soft but firm; a dildo. “use this,” 

“but i can’t see...” you stammer.

“you don’t need to.” he whispers. you hear him stand up and his zipper unzipping. 

you drop the dildo down to your folds, gliding it over them and feeling your juices seep down onto the bed. you slide it into you, at the same time he turns on the vibrator, pressing it to your clit again. you wail out, your back arching upwards at the sudden rush of pleasure. he slides his fingers into your mouth.

“fuck, yu-yuta...” you groan, grinding yourself against the vibrator ever so slightly; as you grind you push the plug deeper into you; all of your wholes being filled.

“you’re so fucking sexy,” he growls. you assume that he’s finally touching himself. “so tempted to fuck you... so desperate. you want more don’t you?”

“yes,” you moan. “i need you, please..”

“fuck...” he growls, admiring the sight of you pumping the dildo in and out of you.

he rips off your blindfold and you are met with the sight of his nude body, amazing as ever. he yanks the dildo out of you, still keeping the vibrator pressed against your clit. 

he cuffs your hand and slips a finger inside of you, pumping it at an inhuman pace. you attempt to grab onto him as you near your climax but the restraints don’t allow you to.

“i’m so close, please...” he glares into your eyes.

he pulls his hands away from you, taking away his fingers as well as the vibrator. “too needy,” he grunts.

he throws the blue vibrator to the side, reaching to grab the longer, white, wand-like one from the dresser. he positions himself in front of you. he immediately thrusts into you, pressing the vibrator against your throbbing clit. you both let out lustful sounds; nothing could compare to the way yuta filled you up. you cry out his name, unable to say much more. he hovers over you, glaring down at you. his eyes were hooded and thick with lust. this look was what made sex with yuta all the better. his cock slams in and out of you, your vision blurred. the stimulation from tonight’s events all coming down at once. his pace was quick and enough to leave you breathless. his hands move down, gripping your hips and you can tell he’s close. he presses the vibrator harder against you, glaring at your face admiring how it contorts at the stimulation.

“so fuckin’ sexy...” he repeats.

his thrusts speed up and become messier, until he finally lets out that familiar snarl letting you know that he’s finally coming. he doesn’t pull out, instead emptying himself inside of you. with this, you finally release. the sensation coming over you a million times stronger than you’d expected. 

your vision goes black and white as your eyes roll back into your head. you’re not even sure what words spill out of your mouth, just filthy murmurs and whimpers. the reminder of your restricted hands and filled ass come back as you orgasm, intensifying it. the orgasm lasted long, and yuta fucked into you throughout it. this man will be the death of me. you think.

you both finally come down. yuta uncuffs you and pulls out the plug before sliding out of your oozing pussy. you both end up too weak to move another muscle, your bodies sprawl out on the bed. no words are said, until yuta finally breaks the silence.

“i’m sorry.” he smirks. “forgive me?” 

[jangofctts]

Anything at All (boba fett x fem!reader) (part one) (part two) 

Rated: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: smut, even mORE thrONE fucking, oral sex (f receiving), boba’s a biter, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap thAT wiLLY), vaginal fingering, explicit language, boba is a grouchy dom kwjhgjh       

a/n: anyway I think yall forget im a writer and not just a Certified Clown, but anywAy here we be. HAPPY NEW YEARS ya FILTHY anIMALS im so thankful for all yall and im glad I can provide you with some entertainment kaejhejhr

  You haven’t seen Boba Fett in days. 

Called away on business you’ll never be included in or know the fine details about. It’s not kept away from you because he doesn’t trust you, or thinks you’re a mindless idiot—no—he’d rather keep his princess occupied with prettier things. No need to concern yourself with the the underbelly of what he now rules. 

You’re not upset about it—you’re not really a fan of watching petty squabbles that’ll result in someone’s chest being imploded by a blaster. You’ve seen enough of it in the cantina, and while you were never the one tasked with clearing the bodies out—it was still mildly traumatizing. Eh—no need to dwell. 

You’ve got other shit to do anyway. 

There’s a seemingly endless zigzag of secret hallways and dusty rooms within the palace, teeming with strange knickknacks and ancient artifacts that are more than likely cursed. Definitely haunted—but it doesn’t stop you from exploring or sorting through the useless junk. Besides—Fennec stayed behind, acting as your glorified babysitter for the past few cycles—ensuring your safety from both whoever dared step foot into the palace and the ghosts. What a lovely woman. 

Speaking of which—you hear her sigh and shuffle, shifting her weight onto her other foot as she leans back against a dusty crate. She picks at the dirt beneath her fingernails, lazily glancing up every now and then to check that you haven’t eviscerated yourself on a piece of scrap metal or something. Lucky for her, all you found today was an abandoned crate of old datapacs shoved in the back corner from what you assumed to be some sort of office. Yesterday you found a sword that was promptly confiscated.  

“I’d be careful snooping around in those,” Fennec warns as your fingers find the on switch. “You never know what sorta data the Hutts were keeping here.”

You shrug and wave away her concern, reading over the information that flickers across the screen. “I think I’ll be ok…See?” You pointedly wave the datapac in her direction. “This one is about the finances. Spooky.”    

Fennec rolls her eyes followed by an amused smirk that ghosts over her lips. You toss it aside and root around some more, pulling out another datapac. The blue hologram flickers to life and as you decipher the little lines of text your face falls. Each line is a name, previous and recently bought or traded people that crossed the threshold of the palace. Fennec was right. This isn’t fun anymore.    

“These are…slaves.” Your lips curls in disgust. “How is this still not outlawed? It’s barbaric.”      

“You’re not from Tatooine, are you?” Fennec asks as she meanders over and wrestles the datapac out of your hands. She switches it off and tosses it back into the dusty crate. You huff and cross your arms over your chest.  

“No,” you agree. “Im from Arkanis. But even there we don’t have slaves.” 

Fennec squats beside you, her elbows resting over her bent knees. She playfully taps your shoulder with the back of her hand and quirks a brow. “What’d I tell you—snooping doesn’t do anyone any good.”

You roll your eyes and shrug, a frown still etched on your lips. Fennec sighs, rubs her chin and then reaches out to push a stray hair behind your ear. A flush blooms up your cheeks at the gentle touch. 

“You have a sensitive soul, Kitten,” she chuckles, poking at your cheek that you’re certain she can feel the heat emirate from. “You said you were from Arkanis—tell me about it. Why come to Tatooine?”

Your lips quirk in a tiny smile as you bat away her pointer finger, saving your cheek from another poke. “Hey—not everyone likes rain ok?” You huff. “Besides, Tatooine wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”

She nods. Unsure what exactly to tell her--a silence ensues. It’s not terribly awkward but it’s enough that makes you jumpy and itching to move on from this room now stained with information you weren’t prepared on finding. You stand suddenly, brush yourself off and mutter under your breath about finding something less…heartbreaking. 

Fennec jumps up as well and when you leave the room her hand clamps over your shoulder. She spins you around and levels her gaze onto you. “You’re free to leave whenever you like. You know that right?”

Your brows furrow. “I know—don’t worry, I want to stay.”

Her head bobs with a satisfied nod. “We’d miss you if you left. You’re nice to have around.”

You blush again and mumble out a thank you, shooting off into another unexplored location to escape Fennec’s knowing smirk. Maker—you’re embarrassing.  

                               -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Boba returns later that afternoon—the shadow of his familiar figure stretches around the curved stairway, the purposeful stomps of his boots against the carved steps following with it. Your heart flutters within your chest, like a distressed creature with wings as you jump from your makeshift seat.

You come face to face with Boba. Or, helmet rather—whatever. 

The smell of hot metal and dry air sticks to him as he paces closer, closing the small gap that separates him from you. You’re frozen beneath the heavy weight of his stare behind the void like black of his visor as he plants himself firmly before you, close enough that his cuirass could brush your chest if he puffed out his own chest.   

“Hi…” You smile, a fragile vale of uncertainty blanketing the pair of you—still attempting to feel out his mood, sort through the general gruffness of his personality and gage wether or not you could reach out and touch him. The helmet is a tricky thing to read and his body language gives nothing away. You swallow your nerves take a leaping risk.   

“Let me see your face.” You murmur. You move your hands up to the edges of his helmet at a snail’s pace, giving him ample time to slip through your fingers—wedge a sharp thorn between whatever it is that you’ve built and name it for what it is.

He doesn’t choose that option. 

With a low hum, Boba dips his helmet closer to your outstretched fingertips instead. The metal is cool under your palms as they fold over the sides of the helmet and pull up. The metal whispers against his skin like wind through tall grass as the point of his chin peeks out, followed by his lips, his nose, and finally those golden brown eyes. They glitter with amusement as you release a shaky breath, the helmet the only thing acting as a barrier as you clutch it near your sternum. His mouth quirks when you blush and glance away—focusing on the little silvery nicks the green paint refused to cover. You rub your thumb over the blaster pockmark that dents the metal—you frown. You hope that wasn’t recent. 

Boba gently pries the helmet out of your hands and sets it onto the armrest of his throne. He purrs your name and pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, leading your attention back to him. Your eyes flit up his scars—your breath catching in your throat as he smiles.

“Hello, princess,” he says—the grit and timbre of this new nickname jumpstarting your heart to skip and choke on its own tireless beat.

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth and shake your head. “Boba, I’m not—“

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence—

Boba spreads his fingers over your jaw, tilts your head and swoops down to meet your lips in a dizzying kiss. Hard, hungry, victorious, breathless—like he’s spent years fighting and only now takes a moment to slow down—drown in the softness of your lips and skin. His hands claw at your arms, your clothes, your hair—like you’re the spoils of battle and he fears losing you to the shadows of his past and some hidden horror that nips at his heels. He kisses like a man terrified that this will be brief, intangible and something that’ll abandon him.

He trails after your lips when you break away—your lungs heaving for precious air. He doesn’t let you go far, ensuring your positioning by tangling his fist into your hair at the nape of your neck and scraping his lips up your cheek, enticing you into another kiss. You tilt you chin to meet him with equal fervor, whining as his warm tongue curls sweetly into your mouth. His existence fills your veins with liquid silver—evokes the bloom of crackling star fire beneath the cavity of your ribcage. Every thought starts with him and ends with your heart aching to burst into a million tiny shards.   

The next time you part,  Boba is the first one to pull away. He cups your cheeks between his weathered hands and plants a tender kiss just below your hairline. You swear you can feel the skin buzz from the touch—like every atom in your being was solely created for him to command and conquer. You sigh and lean into his palm. 

“I missed you.” You admit with a small smile. 

Boba leans closer and presses another kiss to your forehead. “And I you, little one.”

“I got worried, y’know,” you continue, your fingers tapping a trail up the front of his chest plate. You trace the repainted insignia with your fingernail and flash him a coy smirk. “You never called—thought maybe you found a new pretty thing.”

He grunts, shakes his head and sweeps a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. “Hilarious—my hands are full enough with you hounding me every five minutes.”

You puff out your bottom lip and feign offense, mumbling some lame whine like a petulant brat. Boba snorts and crowds closer. He presses his gloved thumb between your furrowed brows, smoothing out the wrinkles and then cups your cheeks between both palms. You freeze as he carefully knocks the crown of his forehead onto yours—it’s sweet.

An excited smile splits when he moves his head to your right, the syllables of each word rolling off his tongue sweeter than spiced honey. “I’ll make it up to you, pretty thing,” he whispers by your ear, his warm breath disturbing the fine hairs there. “How does that sound, hm?”

That’s not even a question you would ever dream of denying—you quickly nod. “I’d like that.” 

Boba drops his hands from your face and peels himself away. His eyes trickle down your figure—calculative and analytic—planning out each move to pick apart the entirety of your being. “Take everything off.”

You comply without a second thought—slipping free from the breezy cotton and scratchy poncho you stole from a storage room. The fabric pools at your feet in an unceremonious pile—leaving you bare for him. Despite the sickening dry heat that pollutes the air and causes beads of sweat to gather at your hairline—goosebumps rush up your arms under Boba’s piercing stare. 

Boba’s eyes flicker to the throne. A feral grin tugs at his lips. “Sit.”

This time you hesitate. Did he…? No—you must’ve heard wrong— 

He quirks a brow and gestures to the throne. “Well? Are you going to listen?”

Your tongue slides over your chapped lips. “O-ok..I just—never mind…”

Scrounging up some courage, you gingerly seat yourself onto Boba Fett’s throne. Chills race along the entirety of your body as the freezing metal seeps into your warm flesh. You squirm and beat away the urge to wrap your arms around yourself—he wouldn’t like that—probably would take it as some sort of insult anyway—

All your current discomforts melt away in a fraction of a breath as Boba Fett lowers himself to one knee, and then the other. A king kneeling before his very own throne for someone like you. Someone who’ll be lost to the pages of history and the endless swirl of galaxies and supernovas—you’re nobody to the world, but to him you’re everything. You inhale a shaky breath as a strange stroke of pride alights through your body as he peels off his gloves and maneuvers himself flush against the edge of the throne and between your thighs.    

Boba bows forward and slips his calloused hands around your ribcage to tug you closer. His lips land over your collar bone, slides his tongue over the protrusion then sinks his teeth into you there. You gasp as he slides lower, leading a trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake. Boba moves his palms, up and in to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples. A whimper escapes past your lips as he catches the pebbled bud between his lips, the hard enamel of his teeth scraping over it—meant to tease. Your nails dig into the fabric bunched around his neck as he moves on to suck your other nipple, the cooling saliva sending a chill down your spine as it dries.

You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core. You’re already wet—worked up and impatient. You roll your head back onto your shoulders and bite your lip. If you complain and tell him to hurry up you’re scared he’ll leave you like this—deny you that pleasure you’ve been craving for days.  

It feels like ages before he moves on from your breasts, now smattered with bruises and his saliva, and carves out a blinding path down your sternum, your belly, then your navel with his tongue. Boba circles your bellybutton—you force down the ticklish nerves and stay still for him. 

You don't mean to jump as his rough hands drop over your knees. You barely get out the first syllable of an apology when his hands slip up your bare thighs, curl around the swell of your ass and yank. You squeak as the edge of the throne bites into your tailbone, the majority of your lower half forced to lean on Boba’s shoulders and his greedy hands. He kisses the inside of your knee—you jolt with an airy gasp. 

Boba picks up his head and smirks. “Look at me when I taste you, little one.”

Mouth suddenly drier than dust, you nod dumbly. 

He hums, satisfied with your weak response and continues on.  

Boba’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver. They sweep up towards the apex of your thighs, settling close enough to reach your aching center. You know he’s there—it’s impossible to ignore him—but you curse anyway when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They steadily work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch. 

“Patience, princess,” he rumbles, shifting his weight to better reach your cunt. “Maker—you’re dripping already.”   

There's a moment just before Boba commits, his face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, hot breath, anticipation gripping your chest. And then he licks a broad stripe from the base of your pussy all the way up to your swollen clit. 

His mouth Is searing, his tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his head. He grunts against you as you drag him closer—greedy for everything he deems you worthy of. Boba’s mouth pinpoints around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter—it’s a struggle not to shut them completely. He asked you to watch after all… 

He then trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your entrance, skips over it completely to lick at the wetness dripping lower that threatens to pool onto the throne or the floor. He opens his mouth wide and hums in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. 

“Fuck—Boba,” you cry, canting your hips into his mouth. 

It's perfect. So fucking good. 

The tips of his thick fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the fluttering ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The two digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness, glinting in the low light. With a smirk, Boba thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that he refuses to stray from. It leaves you just hovering along the sharp edge of oblivion, the catch of his knuckles and calloused skin along your walls pure torture. Stars—he’s going to be the death of you—

Your hips arch into him, trying to urge him to go faster. Instead, he slowly retracts his fingers and removes his mouth. You gasp in frustration as your cunt clenches around thin air. It almost hurts. 

“I told you to be patient,” Boba chuckles, massaging a warm palm along the outside of your thigh. “You’re behaving like a brat.” 

“I’m—I—I’m sorry—“ You wheeze, trying to rope in some self control that fled a long time ago. Your wits are scrapped thin as you throw your hand against the back of the throne. You don’t care that he’s rendered you to a begging mess, your words slurred and hardly understandable. You're so close to diving off the edge—so near to those plush lips and weathered hands that’ll surely become your salvation. "Please! P-please—I need..." 

You're babbling as he drags his fingertips over your thigh, skims over your cunt, and traces a pattern into your opposite thigh. "Boba. Fuck. I pro-promise to be better—I can do it. Please—“

He complies.

Two fingers are thrust up into your dripping cunt, curving so deliciously into something that feels like unrefined plasma bolts. His mouth dips down and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. 

You're flying off you’re high, faster than a fucking speeder with tampered gears. You cum onto his tongue with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Boba keeps licking you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Stars implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jetfuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Boba, and feel the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue. 

Your brain swims in hazy bliss and fuzzy pleasure as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it hurts. You're too sensitive. Your nerves are rubbed raw and you're still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. He takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a blade against flesh. Your thighs quiver around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves that wrenches a cry from you. Your orgasm floods through you veins, bursting and rupturing every cell in your being. This one is blistering—charrs all the way to the fucking bone. Your core pulses around Boba’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease into a dull throb. You whimper and push at his forehead because he's still licking at your cunt. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick. 

Boba leaves absolutely no time to completely float down from your high—you squeak as his hands shoot up to grab at your hips, wrenching you off the throne and all but throwing you onto the same floor he kneels on. You flash him a dopey grin, letting your legs fall open for his enjoyment—

“Such a filthy princess,” he chuckles, extending a hand to cover your knee, bending it further out to expose more of your flushed cunt. “You taste sweeter than star cherries.”

You preen at his compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

It earns you an amused huff. Boba scrapes the hand resting on your knee to the apex of your legs, thumb and forefinger gently parting your delicate, slick folds. You bite back a keening whine, utterly exposed to him as he slips the hood back from the throbbing knot of nerves at the top of your slit. Too raw. Your pussy clenches involuntarily, causing everything from your toes to your hips stiffen. Boba hums in delight at his handiwork. 

“Stars, Boba—please…” You beg, voice breathy and soft like whips of spider silk. Boba makes a sound that oozes with smug pleasure, teasing your sore clit with unadulterated glee. “Please,” you hear yourself whimper over your pounding pulse, shifting in his grasp and praying he’ll put an end to this sickly sweet torture.

“Pretty little thing, begging for my cock…” He rasps, darkly threaded sin and the husky scrape of the gray sea licking up jagged, black rock. You’re certain he could talk you into unraveling at the seams, untouched and putty in his hands for him to mold and shape. Boba’s other hand sweeps up your sternum, his fingertips dancing along the mythosaur pendant coiled around your neck. He then curls his thick fingers around the base of your throat and ever so lightly squeezes. “Poor baby—all worked up after a few days…I’ll fix that for you.” 

Before you can fully process, he grabs the swell of your hip and flips you onto your belly. The air from your lungs is knocked out of your chest, the abrasive sandstone bitting into the points of your elbows and patches of your skin and no doubt leaving behind irritated scrapes. You hear the shuffle of fabric and then Boba suddenly seizes your hips and arches them into his crotch, grinding the deliciously hard length of his cock through your wet folds. Throbbing and just as desperate as you are, Boba refrains from flinging you into another bout of teasing. He slicks himself up with your arousal and drags the tip of himself to your clenching center and sinks that first, glorious inch inside of you. 

With a low groan, Boba pushes in deeper, watching your tight hold flutter and accommodate his thick length. It’s the same as before during that night in the cantina—dreadfully full and all but bursting at the seems. The gentle rocks of his hips and gravelly praise eventually allow him to finally bottom out, his sharp hipbones resting against the swell of your ass as you shudder and groan. Fuck—

You can feel him in your fucking guts. 

Boba grants you a brief moment to settle and then—it’s catastrophic. 

Your jaw drops in a silent scream when he pulls back, all the way to the tip and slams back into your tight heat. Boba’s hand tangles into your hair at the nape of your neck and and pulls, forcing your back into a sharp arch. The action leaves more of you open, somehow pressing in even further. He hits so deeply within you—stars it feels like he’s splitting you open and laying you bare. 

His dark chuckle resonates above you—a bit breathy as he tames his own frazzled nerves. “Shit—that feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”

Your incoherent babble makes him laugh as he gives your hair a playful tug, all the while he never stops thrusting in and out of you. You wiggle your hips, the slight shift makes it ache, and the sharp downward thrusts put delirious pressure on that patch of nerves that renders you dizzy. Every muscle in your body feels like it’s a tightly spooled cable, fraying and an inch away from snapping. Your gasping breaths pitch into airy squeaks as the fist twisted in your hair tightens, tugging your head back just a bit more.

Boba lurches foreword, the nip of beskar a frigid shock to the bare skin of your back when he lays over you, his elbows caging you in close. His head drops onto your shoulder blade, pressing sloppy kisses over the arch of your throat and slope of your shoulder—without warning he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck. Maker save you—

The feral drag of Boba’s teeth digging into your sensitive flesh skin makes you squeeze around his cock—Boba answers with a soft growl that vibrates against the skin of your shoulder. Somehow he fucks into you harder, his pace becoming brutal. Your nails scrabble against the floor, searching for some sort of anchor as you wail under him.

It’s too much—fuck, you’re gonna implode. Pinned between the rough sandstone and the hand in in your hair, mixed with the sharp pain of his teeth marring your skin—you loose it. Sensing your peaking orgasm, Boba’s fingers wedge between your legs to toy with your clit. He rubs quick circles with two fingers as he purrs words of filth into your ear—how good his pretty thing is for him, how well you came for him, how tight you are. 

“There you go, little one,” Boba says, his words like a tendril of dark smoke. “Cum for your king.”   

His efforts are quickly rewarded as you shudder and lock up harder than durasteel beneath him. A blinding surge of vicious heat, knocks you clean off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs as your nails dig into the sandstone—trembling and grappling blindly for a foothold in your own head. The cold chest plate is a much needed anchor for the overwhelming intensity that threatens to drown you and bury you six fix under.   

He bites down again when he cums, his hips digging into you with short, rough jabs. “Fuck—you take me so well.” You squirm, feeling his cock throb and spill into you, making the mess between your legs smear over your thighs. His thrusts stutter to a stop as he sighs deeply and pulls out, a mixture of his cum and your arousal spilling onto the floor. Boba huffs above you, drags a finger through your swollen folds and pushes it back inside of you. “Good girl.”

You shiver—reduced to a useless puddle with no intent from moving off the floor as Boba’s weight moves away. You could sleep here—that’s something completely plausible you think. Nice, warm dirt—

Boba purrs your name—the sound piquing your interest enough that you overcome the heaviness that’s settled in your body and move your head. He’s returned to his throne, cheeks a bit flushed and his chest rising and falling to recover precious air. You watch as Boba peels off his cuirass with practiced ease, and lays it with care onto the floor. He murmurs your name a second time and pats his lap, coaxing you off the floor. 

You happily slither onto his thighs, exhausted and all too eager to be swept up into the warmth of his arms. He grunts as you tuck your head under his chin and cuddle into his chest, relishing the rough scrape of his palms folding over your shoulder and the outside of your thigh. His soft breaths tickle the top of your head paired with the quiet, but steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath your fingertips and ear pressed onto his sternum. Your eyes flutter shut and though a hushed silence falls over the room, there’s nothing to be said. 

Boba tucks his nose into your hair and you smile, the slow speak of your heart unraveling into a lush garden of something new and brittle—like flakes of frost in the early morning sun. He’s more bruise than bleed nowadays—a wound closed then reopened and he promises nothing of a future beyond what you have in these moments. And yet—

You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb      @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeach @pettyprocrastination @nelba​ @beskars​ @jango-fettish​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @cobbvader​ @maybege​ @clonewarslover55​ @auty-ren​ @legally-a-bastard​ @bigdickdindjarin​ @thesparkleslugs​ @cryptid-candy​ @mandowhorian​ @pascaliprincess​ @mitchi-c​

[hanmasushi]

MONTERO (Short Bonten! Scenario)

What happens when you're the new recruit and the only woman in Bonten.

warning ✁ suggestive content, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol and drugs. third person pov. fem!reader. Bonten Men !! Short scenario.

a/n ✁ uhh im just gonna leave it here bye.

wc ✁ 1.6k

ost ✁ Montero by Lil Nas X (pink fonts are lyric references to the song)

For a moment she’d forgotten how she got roped in the situation she was in now. Slightly intoxicated yet she felt more in control than she’d ever been. She smiled as she felt warm hands on her ass, allowing herself to be pulled.

She only briefly remembers receiving a text from Akashi indicating a time and place. It was a famous club in downtown Tokyo and it was set at a later time of the night. She knew she was going to get dressed. She’d only been part of Bonten for a week, as per Akashi’s recommendation, and she could already tell they were an expensive bunch.

She had her long hair tucked in a neat bun, a black coat covering her body while sporting a fresh makeup look. She was decent enough, but she brought extra paraphernalias just in case she’d need them.

Hours passed by and they were now on the upper deck of the club overlooking the crowd, hectic laser lights and constant color shift filling in the venue along with the loud booming of trap music. She still didn’t know what their course of action was but she knew this was an urgent mission. With Akashi, Sanzu, Kokonoi, Ran, and Rindou, basically the majority of the important Bonten figures present, this mission was definitely something that shouldn’t be taken lightly.

This was her first mission, she wasn’t an executive but Akashi made the point to make her tag along. She was being tested, she suspected. She was about to ask when Akashi beat her to it, he was leaning into the railings with a fresh lit cigarette at hand.

“I had an informant of mine saying that crucial information about Bonten was being sold to our biggest rival gangs in Tokyo. And no, there was no mole this time. Information was stolen from us by a notorious hacker. It was said that he was selling it for a considerably expensive price. We couldn’t do anything stupid like attacking him in his own base because a few clicks could mean Bonten’s demise. So I heard that he was going to do the exchange an hour from now. What we’re looking for is a small flash drive, it was said that it’s the only copy to exist that he made. The outcome of this mission could mean the rise or fall of Bonten.” Akashi said in a casual manner, he was now halfway done with his cigarette.

“That’s him.” Sanzu pointed to a guy in the middle of a crowd. It was a lanky guy in a worn out band tee, dark flannel jacket and black skinny jeans.

“Him?” she couldn’t help blurt out but she was positive she could take him out in hand-to-hand combat. The guy looked clearly out of place considering he was like a boy undergoing puberty eyeing every woman he could lay his gaze on, awkwardly nodding as he took a sip of his drink. She was getting secondhand embarrassment just by looking at him.

“Don’t be fooled, he may seem harmless but he’s smart enough to hire guards around him. Getting close to him will not be easy.” Ran pointed around a bunch of beefed up men not too far from the hacker, blending right into the crowd.

“Besides, creating casualties in a crowd like this is not ideal.” Rindou added.

“Best route of action is to wait till he gets out of the club, and beat the other gang to it. Then we’ll have dollface over here, take the drive and make a run for it.” Koko said as he looked at her with his usual smug expression.

“So your plan is to wait for how many ungodly hours and make me an errand girl? Well that’s fucking sexist.” She said trying not to lose her composure, talk about workplace discrimination.

“You got a better plan?” Sanzu loomed over her, his pills having been taking effect considering he was starting to get maniacal and chaotic by the minute.

“Actually, I do.” She said as she started taking her bun and letting her long hair loose. She then took off her coat revealing a black corset mesh mini dress, hugging her figure tightly. “And I'll bet you I can do it in less than three minutes.” She was now applying a crimson shade of lipstick that she pulled out from her purse, she was right about needing her paraphernalia, instantly transforming her fresh glam into a sultry one.

“Yeah right.” Sanzu scoffed. She then shoved her coat and purse into Rindou’s empty arms. Rindou was about to protest because he thought she was going to jeopardize the mission but Ran held him back, he wanted to see how this one plays out.

She was already downstairs blending in the crowd, she was gonna need liquid luck if she wanted to be believable. She downed three shots of vodka before she took one look at her new superiors as if to say “watch me”. That was when Montero by Lil Nas X played and the entire mood of the dancefloor shifted as the smoke machines and lights made the atmosphere more alluring. With smoke filling the air as the lights faded out into purple red blue hues, oh she was in the zone.

I caught it bad yesterday

You hit me with a call to your place

Ain't been out in a while anyway

Was hopin' I could catch you throwin' smiles in my face

It hadn’t been a minute since she downed the vodka but she could feel her body heating up. She was swaying her hips delicately, instantly catching the attention of beautiful strangers around her. She had to gather up momentum if she didn’t want to be suspected.

Romantic talkin'? You don't even have to try

You're cute enough to fuck with me tonight

She let herself be the center of intoxicated strangers, her plan was to make him notice her. It wasn’t long till she caught the hacker’s attention, all she had to do was make him long for her.

Call me when you want, call me when you need

Call me in the morning, I'll be on the way

Call me when you want, call me when you need

Call me out by your name, I'll be on the way like

She never broke eye contact as she continued exchanging body heat with strangers. Swaying off synching into the beat of the song. She had her way of making the man focus on her. Teasing as if she was challenging him to be brave and get closer.

With a different man’s hands around her, she wanted him to feel envious of what was in front of him. That’s when he took the bait, he took one last sip of his drink as if to say fuck it. She knew she was winning the moment he let his guard down. He made his way to her, she was trying to suppress her laughter as she thought of how the alcohol he consumed made him feel that he was desired by a woman like her.

Mmm, mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm, mmm

For a moment she’d forgotten how she got roped in the situation she was in now. Slightly intoxicated yet she felt more in control than she’d ever been. She smiled as she felt warm hands on her ass, allowing herself to be pulled. She played along, taking his lead, she definitely wasn’t raising any alarms. He was a terrible dancer, she thought. All he had going on was groping her intimate parts of the body. Just a bit more, she continued grinding on the man behind her, feeling him. In the corner of her eyes she could see the executives. Ran, Kokonoi and Sanzu were amused. Akashi still bearing the same neutral look as he smoked another cigarette. Rindou, on the other hand, was shocked at the display. It was near the end of the song when she knew she had to start wrapping things up.

For the finale, she thought she’d surprise them even more by turning around and pulling the guy into a deep kiss.

Oh, call me by your name (mmm, mmm, mmm)

Tell me you love me in private

His hands still on her ass, she decided to take advantage of the situation as she delicately slipped her hands in one of his pockets till she thought BINGO, she’d found the motherload.

Call me by your name (mmm, mmm, mmm)

I do not care if you lyin'

As she broke off the kiss, the man felt like he was still in trance. It took him a moment to realize she was slowly pulling away. He opened his eyes, she gave him one last flirtatious look before she disappeared into the crowd.

Well I'm just feelin', mm-uh

I wanna get, mm-uh

I'm in my, into my, uh

I'm mm, mm

I'm still, mm, mm-mm

The entire time the executives were definitely taken aback from the sudden explicit display.

Seconds later, she was back in the upper decks with the rest of the executives with the guy's scent still lingering. She handed the flash drive to Akashi, who this time had a satisfied look.

“With 30 seconds to spare,” She said to Sanzu. She then took her coat and purse from Rindou, who was just as confused as he was intrigued. She then wrapped her coat back to her body.

"And that is how you handle men, gentlemen" Kokonoi and Ran let out an amused chuckle.

“My my, I don’t know where you found her but I think she’s going to be useful.” Ran said to Akashi.

“As expected.” Akashi simply replied.

The men all made a mental note not to let their guard down around her, despite being an asset, the way she lures men is alarming for them.

[obnoxiousgremlin]

The Proposal , Lets fall in love for the night [o.w]

A/N- The reader is 19 and Oliver is 20. He’s already been recruited to a team for quid ditch while the reader finishes their last year of hogwarts. This is a non-voldemort a/u.

Warnings- just fluff, super cute fluff.

y/n-your name

y/m/n-your middle name

y/l/n-your last name

“Can i take my blindfold off now?” you whine. It was your five-year anniversary with Oliver and he had a whole thing planned out, from the entire day down till your outfit. You hadn’t seen him all day and he left you nothing but a note in your dorm telling you to slip on the white dress and matching silver heels in the box [whatever you say the man had good taste] he left and meet him outside the common room at 5pm. Once you were ready you went and were met with Fred, who proceeded to blindfold you and take you to Oliver so you knew absolutely nothing. And that’s how you found yourself in his position, hand in hand with none other than Oliver himself blindfolded walking to god knows where. 

“Not just yet, darling.” he chuckled , carefully guiding you.

“I love you Oliver , but if I have to wear this for one minute longer we are over.” You didn’t mean it, of course you didn’t mean it but you needed that blindfold off.

He chuckled again , “Almost there love-” taking a short pause, “- okay, we’re here now.” He proceeded to take you blindfold off but not before a song started playing. “lets fall in love for tonight and forget in the morning-”  you gasped when the blindfold came off, taking in your surroundings. You were standing on the bridge where you had first kissed him, yes you because even oliver who was super confident was way too nervous to actually make a move on you. This same bridge shared all your big moments, its where he first asked you out, its where you first told him you loved him, the feeling was mutual of course. He had somehow managed to cover the gorgeous light wood railings of the tiny bridge in white fairy lights, illuminating the place. You turned around to oliver who was dressed in a white button up and black formal trousers and kissed him. You grabbed his face and kissed him. He was startled but kissed you back immediately. You broke the kiss and touched your forehead to his “This is gorgeous babe, i love it.”

He chuckled and said, “your squishing the flowers darling.”

“Oh. Shit-” you stepped back and looked down embarrassed , “-sorry.”

“Don’t be.” he handed you your favourite flowers [a/n- my favourite flowers are white roses, so that's what im basing this on but feel free to picture your own!], and kissed you again. 

He bowed down dramatically, “May I have this dance , your grace.” He said referring to Bridgerton ,the show you two had finished a week ago after which you had taken to calling each other your grace, thinking it was funny.

You bowed back. “You may, your grace.” you said chuckling. And there the two of you were dancing on the bridge to finneas sing. It was your song, yours and olivers. You rested your head on his chest and he swayed. He turned you around, your back to his front and you hummed. His warmth seeping into you. Suddenly, he stepped back and you whined, he chuckled once again, “Just a minute, love.” and you hummed in response leaning against the railings of the bridge admiring the view of the water and the purple sky. Autumn was setting in and you couldn't be happier.

He came back and handed you a glass of rose champagne leaning next to you with his hand on your waist. You both took and sip and you hummed to the wonderful taste. After a couple of minutes , he cleared his throat and you looked at him. 

He took your hand and took a couple steps back. He seemed a little nervous but then looked at you. Clearing his throat again he said , “ Okay, so i had a whole speech prepared and i was going to say a lot of things, i can't remember anything right now. So, im just gonna say something and hope it comes out right -” you interrupted him before he could say anything ,”Oliver?” 

He lifted a hand so as to shush you and continued, ”Darling, I love you. I love you so much that I can't explain it. I love going to sleep right next to you and i love waking up next to you. I love your laugh and i love your voice and i love you. You take my breath away.I think i might love you more than qudditch, actually no, i dont think, I know that I love you more than quidditch.  Every time i look at you, i want to be near you. I want to spend my entire life with you. I want to build a future with you. I want to take every next breath with you, i want to grow old and grey with you.-” He took a deep breath , by this time you already had tears in your eyes anticipating what was happening. He continues,” - And I- and i- It is one thing to meet a beautiful woman but to meet your best friend in the most beautiful of women is something entirely apart.” He grinned referencing to Simon’s speech about Daphne in Bridgerton making you laugh. He took another deep breath , “ When i first started playing, i didnt think i would ever experience anything that would ever compare to how i felt when i picked up the broom. I never thought i would find love because quid ditch was my entire world and then there was you, equally as fast. Equally as cunning, equally as sharp as me on the broom. Thats when i knew i loved you, when i first saw you on that broom.I knew then that nothing mattered as long as i had you. That even if i didnt have quidditch and i had you everything in the world would be okay. y/n y/m/n y/l/n , will you do me honour of marrying me, of becoming Mrs. Oliver Wood and being with me for the rest of my life?” At some point he had sat down on one knee and was now looking up at you holding out a gorgeous engagement ring.

You wanted to play with him and say no but the emotions of the entire ordeal had completely overtaken you and you ended up saying ,“yes, yes, yes ,yes, yes i’ll marry you.” He picked you up and spinned you not before placing the ring on your delicate finger, huh that's why Angelina wanted to get her nails done with you. After placing you on your feet he kissed you. “Really? You want to marry me?” he asked resting his forehead against yours. “Of course i want to marry you dumbass , and even if i didnt after that speech who could refuse.” you chuckled and he joined you. 

After a couple of moments of staying like that you took a deep breath, “I guess this would be the perfect time to tell you that im pregnant?” you said looking into his eyes. The second you finished that sentence fireworks burst around you. You looked up in awe but only for a second before oliver turned your face to him, he eyes glowing .”Your pregnant?” and you nodded. “I’m going to be a dad?” he asked again.

“Mhm, i found out this morning. I guess that's what you get for making your girlfriend, well now fiancee pregnant baby”  you said laughing at him. He grinned before jumping up and down. He stopped and kissed you, his hands going to your belly. “This is the best day ever, the most perfect, goddess-like woman agreed to be my wife and im having a baby!” his excitement had you laughing. 

After a moment you said, “So about those fireworks-” he looked down sheepishly, you smacked his chest “-Oliver how many people did you tell?” you said feigning accusation. “might've told everyone in the castle.” he mumbled under his breath. “OLIVER-” he broke you off before kissing you again. 

You broke the kiss ,”that was a good way of shutting me up, love.” he chuckled, ”I know, can’t wait to use it a lot more when i finally marry you.”

As you two headed back to the castle , finneas remained singing ,”lets fall in love for the night.”

a/n-i hope you liked this, its my very first time doing something like this. Also i know the ending is kind of crappy but i can't think anything else. 

*Do not post my stuff anywhere*

ignore tags-

[hoodieofholland]

Okay, what Im requesting really angst so I get if you don’t want write,

boyfriend!Tom starting to feel things to his co-star while y/n is waiting for him to come back to her and when he coms back he tells her the turth. She runs pf with tears and have a serious car crash and Tom regrets what he did and blames himself for her injures.

(Oh god I love jerk Tom so much)

(love your writings <3)

a/n: took a little while to write this, but it's done, finally! Hahah. Feels like ive been writing a lot of angst lately lol, what you guys think? Thanks anon for requesting, hope you like it!

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, heartbreak, mentions of blood, car accident, language.

Broken. That’s how you felt, staring into those brown chocolate eyes, full of regret, guilt and fear. Your heart clenches inside of your chest, desperately trying to find some sort of comfort while your heartbeat only seems to increase each second you pass looking at him.

“What?”, your voice is cracked. Your eyes are glistening with the threatening tears.

You still can hear the reverberation of his words inside of your head: I think I’m having feelings for someone else. Someone else. His co-star. Tom had just admitted to you he was having feelings for his co-star.

You and Tom have been in a relationship long enough to know this would inevitably break your heart into pieces. Those words didn’t even make sense to you. Though both of you were feeling a little off lately, like your relationship wasn’t the same anymore, you were sure this was just a phase, you were willing to bring you two back on track. But right now you could see you were the only one with hope and this made you feel ashamed of just standing in front of Tom, feeling extremely exposed and weak.

He sniffles, averting his gaze to the ground. “I- I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to blurt it like that, it’s just-“

You blink your tears away, your whole body shaking slightly, not under your control anymore. Your hands close into fists as you try to control your emotions and the unbearable pressure on your chest. “What is it, Tom? What is happening? I- I can’t understand, I thought-“, you didn’t even know what to say. You bite your lips to prevent you from crying. “Since... since when, Tom?”

He breathed out, cheeks buffing as he runs his hands through his curls. “I don’t know. Honestly”, his voice was full of sadness, “I just- I realized it today”.

You feel your knees getting weaker. “Did you-“, you gulp, too afraid to ask, “Did you cheat on me, Tom? Did you do something with her? Did she touch you? Did you touch her?”

Though you knew pretty well none of that was important anymore, that betraying your feeling while still together was equally as bad as kissing or sleeping with someone else, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that physical contact would make the whole thing worse. You couldn’t stand the thought of being there, waiting for Tom to come home and maybe have a nice dinner so you could enjoy time together and make things work out again, while he was out there fucking another girl.

But he shook his head no, and you released a sigh in relief. He had a frown between his brows, genuinely hurt by the path of that conversation. “I’d never, y/n”, he rubbed his eyes. “I know this doesn’t make me a better of a man, but I- I swear to God I just realized it now. It was today, when we were filming and... and I couldn’t go another minute without telling you this. This is so fucked up and I am so fucking sorry, but I thought that it would be better for both of us if I just told you this and-“

A sob coming from your parted lips breaks his attempt to explain, watching you fall apart for something he has done. Tom didn't stop loving you. It felt different, but he still cared about your feelings and how you'd deal with the fact that your relationship wasn't working anymore. He felt guilty and even disgusted at himself for breaking your heart. But that didn't stop him neither.

"Can we talk about this, darling?", he mumbles, trying to reach your hand, but you step back, body trembling as you fight back the need of giving in to his embrace.

"Don't. Don't call that", you cry out, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks now. "Fuck, Tom, what did I do? I didn't deserve this. I- I was by your side, I never left. I knew this day would come, but I was trying my best..."

"It's not like that, y/n", he mutters, feeling defeated. He didn't intend to take it this way. He never wanted to make you cry. He promised he would never make you cry. "I've tried. And I love you, I love you so fucking much, but I... I don't know what happened".

You wipes the tears away furiously, too frustrated to care about the look on your face right now. You just didn't want to look fragile, or broken, or weak - all of the things you actually were feeling like.

You look at him clearer, the man you so desperately love, the man you most felt affection to. Tom was everything you always dreamt of. If there was a man you could say you trusted in, it was Tom. And he betrayed your feelings.

It wasn't his fault and you had to admit that. He fell for another woman. He just didn't feel the same about you anymore, and though you were suffering, you couldn't blame it on him. It was just human nature. Life itself, playing tricks on you, when you so certainly believed to have found the love of your life.

"I know", you say through hoarse voice. "I can't blame it on you. It's not your fault. I just- I thought we could work this out, y'know? Thought you wanted this with me". You give him a sad smile and couldn't help but let more tears roll down your face. You felt pathetic and you were sure you looked just like that.

Tom swallows the thick knot on his throat, chest aching at the sign of you. He wanted to say something, but couldn't think about anything good enough.

Ashamed of your position, you nod a couple of times for nothing in special and make your way to the front door.

"Wait! Y/n, what are you- where are you going?", Tom shouted, eyes wide as he tried to take your arm. You pulled it from his reach and raised your hand to prevent him from coming any closer.

"I'm leaving. What else do you expect me to do, Tom?" With bloodshot eyes, you stare at him, lips pressed tightly in a thin line, holding everything in you to not make even more a fool of yourself.

"I don't know", he almost whispers.

You can't seem to contain the growing anger inside of you for his words, sobbing a little more as you try to come up with the right thing to say. Why does he have to do this to you?

"Guess what? I don't know neither. All of a sudden, my long-term boyfriend told me he is falling for another girl. Do you know how much it costs me to look at you right now, Tom? I can't even- I fucking hate you right now and I know it's not even your fucking fault, but I can't help it!" You scream, hand covering your mouth as you try to regain some composure. "Just leave me fucking alone, Tom!"

Without another word, you run to the front door, yanking it open and slamming it shut, letting your whines finally scape through your gritted teeth.

---

Tom checked his phone one more time before slipping into the covers and lay down on his empty bed, facing the ceiling for a long enough time to get sick of it.

His mind was running wild, thinking about the things he said to you, and the thing you said to him. It was hard to face the fact that he made you cry and feel miserable. Tom never intended that. He knew both of you were slipping apart, gradually giving your relationship an end, but that was a whole different level.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the moment you stormed out the door, thinking about the feeling he had previously in the morning, while working with his co-star. It wasn't the strongest thing he felt in his life, it wasn't even near to the things he felt when meeting you, but he knew he should be honest with you from the moment he realized there was something going on.

But even know, he felt like he messed it up real bad.

Tom has been calling you since you stepped out of the house, but you never answered, or called back. He left a message in your voicemail, asking you to come back home so you could talk. Aware of the fact that this had no coming back, Tom just needed to look at you one more time and apologise for being a dick. He couldn't afford to have you out of his life.

And then his phone rang.

He was quick to pick it up and press to his ear, waiting to hear your voice, but what he heard was something much more unexpected.

"Hello, can I please speak with Thomas Stanley?", an unrecognizable voice came to the phone and Tom sat on his bed.

"Uh, yes, it's me. What's the matter?"

"I'm calling because you're at Miss y/n y/l/n's emergency contact. She was brought to the hospital after an accident, a car crash. Miss y/n is passing through an emergency surgery right now and I need to inform someone in the family..."

The woman kept talking, voice too steady for something so breath-taking. Tom was surely out of breath. For a few seconds, he felt like he had gone blind, not able to see anything besides a black spot in the darkness of his room.

He couldn't believe he was hearing that. It couldn't be real. He tried to come up with any excuse, with some explanation, but everything that ever crossed his mind at the moment was the sign of you laying flat on some ciment busy street, blood coming out of the corner of your mouth and eyes wide open with no brightness on them.

"Sir?", the woman spook again and Tom was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Can you give me the address?", he jumped out of bed and started to look for his keys frantically. The woman gave him instructions and he quickly made his way to the living room.

"Fuck... where 'my fucking keys!" He yelled desperately, throwing the pillows on the sofa go the ground to look better. "Fuck!"

Tom sat on the couch, heavy breathing making his whole body shake. His hands holds his head and his eyes go wide. He felt a heat rise in every part of his body, but mainly on his chest.

It was his fault, he knew it. You were supposed to be at home, you were supposed to stay with him. You were going to have dinner together, and you wouldn't be driving before having a car crash.

Why did he mess up? Why did he say those things to you? He shouldn't have let you go outside in that state. He shouldn't

Tom heard the front door crack open, and he raised his head with silly hopes of you stepping inside and all of this being a fucking cruel joke, but instead, it was Harrison passing by.

"Tom, I was just going to- Dude, what happened?" Harrison puts a worried face when he saw the bloodshot eyes, trembling lips and shaking hands, all parts of Tom's nervousness.

He almost couldn't put his voice to work, and if it wasn't for the fact that he needed to reach out the hospital in no time, to make sure you were fine, maybe he wouldn't be able to say a single word.

"You gotta drive me. I can't- I can't find my keys. And she needs me. I need her. I need to find her, Haz. She- fuck, she needs me and I can't find my fucking keys", he said in desperation, letting himself become a sobbing mess in front of his friend.

---

There was no small talk between the two of them whilst the drive to the hospital. It seemed like you have done a long way from home; the distance was killing the eye browned boy.

All that was on his mind now was the thought of you - moments you've spent together, days of happiness and things that he loved about you. He remembered the first time you met, the day he asked you out and the first time he heard you say you loved him. He questioned himself when was the last time you said that, when he heard his name coming out of your lips with an "I love you" next. He couldn't remember and he felt disgusting for that too.

Because Tom realized in the way to the hospital that he couldn't live without you. If you were gone, there would be nothing. He never thought about this day, never thought that one day he'd be losing you, but the bare possibility of this happening made him realize he wouldn't stand it. He needed you, in more ways than just one.

"She'll be fine, Tom", Harrison told him for the third time, when they were sitting in a corridor, waiting for a doctor to call for Tom when you were brought to the room.

"'S all my fault. Shouldn't have fought her. Shouldn't have let her think I didn't love her", Tom muttered more to himself, voice hoarse.

Tom was bouncing his leg rapidly, eyes closed tightly an heart aching for every second he spent without any medic information.

"Mr. Holland?" A voice came next to him, a doctor, a comphreensive smile on his face, which eased Tom a little bit. "Miss y/n is in her room now, you can check on her".

Tom got up immediately, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans while walking down the aisle with the doctor to your room. When he reached the place with white walls, white sheets and an audible beep from the machine that was monitoring your heartbeat.

"She's asleep right now, might wake up in about an hour or so. Then a nurse should come check on her", the doctor says, reading through some papers on his clipboard. He sighs lightly and look at Tom, whose eyes are glue on you. "I might say she was lucky, Mr. Holland. It was a serious accident, and others victims didn't have as much luck as Miss y/n", he friendly pats Tom's shoulder. "Don't know what you believe in, but I think you should be thankful. She's a strong girl, she'll be fine", he smiled and after a few seconds, left Tom and you alone in the room, closing the door behind him.

Tom was hesitant, taking small steps towards your bed as he looked cautiously every part of you body. You had some big injuries on your face. There was a bandage on your nose, which was broken when you entered the emergency. Your lips had cuts and there was a purple spot on your forehead and around one of your eyes.

Tom felt sick to his stomach thinking about how much pain you had gone through the last hours. He stood beside your bed, taking your fragile looking hands on his. It was bruised too, and Tom pressed a very light kiss to your palm, letting a silent tear roll down his face till reach his chin.

"I'm so sorry, my love", he whispered with a croaky voice. "You'll be fine, it's gonna be alright", he reassured, more to himself than to you, who was drifted on sleep now, too far from the chaos that was going on outside.

Tom sniffles, rubbing a hand on his wet nose, and blinks a couple of times to get rid of his tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I know it's my fault. And I was wrong".

He breathed out, looking at the ceiling as he remembered your conversation that evening. "There's no one I love more than you, y/n. It was dumb of me thinking that there's anyone I might be in love with besides you. It's only you, love, you're the person I can't live without".

Tom felt like a kid, crying over your hand, squeezing it ever so lightly and praying that you might hear his apologies and his pleas.

"And it was unfair of me not putting as much effort as you in this relationship. This is my fault too. But I love you, and I don't care about anything else, your love is the only thing I'm going to focus on when you wake up".

Tom realized that nothing was more important than your relationship to him now. Not even work, which has taken so much of his time that he was slowly slipping apart from you. Not even whatever feeling he fooled himself to believe in. It wasn't true. It was his fear of not being in love with you anymore, of being too far to bring you two together again. But by that moment, Tom knew he couldn't be afraid of nothing else than losing you. And now he just prayed that you could forgive him and the things he said, while he left himself fall in tears and regret.

********

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds @pinkrockstar19 @onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches @miraclesoflove @heavenlyholland

@zspideyy @marlenetough @nsxvision

@xoxohollands @siriuslyslyslytherin @mathletemadison

[thefanbasewhore]

United as One. || Part 1.

Summary: Din returns home after fulfilling his mission of saving his foundling, after completing it he can now claim his rightful spot as clan leader. There is one problem he needs a wife to secure the future of his clan but his clan is not to happy with his choice and they make that very clear.

Warning/content: None for this part except for blood, wounds and angst but future ones will be 18+, have mature themes, pregnancy and etc. This does contain chapter 16 spoilers!!! No use of y/n. 

Clan leader Din AU. Also not edited because im lazy. 

paring: din djarin/female reader

Part 2. || Master post. 

Din holds the child close, it's a bittersweet moment as Grogu is finally untied with his father. Tears threaten the Mandalorian's eyes, he's thankful of helmet at this very moment. His eyes find her, another reason to get emotional. He realizes just how much she’s grown on him during this journey, and could easily admit he didn’t want to say good bye. She can't help it as her own eyes gloss over as the words are said. Din leans over, cool helmet flushing against the warmth of her  forehead. “Now that the child is safe I must return to my clan.”

"I'm glad we found him Din, I'm glad you can go back home." Din sighs, the leather pad of gloves rubbing the highest point of her cheek, soaking in the feeling of skin. "I wish you could stay."

“It’s my obligation." Din mumbles, metal kisses her ear as he presses his forehead into the her collarbone. He was close, never wanting to let go as he pulls her in as much as the child will allow against his chest. "The clan needs me, I'm to be the new leader."

"I know, someone out there needs you more than I do." It's a whisper only meant for his ears, the rough edges of his visor meets her face, surprised at the words. She can’t see it, the way his bottom lip quivers with emotion, the longing eyes that just want her. Those words mean something to him. 

“Come with me, I can’t be without you.” he admits, he wishes Boba and Fennec weren't close by, he wishes he can tell her to shut her eyes so he can feel the softness of lips, the rush that fills him whenever he kisses her. Pink, soft and plump, the perfect fit for his own.

"Din I'm not -."

Din doesn't allow any excuses, "I love you. I need you."

"You're making this hard." Tears swell immediately, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth with a soft sob, disguising it as a laugh. Din doesn’t move a single muscle, just stares intensely. 

"Please." He begs, the hand against her cheek lowers to her hip fingers pressing in attempt to close the gap between the two.. Grogu's soft fingers touch her collarbones, his own quiet plea. Cheeks rise to form wrinkles under eyes as her smile makes Din's heart rate increase.

"Okay. I'll go." Din let's out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, chest expanding once again, a ghost of a smile. 

"I wish I could kiss you Cyar'ika, I am so thankful for you." Din's heart felt like it was going to explode, the unbearable emptiness of leaving her here was suddenly gone. "You're are my other half. I can't wait to share my home with you."

While the ride was long, Din manages to make it manageable, he tells stories of his clan, talks about the different types of foods, the ceremony that will be held in days time when he arrives. It’s cute.. how passionate he is about his people. It never really hit her before.. Din is to be a leader of his clan and it fits him, a little to perfect. He’s a protector but caring, it’s the perfect blend for one. 

Din's fingers squeeze her own as the ship lands, reinsuring as he senses the nervousness seeing her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Standing tall, stiff and uncomfortable. "It's going to be okay, you look nervous."

"I am nervous." Fidgeting with the hem of tunic says it all, he leans in closer he smell of him is almost enough, but the warmth is what really calms her down. Din's fingers fill the gaps in-between hers, his own little way of saying he's here, there's no reason to be nervous.

The ramp of the ship is slowly opening while her eyes dart over his side profile over and over again; of course it’s just his helmet, but somewhere in those points of basker bring comfort. The moment he does notice, she’s blushing, caught but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

"There's no reason to be, I'll always protect you my love." There it is, the love of the man that got her nto this in the first place. It's a small gesture, a glove hand pressing softly into her cheek, dragging across smooth skin. "I mean it, I'd do anything for you."

Her mouth open to say the same words back but the smell of fresh pine, earthy tones of moisture are distracting, there is absolutely nothing, just trees and dirt that run for miles. The small child is asleep but stirs in the bag that wraps across his neck and down his side. 

"We have to hike there." The Mandalorian throws a pack over his shoulder, hand finding slipping into hers again. "The clan survives by being a secret, no one but us must know the location."

"Not even Boba?"

Din's eyes drag along her face, looking back at herself in the reflection of his helmet. "No, he is not a Mandalorian."

"Either am I." Din steps out in front of her, hands still crossed in each other, extending it until your feet move out from under her.

"You're with me, no one will say anything." He pauses, slight amusement in his voice. "If they know what's good for them."

"Come on." Despite Din controlling the pace it does not meet up to expectations as he pulls her closer and slightly in front of him. "Stay right next to me and we have to move quicker, it gets dangerous around here at night time."

Dark was near, hanging right over the horizon as the planet’s sun begins to set lower, it was quieter then when she first arrived, the small animals and bugs of the forest seemed to also agree with Din.

The big fill moon on display provides just the amount of light needed to maneuver the thick brush and trees. It’s peaceful, beautiful, the forest is different hues of greens, pinks and blues from growing flowers make the trip just a little more bearable. 

 It’s serenity, peaceful and ebbing so gently throughout the darkness. Din’s hand never leaves her own except when he drapes his cape over shuddering shoulders, or to check on the child, the darkness brought a chill with it. 

It’s happens in an instant, suddenly all of her breath is knocked out of as Din pushes her with a shout, “Get down!” Protective hands press accidently press her face against the foliage of the forest, the heavy body shielding her own from harm.

Large sharp spikes take wing above them. Both of their hearts thump at the crunching of leaves in the distance with the snapping branches falling all around when a loud unhuman sound fills the air, a growl so close she couldn’t decide if the hot air was it was coming from under Din’s helmet or snapping of jaws in front of her face. It’s covered in fur black red eyes peering as it’s long claws reached for both of her but Din is quicker, his fingers grasp her hips, yanking up and pushing her back as he secures the bag against his chest. “Run!” 

The sounds of chanting could be heard, a group large in numbers just ahead in the tree line, a large bright light that an only resemble a large fire burning, the smell makes her nose twitch, it’s so close but very very far for the predicament the pair find themselves in. 

She couldn’t breath, air ways blocked by paralyzing fear that swirls deep inside of her stomach sending her whole body into a frenzy. Feet ran with a blur, not being make out anything due to how fast she were going, the pitch dark didn’t help either, but Din was were to guide her, with one slip up he was pushing her into the right direction.  Alarms and bells began to sing, loud drums as chaos broke out, yelling and the sound of blasters as she finally hit the tree line. Din’s finger press into her shoulder to finally stop her from running, the beast did not dare past the tree line.

Only because of what in habited it. Loud wheezing falls from burning lungs, long, shallow breaths as she lean one hand against the ground for support. It was obvious her body was still in flight mode when hands try to touch her face only to be pushed away with brutal force. 

“It’s me, it’s just me. Breath with me.” The Mandalorian’s face is in front of her own, pressing his hand against the swells of her chest to remind her to breath. As her body starts to calm, it feels hot. The sound of crackling and popping as scarlet flames dance right in behind her, Din doesn’t like the close proximity as he stands between her and the warmth. 

“Come over here, you’re too close to the fire.” As she starts to take in the rest of the environment she can’t help but notice the faces around them, well some were faces the rest were similar to Din, the helmets weren’t as seek, silver as him but a variety of different shaped eyes, symbols and lines. Now she understood why the creature didn’t dare cross the forest lines. There was a small amount of commotion, some eyes question her but the majority seek out Din.

“The Mand’lor has returned.” Din nods in acknowledgment, hands pulling his girl from the ground. Din’s fingers swipe her hair from her forehead as he sees the look of disapproval on the few bare faces. 

“Listen to me.” He pleads, watching as a smaller woman, elder woman slowly ascends towards them. “Anyone can challenge rank in the clan, you must fight if need be.”

“Wh-What?” Wide eyes meet his visor, stomach twisting as Din’s words stun her. It was too late, the elder’s staff is pressing against her throat harshly. “Who is this woman you’ve brought us?”

The growl that Din lets out is enough to scare that monster in the woods, it’s protective, frustrated but expected, how did he ever think his people would accept a outsider? especially a non-mandalorian one. The elder sneers at her, different symbols of no legitimacy are painted against her forehead, black charcoal lines that reach to her lips. “Let her go. She’s with me.”

The elder’s eyes shift towards Din. While Din may be the leader of the clan, the elders are responsible for making sure the rules are followed, guidance for such a leader. The pressure releases from her throat but the venom in her tone says it all. “She doesn’t belong here.”

If a staff to the point of almost unconsciousness doesn’t say you’re not welcomed here the words make her cheeks red with embarrassment. Din’s fingers find her shoulder quickly, pulling her against his chest protectively. Eyes turn in disgust as they realize, the way he flushes her against him, his willingness to protect her. It’s wrong, so very wrong to the clan but Din doesn’t care. All eyes are on him as he steps in front of her, the child now awake is shoved against her chest, Din’s fists ball against his sides, he’s strong, sturdy like a wall as the crowd meets his own gaze. “She is under my protection, if anyone wants a challenge, they go through me first.” 

Just like the the tension leaves the air, no one dares to step forward as the cold, icy gaze of the visor warns them, then to the elder that stands a few feet from him. “Is that understood?”

Watching all these people cower at his words makes her throat dry, Din Djarin was passionate, a little rough around the edges but never this scary. Shaky finger rub against her throbbing throat as another wheeze leaves her burning throat. Without a second glance Din is dragging her along the field, the peaks of houses just over the land. 

“Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, only presses herself into his hold as they near one of the biggest huts in the field. 

“Where are we?” It’s cold, but clean. Neatly organized books against the walls, a fireplace with two comfy leather chairs, the kitchen is small, almost right next to the living room but it is cozy. Din manages to find some matches to light the room up, “My home.”

The child fights against her grasp as she sits down on the brown chair, large dark eyes meeting her own as he lets out a whine of frustration. . It doesn’t register, everything happening to quickly doesn’t give her time to even breath as she looks up at the Mandalorian.  When Grogu is finally free, he manages to find the other chair, curling up comfortably in it “What just happened?”

Din tries to speak but she decides for him. “They don’t want me here, why did you bring me here?”

Din shakes his head, falling between her thighs, hands press against them with intent to comfort but it makes her more frustrated. “They’re not used to strangers, and you’re not Mandalorian, it caught them by surprise.”

“Din I saw the way they looked at me, that old lady almost murdered me. “Did you know it was going to be like this?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, bringing his helmet forward to her shoulder. “Yes but no one will challenge you for now, not until you’re part of the clan.”

“No one wants me here.” Tears of frustration slip past eyelashes, rejection sitting deep inside the pit of her stomach.

“Sweet girl.” Din’s covers her eyes with his palm using the other to pull the helmet off placing it next to him. “Close your eyes.”

Even if she wanted to she couldn’t open them, they’re too heavy with emotion as Din presses his fingers against tears, wiping them gently. “No tears, for the love of maker, no tears.”

“I-I’m -” Din doesn’t let her finish, instead he uses his lips to taste the salty mixture that formulated from her pain, lips meet hers gently. 

“They will love you, they haven’t seen a stranger since I left two years ago, give it time.” Din promises, hands wrap around just below her breast, pulling her against his chest. “The clan is sacred, they just see -.”

“An outsider.” The sourness of the words taste strange in her mouth, “Why did you bring me here then?”

“I love you.” It’s the first time those words move past those lips, “I can’t be without you.”

It’s hours later when Din returns to the tent, while many hours have past she was still asleep. The bed was comfortable, stuffed with feathers, covered in layers and layers of animal pelts. Soft fur smooth against skin, perfect for the chilly night.

The child notices, instantly perking up to extend his arms out to his father. The foundling coos as Din’s hands hold him close to his chest, “Hey buddy, are you hungry?”

The next few days are almost enough to make her regret coming with Din, she’s alone half the time, Din leaves her for what he called ‘very important business, and snarled at when she leaves the hut. Never in her life has she felt so.. unwelcomed, out of place. She has never been a person to care about things like these, but the child was soon becoming her only source of social interaction and everyone knows how well that is. 

“What are you doing out here?” Din’s voice startles her, the child in her arms jumps as she does. 

Eyes shift in confusion at the Mandalorian, the raspiness of his voice, hands bare but open cuts painted across them, dried blood show signs of a struggle as she tits her head. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about sweet girl.” The hand finds the crown of her head, rubbing the hair softly, then to the child’s head before disappearing silently into the hut, while it was very Din the tone of his voice was very uncharacteristic. 

“Din?” It’s much later in the night, so late that they should both be fast asleep like the child tucked between them. Din’s helmet reflects the dying fire across the room, despite the inches of distance between them it felt like miles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He sighs, turning onto his side so he can look at her. He was stripped down to a thinner tunic, comfortable pants rid of all amour except his helmet, the fire was still alive. “It’s just -.”

He cuts himself off, bringing his hands forward to her hips fingers dig into the flesh to pull her close against him. “What is it?”

“The elders.. they don’t like that I brought you here.”

“i know that.”

Din turns his back towards the fire, the broadness of him dimming the room almost instantly. The helmet falls to the floor with a thud, lips meet the junction between her clavicle and sternum, nose pressing against her skin. “I want you to stay here with me.”

“I don’t feel welcomed here, no one even knowledge me.”

“Marry me.” The words make her choke, body momentarily freezing as fingers release his hair. Din freezes as well, not believing the words fell from his lips so easily.

“If you marry me, they will have no choice but to accept you. You will be my queen.” A pregnant pause falls amongst them, Din doesn’t dare move from his spot but pushes further. “They will make me take a wife anyways, I want it to be you.”

Emotion is heavy in her throat, “It feels forced, you’re only doing this for me. For you can have me.”

“I’m doing this because I love you, I want you to stay with me. The elders have no control over what I’m saying to you. I want you to marry me because I love you.” The words aren’t forced, they’re spoken with carefulness but freely mumbled against her chest.

“Marry me, I’ve always known you’d be my riduur from the moment I met you.”

A/N: I swear its going to get much better, first chapters are always so slow. Thank you for reading, I’m accepting tags just comment below, thank you!