#i shoved some toys back into the corner of the living room and fixed the couch and cleaned up the floor and that was it

[cruel-seduction]

Pleasure in Pain

Summary - You scored better than nerdy!Rafe, and he hated it. So, he decided the only way to fix that was to make you dumb—and there's only one way to do that, right?

Warning: Dark Themes, Intense Power Dynamics, Manipulation, Sub!Reader, Degradation, Humiliation, Smut (+18) mdni, Fingering, Dominance, Submission, Verbal Abuse, Mean Rafe, Rough Play, Kink Shaming, Explicit Language.

a/n - If you know who I am, you don't. You don't know me. Got it? If you are judging me after reading this cause Sneha fuck how could you write this. Just so you know idc fuck off.

Divider credit - @bernardsbendystraws

Your body trembled beneath him, thighs quivering as his fingers hovered so agonizingly close to where you needed him most. The air in the room was thick—too hot, too heavy—your mind swimming in a haze of desperation and frustration. You tried to shift your hips, just an inch closer, just enough to feel something, but his firm grip on her waist shoved you back into place.

"Don’t." His voice was low, sharp, laced with a mocking edge that sent a shiver down your spine. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips was infuriatingly smug, his glasses slightly askew on his nose as he loomed over you. "Look at you. Squirming, whining, so goddamn pathetic. Thought you were supposed to be the smart one, huh?"

Your breath hitched, Your nails digging into the sheets beneath you as you whimpered, the sound only making his grin widen.

"All those perfect grades, but look at you now—cryin’ and beggin’ like a dumb little slut. What’s wrong, genius? Can’t figure out how to make me give you what you want?. Maybe you’re just a needy little toy waiting for me to put you in your place." 

You couldn’t remember exactly how you’d ended up here, sprawled out and utterly at his mercy. The last clear thought in your head was the smug satisfaction of seeing your name ranked higher than his on the test scores. That victory had been short-lived. Now, you were stripped down to nothing but a lacy bra, your panties shredded and discarded somewhere across the room, as Rafe loomed over you with a grin that promised nothing good.

His touch was maddening—fingers brushing too close yet never where you needed them, his calculated teasing driving you insane. Your hips bucked upward instinctively, searching for any kind of relief, but a sharp, stinging slap landed between your thighs, stealing your breath.

“Patience, slut,” Rafe growled, his voice low and laced with cruel amusement. The sound alone sent shivers racing down your spine.

Before you could respond, he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, positioning you on all fours. You felt the cool air on your bare skin, making you hyperaware of just how exposed you were under his gaze. Then, his hand landed on your ass with a resounding smack, the sting blooming into heat.

“Say thank you, whore,” he commanded, his tone as sharp as the slap itself. “After every one, you’re gonna thank me like the good little toy you are. Got it?”

You nodded hastily, but another harsh slap—this time directly on your dripping cunt—made you gasp.

“Use your words, filthy whore,” he hissed, gripping your ass tightly as if daring you to disobey.

Your throat tightened, the humiliation only adding to the unbearable ache between your legs. “Y-Yes, sir,” you whispered, voice trembling but dripping with arousal.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his hand trailing over your burning skin. "Look at you, all needy and dripping for me. Bet you didn’t even care about beating me—just wanted my attention, huh?"

After some time he was satisfied with spanking. Rafe leaned back to admire his work, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Your ass was flushed a deep red, his handprints stark against your skin, and your thighs were slick with evidence of just how much his torment had affected you. Shame coursed through you in waves—how could you let yourself feel this way? You hated the fact that every sharp sting, every degrading word, had your body begging for more. It felt filthy. Wrong.

But god help you, you didn’t want him to stop.

With a forceful grip, he flipped you onto your back again, the cool sheets brushing against your overheated skin. His dark eyes roamed your body, lingering on the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath. You knew what was coming, and the anticipation sent a thrill coursing through you.

In one swift motion, he grabbed the delicate lace of your bra and tore it apart, leaving you fully exposed. Your breasts spilled free, and before you could react, his hands were on you—rough and unrelenting. He kneaded the soft flesh, his fingers digging in just enough to toe the line between pleasure and pain. His mouth followed, latching onto your left nipple with no hesitation. The sharp edge of his teeth against your sensitive skin sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you cried out, the sound echoing in the room.

"Fuck, you sound pathetic," Rafe murmured against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers across your body. His tongue flicked over the abused bud before he bit down again, harder this time, and your moan turned into a desperate whimper. "Look at you, moaning like a cheap little whore. Is this what you wanted? Huh? To be fucked so rough you can’t think straight?"

You couldn’t answer, not when his free hand found your other breast, pinching and twisting the swollen peak until tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The pain mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, making your head spin.

Your back arched, pressing into his touch as though you couldn’t get enough. The aching throb between your legs became unbearable, a fiery need that burned hotter with every cruel twist of his fingers, every sharp nip of his teeth.

"Rafe, please," you gasped, your voice trembling and hoarse.

He pulled back slightly, his lips shiny and swollen from his brutal assault on your chest. Both of your nipples were red and tender, the faintest brush of air making them sting. His eyes were wild with triumph as he drank in the sight of you—tear-streaked, desperate, and utterly at his mercy.

"Please, what?" His tone was mocking, dripping with condescension. His fingers trailed lower, skimming the sensitive skin of your stomach, deliberately avoiding where you needed him most. "Use your words, sweetheart. Or are you too fucked-out already?"

You swallowed hard, shame and desperation warring within you. "Please, Rafe. I need you. I need you to fuck me," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your need.

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head as his fingers dipped just below the waistband of his own pants. "God, you’re pathetic. But don’t worry—I’m about to give you exactly what you’ve been begging for. And when I’m done with you, you won’t even remember how to spell your own name. But I don’t think you are worthy. How about you beg"

“Please, Rafe… please. I’m begging,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you gazed up at him through your lashes. The desperation in your tone was matched only by the way your hand drifted to the bulge straining against his pants. Slowly, deliberately, you began to stroke him, your fingers moving up and down, feeling the heat of him even through the fabric.

Your free hand shakily reached for his, guiding it down between your legs to your dripping cunt. The slick heat there was undeniable, a physical testament to just how much you needed him. You whimpered softly as you pressed his fingers against you, hoping, praying he’d give in.

Rafe’s dark chuckle rumbled through the room, low and taunting. His eyes flicked between your flushed face and the sinful display of your hands, his lips curling into a smirk. "God, you really are pathetic," he sneered, his tone razor-sharp and mocking. "All those good grades, all that effort to be the perfect little nerd, and for what? So I’d fuck you dumb? That’s what this is, isn’t it? Just a goddamn facade.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear as his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Deep down, you’re nothing but a slut. My slut. A dirty, desperate whore who gets off on the idea of being used. Tell me, baby—do you want me to ruin you? To breed you? To make you so fucked out that the only thing you’re good for is being my personal fucktoy?”

Your breathing hitched, your strokes faltering for just a moment before you pressed harder against his clothed cock, desperate to keep his attention. “Yes,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible. “I’m your slut. Only yours. I want nothing else but to be your cheap whore. Please, Rafe… sir… fuck me.”

The admission tumbled out of you like a confession, raw and unfiltered. Rafe’s grin widened, his expression darkening as if he’d just won some twisted game. His one hand grabbed your throat and started choking.

If you could catch your breath, you might have shivered at the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Here we go," Rafe whispered, the promise in his voice equal parts menace and anticipation.

Before you could process his words, his free hand snaked around your torso, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced your legs apart. There was no tenderness in his movements—no hesitation. The second his three fingers plunged into your soaked cunt, the air was knocked out of you. His grip on your throat released just as a guttural sound escaped you, something caught between a moan, a scream, and a desperate gasp.

"F-Fuck—s-slow down," you choked out instinctively, though you should have known better. Requests like that only fueled him.

Rafe snickered behind you, a dark, mocking sound that made the pain between your legs throb even more intensely. His fingers moved with brutal precision, scissoring and curling without mercy, stretching you to the brink. Your scream tore through the room, raw and unrestrained, as you tried to arch your back away from the relentless intrusion.

"You're dripping for me," he hissed, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "You’ve been this wet the entire time, haven’t you? Don’t lie to me now. You wanted this."

The words sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over you, but it was the bite of his teeth against your ear that made the first tear spill down your cheek.

"Now you’re screaming?" he mocked, his breath hot against your skin. "But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted me to ruin you, and now that I am, you’re crying about it?"

"P-Please," you stammered, your voice breaking with the effort. "Please, slow down—"

He didn’t listen. His fingers continued their ruthless assault, twisting, scissoring, stabbing into you with a punishing pace. It was too much, too fast—pleasure and pain tangling in a chaotic frenzy that left you trembling.

"Such a pretty little pussy," he murmured darkly. His voice was cruel, but there was something almost reverent in the way he said it, his free hand trailing possessively down your thigh. "Look at the mess you’re making, baby. Fuck, you were made for this."

Your nails clawed desperately at the fabric of his shirt, your mind a chaotic blur. "When—" You couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. "When—stop?"

Rafe chuckled, low and dangerous, and the sound made your stomach twist in equal parts dread and want. "The sooner you cum, the sooner it stops," he taunted, his tone laced with a demented kind of sweetness.

But you doubted your ability to cum like this—overwhelmed, overstimulated, the line between pleasure and pain so blurred it felt like your mind was short-circuiting. Before you could protest, Rafe leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple as his free hand moved to your clit.

"I’ll help you, baby," he cooed mockingly. "Let me show you how it’s done."

The second his thumb pinched your swollen clit, your body betrayed you. Your hips bucked, thighs quaking, as a scream ripped from your throat. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, violent and uncontrollable, forcing its way through your body with a sharpness that left you gasping for air.

"That’s it," Rafe groaned, his voice thick with approval as he worked you through it, his fingers still curling inside you. "That’s my clever girl. Such a good fucking slut for me."

Your body sagged, trembling as the last waves of pleasure rolled through you. You barely noticed when Rafe stilled his movements, leaving his fingers buried inside you for a moment longer as if savoring the feeling. Then, with a deliberate slowness that felt almost cruel, he pulled his hands away entirely.

“This is just the beginning, my little topper” 

[justastraymoa]

ADVENTURES WITH CHEESE EXTENDED EDITION PT 8

I was frantically searching the neighborhood for Cheese. It had been hours since I noticed he was missing and who knows how long he had been gone before that! How could I be so neglectful that I didn’t notice my own cat missing for god knows how long!

People I passed gave me odd looks and a wide berth. I was nearly sobbing and hyperventilating so I understood. My eyes were moving along the ground level looking for any dart or spot of fuzzy black fur.

I had no idea where the others were at this moment. As soon as we were sure Cheese was not in the apartment, I left to search the neighborhood. I knew Chan and Lino were on their way home almost immediately but hadn’t heard from them since.

I slipped down an alley about 4 blocks from the apartment. I heard some shuffling that got my hopes up and I moved forward to look around.

It wasn’t Cheese. It wasn’t even a cat. It was a large dog who turned and growled at me as soon as it saw me coming towards him. I backed away slowly, not taking my eyes off the stray dog in front of me.

I watched cars speed past with my already high anxiety growing even more. We had to find Cheese soon. He was in so much danger out here! There was danger around every corner and in every step! And while he liked adventures, he was not suited to be a outdoor cat. He was too soft and trusting!

And those wild dogs were no joke. Every day you hear about another person being attacked and bitten by a dog very near us! They were out of control! Dogs wouldn’t think twice about eating up a cat like Cheese. And Cheese would probably walk right up to them to say hi!

Still gripping the edges of a full-on panic attack, I made my way back to the apartment. I was trying very hard not to blame Bin. I knew even if he left the door open it was unfair to blame him. And blaming him and making him feel worse than he already does isn’t going to help anyone in the end. And my focus was on helping Cheese.

Lino met me halfway. He had a handful of pictures of Cheese with him that he printed off from somewhere. Without a word he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and continued to walk home.

Once in the apartment he sat me on the couch and went into the kitchen to make me some calming tea. Not that it would help much if at all, but the gesture was nice all the same.

I looked around the room at all the little reminders of my baby boy. A third cat tree someone got him for in the living room. His toys scattered around the toy bin. His favorite blanket bunched up right next to me, a little nest made where he laid down on it to sleep. Even the tin of cat treats Hyune left on the coffee table after giving up using it to lure Cheese out.

Everywhere I looked there was Cheese, but Cheese wasn’t here. What would I do without him? How would I go about my day without waking up to his morning meow and headbutt? I haven’t needed an alarm clock to wake up since I got him! He wakes me up every morning! How would I function without him now?

I would never find another cat like him. He was one of a kind. Not even one in a million. There was only one Cheese and there will only ever be one Cheese!

And my relationship with the Chan Clan. Would it survive without Cheese. It all started with Cheese, will it end with him too? I would miss my boys. I would like to think they think of me like family as much as I think of them as family, but who knows! And losing a member of our family like Cheese may splinter our bond and we may not be able to fix it!

I was going to not only lose Cheese, but my family, and my home.

A tea cup was shoved into my freezing hands and I blinked back from my dark thoughts. Lino perched on the coffee table in front of me and wiped at the tears I didn’t know were falling down my cheeks.

“Whatever you are thinking, stop. It’s not going to happen. Cheese is going to be found safe and sound and everything will be fine.” He whispered. I didn’t know if he was talking to just me or trying to convince himself too. I could see the worry etched into his face, reflected in his eyes.

“What if he doesn’t?” my voice was thick with tears. I would be embarrassed later to be this broken down in front of Lino. I probably looked awful. I could feel the snot running down my face with the tears.

Lino gently wiped at the tears and snot, not even grossed out. “Y/n, he will come back. You must keep thinking positively. We will find him.”

I nodded and sipped my tea. It was just the right temperature to make me feel like I was warm again. I hadn’t realized how cold I was before now.

Lino glanced at his phone. I knew he was making sure he didn’t miss any messages. Hyune and Bin should almost be at my old apartment if they aren’t already there. Maybe Cheese got out, got lost, and ended up going to the old place. It’s not unheard of.

I burst up from the couch, almost elbowing Lino in the face in the process. Luckily my tea was already gone because I threw that cup to the side as soon as I read Channies message.

“Lino, let’s go! Where does Felix live!” I shouted, stepping into the first shoes I grabbed from the shoe cupboard. I could tell they weren’t mine, way too big and floppy on my feet, but I don’t care. I needed to get to Cheese. Now!

Lino was right behind me as I opened the door. He had the mental capacity to grab his keys and lock the door, but I was bouncing on my feet in impatience.

Channie came running up before Lino was even done and I latched onto him with both hands. “Where does Felix live?” I demanded. Chan gestured and led the way at nearly a sprint.

My heart raced with hope and I could feel the sob building in my chest. Cheese was okay! Cheese was okay! Cheese was okay!

Skz + pets masterlist

A/N: And another one with some angst and feelings (ew)

Thank you for reading and interacting. Or just one or the other. Either way I appreciate it!

I hope you enjoyed this rollercoaster with me! <3

Taglist: @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

[soulofapatrick]

Birthday Wishes - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Tommy decides to throw a celebration for Joel’s first birthday in Jackson 

Words: 1.5k 

Warnings: none 

Y/N’s POV

The Tipsy Bison is as crowded as ever when I step inside, bustling with people of all ages and walks of life who have found refuge in Jackson. Exuding warmth and familiarity with the rustic wooden interior adorned with strings of fairy lights that cast cozy glows across the room. The air is filled with the aroma of beer and the savoury scent of hearty meals being prepared by the volunteers. 

Amidst the lively atmosphere, the sounds of laughter and animated conversations blend harmoniously with the occasional clinking of glasses. Groups of friends huddle together, sharing tales of their jobs of the days, some never having the same each time the sun rises. Families gather around large tables, their eyes reflecting both weariness and determination, finding solace in the company of their loved ones and the fact that they’re safe in the walls of Jackson. 

I’m not one to frequent the Tipsy Bison but I promised the Miller brothers I’d be there tonight as it’s Joel’s birthday and he hates celebrating it but it’s his first birthday in Jackson. Tommy wants it to be special and I promised so here I am, eyes scanning for Joel. I catch a glimpse of Tommy first, his broad shoulders and easy smile instantly recognisable. He’s engaged in a conversation with Jesse and Ellie. However, Joel is nowhere to be seen, Tommy nodding towards the bar when he notices me. 

Feeling a mixture of anticipation and curiosity, I navigate through the crowd, eyes constantly searching for the older Miller brother. Finding him isn’t usually easy as he knows how to blend into the background and keep a low profile but it doesn’t take long to find him today from the overly feminine and sultry voice carrying across the bar. There. Sitting at the bar, trying to enjoy his beer is Joel, a blonde hanging off his muscular arms. She giggling and batting her eyelashes at him while his honey eyes are solely focused on his beer, swirling the liquid in the glass like it’s the most interesting thing ever. 

I’m not going to deny the pang of jealousy stirring within me as Joel has always been handsome with me, it’s just he’s never seen it in himself. His chiselled features partially hidden by the dim lighting as I take a breath before heading over to the two with steady and confident steps despite how nervous I really am. I’m no good at confrontation but the forlornness look about his appearance and posture has me wanting to do something. 

Joel’s glancing up when I touch his shoulder lightly and I swear those honey orbs brighten at the sight of me, the smile playing at the corner of my lips fills me with confidence, “Heya Joel,” I’m greeting him, ignoring the woman, I think her name is Grace. She’s fixing me with a look that would have me six feet under if looks could kill but I keep my attention on Joel who has straightened up and is waving the bartender over, gesturing at another beer for me. It seems to make Grace fume as suddenly she’s standing between me and Joel, shoving me back a few paces. 

“Hands off skank, I was here first,” She sneers, her grip on Joel tightening, “It’s not like an orphan like you could really change him-“ 

I want to turn and leave, feeling a few eyes on me and I can see Tommy making his way over from behind Grace’s shoulder but I stand firm at the way Joel’s face falls again “Change him? He doesn’t need changing, he’s perfect the way he is.” Joel’s head flies up at my words, mouth dropped open a little in surprise and Grace is furrowing her brows and gripping onto Joel even more, “He’s strong, protective and fiercely loyal. He has depth that many can’t comprehend and you, you just want a new boy-toy.” 

My words hang in the air, a testament to the unwavering belief I have in Joel. The room now mostly focused on us, holding its breath for what seems like hours as Joel’s honey coloured eyes lock with mine, surprise still evident on his face. I stand my ground still, feeling Jesse and Ellie not too far behind me in support, refusing to back down to Grace’s hostility. 

Joel’s finally moving, reaching out and gently pushing Grace away as he rises from his seat, voice calm but firm, “That’s enough, Grace.” He doesn’t see the way her eyes widen in disbelief and hurt when he shakes her off of him; he doesn’t hear her whining protests as he closes the gap between me and him with two long strides and he doesn’t hear her begin crying when one of his calloused hands reaches up to cup my cheek. 

“Hey.” I manage to choke out, voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty, unsure what’s happening. My breath catching in my throat at the feel of his touch, both tender and grounding, his eyes searching mine with a myriad of emotions swirling in them. There’s surprise, gratitude, guilt, pain and perhaps something more, but it’s hard to decipher with the knowledge that half the town of Jackson are currently watching this interaction in near silence as Joel Miller is currently showing emotion. Joel Miller, the ‘violent thug, a brutal killer, and a torturer’ is currently showing emotions of want and what I think is love but I’m not really sure as my heart is trying to beat out of my chest and it’s so loud I can barely hear anything else. 

He doesn’t speak, those dark eyes flickering down my suddenly dry lips and back up to meet my gaze. I’m darting my tongue to wet them in anticipation and it seems to snap any control Joel has left. His gaze lingering on my lips, his own mouth slightly parted as he takes in the sight, and without breaking eye contact, Joel leans in, his movements slow and deliberate. The air crackling with tension, the anticipation building between us like an electric current. My heart pounding in my chest and I’m letting my eyes flutter shut, somewhere subconscious highly aware of how cliche this all it. 

As Joel’s lips brush against mine, a surge of warmth courses through my veins. It’s a gentle and tentative kiss, filled with a mix of longing and vulnerability. Our connection deepens with each passing second, the world around us slipping away as if we’re the only two people in existence. I can taste the years of pain, loss and survival etches into Joel’s lips. The touch of his mouth against mine is a testament to the barriers he’s built slipping away and opening up the vulnerability he’s kept hidden. It’s a silent plea for understanding and acceptance and has my arms instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. 

We eventually have to break apart, breath mingling, Joel resting his forehead against mine. I can’t handle the silence and find myself blurting out, “Happy Birthday Joel.” Which draws a deep and husky laugh, filled with raw emotion, from him before he’s yanking me into a hug that has me melting into his embrace. The strength and warmth of his embrace wraps around me, offering a sense of security and belonging that I think we’ve both yearned for in this harsh world. In his arms, the weight of the outside world fades away, replaced by a simple moment of connection and celebration. 

“Right! Who wants cake?” Tommy’s booming voice breaks the silence and suddenly the Tipsy Bison is full of sound and laughter and joy but all I care about is the feeling of Joel against me. His strong and broad chest pressed against mine and the feel of his beard scratching at my forehead a little, the smell of his musky cologne mixed with something citrusy. 

“Come on baby doll, I think Tommy is wanting me to blow out my candles.” Joel gently unwinds himself from me but he doesn’t let go completely, slipping his calloused hand into mine to tug me with him. Tommy standing near a table adorned with a giant birthday cake, his infectious grin welcoming us as we approach. The room seeming to hush once more, until Ellie begins belting out Happy Birthday and everyone starts to join in. 

Joel’s face flushes redder than I think I’ve ever seen it as he stands there, the soft glow of the candlelight dancing across his face, casting a warm and gentle radiance. His eyes meeting mine with a mixture of gratitude and affection evident in their depths and I can’t help but return the sentiment, my heart swelling with love for this man, barely whispering out a “make a wish”. 

With a deep breath, Joel leans forwards and blows out the candles, the room erupting in applause and cheers before the festivities continue, Tommy and Maria helping serve everyone a slice of cake as Joel makes a beeline for me again. 

“What did you wish for?” 

“Nothing,” He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side, lips pressing to the side of my temple before he’s murmuring even quieter, “I have everything I’ve ever wanted right here.” 

-----------

The Last of Us Masterlist

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[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 31/?: Solutions

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17,  Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

“You’re sure you don’t want to wait?” Sam asked plaintively, “Are you sure you need a quick and easy solution?”

Phoenix eyed the door Sam had led him to. It looked like every other bedroom door in the house, but the way Sam was acting, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was filled with hungry ratworms. If he strained his ears, he actually could hear some vague hissing—maybe it was ratworms. “I’m sure. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nooooooooooooothiiiiiiiiiiiiing. It’s just. Ugh. You know what, let’s get this over with.”

Sam rapped neatly on the door. Thumps sounded from the other side, and the door swung open, a grimwalker Phoenix recognized as Novus on the other side. He almost never saw Novus, he realized, not even wandering the hallways. Did he ever leave his room, except for meals?

“Hot water isn’t working yet,” the grimwalker rasped, looking at some mess of gears in his hands, “I’ll let you knowwwwwwwwwwell hello, there, Sammy.”

“Novus.”

Phoenix looked back and forth between the two. Novus reflected Sam’s thin build, and they shared a face that looked a little bit more like Belos than Caleb, but his nose looked more like their ortet’s, his hair was cut short, rather than tied up like Sam’s, and instead of small silvery scars on his throat, Novus bore one thick, rough, red scar that went all the way around his neck, as well as another scar slashing through the left side of his forehead. They shared similar looks of disdain as they eyed each other, like two cats who hadn’t quite gotten used to each other.

Novus broke the silent stare first, clearing his throat.

“What are you doing here?” His voice still sounded hoarse, and Phoenix wondered idly if he had a cold, or if his rough voice had something to do with the scar around his throat.

“I need. Hrngh.” Sam coughed. “That is to say. Phoenix here. Is looking for a solution to his little situation. Something to keep him together. Something quick. And I thought perhaps you. Might have something. Maybe.”

“What?” Novus asked, his voice delighted, “You need my help? Your ever so superior glyphs don’t have the answer? You can’t fix it yourself?”

“I will!” Sam said hotly, “Just… not yet. Quick, easy, temporary solutions are more… your thing.”

Novus rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just admit you need help?”

“Can’t you just use glyphs to heat the water?”

“Okay,” Phoenix broke in, “Thanks Sam, have fun with your research, I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” Sam said loftily, “So long as Novus doesn’t blow you up first.”

“Go away,” Phoenix said shortly. As entertaining as the two of them were, he was relatively certain this kind of interaction would last all day if he let it. A quick, easy solution would take as long as Sam’s research.

Sam left, and Novus pulled Phoenix inside of his room. The beds in this room had been shoved into the far corners, and the floor was almost completely occupied with a giant metal tank surrounded by gears and other metal bits that Phoenix couldn’t name. Belos had repaired his staff once after a particularly brutal fight with a wild witch, and the inside had sort of looked like this, all wires and metal. Tools hung along the walls, and shelves displayed music boxes and windup toys, as well as one little engine that puffed out steam with no apparent other purpose—the source of the hissing, Phoenix realized.

Phoenix nodded to the tank on the floor. “So… what is this?”

“The water heater. Or, at least it will be. Mom used to just spell the taps, but we’re sort of strapped for magic right now, and I’m looking for an alternative solution.”

“Which is…?”

“I don’t know yet.” Novus snorted. “Why don’t you just use a glyph?” he mimicked, “Why don’t you just go stand out in the boiling rain for a shower? Or heat water on the stove and slowly pour it into the bath? Geeze. Anyway. What exactly are you looking for?”

“Something to keep my arms in place. They’re falling apart, and I want something that will keep them from getting out of control. Something sturdy that won’t break. Provide some support.”

“Hm.” Novus ran his finger over a rack filled with scrolls—blueprints, Phoenix realized. “Garden watering, gator toy, garbage compactor… gauntlets, there you are.”

He pulled out a scroll that bore more tears than the others, the whole thing scuffed and faded, and covered in fold marks. Blood dotted the back of it. Novus lay it down on a bed, unrolling the paper. “Almost threw this one out—not much use for it. But now I’m glad I didn’t.”

Phoenix peered over his shoulder. Neat white lines depicted a set of gloves that would accordion fold and stretch outwards with the wearer’s arms, but keep their general shape. Phoenix frowned, picturing the design in gold instead of the blue paper.

“This design… looks… familiar”

Novus chuckled. “Well, who do you think it was originally for?” Novus tapped the design. “One of the few things I brought with me. This aaaaaand…” He pulled another scroll out of its place, whipping it open to show Phoenix the design of a very familiar staff.

“You made…” Phoenix shook his head. “I thought everyone got a staff? But you designed it?”

“Well, no, Belos had them before I came along. But I’m the reason they stopped exploding.”

Phoenix coughed. “Exploding?!”

“Exploding, malfunctioning in midair, burning out after a few uses…” Novus gestured to the scar on his forehead. “You’re welcome. Anyway. That’s all over now.” He rolled up the staff design and put it back in its place. “Or… at least I thought it was.” He rubbed the side of his neck, clearing his throat. “So. Gauntlets. I can make some for you, if you think they’ll help. Modify them so that they lock in place rather than stretch with your arms.”

“Belos’ gauntlets.”

“Yes.”

Phoenix rubbed his arms. “No other options?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. If Sammy boy does find a solution for you, great, but these are my solution. These are what you can do now.”

“How long will they take?”

“Assuming I can scavenge the parts pretty quickly? Give me three hours for each glove. We can test one out and see how it works before I build the other one. There was something about these that Belos didn’t like, but I don’t remember… eh. I’ll figure it out. Probably won’t even bother you, I doubt you’re as picky as he was.” Novus patted Phoenix’s shoulder. “I’ll pick a different color scheme for you, too. Make it seem less…” he trailed off, fingers tightening on Phoenix’s shoulder.

“…Novus?”

“Uh.” Novus coughed, releasing Phoenix’s shoulder and fiddling with a set of gears. “Sorry. Haven’t. Taken these out in a while. Don’t worry about it. Okay. Bye. I’ll find you if I need you.”

Novus shoved Phoenix out of the room. Almost immediately, Sam descended on him.

“Phoenix. Look. Watch.” He held up the jar with the bit of Phoenix’s mud inside, and dropped a flower in. The slime immediately crept onto it, and in seconds, the blossom had disappeared completely. “I think I figured out why it burns your arms. It’s trying to eat them. It doesn’t have a magic source like palisman, so it’s just consuming flesh—I think it will eat magic if it can, like it did to Mom’s extraction spell, but if it doesn’t, then flesh will do.”

Phoenix squeezed his eyes shut. How long before it consumed the rest of his arms? The rest of him? “Oh. Great.”

“Hasn’t been burning since last night, though, right?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway.”

“Huh.” Sam tucked the jar underneath one arm to jot down a note.

“Sam? Where’d you put Petro?”

“In my room for now. Why? Do you think he knows something? He probably won’t tell you if he does.”

“Yep. I know. Thanks, Sam.”

Phoenix trotted down the hallway to Sam’s room. Locke stood outside, leaning against the wall, but he straightened up when he saw Phoenix approaching. “Uh—you don’t want to see him, do you?”

“I do. Can I have a minute alone?”

Locke shrugged and kicked the door once. Lake opened it, raised one eyebrow at Phoenix, but stood aside. “All yours.”

“Thanks.”

Phoenix closed the door behind himself. “Hey.”

Petro looked him up and down. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you something.” Phoenix held up the mask from the pit. “You wanted a souvenir, right?”

“Awwwww, you brought me my favorite. So considerate. What’s the catch?”

Phoenix set the mask down where Petro could see it. “No catch. I just thought you should have it.”

Petro squinted at him. “Why?”

“There were dozens of them down there. Masks. Armor bits. Cloaks.”

“And?”

Phoenix sighed. “He tossed our bodies like he was taking out the trash, Petro. All of those masks—proof he didn’t care about any of us. Not me. Not you.” Phoenix nudged the mask. “All of us were just another mask in the pit to him.”

“Get to the point.”

“I just figured it would be a good reminder. You don’t like me. I get the message. And you think you’re different from the rest of us. You’re still loyal to him, while the rest of us are glad he’s gone. But we all share one thing in common: he tossed us aside. Even you.” Phoenix tapped the mask. “But we were all worth more than that. Someone thought you were worth more, someone who sang lullabies for you.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, but Petro just snorted dismissively. “Think highly of yourself, do you? He tossed you aside and didn’t think twice about it. He may have killed me, but he made a glyph to bring me back. We’re not the same.”

Phoenix sighed. He hadn’t really thought his speech or the gift would change Petro, at least not a huge shift, but he’d hoped something he’d said would strike a chord. Or at the least, help him find out more about who’d been in that memory. “Yeah. Well.” He opened the door, nodding to Lake. “He didn’t use it, did he?”

Phoenix closed the door, leaning against the wall with a sigh.

“It’s not bad,” Locke said.

“What?”

“Not having arms. It’s not bad. You know. If it comes to that. I can give you pointers!”

“…Thanks? Why do you think it’s going to get that bad?”

“Because Sam’s been swearing up a blue streak in his lab. Also a lot of excitement! But, you know, in a Sam way. So very mad scientisty. Not exactly promising. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Right. Thanks. Again.”

Phoenix strode towards the medical hub. He needed to check on Caleb—if Evelyn’s potion had worked, the ortet was probably fine, but still. He needed to see with his own two eyes.

“…What are we going to do when it gets worse?”

Phoenix stopped, flattening himself to the wall outside the door. A mirror in the hallway reflected Caleb and Evelyn., and Phoenix watched as Caleb put his hands on Evelyn’s arms.

“If it gets worse. We don’t know that it will.”

“Alright. If it gets worse. What’s our backup plan?”

“We don’t need a backup plan. I’m going to do it right this time, and no one will get hurt. Not you. Not me. Not Ph-Phoenix.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed at the stutter. “Caleb…”

“What?”

“Caleb, love, he’s not your brother.”

What?

Caleb let go of her arms, tucking his hands underneath his own arms. “I—well—of course he isn’t. Who said—I know that. Of course he isn’t. Which is why it’s going to work out this time. It has to.”

“Caleb.” Evelyn reached up, brushing Caleb’s face with her hand. “Listen. You can’t fix what happened between you and Phillip by helping Phoenix. Doing better now won’t change what happened in the past. It won’t bring the Phillip you loved back.”

“What? Evelyn, what? I know it isn’t the same thing! You think I haven’t learned that lesson after watching my brother try and fail to make the kids into me time after time after time?!”

Evelyn sighed. “I’m just… I’m worried that you’re applying our past to his future.”

“And you’re not?”

Evelyn’s face darkened. “Come again?”

Phoenix’s heart pounded in his chest. He’d never heard Caleb and Evelyn fight before—he’d sort of assumed they never did. But now a big one was brewing. Because of him.

Caleb rubbed his arms. “You’ve been colder. Distant. You’re right, Evelyn. He’s not Phillip. So why are you acting like he’ll turn into my brother any second?”

“I-I—” Evelyn sputtered, “I’m not—”

“Yes, you have been! You wouldn’t even look at him last night!”

“I’m just trying to keep us safe!” Evelyn burst out.

“What, by treating him like he’s going to explode? Evelyn, he’s not Phillip. He’s Phoenix. Do you really think he’s going to hurt us? Really? After everything?”

“I’m not scared of Phoenix! Of course I’m not scared of Phoenix. I know he’d never want to hurt anyone here—titan, do you think I don’t know that?”

“Then why are you—”

“Because that thing in his arms isn’t Phoenix. Caleb, you didn’t see him when he came back with you, not really, you were half passed out, but it was like—like he didn’t recognize us! He growled at me, he wouldn’t let you go—it wasn’t him. It didn’t act like him.”

Phoenix pressed one arm to his stomach, the flesh of his arms rippling uneasily. Not me. It would be so easy to believe that. And he hadn’t felt exactly like himself, not really. He’d felt… different. Like his own self had been put under a thin blanket of something else. He hadn’t quite been able to see Evelyn, or anyone. But had that really been the curse? Or had it been his own panic making him blind and reluctant to trust anyone?

Maybe it was both. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to separate the two completely. Maybe he’d just have to factor the curse and how it affected him into every choice he made, every step he took.

“I’m not scared of Phoenix,” Evelyn repeated, her voice cracking, “I’m scared that curse is going to be stronger than him. And I’m scared that we’re not going to be able to help him if it gets out of control. I’m scared that I’m going to have to choose between him and the rest of the family, and Caleb, I’m scared of what I’ll have to do if I have to make that choice. Because I know how dangerous that curse can be. If it gets out of control, and someone gets hurt? That’s not on Phoenix, Caleb. It’s on us. You and I. And I won’t—I can’t let it hurt my family again.”

Phoenix’s hands curled into shaking fists.

If I hurt them…

Forget what Evelyn might have to do. He wouldn’t be able to take it—he’d exile himself before he let that happen. She had to know that, she had to know that he’d tried-!

Caleb reached out towards her. “Evelyn, I unders—”

She tugged away. “No, you don’t. You may have rescued the kids from Belos, but I was the one who healed them. I was the one who sat at their sides at night, worried that they wouldn’t live to see the morning. I saw the damage that Belos did to them, so much of it damage he did with his so-called curse. And Caleb, I couldn’t take it if something like that happened to them again. Like Ash, titan, Ash—”

Phoenix’s breath caught in his throat. He needed to go before he overheard something private—he shouldn’t have listened at all, the whole conversation was private, but especially not to spy while they talked about someone else.

But his legs didn’t move.

“Hey. Hey. I was there for Ash, too.” Caleb’s voice took on a distressed, grieved tone. “I knelt in the dark of that godforsaken graveyard pit for half an hour just trying to get them to keep breathing, to get their chest rising and falling long enough that I could get them out of there without worrying they’d die if I stopped. I’ve seen the worst of what this curse can do, or at least I hope I have. I know it can be dangerous. I know that in the wrong hands, it’ll hurt. But I trust Phoenix. The last time he lost control, he saved my life—choosing between Phoenix or the rest of the family isn’t a choice you’ll be making. I believe that with my whole soul. I trust him.”

“But if—”

“If something happens, then we’ll deal with it. If. For now… trust that Phoenix will be safe. Please?”

“I can’t promise,” Evelyn said softly, so softly Phoenix almost couldn’t hear it, “I’ve been careful for too long to let my guard down now.”

Caleb reached for her hands, and this time, she let him take them. “Then just promise me you’ll try. For Phoenix. For me.”

Evelyn pressed her forehead against his. “I promise. But you promise me. If something does go wrong—I need you to trust me to do the right thing, and not interfere because you’re too close to the situation. I need you to promise that you’ll step back and let me handle it.”

“It won’t happen.”

“Caleb.”

“Fine. Fine, I promise.”

Phoenix left, ducking into the kitchen and leaning against the wall, dizzy. He squeezed his eyes shut. It made sense. Having a failsafe was good. Having a plan if something went wrong was the right thing to do. It would keep everyone safe. Still, he wondered hollowly what that plan was. And, with some bitterness, what Evelyn thought she could do if the curse did make him attack them. Her magic hadn’t exactly been able to tame it so far.

“BOO!”

Phoenix’s eyes snapped open, and he nearly threw a punch outwards before realizing there was no one standing in front of him, and the sound had come from somewhere around his knees. The baby grimwalker grinned up at him, holding their hands in a ‘surprise!’ gesture.

Phoenix put one hand to his chest, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. “Titan, you scared me.”

The grimwalker held their hands up. “Up! Up, Nee-Nee.”

Despite Evelyn’s unknown plan, despite the heavy conversation, Phoenix felt a smile creeping onto his face. They picked up words quickly. “What’s the magic word?”

Their face scrunched up, and they tilted their head. “…boo?”

“How about… say please?”

“Pease?”

Titan, that’s adorable.

Phoenix picked the little grimwalker up. “There you go. Up. Tired of walking already? I get it, buddy.”

They waved their arms around again. “Boo!”

“You like that one, huh? You’re a regular little ghost. Quiet as one, too, when you want to be. I didn’t even hear you come in the room.”

“Dhost.” The grimwalker exaggerated the new word, moving their lips carefully to form the sound. “Dhost.”

“Ghost?”

“Dhost. Boo!”

“Yeah? Is that what I should call you?”

“Nee-Nee.”

“No, that’s my name. You can’t have it.”

The toddler smacked his shoulder and pointed at the doorway. Caleb and Evelyn had moved from the living room to the kitchen, and just stood, watching Phoenix and the little grimwalker. Caleb wore a grin looking at the two of them, and even Evelyn smiled.

The toddler made another ‘surprise’ gesture, this time at Caleb and Evelyn. “Boo!”

“Ah!” both of them yelped, as if on cue. Caleb put a hand to his chest. “You scared me!”

Evelyn shook her head, leaning on the doorframe. “Terrifying!”

The little grimwalker burst into a fit of giggles. They tapped Phoenix’s shoulder again. “Nee-Nee.”

“Uh-huh.”

The grimwalker tapped their own shoulder. “Boo! Dhost.”

“Ghost?”

They nodded gravely. “Da. Dhost.” They squeezed his neck, gave him a big, slobbery kiss, then kicked their legs. “Down.”

Phoenix set them on the ground, grimacing and wiping the slobber from his face while they toddled up to Caleb and Evelyn. Evelyn crouched down. “Hey, there.”

“Hey.” They patted their chest. “Dhost.”

“Yeah?”

“Da.” Ghost’s face scrunched up. “D-Ggggghooooooooost.”

Caleb grinned. “I think we just got a new record for the fastest time to pick a name.”

Evelyn picked the toddler up, bouncing them on her hip. “Oh, good. I was getting a bit tired of calling them ‘you.’” She blew a raspberry at Ghost. “Yeah? Yeah, you want your own name?”

“Da.”

“Well, let’s go introduce you to the rest of the family then, Ghost.”

Evelyn wandered off with the toddler. Caleb watched her go with soft, smiling eyes, then turned to Phoenix. “So. How much did you hear?”

A thrill of panic shot through Phoenix. “What?”

“Mirrors work both ways, Phoenix. I saw you in the glass when you left.”

Stupid. Of course if he was able to see Caleb in the mirror, then Caleb could see him. He should have covered his exit better—there could have been a way out that wouldn’t catch in the mirror.

“Most of it, I think,” he answered, “Does Evelyn…?”

“I don’t think she noticed.” Caleb rubbed the stumps of his missing fingers. “She’s just being cautious,” he burst out, “It’s not that she doesn’t trust you, it’s more complicated than that—”

Phoenix flushed. “It’s okay,” he tried, “Caleb, really—” It wasn’t her wanting a contingency plan that bothered him. There was something else about the whole exchange that had rubbed him the wrong way, but he couldn’t quite place what.

“I mean, she’s just—she’s seem some things, and she’s still figuring out how she feels about this, and—”

“Caleb. I understand. It’s smart to be careful.” Phoenix tugged on his sleeves. “We still don’t know everything about this. I want to have a backup plan, too.”

“I hope your backup plan isn’t running into a boiling rainstorm again.”

“I will if I have to.”

Caleb sighed. “I know. How are things going with Sam?”

“How did you know I asked Sam to help?”

“Heard him saying ‘oh, that’s fascinating’ when I passed the lab, which I had to assume was about… this.”

“Sounds right.” Phoenix rubbed his arms. “He said it would take a while. I asked Novus to help out.”

Caleb chuckled. “I’m sure Sam loved that.”

“He suggested it, actually.”

“Really? Interesting. He really must be stumped.”

“Yes. Um—Novus’ voice sounds hoarse, is there anything I can…?” A project like this—building those gauntlets—he should have a thank-you. Really, he should have gotten one for Sam, too, but Phoenix sort of got the feeling studying the curse was a gift in and of itself to Sam.

Caleb shook his head. “It’s just like that. I’m glad he’s helping—any idea what that means?”

“I was just thinking containment,” Phoenix said quietly, “Keep it under control.”

“Hm.”

“Are you okay? After the other night—Evelyn said she was making a potion, but… are you okay? Really?”

Caleb stared out the hallway, his eyes faraway. “I think so. Physically.” He absentmindedly rubbed the stumps of his fingers. “Phoenix, you don’t… you don’t think I’m not taking this seriously enough, do you? I mean, am I being too optimistic? Be honest.”

Phoenix opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. Caleb was definitely more optimistic than everyone else—or, maybe less “optimistic” and more “not as judgmental” as everyone else. Maybe Evelyn was right—maybe he was seeing a second chance with Phillip in Phoenix. But then, he knew Caleb was disappointed Phillip had never changed, and was certain that the human realm hadn’t, so maybe his faith really did have more to do with Phoenix than looking for redemption.

“Oh, this is going to be hard to explain to Jason,” was the thing that came out of his mouth, spurred by the thought of the human realm. Where was he even going to start?!

Caleb barked a startled laugh. “Not the answer I was expecting.”

“Sorry, I…” Phoenix considered explaining his train of thought, then dismissed the idea. “He’d probably know what to say.”

“He’d have a nice answer, at least.” Caleb heaved a deep sigh. “I hope he’s found a human realm library.”

“He’s probably surrounded by all the human realm literature he could want,” Phoenix assured him, “We’ll get him back, and he’ll have twelve new stories to tell us all about.”

“Only twelve?”

“Okay. Probably more.” Phoenix settled back down. “But… seriously? I don’t know. I mean, I definitely like the way you treat me and the curse compared to the way everyone else is treating it. But… I understand why Evelyn wants a safety net. I’m just not sure she’ll be able to come up with a plan that will work, not on her own—that’s the problem, we just don’t know. I guess I mostly wish we had more information about it that wasn’t…”

“Consume palisman and end up covered in eyeballs?” Caleb suggested.

“Yeah. That.”

Caleb stared out into the hallway again. “You can’t… hear them, can you?”

“Who?”

“The palisman. Phillip could hear them. They’d beg to be free.”

Phoenix shuddered. You and me both, he thought, as if the palisman could hear him. “No. It’s just… me in there. And him. But mostly me. I think.”

Maybe that wasn’t true, strictly speaking. Maybe that overwhelming feeling of bigness, of feeling like a wild creature… maybe that had been the palisman.

Maybe. But what had Sam said about residual memories? Maybe it wasn’t them at all, just… an afterimage. A ghost of long-dead palisman. He couldn’t hear their voices, after all.

As if the thought had summoned him, Sam flew out of his lab, looking wildly down both ways of the hall, then striding briskly towards Phoenix. “It can eat magic,” he yelled, still halfway down the hallway, “It ate a potion!”

“We already knew that,” Phoenix yelled back. Had he forgotten what happened to Evelyn?

Sam skidded to a halt. “Okay, right, sure. It eats magic. We knew that already from Uncle Bels—he ate palisman to provide that magic, but there’s something a little bit different about the way it affects you. It makes you tired when you use it. It also eats flesh when it’s really out of control. Okay. So. Hear me out: what if it’s eating at you, making you more tired, sapping your energy… as an alternative source to magic? We don’t have magic it can eat. So it’s… it’s converting your body’s energy into its own magic. It’s… evolved… to a form that doesn’t have magic and isn’t consuming other magical creatures to sustain itself.”

“Okay?”

Sam waved his hands back and forth. “It’s a constant drain. Constantly sapping your ‘magic.’ The more tired or stressed you are, the less energy there is for it to take, so your arms start to lose shape and form. If you try to use it the way Belos did, it takes even more energy to make it move, and, of course, to turn it back. So it starts eating at your actual flesh. Like when you’re starving, so your body starts to eat your own muscles? You’re out of energy, so it has to start consuming you—or anyone who touches it—to keep going. That’s the burning. And it gets out of control because it needs to feed, and it's looking for anything to eat.”

“Okay—Sam, what are you saying? Have you figured out a solution?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Sam warned.

Well. That didn’t sound good. “Just tell me.”

Sam clasped his shoulder. “Eat well. Get lots of sleep. The more energy you have to start with, the less likely it is to eat you or anyone else.”

Caleb laughed. “Take care of yourself, Phoenix. Doctor’s orders.”

“I—” Phoenix sputtered, “I can do that! It’s fine!”

Sam jabbed one finger at him. “I mean it. Regular sleep. Regular eating. Try to keep yourself out of more stressful situations, since that’ll burn your energy faster. You’re really bad at those things.”

“Pot,” Caleb said, amused.

“Coming from the kettle himself,” Sam shot back, “Must be a family trait.” He shrugged. “I’ll keep looking for other options. You won’t ALWAYS be able to keep that up. Or the curse might need more energy some days—especially if you use it for any more daring rescues. And titan knows there’s a lot of things that stress you out.”

“Hey.”

“I’m just saying. If its primary feeding source is magic, we might be able to lessen the amount of energy it takes from you directly by finding some kind of magical booster. A magic energy shot to negate the worst of the effects. Not palisman, obviously, but something along those lines.” Sam tapped his chin. “If there are any other cursed individuals out in the Isles, we could always ask their management systems. I’m sure yours isn’t the only magic-eating curse out there.”

“Oh!” Phoenix broke in, “Eda! She mentioned some elixir!”

“Eda?” Caleb squeaked, “As in…”

“The owl lady, yes, Father, contain yourself, I know you’re unduly nervous about your progeny,” Sam spoke over Caleb, “Elixir. Interesting terminology. I’d like to hear more.”

“Well, that’ll only happen if we launch a rescue mission to the archive house,” Phoenix said gloomily, “Otherwise, we’re not getting an interview any time soon.”

“Hm.” Sam pushed his glasses up. “I’ll keep looking at it. I’ve still got a few tests to run, to figure out what the substance of this is—how similar is it to Belos’ curse and all. Might be more clues there. For now…”

“Eat, sleep, don’t stress,” Phoenix finished, “Got it.”

“Yeah. Those things. Good luck.”

Sam bolted back down the hallway. Caleb watched him go with the smallest of satisfied smiles on his face. “Who would have guessed that taking care of yourself was the right step all along?”

Phoenix sighed. “Please don’t start.”

It sounded so stupid when Sam said it out loud: just get enough rest, and eat right. It should be so easy; it should be something he was already doing, he knew that. And it was infuriating how difficult he knew it would be to take it slow. He didn’t want to sit back. He wanted to go back to the archive house and rescue Darius, and King, and Eda and Lilith. He wanted to rip open a new portal to the human realm and get Jason, Hunter, and the rest of the kids back. He wanted to get the Collector away from Terra and Odalia and make up with them. But all of that effort would be futile anyway if the curse ate him alive before he could help anyone.

Caleb held his hands up peaceably. “Alright, alright. Just… listen to him? Please?”

“I’ll try,” Phoenix promised.

“That’s all I want.” Caleb smiled. “Good luck with the gadget plan. I’ve got to go check in with some of the refugees and then take inventory. Let me know how Novus’ idea works out.”

Caleb disappeared down the hallway. Phoenix leaned against the doorframe with a sigh. Sleep and nutrition. He could practically see Jason’s face being smug about it.

I hope he’s okay. I hope he’s taking care of himself.

Probably not.

But they’d been with the human—surely she’d have some ability to help, or could find someone who could. A parent, maybe. Anyone so that Jason wouldn’t be trying to take care of everyone on his own.

Novus tapped Phoenix’s shoulder, and he jumped. He hadn’t noticed the grimwalker approach—that was two for two. Maybe it was the curse, or maybe it was just getting lost in his thoughts, but being so unaware of his surroundings that people snuck up on him without effort… that was dangerous. Especially if he planned on going back to the archive house for a rescue mission.

“Sorry. I’ve got some barebones of the gauntlets laid out. They’re not finished, and there’s not much in the way of cushioning, but I figured we could see how they worked before I did all that.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Phoenix followed Novus back to his room. When the grimwalker had said “bare bones,” he hadn’t been kidding—panels of metal connected by shifting joints and hinges formed a vague glove shape, but the whole thing looked exposed and raw.

“How does it work?”

Novus shrugged, fiddling with a pull tab “Basic concept is that it’ll shift the panels around until they’re tight and then lock in place—except, of course, around your joints. The mechanism locks up once it encounters resistance, and you’d have to start it up again to get it to go any tighter. So—basically, the pressure should keep your arms in shape even if they melt. Once they’re finished, the joints won’t let anything out, either.” He tapped a knob. “This will release the pressure, if it’s too tight, or if you want to take them off when you’re asleep. Releasing the pressure will reset the gauntlet, and you have to pull it again to get it to tighten. Ready to test it?”

“Ready.”

Novus held up the gauntlet, and Phoenix slipped his left hand into the contraption. The metal felt cold against his skin, like a cage. Novus had picked steel or copper bits to make the gauntlet rather than gold, but the shape and form of them still reminded him uncomfortably of Belos’ gloves.

No helping it, I guess.

Novus pulled the tab, and the metal shook and clicked, shifting and moving pieces out until it pushed against Phoenix’s arms, a light pressure that wasn’t too obtrusive, but Phoenix could still feel.

And it kept tightening.

“Uh… Novus?” Phoenix asked, “How tight is it supposed to get?”

Novus checked the top of the gauntlet. “Should cut off sometime soon, it’s just supposed to be a slight… pressure…”

Phoenix hissed in as the gauntlet started to dig into his skin. “Novus—it’s not stopping. It’s getting too tight, it’s—”

“Yep, yep, don’t panic, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Novus told him, but his voice took on a nervous tone. He twisted the knob, but nothing happened. “Oooooo okay, don’t worry, I probably just installed it backwards, let me just…” he twisted it the other way, but the glove just kept tightening. “Um—”

Novus tried to shove the pull string back into the glove to no avail. Phoenix bit his lip, hissing as the metal pushed through skin. He looked up at the ceiling, focusing on keeping his breathing even and his heart calm, despite the growing feeling that he was trapped. “Novus…”

“I’m trying!” Novus ran for a screwdriver, abandoning all pretense that the glove was going to work as it was supposed to and trying instead to dismantle it, prying at the shifting panels with the screwdriver. “I’m trying, I’ve got it—” the screwdriver caught and was flung out of his hand, and Novus tugged at the top of the glove. “Stop it, stop it—”

Phoenix’s free arm started to roil and shift into green mud, and through the unfinished joints of the glove, more cursed sludge started to drip, struggling to get free of its metal tomb. Phoenix’s arm screamed in pain, the metal so deep into his skin that he could barely see it anymore, and the glove still tightening, tightening, tightening. Phoenix ripped at the panels with his free hand, calm breathing forgotten and replaced with panicked bursts of breath. Novus tried to pull a panel off, but drew back, hissing and shaking his hand when he touched Phoenix’s cursed mud.

It's lashing out.

“Get it off—get it—”

“Hey, Phoenix,” Sam said from the door, “Uh, so—titan’s boney corpse!” The grimwalker rushed into the room, pacing an unhelpful and frantic circle around him. “Novus, what did you do?! It’s going to crush him!”

“Just help!” Novus yelled, grabbing a hammer, “Sorry, Phoenix!” He swung the hammer down on the metal, but it bounced off with a clang.

A howl tore out of Phoenix’s throat, and he pressed his arm to his stomach. “Stop—it—”

“Move,” Sam said firmly, and a paper touched Phoenix’s arm. It burst into flame, then froze, the sudden extreme temperature changes cracking the metal. Another paper sprouted roots that grew into the cracks created by the first glyph, tearing the gauntlet apart with vines.

“—look,” Phoenix heard Matt’s voice saying, “We’ll just take a quick look, and you’ll see, there’s nothing to worry about; it’s just Phoenix.”

“No,” Phoenix gasped, just before the door opened again, Ash and Matt behind it. Phoenix’s arms dripped both mud and blood, and the plants still grew in containment around his hurt arm.

Ash stared, then gagged, turning their face away.

“It’s not as bad as it looks!” Sam said quickly, “We just… sort of… had an… it was Novus’ fault!”

“HEY!”

“This is why,” Ash said in a shaky whisper, one hand pressed to their mouth, and their other arm pressed to their stomach, “This is why you shouldn’t mess with it. You can’t stop it. None of can.”

They whirled around and stalked off.

“Ash—” Matt started, “Aw, don’t—” he ran after them, letting the door swing shut.

Sam tore the vines off of Phoenix’s arm, pulling metal out with it. The curse throbbed and dripped, slowly moving itself back into its usual form now that it was free from its metal trap. “Oh, great. Really, most excellent thinking, Novus! What was your solution, exactly? To cut off his arms in order to get rid of it?”

“Shut up, Sam!” Novus ran a hand through his hair pacing around the room. “It wasn’t supposed to—it shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean for—it should have worked!”

He stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

Sam blinked. “Uh.”

Phoenix sighed, wrapping his mangled sleeve around the cut in his arm. Now that the danger had passed, the mud settled back into flesh, leaving just the blood. “Sam.”

“I wasn’t—usually he shoots back! It’s—” Sam waved a hand around. “—it’s back and forth! Geeze.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut.  “I guess I should apologize? Don’t know what I did wrong, though.”

“I’m going to find him.”

“Of course you are. Stressors, remember, Phoenix.”

“I remember, Sam.”

Phoenix ran into Frank again in the kitchen. “Uh—”

“Ash went outside, Matt chased after them. Novus went into Jason’s room.”

“Jason’s room?”

“It’s occupied by some kids right now, and they’re usually running around outside, not in the room.”

“Thanks.”

Frank gave him a thumbs up. “Have fun.”

Phoenix stopped outside of Jason’s door, taking a deep breath.

You can do this.

He opened the door, and a metal bug skittered past him, quietly clicking with tiny gears. Books still lined available space, in neat stacks on the floor, or on the dresser, but there were signs of the children who lived her now, too, small shirts left on the floor, and a messy, unmade bed.

Ram sat next to Novus, winding up tiny metal animal toys that Novus handed them and letting them loose. Phoenix shut the door and carefully stepped over all the little creatures that moved around the floor. As he watched, Novus quietly twisted wires and gears together, this time creating a vague bird shape that hopped around when Ram wound it up, clicks occurring at the right time and a similar frequency to imitate chirps.

Phoenix sat down next to Novus. “Hey.”

A grunt in response. Ram ran after one of the toys that had stopped, winding it back up and releasing it again.

“I’m sorry,” Novus said shortly.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Phoenix replied quietly.

“Oh, yeah? Whose fault was it, then? I designed the gloves, I built them—I’m the only one to blame.”

“I know you weren’t trying to.”

“Maybe I was.” Novus rested his arms on his knees and his chin in his arms. “Nothing I ever built for Belos worked. My own staff, sure. The toys and traps? Those all worked fine. But everything I ever built for Belos jammed, or malfunctioned, or wouldn’t start at all. I thought maybe it was him—I thought he was messing them up on purpose. But maybe it was me. Maybe I messed them up on purpose when I built them. Maybe I messed up your glove because it was too close to building something for him.”

“Why?” Phoenix said quietly. He’d spent half his life struggling to always succeed, to be more than what Belos thought he could do, to prove that he could live up to the last golden guard’s legacy—and to avoid the punishment of failure. He couldn’t imagine deliberately failing.

“So that he couldn’t? I don’t know. I didn’t have magic. I thought I could make up for it with technology, but that never worked when I really needed it. And the one time I tried glyphs, tried to do magic like he could, I got a rope around the neck for it.” Novus sighed. “Sam can do these—these incredible things with glyphs, and I won’t be able to catch up to them in a million years with my machines.” He flicked away one of the little toys when it scrambled up to him, knocking it over on its back, where its legs kicked fruitlessly at the air. “And then when it really matters, when I think maybe I’ll be able to do something he can’t, I’m still useless.”

Phoenix gingerly picked up the toy, setting it right-side up and letting it run off. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“I nearly cut off your arm.”

“Hey, Frank’s doing fine with one.” Phoenix rubbed the makeshift bandage where his arm had been hurt. “I can’t draw glyphs and do amazing magic like Sam. I can’t make machines like you. Titan, I got told today that I need to sit pretty and do nothing if I don’t want to get eaten alive by this thing. If anyone around here is deadweight, it’s me.”

“You’re not—”

“I’m not looking for reassurances, Novus. I think right now, I’m causing more problems than I’m solving, but… I don’t know. I’m safe to be that way here. I’m not worried I’ll be kicked out. I’m actually more worried that they’ll try too hard to keep me and try to work around this even if it gets too dangerous. The point is, I guess… we’re all more than what we bring to the table. We don’t have to be useful to belong here. It took me a long time to figure that out. But… I think I’m finally starting to believe it. It doesn’t matter if we’re useless. They’ll love us anyway.” Phoenix picked up the little bird toy as it hopped up to him, then clicked to a stop. “And anyway, I think that this is pretty cool.”

“Me too,” Ram piped up.

Phoenix gestured. “There you go. And they can do magic and everything.” He offered Novus the windup toy. “Thanks for trying to help. It means a lot, even if it didn’t work. You didn’t have to.”

Novus took the bird with a small smile. “Yeah. Okay. You’re welcome. And… thanks.”

Phoenix stood up. “I think Sam’s ready to apologize for what he said, in case you see him.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Give him a chance.” Phoenix carefully stepped over the little toys on his way back out.

Okay.

Now what?

Matt ducked through the hallway, snatching up two concealment stones from their basket.

“Matt?” Phoenix called, “What’s up?”

“Hmmmmmmmmm, okay, well.” Matt hopped from one foot to the other. “Ash may have. Sort of. Gone past the barrier. And uh, did not take a concealment stone with them. So… they won’t be able to find the house again? And I don’t know where they went, because I came back inside for the concealment stones. I’ll find them. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you want help finding them?”

“Not from you.”

Phoenix flinched, although he didn’t know why. He should have expected that.

“Ah. Oof. Wait, that sounded mean. It’s just the…” Matt rolled a hand. “…the spiraling panic attack of a grimwalker nearly killed by the curse you bear. You know how it is. Although…” Matt sized Phoenix up. “Actually, yes. I do want your help.”

Phoenix eyed him critically, suspicious of the sudden switch. “Really? You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“I want to get them back quick before anyone realizes they’re gone.” Matt handed Phoenix two concealment stones. “I’ll take the forest—that’s probably where they went. Everyone’s familiar with the forest. But just for peace of mind… could you check the cliffs?”

“The cliffs?” Phoenix echoed.

“Yeah—we’re located right around the third rib. Going towards the heart, it’s forest, but if you go around the other way…”

“It’s a drop off of the ribs and into the sea,” Phoenix finished, “Got it.” He’d never had any reason to go the other way—town was closer to the heart, and he’d never wondered what lay in the opposite direction.

Add it to the list of things I should have been more aware about.

“Be careful with your footing. We might be able to survive the boiling water—titan knows I did—but the fall will probably kill you first. And if you do see Ash, just… be careful, alright? They’re not… doing well.”

Phoenix nodded, slipping out the front door, but heading around behind the house.

Check for Ash

Come back

Does this count as ‘stressing myself?’

No. Of course not. It was just a quick hike. Ash probably wasn’t even this way—Matt seemed pretty sure they’d be in the forest.

Trees became few and far between as he walked, turning to dense brush, then thick grass, and then just… white bone. The sound of rushing waves hitting the bone thundered into Phoenix’s ears, covering up any other sounds. A path curved along the outside of the rib, and tilting his head up, Phoenix could see that it wound at least another fifty feet up, ending at a piece of the rib jutting out like an overlook.

“Only one way to go,” Phoenix said to himself, and started to climb. The path wasn’t wide, and his shoulder brushed the wall, but he could comfortably face forward and didn’t have to hug the wall to walk. He kept his eyes fixed on the path, refusing to look over the edge at the drop into the roaring water.

Okay.

It might be stressing now.

The path was easy, at least—not particularly steep or treacherous, save a patch of gravel here and there where he had to watch his footing. And for now, at least, it didn’t seem like the Collector’s spies had any interest in the path, although from up here, Phoenix could see them whirring over the forest. He wondered idly who maintained the road as he came to the top, reaching the overlook.

Ash sat with their legs dangling over the edge of the cliff, staring out at the ocean. “I don’t want to go back,” they said without looking back, “Thanks for coming, Matt, but I’m just going to stay up here forever.”

Up here, Phoenix could hear them, but even as high as they were, the sounds of the ocean still nearly drowned their words out.

“Um. It’s… not Matt.”

Ash’s shoulders locked up, but they still didn’t turn around. “Oh.”

“I’m… staying back,” Phoenix told them, “I won’t come close. Matt sent me. He… didn’t think you’d be up here.”

“That’s why I picked here, instead of somewhere he’d expect me,” Ash said, aggrieved.

“I have a concealment stone for you. For when you’re ready to come back.”

“I told you. I’m not going back.”

“What? Is it because of…”

“Yeah. I mean, doesn’t seem like it’s going away any time soon.”

“I’m keeping it under control,” Phoenix said quietly, gripping his wounded arm, “I know what you saw back there looked… bad, but we’re not—I’m not just messing around with it. I know it’s dangerous.”

Ash finally turned around at that, getting to their feet. Their shadow reached towards Phoenix, and the ocean view behind them rippled and shook, unsteady and stormy. “Do you? Do you actually? What’s the worst thing it ever did to you?”

Phoenix instinctively reached towards the scar on his head, then put his hand down. That wasn’t right anymore. Sure, there had been countless other ‘warnings’ and injuries that had come from Belos, but he’d always thought that had been the first one. The one he hadn’t been expecting. But that was a lie.

“A scar,” Ash replied bitterly, “That’s the worst it’s ever done, right?”

Phoenix’s ears pulled back, burning. “I think taking over my body and making my arms drip off my bones is a pretty bad one, too.”

Ash snorted. “Try drowning in it. Try struggling to breathe and feeling it slither into your mouth and nose and seize your lungs. Try your vision not going black, but green instead as you die. Try coughing it up for months—” their voice broke. “—afterwards and wondering if it would ever stop. Whatever you thought the worse case scenario would be if something went wrong, it is so, so much worse.”

Phoenix almost couldn’t breathe himself at the thought of it, no words in his mind to reply with.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

It wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. “I’m sorry” didn’t even begin to cover the range of emotions he felt knowing what had happened to them. He gripped his arm tighter. “Ash, I…”

“Can you figure why I don’t want to share a dinner table with it?” Ash started to shake. “It’s like I can feel it in my lungs all over again. I cough, and I’m sure I’m going to spit out green mud again. I can’t go home. I can’t live knowing it’s right there.”

“You can’t stay out here,” Phoenix replied softly, “The Collector will find you.”

Ash laughed hysterically, repeatedly combing their hair with their fingers. “Would that really be worse? At least if I was a puppet, it would be peaceful.”

“Ash—” Phoenix took a deep breath. “Do you really want to leave home, or do you just not want to be around me?”

“You know the answer to that. I don’t want to abandon them. It’s not—it’s not fair. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to leave. And I know you don’t want to leave. It’s my problem—I’m the one who can’t stand the sight of it. So I need to be the one to go.”

Something about that struck something in Phoenix, tugging at the nagging discomfort with Evelyn planning behind his back.

 He sighed. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be fair. But it’s not fair that you have to leave, either. You want to stay with the family. I want to stay with the family. You leaving because you can’t stand this is—it’s a problem you shouldn’t have to go through alone. It’s a problem that involves both of us. We need to talk about it together, find a solution that works for everyone.”

And suddenly, that nagging discomfort pulled free, unraveling fully in his mind, and Phoenix realized exactly what had been bothering him.

But Ash was already shaking their head. “I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” They took a step back. “I can’t get used to it. I won’t ever be able to; there’s no solution we can come up with that will work besides one of us leaving. I can’t get—” they broke off coughing, and Phoenix wanted to reach out, to provide any kind of comfort, but he stood too far away, and he knew it would only make them worse if he tried.

“I promise I won’t let it hurt you,” he whispered fruitlessly, “I promise I wouldn’t hurt you—I know it’s hard to believe, but I am going to be different. I just need you to trust me for a little b—”

Ash coughed again, taking another step back.

Phoenix’s eyes widened, his mouth too slow to shout a warning for what he could already see about to happen.

Ash’s foot slipped on the edge of the cliff.

And they fell backwards towards the sea.

“ASH!”

Phoenix lunged forward, snatching for them. Too far away, too slow—he knew even as he reached that he wouldn’t catch them.

But something shifted in his arms. Something stretched. And his arms lengthened, turning to cursed mud, responding to his single-minded demand of save them.

Green claws grasped Ash’s arms, not breaking skin yet, but tight enough to make them wince and yelp in pain. Phoenix lay on his stomach at the top of the overlook, his arms stretching at least two feet beyond their usual length. He yowled at the strain, his arms seeming to pop out of their sockets, and through blurred, teary vision, he could see white bone, out of its usual place.

Ash gagged as cursed mud dripped from Phoenix’s arm to their face, and their face twisted in horror (as well as some disgust), but they gripped Phoenix’s arms back.

“Don’t let—” Ash gagged again. “Don’t let go!” they begged.

Blood started to run down Phoenix’s arm, the strain tearing open the tender wound from the gauntlet again. He blinked back tears of pain, struggling to pull Ash back up. He brought them up one, two inches, then dropped again, gasping from the exertion. Slowly, Ash’s weight started to pull him over the edge.

“Phoenix!”

Phoenix twisted his head around to see Evelyn at the path’s end, watching him with fear and uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She didn’t move forward, not even when Phoenix slid another couple of inches. Phoenix remembered her conversation, remembered how she’d looked at him when he’d brought Caleb back—and how it must look to her now.

“Help—them—” he grated out.

Evelyn shook her head as if to clear it and dashed forward, drawing a glyph in the dirt. Vines erupted from the ground, curling around Ash and dragging them back up the side of the cliff. Phoenix let go when they got to the top, and they launched themselves into Evelyn, shaking.

Phoenix backed up from the edge, leaning against the rib and closing his eyes. Exhaustion swept over him from his fingertips to his core.

Sorry… Sam… Guess I stressed myself.

He opened his eyes again to see the mud creeping back to him, picking itself up from the streaks it had left on the ground and forming back into his normal arms. His bones seemed to ache inside of him, stretched and worn. And, of course, his makeshift bandage around his injured arm was starting to become too soaked to be any use at this point.

Evelyn murmured something soft and gentle to Ash, and they nodded, trudging back down the path. They kept close to the wall now, eying the edge warily. Evelyn knelt down next to Phoenix.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hn,” was the only response he could manage.

“Are you okay?”

Phoenix lifted the hand of his uninjured arm, tilting it back and forth in a so-so gesture. “I’ll live,” he whispered hoarsely, “Ash?”

Evelyn winced. “I’ll have Auric make a dreamless sleep draught for them. And I think they’ve got a lot to consider right now. I guess both of us do.” She passed a hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Thank you. For saving them.”

“Did Matt tell you he was looking for them and sent me up this way?”

“What? No, I didn’t even know Ash was missing yet. I just saw you heading out past the fence.”

That was… surprising. “You followed me? Why?”

“You were headed towards the cliffs. I thought you might be about to… I just wanted to make sure nothing bad happened.”

“It almost did.” Phoenix toyed with the bandage around his arm. “Would have solved a lot of problems, huh?”

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t going to help me for a second.”

“Of course I was, I just… Oh.” Evelyn groaned. “How much did you hear?”

“It’s smart to have a contingency plan. I think we should.” Phoenix pushed himself up to his feet, wobbling towards the path back down. “I just wish you’d talked to me about making one instead of planning it behind my back.”

“Phoenix, it’s not like that, it’s—okay, well, it’s a little like that, but I don’t want to hurt you. I really, really don’t. And if we can find a way to keep everyone safe—”

Phoenix turned around to face her, still fidgeting with his bandage. “It’s not about the plan, Evelyn, I told you, I think it’s smart to have one. Even if the plan is to kill me if necessary, I don’t care about that. The problem is that you’re making decisions about my life without including me. That even though this affects me the most, you’re not asking for my input. I get that it’s dangerous, but I…” his hand curled into a fist. “I don’t want to be treated like I can’t be trusted. Like I can’t make choices on what’s best for me and the rest of the family. I want to help you. I want to help find a way for everyone to live with this. You. Caleb. Ash. All of us. If that includes contingency plans for if I go rogue… well, I want to make those decisions now, when I’m still thinking clearly.”

“I… probably would feel better about backup plans if you agreed with them,” Evelyn admitted, “Phoenix, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it that way. I thought… I thought you’d be upset I didn’t trust you to control it. And… I think a part of me worried that if you knew I was making plans to deal with the worst case scenario, you might make your own to get around them.”

She sighed. “But of course you want to have some control over your life. Of course you should get to have that—we’ve always tried to give you guys that agency, and I’m sorry I pulled it away when you needed it most. We can talk it over—after we get home.”

“Thanks. That’s… all I really wanted.”

They walked down the path in silence, nothing but the tap of their footsteps. The Collector’s spies had moved on to their next patrol sector, and had stopped hovering over the forest. Phoenix wondered idly if Matt had gotten back yet.

The house seemed to buzz when they reached it, grimwalkers and refugees all casting nervous glances around at each other and pooling in the yard. Evelyn pushed through, creating a clear path for Phoenix behind her.

“What… is going…?” she murmured.

 “I’M GOING TO KILL HIM,” Sam’s voice yowled from inside.

Phoenix ran towards the lab, but Sam’s angry muttering spouted from the room next to it instead. His heart started to thump in his chest, each beat loud in his ears. He was already half-certain he knew what had happened, even as he pushed into the room, Evelyn on his heels.

Auric sat with Lake, pressing bandages to their shoulder. A bloody scalpel sat on the ground next to them. Caleb paced the room, hands behind his back, while Sam practically vibrated with angry energy, drawing ice glyphs for tiny cubes that he set in a bag, handing it to Locke, who sported a nasty bruise over one eye and looked a little groggy.

Petro’s chair sat empty, the shattered remains of stone vines surrounding it.

The mask was gone.

“I’m going to kill him,” Sam snarled again, “I’m going to track him down, catch him, and drag him back here, and then I’m going to RE-PETRIFY HIM!”

Evelyn looked to Caleb, who shook his head. “He got out,” he said quietly, confirming Phoenix’s fears, “Petro’s gone.”

[captain-daryn]

This…. Explains so much.

(Going back to add, I did not intend for this post to get so freaking long, and it’s kinda a trauma dump (I know that’s not the correct way to use it but I’m repurposing the term to say I go on a long tangent about childhood trauma))

I’ve been reflecting on my childhood a lot recently, and like, it kinda sucked. It wasn’t always directed at me, but some of my biggest memories are of my mom constantly complaining about something. Or being drunk and saying very brutally honest (“this movie is stupid, I don’t get it.” Or “This music sucks.” When I tried to share something I liked with her, and then she would pass out in her seat a few minutes later).

Or my parents yelling either at each other or at me. When it was directed at me, if I told them what was the truth to me (because being an undiagnosed ADHD kid, I really DIDNT know why I didn’t do my homework), and said, “I don’t know” then they would say “I don’t know isn’t an answer.” And they would corner me until I came up with something to get them off my back. It made me a chronic liar who abhors doing homework and hates school.

They let me opt out of things when I probably shouldn’t have had the choice (getting my wisdom teeth out, therapy, or other doctor visits), but when I asked them about doctor visits when I was in pain or sick, my dad would say no called me a hypochondriac or my mom complained about how expensive the doctors is, even though we are not financially struggling at all and have health insurance. Or vice versa, they let me choose things that I was not mature enough to choose (like going to church with a neighbor at 6 years old, and getting baptized at 8 because that’s what the church expected of children without really letting them choose, but made them think was their choice).

They never let me make mistakes. My dad was constantly telling me exactly how things are done, and held my hand all the way through things. If I didn’t do something, he would jump right in and fix it instead of giving me the tools and teaching me skills to fix it myself. When I had to transfer from honors math into regular math because I was bad at doing my homework on time, even though I understood the material, my mom threw a huge fit.

I had a lot of freedom and no structure to my childhood. Unlike my siblings, I never had expectations to keep my room clean. I was not taught how to properly clean my face, hair, or teeth (those habits involved a lot of yelling and scare tactics that actually made me scared of the doctor and the dentist). I didn’t learn to do laundry until I was much older. I was allowed to eat whenever and whatever I wanted (so you know I ate cereal, chips, and cookies all day if I wanted to). By the time I was born, my mom had given up on cooking every night so we usually eat out or “fend for ourselves”, and so I’ve only really experienced the “Sit down dinner with the fam” on thanksgiving and Christmas, and struggle with proper eating habits.

Every once in awhile my mom would say “clean your room” but I never had an example of what a clean version of my room looked like, so I would get overwhelmed easily. I remember my closet being piled high with toys I was never taught to let go of. Of half finished craft projects and dirty clothes and toys waist high. Of half my bed being unusable because it was piled high with stuff, books and papers and craft projects and whatever you could think of. About once a year or every other year while I was at school, my mom would drag everything out from my room and spread it out around the living room and hallway and say “you can’t go to bed until it’s all put away and organized.” But she never taught me how to do that, so then I would just shove things into boxes and they would go back under my bed or in my closet and then I would get in trouble for something I didn’t know how to fix and wasn’t taught how to fix.

I remember begging for chores and rules because I knew I was disorganized and lacked structure. I remember being embarrassed because my mom was drunk when friends came over. I remember secretly begging to have my friends parents because they were involved in a healthy way in their kids lives. I remember crying to my mom that I had no friends, or how there are different groups of people and they don’t like me, and she just said like I’m not trying or I just need to ask them to play with me.

I felt very invalidated as a child, and now I’m feeling I was very neglected too. I didn’t get family photos done. I didn’t experience back tickles from my mom in church. I didn’t get to sit at the kitchen table to do homework while mom made dinner. I wasn’t expected to have my chores done before I left to play with friends.

And I’m trying hard now to get into those habits. To brush my teeth once a day. Shower frequently. Make my bed or tidy my room daily. Eat actual food (not just cookies and candy) multiple times a day. And it seems impossible. I know what I want my life to look like but I can’t get there. I just want to lay in bed all day and cry or sleep.

I know this seems like Im saying I had the worst childhood, or whatever, but these were small individual moments mostly. It wasn’t every day bad, and there were definite moments that were better than others, or times that relationships were better or worse. But of course that also doesn’t mean these moments haven’t added up over time as well. One of the few pieces of wisdom I hold onto from Dr Phil: it takes 1000 atta girls to make up for one negative comment. And boy is there a lot of backpay I’m owed. But again, it wasn’t all bad. There can be both good and bad. It’s just the negative stands out a lot more than the positive sometimes once you get thinking about it.

It's wild that you don't necessarily need to even be abused to have childhood trauma. Like just having an excessively negative, spiteful, toxic and mean-spirited parent is enough, even if they never do it at you, or on purpose. Imagine being a doctor and explaining that to a parent.

"Hey you know how you don't have any friends because people find you unpleasant to be around? Well it turns out that your child is also a person, and finds you unpleasant to be around. Growing up in an environment where they are constantly subjected to your opinions technically counts as torture, since the situation was both continuously distressing and inescapable. You are literally so annoying that you gave your child brain damage."

[seijorhi]

CAMELLIA

DEVOTION, PERFECTION

“You know I’d do anything for you, right? My love knows no limits.”

Hanemiya Kazutora x female reader

tw: yandere, stalking, implied violence

He’s watching you again.

The uncomfortable prickling sensation at the back of your neck all but confirms it, although you’re sure that if you glanced up now, you’d find him busy restocking the shelves, humming idly to the music playing through the speakers.

“Hello?! Are you even listening to me?” the customer in front of you snaps.

Biting back a sigh, you plaster an apologetic smile across your face, “I’m sorry, sir, but store policy–”

“I bought the damn thing here last week, now you’re telling me I can’t get a refund when it’s your shitty product that broke?!”

One look at the broken collar sitting on the counter, and it’s clear he’s had it for far longer than that. “We can only provide refunds or exchanges with proof of purchase.”

Which, naturally, he doesn’t have.

A muscle in his jaw twitches, and unwittingly you find your eyes darting to Kazutora. Chifuyu isn’t here – left to go run some errands after his shift, meaning that if the customer in front of you decides to kick up a fuss, Kazutora’ll be the only one who can intervene.

He had, once before. Grabbed an irate customer who’d spat in your face by the throat and squeezed it nice and tight, leering down at him the whole time. When the guy had started to wheeze, fingers scrabbling uselessly against Kazutora’s tightening grip, he’d thrown him out the back door, and waltzed out after him.

‘Don’t tell Chifuyu,’ was all he’d said when he returned – a whole five minutes later. And for some inexplicable reason, you hadn’t.

Now, with a puppy chew toy raised halfway to the shelf, Kazutora’s abandoned all pretence of not paying attention, golden eyes narrowed and fixed on the man before you.

The customer eyes him right back, sizing him up, but after a tense beat he merely huffs and snatches the collar back off the countertop. “Bitch,” he sneers at you, and then he’s gone.

And by the time you turn back around, Kazutora’s already engrossed in the displays again. Or at least, doing an excellent job of pretending to be.

Soon enough, you’ll feel that tell tale prickle at the back of your neck.

You always do.

When you’d started at the pet shop a few months ago, you’d been somewhat wary of him. The other employees talked, not where Chifuyu could overhear them, but they talked.

Whispers of what exactly he’d done to earn those years in prison.

People were allowed their pasts, and it wasn’t any of your business to begin with. Chifuyu trusted him – enough to give him the job and share the apartment above at any rate. That should be enough. It would’ve been, if it wasn’t for the way he watched you.

Unnervingly empty, golden eyes that glittered whenever you entered a room, the shadow you never could quite shake.

And there’s no forgetting the night you’d accidentally walked into the back office to find him backed up into the corner, a pissed off looking Chiufyu leaning over him with a finger jabbed against his chest. You would’ve dismissed that too, had it not been for the almost guilty look your boss had cast your way as you’d stammered out an apology for interrupting.

Thankfully, the rest of your shift passes without incident, and by the time you push the register closed the sun has well and truly set over the city.

“Let me walk you home.”

“You live upstairs, Tora,” you remind him, ignoring his stupidly pleased little grin at the nickname.

This isn’t the first time he’s asked, but if experience has taught you anything it’s that even if you deny him now, he’ll follow you home anyway. Wait on the sidewalk outside until the light in your apartment flickers on.

And maybe tonight you don’t mind the company.

It’s… oddly comfortable, the silence that settles between you. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his arm knocks gently against yours as he walks along beside you – and yet he keeps darting glances towards your face, as if he half expects at any moment you’re going to shove him away.

You don’t.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nods, a hint of wariness creeping across his features.

“That guy today–” you pause, struggling to find the right words. “How far…”

“How far would I have gone?”

You nod, and Kazutora slows to a stop. Here on the backstreets, the sound of the city traffic is muted, distant. There’s nothing and nobody around. Just you. Just him. And he stares at you, studies you, as if he’s trying to decide how much of the truth he should reveal. What will send you running for the hills.

Whatever he finds on your face must satisfy some part of that worry, because he simply shrugs, “I’d kill him.”

“Why?” you breathe.

Kazutora shrugs again, a manic grin twitching at his lips, “Because I love you. Because I’d do anything for you.”

He swiftly closes the distance between you, one hand cupping your jaw, his thumb sweeping along the curve of your lips, “Because you’re mine.”

Our Bloody Valentine Masterlist

[beomglocks]

happy (very) 'belated' father’s day

summary : the only father willing to come to the dinner

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader x beomgyu (?)

warnings & other: i wrote the day after fathers day, the title is edited bc im posting this like WAY later LOL, threesome (?), degradation, some beomgyu (no incest), sub!beomgyu if you squint like really fucking hard, definitely not a normal relationship, slight exhibitionism, some possessiveness, DON’T read if you’re uncomfortable with age gaps, edit: REwriting this, this one is for the dilf soobin stans, eat up, don't say i don't feed yall, enjoy <3, kind of proofread

w/c : ~4k

you realize it now.

after living side by side with mr. choi soobin and his son, beomgyu, for a couple of weeks, you’ve started to realize something quite interesting.

1. your mother has a liking for tall lean men.

2. she also has a liking for trying to set you up with the tall lean mens’ son.

now, you wouldn't say you're exactly opposed to getting close to beomgyu. he's conventionally attractive and he seems like a nice boy but you're very much more attracted to the one who created him. it made sense after all.

"give these to mr. choi for me?" your mother all but shoves the roses and chocolates in your arms. you look down quizzically at such gifts. "it's not valentine's day.." you trail off.

you have a strange feeling that soobin would be put off by such acts, not seeming to be as out there as your mother. she doesn't care.

"it's fathers day..well it was...yesterday," she shrugs, fixing her bombshell red lipstick. why was she doing herself up? well a certain mr. choi was coming over.

despite the fact that your own father was out of the picture, that didn't stop your mom from wanting to celebrate every holiday in existence. unfortunately, the only willing father in town to partake in your mother's antics was mr. choi.

he liked to rile her up, you notice. soobin liked to toy with your mother's clear affection towards him, just as he did you. he also liked to throw it in your face sometimes. you didn't say what you observed but you knew he liked to make her feel wanted by a much younger, much more handsome man.

without another word, you decide to give the outlandish gifts to your neighbor. you sigh, looking down at the gifts. some assorted chocolates, nice flower arrangements, and what seems to be a sealed note? you want to roll your eyes but a part of you wonders if soobin would really like these kinds of things.

when you get to the door and ring the bell, the door swings open and there's stands the man himself. he's more put together than you at the moment so you feel out of place even at the front step of his house.

"always a pleasant surprise~" he smiles. his eyes trail down to the gifts in your arms. "for me?" his eyes grow wide and his pouty lips, the ones which you suddenly can't stop staring at since they seemed to be stained cherry red, lay slightly agape.

"from my mom," you deadpan, holding the gifts out. "she's generous~" "overbearing," you correct. "we seem to have different views then," he shrugs. "where's my gift from you though? this can't be all," he ponders in faux thought.

you smile shyly, looking down in embarrassment. "what did you get me baby?" he teasingly leans down closer to you to properly see your face. "could it be perhaps-"

before soobin can place a hand on you, beomgyu comes from downstairs. he's looking sharp, which suits him a lot, you admit. his hair is parted, giving you a teasing view of his forehead. regardless of the fact that he's wearing casual clothes, a stark contrast from his father who dawns an all black attire, beomgyu still manages to make it work for him.

"we'll be seeing you at the dinner," soobin clears his throat, noticing your apparent staring at his son. you can tell that he feels off put by your slight attraction to beomgyu. however small or minuscule it may be its still there to him.

the dinner goes almost exactly how you thought it would. soobin and your mother hit it off, talking about whatever they could to distract themselves from their children for a while. to your surprise soobin barely interacts with you. he seems too occupied with entertaining your mom to pay you any mind.

you're not sure why but this bothers you. beomgyu is occupied in the bathroom at the moment so you can't help but glance in their direction every couple of seconds. your mom is currently leaning against soobin's broad shoulder, laughing at something he's previously said. so he’s a comedian.

you watch as he looks down at her with a satisfied smile on his face. you bite the inside on your cheek and as if on cue, soobin looks up in your direction and smirks. it's almost as if he's taunting you. you bite down harder until you taste something metallic in your mouth.

you're not sure where this feeling of jealously is coming from and you know it's not healthy but you can't help it. maybe you've gotten too attached to your older neighbor in these past couple of weeks.

beomgyu comes out of the restroom with a sigh, walking back into the living room where you are. he can feel a weird tension in your general area but decides not to comment on it. suddenly you stand up, catching beomgyu off guard.

"come on beomgyu!" you say loud enough for everyone to hear especially soobin. the man in question practically pauses in speech midway to look over at you and his son. he eyes you both, mainly giving you a glare that will be engraved in your mind but you don't care. he needs a taste of his own medicine.

"come on let's go to my room, i need to show you something~" you urge him along. meanwhile, you say those words while staring straight at soobin. you hear your mom assure him that it's ok, "the kids are doing their own thing." you knew you were being childish and petty but if soobin wanted to fuck around with you this is what he would have to deal with as well.

you drag beomgyu along to your room who seems quite eager to be in this position. all he knows is that there's a weird tension between you and his father but that's as far as his knowledge goes.

when you both arrive at your room you close the door behind you and lean back on it. "is everything alright?" beomgyu hesitantly asks. you sigh, ushering him along to sit on the bed with you. he looks around subtly at all the little items in your room. everything seems to reflect you well, in his opinion. "well.." you try to stall.

you look up at him through your lashes. "you like me right?" beomgyu stares at you with wide eyes, "i-i mean yeah?" he stutters at your boldness.

"then lets try something," you smile at him, casually pulling your shirt over your head. "let's see how long it takes for your dad to come see us in this position," you say to yourself.

soobin doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what's going on here. he knows you're being a brat on purpose but he doesn't care because it makes it all the more fun. he will say he's surprised that you're using beomgyu, his own son, to get to him.

at first, he was getting annoyed with how you seemed to take a liking for his son which is why he wanted to rile you up by seeming extra interested in whatever your mom had to say. now, however, he knew he had a plan for that. you were not going to outsmart him, he wouldn't allow it and he would just have to put you in your place.

"excuse me but i need to use your restroom," soobin makes up a bullshit excuse to get to where you are. "oh of course!" your mom nods at him, instructing him towards the one upstairs. perfect.

"ill just finish up the dinner then!" your mother offers. "great that's enough time to put this slut in her place," he thinks. he smiles at your mom heading for upstairs.

"beomgyu you look like you just saw a ghost," you chuckle lightly, looking down at him. "y/n," he groans at the sight of only seeing you in your bra. he reaches up to grab your breasts, fondling them as delicately as possible. "you can be rough," you offer.

without even bothering to knock on the door, soobin opens it to see you both on the bed in a lewd position. you shirtless on top of beomgyu. he sucks his teeth when you both look back in alarm at the door being burst open. "y/n," he chuckles, almost sadistically.

you can already see the look in his eyes and suddenly you feel bad for not only yourself but beomgyu as well. you try to subtly grab your shirt again in shame but soobin's glare stops you. "what do you think you're doing little slut?" he folds his arms over his chest. not even caring that beomgyu is in the room, he walks over to you and grabs your hair causing you to yelp in surprise.

"s-sir.." soobin narrows his eyes at you then they flit over to beomgyu. "sit over there," he motions to the beanbag in the corner of the room. "i want you to learn something from this." without another word, beomgyu scrambles over to the seat, his heart beating in fear and excitement strangely.

you feel heat rising up your neck and to your cheeks as well as your dripping pussy. "don't be embarrassed, im sure this was your plan all along," soobin tsks, shoving your face down into the sheets. you breathe out when he rips the skirt and underwear from your body without a second thought. the racy thong that was supposed to be his surprise for father's day discarded in a second.

"soobin-" a smack to your ass. "that's not my name."

he doesn't even give you a chance to correct yourself, messing with your sticky juices before entering his cold fingers into your hole. you try to stifle your moan by burying your head further into the sheets.

"god you're so wet," soobin comments. he slowly moves his finger in and out for a while, practically torturing you with how meticulous and slow he's being. "please," you whine pathetically. "please what?" he slows his movements to stare at you with a raised eyebrow.

"please f-fuck me, please, i need your cock," you beg shamelessly. beomgyu breathes heavily, trying to forget about his growing boner but not being able to ignore it. he painfully wants to do something about it but he's not sure if he's allowed to touch himself.

he opts for subtly dragging his hand to his clothed crotch and palming himself through his pants, as uncomfortable as it is. in the meantime, soobin rids himself of his own pants, shaking his head.

he lightly smacks your throbbing pussy and you jolt. "do you seriously think you deserve it? fuck, look at you, can’t wait to be fucked like a bitch in heat~" you whine, wiggling your ass wordlessly in his face to hopefully get what you want.

soobin rubs your clit with narrowed eyes, making sure beomgyu is watching. he could care less that beomgyu is touching himself. he drags some of your cum from your hole to your clit and sighs. "alright then.."

he aligns himself with your hole and without another word slips his cock in with ease, completely bottoming out.

you want to scream at how big he is but you're only left with ragged pants as you know you're unable to make any loud noises. it seriously feels like you could be torn apart at any minute but you love the feeling of soobin’s cock filling you out.

"you're so tight seriously," soobin breathes. he can barely move at first. the way his dick fits inside of your pussy perfectly. he almost wants to comment about how you were practically made for him. he's sure if he flips you over right now, he would see the outline of his cock in your womb.

after waiting a bit for you to adjust to his length he finally starts moving. "shit-" he breathes. you have to grip the sheets to stop yourself from yelling. soobin's hands find their way to your waist and when you look to the side just for a split second you can see beomgyu fighting for his life to not moan out loud.

"look beomgyu-" soobin says in between jagged breaths. "if you wanna fuck around with his pathetic slut this is how you treat her." a moan gets caught in your throat when soobin pounds into you at once. "ah- i-" a part of you wants to apologize and is trying to but he won't give you a chance to speak.

"isn't that right my slutpuppy? did you have something to add?" at the sound of the nickname your walls tighten around him and he sends a harsh smack to your ass. "you're enjoying this aren't you?" he rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.

soobin thrusts start getting faster and faster, beomgyu watching with his mouth agape at his father kissing and sucking at your neck to muffle his own moans. beomgyu can only bite his lip and noises from his throat barely pass his lips as he reaches his high.

soobin growls at seeing your eyes focus on beomgyu so he starts slamming his cock into you at an animalistic pace and you think you might break.

beomgyu bucks into his hand as he cums from the sound and sight of skin slapping added with the tiny noises you'd make. not too long after you feel yourself shudder, unable to warn soobin that you had come you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a whine instead.

"fuck- ok baby," soobin understands as soon as your walls squeeze around him. he pants a couple a times and as soon as he reaches his high he pulls out, pumping his cock to let his cum shoot out on your ass.

"s-sir," you moan. "shhh it's ok." soobin sighs heavily, coming down from his own high to tend to your broken state. he looks over at beomgyu, who's head is lulled to the side as he gazes at your sweat and semen covered body.

soobin sucks his teeth deciding not to say anything to the boy and let him chill for a minute. he shrugs his pants back on and carries you in his arms to the nearest bathroom.

you cozy up to his warm embrace, letting out a sigh. "baby we need to clean you off.." you hear him whisper. you almost completely forget that there's a dinner that's supposed to be happening and you cant just go to sleep with soobin like you'd want.

a sudden coldness hits your body and you shiver. "ok," you agree. his cum is already starting to dry on you and you want nothing more than to be cleaned like he offers. you're not sure how you'll explain your change of clothes to your mom but you're sure you'll come up with something later.

no words need to be spoken after what happened and you're glad because you're not sure what to say. soobin doesn't seem keen on talking at the moment either, too focused on cleaning you off, so you decide to stay quiet.

it's silent in the bathroom until you both hear your mother all out. "dinner's ready!"

you chuckle, breaking the silence as soobin looks up at you with a questioning eyebrow. “happy father’s day.”

[mountswhore]

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 — mason mount

summary: on Mason’s day with Sydney, you have one strict rule: no messy or sticky food. but you end up coming home to a child and kitchen covered in food.

notes: with the prompts, it’s going to have a weird timeline of ages and genders. in some prompts, the baby will be newborn, or a toddler, or even a kid. sometimes it’ll be a boy, and sometimes it’ll be a girl.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

8. Little one getting food all over their face + 36. Little one leaving sticky fingerprints on everything they touch.

“Don’t let him play outside all day, it’s going to get really hot this afternoon.” You instructed, pulling your heels on as you sat on your bed. Today was one of the rare weekends you had work, and nobody else was free to cover. Which meant you’d have to sacrifice your time with your footballer husband and one-year-old. Mason hadn’t had a day yet of just him and Sydney, so you were running him through a few rules.

“I’ll be back at around 7, depending on how quickly I can get through my paperwork,” you mentioned, Mason following you downstairs like a puppy, but you quickly turned and stopped in front of him, “and for the love of God, no sticky food.”

“I’m not a sitter. I’m his dad, I think I have this.” Mason encouraged himself, but you knew how forgetful he was. He’d forget his head if it weren’t attached to him.

“I’m not doubting you, but it’s for my own sanity that you don’t give this kid honey, syrup, or anything gooey and sticky. Do you know how long I spent on my hands and knees scraping honey from the floor and highchair?” You exclaimed, rushing around the foyer to collect your things for work. Keys, bag, phone, folder.

“No,” Mason smirked, “but I can only imagine what that looked like.” His hand reached out to pull you closer, sliding down to your ass and squeezing it gently. You flicked his forehead and pulled yourself apart, rushing over to your son in the high chair.

“Goodbye, Syd.” You cooed, kissing him on the cheek a few times. “Mummy loves you, and have fun with daddy today. Look after him.” Sydney let out a few giggles, going to reach for your clean top with his banana-covered hands, but you quickly swerved out of the way.

You had gone over to the door, turning to give Mason a kiss. “If this goes well, you won’t have to imagine me on my hands and knees.” His mouth had dropped open slightly, smacking your ass on the way out and forcing you to release a squeal. “Bye, bubs.”

“Bye, have fun at work.”

Mason was having a good morning so far. You had left at 9, and he’d given Sydney breakfast, cleaned him up, got him dressed, taken him to the supermarket for some dinner ingredients, and let him have some time in the sun. But now it was getting to 3pm, and Sydney was having nothing.

“Come on, Syd.” Mason groaned, cradling his one-year-old, who had been crying ever since he came inside. “Are you hungry?” Sydney continued to cry, but this time looked up to his dad for a brief second. Mason, taking that as a yes, put his son into the high chair and scoured the kitchen for food.

“How about some jam sandwiches?” Mason suggested and turned to his son, just settling down after realising he’d be eating soon. He’d make the sandwiches, and even cut the crusts off, putting the finished product onto the tray of the high chair. “You stay here, I’m going to pick up the mess you made in the living room.”

He was shoving toys away into the corner box, his phone ringing on the coffee table behind him. It was you, you were on your second break and thought you’d check in. “Hey, bubs. How’s work?”

“Great. I might be finished earlier than 7, I’m zooming through my paperwork.” You replied, sat at your desk and scrolling through your hours worth of work.

“That’s my girl.” He added, proud of his wife who continued to prove herself every day to him, her drive was the sole reason he was attracted to her.

“How’s Syd? He’s not in the hospital being treated for severe wounds, is he?” You joked, leaning back in your uncomfortable office chair. With an office to yourself and a great view, you were aloud to freely talk to your family and friends with some privacy.

“Very funny. He’s just having a snack right now, I’m cleaning up his toys,” Mason answered, standing up and going back to the kitchen to check on his son. Only to be met with a child covered in strawberry jam. His hands, face, even his hair was covered in it. But the bread pieces were nowhere to be found. Mason thought he might have just eaten them, and made a mess of himself.

“Uh, oh.” Your son babbled, which you’d picked up on.

“Why did Syd just say ‘uh oh’, Mase?” You questioned, sitting up from your relaxed position. Mason must have done something for even Syd to realise was wrong.

“Not sure. Maybe he heard it in a song,” Mason panicked, frantically searching for the wipes. “See you soon, bubs.” Throwing his phone onto the counter, he pulled a chunk of wipes from the packet and began scrubbing his son’s hands and face. No amount of wipes would fix his hair, so he’d just have to have a bath.

“Does Syd want a bath?” Mason asked enthusiastically, holding his arms out and picking his son up. He was still sticky and reeked of strawberry jam still, he wondered if the smell would ever go away.

An hour later, Syd was finally clean and watching tv in the living room whilst Mason cleaned the kitchen. This boy had touched EVERYTHING. The countertops, the floor was covered in hardened jam, some was even flung at the fridge. Mason was on his hands and knees for almost half an hour, scrubbing the jam from the kitchen.

You hadn’t texted to say when you’d be home, so hearing the familiar tyres on the gravel was strange. He peeked through the window, spotting you getting out of your car. It was 6.50. Mason’s eyes widened, deciding to call it a day on cleaning and through any signs of jam into the bin.

“I’m home, bubs.” You called out, seeing your son comfortable on the couch. “Hello, mister. Did you and daddy have fun today?” Your son held his arms out, which you accepted and lifted him, carrying him into the kitchen with you. Mason was now chopping some ingredients, trying to act casual about having to clean jam from the kitchen and your son’s head and hands.

“Uh, oh.” Your son repeated, making you frown. What on Earth is he seeing? You looked around, putting your son down and walking slowly around the kitchen to assess any potential damage. Finally, you go to pick your son up but see him pointing at the counter, saying ‘uh oh’ once again.

And that’s why. “Bubs, where is there bread stuck the the side of the counter?” You questioned, Mason’s eyes widening as he threw the onion cuttings in the bin.

“I wouldn’t know.”

You peeled the bread off, seeing nothing other than jam on both the bread and counter. Sighing, you grabbed the sponge and anti-bac. Mason caught sight of you beginning to clean, immediately stopping you.

“No, bubs.” He grabbed the items from you, putting them above the fridge so you couldn’t get them. “I’ll do it. Go and sit down.” You just huffed, picking Sydney up and cradling him in your arms.

“What was the one thing I said, Mase?” You asked.

“No sticky foods. I know, I’m really sorry.” He replied, heart dropping at your tired face. You carried Syd to your bedroom, deciding to let him settle in there.

Half an hour later, Mason had emerged to see Sydney asleep on your chest, and you were both snuggled into his blanket. A quiet cartoon in the background. He couldn’t let that image go without snapping a picture, and then taking Sydney into his own bed. You were awake when Mason had returned, scrolling through your phone.

“Bubs,” he quietly spoke, sitting beside you. His hand was rubbing up and down your bare leg, testing the waters to see if you were actually mad at him. “I cleaned the kitchen, I made dinner. Are you okay with bolognese?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, stretching your legs and turning off the cartoon you’d listened to over and over again. “I’m sorry that I got mad, I just know what a mess Syd makes and I didn’t want to get home to it.”

Mason pulls you into him, your legs over his lap and arms tightly around his shoulders. “I know, I should’ve listened to you. But I cleaned it up, no more jam. Ever.”

“It was funny though. Before I fell asleep, I just had the image of you on your hands and knees scrubbing it.” You laughed, poking his chest, “but it’s fine. And thank you for doing everything today.” Mason grinned, lightly kissing your temple and looking down at you.

“I don’t know how you do it, honestly. Respect is due.” Mason whispered onto your lips, hovering over them every so gently. “Thank you for looking after our baby everyday, and allowing me to come home to dinner and a tidy house. You’re special.” Finally kissing you, Mason held you tight for the rest of that evening, showing you pictures of his jammy face and what they got up to throughout the day.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

New Duties

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, fuck machine, toys, tied up.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bucky’s wife is never around as much as the maid.

Based on these drabble requests:

Bucky Barnes + “If you think I feel bad for you, you’re more pathetic than I thought.” + Maid AU + Bucky is rich and married too, but his wife is never in the house so he decide have fun with the naive maid. 

Bucky Barnes + “You really think this is over?” + Fuck machine + honestly just the reader being tied up and left with a fuck machine and some overstimulation.

Both requested by anons.

The large house was often empty when you went there. You had a key on a tag and the alarm code written on it. You showed up in your black pants and matching shirt and let yourself in as you always did. You tied on your apron and looked around as you went over the work in your head. 

It was hard not to be envious of the grandiose abode. Hard not to feel bitter at all the money spent on the place and yet it seemed the resident never enjoyed it. They hired a maid, you, to clean the table they never ate at and make the bed which was the only lived-in part of the place.

You started on the lower floor as usual. Living room, dining room, kitchen, the office, the foyer, and the parlor dedicated to a carved pool table and shelves of expensive sculptures. You climbed the stairs and set off down the hall of unused rooms. There wasn’t much more to do than dust and check that the sheets didn’t smell musty.

As you approached the master bedroom, you stopped short as the door opened and you were met by one of the elusive owners of the mansion. You saw Bucky Barnes more than his wife but your run-ins were still rare. And you’d never seen him like this. You were embarrassed and off-centre as you were surprised to find him there.

He wore only a pair of silky pajama bottoms and his hair was amess, sticking out at all angles. His muscles moved under his skin as he rubbed his eyes and smiled at you. His voice was thick with drowsiness and he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he said, “thought I heard someone.”

“I didn’t know you were here, sir,” you glanced around. It was late for him to be sleeping still.

“I took the red-eye home,” he shrugged, “don’t worry about me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you chuckled nervously, “I can come back when--”

“You sure?” he batted away the last of his tiredness with his lashes and leaned on the doorframe, “you almost jumped out of your shoes.”

“Uh, yeah,” you assured him and started to turn back.

“It’s fine, I’m up now,” he stopped you, “I’m gonna have a coffee…” he caught up to you and brushed by you, facing you as he blocked your path, “bedroom is all yours.”

You fidgeted as his eyes flicked away from your face for just and instant but you didn’t think much of it as the apron hid made your figure lumpy and vague. You nodded and gave another yes, sir. He watched you until you spun back and headed for the bedroom. You felt his gaze until you slipped inside and let out your breath at the rumpled blankets. 

You heard him descend the stairs and set down your bucket of supplies. You went to the bed and fixed his side of it. You could smell his sweat on the sheets still. Then you began to wipe down the edges of the tables and inspected for any inch of imperfection.

“Looks good in here,” his voice spooked you again. Bucky stepped inside and set his tall coffee mug on the polished table beside the door. “I’m glad I caught you, I did have a special request.”

“Oh?” you stilled the cloth and twisted it in your grip. You watched his metal arm as he he rubbed his middle finger with his thumb.

“Here,” he crossed the room and waved you over, “it’s a bit of a secret but… I haven’t had the time to take care of it myself.”

You watched as he went to the bookshelf on the far wall and he reached behind the gilded globe. He spun it slightly but you could see what exactly he was doing. There was a shift and the shelf lurched forward. He carefully pushed it over until the edge met the corner and a small doorway appeared.

Your eyes rounded in confusion and he chuckled as he looked over his shoulder, “our little secret,” he said, “I figured since you’re here…”

“I… yes, sir,” you neared as he waited, his hand on the shelf, and as you stepped by him, he quickly followed, so close you could feel his body heat.

You stopped short as he flipped on the light. A red haze cast over the hidden room. You were shocked, almost laughing in disbelief as your brain spun to process what you were seeing; leather cuffs hung from the wall on one side and a leather bench sat center with similar bounds, there was even a sex swing dangling from the ceiling. You never expected that but really, you tried not to think about your clients intimate habits.

The shelf shifted behind you and the room grew dimmer, only the scarlet shadows of the tinted bulb remained. You turned back to Bucky.

“My stuff,” you pointed to the wall behind him. There was no visible mechanism and that made you nervous.

“Oh, well, you see, I haven’t had a chance to use any of this,” he shrugged and stepped closer. You inch backwards and dropped the cloth as his hands settled on your upper arms, “Ilona’s never here, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Mr. Barnes,” you winced as his vibranium hand squeezed, “I should get back to my--”

“The house is spotless. I only pay you because my wife can’t be bothered to lift a finger herself or even be around,” he said.

“Please, I should go,” you gulped, “I think you, uh, you…”

“Fine, go,” he moved out of your way and smirked at the wall, “if you want to, go.”

You looked between him and the smooth wall. You neared it and shoved on it. It didn’t move. You felt all along it, searching for anything that might trigger a response. There was nothing there.

“Can you--” you began to ask but stopped as he pressed himself to your back.

He tugged at the knot of your apron and it fell loose. His hands crawled up your back and he lifted the strap over your head. He grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him.

“Thought you were going,” he taunted.

“Let me out,” you tremored.

“I said go, so…” he gestured to the wall.

“I can’t--”

He snickered and pulled you with him as he walked backwards. “It’s just a little fun,” he purred, “for both of us.”

“No, I-- you’re married--”

“My wife, if you can call her that, hasn’t touched me in a year, probably more,” he pulled at the hem of your shirt, “so this is as much her decision as mine.”

“No, Mr. Barnes, I--”

“Listen,” he grabbed your jaw and loomed over you, “you can be a good little maid and do what you’re told or I can report you to the agency for stealing.”

“What, I never--”

“Maybe a few of Ilona’s necklaces go missing or a few bills out of my wallet,” he growled, “we’ll see who they believe.”

“Please--”

“It’s time you start earning that tip,” he turned and thrust you towards the low bench, “now get undressed and lay down on your stomach.”

“Mr--”

“I have a gag. I have several if you want to choose,” he warned, “even if I’d rather hear that sweet voice calling my name.”

“Why are you--”

“I won’t tell you again,” he barked as he crossed his arms and paced. 

You noticed how the front of his pants tented and you slowly neared the bench. It was all so jarring, you didn’t know what else to do but obey. You couldn’t leave and you were certain if you tried, he would lose all patience. You peeked over as his metal fist tightened and a chill went through you.

You pulled off your shirt and kept your eyes down. You rolled down your pants and took your time untying your sneakers. You hesitated to strip off your underwear but a gristly breath made you wince and you added them to the pile of clothes. 

You were cold but your flesh burned as you sensed his close attention to your every move. You got down on the bench, the leather icy against your chest, and stared at the floor. Bucky walked around behind you and framed your ass with his hands as he stood over you. He pushed your thighs apart until your legs bent over the side of the bench and the cool air tickled your cunt.

“Hmmm,” he mused as he flicked his finger along your folds, “I can’t decide what I want first.”

An overwhelming wave of panic shook you and you tried to push yourself up. His hand slapped down on the middle of your back and he held you down. He tutted and reached down to slip your wrist into a leather cuff and tightened it until you whined. He ignored your struggles as he did the same to your other arm and your ankles. You straddled the bench as he pushed himself up and groped your ass again.

“Why are you making this hard?” he asked, “you’re already spread for me.”

“Please…”

He sighed and you heard his bare feet on the floor as he marched away from you. He came back around you and knelt to force the ball gag into your mouth and buckled it behind your head. Your eyes glistened as you watched him desperately and breathed heavy through your nose.

“We have a lot to do,” he touched your chin, “you need the proper training.”

You tried to talk past the gag but it only came out as muffled gibberish and your saliva soaked the gag. 

“If you think I feel bad for you, you’re more pathetic than I thought,” he chuckled and stood, rubbing the front of his pants, “guess you’ll have to wait for it.”

He left your eye line again, even as you craned your neck around. He was quick to huff and stomp back to your. He took the collar that hung from the front of the bench and secured it around your neck so you could stare at your impossible escape.

You heard something rolling behind you and metal fasteners being loosened then tightened. His fingers scared you as he touched your cunt and felt around for your clit. He teased you until you tilted your pelvis in response. You moaned around the gag as your thighs quivered. Despite your fear, it felt wonderful.

He played with you until you were wet and then you heard the same wheels. You felt a prod at your entrance, a hard silicone tip slowly slid into you until you were full. You gasped and choked as he pulled away his hand entirely. You heard a soft click then a whir and the dildo began to move, your cunt sucking at it loudly as you grew wet around it. He reached under you and a new buzz began as he placed a vibrator against your bud.

He rounded you again, his pants were gone and his hand glied up and down his dick. He watched you with fiery eyes as you tried to hold back. The flames licked from your core and crawled along your thighs and back. You shuddered and your eyes rolled back as your voice droned sloppily as the gag made you drool.

You came in defeat and hung your head. You gasped and gulped for air and your entire body tensed and released, but he didn’t stop it. The vibe kept buzzing on your clit and he only turned the machine up so that it fucked you harder and faster. You wined and rolled your head back and forth.

Another orgasm strangled you and your muscles ached from the tension as it snapped again. You lost count as the red light glared through your eyelids and a sheen of sweat coated your body. Breathless and battered, you could only twitched as you were rocked by climax after climax.

And then it all stopped. The machine shut off and the dildo was slid out of you, your thighs sticky and sore. The vibrator stilled and slipped from under you and you groaned. There was a moment of peace as your heart slowed and then a slap across your ass made you yipe.

“You really think this is over?” Bucky asked as he got behind you and bent over you. His tip pressed against your entrance and his hot breath bristled against your scalp, “I’ve only just begun.”

🧹🧹🧹

Please reblog and leave some feedback if you enjoyed.

[honeymooneyy]

my sirius

summary: sirius loses his memories due to a potion mishap and james fails to tell him that he’s been dating remus for two years 

Sirius had never really been good at potions. 

He wasn’t one to follow the directions, and that reflected in his potion-making skills. He liked to make changes to the recipe, despite his lack of skills to make executive decisions like that. 

So when he had been brewing a particularly tricky potion with James - one that renders the drinker void of any memories for an hour, he probably shouldn’t have tweaked the recipe. 

But as Sirius stared down at the murky green goop, he wished for some pizazz. So he took matters into his own hands. A funky potion like this should look a lot cooler, he decided. Granted, it probably wasn’t a good decision to add that mystery white powder in the back of the cupboard. 

The second it touched the surface of his potion, it erupted out and onto Sirius. What happened next, was utter chaos. 

Slughorn was screaming at James to scourgify the cauldron, which he did with a shaky wave of his wand. Remus and Peter were on the floor in a fit of laughter, much like the rest of the class - even Snape was smiling. And Sirius, well poor Sirius wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. Or who he was. 

He turned to the tan boy next to him, who’s dark eyes were locked on his, worry evident in them. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Sirius?” 

Serious?

“What?” Was the only reply he could muster. What was happening? What was serious? Who was this boy, and why did he look so concerned? 

“Did you, y’know, get any in your mouth?” The boy questioned, tilting his head a bit. His glasses reflected a bit when he did so, no longer allowed him to see his eyes. 

“Who are you?”

James deflated, turning to the man who was quivering in the corner. “Professor?” 

“It’s all fine,” The supposed Professor announced, holding his hands up. “I have  a couple counteractive potions. James, son, what did he put in there?” 

“Er, I’m not sure, I didn’t see.” The boy, James, turns back to their cauldron before reaching for a small bottle of white powder. “I think it was this.” 

The Professor squints at the bottle before sighing. “I’m not entirely sure what that was. We could try all three of the counter acting potions? They don’t mess with one another, and I’m sure one of them will work. Alright, I think we’ve had enough of this, class dismissed early, James stay here with Sirius. Please clean up properly!” 

The class began to put their materials away, whispering different cleaning spells as to not disturb the silence that had descended upon the class. Sirius assumed his name must be Sirius and James must not have been speaking of the emotion earlier. He stood at the small table with the dark cauldron, awkwardly shifting his weight as the Professor sifted through his drawers. 

In the end, he pulled out three small vials and handed them to James who brought them to Sirius. He flashed him a bright grin. “Drink up!” 

Sirius didn’t ask very many questions, though he felt as if he was bursting with them. He simply tilted his head back to swallow the liquids back, one after the other, cringing at the taste of the last one. 

James and the Professor continued to stare at him and Sirius stared back.

“What’s my name?” The Professor questioned after a moment of silence. 

“I don’t- I don’t know, sorry,” Sirius apologized, his ears burning as he shrunk under their inquisitive gazes. 

James sighed but the Professor didn’t seem to put off. “No worries, Black. I’ll take a look at that powder and I should have an antidote whipped up soon enough. Besides, if too much didn’t go wrong with your potion, you should get your memories back within the hour. James, why don’t you take him down to the medical wing to wait?” 

He must’ve messed up the potion because an hour later, he was still unknowing to who he was. 

James had filled him in on where he was - Hogwarts - and who he was - Sirius Black - but hadn’t given him too much information. He had assured that he’d get his memories back soon enough so there was no point. But the outcome was starting to look pretty bleak and soon enough, the nice nurse lady was sending Sirius away with James seeing as nothing could be done. 

“It’ll be fine, Sirius, Slughorn will get you back to normal soon enough. I reckon you’ll remember everything by tomorrow, no worries. And Remus and Peter will love this!” James seemed extremely enthusiastic, despite the fact that his best friend had no memories. 

“Does this sort of thing happen often?” Sirius was barely keeping up with James’ quick pace as he tried to absorb the castle he seemed to be in. 

“Losing your memories? Not to any of us, but I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet. We’re always getting into trouble. We’re kinda known for our pranks.” 

James seemed pretty proud and Sirius smiled at the thought of pranks. 

“Anyway, we’re in Gryffindor. There’s four houses, but I don’t think you need to know the others, right now. The password is Ficklepuffs, don’t forget that or else you can’t get in.” 

Sirius nodded, mouthing the word and hoping he’ll be able to remember it. 

“Okay, let’s not stay in the common room too long. Better if you don’t have to deal with all the questions. Let’s go to our dorm room. We share it with Remus and Peter.” 

Sirius followed him up the stairs wordlessly, ignoring the stares from the others in the common room. James pushed a door open and Sirius stepped into the warm room, his eyes flitting around before finding a boy sitting on one of the four beds

The blonde one looked up at him before directing his gaze towards James. “Is he all fixed up yet?” 

James grimaced a bit, “No, we’re waiting for Slughorn to make an antidote. Poppy told us to bring him up here and make him comfortable until the potions wears off or whenever Slughorn makes the antidote. Whichever happens first.” 

Sirius just stood in the center of the room, unsure what exactly he was supposed to do. All four of the beds looked exactly the same, and though James had taken the bed next to the blonde boy’s bed, the other two seemed too similar. James must’ve noticed his discomfort because he nodded his head towards one of the beds before speaking to the other boy in hushed tones. 

The bed was large with thick curtains around it, probably for privacy. The bed was made neatly and Sirius felt bad as he settled on top, wrinkling the sheets. On the bedside table was a book or two that seemed pretty untouched, and a dog toy? 

“Hey, Sirius!” The blonde boy waved to get his attention. “I’m Peter.” 

“Hi Peter.” Sirius waved back only for the other boys’ jaw to drop open as he shot James a look. 

“He can talk?”

“Of course he can talk, you dolt. He lost his memories not his knowledge. I bet he can still do maths and stuff. He just doesn’t know how he learned it, I think.” James turned to Sirius with a thoughtful look. “What’s four plus four?” 

“Eight,” Sirius replied immediately, much to his surprise. 

“See! You know how you learned that? Who taught you?” 

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. “No, not really.” 

James gave Peter a knowing look. “See. James is always right, that’s why we don’t question James.” 

“Oh quit it with the third person.” Peter rolled his eyes though his lips were quirked up a bit in a smile. 

James continued to speak in third person and Sirius watched the banter with a small smile. Eventually Peter shoved James away, speaking of some essay he needed to finish, so James came over to bother him. 

“I know you don’t really remember me, but we’ve been best mates since first year. That’s when we were elven.” James fills him in, perching on the edge of his bed. 

“And now we’re...?” 

“Seventeen. Er, well you are. Your birthday was about a month ago, November third. Remus and I are still sixteen.”

Sirius nods, soaking in this information. “And we’ve been dorm mates since then?” 

“Yep! Actually, you live with me now. But don’t worry about that, you’ll get your memories back soon enough,” James reassured though Sirius didn’t fully believe him. 

His thoughts were broken by the door slamming open as another boy stalked in. He was muttering angrily and when he saw the Peter, he turned toward him. “My blasted book was on the other side of the school! This is what I get for trying to study for Charms!” 

Sirius just watched, mouth agape, because he had never seen someone this attractive. He knew he hasn’t seen very many people in the past hour, his only memories, but he’s sure no one else could compare. Though his side profile is all Sirius can see at the moment, he still marvels at his golden brown hair and the flutter of freckles splattering his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, probably from his journey to the other side of the school, and matched his lips that were moving rapidly as he complains. 

And then he seems to realize that Sirius is there because he turns to him, and Sirius squirmed under the intensity of his amber eyes. “Did Slughorn’s antidote work?” 

Sirius can barely manage a shake of his head. 

This seems to upset the boy further because he groans and falls back onto his bed, hands dragging down his face. Sirius can’t help but follow his actions as his jumper hitches up to reveal a patch of pale skin. A jagged scar peaks out from under it, and though it’s faded to a silvery white, Sirius internally flinches at the thought of how it felt. 

Though James was still on his bed, he couldn’t help but continue to sneak glances at Remus. Something about him, and his presence, seemed comforting. But he seemed in distress and Sirius wanted to offer that same comfort he found.

“If he’s Peter, you’re Remus, right?” Sirius can tell Remus is upset and maybe he just wanted to talk to his friend? While Sirius isn’t really Sirius, he can try. And then he stupidly introduces himself, “I’m Sirius.” 

“I know,” Remus replies flatly, still stretched out on his bed. “And you’re the biggest idiot I know.” 

Sirius cringes back, regretting the choice to open his mouth. He glances at James who just waves it off. 

“He’s not mad, it’s just Remus.” James leans back as he stretches his leg out to prod Remus with a toe, then squealing when Remus grabbed said toe and yanked him so he almost slid off the bed. “Oi!” 

Sirius waited for him to get situated again before leaning in to hiss, “You didn’t tell me I was gay! Or that Remus is so attractive! What the fuck, mate?” 

To his surprise James just laughs, “Oh, right. Sorry, it’s not something I thought I would have to tell you, I dunno, I didn’t think about it. And what? I was supposed to introduce Remus as the hot one?” 

“Yes,” Sirius replied, genuinely. “This is important information!” 

“Right, sorry. But you don’t have to whisper, it’s not really a secret.” 

Sirius narrows his eyes, “Being gay or thinking Remus is attractive?” 

“Both. They go hand in hand, really, if you think about it.” James nods thoughtfully before smiling again reassuringly. “You’ll remember soon enough.” 

“Right. So he knows I think he’s hot?” 

“I would hope so.” 

Sirius frowns at this, “You hope so? What, does everyone know?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“Wait a minute, what exactly are we?” This time the question is directed to Remus who has been lying on his bed, quiet but no doubt listening in on their conversation. 

Remus turns his head over to look at Sirius, his eyes flickering over his face before a smile is pulling at his lips as he says, “Friends. Since first year.” 

“Yeah, yeah, everything since first year.” Sirius visibly deflates at this information. What was Sirius With Memories doing? How could he bear to be just friends with someone like that? And now he had gone asking dumb questions, no doubt a problem that will soon arise. 

It took a mere couple of seconds before the problem rose. 

James stood up, dusting off his pants in a big show before turning to Peter. “Let’s head down to dinner, yeah? I think it’s better if we leave Sirius back here, Remus, you’ll stay?” 

Remus hummed a reply, now turning to lie on his stomach, burrowing his head into his arms. He looked so cuddly Sirius itched to wiggle into his embrace. 

“Wait! I want to come, I want dinner, I’m hungry.” Sirius stood too but James waved him off. 

“Nah, too many questions. We’ll bring you back some food, Remus too. And Poppy said to make him comfortable so Remus, I dunno, tuck him into bed or something.” James didn’t leave much time to argue, slipping out of the dorm door with Peter close behind him. 

Sirius just stood there, awkwardly, now unsure what to do. He glanced at Remus who still had his head burrowed in his arms, and then at the door, considering just running after James and Peter. Why did he have to say something about Remus being attractive? Even if James was right and Remus already knew, it was so awkward!

“Are you going to change?” Remus asked, pulling Sirius out of his thoughts. His eyes flickered over Sirius’ figure before glancing back at him with a small smile. “You’re covered in that goop. I can clean off your bed, go get changed.” 

Sirius assumed the trunk at the foot of his bed must have his clothes, and much to his luck, he was right. He just reached for some random pants and a shirt before spotting a fuzzy jumper in the corner. He grabbed it too. 

Remus was muttering some sort of spell on the bed and the green patches were slowly disappearing. Throwing him one last glance, Sirius entered the bathroom and quickly changed out of his soiled clothes. Once he was clean, he grimaced at the state of his hair. Thankfully, it had been spared from the potion, for the most part, but was a tangly mess, no doubt from his nervous fiddling. He tried to rake his fingers through it but it didn’t do much so he just returned to the room. 

Remus had cleaned his bed and was on his own now, fidgeting with a comb. When he spotted Sirius his eyes brightened and his smile grew a bit as he waved him over. “C’mere, I’ll fix your hair.” 

Sirius ducked his head bashfully as he approached Remus’ bed before gingerly crawling onto it, sitting down in front of him. He was acutely aware of how close Remus was too him and butterflies erupted in his stomach. Sirius forced himself to sit perfectly still as nimble fingers began carding through his hair, working through the knots. 

“Oh, Sirius, how did this even happen?” Remus murmured, his voice quiet enough that it made Sirius blush. This whole thing felt so intimate and it didn’t help that Remus kept brushing against his back as he fixed his hair. 

“I dunno,” Sirius whispered back.

“S’okay, love, I think I can get the knots out.”

The nickname slipped out so naturally it sounded as if he said it every day, but it didn’t stop Sirius from freezing, his leg pausing in it’s bouncing. Remus must’ve noticed too because his fingers stilled in Sirius’ hair. 

“Shit, I couldn’t even go fifteen minutes, could I?” He tutted, before continuing to work through his hair. “Sorry, Sirius. Your face when I walked in was too priceless, I couldn’t not have some fun with it. I loved your reaction to me saying we’re just friends.” 

Sirius wasn’t completely sure what was happening, but he found his voice. “So we’re not friends?” 

Remus snorted at this, “No. We’ve been dating since fourth year. Almost two years, now, I think.” 

“Oh.” 

Sirius’ head was whirling. He was dating Remus? And the others really didn’t bother saying anything about it? Again, this seemed like important information! Your name is Sirius Black, you’re gay, you have a hot boyfriend...the basics! 

Remus laughed again and ran his comb through Sirius’ now tangle-free hair. “All done.” 

Sirius turned around so he could face Remus who was now settled back down and was leaning against his headboard. “Thank you.” 

“Look at you, so polite. If only Sirius could be like this every day.” Remus shook his head but his words held no venom. “Do you want me to braid it so it doesn’t get tangled again?” 

Sirius didn’t really know what to say to him, seeing as they were boyfriends though he had no memory of this. So he just nodded mutely, turning back around so Remus could braid his hair. He worked in silence and Sirius greatly appreciated it. 

When he was finished he patted Sirius’ shoulder and he turned around again. Remus was watching him with a warm smile and it encouraged him to voice his thoughts, “Do you think Slughorn will we be able to make an antidote?” 

“For you memories? I’m sure he will. He’s pretty talented,” Remus assured, his hands reaching out to brush a couple loose strands out of Sirius’ face. “Don’t worry too much. We’ll work it out tomorrow.” 

Sirius nods but he doesn’t feel very confident in the Professor’s abilities. “This is scary. I don’t know anything or anyone. It’s weird, though, I kind of still have emotions associated with people? So I feel things but I don’t know why.” 

“I’m sure it’s terrifying. But you’re safe with us, I promise you trust us when you’re normal. And for the emotions? It’s probably like muscle memory but with feelings? Can you describe it? Like me for example?” 

Heat crawls onto Sirius’ face and he dropped his gaze to his lap. “You’re warm. Like, my chest feels all warm on the inside. But also kind of swirly, I don’t know. It’s positive, I know that. I cared about you a lot, I think.”

“You did. I care about you a load too.” Remus reaches out to gently link their fingers together. “I was kind of scared about you never remembering me again, but I don’t think Dumbledore would let that happen. He’s the headmaster here.” 

“I wish I could remember you. You seem worth remembering.” 

Remus’ mouth fell open a bit at his words and then he was pulling Sirius into a tight hug, holding him against his chest. “That’s so cheesy but so sweet, oh my god, Sirius.” 

Sirius laughed at this, but wrapped his own arms around Remus, laying his head onto Remus’ chest. The embrace felt so natural he couldn’t help but melt into it, sighing softly. 

And that’s exactly when James and Peter burst through the door, holding plates of food. When James caught sight of them he exclaimed, “Remus! Get away from him! He doesn’t remember anything, poor Sirius! You’re a stranger! He’s a stranger!” 

“He’s not a stranger,” Remus protested, continuing to hold Sirius, chin tucked over the top of his head. “He’s my Sirius.” 

Sirius smiled into his sweater at his words. He quite liked the sound of that - my Sirius. 

[mellowswriting]

2, 3, & 48 with the least expected choice: JAVI BB! 😭 Please I just starve for domestic!Javi a lot

Second Chance 

pairing || Javier Peña x F!Reader

summary ||  Javier comes back to the U.S after taking down Escobar to find you - and what he finds changes his life forever.

word count || 4,824

warnings || angst with a happy ending, soft dad Javi, allusions to sex

a/n || This was so interesting to write, because Javier as a dad??? Yes please! Also because I’m so used to writing mainly fluff that angst can get a little tricky for me. Thank you for this little writing challenge, anon!

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

Two years. It had been nearly two years since Javier had seen you - correction, since he had watched you walk out with tears in your eyes and did nothing to stop you like a fool. It was one of his biggest regrets, and that was saying something coming from a man whose job required him to make hard and fast decisions that often left people dead. All he could do was hope and fucking pray that you wouldn’t slam the door in his face.

Even if he did deserve it.

A drive that typically would’ve taken only an hour from the airport took nearly double that, Javier’s hands shaking and stomach turning the entire time. He should’ve done this sooner, should’ve followed you out that door or hopped onto a plane and met you back in the States. Nothing felt right without you, the world around him slightly distorted by your absence. An absence that was entirely his fault.

He shouldn’t have snapped at you. All you had wanted from him was the promise that he would try to play it safer. It was a simple reassurance that he could have given you if he hadn’t been such a moron and snapped at you that if you couldn’t handle the realities of his job, you had no business sticking around. You were scared, worried for him after one of his harebrained plans nearly got his head blown off.

And all Javier had done was make you feel stupid for caring about him. It didn’t help that he did nothing to try to fix it the next day; he was embarrassed, ashamed of his immaturity. And you left because of it. He hated himself for it. He would only hate himself more if he didn’t go to you now that he had taken down Escobar. Better late than never, right? He was back in the states and could’ve gone anywhere, done anything, especially now that he was so well known for his hard work in Colombia. Instead, he used that new status to find out where you ended up and scribbled your address onto a crumpled piece of paper.

It was a nice house. The kind he always hoped you would get, picturesque with the neatly trimmed front yard and picket fence. The sun had just risen enough to tint the sky by the time he pulled up and killed the engine, his millionth cigarette of the day perched between his fingers. You were home. Tiny movements that he could see from the windows and the car parked in your driveway told him that much.

The love of his life was right there. Less than twenty yards away, practically nothing separating the two of you after so long. That realization had Javier finally shoving the car door open and stepping out - and damn near getting himself run over in the process. In his haste, his excitement, he didn’t even glance around himself enough to see the car approaching and… pulling into your driveway?

A spike of fear shot through him. Please, fuck, don’t let that be a man. Don’t let that be some man who is going to walk through the door and kiss your cheek as you welcome him home from work and…

No. A woman, brunette. Launching herself out of the car and practically skipping up to the door. She didn’t bother knocking, just walked right in and closed the door behind her. Something familiar about her tickled the back of Javier’s brain, the hazy memory of a polaroid of her next to you wearing matching goofy grins. Ah, your sister. Amelia, if he remembered correctly.

Javier hesitated at her appearance. He didn’t want to interrupt something. God knows you were already going to be pissed enough at him. So he leaned against his door and puffed on that cigarette like it was his only lifeline, ready to wait for however long it took.

Just his luck that he wouldn’t have to wait long. The door reopened not fifteen minutes later and the two of you both appeared on the porch and holy fuck, Javier’s heart was ready to fly out of his chest just at the sight of your smile as you chatted with your sister. He watched, enraptured, that damn cigarette damn near falling from his lips, his heart leaping at the way your head tilted back with a big laugh. God, he missed that sound.

You turned and poked your head back into the doorway and called something that he couldn’t hear, pausing before rolling your eyes and walking back inside. You appeared again a second later with -

A kid? Propped on your hip with your arm propped under them with ease.

Javier’s heart dropped. Of course. He should’ve known that someone would have scooped you up the second you returned home. If he hadn’t have been such a fucking idiot, that could have been him building a home with you and fuck, he had to leave. He needed to get in his car and fucking go before you -

“Javier?”

It had been so long since he heard you say his name. Even when it was layered with surprise, his name never sounded better than when it was falling from your lips. Javier froze with his hand on the handle. He could hear your sister’s ill attempt at whispering, the harshness of “Wait, the Javier? The one that -” that you cut off before she could finish.

Javier turned, his heart flying in his chest, and started walking up to the gate. The shake in his hands was undeniable when he lifted the latch. Your mouth hung open, chest rising and falling rapidly with your almost frantic breathing, the little girl perched on your hip seeming confused. She was yours, that much was obvious. Her nose, her lips - that little girl was your daughter.

Something in you snapped back into place, your mouth closed and a fake smile quickly replaced it as you turned your softening gaze to your little girl. “Okay, you have fun with Aunt Amelia, okay? Mommy loves you.”

Javier watched the exchange with a heavy heart, watched as your daughter gave you the tiniest kiss on your cheek with a small ‘pop’ of her lips, watched as your sister took her and gave him a wide berth as she went to strap her into the carseat in her car. The moment she was out of your sight, the warmth from your eyes fell away and regarded him with something colder, something angry and sad.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked.

“It’s done.” He mumbled, his fists clenching at his sides. “All of the bullshit with Escobar, it’s over.”

“Yeah, I know.” You scoffed at the surprised look he gave you. “What, you think I didn’t keep track of you after I left? Just because I wasn’t around doesn’t mean I stopped caring about whether you lived or died. That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I never should have let you leave. I… I shouldn’t have driven you away to begin with.” Shame flooded him for the millionth time at the flash of hurt in your eyes before you looked away from him, your eyes falling to the ground. “The kid… uh, congratulations I mean. I didn’t know you started a family, I never would’ve shown up like this. I’m not a homewrecker.”

“The kid?” You repeated, your voice incredulous, and Javier cringed. Yeah, not the most eloquent way to put it, but he was never good with words.

“Yeah, uh, she’s a cute kid. You and your… husband or whatever, you got lucky.” Every word that fell from his lips, he regretted. They were true, sure, but holy hell did it sound so awkward coming from him.

“The kid.” You scoffed again, a sound he hadn’t realized he missed so much. You finally locked eyes with him, somehow even more guarded than before. “She’s yours.”

Javier blinked. The words didn’t compute, his brain falling blank at the very thought that he… no, no fucking way. He took a half step back, his mouth falling open. He watched you watch him, watched the way your eyes studied his every movement. Air rushed in and out of his chest rapidly, black spots blinked at the edges of his vision, and suddenly his ass was hitting the hard stone of your porch.

He barely heard the rough, concerned way you said “Shit, Javi!”, barely noticed you disappear from his side. No, he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t accept that. There was no way in hell that his stupid fucking mistake deprived him of this, of his family. Of watching you bring his child into the world and watching her grow, teaching her how to walk on unsteady feet and picking her up when she cried. Of you teaching him how to gently pull her pretty brown hair into the little sprigs of pigtails, just like she wore when he caught a glance of her before she was whisked away.

The cold, wet feeling of a cloth dragging across his forehead made his eyes refocus and there you were. Your eyes, once cold and hesitant now tinged with concern as you gently drug a washcloth down each of his cheeks, trying to pull him out of his panicked state. You were murmuring something to him, something he couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his ears. Javier’s hand grasped at yours, pressing it against his cheek tightly.

“Name.” He rasped. “What’s her name?”

You paused, a small smile perking up the corners of your lips. “Elianna. We call her Ellie.”

Ellie.

Javier had a daughter.

“I have a daughter?” Javier needed to hear you say it again.

“You have a daughter.” You nodded and pulled your hand away from his cheek, much to Javier’s disappointment. He missed your touch. You patted him hard on the shoulder before hauling him up. “Come on, we have a lot to talk about. Might as well do it on the couch where it’s comfortable.”

The inside of your home was just as picturesque as the outside, but in a completely different way. Colorful toys were strewn about the living room, a few soft baby blankets crumpled on the couch. It was comfortable, lived-in. Happy. Javier sat heavily on the couch, mind almost on autopilot as he gently touched the blanket next to him, his fingers barely grazing the fabric like he was worried his touch would somehow taint it.

You handed him a cold bottle of water that he accepted graciously and sipped as you sat next to him, a foot-wide war zone of space between you that felt like a stab to his heart. If only he hadn’t fucked everything up. You would be curled up right against him, your head on his chest as the two of you watched the little girl you created together babble over her toys.

“Tell me about her?” Javier asked tentatively, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“What do you want to know?” The hesitance in your voice made him feel even worse.

“Anything. Everything.”

And you did. Javier watched and listened, enraptured as you gushed about little Ellie. At nearly fifteen months old, she was damn near running and constantly getting into everything. She was curious and bright and laughed like she couldn’t breathe when you would roll around on the floor and play with her. Just the sight of the happiness and light in your eyes when you retold the first time you heard her say ‘mama’ made pride swell in his chest.

The intense urge to have her here with him pulled at him, but he knew better than to ask. You were already indulging him by bringing him into your home and answering his questions. Hell, he was lucky you told him to begin with. He could feel the intensity of your gaze on his face as he tried to absorb all of the information that was dumped on him. Silence filled the living room when you trailed off, a few heavy moments where he didn’t know what to say.

“I know you have questions, Javier.” You said, your words slow and deliberate. Clipped, like you were terrified he was going to disappear once again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Javier whispered.

“Well, I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left.” You began with a sigh. “I thought that the nausea and the missed period were from stress, because god knows I was wrecked. I found out a few weeks after I got back to the U.S and… I just didn’t see the point to tell you.”

“Didn’t see the point? Of telling me you were having my child?” His voice rose with his anger, his frustration and he watched as those walls slammed down, your vulnerability hardening in less than a second. He took a deep breath before continuing, trying his damnedest to soften his voice. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“Are you kidding me, Javier? You had just told me to leave. Was I supposed to think it would change anything?” You deflated into the cushions slightly and the sight of the exhaustion and pain in your eyes made some of his anger fall away. You rubbed a hand down your face. “Was I supposed to hop back on a plane back to Colombia? Put myself and my baby in danger? Or maybe I should have just called you. ‘Hey, Javier, I know you just told me to get out of your life, but surprise! I’m carrying your child!’ How would that have gone over?”

“But after? How could you not…” Javier choked up, unable to finish his sentence. You were right, he knew that. But he was grieving the loss of everything he had missed out on. He couldn’t blame you, not really. It was an impossible situation.

“I wanted to. There were these moments that… it took everything in me not to call you and beg you to come to me like some pathetic little…” You trailed off with a shake of your head, your voice cracking. “But I couldn’t. The closer you got to catching Escobar, I just… I couldn’t pull you away from the fight when you were so close to winning. The past few weeks, though? God, I almost called you at least a dozen times. The second I heard about it, I wanted you here, but I was so… so scared, Javi.”

And there it was. Javier’s heart snapped in half. He broke your heart and you managed to still prioritize his career, his fight against Escobar, while you brought his child into the world and shouldered that responsibility on your own. He cleared his throat harshly and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold back those traitorous tears that threatened to fall.

“You don’t have to be scared. If you’ll have me, I swear to god, you will never do this alone again.” Javier whispered, his eyes still closed. Debilitating fear kept him from looking at you, afraid to see the rejection on your face. “I want to be here, I want this. I want my family.”

“Do you mean that?” Your voice trembled with disbelief.

“Of course I do, hermosa.” He insisted. “Please, give me the chance to show you.”

The small, relieved sigh that came from you made something tight ease in his chest and Javier hesitantly brought you into his arms. You relaxed into his side with your head propped on his shoulder, the both of you taking refuge in the familiarity of the touch that was missed for so long. He felt you look up at him and met your eyes, hoping you could see his sincerity. Words had a tendency to fail him but he still had his actions. He absentmindedly licked his lips before asking, “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled at him, a small smile that was still a bit sad, but a smile nonetheless, and nodded. “I've missed your kisses. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He confessed and finally kissed you. After two years, Javier felt the softness of your lips against his and finally felt like he was home.

----------

Javier’s knee bounced rapidly as he sat on your couch hours later, his nerves bounding untethered and desperate for any outlet. Just on the outside on the porch, you had stepped out to greet Amelia, who had brought Ellie home.

His daughter was on the other side of the door and he was about to meet her, for real this time. Excitement and fear warred with each other, neither able to win out over the other in their rising volume. Excitement at getting to hold her, maybe even make her smile. Fear over the possibility of hurting her or being too rough - he didn’t have much experience with babies, after all.

The door pushed open and he heard you call his name softly. “Can you grab these bags for me?”

He was on his feet in an instant, glad to be of help and already jumping at the chance to start proving himself to be a good father. A mess of brown curls poked out from the baby blanket you had draped over your chest where Ellie was apparently still fast asleep, distracting him slightly as he grabbed the bags from Amelia. She… did not look too happy to see him. The hardness in her glare told him something that didn’t need to be vocalized: if he hurt you or Elllie, his body would never be found.

Javier nodded slightly at her. He couldn’t blame your sister. If he were in her position, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be breaking noses. At your request, he set the bags on the kitchen table before walking back to you - and the sight of you swaying in the middle of the living room with Ellie knocked out against you, your cheek propped against the top of her head, took his breath away. The smile you gave him brought him closer, his hand settling on Ellie’s back softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It took a moment of maneuvering, but the second you settled Ellie against him chest-to-chest, his entire world came into focus. Her cheek pressed against his chest just so, making her mouth form the tiniest little ‘o’ that he had ever seen. She was so calm, sleeping so deeply, and Javier couldn’t fucking believe his luck. How could he have had any part in creating something so perfect?

He had to sit down. He didn’t trust himself to hold her with unskilled hands while standing. She harrumphed slightly when he eased down onto the couch, but other than that, his little girl stayed off in her dreamworld, content and safe in her father’s arms for the first time.

“Just be careful not to touch the bottoms of her feet even a little bit, it wakes her up every time. She’s just like you with that.” You said, your voice lowered as you sat next to him much closer than before. He preened under the idea that any part of him was reflected in Ellie, even something so small and silly.

“She’s so warm. Is that normal?” Javi asked. He hoped she didn’t have a fever, he knew that a fever could really hurt a baby even with his limited knowledge. You reached out to gently feel her forehead and cheek, smiling after a moment.

“No, she's just a little furnace.” You settled against the back of the couch with a content smile. God, this just felt so right. Having you so close and smiling, having his daughter asleep and safe against him. He could feel the pieces snapping together, could feel himself becoming whole. “Yet another thing she has in common with you.”

“What else?” Javier whispered, desperate to hear everything.

“Hmm, let’s see. You have the same grumpy face.” You laugh when he glanced up at you, his eyebrows ticked together and lips pursed slightly. “Mhmm, that’s the one. Plus she hates carrots. Acts like I’ve personally offended her if I even offer them.”

“That’s because carrots are fucking disgusting.” Javi grumbles goodnaturedly as he gently rubs Ellie’s back. She’s so small, such a tiny, delicate little creature, and he can’t believe it. Any of it. You let him in after everything, took him in and introduced him to an entirely new world of possibility, one where if he was smart and did right by his two little ladies, he would get the life he always dreamed of.

Your fingers brushed an errant lock of hair from his face and Javi sighed, his eyes falling closed as he leaned into the soft touch that he missed so much. He hummed happily, practically purring like a pleased cat, when your fingers buried further in his hair and massaged over his scalp. Heaven. He was in heaven.

A gentle stirring against his chest made Javier glance down at Ellie and that first glimpse of her big brown eyes only confirmed what he already felt deep in his soul - this little girl was his everything. It was the most basic, simple thing he had ever felt, no question to be had about any of it.

Ellie wiggled against him, trying to get herself upright, and Javier immediately held her under her arms to sit her on his thigh. She looked inquisitively up at him from his lap, glancing over at you to confirm that you were nearby before staring at him as if he was the most interesting thing he has ever seen. Her little hand reached up to tug at his mustache, giving him a toothy grin at the way he laughed.

There were tears in his eyes and he couldn’t even deny them, couldn’t pretend they weren’t there. Javier could see them mirrored in your eyes as you watched Ellie stand in her father’s lap and try to balance herself with her hands on his shoulders.

You cleared your throat. “She’s about to start bouncing.”

“What? Whoa!” Javier exclaimed at the sudden feeling of what seemed like Ellie falling in his lap, his hands rushing for a firmer grip only for her to pop right back up and do it all over again. All three of you cracked up, your melodic laughter mixing with Ellie’s high giggling in the most beautiful way.

That night Javier got to cut up his daughter's food and help spoon bites into her mouth, sat at the table with Ellie and the love of his life, eating dinner like a family. He could picture this for the rest of his life. Eating breakfast and dinner together. Kissing the both of you goodbye in the morning and returning to his daughter running down the hall to wrap him in a hug. Chasing Ellie around a park and helping her down slides and pushing her on the swings.

This was his second chance, and he was going to do it right. God help him, he was not going to miss out on anything else. So when he saw the hesitance in your eyes that night after putting Ellie to bed, Javier settled himself on the couch with nothing but a gentle kiss to your forehead. There was no reason to push you. He wanted you to be comfortable, he owed you that much.

A week went by like that. Javier would rise in the morning to the sounds of you coming downstairs with Ellie on your hip and stretch, realigning his spine and pulling the tension from his sore back. He offered small pieces of affection and grinned every time they were accepted - a small peck on the lips here, his arm raised for you to curl closer on the couch there. Little Elianna was all too happy to join in on those little couch cuddle sessions, too, clambering into his lap or yours and snuggling close.

It seemed like the more Ellie warmed up to him, the more you did as well. Javi caught those small smiles when you watched him help ease his little girl to sleep for a nap. The more he proved himself to be a good father, the more comfortable you were letting him in, and it felt like progress. You laughed openly at his stupid jokes, reached out for him for affection of your own volition - kisses over coffee, holding hands as he pushed Ellie in the stroller - and it felt so good.

Javier fluffed up a pillow before tossing it against the arm of the couch, but before he could collapse his exhausted body into the cushions, he felt your hand curl around his bicep. The look in your eyes was almost afraid and worry clenched his stomach, but before he could spiral, you pulled him close and leaned up to kiss him.

A surprised sound hummed against your lips but Javi quickly regained himself to kiss you back. There was something softer about the way your lips pressed against his, something that had been absent from the quick, nearly chaste kisses you shared since he returned. This time you parted your lips and licked along the curve of his bottom lip, your hand coming up to press against his jaw and pull him even closer.

“You aren’t sleeping on that couch anymore.” You whispered against his lips.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Javi grumbled as he pressed even closer and kissed you again and again, slowly guiding you back to your bedroom.

He woke up the next morning with his bare chest against your back, his face buried in your hair, and he didn’t think life could get any better. His arms tightened around you as he gently rubbed up and down your side, the soft touch easing you out of sleep. The way you groaned made him smile; it was a sound he missed, even if it though was grumpy. You rolled over in his embrace and wrapped your arms around his neck to drag him over you, smiling sleepily at him before kissing him.

“My thighs are fucking aching, Javier.” You grumbled against him as you pressed a line of kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

He shivered at the feeling of your lips against his sensitive skin. “Mm, yeah, and you love it.”

You giggled in that way that made his stomach flip. “Fair enough.”

The door pushed open suddenly, almost hard enough to crack against the wall, and Ellie appeared on your side of the bed, her arms raised as she waited impatiently to be picked up. Javier happily pulled her up onto the bed. Scratch his earlier assumption - now his life couldn’t get any better. He watched Ellie jump and tumble around the sheets with happy squeals and that’s when he heard it. At first, he thought maybe he was hearing things until he saw the way your mouth fell open into a big grin, your eyes flitting back and forth between father and daughter.

“Papaaaa!” Ellie called out, her hands opening and closing rapidly, reaching for him from the other side of the bed. She kept saying it, repeating the two syllables over and over until it all bled into one long call for her dad.

Javier pulled her into his arms and squished her to his chest tightly, his eyes on you as his heart fluttered high in his chest. He couldn’t find the words, his voice choked out by his overwhelming love for the little family he had. He watched as you shuffled forward to kneel next to him and kiss the top of Ellie’s head, then his lips, pride shimmering in your eyes.

“Marry me.” Javier said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your jaw dropped. “Javi… you don’t have to do this. I - I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Are you kidding me? I want to grow old with you, have kids with you, even have a fucking white picket fence.” It was as if the faucet was turned on and there was no stopping the words he so desperately wanted to say. “None of this is out of obligation, hermosa. I want you to be my wife.”

“Yes.” There were tears in your eyes as you listened to the words you had longed to hear for far too long. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Javier surged forward and kissed you again, and in that bed with the precious little girl the two of you created together and the promise of being yours forever, he knew he was right where he belonged.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @viktorialukowski @cjbtw @agentshortstacc @a-skov @himbotroy

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter Five}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta’s time for mourning was up.

As she pulled into Elain’s driveway, reality set in. It would be her first day back at the restaurant since the accident, since her life was thrown completely upside down.

She wasn’t ready

But, she had no choice.

Elain was already smiling when she opened the door, reaching out to take Nyx. “Hi, my baby! Aunt Lainy and Seph are so excited to spend the day with you, yes we are.”

“I’m glad, because Aunt Nesta isn’t so excited to not be spending the day with him,” she said, sighing.

Elain gave her sister a wistful look. “I get that. How about Cass, how did he feel going back to work last night?”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t know. He never came back. They started inventory around two this morning after last call, according to the short text I woke up to. He says he’ll be there for most of the day.”

Elain lifted a brow. “Wow.”

Nesta blinked. “He’s a bartender, what do you expect?”

“No,” Elain chuckled. “I meant: wow, looks like you two are actually communicating. I’m shocked.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “We’ve been living together for three days. If we weren’t communicating, what exactly would we be doing instead?”

Elain carried Nyx into the living room, sitting him down in the playpen she’d set up in the corner. “I mean, honestly, Az and I just figured you were pretending each other didn’t exist.”

For all intents and purposes, they had been, but they had made sure to talk about important things. Like whether Nyx had been fed, when he needed to go down for his nap and what the schedule for the next day would look like.

To be totally honest, she hadn’t even realized Cassian had her number until she’d woken up to a text from one she didn’t have saved in her phone.

“We’re…adjusting,” she finally said, watching as Nyx crawled over to the pile of toys in the corner of the playpen. “I gave him a bath last night, and he said he would handle the next one, since he had to go to work. But… Gods, Elain, giving a one-year-old a bath is exhausting. I looked like I’d just left the pool, not to mention the entire bathroom was soaked.”

Elain chuckled and shook her head. “Seph loves baths, but we’re still having them in the sink right now. She’s not quite ready for the bathtub yet.”

The baby in question was asleep in a bouncer, resting on the floor by the couch.

Nesta glanced at her watch, whatever reply she had falling from her lips. “Shit, I have to go, I’ll be late.”

“Go,” Elain said, wrapping her sister up in a hug. “The day will fly by and you’ll be home with Nyx before you know it.”

Nesta nodded, even though her core was filled with dread.

Nonetheless, she was across town in fifteen minutes, hurrying into the café just before nine. She tossed her purse behind her desk after she unlocked the door to her office and looked around, only to find everything exactly where she had left it.

With a sigh, she pulled a bottle of water out of her mini-fridge, only to find it completely warm. They must have unplugged it when they were cleaning. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She didn’t have time to think on it too much, though, because there was a knock on her office door, her manager’s voice calling her name through the wood.

Her first day back had officially begun.

*

Cassian was exhausted.

For the past couple hours, he felt like he was lost somewhere in a dream. Now, as he continued to stare at the shelves of liquor in the back room, he debated curling up in the corner and falling asleep.

He’d messed up so many drink orders the night before, worrying about whether Nyx was okay or if Nesta had forgotten to do anything for him. He knew Nesta was perfectly capable of taking care of Nyx, had been doing so since Rhys and Feyre had died. But he still worried about him constantly.

He yawned as he shoved a box of tequila up onto the top shelf, turning to see how much was left.

Only to find the store room empty of boxes. He let over a relieved sigh, pulling out his phone.

10:37

He knew the opener would be in at eleven, a shift that was usually his, but as the manager, he preferred to ensure inventory was done correctly, and with such a big shipment, thanks to his unexpected time off, he told them he would work the night before.

His feet damn near shuffling across the floor, he made his way into the office and sat down at the desk, to wait for Kallias. He didn’t see a reason to lock the place up when Kal would be here five minutes later to start setting up.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knocking on the office door and sat up quickly, his feet falling from where he’d propped them on top of the desk.

Cassian found Kallias standing in the doorway, a small smirk on his lips. “Baby keeping you up at night already?”

He yawned, dragging a hand down his face. “No. Well, sometimes, but not this time. Didn’t finish inventory until about fifteen minutes ago.”

Kallias whistled. “Damn. You should’ve called. I would’ve come help.” Cassian shrugged. “No use having both of us exhausted.”

Kallias just shook his head. “If you say so. Go home, Cass. Get some sleep. I’ve got everything under control.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, clapped Kallias on the shoulder, and walked out to the parking lot. After hopping into his truck, Cassian dozed off.

And six hours later, he woke up, his head against his steering wall, his neck hurting like hell, and his chin glistening with his slobber.

It wasn’t an attractive sight.

After a curse, he looked at the clock on the dash, and swore again.

It was just after five.

The truck was in gear and he was speeding home seconds later. When he rounded the corner, Nesta’s car was already in the driveway.

He parked beside her, hopping out and hurrying to the back door. When he threw it open, he found her standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, his head dropped into his hands in exhaustion. Even after his impromptu nap in the truck, he still felt like he needed another eight hours sleep. “Inventory took way longer than usual and then I passed out in the truck.” He shook his head, letting his obvious exhaustion explain the rest to her.

“It’s fine.”

He looked up and glanced at her stiff back. She hadn’t turned back to look at him, was completely focused on whatever she cooked on the stove.

Her tone said it absolutely was not fine.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I’d been awake for over twenty-six hours.”

“Elain had to reschedule a shoot with a client tonight. She was expecting you to come pick up Nyx after you got off and got some sleep.”

He cringed. Nesta had texted him around ten, while he was still focused on inventory, asking him to get Nyx from Elain before three. He didn’t ask why, had honestly forgotten she’d even texted him.

“I’ll call her later, I’ll apologize,” he sighed.

Nesta turned abruptly and tossed the towel she was using to hold the warm handle on the counter. She was pissed, he’d seen that look in her eyes more than once. “I get that you worked and you were tired, but you have to be more responsible, Cassian.”

“I said I was fucking sorry,” he said, standing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in my truck, but I did. I’m fucking sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but turned back to the stove.

Cassian scoffed, and was nearly ready to bite her head off, but then Nyx’s soft cries came from the living room.

“He fell asleep in the pack and play,” Nesta said, continuing to stir what she had on the stove.

Cassian took that as his dismissal. He hurried into the living room and picked up Nyx, who was standing up in his pack and play, gripping the edge. When he saw Cassian, his hands shot straight in the air.

“Hey buddy,” he said, quietly, as he lifted Nyx out of his pack and play. Nyx instantly relaxed in his arms, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder.

“He’s probably hungry,” Nesta said, as the boys made their way back into the kitchen.

“I’m aware,” Cassian snapped.

Nesta’s shoulders tensed.

Cassian said nothing more as he opened the fridge and took out some leftover mashed potatoes, Nyx’s favorite.

“He should have some kind of protein with that,” Nesta said, her back still to them.

Cassian spun around, exasperated. “Shit, anything else you’d like to add?”

She said nothing, pretending he didn’t even speak. Cassian didn’t say anything else, but he fixed him a bottle, and set Nyx in his high chair. As Cassian shook it, Nyx held out his hands, reaching for it. He gave it to him, turning to the microwave to heat up the potatoes.

He heard plates being set down at the table and found Nesta setting two plates full of stir fry on the table.

He hesitated, but moved Nyx’s high chair closer to the table. He took the already empty bottle from him and got a small spoonful of potatoes for him. He quietly said, “You didn’t need to cook for me,” as he fed Nyx.

“I made too much,” she replied, simply, sitting across from him. She didn’t meet his eyes as she took a bite.

He watched as her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction.

As Nyx grabbed his bowl from the end of his high chair and stuck his face into it, Cassian looked down at his own plate, at the steak, broccoli, peppers, peeled carrots, and snap peas that sat before him.

It smelled delicious.

He hesitantly took a bite as Nyx clapped his hands and began to babble.

“Afraid I may poison you?” Nesta asked.

Cassian blinked, meeting her eyes. They remained like that for a moment, staring at one another, then Cassian took another bite. “It’s good. Thanks.”

“I made too much,” she repeated. “Cut Nyx up some of the steak. It’s tender enough for him to eat, just make sure the pieces are tiny. The broccoli, too. He likes broccoli.”

Cassian did as he was told without a word. He set the food in front of Nyx, who instantly had his chubby little hands on them.

“Don’t think I’ll be cooking every night,” Nesta said, in the middle of their otherwise silent meal.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Cassian said, then cleared his throat. “I can cook sometimes, too. I’m not bad in the kitchen.” A look crossed Nesta’s face that said she didn’t quite believe that statement.

“I make a mean breakfast,” he said, after chewing through another bite. “I’ll show you. We’ll do breakfast for dinner one night.”

Nesta nodded, but Cassian couldn’t tell if that was confirmation or just agreeing to shut him up. After a minute, she set down her fork and cleared her throat. “Speaking of breakfast, I’d prefer to not share the table with any friends you may bring home.”

Cassian’s brows lowered, not fully understanding. And then what she was saying clicked and he was coughing around the bite of food he’d been swallowing. He drank from the glass of water he’d grabbed, and cleared his throat, ensuring he could breathe. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“If I live here, it is my concern,” she said, going right back to eating, as if she hadn’t just brought up an extremely unexpected topic. “I don’t want Nyx to see a revolving door of women leaving either, he doesn’t need to get the wrong idea.”

Cassian could only stare at her, though when Nyx heard his name, he paused his eating to look up at her. He finally said, “He’s one, first of all, so he has no idea what that would even mean, and secondly, I can have whoever the hell I want here, and they can stay for breakfast. I live here, too.”

“Would you care to see an endless string of men coming out of my bedroom every morning?” Nesta asked, her tone light, but her eyes full of hellfire.

Cassian’s chewing slowed. No, he wouldn’t care to see that, but he’d never admit it. He wasn’t even one to bring women home...well, at least not often, but apparently she thought of him as some unhinged casanova.

“As long as you ask me to join, I don’t care who you bring home,” Cassian said.

Now it was Nesta’s turn to choke on the bite of steak she just took. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her eyes watered. After catching her breath and taking a long drink of water, she said, “That’s inappropriate.”

Nyx giggled, his lips covered in mashed potatoes, as if Nesta had just said the most hilarious thing in the world.

He took one last bite of his food before standing and carrying his plate over to the sink. “You don’t bring up my sex life and I won’t bring up yours. Deal?”

“Fine,” she said, picking up her plate as well and dropping it next to his on the counter. “You take care of the dishes, I’ll give Nyx his bath.”

“Fine.” That seemed to be their word to end conversations, as most of them ended with one of them snapping the word at the other, and it being repeated right back to them.

He wanted to fling more insults at her, wanted to snap that he wasn’t the man-whore she apparently thought he was. He never had been, despite the obscene amount of those stupid condoms she’d seen in his glove box all those years ago. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

He heard her unclipping Nyx’s high chair and then she was carrying him upstairs. Cassian was already wrist deep in soapy water when he heard the bathtub running from upstairs.

It was then that he realized he had originally told Nesta that he would give Nyx a bath tonight.

He didn’t pick him up from Elain’s.

He didn’t give him a bath like he said he would.

Maybe Nesta was right.

Maybe he was just setting himself up for failure.

As he scrubbed at the dishes, Cassian felt that sense of failure wash over him and sent a thought to Rhysand, wherever he was, hoping that his oldest friend wasn’t as disappointed in him as he was.

[221bshrlocked]

A Sky Full of Stars

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 11340 (I know I say this all the time but this really was supposed to be a short one-shot but it got away from me because I just loved this idea so so much. Sorry not sorry.)

Warning: Nothing but fluff. Some kissing that turns into a heated make-out session that turns into a cuddling session.

Inspired by this tiktok by the lovely ameliagonzales who was gracious enough to allow me to use her idea and write this.

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote something that's fluffy slightly angsty and dialogue-centered. I'm not going to lie, this took longer than usual because of the lovely anon that decided to tell me my characterization of Din is hella off and I realized I don't care if it is because it's my writing and I get to do whatever I want with it. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments and reblogs are always always appreciated. You can add yourself to the taglist here. This is not beta'd btw.

“No silly this isn’t green, it’s blue.” The little girl put her toy away and brought out a new one, giggling at your faux pout as she shoves the new object in your hand and asks you what color you thought it was. You turn it around in your hands, trying your hardest to hide the hurt growing in your chest at not knowing what color it is. You think it’s closer to the first toy she gave you but you’re not sure. You’re never sure. You look at the girl and smile at her before setting the toy aside and wiggling your hands at her. She immediately stands up and screams as you run after her, laughing along with her giggles as you chase her around and watch as more kids join in and run away from you.

You’re not sure how long you’re chasing the little ones and you hear some of them gasp and ‘oooh’ when your young friend runs into a solid figure. You stand up and watch as the girl tears up as she apologizes to the man she just ran into. You’re immediately hugging her and assuring her that everything is okay, turning to the side and narrowing your eyes at the man that scared her half to death.

“Shame on you Mando,” you pretend to smack his shoulder three times and watch as the child in your arms sniffles between laughs when the Mandalorian tries to hide away from you.

“I’m sorry little flower, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You watch as the man reaches for a small bottle in his pocket and slowly hands it to the girl. “Here you go, a token of my apology.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, he’s a nice man...even though he doesn’t look it.” You wink at Boba Fett and giggle along with her when he sighs heavily and pushes the flask into her hand. She takes it and shakes it around, her eyes lighting up when the bottle shimmers at her ministrations and illuminates her hands.

“It’s so pretty! How did you know orange is my favorite color?” The girl slides down your arms and quickly hugs the hunter in front of you before running away and showing her friends. You look at her with longing in your eyes, wishing with all your heart that you saw the gift the same way she saw it.

“Still no color princess?” Fett questions and you shrug your shoulders as you make your way towards Slave I and sit on the ramp.

“Yup, same old same old. Who knows if I’ll ever see color.” There is a hint of hurt in your tone but Fett says nothing as he approaches you and stands to the side. He pats your shoulder once as he takes his helmet off and softly wipes at the visor to clean it.

“Don’t give up, kid. You’re still young...you’ve got all the time in the galaxy and you travel everywhere. You’ll meet them when you least expect it.”

“In this line of work? Yeah, I don’t think so Fett. But at least one of us didn’t lose the positive attitude. If I’m being honest, I was hoping to see color before the next supply run. The chances that I’ll live to go to Pasaana during another Festival of the Ancestors are practically non-existent. I heard they wear so many variations of the same color...maker, it would have been nice to experience that.” You pick up a rock and throw it away as you nervously ring your fingers and brush the conversation aside, not wanting to start the journey with a sour mood.

“Well, lucky for us, we have extra help on this run so it should be quicker. Maybe you’ll see color before you go?” Fett looks up and you follow his line of sight as another ship slowly lands just behind Slave I. You stand up and walk behind your old friend, looking back at the crates to ensure they’re still there before you approach the landing ship.

“Oh no, what poor soul did you manage to rope in this time?” You eye the ship and swear there is something familiar about it but you pay it no mind as Fett puts his helmet back on.

“Hey, I don’t always bend people to my will you know. He volunteered actually...he knows his way around the Narvath Sector and he might even tag along with us to the Forbidden Valley. So, be nice and don’t flirt with him.” Fett warns and you throw your hands up in defeat, failing to hide your smile as you respond with feigned offense.

“I’m not going to flirt with him.” You raise an eyebrow when Fett snorts at your high-pitched voice as he makes his way to the landing ship, and mutters something beneath his breath. The ship powers down after a couple of moments and you take a deep breath when the doors to the docking ramp slide and a figure appears at the corner.

“There he is...took you longer to land this time.” Fett yells to the other Mandalorian, not noticing how you take a few steps back as the man walks down towards the two of you.

“Oh well things just got a little more interesting now.” You break the silence and cringe when the Mandalorian struts past your friend and takes out his blaster. You hold your hands up when he points the weapon at your head and you watch as Fett strides to the two of you and stands in between your body and his brother’s weapon.

“You?” The Mandalorian growls and he tries to step aside and Fett holds his chest and pushes him back.

“Me!” You smile nervously and gulp when Fett turns around and looks at you. You swear you can almost see the look he’s giving you but you say nothing and hope that he can handle this situation for you.

“Oh.” You would have laughed at Fett’s response if there wasn’t a bounty hunter standing not five feet away from you and killing you a thousand different ways.

“You two know each other?” Fett breaks the silence and continues to stand between the two of you, knowing his friend’s short temper and your dumb comments might escalate this situation.

“I wouldn’t say we know each other. I’d say we met very briefly on-” You try to explain what happened the last time you saw the Mandalorian but he cuts you off. He pushes his blaster into its holster and you sigh heavily but keep your hands raised, afraid he'll change his mind any second and try to shoot you again.

“You almost blew up my ship!” The Mandalorian yells and you jump at his exclamation. His irritation seeps into your skin and you narrow your eyes at him as you walk around Fett and begin to nudge at the beskar armor with one finger. Your anger at his unfairness outgrows your fear of what he can do to you and you continue to push on his chest plate as you talk back at him and ignore Fett’s whispers to let it go.

“I did no such thing. I merely tried to fix your shitty cooling radiator panels but you scared the fuck out of me when you came up behind me and suggested I switch the parts, hence why I dropped the cauterizer and burned through the wires. So technically, you almost blew up your ship.” You’re breathing heavily and you’re sure your nose is flaring from how annoyed you are by the man in front of you. A few seconds pass between the two of you and it’s not until the Mandalorian tilts his head that you realize what you’ve just said and done. You take your hands away and swallow the growing lump in your throat as you step back and apologize a few times before you walk to the crates.

The Mandalorian stands there in silence, never once looking away from you retreating form, even when Boba Fett comes and stands him.

He’s missed this, and more than he preferred to admit.

“Little princess is fiery today.” Fett comments and notices when his friend turns and stares at him through the visor. The Mandalorian says nothing as he walks away from Fett and follows you. You’re in the middle of counting the supplies in the crates when you hear the crunching of footsteps approaching you. Thinking it’s Fett that’s come to help you move the supplies, you roll up your sleeves and ask him to take the opposite side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at your brother. I was just annoyed because I was only trying to help and he scared me.” When you look up and see that it was the Mandalorian and not your friend, you drop the crate and stare at him. He says nothing as he picks up his end of the large box and waits for you to mirror his actions before he begins to walk back to his ship. Neither of you say anything as you go back and forth until all the crates are on his ship. You walk out and stand next to Fett, waiting for his instructions to see whether you were going to go with him or with the new member of the crew.

“So what’s the plan?” You avoid the Mandalorian standing next to you and turn your body towards Fett, hoping that he’d say that you were tagging along with him.

“You’re going to go with him.” You cease to breathe at his command and clench your fists when you recognize his tone. He’s not leaving room for negotiation.

“W-why?” The Mandalorian walks back to his ship at your question and you pout when you realize that he may have misunderstood your inquiry. Not that it mattered whether or not he misunderstood...

“Fennec...we’ll meet you at Iktotchon.” You look to the ground and shuffle your feet against the sand, turning back to him and nodding quietly as you follow behind the Mandalorian.

“And princess!” Fett calls for you and you glance at him when you reach the top of the ramp.

“Hmm?”

“Try not to get into too much trouble.” You look at him with annoyance and shake your head when you realize he’s just teasing you. Standing at the large doors of the ship, you glimpse one last time at Mos Eisley before you make your way into the heart of the ship. A few moments later, the ship powers up and you watch as the barrier raises and locks just as light filters through the area. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do or where you’re allowed to go so you remain standing where you are. Not a minute later, you jump when a voice breaks the silence and booms through the ship.

“Come up to the cockpit.”

You take a deep, calming breath as you set your things to the side and ascend the ladder to the cockpit. You come face to face with a door and you’re about to knock when it slides open and reveals the Mandalorian sitting in the pilot chair.

“Sit down and buckle up.” He says as he flicks on buttons across the board. He turns his head towards you to make sure that you’re buckled in before he raises the throttle levers and begins to take off. You hold back from saying something snarky as the turbulence gets worse, only shutting your eyes when it gets to be too much. You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there with your hands clasping the leather of the chair but it’s only when you hear the seat in front of you turning that you realize you were already in space.

You frown when you open your eyes and see the Mandalorian already looking at you, the tilt of his helmet letting you know that he was silently mocking you.

“What?” You break the silence and watch as he rights himself before he turns around and pushes the auto-pilot button.

“You’re a supply dealer who hates flying.” It’s more of a question than a comment and you can’t help but narrow your eyes when he stands up and continues to stare at you.

“So?”

“Not a good quality of life.” If you’re surprised by his response, you try not to show it as you stand up and face him defensively like before.

“Says the man who wears beskar armor every minute of the day.” It’s a low blow and you know you have no right involving his religion. But you’re fed up with his passive aggressiveness and you want to make sure he knows that he can’t talk down to you.

The Mandalorian turns away and looks at the passing stars of the galaxy, softly whispering for you to follow him as he exits the cockpit. You want to apologize for what you said but you hold back instead, following him down the ladder and standing to the side when you see him moving things around.

“This is my cot, and that right there is yours.” He points to two doors across from each other at the end of the hallway and waits for your confirmation before he walks past them and shows you the refresher.

“Help yourself to any of the rations. We’ll arrive at Iktotchon in four sleeping cycles so there should be enough food for the two of us until we get there.” You’re not sure what makes you reach for his wrist when he turns around to walk away. He stands still and looks down at the hand grasping his beskar before he looks at you.

“S-sorry...I- umm, are you coming to Pasaana?” You ring your fingers nervously as you look at yourself in his visor, taking two steps back when he straightens up and looks down at your hands.

“You’re going to the Festival of the Ancestors.”

“Yes. Well, it’s me, Mando, and Fennec. So I was just wondering, you know, if there was...if you had anything lined up after this supply run. Because if not, you can tag along...it only happens every-”

“42 years. I know.” He cuts you off and you’re not sure if his body-language seems more open or not but within a few seconds of chatting with him, he’s suddenly relaxing and leaning back against the metal wall. He’s silent for longer than you prefer so you force a smile and rub the back of your neck awkwardly as you prepare to tell him to forget that you asked since he probably has more important matters to handle.

“Ok.” It’s a simple response yet you feel your skin heat up as he nods at you and walks to his quarters. He hesitates at the door for a moment before he pushes the button and steps into the privacy of his room.

You let out a deep breath and stand in your spot for a few minutes before you slip back to the docking space to bring your belongings to the room. The ship is surprisingly more quiet than others you’ve been on and you remember what he told you about it the last time you saw him. A faint memory of how he defended the size of his ship makes you giggle. Then again, you’ve heard from Peli about the piece of junk he had before this and knew that it was barely considered as machinery.

“Maker, how am I going to make it four days on this ship with him?” You shake your head as you prepare to go to bed. The twin suns were just setting on Tatooine when you were leaving and you knew it was better to get as much sleep in as possible considering how quickly things sometimes escalated on these kinds of runs.

Surprisingly, things weren’t too bad when you left your sleeping cot the following day. The Mandalorian was already awake and cleaning his weapons. You bid him a quick good morning as you moved past him and looked for some snacks. He didn’t seem like he wanted to converse with you so you opted to stay in your room for the remainder of your waking hours. A voice in your head told you to keep the door open in case he did want to chat eventually but as you thought, he never once disturbed you.

The second day on the ship was perhaps slightly more eventful. Although he continued to pass his time in silence, he did manage to ask you to help him fix something in the cockpit. You were shocked he requested your services with ease and said nothing as he stood aside and watched you tinker away with the radar display screen. He thanked you twice when you finished and told you that he’d let you know if he needed your help with anything else.

The third day, however, made you wish you could open the docking doors and throw yourself out in space. You hadn’t seen him all morning long and you thought it was probably because he wanted some privacy in the cockpit. By the middle of the day, you jumped out of your cot and grabbed some spare clothes as you headed to the refresher, wanting to shower once before you landed on the sand-filled planet the following. As you walked to the door and pushed the button, you were met with a heavy fog escaping the room. When the fog cleared, you dropped your clothes and slammed your hands on your eyes, immediately backing away from the room as the Mandalorian scrambled to wrap something around his waist. You weren’t sure how many times you apologized in the span of one minute but when you heard the familiar sound of a blaster turning on, you stood in silence and waited for him to say something.

“Pfassk, do you have no kriffing regard for privacy?” He growled through the vocoder and you shook your head to try and explain to him that you saw nothing but his back.

“I- maker, I’m so sorry. I swear on my life I didn’t see anything except your back. I didn’t know you were in there...I really didn’t or else I wouldn't have gone in.” You sigh in relief when you hear him murmur to himself as he sets down the blaster and shuffles around in search of his clothes.

“What do you mean you didn’t know I was in there? The red light was on, which usually means someone is in the fucking refresher using it.” Hearing him swear shouldn’t make you shiver and yet you do. When you notice that he’s gone still, you assume it’s safe to look at him again. Taking a deep breath, you turn around and lower your hands as you muster up the courage to try and explain to him why you couldn’t see the red light.

And boy was that a mistake. You regret removing your hands from your eyes as soon as you take a good look at him. Turns out, the beskar armor only made him look more intimidating. The man was large, made to be a hunter. He was broad-shouldered, muscular in all the right places and soft in others. You unintentionally frown when you see his bronze skin littered with scars of all shapes and sizes. Maker, the life he led was worse than you thought.

“I- uhh, I don’t...I couldn’t see it.” You hated how much your voice broke when you tried to explain yourself. As much as you wanted to blame it on being afraid of him, you knew it was less about the danger he exuded and more about the fact that you could see more of his skin than you thought you ever would.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t know it was red.” You knew none of what you were saying was making sense but this wasn’t exactly a situation that you thought you’d find yourself having to deal with, and with the Mandalorian of all people.

“Are you fucking with me?” He was less hostile than earlier but his words were still spoken aggressively. You couldn’t blame him really, especially when you knew how strict his religion was.

“N-no. I- my species doesn’t see color until- well, it doesn’t matter. My species doesn’t see color. We just see grays. I’m sorry...I should have asked before if there was anything I needed to learn about the ship that required me seeing colors. It escaped me. I’ll try to pay more attention...I promise you I saw nothing.” You take one last glance at the heaving, glistening body in front of you before you turn around and walk in your room. You shut the door behind you this time, knowing that he probably wanted some of his privacy back and that he would need to limit himself should you keep it open.

It’s not until a few hours later that you sit up when you hear a soft knock on your door. You stand up and push open the barrier, finding the Mandalorian standing in front of you with his helmet looking straight at your reluctant expression. You wait for him to say something and when he doesn’t, you raise your eyebrows and silently ask him if he needs anything.

“I didn’t know about your...I didn’t know. And I didn’t mean to scare you with the blaster either, it’s a reflex to- umm.” You nod at him and look down to see what he’s holding in his hands. “You left your clothes lying on the floor.” He pushes the fabric towards you and averts his eyes when he sees your undergarments peaking through the shirt. You thank him as you set them down on your bag and look into his visor again.

“Ad'ika?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” The whispered exclamation does little to calm your nerves and you’re not sure what to say to him so you nod and awkwardly smile into the shiny beskar helmet. The Mandalorian murmurs a quick ‘good night’ before he makes his way to the cockpit, leaving you as confused as ever.

You don’t get an ounce of sleep that night, the image of him in nothing but a helmet and some flimsy pants making you wish he had shot you with his blaster instead. You refuse to admit the rising emotions you’re beginning to feel towards him, mostly because it didn’t matter whether or not he reciprocated them.

You still couldn’t see color.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

You’re afraid to leave the room the next morning, not sure which version of the Mandalorian you were going to have to deal with. It turns out, there was nothing to worry about because not surprisingly, you got the quiet, slightly shy man chatting with you. He pretends nothing happened the previous day and you go along with it. You’re just about to enter the atmosphere of Iktotchon when you receive a hologram from Fett telling the two of you of the sandstorm passing through the meeting point.

As you buckle into the seat behind the Mandalorian, he takes a moment to turn around and call for you.

“There’s going to be turbulence.”

“I- I know.” You barely hold back from furrowing your eyebrows at his comment but then he turns around to face you completely and you narrow your eyes at him with suspicion.

“I’ve landed on worse planets.” It takes you a few extra seconds to realize what he’s attempting to do and you can’t help but laugh and break the moment. You quiet down when he turns around and begins to descend to the planet.

“Are you worried about little old me Mandalorian?” You try to distract yourself from the sudden, harsh shaking of the ship but the teasing does little to calm your nerves when you realize that the sandstorm was as bad as Fett made it sound. You shut your eyes and try to picture the calm nights you’re so used to on Tatooine.

“You know, you can just call me Mando.” His voice breaks you out of your haze and you growl in response when you hear a few sounds go off above you.

“No, I- I can’t call you that. I reserved it for the other guy already!”

“You mean the Mandalorian who already told you his name?” He claps back and chuckles when you sigh in irritation at his question.

“Fine okay you’re right. How about this? Can you land this fucking ship without killing the two of us Mando?” You’re screaming at the top of your lungs and grasp the belt around your torso harder when you don’t hear back from him.

“Mando?”

“You mean the ship I already landed ad’ika?” Your eyes shoot wide open and you look around frantically, only to see that most of the turbulence you experienced was due to the sand and gravel hitting the metal of the ship.

“Oh...that was- not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Anything beats Maldo Kreis.” Mando says as he stands there across from you and the slight tilt of his helmet at your confused expression makes you realize he may not have meant to say that out loud.

“We need to go. The storm will only get worse if we wait until night.” You nod in agreement and follow him out of the cockpit to the docking station. Mando instantly regrets lowering the docking ramp when he sees gravel quickly entering the ship. You run to your room to grab the helmet you brought with you and lock it in as you return to help him with the crates.

It’s a difficult few hours on the planet, and you grow more irritated when the Ikotchi threatens you with less supply exchanges. When his demeanor suddenly changes and he asks you to take the crates and leave, you thank him and quickly take the crates up the ramp with Fennec before he changes his mind. You never once notice both Mandalorians as they subtly push their blasters back into their holsters.

You’re leaving Iktotchon later than you prefer, mostly because both bounty hunters find themselves in a heated argument that Fennec has to end not-so-gently. You don’t bother asking Mando what the issue was when you see him strutting into the cockpit, quickly strapping yourself in when he glances at you to make sure you’re safe.

It’s a rough take off for both his ship and Slave I, but you say nothing of it, knowing that he might not appreciate any light teasing at the moment. Once you’re out of the planet’s atmosphere, Mando puts in the coordinates for Pasaana and sends a hologram to Fett, letting him know that you would be reaching the planet in less than a day.

You want to ask him if you could help in any way but you decide against it and leave him to his thoughts. You want nothing more than to take a long, hot shower to rid yourself of all the sand that managed to seep into your clothes. But then you notice the state of the docking area and before you can talk yourself out of it, you look around for anything that resembles a sweeper and clean as much of the floor as you can. You’re thankful that Mando doesn’t leave the cockpit and when you’re done, you go back into your room to grab a change of clothes so you could use the refresher.

You think you hear Mando passing by your room but you say nothing and make your way to the refresher, halting in your steps when you look at the light and find it turned off.

Great.

“Mando? Are you in there?” You’re not sure if he can hear you or not so you try to ask him again a little louder.

“Mando!? Are you i-”

“No.” You jump as soon as you hear him respond from behind you. Turning around, you clutch at your chest when you see him standing in front of his door without the beskar armor.

“I- uhh, t-there’s no light. And I wasn’t sure what that meant really.” You’re ringing your fingers again, and hope that he doesn’t notice just how nervous you are in his presence.

“Well I- I rewired the electrical circuits of the refresher so you know when it’s occupied and when it isn’t. If the light is on, it means I’m in there, and if it isn’t, then it’s free for use. No more colores.”

You look at him as if he took off his helmet, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he went out of his way to accommodate you when you’re only on his ship for another few days.

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say before you push the door and scramble in. Mando looks at the door for another few minutes before he remembers that he hasn’t eaten in a while. He cooks up a meal for two quickly and eats his share before you finish your shower. When he hears you walking out, he sits in his usual corner and brings out his weapons to polish them.

You smell food as soon as you walk out of the refresher and you throw your clothes on your cot before you make your way to the large space across the hallway. You’re about to ask Mando about the food situation when you see a plate opposite of him on the table.

“It’s yours.” Mando breaks the silence as he wipes in between the crevasses of his blaster, nodding towards the space in front of him to let you know that you could join him,

“Thank you Mando.”

Neither of you say anything as you inhale your dinner and it’s not until you’ve washed your plates and set them aside that Mando decides to break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

“S-sure.” You think he’s going to ask you what it’s like to not see colors and to only see gradations of gray but his question catches you off guard.

“When can your species see color?” If you were uncomfortable by his question, you did a good job hiding it from him. Mando watches as you push off the wall and return to sit in front of him, lazily pushing around the towel he was holding as you answer him.

“This might sound stupid and I’m usually told that it’s not real but I’ve seen those of my kind experience the second they could see color so I know it’s not just a fable we’re told when we’re young. Basically, we see color when we meet our soulmates.” Mando’s heart breaks when you throw him a forced smile, one he’s seen a million times looking back at him in the mirror.

“Your soulmate?”

“Yup, the person I’m destined to be with. My other half. The one that will belong to me and I to him.” Mando nods along with you as he stands up and hangs up his weapons one by one.

“I know what you’re thinking. What’s someone like me going to do at the Festival of the Ancestors? Honestly, I think it’ll be fun to attend it whether or not I can see the colors. It’s a rich culture so I’m sure I’ll enjoy it either way.”

“I can always walk around with you and describe to you the colors, t-the patterns even. If...if you want.” His suggestion throws you off guard and as earlier, you gape at him as you try to figure out what he was playing at. You think he’s pulling your leg and will laugh at you at any moment, but when he doesn’t, you realize that he’s being dead serious.

“That would be nice Mando. I might not see the colors but I could always imagine what they look like next to each other.”

And just like that, the conversation is over as quickly as it begins.

“Good night mesh’la.” Mando murmurs as he makes his way to his quarters, leaving you more hopeful than you’ve felt in a long while.

It’s a weird thing to admit but for the first time in years, you don’t go to sleep wishing you could wake up and see colors. No. You doze off wondering what it would feel like to hold his hand and maybe, just maybe, kiss it. You think of how soft his untouched skin must feel like and how calloused his scarred muscles would look.

When you dream that night, you see faint images of his lips caressing yours and his firm arms bringing you into his embrace.

And you wake up with a lazy smile etched on your face because those dreams, those sweet, lovely memories your brain conjured up during the night, felt as good as seeing color.

You can’t look at him for the duration of the morning, constantly pretending that you’re doing something or other so he doesn’t think you’re avoiding him because the last thing you wanted was to make him think you didn’t want to talk to him. But you just can’t find it in yourself to look into his visor. Every time you so much as glance at the beskar helmet, you remember what your subconscious conjured up and you stutter out a response to whatever he says.

Not surprisingly, Mando notices the shift in your behavior and he waits until you finish fixing the crates’ locks, which were clearly not broken, before he approaches you.

“Mesh’la.”

“Yes Mando?” You’re still not looking at him and Mando starts to genuinely believe that he’s done something wrong. When you try to walk past him to place the tool back in your room, Mando reaches out and takes hold of your wrist before you’re out of reach. You look at his gloved hand wrapped around your skin before you meet his eyes past his visor and Mando holds his breath because for a moment, he thinks you can see straight through him.

“You’re angry with me.”

You never realize until this moment that Mando tends to ask most of his questions in the form of a statement and it’s strange. It’s strange because it never occurred to you that he’s the type to perhaps jump to conclusions when he can’t read the situation. Setting the tool box down, you stand up and fix your shirt as you muster up the courage to respond to him.

“I’m not. I’m not angry with you. I’m- it’s...difficult to explain.” His hold loosens but he’s standing in your space and you think it’s because he’s not totally convinced by your answer and won’t let it go until you give him a proper explanation for the sudden change in your treatment.

“It’s difficult to explain why you’re not angry with me.”

There it goes again, that weird phrasing of his inner thoughts. You huff in irritation and Mando misunderstands your annoyed expression so he steps away and turns to look everywhere else but you.

“No, Mando...maker- yes it’s difficult to explain because you’re- no, not you. It’s not your fault it’s mine. I’m just not used to- gods why is this so hard?” You’re visibly stressed and it must be a sight because Mando comes back to stand in front of you and he rests one hand on your shoulder, waiting until you turn to look at him before he tries to break the anxiety-inducing silence.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I- I shouldn’t have offered to walk through the festival with you. I should have thought of how uncomfortable you’d feel before I selfishly asked t-” You perk up at his choice in words and you’re about to ask him what he meant by what he said but he doesn’t give you a chance. “Please believe me when I tell you I only wanted to...I thought it might help.”

“You see, this is exactly why I’m avoiding you.” You’re not sure who’s more surprised by your little outburst but when his hold tightens around your shoulder, you think maybe it’s him.

“So you are avoiding me.”

“Yes okay? I am, I’m avoiding you because the last few days felt like a whiplash of emotions and I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. One minute you’re angry and quiet and it’s as if I’m not in the same space as you, and the next thing I know, you’re rewiring your damn ship so I know how to use it and then offering to pretty much waste your time during one of the most beautiful festivals in the galaxy just to make sure I’m enjoying myself. And...and it’s difficult because I feel myself falling but I don’t want to because I’m afraid...I’m afraid you won’t be there to catch me...because you don’t have to. Because why would you when-”

You’re not sure how you got to this moment but all you know is that you're’ suddenly surrounded by Mando and the cold beskar armor and his natural musk and this unique woodsy scent and it’s-

It’s breathtaking.

“Cyar’ika, I didn’t know...I didn’t know I was causing you this much distress. It’s difficult for me to- to speak my he- to speak at times. I wasn’t thinking of how I’m coming off and I was so busy trying to figure out my- my own feelings...that I didn’t stop and think of what you must be going through.” His voice is low and you think perhaps that it’s breaking with every word he whispers through the vocoder, so you do the only thing you think of at the moment. Reluctantly, you wrap as much of your arms around him as physically possible, hoping he’d understand that you were listening to him and no longer trying to ignore him.

“Mando-”

“I- I volunteered for this supply run.” You’re not sure how this relates to this current affair but you sink further into his embrace, hoping that he wouldn’t shy away from explaining why he’s bringing this up now.

“I know. Fett told me.”

“Did he tell you why?” Mando replies instantly and you furrow your eyebrows even though you know he can’t see you.

“N-no.”

“I- I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Ever since the last time I saw you, I’ve been at war with myself, with what I was allowing to happen. I knew you weren’t to blame with the cauterizer but I couldn’t accept my heart letting you...maker, I can see why you said this is difficult.” He chuckles nervously and you hold your breath in anticipation because he isn’t, he can’t be admitting what you think he is.

“W-what’re you saying Mando?”

“I’m saying I need you cyar’ika. I’m saying, I’ve been dreaming of you for the past 53 sleeping cycles. I’m saying, I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you after Pasaana.” You don’t realize how long you’ve been holding your breath until you exhale against him and Mando pulls away, keeping his helmet aimed to the floor as he continues. “And if- if you can give me a chance, I’d like to- I’d like to...well, I’m not exactly sure what you enjoy doing but I’d like to do it with you. You don't have to give me an answer now. I know I’m being selfish and I know that I- I don’t belong with you because you haven't seen color yet. But please, please consider this. Consider me.” His voice is much more reserved, lower even, than before and you realize it’s because he was probably considering not telling you up until now.

Your heart breaks at his last words because this was never something you thought you’d have to deal with. But looking back at the last few days, no matter how confusing or strange they were, you can’t help but admit how alive you’ve felt.

You know he doesn’t expect you to answer him right away and you know you should take some time to think over what he’s asking of you.

So when you lay both of your hands on his chest and ask him to look at you, Mando thinks you’re going to reject him and you feel his muscles tense when you step closer to him.

“I do...I- I am considering this Mando, I have been for the past few nights if I’m being honest...it’s actually part of the reason why I couldn’t look at you today. I woke up with this unusual thought, well, unusual to me. It’s been so long since I stopped thinking about seeing color and directed all of my attention to something, or rather, someone else.” You smile up into the visor and slowly reach to rest your hand on the space between his helmet and his cowl. The mere touch of your skin shakes him to his core and Mando has to clench his fists so he doesn’t lose control over himself.

“Today was the first time I woke up not caring if I hadn’t seen color because- because being with you, and- and talking with you and staying on this ship with you felt like I’ve already seen color. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do...if I do, but I know that I’d like to give this, us, a shot.”

“You...you do mesh’la?” He almost sounds like a young child asking his parents for permission to have something and when you nod at him, Mando can’t hold back anymore. He wraps his arms around you once more, and carries you off the ground, smiling to himself when he hears you giggling at his dramatic display of affection.

He pulls away and you think he’s about to say something but a message comes through to the ship and Mando apologizes quickly before he ascends to the cockpit. You stay planted in your spot for what feels like hours before you hear Mando telling you that you’re nearing Pasaana. When you get to the cockpit and take your usual seat, Mando rises from his chair and approaches you, kneeling down at your feet to buckle your belt easier and ensure that you’re safe. It’s a small gesture but you know he’s conveying a thousand emotions in that little tap to make sure that you’re buckled in properly and when you smile at him, he reaches over and pushes a stray hair behind your ears before he returns to his pilot chair.

You don’t feel the turbulence once, mostly because you’re too busy replaying the brief moment over and over again in your mind until you’re sure you’ve committed it to memory.

Mando has to tap on your shoulder twice once he lands, and you nod in affirmation when he asks if you were feeling alright. The two of you make your way out of the ship just as Slave I lands. When you glance at Mando to ask him about the argument between him and Fett, you find him already staring at you. You smile at him and watch as he looks away apologetically. Maybe he really was as nervous as you.

“You’re coming along then?” Fett says to Mando as you make your way towards the desert and you pretend to focus on the dozens of kites flying in the air, unsure whether you were meant to be a part of this conversation or not.

Mando replies in Mando’a and you look to Fennec to ask her something about the kites to try and ignore the two men who may or may not have been talking about you. You’re about to ask Fennec about the colors of the flying toys when Mando steps in between the two of you and takes hold of your upper arm, pushing you ahead of the others so he could get a private moment with you.

“Is- are you okay?”

“Fine. He’s being difficult.” His curt answer lets you know that he wasn’t going to reveal what that whole ordeal was about so you nod and try to fall in step with him. You’re about to ask him about the colors of the kites when Mando leans over and whispers in your ears.

“Those two over there are red, like the color of the twin suns on Tatooine when they’re just setting. And, that one over there, the large one flying higher than the rest, it’s a dark blue...like the night sky.” You try to not let the proximity of his body affect you but the more he tells you of the colors, the closer you want him to get to you.

“That smaller one is light green, like many of the plants on Felucia.”

“I’ve never been to Felucia.” You admit to him as you keep your gaze on the kites, trying to differentiate between the colors but barely noticing a difference between the grays.

“I can take you there.” He offers with ease and you look into the visor and smile at him. “I’d like that.”

You can vaguely feel their eyes on you but you don’t bother to pay attention to them, wanting to spend as much time with Mando as you could. Once you reach the edge of the festival, you thank the Aki-Aki that approach you and wrap a necklace of flowers around you. You laugh when they reluctantly look at Mando and he sighs heavily at your death stare before he leans down and allows one of them to place a necklace around his cowl as well.

“Hey Mando?”

“Hmm.”

“Do the necklaces look the same?” Mando turns around and sees Fett and Fennec look away from the two of you. He waits until they walk the opposite direction before he looks at you and takes hold of your necklace.

“Yours have lighter colors...yellow, orange, white, pink and a few light greens here and there. Mine is darker. This is purple, and these are blue...and all of these are dark red and brown.” He points to each of the flowers and tells you its color, never once noticing the way you’re looking at him and hanging onto every single word he says.

When you hear the sound of distant music playing, you take Mando’s hand and make your way through the crowd, telling him that you want to see what they’re doing on the other side of the festival. Mando says nothing as you pull him through, only responding when you directly ask him about the color of the caravan fabrics and laughing when you joke about how he technically blends into the surroundings. And when you come across a large crate that you can vaguely see some designs on, Mando offers to make room for it on his ship so you can get it. It’s a long argument between the two of you but he wins in the end, telling you that he genuinely wanted to gift you something that you can remember him with and might enjoy some day. You almost cry at the unspoken implications of his words but when he shrugs his shoulders and hands over the credits, you quietly thank him and let the seller know that you’ll be taking it before you leave.

Over the next few hours, Mando never leaves your side once, even when you tell him that he should enjoy his time as well. You notice how he changes the subject every time you ask him to explore by himself and giggle when he responds with an opinion on some of the color combinations. It’s quite comical to be in the presence of such an intimidating individual who’s complaining about how ‘that blue doesn’t go too well with this red.’

As you’re making your way through the different caravans, you notice a table displaying a dozen large cloaks. Turning to Mando, you see that he’s busy asking one of the sellers if they have similar shirts but in darker colors. You walk to the table on the other side and look through the capes to try and differentiate between them. When you realize that it’s of no use, you hold one up and call for him to ask if he should buy a new one.

“Hey Mando, maybe you should get this instead of-”

The question dies in your throat when Mando glances away from the vendor and holds your gaze. Your brain refuses to catch up with what your eyes are seeing for what feels like an eternity and your hand flies to your chest and clench it tightly as your heart skips a beat at the sight in front of you. It takes a few seconds for you to inhale deeply when you realize that you aren’t breathing and you feel your heart skip a beat when you watch Mando strut towards you. He drops what he’s holding in his hands and takes a few strides in your way, not caring to hold back as he wraps one arm around your waist while the other rests on your neck and tilts your head so he could take a better look at you. You still can’t wrap your mind around what just happened and you’re not sure what he’s saying until he lightly shakes you in his arms and raises his voice to grab your attention.

Maker, his voice was unlike anything you’ve ever heard. It was hoarse yet calming, the kind of calming that one could only dream of feeling.

“Mesh’la, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice shakes you to your core and your eyes shift down to his lips, tilting your head to the side when you follow the scruff peppering his handsome features and memorize the different colors of his hair. Gods, you couldn’t put a name to any of them but you knew you liked the combination of the light and dark outlining his sharp jaw.

“I- I don’t...maker. You’re...you’re-” You’re unable to form a coherent thought and as you reach out to touch his cheeks, Mando clenches his jaw but doesn’t dare to move a muscle. He realizes that this is the first time you see him without his helmet and he finds himself praying that you find him, at the very least, okay to look at. His hold on you eases when he feels the palm of your hand caress the side of his face before you push his hair aside. Mando nuzzles into your touch and he shuts his eyes to commit this moment to memory. The last time someone was this gentle with him broke his heart, but he found himself longing for a similar feeling with you. Only if it was you.

“N-no...please. Look at me.” Your whispered request drowns out the music of the festival and Mando’s eyes flutter open immediately. He looks down at you and can’t help but shift his focus to your parted lips as you try to speak again.

“Mando? What...what color are your eyes?” You hold your breath as Mando’s gaze softens when he meets your eyes again. He doesn’t know why you’re asking but he answers you anyway.

“Brown.” His voice breaks but then you’re smiling up at him as you reach for his cheek with your other hand and rest it on his heated skin. He’s not sure what brought about any of this but he can’t care less, not when you were here, in his arms, touching him so gently and looking at him like he was the only one that mattered across the galaxy.

“Hmm...they’re a beautiful color.” The admission sends a shiver down his spine and he doesn’t register the meaning behind your words until he sees your expression change to one of panicked shock.

Oh.

“You can see color?” Mando doesn’t intend to sound so accusative but his tone must have been harsh because you nod and snatch your hands away from him as if he’s burned you. You don’t dare look anywhere else as the reality of the situation settles in your mind.

It’s him. It’s been him all along.

“I- I can see color.”

Mando watches as you blink in confusion before you look to the side. You do a double-take when you see the vibrant colors of the festival and Mando steps away as you walk around him and approach a caravan hanging clothing of all color gradations. You ignore everything else as you softly trace the different colors and patterns on the garments before you walk over to the next little cart and stare at the vibrant jewelry. There’s so much to take in and you forget for a moment where you are. When you look away and turn your eyes to the sky, you can’t help but smile at seeing the kites gliding through the air. You don’t know which one you want to focus on because they’re all so pretty so you stand in there for a few moments to take it all in.

It’s not until you feel a presence next to you that you remember how you came to see this new world. When you begin to ring your fingers anxiously, Mando takes a step towards you and takes your hands in his palms.

“Cyar’ika, do you need anything?” He doesn’t know what to say and your lungs refuse to expand when you finally look at him again.

You spent years conjuring up different scenarios in your head to try and anticipate what to expect when you finally meet your soulmate. But standing here, in front of Mando, in the middle of the Festival of the Ancestors, you realize that this compares to nothing.

“I- I don’t…”

“If you want me to go-”

“No! N-no, please. Stay here with me. Stay here with...me.” Y

ou tighten your hold around his hands to prevent him from leaving. Mando nods and turns back to the caravan he was standing by to grab his helmet. You say nothing as he carries it and looks at you, but your eyes must give you away because Mando throws you a quick smile as he keeps it on his side and leads you through the festival.

Neither of you discuss the new development but you don’t ignore it either. You continue to steal glances from each other every now and then, especially when Mando leans over and tells you about each of the colors. Except this time, he doesn’t tell you so you could imagine what they look like. He tells you so you could memorize what each pigment is and begin to recognize them on your own. It’s almost as if nothing changed with how often Mando describes to you the gradations and patterns, but you know that this was far from the truth. And with the way Mando breathes softly against your forehead when he leans down to talk to you, you sense that he knows this as well.

He’s much more forward with his touches now, perhaps even a little shameless too. Hours ago, he would apologize if he pushed you by accident or shifted closer to you. But now, he was walking with you with one hand on your lower back and he would stand longer behind you as you asked about a new color shade.

As the sun slowly sets across the sky, you turn to Mando and wait for him to finish his drink before you ask him about the others.

“Do you mind if we don’t tell the others just yet?” You watch as Mando’s expression falls and you shake your head immediately so he doesn’t misunderstand the reason behind your request.

“Not because I don’t want them to know about us, I- maker, it’s just that I’ve experienced so many changes in the span of a few days and I want to make sense of things without...without someone asking me too many questions about what I’m feeling. I want to let this sink in? And- and I’d like it if it’s just you and me. Please.” Mando is quiet for a while and you think that maybe it was the wrong thing to say to him.

“Us?”

You can’t hold back your laughter at the soft question and you almost fall over from how hard you’re giggling at him.

“That’s what you took away from everything I just said?” You sigh in relief when he mirrors you and chuckles in return.

“I’m sorry cyar’ika, I- of course. Whatever you need from me.” He’s a man of few words but he somehow knows what to say to calm your nerves.

“Thank you Mando.” You say as you turn your attention back to the setting sun to watch the colors change across the sky.

“Din Djarin.” He whispers to you after a long while, and you meet his eyes briefly, your furrowed eyebrows silently asking him what he was referring to.

“My name is Din Djarin.” His gaze is piercing and you find it much more intense now that you know for a fact that they’re your favorite color. “So you can start calling the other guy Mando again.” Your heart skips a beat when you see dimples appear on his cheeks as he grins at his own joke, and nudges your shoulder so you could relax into him again. You say nothing and lean against his shoulder, resting your head on his beskar armor and enjoying the cold sensation against your heated skin.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there in your bubble and watch the festival as it continues on for, but you’re interrupted when Fett approaches you and clears his throat to catch your attention.

“We’re leaving.” The Mandalorian says as he watches you closely. You think you’re being subtle studying his armor but Fett notices how you continue to look between him and Din’s and he tilts his head to the side as he turns to his friend and barely holds back from smirking at him.

Din nods and lets them know that you would be returning with him back to Mos Eisley. Fennec is about to ask why the two of you are acting differently when Fett shakes his head as he looks at you.

“Until next time princess,” Din’s posture straightens when he hears the nickname and narrows his eyes at the man trying to get a rise out of him.

“Usenye.” You snap out of your haze when you hear Din growl at his brother and wave goodbye to him and Fennec as they walk away from you.

“Is everything okay between the two of you?”

“Yes sweet girl, don’t worry about it.” You flush at the pet name and Din notices how you shiver at his touch when he raises your chin to take a better look at you. He slowly leans towards you, never once breaking eye contact as he grows closer to your lips. “Is- is this okay?” He asks and refuses to move a muscle until you respond to him. You’re already breathless and he has barely touched you but you muster up the courage to answer him.

“Y-yes.”

He smirks when your hoarse voice fans over his cheeks and as much as you wish for him to take whatever he wants, you’re thankful that he’s being patient with you and ensuring that you’re comfortable.

“Sweet girl,” Din whispers as he finally captures your lips in a chaste kiss. It’s at this precise moment that the festivities begin to pick up but you don’t notice the fireworks filling the skies or the music growing louder. You shut your eyes and hold onto Din’s wrists as he moves against you and deepens the kiss. When you gasp at his ministrations, Din’s hold on your neck tightens and he pushes you back until you lay on the blanket he set down for you. You moan as he slips his tongue past your lips and swirls his tongue across yours. Fisting your hands into his cowl, you try to pull him closer but cry out in pain when the beskar armor digs into your hips.

“I’m- I’m sorry mesh’la. I didn’t mean to-”

“No no it’s...it’s just your armor. I promise, I- I liked this.” You gulp nervously when you see an amused expression take over his handsome features.

“Is that so?” You don’t have time to react to his question, squealing in surprise when he suddenly stands up and pulls you along with him.

“What- where are we going?” You ask him as he pulls you through the multitude of visitors and Aki-Aki. He stops abruptly and speaks to one of the natives before he pushes you into the caravan standing behind him.

“Din, we can’t just-”

“I asked for his permission. Don’t you know, all of these are for visitors who want to stay the night.” You’re about to ask him why you’re staying the night out here instead of his ship but you can’t seem to form the question because you see Din taking his armor off.

It’s mesmerizing watching him take each beskar piece apart but when he’s down to just his clothes, it occurs to you that this night might be going somewhere else. Your nervousness must show on your face because Din walks towards you slowly and takes your hands in his. He kisses your wrists before leans over and rests his forehead against yours.

“Don’t worry cyar’ika, I’m not… I won’t- we’re not here to do anything other than talk. I didn’t feel comfortable taking my beskar off out there so-”

“I trust you Din.” You interrupt his word-vomit and lead him to one of the corners of the tent so you could lay down next to each other. When you rest your head on the pillow and finally look up, you’re met with a small opening in the ceiling of the caravan that gives you a perfect view of the blue night sky lighting up with fireworks.

When Din finally seats himself next to you, you whine in irritation and pull him down until he’s on his back next to you. Din never once lets go of your hand and he occasionally raises the palm of your hand to his lips to kiss across the skin.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look away from the fireworks when you speak, not wanting to miss seeing any of the vibrant shades of reds and yellows as they broke through the clouds.

“Anything sweet girl.”

“Why did you take off your helmet? I thought your Creed prevented you from showing your face.” You hope the question isn’t too insensitive or private, and when Din takes longer than you like to respond, you finally turn to him to apologize. But Din cuts you off before you can even say anything, keeping his focus on your wrist to distract him long enough so he could respond.

“I had a son once, well, he wasn’t mine physically but, he was mine. He was a foundling by Creed and I was tasked with bringing him back to his kind. It’s a long story that I could tell you another time but...when I had to give him up, I couldn’t bear the thought of him never seeing me without the helmet. I needed him to see me, to know what I willingly gave up and what I had to do to ensure his safety. I’d taken off my helmet once before and even thought it was my choice, I didn’t want to. But in that moment, before I watched him go, I decided that he was more important than my Creed. He was...he was everything to me. And it took a long time to realize that personal connections and relationships weren’t a weakness, they were a strength. My strength.” You’re not sure when you turned to your side and nuzzled into his embrace. But you couldn’t focus on anything else but him and the way his eyes twinkled in sadness when he mentioned his kid. It was a shocking admission and you never once thought of him in such a role but looking back at the last few days, you didn’t find it impossible. He was kind, quiet, sweet, adn patient.

“I keep my helmet on almost all the time but I only take it off around people I trust. I’m telling you this because- because I trust you. I trust you cyar’ika. I took it off earlier today because I wanted you to see me...and also because I was trying to pick out a gift for you. I figured if I didn’t preface it with anything that it would be less dramatic but- little did I know.” The indirect mention of the not-so-little change you experienced earlier today makes you smile.

“If I knew you needed to look into my eyes for you to see color, I would have taken off the helmet the first time I saw you.” He trails his nose across your cheek before he kisses your eyes and your forehead, smiling down at you when he sees how relaxed you feel in his arms.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Your response surprises him and he pulls away and looks at you quizzically.

“I- I saw you before my eyes saw you, Din. My heart chose you before my soul did. I...I think I knew when I saw you again…I think a part of me knew that you were it for me and that it didn’t matter if I didn’t see color with you because- because you were...you’re perfect.” You feel a weight lift off of your chest when you finally confess to him what you’ve been feeling for the past few days and you shift impossibly closer to him to let him know that you were telling the truth.

“I’m not perfect mesh’la.” His laugh is self-deprecating and he only stops when he feels your hand slip around his back and hold onto his shirt like your life depended on it.

“You are to me.” It’s perhaps too forward for him and Din doesn’t know how to react or respond to your confession so he nods at you and nuzzles into your neck to avoid any more of your intense emotions.

“You haven’t told me yet what your favorite color is.” He tries to change the topic, not expecting your response to shoot through his chest and into his heart like a blaster.

“Brown obviously.” You answer instantly and without hesitation.

“Why ‘obviously’?”

“Well, it’s-it’s your eye-color Din. What other color could be my favorite?”

His heart ceases to beat at your adamant reply and he pulls away again to look into your eyes to see if you were teasing him. Instead, he finds something swimming in your eyes that would have terrified his soul had he met you years ago.

“Ner kar’ta,” Din moans into your ear as he rests up on his elbow before molding his lips with yours again. You don't know what any of the Mando’a means but you have a pretty good idea of what he’s trying to convey in that moment and you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you. When he lays back down and pulls you into his side, you can’t help but take one last look at the night sky, finding the stars shimmering behind the multitude of fireworks. You watch the different colors blend with each other, and you almost cry when you see the yellows and greens and blues mixing so beautifully together to create new gradients across the galaxy.

But none of them compared to the color of Din’s eyes. And you go to sleep dreaming of the moment those kind, dark, brown orbs captured your soul and whispered affections into your heart.

Translations

Mesh’la - beautiful Cyar’ika - beloved/darling Ad’ika - little one Usenye - go away Ner kar’ta - my heart

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @mouthymandalorian @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul

Din Djarin: @a--1--1--3 @tanzthompson

[luckyasfuck]

maybe i just wanna be yours [k. bakugou]

A CAMBOY AU SERIES - PARTS 5, [6], 7, ...

pairing // katsuki x female reader

tw // cussing, smut

warnings for this part // masturbation, bondage, sensory deprivation, use of toys, voyuerism kink

theme // enemies to lovers au, camboy!katsu au, college student!katsu and reader au, no quirk au

keys // y/n

words // 1.4k

a/n // wont be updating for a while :((

previous part I masterlist

“no funny business, blondie.”

for some reason, the librarian decided to close the library early. an emergency, the staff said. it was already closed and locked up when the duo got there with none of the other teachers having the key. they said the librarian left without warning and apologized to the pissed off students and offered the idea of one of them going to the others house to study if they really wanted to. and that’s how y/n ended up here, sitting criss-cross on katsuki’s living room. the blonde sat right in front of her, preparing and scheduling the things they would be studying.

the competition was nearing and they both really needed to study. none of them want to admit but it is a bit easier studying together, both of them had their advantages and disadvantages on each subject and with each other, it was just... easier. “well, if you keep staring at me like that i won’t be able to stop myself.” katsuki looked up and smirked before going back to the papers splayed out in front of him. their mini little library session got them uncomfy to use the library at that time, right after that happened.

y/n was sure of one thing: she still hated his guts. sure, his cock felt awesome but that doesn’t push away the fact that he’s her biggest competition. there’s no reply as she glared right at him, rolling her eyes at what he just said. “you don’t record here?” and with that, the mood completely shifts. for katsuki, the tension grows and the room suddenly feels stuffy as he shifts from where he’s sitting. “what kind of mood up-lifter question is that?”

“who said i was trying to lift the mood? it’s a genuine question.” y/n glared, seemingly not bothered with what she just asked. does she ask questions like this on the daily? goddamn. katsuki gulped, “no. it’s upstairs.” with a quick glance at the girl, he sees her looking at his small flight of stairs. he sighs and looks back down, keeping himself occupied. “you know, you own a lot of vibrators.” y/n could feel the mood shift too as she felt a thin layer of sweat cover her neck slowly. 

“can we not talk about this-” quickly finishing up the papers, katsuki rolls his eyes and looks up, only to flinch back at the sight of y/n’s face meters away from his. the tension grew stronger and his heart speeds up. in nervousness. he reassures himself, looking away from her eyes. “i heard you like challenges.” a soft hand brings him back to her gaze. “here’s a challenge for you: no fucking, blondie.” soft hot breaths fanned at his lips as she said that, the warmth of her hand disappearing as she took the papers she needed and slinking back into her spot, reading innocently through the introduction page as if nothing happened.

the throbbing inside his pants brings katsuki back, trying to even out his breathing. this goes unnoticed by y/n as she started to write down the questions she didn’t understand in hopes the boy could help her later. eyes spanning to the papers, she notices the tent in his pants right before he hides. sweat starts to form on katsuki’s forehead as he took a paper from the stack and y/n feels herself throb, cussing mentally at how hard this “challenge” was gonna be for her too. “fix it, i’ll let you off this time.” she doesn’t dare lock eyes with him, opting to pretend to answer and write notes instead. 

in seconds, katsuki is tumbling over his own feet to the bathroom, leaving her all alone. the door is slammed open and left open as he sat on the toilet, palming himself through his clothes before stripping them down to his ankles. he grabs his tip, thumb running through his slit as he let out a silent moan. meanwhile, a shiver runs through y/n’s spine when she hears it. the sound is not muffled, so maybe he left the door open. on purpose. that fucker. it wasn’t fair, she couldn’t just plop down on his couch and get off to his moans, now could she? she had a decent amount of self-respect not to do that.

the image of her made his mind hazy, how she looked when she was that close, how she’d look drooling all over his cock, how she’d look when she’d fucked out with his cum dripping out of her slowly. the quivering of his legs don’t stop as he neared his orgasm, moaning uncontrollably now. he totally forgets that he’s brought the girl over, a hand tugging gently at his balls. “ah~ f-feels so good- fuck!” in a second, he’s creaming all over his hand at the thought of y/n. like he’s done probably everyday of this week. 

the house goes silent but katsuki still hasn’t come out of the bathroom because the shaking of his legs never ceased. y/n was left in the living room, wetness pooling in her panties, making her uncomfortable. she’s sure she’s read this paragraph already, but her thoughts can’t function properly, the audible sounds from the bathroom clouding her mind with dirty thoughts about him. 

the sound of the bathroom door closing echoes around the silent house, heavy footsteps being heard from above. assuming that katsuki was headed back, y/n gulps and tries to focus on studying. it’s been minutes and she still hasn’t understood a word, and he hasn’t come back. wanting to get this bullshit over with, she stand up with a huff, heading upstairs. 

the bathroom door is closed, there are two rooms down the small hallway and one of them was labeled storage room. the other room is probably his bedroom, the door is left slightly opened and y/n sighed. she knocks on the bathroom door, no answer. 

“woman, i’m over here.”

a slightly muffled voice originating from the bedroom said. this felt like a horror movie. y/n was sweating underneath her hoodie, the cold air seemingly doing nothing to help her as she approached the bedroom with heavy, angry steps. “what in fucks name are you doing, we’re supposed to be studying-”

and there lied bakugou katsuki. all of his clothes were stripped off as he sat comfortably in his bed, leaning on the headboard and stroking his cock slowly. his toes curl and his cock twitches as the sight of her, noticing the way she rubs her thighs together for some sort of pleasure to be sent to her cunt. she didn’t move, she stayed there in shock, staring right at him. staring right at his cock. the muscles on his stomach flexed slightly as he started to stroke himself faster, but he wills himself to stop for a second. 

the blonde stands up from his spot and jumps out the bed, walking over to y/n. in a swift movement, she’s pinned to the wall, toned muscles keeping her in place. she tries to look at anything besides him- he’s naked, for fucks sake. but she can’t. not when his face is centimeters away from hers, doing the trick she did not too long ago. “as long as my dick isn’t shoved inside you, we’re not fucking. right? right. now be a good girl, get on that fucking bed and let me do whatever i please with you.”

wrists tied and vision taken away by a blindfold, y/n whined slightly as she was stripped of her panties. katsuki’s hand roamed all around her body, caressing her boobs and gripping her jaw. soon, the warmth disappeared as he pulled away, leaving her there. shuffling is heard at the corner of the room before he spoke up. “i would put you on live but other people don’t deserve to hear your pretty love sounds and that sweet fucking pussy.” slight buzzing is heard and it grows louder and louder as he approached her.

“only i fucking get to savor that.”

a hand shoves y/n’s legs apart, a vibrator instantly shoved up against her sensitive clit making her flinch, trying to move away from the toy. this makes katsuki chuckle a bit, shoving it even harder on her bundle of nerves. “i bought this one yesterday, i was gonna try it on myself but you decided to show up.” he licked a stripe up her cheek as she whined and moaned, trembling slightly. “’s too sensitive~” the female slurred, mouth wide open in pleasure.

“too sensitive? too fucking bad.” the vibrator is moved all around her pussy before it’s shoved inside her hole and put to the highest setting. unseen tears well up in her eyes as she cries out, hands pulling at the rope that kept them in place and head lolling back. “let’s reverse the roles,” katsuki pulled the chair from his desk, propping it up on the edge of the bed.

“this time, i’ll be the one watching you.”

next part [ not yet available! ]

taglist

@princesspeach-00 @tamakisropebunny @bakugous-mamas @ll379333 @j1-914 @gazelle-des-pres @trashpandainahat @dickinson-67 @victoriaestein @graybabyxx @apex-legends-dreams @bokuwhorez @karicho @marinwestward @fondontinta @ambi0311 @aghase-nct91312 @toxicempath

[sunshineseung]

Journal Part 1 // Jeongin

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 2.8k 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!virgin!jeongin, invasion of privacy (not the cardi b album), smut within the smut??? [handjob, begging, “mommy”], mentions of voyeurism, light dom/sub themes, “mommy” kink, teasing, stripping, blowjob/oral (m!receiving), no swallowing

☀️ | synopsis: Yang Jeongin babysits your two children, and he’s always been the most polite boy you’ve ever met. Unfortunately for him, he leaves his secret journal at your house one evening, and your curiosity got the better of you.

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

Being a single mother was never in your plans. After your husband left you with two kids, your world nearly fell apart. You went from being a stay-at-home mother to working two jobs. The daycare took care of your dayshift, but your night shifts were harder to arrange a babysitter for. That is until you offered the position to your next-door neighbor’s son. They complained about how he was in desperate need of a job, being in his first year of college with no work history. Your offer was perfect for them, and Jeongin was happy to fill the position. He was always the nicest kid, and you could see his eyes light up at the idea of working for you, or more likely, at the concept of getting paid. 

He’d come over to your house at 5:00pm, book bag on his back, ready to do homework while he watched your kids play. Your two daughters were quick to warm up to him, and the rest is history. He was the best babysitter you could ask for, and even if you had to stay late at work, he was always understanding. Jeongin was a perfect kid with good grades and a good heart, and you’d always see him writing in a journal. When you asked him about it, he’d say he’s “writing a story for class.” It was always the same excuse, day after day. You paid no mind, more worried about the status of your kids after you’ve left them with a teenager for hours. 

Jeongin was very protective of his special journal. It was just a regular composition book, but whatever he wrote in it was sacred to him. He’d hide it from you when you walked by and hold it close to his face as he wrote. Whatever he wrote was his little secret, but if it’s for a class like he said, it can’t be that terrible, right?

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

Returning home from a late shift, you see Jeongin settled on the couch, sleeping with his phone in his hand. His head was back and his mouth was wide open, snoring loudly. You nudge him to wake him up, but he doesn’t budge. All you can do is scoff at him and check on your daughters in their room just as sound asleep as their babysitter. Going back to the living room, Jeongin’s turned to his side, snoring quieter than before. You sit right at his feet and get comfortable, kicking your feet up on the coffee table and turning on the TV. When your heel lands on the table, you kick over Jeongin’s journal, the book falling to the ground and opening to a blank page. 

Your eyes dart to Jeongin and back at the book, and you’re mentally debating whether or not to look through it. You’ve hardly talked to the boy aside from a few conversations about school in a “back in my day” type dialogue. This would be a major invasion of privacy, but there’s no way it’s a diary. He writes in it constantly, how would it be a diary? 

You pick up the notebook, looking at the cover that read “Yang Jeongin Journal 1” on the title lines. Skipping to the one of the first few pages, you read a couple lines, which turns into reading a paragraph, and later an entire page. The more you read, the more you begin to understand why he hid it from you while boldly writing in front of you. Your jaw hangs slack as your eyes glaze over the lewd words written on the page. Your mind is blown imaging the sweet boy Jeongin imagining these scenarios, especially when you realize that you’re the other character. 

Her hand feels like heaven wrapped around my cock, stroking me up and down as I quickly become breathless from the sensation. She looks into my eyes, staring me down like a predator watching her prey. Her touch quickly becomes overwhelming as my dick starts to twitch in her hand, begging to cum despite her only beginning to play with me. I thrust into her hand, hips quaking as I seat myself again. “Please let me cum, mommy.” Y/n laughs and nods her head, lowering her lips to my cock, ready to catch my release on her gorgeous face.

Seeing your name on the paper makes your heart jump. All of these dirty thoughts that Jeongin pens in his journal are about you. As you shuffle through the pages, your name is practically highlighted to your eyes. Every few pages, there’s a description of your body or what you wear, occasionally an imagine of you undressing in your bedroom window that happens to face Jeongin’s bedroom. Although you always keep your curtains shut, Jeongin’s writing describes him hoping that you leave your curtains open to put on a show for him, undressing slowly until you notice Jeongin jerking off in the house across the fence. 

You slam his journal shut. You’ve seen enough. Laying it down on the table as it was before, you attempt to calm yourself and watch the TV you’ve been craving to watch since you got off work. Despite your best efforts, your mind begins to wonder to Jeongin, sleeping quietly beside you, and how ecstatic he’d be if you’d reenact some of the scenes he wrote in his special journal. 

Jeongin groans and stretches, finally waking up from his nap. You tap his leg to signal that you’re home, and he nearly jumps out of his skin feeling you near him. He coughs as he sits up, pressing down his shirt to get out any wrinkles and fixing his hair that looks like a bird’s nest. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” You laugh, smiling brightly at him as if you weren’t just reading his book of sexual fantasies. “Did you have a nice nap?” 

“Yes, yes!” Jeongin fumbles over his words, worried that you’re about to fire him for sleeping on the job. “I’m so sorry! I promise I didn’t fall asleep until after the girls went to sleep.” He bows his head, sincerely apologizing for something any college student would reasonably do once work was over.

“No worries. I’m sure my girls were in good hands.” You reach for his journal and hand it to him, and he begins to turn a bright shade of red. He knows what’s in that book, but he assumes you’re still naive. “I almost used your little book as a footrest, so put this somewhere safe, okay?”

“Oh, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to leave it out. I was just writing in it until I fell asleep.” He grabs his bookbag and shoves it in gently. 

“Wow, you write in that thing a lot.” You cross your legs and you face him, totally ignoring the television show at this point. “How long have you had that assignment for class?” 

You clearly caught him off guard. He seems confused before he remembers his lie, widening his eyes once he realizes that he’s about to dig himself into a hole. “Oh, it isn’t just one assignment. It’s for my creative writing class.” 

“Ah, I had a creative writing class too.” If he was going to lie to your face, it was only fair that you rebuttal with another lie. “Can I read some of what you wrote? Maybe give you some critique?”

Jeongin’s mind went blank. He broke out in a cold sweat. If he lets you read it, his life will be over, but on the other hand, if he doesn’t let you read it, it will look sketchy since it’s just supposed to be innocent writing for a freshman level college class. 

“Uh, it’s a little personal.” He’s adamantly avoiding eye contact with you, looking anywhere but your face. “I don’t think that would be appropriate since you’re my next door neighbor.” 

“Not appropriate, huh?” You can’t help but smirk, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the sideways smile grow on your face. His heart begins to dip as he finally starts to connect the dots, thinking that his job, no, his existence as your neighbor could end within a matter of minutes. “What’s so inappropriate about wanting your neighbor, who is over ten years older than you might I add, to sit on your face and call you her baby boy? Hm?” 

Jeongin is frozen in place. He’s been outed. All of his wildest sexual fantasies have been revealed to the woman he wants to do them with. Knowing you’ve read his journal at least a little bit, he can’t help but get hard under his joggers, mentally cursing himself for wearing them once he notices your eyes drift to the tent in his pants. 

“Sorry, but curiosity killed the cat on this one.” You scoot closer to him, taking his hands in yours and rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand to warm him up. “I can’t believe my neighbor’s cute little son grew up to be such a dirty minded boy that can’t keep his thoughts in his head, but has to put them on paper so he can read them and imagine his neighbor fuck him again and again.”

“How much did you read?” Still with his head down, he squeaks out the question that’s been running through his mind since you started teasing him with your words. 

“I read enough.” You remove one of your hands from the hold and perk his chin up so he has no choice but to look at you. His eyes are sparkling with lust as you’re just centimeters from his face. “Tell me, Jeongin, what do you want me to do to you?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

He pauses to ponder and collect his thoughts. Everything he’s ever imagined is running through his read: the pet names, the toys, the punishments, the pleasure. It’s all too much, and he can hardly speak another word before you pet his face, holding his head in your palm as he shyly presses his cheek into your hand. 

“M-mommy,” he had never said that word out loud to you before, “can I strip for you?”

“All for me?” You smile, gladly accepting this offer. “Go ahead, baby boy. Show mommy what she’s been missing.”

He removes himself from you and stands up, timidly facing you as you lounge back on your couch. His shirt goes first, being neatly tossing onto the couch where he once sat. His fingers fiddle with the hem of his sweatpants before he pulls them down, showing you his bulge that’s painfully pressed against his tight boxer briefs. He’s bigger than you expected him to be, but that’s welcomed in your eyes.

You hold your hand out, stopping him before he can pull down his underwear. Standing up with a groan, you walk around his body, eyeing him up like he’s a buffet. One of your hands gently grabs at his ass, squeezing the skin between your fingertips and making him whine. You bite your lip when you hear him, sounding cute as a button despite the situation. From behind, you pull him back to you and run your hands around his body to feel his toned abs, finally moving upwards to tease his erect nipples. You feel him take a deep breath to calm himself, but when one hand pinches his nipple, he whines again, louder this time.

“Quiet, baby. You don’t want to wake the girls, do you?” When you whisper in his ear, all of the thoughts leave his head. You’ve hardly touched him and he’s dumb, and as embarassing at it is, he loves feeling helpless in your arms. “I haven’t seen another man like this in ages. You’re exactly what I need right now, Jeongin.” 

“Y-you need me?” He can hardly believe that you’re just as horny over him as he is for you, although his longer dates back far longer than just an hour or so. You hum in his ear as your hands slide down his torso to his cock, palming him over his underwear. He hisses and moans from the lightest stimulation. His reaction to all of your touches is perfect, and you can’t wait to see how he reacts when you’re riding him or sucking him off, although you could do anything to him and he’d be thankful. 

You remove your hand from his cock and pull down his underwear, finally seeing his length in all its glory. He gasps from how fast you undress him, but at the same time, he loves being on display for you. As much as he wants to hide his erection out of reflex, he holds his arms to the side tightly, allowing you to come in front of him and take in the view. 

“Jeongin, are you a virgin?” As embarrassing at it is, he nods and holds his breath, waiting for you to answer. “Aw, my pretty little boy’s never been fucked? That must be why you’re so infatuated with me.” 

You get down on your knees so you’re eye-level with his cock, now red and angry, begging to be sucked. Although your skills might be a little rusty, if your ex-husband’s reviews were any indication, you were about to blow this kid’s mind. With a little lick, he’s whining and staring down at you as you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock before moving back again and wrapping your hand around him like he’s always imagined. 

“Do you want to sit down?” Your voice sounded so calm and gentle, it was honestly shocking to Jeongin since he could hardly speak at all. He nods, and you take him to sit back on the couch. He spreads his legs for you to sit in between, once again jerking him off with one hand while the other plays with his balls. You kiss the tip before taking his member into your mouth, bobbing your head only around the tip. 

Jeongin’s convinced himself that he’s dreaming when he looks down to see your face moving up and down the very top of his cock. It feels so good, better than he could have ever imagined, and surely better than his hand. As you slowly start to take him more into your mouth, he’s clutching onto the couch cushion for dear life. He gets close very fast, tapping his thigh with one hand to try to convey that he’s about to cum. Quickly catching on, you take him fully into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat, almost making you gag. 

After a few twitches of his cock, you feel him cumming down your throat as he moans out expletives from the overwhelming sensation. When he’s finally done, you pull your mouth off of him and let his cum drip out of your mouth and onto your chest, which was still covered by your button-down work shirt. When Jeongin finally opens his eyes, he’s greeted by you lazily resting your head on his thigh, looking up at him, waiting for him to come back down to Earth. 

“Ah, thank you, mommy.” In his post-nut state, the name he’d given you leaves his lips more hesitantly, but he knows that’s what you want to hear. Looking up at the clock, he notices that it’s past his self-determined bed time, but he’s still dazed enough to not care, at least for a moment. “That felt so good.” 

“And maybe tomorrow night we can do more, hm?” You slide onto his lap, his soft cock resting between your thighs. “I’d love to ride my baby boy and finally take his virginity… only if you want of course.” 

“I- … Yes, I’d love that.” Before he can say another word, you kiss him on the lips, and despite them just being around his cock, your kiss is sweet, and he needs more of it. Trying to avoid a make-out session, you pull away and get off of the boy’s lap, telling him to get dressed and go home so you can both sleep.

Your goodbye to him is the same as always, waving as he walks back home, but knowing what’s going to transpire tomorrow night, you can’t help but finish yourself off after being all worked up from Yang Jeongin. You decide to save your panties from today before you get into the shower, because they’re absolutely drenched and you’re sure Jeongin would love to have them for when he’s home alone. 

After pleasing yourself in the shower, you peek out your bedroom window. Just as you had hoped, Jeongin’s curtains were wide open, and he was beating his cock with one hand and sucking on his fingers with the other. He was clearly thinking about you by how he’d had his journal sitting next to him opened to a random page. 

You sleep good that night, pleased and excited for tomorrow. Although you were always the submissive one, you came to realize that maybe being the one in control was just what you needed. 

[im-only-joking]

44 from the prompt list wit Connor McDavid!

Edit: it was clarified that this was from the smut category, so 18+ please! I tried to keep this pretty gender neutral fyi and will strive to do so for most fics/blurbs. Content warning: language, bdsm/kink exploration. Partner is upset and angry but they arent angry at each other and no physical violence is used to hurt anyone.

44) "I think we just found a new kink"

Owning your own business was challenging, as you were well aware by now, 5 years in, and every now and then there were days that just didn't go well.

Connor startled at the slam of the door to your home, frozen in shock in his position on the couch. Both of you could be prone to foul mood swings, sudden outbursts of anger, but typically it was easily fixed with a few calming words and a promise that tomorrow would be better.

Tonight, though, you were practically shaking with rage.

"What happened?" Connor prodded gently, watching you storm around the living room yanking off outwear and tossing your briefcase carelessly into a corner.

"Some shitbag CEO of the company we're trying to advertise for is being a goddamn twat!" Your shoes went skittering across the floor as you kicked them away from you. "I swear to Christ if i hear another fucking word about how 'refreshing it is to see a person in my position NOT being a manipulative bitch' I am going to cut this contract off and tell the guy to shove a stick up his ass!"

"Well he sounds charming," Connor frowned. "Is this the same guy as-"

"Yes the same asshole who told me I was 'too pretty to be smart'. I'm gonna commit murder, Con."

Connor snorted, raising himself off the couch to wrap his arms around you. "I'll help bury the body."

The absence of a laugh at that did not go unnoticed by him.

"What do you need from me?" he asked, voice softer.

You sighed. "I dunno. I just feel so... Powerless. So out of control."

Connor was quiet, thoughtful, and you breathed in to the sound of the whirring air-con unit.

He unwrapped himself from you and you turned to see that he had sunk to his knees in front of you.

"Take control here. Whatever you need, it's yours," Connor murmured, cheeks flushed a bit, maybe a little nervous or embarrassed to see your reaction, but you immediately quieted his anxiety by winding a hand into his hair, tugging gently.

"Stoplights, alright?" You breathed, petting away the tension from his jaw.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Like a snake, your hand uncoiled and struck out, the crack of your palm against Connor's cheekbone loud in the echoing quiet of the house.

Connor's eyes snapped open, a gasp escaping his mouth, and you watched him swallow thickly.

"Again. Please?"

You chuckled lightly, surprised. "I think we just found a new kink."

"No shit," Connor grinned back, pushing his head against your hand.

"Get to the bedroom," you commanded, arousal seeping into your veins and Connor's blown black pupils gave you confirmation that he was in the same boat. "I have some toys to try out."

Connor scrambled to his feet, practically dragging you, laughing, behind him.