#inside din's mind

[oflgtfol]

i really hate to be rewatching this show just to compare it to s3 like truly i just want some wonder and whimsy in my life again as a break from being a hater, but still, rewatching s1 is really just reminding of WHY im disliking s3 so much

so a relatively minor thing about s3 that has nonetheless been irking me is how weird and unnatural and stilted the dialogue is. it just feels so flat and empty. and even the way pedro is voiceacting for din just makes him so monotone and flat - and im not even blaming pedro for like, bad acting or anything, im blaming the direction because the same thing is evident in the written dialogue itself, and obv pedro has been doing fine before this. but overall both the written dialogue and the voiceacting makes din just have like.. no personality whatsoever.

and then contrast it with s1. din really is generally a monotone, minimal words kinda guy, even back in the beginning, but he still had a personality despite that. its the way he said those minimal words that delivered that personality, like theres still the subtle emotion behind everything that really endears you to him and makes the monotone quality like, less of Oh No, Protag Has No Personality, and more of an actual TRAIT of his personality

just listen to this scene! he speaks pretty flatly but its more in a gruff detached way, and he still emotes underneath it which shows his impatience and resignation! he emphasizes words and changes his cadence to stress things, and just overall the way he says “you understand? great.” i dont get this feeling from anything in s3 so far its like din is just Saying Words to keep the show rolling and nothing else, no more subtle characterization and subtle emoting. Sighs

i dont know if im wording this right but just overall the line delivery is so different and so much better in s1 and i cannot believe s3 is so bad so far its got me marveling over the most basic ass shit, like full on writing essays about a random 40 second scene like this

[dindjarindiaries]

Distraction

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: "You need to distract me. Do something, anything." & Kissing as a distraction

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

Din's visor tilted at the sight of you, his modulated voice as charming as ever as he greeted you at your doorway. "Hey."

All you could do was blink at him in response, your gaze transfixed on the sight of his gloved hand clutching the hilt of a blade that was lodged between his shoulder and his chest.

"Can I come in?"

His words finally snapped you back into action. You all but tugged him inside, the anxious knot wounding itself even tighter within your chest when you heard him grunt at the movement. After securing the door closed, you turned back to Din and properly assessed the situation.

Your eyes weren't deceiving you. There was still a blade lodged inside his flesh, and he didn't seem worried about it whatsoever—despite how much crimson you saw staining his flight suit. "Shit, Din." You fussed as you practically ran around your flat in search of your medpac. "Shit."

Din huffed. "Don't you want to know how it happened?"

You fixed him with a look across the room. "You can tell me while we're fixing it."

Din hummed as you approached with the medpac. You eased him into the nearest chair and set the supplies on the table. "I'm gonna need a better distraction than that."

Your furrowed your brow, but didn't step preparing everything you would need to assist him. "What do you mean?"

Your stare remained on your hands as they sorted through the supplies in record time, but you were forced to stop when Din set his gloved hand over them. You looked back up at his visor, watching as he nodded towards the hilt of the blade. "I need you to take this out for me."

Your throat tightened with panic, but you spoke around it. "You... don't want to do that yourself?"

"I can't. It'll be too painful." Din tilted his helmet at you. "Haven't you done this before?"

Your voice was so strained that it was just a squeal. "No!"

Din's hand tightened around yours. "Listen. It's gonna be just fine. Once it's out, the pain will be more than manageable."

He took one of your hands and guided it to the hilt. Your racing heart plunged into your stomach, threatening to make you sick as you instead swallowed hard and focused on Din rather than yourself.

"I only need you to do two things for me. Okay?"

You nodded, more than happy to let Din's soothing voice guide you. It came as no surprise to you that he was the calmer one in this situation, despite the fact he was also the one with the weapon in his shoulder.

"You need to pull this out, and you need to distract me while you do it."

Your gaze searched his visor. "What kind of distraction do you need me to do?"

You instinctively tightened your grasp on the hilt, causing a tight groan to slip through Din's modulator that had clearly caught him by surprise. His next words were curt, but not angered. "Do something. Anything."

You nodded and gently adjusted your grasp. You thought through all your options, looking upon Din for something that you could use to distract him. If talking wouldn't be enough, then there had to be something more powerful.

Your gaze caught on the lip of his helmet. It would be a risky move, but with the fogginess of your panic for him blinding you, you didn't bother to consider the consequences. All you cared about was blinding his pain.

The first move you made was straddling him on the chair, which Din clearly didn't mind, based on the quick way he secured you there. Then, with the hand not clutching the weapon in his shoulder, you lifted his helmet just enough to press your parted lips against his.

It was sweet relief, an acknowledgement shared in the sighs between you, and for a moment it made you forget why you had done it. But the weight of the hilt in your hand still remained, even if the warmth of Din's mouth was a strong distraction.

You were right to make this choice. If he was enough to distract you, then you were no doubt more than enough to distract him.

Your hand on his jaw, which still balanced the metal rim of his helmet, tilted his head back further to deepen the kiss. The moment you pushed your tongue into his mouth, you tugged hard on the blade, freeing it from his shoulder.

Din released his groan into you, his teeth capturing your lip as he did so, but he never broke away from you. Instead, after a few heavy breaths, he simply returned the favor by exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless.

But again, the weight of the blade in your hand was too heavy to ignore.

You forced yourself to pull away from him, your brow shooting up as you did so. "That's enough of the distraction, Din." You showed him the blade in your hand. "It's out. We need to fix it now."

Din's gloved hand wrapped around the back of your neck. "It's fine. I can survive for a few more minutes."

When he made the move to kiss you again, you stopped him by setting your thumb over his lips. "Din." Your eyes were at least double their usual size. "You're bleeding out."

Din paused, his hand only leaving your neck to take the lip of his helmet from you. He removed it from his head completely, leaving you to gape in an entirely different way than you had before. His brow rose as his brown gaze burned at you with the same flame of desire that you had lit deep within yourself.

If the sound of Din's natural voice wasn't enough to make you melt on top of him, then the words he spoke certainly were. "Does it look like I give a fuck?"

You yet again blinked at him in surprise, unable to do anything except let the blade clatter to the floor as you willingly went back to him again. You kissed him like your lives depended on it, because—in a way—Din's did. And that's the way he wanted it.

He had just proven that you were more tempting to him than life itself, and that's what made it impossible to put an end to this "distraction."

[ddejavvu]

Hii hope you’re doing well, I was wondering if I could request a criminal minds blurb where reader is Penelope’s best friend and they’ve met for lunch in a cafe near Quantico, and reader is telling Penny about this new guy she hooked up with a few nights ago, reader tells Penny how big the guy was and then a few minutes later Spencer walks in and reader is like “P omg that’s the guy!!” And gestures towards Spencer who’s the only person ordering at the counter? I just feel like Penny would be equal parts both shocked and horrified that her sweet innocent boy Spence has a sex life but also that he’s HUNG?? I literally love you and all your Spencer works and I feel like you’d write this perfectly 🫶🫶

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Penelope is absolutely enraptured by the play-by-play you're murmuring to her over the low din of the cafe's patronage. The whirring and grinding of the machines behind the counter only further aid in your attempt to keep your conversation private, and you can smell sweet strawberries on the bubbly blonde when you lean in to give her details.

"And he reached for his fly- ooh, Penny, the way his arms looked," You gush, remembering the thick veins that had corded his bone while he'd wrestled with his belt, "He whipped his belt out of the way, and- stop!" You urge her when she wriggles her brows at you, "He took his pants off, Penny, and I swear to god I've seen thighs thinner than that dick."

Her resulting squeal is much less hushed than you'd managed to keep the rest of your conversation, and you swat at the arm that's not holding her coffee. She gets the message but resorts to stamping her feet beneath the table instead, a repeated clicking that blends in much better with the mechanical whirring of the baristas' handiwork.

"He was so thick, and Jesus- Penny, he was long, too, just big all around," You recall, insides throbbing with a phantom ache at the memory of what you'd taken last night, "I swear he had me seeing stars," You sigh, glancing down at the pale pink ring of lip gloss around the mouth of your cup, "I'd beg him to come over again tonight, but I think I need a week to recover."

"A week," She breathes dreamily, "I could barely feel the last guy I had."

"Oh, I could feel him," You laugh, "It's like I still can, I'm pretty sure he bruised- oh fuck!"

"What?" Penelope's brow dips instantly, concern etched into her pretty features, "What's wrong?"

"It's him," You grip her hand, nails digging into her skin, "It's the guy from last night!"

"Big dick dude?" She asks, and your frantic nod confirms her theory.

She tries to be subtle, bless her, when she turns to see him, but when the only person that she sees standing in line for a drink is her coworker, her brain chugs along slower than normal.

Where's big dick dude?

Oh, Spencer's here!

I don't see big dick dude.

Spencer is-

You're not sure even the most talented actor could ever recreate the sheer horror swimming in her gaze when she turns to face you again. Her eyes are blown wide and her mouth, lined in a pretty fuchsia paste, is downturned in a grimace.

"Please tell me you're not talking about the skinny mess in the sweater vest."

"That's exactly who I'm talking about!" You gush, trying to avoid his gaze lest he thinks you're trying to follow him around, "Penny, isn't he dreamy?"

"That's- oh my god," She recalls your descriptions, thicker than thighs, longer than you've ever seen, "I have to resign."

[merchelsea]

Could you write something really fluffy about Lando Norris x reader? Maybe something were their relationship is fairly new and it’s only like the 2nd or 3rd race week the reader has been to and she starts to get sick. She doesn’t feel well at all and try’s to hide it from lando so he can focus on the race but he eventually finds out and is all worried and cuteee

worried sick — lando norris

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

summary: it’s her first time attending a grand prix and also flying and she doesn’t want anything to ruin her boyfriend’s race, but she gets sick in the process.

author’s note: sorry for taking so long to get to the heart of your request (fluff) but i needed to give context to his worriess

word count: 3k

warnings: curse words

masterlist | requests (open)

you sat on the dinner table, unable to speak. the fork fell from your hand the moment you heard lando's proposal and your eyes followed it's trail.

lando genuinely thought this would be a good idea, but seeing your reaction, with his eyebrows lifted, he may have changed his mind.

you had been dating for quite some time, four months and sixteen days, to be precise, but you were still a little aprehensive about the attention.

from the start, he warned you and gave you an easy way out of his life, but your love overpowered your fears.

even in a relationship, you and lando did everything you could to keep you out of the public eye, and it was working. no one knew about you and him and you liked that. but you were aware that he wanted you by his side while facing the adventures that his job provided him, and that he didn't want to keep you as a secret forever.

so when he made the invitation, it didn't surprise you, but you had to think about it.

you looked at him, he was wearing some jeans and a white hoodie that made him adorable in your eyes. he was looking at you, and you could notice him telling you it was okay to say no with his look.

but there was still a glimpse of hope in his beautiful green eyes, and in your mind you took another look at the pros and cons.

you could scratch out a couple of cons... like the fact that you liked being private. it was true, but you didn't mind not being a secret, and you would never like the idea of having famous and stunning women thinking that your boyfriend was available.

so with a soft look, in that modernly decorated dinning room in his home, you nodded your head.

"i think we could go to china together, yeah." he gave you a confused glance, but refrained from questioning you, afraid you would change your mind.

"great!" he stood up and walked over to you, "i love you," he whispered, pecking your lips before taking his empty plate to the sink.

you watched him come back and sit with you while you finished your own plate. you couldn't say you were hungry anymore, a hundred and one scenarios of what could go wrong in the hard launch of your relationship played in your mind.

lando's presence made it a little easier for you, though. you could only be thankful.

you had never traveled by plane before, so you were pretty nervous.

china was really far from monaco, and your boyfriend told you that the flight would take 11 hours minimum, so you couldn't help feeling anxious.

he held your hand when he noticed your strange behaviour and you immediately intertwined your fingers together.

"it's going to be okay, love." norris kissed the back of your hand and you walked inside of the plane, hand in hand.

of course lando booked the first class seats. he knew about this fear of yours, so whatever he could do to help you out, he would.

you sat down and lando closed the little blind on the window by his side, so you didn't see how far from the ground you were.

you had your headphones on and lando held you close as the plane started moving. you were still not off the ground but the plane shaking scared the fuck out of you. you closed your eyes and tried to focus on the music. it wasn't easy. it was only when the plain stabilized in the air that you could open your eyes again.

"do you want water, food, anything?" your boyfriend asked as he noticed you were a little more calm now.

"water, maybe." you answered, still not feeling completely safe. "and can you open the blind please, i want to see."

"'you sure?" he asked, his hand already on the end of the blind.

"yup."

lando opened up the blind and you peeked through the window. you were already far from the ground and instead of feeling anxiety, that view actually made you a little more calm.

"it's beautiful." you whispered, body leaning towards lando so you could see it better.

the british boy's eyes were on you when he whispered back. "it really is." with a smile.

eventually you sat properly in your seat again and talked to lando as time passed.

you fell asleep with and lando carefully laid your chair back, took out your headphones and covered you with a blanket. he laid his chair back as well and watched you as you slept peacefully. you still had nine hours left and he knew you would be awake for the landing, which he didn't want.

you could only manage to sleep for 2 hours and when you woke up, you noticed your boyfriend sleeping. so the next hours were spent playing games in your mobile phone while you listened to taylor swift.

it wasn't as painful as you thought it would be, and it was only when landing that you felt the uneasy feeling come back. lando held you close through it, as he was used to it.

"it's okay, baby." he whispered. "i'm right here." his reassurence meant more to you than he imagined, and it helped as well.

everything went better than expected and you left the airport hand in hand just half an hour after getting out of the plane.

you felt tired, but it was still morning in china. lando seemed okay, he was already used to all the time changes, since he did this for a living.

"what d'you think about breakfast?" he asked as you passed a coffee shop.

lando was driving to the hotel you two would be staying in, and you honestly just wanted to rest. but you could'nt say no to a good breakfast.

"oh, great idea. i'm starving." you said and he chuckled.

"me too." he stated as his hand found place in your thigh. it stayed there until he needed to use it, to change gear.

he parked the car in front of the cute shop and you both walked in.

you both ordered and sat down talking to eachother until the food came. the driver explained the goods and the bads of the race here. and told you what he liked most about china.

you had done some research about the place yourself because you wanted to take profit of your time here.

as lando would probably have some meetings with the team and you would be alone, you decided to visit some interesting places of the city and even near cities.

you ate in a comfortable silence and left for the hotel as soon as you could. his team took care of the check in so you and him were able to just go straight to your room.

you felt yourself a little too soft, but never said anything because you didn't think it was anything serious and worrying him was something you were not going to do.

deciding to take a nap before doing anything, lando wrapped his arms around you and pulled the blanket over your bodies.

"i love the feeling of having you here." he murmured to your ear.

"i love being here with you." you told him honestly, falling asleep some moments later.

lando though it was weird, since you normally took some time to get to sleep, specially in new places.

when you first stayed the night at his place it took you two hours and a really boring movie.

he remembered it could've been caused by the flight or the time difference. the british was now used to it, but it was your first time, and it was a long flight.

he fell asleep thinking about it because, being honest, you were both more than exhausted.

you woke up just a couple of hours later, coughing, and imediately realized you had gotten sick, and were just in the first stages. you got up from the bed and went to the bathroom so you didn't disturb lando's sleep.

"this can't be happening" you whispered to your reflection in the mirror.

'it can be just a cold, everything will be okay in time for the race' you thought to yourself, trying to calm down.

it was frustrating, to be fair. you had been avoiding coming to his races for months, and when you finally decided to come you got sick.

however, you did not want that to get in the way of lando's weekend, so through the next two days, in which your boyfriend had free practices and qualifying, you pretended to be okay. it was not so easy because norris made every effort to make you feel okay there. that means he talked to every one of his mates and asked them to talk to their own girlfriends, to see if they were interested in meeting you, for his delight but not so yours, they all said yes.

so you were not only busy with pretending to be healthy but also trying to be nice to everyone and making people like you.

it wasn't that hard, you all just found something in common, that was your love for fashion and animals, and talked about it. you were pretty satisfied with the outcome of saturday, and so was lando, managing to get himself on fourth position, with two cars ahead he knew he could get out of his way.

he was starting to find your behaviour a little weird, as soon as you got home you took a really quick shower and got yourself comfortable in bed. he asked you if you were not going to get dinner with him and you told him you would just take a little nap, and asked him to wake you up once the food arrived.

the brit did as you said and tried to wake you up, but you told him you were not hungry in the moment. he made you eat anyways, because tomorrow was a big day and you didn't really have the energy to argue with him.

you both had a good dinner and what was his surprise when you got back to your bed and immediately fell asleep.

he tried to push his suspicions away but he was seriously getting worried. he laid next to you and held you close with one arm, the other resting behind his head as he thought. not only about you and your strange sleeping schedule but also about the circuit.

there was this one curve that he just couldn't get right, and he needed to get it tomorrow. or else he'd lose his chance of a podium or even a win.

he would never want to lose a podium, but with you here, the pressure was different. he wanted to do better for you. he needed to, after dragging you all the way to a new country and making you face your fear of planes.

he eventually fell asleep, your body so close to his comforting him and calming his mind that was going probably faster than his car.

you woke up first, in the morning. but, unlike the other two days, where you managed to get it together and pretend you were okay, today you had a huge headache along with an unbearable malaise.

immediately realizing you were not okay, you decided to not go to the track with lando. you were still planing to go, yes, but later on, after you took some medicine and felt better.

he was a little reluctant in letting you all by yourself because something inside him still thought that something was off. sleeping a lot, not feeling hungry, avoiding his touch and kisses (you did that once, but he still took note), it all felt a little weird.

but you convinved him, telling him that he no longer had time to wait for you and you still needed to get dressed and do your makeup.

"i'm going. but message me as soon as you get to the track, please. i want to see your pretty face before getting in the car." he asked you, his beautiful green eyes focused on yours.

you nodded your head and he pecked your lips. smiling, he turned around and left the hotel room. you decided to take a shower to see if it helped in any way.

it didn't.

you grabbed your phone and searched for lando's personal assistant's contact. someone needed to be informed about this, but you didn't want to alarm your boyfriend just before the big moment of the weekend.

he was really sweet to you, and suggested you stayed in bed and watched the race from the hotel. you were a little apprehensive about how lando would feel about this but he tried to calm you down as best as he could, telling you he knew the driver would understand and probably even be more worried than anything else.

he also promised to only tell lando once he couldn't do anything about it. of course you had asked.

was he going to be pissed? probably. did he love you more than anything and would he forget about all the rest in order to check up on you? absolutely.

once he was told about it, the only thing he could do was text you, so he ran to his phone and quickly wrote a message to you.

'baby i was just informed. i'm so sorry for not noticing.'

your heart clenched in your chest as you read his text. it was not his fault and you felt bad for making him believe that it was.

'it's not your fault, lan. and i'm okay'

you added a little heart at the end and sent it, automatically seeing the 'read' under the blue text baloon.

'you sure?? i can get someone to get you to a doctor'

you smiled at the screen, behind that smile was the way he didn't even hesitate to show you he cared and he worried.

'there's no need, i took some medicine and i'm better now. but good luck on the race. i'll be rooting for you.'

on the other side of the screen, lando sighed, he hated that he couldn't do anything about it but knowing you were okay comforted him a little. so he smiled and typed to you.

'thanks babe! i will be coming back to you as soon as i can, promise you.'

you simply liked his message, letting him focus before the race.

on the bed, you watched the entire race, as you always did. and you were so genuinely happy and proud of him for finishing second, that for a couple of minutes you even forgot you were sick.

you watched the podium celebrations and couldn't help but notice that your boyfriend wasn't as happy as he should be. of course he smiled receiving the trophy, and sprayed champagne on the other podium sitters, which were max and checo, but you knew him, and his smile wasn't as wide as usual.

you sat through and watched the interviews on sky sports. it seemed that you were not the only one who noticed his under-excitement, because that was the first thing the journalist questioned.

"so, lando norris. you just came second here in china. first of all, congratulations. second of all i have got to tell you that all of us were expecting a different reaction from you. you don't seem very excited."

he looked at the woman behind the camera atentively, but anyone with functional eyes could see that his mind was elsewhere. he smiled briefly at the end of her statement.

"well, thank you. and yeah, i'm not in the best mood but that has nothing to do with the race. i know i did my best out there and gave everything i could. unfortunately, max was still there, but we'll keep working, as a team, to get to him."

he smiled and the interview continued, as usual he discussed some technical stuff and gave his perspective on some bits of the race.

"right now i just want to go back to the hotel, to my girlfriend, who isn't here because she got sick, and give her all the love she deserves."

he smiled to the camera and left, leaving the space for others. you saw him walking with oscar behind alonso, who was now giving his own interview.

it didn't take long before you got a message from him, telling you he managed to escape some media duties to go back to you.

you smiled to yourself before answering, and then distracted yourself until you heard the door being unlocked.

jumping from the bed, you rushed towards your boyfriend when he arrived.

"easy there, baby." lando pulled you into a hug, one of his hands in your hair while the other circled your body.

"amazing race, my love." you whispered into his neck. he smiled and when his grip loosened, his lips met yours in a quick but lovely kiss.

"you've got me worried sick, you muppet." he smiled, but looking into his green iris you knew he was serious.

"didn't mean to worry you, i'm sorry," he shook his head and softy kissed your temple.

"don't be sorry. but nex time it happens, let me know. i wouldn't have made you go to practices and quali, and you could've rested."

his fingers caressed your hair and he pulled you to lay your head in his chest. you would never know how worried he got, and how he could only rest his mind after having you in his arms.

"i just didn't want you to worry unnecessarily. i thought i could go through it." your eyes made it possible for him to know that you were being honest. he let out a sigh.

"it's not unnecessarily, you stubborn thing. i love you and i care about you, and i wanted to be here for you." you pull your head back and lock eyes with him.

"i love you too. and thank you."

he kissed you again, all smiley.

you both decided to just lay in bed and do nothing for the rest of the day. you ordered dinner hours earlier, so you didn't have to worry about it later.

lando told you all about his race. from the lights out to the checkered flag he talked you through his decisions and his process of thinking in the moment.

he also kept asking you from time to time how you were feeling and if you needed anything.

you realized just how much you loved him and appreciated the way he cared for you.

once he fell asleep, you smiled out of pure happiness for having him by your side. no matter how much you had liked being kept a secret for a while, in that moment all you wanted was for people to know you loved him.

cause you did, more than you thought you could.

© merchelsea

if you'd like to be tagged in any of my future works, let me know ;)

[azrielstaylorsversion]

Unspoken fights

Azriel x reader | angst / fluff

Feyre wonders why Azriel and his mate aren't speaking to each other. Rhys explains about there unusual communication habits and she feels the need to fix it.

There were still two empty seats around the dinner table. Everyone had started eating already, not wanting to wait another half hour for Azriel and Y/N.

It didn't take much longer before they came walking in. Feyre quickly noticed them walking a few feet apart from each other. At least not as close as they usually were with each other.

Y/N walked in front of Azriel, her face showing no sign of emotion. She walked straight for Cassian's seat instead of the two empty ones on the other side of the table.

Azriel sighed softly and took a seat in one of the empty seats, immediately filling his plate with food. He didn't even acknowledge his family.

"Move." Y/N ordered Cassian, leaving no room for any argument. To Feyre's surprise, Cassian listened and moved over to the seat next to Azriel, leaving Y/N to sit next to Mor.

Cassian turned to face Azriel. His mouth opened to say something, but Azriel cut him off before he even got the chance to. "Don't even start." he said to his brother, not bothering to look at him.

Feyre watched the mated couple with concern. They never acted like this. At least not to her knowledge.

Feyre reached for Rhys mentally. 'What is going on with them?'

Rhys also watched the two and sighed, shaking his head. 'Probably a disagreement. This never lasts long. They will make up and talk about it tonight and tomorrow it is as it never happened.'

Y/N had now started eating as well, ignoring Cassians pointed look for claiming his seat. Azriel on the other hand had stopped eating and was just staring at the wall with a grumpy face.

'Does this happen often?' Feyre questioned.

'Not really. Maybe once a year.' Rhys answered. 'They have their disagreements and differences, but they always talk about it immediately. They never let it get as far as... whatever this is.'

After dinner everyone went their own way. Except for Y/N, who decided to stay in the dinning room even when Azriel had left.

Feyre had seen Azriel glance at his mate for a moment, hesitating to walk towards her before he continued to walk out.

It was well past midnight when Feyre decided to get something to drink from the kitchen. She noticed the lights in the dining hall still being turned on.

Feyre poked her head inside, finding Y/N still in the same place she had last seen her. She was staring at the wall in front of her, an empty glass of wine on the table.

"Y/N?" Feyre said softly.

She almost jumped from the sound of her voice. "Oh, Feyre. Sorry I didn't see you there."

Feyre stood in the doorway. "Are you okay?" she asked her friend.

Y/N stayed silent for a short moment, her face filling with emotion. "Yes. Everything is okay."

Feyre could tell that the answer wasn't true.

"I actually wondered if I could stay here for the night?" she asked.

The question shocked Feyre a bit. As far as she knew, Y/N had never voluntarily slept away from home. Away from her mate.

"Yes, of course. But are you sure you don't want to go home?" she still decided to ask.

Y/N stood from her seat, making her way towards the door Feyre was standing.

"I'm sure. If you don't mind, I'll be going to my old room." she said, giving Feyre a tight mouthed smile and walking past her.

She obviously meant her and Az's old room. She always called it that.

Feyre decided to leave it for the night and return to her own mate, who was waiting for her upstairs.

The next morning Y/N ate breakfast with her, Rhys and Nyx. Her mood was definitely off.

She normally wasn't much of a talker, but now she was just quiet. She also looked extremely tired, as if she hadn't slept at all last night.

'Shouldn't they be back to normal by now?' Feyre asked Rhys mentally.

'Honestly, the fact that she even chose to sleep here last night does worry me.' Rhys told me.

Feyre debated saying something about it, but Rhys warned her before she had the chance. 'They'll be back to normal by tonight.' Rhys told her promising, even when he didn't sound so sure herself.

Y/N had disappeared during the day. Probably off to her normal duties.

Feyre felt surprised when she entered the River House in the afternoon and found Y/N sitting in the living room, with no sign of Azriel.

She greeted Feyre with a soft smile before sitting down on a chair by the fire.

"So did you do anything fun today?" she suddenly asked.

"I took a walk with Nyx and helped Rhys with work. Nothing more." Feyre asked with a smile. "What about you?" she asked with hesitation.

Y/N sighed, staying silent after. Then she just shrugged. "Not really. I just feel.. I don't know."

Feyre suddenly understood why she started a conversation. Y/N wanted distraction.

"It's okay to miss him. Even it's been a day." Feyre decided to tell her. Y/N just avoided her eyes at that.

She stayed silent for a good ten seconds.

"It's just so stupid." she said.

"What is stupid?" Feyre questioned.

"This whole pointless fight. I mean I started it. I got mad about something that wasn't even his fault. And I just wanted to be right so bad." she started speaking quickly. "And I made him feel so bad and I didn't even mean it like that. I just felt jealous. And now I ruined everything and-"

"Calm down a second. You're just spitting out your words at this point." Feyre chuckled. "Why were you jealous?"

Y/N stared into the crackling fire, hiding her face from Feyre. "A Fae woman stopped Azriel on our way to dinner to ask him something. She touched his arm." she told me. "And he immediately pulled away. He was just being polite by answering her. But I still got so mad and it was just stupid."

Feyre did understand her jealousy. She had experienced it with Rhys countless of times before.

"Even after being mated for decades I still sometimes get periods where my instincts are worse than normal. Just before we entered the River House I decided to ignore him. And just to prove a point I stayed away from him last night. But now I feel so guilty. And he's probably mad at me at this point." she sounded disappointed with herself.

Feyre moved over to her friend. "Of course he's not mad at you." Feyre told her reassuring. "It's Azriel. He loves you too much to be mad at you over this."

Y/N slowly moved her eyes to look at Feyre. She nodded to herself. "Yes. Yes, I hope so." she said. "But I haven't acted this childish in years. So I can understand if he were mad at me."

"Trust me, I would've had the same reaction as you." Feyre told her with a small laugh. "Why don't we ask Azriel to come here so you can explain it to him? I'll be here if you need me."

She nodded. "Yes. That'll probably be a good idea." she answered. "I'll see if I can get to him through the bond."

It didn't take very long before the front door of the River House opened and closed. The sound of it was soft, like someone who usually came in with no sound.

Azriel definitely let his presence be known by his footsteps, which were heavier than usual.

When Azriel entered the room, Y/N immediately stood from her seat.

"Az, I'm sor-"

"I'm so s-"

They both cut each other off.

Y/N stared at Azriel. "What do you need to be sorry for? It was me who did it." she took a step closer to her mate.

"Yes, but I still have to apologize for even letting that woman get close to me, I shouldn't have."

"No, you don't need to apologize for being kind towards a woman. I could see you pull away. And she only placed a hand on you. I am the one who should be sorry."

Azriel went quiet for a few seconds. Y/N stared at him with emotion in her eyes.

Who knew that the two of them had arguments like this. I was just sitting in a chair, watching them.

"This is so stupid." Azriel said.

A small smile formed on Y/N lips. "It is." she told him. "But I understand if you're mad at me."

"Of course I'm not mad at you. I did the same thing at the start of our relationship, remember? And that was before we were even mated. So I understand." he told her. "Come here." he opened his arms for her to walk in to.

I could hear Y/N whisper some things to her mate, but I soon felt like I was invading their privacy.

Azriel noticed my awkward look and smiled. He placed a hand on the small of Y/N's back. "Let's go home." he told her softly.

She nodded and let him lead her out of the room.

She threw a quick look over her shoulder, mouthing thank you to Feyre.

[pucksandpower]

I’ll Be Waiting

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Hedeby, 952

The crackling fire casts long shadows across the great hall as Toto sits upon his ornate wooden throne. His piercing brown eyes scan the room, filled with boisterous warriors celebrating their latest successful raid. But his gaze keeps returning to you, his most favored thrall, as you move gracefully among the revelers, refilling their horns with mead.

“You there,” Toto calls out, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Come hither.”

Your heart quickens as you approach, head bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Jarl?”

Toto leans forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, how fares the celebration? Are our warriors content?”

You risk a glance up, meeting his intense gaze. “They are in high spirits, my Jarl. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“And what of you?” Toto asks, his voice lowering. “Are you content in my service?”

A flush creeps up your neck. “I am honored to serve you, my Jarl. There is no greater joy.”

Toto nods, satisfied. “Good. I have a task for you. Meet me in my private chambers after the feast.”

As you turn to leave, a hand grabs your arm. It’s Ingrid, Toto’s wife, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What did my husband want with you?” She hisses.

You try to keep your voice steady. “He merely asked about the celebration, my lady.”

Ingrid’s grip tightens. “Do not think I am blind to the way he looks at you. Remember your place, thrall.”

She releases you and you hurry away, your mind racing. As the night wears on, you can feel Toto’s eyes following you, and the weight of Ingrid’s glares.

Finally, the feast winds down. With trepidation, you make your way to Toto’s private chambers. You knock softly.

“Enter,” comes his voice from within.

You step inside, finding Toto standing by the window, silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“Close the door,” he says without turning.

You obey, your pulse quickening. “You wanted to see me, my Jarl?”

Toto turns, his expression unreadable. “I did. Come closer.”

You approach cautiously, stopping a respectful distance away. Toto closes the gap between you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” He asks softly.

You swallow hard. “No, my Jarl.”

Toto’s hand cups your cheek. “I think you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. It mirrors the way I look at you.”

Your eyes widen. “My Jarl, I-”

“Shh,” he interrupts gently. “You need not speak. I know your heart, as you know mine.”

He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. But know that you hold my heart in your hands.”

Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. For a moment, the world falls away, and there is only Toto and the fire he ignites within you.

Suddenly, the door bursts open. You jump apart to see Ingrid standing there, her face contorted with rage.

“I knew it!” She screams. “You treacherous whore!”

Before either of you can react, Ingrid pulls a dagger from her belt and lunges at you. Pain explodes in your abdomen as the blade finds its mark.

“No!” Toto roars, catching you as you collapse.

He lowers you gently to the floor, pressing his hands against the wound. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, but only a gurgle escapes your lips. The world starts to fade around you.

“Guards!” Toto shouts. “Fetch the healer!”

But you know it’s too late. As your vision darkens, the last thing you see is Toto’s anguished face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I will find you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life or the next. I swear it.”

With your last breath, you manage to whisper, “I’ll be waiting.”

As your eyes close for the final time, you feel Toto’s lips press against your forehead, sealing a promise that will echo through lifetimes to come.

Vatican City, 1493

The opulent halls of the Vatican echo with hushed whispers and the rustle of silk as you make your way through the winding corridors. Your heart races, not with the excitement of a bride-to-be, but with the desperate resolve of one about to take a drastic step.

As you round a corner, a strong hand grasps your arm, pulling you into a shadowy alcove. You find yourself face to face with Cardinal Toto, his eyes filled with concern.

“My love,” he whispers urgently, “what are you doing here? The wedding is but hours away.”

You place a trembling hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the rich fabric of his robes. “I had to see you one last time.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? Speak plainly, I beg you.”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. “I cannot go through with this farce of a marriage. My father may sell me to the highest bidder, but he cannot sell my heart.”

Toto’s eyes widen in alarm. “What are you planning? Tell me you haven’t done anything foolish.”

You pull a small vial from the folds of your dress. “It is already done, my love. The poison courses through my veins even as we speak.”

“No!” Toto gasps, gripping your shoulders. “How could you? We would have found another way!”

Tears well in your eyes. “There is no other way. My father’s ambition knows no bounds. This was the only path left to me.”

Toto pulls you close, his voice breaking. “Then I shall follow you into the darkness. I cannot live in a world without you.”

You push him away gently. “You must live, Toto. Live and remember me. Perhaps in another life, we will find each other again.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I will not let you go. Not again. I’ve only just found you in this life, and I refuse to lose you once more.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

Toto cups your face in his hands. “I’ve had dreams, vivid as memories, of us in another time. A great hall, a celebration ... and a tragic end. I swore I would find you, and I have. I will not be parted from you now.”

You sway on your feet, the poison beginning to take effect. “Toto, please. You must let me go. Your life, your position ...”

“Mean nothing without you,” he finishes firmly. “Come, we must get you to a physician. Perhaps there is still time to counteract the poison.”

As he tries to lead you away, you stumble, your legs giving way beneath you. Toto catches you, lowering you gently to the floor.

“Help!” He calls out, his voice echoing through the halls. “Someone, help us!”

You clutch at his robes weakly. “It’s too late, my love. But know that I go to my death with a heart full of love for you.”

Footsteps approach rapidly. A group of guards rounds the corner, led by your father, Pope Alexander VI. His face contorts with rage at the sight before him.

“What is the meaning of this?” He thunders. “Cardinal Wolff, explain yourself!”

Toto looks up, defiance blazing in his eyes. “Your daughter lies dying, Your Holiness. Will you not call for aid?”

Your father’s gaze hardens. “My daughter knows her duty. She will marry as I have decreed.”

“She has taken poison rather than submit to your schemes,” Toto spits out. “Is your ambition worth more than your daughter’s life?”

For a moment, shock flickers across your father’s face. Then his expression hardens once more. “Guards, seize the Cardinal. He has clearly bewitched my daughter’s mind.”

As the guards move to comply, you summon the last of your strength. “Father, please. Let me die in peace, with the man I love.”

Your words give the guards pause. They look to the Pope, uncertainty in their eyes.

Your father’s face twists with conflicting emotions. “You would throw away everything for this ... this upstart Cardinal?”

“I would throw away everything for love,” you whisper. “Something you have long forgotten the meaning of.”

A tense silence falls over the group. Then, to everyone’s surprise, your father waves the guards away. “Leave us,” he commands.

As they retreat, he kneels beside you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in years. “My child, what have you done?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “I have chosen my own fate, father. For once in my life, I have made my own choice.”

Toto holds you closer, his tears falling freely now. “Is there truly nothing to be done?” He asks, his voice raw with anguish.

Your father shakes his head slowly. “The poison she favors ... it is swift and irreversible. I had thought to use it on our enemies, not ...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

As your breath grows more labored, you turn to Toto. “Promise me something, my love.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Live,” you whisper. “Live and do good in this world. And when your time comes, look for me in the next life. I will be waiting.”

Toto presses his forehead to yours. “I swear it. I will find you again, in this life or the next.”

With your last ounce of strength, you pull him into a final kiss. As your lips part, you feel the life leaving your body.

The last thing you hear is Toto’s anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the halls of the Vatican, but across time itself.

As darkness claims you, a strange sense of remembrance washes over you. You’ve been here before, you realize. And somehow, you know you’ll be here again. For your love is one that transcends death itself, destined to play out across the ages until, at last, you and Toto find your happily ever after.

Virginia, 1863

The makeshift field hospital buzzes with frantic activity as wounded soldiers are brought in from the front lines. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Amidst the chaos, you move with practiced efficiency, your nurse’s apron already stained with the day’s grim work.

Suddenly, a commotion at the entrance catches your attention. Your heart stops as you recognize the unconscious figure being carried in on a stretcher.

“Toto!” You cry out, rushing to his side.

The soldiers carrying him look grim. “It’s the Commander, ma’am. He took a bullet meant for one of his men.”

You quickly assess the wound, your medical training warring with your rising panic. “Put him here,” you direct, indicating an empty cot.

As they lay Toto down, his eyes flutter open. “Y/N?” He murmurs weakly. “Is that you, my love?”

You grasp his hand tightly. “I’m here, darling. You’re going to be alright.”

Toto manages a pained smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my dear.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you scold, fighting back tears as you begin to clean his wound. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”

He chuckles, then winces. “If only your determination could heal bullet wounds.”

As you work, you keep up a steady stream of conversation, partly to distract Toto from the pain and partly to keep your own rising fear at bay.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You ask, your hands moving swiftly to staunch the bleeding. “At that ridiculous ball in Washington?”

Toto’s eyes soften at the memory. “How could I forget? You were the most beautiful woman in the room, and I was the fool who spilled champagne all over your dress.”

You laugh despite yourself. “And then you insisted on giving me your jacket to cover the stain, even though it was three sizes too big.”

“It was worth the embarrassment,” Toto says softly. “It got you to talk to me.”

A sharp intake of breath from Toto makes you pause in your ministrations. “I’m sorry, love. I know it hurts.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing your best. You always do.”

You blink back tears, focusing on the task at hand. “We have so much left to do, Toto. Remember our plans? The house by the lake, the children we talked about ...”

Toto’s hand finds yours, squeezing weakly. “Tell me about them. Our children.”

You swallow hard, playing along even as your heart breaks. “Well, there’s little Torger, of course. He would have your eyes and your stubborn chin.”

“Poor lad,” Toto quips, his voice growing fainter.

“And our daughter,” you continue, your voice wavering. “She would be as smart as her father and as headstrong as her mother. Heaven help us when she would’ve gotten older.”

Toto’s eyes begin to drift closed. “They sound perfect.”

Panic seizes you. “Toto? Toto, stay with me. Please, darling, you have to fight.”

His eyes open again with visible effort. “I’m trying, my love. But I’m so tired.”

You look around frantically. “Doctor! We need a doctor here!”

But the overwhelmed medical staff are all occupied with other critical patients. You’re on your own.

“Look at me,” you plead, cupping his face in your hands. “Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day? You said you’d love me in this life and the next. You can’t break that promise now.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face. “The next life,” he murmurs. “Yes, I remember. I’ve always remembered, somehow.”

Confusion mixes with your fear. “What do you mean?”

Toto’s gaze becomes distant. “I’ve loved you before, Y/N. In other times, other places. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.”

You shake your head, tears flowing freely now. “You’re delirious, my love. Save your strength.”

“No,” Toto insists with surprising force. “Listen to me. This isn’t the end. I will find you again. I swear it.”

His words stir something deep within you, a sense of déjà vu so strong it takes your breath away. “Toto, I-”

But before you can finish, Toto’s body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

“No, no, no,” you chant, redoubling your efforts to save him. “Don’t you dare leave me, Toto Wolff. Don’t you dare.”

Toto manages to lift a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “My brave, beautiful Y/N. How I wish we had more time.”

You lean into his touch. “We will. You’ll get better and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

But even as you say the words, you can feel Toto slipping away. His breathing becomes more labored, his skin growing cold beneath your touch.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. “One last time.”

Choking back a sob, you lean down and press your lips to his. You try to pour all your love, all your hope, all your desperation into that kiss.

As you pull back, Toto’s eyes meet yours one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” he breathes.

And then he’s gone.

For a moment, you’re frozen in disbelief. Then a wail of anguish tears from your throat, echoing through the hospital tent.

As you collapse across Toto’s still form, sobs wracking your body, a strange sensation washes over you. It’s as if you’re remembering something you’ve never experienced — other lives, other deaths, other heartbreaks.

In that moment, you know with absolute certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Toto will find each other again.

As the chaos of the field hospital swirls around you, you whisper a promise against Toto’s cold lips. “I’ll be waiting for you, my love. In this life or the next.”

And somewhere, beyond the veil of death, a spark of hope ignites. The wheel of time turns, and two souls begin their journey once more, drawn together by a love that refuses to die.

London, 1894

The London fog hangs heavy in the air as you hurry through the winding streets, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. You pull your cloak tighter, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t been followed. Finally, you reach your destination: a nondescript townhouse in a respectable neighborhood.

You knock quickly, a pre-arranged pattern. The door opens almost immediately, and you’re pulled inside by strong, familiar arms.

“My darling,” Toto Wolff murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “I was beginning to worry.”

You melt into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent. “I’m sorry, love. It was difficult to get away tonight.”

Toto’s brow furrows as he notices your wince when he holds you. “He hurt you again, didn’t he?”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing, Toto. Please, let’s not waste our precious time together talking about him.”

But Toto gently cups your face, turning it towards him. “It’s not nothing. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. Let me take you away from all this. We could start a new life together, somewhere far from here.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “You know we can’t. The scandal would ruin you. Your business, your reputation ...”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Toto insists. “I care about you. I love you.”

Those three words, so freely given, bring tears to your eyes. “And I love you. More than I ever thought possible. But the world isn’t kind to women who leave their husbands, no matter how cruel those husbands might be.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Then let me confront him. I have influence, connections. I could make him disappear.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, I won’t have you risk everything for me. These stolen moments ... they’re enough. They have to be.”

Toto pulls you close again, more gently this time. “They’ll never be enough. Not when I know you’re suffering. Not when every fiber of my being aches to make you my wife, to give you the life you deserve.”

You look up at him, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “Sometimes ... sometimes I feel as though we’ve lived this before. This longing, this impossible love. Does that sound mad?”

A strange expression crosses Toto’s face. “No, my love. It doesn’t sound mad at all. I’ve felt it too. As if we’ve known each other across lifetimes.”

You’re about to respond when a loud banging on the door makes you both jump.

“Open up, Wolff!” A familiar, slurred voice calls out. “I know she’s in there!”

Your blood runs cold. “It’s him. Oh God, Toto, it’s my husband. He must have followed me.”

Toto’s expression hardens. “Stay here,” he commands, moving towards the door.

But you grab his arm. “No, please! He’s drunk, he’s dangerous. Let me handle this.”

Before Toto can protest, you rush to the door and open it slightly. Your husband’s red, enraged face greets you.

“So it’s true,” he snarls. “My own wife, carrying on with this ... this upstart robber baron!”

You try to keep your voice calm. “Richard, please. Let’s go home and talk about this.”

But Richard is beyond reason. He shoves the door open, nearly knocking you over. Toto is there in an instant, steadying you.

“Get your hands off my wife,” Richard growls.

Toto’s voice is ice cold. “I suggest you leave, sir. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Richard laughs bitterly. “Regret? The only thing I regret is not seeing this sooner. How long has this been going on, eh? How long have you been making a fool of me?”

You step forward, hands raised placatingly. “Richard, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” Richard roars. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

In his rage, he lashes out, his hand connecting with your cheek with a sickening crack. You stumble backwards, crying out in pain.

Toto moves with lightning speed, tackling Richard to the ground. “How dare you lay a hand on her!” He shouts, his fist connecting with Richard’s jaw.

The two men grapple on the floor, trading blows. You watch in horror, frozen in place.

Suddenly, Richard’s hand emerges from his coat, clutching a revolver. Time seems to slow down as he aims it at Toto.

“No!” You scream, throwing yourself between them just as Richard pulls the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the small space. For a moment, everything is still. Then you look down, seeing the rapidly spreading red stain on your dress.

“Y/N!” Toto cries out, catching you as you collapse.

Richard stares in shock, the gun falling from his limp fingers. “I ... I didn’t mean ...”

But Toto isn’t listening. He’s cradling you in his arms, his face a mask of anguish. “Stay with me, my love. Please, stay with me.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Toto ... my Toto ...”

“Don’t speak,” he urges. “Save your strength. Help is coming.”

But you both know it’s too late. You can feel your life ebbing away with each labored breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry we never got our chance.”

Toto’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll have another chance. I swear it. I’ll find you again, in the next life.”

A sense of peace washes over you at his words. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Toto vows fiercely. “This isn’t the end for us. It can’t be.”

With the last of your strength, you pull him down for a final kiss. As your lips meet, memories flood your mind – not just of this life, but of others. Viking halls, Vatican corridors, Civil War battlefields. Through it all, one constant.

Toto.

As darkness closes in, you manage one last whisper. “Until we meet again, my love.”

Your eyes close, your hand going limp in Toto’s grasp. The last thing you hear is his anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the room, but across time itself.

Indiana, 1932

The dilapidated streets of the once-thriving town are a stark contrast to the sleek black car that rolls through them. A powerful mobster sits in the back, his sharp eyes taking in the changes a decade has wrought on his childhood home.

As the car stops in front of a run-down tenement, a young boy approaches cautiously. Toto steps out, adjusting his expensive suit.

“You Toto?” The boy asks, eyeing him warily.

Toto nods. “I am. And you must be Jimmy. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Jimmy’s face darkens. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed. You here to see her?”

“I am,” Toto confirms, his voice softening. “How is she, Jimmy?”

The boy’s shoulders slump. “Not good, mister. Not good at all. Follow me.”

As they climb the creaking stairs, Jimmy speaks in a low voice. “She’s been sick for months. Tuberculosis, the doc says. But she won’t stop giving her food to us kids. Says we need it more.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have-”

“She wouldn’t let us,” Jimmy interrupts. “Said you had your own life now, that she didn’t want to be a burden.”

They reach a door on the third floor. Jimmy hesitates before opening it. “Just ... prepare yourself, okay?”

Toto steels himself as they enter the small, dimly lit room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you lying on the bed, a mere shadow of the vibrant girl he remembers.

Your eyes light up when you see him, even as a coughing fit wracks your frail body. “Toto? Is it really you?”

He’s at your side in an instant, taking your hand in his. “It’s me, my love. I’m here.”

You manage a weak smile. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe for you here.”

Toto shakes his head, fighting back tears. “To hell with safety. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill? I could have helped.”

Another cough shakes you, and this time, blood stains your lips. Toto reaches for a handkerchief, gently wiping it away.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you whisper. “You’ve done so well for yourself, Toto. I couldn’t bear to drag you back here.”

Toto’s voice is fierce. “You could never be a burden. Don’t you know that you’re everything to me?”

You look at him sadly. “We were children then. The world’s changed. We’ve changed.”

“Not where it matters,” he insists. “My feelings for you have never changed.”

Jimmy, who’s been hovering by the door, speaks up. “I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy.” He slips out, closing the door behind him.

Alone now, Toto takes in your gaunt face, your hollow cheeks. “Why haven’t you been eating?” He asks softly.

You look away. “Times are hard. The children need it more than I do.”

“And what about what you need?” Toto demands, his voice breaking. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help you?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve built a new life. I’m just ... I’m just a relic of the past.”

Toto cups your face gently, turning it towards him. “You’re not a relic. You’re the love of my life. The only thing that’s mattered all these years.”

You search his eyes, seeing the truth there. “Oh, Toto. I’ve missed you so much.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get you better and then-”

But you shake your head weakly. “It’s too late for that, my love. I can feel it. I don’t have much time left.”

“Don’t say that,” Toto pleads. “You can’t give up. Not now that we’re together again.”

Another coughing fit overtakes you, more violent than before. When it subsides, you look at Toto with a strange mix of sadness and wonder.

“You know,” you murmur, “I’ve had the strangest dreams lately. Of us, together, but in different times, different places. Is that mad?”

Toto’s breath catches. “No, it’s not mad at all. I’ve had them too. Like ... like we’ve lived this love before.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps we have. Perhaps we always will.”

Toto brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Then let this not be the end. Fight, my love. Fight to stay with me.”

“I’m trying,” you whisper. “But I’m so tired, Toto. So very tired.”

He climbs onto the bed, gathering you carefully in his arms. “Then rest. I’ve got you now. I’m not letting go.”

You nestle against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in years. “Toto?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you tell me about your life? What you’ve been doing all these years?”

Toto hesitates, not wanting to speak of his less-than-legal activities. But he sees the genuine interest in your eyes and begins to talk, telling you sanitized versions of his rise to power.

As he speaks, he feels you relaxing in his arms, your breathing becoming more even. For a moment, he allows himself to hope.

But then you look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of love and regret. “I wish we had more time,” you breathe.

Toto’s heart clenches. “We will. You’re going to get better, and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

You shake your head slightly. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Look after them. Jimmy and the others. They’ll need someone now.”

Toto nods, tears flowing freely now. “I promise. But you’ll be here too. You have to be.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Kiss me? One last time?”

Choking back a sob, Toto leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, desperate kiss.

As you part, you look into his eyes one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” you whisper.

And then you’re gone, your body going limp in Toto’s arms.

For a moment, the world stands still. Then Toto’s anguished cry echoes through the small room, a sound of grief so profound it seems to transcend time itself.

As he holds your lifeless body, Toto makes a silent vow. He will find you again, in this life or the next. For a love like yours cannot be bound by the limits of a single lifetime.

Monaco, 2024

The bustling energy of the paddock swirls around you as you make your way through the crowd, one hand resting protectively on your slightly swollen belly. Despite the chaos, you move with confidence, knowing that at any moment ...

“There you are, mein Schatz,” a familiar voice calls out. Toto appears at your side as if by magic. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern. “I’m fine, Toto. Just taking a little walk. The baby’s been restless today.”

Toto’s hand immediately joins yours on your belly, his face lighting up with wonder. “Is that so? Well then, little one, let’s find a more comfortable spot for your mother, shall we?”

Before you can protest, Toto is guiding you towards the Mercedes hospitality area, his arm protectively around your waist. As you walk, heads turn and whispers follow. It’s still a novelty for many to see the usually intense and focused Toto Wolff so openly affectionate.

“Toto, really, I’m okay,” you insist, even as you allow him to lead you. “You don’t need to fuss so much.”

He gives you a look that’s equal parts love and stubbornness. “Nonsense. It’s my job to fuss over you. Both of you.”

As you enter the cool, quiet Mercedes suite, Toto immediately starts arranging pillows on a plush sofa. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Perhaps a foot massage?”

You laugh, settling onto the sofa. “A water would be lovely, thank you. But then you need to relax. Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto waves a hand dismissively as he fetches your water. “The team can manage without me for a few minutes. You and our child are my priority.”

As he hands you the water and sits beside you, you can’t help but marvel at the man before you. Toto Wolff, the billionaire, the racing mogul, the man whose mere presence commands respect throughout the paddock — and here he is, fussing over you like a mother hen.

“What are you thinking about?” Toto asks, noticing your contemplative expression.

You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Just ... how different things are now. How perfect. Sometimes I feel like we’ve been waiting lifetimes for this happiness.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face, a mix of recognition and wonder. “You know, I’ve had that same feeling. Like we knew each other before.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine. “It’s odd, isn’t it? But it feels ... right, somehow.”

Toto pulls you closer, his hand resting on your belly once more. “Perhaps we have known each other across lifetimes. And perhaps this is the one where we finally got it right.”

Just then, you feel a strong kick from the baby. Toto’s eyes widen in delight.

“Did you feel that?” He exclaims, his usual composure completely forgotten.

You laugh, wincing slightly. “Trust me, I felt it. I think someone’s eager to join the conversation.”

Toto leans down, speaking directly to your belly. “Hello there, little racer. Are you practicing your podium celebrations already?”

As if in response, there’s another kick. Toto looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

“I never knew I could be this happy,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me everything. A love I never thought possible, a family of my own ...”

You cup his cheek, touched by his openness. “Oh, Toto. You’ve given me just as much. More, even. You’ve given me a home, a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.”

Toto turns his head to kiss your palm. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always feel that way. Both of you.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Toto sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

“Come in,” he calls out, his ‘team principal’ voice back in place.

A nervous-looking intern pokes his head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the strategy meeting is about to start. They’re asking for you.”

Toto nods. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.”

As the intern leaves, Toto turns back to you with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Will you be alright here?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine. Go, lead your team to victory. We’ll be right here cheering you on.”

Toto stands, but hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I could have someone bring you some snacks or maybe a blanket if you’re cold ...”

“Toto,” you say firmly, but with affection. “Go. We’re fine. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”

He leans down to kiss you softly. “Alright, alright. I’m going. I love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” you reply, giving him a gentle push. “Now go be the brilliant team principal I married.”

As Toto finally leaves, you settle back into the couch, your hands resting on your belly. You feel another kick and smile.

“Your father’s quite something, isn’t he?” You murmur to your unborn child. “But don’t worry. No matter how busy he gets, no matter how many races he wins, you and I will always be his greatest victory.”

As you sit there, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the paddock, you’re filled with a sense of contentment so profound it almost overwhelms you. After so many lifetimes of heartache and separation, you and Toto have finally found your happily ever after.

And as your baby kicks again, you smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.

[raekensluver]

moonlit confessions

description: connecting with theodore nott after escaping the chaos of a slytherin rager.

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

contains: partying, late night confessions, drinking, mentions of alcohol, smoking.

song rec: i'm yours by isabel larosa- "nervous, trip over my words, you're so pretty it hurts."

w.c: 1.4k

an: in my slump era....

the room was a blur of motion and color, the air thick with the scent of spilled alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke. the pulse of the music thrummed through the floorboards, setting a rhythm that seemed to dictate the movements of the slytherin students as they danced and cheered. you leaned against the cool stone wall, watching the game of beer pong unfold with a detached amusement. mattheo and blaise were a formidable team, their laughter echoing off the walls as they scored point after point, while pansy and draco's competitive banter added a sharp edge to the atmosphere. it was the kind of party that you used to love, but tonight, it all felt a bit too much.

you decided to take a break from the chaos, making your way through the crowded room, looking for a familiar face. your eyes scanned over the faces, some flushed with excitement, others with the beginnings of a hangover. lorenzo berkshire caught your gaze from across the room, his dark eyes twinkling as he leaned in to whisper something to the girl he was flirting with. you rolled your eyes and continued your search for theo, wondering if he had retreated to one of the quieter corners to escape the cacophony.

as you moved through the party, the twins, fred and george, intercepted you with mischievous grins. "looking for someone?" fred asked, his hand offering you a beer. you took it, smiling politely. "theo nott," you replied. "ah, the mysterious one," george said with a wink. "last we saw, he was playing hide and seek with a group of his adoring fans." they both chuckled, their playful teasing a welcome distraction.

you thanked them and continued your search, the music's bassline vibrating in your chest. the party was in full swing, but theo's usual charm and presence were nowhere to be found. the crowd grew denser, a mix of laughter and shouts as the game grew more intense. you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve and turned to see luna lovegood, her eyes wide with curiosity. "have you seen theo?" you asked, raising your voice over the din. she tilted her head, considering for a moment before pointing towards the balcony doors. "i think he went outside," she said, her voice delicate as ever.

you pushed through the crowd and stepped into the cool night air, the stark contrast from the stuffy room making you gasp for breath. the moon was high and full, casting a soft glow over the grounds. you spotted theo immediately, leaning against the castle wall, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. he looked lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

his posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his shoulders that spoke of his discomfort with the raucous festivities inside. you approached him slowly, the gravel crunching under your feet. "mind if i join?" you called out, your voice low and gentle. he glanced over, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "thought you'd be in there, cheering for the champs," he said, nodding towards the party.

you took a seat beside him, the cold stone wall biting into your back. "not really my scene tonight," you confessed, taking a sip of the beer that had grown warm in your hand. "yeah, me neither," theo said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. the silence between you grew comfortable, filled only by the distant sound of the party and the occasional hoot of an owl.

theo's eyes flickered to you, the embers of his cigarette casting a warm glow on his face. "you okay?" he asked, his voice genuinely concerned. you shrugged, feeling the weight of the night's expectations lifting. "just needed some fresh air," you replied, watching as he exhaled a plume of smoke. the air around you felt charged, as if the very molecules were holding their breath.

his gaze searched yours for a moment before he spoke again. "it's not easy, is it?" theo said, breaking the silence. "keeping up with all of this." you knew he wasn't just talking about the party. the unspoken understanding between you grew stronger with every shared glance. "sometimes i feel like i'm drowning," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. "i know what you mean," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. the warmth of his hand found yours, and for a moment, you felt like you weren't alone in the sea of noise and expectations. "theo," you began, but he leaned in, cutting off your words with a kiss.

his lips were warm and firm, the taste of tobacco faint on his breath. his ring clad hand slid up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he was afraid you would slip away. you felt your heart stutter in your chest, the suddenness of the kiss taking you by surprise. but you didn't pull away. instead, you melted into him, the warmth of his embrace a comfort you hadn't realized you needed.

his thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. theo's other hand rested on your hip, grounding you as the world around you faded away. the music and the laughter were just a distant echo, the only sounds that of your mingled breaths and the crackle of the cigarette between you. it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party just a few feet away.

you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and your eyes wide with surprise. "theo," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. he looked at you, his own eyes dark with something unreadable. "yeah?" he responded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk that was all too familiar.

you opened your mouth to speak, but the words got tangled in your throat. his beauty had always been a silent punch to the gut, leaving you struggling to breathe, let alone form coherent sentences. "you're just… so pretty," you stumbled out, your eyes flicking down to his chest, where his shirt lay open, revealing a hint of his collarbones. it was a clumsy compliment, but it was all you could manage.

theo chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "thanks," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. he took another drag of his cigarette, the orange ember burning brightly in the dark. "you're not so bad yourself," he added with a wink. the confidence in his voice made your cheeks burn even hotter.

you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting to him. the warmth of his body was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, craving more of his touch. his hand on your neck had left a trail of fire, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if he kissed you again.

the silence stretched out, filled with unspoken thoughts and racing hearts. you felt your cheeks heat up as you stumbled over your words, trying to find the right ones to express the tumult of emotions churning inside you. "theo, i… i just…" your voice trailed off, and you bit your lower lip, feeling your heart thud in your chest.

his smirk softened into a gentle smile, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. the touch sent an electric jolt through you, and you leaned into it, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he was thinking. "i know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul. "i feel the same."

you took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne and the night air swirling around you. it was a heady combination, making you feel both lightheaded and grounded at the same time. the party inside beckoned, the music and laughter a siren's call that you couldn't ignore. "we should get back," you murmured, not really wanting to leave the sanctuary of his arms but knowing that you couldn't hide away forever.

theo nodded, stubbing out his cigarette against the wall before standing up. his hand found yours, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through you as he pulled you to your feet. "yeah, we don't want to miss the grand finale," he said, his voice teasing. you couldn't help but laugh, the tension between you easing slightly as you allowed him to lead you back into the mayhem of the party.

[lady-phasma]

Fangtober Day 3 - Ejactulation

Rockstar!Lestat x fem!reader

Summary: Rockstar!Lestat picks you out of the crowd at his concert and smut ensues, plot if you squint. It isn’t exactly perfect for the Day 3 prompt, but it still works. 3.7k words.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, graphic sex, unprotected sex/creampie,

a/n: reader is afab but not described, I wrote this to fulfill this request and the amazing and wonderful @aemondsbabe collaborated with me and provided the scenario, ty ilysm! I may pick this up for a future prompt this month, we’ll see.

Lestat couldn’t stop looking at you. There, near the front row, not screaming and crying, but singing along and smiling. That smile… so utterly unselfconscious. He couldn’t resist. His glance returned to you time and time again until he finished the set and strutted off stage.

As you exited the venue, a young woman with a lanyard and shirt bearing STAFF across the back approached you.

“Miss?” She spoke softly, but loud enough for you to hear over the crowd. “Would you follow me?”

“Me?” Like a cliche, you pointed at yourself and looked around you.

“Yes miss, right this way.” She turned and started to walk toward the backstage area. Your heart thundered in your ears and sweat threatened your palms.

What the fuck have I done? you thought, assuming you were in trouble, but you couldn’t think of a thing. As she led you through a door and down a hallway, your mouth went dry. The rooms you passed looked suspiciously like dressing rooms.

The woman stopped at a door near the end of the hall and tapped her knuckles lightly against it.

“Monsieur de Lioncourt?” she paused, waiting for a reply.

“Entré.” How one word could sound so melodious, you weren’t sure, but that thought was fleeting as the door opened and the woman waved you inside.

Lestat sat on a sofa against the wall. The only light in the room was a floor lamp in the corner. A dim respite from the lights of the stage. But his eyes caught all of the low light in the room and shimmered a nearly translucent blue.

“Ah, I see they found you. Have a seat.” He gestured to the chair opposite him. His movements were fluid and graceful, slower than his frenetic on-stage energy.

“Thank you,” you managed as you sat. You tried to get ahold of yourself when he asked your name and you replied with only a slight quaver in your voice.

“I would very much like for you to accompany me to my hôtel this evening. Would you be amenable to that, mademoiselle?” His accent was delightful and didn’t appear to be an affectation. Perhaps that part of his persona was genuine.

“I would be honored,” you never spoke so formally, but something about him brought it out in you. You smoothed your hands over your pants nervously, but you held his gaze.

“Bien.” The word was short and clipped and he stood up more abruptly than you had expected. You tried to do the same but your head swam, not just from the quick rise from your seat. Is this happening? I could pinch myself. Another cliche flew through your mind.

He flashed you a smile and beckoned you to follow him out of the room. You were hardly aware you were doing it at all and then you were outside the backstage exit amidst a crowd of fans. Lestat slid so effortlessly into the limo, one moment he was on the pavement with you, the next only an outstretched hand appeared from the open door. You took a deep breath and slipped your hand into his. Before you could exhale the din of the fans was gone and the door shut behind you. He sat opposite you, his back to the driver and absently gazed around him, seeming to be disinterested in this arrangement.

“So…” his voice was thick, oily, his tone slightly aloof. “You enjoyed the show.”

You swallowed and managed a nod. His eyes flicked up to yours, his dark, smudged makeup making the blue, which was somehow bright in the dim backseat. He leaned forward resting his forearms on his crossed legs.

“You know every word,” he whispered, causing you to lean forward slightly. “Do you sing along as you drive to work, go to the gym, or… in the shower?” Lestat’s smile was unsettling and you felt your entire body go hot. You instinctively crossed your legs. “Humans do so enjoy singing in the shower.”

“I… I, um,” you had never stuttered in your life. Get a grip! you thought. Lestat chuckled softly and you looked at him quickly then away.

“I listen to your music while I do a lot of things. The words just stick. I guess I sing along sometimes too.” You looked back up at him as he reclined back against the seat.

As if the universe saw fit to release you from your embarrassment, the limo slowed and stopped. When the door opened Lestat gestured for you to exit first. The hotel was sleek and modern at first glance. The building had a facelift at some point in the recent past, but the lobby was sumptuous and elegant.

You felt out of place and then froze mid-step when you remembered why you were here and who you were with. Lestat strode past you without stopping and you sped up to catch back up with him at the elevators. The doors slid open and you stepped in after him. A meticulously manicured finger pressed the penthouse button and he then did the most mundane thing possible: he tapped his room key against the panel. It seemed like a lot of work for him to keep up this vampire persona, especially when he was doing everyday things for himself.

You took a moment to look him up and down for the first time since the concert. He was lithe but not slim, his hips jutted seductively just at the waistband of his pants, which you could see because of the slightly too-short-to-be-practical shirt he was wearing. He was disheveled from the concert, possibly even sexier like this and this close. He glanced at you as the elevator neared his floor. He pushed off the wall of the elevator where he had been leaning and took a step toward you. You thought he might speak, but he didn’t. He turned and faced the elevator doors when they opened.

“Siri, play Alexis Ffrench,” Lestat commanded as you entered the penthouse suite. Delicate and entrancing piano music flowed from the speakers. He walked into the living room and sat on the couch. You followed, tentatively beginning to sit in an arm chair across from him.

“No, chère, here,” he gestured next to him. You accepted his offer and sat down. “Now, where were we?” He mused. He looked at you inscrutably now. You glanced around the room, taking in the opulence. There were bottles of water on the coffee table.

“Um, may I?” you asked as you reached for one.

“Of course,” he replied. “So…” he began as you opened the bottle and took a sip. “Are you suitably impressed?” His smile was sly, underlining his jest. He stretched an arm across the back of the couch and crossed his legs. He was so casual, at ease, the total opposite of your own posture.

“I honestly don’t know that I’ve ever been in a hotel room like this before.” You looked around again, then back to him. “Would you like one?” you asked holding up the bottle.

“Moi? Non, merci, I haven’t had a sip of water in a century.”

You furrowed your brow, put the lid back on the water bottle, and sat it on a coaster on the coffee table. You tried to get comfortable on the sofa but it was hard to look directly at him while sitting so close. You turned and sat on one of your legs, your foot behind your knee.

“Is that so?” you raised an eyebrow at him, taking the bait. “So you keep the act up as long as anyone is around?” You waved your hand in his general direction when you said ‘act,’ indicating his entire person.

“The act? Hmmm,” he smiled softly and examined the back of one hand and his nails. “Do you not find it appealing?” He dropped his hand to his lap and leaned slightly closer to you.

“Oh it definitely works for you.” You felt your face go hot and almost reached for the bottle of water, but Lestat moved closer to you on the sofa. It was impossible that he moved that fast, you swore you must just not have been paying attention.

“Ha! Oui, it has ‘worked’ for me for quite some time,” he laughed and his once-blue eyes looked almost pale lavender. You blinked at him. Maybe it’s a contact high from the concert, you told yourself.

“No,” Lestat reached his hand out and touched your jaw, holding your gaze with the lightest pressure of his fingertips. “You are not intoxicated by anything. You just refuse to see. May I show you?”

You nodded and swallowed. You felt entranced. This was more than physical attraction, he was magnetic. Before you had time to truly register what he had said and what he was doing, Lestat leaned toward you and kissed you softly. His fingers slid up your jaw to cradle your face in his hand. He lingered for just a moment before murmuring something that sounded like belle and then sat up straight again. His hand moved to your neck, his thumb stroking just below your ear. You watched with a mix of horror and arousal as fangs, actual fangs, appeared in his mouth.

“How…” you began, but the sound barely came out and you couldn’t have finished anyway before he was kissing you again. His lips were cool and hard against yours. He guided you closer to him, seeming to move you himself. Your knee pressed against his now, the inches that were between you completely gone. You felt yourself lean into his kiss, reaching out to rest your hand on his leg, as if to steady yourself. You felt momentarily dizzy and pulled back to catch your breath. Lestat began to cover your neck in kisses and you gasped.

“I…” you took a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” Your words came out almost as a sigh. You closed your eyes. You instinctively moved your hand to his arm as he pressed against you.

“’S’okay,” Lestat murmured against your neck. “Relax. Enjoy.” You groaned quietly as his lips and fangs grazed the skin just above the collar of your shirt. You arched your back when he moved a hand behind you, supporting you.

You began to give into the sensations, to suspend your disbelief, let him continue to play the vampire. Who cares? He’s hot and talented and crazy usually comes with the territory.

“We shall see about that,” Lestat said. He replied as if he has heard your thoughts. Not possible, but again, who cares?

“Fine, whatever, just don’t stop,” you moaned and ran your hand up his arm, over his shoulder to the nape of his neck.

Suddenly, startlingly, Lestat stood, guided you with him, and scooped you up, one hand behind your knees. Okay, he’s strong, you thought, trying nearly-futilely to make sense of him, but not caring all that much. You were in the bedroom before the thoughts were finished running through your mind.

Lestat sat you on the bed and looked at you for a moment, then he sat facing you. He slid your shirt up, his hands on your sides and you raised your arms to allow him to slip it over your head and off your arms. You were moving fast with him in a way that was exhilarating. You still felt half in a dream, but you wanted this, may have even allowed yourself to daydream about this before, a fantasy for millions of fans.

Immediately his mouth went to your breasts, kissing and nipping on them through the fabric of your bra. His hands moved quickly and effortlessly to your bra closure and unclasped it in one movement. You let him slide it off your shoulders. He exhaled softly before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. He held you still with his hands on your back and licked your nipple before grazing his teeth against it. He moved to the other and sucked it between his lips quickly and you gasped. The sensation made you clutch at him, trying to steady yourself. You ran a hand up the back of his neck into his silky hair. The pressure increased and you dug your fingers into his skin.

“Oh god, yes,” you moaned and let your head fall back as he sucked. Slowly he slid his a hand to your other breast and squeezed, not quite roughly. Every movement he made was elegant and deliberate. Before you realized it was happening, Lestat was laying you back on the bed. He slid one thigh between yours and pressed against you slightly. His strength made the movement effortless, his mouth never leaving your breast. You arched your back against him, feeling the wetness between your legs as you tried to grind against his leg. He pulled his other hand from behind your back and cupped both breasts in his hands. Moving from one to the other, he drug his lips along your chest. You felt the gentle scratch of his fangs on your skin.

“You taste fantastic ma petite,” he whispered against you. He ran his thumb over the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth. You pressed your chest up toward him. You wanted to touch him all over, but settled for reaching down to tug his shirt up, trying to get to bare skin. You grazed your fingertips up his sides and around to his back. He moaned around your nipple and goosebumps spread over your body. You dug your fingers into his back as he reached between you to unfasten your pants. Your heart raced and you squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming sensations. Suddenly Lestat pulled back and sat up to kneeling, both hands in the waistband of your pants. With no effort at all, he peeled them off and tossed them on the floor, taking your panties with them. A small chuckled had escaped your lips as you had lifted your legs to ‘assist.’ You covered your mouth with the back of one hand.

“Non, chère,” he murmured and moved your hand from your face. You opened your eyes at his touch. He kissed your lips gently then slid off the bed and stood next to it. You felt incredibly odd for a split second and then you were absorbed in his movements, nearly forgetting your own nakedness. He pulled his shirt off, shaking his blonde hair lightly as the shirt left his head. Far too slowly, he hooked his thumbs in his pants and began to slide them down. You involuntarily licked your lips as he revealed his hip bones. You shifted your hips on the bed, rubbing your thighs together slightly. His eyes darted from yours to your legs then back to meet your gaze. His pants hit the floor and he stepped out of them as he moved to get back on the bed. He slid a hand between your knees and opened your legs again, moving between them.

Your eyes were transfixed on his perfect cock. You noticed the V-shape of his torso, of course, but it only forced your eyes downward to the tidy curls of dusty-blonde hair and absolutely beautiful cock. You tore your eyes away and looked up at his face. He was smirking, completely vain and self-satisfied. You couldn’t care less. You spread your legs a fraction wider and smiled back at him. He looked down the full length of your body then leaned forward kissing your chest and stomach again.

Lestat’s hands roved everywhere. You lost track as he moved against you. You ran one hand into his hair, let the other touch every available inch of his skin. Gently you tugged him upward, encouraging him. His lips found yours and kissed you deeply, fangs grazing your lips. You moaned as his tongue slid between your lips. You tangled your fingers deeper into his hair. He propped himself up on one hand by your head and reached between you with the other. Still kissing you, he slid his cock between your wet folds. Something like a groan came from his lips, vibrating into your mouth. The head of his cock nudged your clit and you lifted your hips.

“So needy,” he muttered as he broke the kiss. You felt him move further back and press against your entrance. His hand slid up your side and grazed your breast as he slipped his hand under your shoulder. You looked at him, eyes almost glazed over with desire, and bit your bottom lip. His lips parted slightly and he exhaled as he began to slide into you. He took his time, savoring your wet heat.

“Mon dieu,” Lestat moaned softly. You moved the hand not in his hair to his lower back and urged him on. You tilted your head back and sighed as he pressed into you completely. Lestat stayed there, filling you up, for a brief moment, then he began to move in short strokes. He kissed down your jaw and neck as he moved. You gripped his hip and pulled him toward you. He lengthened his strokes and made the most delicious sounds next to your ear. You fingers neared the top of his buttocks as you lifted a leg to his hip.

“Yes, fuck, you feel amazing,” you rambled. Lestat slid his hand down your body and behind your thigh, guiding your leg higher. He tilted his hips to find a new angle and his cock rubbed against that spot deep inside you. The sounds you made were unintelligible. You clenched around him, perhaps trying to keep him in place, but he increased his pace, returning to that spot over and over again. You may have groaned his name, you weren’t sure, you couldn’t control the sounds that tumbled from you.

Still propped on one hand, Lestat slid his hand from behind your thigh, across your hip, and down to your belly. Your hips twitched against his. His fingers traveled lightly between you. He found his goal expertly and slid slowly over your clit. The pressure was too gentle and you whined, in truth, an embarrassing sort of sound, but he seemed to enjoy it. He drew the sound from your lips again with a couple more light strokes before increasing his pressure.

Lestat sped up the movement of his hips and didn’t quite match the rhythm with his fingers. He lifted his head and watched you through the curtain of his hair. Your fingernails grazed his scalp and he groaned. You rocked your hips as he made small circles on your clit, meeting his thrusts, chasing the friction and the overwhelming pleasure.

“Just like that that, chère,” Lestat whispered as he watched your face. You couldn’t continue to look into those blue-lilac eyes and squeezed yours shut as you felt your orgasm begin at his fingers. You wanted it desperately, but you also never wanted this to end. Your hand moved to his ass and on his next stroke pulled him as deep as you could. He moaned and dropped his forehead to yours. He never ceased his movements against your clit and your body shook as your climax started to wash over you. You weren’t sure you had ever felt so good. You would think about it later, but the twitch of your hips and ab muscles every time his fingers passed around your clit was a new experience. You thought you heard him chuckle.

His hips moved quicker now, not slowed by your clenched muscles around his cock. You tightened harder around him. Your body curled as you came and you threw your arm around his neck. Your forehead nearly rested on his shoulder, putting your ear next to his lips. He muttered delicate French words you didn’t understand. He finally moved his hand from you and slid it around your waist, holding you close to him. You cried out softly as he pounded into you and were so spent, so delirious from the intensity of your orgasm that you didn’t hear his question the first time.

“Where do you want it?” he repeated. You groaned. How could you answer that? You already knew what you were doing was risky, but your birth control flashed in your mind and you whispered your answer in his ear.

“Come inside me.” Those three little words were enough. Lestat’s hips never stuttered or faltered. He fucked you smoothly through his orgasm, moaning your name. You thought you might have been able to come again, but then you felt his hips stop and his release spill into you. He cursed and stroked into you a few more times before gently laying you back on the bed. He looked down at you, tilted his head, and tucked one side of his hair behind his ear. Then he stroked your cheek and moved back to kneeling. His movement inside you made you groan with the renewed stimulation, but he only smiled at you as he pulled out. It was a fond smile, not exactly taking pleasure in your soft whine as he left you empty, but not not enjoying it.

Lestat lay down on the bed next to you. He didn’t pull you close to him, but he put his arm out for you to lift your head. You lay back, head resting on his arm, your sides touching down the length of your bodies.

“Holy fuck,” you muttered as you caught your breath. “I mean it. Holy fuck.” Lestat chuckled at your exclamation.

“Perhaps that was not enough proof, but I think you might be more open-minded now, no?” His fingers trailed over your upper arm and shoulders, the fingernails grazing your skin.

“Honestly, does it matter?” You looked at him, but you weren’t sure you still had doubts. Your rational mind told you vampires couldn’t exist and he was insane or, at the very least, eccentric. Probably the only thing that would convince me would be him drinking my blood and I might be up for that. He’s a weirdo but he’s fucking gorgeous.

“That could be arranged.” Lestat’s soft laugh caused goosebumps to race over your skin. Your eyes were wide as he turned to lay on his side, propping himself on his elbow to look at you.

Fangtober 2024 prompt list • Main masterlist

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

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[zaerilyn]

Turbulent Waters

Jiyan x Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Childhood Friends, Romance, A Bit of Fluff

Summary: The unexpected return of General Geshu Lin and swirling rumors about Y/N's connection with him test the unspoken feelings between Jiyan and Y/N. Long-buried emotions erupt in a heated confrontation, pushing Jiyan to face his love and fears head-on. Amid the resulting tension and misunderstandings, a fervent confession emerges, culminating in a passionate encounter that forever alters their relationship.

Or basically,

Jiyan’s been secretly crushing on his childhood friend since forever. Then he finally snaps one night after hearing rumors about you and Geshu Lin getting freaky.

The campfire’s flickering glow painted the shadows of soldiers onto the walls of the tents around you. The chatter was alive with discussions of strategy, victories, and idle gossip. Jiyan’s presence commanded respect among the men, his stoic nature and tactical brilliance earning their loyalty.

You walked through the camp with your medical bag, your mind focused on the task at hand. General Geshu Lin had returned from his mysterious absence, wounded and needing your expertise. As the head doctor, your reputation for unparalleled medical skill and your willingness to step into the battlefield were well-known among the troops. Often, you worked late into the night, tending to injuries with a deft hand and a caring heart. Your dedication had earned you the respect and admiration of many, including Jiyan, your childhood friend and now the general.

From a young age, you and Jiyan had been inseparable, growing up in the same village and training together. Over the years, your bond had deepened into something more complex. While your teasing often veiled genuine affection, the weight of your respective responsibilities and unspoken fears kept both of you from confessing your true feelings. Jiyan, in particular, struggled with the burden of his role, fearing that any deeper connection might bring you pain if he were to fall in battle.

You had just finished stitching a soldier’s wound when a familiar voice called out to you.

“Y/N!” Jiyan’s deep voice reached you through the din.

You turned to see him striding towards you, his expression as unreadable as ever, but with a flicker of something you couldn't quite place.

“Jiyan,” you greeted, flashing a quick smile. “I’m on my way to check on Geshu Lin. He needs some attention.”

His jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Geshu Lin. “I’ll accompany you,” he said, falling into step beside you.

“Jiyan, you know I can handle this,” you said softly, glancing at him. “I’ve done it countless times.”

He shook his head, determination etched on his face. “I know. But I’m coming with you anyway.”

The path to Geshu Lin’s tent was quiet, the sounds of the camp fading as you approached the general’s quarters. Jiyan’s presence was a comforting weight beside you, though you could sense the tension radiating from him. Usually, Jiyan was not one to interfere with your work. He respected your medical expertise, often admiring your dedication and skill. He had once dabbled in medical training himself, understanding the crucial role you played. His protectiveness tonight was unusual, spurred by the whispers among the soldiers and the sight of you heading towards Geshu Lin.

When you reached the tent, Jiyan hesitated outside, giving you a look that was both protective and conflicted. You stepped inside, finding Geshu Lin reclining on a cot, his torso bare and bandaged.

“General,” you greeted, setting down your bag and moving to his side.

Geshu Lin gave you a weary smile. “Y/N, just the person I was hoping to see. How have you been?”

You began to check General Geshu Lin's bandages with practiced efficiency. Your fingers moved deftly, unwrapping the old gauze to inspect the healing wounds on his torso. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated his muscular build, and you could see the edges of the scar tissue starting to form.

“Busy, as always. Let’s see how you’re healing.”

You examined the wound, carefully cleaning it with antiseptic. The sharp scent filled the air as you dabbed at the raw edges with a soft cloth, your brow furrowing in concentration.

“You have quite the delicate touch, Y/N. I can see why you're the head doctor. It’s reassuring to have someone so skilled attending to my injuries.” He winced slightly as you applied a fresh bandage, securing it with precise movements. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he remained composed, his eyes studying your face.

“Just doing my job. Try to avoid any strenuous activity for a few more days. The wound’s healing well, but it still needs time.”

As you worked, you couldn't shake the feeling of Jiyan's presence just outside the tent. His familiar aura seemed to permeate the air, adding a layer of tension to the enclosed space.

Geshu Lin’s eyes glinted with a mischievous light as he watched you, leaning back slightly to give you more access to his wound.

“You know,” he said casually, a smirk playing on his lips, “Jiyan seems rather protective of you. Quite the guard dog, isn’t he?”

You glanced up, surprised by his comment, your hands pausing briefly in their task. “He’s just looking out for me.”

Geshu Lin chuckled, the sound low and slightly mocking. “Is that what you think? I’d be careful, Y/N. Someone might snatch you away if he’s not careful.”

His gaze lingered on you, filled with a subtle challenge. The way he spoke to you, with a flirtatious undertone and easy familiarity, unsettled you slightly. You could sense the underlying tension between him and Jiyan, the rivalry simmering beneath their polite interactions. You finished applying the bandage and pulled away, your eyes meeting his briefly before you stood up.

Before you could respond to his insinuations, the tent flap rustled, and Jiyan entered with a controlled intensity. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, your proximity to Geshu Lin and the casual atmosphere between you two.

“Am I interrupting something?” His voice carried a restrained edge, the calm before a storm.

Geshu Lin smirked, a knowing gleam in his eyes as he noticed Jiyan's reaction. He shifted slightly, exaggerating the nonchalant attitude.

“Just receiving some excellent medical care, General.” His tone was smooth, almost taunting. “Y/N here has been doing an admirable job.”

You quickly shook your head, sensing the brewing confrontation. “No, Jiyan. Just finishing up here.”

Jiyan’s gaze flicked to Geshu Lin, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His eyes then softened slightly when they met yours, but the tension in his posture remained evident.

“We need to talk. Now.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. He reached out, his grip on your arm assertive but not harsh, guiding you out of the tent. The night air hit you as you stepped outside, and you could feel the storm brewing beneath Jiyan’s composed exterior.

As you walked away, you caught a glimpse of Geshu Lin's smirk, a triumphant light in his eyes. He watched you both leave, clearly satisfied with the effect his words had on Jiyan. The sense of rivalry was palpable, his earlier words echoing in your mind and adding to the weight of the situation.

Jiyan led you away from Geshu Lin's tent with a firm grip on your arm, the urgency in his steps matching the storm brewing in his eyes. He didn’t stop until you reached the dimly lit interior of his own tent, the flap falling shut behind you. The space felt immediately more intimate, with the scent of burning candles mingling with the earthy aroma of the canvas walls.

He finally released your arm and turned to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and frustration.

“Jiyan, what’s going on?” Confusion laced your voice as you tried to understand his sudden agitation.

He stopped abruptly in the center of the tent, turning to you with a fierce intensity.

“Do you realize what people are saying about you and Geshu Lin?” His voice was low and intense, each word biting into the charged air between you.

Your brow furrowed in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard the men talking,” he said, his eyes blazing. “They think… They think there’s something between you and him. They’re saying he’s lucky to have you visiting him late at night.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “That’s absurd. I’m just treating his injuries.”

His expression hardened, his frustration clear. “Is that all?” he demanded. “Because it doesn’t look that way to them. Or to me.”

Indignation flushed your cheeks. “How dare you? I’m clearly only doing my job. Just because he’s my patient doesn’t mean there’s anything else going on.”

Jiyan’s eyes softened for a moment before hardening again, a conflict of emotions playing across his face. “I know you, Y/N. But I can’t stand the thought of you with him. Of him thinking he has a claim on you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What are you saying, Jiyan?”

He took a step closer, his hands gripping your shoulders, his touch firm yet filled with a desperate intensity.

“I’m saying I can’t lose you. I won’t.” His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You searched his face, seeing the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

“Jiyan,” you said softly, your voice trembling, “I’ve always been here. I’m not going anywhere.”

A flicker of relief crossed his features, but it was soon replaced by a fierce determination.

“I can’t stand seeing you with him, hearing those things. I…” His voice trailed off, and he seemed momentarily lost.

You took a step closer, your heart aching at the conflict you saw in him. “If you want me, you just have to say it.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and before you could react, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. Your hands flew to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his clothes.

The kiss deepened, a raw, unrestrained intensity igniting between you. Jiyan’s hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, his touch both demanding and tender. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him.

Jiyan’s tent became a cocoon of heightened emotions and physical desire, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the canvas walls. His usual stoic demeanor had shattered, replaced by a primal need that matched your own.

His hands moved to unfasten the ties of your tunic, each movement deliberate and urgent. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his uniform, peeling away the layers that separated your bodies. The cool air of the tent brushed against your heated skin, heightening your senses.

As you both shed the last of your clothing, the intimacy of the moment deepened. Jiyan’s gaze was intense, his eyes tracing the contours of your body with a mix of awe and hunger. He guided you towards the sturdy wooden table in the center of the tent, the coarse surface pressing against your abdomen as he positioned you with your belly flat against it.

Your body trembled with anticipation, your senses heightened by the unfamiliar position. Jiyan stood behind you, his hands exploring the soft curves of your hips, the firmness of your back. He leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back, his breath hot against your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice rough with need. “Me, claiming you from behind, making you mine?”

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. Your response was a breathless moan, your hands gripping the edges of the table as you arched your back slightly, offering yourself to him.

“Yes,” you gasped. “I want all of you.”

His eyes darkened with a fierce possessiveness. He aligned himself with your entrance, the tip of his erection pressing against your slick folds. The anticipation made your body tense, the heat between your thighs intensifying.

He entered you slowly, the initial stretch sending a shockwave of pleasure and slight discomfort through you. Your body adjusted quickly, accommodating his size as he pushed deeper. You gasped, your fingers gripping the table’s edge tightly, your hips instinctively pushing back against him to take him fully.

Jiyan’s movements were deliberate at first, his hips rocking gently as he set a rhythm. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through your body, the friction of his length against your inner walls intensifying the sensation. He began to move faster, his breathing growing ragged, his need evident in the urgency of his thrusts.

You matched his pace, your hips lifting to meet his, creating a rhythm that was both urgent and perfectly attuned to each other. The table creaked beneath you, a steady counterpoint to the rising symphony of your moans and gasps.

He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he slid a hand around to cup one of your breasts. His fingers teased your nipple, the combination of sensations making your body arch into his touch. His other hand moved to grip your hip, holding you steady as he increased the intensity of his thrusts.

His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve, his breath warm against your ear.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice a low, rough whisper. His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. “Say it.”

The pressure built within you, coiling tighter with each passing moment. Your climax was imminent, the tension in your body reaching a fever pitch.

“I’m yours,” you cried out, your voice breaking. “Only yours.”

The admission seemed to ignite something in him. His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving you higher. His hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge.

The intensity of his words, combined with the relentless assault on your senses, sent you spiraling into climax. Your body tensed, and you cried out his name as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you. The pleasure was so intense that it left you trembling, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

Jiyan followed moments later, a deep groan escaping him as he found his release. You felt the pulsating warmth of his ejaculation filling you, his body tensing above you as he drove into you one last time, then collapsing onto you in a spent, panting heap. The connection between you pulsed with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, the room filled with the sound of your mingled breaths.

With a gentle, yet firm motion, Jiyan lifted you from the table, your body still sensitive and trembling from the intense experience. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your head resting against his chest as he carried you across the tent. The big-sized cot in the corner awaited, a simple but welcoming reprieve after the raw intensity of your encounter.

Jiyan laid you down on the cot with a care that belied the ferocity of his earlier actions. The coarse blanket beneath you felt cool against your heated skin. He joined you, lying down beside you, his arms wrapping around you protectively. The proximity allowed you to feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, a comforting rhythm that helped soothe the lingering intensity within you.

Your breathing synchronized with his as you nestled against him, feeling the solid warmth of his body and the lingering glow of your climax. You reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. Jiyan’s eyes softened, a look of tender affection replacing the earlier passion.

As you lay there, the sounds outside the tent slowly filtered back into your awareness. The quiet murmur of the camp, the occasional footsteps of patrolling soldiers—sounds that had been completely drowned out by the fervor of your connection. You realized that your earlier cries had likely been heard by those outside, a fact that made your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

Jiyan seemed to read your thoughts. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he tightened his arms around you, his breath warm against your ear.

“I made sure they heard,” he said, his voice a low, satisfied murmur. “Let them know you’re mine. Let them hear your pleasure.”

You blinked, taken aback by his admission. Your heart raced as you processed his words. This side of Jiyan—bold, possessive, deliberately exposing your intimacy—was completely at odds with the gentle, respectful friend you had always known. His usual demeanor was composed, his actions always measured and considerate. The idea that he would consciously ensure that others knew what was happening between you was both shocking and electrifying.

It then clicked. After all, you had tried to stifle your screams earlier, biting your lip to keep from making too much noise. But Jiyan had been relentless, finding ways to make you cry out despite your efforts. His hand had clamped over your mouth briefly, only to slide away as he increased the intensity of his movements, making it impossible for you to remain silent.

“You… you did that on purpose?” you asked with cheeks flushed red, barely able to believe this new side of him.

“I want everyone to know that you’re with me. That you’re mine.” His eyes locked onto yours with a possessive gleam.

“I didn’t know you had this side to you, General Jiyan,” you said in a teasing tone.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he replied, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“But you’ll learn. I want you to know all of me, Doctor.”

[jolalibrary]

i’d look for you

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

warnings: 18+, allusion to smut ONLY. soft!din. idiots who have feelings but don't know what to do with them. jo's writing din so it gets weirdly poetic again. wordcount: 2k notes: pairing is the same as other din fics by me. but don’t need to read to enjoy. written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge - this fic has made me smile so much, I hope it does the same for you.

“Can you do something for me?”

The question hangs, burns, in the air of his bed. Your eyes blinking awake, having been roused from slumber by his gloved hand on your cheek.

You’re aware he’s waiting, biting the inside of your cheek, as you nod.

Swallowing the longer answer which burns on your tongue, finding it now tastes of acid and wrongness, having been trapped inside for so long, having let it overstay its welcome.

You suspect he knows it all anyway. Likely as easily able to read you, as you are him. Able to hear the words you don’t say, just from the way you stare at him, like a written passage all on its own.

He helps you up, but doesn’t hurry you. You almost smirk at the purposeful, cautious touches on your side, trailing his gloved hand along the curve of your back as he leads you to the refresher, awakening thoughts more sinful than you suspect is his intention.

It’s then he tells you the time, but shares nothing else about why the ship is quiet.

“What about—”

“He’s asleep.”

Your mouth clamps shut, taking the clothes he hands you as you bury the rest of the questions. Each piece you slide on, you don’t shy away as he stands waiting. Letting him stare, letting him take in the sight of you in more light than he can when your bodies usually writhe.

Are you admiring me, Din? you want to ask. Do you feel the invisible string between us too?

Sometimes, you dislike that he told you the shade of his eyes, because you look for them. Peer through the visor with more hope than you’d allowed yourself to have before.

“Can you turn around?”

It should sound like a command, but his tone is softer, more brittle. Something unspoken within it, tightening around each letter, bending and forging with it—likely things he’ll never admit.

Still, you obey. Closing your eyes as you feel him behind you, his presence crowding and looming—recollecting when he’d been barer than he is now, draped over you.

If you will it enough, you swear you can feel his breath fluttering over your shoulder—remembering how he makes you feel full and sated, content and happy. The last time, you’d been in a haze, fucked out, blissfully aware of the naked fingers resting at the base of your neck as you came down and the way he had tilted your head back and swallowed your whine like he knew it belonged to him.

You do, you think, belong to him.

Not because he has taken, but because he has earned—he has proven. A thing which rises to the tip of your tongue and sears alongside the other words which linger and ferment.

“Trust me,” he says.

Not a question, but an ask. And you don’t mean to, but an unintentional gasp escapes at the feel of the soft, smooth fabric when it slides over your eyes. Light fades as though he clicks his fingers, blanketing you in night in the middle of the day as it tightens around your head—rendering you quiet, shyer, almost smaller, as your sense is removed, willingly given but taken all the same.

Then you stand, breath hitching, anticipation threading through your veins as you wait. For him to move, to speak, to do. Each second stretches into eternity, making a protest wish to appear. A change of mind, a declaration of wishing to do something else, than this.

But, you don’t speak it. Instead, dancing your fingers against the tops of your thighs, waiting, not patiently, but not rushing.

“Relax.”

You snort to smother the shiver that darts down your spine at his voice.

Unsure how one does such a thing when you hear the ramp going down, subtly listening to the sound of water running. You feel lost, adrift in a sea of darkness—of nothingness—with every fibre of your being yearning for a familiar anchor, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you fight the urge to whisper his name into the void, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the engulfing uncertainty.

Din, you think.

Wondering if he can hear his name in your mind. If he’ll come to your calling, hold your hand; allow you to ask if this is necessary, if this—

“Breathe.”

And you do.

Chest filling, lungs flooding—his gloved fingers sliding between your bare ones, rooting you as he repeats it. Calmness spreads through you inch by inch, in the same way he makes pleasure surge through your muscles.

He gives you a minute, a moment. Likely waiting until your head turns in the direction you think he’s in, before he leads, offering stony orders to be careful—one that almost makes you grin until your steps take your soles to meet something softer than his ship.

The smell greets you first. It’s crisp and sweet—unlike anything you’ve encountered. Then the drizzle, how it forces your clothing to bind to your skin in a way that should feel suffocating, but instead feels freeing. Lips beginning to stretch, teeth showing as your cheeks ache with the intensity of your grin.

It’s then you feel him move behind you, the squelch of his boots signifying it. His chest meets your spine, the ghost of his touch along the side of his neck, before you feel the fabric over your eyes, loosen and light begins to seep in.

Then, it goes from nothing to everything. It being almost too much to take in all at once—the unveiled surprise, the thing he’d wanted you to see in its wonder and not in pieces as you descended.

And—

“It’s beautiful.”

It being the delicate blooms that stretch out before you. Each one a mysterious burst of colour against a backdrop of greenery. Vibrant splashes of colour, all wild and free, rising from the ground like the scenes from books you used to read. With each sway and ripple in the breeze, you spot more flowers. All of them stirred by the falling rain, watching each motion, all in awe; lost for words.

Distantly, you become aware that he’s moved to the side of you, but you’re unable to tear your eyes from the world. Not able to take your sight from the striking array of hues, every colour flower you think you could ever imagine swaying. Because there are iridescent blues and purples; there are some that glow with luminous gold and reds that look stained with blood. Shares you can’t even name, but are drawn to, reluctant to steal your gaze until you spot another.

Fingers reaching out, knee bending, you touch one, find it softer, more delicate than you ever thought. Tears springing to your eyes, chest swarmed with warmth as you admire the way the stems twist and spiral in graceful arcs, all beaded with the sparkling mist that continues to fall.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…”

Words fail you, a thing you’re not sure he could ever believe.

The only conscious thought is that you wish to live amongst them. No words exist that can describe how serene you feel; how as wild or as drenched as the petals you admire.

Because it’s then you really notice the rain, coming to sit amongst the living and the flowers. Ground soaked with it, it falling in torrents. Each droplet is a percussion against your skin, seeping through the layers and soaking you to the bone.

It's a different kind of loveliness. It’s all free, raw and unyielding, a mosaic of shades that aren't bowing or converting into a glistening canvas of liquid silver—even if the skies try to.

In truth, you thought you’d seen rain. But this is something different.

It is more akin to the sky having been ripped open, split in two, cracked, all but pouring its tears upon the land in a symphony of water and wind. Your fingers dig into the dirt, feeling his equally soaked thigh press against yours as he joins you, feeling him watching, studying, even if you can't see his eyes.

“My mom used to say that a flower sprouts when a person leaves us,” you say, soft, barely your normal volume. “I always wondered where they did—I guess I know now.”

Shifting, you peel your sight from the flowers to see his legs extended, his body so close to yours. So much so, it would be easy to lean into it. Into him. To press your drenched clothing against his equally drowned frame, seek warmth, and take what he will offer you in the brightness of the day.

“Din,” you continue, tuning in to the gruff noise he makes for you to continue, as you move your shoulder closer.

His head turns, the front of his helmet facing you.

Allowing you to see a bead slide gracefully down the silver, moving like a serene symphony—as others fall, and then another. All being left by the sky above, weaving paths you wish to trace with your fingers.

You shouldn’t, but you want to wipe each away with your touch, rest your palms against the places his cheeks should be and will your hands to remember the warmth you know they can be.

“Can you remember the last time you felt the rain on your bare skin?”

Silence. Rain slides against leaves before rolling down to the soil below. The sound increases and decreases in odd waves as the storm tries to square itself against the sun, against the blossoms which rise like an army unwilling to cower.

“No.”

His reply is rough, croaked out through the modulator—caked in openness you’re not sure he wishes to show.

And, it makes a memory resurface. Sharp and clear. The first time you’d felt him unmasked, the vulnerability etched into his features—frame tense, rigid. Nervousness flowed through him as easily as the blood that races. How you’d kissed him, felt his cracked lips gain confidence against yours as his muscles rippled under your palms.

In a different way than then, you reached out, offered comfort—providing something you’re not sure he easily is given.

“A person could get lost here,” you sigh, the words practically tumbling out.

A stillness follows, one only punctuated by the rain. That is, until he shifts, until you hear him exhale, before adding, “Not you.”

Dragging your eyes from the landscape, you watch as more droplets slide and skate down his helmet, against his armour. Desperate to cling. It’s nothing but mesmerising, making him appear like he’s made of the sky. Reflections of the flowers there, muted shades mirroring.

“No?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just one. “Wouldn’t let you. I’d find you.”

Smirking, you turn back to the view. “You’re good at that—practically a professional.”

He allows a beat, lets your shoulder settle against him—the heels of your boots digging into the ground of this place, hoping a little bit clings on and comes with you.

“I’d look for you.”

Breaking your gaze from the flowers and the falling rain, you rest them on his helmet. On him. On the space you think the brown eyes he’s told you about are currently watching you.

It’s slow to appear, taking its time to spread up into your cheek as the implication of his words ring out. Look, not find; search but not hunt.

“I wouldn’t run to begin with.”

You feel it, the shift, slight tilt of his head at your words.

And you swear you hear him breathe good, light almost airy—before gloved fingers find their way between yours again. Soaked, sodden. But neither moving as seconds become minutes.

“Cyar'ika?”

You hum, preening, almost blooming under the name he’s just begun using. Nestling further against him, watching the flowers sway and turn in the rain before his gloved hands come in front of you—a bunch of flowers held out to you, offered, given.

“My hair is brown too.”

You smile, taking the bunch, bringing them to your nose. “That’s nice to know.”

[rainyreading]

Hatred - Theo Nott

theodore nott x reader

wc: 3.0k

a/n: requests open

(my gif)

Unfortunately, your alarm didn't go off this morning so you were running late for breakfast. You cursed to yourself as you rushed to get ready. The already early morning turned you into a sour mood. You were pissed off because you were late.

By a miracle you were able to get to the dinning hall just in time to get some food. When you arrived you spotted your usual table with your friends. You sat down in the only empty seat next to Pansy and across from Draco.

You had a scowl on your face and started serving yourself some food.

"Ah look who finally graced us with her presence," Draco announced.

"Shut up Draco," you hissed.

Draco put his hands up in defense. Then you noticed Theo snickering. He then whispered something to Draco which you didn't hear what it was. Typical of Theo you thought. Yeah you didn't like each other. In fact you hated each other. But you had to tolerate each other for the sake of your friend group.

"What are you blabbering about Theo?"

"Your robes are on backwards, princess." Theo grinned smugly.

God you hated him, and how embarrassing! You quickly waved your wand and muttered a spell that put your robes on facing the correct way.

"Wipe that smile off your face, would you!" you barked at Theo.

"Pansy would you pass me a muffin?" you asked.

"Sure," she replied, then she handed you a chocolate chip muffin.

Theo rolled his eyes and you gave him the middle finger.

You ate breakfast and did your best to avoid Theo. It was pleasant for the most part. You sat talking to your friends about the day, about anything really.

Next, you went to your classes. Your fourth class was potions. You went to sit down at your usual table, mentally preparing to do schoolwork.

Professor Snape went on and on about different kinds of potions, it made you bored outa your mind.

"Alright class listen up please. I'm assigning a project you will have a partner for. The two of you will work together to create a Dizziness Draught."

"I put a list of who you're paired with by the door," Snape finished.

By then end of class you were itching to get out. You did however stop by the door to see who was your partner.

"Y/n, y/n, y/n..." you whispered scanning for your name.

You finally found your name and you dragged your finger to the other side of the paper only to see the name Theodore Nott starring back at you.

The feelings you felt inside you made you want to gag. How could this be happening? Theo as your partner. How horrifying.

Theo strolled up to you while you were standing there in shock, "Looks like we're partners, can't wait," he shot you a wink, which you gave him a look of disgust in return.

—————

Unfortunately, the next day in class you had to work on your project. Theo was there at the chosen table waiting for you. You had a look of displeasure on your face as you walked over.

"Alright let's get this over with," you spoke.

"Aw don't you love me," Theo teased.

"Quite the opposite actually. I find you repulsive," you gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Funny, love." Theo said coolly.

"Don't call me that or I'll hex you!" you warned.

"Alright bossy boots let's work on the assignment."

"Gladly."

The two of you worked quietly trying your best not to fight. The project wasn't that hard but it would take a few days to complete, which you were dreading.

Eventually the potions class ended and it was time for lunch. You wanted to sit as far away from Theo as possible. So you snagged a seat at the end of the table.

After a few minutes Pansy joined you and sat down across from you.

"What are you doing way down here?" she asked.

"I'm avoiding Theo," you responded.

"Really why?"

"He's annoying and I don't want to see him," you explained.

"Aw really. I think you guys would be cute together!" Pansy announced.

"You've got to be joking. Are you crazy? I hate him and i'm pretty sure he hates me." you spoke astonished.

"Are you sure about that, I think he likes you. Why else would he bother you so much," Pansy smirked.

"You're delusional. There's no way," you scoffed.

Despite denying it, you couldn't stop thinking about what Pansy said. You were deep in thought, wondering how it was possible you never saw or thought of it before.

You did your best to get it out of your mind but it was harder than you thought.

———————

After a long day you headed back to your dorm to take a shower. The day took a toll on you so you were excited to have time to unwind. You hopped in the shower and washed away the day.

When you got out you did your nightly skincare routine. Your hair was in a towel as you did it. When you took your hair down, to your horror you saw that your hair was green. 

"Oh my god!" you screeched.

You looked in the mirror in shock. You moved side to side to see if your whole head was covered and it was. Who could of done this?! You were going ballistic. How could this of happened? Did I do something wrong?

Frustration settled in the pit of your stomach. How were you going to get this out? This problem would have to wait til morning. You were tired from the days events and needed rest.

Angrily you got into bed and pulled the comforter up to your chin. You went to bed thinking about how you were going to face everyone.

—————

When you woke up you were dreading the days events. You were expecting everyone to laugh at you and you wanted to hide away in your dorm forever.

Reluctantly you got up and got ready for the day. Your roommate came out from the bathroom and when she saw you she gasped.

"Oh my merlin what happened to your hair?!" she asked shocked.

"I'm not totally sure. My hair was normal then i took a shower and then it wasn't. It's a monstrosity I know," you frowned.

"It's not that bad," your roommate laughed.

"Yes it is and you know it," you argued.

"There has to be some sort of spell to fix this," you grumbled.

"I'll look in the library for you and see if I can come up with something," she offered.

"Really that would be great, in the mean time i'll just wear a hat," you announced.

Hesitantly you went to the great hall after you finished getting ready. You hoped your hat wouldn't draw a lot of attention to your hair. You were walking down the hall when you got shoved hard.

You almost hit the ground from the force of the shove. Your books came crashing down to the floor. The person that hit you couldn't of gone far. You looked around to see Theo on the side of you laughing.

Theo gave you a smug look before saying, "Watch where you're going!"

You frowned at him and went to pick up your books. In the process of doing so Theo ripped off your hat and tossed it to the floor.

"Theo! What the hell!" you shouted.

"What? Now everyone can see your green mess," he smirked.

"How did yo-, Wait a minute did you do this?" you gestured to your hair.

Theo smiled proudly, "Yes I did, green is your color."

Little did you know Theo snuck into your dorm and put hair dye in your conditioner.

"I'm gonna kill you!" You started to chase Theo and he was faster. He of course had your hat that he picked up off the floor, that you desperately needed back.

Theo ran straight into Ms. McGonagall. Who didn't look too happy. "What's all the ruckus about hm?" She gave her look of disapproval.

"Nothing really we're just having some fun," Theo lied.

"Your hair Ms. Y/L/N," she stated shocked.

"Yeah you can thank Theo for that," you crossed your arms.

"You did this?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes ma'am," Theo bowed his head.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you detention," she said sternly.

"You as well Ms. Y/L/N."

"What did I do?" You questioned.

"You haven't turned in your transfiguration essay."

"Oh," you sucked in a breath through your teeth.

"Yeah see you both at the end of the day, now get to class."

"Great I have to spend time in detention with that prick!" you thought to yourself.

When McGonagall was out of sight, Theo pulled your hair and said, "See ya later greenie, looking forward to it." And with that he was gone leaving you completely and utterly annoyed.

—————

The day was long. There was a handful of people making fun of you and teasing you in every class and at every meal time.

Unfortunately, your time in detention with Theo was coming up. You were dreading it. Spending an hour or more with no one else but Theo was torture.

You were beyond pissed, with him for messing up your hair. You wanted to get him back, you just didn't know how. With revenge on your mind you walked to Ms. McGonagall's classroom.

When you arrived Theo was already there. You rolled your eyes at him and took a seat. The professor explained your jobs to do during detention and you got to work.

McGonagall left the classroom to attend to some other business, leaving the two of you alone. Great. Just what you wanted. You simply decided to ignore him if he tries to talk to you, busying yourself with your task.

Theo kept stealing glances at you from across the room. Truth be told Theo liked you. A lot. He just didn't know how to express his feelings. So he bothered you trying to get you to notice him.

Theo fancied you from the very beginning. The moment he saw you he know he was done for. He didn't know how to act around you because he thought you were too good for him. He felt like he didn't deserve you. So he decided on being rude rather than nice to make himself stand out.

If he ever did catch your eye he would treat you with respect and be loyal, loving and kind. Now that he had you all to himself in a room with no professor he was excited. This was his chance. All he had to do was not to blow it.

"For what it's worth I think your hair looks good," Theo announced.

Your head shot up as you looked in Theo's direction. "Your joking right?" you responded.

"No i'm serious," Theo frowned.

"Yeah right," you scoffed.

Theo let out a sigh. How was he going to do this? How was he gonna make you believe he is serious about you given the history of him being mean.

"We're alone together might as well make the best of it," Theo reasoned.

"And what do you suggest we do?"

"Well maybe we could ask each other questions?" Theo suggested.

"Why would I do that with you?" You stated appalled.

"Because there's nothing else to do,"

You had no idea why Theo was being civil. It just made you suspicious. You wondered if he was having ulterior motives.

"I'd rather eat rocks," you bit out.

"Come on Y/N," Theo begged.

"I hate you," you spat.

"I'll go first, what do you like to do on the weekends?" Theo asked.

"I'm not doing this Theo," you hissed frustrated.

"Please," Theo begged.

"You know what whatever. I like to read and hang out with my friends," you gave in.

"Interesting. Now it's your turn to ask a question." Theo explained.

"Ok. If you could only drink coffee or tea for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?"

"Um personally Im a tea man, definitely tea."

"That makes sense you seem like a tea guy," you shared.

"Ok let's see. Do you believe in second chances?" Theo questioned.

"Um to an extent yeah."

"Alright um what are the things you wish you could easily forget?" you asked.

"Well my family life it pretty messed up so probably my childhood memories," Theo answered.

Ms. McGonagall came walking in and she said we were free to go, before you got a chance to respond.

Theo smiled at you before he left and you felt an odd feeling in your stomach.

——————

After a couple of days later your roommate found a spell to change your hair back. You were beyond relieved to get rid of the green. It was nice to have your hair back to normal.

It was time for another Hogsmeade trip. It was a Saturday and you were excited to go with your friends. You started walking there with Pansy, Draco and Blaise. Theo just happened to be there too walking behind you.

You were in your way to Honeydukes, wanting to get some sweets for the week.

Adrian Pucey came up to you on your way to Honeydukes. He interrupted your conversation with Pansy, and said, "Hey Y/N, you look really beautiful today."

You had no interest in him at all. You were quite repulsed. But you decided to be polite anyway.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to get some butter beer with me at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Are you asking me out?" you asked confused.

"Well yeah I am." Adrian smiled.

Little did you know Theo was clenching his fist behind you because he could hear every word. How dare someone else ask you out. You were his and his alone even if you didn't know it yet.

"I appreciate the gesture but no thank you, I'm really sorry," you apologized.

"Oh come on one drink, please," Adrian begged.

"Adrian I said no," you huffed.

"Fine. Your a slut anyway," he spat.

Just as the words left his mouth, Theo pushed past you, and grabbed Adrian by the collar. "What did you just say?" Theo was fuming.

"I said she-she's a slut," Adrian stuttered.

"Yeah that's not gonna fly," Theo's fist collided with Adrian's face. Theo then got him on the ground and was on top of him punching him.

"I'm not afraid of you Nott," Adrian croaked out.

Draco and Blaise could see Adrian getting beat up and bloody so they knew they had to step in. Draco got one side and Blaise got the other and pulled Theo off of Adrian.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Theo yelled.

"I'm not gonna hit him I swear!"

Draco and Blaise looked at each other uncertain if they should let him go. Before they could make a decision, Theo broke out of their grip and dragged Adrian and got him up against the wall.

"If you so much as breathe near her I will kill you, now get out of my sight." Theo seethed.

Adrian scrambled away in pain holding his bloody face. You stood there in shock at what just happened. Theo stood up for you. But why? You were beyond confused. You didn't want anyone to get hurt over you but you couldn't help think what Theo did was kind of sweet.

Theo thought that he should of made Adrian apologize to you. Theo was raging. You were perfect in his eyes. You could do no wrong. Then here was some guy calling you names just because you wouldn't go out with him. How absurd.

Theo was no where to be found after that. You wanted to thank him for standing up for you. You decided to go to Honeydukes and then the Three Broomsticks with Pansy.

When you were leaving the Three Broomsticks you saw Theo leaning up against a wall. You told Pansy to go ahead and that you'll catch up with her later.

"There you are," you spoke.

"Here I am," Theo responded.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did back there. I mean you didn't have to beat him to a pulp but, thanks for standing up for me," you expressed.

"Aw it was nothing," Theo nonchalantly replied.

"You didn't have to do that but you did. Why?"

"Well um I don't know how to put this but I like you."

"What?"

"I like you." Theo put out.

"You have a funny way of showing it," you began.

"Look I know I haven't been the nicest to you but that was because I felt like I didn't deserve you and I was pissed off. I wanted to stand out from all the other guys," Theo explained.

"You didn't have to be mean, I notice you now," you whispered.

"Oh cara mia, I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. From now on I promise to treat you with love and respect. You deserve the world and more and I'll do my very best to give you that," Theo pleaded.

You walked up to him and put your hands on ether side of his face, and kissed him. The kiss was soft and tender. The delicate kiss turned into a heated one. Theo was relieved that you kissed him. He needed it.

You were confident and excited. Your lips were locking together in a devouring kiss. Theo pulled away to grin at you and then he dived back in bringing fire and passion to the kiss.

Theo's chest felt warm and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. Your stomach was tingly and your heart was palpitating. Theo's hands were resting on your hips.

One of your hands on his cheek slid back into his hair. You slightly tugged on his hair and Theo groaned into your mouth.

As you continued to make out Theo took hold of your upper arms and switched placed with you. So now you were up against the wall. Your lungs were clenching and you needed air so you reluctantly pulled away.

Theo was out of breath when he said, "your mine forever got that?"

[bits-and-babs]

I imagine Mando is a virgin, do to his cult/religion.

What if fem/afab reader is Mando's partner on something and Din finds himself staring at their ass, their face, anything.

Reader notices and decides to lead Din through his first time?

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐑 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x F!Reader

» CONTENTS : exhibitionism, masturbation, p in v sex, unprotected sex (I can hear you all screaming from here, I KNOW), cute, shy Mando. 18+ you N A S T I E S.

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

It’s so fucking quiet on the Razor Crest.

The Mandalorian had been suspiciously silent for the majority of your trip to Theed— made even worse by the knowledge that it was such a long journey. He had spent most of his time in the cockpit of the ship, pretending to be preoccupied with the coordinates that he hadn’t changed since setting off.

You didn’t think anything of it at first. The long drags of The Mandalorian's eyes that you could feel pull across your form, settling on your ass like a tractor beam had them glued to you. Of course, you’d just explained it away with exhaustion. For a moment, you even considered that you’d been afflicted with Hyper-Rapture, imagining things that weren’t there, inventing the gaze you felt skirting over your form.

No, you don’t think anything of it at all. Not until you walk into the cockpit of the Razor Crest one evening to find The Mandalorian thrusting into his palm and quietly whimpering out your name.

Mando hadn’t seen you, spilling into his palm and wheezing as though he’d been shot by a blaster in the side. His cum had run down the knuckles of his fingers, the two-tone gloves he consistently wore hanging off the controls.

Stars, you couldn’t shake the image from your minds-eye, nor could you ignore the echo of your whimpered name when you close your eyes at night.

It’s late. Mando has managed to settle the rambunctious Child into his cot, gently laying him amongst the blankets and closing the lid. It hisses softly, the mechanics locking with a quiet ‘click’.

You can hear his boots clang across the durasteel flooring, each footstep pronounced. Heat swallows your face as you stare at the Aurebesh lettering in your book, the lines all blurring into one when you feel him approach you.

Your name rings in your ears.

“He’s asleep,” Mando speaks softly, his husky tone soothing in its quiet volume. Looking up at him through your lashes, you carefully close the book you had pretended to preoccupy yourself with. Mando’s visor stares down at you blankly, an immovable object that makes your hands shake when you reach for him.

“… That’s perfect,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly when your palms touch the flight suit beneath the lip of his breastplate. You can feel his body flinch, his hip bones soft beneath the canvas.

“H-Hey,” he says cautiously, shocked by the sudden contact. You rub gentle circles with your thumb, chewing on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to ease your thumping heart.

“I heard you,” you break it to him gently, watching his body stiffen at your admission, “Why did you hide it from me?”

Mando doesn’t respond, your touch having stolen the breath from his lungs. He shudders, his cock hard already beneath the fabric of his suit. You see it twitch, responsive to your light touch.

You smile to yourself, careful as you unclip his utility belt.

“I can give you what you want?”

You insist upon fucking him in the pilot seat. Mando implores you to allow him to keep his armour on. Of course, you concede. This is outside of his comfort zone; he would want to cling to what makes him comfortable.

Straddling his lap, you feel the sting of cold from his tassets bite into the naked flesh of your thighs. The head of his cock rests against your clit, and your muscles buzz with a mixture of arousal and anticipation. You’re drunk on it, high on it.

“I haven’t-“ Mando speaks, his voice catching in his throat when you dip his cock through your soaking folds. It’s like he short circuits, choking on a thick syllable.

“Mhm?” You hum softly. You’ve taken control, your experience making it easier for Mando to relax into you. He leans forward, pressing the cold Beskar of his helmet against your collarbone.

“I haven’t… Done this,” he admits to you, his tone reserved- shy. Mando’s breath hitches in his chest when you settle the head of his cock against your entrance. He sinks inside you ever so slightly, a groan rattling his lungs at the promise of tight, wet heat.

“I know,” you whisper softly, easing down onto his length as you soothe him. Mando’s back arches against the leather of the pilot seat, a choked moan of your name escaping him— not unlike the ones you heard when you caught him fucking his hand.

You don’t move, your walls fluttering around the stretch of him in your cunt. Mando is choking back curses, his hands gripping the curve of your ass and burying his fingertips into the soft flesh there.

“Oh, fu-ughh- so tight-'' he rambles, pitchy in tone as you bury him to the hilt. He’s touching the deepest parts of you, so thick and long that you’re sure you can feel him settle amongst your lungs.

It’s immediately apparent that Mando won’t last long. His thighs are trembling, cock twitching inside you despite your lack of movement. You don’t mind. This isn’t about you.

“Does it feel good?” You check in with him, smoothing your palms down the reflective surface of his breastplate. Your body heat is so high that the chilled metal clouds with condensation the moment your skin rests against it.

“So fucking tight- Maker-“ he gasps in response to you squeezing around him. “I’m-I’m gonna cum-“

Delicately, you lean your head down to press a kiss to the slither of skin exposed between the neckline of his flight suit and his helmet. You follow it up with a long, slow drag of your tongue.

Mando cums with a haggard groan, his whole body shuddering with the intensity of it. His head drops back against the headrest of the seat, chest heaving as he sucks in laboured breaths. Your flesh aches slightly from the tight grip he holds.

“S-Stars-“

It makes you smile, because you’re sure he sees them dancing behind his eyelids.

END

[readwritealldayallnight]

Right With You (Part 3)

Captain John Price x Reader

wc: 6.7k words

(18+ MDNI) warnings/tags: fluff, mutual pining, tension, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, no protection (use protection kids!!), finishing inside🫣

You might have bitten off more than you could chew this time.

The sound of your heels clicking and clacking against the marble floor are completely drowned out by the din of the many hundreds of party goers mingling throughout the lavish ballroom, glasses clinking together in cheers, uproarious laughter bellowing out between songs being played by the live musicians. The outskirts of the room are difficult to maneuver without bumping into one another, as the centre of the space has been cleared for dancing.

You’ve been inside the target’s home for all of five minutes and you’re already feeling like you’re way in over your head. You know that amongst the elegantly dressed men and women, there are people here on your side, posing as guests but keeping an eye out for your safety. They’re connected to the comms, as are the approaching men of the 141, intent on finding their own way in as well.

You should really only be using your earpiece if you have no other choice, the whole point of this operation being to go as undetected as possible. If a scene can avoid being made altogether, all the better. You know better than anyone that if John the men hear you sounding anything other than confident over the line, they’ll be barging in, stealth be damned. Right now however, you’re almost wishing you could use it if only to get some help in spotting your target amongst all the moving faces.

Before either of you had even had the mansion in sight, John was directed to pull the car into the long queue of vehicles slowly making their way in the direction of the actual driveway. He’d sent you a glance in the rear view mirror, his eyes betraying the gears that were already beginning to turn in his mind. There might be more people in attendance tonight than expected.

“You’re trying to tell me all these people are also fashionably late?” You’d question, eyeing the long line of fancy cars in front of you, another one having already pulled in behind you. You were purposefully showing up several hours after the party began, the more guests there were there the easier you could blend in. And the later the party, the more intoxicated and distracted party goes would be. But this seemed like a lot of people to still be showing up considering the increasingly late hour.

“I think there might be a guest list we don’ know about.” He had gritted out, gripping the steering wheel with more force. “Or they’re lettin’ any fuckin’ muppet walk in-”

“John,” you’d cut him off. “It’s fine, this doesn’t change anything. Might just take me longer to spot him, but we’ll manage.”

“Gonna be harder for ‘em to keep sights on ya.”

“Well then when I need help I’ll be sure to wave a hand up in the air so they can see me.” You had attempted to joke, but you’d spotted the near imperceptible narrowing of his eyes in your direction. “John, they are there as a precaution. I won’t even need ‘em, you’ll see. What? Unless you don’t believe that I can seduce a man?”

Though he had only been moving at a snails pace with the cars still ahead of him, the mansion only then coming into view around the bend, John slammed on the breaks, lurching you forward ever so slightly at the sudden stop.

“Seducing is not your job tonight.” His knuckles had gone white he gripped the steering wheel so tight before he’d released his death grip, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. “You are a soldier, that’s the only job you’ll do tonight.”

“My superiors have asked me to sneak into a party, discreetly convince a man to follow me to a room alone together, and gave me this to wear as gear.” You emphasized, waving a hand down at your attire. He didn’t want to take the bait, but while you’re in that dress and close enough he can smell the sweet smell of your perfume, he’s a weaker man then he’d like to admit. He glanced down at your figure, admiring not of the first time tonight how utterly ravishing you appear.

You weren’t trying to complain, you yourself had agreed that the plan made sense, but you also wanted him to be realistic here. The expectation was that you were going to get the target alone, as subtly as possible, whatever means necessary. At the very least you were going to be flirting and flattering your ass off tonight.

Undoing your seatbelt, you’d sat on the edge of your seat, inching closer to John in the driver’s spot, leaning in until your painted lips were mere millimeters from his ear, a soft hand landing on his shoulder.

“Orders are orders, after all.” Your lips barely grazed the shell of his ear as you whispered to him, trying to disperse his worries with your teasing. “I would never want to disobey my Captain.”

He’d let out a long, deep sigh through his flared nostrils, the internal conflict within him raging on. You were right, as odd as the circumstances of this mission were, it was nothing more than exactly that, another mission. They’d each been tasked with a job to do, and he knew that as with everything you set your mind to, you’d blow them all away.

As a Captain, he had full confidence in you as a soldier. But as nothing more than simply a man, who so rarely in his life allowed himself to be selfish and do something for no reason other than his own self centred wishes, a man who could no longer deny the way he was falling madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with a woman, well that man despised tonight’s plan.

The extravagant front entry of the target’s home was now within sight, multiple footmen waiting by to open the doors to arriving vehicles, welcoming guests and taking names. John knew you didn’t have much longer now before he’d have to let you go.

One of his hands snuck up to reach for yours, still laying as a delicately as a butterfly perched on his shoulder. His fingers gave yours a squeeze, thumb gently stroking the soft skin of your inner wrist.

While the thought of anyone other than him having the privilege of seeing you dressed up to the nines, getting to chat you up, putting his hands on you all under the guise of a respectable dance, got his blood boiling, he could never, would never ask you to go against your job.

Not for him, not for anyone. You were more than capable and had earned your position on this team. He wasn’t going to allow his rose tinted glasses to cloud his judgement, not even when the animalistic, testosterone raging, possessive side of him was pleading for the opposite.

“Well then your Captain’s orders, my dear,” he says in a low voice, stretching your hand far enough to plant a kiss onto it, unable to help himself really. “Are to knock ‘em dead. Not literally though, we do have questions for ‘im.”

You offered him a genuine smile, hearing the playfulness returning to his tone. Begrudgingly releasing your hand from his hold, John steered the car directly in front of the door, the heavy tint of the windows concealing him from any prying eyes.

“Sooner I’m in, sooner I’m out.” You reassured him. “Maybe I’ll have time to save you a dance.” You added at the end, catching his eye on final time, returning his nod subtle nod in the mirror just as your door was opened for you. As the footman offered you his hand, helping you out of the car and shutting the door behind you, John kept is gaze trained on you, not driving away until he saw you disappear through the doors, already counting down the seconds until he had you with him again.

A fake name given at the door, slightly modified version of the guest list having been slipped into the security’s grip earlier that evening, and you were allowed into the party without a second glance. Getting in was never going to be the challenging part of this operation. The challenge now was in spotting your target amongst the crowd.

Having decided the ballroom would likely be the best place to start, seeing as this was where the most people seemed to be gathering, you slowly strolled through the swarms of dresses and suits, wondering to yourself just how many of these people were involved in illegal affairs, and how many were feigning ignorance to their hosts choice of career.

Plucking a drink off the tray of a passing waiter, you brought the glass to your lips, taking the opportunity to more carefully glance through the many unknown faces. You manage to hide your grimace when a scratching noise comes through your earpiece for a moment, before a familiar Manchester accent crackles instead.

“Bravo 7 to Rookie. We’re in.” Ghost informs you. “Second floor. East wing. Guest room by the library.”

“We’ll cover the west side. Aim at taking the office on that end.” You’re less subtle at covering up the small gasp that slips from your mouth at the sound of John’s voice coming through the line. Clearing your throat, you take a small sip of whatever liquid you’ve grabbed, spotting another strolling waiter, sauntering over to her.

“Good, thank you.” You say, returning your still nearly full glass to her, speaking more in response to the men chatting in your ear than to the confused looking woman, who still smiles politely and takes the drink from you.

Knowing that the 141 are inside now, you go over the blueprints again in your mind, picturing where they are, taking a deep breath to steel yourself as you continue your search. Continuously bumping elbows with everyone gathered on the edges on the ballroom, yours and many others heads turn when a large group of gathered men all burst into uproarious laughter. Scanning the faces of the well-dressed guests, you nearly do a double take, eyes landing on the face you’ve spent countless hours memorizing.

Your target is stood there, one arm holding onto his friends shoulder as he continues to laugh in the way only rich men with no problems can. He and his friends are evidently intoxicated, each with a drink in hand, if not two. The man stood directly in front of him is telling the apparently hilarious story, hands waving about as he animatedly gestures, alcohol sloshing out of his glass.

An idea comes to mind, and you see your opportunity present itself before you on a golden platter. Slipping through the crowd, you come around the other side, so that you’re walking in your target’s direction, in his line of sight. You purposefully slow down your gait, running a hand through your hair carelessly, eyes gazing about the room absentmindedly, you even slightly push your chest out, catching the man’s eye just as you come close to walking past his friend.

The drunk man continues to flail his arms and spill his drink carelessly, larger and larger spills landing on the marble floor. It looks purely accidental to anyone watching when you attempt to walk by him, his arm knocking you off balance, and your heeled foot slipping on his spilled alcohol. Luckily, someone catches you before you fall to the ground, a few small gasps ringing out front the people around you who notice your fall.

“You alright ma’am?” You look up at the man who caught you, wearing what appears to be an embarrassed smile when in actually is your attempt to conceal your satisfied smirk, glancing up at none other than your target.

“Oh! Well, suppose I am better now.” You murmur with a small giggle tacked on at the end just for show. Based off the way this man’s eyes have yet to meet your face, gazing down only at your chest, you’re thinking this whole plan is about to be a lot easier than anyone anticipated.

“Sound like she’s made contact.” You hear Soap’s accent ring out through the earpiece.

Oh, right. They get to listen in on your interaction with the target thanks to the open comm line on your end. Good, in the sense that they’ll know which direction you’re headed in and will be ready, not so good, in the sense that John is about to overhear every word of your faux flirting.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” he finally breaks eye contact with your cleavage and pulls you up to stand, noticeably keeping his touch on you. “We were just cutting him off for the night, in fact, but are you sure you’re alright?”

He’s got one hand on your waist, the other is holding onto you elbow to steady you. You open your mouth to politely insist again that you’re okay, when he interrupts.

“Please, allow me to get you a drink. The very least I can do.” He implores, hardly waiting for your reply before he begins to lead you by the arm, in search of said refreshment.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before.” You say to him, batting your eyelashes at him when he offers you a glance.

“Trust me darling, I would remember meeting someone like you.” He doesn’t even attempt to hide the way he scans you up and down, ogling every bit of skin that your dress reveals, leaving you feeling exposed, though you hide any trace of discomfort behind a flirtatious facade.

“Someone like me?” You question coyly.

Your new friend walks you into an adjoining room where a bartender is mixing drinks for the dozens of people milling about the space. Sliding up to the edge of the bar, he leans against the bar top and signals to the man working.

“Certainly you must know how, appetizing you look this evening.” Your face does not betray the way his words make you groan internally, fighting not to roll your eyes. The bartender approaches, and as your target is distracted for a moment, you glance at the new space, spotting a staircase leading to the second floor not far around the corner. With how easy everything has been thus far, you wonder if you’re pushing your luck by trying to expedite the process even further.

As the target turns his attention back to you, beginning to introduce himself, you bring a hand to your forehead, interrupting him.

“I’m sorry, I’m starting to feel a bit dizzy actually.” You say, shaking your head when he sets the drinks down and goes to pull out a bar stool for you. “You wouldn’t know of anywhere you could help me sit down, would you?” You slowly reach a hand out, to stroke his hand. “Somewhere you could help me lay down, maybe?”

You watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly, eyes widening slightly in surprise at your suggestion, before quickly turning to excitement.

“Lucky for you ma’am, I’m good friends with our host tonight.” He snakes an arm around your waist, drinks long forgotten, and you’re relieved when you see he’s leading you towards the very staircase you were hoping he would take. “I know just the place.”

“Are we allowed to go upstairs?” You giggle obnoxiously, letting your men know that you and the target are on the move.

“Copy. Target’s headed for second level.” Ghost acknowledges over the line. As you come to the top of the staircase, blueprints sprawling through your head to picture where your teammates are currently placed, you realize that against your better odds, he doesn’t try to lead you towards either the east or west wing.

“Like I said princess, you’re in good hands.” Instead of leading you towards the 141, your prince charming is supposedly headed towards the washroom at the top of the landing, exactly in the middle ground where your team could not go, due to the handful of security guards patrolling the hallways. You’ve no doubt that in each of the rooms that the men were waiting for you in, there likely lay a few injured guards that had been tasked with watching those unfortunate quarters.

You knew your luck was going to run out eventually, but now you had to think fast and on your feet. Sliding out of the man’s grasp, you took a step away from him, tracing a finger along the bannister in a way you hoped came across as seductive.

“I don’t know. I feel like maybe I’ve been a bit too easy on you.” You wink for added emphasis that you’re trying to toy with him now. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Nor do I know yours.” He tried to challenge, raising a brow at your behaviour, though still slowly stalking towards you, not yet willing to let you go. “We do not need names to be friends, do we?”

“How do I know what kind of man you are, hm?” You question him, continuing your slow walk backwards, eyes scanning the room and you realize you’re slinking towards the west wing. Price and Gaz. They said they would be in the office in the west wing. You just have to get him there.

“I did help you just now, did I not? I believe I am a good man. Let me show you how good I can be.”

“And if I wasn’t looking for a good man? What then, hm?” He halts momentarily in his steps as he continues to follow you in what he believes is a game of playful banter, foreplay if he’s lucky. You’ve spotted a total of three guards so far, though none of them are very near this moment. Making up your mind, you steady yourself as you say, “What if I wanted someone who would chase me?”

Still keeping him in sight, you quicken your pace, hoping that he really will gave chase to you, allowing you to lead him like a fly to a trap.

“Whatever the lady wants.” He humours you, following you when you break into a sprint without hesitation, hoping your memory is doing you justice and the door you’re headed towards is indeed the one concealing one half of the 141. The sound of both your pairs of footsteps echoing down the corridor, you’re gripping the door handle the moment it’s within reach, turning to glance over your shoulder, seeing your target is only a few paces behind you.

You shove the door open with your shoulder, and just as you’d planned in all those briefings, you enter the room, grip never leaving the door, allowing the target to follow you in, and shut the door behind you, revealing the two large men who’d been hiding behind it, now with guns trained on the man before them. Before he even realizes what’s happening, Price has got him knocked out cold, hitting him with the blunt end of his weapon, letting his body crumple to the ground where he falls unconscious on the spot.

You’re thinking up a clever response to say about how easy this mission has been, before either of them can beat you to it, when your earpieces all buzz apiece.

“Alpha 5 to Bravo 6. Over.”

“Go for Bravo.” Price replies, pressing his finger to his ear, stepping over the unconscious target to come closer to you. Gaz has crouched down, examining the target, preparing to restrain him for transport back to base.

“Guards saw a woman get chased by a man on the second floor. They’ve sent someone to check it out, you’ve got one headed your way now. Less than 30 seconds.”

At those words, the three of you are glancing at each other, before Price is already acting.

“Garrick, help me get his jacket off then get him out of sight.” He orders his sergeant, who without question begins assisting the captain in removing the target’s suit jacket, before dragging the unconscious man towards the window they had apparently entered from. To your utter bewilderment, Price’s fingers then begin working speedily at his own tactical vest, pulling it over his head and off of himself, tossing it in Gaz’s direction.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, half wondering if he’s forgotten you can’t actually read his mind. He’s continuing to pull weapons off of himself until there’s nothing left, leaving them with Gaz.

“Guards saw two people walk in here, then two people will walk out.” He says, slipping the man’s jacket on over his shoulders. Price’s shoulders are without a doubt wider and bulkier, the sit being too small, but it’s not so bad that he looks outright odd. “Trust me here, love.” He asks of you, receiving a nod from your part instantly.

All in the blink of an eye, Gaz has tossed the equipment out the open window, and is carrying the unconscious target over his shoulder as he slips out that same window and vanishes out of sight. The door to the room is being tossed open, and John is grabbing you with a force you haven’t personally felt from him before. One of his large hands is in your hair, the other is grabbing the fat of your ass, and he pulls you flush against his own body, sealing his warm lips to yours in a kiss so passionate, so needy, it knocks the breath out of you.

“Oy!” The guard shouts at you two. “Fuck are you twos doing up here?”

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate.” John breaks the kiss, before he answers apologetically, holding a single hand up in peace, the other keeping its tight grip on your behind. “The missus got a little eager. We’ll get going, don’t mean to be any trouble.”

Playing the part of a couple nearly caught in the act, John takes ahold of your hand and keeps his head ducked as he quickly leads you towards the door. You squeak out your own bashful ‘Sorry!’ as you step past the man, following along with John in your feigned shame at being caught. Your mind was absolutely reeling with all the adrenaline of the last five minutes coursing through your veins, your captain holding you against his muscled body being at the top of your list.

“Now hold on just a minute-” the guard tries to shout after you both, taking notice of John’s unusual appearance compared to the other well dressed men walking about, but the pair of you are hurriedly making your way towards your escape.

“Stay with me now.” Price gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he keeps a steady pace down the hall, headed for the staircase, intent on making a swift exit.

“Bravo 6 to Bravo 7. Slight change o’ plans. Garrick’s got our target. Help ‘em get to the rendezvous point and Rookie and I’ll meet you there.” John hurriedly mumbles under his breath, placing a steadying hand on the small of your back as you begin to descend the steps.

“Copy. Out here.” The Lieutenant replies diligently.

“Nicely done, Rookie. Think that’s record time.” You hear Soap’s playful tone come through the earpiece.

“We’re not clear yet, Sergeant. Stay alert.” Price tells him as you both land back on the bottom step. With the guards now on higher alert, one likely still hot on your heels, you need to blend back in with the crowd before sneaking your way towards the first convenient exit, still keen on avoiding drawing any further attention to yourselves. With all the confidence in the world, your captains steady hand leads you back through the bar and into the still crowded ballroom, musicians instruments playing with an much enthusiasm as they had before.

John’s keen eyes spot the handful of security patrolling the room with their gazes scanning the crowd. Turning to face you now, John brings your clasped hands up higher, placing your free hand on his shoulder before landing his own palm on the small of your waist.

“John, what are we-” Your words are cut off as you recognize he’s placed you both in the familiar position for a waltz, your eyes looking up into his own with questions unspoken.

“Follow my lead.” He whispers to you so softly that you nearly miss it with the sound of the music picking back up. You don’t even need to answer him before your body is instinctually doing just that, following his lead as he begins to softly move to the beat of the song.

Your eyes never break apart from one another, gazes locked in their own private choreographed moment as the captain smoothly dances with you from one end of the room to the other, going unnoticed amongst the swarms of other dancing couples. His hold on you is searing hot, sending sparks shooting though every nerve receptor he touches. He’s feeling just as affected by you, his heart hammering in his chest so strongly he’s certain you must be able to feel it against your own sternum.

Spinning you close enough to the edge of the ballroom that the front entry is once again in sight, John needs only cast a glance to the door for you to understand his message, gripping your clasped hands tighter together. You offer him a small smile and nod in agreement, letting him know that yes, you’ll follow him anywhere.

“You should be sleeping. Sun’ll be up soon.”

You’re holding a steaming cup of tea in hand, one hand on your hip with a look on your face that says ‘Really?’ pointed at your captain who has yet to leave his office since you’d all returned from the mission hours ago. You slowly approach his desk, your feet eternally thankful for the comfort of your boots over the heels you’d ripped off. In the time since you’ve returned to base, the target’s been secured, you were all dismissed for the night as well as the following day, considering it already was the early morning hours of the next day. You’d combed your hair out of his hair sprayed style, wiped all traces of makeup off your face, intent on following your captain’s orders and making your way to bed.

“I won’t even bother telling you the same. Both know you wouldn’t listen.” You set the mug down on his desk for him, your hand lingering along the surface of the wooden top.

“Thank you.” He smiles gratefully up at you from his seat, genuinely appreciative of your thoughtful gesture at this late hour. “Though, think I’ve heard the lads arguin’ once or twice ‘bout how you’re the only one I do listen to.” John’s smile widens as he notices the faint blush creeping along the apples of your cheeks.

“Well,” you playfully rolls your eyes at his comment, coming to step nearer to the broad man, turning slowly to present him with the back of your dress.“Help me out of this thing would you? So I can actually get some sleep.”

The black of your dress is open down to the middle of your back, where a short zipper begins. You don’t need any help with it, you’d been able to put it on without issue before the mission. However as you stood in your room, preparing to take off the garment, you couldn’t erase the image in your mind of John’s eyes landing on your figure as he hungrily took in your appearance. You couldn’t forget the feeling of his wide hands holding you against him, pressing every inch of his muscled physique to yours, lips desperate to chase the taste of your mouth.

Your heated thoughts brought you to the small kitchenette in search of a glass of water to cool yourself down, however as your eyes landed on the kettle, and your thoughts continued to swarm your head, you’d begun heating up your Captain’s tea and walking in direction of his office before you’d been able to convince yourself it wasn’t a good idea.

Now, peering over your shoulder to see John’s face as he takes in the expanse of exposed skin displayed before him, his breath catching in his throat, grip tightening on his pen in hand, you’re certain this was an excellent idea.

Taking a deep steadying breath through his flared nostrils, John’s eyes meet yours, a playful mischief hidden behind his gaze as you recognize that he’s just as well aware you can undo your dress without his help, without his hands to assist you, but still taking the bait you offer him. Part of John’s chest had swelled up with pride when you’d led the target to him and Gaz earlier tonight, even knowing that the odds had been 50/50 depending which direction the target went towards. He’d only been more than happy to oblige when you, the cunning little spider, lead her fly into the trap of her web, and broke the bastard’s nose as if you’d served him up on a platter.

He feels almost similar now, a bug being led into your sticky trap, watching you dangle the enticing bait in front of him that could lead to his ultimate demise, his unavoidable detriment. Though from the look in his eyes, it seems more likely that John is the one intent on devouring you whole tonight. His throat bobs as he swallows, spinning his chair to face you better, hands twitching for a moment before he brings them to trace the edge of the fabric where your dress meets your bare skin.

Your own breath comes out as a soft gasp as the feeling of his digits teasing along your back, the warmth emanating from his touch a thousand times hotter than the blood pooling in your face. You can feel his hot breath fan across your skin, just as his fingers bring themselves to grip your zipper firmly. Achingly slow, dragging the process out as if to torture you, John inches the zipper down at a pace only a hardened military man could maintain when face to face with more and more of your bare body appearing before his eyes.

The both of you are now holding your breaths as he finally drags the last of the zipper open, his fingers now grazing the top of your ass. You hear him let out a deep sigh, before his hands are sliding along the smooth material of your dress, the chair creaking beneath him as he comes to stand behind you. His hands tease along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his digits skim higher and higher up your back until he reaches your shoulders.

You can feel every inch of him pressed up against you from behind, his body emanating heat like a furnace. But more noticeably, you can feel his rock hard member through his slacks pressing up against the swell of your ass.

“You know how proud you made me today, hm?” He asks softly, before pressing a kiss to your temple. You feel hardly in control when your eyes flutter shut, leaning back to put your full weight against him, letting him embrace you like this. He brings his mouth lower to kiss your reddened cheek, your neck, behind your ear. “Had the muppet in the palm of your hand soon as he laid eyes on ya.” His warm breath is fanning across your skin, rolling your neck to the side to allow him better access.

“And who could fuckin’ blame him?” He nearly growls, slipping one of the thin straps of your dress off your shoulder, allowing it to fall down your arm, his palm now coming to land on your exposed, bare waist, fingers spreading wide as he takes in your softness. Your eyes open as you feel a finger stroking your cheek, tilting your face to meet his, his shining blue orbs, glazed over in obvious desire, asking what he dare not speak out loud. You nod all too eagerly, telling him everything he needs to know.

John’s hand is sliding away from your cheek, fingers dancing across your shoulders as he gently tugs at the final strap holding your dress up, the tension that has been building and heating between the two of you for far too long now coming to a head. As the fabric falls from your figure and pools at your feet, leaving you bare before your captain, wearing nothing more but the necklace he’d put on you only so many hours earlier. John wastes no time in pulling your lips to his, curious hands exploring the expanse of your skin as you practically melt into his touch.

His large hands are squeezing your waist, your hips, one hand is reaching to grab ahold of your breast, fingers teasing your sensitive nipple. He hears you try to hold back a small moan, and he thinks you’re the sweetest thing in the world. Believing that you can hold back any of your delicious sounds from him. In the blink of an eye, John is turning you around, clearing everything off his desk in quick swoop of his arm, before lifting you up by your thighs and seating you atop his desk.

“Now, gorgeous,” he says almost sternly, putting on a faux captain voice, though he’s certainly never sounded quite so lustful over comms before. “That’s the first and the last time that I ever want to hear you try and keep a single one of your pretty little noises from me. Understood?”

You’re nearly panting you’re breathing so hard, watching as John pulls his chair up and takes a seat in front of you, his hands coming to pull your legs further apart until his shoulders are between them your thighs, your face going beet red as his own head is merely inches from your bare, completely soaked folds. In reality, you had been dripping down your thighs since you’d walked into his office with nothing underneath your dress.

“Seeing as you did such a good job tonight however,” he adds, fingers massaging the soft skin beneath his touch. “and considering you never even gave the bastard a chance to ask you to dance,” his gaze locks with yours at that, his eyes communicating the sentiment behind his words. “Lettin’ your old captain steal a one from ya,” his mouth comes to plant a kiss on your thigh, then another, and another, working closer to your centre. “Suppose you deserve a reward.”

Your moan would be embarrassing if the feeling of his warm lips sucking your clit wasn’t so heavenly. He spreads you open, tongue working at your sensitive bud with a fervour only a starving man could match. He is starved for you, has been since he’s met you and now that he’s tasting you, he doesn’t know how he’s survived without it. He can’t decide which is sweeter, your taste or the noises you make, so responsive to his touch, as if you were an instrument he’d memorized the most beautiful melodies to.

As his tongue continues to work feverishly at your nub, one of his fingers comes to tease your throbbing hole. His digit slowly slips in until he reaches his knuckle, slipping back out, wasting no time before slipping in a second, earning a lustful gasp from above him. Your hands are threaded in his hair, trying not to rock against him, but quickly losing grip of your self control, as he brings you closer and closer to that peak.

His two fingers begin to curl inside you, searching for that soft, sweet spot that has you seeing stars when he reaches it with his long, skilled digits. Your thighs are beginning to shake, one of his hands coming to steady you, but never dropping his pace, as his tongue and fingers work in tandem to bring you to that crest.

“Come on sweetheart,” he mumbles into you, his voice barely reaching your ears over the sounds of your own pleasure. “Give it to me. I’ve got ya, cum for your captain. Give me a good one.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your wet folds, attacking your clit with renewed vigour.

John clamps a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your scream as you cum all over his hand and mouth, soaking his beard with your arousal, his movements never slowing down until you’re pushing his head away from you, unable to take any more of the intense pleasure having you seeing stars. The both of you are panting now, as he slips his hand away from your mouth and around to the back of your neck, standing to his full height before you. He’s memorizing the look on your face at this moment, the glazed expression over your features, eyes gazing longingly into his as though you’re the only two people on this base, maybe the world. Fuck, how he wishes he could give you the world.

He brings his lips to yours, caught up in his undeniable feelings for you, going much, much further than simple attraction. Yet he’s having a hard time thinking very hard about that, or anything at the moment, when you’re kissing him back with the same intensity, one of your hands sneaking down his torso, reaching for the front of his trousers.

John can’t help the deep groan that comes up his throat at the feeling of your hand wrapping around him through the fabric of his pants. All too eagerly, he’s fumbling with the buckle of his belt, never letting your lips separate from his. Practically ripping the belt out of its place, he tosses it aside, feeling your deft fingers quickly pulling at his zipper, glancing up to meet his eyes when your fingers creep along the edge of his boxers underneath.

He gives you a single, confident nod, torn between rolling his head back in pleasure and keeping his eyes locked on your every expression as you tug down his trousers and underwear together, freeing his aching cock. His member springs to life, precum beading at his red, swollen tip.

“John…” you murmur as you size up his cock, excited and equally concerned about his impressive length.

“I know love,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll make it fit.”

You spread your thighs wider, arms coming to wrap around John’s shoulders as he lines his cock up with your entrance, already groaning at the feeling of his head touching your warm, wet folds. The both of you gasp as he slips his tip inside you, foreheads pressed together, as one of his hands tenderly holds the back of your head, fingers threaded through your locks while the other wraps around your back to squeeze your hip, holding you close to him.

Inch by inch, John rolls his hips forward and back, taking his sweet, sweet time in discovering the bliss that is being inside of you, wrapped around you, simply being with you, until he’s filled you up entirely to his base, hairs at the base of his groin coming to rub against your already sensitive clit, creating a delicious friction that you know will have you finishing quickly already.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he groans out, rolling his hips back, earning a pleased moan from your lips as he rocks forward again, filling you completely. “Gonna be the death of me.”

You haven’t a single functioning brain cell left to answer him, and he knows it, your continuously flowing arousal seeping down between where the two of you are joined, echoing sinful sounds throughout the small room. As if your moans wouldn’t be evidence enough as to what was happening in Captain Price’s office, should anyone walk by. Keeping a steady pace, the captain fucks you against his desk relentlessly, earning more and more of those very noises from your lips.

“Oh my god, John! Oh fuck! John!” Hearing you, John feels like he’s about to burst. He hasn’t cum in ages, and he’s been so hard for so long now, he doesn’t think he can hold back much longer. Not when he’s hearing you whimpering his name so sweetly, not when you feel as incredible as you do wrapped around him like this, squeezing him so tight. He’s pressing hot, open mouth kisses against your neck, your collarbone, any skin his lips can reach.

“Love,” John grits out through a clenched jaw, holding himself back as best he can as he continues to move with you, bodies rocking back and forth as if in their own choreographed dance. “Where can I- where do you want me to-”

“Inside!” You plead wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Inside John, please! I’m- oh fuck!” You say as he delivers another deep thrust. “On the pill. I’m on the pill.”

John needs no further permission, his cock continuing to hit that sweet, sensitive spot inside of you, that has your eyes rolling back in please. Just as his fingers reach between your two bodies to press against you throbbing clit, you moan out his name, reaching your blissful peak for the second time tonight, all at your Captain’s doing. John groans out, feeling himself begin to burst, holding his hips against yours.

“Fuck!” He shoots thick, hot ropes of his spend deep into you, his member twitching inside. “I got you love.” He talks you through both your cresting orgasms, grinding impossibly further into you, never letting go of the tight hold he has around you. “I’m with you, love. Right with you.”

Later on, as he walks you back to your room, insisting he has to see you make it there safely even though it’s technically become so ‘late’ that some of the early risers are awake by now, John asks:

“You did have panties on under the dress durin’ the mission though, right?”

If you’ve made it to the end of my first ever completed series, then thank you for making it this far!

I felt very bleh about the ‘mission’ part of writing this but hopefully my first ever attempt at legitimate smut made up for it!

This is the end of this little three part series, but I’ve got some more Price fics lined up for sure

I know I said it in the initial disclaimer but seriously y’all, wrap it before you tap it, fan fiction is fiction, pregnancy and STDs are real, use protection! (But like me, read all the filthy, filthy fics your heart desires)

-M 🫶🏻

[saradika]

— invisible string

din djarin x vaguely force sensitive!reader

rated e - 1.7k

tags: divergent timeline, soulmate!au, takes place across season 1 & 2, missed connections, the Razor Crest lives, PiV, marking, creampie, magical elements

a/n: for the TS Challenge by @beskarandblasters! This was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this event! 💖 I was so excited to get this song & character

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You feel as if you are always out of step.

Too early. And then somehow - just a little bit too late.

As if you've missed something crucial. A prickle on the back of your neck. Eyes scanning the crowds of people as you weave through cities - looking for someone.

As to whom, though - you're never quite sure.

You think it's always been there. A similar sort of feeling that flickers when you're in danger. That was something you had cultivated. Manipulated into a force you can wield. A push and pull, an aid - when you need it. Something you draw from often, during your days as a smuggler.

But you're not sure what to do with this.

The feeling is pushed down on Nevarro.

Contacted for a job, one that had been easy enough. Your goods exchanged in a dingy cantina - a shipment of stolen fuel cells furtively traded to an irritated man that went by Karga. Your eyebrows raised at the charred hole in the man's fine clothes - a half-hearted wonder at how the man was still standing.

The Imperial credits he offers you do not get you far. He's unable to offer you a puck - his trade was in bounty hunting, not smuggling. You're not sure if you'd take one, and the cells are enough to keep his crew afloat for a while. A dead-end for now, but you think - not always.

After, your ship drifts along an unseen track.

To Tatooine this time. A big job for the Hutts that takes you two weeks. Days in the sun spent waiting for the payments to transfer to your account, and so in the meantime - you tinker.

Trading your way up. A broken blaster fixed, exchanged for ship parts. The parts installed, the labor paid for with two, beat-up old speeders.

Only to sell them both to a cocky hot-shot bounty hunter for double their value - his over-blown self-confidence eclipsing the fact that you were absolutely swindling him.

It’s not your problem.

Though here, you can't help but feel the urge to linger. An itch beneath your skin, as if you've missed something, again.

You ignore it. Trading up one more time - swapping Mos Eisley for the sea. The choppy waters of Trask washing away the grit and sand that clings to your skin.

There's always work to be found here - deals to make with the Quarren and Mon Calamari. Those days spent at the inn, with lunches of warm homemade chowder and wrapped in chunky-knit sweaters.

Eyes snagging on a couple that often sits together at lunch. Their features frog-like, affection clear in their soft chatter, the slow blink of their large, black eyes. You imagine it to be a stolen moment - meeting up in the afternoon, too eager to wait until evening to see each other.

It’s nice.

It follows you, back to your room.

You think about them later - the obvious connection. A bone-deep urge to find another that matches a part of you. Something you've never had.

Somehow you know it’s out there.

But it's not time.

The next day, your ship takes off again.

There's a feeling deep down that for once, you're right where you need to be.

Your path is not guided by a job. Something spinning inside your chest like the point of a compass, your fingers keying coordinates with a mind of their own.

It's not a sea. Not a desert. Not a growing town, slowly rebuilding.

You're taken to a forest. The trees are unlike those you've seen - stretching tall and thin towards the sky. Their leaves sparse, but still filling the space with the sheer number.

There's a village - but you're drawn away from the tall walls. There's nothing inside that you seek. Drawn back to the trees you had seen from above. There's no tracks for you to follow, it's only your own boots pressed into the earth.

But you still go out, day after day.

It's on the third day, as you sit by the edge of a clear, shallow pool, that you hear the crack of branches under boots.

It should frighten you… but it doesn't.

It feels like an inevitability.

Your head turns, and there's a man there. His limbs encased in armor of shining beskar. A Mandalorian, you realize, when your eyes meet the dark visor that bisects his helmet.

"It's you." The words are a flat buzz, through his helmet. Unsurprised, somehow. Just as you are.

And it's him.

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You're not sure what that something is...

But think you are finally ready to find out.

His touch is familiar, though you've never known it. Much like everything else, it feels almost destined.

You know he feels it too. A slow circling dance, the weight of his eyes following you from behind the visor. That string inside no longer feels like a leash, but instead - a lifeline.

Finally being able to acknowledge that he has been what you've been orbiting around this whole time. Easing that ever-present ache of loneliness that had always followed you.

For some time, he had thought you would be the one to train Grogu. That perhaps this had been the reason why the fates had pushed you together.

You had tried, and failed. That part of you still too raw, too unfashioned. It lived inside you, but it was something you had been unable to teach another. How could you, when you did not even know the word for what it was?

And as time passed, you realized deep down that you were truly meant to be here now. Not for the before.

An aid at first, of course. You had gone with him to Tython. Traded in your ship, and traveled on the Slave 1. Had faced death by his side, staring into the black chrome of the Dark Troopers.

Had grieved with him, after.

You think this had been your place all along.

This liminal space, in those months that follow.

Giving him something to grab onto. Fingers sinking into flesh, your back hitting the mattress as he follows.

It’s dark, in the belly of his ship. With anyone else your senses would be screaming, a ringing alarm.

But you’ve come to know each room, fingers tracing the cold metal. From the walls, to the bunk, to him - the tips slipping under to tug at the fastenings of his armor.

He is quiet, like he often is now. But you can feel the heat that rolls off him in waves. The harsh buzz of his breath through the vocoder, before the light cuts out completely.

Before it’s just him and you.

His knees nudge your thighs wider. Pressing into muscle and flesh, forcing them up and apart. Your fingers twist in his curls, angling your mouth up to meet the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Fingers dip down, thick and calloused. Parting you, nudging inside to where you’re wet and waiting. Pumping deep with his thumb pressed snug against the button of your clit - leaving you dizzy and clenching and wondering if he just knew, as well.

You think he did. He does.

And when he works himself inside you, you finally feel full. Ripping a sound from each of you - his rough and swallowed, yours a broken murmur of his name.

Something else given in the dark, on another night akin to this. Pieces of himself peeled back and gifted, only to be carefully wrapped up and buried deep.

The pound of his hips itches at something you’ve been missing. Those hands tugging at your hips, pulling you to meet each harsh thrust. Fingers slipping down to swirl against you again - a spark rising each time you fit together, building swiftly to an inferno.

“Din,” You breathe, as something heavy flickers inside you, just out of reach, “Stars, please. Don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” It’s a low oath, as his cock grinds deep, “I’ve waited too long for you, cyare.”

He wrenches it from you, setting you ablaze. Your is cry loud in the tiny room as you come undone. The wild swirl of your senses narrowing down, until it’s just him. Din’s mouth against your neck, warm breath and teeth nipping marks into your skin - the pleasure flowing from you in pulsing waves, sinking into him.

Making him follow, no more than a dozen thrusts later. A gritted, bitten-back moan of your own name, before his hips are stuttering. Giving back what you passed to him, his cock throbbing inside you, buried deep.

Where he stays, until he’s gone soft. A pang of loss shuddering through you when he slips from between your thighs - expecting him to return to his own bunk.

To leave you, again.

But the mattress dips, next to you. The space narrow, a short sigh when you wiggle too much trying to get comfortable. Hands hooking around your wrists, hauling your hips over his. Settling you down on top of him.

And in the dark - he stays.

“Should have met you on Tatooine,” Din tells you later that night, unbidden. Letting your legs twine with his, thighs parted to make room for you. “I didn’t know it was you. If I had-”

His words end abruptly, hanging. Both of you thinking about all those moments when time hadn’t lined up. The synchronicity of your movements, just barely nudged out of time.

Both there, during that same moment. If you had stayed another day, maybe that would have been your meeting.

But you had left early, and he had came late.

“We’re here now.” You tell him, chin pressing against his chest. Eyes finding his in the dark, though you cannot see. “Isn’t that enough?”

There’s the brush of his hand along your spine - knuckles, and then fingertips as they unfurl.

“Yes.”

It is enough, for now.

You’re not sure if it’s forever. If, for some reason, you’ll be forced to part again. But tonight, you’re not worried.

Because, if you were to reach inside yourself and pluck that golden string right now - letting it thrum…

You think that he would feel it, too.

thanks so much for reading!! 💖

cyare - beloved

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret ☆

A MANDALORIAN SERIES MASTERLIST

[ COMPLETED ]

✩ a bodyguard!din x princess!reader fic ✩

series summary :

Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

18+ mdni

do you like kitschy, campy romance novels? if you're reading this, I hope so.

behind the scenes & chapter notes + other extras (spoilers) :

chapters 1-5

chapter 6-15

spotify playlists

Lysa & Elaine information

the bks screen adaption

bks q&a

bks what if's

reader is generally not described past being picked up a few times, and having hair long enough to be put up

✩ chapters containing smut!

chapter one : honeymoon (6.7k words)

[ Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” ]

chapter two : silent treatment (7.4k words)

[ Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. ]

✩ chapter three : the smitten paladin (4.6k words)

[ You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. ]

chapter four : sarad'ika (6.8k words)

[ Sarad'ika. 

You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. ]

✩ chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (5.0k words)

[ Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. ]

✩ chapter six : torment (5.1k words)

[ Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. ]

✩ chapter seven : just friends (3.1k words)

[ Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. ]

chapter eight : solar markets (5.3k words)

[ It’s nice to wake up excited again. 

You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. ]

✩ chapter nine : shuk'la rules (5.6k words)

[ You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. ]

✩ chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur (4.1k words)

[ He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief. 

That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. ]

chapter eleven : he loves me not (4.6k words)

[ Something is wrong. 

All day it’s been wrong. 

He’s different. Distant. ]

chapter twelve : pretend (4.4k words )

[ Two days.

That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. ]

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (3.5k words)

[ He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever? ]

chapter fourteen : condemned (4.9k words)

[ You’re having trouble sleeping. 

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. ]

chapter fifteen : two tea parties (5.4k words)

[ “What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 

“Excuse me?” ]

chapter sixteen : absolution (4.6k words)

[ There’s a visceral sense of dread when you wake up, for several reasons. 

The glaring obvious culprit of your discomfort would be the fact that today’s your husband's birthday. ]

chapter seventeen : the apostate’s cabin (3.5k words)

[ Just Din. 

It’s sinking in as you walk in silence, holding his hand tightly as he pulls you towards his home. ]

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (5.4k words)

[ It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. ]

✩ chapter nineteen : reverence (7.3k words)

[ You really want to. 

You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do. 

It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. ]

✩ chapter twenty : like real people do (8.4k words)

[ Mando and Din. 

All you can think about right now is how there must be two of them. 

You’re playing with his curls. ]

✩ chapter twenty one : te mirci't (9.0k words)

[ “It means I love you.” 

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. ]

✩ chapter twenty two : it’s you that i lie with (11.3k words)

[ Naboo has several trading ports. 

You could get him on a cargo ship. That would be the most inconspicuous form of transport. It would help if he was willing to ditch his armor. ]

✩ chapter twenty three : lunar markets (15.0k words)

[ Sneaking out of the castle gets easier every time you do it. 

It only takes a few minutes and you’re walking outside towards the forest trail, Din’s hand in yours, still giddy. ]

✩ chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur (7.8k words)

[ He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. ]

✩ chapter twenty five : wedding bells (11.7k words)

[ Four days of Leo. 

You were upset that Din was leaving you but you got over it rather quickly with the promise of his hasty return. ]

chapter twenty six : crucifixion (12.7k words)

[ “My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” ]

chapter twenty seven : the apostate (6.0k words)

[ Silence.

That’s all there is in his brain. 

It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. ]

✩ chapter twenty eight : a place for us (8.4k words)

[ You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him. 

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. ]

chapter twenty nine : the best kept secret (epilogue) (6.1k words)

[ The morning sun is warm against your face, you bask in it, unmoving and only half awake until you feel a tiny hand slapping your cheek. The illusion of tranquility is immediately shattered as you softly laugh. ]