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ghoulphile · 7 months ago

Text

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position.

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.”

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout smut #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout fanfic

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jetii · 2 months ago

Text

Always

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!Reader / Hunter x fem!Reader

Words: 16,083

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, hurt/comfort, forbidden relationship, a very heartfelt reunion, Hunter is a crier no I won't be accepting any criticism, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, nipple play, marking, primal kink, scent kink?, breeding kink

Summary: Months after you went into hiding, Hunter hasn't stopped hoping, waiting for the day when you can finally be together again. Now that it's here, and there's no reason to hide his feelings for you anymore, he can't help but be a little overwhelmed.

A/N: I'm sure no one believes me at this point but I had no intention of writing this much. I was possessed by the spirit of romance, true love, etc. etc. Anyway, please enjoy some very soft, very protective, very affectionate Hunter. Thank you so much to @dindjarins1ut for the prompt!

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Hunter is nervous.

He tries his best to hide it, keeping to himself while Tech and Echo bicker in the cockpit, but he can't ignore the butterflies in his stomach, nor the clammy hands threatening to soak through his gloves. It's ridiculous. He's faced off against far worse than this. He shouldn't be getting worked up over something so small.

But it isn't really small, not when you think about it. He hasn’t seen you in months. No comms, no messages. Nothing. He knows you’re alive, and even that was a miracle. The last words he said to you were in person, when you were standing right in front of him and he told you he loved you, and he'd kissed you and then left with the promise to come back as soon as he could.

That was before the Republic fell, and every Jedi across the galaxy was marked for death. Before the purge and the Empire's reign began. Before you were forced to go into hiding on your own.

And he hasn't spoken to you since.

You haven't seen each other in months, and Hunter is terrified that the feelings aren't mutual anymore. That you've grown apart during your time away, and what he had thought was love, you now see as nothing more than a fling. He's scared you'll look at him differently, scared you won't look at him at all.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you don’t want him anymore. If he loses the best thing that's ever happened to him.

It's stupid, Hunter knows that, because even if you don't love him the same way you used to, you'll still be friends. He should just be happy you're alive and not worrying about something so trivial as his emotions, but he can't help it. He can't shake the feeling, and it's eating him up inside.

A hand settles on his shoulder, and he jumps.

Hunter hasn’t been startled like that in ages, not since he was a cadet, but here he is, nearly falling out of his seat at the sudden contact. It takes him a moment to get over his shock, his heart pounding, before he looks up to see Wrecker looking down at him with a frown.

"Hey, we're almost there," Wrecker says, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and Hunter swallows the lump in his throat.

"I'm fine," he says, but it comes out rough. He clears his throat, tries again. "I'm fine."

Wrecker’s eyebrows raise, and Hunter realizes a moment too late Wrecker never asked how he was doing. But his brother doesn't call him out on it, only gives him a look, one that Hunter recognizes as his attempt to look serious.

“You sure?”

"Yeah," Hunter replies automatically. He can feel the anxiety creeping into his gut, and he pushes it down, looking away. "Why wouldn’t I be?”

"I dunno," Wrecker shrugs, leaning back against the bulkhead. "You've been real tense all day."

Hunter sighs. He should have known Wrecker would notice something was wrong, even if the others hadn't. He'd always been perceptive, despite what people thought of him, and Hunter’s never been able to get away with hiding his feelings, not even when they were kids.

"I just..." he hesitates, wondering how to explain his feelings without making himself seem pathetic. Wrecker might not care, but Hunter still has his pride. He still has the strong desire to protect you, to keep you secret and safe. He knows Wrecker would never betray his trust, but still, he doesn't want to admit how anxious he's been, or how much the anticipation is killing him.

"It's nothing," Hunter decides. He turns back to look out the viewport through the doors of the cockpit. They’ll be landing in a few minutes, and he doesn't want to miss the moment you step into view. "Just... worried, is all."

"What for?"

"I..."

He can't say it, can't get the words past his lips, but the hand on his shoulder squeezes gently, and the unspoken encouragement makes the admission easier.

"It's been a long time," Hunter says finally, and the rest comes tumbling out of him, unable to be held back anymore, “We haven’t seen her in months, Wrecker. What if she's... I don’t know. Things have changed, is all. For her. For us."

"So?" Wrecker scoffs, and his dismissal of the problem only makes Hunter feel worse. He scowls, glaring up at his brother.

"So," he echoes, trying to sound stern, but he can't even bring himself to look mad, not really. His shoulders slump, the fight leaving him, and he looks away. "It might not be the same anymore."

For a moment, the silence is deafening, but then Wrecker lets out a laugh, loud enough to echo throughout the ship, and Hunter bristles, his eyes darting to the cockpit. Tech and Echo are still arguing about the finer details of landing, but he doesn't doubt they can hear every word they're saying.

"What?" Hunter snaps, glaring at his brother, but Wrecker only laughs harder.

"I'm pretty sure she won't have changed that much," he says, nudging Hunter's shoulder hard enough to make him sway. "I bet she's gonna be so happy to see us, she'll probably forget how to talk. Just like last time."

Hunter huffs, but he can't help the twitch of his lips at the memory of your first meeting, of how nervous you'd been, unable to string two words together without stumbling over your own tongue. You always did tend to trip over your own words when you were flustered.

You had been rendered speechless after he'd told you about his feelings for you, your face flushed red, mouth hanging open in surprise, and he hadn't been able to keep from grinning at your reaction. You couldn’t form a single sentence until after you'd kissed him, and by then, it was his turn to be caught off guard.

He can remember the look on your face like it was yesterday, and the thought of seeing you again, of seeing your eyes light up as you smile up at him, fills him with a familiar warmth. He wants so badly to believe that your reunion will go well, that things haven't changed and that your relationship is the same, but a part of him, the pessimistic part that's kept him alive all these years, knows that it can't possibly be true.

And Wrecker has no idea what you mean to him, because Hunter has never told him, has never told any of them. You're his secret, his one solace in the galaxy, the one thing he keeps from his brothers, the only thing he's ever wanted that's completely his.

And you were taken from him.

It hurts just thinking about it, knowing you were alone, afraid, with no one to turn to for help, while Hunter was hundreds of thousands of parsecs away. They'd spent weeks trying to find you after the Empire was established, scouring the holonet and every contact he could find, but it was like you had fallen off the face of the galaxy.

Hunter had never felt so helpless in his life.

So yes, he's a little scared of how this is going to play out. You were taken from him once, and it broke his heart. He's terrified that if you don't want him anymore, he won't survive losing you a second time.

"Yeah," Hunter murmurs, glancing out the window. Your home planet is starting to take shape in the viewport, the blue and green and brown and white all blending together. "You're probably right."

Wrecker chuckles, patting his shoulder.

"You know I am," Wrecker says cheerfully, and then he's walking away, back towards the cockpit to interrupt the debate Tech and Echo are having.

Hunter stares after him, not sure if he should be offended by the comment or not. He chooses not to dwell on it, pushing himself out of his chair to follow his brother. Tech spares them a quick glance, rolling his eyes when he sees Wrecker is already pushing his way into his space.

"Would you mind," he grumbles, elbowing the bigger clone, but Wrecker is unfazed, squeezing into the small space behind Tech's chair.

"Nah," he says, grinning down at him.

"Then could you at least wait until we've landed?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It would certainly make things less complicated."

"Guys, come on," Echo groans, his head hitting the back of his seat. "We're almost there."

"And what a relief that will be," Tech grumbles, pushing his goggles up his nose, and he looks at Hunter, his brow raised. "What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Hunter says, but he's a little too fast to reply, and Tech doesn't buy it. His gaze turns suspicious, but he doesn't push. Instead, he shoves Wrecker's hands away from the controls and starts his descent, taking the ship down in a controlled spiral towards the planet's surface.

Omega drops into the seat beside him and secures her restraints, and Hunter follows suit, though he can't help the nervous energy building in his limbs. He can't keep still, his fingers tapping an unsteady rhythm against his thigh, and when Omega's small hand covers his, he startles.

"Are you excited?" she asks him, and Hunter hesitates for a moment before he nods.

"Yeah, kid," he answers, and it's not a lie. Not really. He is excited, in his own way. "I'm glad we get to see her."

"Me too," Omega smiles as she pulls her hand away, and she turns to watch the clouds disappear as they sink below the atmosphere. "I can't wait to meet her."

"She's gonna love you," Wrecker says, his arms braced on Tech's chair. "You're gonna love her, too. She's real nice."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Hunter replies, leaning back in his seat. He can't keep the fondness out of his voice when he speaks, the memory of your laugh echoing in his head. "She's one of a kind."

Tech glances over his shoulder. "It has been some time since we last saw her," he says, and Hunter feels his heart stutter in his chest. He knows Tech doesn't mean anything by it, but he can't help but hear the implication in his words.

It's been a long time, and people change.

"Well," Echo says, turning in his seat to grin at Hunter. "Let's hope she hasn't forgotten all about us."

Hunter swallows the lump in his throat and forces a smile, nodding along with the rest of them, but he can't ignore the pit in his stomach. He wants so desperately to believe they're right, that your reunion will go well and it won't be awkward, that everything will be just like it used to, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't shake the feeling.

"It'll be... nice, to see her again," Tech says. "Even if it has been awhile."

"Aw, you missed her too, huh?" Wrecker grins, clapping a hand on Tech's shoulder, who swats him away irritably.

"She was a competent general, and she is a valuable ally," Tech replies, adjusting his goggles. "I didn't say I missed her. Simply that it will be nice to see her."

"It's okay to admit you like her, you know," Echo teases. "We won't tell anyone."

Tech shoots him a glare, but he doesn't say anything. He's focused on the descent now, the ground growing closer and closer, and when they break through the cloud cover, the land below them comes into focus.

Hunter leans forward in his seat, eyes straining against the sun. You live on a small colony in the southern hemisphere, surrounded by a large forest. It's isolated, and perfect for someone trying to lay low, but it's also a bit difficult to find, and Hunter doesn't spot your house until they're nearly on top of it.

It's small, a cabin tucked neatly among the trees, with a yard and a path that leads to a dock down by the lake. There's a ship parked outside, a tiny thing, and Tech guides the Marauder down beside it.

"There she is!" Wrecker booms, pointing out the viewport. Hunter stands up, ignoring the nausea building in his stomach, and scans the house.

And there you are.

You're sitting on the porch, a datapad in your lap, and you glance up with a hand shielding your eyes. It's impossible to make out your expression, but when the Marauder slows to land, you're already standing and hurrying down the dirt path towards them.

It's been so long since he's seen you, and even though he knows your face, has it memorized and replayed in his head so many times it's burned into his mind, the sight of you is enough to knock the wind out of him. You're smiling, waving up at the ship, and you look so happy that he can't stop himself from mirroring your expression.

You're here.

Hunter has dreamed of this moment for months, the day he gets to see you again, and the reality of it is even better than he'd hoped. He's barely aware of his feet moving, taking him towards the hatch as soon as the ship has touched down.

"Hunter?" Wrecker's voice is far away, barely registering in Hunter's mind as he practically runs towards the exit. "You okay?"

"Fine," he calls over his shoulder, his hand slamming into the button. The door hisses as it slides open, and a rush of warm, fresh air washes over him. The second his feet hit the ground, he's moving, his legs carrying him as fast as he can.

"Hey!" Wrecker shouts, but Hunter doesn't answer. He's halfway down the path, his eyes locked on your figure as you hurry towards him, and when you're close enough to touch, he's pulling you into his arms.

Your hands slide around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he crushes you to his chest. He doesn't realize he's crying until he hears you whisper his name, but then you're laughing, soft and beautiful, and all he can do is hold you tighter, your scent enveloping him as he breathes you in. He can't keep himself from pressing his lips to the skin behind your ear, needing to feel the warmth of you, the solidness, the realness of you here, alive, with him.

"Hunter," you whisper, and his name has never sounded so sweet. Your voice, your hands, the sound of your breath as it ghosts across his skin, the way you say his name. All of it is like a balm to his soul, soothing his worry, and for a moment, everything feels right again.

Hunter lifts his head and cups your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him, and you do.

Your eyes are shining, tears brimming along the edges, and when you blink, they spill over. He thumbs them away, smiling so wide his cheeks ache.

"Hi," he whispers. You laugh, a sob escaping with it, and he feels his heart soar at the sound.

"Hi," you say back, and then you're surging forward, capturing his lips with yours.

It's a desperate kiss, the kind that says how much you've missed each other, how afraid you were of never seeing the other again. It's the first kiss you've shared in months, and it's the best damn kiss Hunter's ever had. The world narrows down to just the two of you, and nothing else exists, not the trees or the ship or his family watching from the hatch, their jaws hanging open.

It's just him and you, finally, blissfully, reunited.

He kisses you hard, and you return the pressure, clutching him close. His arms slip around your waist, lifting you off the ground for a moment, and you gasp against his mouth, laughing when he sets you down again.

"Miss me?" you ask, a teasing note to your voice, and Hunter pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

"Yeah," he replies, and then he's kissing you again, softer this time. Gentler. His lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, and your fingers tighten their grip in his hair.

He doesn't know how long it's been since he's started kissed you, or how long you've been kissing him, but it doesn't matter. It's not enough, could never be enough. He needs more of you, needs every part of you pressed against him, so close he can feel your heartbeat.

You hum, your hand moving to cup the back of his head, and the kiss deepens. Hunter's hands drift, sliding down the curve of your spine until his palms are pressed flat against the small of your back, and he pulls you closer. Your body molds to his perfectly, and you're warm and soft and so unbelievably real, and he never wants to let you go.

"Uh..."

The sudden intrusion startles him, and he pulls away from the kiss with a jerk, looking over his shoulder. The rest of his squad is staring at him, dumbfounded, and he can't keep the blush from creeping up his neck.

"Uh," he repeats, his face flushing. "Hey."

Wrecker's jaw is hanging open, and so is Tech's. Hunter doesn't think he's ever seen either of his brothers at a loss for words.

"We, uh..." Hunter clears his throat, glancing back at you. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from the kiss, but you're grinning up at him, your eyes dancing. You give him a little nod, a silent permission to tell them the truth, and his heart flutters. "We were going to tell you, but things... got in the way."

Wrecker is the first to recover, his surprise shifting into a massive smile.

"I knew it!" he yells, pumping his fist in the air. "I told ya, didn't I? Didn't I?"

"That you did," Tech replies. His mouth is still open, but he closes it quickly, pushing his goggles up his nose before reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Well, this is... certainly unexpected."

"That's an understatement," Echo mutters. He glances at Hunter, his brow raised. "So, how long has this been going on?"

"Uh..." Hunter's eyes dart to you, but you only smile at him. He swallows the lump in his throat and takes a deep breath. "It's been a couple years."

"A couple years?"

"Yeah."

"Years," Echo repeats. "Right. Okay."

"You could have told us," Tech says. He's looking at Hunter now, his face impassive, but Hunter can read the hurt in his eyes hidden behind the mask of indifference. "We wouldn't have betrayed your trust."

"I know," Hunter sighs, running a hand over his head. "We just... we wanted to keep it quiet."

"It was my idea," you say, and Hunter's surprised to see you look guilty. Your eyes are fixed on the ground, and he watches the way your bottom lip wobbles before you suck it into your mouth. You look up at him through your lashes, and he offers you a reassuring smile. You return it, but it's hesitant. "The Order's views on attachment were... a little different, to say the least. It would have put both of us at risk if anyone found out. So we kept it secret."

"Well, now you don't have to," Wrecker grins.

"No, I suppose not," you reply, smiling at him, but there's a sadness to your expression that makes Hunter's chest tighten. He can only imagine how difficult the last few months have been for you, what it's like to be in hiding, constantly looking over your shoulder. His arms ache to wrap around you again, to pull you into his chest and hold you close, to protect you from everything and everyone.

But he can't.

The Empire is everywhere, always watching. The war might be over, but the danger isn't gone, not yet. Not for him, and not for you.

"Can I come out now?" a voice voice drifts from the ship, and Hunter looks up, surprised. His eyes land on Omega, her arms crossed over her chest. She looks irritated, a frown pulling at her lips, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, kid," he says, nodding his head towards the ramp. "Come on."

Omega wastes no time in running out of the ship, her irritation forgotten in her excitement. She skids to a stop a few feet away, her eyes wide as she stares at you. You kneel down, a warm smile spreading across your face, and Hunter feels his heart squeeze in his chest.

"Hey," you say softly. "You must be Omega. I've heard a lot about you."

Omega steps forward, holding her hand out for you to shake, and you take it.

"Nice to meet you," she says politely.

"And you," you reply, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Your eyes are soft as you study her face, a fondness to your expression that Hunter's only seen a few times.

He knows how much you love children. The Order never allowed its members to have families, but that hasn't stopped you from falling in love with kids everywhere you go. He's seen the way your eyes light up when you're around them, how gently you speak to them, like they're the most important people in the galaxy.

He knows it's just the way you are, but sometimes, he wonders if it's something more. If maybe, someday, you'd want to have kids of your own.

And the thought terrifies him.

Not because he doesn't want a family with you, but because the world is changing, and he's not sure there's any place for it. You're in hiding, and he's a traitor to the Republic. How would it ever work?

He knows you wouldn't care about the dangers, though. You'd risk everything for a chance at a normal life, a family, and while he'd give anything for that too, he doesn't think he can allow himself to get his hopes up.

Not now. Not yet.

He's lost in thought, his gaze drifting to the trees surrounding the house, when a tug on his arm brings him back. You're looking up at him, an eyebrow raised, and when he blinks, you roll your eyes, a fond smile twitching at your lips.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "What did you say?"

"I was asking how long you're staying," you repeat, but he can tell by the look on your face you know what's going on in his head. You're giving him a moment to compose himself, a distraction to keep him from slipping into another spiral.

It's a common occurrence these days.

"Well," Hunter starts, glancing at the rest of his team. "We're kind of... between jobs, right now."

"That's putting it lightly," Echo scoffs.

"So we figured we could use a little vacation," Hunter finishes. He looks back at you. "If you'll have us."

"Of course I will," you smile, and Hunter doesn't miss the way your shoulders relax, the relief in your eyes. "Stay as long as you want."

"We don't want to intrude," Hunter says, his gaze softening. "If you need some space, we understand. We can—"

"Don't be ridiculous," you huff, nudging his shoulder. "I'd love to have you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course," you nod, glancing at the others. "All of you."

"Good," Hunter breathes, unable to keep the sigh of relief from escaping his lips. "I didn't really wanna leave anyway."

"Good," you say, leaning into his side. You rest your head against his shoulder, and Hunter's arm wraps around you almost automatically, pulling you against him. "I've missed you."

"Yeah," Hunter says softly. "Me too."

"Oh, yeah," Wrecker grins. "He hasn't shut up about you."

"Wrecker," Hunter hisses.

"No, really," Tech nods, adjusting his goggles. "Ever since we lost contact, he hasn't stopped talking about you."

"Not that he wasn't always talking about her," Echo teases.

"Hey," Hunter protests, but he can feel his cheeks burning, and he knows the blush is starting to creep up his neck. You're smiling, a knowing glint in your eye as you glance up at him, and Hunter rolls his eyes. "They're exaggerating."

"We are not," Tech says, frowning at him.

"Maybe not," Echo smirks, his gaze settling on you. "But now we know why he's been so weird about seeing you again."

"He's been weird?" you ask. You're trying to hold back a laugh, but Hunter can see the mirth in your eyes.

"He hasn't stopped pacing for days."

"He nearly fell over his own feet trying to get off the ship."

"Oh, yeah, he was nervous all right," Wrecker chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Never seen him like that before. I was startin' to get worried."

"Guys," Hunter grumbles. "Come on."

"Well," you smile, patting his chest. "I'm glad you came. All of you."

"Us too," Omega says. Her face is scrunched up, like she's trying not to laugh. "Hunter was so nervous he forgot how to breathe."

"Alright, that's enough," Hunter huffs. He can feel his ears burning, and he shoots Omega a pointed look. "Everyone, inside."

"Aw, but—"

"Now," Hunter snaps, cutting Wrecker off. He's not mad, not really, but he can't help the embarrassment. "We'll be there in a minute."

Wrecker opens his mouth to protest, but Echo nudges him, nodding his head towards the house. Tech doesn't wait for either of them, heading inside without another word, and Wrecker reluctantly follows after him, grumbling under his breath. Omega casts one last look over her shoulder, waving at you before disappearing inside.

The silence that settles over the two of you is heavy, and Hunter lets out a long breath. He runs a hand over his hair, avoiding your eyes.

"I can't believe they told you that," he mutters, but he can feel your gaze on him, the smile in your eyes, and his irritation fades.

"They're only teasing," you say, resting a hand on his cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin, and he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replies, opening his eyes to look at you. Your smile is soft, gentle, and he melts under your gaze. "Just a little overwhelmed."

"Me too," you chuckle, dropping your hand. He quickly grabs it, pulling it to his chest, and your expression shifts. "I've been so worried, Hunter. I thought..."

"I know," he whispers. His grip tightens on your hand. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too," you whisper back. Your voice wavers, and Hunter tugs on your arm, bringing you closer.

"I'm here now," he murmurs, tilting his head down. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

You nod, but the fear is still shining in your eyes. He knows that feeling all too well, the uncertainty, the constant worry, the doubt. And it's hard to believe him, he knows, when the past few months have been nothing but fear and anxiety. But he's determined to make it better, to do whatever it takes to ease your mind, even if it's just for a little while.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, and the contact makes you sigh.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he says softly, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. He strokes the skin with his thumb, his fingers gentle, and his heart stutters in his chest at the way your eyes flutter closed. "You don't have to worry anymore. I'll make sure nothing happens to you, I promise."

"You don't have to—"

"I know," he cuts you off, brushing his nose against yours. "But I'm going to. We're gonna protect you, sweetheart. All of us."

"Thank you," you whisper, opening your eyes. He's startled by the emotion swimming in your gaze, the tears pooling along the edges, and the sight breaks his heart. “But I can’t put you guys in danger. The Empire—”

"The Empire won't do anything," he assures you. "You're safe. We'll keep you safe."

"But what if—"

"Listen," he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek. You suck your lip into your mouth, chewing on the flesh, and he gently pries it from your teeth. "None of that. I won't let anything happen to you. Neither will they. You're part of the team, and we take care of our own. No matter what."

"You don't have to do this, Hunter."

"I know," he says, his voice low. He doesn't want to push, doesn't want to force you to come with them, but he needs you to believe him. Needs you to understand. "But I want to. Please. Let me take care of you. It'll be good for all of us."

You're quiet for a moment, your brow furrowed, but then you let out a soft sigh, your shoulders slumping, and your eyes drop to the ground.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

"Hey," Hunter says. His free hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "Trust me, alright? You're safe now."

You nod, but you don't look convinced. He sighs, leaning forward until his lips brush against yours, featherlight, barely there.

"We can talk more later," he murmurs. He's desperate to kiss you again, his whole body aching for it, but he doesn't want to rush you. He's willing to wait, no matter how badly he wants you. "If you're okay with it."

"Yes," you breathe, your hands coming up to clutch at his armor, and you press a soft kiss to his jaw. "I'd like that."

He lets out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to press his hips into yours, but then your hands slide up over his shoulders to tangle in his hair, and he groans. You chuckle, a sweet, breathy sound that has his blood singing, and Hunter's restraint crumbles.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, and his hands are moving on their own. He lifts you into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You're pliant under his touch, letting him guide the kiss, and he licks at your lips, begging for entrance. You give it easily, and his tongue sweeps into your mouth, curling against yours.

His hips press against yours, and your body is hot against him, so soft and perfect. You taste so good, and feel even better, and the sounds you're making, the little whines and gasps, are driving him crazy.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss. He's breathing hard, his pulse thrumming, and he can't keep the smirk off his face. You look beautiful, flushed and breathless, and his desire spikes when your fingers tug at his hair.

"Fine with me," you smile.

"Good." He kisses you again, deep and slow, and his hands drift lower. "I've got a lot of time to make up for."

"Mmm," you hum, your head falling back. Hunter can't resist the urge to kiss your throat, his teeth grazing over the delicate skin, and you shudder. A breathy moan falls from your lips, soft and quiet, but Hunter hears it. He always does.

"Fuck," he growls. "You sound so pretty."

"Hunter," you sigh. His name is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, and he has to fight the urge to take you right then and there.

"We should go inside," he murmurs, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear.

"Mmhmm," you reply. You're nuzzling his neck, your hot breath sending shivers down his spine, and his hold on you tightens.

"Sweetheart," he groans. "I can't think straight when you do that."

"That's the idea."

"Come on," he says. He's reluctant to put you down, but he does, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment.

You look at him, your eyes bright, and your smile makes his chest ache. He wants so badly to stay with you, to pull you into his lap and bury himself in your warmth, to have the freedom to kiss you, touch you, love you, without having to worry about getting caught. He's never been able to do that before, always keeping you a secret, always worried about being found out, but the Order doesn't exist anymore, and now he has the chance.

And he's going to take it.

He's not going to hide his feelings anymore. You deserve more than that.

You reach up and touch his cheek, the gentle gesture enough to calm his racing heart.

"Let's go," you say, your thumb stroking over his skin. "Before they get suspicious."

"I'm pretty sure they're already suspicious," he chuckles, glancing towards the house.

"It's a little obvious, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he admits, his face heating up. "A little."

You laugh, taking his hand in yours. You're leading him towards the door, but he stops, giving you a gentle tug.

"Hey," he murmurs, waiting for you to turn around. You do, a small smile tugging at your lips, and he can't help the way his eyes dart down to your mouth, the memory of your kiss sending a thrill down his spine.

"What?"

"I love you," he whispers. He's not sure why he says it. You know how he feels, you've known it for a long time, but something about it feels different, now. Like it means more than it did before.

Maybe it does.

Your expression softens, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards, and he can see the happiness in your eyes, the fondness. It's a look he's familiar with, one he's seen many times, but the knowledge that he can see it as much as he wants now, without having to hide or sneak around, makes his heart flutter in his chest.

"I love you, too," you whisper, a smile spreading across your face.

"Come here," he says. You're in his arms again before you can say a word, his mouth finding yours, and you're melting into his touch, the kiss deepening, turning desperate. He has to pull away before his brain completely shuts down, and when he does, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

"Later," he promises, his voice a rasp.

"Later," you agree.

He lets out a long breath, nodding his head once before stepping back. His hand slides down to rest at the small of your back, and he gives you a gentle nudge, nodding towards the house. You smile, reaching up to straighten his bandana, and Hunter can't help but chuckle at the action.

"Lead the way," you say.

"Always," he grins, and then you're walking up the path, the warmth of the sun enveloping you as you step onto the porch.

The door slides open before Hunter can even reach for the panel, Wrecker's smiling face poking out.

"Oh, good," he says, looking at the two of you. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about us."

"Of course not," you reply.

Wrecker's grin widens, and then he's stepping aside, his arm sweeping towards the inside of the house.

"After you, General."

"Thanks," you smile, nodding your head in appreciation. Hunter follows behind, his hand hovering at the base of your spine. Wrecker doesn't miss the movement, his eyebrows shooting up, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches, a knowing look in his eyes, and Hunter rolls his own.

"Not a word," he warns.

"Wasn't gonna say anything," Wrecker smirks, his gaze flickering to the hand resting on your back. "Not sure I need to."

"Don't start," Hunter sighs. He slows to a stop, crossing his arms over his chest, and you keep walking, a laugh spilling from your lips as you head towards the kitchen.

"Hey," Wrecker raises his hands in surrender, but the grin doesn't fade. "I'm happy for you. Both of you."

Hunter blinks. "Thanks," he says slowly.

"I mean it." Wrecker smiles. He claps a hand on Hunter's shoulder, a silent confirmation of his words, and Hunter returns the gesture. "You two deserve each other."

"Yeah," Hunter says, looking over at you. You're already in the kitchen, Tech at your side, and the two of you are talking rapidly at each other with Omega sitting on the counter between you. Tech's arms are waving wildly, a datapad gripped tightly in his hands, and you're grinning at him, the excitement obvious on your face. Echo is stirring a pot of something, the delicious smell of dinner drifting through the house, and he chimes in every now and then, his smile growing wider each time.

Omega glances up at him, and she gives him a little wave, her grin so wide her cheeks must ache. Hunter smiles back, his heart swelling, and he can't help but think, maybe everything is going to be alright.

You look so at home with his family, like you've always been a part of it, like you've always belonged there. And maybe you have. Maybe, this was where you were supposed to end up all along.

It's funny, how things work out sometimes. How, even after losing so much, even after having nearly everything taken from him, he somehow still managed to find something good.

"I guess we do,” Hunter finally replies, his gaze settling on you. He can't tear his eyes away, can't stop looking at the way the setting sun dances over your face, lighting you up in the most beautiful glow, the way your smile makes his heart beat faster.

Wrecker follows his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "So, does this mean she agreed to stay with us?"

"Yeah," Hunter sighs, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Yeah, she is."

"Good," Wrecker says. His smile widens. "That's good."

"It's going to be hard, keeping things quiet," Hunter says, glancing at his brother. "We've got a target on our backs, and I'm not sure how much longer we can hide. The Empire will find us eventually, and when they do—"

"It's okay," Wrecker interrupts, holding his hand up. "I know. But it's worth it, right? To keep her safe? And Omega?”

"Yeah," Hunter says without hesitation. "It is."

"Then we'll do whatever we have to," Wrecker replies. He nods towards the kitchen. "They'll understand. ‘Sides, Omega's gotta have a mom at some point. Might as well be her."

Hunter's breath catches, his chest tightening. "Wrecker—"

"You're happy," he continues, ignoring Hunter's protest. "You haven't been happy since... well, not since I can remember. And she makes you happy. And she's good with the kid, too. I can see how much she loves you, and how much you love her. So, what's the problem?"

Hunter stares at him, the surprise clear on his face.

"I, uh... nothing. There's no problem," he stammers, his brow furrowing.

"Good," Wrecker grins. He nudges him with his elbow, giving him a wink. "She's good for you, Sarge. And we're not gonna let anyone take that away from you. No matter what happens."

"Thanks," Hunter replies. He swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back the sudden moisture in his eyes. Wrecker squeezes his shoulder, smiling down at him, and Hunter takes a shaky breath.

"Don't mention it," Wrecker says. "Come on. I‘m starving."

"You're always hungry."

"Well, yeah," he scoffs. "We gotta keep our strength up, right? Especially if we're gonna be fighting off Imperials."

He mimes a punch, his fist slamming into his palm, and Hunter chuckles.

"Yeah, alright," he agrees. "Let's go eat."

The two of them walk into the kitchen, Wrecker immediately making a beeline for the pot Echo is stirring, and Hunter makes his way over to where you're standing with Tech.

He stands beside you, close enough for his arm to brush against yours, but he doesn't touch you. He keeps his hands at his sides, his fingers curling into his palms, but the desire to wrap his arms around you is overwhelming.

He knows you'll let him, but it's only been a few hours, and he's afraid if he touches you again, he won't be able to stop.

Tech is explaining something to you, his hands moving rapidly as he talks, and Hunter watches, his head tilted to the side. He's only half listening to what his brother is saying, but he's content to just watch the two of you interact. You're so invested in the conversation, asking questions, listening intently as Tech answers, and Hunter can't help but smile at the sight.

"So, what do you think?"

Tech's voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, forcing his attention back to the present.

"Uh... sorry," he mutters, glancing at you. "What was that?"

“Tech wants to gut my ship for parts like a bantha carcass," you huff. You're smirking at him, amusement shining in your eyes. "He's trying to convince me to let him take it apart."

"It's not as though we have much use for it," Tech argues. "And besides, it would give me something to do while we're here."

“Aren’t you all supposed to be relaxing?”

“I happen to find tinkering with electronics quite relaxing," Tech replies. "Especially old ones. And it will keep me busy, which means I won’t be pestering you. So really, you would be doing yourself a favor by allowing me to do this.”

Hunter smirks. “He’s got a point.”

“Traitor,” you mutter, nudging his shoulder.

He nudges you back, his grin widening, and you roll your eyes.

"Alright, fine," you sigh.

"Excellent," Tech smiles. He turns his attention back to the datapad in his hands, his eyes darting across the screen. “Omega, would you like to help me dismantle this ship? It will give you a chance to learn more about the components of different models."

"Sure," she nods. She jumps down from the counter, landing with a soft thud.

Hunter watches the two of them disappear into the living room before looking at you. You're smiling softly, your head tilted to the side, and he can't stop his gaze from wandering, taking in every detail of your face.

"You're staring," you murmur. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, and the hint of a smile tugging at your lips betrays your feigned irritation.

"Can’t help it,” he replies. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your hip. The simple touch is enough to send a spark shooting through him, a warmth blooming low in his stomach, and his grip tightens, pulling you closer.

"Hunter," you laugh, your eyes widening.

"Hmm?"

"We're not alone."

"We're not?" He arches an eyebrow. "Didn't notice."

"Hunter," you hiss, but there's no bite to your words, just a soft laugh. "Stop it."

"No," he grins, leaning forward to brush his lips over your cheek. You shiver, goosebumps erupting across your skin, and he feels a rush of pride at the reaction.

"You're impossible."

"Only because I can be," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your cheek. You sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut, and Hunter can't resist the urge to brush his mouth over the soft skin, trailing gentle kisses down your neck. You let out a soft whine, the noise so quiet only he can hear it, and his body reacts instinctively, his hands tightening, his hips shifting closer.

"Hunter," you gasp, your voice low.

"You smell so good," he groans. His nose brushes against your throat, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the sweet scent. It sends a thrill through him, a burst of heat washing over his body, and he nuzzles the skin, his lips ghosting along the edge of your jaw.

He doesn't want to stop. He wants to keep going, wants to drag his mouth across every inch of you until there's no part untouched, until the taste of you is burned into his memory for good. But he's aware of the others in the room, and he forces himself to pull away. He puts some distance between you, enough so that he can breathe, but he can't bring himself to move too far away.

"Tonight," Hunter says, his voice rough. He glances over his shoulder, making sure the others are still distracted, before continuing, "I'm gonna take care of you."

"Mm," you nod. You look dazed, your cheeks flushed, and Hunter feels a surge of satisfaction knowing it's his fault. "You'd better."

"Oh, I will," he smirks. "All night, if you want."

You bite your lip, your eyes sparkling. "Promise?"

"I—"

"Alright, I’m no chef, but I think it’s ready," Echo calls, Wrecker already heading towards the pot with a stack of bowls. He turns around, a spoon in one hand, and Hunter catches a glimpse of a wicked smile. "If you can pry yourselves apart long enough to eat."

"We were just talking," you argue, but your face is red, and Hunter has to bite back a grin.

"Right," Echo laughs, his gaze flickering between you. "Just talking. Got it."

"Echo," Hunter warns.

"I didn't say anything," he replies innocently. He waves his spoon at the two of you, his grin widening. "You can have your little chat after dinner.”

“Enough talking,” Wrecker groans, snatching the spoon from Echo’s hand and shoving him out of the way. "Food first."

"We'll finish this later," Hunter whispers, and you nod.

"I'll hold you to that," you whisper, brushing a kiss against his cheek before you pull away, stepping towards the counter. You glance over your shoulder at him, a sly smile curling your lips, and Hunter has to force himself not to follow after you. He waits until you're busy helping Wrecker dish out the food before moving, and even then, he makes sure to keep his distance.

It's difficult.

The need to be near you is overwhelming, and he can't stand the thought of leaving you for even a moment. But he doesn't want to crowd you, either, and he has to remind himself that you're not going anywhere.

You're here, and he's here, and nothing is going to take him away from you. Not again.

The thought settles over him, calming the ache in his chest, and he finally allows himself to relax, falling into an easy rhythm with the others as the six of you gather around the table. He takes a seat next to you, his leg pressed against yours, and his arm is draped over the back of your chair, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. You lean into his side, your body fitting against his like it was made to, and the warmth of you is enough to ease the last bit of tension that's been lingering beneath the surface.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Hunter loses track of how many times his hand drifts to your side, or his fingers slip into your own, or his lips press against your temple. Every time he does it, he expects a reaction from you, a protest or an admonishment or a roll of the eyes, but each time, you simply smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and he finds himself doing it again, unable to stop himself.

It’s easy, familiar, like this is how it was always meant to be, and the fact that he can finally hold you without fear of getting caught is a relief that's impossible to put to words. There's no more hiding, no more sneaking around, no more worrying about being seen standing too close together or his hands lingering too long. It's freeing, not having to hide how he feels, not having to pretend like his feelings don't exist.

It's the most natural thing in the world.

And he's going to enjoy every second of it.

Eventually, the meal ends, the food vanishing into Wrecker's stomach, and Hunter helps you clean up while the others disappear outside. The setting sun guides them toward your ship with Tech in the lead, and Hunter watches them go, his eyes lingering on the door for a moment before returning to you. You're scrubbing at a pot, your brow furrowed in concentration, and he can't help the fond smile that spreads across his face. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, content to watch you work.

"You're staring again," you mumble, not bothering to look at him.

"How did you know?"

"I can feel it," you chuckle. You set the pot aside and dry your hands before hanging up the towel. "I always know."

"It's not my fault," he says, pushing off the counter. Hunter closes the distance between the two of you, his hands resting on your hips. "You're hard to resist. And I can't keep my eyes off you."

"You're such a flatterer."

"It's not flattery if it's true."

You shake your head, a smile spreading across your face.

"What?"

"Nothing," you laugh. "Just... the way you're acting. It's kind of cute."

"Cute?" He frowns, his nose wrinkling. "I don't know about that."

"It is." Your arms snake around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair, and you tilt your head to the side. "I'm used to the serious, stoic Hunter. I like this one, too."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mmhmm," you hum. Your lips press against his jaw, a soft kiss that has his eyes fluttering shut, and his hands slide down to grip your thighs. He lifts you onto the counter, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," you nod, and you kiss him again. This time, it's lower, right where his pulse is jumping under his skin, and he groans, his eyes falling shut.

"I didn't know you liked him so much," he manages to say, his breath hitching.

"I love him," you murmur. "As much as the other one."

"Well," he chuckles. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face. "I think I can live with that."

You lean forward, and he meets you halfway, his mouth finding yours.

It starts off slow, a lazy kiss, his hands moving from your face to tangle in your hair. But then your lips part, and the soft sound you make is enough to light a fire in his veins, and he's kissing you with everything he has, pouring all his emotion into it. You return it eagerly, matching him stroke for stroke, and when his tongue brushes against yours, the groan he lets out is so loud he can't even hear the others yelling outside.

It doesn't matter, anyway. Nothing does, except the two of you.

"Bedroom," you gasp, breaking the kiss. "Now."

"Yeah," he pants. He grabs your thighs, pulling you off the counter, and you wrap your legs around his waist, his arms hooking under your knees.

He doesn't say anything else. He can't. He just kisses you, his tongue sliding past your parted lips, and your nails dig into his shoulders, a desperate moan spilling from your throat.

He carries you through the house, navigating the halls blindly, too focused on kissing you to care where he's going. He nearly trips over a chair, but he manages to keep his balance, and you laugh, the sound vibrating against his mouth. He breaks the kiss long enough to shoot you a playful glare, and you beam back.

"In a hurry, are we?"

"You have no idea," he mutters. He kicks the door to your bedroom open, shutting it behind him with his foot, and strides across the room. "Been wanting this for too damn long."

"Mm," you sigh. You're kissing his neck now, your tongue lapping at his skin, and his pace quickens. He feels the softness of the mattress hit the back of his legs, and he sits, his hands shifting to cup your thighs.

"Missed you," he rasps as you settle into his lap. You're straddling him now, and the heat of you against him is driving him crazy. "Missed you so much."

"Missed you too," you whisper, and your hands are cupping his face, pulling him towards you. Your fingers trace the outline of his tattoo, your touch gentle, almost reverent. He closes his eyes, savoring the feeling, and his breath hitches as you brush your lips over his temple.

"I can't believe this is real," he admits, his voice low. "I keep thinking it's some kind of dream, that I'm gonna wake up and find myself back on the ship."

"It's not a dream," you promise. You press a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his nose, and then, finally, his mouth. It's soft, chaste, but no less intense, and Hunter sighs, his hands sliding up to curl around your waist.

"You're really here," he whispers. "I didn't think..."

"I'm not going anywhere," you assure him, and the conviction in your voice makes his heart ache. Your forehead is resting against his, your lips barely an inch apart, and he can feel your breath ghosting across his skin. "I love you."

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "For not coming to you sooner. For not—"

"Hunter, stop," you cut him off, your fingers pressing against his mouth. He quiets instantly, his gaze locked with yours. "It's not your fault. There was nothing you could've done."

"I could've tried harder," he protests. "Could've tried to find you."

"You couldn't," you sigh, shaking your head. "You know that. I didn't want to be found. I'm not even supposed to be here. If anyone finds me, I'm as good as dead."

"I won't let that happen."

"I know," you smile. Your thumbs rub gentle circles against his cheeks, and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And I love you for it. But we can't change the past. We just have to make the most of the time we have now."

"Right," he nods. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to push away the guilt, the anger, the regret. "I just..."

"What?"

He lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. "Do you ever think about what it could've been like? If we hadn't lost each other? If...things had gone differently, and the war had ended the way it was supposed to?"

"Yeah," you admit, and you give him a sad smile, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards. "Sometimes."

"Me too," Hunter whispers. He pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck. You hold him there, your arms wrapping around him, and his hands drift up to clutch at the back of your shirt. He inhales deeply, taking in the scent of you, letting it fill him up, ground him.

"Sometimes I wonder," you murmur, your voice low, "what would've happened if we'd met in a different life. If we were just people, with no obligations or duties, no expectations or responsibilities. No wars, no battles, no death. Just us."

"A life together," he mumbles, the words muffled against your skin.

"Yeah," you say, and you sigh, a wistful sound that sends a pang through his chest. "A life together."

"We'd have a place like this," he says. He glances up at you, his chin resting on your chest. "A home."

You hum in agreement, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "We would."

"We'd be happy," he continues. He smiles at you, a small, sad thing, and your fingers trace the curve of his lips. "We'd have a family. Maybe even kids. And we wouldn't have to hide."

"We wouldn't," you agree, a tear slipping down your cheek. He reaches up, catching it before it can fall, and brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the dampness.

"I would've married you," he whispers. His voice breaks on the word, and he has to pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. "If I could. I would've married you, and given you everything I had."

"Hunter," you whisper, your voice breaking.

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "I just—"

"No, no," you cut him off with a shake of your head. You kiss him again, and he melts into it, the feel of your lips against his enough to soothe the ache in his chest.

"We could still have it," he breathes, his mouth moving over your jaw, the skin so soft and warm and inviting. "We could."

"I know," you reply, and you tilt your head back, allowing him access to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin, and you shudder, a whimper falling from your lips.

"Do you want it?" he asks, his voice low. He's not sure why he does, not sure what he wants the answer to be, but the question falls from his mouth without thought.

"More than anything," you admit, and Hunter feels his heart skip a beat.

"Then we'll make it happen," he promises. "If you'll have me."

"I already do," you whisper, and then you're kissing him again, harder this time, with more desperation, like you need to prove how much you mean it.

His hands wander, mapping out every curve, every contour, every inch of your body, and your own exploration isn't far behind, the two of you touching and caressing and stroking in a way that leaves him panting, his heart racing.

"Please," you whimper, and the sound goes straight to his cock.

"Anything," he rasps. "Whatever you want."

"I just want you."

"You have me," he breathes. "You'll always have me."

You're kissing him again, the desperation in your touch increasing with every second that passes. He feels like his entire body is on fire, like the slightest touch could set him off, and he groans into your mouth, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of your lips.

He knows what you want, and he gives it to you without hesitation, his mouth opening wide as he dips his tongue inside, his fingers digging into your hips. You gasp, and he swallows the noise, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt.

He pulls it up and over your head, breaking the kiss for only a moment, and he takes the opportunity to drink in the sight of you, his gaze sweeping over every inch of exposed skin.

You're so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at you.

You stare back, your chest heaving, your eyes dark with lust. You're biting your lip, and his own mouth falls open, his eyes widening.

He doesn't say a word. He can't. His brain can't seem to form a coherent thought, not when you're looking at him like that, and he swallows, his eyes darting to the swell of your breasts. You're wearing a bra, but it's not much, a scrap of lace and silk that leaves nothing to the imagination. He can see the outline of your nipples, the stiff peaks pressing against the fabric, and he can't help but reach up and run his thumb over one, the contact making him shiver.

"Hunter," you whimper, your eyelids fluttering shut. He repeats the action, watching in fascination as your chest rises and falls, and he does it again, the soft whine that falls from your lips spurring him on.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his hand cupping your breast. "So perfect."

He leans down, his mouth closing over the soft mound, and he sucks gently, his tongue lapping at the hard nub through the fabric. Your back arches, a broken moan escaping your lips, and Hunter feels a rush of heat shoot through him, his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

"Fuck," he curses, his breath hot against your skin, his hands moving to undo his belt. It's a struggle, his fingers shaking, but he manages, tugging it free and tossing it to the side. As soon as it hits the ground, you're pushing his hands away, taking over, and he grins, letting you take the lead.

"Here, let me," you murmur as your fingers work to unclip his armor. He nods, sitting back on his hands and admiring the view as you remove each piece, dropping them to the floor. The way your brow furrows in concentration, the softness of your skin, the swell of your breasts as they rise and fall with every breath, the warmth of your hands, the gentleness of your touch, all of it sends another wave of heat crashing through him.

It's breathtaking, the sight of you, and Hunter can't help the pride that swells in his chest. It’s not the first time he’s felt it, the rush of joy that comes with seeing the woman he loves, but it still catches him off guard.

He wonders, briefly, if he'll ever get used to the feeling. If he ever stops being amazed by how incredible you are, how lucky he is to have found you.

"What are you thinking about?"

You're kneeling in front of him now, your hands resting on his knees, and the question startles him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing," he says, and you tilt your head to the side, giving him a knowing look. He chuckles, reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking along your jaw. "Just admiring the view."

"Oh, really?"

"Really," he replies, his gaze dropping to the exposed flesh of your chest. He can't stop himself from leaning forward, his fingers skimming along the lace, before brushing over the delicate skin of your cleavage.

"Hunter," you whimper, arching into him.

"Beautiful," he says. His eyes meet yours, a wicked grin pulling at his lips. "I can't wait to get my mouth on you."

You blush, the heat creeping up your neck, and Hunter chuckles, pulling you towards him. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your chest.

“But first,” he murmurs against your chest. His lips brush over your sternum, his nose skimming the tops of your breasts, and his hands find the waistband of your pants, tugging the fabric down. “I want to see all of you.”

You moan, letting him pull the material down your thighs, your eyes slipping shut as his hands glide along your legs. You step out of the clothing, them aside, and he takes the opportunity to remove his pants and shirt, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes.

You stand between his legs, staring down at him in nothing but your bra and panties, and Hunter has to take a deep breath. The sight of you is almost too much, the need coiling in his belly threatening to overwhelm him, but he manages to rein himself in.

"Gorgeous," he whispers. His hands are on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into the sensitive flesh. "Come here."

He pulls you into his lap, guiding you to straddle his hips, and you go willingly, settling yourself onto his thighs. He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing the skin, and you sigh, tilting your head to the side, granting him access.

"You smell so good," he murmurs. His nose traces the column of your neck, breathing in the sweet scent. It sends a thrill through him, a wave of desire surging forward, and his hips jerk involuntarily, grinding against yours. His cock is straining against the fabric of his underwear, aching for release, and he can't stop himself from groaning.

"Fuck," he rasps, his teeth scraping against your collarbone as you shift. You're moving against him, a slow roll of your hips, and Hunter can feel his restraint slipping.

"Hunter," you sigh. His mouth moves down, his lips trailing over the swell of your breast, his tongue darting out to lap at the lace covering your nipple.

"You're driving me crazy, sweetheart," he breathes, his breath hot against your skin. "The things I wanna do to you."

"What do you want to do to me?"

He can't stop the groan that escapes him. He grabs your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh, and tugs you down, grinding his clothed erection against you.

"Everything," he growls. His mouth moves along your neck, biting and sucking, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake. "Anything you want. I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Mmhm," he murmurs, nuzzling your chest. He can't stop himself from licking and sucking, the taste of your skin intoxicating. His hands are roaming up and down your sides, squeezing and caressing, and you arch into him, your body reacting to his touch.

He slides a hand down your spine, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. He makes quick work of it, unhooking the latch and pulling the straps down your arms. You sit back, letting the fabric fall away, and he can't help but stare, his mouth hanging open.

Your nipples are hard, pebbled and straining, and he can't resist the urge to flick his tongue across one, teasing the stiff peak. You let out a whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he grins, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Oh," you gasp. Your eyes are closed, your head tipped back, and Hunter smiles against your skin. He continues his assault, licking and sucking, his teeth grazing over the stiff nub.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he purrs. You nod, a soft moan falling from your lips. He switches to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, and you squirm in his lap, your hips rocking against his.

"Force, yes," you pant, tugging at his hair. "I missed this. Missed you."

"Me too, sweetheart," he murmurs. His hands move to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading, and you let out a shaky breath, rolling your hips against his. "I missed touching you, kissing you, being inside you."

"Yes," you whimper. His fingers are plucking at your nipples, pinching and tugging, and you grind down on his lap, desperate for friction. "Please, Hunter."

"Don't worry," he promises. He kisses his way up your chest, along the curve of your neck, and nips at your earlobe. "I'm gonna take care of you."

"Good," you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I've waited long enough."

"Too long," he agrees. He lifts his head, his gaze meeting yours. "But we've got all the time in the world."

You smile at him, cupping his face. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, neither saying a word. He can see the desire in your eyes, the need shining bright, but there's something else, something deeper, and his heart swells, his chest filling with warmth.

Then, without warning, Hunter flips you over, pressing you down into the mattress. He hovers above you, his weight resting on his forearms, and he smirks when you let out a surprised squeal.

"Hunter!"

"Hmm?" he hums, dipping his head to kiss the underside of your jaw. You arch into him, a soft moan escaping you.

"What are you—mm, that feels good," you sigh, tipping your head to the side.

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"Nothing," you murmur. Your arms are draped over his shoulders, your fingers threading through his hair. He presses a kiss to your throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin, and you groan. “Keep going.”

Hunter chuckles, his hands sliding up your thighs. He reaches your hips, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear.

"Lift your hips for me," he says, his breath ghosting across your ear. You obey, lifting yourself up off the mattress, and Hunter pulls the fabric down your legs. He tosses it over his shoulder, not bothering to see where it lands, before turning his attention back to you.

"Perfect," he breathes.

You're spread out in front of him, completely naked, your cheeks flushed, chest heaving, and he's mesmerized. It's not the first time he's seen you like this, but it's been too long, and his memory can't compare to the real thing.

He traces a finger along your inner thigh as he settles between your legs, his hand gliding over the soft flesh, and he watches as goosebumps erupt across your skin. You're trembling, the anticipation clear in your eyes, and Hunter grins, enjoying the effect he has on you.

"Tell me what you want," he says, his fingers ghosting along your slit. He's not surprised to find you wet, the scent of your arousal thick in the air, and he inhales deeply, relishing the familiar aroma.

"I want you," you whimper, your hips bucking upwards. He places a hand on your stomach, holding you down.

"How do you want me?"

"I don't care," you pant, reaching for him. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, your nails digging into the skin, and he bites back a groan. "I just need you. Please."

"Soon," he promises. He kisses your thigh, his lips trailing over the smooth flesh. "Let me take care of you first."

"You don't have to," you insist.

"Oh, I want to," he murmurs, his mouth inches from your center. "So badly."

"Oh," you moan, your back arching as his breath ghosts over your sensitive skin. You're trembling beneath him, and Hunter can't help but smile. It's intoxicating, knowing how badly you want him, and he can't stop the pride that swells in his chest.

His tongue flicks out, teasingly brushing against your folds, and you let out a breathy sigh, your body tensing.

"Stop teasing,” you plead.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says, though he can’t find it in him to sound apologetic. His fingers part your folds, and his tongue slides through your slick heat, circling your entrance before dragging up to flick over your clit.

"Ah, fuck," you moan as your eyes roll back. Your hands are clutching the sheets, and he grins, swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves. You gasp, your hips jerking, and he grabs them, holding you in place as he begins to lick and suck.

He wastes no time, his tongue and lips reacquainting themselves with your folds, and the taste of you is enough to make him dizzy. It's sweet and salty, familiar and unfamiliar, and Hunter can't get enough. He buries his face in your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue probes your entrance.

"Oh, Hunter, yes," you pant, your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair. He grins against you at the praise, his tongue plunging inside, and you let out a strangled moan.

He eats you out with enthusiasm, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy. He's not sure how long he spends there, his face buried between your thighs, his mouth sucking and licking at your cunt. It could be hours, or mere minutes, but he doesn't care. It's perfect, the feeling of you underneath him, the way your body writhes, the noises falling from your lips.

He fucks you with his tongue, his grip on your thighs tightening, and your back arches, a desperate whine escaping you.

"Fuck, yes, Hunter," you cry out, your legs wrapping around his head, locking him in place. He moans, his tongue plunging deeper, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He can't stop himself, his movements becoming frantic, desperate.

He needs more, craves it. Wants to feel you come apart, to know that it's his name on your lips. That it's his touch making you lose your careful composure.

"That's it," he groans, his breath hot against your pussy. "Come on my face, sweetheart."

He's not sure if it's the words or the way he thrusts his tongue inside, curling and stroking, but something sends you over the edge, and he's rewarded with a choked cry and a gush of slick heat as you clamp down around him.

Your toes curl, your back arching off the bed, and Hunter has to hold you down, his grip tightening as his mouth continues its relentless assault. Your walls pulse around him, clenching and releasing, and he lets out a growl, his tongue pushing deeper.

"Kriff," you moan, your hands clutching at his hair, pulling and tugging. He lets out a muffled groan, his eyes slipping shut, and he savors the feeling, the taste, the smell.

The fact that it's you, that he's the one who got you here, who made you come undone, is enough to send a wave of pleasure coursing through him. It's addicting, the feeling of having you like this, and he can't help the surge of satisfaction that comes with the knowledge that no one else has ever seen you this way. And if he has his way, no one ever will.

"Force, I missed that," he says once you finally relax, your legs falling from his shoulders. He licks his lips, grinning, and wipes his chin with the back of his hand.

"Me too," you breathe, propping yourself up on your elbows. "That was incredible."

"Yeah?" he asks, crawling up your body. He plants a kiss on your sternum, moving higher until his mouth finds yours. You return his messy kiss eagerly, moaning when you taste yourself on his tongue, and he chuckles, cupping your cheek.

"Mmhm," you sigh.

"Good," he murmurs, kissing you again. His tongue probes your mouth, searching for every last drop of sweetness. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he grunts, his cock twitching at the feeling.

"Need you," you whisper, breaking the kiss. Your hands slip down, coming to rest on his ass. You give him a squeeze, a playful grin on your lips, and Hunter can't stop the smirk that pulls at his mouth.

"Patience, sweetheart," he says. "We've got all the time in the galaxy."

"No," you shake your head, hooking your leg around his waist. You pull him closer, the hard line of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit, and you moan, grinding against him. "I need you now."

"Kriff," he groans, his head falling forward. The heat is radiating off of you, and he can't stop himself from pushing against you, seeking relief. "Yeah, alright. But I wanna take my time with you."

"We can take our time later," you promise. You tug at his underwear, pulling the fabric down his thighs, and he kicks them off, sighing in relief as his cock springs free. A pleased noise escapes you at the sight of him, hard and straining, and your other leg wraps around him, urging him on.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, his hips rolling. His cock is trapped between the two of you, sliding through your slick folds, and the sensation is almost too much.

"Please," you beg, tilting your hips upwards. You're soaking wet, the head of his cock sliding through the mess, and it's all he can do not to sink inside you.

"Fuck," he hisses. His grip on your waist tightens, and he presses a kiss to your neck, his lips tracing a path along the curve. You moan, arching into him, and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another messy kiss. He can feel the desire pouring off you, the need coursing through your veins, and it's overwhelming. He doesn’t even notice your legs tightening around him, not until you flip him over, and suddenly you're on top of him, straddling his lap.

"Shit," he gasps, his eyes wide. "That was—"

"Fast?" you finish. He nods, swallowing hard, and you laugh, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “I think you forgot what I am, Hunter."

"Never," he whispers, his hands roaming up and down your thighs. He takes in the view, his eyes trailing over the length of your body, from the flush on your cheeks to the way your breasts sway with every breath, to the glistening wetness coating your thighs and the base of his cock. "You're incredible."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm," he hums. His gaze drifts up, meeting yours, and he smiles, the sight of you making his heart swell. "You're perfect."

"I love you," you say, and Hunter can't help the warmth that spreads through him at the words. He's heard them a hundred times before, but each time, it still feels new. Like the first time.

"I love you, too," he replies. His fingers brush over your clit, gathering the wetness, and he slides his hand down, taking himself in his fist. "Ready?"

"Yes," you breathe.

You rise up onto your knees, placing a hand on his chest for balance, and Hunter guides himself to your entrance. His cock slides between your folds, the tip nudging at your entrance, and you both moan, the sound mixing together.

Hunter has to fight to keep his eyes open, to keep his hands steady. He wants to watch as you sink down on his cock, to see the pleasure wash over you as he fills you. He knows what it feels like, to be buried inside you, and it's always been intoxicating, but now? After everything that's happened, after the fear and the pain and the longing, to have you back in his arms?

It's beyond words. Beyond comprehension.

He doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve you.

But he'll never stop trying.

You let out a gasp as he pushes inside, his cock stretching and filling you, and Hunter has to grit his teeth, his hands tightening on your hips. The heat is incredible, the feeling of being buried deep inside, and he groans, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart," he grunts. His eyes are locked on where the two of you are joined, watching as you slowly slide down the length of his cock. "You're so tight."

"It's been a while," you say, your breath coming in short pants. Your brow is furrowed, your teeth biting into your bottom lip, and Hunter has to bite back a groan.

"I know," he breathes. His hands caress your sides, his fingers skimming over the soft skin, and he feels your body relax. You're fully seated on his cock now, and Hunter can feel the way your cunt flutters around him, squeezing him tight. You tremble, and he reaches up, cupping your face.

"You alright?" he asks, stroking his thumb over your cheek. You nod, the corners of your mouth curling upwards.

"It's been a long time. Need a minute."

"Take all the time you need," he says.

"Thank you," you smile, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

You sit there, staring into his eyes, the two of you just existing. He doesn't mind it. Doesn't care about anything other than the feeling of being inside you. He can't believe he forgot what this was like, how perfect it is, how much he loves it. How much he loves you.

The urge to keep you here, to never let you go, to keep you safe and warm and loved and happy is overwhelming, and he can't help but reach out, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. He wonders if this is what it feels like to drown. If this is how people describe being swept away, pulled under the waves by the current, never to surface again.

He wonders if this is what they mean when they talk about being lost in someone.

Because he is. He's completely and utterly lost. Lost in you. Lost in the warmth of your gaze, the softness of your touch, the scent of your skin, the feeling of your body surrounding him, your heart beating in sync with his own.

He knows, in this moment, that he's not just in love with you. That he's not just madly infatuated with the woman in his arms. He's lost, and there's no coming back. He's yours. And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that you belong to him. That the two of you are bound together. That there's no one else for him. No one else he wants. Just you.

It's not the first time he's felt it, this overwhelming sense of love. But it's the first time it's hit him so hard. Maybe because it's the first time it's been this intense, this all-consuming. Maybe because it's the first time he's actually understood what it means. What it truly means.

Maybe because it's the first time he's truly believed it.

"Hunter?"

You're staring at him, concern etched across your features, and he realizes, with a start, that tears are rolling down his cheeks. He hadn't noticed.

"Sorry," he mutters, hastily wiping his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says.

"Are you sure?" you ask. "Because I've never seen you cry before."

"I'm okay," he says, smiling softly. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed, I guess."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he nods. He sits up, bracing his back against the headboard as his hands cup your cheeks. "I'm more than fine."

"Okay," you say, giving him a worried smile. His thumb smooths the crease between your brows, and he presses a gentle kiss in its place.

"I promise," he murmurs as he leans his forehead against yours. "I love you."

"Love you too," you whisper. You place a hand on his chest, just above his heart, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

"I don't say it enough," he says, his voice hoarse. "But I mean it. Every time."

"I know," you assure him. You kiss his cheek, your lips trailing over the curve. "You don't have to say it. I know. I can feel it. I always have."

"Good," he sighs. His hands move up and down your back, the tips of his fingers gliding over your spine. "Never forget it."

"I won't," you promise.

He holds you there, your foreheads pressed together, your noses touching. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of you wash over him. It calms him, soothes him, and he feels his heart slow, his breathing evening out.

You shift, lifting your hips, and he gasps, the feeling of your cunt gripping his cock sending a jolt of pleasure through him. You smile, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"I'm okay," he whispers, his hands moving to grip your hips.

"Good," you say, your lips brushing over his. You start to move, rising up onto your knees before sinking back down. You both groan, the feeling of being joined sending a surge of warmth through him.

"Kriff," Hunter rasps as your hands find his shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscle, and you lift yourself up again, repeating the motion. His head falls back against the headboard with a dull thump, and you smile, your teeth scraping over the sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

"How's that feel?"

"So good," he breathes.

"Yeah?" you hum, rocking against him.

You're moving slowly, the pace torturous, and Hunter can't help but grind his hips upwards, trying to speed things along. You're having none of it, placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the bed.

"Slow," you order.

"Can't," he groans. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he pulls you down, forcing himself deeper as his hips buck up into you.

"Why not?"

"Need more," he pants.

"Hmm," you murmur, nipping at his throat. "I thought we were going to take our time."

"Changed my mind."

"Too bad," you smirk.

Your lips find his, capturing him in a heated kiss, and Hunter moans, his mouth parting for you. Your tongue sweeps through his mouth, seeking his own, and he can't stop the desperate noise that escapes him as you taste him. He tries to move, to thrust up into you, but a weight presses down on him, holding him in place. He knows without looking that the Force is holding him down, keeping him still, and a thrill runs through him, the realization making him even harder.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"What was that?"

"Kriff, I hate when you do that," he mutters, glaring up at you.

"Do what?" you ask, feigning innocence.

"That." He jerks his chin towards the invisible pressure pinning him to the bed. "You know exactly what."

"No idea what you're talking about," you grin. You're still moving, the movement slow and steady, and Hunter lets out a low whine, his eyes slipping shut.

"You're insufferable," he huffs, his head falling back.

"I think you're the one being insufferable," you tease, placing a hand on his chest. You run your fingers through the coarse hair, dragging them down until they brush over the base of his cock. "If I recall, you were the one who said we should take our time."

"Well, maybe I was wrong."

"Oh, I don't know," you say, your fingers tracing the edge of his hip bone. "I think it's nice."

"It is," he concedes, hissing as you squeeze his balls. "But it's not enough."

"No?"

"No," he says, opening his eyes. He looks up at you, taking in the sight. Your skin is flushed, your lips swollen and parted, your eyes glassy and filled with desire. He swallows hard, his hands tightening on your hips. He knows there will be marks tomorrow, a reminder of what happened tonight, and the thought makes him twitch inside you.

"So impatient," you tut.

"Yeah," he agrees. "You're so kriffing gorgeous. And I want you so badly. Always. I can't get enough of you."

"Hunter," you gasp, grinding down on him.

"Yeah," he breathes, his eyes drifting down to where the two of you are joined. Your cunt is stretched tight around his cock, and Hunter lets out a moan, the sight making his mouth water. He's always loved watching you take his cock, loved the way it looked as it slid in and out of your wet heat, loved the way it felt, being inside you. But now, after everything? After almost losing you?

"Force, I can't get over how beautiful you are," he whispers.

You're moving faster now, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, and the room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing.

"Fuck," you cry out as he hits that spot deep inside, and Hunter lets out a grunt, his hands finding your breasts.

"There you go," he says. He palms the soft flesh, his fingers finding your nipples, and he pinches them, rolling the stiff buds between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh," you moan, arching into his touch. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

"Yes," you nod, rocking against him. You're bouncing on his cock, the bed shaking with each thrust, and Hunter can't tear his eyes away. He's transfixed, unable to look anywhere else. You're a vision, sweat beading on your brow, your body trembling as the pleasure builds.

His hands find your ass, pulling you down onto his cock, and he can feel the muscles flexing beneath his fingertips. He can feel his climax approaching, his balls tightening, the pressure building. He's not ready for this to end, not yet, so he grits his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he pants, his hands roaming over the curve of your ass, squeezing and groping.

"Mmhm," you nod. You're leaning forward now, your hands braced on his chest as you ride him. Your nails rake across his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake, and his hips twitch, trying to thrust up into you. The weight keeps him in place, and he lets out a frustrated groan.

"That's it," he coos. He can feel the tension in your thighs, the way your legs are shaking, and he knows you're close. He grips your ass tighter, helping you keep pace, and you whimper, your movements becoming erratic.

"Please," you plead, and he can't deny you, not when you're begging.

His fingers find your clit, his thumb rubbing the swollen bundle of nerves. Your head falls forward, your hair falling over your face, and Hunter reaches up, brushing the strands aside.

"Come for me," he says, his voice hoarse. “Come for me, and then I’m gonna fill you up."

"Yes," you gasp.

"You wanna feel it, don't you?" he murmurs. He's barely holding on now, the heat pooling in his belly threatening to overwhelm him. "Want me to fill you up, mark you as mine. Make you mine."

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, grinding against him. "More, please, please, please, I need—"

He flicks his thumb over your clit, pressing down hard. Your breath hitches, your walls fluttering around his cock, and Hunter watches, mesmerized, as you shudder above him. You're staring at him, your pupils blown wide, your hair a mess, your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

"There it is," he growls. The weight pressing down on him disappears, and he grabs your waist, flipping you over. Your back hits the mattress, your legs wrapped around his hips, and he pounds into you, chasing his own release.

"Yes," you cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your mouth finds his, swallowing his moans, as his cock pistons in and out of your dripping cunt.

He fucks you, hard and fast, the bed creaking underneath the two of you. You're clinging to him, your nails scratching his back, and he knows there will be marks, knows that he's probably hurting you, but he can't stop, can't slow down. He's so close, the pressure building, the pleasure coiling deep inside, and he's desperate for it, his thrusts becoming frantic.

"Gonna fill you up," he gasps.

"Please," you beg, and that's all it takes.

His orgasm hits him hard, and he cries out, his hips jerking erratically as he spills inside you. He buries his face in your neck, biting and sucking, and you whimper, your legs tightening around his waist.

"Fuck, yes," you groan, and Hunter can feel the warmth of his spend leaking out of you, the mess coating his cock, dripping down his thighs. It's intoxicating, and he can't stop himself from thrusting deeper, trying to make sure every drop is buried inside you.

"Oh, Hunter," you moan. Your hands are on his ass, pulling him closer, urging him on. He grinds his hips against you, and you sigh, a lazy smile spreading across your lips.

"Good?" he asks, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Perfect," you whisper. You cup his face, and he leans into the touch, his eyelids fluttering as he savors the feeling.

He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to let go. He's perfectly content to stay like this, holding you, his cock buried deep inside you, your hands stroking his face. You're watching him, your eyes roaming over his body, and he preens under the attention, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well," he huffs, "I hope that was worth the wait."

"It was," you nod. You pull him closer, his head resting on your chest, and he lets out a sigh, his body relaxing.

"You alright?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the swell of your breast.

"Mmhm," you nod. Your hands are tracing patterns over his skin, fingers trailing across his back, and he can't help but shiver, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

"I'm not too heavy?"

"Not at all," you say. Your fingers move up, combing through his hair, and Hunter practically purrs, a low rumble rising from his chest.

"Good," he sighs. He tilts his head, his nose brushing against the hollow of your throat, and he inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal still thick in the air. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, and he shivers, the sensation sending a tingle down his spine.

"Hey," you murmur, and he hums in response. He shifts his weight, settling his elbows on either side of your head, and kisses your cheek.

"Hi," he whispers, his breath ghosting across your skin. He leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. You return the kiss eagerly, a soft moan escaping you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he goes willingly, his hips grinding against you.

"Mm, again?" you giggle, your teeth scraping over his bottom lip.

"If you're up for it," he says, grinning.

"I'm always up for it," you smirk. You roll your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist. He's still half-hard, his cock slowly swelling, and he can't stop the groan that rumbles in his chest.

"Good." Hunter grins, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you."

"Well, we've got plenty of time," you breathe.

"Plenty," he echoes, his hands finding your hips. "Let's make the most of it, then."

And he does.

He spends the rest of the night worshiping you, his mouth and hands mapping every inch of your skin. He leaves no part of you untouched, his lips and tongue and fingers exploring every inch, and you do the same. The two of you take turns, exploring and teasing, pleasuring and loving, until you're both too exhausted to continue.

Afterwards, you lie together, his arm draped over your waist, his nose buried in the crook of your neck. Hunter inhales deeply, the familiar scent filling his nostrils, and he lets out a content sigh. He can feel the ache in his limbs, and he's suddenly aware of how tired he is. He doesn't remember the last time he slept, and he can't even recall the last time he was able to relax. It feels like forever since he's felt this good, this safe.

This happy.

"I love you,” you murmur as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

"I love you, too," he whispers, his voice thick.

"I know," you chuckle, and he smiles against your neck.

You're both still breathing hard, chests heaving, bodies sticky with sweat, and he revels in the feeling, his arms tightening around you. He can't stop himself from kissing you, peppering your neck with gentle kisses, his lips ghosting over the delicate skin.

He makes his way up to your jaw, then your cheek, before finally meeting your mouth. It's slow, tender, filled with a sense of intimacy he hasn't felt in a long time, and it's enough to make him tear up. His hand cradles your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin, and he closes his eyes, savoring the moment.

He never thought he'd have this. Never thought he'd get a chance.

And now that he does? Now that he's got you here, in his arms, where he's meant to be?

"I'm not letting you go again," he mumbles, his forehead pressed against yours. "I don't care what it takes, I'm not letting anyone or anything take you from me."

"Hunter," you start, but he cuts you off.

"I know. I know, you can handle yourself, you're more than capable. I know all that. But I'm still going to be there. I'm always going to be there."

"I know," you say, your hand cupping his cheek.

"Do you?"

His eyes search yours, searching for any hint of hesitation, any sign of doubt. He finds none. Just warmth. Just love.

"Yes," you whisper.

"Good," he nods. He pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing you like this, bare and vulnerable, looking at him like that. Like he's the only person who matters.

"I meant what I said earlier," he says. "About wanting a family. A future."

"Me too," you smile.

"Really?"

"Yes," you nod, placing a hand on his chest. Your fingertips trace over the curve of his collarbone, and he shivers. "I want that with you. I always have."

"Even after everything?"

"Especially after everything," you assure him. "I've always wanted a future with you, Hunter. Ever since we met. I know you're scared. I am too. But I love you, and I want this. Us. All of it."

"Okay," he says, smiling.

"Okay," you repeat, returning the smile.

He pulls you into another kiss, his hand cradling the back of your neck, and the two of you stay like that, kissing and touching and loving, until exhaustion takes over. You curl up against him, your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you, and he feels his eyes begin to droop. He can't remember the last time he was this relaxed, the last time he was this comfortable. The last time he felt so safe. So loved.

And for the first time in a long time, Hunter doesn't worry. He doesn't stress. He doesn't plan.

Instead, he closes his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, and he lets the world fade away.

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#hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #tbb hunter #the bad batch #clone x reader #the clone wars #roy writes #i'm gonna need someone to stand next to me and spray me with a bottle of water like a misbehaving cat when i hit 10k words #also this was the last of my current requests!#i am ashamed it took me so long

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lev1hei1chou · 5 months ago

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Daddy's Little Stylist

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: How can Gojo say no to his precious miracle? Masterlist

You walked into the living room after a long day of work, ready to unwind and spend some time with your family. As you entered, you were greeted by the sight that made your heart swell with warmth and amusement.

There, in the center of the room, sat your husband Satoru Gojo, a sorcerer with unrivaled power and confidence, looking somewhat out of his element. His usually impeccable hair was now tousled and adorned with an array of colorful hair clips and hair ties, courtesy of your daughter. His face sported smudges of various shades of lipstick, blush, and eyeshadow, applied with the precision of a toddler's hand.

And there she was, your little bundle of joy, happily perched on a stool beside him, completely engrossed in her task. She was completely absorbed in her mission to make her daddy even more handsome than he already was.

"Daddy! Sit still!" she exclaimed, her tiny fingers tugging at Gojo's hair, causing him to wince slightly.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the scene before you, finding it both endearing and hilarious. Gojo, despite being one of the strongest sorcerers alive, seemed utterly defenseless against his daughter's whims.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you said, walking over to them with a smile.

"Mommy! Look what I did! I'm making Daddy pretty!" she exclaimed proudly, showing off her handiwork.

"I can see that," you replied, trying to stifle your laughter as you looked at Gojo, who gave you an apologetic smile, his eyes silently pleading for rescue.

"Wow, you're doing a fantastic job," you praised, kneeling down beside your daughter. "But I think Daddy's had enough makeover for today."

Reluctantly, your daughter relinquished her hold on Gojo's hair, though she still looked thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Gojo said, ruffling her hair affectionately. "You're the best stylist a guy could ask for."

With a playful wink in your direction, he mouthed a silent 'help me' as he attempted to straighten out his disheveled appearance.

You couldn't help but laugh as you reached for a tissue to wipe off the smudges of makeup from his face.

"Looks like you two had quite the experience today," you quipped, shaking your head in amusement.

"Yep, just another day in the life of a father and his daughter," Gojo said with a grin, wrapping an arm around both you and your daughter, pulling you both into a warm embrace.

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Sphinx!Xiao, who finds you stranded in the desert after your research group gets separated. A pack of wild coyote hybrids thought to be amicable, if not friendly towards humans attacked your camp in the middle of the night and sent you running aimlessly into the sand plains without time to gather food or water, let alone distress flares. By the time you stumble onto a wind-beaten temple, you're freezing, dehydrated, and exhausted. You barely have the strength to drag yourself up the meager steps and through the degraded doorway before you collapse on the sandstone floor, only able to hope that, by some miracle, a search party would be able to find you before you died of exposure. A search party doesn't find you, obviously, but Xiao does.

Sphinx!Xiao, who refuses to show himself for days. You only know he's there by the gifts he leaves you - cactus pears, palm dates, flasks of water and bitter wine that burns your throat as it goes down. It's not much, but it's enough to keep you alive, and you're too desperate to turn down anything he gives you. He's generous, too, giving you more than enough to get by while you're still in that state of bleary half-consciousness. You think he can tell that survival's not your area of expertise, that if you were left to your own devices, it'd only be a matter of time before you ate something poisonous or wandered into a bobcat den. That, or you're just pathetic enough to earn a few sand-covered blankets on top of the bare necessities.

Sphinx!Xiao, who lets you fawn over him with a purse-lipped scowl when you do finally manage to corner your elusive savior. You honestly just want to thank him, but once he's in front of you, you can't help grinning as you rake your fingers through the ivory feathers of his massive wings and scratch at the bases of his rounded ears. You've never so much as heard of a creature with both the wings and eyes of a bird-based hybrid and the legs, tail, and fangs of a cat-based hybrid, so you can't stop yourself from treating him like the eighth wonder of the world (unintended affection a touch-starved Xiao secretly basks in, not that you notice the pale blush painted across his skin while you're performing a remarkably thorough investigation on the color of his paw-pads).

Sphinx!Xiao, who stand-offish at best, reclusive at worst. He's clearly not used to having someone to talk to, his voice rough and his dialogue usually limited to one-word phrases or barked orders, but you can usually manage to string along your brief conversations on your own, either wondering aloud when you might be rescued or telling him about all the things you're going to do when you make it back to civilization. For every hour you spend fantasizing about baths and take-out and air conditioning, he spares a few words about himself. From what you can gather, he's a guardian of-sorts, meant to protect people like you from a threat he claims you couldn't begin to understand. You're not really in a place to question him, considering you didn't even know a hybrid like him could exist a few weeks ago.

Sphinx!Xiao, who also claims he's not allowed to 'meddle in human matters', meaning he can't help you beyond making sure you don't starve to death. You've asked him if he's seen anyone looking for you while hunting, but he's never given you a straight answer, and when you suggest that he just, say, put that twenty-foot wingspan to use and drop you off on the edge of the nearest town or village, he just scowls, rolls his eyes, refuses to say anything at all. You want to press the subject, sometimes, but you really can't afford to annoy him, to make yourself even more of an irritation to him than you already are. You wouldn't survive a day out here, on your own. You wouldn't survive without Xiao.

Sphinx!Xiao, whose gifts have been getting more... modern, recently. Luxuries are still few and far between, but you have a small store of canned food, now, a couple fleece blankets that don't seem at least a decade old, bits of scrap metal and glass that must've caught Xiao's eye. You try not to pry, not to turn down anything he gives you, but his most recent gift - a half-crushed, silver wedding band with an odd, scarlet stain you can't seem to polish away - hasn't seen the light of day since he dropped it into your hand.

Sphinx!Xiao, who keeps his wings wrapped around you as you sob into his shoulder and beat your fists against his chest. You're not in the temple anymore, dilapidated and open, but his den - a hellish, lightless cave filled to bursting with golden jewelry and century-old artifacts and scraps of metal and clothing that couldn't have come from anything but human travelers, from dozens upon dozens of people who could've saved you if he hadn't gotten in the way.

Sphinx!Xiao, who hums and coos and purrs as he rubs circles into your back, as he promises that he's not going to hurt you, that he's not going to let anything hurt you ever again.

Sphinx!Xiao, who's always been a guardian, first and foremost. It's just that now, he's decided it's his responsibility to guard you.

#hybrid au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #yandere xiao #yanderecore #yandcore

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lurochar · 3 months ago

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Quirks and Habits

Little things between you and Alastor and how they translate between human and demon life.

‐------------------------------------------

You are the only one allowed to touch Alastor’s hair when he was alive (the only one after his mother died, of course). He loves it when you run your fingers through his hair and even allows you to brush it. Even better if you give him a little massage. However, he will always style his hair himself.

This translates into you being the only one allowed to touch Alastor’s ears in all of Heaven, Hell, and Earth without being torn limb from limb and shredded into bloody little chunks of flesh. Honestly, if a miracle were to somehow happen and he could see his mother again, even she would not be allowed to touch his ears. That belongs solely to his mate partner, you and you alone.

☆

You always kept spare cloths with you in case Alastor needed to clean his glasses and he was ever so grateful since his did tend to get dirty quickly and he always forgot to bring more than one (or is it just an excuse to get you into his radio booth? It is.)

You're not quite sure what's going on with Alastor and his eyes when he becomes a demon. Did he not need glasses anymore? Did he use magic to improve his eyesight? What was the deal with the monocle? You would ask, but knowing Alastor as you do, you doubt you would get a straight answer out of him. So, you just do as you did when you were alive. You clean his monocle everyday and make sure he has cleaning cloths for it.

(He can just use magic to do it, but he does appreciate the sentiment, Darling~)

☆

Alastor always left his ties and bow ties undone in his human life. Of course he knew how to do it, he just liked to see that adorable little expression of concentration on your face as you did so. Plus, he always received a quick affectionate peck on his cheek (he would have to initiate a kiss on the lips, you knew and respected that).

It changed quite a bit when you and Alastor became demons. He seems wary of taking off his clothes in front of you now and no longer wants you to do his bow tie. It takes a while, but you're patient, and Alastor admits that he believes you may no longer find his body attractive. He was mauled by dogs shortly before his death and he has vicious scars all over him as a reminder. Well, if he is comfortable with it, you will show Alastor how much you are still attracted to him and always will be later that night.

You received several noise complaints from fellow hotel guests the next morning.

(You wonder how, weren't you and Alastor in his bayou dimension?)

#alastor x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #human alastor x reader

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 25 days ago

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[wip!] the art & science of parenting || jay park

a/n: hellaur everyoneeee here's a lil summary & drabble into another wip i'm working on rn,,,i had this idea in the back of my head for SO incredibly long (im talking since 2021 pls) and decided to finally go for it :') so here's a lil peek for the time being to prove i'm still alive heh. i hope you guys like this concept,,,idk why but i really envisioned jay in this trope maybe because i plan on making it very fun & lighthearted but mixed in with some serious & angsty tones...we shall seeeee....you know i love my college!aus and e2l!aus heheh anyways saur sorry im yapping now! lmk what you think & if you want to be tagged !!

genre: jay x female!reader, fluff, comedy, college!au, enemies to lovers!au, parenting!au (parenting a robot baby LMAO), sum angst maybe, both reader & jay are smartasses who don't know how to communicate and confront their feelings , also a bit of photographer!jay :')

summary: The Art & Science of Parenting 101 (PSY1009) – In this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. Through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child.' Late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. What you didn’t expect to be part of the deal? Getting paired with Jay Park—the last person you’d trust to raise, well, anything. You’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. Now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade. Warning: Sleep deprivation is guaranteed. And maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. Good luck!

longer drabble under cut! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Y/N and Jay."

Wait. What?

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.

You blink. You must have misheard.

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.'

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you. "You don't want to play house with me?"

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon. "I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you."

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?"

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply."

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life. And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he breathes in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak. Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two. And you?

You're screwed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

decided to go for a longer sneak peek than usual bc im very excited about this one heh :) i also changed up my title image formatting..trying out smth new !!!

lmk if you want to be tagged!

<3, addie

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there, hope you're doing well. I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better. Cheers!

Right Where You Left Me

Request: I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better.

Hi! I’m so sorry for the wait, it took me forever to get to this request, and even longer to finish it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump, but I feel better. I love this request, thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy it :)

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of azkaban and sirius’s treatment there, mentions of death, vague mention of nudity, let me know if i missed anything)

—

When you received the Patronus from Remus telling you Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, it brought you to your knees.

You thought about him every day. But you could only ever picture him in the days before he was arrested. It hurt too much to think about him rotting away in prison. But hearing that he got out? That he was out in the world and could be anywhere by now? The fact that he was suddenly much closer to you than you thought he would ever be again?

It terrified you.

You married Sirius right after school ended and the war was beginning to pick up. He proposed on a whim, telling you that the rest of your days weren’t guaranteed, and he didn’t want to live through another day without you tied to him. You would have always been by his side, but this was tying more than just your lives together—it was your souls. When Harry was born, you were named his godparents. All was well for a while. Calm, even. Of course, the calm didn’t last.

It wasn’t long after your marriage before that night in Godric’s Hollow came, and Sirius was taken away from you.

But it wasn’t just Sirius.

It was James, Lily, and Peter—even Mary. Marlene was in the weeks before, and Dorcas too. They were ripped away from you, far before you were ready to let them go. Remus was the only one who you kept in touch with after that night. You clung to each other in the weeks after, seeming to be the only people in the world the other could find solace in. But as the years passed, your visits and letters became few and far in between.

Then—after all that time—another Patronus came.

Sirius had come to Hogwarts, and he’d proved his innocence to those who mattered. It was Peter who had betrayed everyone, and he was still alive.

And, while Sirius had you and Remus on his side, he was still considered a fugitive. The Aurors were after him, and he needed to be kept some place safe where they wouldn’t come looking. Luckily for you, the flat you bought was outside of Wizarding London. Sirius had always loved the feeling of places untouched by magic, so after you married, you moved in together in a quiet area on the outskirts of London. It was his idea to use magic to ward it so that people looking for you would have a hard time, and after so long away from the Wizarding community, not many people would think it was worth it or even remember to come looking for Sirius in hiding with you.

After twelve years of solitude, you couldn’t fathom the idea of your husband coming back to you. You couldn’t fathom the idea of him being part of your day to day life again. All you could do to keep yourself together was tidy up and prepare for Sirius’s arrival.

You couldn’t believe it when Remus finally brought him home to you.

Your boy—who was a man now, or at least the shell of one—was sitting right in your living room. The only home he had ever known outside of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, and he couldn’t have looked more out of place.

Neither of you spoke when Remus eased him down onto the couch, before coming to your side. You’d always pictured that by some miracle if Sirius ever came home to you, you’d rush into his arms and he’d hold you like no time had passed. You spent years missing his touch, wishing you could hug him just one more time. But now he was right in front of you, and you had no idea how to act. You didn’t know if he even wanted you to touch him. You couldn’t take your eyes off Sirius, eyes wide as you looked him over.

Time had not been kind to him.

You could see the man you once knew bleeding through, but so much of this version of him was unknown to you. Sirius kept his eyes on the floor, but would occasionally glance up at you. You knew he was seeing a stranger, too.

“I have to go back,” Remus whispered, turning your attention to him. “They’ll know what’s happened back at Hogwarts if I don’t leave soon, and too many people know what’s happened already. I’m sorry. I’ll come back as soon as I can, yeah?”

You could hardly hear him, but you quickly nodded, giving him a squeeze. “Be careful, Remus. I’ll take care of him while you’re gone.”

“I know you will,” he murmured, squeezing you tight.

He let you go, kneeling down next to Sirius who was watching you both with a look full of anxiety. Remus placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, his touch light and gentle.

“I have to go, alright? But you’re safe here. I promise. It’s just Y/N.”

Just Y/N, Sirius thought. He just nodded, a conflicted look on his face. Remus stood up, giving you one last look of sympathy, before walking out the door. He left a deafening silence in his wake.

It took you forever to get your feet to move. But when you did, you were falling. You landed on your knees just in front of Sirius, peering up at him through teary eyes. You could see him take a breath, stilling as you got closer.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Sirius swallowed hard. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and you gently reached your hand up, your fingertips hovering over his face. Taking a breath, you cradled his cheek in your palm. You could feel the stubble along his jaw, and the sharpness off his cheek. His skin was cool, far from the usual flush you remembered from all those years ago.

“You’re really here,” you murmured, your voice catching in your throat. “Oh, love. You’re so beautiful.”

Your words pulled a pained whimper from Sirius’s chest. He nestled his face into your hand, a few stray tears pooling in your palm. You were quick to wipe them away, leaning in close. He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath, taking you in.

“I pictured your face every day, and I still think I’ll never get tired of looking at you. How could I? You’re right here in front of me, as beautiful as the day I lost you. But you’ve always been the pretty one in this relationship, haven’t you?”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “In my dreams. But it’s good to see your sense of humor is still intact.”

The next few moments were quiet, nothing but the sound of sniffles and shaky breaths reaching your ears.

Finally, Sirius forced himself to look around. He’d braced himself from the moment he walked in to see all that had changed since he left. He’d expected you to move on and live your life without him, and he’d expected the flat to reflect that. It was honestly more of a shock to him when Remus told him you still lived there than anything else. But as he looked around and took everything in, he realized how wrong he had been.

“You haven’t changed a thing,” he said, looking at the art on the walls you’d picked out together when you first moved in.

You glanced around as well. You wanted to tell him how you didn’t have the heart to change anything. And although seeing him in everything around you felt like you were being stabbed, you just couldn’t get rid of anything. Getting rid of it would mean getting rid of all you had left of him.

And you would have rather been stabbed a thousand times than do that.

You shook your head, pointing to the spare room. “Actually, Remus lived here for a while. He pretty much flipped that whole room. Said something about you having too expensive a taste for him to have to endure for extended periods of time.”

“Merlin, I bet it looks like grunge threw up in there,” he mused, making you smile and nod.

You stood up, offering him your hands. “Are you hungry? We need to get you fed and cleaned up, love.”

Sirius looked down to the robes he was wearing. They were tattered—resembling rags stitched together more than they were resembling clothes. His hair was greasy and matted to his head, and his face and body was caked in dirt. He had almost forgotten just how dirty he was, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he gave you an embarrassed look.

“It’s alright, darling,” you said softly, taking his hands in yours. “We’ll take it at your pace. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. You smiled, gently leading him up off the sofa and into the kitchen.

—

It took ages to find him something to eat.

You nearly keeled over when he told you that pretty much the only thing he had been given to eat for the past twelve years was bread and water. It was what he’d grown accustomed to eating, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything else. You had to choke back tears when you finally suggested soup—one of the first things he learned to make on his own without magic. It took a while, but he managed to get most of it down.

You made small talk while he ate, telling him little things he’d missed while he was gone. You left out the most painful details. You could tell him about those later.

Finally, he couldn’t stall anymore.

He let you take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, his eyes on the floor as you shut the door behind him.

“Shower or bath?” You asked, turning the water on to let it heat up. “A bath might be easier. You look tired, and I don’t want you falling over or something.”

Sirius just nodded, and you assumed he was alright with you choosing for him. You let the tub fill up, making sure the water wasn’t too hot before you turned the faucet off. You turned back around, frowning when you saw Sirius looking back at you with anxious eyes.

“It’s ready,” you said softly, stepping out of the way.

Sirius watched you for a moment, fidgeting back and forth on his heels. Just as you opened your mouth to speak again, he beat you to it.

“Can you turn around?” He asked, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I don’t mind if you stay, but could you…could you maybe turn around for this part?”

You quickly nodded, stepping towards the door. “Of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if you wanted me in here—”

He was quick to speak, his voice shaky. “I do! But this is just a little weird, you know?”

You nodded, backing up to the doorway and turning to face it. You could feel the heat creep up to your cheeks as you heard his clothes hit the floor, followed by the sound of him climbing into the tub. You had seen Sirius naked a thousand times before. He was never ashamed of his body, he never shied away, and you had seen plenty of him in your years of knowing him. This version of him made your chest tighten, and all you could do was stand there and hope he wasn’t feeling the emotions you were. You waited another moment before talking over your shoulder.

“Do you need anything, love? I’ll wait outside if you want me to. Unless you want me here. I’m happy to do whatever you want, it’s up to you.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Uh…could you maybe help me? My hair is matted and I don’t think I can fix it on my own.”

There was probably a spell you could have used—some sort of detangling charm to help get the mats out. But Sirius had gotten used to not being able to use magic, and you didn’t feel like using it either. The truth was, you preferred it this way.

It was an excuse to get close to him again and spend time with him.

It was an excuse to take care of him.

You nodded, turning around to grab your brush. You kept your eyes on his as you sat down on the edge of the tub, trying your best not to let your eyes wander. You set your brush on your knees, reaching for a cup off the ledge of the tub to dip down into the water and fill up.

“Tilt your head back for me, love,” you directed, smoothing your hand over his hairline as he tipped back far enough for you to pour the water over his hair.

You repeated the process a few more times before setting the cup down and grabbing the conditioner. You smoothed it through his hair, gently tugging at the knots with your fingers before you grabbed your brush. It was silent while you worked, making slow but steady progress. Eventually, Sirius shifted, and the water sloshed just over the side of the tub.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder with guilty eyes to see if he splashed you.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, smoothing a comforting hand across his shoulder before moving back up to his hair. “Are you alright? Getting cold?”

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, before deciding against it and closing it. He just shook his head, growing silent once more. You knew there was something he wasn’t saying, and you didn’t want to push him. But you hadn’t made much progress with his hair, and you didn’t fancy sitting in silence for the rest of the evening.

You set your brush down, gently smoothing your palm over his hair. “Sirius…you can tell me anything. You know that, right? I know this feels strange, but it’s still me you’re talking to. Alright? It’s me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”

There was another splash as he shifted, twisting around to face you. He was going to say that he’d tell you another time, and that he didn’t have it in him to say it just yet.

But then he looked into your eyes.

And you were looking at him with such sincerity and warmth that he couldn’t help but spill. You watched his eyes fill with tears, and you quickly reached for his hand which he gladly let you take.

“I saw Harry,” he finally choked out.

You felt your breath catch in your chest. A deep sorrow spread through you, filling your gut with dread. You could feel your own tears stinging behind your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. It wasn’t the time for them.

“He looks just like them, doesn’t he?” You breathed, squeezing Sirius’s hand. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Remus promised he’d say hello for me once he got to Hogwarts.”

“He knows who you are?” Sirius asked, his voice full of surprise.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me where he was when they came for him. The bastard said I was “in no shape” to look after him, and it was too dangerous for me to get involved. I tried so many times to get him to tell me, but I knew he had already pushed me and Remus to the back of the list as far as who could be around Harry…I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him until he was eight. Merlin, you have no idea how angry I was when I found out they had given him to Petunia and her sorry excuse for a husband.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. You could see the anger brewing inside him, watching as he took deep breaths to calm himself. But he didn’t let it out on you. He just squeezed your hand, tightening his grip.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Did you try and go get him?”

“Dumbledore threatened to have my magic taken away if I didn’t leave the matter be. He didn’t tell me anything about Harry or where he was kept hidden away. He just brought me a picture of him, and promised that when it was finally time for Harry to go to Hogwarts, he’d let me see him. Remus had to keep an eye on me till he was sure I wouldn’t do something stupid before that time came. He’d been waiting as long as me—he’s just better than me at patience, I guess.”

“You never were very good at being patient,” Sirius mused, but you could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, trying your best to mean it. “Anyway, I met Harry for the first time in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore finally let me see him under the condition that it be in a public and magical place—but I wasn’t allowed to tell him about you.”

Sirius frowned, and you could feel your chest tighten. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, your eyes in your lap.

“I wanted to tell him—so badly. But Dumblefore wouldn’t let me. All I could say was that I was a friend of Harry’s parents, and that I was there to help him get ready for school. I finally told him I was his godmother last summer when I took him for school supplies again. He spent the afternoon asking me about how I knew his parents. He kept pressing for every detail about them and how I knew them, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I told him everything about James and Lily I could remember. It just about killed me—”

Your words caught in your throat, cutting you short. Sirius reached his other hand up to reach for yours, his brows furrowing in concern. You looked up, giving him a sad smile.

You swallowed, choking back tears. “He’s so like them, Sirius. He’s got James’s ridiculous hair, and Lily’s fire. I can hardly look at him without seeing her eyes staring back at me. It’s so fucking unfair.”

A pained sound was pulled from Sirius’s throat, and you stopped yourself from talking about James and Lily any further. You grabbed the brush again, burying your nose in your work as you tried to ignore the sorrow you caught in his eyes before he turned his head straight.

“Tell me about it,” you prompted, changing the subject. “Tell me about him.”

Sirius was quiet a moment, like he was trying to find the right words. “He was…beautiful.”

You smiled, nodding for him to continue as you worked the knots out of his hair.

“He’s got this little witch by his side who quite honestly scared me—”

“Hermione,” you finished for him, grinning. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she? Ron, too.”

Sirius nodded, wringing his hands. “I’m glad Harry has someone. They seem like good friends. He’ll at least have them by his side to keep him from getting into too much trouble. He’ll certainly have a better shot than we did.”

You chuckled, smoothing your hand over his hair. “Remus told me he’s doing really well. It was a big year for him, but…he’ll be alright. We’ll see to that now.”

Sirius stiffened, turning around to face you. You paused what you were doing, setting down the brush. His eyes were lowered, his voice quiet as he spoke.

“I told him he could come stay with me, at least once it was safe to and he was able. I wasn’t really thinking about where that would be. My first thought was Grimmauld Place, but I don’t think I can stomach having him there. It’s not right. But I didn’t think to ask you—”

“Sirius, love,” you interrupted, gently cupping his cheek. “This is your home. You can invite whoever you want—you don’t have to ask my permission. And Harry will always be welcome here. If it’s what he wants, he can come stay with us. It can be his home too.”

His eyes softened, and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath of relief. “Merlin, I missed you.”

You could feel yourself growing emotional again, but you refused to let it show. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak without your eyes welling with tears. You just cleared your throat as you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.

“Tilt your head back for me again, darling,” you managed to whisper, rinsing his hair out. “Almost done. We’ll get you cleaned up so you can rest, alright?”

—

Not long after, you had Sirius clean and out of the tub, bundled up under the pile of blankets you had dragged over to your bed. He looked a bit ridiculous buried under them all, but it made you smile seeing him comfortable, and he was very happy to oblige you.

You laid next to him, under a considerably less amount of layers. “Warm enough?”

A warm laugh came from next to you as Sirius rolled over to face you. “Yeah, I think I’m all set, darling.”

You smiled, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Out of habit—one you didn’t even know you still had—you reached for his hand under the sheets. You used to always wind down every night like this, cherishing the time you had together. You never knew how much longer you’d be able to do it with the war raging on, and you both got quite used to doing this each night.

Sirius stiffened in surprise when he felt your fingers reach his, but he quickly recovered once he realized what you were doing. He let you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.

“This bed is so soft,” he murmured, tilting his chin down to look at you. “I forgot how soft it was.”

You tried not to let your mind wander, thinking about the sleeping conditions he would have had in Azkaban. He would tell you one day about what it was like there.

Neither of you were prepared to talk about it just yet.

“Do you wanna sleep somewhere else? I could make up the couch—”

“No, love,” he said, squeezing your hand. “This is good.”

You nodded, resting your head against the pillow. Another silence fell over the room. You shuffled to get a little closer, absentmindedly tracing your thumb along the back of his hand. Sirius let out a heavy sigh, drawing your attention up to him. You waited for him to speak, lying still until he looked down and his eyes met yours. There was a pain in them you couldn’t describe.

“Did you think I did it?”

You sucked in a breath, your grip on his hand tightening. You could feel his eyes on you as you frowned, bring your joined hands up from under the sheets to rest on top of the blanket.

You had been waiting for him to ask you this.

You knew he must have spent the past decade wondering what you thought happened. He’d sat in that cell all alone, thinking his wife thought he was a cold blooded murderer who had killed her best friends.

The world thought he was a killer. Why wouldn’t you?

You dropped his hand, gently reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm against yours, a pink flush spreading. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? You didn’t know. You caressed his cheek, giving him a sad smile. You could see his eyes welling with tears.

“No,” you finally said, your voice sure. “I didn’t think it was you. I didn’t know what had happened, but I didn’t think it was you.”

Sirius let out a breath, his voice cracking. “Really?”

You swallowed hard, nodding.

“You would have died before ever hurting James—and you would have done a lot worse to save him. There wasn’t a single part of me that thought you could have killed James and Lily. I just couldn’t fathom it. There was no one in this world you loved more than them, and I knew that it couldn’t have been you. I didn’t know they had made Peter the secret keeper last minute, and I didn’t know where his body was if he was supposed to be dead, but I knew you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I think Remus knew it too…deep down. He thought I was crazy with the theories I was coming up with to try and absolve you. But he never truly blamed you—and eventually, we stopped talking about it all together. It hurt too much to keep trying to solve the mystery. It was easier to let it go.”

Fresh tears spilled, and Sirius was quick to wipe them away. Your heart ached at his kindness, even after all these years. All these years of solitude when you had left him behind, and yet, he was the one consoling you.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, composing yourself the best you could. “I’m so sorry I didn’t try harder to get you back. I’m so sorry you had to suffer there all those years while I got to just keep living my life. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please forgive me, Sirius.”

Sirius quickly shook his head, his palm resting against your cheek. “None of that, pretty girl. It’s not your fault—”

“But it is,” you tried to say, but he just kept shaking his head.

“Well, I don’t care—it doesn’t matter…I don’t blame you. I never blamed you, darling. So stop blaming yourself. I’m sure you’ve spent long enough doing that, and I won’t watch you torture yourself. Don’t you think we’ve both been through enough torture?”

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. He was so strong. It shocked you, just how strong he was. He had been through so much, and yet he still carried himself like the man you knew. He still let other people lean on him even when it should have been him doing the leaning. It was remarkable, really.

“Since when did you get so wise?” You asked, and you had mustered a grin that made him smile too. “Where’s the stubborn man I once knew?”

Sirius shrugged. “He’s still in here somewhere. Just needs a little practice. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll meet him again soon.”

You scoffed, breathing out a laugh. “That’s alright. I kinda missed him.”

Sirius chuckled, and your smile widened. This felt easy—this was good. You were so worried that, after all this time, you wouldn’t know how to act around each other. You were so afraid that Sirius would walk around the flat like a ghost of the man who once called it home. But he didn’t. It only took him a few hours to start cracking jokes, brushing his fingers against yours.

It wasn’t perfect—neither of you expected it to be.

But it gave you hope. Sirius was going to be okay. You both were going to be okay. And you’d get there together.

—

A/N - Hi! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I honestly don’t love the outcome of this, but I figured I’d finish it anyways. I loved this request, and I just kept coming back to it and adding it. Hopefully this is what you were looking for, sorry if it’s shit. Thanks for the request :)

#sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader #the marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter #right where you left me #taylor swift #folklore

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