#kinda old n crooked but ok

[rhinereiakemi]

WHO REALLY CARES

[bitchyycapricorn]

Warm Tea For The Ill

•Remus Lupin x Established Relationship Fem!Reader•

Masterlist

Word Count: 3k+

Synopsis: You and Remus tell the others you’re feeling ill on a nice day in order to get some down time. Sirius is worried about you both and just wants to make sure you’re ok.

Background: Y/N’s animagus is a bunny, hence the nickname “bunny” and her marauder nickname is “Thumper”. Takes place during 7th year (though not specifically mentioned).

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), face riding (f), unprotected sex, slight dom!Remus, caught having sex, praise kink, fluff

AN:Not edited also my story is deleting parts and glitching out soooo…

“Shhh,” Remus hushed you with a small laugh, holding open the door to the boys dormitory so you could slip inside. Both you and Remus had decided to play ill today in order to get some alone time while everyone else was out at the Black Lake. Knowing the boys and their love for trouble mixed with water, your time together should go completely undisturbed. Normally alone time between you and Remus looked like reading a book together while snuggled up on his bed since the chances of someone busting down the door was so high. The fact that everyone was a good ways away and completely distracted from coming back to bother you and Remus gave you butterflies. 

You shuffled into Remus’s room making your way over to his bed, which sat to the right of the room and closest to the door, as Remus quickly shut the door. The thought of being alone with you overtook Remus’s mind causing him to completely forget to lock the door behind him in the process. Letting out a sigh of relief, Remus was quick to make his way behind you so he could press his body against yours. His face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as his lips left soft wet kisses against your exposed skin.

“It feels like bloody forever since we’ve been alone together bunny,” Remus cooed. A soft moan escaped your lips at the feeling, making him smile against your skin. “You smell so good darling, hell you look beyond good. Has me wondering if you taste as good as you look.” He murmured between the kisses he was planting on your shoulder.

“Remus, we’ve been alone together for less than five minutes and you’re already talking about shagging me.” You jokingly scolded whilst bringing your hand up to cup his jaw on the side he was kissing your shoulder.

“I can’t help it,” Remus whined. “You look so bloody gorgeous in my sweater.” His head turned slightly so he could kiss your palm while he spoke. He muttered a few soft praises into your hand before finally shuffling you both forward and onto the bed. 

The light yet inescapable nudges caused you to tumble forward onto Remus’s soft sheets and let out a small “numph” as your stomach made impact with the mattress. Remus let out a small laugh and helped to turn you around onto your back, You let out a huff as you scooted up to lean against the bed’s headboard. “That was mean,” you laugh as Remus begins to crawl over to your sitting figure. His much taller frame looms over yours despite him being on all fours in front of you.

“I just want to cuddle you up and kiss you until your lips are swollen. That’s kinda hard when you’re standing up Y/N.” He laughed as he pressed a kiss against your lips. You could both taste and smell the dark chocolate that lingered on his lips from earlier. Along with the faint scent of old books and morning dew radiating off the rest of his body. You smiled at the smell thinking back to the few times you’d smelled amortentia. It always smelled like Remus, and occasionally, if you were lucky, it sometimes gave off the aroma of Remus’s hair after he showered. 

Remus was also enjoying the sweet scent that radiated off your warm body. Your natural smell of (…), (…), and (…) were a reminder that he really did have someone in this world. For Remus, amortentia was a bittersweet topic and memory. Though it aided him in the reminder of you and all your beauty it was also a reminder of the way his father forced him to smell it at the mere age of five in hopes of confirming Remus still had someone out there for him. Which Remus thought now was silly, since that simply was not how amortentia worked. 

Your hands grasping the bottom of Remus’s sweater are what pulled him from his thoughts and back into your overwhelmingly calming presence. You had a sort of warmth to you that constantly kept Remus grounded no matter what memory crept into his mind. It was the way your warm lips were pressing into his neck and causing him to moan and whimper that reminded him he was right where he was supposed to be. 

Your hands continued to tug at Remus’s sweater until it was over his head and on the ground. The new sensation of cold air against Remus’s skin caused him to shiver. He was now hyper aware of the contrast between the temperature of the room and your burning hands as they traced over the many scars that littered his back and chest. A scratchy moan left his throat as you traced your index finger down the length of his stomach scar and towards the waistband of his black uniform pants.

“You’re always so eager to take care of me bunny, why don’t I take care of you for a bit?” Remus hummed as you toyed with his waistband. 

You pulled away from his neck to look into his pretty brown eyes. “Rem,” you began, fidgeting nervously at the thought. “I would really like that, but I don’t want you to feel like this isn’t about you too.” 

Remus chuckled under his breath, raising his hand to your face so he could brush the fallen strands of hair out of your eye. “I get more pleasure than I think you realize when I’m buried between your thighs.” His lips connected with yours for a moment before continuing, “I get high off the feeling of your legs thrown over my shoulders as they squeeze around my head everytime I touch the right place….” Another kiss. “I love it when you hover over my face and allow yourself to fuck my tongue at the pace that feels best for you little bunny.” His lips were so soft against yours. “It makes me so bloody hard to feel your body trembling.” His voice was seductively sweet as he spoke against your lips, something he did when he was feeling confident. 

His words made your body weak and your mind malfunction, only allowing a small “please,” to escape your lips. It was now Remus’s turn to attack your neck with wet kisses and light red bite marks which almost certainly would leave small purple bruises on your soft skin. You knew that Remus thoroughly enjoyed marking you up as the full moon approached, but you also knew that was at least a week and a half away leaving him in a limbo between having sweet passionate sex, and having rough scandalous sex. 

Remus’s hands danced at the hem of your top signaling that it was now your turn to remove your, well Remus’s, sweater. Instinctively, you raised your arms so Remus could tug the soft material up your torso and over your head. “I have a feeling I’m never getting this sweater back,” Remus teases, sitting up and examining the maroon material in his hand. 

“You can have it back for a little while, but only so it will smell like you again. Then you have to return it,” You tease back, taking the shirt from him. 

“Return? Love, that’s my jumper,” Remus shook his head as he laughed. He took the material back from you but only to toss it to the side. “Not that it matters though darling. I don’t want either of us wearing it right now anyways.” A small giggle escaped your lips at his words making him smile even wider than he was before. He brought his hand up to your right cheek, stroking your jaw with his thumb. “Lay down and relax for me pretty girl,” Remus mumbled as he captured your lips between his own. 

“I can’t lay down if you keep snogging me,” You hum, pulling breathlessly away from the kiss. A small pout settled in on Remus’s face as he shuffled backwards so he could pull you by your legs into a lying position. A gasp left your mouth as your head made contact with his pillow. A smirk played at Remus’s lips while his eyes racked up and down your partially exposed body. 

“This has ought to go,” Remus murmured as his hands found their way to the zipper of your skirt, slowly pulling it off your flushed body. He let out a groan of relief as the skirt slipped past your foot and onto the floor, enjoying the sight of you in just your bra and panties. “These especially have to go,” his voice quivered slightly as he feverishly reached behind your back to unhook your bra. The bulge in his pants becoming increasingly more tight at the sight of your exposed tits.

Remus let out another throaty groan as he positioned himself between your legs so his upper body was hovering over yours. His head dipped down to pick up where he left off earlier, trailing hot kisses down your neck and towards your swollen breast. You let out a few whimpers as Remus’s lips danced across your now exposed chest. His right hand began to roam up and down the curve of your waist while he used the other to prop himself up. His fingers traced patterns onto your skin, dipping between your thighs occasionally before pulling back out to travel up your stomach. 

His lips grazed the swell of your breast making you moan. You could feel him smile against your skin before he used his tongue to slowly circle the skin around your nipple. The sensation pulled a small gasp from your lips as you pushed your chest upwards involuntarily. 

You let out a whine as you grasped Remus’s hair. “Remus please,” you begged. His tongue grazed the underside of your nipple before he took the hard bud between his lips, slowly sucking on the bundle of nerves as you pushed his face deeper into your tit. The feeling of his mouth on you sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body like an electric shock. You allowed yourself to absorb the waves of pleasure while also focusing on the way his finger tips danced across your lower abdomen. His mouth would occasionally switch between nipples, always leaving a train of kisses in the switching process. Your hands stayed messily tangled in his hair, helping guide his head to the place you wanted him.

Soon you found yourself lightly pushing his head downwards. Desperately wanting to feel his mouth where you needed him most. Remus was quick to pick up on this, since he redirected his trail of kisses down your stomach. Occasionally he would pause to bite the tender flesh before placing a gentle kiss over the damage. His hot trail of kisses was messy, but led where it needed to. Remus’s lips now hovered over the soft fabric covering your lower half. His head dipping downwards so he can place a kiss at the lining of your underwear, before taking it between his teeth. He pulls forward again slightly while snaking his hands under your ass to help lift your hips. His upper body pulls backwards in the process, allowing for him to edge the soft fabric down your thighs and off your legs. 

“I might just have to keep these,” Remus smirked as he held up your panties before tossing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes. His hands slowly traveled back down your body and to your waist so he could help sit you up. You eyed him curiously at the motion, but he only gave you a sly smile in response. He lowered himself onto his back beside you before grabbing your hips once again so he could pull your body over his. He minivered you both so your knees were placed on both sides of his head. His arms coming from behind to wrap around your thighs. 

Remus helped ease you down so your heat hovered just above his face. “Come on bunny,” he cooed. “Ride my face.” You let out a soft moan as you fully lowered yourself onto his tongue, jutting your hips forward at the sensation of his tongue on your clit. You circled your hips slowly, a warm tingly feeling began to bubble up in your stomach as you did so. 

Remus’s grip tightened on your thigh as he helped guide your body forward and then backwards again. He reveled in the feeling of your wet heat as it slid up and down his tongue. He soaked up the feeling of your thighs trembling around his head, squeezing together each time he pressed his tongue flat against your clit. He pulled your body in closer, burying his face as deep in you as he possibly could. Small whimpers and long moans tumbled from your swollen lips as you grinded into your boyfriend's face. 

Within minutes your clit was becoming more and more sensitive as Remus drew circles around the nerve bundle with his tongue. The sensation makes you tremble as you feel yourself growing closer to your high by the second. 

Remus takes advantage of your closeness by slowly moving his hands up your thighs and to your hips. His hands lingered on your hips for a moment before drawing back and harshly grabbing your ass with a loud smack. Your body jutted forward at the sudden impact, the sensation of the slap flooding your senses making you gasp. Remus’s name began repeatedly spewing from your lips as the coil in your stomach snapped. A flood of relief and pleasure washed over your shanking figure as Remus helped you ride out your high from below. 

Exhaustion took over moments later causing you to fall back to Remus’s side once more. A shiver ran through your body as the heat your body had just been previously generating began to subside. Remus lifted his covers up and over both your naked bodies to help warm you up again. You rolled onto your side, facing the door, while Remus cuddled up into your backside. His arm snaked around your waist while he pushed his hips into yours. 

You arched your back with a soft moan at the feeling of his erection being pressed up against your ass. Remus leaned over you slightly so he could pepper kisses against the top of your shoulder and down your arm as he helped you grind yourself into him. “You want me to fuck you from behind bunny?” He moaned, biting into your shoulder softly.

“Y-yes please,” You whimpered, still slightly drowsy from your orgasm. Remus hummed at your response, removing his hand from your waist so he could line himself up at your entrance. He slowly ran the tip of his cock between your fold making you both shiver. Teasingly, he pushed his tip into you, before pulling out again slowly. You let out a small whine wanting Remus to fill you up already. “Remus…please,” you whimpered. 

“So needy,” Remus snickered before fully pushing into you. You let out a soft cry of relief at the feeling, circling your hips into his. Remus began thrusting into you slowly, wanting to take in the feeling of you around his cock for as long as he possibly could. His hands traveled up and down your body, traveling upwards so he could squeeze your tit occasionally. “Ah fuck Y/N,” Remus groaned as he began to pick up speed. “Look at you taking my cock so well.” His words made your body tremble, as soft moans spilled from your lips. Remus kissed his way up your neck and to your ear so he could whisper soft praises to you while he fucked into you mercilessly. 

You could feel his cock buried deep in you, sliding in and out of your dripping heat. Your ass bouncing everytime his hips snapped into yours. Your legs shaking violently at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your g-spot. Your breathing was heavy and so was Remus’s. His stomach muscles flexed with each thrust into you. His shakey moans and low groans told you he was enjoying every inch of your body. 

Remus could feel himself nearing closer to his high at the exact moment the handle to the door began to jiggle. Both you and Remus froze, pulling the covers up and over your shoulders to hide the fact you weren’t wearing anything. Your clothes were on the opposite side of the bed to the door, meaning if one of the boys just popped in they wouldn’t see. 

The door creaked open slightly revealing a blob of messy black hair. Sirius poked his head in to look at what he believed to be “sick” Y/N and Remus. “Hey, I just wanted to check on you guys,” Sirius said with a small sympathetic smile. 

“We’re doing alright, thanks Sir-“ you let out a small groan at the feeling of Remus thrusting out and then back into you lightly. 

“You both look bloody awful,” Sirius chuckled, scanning your red sweaty faces. “You both look like you’ve got a fever, do you need to go to the infirmary?” Remus thrusted into you again, causing yet another gasp to escape your lips, which you tried to cover up with a small cough. 

“We’re alright mate, just a bit under the weather. Our naps been helping though,” Remus replied, offering Sirius a smile. He had begun to pick up a steady pace now, thrusting in and out of you slowly. Your breathing picked up slightly, as you tried to keep down your noise level. 

“You alright Y/N?” Sirius asked, eyeing your shaky figure. 

“Y-yeah just a bit..ugh” you cut yourself off with a moan, feeling Remus’s fingers suddenly drawing small circled on your clit. “Fuck, sorry..I-um, I just have..have the j-jitters.” You huffed out, feeling a knot building up in your stomach for the second time that day. Waves of pleasure continue to course through your body as Remus keeps up his steady thrusts. 

“Do you want me to bring you a warm cup of tea from the hall?” Sirius asked as he observed the way your body was shaking slightly. You both made eye contact for a moment before you were forced to screw them shut at the feeling of your orgasm hitting you. You could feel your thighs squeeze together around Remus’s hand as he continued to lightly rub your clit through your high. You let out a few soft moans, before finally collecting yourself enough to meet Sirius' eyes again. 

It didn’t last long, since you could feel Remus begin to twitch inside you. His cock slowly draws out of you, before harshly pushing back in a few more times. Each thrust got harder and sloppier before the feeling of Remus filling you up with cum overtook your senses. Your eyes fluttered closed again as you let out another soft moan.

“Y/N…I’m going to go grab you some tea….Just stay right there…” Sirius' face turned from one of concern to sheer worry, genuinely believing that you were extremely sick. 

“T-Thank you p-padfoot,” You groaned as Remus pulled out of you. His cum dripped out of you and down the back of your thighs in the process. Sirius shut the door quickly and you could hear him scurry down the hall. “Remus what the actual fuck.” You sighed after a brief moment.

“Mmmm, did you enjoy that Bunny, because I sure did.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. You let out another soft moan as you sat up. “Oh bunny,” Remus chuckled, “I love you.” He sat up as well, eyeing the clothes on the floor. “Let’s get dressed, and then we can run a bath for us in the Prefects bathroom hmm? We can use the one no one ever goes into.” 

You nodded quickly in agreement, allowing Remus to help dress you. As if on cue to you both being somewhat presentable, Sirius burst through the door once again holding a cup of tea. You thanked him profusely, taking the cup from his hand. 

“I’m going to take Y/N to grab a warm bath,” Remus told Sirius while taking your hand in his.

“That will probably help, feel better Thumper.” Sirius said ruffling your hair. 

“Thanks Pads,” You smiled, giving him a small hug. 

+++

Remus walks with you hand and hand down the corridors as you both make your way to the much more secluded Perfect bathroom. Due to the absurd location, you and Remus were truly the only two people to use the bathroom. You thoroughly believed that you both were the only ones to know about it in fact. And so, when you arrived at the entrance and pulled the doors open, neither of you were surprised that it was empty. 

Sneaking in quickly, Remus closed the door behind the both of you as you began peeling off your clothes. As your robes dropped from your body you observed the purple bruises beginning to form on your skin in the mirror. Remus shuffled behind you, followed by the sound of running water from the bath. Your eyes wandered across the mirror and  over to where he stood in front of the tub, admiring his every move. You watched as he slipped off his sweater, followed by his pants. The way his skin seemed to glow under the bathroom lights. Remus met your gaze, giving you a bright smile as he approached your naked figure. His arms engulfed you from behind, dangling loosely around your waist. 

He began pressing soft kisses to the top of your shoulder as you let out a sigh of relief. You were in desperate need of some after care after being interrupted by Sirius, and you knew the moment his lips made contact with your skin you would receive it. You also knew this was the perfect opportunity to take care of Remus as well, one of your favorite things to do. 

“Rem..the water is done, we have to go turn it off.” You hummed as you wiggled out of his grip to go turn the faucet off. Remus was quick to follow you, stepping into the tub before offering you his hand so he could help you get in. “The you,” you giggled, taking Remus’s hand so you could both sit down and enjoy the warm water. You allowed the feeling to engulf you as your back laid pressed against Remus’s chest. 

He was slowly scooping water over your head to wet your hair. Once he fould it to be sufficiently wet he began lathering his hands with shampoo. He slowly ran his hands through your hair, massaging your scalp slowly. 

You hummed at the feeling, hoping he would never stop. You knew this was where you wanted to be forever, “I love you Remus,” you whispered softly. 

“Oh darling,” Remus sighed, “I love you.”

+++

TAGLIST

[alwayssassydreamer]

I Hate Myself For Loving You

Day 15 of Kikitober (sorry i wrote a wrong prompt down for day 15 so this doesn't quite fit but I'm still posting it hope it's ok)

A/N: someone (I forgot who - sorry) gave me this idea and it turned out kinda weird as i was trying to think of an interrogation tactic that would not involve physical and not too much emotional pain. But in the end Kid is just a big softie. As always not proofread

Plot: you're after a treasure but got caught by pirates who try to make you give up the location of it, things get even more complicated when Kid arrives and demands answers but not about the treasure

Warnings: mention of torture, maybe hurt?, reader is a captive, i seriously have no idea what to put here, MDNI

Characters: Kid x F!Reader

You thought it would be easy here, meeting this man who could help you with the map that was leading to a hidden treasure, talk to him, thank him for taking his time and then get the fuck out without anybody noticing that you were even there.

But you were not expecting this pirate crew.

Bound to a chair in a dimly lit room on an enemies ship. That's not quite how you pictured this to turn out.

"Tell me dear, someone told me that you might know where the treasure is, is that true?" a rather old man with a brown beard you guessed to be the captain, asked you.

"Treasure? What kind of treasure? Never heard of a treasure here. but If you find it I'd like to have a share of it." you said looking him dead in the eye.

He stroked his beard a crooked grin on his face before he moved closer grabbing your face squeezing your cheeks.

"You think I'm an idiot?" Well yeah, that's what you were thinking.

"Someone told me that you were asking questions about a specific map and I come to think that this map might be the one leading to the gold" he hissed squeezing even harder. Damn that was getting really uncomfortable.

"Come on sweetheart tell us about the map" a tall and bulky man shouted.

"Why should I tell a pathetic pirate crew like yours anything" you snapped trying to get his hand off your face.

The crew erupted in laughter, confusing you.

"Well I guess we'll have to show you what this pathetic pirate crew is capable of. Maybe then you will talk to us" he threatened a mischievous grin on his face.

You had to admit you were a little scared now. Pissing them off was a rather stupid idea after all.

"Get me my interrogation box" the captain ordered and you swallowed hard.

Having something that's called an interrogation box did not sound good - not at all.

The captain took a chair and sat down in front of you placing the box on his lap. In it a lot of different knives, some sharp some seemed kinda blunt, varying in size and something that looked like a hammer.

The little scared feeling turned now into a big scared feeling not going unnoticed by the captain.

"What's wrong dear, fear sinking in. Not so tough anymore aren't you" he taunted as his fingers gliding over his tools.

"That should do for the warm up" he said picking a smaller knife with a clean and sharp looking blade.

Wavering it in front of you he moved closer to your arm. Just as he was about to cut you with it a man of his crew rushed towards him whispering in his ear.

The captain looked well different. Whatever the man told him it made the him get up. His face a mix of fear and frustration.

"I'll be right back. In the meantime how about you entertain our little prisoner" he said in a threatening way.

His men nodded and smiled a devilish smile at you.

Ok maybe the captain wasn't that bad after all. The fact that you were being held in this room tied to a chair surrounded by men who already undressed you with their eyes made your stomach twist.

The first one approached you moving a finger from your arm up to your neck.

"Fuck off" you yelled trying to wiggle away.

"There's no going anywhere darling, you're stuck with us, the pathetic pirate crew." a man with a scar running down his chest taunted.

"If you touch me I'm going to cut your fucking hands off" you said desperately but this only made the men laugh at you.

"Such a feisty one. I think we're gonna have a lot of fun with you" the tall man with the beard growled as his thumb brushed over your lips.

You had to think - fast if you wanted to get out of here in one piece.

"Let's see what you're hiding underneath" a third man with sleek dark hair laughed as he grabbed your shirt ripping it open leaving you in your bra as the shirt hung loosely over your shoulders.

"What a nice view" he mocked liking his lips as the other two took a step back to let the sight sink in. His hands were moving closer trying to touch your skin when the door to the room suddenly swung open.

"What's going on here" a deep voice shouted behind you.

The men were startled, fear across their faces.

"I'm sorry sir we were just havin some fun" the dark haired man apologized with a shaky voice.

You heard heavy footsteps moving closer.

"Look who we have here" the strangly familiar sounding voice said as the footsteps stopped in front of you.

"Oh fucking hell, no" you said as you looked right into Kid's eyes.

"Oh yes." he mocked with a smugly grin. He looked you up and down smiling at your demise.

"I've been told that you were messing with my subordinate crew about some treasure and I've gotta admit I love the sight of you bound to a chair unable to get away" he continued making fun of you as his huge frame hovered above you.

"Fuck off, asshole"

Kid's eyes wandered to the interrogation box.

"What's with that. Were you about to torture her" he asked pointing at the box.

"She wouldn't tell where we can find it, so we decided to help her talk" the captain said as his crew chuckled.

"You think you could get her to talk with that. She's tougher than that and too stubborn to give in believe me" Kid stated looking at you.

"But sir I'm-"

"Shut the fuck up." Kid yelled as he leaned forward his face close to yours.

"Funny how things worked out, huh? Here we are again. You, me, and some unfinished business" he almost whispered. You tensed not knowing where this was going.

"Get the fuck out of here" he suddenly shouted not removing his eyes from you.

You heard some shifting around you and then the pirates leaving while you were unable to avoid Kid's gaze.

"What's with this treasure" he asked his voice low and dangerous.

"I have no idea why everyone believes I know something about it" you said trying to be convincing.

Kid placed his flesh hand on your thigh and his metal hand on the chairs armrest as he leaned even closer trapping you beneath him and whispering in your ear. "I know you're lying. I know you better than anyone else" His lips brush against your ear his hot breath tickling you.

He moved a little to look you in the eyes before flashing a small smile.

The moment the pirates left was the moment the tension shifted. You weren't scared of getting physically hurt you knew Kid would never do that to you. Though you were still a little anxious. Kid had other ways to get what he wanted.

"What now" you asked nervously.

"Now I'm going to continue the interrogation my way, unless you want to talk to me" he growled evilly.

"Wait what-" Panic was rising inside you.

"Yeah I will have you answer every question I ask" he taunted as he dragged a finger from your collarbone between your boobs and down to your belly button, sending shivers down your spine, knowing exactly what he's doing.

He kept staring at his finger which still rested on your skin before he lifted his head.

"Now let the fun begin. The first question is easy. What's with this whole treasure thing?"

You sighed as he leaned back on the chair arms crossed.

"I might have found a map to a hidden treasure and a man on this island helped me reading it as I tried to leave your friends caught me" you explained.

"Where is the map"

"Like hell I tell you that's my treasure" you complained.

"That's not the correct answer" he smirked as he got off the chair to crouch down right before you. He grabbed one of your legs lifted it up and attacked your inner thigh with his mouth.

You gasped out of surprise cursing the shorts you wore. A small moan escaping your lips as you could feel him smile into your skin.

"Fuck stop that" you whined. He stopped but didn't let go of your leg.

"Then answer my question" he demanded

"It's in my boot. The one on the leg you're holding"

Gentle fingertips moved along your leg to your boot before pulling the map out.

"Good girl" he teased as he put your leg down and took his seat again.

"That was the easy part, now it will get tough"

"Great" you said as you tried to think of a way out.

He hesitated and suddenly something in his demenour changed.

"Why did you leave" he asked catching you off guard.

Suddenly the tension in the room became unbearable. You wanted out right now. The memory of the day you left him was too painful and you didn't want to think about it. Seeing him there right in front of you was already hard enough.

You lowered your head and he knew you wouldn't say a word. He got angry. He wanted, no he nedded to know why.

"You don’t want to talk about it?" Kid tilted his head, eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "Fine. I’ll just have to get my answers" he snapped before attacking you again this time his mouth made contact with the tender flesh of your belly. He started biting, sucking and pulling on it - probably leaving marks.

"Kid" you stuttered voice shaky.

"Don't 'Kid' me now. What was it? Was I not enough? Did you find someone better?" he asked angrily as his mouth kept roughly devouring you. Knowing that this would get to you, it always did.

How you had missed this. How you were craving for his lips all over your body. But you couldn't let this happen. No. You left him almost a year ago, determined to never meet him again - the memories of your time together too painful.

He stopped his assault and instead placed small kisses from your waistline up to your chest before moving to your neck.

"You changed" you hitched as the sensation of him sucking on your neck became too much. He stopped, letting go of you.

You took a deep breath. "You changed - not for the good."

"What do you mean?" he asked and you were sure you could hear anger in his voice.

"You've become ruthless, and you pushed me away because you became obssessed with power and revenge and I couldn't take it anymore" you continued biting back a tear .

For a moment he stood there saying nothing but you could see his jaw clenching.

"You couldn't take it! Did you ever wonder what it was like for me when you just left" he shouted, now making you angry too.

"For fuck's sake I was constantly worried about you" you almost screamed. Kid blinked, taken aback by what you just said, though he tried not to show it outright. "You started to throw yourself into danger almost like you were on a suicide mission, like your life doesn't matter" you continued as the anger slowly subdued.

Kid stared at you for a long moment clenching his fist. "And all this time, you never thought to tell me this"

"What should I have said. Oh love please stop being a fucking menace because I'm terrified that you could die. Would you have listened to me?" and there was the anger again.

He said nothing knowing that you made a point. He would have listened to you but he probably would have brushed your concerns off.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you simmered, heavy with unresolved feelings.

"Do you still love me?" he asked looking at you intensely as you couldn't stop a tear from rolling down your face.

"You know the answer" you mumbled.

This moment, this vulnerability in your gaze reminded him of the times you've spent together. He started to realize that he missed you more than he wanted to admit.

"Last question before the games' over" he said his voice a mixture of anger, frustration and fear.

"Would you give me a second chance"

"I...." you paused not knowing what to say. Part of you wanted to scream yes but another part reminded you of why you left him.

"Forget it this whole thing was stupid from the start" he got up angrily and frustrated knocking the chair down in the process before aggressivly freeing you from your restraints.

"You're free to go better take the opportunity" he growled as you rubbed your wrists. You got up and moved towards the door hand already on the handle when you stopped and turned to look at him.

"What were you doing on this ship?" you asked eyes narrowing.

"None of your business" he snapped avoiding your gaze, muscles tensing.

You stepped closer stopping in front of him. "Funny that a treasure map that so many would like to have in their hands ends up in mine." you started observing him closely. "Now that I think about it what's even funnier is that on this whole treasure hunt I not once had to fight off someone or even got in trouble"

He tensed his jaw clenching, eyes focused on the ground.

"Why" you asked softly.

Your words hit a nerve, and Kid finally looked at you, his expression torn between anger and frustration.

"You think I let you run around chasing this treasure knowing how many other pirates are after it without keeping an eye on you."

You looked at him confused

"I had someone slip you the map, I remembered how your eyes gleamed everytime we went on a treasure hunt. So I made sure you got it, but then I found out that this was a map a lot of people wanted and i got worried." he continued his explanation

"You should never find out but who would have guessed that I had to jump in against my own subordinates." He mutters almost ashamed.

"You protected me the whole time?" you hadn’t expected this, heart racing as you tried to process the revelation.

Kid scoffed trying to hide his emotions. Secretly hoping that this might bring you back to him. Even though he knew better.

"Softie" you teased with a small laugh.

He stepped closer to you. "If you keep mocking me I'll tie you back down" he growled making you raise your hands in defense.

"And now go, before I change my mind and drag you back into this mess." he muttered. You could almost see his heart ache, no matter how hard he tried to hide it he didn't want you to go.

Once again you hesitated it was as if your head was already out the door but your heart couldn't move.

"Why are you doing this to me? To you? You should have let me go." You said close to tears.

"You think I can just turn it off? That I can forget everything we had? I may not be good at this 'feelings' crap, but even I know when I’m not ready to let go" he scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smirk.

"There was not a day I wasn't thinking about you" you almost whispered as you closed your eyes the truth weighing heavily on your chest

Kid froze not quite believing what he just heard. He swallowed hard running his hand through his hair. You had meant to keep your feelings buried, to shield you from the pain.

"Even after everything?" He asked his voice unusally calm.

"I did, even when I shouldn’t have. I thought about all the things we shared, the way it ended… everything"

Kid’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile. You felt heat rise to your cheeks.

"I thought about you too, every damn day. But it was easier to pretend I didn’t." He replied.

KId's vulnerability was raw and that's why you appreciated this so much. The fact that he let you see this side of him meant more than anything to you.

But it also made everything so much more complicated.

"What now?" You asked fumbling nervously with your fingers.

"You leave but the map remains with me" he said coldly, trying to convince himself that this was the best for both of you.

"Seriously! That's my map and my treasure. And i won't let you take it from me" you shouted a mix of anger and boldness in your voice.

He looked at you and laughed devilish.

"Keep on dreaming mouse, the map is mine and now you better leave" he said dangerously as he waved the map before you.

You tried to grab for it but he just lifted it over your head . You lunged forward trying to reach for it until he wrapped his metallic arm around your waist.

The heat of his body causing your cheeks to flush. A shiver running down your spine as his muscular body was pressed against yours.

This was wrong you shouldn't enjoy it yet you did.

You looked at him leaning closer your lips mere inches from his. Both of your hearts were racing. You wanted to kiss him so badly but then you snatched the map out of his hand, wirggled out of his grasp and made for the door.

"Better hurry big boy otherwise you might lose sight of me" you teased as your ran out of the door smiling.

He stood there for a moment dumbstruck before an evilly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. The thrill of the chase stirred something primal in him, and he couldn’t help but enjoy it.

"You can run all you want, but you know I love a good chase" he shouted after you.

[hotxcheeto]

Pls nathan prescott relationship headcanons and sfw and nsfw list if it's ok:)

━ 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Nathan Prescott x G/N!Reader 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, talk of home issues, NSFW under the cut

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - Sorry this took a bit longer than expected, but here you go :) Sorry if some things are a little jacked I wrote this kinda fast

He gives me the aggressive lover type

But has that super sweet spot, that if he trusts you, that spot is yours baby

He's so sweet when he wants to be, when he lets his guard down

He definitely gives me affirmations type

He needs those, like, NEEDS them along with touch

But when it comes to touch he's very picky and very on guard about it

It'll take time for him to warm up to hugs, kisses and cuddling

But that doesn't mean he doesn't care

But you cannot tell me he is used to hugs I mean have you met his dad and I can only imagine what his mom's like

Nathan is a very.. Nathan

He calls you a dumbass while giving you a hug

So sweet of him <3 "Stop crying, dumbass." "I'm sorry." "Don't be." "Okay. Sorry Nate." "Y/n." *Cue giggling and a shit ton of kissing*

He has a portfolio full of pictures of you

Different angles, different poses deliberate or candid

And he keeps it locked down, no one is allowed to touch this portfolio but him it is his prized possession

He looks at photos of you when he's upset and can't get to you

One of favorite photos of you is one of you in his shirt, laughing as you danced around the room

He seems like the type of boyfriend that will literally do anything you ask? If that makes sense

Like will watch every shitty romcom on the planet, hold your bags, help you do your makeup if you wear it, walk you to class, help you with your homework

I mean he'll complain the whole time (for most things) but he'd bend over backwards for you

Emphasis on the complaining tho

He likes being little spoon but doesn't like saying it out loud

He likes laying his head in the very crook of your neck and holding you, just laying on your chest

But hell, there's one thing I have not mentioned

Victoria

Let me tell you if Victoria doesn't like you were is a .5% chance that Nathan will you keep you around

Him and Victoria are like brother and sister, she's been there for him for so long, he trusts her opinion more than his own sometimes

And if she likes you, she likes you

He's probably the type of boyfriend to get you a necklace with his name on it

Will give you his jacket if you get cold, he likes seeing you wear it, makes him feel proud, he has something no one else can take from him

He goes to you for comfort, all comfort, whether it be his parents or people at Blackwell

Nathan Prescott doesn't like to cry

His dad says its for babies, crybabies, to man up

Then there's you, who doesn't care if he cried his eyes out

So when you see him cry for the first time, and don't treat him any differently it really opens his eyes

You'll be there no matter what, you'll always have his back and it really solidifies your relationship

He loves you and sometimes he has a hard time saying it

He'll spoil you, whatever you want you don't even have to ask

It was the way the began to 'court' you

He bought you something you really needed, say a new camera because yours broke and you had to sit in photography class with out something to take photos with

It was really embarrassing

So he gave you an 'old' camera of his and by then you two were friends per say

So you took him up on it and found out later he bought it for you

He likes enjoying the little things with you

Mornings, lunch, the way your eyes light up when you see a bunny on your guys walk to your house

You think he doesn't notice but he does

He fucking loves you man, and he's got some.. ways... of showing it

Spicy TIMEEEEEEEE

He's a- ooooooh my god

He lets out a lot of his aggression during sexy time

Aggression he doesn't want to let out onto you in the wrong way, so he pleasures you instead

Probably has a daddy kink cause he got daddy issues

He wants to be taken care of and take of you at the same time

Maybe he has a mommy kink?!

That was a joke or was it

HEEEE likes to go down on you doesn't matter for how long

But he would like you to return the favor but he'd never force you to do anything you don't want to do

That is one thing Nathan will never do

He finds anything having to do with food in bed freaks him out it like makes him feel dirty

But not like a good dirty like a bad dirty

He doesn't like feeling gross, he likes taking showers after preferably with you, even a bath because lord knows you can talk him into anything

Unless your both drunk after a party or exhausted after is the only time he won't, but don't expect him to stay in bed long he needs his shower

And remember that portfolio I mentioned?

There's a whole section of photos of you in... not so much clothing

His absolute FAVORITE photo of you is one of you naked wearing his jacket looking at some book while laying next to him totally candid

Definitely has a folder with a password on his phone of your nudes

He uses them for when you two can't be together but he'd prefer not to have to use them

Like I said, he likes showering after spicy time but you best believe you two will be cuddling after

He might even brush your hair

That is so cute to imagine I'm sorry

He likes being ridden.. like a lot

Its the you being on top thing that gets him going

The view he has of your face and your body

LOVES HICKEYS

He'll mark you like a motherfucker

If you didn't wear makeup before, might wanna invest now, concealer might be your bestfriend

He loves you no matter what

A/n: <3

[nikoruistyping]

hi, please please one of Tony Stark x Fem Reader, which is inspired by the scene in Endgame where Morgan says "Shit!" and Tony tells her that's Mom's word. Only this time they're cooking (Tony trying to make dinner this time because Reader always does) and Tony gets burned by something hot and Morgan is just there "helping" but laughing at her dad.

You could say that Reader is sick and that's why Tony wanted to make dinner. Or she’s just working in her office. <333 xxx

Shit! Shit...|| Tony Stark

Dad!Tony Stark x Wife!Fem!reader​

Summary: You’re completely swamped with work and stuck in your home office. Knowing how busy you are Tony offers to cook and enlists the help of your daughter Morgan who ends up learning a bad word while she watched Dad cook dinner...

TW: Fluff, Adult Language/Cursing, Married Couple, Scolding a Child (Nothing Harsh), Endgame Spoilers (Kinda? There isn't any plot spoilers or extreme angst but this scene is from the movie so thought I should mention it anyways)

Word Count: 1,925

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! I absolutely love love love writing Domestic!/Dad! Tony content because it’s the ending he deserved! Thank you Anon for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!

Your eyes darted back and forth between your computer screen, the papers littered all over your desk, and the very thick book you had open on the desk that had at least ten sticky notes sticking out of the sides. You were completely swamped down with work and you knew that this was going to be a very long night for you. You held your head in your hands, your fingers pressing into your temples as you took a very long and deep breath, your head slipping from your hands and laying on the desk. You were completely drained from not only work but also the little five year old you had running around the house who caused chaos wherever she went. You smiled at the thought because of course you loved your daughter but right now you really just needed utter silence and peace maybe even some well deserved "Me Time" if you will. You heard a small knock on the door and your head slowly lifted up with a groan looking at who was standing in the door way. Tony was smiling while he held Morgan in his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck hugging closely to him as she waved at you with her other hand. You found the strength to give them both a small smile and a wave right back.

"Hey you two, what are my loves up to?" You asked raising an eyebrow at them both, Tony walked closer to your desk and you stood up from behind it.

"Oh nothing..." Tony said with a chuckle, whispering something into Morgan's ear.

"Sorry Mommy can't say! It's top secret super hero stuffs only, Daddy said so." She said with a small giggle hiding her face in the crook of Tony's neck.

"Oh ok I see how it is, fine I won't ask again." You say with a bigger smile on your face now and you put your hands up with a shrug of your shoulders.

"So Honey, what's on the menu for tonight? Our little gremlin here is getting hungry." He said in a playful voice, his hand tickled Morgan's belly and she kept laughing hysterically.

"Oh jeez...I've just been so busy with work I forgot to go to the store to get something." You say pinching your forehead and letting out a deep sigh at how you could forget such an important thing.

"Don't worry about it Honey I got this. Do we have eggs at least?" Tony asked as you looked up with wide eyes surprised that Tony was offering to cook. He was a terrible cook, he tried at least you could give him that, but all the other times he has cooked let's just say it later would involve a fire extinguisher or it took a good three hours just to get done.

"Yeah we have eggs but Tony it's fine I can cook-" You scrambled to say but he leaned closer to you over the desk and kissed your cheek and you had ended up returning the favor by kissing his cheek and Morgan's as well sitting back down in your chair.

"Don't worry about it one bit. I know this new job has you super busy and you need to concentrate. We got this right?" He said looking at Morgan and she nodded her head excitedly squirming in Tony's arms.

"Yeah! I wanna help you Daddy!" Morgan said hugging him.

"Ok if you say you got it handled then I'll leave you to it but just incase I'll move myself to the sofa and watch while I read. The last thing we need is another kitchen fire to happen." You said while smiling at both Tony and Morgan both of them turning and were already headed for the door to exit your office and towards the kitchen.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I've actually been practicing in my free time to get better. F.R.I.D.A.Y has been helping me learn some recipes." He said proudly boasting about the fact that he was truly getting better at cooking because he felt that he should know how to cook since you already do so much around the house as it is and he knew that ordering out wasn't always the solution.

"Really?! The 'Tony Stark' learning how to cook? I thought I'd never see the day. Well I'm looking forward to dinner then." You say clutching the book you had gotten off your desk and you followed behind them walking through the hallway to the kitchen and Livingroom space.

"You will see, it's gonna be great right Morgan?" He asked her and she nodded her head frantically excited to help out in the kitchen.

You smiled seeing Morgan's face light up and you finally walked into the Livingroom going over to the sofa to get comfortable in your favorite spot and also where you had a better view of the kitchen. Both of them walked into the kitchen and you sunk into your spot on the sofa, proceeding to open your book. You couldn't help but peek over the top of the pages and watch them both with the widest smile on your face. How could you possible concentrate when you knew that they totally were going to make a mess in your perfectly pristine kitchen?! You tried not to worry too much about it and you continued to watch from behind the pages, not paying attention at all to the material.

"Ok, first things first, you little miss you're going to sit right here," Tony said setting Morgan down on the kitchen counter, her little feet dangling off the ledge.

"And then I'm going to check out what's in the fridge," He said to himself as Morgan smiled sitting on the counter rocking back and forth.

As Tony looked into the fridge, his eyes wide when he realized you weren't kidding when you said you guys only had eggs. The fridge was in dire need of a restock and it was too late to go on a grocery run especially when your little cabin was pretty far from the nearest town.

"You definitely weren't exaggerating at all when you said we only have eggs," He shouted to you on the sofa.

"Hope you can manage over there sweetie!" You shouted right back, hiding your face behind your book still watching how cute the two of them were. You could already see Tony's frantic face knowing that he would have to make omelettes and that was the one thing he was absolutely horrible at making, he could just never seem to get them right not even when the two of you were dating.

He made a determined face as he looked at the eggs and he wasn't going to accept defeat, not again.

"So what are you going to make Daddy?" Morgan asked playing with her hair and trying to peek at what Tony was doing.

"Well Morgan we gotta improvise and today it's going to be breakfast for dinner. How does that sound?" He asked smiling at her as he cracked the eggs into a bowl, whisking together the bright yellow liquid.

"So cool!" She exclaimed as Tony grabbed a pan from the cabinet and put it on the stove and he turned up the flame of the stove.

This was his moment to shine, was he going to mess it up or was he finally going to master the omelette?! He quickly poured the eggs into the hot pan and it sizzled like crazy, he tossed the empty bowl to Morgan for her to hold as he watched over the eggs making sure they didn't burn this time. The eggs kept sizzling and splashing a bit more than usual probably because Tony had forgotten to put any butter or oil into the pan but of course he didn't know that. A piece of hot egg splashing onto his hand and burning him and you could hear him loudly curse at the pain.

"Shit!" He yelled trying to brush it off and continue to curdle the eggs so that he could flip the omelette.

"Shit." Morgan repeated what Tony had just said with a giggle coming from her lips. Tony's head quickly turned and cocked to the side looking at her with a stern look on his face, your head fully popped up from behind the book staring down the two.

"No. We don't say that, only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her." Tony tries to explain while still keeping his eye on the eggs getting so distracted that the omelette ended up turning into scrambled eggs due to how much stirring he was doing.

"I heard that little miss! Mommy already said that those are 'adult words' and you're still a kid so you can't say them just yet. You can hear them but don't repeat them, got it?" You say all the way from the sofa scolding Morgan as she had turned her little body to look at you and she was giving you the puppy dog eyes.

"I'm sorry Mommy, I won't do it again...Does this mean no juice pops later?" She asked her little eyes looking at you from across the room and you couldn't help but smile anyways, you couldn't resist her.

You got up from the sofa putting your book down and walking over into the kitchen since you might as well join them. You walked up in front of the counter that Morgan was sitting on and you gave her a big hug, you could feel her little arms wrapping around your neck and her legs also doing the same to your waist. You kissed her neck silly as she just laughed at how it tickled.

"Of course you can have juice pops later my love. Just don't go around repeating what Mommy and Daddy say that's all." You say in a calm voice as you picked her up and carried her in your arms as you got closer to the stove and watched over Tony's shoulder a chuckle coming from your lips.

"It's looking more like a scramble Chef Tony, are you sure you don't want some help?" You say while Morgan points at the pan and Tony can't help but smile at his two beautiful girls.

"I'll be fine plus I mean eggs are eggs who cares how they are cooked as long as they aren't raw I call that an accomplishment." He says with a chuckle, turning off the heat to let the eggs cool.

"So definitely not defeat but accomplishment this time?" You say raising an eyebrow knowing that Tony would get ticked off.

"You will see, I'll master it one day, just today is not that day," He says rolling his eyes at you and coming up closer putting his arm around you and kissing the top of Morgan's head.

"Come on now my two lovely ladies, let's go eat." Tony says with a smile as both you and Morgan look at him and you lean in to kiss his lips quickly and Morgan cover's her eyes playfully.

Although you knew that Tony wasn't the best of cooks you appreciated all he had done to try and learn to cook by helping you take a load off every once in a while. No matter what he ended up making or how many times he probably had burned himself and cursed, you would eat his food any day over some five-star restaurants. These little moments you were able to watch and share with Tony and Morgan were the most precious of all as one big happy family.

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[harleybeaumont]

Unintentional

Chapter 2 - The Camping Trip

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Synopsis- Since childhood, Liam has held a terrible secret that even he doesn't know about. As the years go by, he suspects more and more that there is something wrong with him. Can he put his life together and find happiness?

A/N- The first 4 chapters will have the feel of a one-shot, as each one is a glimpse into Liam’s past. But as the story goes on, they will all tie together. 

A/N 2- This story is a bit different than what I usually write.. Ok a LOT different. Some terrible things have happened during Liam's life.. But the story isn’t without humor or joy. I swear it’s not all bad! The characters are still canon in the sense of their whole overall personalities, but of course there are several changes to fit the story.

Series Warnings- oh so many: language, drinking, violence, assault, abuse, murder, homophobia, bullying.. Also there will be some lemons in later chapters. 

18+ only

Tag list: @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @angelasscribbles @kingliam2019 @tessa-liam @nestledonthaveone @lovingchoices14 @bebepac @cordonianprincess @burnsoslow @xpandass420x

(please let me know if I missed anyone or if you want to be added)

Click here to catch up.

Word count- 3,190

The second time it happened, he was fifteen years old. Liam, Drake, and Maxwell were having a camp out with the Walker’s. Liam had never been camping outside before and was more than a little nervous. His father had sent three guards to patrol the perimeter of the campground. Ever since the incident that happened with Liam’s math tutor, his parents had been extremely overprotective. Rightly so.. A man was murdered in the house right next to them. And his murder still remained unsolved.

Drake and Jackson were working on building a fire and Liam and Maxwell decided to go exploring. Bianca called out to them. “Don’t go too far boys!”

“We won’t Mrs. Walker!” Liam called out as he and Maxwell set off down a trail into the woods. Maxwell was a grade younger than Liam and Drake, but they all got along really well. Maxwell was so funny and always kept them laughing by making jokes or just acting stupid. 

Liam also couldn't help but notice that Max was really cute. He had messy dark brown hair and freckles. He was almost as tall as Liam, but a little more gangly. Liam had a huge growth spurt that year and was taller than his mother now, but still not as tall as Drake.

Max smiled at him and Liam felt his stomach flutter. “Hey, you know what we should do tonight?”

“What?” Liam kicked a rock on the path as they continued to walk together.

“We should tell ghost stories!” Max put up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Spoooooky stories in the woods!”

Liam shrugged. “I don't know Max.. I don't really like.. scary stuff.”

Max stopped and nudged him. “It’s ok. I can protect you from the ghosts.”

Liam felt his stomach flip as Max wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He was breathing heavily as he looked into Maxwell’s blue eyes. Liam's gaze flitted down to his lips and his cute crooked smile. He imagined what it would be like to kiss him. Liam had never kissed anyone before and his heart was pounding.

Max cocked his head to the side, looking at Liam curiously. “You ok?”

Liam pushed out a breath. “Um, ya!”

Max stared at Liam for a moment. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

“What?!” Liam nearly jumped back in surprise. “Why would you.. ask that?”

Maxwell shrugged. “I don't know. I just thought you might. I mean, I kinda wanna kiss you.”

“Really?!” Liam was sure he was blushing furiously. “But.. we're both boys.”

“So?”

“That’s not.. weird to you?”

“No.” Max said matter of factly.

“Have you kissed any boys before?” Liam felt his mouth go dry at the thought of kissing Maxwell.

“Yes. At school.”

“Oh.” Liam looked down, his mind racing. He had been attracted to girls and boys before, but he was never sure what that meant. He had never seen two men kissing before, but now that Max was suggesting it, he kinda wanted to.

“So.. do you wanna kiss me?”

Liam looked up at Max. His chest was heaving, and the butterflies in his tummy were going crazy. “Yes.” He said quietly.

Max smiled brightly. “Ok.” He leaned forward placing a soft kiss to Liam’s lips and Liam gasped. It was like electricity. 

Liam pulled back blushing and Max gave him a brilliant smile. 

“Was that alright?” Liam asked. 

“Of course!” Max beamed at him. “It’s just a kiss! It’s not like we're going to get married or anything!”

Liam chuckled as some of the tension eased. “Right.”

Just then two older boys jumped out onto the pathway. “Well, look what we have here..” The bigger of the boys stalked over close to Max and Liam. “A couple of fairies!” The boy sneered and shoved Liam backwards.

“Get away from me!” Liam shoved him back and the other boy ran over to hold his friend back.

“Let me go!” The bigger boy snarled. “I’m gonna teach that little boy what we do to sissy’s around here!”

Max’s eyes were wide as he looked between Liam and the two bullies. “Why do you care what we do? It’s none of your business.”

The two boys laughed loudly as they stood over Maxwell. “You don’t know who we are, do you?”

“A couple of hillbilly homophobes?” Max shrugged nonchalantly. 

The larger boy shoved Maxwell backwards and he landed on the ground with a thud. “Watch your mouth fairy. Our dad owns the biggest car dealership in Cordonia! We’re super rich. You can't talk to us like that.”

Liam was boiling with rage. “I don’t care who the fuck you are, you don’t get to treat people this way!”

The bigger boy turned around to his brother laughing and Liam bent down to help Maxwell up. “Come on, Max. Let’s get away from these idiots. I feel myself losing brain cells just being near them.”

“What the hell did you say, pretty boy?” The bigger boy stalked up to Liam, towering over him.

Liam swallowed hard. He did not want to fight this guy, but he couldn't let him talk to him or Max that way. “You heard me you fucking neanderthal. Or is your fat head so thick, it takes a minute to reach your brain?”

Max snickered and the bullies' faces were bright red with rage. “Oh you messed up now you little flamer.” The bigger boy threw a punch toward Liam’s gut, but Max stepped in front taking the blow instead. He fell to the ground, coughing, with the wind knocked out of him.

“Max!” Liam bent over him as Maxwell continued to cough. 

Just then, Jackson marched over glaring at the two boys. “What the hell is going on over here?”

“Nothing sir!” The boys called out before running away into the woods toward their campsite.

Jackson shook his head. “Come on.” He helped Max stand and dusted him off. “You ok, Beaumont?”

“Yes.. sir.” Max was finally able to speak. Jackson looked him over thoroughly.

“What happened?”

Liam shook his head. “Just bullies.”

“They didn’t like that me and Liam were kissing.”

“Maxwell!” Liam's eyes were saucers and his face was burning hot.

“What?! It’s true!” Max shrugged as he held his aching stomach.

Jackson’s face softened. “It’s ok. Don't worry about them. They wouldn't dare mess with you again. Some people are just.. Ignorant.”

Liam nodded, feeling safer now that Jackson was there. He was glad Maxwell was his first kiss. Max was sweet and a long time friend. It was better him than some random person who might make him feel bad for not knowing what he was doing. He wasn't sure if he had real feelings for Max. It was more like a crush. But Liam felt proud of himself for doing it.. And for standing up to the bullies who tried to make them feel bad about themselves. 

That night around the campfire, the three boys roasted marshmallows attempting to tell scary stories.

“And the call was coming from.. inside the house!! Mwahahaha!” Maxwell put the flashlight under his chin trying to make himself look scary. Drake and Liam cracked up at how ridiculous he looked.

“That story sucked!” Drake laughed before popping a hot, toasted marshmallow into his mouth. “Ahhh, hot hot hot!”

“That’s what you get dissing my story Walker!” Max chucked a marshmallow at Drake. “Now who’s next?”

“Why don’t we play a game instead?” Liam suggested. He didn’t want to admit it, but the story Maxwell told kind of freaked him out.

“Ooooh, what kind of game?” Maxwell sat up excitedly. “Truth or dare?!”

Drake frowned, “You guys will just make me do something stupid.”

“Duh, that's the point!” Max grinned that crooked smile that once again left Liam’s stomach full of butterflies.

“Sounds fun.” Liam beamed at him.

“Fine.” Drake said with a huff, as he put another marshmallow on the end of a skewer and held it over the fire.

Maxwell looked in Liam’s direction. “Ok Liam. Truth or dare?”

Liam thought about picking dare. He didn’t want to look like a wuss in front of his friends. He imagined Maxwell daring him to kiss him and he felt his face flush. His mind felt like it was going to explode, and Liam blurted out, “truth!”

“Lame.” Drake rolled his eyes.

“Ok.. hmm, I feel like I know almost everything about you already..” Maxwell tapped his cheek as he thought. “I got it. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

“He already can go anywhere in the world.” Drake chuckled. “He’s a prince. They take like a hundred vacations a year.”

“Not a hundred! And they’re not vacations. They’re boring as hell!” Liam hated going on trips with Leo and his father. It was as if Constantine was using them as an accessory to make himself look like a good father. Constantine wasn't a bad father, per se. Maybe just.. distant. The only good part was that he and his older brother got to spend some time together. At home, they were usually too busy with lessons to play. 

“So, where would you pick?” Max asked again.

Liam looked up at the starry night sky as he thought. He smiled as he thought of the one place he always dreamed of going. His mother had read him The Little Prince every night when he was younger. “The Sahara desert!”

“The desert?!” Drake frowned. “But it's hot and there’s no water or anything.”

“Oh, right.” Liam sighed, “I never thought of that.. I guess you can't survive without water.”

Maxwell nudged him. “What about the beach then? Sand and water. Best of both worlds.”

Liam chuckled. “Ok. Then, I change my answer to the beach.”

“Oh! You should go to the Blue Grotto, in Italy. My mum took us there a few times before..” Maxwell paused and looked into the fire, sadly. His mother had passed away a few years ago, leaving him with a very distant, unloving father. Liam’s heart broke for him, seeing the hurt in his friend's eyes. 

“Hey!” Liam smiled and nudged Maxwell. “We’ll all go visit the Blue Grotto one day!”

“Really?” Max smiled brightly.

“Heck ya! One day we can even live there! We'll build a house on the beach and have everything we need!”

Drake interjected, “But you can't drink salt water, it would make you sick and-”

“Oh my god, Drake shut up!” Maxwell threw the bag of marshmallows at him. “Let him have this!”

“Drake can’t help but be a know-it-all jerk, when it comes to the outdoors! He’s part sasquatch!” Liam laughed loudly and soon the three of them were throwing marshmallows at each other and cracking up.

Bianca peeked out from her tent. “Boys, it’s midnight! You should get some sleep!”

Drake groaned and Bianca shot him a warning look. “Right mum.” He grumbled.

The boys were sharing a large tent, with Drake sleeping in the middle. Maxwell was afraid of the dark, so they had to keep a lantern on all night.

“I can't sleep with all this light, Beaumont!” Drake griped as he pulled the sleeping bag over his head.

“Sorry! It’s just.. What if something is out there? Something big and creepy!?”

Liam chuckled. “There are three guards patrolling the campsite, not to mention Drake’s father is in the tent next to us!”

“Well a lot of good those guards did earlier against the bullies.” Max sighed as he pulled the blanket up to his chin. “I’ll try to sleep. But I can already tell it’s never gonna happen.”

Not even ten minutes later, everyone was sound asleep. The fire was dying out and sounds of the forest filled the air.

3:30 a.m. Liam shot awake panting heavily. He looked around, seeing nothing but the outline of trees and darkness. He had no idea where he was. Calm down, calm down. His throat was dry and his muscles ached. Liam stretched his back and looked around, but was interrupted by a stinging pain on his hands and arms. “Ah, shit.” He took a slow breath to try and calm his racing heart, and noticed a flashlight next to him. He clicked it on, examining himself. He had dirt and scratches up and down his arms. Not again. Not again.. Liam had tried his hardest to forget about the time he woke up covered in dirt and blood when he was younger, now here he was waking up again looking like he had been in a horrible fight. He stood and glanced around, trying to get his bearings. He needed to find his way back to their campsite.

A voice a few feet behind him caused Liam to jump. “Li! What are you doing out here?!”

A very concerned Drake stood a few feet away eyeing him suspiciously. Liam furrowed his brow. “I uh..” His mind was racing. What am I doing out here? “I.. had to pee.”

Drake lowered his flashlight. “Oh my god.. That’s the same reason I’m out here!” He chuckled.

Liam forced a laugh and the two boys walked the short distance back to the campsite. Drake shone the light on Liam before they entered and gasped. “What happened to your hands?!” He whispered.

Liam tried to wipe them on his pajama pants. “Oh. I just fell down.”

“Damn.” Drake whispered. “You ok?”

Liam nodded, trying to remain convincing. “Go back to bed, I’m just going to wash up.”

“Ok.”

Drake crawled back into the tent and quickly fell fast asleep. Liam shone the flashlight on himself, taking in his full appearance. His pajamas were slightly dirty and he knew he needed to change. He was thankful no one else was awake to witness this.. whatever it was. The fire was completely out and the only sound around was coming from Jackson snoring in the tent next to them, and an occasional hoot from an owl high in the treetops. Liam grabbed a bottle of water and rinsed his hands and arms. He dug in his bag, pulling out a change of clothes and stashing the dirty ones back into the bottom. What the heck is wrong with me? Liam climbed back into the tent, hesitantly laying back down in bed next to Drake. His heart was pounding as memories from seven years ago raced back to him.

A police officer sat Liam down in a cold metal chair at the precinct. “I’m sorry to bother you with this, Your Highness. We just have to take an official statement from everyone.”

Liam nodded. He still couldn't believe his tutor was dead.. Murdered. He had never known of anyone who had been murdered and the thought was terrifying. 

“Did you hear anything last night? Anything strange coming from outside?” The officer looked at him carefully.

“No sir.”

“Did Mr. or Mrs. Walker leave the house last night that you are aware of?”

“No sir.”

“What about your guard, Sam? Did he leave the house?”

“No sir.”

“Was there anything out of the ordinary that happened last night?”

Liam thought of himself waking up with blood and dirt on his hands and face. But that had nothing to do with the neighbor. “No sir.”

The officer smiled. “Thank you, Your Highness. I am so sorry again to have troubled you with all of this. And I’m sorry to hear about your teacher. I know this must be difficult for you.”

Liam smiled. “No problem sir!” He felt sad that Mr. Atkins was killed, but part of him was a bit thankful that he wouldn't see him again. And he was relieved that he wouldn't be hit anymore. It was getting hard to hide the bruises Mr. Atkins had left on his arms and legs.

Liam tried to push the memory farther back in his brain again. He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget everything.

Liam woke up a few hours later to voices outside of the tent and a walkie talkie crackling. Drake and Max were sitting up listening and both put a finger over their mouth before Liam could speak. Liam furrowed his brow as he leaned closer to the outside of the tent.

“Yes sir. The boy's father reported him missing this morning. Darren James, eighteen years old.”

Jackson pushed out a long breath. “I haven't seen him. Well, not since yesterday evening. He and another boy were talking with my son's friends.”

“Can we speak to your son's friends?”

Liam and Maxwell shared a panicked look as their tent was unzipped. They all pretended to just wake up. “What’s going on dad?” Drake looked at his fathers worried expression.

“These officers want to speak to Liam and Maxwell about the two guys they ran into yesterday.”

Jackson motioned for the boys to exit the tent. The officers recognized Liam immediately and paled. “Your Highness. We didn't know it was you.”

“It’s fine.” Liam shook his head, trying to keep his hands in his pockets to hide the scratches. He didn't know how the scratches even got there, but the officers would probably ask.. and he didn't have any idea of what to tell them.

“So, Mr. Walker said the two of you ran into this boy and his brother yesterday?” The officer showed them a picture of the bigger of the bullies.

“Yes sir.” Liam and Max nodded.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

Liam and Max shared a look. It was awkward enough that Liam's first kiss had been ruined by those two idiots, but he wasn't ready for people to know that he kissed a boy.

“They just were picking on the boys.” Jackson spoke up. “You know how boys can be.” He shrugged looking at the officers knowingly. “For some reason the two of them decided to pick on Lord Beaumont and Prince Liam.. probably because they’re nobles. But, I’m sure you know how that goes.”

The officer stammered. “Oh, er, of course. Yes, I know that can happen.”

Jackson nodded. “Will that be all officers?”

“Yes sir.” They nodded and walked away.

Liam was so thankful for Jackson. He knew how to talk to people and how to shut them up. That’s why he was his father’s best KingsGuard. Jackson gave Liam a small smile and clapped his hands together. “Ok, well on that note, I say we pack up and head back home.”

“Aw.” Drake groaned. “I thought we were gonna go fishing first.”

“Sorry son.” Jackson clapped Drake on the back. “How about we stop for ice cream on the way back?”

“Hell ya!” Max whooped and began packing his bag.

“Maxwell!” Bianca scolded. “Language!”

Max squeaked, “Oh gosh, sorry Mrs. Walker!”

She shook her head with a smile and they packed up their campsite heading for home.

The next morning, Liam turned on the tv and saw a special news report flash across the bottom of the screen. 

‘Missing 18 year old boy’s body discovered in a ravine, one mile from his campsite. His younger brother stated the two had been drinking heavily and it appears Darren James may have fallen from a cliff.’

[jangofctts]

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)    

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT  

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace. 

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy. 

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.    

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.   

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.       

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it. 

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.     

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…  

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.” 

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.  

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.” 

You smile. “Lovely.” 

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like  a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.  

                                        -=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality. 

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.     

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.” 

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—  

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home. 

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.  

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare. 

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement. 

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.” 

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors. 

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.” 

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.        

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.  

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—   

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.  

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot. 

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away. 

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle. 

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder. 

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.   

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.” 

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.     

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.” 

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat. 

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.      

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—        

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder. 

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind. 

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile. 

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.  

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll. 

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit. 

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak. 

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement. 

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses. 

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short. 

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”  

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more. 

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains. 

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.         

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his  calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist.  Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes. 

Fuck yeah.    

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock. 

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh. 

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—    

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge. 

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.     

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.   

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.” 

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.   

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.   

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation. 

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.” 

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from  your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.   

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark. 

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now. 

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.      

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.  

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?   

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs. 

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question. 

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command. 

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.   

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.    

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff. 

Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.    

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight. 

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you. 

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.    

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.        

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.  

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“ 

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.” 

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.  

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days. 

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.          

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs. 

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much. 

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”      

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.” 

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.       

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.    

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

���You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.” 

There we go. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes. 

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness. 

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile. 

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep. 

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sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

[cursestothemoon]

hellooooo<3 so, ive always loved the idea of Harry having an older protective sister(he really need one😭) could u pls do a headcanon of how she protects harry and their relationship? annnnddd how she also is dating Fred?? my heart needs it, pls and thank u❤️

i LOVE THIS 

(also i switch from third person pov to second person in the middle of this so im sorry :) but its fine ) 

ok 

i know a common headcanon/ fancanon for harry’s sister is that she looks like lily 

but hear me out 

Y/n Potter who looks exactly like James 

i mean to the T

and Lily would always make little teasing comments about how both her kids look like their dad and james is just :)

anyway

just picture it 

dark brown, wavy hair that was just tussled enough at all times

blue eyes

and the round rimmed glasses that James used to wear

stOP SHE WEARS HER DADS GLASSES BECAUSE WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE SHE’D PULL THEM OFF OF HIM AND AFTER HE DID SHE KEPT THEM AND WHEN SHE MISSES HIM SHE WEARS THEM AND THEY ARE SLIGHTLY TOO BIG AND SIT CROOKED ON HER FACE 

i made myself cry

anyway

lets talk protecting harry first then we will get into dating fred 

so she’s older meaning she’d be in Hogwarts for before him

let’s say she's two years older

George and Fred’s year

and she’d hear the whispers about her 

obviously

and i think she wouldn't tell harry

she would know the story of how their parents died and who harry was to the wizarding community but in an effort to protect Harry’s innocence and childhood for just a little while longer she wouldn’t tell him

at least not until he got to school then she’d be the one to tell him everything 

she is fiercely protective of Harry 

if someone so much as looked at him funny she was chewing their head off 

Harry might’ve been like James 

but Y/n Potter is James 

down to the way her eyes would narrow at someone in class when they made a rude comment 

or she’d try to charm her way out of trouble 

or charm Harry out of trouble

oH MY GOD SHE’D BE IN MCGONAGALL’S CLASS AND ONE OF HER FRIENDS WOULD SAY SOMETHING FUNNY AND SHE’D BE TRYING SO HARD TO HOLD IN HER LAUGH AND SHE’D MAKE THE SAME FACE JAMES WOULD MAKE WHEN TRYING NOT TO LAUGH

Mcgonagall almost cried 

she needed a moment 

ok Y/n would take the first week or so just to show Harry around Hogwarts 

she did not care if she was late

Harry was going to feel comfortable 

oH SHE NEARLY BEAT OLIVER WOOD WITH A BEATER’S BAT WHEN SHE FOUND OUT HE PUT HER TEENY LITTLE BROTHER ON THE QUIDDITCH TEAM AS A SEEKER

she is also part of the team, a chaser

will get spend most of the first few games with Harry making sure he’s ok

yeah malfoy doesn’t stand a chance

never did

10/10 would use the cloak to prank him

all the time

nothing is out of limits 

especially after he’s been nasty to Harry and his friends

growing up harry gets all embarrassed when she protects him because hes 15!1!1! he can handle it 

she is kinda hurt 

very dramatic 

“mY WITTLE BROTHER DOESN’T NEED ME”

“y/n... please”

“nO ITS OK HARRY I GET IT, ILL GO”

“where are you going?”

“YOU DON’T NEED ME ANYMORE, I AM NO LONGER NEEDED HERE”

“you don't HAVE TO LEAVE, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS”

Ron was giggling on the couch in the common room he thought this whole scene was hilarious 

ron thinks she is so cool

ok i think she’d also have these little bits of lily that would shine through

unlike harry and james, who could just inhale near a book and get just above average grades

she took pride in studying and being able to sit down and absorb material 

Lily always passed with flying colors because she was a good student who wanted to prove herself 

it was the satisfaction of spending hours studying and being able to retain the information and apply it to earn an amazing grade that she loved

she passed this on to you

as well as her kindness to people who she believed deserved it

and quick wit

you two also had the same hands 

you had everything else from James but your hands looked like your mothers

down to the way your nails grew and fingers held a quill

snape hated it

because he really couldn’t hate you

he was weird around you though

hes just weird

where he'd bully and embarrass Harry 

he couldn’t do that to you because you wouldn’t give him the chance to

you knew the material

you knew the answer 

and he hated how when your hand shot up it looked just like Lily’s 

but you were making the stupid face James would when he’d concentrate 

you did not like snape

at first you were impartial 

then when you heard how rude he was to Harry...

it was also over for him

he didn’t stand a chance 

you had an affinity for pranks, fiercely protective, and you had gall 

your hand writing also looked like Lilys and snape had a rough time grading your essays

tough for him 

:)

also if any rumors went around about harry you were quick to make them actually about you

harry is the heir of slytherin?

actually no Y/n Potter is, there is no evidence but we just heard that it was her somewhere 

you didn’t care as long as no one was being rude to Harry

leTS TALK DEATHLY HALLOWS

so you don’t go with them on the hunt for Horcrux 

and you’d be going insane not knowing how they were or if they were ok

because all your life you had been able to protect to some extent 

but you were completely helpless now

you could do nothing

and then at the battle of hogwarts 

pLEASE

no one stood a chance

the feeling of seeing harry again

beaten, bruised, but still alive 

it was overwhelming

then seeing Hagrid crying in his seemingly dead body

also overwhelming

because you had failed 

you couldn't protect him 

and he heard you scream first 

it was loud and strangled and Harry felt so bad but he knew he had to do this 

I like to think Y/n Potter is the one who killed Voldemort in the end 

you cant argue with me on this sorry

ok

now

lets talk

dating freddie

so he’d probably notice you here and there starting in first year

but he was an eleven year old boy and girls were not on his radar right now

but he thought you were funny and pretty cool 

and your round glasses that were just a little too big for your adolescent face made you look cute 

then you tried out for the quidditch team with him and George 

you were amazing 

not only did you have James natural talent for the sport but that paired with Lily’s tactical thinking and quick mind

you were unstoppable 

you were brought on the team as a seeker 

and you were good at it too, but it wasn’t you’re favorite position

it entailed a lot of waiting and not really moving until you caught sight of the snitch

it was your excellent flying mixed with the fact that you literally had no sense of self preservation that made you a really good seeker

you'd just

nose dive 

if you hit the bottom you hit the bottom oh well 

but when Harry showed up you were happy to give him your position as seeker and take on the more exciting (at least to you) job of chaser

it was your quidditch playing that really got fred’s attention

because you were good 

and during team lunches or team hang outs you were always the life of the party

not because you were avidly trying to be 

but like james, people jus gravitated to your goofiness and happiness 

it was about the middle of fifth year fred realized he had a crush on you

and little man was panicked 

you had noticed fred before that

obviously 

but he was always just the funny guy on the team 

but as everyone knows the potter’s have a thing for gingers 

and it was when they came to pick you and Harry up from the Dursley's just before the quidditch world cup that you saw how attractive he really was 

please its james and lily all over again

kinda 

you become the funniest person in the room when he’s around

always smiley

lilypad?

no.

freddie bug

aH STOP PLEASE THAT’S SO CUTE

YOU’D JUST STARE AT HIM WITH A STUPID SMILE 

it would get to the point you'd be just blatantly flirting 

and fred bluSHES

BECAUSE HE ISN’T USED TO BEING THE ONE ON THE RECEIVING END OF SUCH CLEAR FLIRTING

usually he is the one to pick up girls

he has the charm

likes to make them blush

but yOU CAN JUST LOOK AT HIM WITH A STUPID SMILE AND HES BE ALL GIDDY 

he could barely get a compliment in between your flirting

“Morning Freddie bug, looking cute as always.”

George thinks it both hilarious and disgusting

ron just thinks its disgusting 

but fred is ultimately the one to make the first move to be more than just friends who flirt when the yule ball comes around

he asks you

“Potter! Potter!”

“yes?”

“You, me, Yule ball....”

and as he’s pantomiming it (ya know like in the movie) he also pantomimes a very heavy make out session then what you could assume would be kisses all over your face

it was now your turn to blush as you agreed to go with him

you guys started dating after that :)

pLEASE ONCE HARRY GOT WITH GINNY AND HE SAW A PICTURE OF YOUR PARENTS 

YOUR MOM BEING A RED HEAD AND YOU AND HARRY LOOKING JUST LIKE YOUR DAD

HE WOULD NOT STOP THE JOKES

“i see why you’re with me. it’s my hair isnt it?”

“what? no its no-”

“you probably wouldn’t even look my way if i didn’t have red hair. you potters are unbelievable.”

“you are such a dummy”

“oH AM I? BUT YOU KEEP ME AROUND BECAUSE OF THE HAIR. I SHOULD’VE KNOWN IT WASN’T MY SPARKLING PERSONALITY THAT YOU LOVE.”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa

@siriusement

[i-need-air]

Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs Part 2.

Summary: Part 2 is here! While in part 1 it was mostly adoption and how he'd behave with you as a roommate, part two is him ✨ realizing things ✨ followed by how he'd be in a romantic relationship.

Word Count: 2k words [ oops, I did it again ]

Notes: So I said it'll be out in a few days but three [3] people asked me for part 2 and I'm a sucker soooooooo!! I could've just written a long ass fic but whatever, I thought I'd make it shorter in headcanons... hah lol right. Enjoy!

Part 1 here!

× he's a wild wolf so he's very active; like you need to understand he needs to go outside if not he'd get impatient, more aggressive, snappy, so once you took him on an easy hiking trail near your house and he loved it so once or twice a month you both go together to different places [ he demands it ]

× it's hard to keep up with him bc he's literally genetically engineered to be better than any very fit human being but he slows down for you

× morning runs at 5 a.m. bc he's insane

× is also a grandpa

× watched all documentaries on any streaming platform you could provide to him, also loves reading

× as months pass and you start to have your routine in order, word comes to you that an acquaintance is looking for a security guard at his mechanical shop two streets away from your house

× you casually mentioned it to Bakugou because he was starting to act anxious whenever you'd leave the house, so you assumed he was extra bored

× seriously, the house was spotlessly cleaned, he cooked amazingly and was occupied with your old laptop and going around the city to explore, but you guessed he wanted more independence?

× little did you know you were right but so wrong lol

× so Bakugou stared at you intensely and asked "Where?"

× it was as easy as telling him the location, him nodding and you thought he'd consider it; you didn't put any pressure on him because he already did so much to help around anyway

× well guess what bitch, next day he comes up to you saying you gotta co-sign his contract [cuz fuck society] meaning he got the job

× he was perfect for it because tall, intimidating, muscular wolf guy? who'd even mess with him? do they have a death wish?

× well, even before this he started to be... soft

× but once you really did show him you support whatever he wants to do, you give him his freedom and liberty of choice, he just reaaally changes, man

× he gets touchy, like his hands stay one second longer on your skin, he uses any excuse to have them on you, even his eyes follow you everywhere

× like c'mon, it's obvious but you didn't wanna put too much thought into it because we're respectful here

× not like you had a big fat crush on him and slowly started to realize it too

× sike bitch he knows

× you think his super-hearing didn't catch the way your heartbeat spikes up every single time he touches you? *please*

× i think he knows before you know

× meanwhile he is working to discover his feelings too

× so your relationship slowly turns into a couple's like relationship but without anything official and of course no kissing or such [ sadly ]

× would get jealous easily

× basically because nothing is talked between you two and deep down is insecure

× why the hell do you smell like other people? was it just a hug or something else? hell, why would you even hug people when he's right there??? just ask and don't touch some extras????

× another thing he does is getting very close to you while you talk to somebody else; scoffs and glares at them too

× ok so!! gifts! he really appreciates any gift you give him but scolds you if you do because you genuinely don't need to do that

× of course he just scolds you and calls you an idiot so I do hope you already learned his language

× it basically means that you shouldn't have done it, he's really grateful but seriously you shouldn't have

× like that one time you saved up money to get him a good computer and he forgot how to speak for like an hour

× the softest thank you ever afterwards

× still sounded rough but he was shocked as fuck

× one thing that remained in your brain were his friends, as sometimes he'd mention them

× so you took it upon yourself to find them, of course with his permission

× gets genuinely overwhelmed and plays it off saying he wouldn't mind knowing where those idiots ended but you didn't miss the way his voice trembled

× for you to find them you needed names and any information he could provide so that's when he, after a long silence and a mesmerized look on his face, started really talking about his life

× which was fucked; won't get much into detail but he was indeed in a fighting ring, people came and bet on whoever was stronger, he even had to fight his friends, everything was filled with abuse and their conditions were subhuman...

× just overall awful

× you couldn't help but hug him tight, feeling him shake in your arms

× with a hesitant voice he asked if you really did think there was a chance to find them

× just couldn't believe how amazing he felt in your arms

× or how your determination that night made his heart clench and took a big weight off his shoulders

× anywho;;;; after his first paycheck he takes you out on cute dates

× never calls them that, just demands you dress up [helps you out cuz boy got style] and takes you to a nice coffee shop or something

× AND on your fifth not date cuz you're not official but there's this weird tension between you date he finally kinda s n a p s

× you honestly didn't expect the waiter to flirt with you, he came out as very pushy and even if you were a lil uncomfortable you smiled and brushed it off

× when the waiter suggested giving you his number the sandy blond hybrid growled

× which i shit you not made the whole coffee shop freeze

× and you froze too

× but neither of you could say anything because the oblivious fuck kept talking

× basically joking about how you should keep your pet in a leash, to which you got up, threw some money on the table, grabbed Bakugou by the hand and leave before he'd rip someone's head off

× it only took you to touch Bakugou's arm to calm him down as he followed behind you wordlessly

× so you stood outside, angry, deep red eyes on your figure

× and silence

× his hand still in yours

× it was warm and amazing and you felt angry but your heart was beating loudly; angry at the waiter that you wanted to go full Karen on and get fired but excited because that growl shook you to the core, as if you could tell it was territorial and it was because of that pig flirting with you and did Bakugou Katsuki just lace his fingers with you?!

× "Oi." he interrupted your thoughts

× he turned your frame towards him and pulled you [kinda harshly] into him

× you'd make a comment about it but brain empty, just Bakugou Katsuki blushing

× "You're mine, you get it?"

× skdjflglykshs

× it sounded like he asked but it was a demand so oops you're his now ok bye

× like I said, boy isn't dumb so he lowkey knew you felt something too

× legit from there on he's just soft as fuck

× has a hard time opening up but visibly tries for you

× still continues to be a pain in the ass, Bakugou Style, but with a loving teasing attitude behind it

× his eyes give him away all the time

× they shine whenever you're in his field of view so congrats because, and this is the best part:

× WOLVES MATE FOREVER 💕💓💞💗💝💟

× oh yeah, he's yours, no takebacks

× he isn't one to half-ass the relationship; you're his now and he'll do anything for you

× big time touch starved it hurts

× because he is shy

× so whenever you introduce him to hand holding and cuddles, he can't get enough

× not big on PDA [ and not recommended since human-hybrid relationships are kiiiinda frowned upon but it's getting better ]

× although at home it's another deal

× seriously cuddle him; he's big into the protector vibe so he's a big spoon almost exclusively unless it's to sleep on top of you

× speaking of! accept that even if your relationship isn't that intimate, he'd still hint about sleeping together in the same bed

× so you better catch on when he does because he'll just click his tongue and call you needy

× while dragging you to bed

× sleeps holding you, his nose in your hair or in the crook of your neck

× unless it's summer then stay on your side 💅

× you know those kisses that just scream "I can't get enough of you"? that's his whole kissing vibe in a sentence

× hell, even the gentlest kiss gives that vibe away and it'll 100% leave you breathless

× doesn't have experience but is a very fast learner

× pays very close attention to your body language

× really into biting your skin enough to leave marks

× wear his hoodies

× no, I'm fucking serious, wear them now

× his chest puffs and he turns into a blushing mess when you do it the first times because his scent is on you

× scenting is a big thing for him so of course he's gonna love it

× 10x more territorial because now he has a mate to protect

× jealous but trusts you

× still very jealous though

× let's all pretend he is definitely not scenting you before you go out because it's in his nature and it is embarrassing

× the first time he tells you he loves you it's when he's feeling vulnerable

× the search for his friends is still on-going, he feels less than adequate as a providing mate, is pissed at the world for treating him like an inferior animal when they created him, everything is piled on his shoulders and whenever than happens he closes off

× you notice immediately

× will not tell you at first

× it's only when you go to bed and he turns his back to you when you really know it's bad

× even if you fought before, he'd angrily snuggle you at night-time

× now it's so different

× hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, pull a blanket all over you both and big spoon him, he'd start shaking and talking in no time

× will hide his tears from you but you'd know

× "You're the best fucking thing that happened to me, [Y/N]... I—... Shit... I love you so much."

× neither of you slept that night

× excuse you? drink some water and pray to jesus;;; you talked about feelings, ok? communication is key in a relationship, puh-lease

× [ i have this whole nsfw hcs post already cookin in my brain so maybe I'll make it happen cuz y'all know he has a mating season and all that comes with it 👀 ]

× back to being children of jesus here

× thanks the moon, the heavens and all the gods for putting you in his life; boy didn't believe in destiny but deep down he thinks you were meant to be

× you still better wash the dishes or you'll get your ass kicked.

Extra:

× you did find some of his friends, little by little, and even if he acted nonchalant, like k das cool, it was obvious he was extremely happy

× so they did get adopted too

× you got in contact with them on social media and they were all very excited about meeting

× so it was a chaotic meeting with a dog hybrid called Kirishima and a mouse like vibrat yellow guy called Kaminari

× they all were looking for Bakugou too since they were very worried about where he ended

× Kirishima shed manly tears when seeing Bakugou

× as they instantly welcomed you in their small group, they informed you both that the majority of the squad was adopted and they're in contact, while they're still actively looking for the others

× cue to the softest expression you've seen on Bakugou in public followed by "That's good"

× silence

× shock and silence

× Kaminari turning to you and whispering "You did this" with a hand on his heart, lips trembling as he wiped an imaginary tear

× insert instantly snappy Bakugou

× when everyone laughed and continued to make plans to meet up with the others, he just looked at you conversing with them, soft expression again on his features and his chest warming

× "Oh! Look, he's doing it again! Quick, take a pictur—"

× "SHINE!"

[mrstsung]

Kung lao sfw abcs

Ahhhhhh! Hat Bae time!!! It's kung lao loving hours.

(I mean i always love lao but ya know i have a shang simpin quota to meet. But outside the blog,it's always been lao lovin hours.)

Cw: none really,outside rant,maybe slight angst. Like lao is my ultimate fave character in mortal kombat period. (Plz don't be mad but lao comes before any other characters for me,even shang. Look i love shang but lao was my first,was here first,and still is best boi)

💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?): well kung lao despite seeming confident. Is quite shy. Not to say he won't make a move if pressured by friends/liu kang. "Bro make a move already,we'll be old and grey by the time you make a move with them,heck I'll have great grandchildren by that time!" . But after the ice is broken. He is the sweetest bean. He'll open doors,fetch you anything you need. And honestly regardless if this relationship goes any further. Kung lao is willing to always help you. Him baby ok? Sassy baby. But baby none the less. (Honestly me n kung would be a constant battle of "no you're cuter" "i love you more" "no,you hang up first" much to everyone's annoyance. But they also in the same are happy for Lao. )

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?): omfg besties. Granted friendship can come easy for kung but in the same vein,hard for him. He needs lots of reassurance. Plz help him. It may hit off good depends on who you are and your stances with him. But honestly kung lao is the best friend you could ever have. He is funny,loyal,has a cool hat,like fr what's not to love. (Ok im bias he's my main dude and i dont tolerate slander against hat bae) but if you don't like his "bragging" understand its not out of ego. It's a defense mechanism against the injustice his ancestors have been delt,the constant comparisons to liu kang(which dont make sense  because liu respects him as an equal and so does lao right back so none of this slander in canon makes any sense and is kinda annoying af and unnecessary. And it shows hella bias and passive aggressive hate to him) and others pressuring him for perfection to be like everyone else. Yet they also brag about shit,yet when he does it. Suddenly its a problem. Sorry this turned into a rant. My bad.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?): he's a cuddlebug. Any chance he gets with you. He hangs onto you like superglue. His fave way to cuddle is to spoon you from behind,his face in the crook of you neck. He just buries his face in you. He is afraid to let go. Because sometimes he feels if he does. He wouldn't see you again. Again it's his fears. He tries to hide them sometimes and be strong for you. But oof does he die inside when you leave him. But reassuring him,you aint going anywhere. (Srry i just love lao so much)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?): tbh if he could retire. He would but never fully. Because of not just his self responsiblity but also his loyalty to his friends. But domestic life with lao is sweet. He's equal with chores. He cooks pretty good. His fave thing to cook is noodle soup. Despite being a monk,kung lao isn't a true vegetarian. However most of his diet is vegetarian. But on lunar new year. He treats himself to homemade beef noodle soup and char siu. Its one of the few times he lets himself indulge like that.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?): oh no baby why did you do that?! Who would break up with this bean?! What's wrong with you?!. But if you had to,he would rather it be upfront and formal. But just know this is gonna hurt him deeply. And he may not open up again to another person,at least for a long time. Like oof.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?): ok kung lao,once he has made up his mind. Once things get past awkwardness. And he feels it's safe. Mrs.kung is soon what you'll be addressed as.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?): him baby like i said. Kung lao is a very gentle lover. Not so say he cant be rough. Not to say he wont be sassy. But to his beloved,he wants you to feel safe and secure in the same as he does. Hand holding. Soft caresses. Gentle "i love yous" and reassuring forehead kisses.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?): he loves hugs. This is a good way to reassure him. Any chance he can get from you. And laos hugs are super warm and affectionate. You feel safe in his arms. His hugs feel like home.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?): you may say it first. But after that he says it shortly after. And never stops saying it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?): he can get that way a bit. But honestly he trusts you. But not to say he wont be cheeky or passive aggressive to that person trying to get on his bad side. But in all honesty despite being a bit protective of you (he has good reason to be btw) he actually does respect your space. But he's gonna go to you about it 9 outta 10 times. But don't push him plz.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?): passionate,hungry,longing,sweet but also gentle. He kisses you as if they are the last kisses you'll ever share. Besides your lips. The neck,the forehead,the hand,and a gentle cheek peck is the common. But he absolutely is over the moon for a cute kiss on the cheek or forehead. But if you kiss him right on the lips? Im not responsible for how much he goes on and on about how sexy you are to his friends.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?): he loves kids. But he wants to be in a place to be able to support them properly. But kung lao is pretty cool with children. He's the fun dad.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?): warm tender hugs. A slightly raspy, "good morning darling". Morning tea brewing,a nice breakfast. Just peaceful.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?): serene. Here with you in his arms. His twilight respite. The crickets chirping. After a nice warm meal. Reclining and enjoying each others company before dozing off to sleep. Laying there in the soft moonlight of the window peaking through. His soft breath on your neck as you both slumber. To wake again to your handsome lao in the morning.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?): ok its a tad slow but honestly if he trusts you he will slowing talk to you about his insecurities. Like i said he needs reassurance. Once he has this from you. He trusts and protects you with his life.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?): don't push him. But he despite being boastful. He is hardly quick to anger. That is something you SHOULD BE THANKFUL FOR! He is very patient despite his shortcomings. And he knows how to bring the hurt. Don't push him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?): he remembers the important things. But sometimes he needs reminders. But that isn't his fault tbh. (Kung lao adhd anyone?) But he tries. He certainly makes up for it in acts of service and gifts and being there for you. No matter how late.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?): he says when he first laid eyes on you (kung lao you flirt). But realistically,

Probably your first date. This is where he bared his soul to you. Probably something simple like a picnic under a blossom tree. Or somewhere serene that ment a lot to him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?): very protective. But not so much so that he becomes overbearing. He knows you can manage yourself. But he still doesn't like to take chances either. He always is looking out for you. If you feel uncomfortable around someone. Talk to him,he'll speak with them to respect your boundaries. If you feel scared or anxious,hold his hand or arm. He'll wrap his around you and hold you close so you feel better. For himself,you just being there and telling him its ok is enough.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?): he tries to put as much effort as his brain will let him.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?): i honestly dunno. Probably beating himself up too much or taking on too much. Kung lao plz,take a break.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?): he takes good care of himself. But also he is humble in that area too? Honestly he isn't any more concerned than the next guy tbh. And i dont know where people get this from? I mean of course he wants to look good for you. So does everyone. So eh.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?): kinda yeah. He would be devastated if he lost you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.): kung laos hat has a subspace magic that can store shit and well as be a filter to help him teleport. Tho he can teleport without his hat. That hat is a good pinpoint to an area. He did a hat trick once,put a bunny in there. Johnny never shuts up about it. Constantly is trying to get him to do it for him. But kung lao refuses. Because it was one time. And he doesn't like to keep live animals n creatures in his hat for long. Because he care for the fur babies. Oh he also is a happy flirty drunk. But funny enough bo-rai-cho taught him drunken style too. So he can also fake it too. But he doesn't like using it often. But he'll never say the reasons why.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?): someone cruel. Especially to animals or children. Overall he's open and tolerant of a lot of crap (probably more so then he needs to be,but eh he is a monk. Patience is a virtue) but some things are a hard no for him. Cruelty and violence outside of a tournament or when nessicary is unacceptable to him. He can try to talk you out of it. But he isn't above whooping ass either if needed.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?): kung lao can sleep almost anywhere. But he has to have his morning tea and evening tea. Other than that,he's good.

⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩💖⛩

Hope you loved this.

Again we stan one spinny boi. 🌪💖⛩🥺

[robincantfunction]

Prompt: 2. "i owe you a kiss" . Post Azkaban!Sirius x reader . Genre: you pick! | I don’t mind if it takes place during poa or later! You can choose. -🌻

her. ✰ PostAzkaban!S.B x Professor!reader

requested: yes/no (requests are still open)

warnings: probably swearing, mentions of death, mentions of prison, dumbledore slander. this is also pretty dialogue heavy and is less new lilliths and more a rewrite of the scene in the shrieking shack.

summary: after years of time apart, sirius needs the help of one of his best friends, and the love of his life.

a/n: ok so i did this with a professor!reader who was also a marauder at school - so ya (just a tad bit of background - not that it may necessarily be mentioned - but her animagus is a white Samoyed dog, kinda matching with sirius ig. at least that's the idea yanno) i hope this is ok i'm sorry if it's not, but i hope your other requests will be a tad bit better :) i have to be honest i don't love this but yanno hope you like it

add yourself to ma taglist :)

"12 years remus! 12 years dumbledore made me believe that the love of my life practically murdered my best friends! i told him. i told him that sirius would never. i also told him that there was talk of peter becoming the secret keeper. did he listen? no! just told me i was in shock and didn't want to believe it" she felt stupid. after remus got the map off of harry, he instantly told y/n. how could he not?

that map never failed them, any of them. there was no way in hell that it would say someone dead was waltzing around hogwarts.

y/n was crying slightly, tears of anger and self pity. she couldn't believe how idiotic she had been. of course sirius would never do anything like that! dumbledore had so much explaining to do, because there was no way he didn't know. of course it all had to do with his 'perfect plan' that was in fact, not flawless.

"i know y/n, i know. just- he's somewhere in the castle i'm sure if it, so we can find him. we will find him"

and they did. pretty quickly actually. she was walking back to her room, trying to wrap her head around everything when she saw it. a black german shepard. "sirius?!" she quietly exclaimed, and as if on queue he transformed back "i promise y/n/n i didn't do it!" she ran up to him and hugged him like her life depended on it, and in some ways it did. "i know siri i know" he picked her up, the both of them still hugging. she wrapped her legs around his waist and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, just like they used to. and for the first time in 12 years, she felt like a teenager again. she felt happy again. she finally felt at home.

after minimal catching up, not that it mattered of course - it was as if they had never stopped seeing eachother, they had found themselves in an... interesting situation

a black as night dog and a white as the moon dog dragging a 14 year old down the roots of the whomping willow and into the shrieking shack. of course, they weren't actually trying to hurt him - just the retched little mouse he was holding onto so tightly, but they still felt bad.

as sirius revealed who he was to the group, y/n was just about to aswell... until sirius looked her in the eyes and shook his head (enough for her to see, but not enough for the others to question). trusting him as much as she did - she stayed put, knowing that if she transformed back now it would only cause more confusion and chaos.

"harry it's a trap - it's him! he's the dog! he's an animagus!" as hermione jumped in front of harry, and unknowingly ron and peter, she spoke "if you want to kill harry you'll have to kill us too!" y/n growled at the rat, the three teenagers easily mistaking it as her snarling at them. "no! only one will die tonight" harry leapt forward "then it'll be you!!" y/n jumped almost immediately, trying to protect him with all her might - but that was easier said than done when you're one dog against 3 armed wizards/witches. hermione shot a spell at her, making her fall back into the bed. unknown to them she changed back. "expeliarmus!" remus yelled. y/n sighed with relief, she just got sirius back she couldn't lose him, especially when harry didn't even know the truth.

"well we'll sirius, lookin rather ragged aren't you? finally the flesh reflects the madness within" he smirked "well you'd know all about the madness within wouldn't you remus?" as they embraced sirius kept muttering about killing peter

"sirius darling, you just got out of azkaban, let's not go back there for a crime you actually committed this time?" she chuckled, finally revealing herself to the younger group.

"no! i trusted you! both of you! and all this time, you've been his friend. he's a werewolf that's why he's been missing classes." that shocked you all, but she was a very bright witch. "how long have you known?" "since professor snape set the essay" y/n chuckled sinisterly "snivellus was always one for subtly" she commented sarcastically, voice full of venom. "hermione you really are the brightest witch of your age i've ever met" he said ignoring y/n's previous comment.

"ah come on remus enough talk - let's kill him!"

"wait!"

"i did my waiting! 12 years of it! in azkaban. i lost the woman i love, the life i could have had, he took that away from me! he deserves to pay!" remus side, handing him the wand. y/n felt her heart beak, she felt so bad for him. he lost so much over something he never even did. he was right, peter did deserve to pay. "ok just wait one minute, he deserves to know why"

"i know why. you killed my parents! you're the reason they're dead!"

"no harry!" she snapped "someone did betray your parents, but it wasn't him. it was someone who, until quite recently. me and remus believed to be dead." he looked genuinely taken aback "who was it then?"

"peter pettigrew. and he's in this room, right now. come out come out peter! come out and play" and then snape came bounding up the stairs "expeliarmus"

"vengeance is sweet, how u hoped to be the one to catch you" remus stepped forward "severus" as he did so, snape pointed his wand at remus, who proceeded to back away - hands up in surrender. "i told dumbledore you two were helping an old friend into the castle and now here is the proof"

"brilliant snape! once again you put your keen mind up to the task, and as usual, come to the wrong conclusion" at this snapes face fell, clearly doubting himself. "now if you'll excuse me, remus, y/n and i have some unfinished business to attend to!" he put the wand to sirius's neck "give me a reason"

"severus don't be a fool" "he can't help it it's habit by now" "sirius be quiet" "oh be quiet yourself remus!"

"oh as usual, you two squabbling like an old married couple - oh wait no. that could have been you and y/n if you sucked up your pride for once" he pressed the wand harder "why don't you run along and play with your chemistry set" as they continued, severus began rambling about the dementors kiss. how he was gonna do it, give sirius up to them. y/n snapped, pointing her wand at snape she shouted "expeliarmus" the spell bounding him back onto the bed, making it come crashing down. "god y/n i could kiss you- sorry not the time. later" he mumbled as harry pointed a wand at the three of them.

"tell me about peter pettigrew" y/n sighed "he was at school with us! we thought he was our friend!" remus continued explaining, until sirius shouted "the map never lies! pettigrew is alive, and he's right there" he said pointing to the rat.

after sirius made peter transform back, he walked over to harry. "you look just like james! we were the best of friends" sirius intervened "how dare you speak to harry."

"we all would have died rather than betray our best friend peter! you're a coward! you are a coward and you took away the one thing i truly cared about. so no. don't play the 'your dad' card on harry! i will kill you. i will kill you because of what you did" she shouted. harry stopped her, saying that the dementors kiss would be more affective.

even after he scurried away and left them all pissed she felt at peace. she finally had closure.

"i believe i owe you a kiss" she smirked at him, sirius being a little taken aback by her forwardness. "well, if your offering" and that she was.

years of mixed emotions finally let go. years of untouchable touches. years of not being able to see the person they loved the most. the raging storm inside his eyes finally returning to a soft breeze, because he finally got the girl. the only person he shared every detail about his family with. the only person he was truly vulnerable with. her. cause at the end of the day, it was a always her. and it always will be her.

taglist: @blackst0nes7077 @siriuslyjanhvi @sassybadqueen @x-heartrender-x @j-cat

[mandoinevarro]

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Words: 9.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: so ok descriptions of blood (it’s only one sentence and I don’t think it’s too bad but just in case), remembering trauma/triggering memories, angst. now for the fun part: SMUT, one (1) thigh spank, a sprinkle of dirty talk, a dash of praise kink, spitting, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, maybe cockwarming but for like two minutes

a/n: happy 2021!!! only one chapter left after this one so enjoy. for the hornies who only want fun and sexy times: scroll to the bottom and work your way up, smut is like 3/4 in.

……………

In the blue morning light, Nevarro is almost beautiful.

The deserted lava fields spread in flat terrain as far as the eye can see, bumps and dips where magma cooled creating waves like a black ocean. Among the tide, obsidian turtle shells shimmer like dark mirrors, where Din Djarin studies his face. It startled him when he crawled from the tent to take the pram inside; when he glanced at the ground and the ground glanced back. His face cloudy and warped by irregular volcanic rock, he barely recognized it. It’s not rare for his features to blur in his memory sometimes, especially when he’s out working for days at a time unable to catch a glimpse of himself. Vanity is not one of his many shortcomings—hiding your face for decades is a mighty vaccine against it.

But today something’s different. The reflection peering up at him belongs to a stranger. Relaxed eyebrows, a hooked nose (has the curved always been so pronounced?), lips that faintly curl up. Content brown eyes. His mirrored counterpart is a sentient being below him, plump with blood and oxygen. Alive.

He looks happy.

However, morning weighs heavily on Din, he can see it in the bags below his eyes. It stings like a hangover, like the only hangover he ever had, back when he was an eighteen-year-old idiot and used the credits of his first bounty to get a flask of spotchka from some seedy bar. He remembers sitting in his crammed quarters at the old Covert, chugging the bottle on his own, methodically forcing himself to swallow against the burn. Waiting. Waiting for the alchemy to kick in, for the magic toxins that flushed drunks’ faces, lubricant that oiled their scowls into easy smiles. Waiting to feel what everyone else felt, just for a moment.

Lifting his head, Din peers ahead. Shadows of the city’s buildings creep above the horizon like a bad omen. The opposite of a promised land. Hunchbacked buildings stain the blue-gray sky, abruptly interrupt the intricate lava patterns, Nevarro the planet versus Nevarro the city. Din’s stomach crumples. One, maybe two hours by foot. One, maybe two hours, and last night will fade into a distant memory, a collection of ghost sensations.

But not yet. Right now, last night is still real. You are still real.

Crawling back into the tent, he licks his lips for the millionth time today. He can still taste you: that thick, salty-bitter taste, so much better than he could’ve imagined. He hopes it stays on his lips for a long time; or, at least, that he can replace it soon.

Inside, you’re curled up with his cape, a blooming bruise above your shoulder peeking out, the baby’s pram hovering next to you. He sits down, careful not to awake either of you, and runs a finger down your shoulder, feels the skin prickle. He buries his nose on the back of your hair and inhales: rain and earth as usual, but his soap too, a part of him that clings to you. Lips on the crook of your neck, Din smells himself on you, wonders if you’ll want to wash his scent away, or if you’ll want it to stay on you. You stir, your soft exhales gain a rasp. Din smiles. You do snore, after all.

He’ll have to wake you soon. He knows. He knows. You need to talk about last night. You need to have the frank conversation that you’ve both been postponing for way too long, back when you floated in dead space, no deadlines, no rush at all to make decisions. But things have changed, and he knows what he wants now, and he knows it can’t wait. Yet every time his fingers brush your shoulder to nudge you awake, he pulls them back. He’s never seen you so peaceful, not moving except for your expanding and contracting chest, the light fluttering of your lashes. All the fight in your body gone, those tall bridges around you down and inviting. So different from when he met you.

If there’s one thing Din’s good at, it’s sniffing out trouble. He had to be, if he wanted to make it in the Fighting Corps. In the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. He can sweep a room with a mental black light, spot the people who flare up white and bright, the ones he needs to stay away from—or approach, depending on the situation. And that day at the cantina, the first time he laid eyes on you? You glowed with it. Talking big game in Karga’s booth, laughing with your pretty smile and shuffling cards, you beamed with trouble, bright as radiation and just as dangerous. What needed to happen was clear as day. The Mandalorian needed to turn on his heels immediately, strut out of that bounty hunter hive without a second look, and never, ever, ask about you.

He’d been there before.

Mandalorians, despite common belief, are not made of beskar. Not on the inside, at least. They’re all warm blooded organics, burdened with flesh and internal organs and skeletons; pain and pleasure receptors. Older Mandalorians cautioned younger ones when they came of age and finished their training, when they were ready to become providers. Tall stern warriors, his superiors, warned that there would be temptation, situations that would make him doubt the Way. “Even the briefest taste,” Din’s former Alor said with that cavernous voice he had, “can be the point of no return.” And he was right.

Outside the Covert, there was so much…stimuli. Voices and colors and movement, a twenty-four-hour beehive, the galaxy buzzed and vibrated to no end. It was equally wonderous and grotesque, like a circus. The strenuous noises that rattled his ribcage, the strong smells, the different food, his senses had never felt more exhausted. The faces…stars, the faces. How muscles stretched in a big smile, the glint of teeth, the deep creases between eyebrows that signaled anger. Always moving, always changing, Din hadn’t seen so many uncovered heads since he was a child. His first few weeks outside he’d stare at people for hours until they scurried away or tried to fight him. Tried.

Then, when the initial shock wore out, he noticed other details. The way children’s eyes filled with admiration when they’d look at their parents, how that dimpled girl in Alderaan would blush and stutter whenever he bought something from her stall. And Din would wonder, despite all warnings, what it’d feel like to be one of them. To share so much of himself with the outside world. With time, curiosity morphed into obsession, obsession into desperation, and soon enough he found himself with Rand and the others, running rampant in an already chaotic galaxy.

One war, two decades, and a thousand regrets later, the curiosity died down. The helmet helped him tune out the outside world, made it easier to retreat into his memories. The galaxy seemed duller by the day, emptier. Lonelier, though he didn’t dwell on it.

That is, until he met you.

Until his resolve circled the drain and he asked Karga who you were and where to find you, walked into your store without an idea of what he’d say. Behind the counter, eyes shining and that silky voice asking what you could do for him, you reset the galaxy for him. Every time he visited you felt like his first day outside all over again.

But last night—that was stronger, set in stone. It felt like commitment. Something was born last night, something burgeoned in his chest and took root. Din can feel the fullness in his body, like he grew an extra limb, similar to the swell that tangled in his insides when he went back for the kid. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it reminds him of the day he swore the Creed. The fresh sense of purpose, the carved-out path in front of him, knowing what needs to be done:

When the siege is over, he’ll take you with him.

“Are you watching me sleep?” you mumble, cotton mouthed. “Kinda creepy.”

Din chuckles, then remembers. Stars, his heart stops beating for a second. Dread and natural reflexes throw his palm whip fast over your closed eyes. Maker. What the hell was he thinking, sitting next to you without the helmet. Maker, one second too late and you could’ve opened your eyes and—

“Didn’t see anything. Promise,” you say with a smile and pull his cape over your face. “Cover up.”

He pats around for the helmet (where the hell did he drop it last night?), finds it abandoned by your feet. When he fits it around his head, the familiar padding hugging his skull, he swears it feels heavier than it did yesterday.

“You decent?”

“Yeah.”

You lower the pseudo blanket, sleepy eyes and easy smile. As if you purposefully want to make it harder for him to strike up a conversation. But do I really need to— Yes. Yes, he does. He has to know where you stand and ask the big question: If you’d be willing to leave with him once the siege is lifted. Stars, his hands are sweating. But he can’t imagine you’d say no. Not after last night.

“Listen…”

As if on cue, whimpers and sniffles float from the closed pram. Great timing, kid. The baby’s ears droop like wilting leaves when Din places him on the ground, and the little bundle waddles with his eyes cast down until he reaches your ankle.

“What is it, kiddo?” you ask softly, your voice gentler than Din’s ever heard, sitting up as you hug his cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“I think…” Din begins, watching the baby sniffle and hug your bandaged calf. “I think he’s apologizing.”

A pair of eight-ball eyes blink at you, shiny with unshed tears, and Din feels an ache deep in his chest. This sweet little kid, all he’s been put through…

“Oh, don’t worry,” you coo, as one of your hands wriggles out the cloak and cradles the baby’s cheek. Your thumb brushes away a fat tear. “I’m tougher than your dad.” You wink at Din: Just kidding. But it’s true. Living in this planet for so long, all on your own. “Tough” is a survival skill for you, not a choice.

Also…dad. He should probably correct you. Din is not the kid’s real father, even though he’s caught himself thinking about the baby as his son once or twice, when he’s not too aware of his inner monologue. But he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. Actually, he belongs to a race of wizards that I’ve been quested to deliver him to. Can’t adopt him if I’ll eventually give him up. Not when the kid’s shedding quiet tears into your leg and you’re doing your best to soothe him. Nevarro’s not child friendly, and Din can’t imagine you’ve got much practice with baby stuff, but he can tell you’re doing your best. And that’s enough to spread warmth through his chest.

What a troop you must make: Mandalorian bounty hunter, black market dealer, magic green baby. You could set up a three-person circus and retire. Yet the image tugs at a memory tucked away in his mind, something familiar but blurred.

His rumination’s cut short when Din notices the kid’s pudgy hands extending strategically on either side of your right leg, his eyelids beginning to flicker. Shit, shit, shit.

“She forgives you,” he tells the kid hastily as he scoops him and lays him on the open pram. He doesn’t need to be the little womprat’s real father to tell he was about to whip out his favorite party trick: healing witch powers. So far it doesn’t look like it permanently harms him, but it does weaken him, and Din can’t take chances. Plus, he skipped the part about the baby having supernatural powers when he told you his story, and there’s not a hell of a lot of ways one can explain fresh wounds disappearing.

“So,” you say after the baby’s settled in his pod. “What are we going to do,” you start, and Din’s throat knots with dread and excitement, “about the jammer.”

Oh. Stars, straight to business

“You said you have one.”

“I said I might have one,” you answer, grabbing for your discarded skirts. You fumble with them under the cloak, one hand clasped tight around it. It’s funny—after everything you’ve shared, you won’t undress in front of him during the day. “I mean, jammers aren’t picky like motors, they’re more one-size-fits-all.”

“But we still have to rewire it,” Din completes, wiping dry drool from the kid’s cheek with his thumb.

“Right.” Holding the cloak with your chin while you clasp your tunic, you seem to slowly draw your way out of a maze. That restless abacus in your head adding and subtracting. Your brows relax, and Din knows you’ve figured it out. “But I’ve got my equipment in my workshop, and we’d save time not having to remove it from a ship. And, no offense, but the Crest’s jammer was an antique. Way more complicated than newer models.” You finish dressing and hand him the cloak. “Only problem is the potential trooper stakeout outside the store.”

“I’ll take care of troopers.” Din takes the cloak and hesitates. It’s day nine, that time bomb still ticks in his head. Could it be that easy? Could you really do all this in one day? “What if we don’t finish on time?”

“Then,” you say, “we’ll figure something out.”

We, Din thinks, and smiles. Somehow, that’s all the reassurance he needs.

≈

Nevarro couldn’t look more deserted if tumbleweed rolled in the streets. The city’s a populated ghost town, no man’s land that’s filled with men. Well, men is a strong word. How did Viszla put it that time? We live hidden like sand rats. Yes, rats seems more fitting. Packs of them, scurrying around the former Covert, stealing Mandalorian armor to be bartered for scraps. Karga didn’t have to spell it out when he told him about people finding the Covert. Mando is familiar with the ways of the Outer Rim: Anything unclaimed is up for the taking, and beskar’s too tempting to resist. Knowing doesn’t make his blood boil any less, though. If Din focuses, he can almost hear their squeaking echoing from the sewers, the scavengers of this gray rock serving themselves to the abandoned armor of his people.

Movement to the left. The Mandalorian draws his blaster and bars you with his forearm, to see…a tunic. A short tunic. Tiny red lights. A Jawa. He exhales and sheathes the blaster. Stars. With the vembrance turned off, he has to rely on bare eyesight to scan for danger.

The Jawa drags a sleigh behind him. On it lies a dead or unconscious trooper (it makes no difference to these creatures), its gloved fingers drawing traffic lines on the mud and ash of unpaved streets. Red stars below the cowl focus on you for half a second, the bounty hunter’s hand approaches his blaster, and…

…and the Jawa waves at you, says “hello” in its squeaky language. You wave back, smiling, and the lump of shadow continues on its way. A neighborly gesture that in this context is plain bizarre.

“Old friend of yours?” Mando asks, walking again.

“Associate,” you correct, running a finger along the kid’s left ear until it twitches and he giggles. “Jawas scavenge parts straight from the wreckage, eliminate the middle man. And they don’t report to the New Republic.”

You mean steal from the wreckage, Din almost says, but bites it back. He supposes he can’t judge you for trading with Jawas. Prospects on the Outer Rim are bleaker than ever, and everyone’s got to eat. Especially during a siege.

Maker, sometimes he can’t believe he convinced himself to leave you here. Marooned in the type of place Core World citizens only talk about with shaking heads and disapproving voices. The type of place that makes people feel better about their lives, because hey, it could be worse, at least I don’t live in Nevarro. Granted, Din didn’t know then there’d be a siege. After the fight, after he bid goodbye to Cara and Karga, he hovered on the atmosphere for longer than was safe, gazing down at your store’s roof from the Razor Crest’s cockpit. His head a seesaw, weighing his options and unable to make a decision. You were still so close. He could fly back down to the surface, knock on your door, and take you away with him like he did with the kid.

Would you say yes? Reject him?

But most importantly: what about his quest? What kind of life would you lead travelling with him, a fugitive of the Empire and the New Republic? Life for Din has been defined by survival. Every day he’s had to get up and fight; fight to an inch of his life, fight with concussions, frostbite, shattered ribs. Knife wounds, blaster wounds. Personal wounds. He didn’t want that for you. You’re young, clever, resourceful. After that day, maybe you’d decide Nevarro was too dangerous. Maybe you’d pay your passage on a cruiser and start over in the Core Worlds, make your luck own there. Find a good man, if that’s what you wanted.

So he started the thrusters—the same ones he bought from you so long ago—and jumped into hyperspace with a semi clear conscience. This was best for everyone. You probably wouldn’t have accepted his offer, anyway. For five months he lived with his decision. And then he learnt about the siege.

In the sky, a string of river pearls forms a pattern like a necklace. Imperial cruisers, tie fighters, every ship that Guideon commands, solemnly presiding over Nevarro, itching to shoot down runaways. They’re too far up in the atmosphere to make out anyone in the surface, but Mando grabs your arm and coaxes you behind him all the same, his grip on the pram tighter. The memory of that imp’s blaster on your forehead is still too fresh. The dried blood on your legs.

Din glances back at you briefly. You catch his eye and smile—not grin, not smirk—but smile, a pretty, kind smile that would put to shame any of the imaginary Naboo girls you were so worked up about two nights ago. He should know, he’s been to Naboo, and none of the women there had your kaleidoscopic face, those hints of life that send his pulse on a sprint. The Mandalorian wonders what else you could be hiding under that sharp tongue, behind those clever eyes.

“Mando,” you call and point at a blackened mass to your right. “Nursery’s this way.”

All buildings in Nevarro emerge from volcanic rock, pushing away from clumps of hardened magma. They’re half-manmade, half-volcano hybrids—it’s a useful layout that gives their structure grip against constant earthquakes. It also, however, makes the buildings look like tumors growing on the navel of an ill planet. Your store’s the only one that’s never looked malignant, more like a sprouting flower than a parasite.

And now, the cantina too. Burned to a crisp, blacker than night, the former Church of Nevarro seems to have been swallowed by its unwilling host: the volcanic rock it was built upon. It’d be near impossible to know there’s a cantina inside, if not for the wide window peering inside. And it’s far from impossible for you or Mando, who know by heart where all the doors stand. He pushes one open for you, and together you walk inside.

“Thumb on the bottom, middle and ring fingers on the top, index to the side,” instructs Cara from behind the cantina’s crisp black counter. “The other side.”

Greef Karga sits on a stool opposite her, fumbling with a deck of cards. “Got it. Then what?”

“Then…” The veteran moves aside a flask of ardees and places a matching deck on the bar. “Pressure with your index, release the thumb.” She acts out her instructions and creates an arched ribbon spread on the surface. The Mandalorian can’t remember the last time he walked into the cantina and didn’t see the hypnotic patterns on cards, didn’t hear the wing-flapping noise of their shuffle. Although if he thinks about it, it makes sense that sabacc is the local sport around here. Dumb luck is the only god in the Outer Rim, where inhabitants gaze perpetually at their uncertain future and never look back. Tomorrow they’ll get a better hand, yesterday’s lost credits are forgotten. Everyone here seems to shed their past like snake skin.

“Nice spread, Dune,” you call. Greef and Cara follow your voice, realize they have visitors. “You should job hunt at Canto Bight.”

“Oh yeah?” replies the ex-shock trooper with an impish grin, both elbows on the counter and a rag over her shoulder, all bartender swagger. “What do you know about Canto Bight, hot stuff? Heard you’ve never been off this rock.” She spies a sly glance at Mando, enough to confirm that she’s annoying him on purpose, openly flirting with you. He squares his stance, rolls the helmet to pin her down with the visor, but (he really should know this by now) it does little to intimidate her.

“No trash talk before nightfall, ladies,” quips Karga, walking towards the pram. “And certainly not in front of babies. Hello, little one!” Said little one coos and lifts his skinny arms to be lifted by the Guild Leader, who sits back down delighted at having the baby’s favor, the little rascal on his lap. “He likes me!” Greef Karga smiles wide, flashing those white glinting teeth that’ve always reminded Din of a wolf’s. He’s not happy to leave the kid here, but he can’t take him if there’s a stakeout in your store. Beggars can’t be choosers and so on. But Cara’s here, and Din knows he can trust her with the baby. Though not with you, evidently.

“Tell you what, Mando,” Cara continues, apparently not done peacocking around you. “We arm wrestle, just like last time. Winner gets a flask of spotchka and the opportunity to take the lady to Canto Bight after you lift the siege.”

“Help us lift the siege and I’ll consider winning that flask.”

Dune lets out an long whistle, giving you a complicit look. “Big words.”

Your eyes rake along the Mandalorian’s armor slowly, boots to helmet, a dark tint in your eyes. Din flushes, the oppressive heat of his clothes suddenly thicker.

You shrug and answer, “Big man.” Your fingertips dance idly around the nape of your neck, which makes Mando think about last night, about his tongue on your neck and the purple bruises he sucked, the salty taste of flesh, the heady one between your legs. The memory steers blood into…into awkward places. Which, knowing you, was your intention. Maker, he needs to talk to you about teasing him in public.

“Help you how?” asks Greef, lifting the baby into the counter, whose six little claws hold on to two of his gloved fingers.

“Look after the kid, we won’t be more than a few hours.”

“Sure thing!” booms Karga, at the same time as Cara says, “Fuck no.”

You fold your arms at the veteran. “You scared of an infant, Dune? It’s only one of him, and…” you squint at the cantina’s black shell, like something’s out of place in its burned remains, “…two of you. Where’s—” you start, before glancing at Mando and swallowing the second half.

“Duma?” supplies Karga, tapping the corners of the deck on the counter. “Don’t know, probably boiling beskar to make broth. Rumor has it she’s running out of supplies, fast. Did you ever take her up on that deal?”

Your eyes shoot vibroblades at him, your mouth a flat line.

“What deal?” Mando asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, still glaring warnings at Karga, who sighs, shakes his head, and tickles the baby’s tummy. The kid giggles and kicks half the deck off the counter. “Nothing important. We should get going.”

Outside, you guide the Mandalorian through a maze of back alleys, the ugly underbelly of a planet that’s already the galaxy’s own underbelly. Mando glues a palm to his blaster’s grip, lifting it only as muscle memory to turn on the vembrance and activate the setting to scan footprints, frustrated when he remembers his own piece of equipment would immediately snitch on him. Yet you glade past dark corners that beg for their own knife-brandishing mugger with the grace of someone frolicking in D’Qar’s moorlands, postcard-calm.

Once in your store’s backdoor, the Mandalorian ventures a glance at the front street. Empty. Like the rest of the city, it’s like curfew was declared, not an imp in sight. Certainly not a stakeout in process. Behind him, you push the door open, the busted security panel no more than a prop to discourage robbers.

“What?” you ask when he doesn’t walk inside.

“There’s nobody here,” he answers, studying the connecting alleys like a web of arteries, waiting for a trooper squadron to materialize and ambush you.

“It’s quiet too quiet?” you tease with a lopsided grin. “Lay off the thrillers, Mando. Come on.”

You step inside, he hesitates. “Could be a trap.”

Hands on the doorframe, leaning forward, your face almost touches the helmet. “Then you’ll shoot them and we’ll be back to square one. Not much of a choice here, Mando.” Those pretty eyes, your shining, wet lips. It’s a siren’s call he knows he shouldn’t answer.

The Mandalorian follows you inside.

It takes him a moment to recognize his surroundings.

Your store hibernates in the dark, stale air floating around its vault. Your store, which used to buzz with drills and neon lights and life around the clock, looms like a beast’s hollow belly, crypt-still. Lights off and furniture wrapped in sheets, it looks abandoned, the way all those family houses in deserted villages were hastily vacated during the war. He wonders how long you’ve been out of business because of the siege. Because of him.

You walk across the reception in tomb silence. In the reception signs hang next to the front desk—store policies that gave Mando more than one headache—dark and colorless, like they turned in their badges and no longer preside over this place. Only “NO IMPS” twitches, one or two agonizing flashes of neon green, before it shuts down like its colleagues. Six rules in total, although in Din’s opinion there’s a seventh that foregoes the need of a sign: “NO QUESTIONS”.

That’s a rule that everyone in Nevarro—bounty hunter or not—subscribes to. It’s the rule you followed when the Mandalorian walked into your store, still crafting some half-assed excuse about thrusters when he came face to face (helmet to face?) with you. You never asked about New Republic guidelines or what he wanted them for. Not even for his name. No questions when he came back two weeks later. No questions as weeks passed and then months, as tension thickened between you until his internal barometer cracked.

No questions when his thinning resolve broke one night. That night. He pushed you onto your workbench, you undid each other’s belts, pawed at each other’s sides. No questions when he slid into your wet heat, when he had to stop for a second to avoid a heart attack. No questions when he finished inside you, blood roaring in his ears, your sighs clouding his visor, your hand gently pushing him back.

And then, his question: “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs,” you answered, pulling your trousers back around your hips.

It dropped on his head like freezing water. Upstairs. Upstairs to your apartment, to rest. Alone. Meaning your encounter was a one-night stand, a shortcut to let off some steam. Stars, you were basically swinging the front door wide open for him, putting away a couple of wrenches and switching off the lights to signal the night was over. The Mandalorian didn’t need questions to know he’d overstayed his visit.

But…what if he’d spent the night anyway? Maybe the next morning he would’ve been upfront with you, confess he’d wanted you for so long and that he wanted it to evolve past one furtive encounter, that he wanted it to be real. No, he probably wouldn’t have. As a bounty hunter—as Mandalorian—there are things he simply can’t have. Things that are better off unspoken, better off—

“Tucked away,” you say behind him, making the Mandalorian jump.

“What?”

“The planner.” You walk behind the front desk. “I was saying I don’t remember leaving it here. I thought it was tucked away in some box.”

Oh.

It is strange. A light sheen of dust covers the counter, yet the planner is glossy clean, a painted depiction of the Manarai Mountains on its cover. A souvenir from Coruscant. He wonders who brought you that. It tugs at something sweet but sad in his chest, the fact that you have to rely on others’ cheap souvenirs to explore the galaxy. That’ll change as soon as this mess with the siege is settled.

You flip through the planner, empty for the most part but for a few scribbles on the first pages. It’s dated 5 ABY, four years ago. The Mandalorian knows from experience that your appointment rule works mostly to turn away unsavory clients. Or to get on his nerves.

“Look at that,” you murmur as if reading his mind, your finger pointing at nothing on a page. “You don’t have an appointment, Mando.”

“We don’t have time for this,” he answers, though he knows he’ll make time for it anyway. It used to drive him up the wall whenever you refused to see him using that stupid excuse. But, as with everything with you, it was more complicated than that. It took longer than he’s willing to admit to understand that it was a game. That you liked him riled up, after the push and pull, the hot and cold, the challenge. You had a taste for difficulty. Although it didn’t take as long to figure out that he liked it too. “Just let me in.”

“I don’t know,” you drawl, glancing at the dull signs on the wall. “Rules are rules.”

The Mandalorian has played this game with you enough to know what you want. He thinks of all those memories in this building. You, pinned between his armor and the doorframe; him, sitting on that battered couch upstairs with your hands on his knees. Even those calm nights, when you’d only sit and talk and make him laugh, and sometimes he’d get a laugh from you too, if he didn’t try too hard. All the sweating and the panting and the talking that these walls have witnessed. Maybe there’s time for one last memory before you both leave this planet for good. Not maybe—there’s definitely time. If this were an ambush, you’d be dodging blaster shots by now.

“So bend the rules,” he says slowly, gripping his edge of the counter and dropping his voice to the low register that gives you goosebumps. “For me.”

Your eyes twinkle like copper at the fact that he’s playing along. “And what do I get in return?”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. “Whatever you want.” Perhaps he’s known for a while, in the back of his head where he could ignore it, but last night the idea rushed to his front lobe. He’ll give you anything you want.

“I want…” you begin, mischief shining in your eyes, before a shadow clouds them. Slowly, your face goes soft, a special kind of longing in your pupils. You swallow, your voice becomes throaty, and the words sound truer than anything Din’s ever heard: “I want you. I just want you.”

He almost trips on his feet when he rounds the counter, his head already swimming. The hunter crowds you with his body, backs you up against the counter until you’re caged and looking up at him, hooded eyes and parted lips. Hot stuff. Cara’s shallow pet name. When he heard it he thought it was inappropriate. But now. As your mouth nestles on his clothed neck and breathes hot, damp air through the fabric—a mild sensation for most people, he guesses, but almost a mating call for him—he realizes it’s not untrue. The name fits you like a glove, hot stuff. It’s just…incomplete. If he’s learnt anything these nine days is that there’s so much more to you, enough sailor knots of emotion and personality inside you to loop around the galaxy if unraveled.

“Touch me,” you breathe, rubbing up against him, searching friction. “Please, please, touch me. There’s nobody here, we—we have time.”

Gloved palms on your waist, down to your hips, lower to your ass, Din tries to fondle you as best he can. He pins you between the counter and his hips, your leg curls around his back and holds him closer. His erection starts to bulge against your belly, your breaths start quickening, your hearts start pumping faster. The tell-tale signs that indicate you’re both ready to go hit all their usual beats. But something’s missing. There’s a step you’re skipping, something…something he’s not doing right.

Tentatively, you press a small kiss on his covered neck, and he can only feel its frustrating whisper, a promise of more.

A lightbulb flicks on.

Mando holds your hips and spins you around, the desk’s edge on your waist. “Bend over,” he grouses next to your ear, his voice sand-coarse. “Don’t turn around.”

Gloves off first. One palm cradles the back of your neck, feels you shiver. His left hand runs down your back and around to your tummy, savoring all those warm, secret places on you, the way your body opens up to him on instinct. The power trip when he cups your heat through your skirts and you moan into the counter. You nestle your hips on his lap, and he stiffens on command, a tug between his legs that he knows is far too insistent for foreplay. Stars, it’s like he’s conditioned to get hard in this store.

“Don’t—” he chokes out “—not so fast. Or I—I won’t—”

“What?” you pant. Din hears the grin laced in your voice and knows it’s bad news for him. He drops to his knees and both hands walk up your bandaged calves, squeeze the tops of your thighs. “You…you don’t…” He throws your skirts over your back. You inhale sharply at the cold air—or at his hands pulling the soft flesh of your backside. When he removes the helmet, your pitch sounds broken up, more desperate. “You d-don’t want…”

It’s a small victory when he parts his lips against your clothed core and it’s you, for once, who chokes on words. Small victory, but he’ll take it, especially after the way his cock twitches in his pants when he smells you. He kisses you again, just a peck over your clit, and your legs shake. Fucking…stars. If this is how you feel when you tease him…well, he gets it. You mewl and push back on his face, but he hardly thinks you want it that easy.

“Stop moving,” he tells you sternly, with a voice he’d use on quarries.

A shiver runs down your spine. “But—” You break into a whine when his open palm slaps the side of your thigh. It’s probably the surprise rather than the sting that makes you inhale sharply, and a combination of both that dampens the cotton between your legs.

“Stop moving,” he repeats, mouth pressed against your core so you can feel the vibration; that, he learnt from you. “Or you don’t get my mouth.”

Above him, you let out a displeased little grunt, too throaty to mean much. But you open your legs wider and brace yourself on the front desk, grant him full access to you. His index hooks on your underwear, moves it aside, and he buries his lips deep into the softest part of you. Din barely hears you gasp. He circles both arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, until his tongue is buried between your folds and you just have to take it. Fuck, it’s just…decadent. The taste, the smell, how soaked you are already, your little purrs and whimpers when he sucks on your lips. They’re not things he ever thought he’d get to feel. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“Mmm, stars, Mando,” you sob, sneakily rutting your hips like you just can’t help it. He allows it, but only because he’s so rock fucking hard he’s practically doing the same thing. His cock trapped down one pant leg, he squeezes his thighs to try and soothe the ache. “Move—move up a b-bit.”

“No,” he grunts, and licks a slow line from the spot right below your clit to the back of your slit. It wasn’t so long ago that it was your mouth on him, you teasing him mercilessly inside this very store, him moaning and grunting and losing his mind. That’s how he wants you: sloppy, desperate, begging.

“Maker, don’t t-tease,” you moan, but it only encourages him. His tongue slides deep inside you where you’re hotter than sin, enjoying how your walls swell and tighten around it. You’re so fucking wet, he could push into you right now and relieve the pressure building between his legs. But not yet.

“Beg me,” Din groans, mouthing at the inside of your thighs and sucking tiny bruises there. You moan above him, deep in your throat, and he wonders which one of you is more turned on right now. “Put—fuck—put that smart mouth to use. Beg me.”

For a moment all he can hear is your labored breathing, the wheels turning in your pretty head, laying out a plan to make him give in faster. Then, soft and sweet, you hum, “Mando.”

One word. Probably the word Din hears the most, so generic and impersonal that everyone from friends to strangers to enemies call him that. That word coming from your lips makes his heart sprint, his cock pulse and scream at him to hurry up. Stars, but if it was his name—his real name—on your lips, soft and purring like you pronounced his nickname, he knows he wouldn’t be able to hold back a second longer.

“You always make me feel so good,” you continue, arching your back a little to test the waters. “You’re so—so good with your mouth, stars. Want you to kiss me again—kiss me everywhere. Taste me like yesterday—” Your breath catches when he sucks on your inner lips again, closer to where you want him. Maker, if you keep talking like that… “Used to th-think about it all the time, how—mmm—how your—your tongue would feel. Never, ngh, never thought you’d use it th-there, though.” Din laps at your cunt, drinks from it. Fuck, he can’t remember the last time he got this hard. An airy laugh before you continue. “You can be so d-dirty sometimes. I’d let you do—do anything to me.”

Really, Din doesn’t know what pushes him to do it. He doesn’t know what makes him pull back and spread you open with his fingers, stare at your glistening, deliciously swollen folds, and spit at their very top. You moan raggedly above him, a complete mess of sobs and whimpers, as Din simply stares. He watches the trail of spit run down your slit, the lower it goes the more precum he feels sticking to his trousers. Half-drunk on your words and your slick, Din thinks: What did you do to me? Maker, you have him wrapped around your finger.

Saliva trails down until it teardrops on your clit, clings to it, and he doesn’t need another sign. His lips latch on to your bundle of nerves and suck. You sob and whine and cry, rocking your hips hard against his mouth, and he continues sucking through his teeth. Your knees give out, but he holds them before you can hit the ground, holds you in place as he feels you give him everything, your pussy clenching around nothing. Slick trails down his chin, all the way to his neck, and—shit. He’s going to burst in his pants just from feeling you cum in his mouth.

It takes every last ounce of self-control he has left to detach his lips from your cunt and stumble to his feet. You’re still shaking, still panting, but he can’t hold it back a minute longer. Fuck, not even a second longer, he needs to have you right now.

It’s a struggle to get a hold of his fly, fingers trembling and teeth grinding. When he finally pulls the zipper down, the sound snaps your head up.

“Are you—Mando, are you going to—”

“Yes,” he grunts, digging into his waistband for his cock, lining it up against your cunt. Stars, he’s so pent up, it hurts to touch it. “Is it—is it o-okay, can—can, I—”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you mewl, pushing your hips so tightly against his groin the head of his cock catches against your entrance. Fuck. “Please, please, please, put it inside, let me feel your big, thick, co—”

One hard shove, deep enough that he feels himself poke your cervix, and he’s cumming—hard. His spine doubles over and he grunts and moans into your hair, giving you short, stunted thrusts as he fills you to the brim. You were already so swollen before, now you feel unbearably tight, squeezing his cock so harshly his eyes roll back on his skull. And his balls keep pulling up and giving you more of his load, his teeth grinding so hard they might crack. One last thrust, nice and deep so his cum stays inside you, and his palm presses down on your eyes. Din uses that hand as leverage to turn you around and tilt your head like you showed him, just enough so he can reach your lips. And he kisses you.

Your bodies spasm and throb against each other, you clench around him involuntarily and he flinches, too sensitive to handle the aftershocks of your orgasm. Still, he could stay like this for days. Gently sucking on your tongue, running his along the roof of your mouth, feeling how your lips curve against his in a smile. Then, an alarming thought. Maybe this is the only way to do it that feels right now—sex, he means. With the helmet off, his lips on yours, his nose on your hair. Bare hands drawing circles on your hips. Every sense devoted to you. Even the briefest taste can be a point of no return.

You peck his lips and flutter sweet, short kisses around his jaw, working your way up to his ear, where you whisper, “We’re running out of time.”

The jammer. Those words are quickly becoming the bane of his existence. “I know,” he whispers back, but presses one last, long kiss to your lips that feels inexplicably sad, like a kiss goodbye. Din shakes the thought off his head. He’s too pessimistic sometimes.

You both hiss when he pulls out, slowly so he won’t hurt you.

“Keep ‘em closed,” he tells you before removing his hand from your eyes. For all he knows you could open them right there, and there’d be nothing he could do about it. Somehow, however, he’s certain you won’t. His trust is rewarded when he pulls the hand back, and your eyes are screwed shut beneath it.

It takes an awkward choreography to straighten yourselves. You try to pull your own underwear back on, but in your position it’s near impossible. So Din kneels behind you once more, fishes his helmet from the floor, tucks himself back into his trousers, and lifts your panties until they hug your hips. You push your own skirts down before Din’s upright, which results in the long fabric covering him like your furniture. You share a quick laugh before standing straight and facing each other.

“You can open them.”

Now, he tells himself, watching your sated smile and blinking eyes. The words are on the tip of his tongue: When this is over, would you like to come with me—

“If there’s a jammer here,” you say, before he can get a word out, “it’s in the workshop.”

You walk around him and open a door behind the reception desk to reveal the staircase that leads to your apartment. Din’s still telling himself that he’ll just ask you later, when you climb one step—and stop. You turn around like you can sense he’s about to ask, for the second time in this store, where you’re going.

“Gotta get some stuff from upstairs, but I’ll be down in a second.” Your voice wobbles, your foot hesitates on the step. You’re nervous. “But if you find the jammer before I come back, don’t…don’t leave.”

“Of course not.” Maker, of course he wouldn’t leave without you. Do you really think he would?

The workshop is darker than the reception. A single window, currently boarded up, so he has to use the helmet’s light. The cone of white light creates a sinister effect, like creatures lurk everywhere it doesn’t touch. Rubber tubes hang from the ceiling like lianas, circuit boards glimmer green like leaves, and yellow sensors blink from several components. Your own little ecosystem watches him dig into boxes of clutter to search for a jammer. Stars, he’s never known how you manage to find anything here. It’s probably best if he waits outside; he wouldn’t be able to find his own ship in here without you.

He’s turning to the door when the helmet’s light catches on a dark glint, like it reflected on a mirror. It stops him on his tracks. Din’s not sure what prompts his feet to carry him toward your worktable, where the mystery item lays center-front. He sees himself reflected on the dark T-visor. It’s a helmet. It’s a blue Mandalorian helmet.

At first he’s confused. Surprised to see a Mandalorian helmet here—and is it even a Madalorian helmet? Yes, yes it is. His brain lags behind his eyes, goes through different scenarios, each less likely than the last.

Is there another Mandalorian here? Did the Alor bring this? Is the Alor a client?

And then, truth.

It falls abruptly on his back like atmospheric pressure, gravity that crushes. A hot rush of blood enveloping his head, poisoning his thoughts, a ringing in his ears so sharp he thinks he might pass out. A million thoughts in less than a second—convoluted, scrambled, furious. Then an image, so clear that the Maker himself might’ve played it for him like a holo: Thieves, scammers, criminals scurrying through the tunnels of the Covert, the empty halls where his people built a refuge, where they could feel safe. The pile of beskar armor unguarded—the high price that brave Mandalorians paid to help Din, help the child—served in a silver platter for these scavengers, these fucking honorless lowlifes.

His gloved fingers grip your worktable so hard his knuckles might crack—or the table. But the Mandalorian can’t feel the pain on his joints, not when his bloodstream’s turned to acid, when it feels like somebody jammed live wires into his head.

This fucking place. This planet with its fucking people, their fucking cynicism, this fucking landfill for hazardous waste, this piece of shit skughole—

Above, the Mandalorian hears footsteps. Your footsteps. You.

He looks down at the helmet, the empty T-visor limp and black, dead. You did this. Thinking of you clears the red cloud from his mind, trades it for a gray one. A headache creeps behind his eyes, his shoulders go slack. He feels hollowed out. Like a spoon reached inside his chest and scooped away everything essential, left him a carcass. Like something died here today.

You did this.

And then the helmet is not a helmet, but a severed head. A head with a pool of blood around it, guts sprayed all over, and there’s the corrupt smell of blaster residue coming from his neighbor’s house, the taste of copper after biting his tongue running, the durasteel giants shooting red death, the deafening explosions, his parents’ screams, his school going up in a cloud of smoke, his father holding him, whispering one last sentence that he can’t hear through the sounds of war and carnage, his mother’s cheeks stained with tears and dirt and blood, their blurring faces, the darkness, the fear.

Holding the helmet, Din feels tears sting in the corners of his eyes, then hot on his cheeks. Nobody understands, why can’t anybody understand? The warrior that owned this helmet is lost forever, condemned to live like a phantom, empty without the Creed, without the Way. It’s worse than death. It’s the curse that most of the Covert was forced to carry, to walk this galaxy like living dead, violently stripped of everything that mattered. And the relic of their sacrifice sits in your workshop next to the rest of your junk, ready to be sold off to the highest bidder, somebody who’ll want to hang it in their wall like game they hunted, and how could you do this to him, how could you, how could you do this—

“Find anything yet?”

When the Mandalorian turns, his helmet’s white light locks you in place like quarry. Like guilty quarry.

You squint and raise a palm to shut out the bright beam. “Stars, Mando,” you laugh. “Are you trying to blind me? Turn that off.”

Your words are muffled by the rushing blood that wraps around his ears, loud as a waterfall, but he can understand them. The Mandalorian grips the helmet tighter between his hands and keeps the light on so you can see what he found, what he knows about you. The ugly, festered truth about you.

Once your eyes adjust to the bright light and they’re able to stay open for more than three seconds, you give him a quizzical look. The visor gives you nothing, so you drop your gaze to the hard evidence between his hands.

And you have the nerve to look even more surprised. Furrowed eyebrows and everything to add to the performance.

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

A thousand responses climb into his head in a savage, foul clutter, like army ants. I should ask you the same, where do you think?, how much are they giving you?, was it worth it?, what’s wrong with you?, what’s wrong with this fucking planet? He opens his mouth, but they swarm in his throat all at once and tie a knot around his windpipe. More tears on his cheeks, another attempt at words—nothing.

Finally, quietly: “How could you do this to me?”

The crease between your brows digs deeper, and there’s genuine worry in your eyes. Of course you’re worried, he just caught you red fucking handed. “Mando, I really don’t understand—”

“Me neither,” he hisses through his teeth, “because this is a Mandalorian helmet, and you’re no Mandalorian.” The first insect out, the rest follow like a waterfall, crawling out his mouth. “How long did you wait after I left to steal this from the Covert? An hour? Five minutes?”

Trapped under the light, where you can no longer hide in shadows, you look stricken. The harsh light shines on circles under your eyes, creases where you frown. Bleak features he never noticed before.

Your voice is low and icy when you say, “I never stole anything from the Covert.”

“Scavenge, loot, I don’t care what you people like to call it.” How could you, after everything, how could you.

“Listen to me,” you say steadily, but your eyes are hot coals and your jaw is set, your own anger rising. Good. Masks off. He wants to see who’s been hiding under his noses these nine days. All those fucking months. “I didn’t take a thing from the Covert. I have no idea where that helmet came from.”

The Mandalorian is barely listening. He’s heard more than enough lies for two lifetimes, he sure as fuck doesn’t need yours. Instead, he focuses on the one thought that manages to float in the red sea of anger and despair. He holds on to it like an anchor, clutches it until his palms bleed, but truth hurts.

“Duma.” He doesn’t ask this time around—he tells you. He knows and there’s nothing you can do about it—nothing he can do about it. Greef Karga’s words shine painful light on fog. Boiling beskar…did you take her up on that deal? “You’re selling it to her.”

“Stars, of course not.” The stoniness of your features melts for an instant, hurt revealed underneath those layers. You look devastated, tired. Maker, you’re good. Those hours of sabacc are sure paying off. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“How can I believe you?” he snarls, his head suffocating in dark quicksand—grief, anger, betrayal all clogging his nostrils, making his head throb. How could you how could you how could you. “When I know what type of people sprout from this planet, I make a living hunting them. I know you—” his voice breaks, but the words keep flowing and he hardly hears them “—I know the kind of company you keep, I know you have no principles, I know you can’t commit to shit—”

“Commit?” you snap, face hardening cold and twisted like the magma outside, but he knows too well what lies beneath the surface. Lava, hot and bubbling, your anger as raw as his. Rawer. “You wanna talk about commitment? I waited for you for five months!” The light from the helmet no longer makes you squint, but it turns your eyes red and watery. “You left. You left me here to starve through a fucking siege that you caused—”

“I came back for you!”

That gives you pause. Then you shake your head. “No, you came back because that piece of shit official asked—”

“He asked to meet me in Belderone.” Belderone, same sector as Nevarro, not even ten minutes away in hyperspace. “Told me Nevarro wasn’t safe because there was a siege, so I insisted we meet here.” The memory drains him. How worried he was about you, the type of worried that stirs bile in the stomach. How guilty he felt. “To see you again. Make sure you were okay.” The Mandalorian looks down at the helmet in his hands, a strange mirror staring up at him. Harsher than the one from this morning. His ears ring, his mouth tastes sour, his rising headache plateaus into an unbearable, incessant throb. A ghost limb aches somewhere in his body, all over it. He wants to leave your store, your planet.

How could you?

Mando doesn’t raise his head to look at you when he walks out the workshop. You don’t stop him when he reaches the main door. You don’t stop him when he walks out to the street.

The sky is jaundice-yellow when he steps outside. Gone are this morning’s blue hues, suffocated by the sickly coughing of a million volcanos, by their fumaroles and their sparks. For all the Mandalorian cares, this planet can burn.

On his way to the cantina to pick up the kid, he stares at the marker that identifies the entrance to the city: that crooked, arthritis-ridden arch. Beyond it, he spots the outline of a ship. A sleek civilian shuttle, probably a rental. The official isn’t stupid enough to fly a Republic starship past siege lines, so if the tiny shuttle fooled Guideon’s platoon in the atmosphere, well, it’ll have to do it again. Tomorrow, they’ll just have to tempt fate and avoid tempting the batallion of Imperial cruisers. Or fly out in the Crest and hope they can jump into hyperspace before imps pulverize them. All he wants is to put as many lightyears between him and this planet.

Din’s head pounds when he walks inside the cantina. The only thought hammering against his skull: How could you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 5…’tis the end

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch @corrupt-fvcker @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @multifandomlife22 @justanotherblonde23 @abysshaven @equalstrashflavoredtrash @16boyfriends-and-me @ihaveashield @dinispunk @bananaagurl @mstgsmy @absurdthirst @cowboy-kylo @roxypeanut @heyitmelexie @readsalot73 @krazykatkay456 @elusive-danger-noodle @lola-wolf @nikkiparthena @lifeisapitch15 @teaofpeach @auty-ren @anewrule @hyp-oh-critical​ @pascaliprincess​ @geannad​ @coaaster​ @frietiemeloen​ @yourbucky084​ @brynnstudies​ @elfwoodfae​

im pretty sure i forgot someone so please message me if i did!

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

22 - Where are you, where are you?

⚠Trigger Warning (Please heed) - Mentions of Alcoholism

His route to the park is easy and familiar, one that Atsumu does every morning. But what’s not familiar about this run is the urgency spurring him on. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut at the idea of you, alone in a park with a brick for a cellphone. Not to mention it’s the middle of the fucking night.

Atsumu can only push himself harder, forcing his feet to move faster as he stomps down on the pavement. He turns around the corner, his destination in sight. He doesn’t even dare to slow down, not content with any rest until you are in his sights. He barrels through the entrance, ignoring the CLOSED AT DUSK sign.

Where are you, where are you? Is the internal mantra stuck on replay as Atsumu scans the park. It is dark as hell and his eyes strain to make out any shapes. He turns to the small playground, and he sees a figure slouching on the old swing set. Pure relief floods through his body, and he gets his phone out and types a quick message.

Atsumu pockets his phone, not waiting for a response before making his way to the swing set. He’s cautious, even though every bone in his body is telling him to hurry, hurry, hurry. Run to her and hold her and never let go. But when he’s maybe the reason for this whole mess, he forces restraint and approaches slowly.

“Y/N?” He doesn’t whisper, but he doesn’t yell. He keeps himself under control, ignoring the adrenaline that is making his hands shake. Atsumu moves closer, and closer, until he’s standing right in front of you.

You look up, and Atsumu can see the pure exhaustion in your expression. Your eyes are rimmed red, and dried tear tracks strain your cheeks.

“Hey Atsumu.” Your voice is hoarse, and you seem to realize it as you clear your throat. “How’d you find me?”

“This is on my morning jog route.” Atsumu is standing, still waiting for any indication or hint on what he should do now. “It was kinda a lucky guess on whether or not you’d be here though.”

You tilt your mouth in a crooked grin, a pale imitation of the one that Atsumu is familiar with now. And the attempt at amusement makes his heart clench uncomfortably in his chest.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry -“

“No way,” you speak up. Your voice is more firm than before, and your eyes match the level of intensity. “I’m sorry. I was an idiot for running away and running out of the house, especially in an area I’m not familiar with.” You sigh, hanging your head. “It was really stupid of me.”

“But I put you in that situation by nearly forcing a drink on you.” Atsumu needs Y/N to understand that this is his fault, and he needs you to realize that he never meant to intentionally upset you. He would rather jump in a pool of ice water than cause you distress. “I was so pushy and demanding, and I wasn’t even listening to you.”

You didn’t reply right away, seeming to mull over Atsumu’s words. “That may be true, but I put myself in the situation in the first place. I came to the party, knowing what college parties are like. Yes-” you hold up your hand to stop Atsumu, who yes was just about to say that it was his fault because he pushed you to come (which was the truth.) “I knew exactly what I was getting into. And yet I still came, against my better judgement and against the advice of my friends. So, all together, this is my fault. I’m sorry you got caught up in my problem.”

Now it’s Atsumu who pauses before replying. You are so adamant on shouldering the blame, not even toying with the idea that others had a part to play (others being him and him alone.) He knows that you both could go in circles all night, pulling the blame from each other. So Atsumu decides to leave it alone.

“Are you ok?” Atsumu inwardly cringes after he asks the question - of course she’s not ok, you nitwit.

You seem to understand the internal struggle that Atsumu is going through and huff a small laugh. “Well, I’ve been better. But I’m not as...upset as I was before.” Images of your panicked and petrified face at the party swirl through Atsumu’s head, and he thinks that saying you were upset is the understatement of the century.

“I’m gonna guess that you’re wondering why I freaked out, right?” Your tone shifts to one of self-deprecation, and you tilt your head down and study the ground. It’s obvious to Atsumu that the conversation has shifted to one that is uncomfortable for you to discuss, and the absolute last thing he wants to do is cause you more distress.

“I mean, ya I’m curious.” Atsumu doesn’t want to lie to you, but quickly follows up. “But it’s none of my business. And I don’t want to force you to talk if you don’t want to.”

“That’s sweet,” You reply. “Totally off-brand for you.”

Atsumu gapes, part at the insult and part at the fact that you can tease him right now. (How are you real?!)

Atsumu recovers quickly and puts on an air of feigned hurt. “I’m wounded Y/N, ya know I’m the nicest guy on campus.” “Ah, yes of course. How could I forget that.” Your tone was layered heavily with sarcasm, and Atsumu was helpless to do anything but stick his tongue out in retaliation. The childish act made you giggle, and for a second Atsumu was able to forget the unfortunate circumstances that brought them to this moment. But you seem to remember quickly and you sigh again.

“I’m a recovering alcoholic. I have been for the last two years.” You don’t seem to realize the tension in the air after your shocking statement. “That was the first time I’ve been at a house party since I’ve been sober and it brought back a lot of unpleasant memories and temptations.”

Atsumu is stunned into silence. An alcoholic? All his brain can picture is middle aged people slumped over bars in the middle of the day and his uncle that his Ma scolds him and his brother about.

All he does is drink and sleep and drink some more. He’s just wasting his life away!

Atsumu thinks that there might be truth to that, and it has sometimes made him hesitate to grab another drink at the bar or at a party. But he knows that he doesn’t have a problem - he’s just a kid at college, wanting to let loose. Being a grown up will come sooner than he wants and that’s when he can be responsible.

“I didn’t think people our age were alcoholics.” Atsumu says after a long enough silence. He realizes that this was probably one of the stupidest things he could’ve said after you shared something obviously personal to you (right behind ‘can I get you a drink’ which oh yeah he did say that tonight, Atsumu you dummy.) But you don’t seem to be offended, offering a bitter smile in return. “Yeah, it’s a long story.”

Atsumu wants to open his mouth and say that they have time, and you can talk if you want, and that he doesn’t care if you’re an alcoholic because you’re still amazing and cool and perfect. But a loud voice behind them stops him from speaking.

“Y/N!” Footsteps become louder as Kuroo, Akaashi, Bokuto and Kenma come running towards you both. Kuroo is paces ahead of the pack and wastes no time in sprinting forward and pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the living hell out of me.” He is holding onto you desperately, arms holding fast and tight around you. Atsumu can see your arms holding on just as hard. “Please don’t run off like that, what were you thinking?!”

“Kuroo,” Akaashi quietly admonishes before coming up to their embrace. “A lecture is the last thing she needs right now.” He doesn’t pull you into a hug, but instead brings a hand up and cradles your head gently. Bokuto doesn’t have the same decorum and slams into the group, sobbing as his arms impressively wrap around you, Kuroo and Akaashi.

“I’m ok, I’m ok.” Your voice is muffled by Kuroo’s arm, but it sounds stronger than when Atsumu found you earlier. Atsumu lets the lingering tension in his shoulders release as he watches the hugging party disentangle themselves, Kuroo and Akaashi stepping back to let Bokuto give you a proper hug.

“Thank you.” A quiet voice by Atsumu’s shoulder makes him jump, but turns to see Kenma watching Bokuto sob into your hair. “For finding Y/N and letting us know where she was.” “Yes, thank you Miya-San.” Akaashi dips into a small bow before standing tall and meeting Atsumu’s gaze. “We appreciate your efforts more than you realize.”

Kuroo is silent, glaring at the ground. A soft ‘Kuro’ from Kenma makes him tear his gaze up and look at Atsumu. His expression is still hard and unforgiving. “Yeah, thanks I guess. You’re somewhat forgiven now.”

“Kuroo, don’t be a dick.” Y/N scolds as she finally releases herself from Bokuto’s clutches. Kuroo whirls onto her, his expression not faltering. “I don’t want to hear any snark from you. You’re coming back with us now, no excuses.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue, nodding in agreement. “Ok fine. Let’s go, I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, well running away in the middle of the night while panicking will do that to a person.”

“Kuro, stop it.” Kenma steps up to the tall man and grabs his hand. “We can talk about it later, let’s go home.”

Atsumu watched Kuroo look down at his boyfriend, nearly a head taller than him. They look at each other, before Kuroo slumps and nods silently. Kenma pulls him forward, making their way to the exit.

“I’m sorry about Kuroo.” You come up to stand by Atsumu, and this close Atsumu can see the bags under your eyes. “When his friends are upset he gets stressed and goes into super-protective mode and he kinda turns into a dictator.” You shrug your shoulders. “It comes from a place of love, and I know he means well. But he shouldn’t have been rude to you.”

Atsumu shrugs too, honestly unbothered by the man’s behavior. “Doesn’t really bother me, I can just ignore him. But I get it.” He turns to you fully, so you are both standing in front of each other. Atsumu really does understand Kuroo’s dickish and mother-henning behavior. He wants nothing more than to bring you into his arms, as if to reiterate that you really are safe and alright. He wants to protect you, care for you, and do everything that he can to make you happy.

(Somewhere in the back of Atsumu’s head he realizes that his feelings are now so obviously beyond friendship but he ignores it for now.)

Before he can wish you a good night and ask for a hug, you pull him in and wrap your arms around his neck. His arms don’t hesitate in coming up around your waist and he takes what might be one of the best hugs he’s ever been given.

“Thank you for rescuing me tonight.” You whisper in his ear. Your lips tickle, and Atsumu has the fight off the full-body shiver that wants to be released. “Does this make me your knight in shining armor?” He whispers back, close enough to your ear that he feels you shiver.

But his smugness is short-lived as you move your face to press a chaste kiss to his cheek before pulling away entirely. “Consider that your first reward then.” You smile (is that a bit of a smirk Atsumu can see?) before you walk away and follow Kuroo and Kenma. Akaashi and Bokuto step in right behind you, Akaashi offering a short nod before turning away.

Atsumu stands, shocked still again, feeling his face burning. He lifts a hand to his cheek, right where it’s nearly burning from the press of your lips. A soft laugh, somewhat incredulous, falls from his lips, and he feels the widest grin spread across his face.

A/N: So now we know of Y/N's stuggles, and some events and behavior is making sense now. At least Y/N is safe and sound now, and it seems Y/N and Atsumu are getting along very well now……Thank you to everyone who has read so far! The master list has gotten 200 notes and honestly I cannot explain how much that means to me! 😭 Thank you all for loving this story! Please let me know what you think!

Taglist (urls in bold cannot be tagged! :( I don't know why): @thechaosoflonging @shookykookie30 @ivana-an-iguana @itoshibaby @kamalymaly @fantasycantasy @tanakasimpcorner @strawberry-icecream @automaticthingnacho @internethome @putmeinyourdeathnote @mariachiii

[aliyahsomerhalder]

reckless | j.b.r

a/n: ok guys my first song related fic , italicized is the flashbacks and bold is song lyrics . i’ve never through a breakup and i’m telling you this song hits so hard oh my god. BTW I LOVE SARAH AND JOHN B ESPECIALLY THIS SEASON.

summary: in which it was always going to be sarah cameron (a fanfiction based on the song reckless by madison beer)

warnings: angsty, john b being a bad boyfriend, bad writing, kinda long, suggested cheating

pairing: john b x gn!reader , john b x sarah cameron , mentions of kiara carrera

hey, this is a story i hate

and telling it might make me break

but i’ll tell it anyway

you absolutely hated when people asked you how did you and john b breakup, it was not only painful memories but also embarrassing. how are you supposed to explain, ‘oh he chose the kook princess over me.’ , you honestly didn’t need their pity it was bad enough that your best friends did.

this chapters about

how you said there was nobody else

then you got up and went to her house

you guys always left me out 

“john b, can we talk.” you say quietly taking your head from out of the crook of his neck, he looked down at you worriedness dancing in his eyes, “baby, what’s wrong?” he says returning the same tone of voice you called to him, “you’ve been acting different - like distant.” you say looking anywhere but his eyes and scooting away from him slowly, “…distant, what do you mean?” he says concerning covering his features. you sigh, “if there’s someone else, then tell me don’t-” you start, “wow, wow, wow! what are you talking about i want you and only you.” he says pulling you back into his chest, comforting you. after a few second relaxing in his embrace and he pulls away and gets out the bed gathering his things, “w-what are you doing? i thought you were spending the night?” you say confused, “oh, um, yeah change of plans. sarah needs me right now, family issues. i love you, i’ll see you later, yeah?” he says already halfway out the door. “…ok, see you later then.” this would be the fifth time that week john b had ditched your plans to help sarah with ‘family issues.’.

i still have the letters you wrote

when you told me i was the only girl

you’d ever want in your life

i guess my friends were right

you often found yourself going through old text messages when you felt like your relationship was ending, but you always landed on that one message that he sent confessing his feelings, he was too nervous to say it so he texted it to you even though he was right met you. you remember melting over and crying because it made you so happy, it was the start of something great, or so you thought. the moment kie noticed the difference between the once lovesick teens and said “maybe it’s just not meant to be - people fall out of love all the time, i just don’t want you getting hurt.” you had brushed it away, not believing what she said. you guess she was right.

each day goes by and each night i cry

somebody saw you with her last night

you gave me your word “don’t worry ‘bout her”

you were chilling at the chateau and john b was taking a shower, his phone kept dinging and you couldn’t resist the urge to check it, thinking it was jj. you open the phone and saw a group of messages from no other than sarah.

sarah: i need you.

sarah: just tell her it’s another family emergency.

sarah: i promise she won’t find out, please. just right now i need you to focus on me.

without thinking your fingers type back before realizing what you were doing.

john b: what for? she’s at my place?

sarah: my god, i just need to see the only person that cares about me.

those messages making you snap back into reality, the ignorant truth finally taking place. you left, no excuse just went home and when you finally got home the truth settled and you cried. the next day, you got a message from kie with a picture of john b and sarah all coupled up on the HMS, and an apology written under it, you took a screenshot and sent it to him ‘what happened to don’t worry ‘bout her, john b?’

you might love her now, but you loved me first

said you’d never hurt me, well here we are

oh, you swore on every star

how could you be so reckless with my heart?

the moment you sent that text your phone was flooded with texts and calls from john b and some from sarah. later that night, you entered your room to find john b sitting on your bed, “what the hell are you doing here?” you say harshly, “let me explain - i didn’t mean to hurt you, i-i love you so so much. you don’t underst-” he said standing up and moving closer to you, you put your hands ups. “no, no, no stay right there. you promised me you would never hurt me, you promised me i was the only one. you loved me, john b. you love her now, not me so don’t you dare say that.” tears spilling from your eyes onto your shirt, you could see john b’s heart breaking. he opened his mouth to speak no words coming out. “how could you be so reckless with my heart?”

[artzee-bee]

Blushy much? Ethan Morgan x Reader

Fandom: My babysitter’s a vampire

Summary: Ethan asks the reader to help him pick out an outfit for a wedding but he can’t help but turn red at everything this amazing person in front of him does

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/N: This site needs more Ethan Morgan x Reader. Hopefully this is somewhat good. I wrote this a while back, edited it twice and I am honestly not gonna bother rereading it now :)))

~~~

“You have so many clothes Ethan! So many and not a single proper dress shirt, for the love of God!” you could not hide the amusement in your voice as you said that. Truthfully, you should have expected that from him.

“Sorry?”

“It’s ok, we’ll work with what we have I guess”

“Look, what about this?” Ethan got up from his bed, reaching for a white t-shirt stuffed deep at the very back of his closet.

“No E, it’s a wedding! You need something more elegant. That shirt is like 5 years old if not older!” and you were right, clearly. Ethan knew that and he suddenly felt bad for even picking it up but he was trying. Almost 2 weeks ago, he had asked you to help him pick out an outfit for this wedding he was going to with his family. You were his best friend and you knew his style better than anyone! Plus, the idea of spending some time alone with you sounded amazing back then, considering the huge crush he’s had on you for so long. Now, however, he felt a little awkward. Not knowing what to say or what to do with his hands.

"So what's the plan?" Ethan broke the silence

Pulling out a pair of black dress pants from your bag, you turned to him "So far, this!"

"Seems solid"

"Not really" you laughed. Everytime he made you laugh, even the slightest of chuckles, made him bloom with joy. He wished he could do it more often. You always laughed with Benny! Not a single sentence Benny said would go without a smile or giggle from you and sometimes Ethan got jealous of that, even though he would never admit it.

"Ok, for now, just put this on'' you handed him the pants and a beige turtleneck. When you did, your hands held onto his for just a moment longer "Trust me, ok?" you said looking into his eyes. In the blink of an eye you were out the door, letting him change in the privacy of his own room.

~~~

"Can I come in?" your voice was heard from the hallway

"Um, yeah. Come in" Ethan was messing with the bottom hem of the shirt. Being the center of attention like that was unusual for him and the fact that it was you who was paying attention surely didn’t help.

"Oh my God you look amazing!!" your face lit up at the sight in front of you

"You think so?" a blush creeped onto the boy's face

"Yes, are you kidding?! You look so good" at this point Ethan didn't know how to hide his face anymore

"Ok, just one thing…" and with that your hands were on his hips, tucking the shirt into his pants. He was caught off guard and didn't really know how to react or where to put his hands so they just hung awkwardly in the air, leaving you room to work on his outfit. Moving to adjust the top of his shirt, you spoke again

"Blushy much?"

He could feel his cheeks turning even more red. You noticed his blushing and while it was clear to him it would happen at one point, he hoped you wouldn’t bring it up.

"I, um…" he couldn't look at you anymore, as much as he wanted to. You were too close and your presence was too much and if you looked at him with those pretty eyes of yours for a second longer he wouldn't be able to hold himself back from saying or doing something stupid.You reached for the brown jean jacket resting on E’s desk chair, a jacket you got specifically for him. Ethan put it on and when he looked back at you, you were smiling from ear to ear. He felt heat rise to his cheeks again and mentaly cursed himself out for not having more control over that.

"Ethan, look at me!"

And he did, only to be met by your piercing glace and gorgeous smile. You didn't say anything for a while.

"How do I look?" he asked

"You look splendid!" God, one more of these compliments and he might just melt through the floor.

"Hey hey hey, look at me!" you said when he tried to stare down at his shoes

"Why?"

"You are pretty Ethan, let me enjoy my view!" you said with a laugh "After all, you've been enjoying yours, haven't you?"

Yet again, his heart sank. She had noticed him staring? Oh Lord, this was going to be the end of him!

"I'm sorry"

"You have something to tell me, E?" you took a step forth, putting your hands on his shoulders and he knew he was over with. No way he could look into your eyes, have you so close to him, and lie about his feelings. With all the power he managed, he whispered

"I kinda like you" but before he could go into full panic mode, you smiled at him

"I like you too"

Ethan was not often left speechless, but right now he could not, for the life of him, figure out what to do with that information. In all this time of being friends and crushing over you, not once had he considered the possibility of his feelings being reciprocated.

"Y-you do?"

Instead of replying, your hands went up his sides, only to tangle around his neck. Your bodies were now pressed together and in one quick motion, your lips were on his. It was a quick peck and it was over before he could realise but you kissed him! YOU did and that gave him all the reassurance he needed. Now full of confidence he grabbed the side of your face and kissed you deeply, his other hand finding it's way around your waist, bringing you as close to him as humanly possible. You kissed him back, passionately and with patience, as if you had all the time in the world. After pulling away, a tiny squeal of joy escaped his lips as he eveloped you in a tight hug, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and you couldn't hold back your laughter.

"I like you" he muttered again, not letting go

"I like you too"

"I never thought I'd hear that"

Instead of responding, you hugged him tighter, swaying both your bodies from side to side slowly until his head popped out again. He looked deeply into your eyes

"C-can I kiss you again?" he stuttered, his cheeks regaining the pick shade they had before.

"Always"

[ohhmyheart5678]

I can see you

Word count: 3.4K

Pairing: Jisung x fem reader

Genre: fluff x angst

Tw: mentions child abuse

Masterlist

**********

Lately the weather has been extremely horrible. You only got rained on everyday, fog being so thick you couldn’t see past yourself even if someone was standing in front of you. Today the fog although still thick , has cleared. “It’s a beautiful day isn’t it?” Your older brother sarcastically says as be burst into your room. “Yeah, absolutely positively wonderful.” You roll your eyes, placing the phone on the bed face down on the bed. “I was actually just talking to Nova about how shitty the weather is out here” you sighed. Nova was your bestfriend that moved about a year ago.

You guys still kept in touch every single day but you were so jealous of how nice and sunny and warm it was currently where she lived. “It seems like the closer we get to Halloween the weirder the weather is here” your brother Damien furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms before leaning against the doorway. “On the contrary brother, the fog has somehow cleared and I can at least see across the street now…. Kinda, sorta..” you shook you head “never mind that, don’t you start getting superstitious on me Damien” you laughed, squinting your eyes at the tall dark haired boy who still stood in your doorway.

Damien smiled showing off his dimples and crooked teethed grin. Somehow that was his charm. He had a smile that lights up a room, although you would never tell him that. His smile was always contagious. “Now who said anything about being superstitious?” He chuckled. Damien uncrossed his arms and head towards your bed sitting next to you. “So why are you here again?” You never asked nor wanted him to come this far in, yet here he was. “Maybe I just wanted to be nosey” he teased snatching the phoned and standing up to try to unlock it.

He was way too tall to try to reach so you try to make a leap for it but miss. “Damien I swear to god! Give it back!” The tall slender boy laughed holding the phone in the air over his head. “You’re getting way too old for this” You pout crossing your arms knowing that you weren’t gonna get your phone back. Suddenly Damien falls over. “Oh my god are you ok?” You ask between your fit of laughter but Damien wasn’t laughing. “How did you do that?” He looked really concerned and kindve shook up. “What do you mean?” You we’re still coming down from you laugh.

Your brother stands up once more before dusting himself off. “You pushed me! How did you push me without touching me?” He was trying to appear angry but it still couldn’t hide his confusion and slight fear. “Come on you can’t really think I pushed you from all the way over here! Look my arms are even still crossed.” You say showing you finally uncrossing your arms from earlier. Now your brother was getting alittle more pushy but only because it wasn’t making sense. “I felt someone push me.” He states now alot more serious then before.

You roll eyes and scoff at him. “Whatever, you’re losing it you weirdo” He sighs knowing he was just going in circles with you. “I just came to tell you dinner will be ready in an hour” with that he walked off. He had no time to play games with you anymore. Your eyebrows narrowed you were actually a little concerned for him. Did he actually think you pushed him? Was he actually pushed? If not by you then by who, or what?.

Sleeping so soundly in you bed you couldn’t help but feel as if someone was standing over you. “ Wake up!” They whispered in your ear. Your instincts kicked in causing you to immediately pop up and spring out of bed. You searched room but to your dismay nothing was there. You tried to catch your breath, placing your hand on your chest as it risen and fell. “Just a bad dream, it’s just a bad dream” you told yourself but the more you told yourself that the less you were believing.

The fog had cleared but a little more so you took it upon yourself to sit on the old bench on the porch outside your house. You never knew when the fog might come back so you wanted to enjoy this moment while you could. Grabbing you phone and your coat before you walk out the door. “ y/n where are you going?” Your younger brother questions. You knew what questions was coming next but you answered anyway. “Just outside on the porch, nothing special” you smiled placing your arms on his shoulders he looks up at you with his big hazel eyes. “Can I come with you?” And there it was the question you wanted to avoid.

You knew that if he asked that question that you wouldn’t be able to say “no” to him. “Well… I-“ you hesitated not wanting to hurt his feelings but really wanting some alone time which was something you’d rarely get in that house. “Oliver she’ll be back so dont worry. You can come hang out with me in the kitchen and make cookies” now the boy was too eager for his treat to be concerned about you “yay!” He yelled as he ran towards Damien in the kitchen. “You owe me” The tall boy mouthed from the kitchen as Oliver prepared everything they needed for the cookies. You rolled your eyes and completely ignored him, turning on your heels to head towards the door once again. It’s not like neither of you enjoyed Oliver’s company. Plus Damien was Oliver’s favorite anyways.

Closing the door behind yourself , you turned around to see a boy who was sitting on the bench you had previously thought about sitting at. He didn’t look threatening and he wasn’t even looking in your direction. Instead his head was turned looking towards the street on his left side and your right. Still you had no idea who this stranger was and why he sat on my porch. “Who are you?” You questioned. The boy snapped his head towards you with wide eyes. He points to himself to make sure he was who you were talking about. “Yeah you, who else would I be talking about?” there was no one else around but the two of you.

The boy looked taken back almost as if he wasn’t expecting for you to even talk to him. “Wait, so you can actually see me?” I gave him a ridiculous look. “If you’re gonna be some kind of weirdo stranger, I’d appreciate if you would do so on someone’s else’s porch.” You say reaching for the phone in your pocket in case You had to call the police. “I didn’t know you could see me. No one has ever seen me before. I thought you’d walk right past me like you always do.” now you was starting to get nervous. “What do you mean like I always do? It’s not like you blend in with the furniture!” Now you were getting a little freaked out.

The brown haired boy face palmed. “That’s not what I meant” he says frustrated with himself and his explanation. “You have your phone on you? Look me up.” He head notions to your hand in your jacket pocket that was still grasping onto your phone. You were confused but your curiosity ruled over everything. “Name?” You unlocked your phone opening the google app. “Jisung han” he simply says. You hesitate but type in his name anyways. “That’s J-i-s-u-n-g?” You ask while typing. You look up because you were waiting for reassurance only for him to give you a silent nod.

Clicking the search button at the bottom of the screen. Your jaw dropped when you saw what actually popped up on your phone. “Well, what does it say?” He already knew what it said but he needed it to click for you. “It says…. That you died. You died 30 years ago” you look at him in pure astonishment. There was no way you were looking at a ghost. “You are not- are you?” The boy shows his smile finally standing up for the first time since you’ve met him. He puts his hand out. “I know you don’t know me and this is a really weird situation but I would like to show you something if you’d let me” you look at his hand questionably.

In any other circumstances you would be freaked out but somehow you trusted him. You could feel that he didn’t want to hurt you so you took his hand. “Let’s go” Jisung started running dragging you along. “Where are we goi-“ “you’ll see! Just trust me! It’s not far, just around the corner” you tried to keep u with him but also trying to not look like a crazy person running down the street. Jisung was right though , it was only around the corner because before you know it you had already made it there. “A cemetery? This is where you wanted to take me?” The boy still silent and dragging you along took you to a a big tomb stone.

Jisung finally let go of you hand and looked at you silently telling you to check it out. You step up to the tomb stone wiping the moss away so that you could actually see the name. “Han jisung” you read speechless because a minute ago you could’ve sworn that ghost didn’t exist. We’re you dreaming and hadn’t realized it yet? “This smaller one over here is my little sister’s Ji-ho” he sighed. Your eyes widened with the mention of her name. Your brother Oliver had always talked about a Ji-ho that lived with you in the house to your family but everyone always presumed that it was only his imaginary friend. “Hello” the little girl greets you from behind but it only causes you to jump.

The little girl giggles in response. She looked to be around Oliver’s age. “When our parents died we were left with my aunt to look after us.” The sadness in his eyes very apparent as if he was reliving his trauma all over again. “She treated us terribly. Making us do unspeakable things. One day I had saved enough money to take care of both Ji-ho and I, so I had planned to move out. My aunt told me she wanted to cook us one last meal before we left. At the time it seemed and felt weird but I agreed to it anyways. I thought ‘what the hell? It couldn’t have hurt, it was the last time I was gonna see her anyways’ I didn’t know she had put something in there to put us to sleep. She only meant to put us to sleep for a few hours to hold us hostage, but she put too much. Causing us to sleep for eternity” you can see his eyes begin to water as you silently listened to his story.

You go up to him placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him but not wanting to cross any boundaries. You guys had just properly met after all. He gives you a gentle smile in return. Although this wasn’t an appropriate moment for this kindve realization, you couldn’t help to notice how beautiful he was. His smile was so adorable and his eyes were so gentle. “I’m so sorry to hear this jisung. No one should have to go through that” you say , yet again in attempts of comforting him. “It’s ok…she got what she deserved. Five months later there was a gas leak in her house. She never woke up. I would’ve told you everything at the house if she didn’t still live there too” he exclaimed. “You mean she’s still in the house?” You we’re concerned for Jisung and Ji-ho.

Now they were still stuck with her forever. “Last night she tried to possess you in your sleep. Humans are the most vulnerable when they’re asleep. Their guard is down so it’s easy to manipulate them. She told Ji-ho she wanted to know what it felt like to be a young lady again. Ji-ho told me and I rushed over to your room to find her standing over your bed. She knew I’d try to stop her but it luckily I was too fast for her. That’s when I told you to wake up.” This was a lot of information at once and you tried your hardest to keep up.

Now that he told you what really happened you knew you weren’t crazy. “Thank you for saving me” Jisung blushed trying to hide his face by looking down. You didn’t know that ghosts could actually do that. “Y/n! Y/n!” Damien and Oliver called out. They sounded panicked looking for you. You had forgotten that you told them that you were only sitting on the porch and now you have disappeared. “I have to go!” You told Jisung and he nodded understanding the circumstances. “I’ll meet you at the house” he says before he gives a slight wave and Ji-ho joined him.

You run through the cemetery gate, closing it behind you. That was only just in time because your two brothers stopped themselves in their tracks once they saw you. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere, we were so worried! Why are you even out here, especially in the cemetery of all places?” Damien was concerned yet very confused. I had to think fast and on my feet. “It’s national respect the dead day. I came to give my condolences to all the lost souls here.” You told them hoping they wouldn’t question or look it up.

Both boys looking at you questionably. “I never understood you y/n” he shrugs it off before walking back home. Damien decided the best thing to do was to not ask any further questions. He didn’t fully believe you but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the real reason you were out here. “We came out to tell you the cookies were done. I wanted to know if you wanted some” Oliver showed you his pumpkin shaped cookies holding up to you as far as he possibly could. “Wow did you make these yourself? They look so cool!” You inspected the cookie the 8 year old wanted you to so desperately see.

He smiled in contentment “with a little help from Damien” he says proudly. “Well I can’t wait to eat them! I’m sure they taste as good as they look” at least you hoped so. Oliver knew you were the brutally honest one of the family so he knew he would get a truthful answer from you when you did decide to try the cookies. Once you arrived home the small curly haired boy ran to the kitchen to grab the cookies. He was eager for you to try them. You couldn’t help but laugh at his cuteness. Oliver run towards you with the tray in his small hands. “Be careful don’t drop them, and don’t fall!” Damien says causing Oliver to slow down. “Don’t worry Olly I’ll come over to you!” You said waking over and grabbing a cookie off the tray.

Your face twisted and contorted and you saw the smile slowly fade from the young boy’s face. “Just kidding.” You laughed and Oliver exhaled a breath he was holding in the moment you took a bite. “I’m not a fan of pumpkin flavor but this is actually really good Oliver! Good job! May I have another?” You asked and nods in agreement “mhmm! Im happy you like it y/n” the 8 year old beamed. “I’m gonna take these up to my room. Let me know if you need anything ok?” You tell him with the one and a half eaten cookie in your hand.

On your way up the stairs your brother’s next words is what stopped you in your foot steps. “You think we could make some for mom and dad when they come back?” Oliver asks causing the room to go silent. Our parents weren’t dead but they sure as hell were never home so they might as well be. Thankfully both you and Damien could leagally take care of Oliver or else your very nosey neighbors would’ve called child protective services by now. Who knows where the hell those two were but last time we saw them Oliver was five. “Yeah, I guess so.” The older boy didn’t know how to tell him that you guy’s parents weren’t coming back anytime soon.

They were even like this when you and Damien were kids. You barely saw them, having to fend for yourselves even as children. Thankfully you and Damien had each other and you’re so glad Oliver had the two of you. Continuing to walk up the stairs you look up to see ji-ho already standing at the end waiting patiently for you . “Those smells really good” the brown haired girl motioned to to orange cookies in my hands. “Do you want one?” I stretched the one uneaten cookie towards her. “I wish I could, but I can’t.” Ji-ho gave you a really sad look

It truly broke you heart. She looked so cute in her yellow dress and her yellow bow placed perfectly in her long brown hair. “I’m sorry. That such a stupid question.” You shook my head in disappointed in yourself for even asking such a thing. “It’s ok you didn’t know” she reassured you even though you still felt terrible. She followed you quietly into your room. You sit next to her on you full sized bed and she smiles and just looks at you in admiration. She looked as if she really wanted to say something but was holding onto it. “My brother thinks you’re beautiful ” the 7 year old girl states.

Jisung suddenly appears wide eyed as if she had embarrassed him. “Ji-ho please leave the talking to me” he nervously laughed. The two laughed at him as he tries to quiet the little girl that let his secret go so carelessly. “It’s ok jisung I actually think you’re pretty cute too.” you gave him a shy smile and he returned a not so shy smile right back. “This is nice but I would like for y/n to help us cross over. I think she can help us “ Ji-ho didn’t want to spoil the moment but they had bigger fish to fry. “Cross over?! Already? I just met you guys, I know it’s selfish but I don’t want you guys to leave just yet” the concern very apparent in your eyes.

Jisung sighs sitting next to you on the other side of my bed. “I know it sucks that we’ve only met just now. I wish I would’ve known you when we were still alive I would’ve asked you to be-“ Jisung stopped himself. “Unfortunately I would have to cross over eventually and although you and your brothers are really nice people. It’s better for ji-ho and I to cross over before we get too attached. It’d be less hard that way” The boy looked down so he could look you in your eyes anymore. You knew he was right though. How selfish could you be? He’s been trapped here for 30 years and yet you were trying to keep him up for longer.

You’d hate to see them go but it was for the best. The souls needed to be at rest. You put on a brave face and jolt up from your bed. “Ji-ho I’ll do this but can you promise me one thing?” The little girl looks at me wondering what I would ask of her next. “Before you got can you tell Oliver goodbye. He doesn’t have much in his life it’s gonna hurt when someone else he cares about leaves.” She smiles and nods. “He’s the bestest friend I’ve ever had.” She says and that was enough to set everything in motion. “Ok then, we start tonight.”

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