#my memories are fuzzy so bear in mind with this

[lonelimbless]

What was your earliest Rayman memory? Mine was during the early 2000s where my old friend brought a copy of Rayman Advanced a GBA port of Rayman 1 and I was hooked.

Never beat it tho then I randomly saw Rayman 2 and got into that. Never had a chance to play Rayman 3 but I had a PS2 demo disk of it that I played nonstop

I don't really know which one was more early but I could remember that I used to play Rayman Raving Rabbids GBA and Rayman Advance - the former being more recognized for me while I basically gave up on the latter. I did gave Advance a second try in recent years but then gave up again because... well, it's a Rayman 1 port and the DS was not in the best condition due to age. There was also Rayman 3 which I never got to finished, probably because the disc was scratched up from what I can recall.

I don't remember how old I was specifically but I was pretty young at the time when I first played them. There's also Legends + Origins I played and those were the only Rayman games I've completely played through normally.

(also, I know this is unrelated but: Advance is my least favorite of the Rayman games I've played bc, separating from the fact that it's a Rayman 1 port with its difficulty, it's the "oversaturation" and the soundtrack that sounds worst than nails on chalkboard is what made me dislike it. I'm not gonna bash it because it is a GBA port after all but I'm just saying.)

[littlesparklight]

Pissed off I had to get an idea and had to write it down. Anyway, something something about Odysseus, the Hesiodic children by Kalypso, and what he might be pushed to contemplate in the direst of straits.

He was content to merely recover, at first.

Seventeen days tossed at sea, starving and thirsting, had been hard, and Kalypso's cave was well-appointed, the goddess-nymph herself welcoming and soft. A respite after such despair. A soothing of both mind and body, in food, in sleep, in her soft arms.

But a year passed, and unlike with Kirke, he didn't need Polites to urge him to ask Kirke to aid them in leaving. Kalypso, however, ignored him. She might well have missed his musing at first, spoken in half-sleep desire against her breast one night; he had been distracted, and so, perhaps, had she. But when he presented the request days later at breakfast, she blinked, staring at him with large, luminous eyes, blue-gray like the storming sea, and then put a cup of wine in his hands.

A full year later many more requests voiced, her stomach was curving under his hand.

He left her cave for the day for the first time, refusing intending to stay away.

But while her island was a gentle respite, and he had seen many bushes and nut-bearing trees, and a fair few rabbits earlier (they were providing the meat she served at meals; there were no other animals aside from birds and fish in the shoals around the shores), when he went looking to make himself a meal near sunset, he could find nothing. The next morning, nothing, either.

The third day, he went back to Kalypso, and she welcomed him like he hadn't been gone.

He left the next morning, but unwilling to suffer an empty stomach and carving away at his strength, he comes back at night. To her table, and, even though he doesn't want to any longer, her bed.

There was a winter storm tearing at the cold, gray sea, not yet into the third year, when Kalypso gave birth.

"Your son, my Odysseus," she proclaimed as she came into the main room of the cave, tired but practically singing, a glow about her as she handed a swaddled bundle over. "Nausinous."

The infant was an infant, small in his arms. He didn't look like Telemachos, Odysseus was sure, but memory was a little fuzzy on the matter. He sat there, staring down at the sleeping boy, until dark lashes fluttered open. Huge, luminous blue-gray eyes meet his with the unfocused wont of babies, and Odysseus was relieved. The boy really didn't look like Telemachos.

That was what he told himself, anyway, as the months passed.

As he saw - though he tried to ignore him and Kalypso, but he had to go back in the evenings after the weather and season turned and he could flee for the day outside once more - the infant grow, past the age he'd last seen Telemachos. Those luminous eyes remained, declaring firmly who the child's mother was, and that made it - easier. But Nausinous had thick, curling dark hair and chubby cheeks and---

"Papa!"

The delighted cry cut through the air, and Odysseus stormed out of the cave to avoid his tottering infant son attempting to walk to him.

He had never gotten to see Telemachos try to walk. He'd just about begun to crawl when the second muster was called.

Hunger and a comfortable place to sleep ever drew him back to Kalypso's cave, no matter his attempts at avoiding the cave's inhabitants. He could not avoid the child in truth, and it was hard to ignore him, to harden his heart against those huge eyes and chubby little fingers whenever they shared a table. Nausinous was quickly put in his own chair in preference of his mother's lap (he'd made it himself, Kalypso seemingly not realizing the boy couldn't sit in a regular chair just yet and growing impatient with the boy), and he was the one to dry off child-sticky chins and cheeks, he was the one to have to put the boy to bed. Odysseus knew Kalypso was partially forcing him into doing this by ignoring the child intentionally - he knew she wanted him to spend time with their son - but she also seemed to have lost interest quite quickly, as Nausinous grew out of his first few months and into his first year.

He could not imagine that happening with Penelope, and after that there would also be Eurykleia. But here there was only he and Kalypso, and Nausinous couldn't take care of himself.

"Hi."

Odysseus choked on a wet, half-groaning sob, dragging a hand down his face. Nausinous plopped himself down on the sand beside him, chubby, not-yet-five year old legs stretched out in front of him. He hadn't expected the boy to come all the way over here, but he was a stubborn child. And maybe he was realizing his mother didn't have much patience for him; those huge eyes seemed to be everywhere, Nausinous more quiet than he talked, watching. Odysseus didn't want to think it, but it reminded him of how both Eurykleia and his mother had described him as a child.

Had Telemachos been like that at Nausinous' age? Was he still so? Was his nature something else entirely?

"You should go back," he managed, sucked in a breath through his nose. It pushed back the tears. Kalypso was pregnant again. She'd told him this very morning. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Papa's here," the little boy said, patting the sand into a vague tower, but they were too far up on the beach for it to hold shape. "Why?"

"… I'm missing home."

"Home?" Nausinous looked up, those huge, luminous eyes impossibly piercing for a child not quite yet five, and this was an infant, a child, yet Odysseus' heart quavered under the stare, reminding far too much of his mother.

"I came from elsewhere, before you were born," he said shortly, because he wasn't going to sit here and talk to a little child about what he missed, of Ithaka, Penelope and his son; what he was missing as the years passed - Nausinous' growing an aching reminder of that fact, and Kalypso's not-yet showing second pregnancy.

Kalypso named their second son Nausithous.

Odysseus felt like he was drowning though he was breathing sweet, clear air, ever salty with the sting from the sea. He ended up shouting at Nausinous the once, to leave him alone; to get back home, and then he regretted it as he watched the child grow pale, his eyes even larger, and try to hold back swimming tears. Regretted it even as he resented not knowing if Telemachos had ever looked like that, resented it even as he caught up with the sobbing boy and lifted him up in his arms - he was getting heavy. Regretted it, because it's not Nausinous' fault he was here, that either of them were were. If anything, it was his fault the boy was here, caught between a father weeping on the beach and a divine mother growing ever more distant as she cooed over the babe-in-arms.

And then Kalypso said she was letting him go.

He didn't believe it at first. Made her swear an oath, but she swore it willingly and gave him everything he needed to build a raft and hope sung in his breast for the first time in years.

At least until Nausinous came to watch, standing there quietly for a long while, intently watching, before he spoke up.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going home," Odysseus said, then regretted that too, watching the luminous eyes grow hooded in the edge of his vision. Of course Nausinous would understand what he was saying out of what he wasn't saying. But he couldn't take the boy with him. Kalypso's distant face as she watched Nausinous play with a toy horse he'd carved for their son intruded on his mind. Odysseus closed his eyes. "Do you want to help? I can tell you about Ithaka."

He wasn't sure what he was doing, but distracting Nausinous with tales of home got them through three days without tears, got them through his own indecision. It wasn't a good idea, not knowing what he'd do when - if - they both came to Ithaka unscated, but he couldn't imagine leaving Nausinous here. Kalypso could keep Nausithous - at a couple months, the infant barely knew more than his mother's breast, anyway.

And surely now that she'd had one child she might be more ready to deal with her second. Not that Odysseus had ever considered it possible a woman wouldn't want her own children, whether she had a nurse for them or not. But Kalypso was a goddess-nymph - what did he know of the workings of divine women?

The raft was packed, he was half a breath from stepping onto it, and turned around.

Kalypso caught her breath, her eyes shining, but Odysseus held a hand out to his five year old son.

"Do you want to come with me?"

"Yes!"

The boy flew over, colliding with his legs and Odysseus could only hope this wasn't a mistake. Could only push down the sour resentment over never having had Telemachos do something like this to him, forcing him to try to catch his balance.

"Well," Kalypso said, her voice tight, a storm in her eyes. "If you're taking the one, you can take the other, too."

Odysseus didn't get a chance to say anything as she shoved their baby son at him, and the wind pushed him and Nausinous onto the raft, as well as the raft out into the water.

It went… fine, at first. Despite that he had an armful of baby and a five year old with him.

Then came the storm. Odysseus wasn't sure how he survived that, even less how he still had both children with him, Nausithous against his chest and Nausinous clinging to the mast with him. Especially when he'd had to tear both his and the boy's clothes off to ensure they weren't too heavy and got dragged down.

The problem, in the end, wasn't the storm or the rough sea; there was land so very close by. The problem was that the storm refused to abate, the sea refusing to calm, and he was only a single man with two arms. Nausinous eyes were so very huge, even larger in his tired, pale face. There was no way he'd be able to hold on, and the mast wasn't really large enough to support both of them easily. It kept dipping at the ends, in the middle, with each and every wave. If it sank, they were both lost. And the baby in his arms made it harder to both cling to the mast himself, as well as keep Nausinous from slipping off the mast and into the waters.

Odysseus stared at the distant, yet so very close shore. Stared at his sons, one beside him, one against his chest.

It'd be so much easier if he was alone.

It wouldn't guarantee he would survive, but it would be easier, and neither of these two children were Telemachos.

Nausinous cried out, choking on sea water, as a wave slammed over and into them. Odysseus, heart hammeing in his chest - guilt, anger, frustration - shoved his hand under the surface and caught his son by the hair, yanking him up and holding him there until he was clinging to the wet, water-swollen wood again.

It would've been so easy to not snatch him back.

It would have been so much simpler and easier to let Telemachos die to the plough, too; it would've kept him home for these decades, would've kept him away from the sea, away from all of this. That had been unthinkable then, and he still couldn't imagine doing that to Telemachos now. Odysseus glanced down once more, to the baby and the five year old beside him.

He was so tired.

He had done what he had to, with Iphigenia. And he had done what had seemed necessary, when it came to the son of Hektor; they were, after all, killing all the men of Troy, and letting the son of the man who'd been so troublesome, the heir to king Priam himself escape merely because some had sympathy to his wife, who undoubtedly was a worthy, stalwart woman and mother was foolish. Not safe. He would do what he had to, to ensure Troy could never retaliate.

Others' children, that.

And now, if he only had both arms, he could keep himself as well as Nausinous on the mast more easily. If there was only him, he wouldn't have to worry about the weight on the mast being too much. If he---

"Unhappy man!"

Odysseus almost drowned himself in his surprise when a goddess rose from the sea.

He did not need to follow his line of thought to the end, or his growing willingness to do so for his own sake. Not even when Poseidon sent yet more waves at them; the veil Leucothea gave him helped keep the boys safe and his strength sure enough, even when struggling until the nearby river god at his plea stilled the waters close to his outflow. And as he staggered onto the shore, both children still with him, Odysseus ignored the guilty weight in his heart with grim determination, for he needed to see both to himself and the boys, and could not linger on the revelation that in the end, it wasn't just other's children he might have been willing to sacrifice.

[just-jordie-things]

born to die - itadori yuji

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 8.7k warnings: canon-typical angst and talks of death summary: itadori's fate has been sealed, and he can't bear dragging anyone down with him. especially not her. more info: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angsty confession rain scene, you're gonna eat it up

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ feet don’t fail me now, take me to the finish line // oh my heart it breaks every step that i take, but i’m hoping that the gates they’ll tell me that you’re mine ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Itadori Yuji hasn’t always lived his life on borrowed time.  It used to be normal- as some called it.  He used to be just a boy, with an intrigue in the occult and semi-above average grades.  Back when things were normal he’d never thought much about girls or dating, not seriously anyways.  In the back of his mind he always figured the right person would come along at the right time, and he’d settle down when things worked out that way.

He didn’t know that the right time would cease to exist the moment he swallowed that finger.

At the sound of lightning cracking, Yuji flinches slightly, not having realized just how bad this storm had gotten since he’d stepped out of the dormitories to appreciate the rain.  He must’ve been out here for longer than he thought, but he hadn’t exactly been trying to keep track of time.  One thing led to another and he’d gotten lost in his thoughts, and…

“Megumi, what the hell is happening?”

Her shock was evident not only in the way she’d called out to her classmate and friend, but also in the speed at which she’d brought herself from one end of the corridor to the other.  It was almost as if she’d teleported there.  

At the time, Yuji thought maybe that was her special power.  If the grumpy dude had shadow animals, it wasn’t too outlandish to believe she could warp from one spot to another, right?

He’ll never forget the way she’d looked at him then.  For the first time.

Confusion and panic washed away for the briefest of moments, instead gazing upon him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.  Yuji had confused it at first for recognition, thinking maybe they’d met before and he’d forgotten, but that wasn’t the case.

“Who is that?” 

“This is Itadori,” Fushiguro huffed, more annoyed by the introduction than anything.  “He’s the one with the finger” 

It wasn’t exactly the introduction Yuji would have wanted, but there was no changing that now.  Besides, as long as he was able to say that he met her, that he knew her, he’d consider that more than a blessing.  

(He always sort of had that soft way of speaking about her whenever she came up, whenever he brought her up.  His eyes would glaze over with that dreamy look and before he knew it his heart was getting fluttery and his face was getting warm)

A lot of that fateful night was a blur, especially the parts where his body no longer belonged to him, but when it came to her, it was like the images were crystal clear.  If there was a way for him to enter a memory and relive it- that’s how he’d describe the sensation.

“Is he still passed out?” A voice- Yuji couldn’t be sure if it was Fushiguro or his supposed mentor who’d shown up- asked, but it was fuzzy and distant.

“Seems so,” A gentler one replied.  This one was undoubtedly hers.  “Probably for the best that he rests” She added before he felt the faint touch of fingertips pushing the hair off his forehead.

“What do we do with him now?” It was obvious it was Fushiguro asking, and it was obvious that he was asking his mentor, but it wasn’t the older man who replied.

“We take him back with us,” She piped up, her voice holding a firmness that suggested she’d argue harder if she had to.  “Right?” 

The pause before an answer came was long, Yuji wasn’t sure if he had faded in and out of consciousness, or if the silence really did drag on for minutes.

He’d never told her that he’d heard that small bit of conversation, that he remembered the way her careful fingers had touched him with more compassion than he’d felt in a long time.  Yuji couldn’t decide if it was because he was a coward or if he simply wanted to keep hold of that precious memory all to himself.

Another roll of thunder rumbled through the sky.  Yuji lifted his head to try and make out the dark clouds among the night sky.  Without a flash of lightning it was difficult to make out, but he did always enjoy watching a good storm, even if the darkness made it difficult.

He’d surely been out here for a couple of hours at this point.  It was nearing midnight when he’d crept out of the dormitories to watch the rain, hoping for a peaceful moment.  It was peaceful, the storm, at least.  His mind had gotten foggy after spending too much time within it and he was starting to go down that path he hated.

What if I’d done things differently? Do I really deserve to still be here? How long until we find the last finger and the higher ups have me executed? 

It wasn’t your average person’s derailed anxiety.  In fact, all of the anxieties Yuji had ever faced before being introduced to jujutsu had faded away.  He’d have to think for a few minutes to recall the things that used to be on the forefront of his mind on sleepless nights.

He was certain none of them involved being executed, though.

It was only a matter of time, and he’d known that for a while.  He was quite sure he’d come to peace with it, too.  Or at least he almost had.  He was just wrapping his head around the idea of dying, but as long as he’d helped people before that time came, he could accept it.  He could die at peace knowing he’d done everything he could to fulfill his grandfather’s dying wish.

And then she came along and everything turned upside down- again, and not for the last time.

The relief between the group of four upon finding everyone alive and as well as they could be- not unscathed, but nothing that couldn’t be bandaged up- was quickly replaced by utter shock as they watched Sukuna’s mouth appear on the palm of Yuji’s hand.  There was no time to react before it was gobbling up the finger Megumi had obtained after a hard fought battle.

It’s suddenly so silent you could hear a pin drop from anywhere in these woods, everyone’s eyes focused on the skin that reappeared over the boy’s palm, each hoping their eyes had played tricks on them as the reality of the situation settles in.

Yuji wants to say something, in fact, he almost cracks a joke.  But the words are stuck in his throat and all he can do is flex his fingers into a fist a few times as he processes what just happened.

Another finger consumed is another finger closer to death.

“We won’t tell anyone about this,” She speaks first, gaze lingering on his hand for a moment longer before lifting to Yuji’s concerned expression.  She hesitates again, then turns to Megumi and Nobara.  “No one.  We keep this to ourselves” 

“Not even-?” 

“Not even Gojo-sensei” She cuts Megumi off before he could finish the question.

Nobara gave a solid nod in agreement right away.  She always trusted her say in anything, and would blindly follow her anywhere.  Megumi took a minute longer to catch up, but eventually agreed as well.  The idea of keeping such a massive secret hidden from Gojo unsettled him, but when he weighed out the other options, he didn’t like the idea of Yuji being any closer to death than he was before.

“Let’s get moving” Was all he said, but it was enough for his peers to know he was on board.  Nobara followed after him as he took off towards the direction they’d come hours ago.  Yuji hung back a few steps, not sure how to feel about everyone covering for him.

“(y/n),” 

He called her name softly, as he always did, but it was loud enough for her to perk up.  She sends him a small smile as she slows her own steps to walk beside him at his slower pace.

“I don’t want anyone getting in trouble for covering for-” 

“No one’s getting in trouble,” She assured him mid-sentence.  “And no one’s doing anything they don’t want to do.  It’s fine” 

She was always so sure of herself that it was endearing.  She was a natural leader, even when Megumi tried to form a plan, she had a way of rallying the small group up before any assignment.  Just last week Gojo made them stay behind after lessons to clean the classroom, and she’d found a way to make it into a competition that had them finished in under thirty minutes.  Yuji admired that about her.  Her spirit could be over exaggerated, but it was never phony.

Yuji was at a loss for words, leaving him stuck gaping at her like a fish, which was at least effective in making her laugh.

“You care so much for others- I really admire that about you, Yuji,” She spoke as if she could read his mind.  It had his chest buzzing in that familiar way she sparked.  She looked at him and it was like her eyes were made of the stars themselves.  “But you underestimate how much… others care for you too” 

He’ll never forget the way her cheeks had gone pink after the soft admission.

If the circumstances had been different, he’s sure he would have confessed to her right then and there.  If things were different he wouldn’t have been able to hold it back.  If it weren’t for his reality, he would have loved nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her- well, everything, really.

It wasn’t like he was doing that great of a job keeping his heart in check.  His friends had noticed the way his demeanor changed as soon as she walked into the room.  Megumi may have wanted to ignore the subject just because that was his nature, but Nobara was happy to blurt it out one night when it was just the three of them.

“So when are you gonna address the whole (y/n) thing?” She’d barely looked up from where she was sitting on Megumi’s floor painting her nails.  Yuji had to do a double take just to make sure she was talking to him.

“... (y/n) thing?”

He’d acted like he didn’t have a clue what she was referencing, but truthfully, his heart was already racing.  He hadn’t been that obvious about it, had he?

“C’mon Nobara, he doesn’t want to talk about that yet, leave him be” Megumi had come to his defense, but only sort of, because now Yuji realized that they both knew about his hidden feelings.

Did he not hide them that well? 

“It’s been months!” Nobara barks back, ever so focused on the perfect coat of cherry red.  “He’s gotta be bursting to tell someone! Might as well be us” 

“This is why people don’t come to you with stuff” Megumi huffs.

“You got something you want to say then?” Nobara argues.

“No, I’m just saying-” 

“Then could you shush so Yuji could actually open up about his undying love?”

“Uh… heh…?” Yuji mumbled his confusion to himself, but it was enough to interrupt their bickering.  He glanced between the two with a lost look on his face, waiting for someone to better explain it to him.

“Yuji, if you need some advice on how to ask out (y/n), we’re here for you” Nobara says with complete seriousness.  He knows because she paused in her nail painting to stare him down while she said it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat- which he hadn’t been aware of until that very moment- and wildly looked between both of his friends.

Megumi, although slightly disinterested, seemed just as invested as Nobara in this offer.  Maybe he was just bored of reading, because he didn’t often follow along with Nobara’s antics unless there was something in it for him, but it was clear in his raised brows that he was waiting for Yuji to say something.

And that’s when the pinkette remembers-

“No way man!” He shouts defensively, standing suddenly from his spot on the floor.  “You’re like her best friend! You’re just gonna tell her everything I say!” 

Unceremoniously, Megumi points to himself like the statement confused him.

Nobara huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, you!” 

Yuji had his moments of airheadedness, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.  (y/n) and Megumi had known each other for a long time.  They’d trained together as sorcerers in their younger years and it wasn’t until recently that they even had other classmates.  Megumi wouldn’t openly call any of his classmates his friends- at least not until Yuji begged him to admit it- but it had been clear that the bond he’d formed with (y/n) before Yuji and Nobara’s arrival had been built on an unshakable foundation of trust and respect.

To Yuji, that made the pair best friends.  And best friends shared everything with each other.  Including secrets shared in confidence from other friends.

“So you admit there’s something to be told?” Nobara asks, raising a brow in curiosity.

“I didn’t say that!” 

“You sort of implied it” Megumi said.

“Well then I un-imply it!” 

“Not how that works” Nobara pipes back in.

Yuji groans, covering his burning face with his hands in the hopes that it helps to hide the giveaway that was his blushing face.  It was too late, of course his friends were perceptive enough to have already caught it.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t saying that I-” His stammering only seems to prove the claims made against him, but still, Yuji tries to find the words to explain himself.  Probably because there was no way to explain himself.  His feelings were made clear in his actions already.

“So you won’t mind if I set her up with the guy at the pastry shop we go to then?” Nobara asks, and before she’s completely finished talking, Yuji drops his hands, and his eyes are wide with panic.

“Guy? Pastries? Why? Does- does she talk to him a lot?” 

Nobara glances at Megumi, who’s finally cracked a smile as he scoffs and shakes his head.  He’s trying not to break out into laughter, but sometimes those two just made it too hard.

He wasn’t the kind of guy that shared other people’s secrets.  If Yuji needed (y/n) to know something, he’d tell her.  Tonight was the first night that he’d ever contemplated crossing that boundary.  Just so he could see the way she’d light up at the insinuation that the boy she loved could love her back.

It didn’t seem like the storm would let up anytime soon.  The rain was hitting the ground harder than ever.  If he were to step out from under the awning, he’d be soaked to the bone in just seconds.  Standing in the rain actually sounded sort of nice.  It might have been a relief, even for just a minute.  Or maybe a decent enough distraction from where his mind had wandered off to.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like to think about her.  Hell, so much of his time had been thinking about her that he was starting to go absolutely crazy.  Even if he knew how to stop, he probably wouldn’t have.  He definitely wouldn’t have.

The pipeline from having a crush to being full on crazy about someone was faster than he would have expected.  Yuji didn’t have an exact timeline, but he knew that it wasn’t long after meeting her that he was lost in his adoration for her.  Soft, warm, all consuming adoration.

“These are really good!” Her eyes were lit up and her mouth was full of food as she praised Yuji for the meal.  She was already reaching for another meatball before she’d swallowed the first one.  “Your grandpa gave you this recipe?” 

Megumi and Nobara, who were also knelt around the table, had given Yuji their compliments as well.  But the brightness on his face now outshined his reaction to their five star reviews.  With the wide grin splitting his face and wider eyes following her greedy movements to snatch another meatball.  Nothing zapped his heart with pure electricity like the way she did just by enjoying his food.

He’s nodding his head in a small, slow motion to her question.

“That’s amazing, I wish I knew how to make anything.  Especially something this good,” Her approval was laying itself on thick, but he knew that it was completely genuine.  “I’m honestly jealous, Yuji” 

He laughs, his face pink from the bashfulness.

“I’m glad you like them,” He says, keeping his gaze focused on the one meatball on his plate that he hadn’t even touched yet.  

He couldn’t bear to look over at Nobara, who was snickering through her full mouth.  Or Megumi, who was staring so blatantly between him and (y/n) that Yuji thought he might burn up completely if he met his eyes.

So he keeps his head down, for the love of all things good and sane, he kept his head down.

“Well… I’ll make if for you anytime you want” 

It takes a lot of courage for him to peek over at her from his peripheral, but it’s completely worth the trembling in his fingers.  She’s beaming at him, cheeks full, eyes bright, completely overcome by his generosity and sweetness.

Nobara had to lift her napkin to her face to keep herself from spitting out her food.  Megumi finally shifts his gaze to his food, hoping he’ll at least be able to keep it down with all the lovesick nonsense at the table.

Yuji would have to use both hands to count the amount of times he made those meatballs for her.  Both out of request, and by his own choice.  She definitely was treated to them the most, despite Nobara and Megumi also enjoying the recipe.

But Nobara and Megumi didn’t get them at two in the morning when they couldn’t sleep and wanted a snack.  Nobara and Megumi didn’t get them when they were sick in bed with the flu for a week.

And the two would tease him for it relentlessly.  Not only because the treatment was unfair- they wanted delicious meatballs too! But of course when they caught Yuji up at odd hours to make her favorite meal, they just couldn’t resist calling him out on it.

Yuji would fluster, but it would never matter once he finished his masterpiece and presented them to (y/n).  It was like the entire world would melt away when he was greeted with her pure delight for his food.  He wished he could learn to make something else to give her, but it had taken so long for him to learn this recipe from his grandpa, he worried he’d only mess up a new dish.

His throat starts to feel hot.  Was that tears?  It constricts until he can’t breathe without it burning, and even when he tries to swallow to relieve the throbbing sensation, it remains.  Was he going to cry over meatballs? 

(It wasn’t the meatballs) 

“I have a surprise for you students!” Gojo’s cheery voice wasn’t out of the ordinary, and neither was the little dance of excitement he did as he wheeled up a large box to present to the first and second years.

While no one held any interest, they all remained there, waiting for their eccentric mentor to get the display over with.  No one knew what to expect, but they figured it couldn’t have been important.

But then he steps aside and does a grand introduction, and even though he states Yuji’s name, it’s not until the boy is popping out like a jack-in-the-box that it really settles in for anyone that Itadori Yuji was there.  Alive.

No one moves.  No one even says anything.  Yuji’s grinning and holding his hands up in peace signs as he’s returned to his friends, but even his cheerfulness couldn’t penetrate the unsettled trance the first and second years seemed to be in.

“Uh- Gojo- sensei…?” Yuji glanced towards his teacher for some help, not having expected anything other than a warm welcome.  However, Gojo was also wincing as he took in his students’ faces.

The second years looked aghast.  With Maki’s entire face in a disgusted cringe, as if Yuji was brought back as a zombie.  All three of them seemed more shocked than relieved.

The first years also didn’t appear like they were struck with relief either.  Megumi and Nobara had gone so pale they looked like they could faint at any moment.  With Megumi’s eye twitching and Nobara’s nose wrinkling, they were certainly processing it slowly.

Then there was (y/n).

To this day Yuji couldn’t describe the way she looked at him.  He was certain she didn’t blink once.  Tucked behind Megumi as if his tall stature could protect her from the boy raised from the dead, she looks more small and fragile than he’s ever seen her before.  Her jaw wasn’t dropped like Maki’s, but her lips were parted, trying to form any word that comes to mind.  Nothing comes out.  Her eyebrows can’t stop pinching and relaxing.  Worst of all, the tears that were silently streaming down her face.

Maki was the first to bark out an insult at Gojo for his insensitive display.  Panda welcomes Itadori back as he and Inumaki follow after Maki to come up with a plan of attack before the Exchange Event begins.

Yuji awkwardly climbed out of the box he was still standing in, approaching his friends with a frown.

“I thought you guys would be more excited”

“You- you were dead, Itadori” Megumi’s the first to stutter over his quiet statement.  

Nobara’s chewing on her lip, but some of the color was returning to her face the longer he stood before her, and she was sure that he was going to disappear like a ghost again.

(y/n’s) left to stare with wide teary eyes, still half behind Megumi, still rendered speechless.  Yuji wonders if she even knows she’s crying.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re back.  We’re glad you’re back,” 

Megumi would love it if one of the girls would speak up.  But Nobara still looks like she might be sick, and he hasn’t found the courage to check on how (y/n’s) been taking the last few minutes.  He’s pretty sure she’s crying behind him and he didn’t know how to take that on.

“Just in time too, yeah?” He finishes with an awkward cough.  Yuji can barely manage a nod before Megumi leaves.

Nobara mutters something of a similar sentiment before she leaves as well.   It’s through a cough and a gag, but she tries, and Yuji appreciates it nonetheless.

With everyone else gone, and without Megumi to hide behind, (y/n) seems more exposed now.  Never before in Yuji’s presence had she wanted to shrink down into the earth, and she hates feeling that way now.

“Gojo thought that would be fun…” He starts to explain himself, his hand going over the back of his neck.  “I’m realizing now that it was probably… really stupid, huh- oof!” 

He didn’t get the chance to properly apologize before she crashed into him.  It’s so fast, almost a blur, that he nearly loses balance.  But her arms are wrapped around his middle so tight he thinks even if he had tripped up, she would’ve righted him with her strong hold with no issue.

“So stupid,” She repeats before pulling away, and finally wiping away the tears on her face with the back of her hands.  “You were dead Yuji, you can’t just- just pop out of a box and expect us to think that’s normal!” 

“I’m sorry,” He blurts out the apology before he can lose any more time.  “I’m really, really sorry, alright? I wish I could have told you guys sooner but Gojo-sensei… well, we thought it was right while I was training.  He was just trying to protect me” 

She nods in understanding, but it’s shaky, and it was clear that she was struggling to actually understand  the whole picture.  Yuji couldn’t be upset with her for processing it all slowly.  Hell, he wasn’t all too caught up himself.  He might’ve gotten ahead of himself a bit with the whole surprise reappearance.

“Look, I get it, I… do,” (y/n) sighs, blinking quickly to rid the last of the tears from her eyes.  It doesn’t quite work.  “Just don’t ever be that stupid again, alright?” 

He chuckles a bit, and for a moment it makes a smile crack on her lips too.  It’s wobbly, but it’s enough to warm his heart.

“I know that’s hard for you,” She teases weakly, before sniffling.  “But you’re gonna have to try, alright?” 

“Alright,” He’s still smiling, but it comes out so genuine it’s heavy.  “Promise, I won’t do anything that stupid again” 

Her wobbly smile stretches a little more, before a small laugh escapes her.

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep” 

“I don’t” 

To his luck, he hadn’t done anything too stupid since his little ‘I’m still alive!’ bit.  Well, he was pretty sure, considering she had yet to give him that look she had that day.  Thank the gods too, because Yuji’s pretty sure if he ever had to see her cry like that again, he’d die on the spot.

Unfortunately, this means that Yuji learned that day that he couldn’t live with himself if he was the cause of her suffering.  Seeing her cry was hard enough, but knowing he was the sole reason for it? Even thinking about it now, his throat burned hotter.  His eyes did, too, but he was trying to ignore the blur that kept invading his vision for now.

What the hell was with his emotions tonight? He’d come out here to find some peace while storm watching, and instead he’s standing here reminding himself of everything he’d done wrong in his life.

Falling for someone despite knowing he wasn’t meant to walk this earth for much longer had to have been some twisted punishment for something wicked he’d done in a past life.  

Or was it punishment for carrying the most wicked thing within him now? 

Swallowing that first finger months ago on a whim to save a stranger’s life, was that the day that sealed his fate? 

Was he doomed from the start or doomed somewhere along the way?

Would he be able to live with himself, not for the evil residing inside of him, but knowing that one day he’d have to leave the people he’s grown to love more than anything in the world, and he’d leave them knowing that they wouldn’t see him go without fighting, kicking, screaming- 

Wait, did he just see something move?

Shaking his head of his self pitying thoughts, he blinked away the fog in his eyes and tried to focus on where he could’ve sworn he’d seen movement.  Sure enough seconds later his eyes were bulging out of his head and he was abandoning his safe and dry spot under the awning in order to take off towards the figure.

She’s half jogging, at such an awkward speed Yuji could only wonder if she wasn’t even rushing to get to a dry spot.  Maybe she’d indulged herself in the rain the same way he’d thought about doing earlier.  Either way he’s sprinting towards her and closing the distance in rapid time.

He’s surprised upon his approach when he hears her laughter.  Sweet and bubbly, as if being caught in the rain was the funniest thing in the world.  Even though it had to be intentional, didn’t it? At this hour? She had to have chosen to come outside- much less walk around the campus? 

“What are you doing out here?” He hollers over the loud rain once he reaches her.

(y/n) grins at him, and he swears even with the moon in hiding behind the storm clouds, it reflects it’s light onto her somehow anyways.  She’s already soaked through, the walk from the girls’ dorms to the boys’ isn’t a short one by design.  Even if she was doing a half-jog the whole way over.  Her body trembles like a leaf in the wind and Yuji tries to usher her back to where he was, but she seems to have no urgency about her at all.

“Aren’t you freezing? C’mon, you should get out of the-” 

“It’s alright!” She waves her hand around to dismiss Yuji’s worries.  “I wouldn’t have come out here if I was afraid of getting a little wet” 

(Yuji thinks this is why Megumi used to make fun of her for being a manic pixie dream girl.  He had yet to fully understand the term himself, but this painted a pretty clear picture.  He’ll have to ask Megumi about it later) 

“A little wet?” He chuckles, hoping that if he picks up his pace she will too, but she doesn’t.  “You’re soaked through” 

She just shrugs, and follows alongside him towards the boys’ dorms, where he had been sitting dry just moments ago.  That’s long gone now, his tee shirt and sweatpants felt heavy and cold as they clung to his skin.  His hair hangs almost in his eyes, raindrops dripping onto his eyelashes and making him rub his eyes from the irritation every few minutes.  

It wasn’t very pleasant at all.  He’s glad he didn’t step out into the rain earlier.  Without her company, it wouldn’t have been worth it.

“What’re you doing out here anyways?” He’s still yelling through the rain, but they’re almost to the peace and quiet of the awning now.  “It’s pretty late” 

“You’re up too,” She shoots back like it’s a scold, even though there’s still a grin on her face.  

He’s dying to know what has her so delighted even in these awful conditions.  He’s certain it’s nearing two in the morning- if not later- the storm was so awful they had to yell to hear one another, and now they were both soaked to the bone and shaking like dogs to try and preserve heat.  Honestly, everything about this present moment should suck.  But it simply doesn’t.

“Which I should’ve expected.  Once the storm really started I wanted to come see if you were watching it too.  I know you like that sort of thing” 

His heart does a stupid flutter at the simple fact about him she’d remembered.  It might have also had something to do with her coming all the way here.  In the rain.  In her pajamas.  Her cute hello kitty themed pajamas.

They finally reach the awning and (y/n) gets to work ringing out the hem of her tee shirt.  It’s useless, even with the shocking amount of rainwater splashing on the ground, but Yuji doesn’t comment on it.

“You could’ve just texted you know” He mumbles, hoping the dark would hide the heat that rushes to his face.  Although, it’s somewhat welcomed, as he’s still shivering a bit from being in the rain.

(y/n) looks up at him, stopping her movements to wrap her arms around herself instead.  She was still cold too, but she didn’t say anything about it, didn’t try to rush back to her dorm or anything of the sort.

“Well maybe I wanted to come and see you, too,” She suggests, her smile softening as she gazes up at him.

He laughs, bashfully hanging his head to bite back the smile that threatens to take over his whole face.  (y/n) laughs with him, solely for the fact that she’d gotten him to crack just a little bit.

It had been awhile since he’d acted himself around her.  Maybe only a few days, but there was a notable change.  He wanted to hang out less, was rushing out of class, and training on his own more often.  For someone as extroverted as Yuji, it was easy to notice.  It had been nagging at her for longer than she would’ve liked, but she didn’t work up the courage to address it until tonight.

“Yuji,” 

His name comes out in a soft whisper.  Had she spoken so low while they were still caught in the rain, he surely wouldn’t have heard it.  It hits him now with the force of a truck.  He can’t help but give her every ounce of his attention.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… are you alright?” 

The concern laced in her gentle voice has him worrying, too.  There was some sort of hypnosis involved whenever she spoke to him, as if she had the power to compel him to answer anything she asked.  It was a terrifying ability, however Yuji was convinced she didn’t know she possessed it, so theoretically he was safe.  For now.

When he doesn’t answer right away, (y/n) feels an overwhelming need to explain herself.

“You’ve just been a little distant and… and I want to make sure you’re doing okay.  It’s okay if you’re not, just…” She trails off for a moment, her eyes flickering between his as she tries to decode whatever heavy emotion is sitting behind them.  “Just know I’m here for you if you need to talk, or anything, alright?” 

“I know,” He nods back at her right away.  Of course he knew.  She was the most compassionate person he’d ever known.  Just being in her presence relaxed him to a dangerous state of relief.  That said, his heart was beating at odd intervals as she displayed this much concern over his well being.  “I’m okay, you don’t need to worry” 

He tries to convince her with a smile, but she must see through it, because she gives him a puzzled look as her gaze sweeps over him.  A beat passes before she takes a deep breath.

“Of course I need to,” It’s not intended for it to come out in a whisper, but it does anyways.  “I’ll…” She loses her voice again as her eyebrows pinch together.  

Yuji wonders if she doesn’t know what to say, or if she can’t say what she wants to.  Either way, he waits with as much patience as he can muster for her to finish.  

“I’ll always worry” 

When it finally comes out, (y/n) seals her lips together, pressing them just tight enough that she’s sure they won’t let anything slip that she isn’t prepared to say.  Although if the pounding heart in her chest has anything to do with it, it very well could all come tumbling out before she could stop herself.

The corners of Yuji’s mouth tilt into a frown as he stares back at her with his own concern.  This isn’t right, she shouldn’t be worrying about him.  The logical corner of his brain is raising red flags at alarming speeds.  He needs to find something to say to right this, before she could put too much of her worry in him.  He wasn’t worth worrying about, didn’t she see? He wouldn’t be here forever anyways, there were definitely more worthwhile things for her to focus on.

Instead, all that comes out is a quiet, “Why?” 

(y/n) blinks, as if not understanding what he means at first.  Her arms squeeze around herself a little tighter to preserve warmth, but really she’s only squishing the cold and soggy material of her pajama shirt against her stomach.

“Why?” She repeats in a soft huff, before shaking her head.  “You’ll never really get it, hm?” 

The tiniest of smiles forms on her lips as she looks up at him, gauging his reaction.  Just like before, he’s got that lost look on his face.  It’s cute, the little knot between his brows and the way his frown deepens but only makes his lip jut out in a pout.  One of these days she’ll tell him how adorable this look on him is, but right now she’s only seeking to help him understand the way she feels about him.

“Yuji, do you remember when we all thought you’d died, but then Gojo brought you back?”

“Of course” He answers her without hesitation.

“And I cried at you and made you promise not to do anything stupid like that again?” 

This time, Yuji nods his head back at her.

“I’d never seen you cry before” He mumbles.  Just like earlier, thinking about it makes his stomach squirm uncomfortably.

“Well, that was probably the thousandth time I’d cried over you,” She tells him, and his eyes go wide with alarm.  A short, humorless laugh escapes her as she shakes her head at him.  “Not because of anything you’d done,” She says quickly, already knowing there was going to be a misunderstanding.  “But… we thought you were dead for quite some time, and I… I didn’t know what to do with myself.  I’ve never felt like a larger failure as a sorcerer- as- as a person, when you died,” 

Yuji’s frown worsens.

“I mean I… I was a wreck, it was awful.  I could barely sleep, eat, train- I actually was denied assignments for a while.  Gojo thought I would be a liability.  I know he was just worried about me, but… what I’m trying to say is it was hard,” Her voice strains and she has to take a pause to even her breathing before her emotions could get on top of her.  “Really hard” She adds quietly.

“I… I didn’t realize it was like that,” Yuji mumbles, ducking his head to stare down at the ground.  How could he be so stupid? She’d suffered over him and shortly after coming back he’d started distancing himself without an explanation.  “I’m sorry, I feel so-” 

“No, don’t,” (y/n) steps forward, tilting her chin to catch his line of sight even when he tries to avoid her gaze.  “I don’t need you to apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong, not at all,” She even gives him a small smile to convince him.  It takes a minute for him to commit to looking back at her.  “Yuji, it’s quiet the opposite” 

“The opposite?” He repeats, and she nods her head.

Her nerves have her repeatedly pushing her wet strands of hair behind her ears, tucking the same strands over and over to make sure they couldn’t possibly fall out of place.  Even though with how wet they were they practically slicked back against her head.

“I’m trying to tell you that I care about you, idiot,” She breathes out the insult so softly, so lovingly that even though it’s nature is cruel, his heart accepts it as the most darling pet name anyone had ever called him.  “So I’m going to worry about you… because I’ve lost you before, and I don’t want to go through that again” 

It doesn’t dawn on him how much closer she’d gotten to him until he lifts his head and they’re almost nose to nose.  Her eyes don’t shy away from his once.  They’re soft, and full of his favorite constellations.  He melts little by little before her, until his muscles stop shivering.

“I don’t ever want to put you through that again,” 

He whispers it as if it’s the most hidden secret he could offer her.  With it, his hand reaches out towards her, his eyes landing on the smallest strand of wet hair that she’d missed in her rampant tucking.  It’s clung to her cheek from the rain.  But his movements still just before his fingers could graze over her skin.

“But…” 

He doesn’t have to say it.  They both know.  There’s no sense in speaking about the thing that they never talk about.  It was his burden to carry, wasn’t it?  It wasn’t fair to make anyone else carry the weight of his punishment.  Even if just for a moment.  Even if his back is tired and he longs to love her like a man with no worry about a scheduled death date creeping up on him.

Yuji swallows, hard, trying to keep the unspoken reality just that- unspoken.

But he can’t help but feel as though he owes her an explanation.

“But I’m afraid I’m going to,” His mouth feels dry as he finally tiptoes towards the subject.  (y/n’s) face falls.  “One day, you know I… I’ll be gone and- and I won’t be coming back again” 

As her eyes flicker between his, there’s the smallest of movement in her chin, and incidentally she feels his fingertips ghost over her cheek.  Her head tilts towards the warmth of his featherlight touch right away, leaning into it until the pads of his fingers are pressed into her soft cheekbone.

As Yuji tells himself to pull away and step back, he finds the rest of his hand following her movement, until his palm is fitted over her cheek, and the tip of his index finger is finally pushing that stray hair back behind her ear.

“Are you afraid of death?” Her question is murmured so softly it’s almost spoken right into his lips.

He shakes his head.

“No,” He answers quietly.  “No, I’m not afraid of death.  I’m afraid of… what gets left behind,” 

He’s never shared this with anyone before.  He’d been bottling up the nasty feelings that come with knowing you’ll be executed for so long that it felt criminal to admit them to her now.  Especially when she frowns up at him, and he can see the tears forming in her pretty eyes.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to hurt the people I care about because… because I cared about them” He admits.

When she blinks, a tear escapes, and makes a run for it down her cheek.

“Yuji…” She trails off, a small gasp interrupting her.  “You won’t hurt anyone,” She tells him, even as another tear follows suit.  Just as it slips past her cheekbone, Yuji’s thumb catches it, and he wipes it away without hesitation, determined to keep her from crying over him anymore than she already has.  “We’ll be okay” 

“I don’t want to keep making you cry” He sighs, and she reaches up to grab him by the wrist, squeezing onto it as she presses her cheek further into the palm of his hand.

“You’re not making me cry,” She assures him, a watery smile stretching over her lips.  “I’m crying because- because what I’m afraid of is that you’ll die not knowing how loved you were,” 

His frown finally softens, morphing into faint surprise.

“I would never forgive myself if I didn’t make sure that you know that, every single day, for as long as you live,” She’s stammering a little bit, but there’s a sudden rush that overwhelms her, making her want to spill it all out before it’s too late.  “I’ve never… I’ve never felt so moved by another person before I met you, Yuji,” She confesses.  “I was just… training to be my best every day just because I thought that’s what you do when you’re in my position but then… then you came along, seemingly out of nowhere, and you turned everything so upside down I could barely see what the right direction was,” 

She’s cut off by a giggle that escapes her, and it’s almost out of place, but her entire face brightens with it as she relives that first blossom of feeling he’d sparked in her.  She’d never be able to describe to him exactly what he’d done for her, he’d never understand the way he sparked a purpose in her so deep that it made her feel like she’d finally grown a soul, but she could try.

“Yuji, you gave me a reason to want to be a jujutsu sorcerer, you know?” And he doesn’t know, but she continues anyway.  “You made me not only want to be a better sorcerer, but a better person.  That’s why when you died I felt so pathetic, for not being able to do something, to help you,” She explained.  “You were so bright and- and eager to do the right thing even when it was hard, even though you have every reason to just- just do whatever you want, to leave if you wanted…” 

She gnaws on her lip for a moment as she processes it all herself.  Her heart felt heavy in her chest, but she felt a certain responsibility to tell him the full truth.

“But you didn’t… you… you stayed,” She mumbles.

At this point, Yuji’s too stunned to speak, so he just stood there, frozen, taking in every word she had to say.  He doesn’t want to interrupt her, but he’s also at such a loss for words nothing would come out if he tried.

“I’m trying to tell you I- that I lo-” 

“Don’t,” 

He shakes his head, his hand sliding lower over her cheek, thumb hovering just over her lips, ready to press down if his interruption wasn’t enough to keep her from finishing her confession.  But she does stop, and he watches closely to make sure she doesn’t try again, his thumb still hovering just over her quivering lips just in case.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, quieter than the rain around them.

With the hand she still has curled around his wrist, she pulls his hand away, dropping them at their sides.

“Why not?” Her brows pinch together, her heart aching with the weight of the words still stuck inside of her.

“Because, you…” He tries to give her a reason, but it’s not an easy feat.  It takes a few tries of him opening and closing his mouth before something actually comes out.  “Because you can’t” 

She doesn’t like that answer.  She frowns back at him.

“Yuji, you-” 

“Because if you say that, then when I’ll die, I’ll know it, and I’ll know that I’m letting you down again.  I’ll know that you’ll cry over me, and you’ll- you’ll hurt and I can’t- I’m selfish, alright? I can’t cause that, I don’t want that-” 

“Yuji,” She calls his name again, this time reaching for him with her trembling fingers, clutching at the front material of his shirt to grab his attention enough to cut him off.  “It’s far too late for that now,” She says it with a chuckle and a bittersweet smile forming on her face.  Her head tilts at him, just a short angle, but enough that it makes him feel weak in the knees.  “Don’t you think?” 

No, there’s still time to take this all back, there’s still time to fix this.  There’s still time for him to end whatever is happening now and forget that it ever happened.

The faint nod he gives is only received due to the movement of his wet hair.  He’s not sure why he’s agreeing with her, but the logical corner of his brain was being squandered by his body’s instant reaction to be honest with her, to comfort her, to make everything okay, anything to keep her from crying.

“Too late?” He echoes the words curiously.  

Her smile softens as she nods back at him again, her free hand touching his jaw, so lightly he wants nothing more than to grab her wrist and press her hand into his face until the warmth of her small palm against his jaw was the only thing that he could feel.

She nods back at him, her lips pursing towards the corner of her mouth as she fights the urge to grin back at him.

“Afraid so,” She murmurs back.

They share small smiles and warm cheeks for a moment, and (y/n) becomes a little more sure of herself as she lays her fingers against the length of his jaw.

“But either way, are you gonna let me fess up now?” She asks, and it seems she really was waiting for his approval.  “I walked all this way in the rain, you know-” 

“When you have my number” He reminds her, and she laughs again, quiet and sweet.

“I felt like the walk” 

“During a huge storm?”

“Needed the air” 

“You’re soaked to the bone, you’re still shivering” 

“And it’s so bad that I wanted to come ‘n see you?” 

“I’m in love with you,” 

The bantering ends there.  (y/n’s) eyes double in size, and her shaking fingers finally still against his skin.  There’s no doubt that she heard him, but with how frozen she is before him now it was as if he suddenly lost the ability to understand the language.

Yuji’s cradling her face again, his hands cupped under her jaw and his face so close she could almost tear up again.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says it again for good measure, or just because he couldn’t hold it back now that it was out there.  “I…” He shakes his head, a breathless laugh escaping him, before he can’t help but confess one more time.  “I love you” 

“I love you too” It comes out so fast, as if the blockage in her throat was suddenly removed.  It’s followed by the faintest of smiles at first, timid and sweet- it’s the most innocent he’s ever seen her look.  

(Compared to the twisted grins she’d wear on assignments and even while training on her own, at least)

The shy smile quickly spreads wider, until it’s a goofy and toothy grin.  She can’t contain the spurts of giggles that escape her, because it’s just all too cliche isn’t it? Getting caught in the rain, sharing confessions that might be better left unsaid- and yet they just couldn’t help themselves.

He’s laughing with her, quiet and soft, before his hands drop to her hips and wind around her waist, tugging her against him in a tight hug. 

The sticky wet clothes make them both chilly again, but no one seems to mind.  Not when she’s wrapping her arms around his neck so tight that their wet clothes are clinging together.  They hang on as tight as they can before the wet clothes become too much of a hindrance, and they have to peel apart.

“C’mon,” Yuji’s quick to sling his arm around her waist and pull her towards the door.  “Let’s get some dry clothes” 

She follows him in, keeping as close as she can and walking on the tips of her toes once they’re inside, just to be sure that they wouldn’t be heard.  Even though the thunder was still rolling outside, Megumi was a known light sleeper, and they wouldn’t put it past him to wake up at the slightest creak of a floorboard.

“And something to eat, too?” She whispers, peeking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Yuji nods, smiling back at her.  It was ridiculously late, they surely wouldn’t be getting enough sleep to be well rested tomorrow, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Anything in mind?” He asks as they creep their way through the halls.  The smile she gives him in return suggests that she already knew exactly what she wanted.  Yuji can’t say he’s surprised when she answers.

“Meatballs…?” 

And it might be a ridiculous ask- because it’s two in the morning and it’ll be at least an hour before they could actually eat the meatballs, but Yuji beams at the suggestion, and agrees to the request right away.

“It’s about time I teach you how to make them, anyways” He says softly.

“Yeah,” (y/n) agreed, whispering just as carefully.  “I’d like that a lot” 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ lost but now i am found // i can see that once i was blind // tryna take what i could get, scared that i couldn’t find all the answers honey ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

[f6bron]

for his eyes only. (18+)

pairing : iso x fem!reader

notes : no plot smut, established relationship, p in v, fluff fluff fluff >.<

Iso smirked as he admired two of the photobooth’s polaroids in his hand.

One for him to show off to his colleagues, and one for his eyes only.

The sensation was disorienting, as if reality itself had been folded and twisted, before finally snapping back into place. You and Iso found yourselves standing in a dimly lit storage room, the air heavy with the scent of dust and forgotten memories.

Your head spun with the abrupt transition, trying to make sense of the new surroundings. Iso’s concerned voice broke through the haze, his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury from the intense battle that had preceded your arrival.

“Y/N, you okay?” Iso’s tone was filled with genuine worry as he reached out to steady you, his touch grounding you in the unfamiliar space.

“Yeah, ‘s just a scratch…” you reassured him, mustering a weak smile to alleviate his concern.

“Alright, good,” Iso gave you a soft smile, “Let’s keep moving, ‘kay? We don’t want to linger here too long.” He suggested, his voice echoing in the stillness of the room.

With cautious steps, you pushed open the creaking door, expecting to find yourselves in the midst of chaos or an unknown landscape. Instead, what greeted you was beyond comprehension.

The storage room opened into a sprawling emporium, shelves lined with an array of peculiar trinkets. But what truly caught your attention was the sight of familiar faces plastered across the merchandise that adorned the walls. Looks like it’s a… Valorant merchandise store?

“Whoa… they’ve got merchandise… of us!” you exclaimed, disbelief colouring your voice as you took in the sight of life-sized cutouts and figurines bearing your likeness. More like, your omega counterpart’s likeness.

Iso followed your gaze, a bemused expression crossing his features as he processed the surreal scene before him. “Technically, it’s not us, bǎo bèi…”

You hurried towards the display, your eyes alight with excitement as you examined all the merch, which made a mischievous thought cross your mind.

“Look, Yuyu!” you called out, pointing to a pair of figurines that seemed to mirror the two of you. “It’s us! They even put us together, like a set!”

Iso couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him. A nagging question lingered in his mind— Did the existence of these figurines imply a deeper connection between the two of you in this alternate reality?

And, does that mean the both of you fuck in this universe too?

“I’m gonna take these home,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

“Isn’t that stealing? Even my grandma said—” Iso’s protest was met with a dismissive wave from you. “They literally stole the radianites from our earth. This won’t hurt their pockets.”

Iso conceded, you’re right, they stole from us first. Then, a peculiar contraption caught Iso’s eye.

“Hey, would you look at that,” he remarked, gesturing towards a vintage photo booth tucked away in the corner of the room.

Intrigued, you joined him, curiosity piqued by the big box-looking machine. Iso’s gaze lingered on the faded advertisement featuring your Omega counterparts, with adorable animal filters on their faces.

“I wanna try it.” you said, excitement gleaming in your eyes.

“Go ahead—” he encouraged, but before he could react, you seized his hand and pulled him into the photobooth with you.

You excitedly played with the features on the screen, while Iso stood beside you, watching with adoration in his eyes.

“Yuyu, you need to lean down abit, you’re too tall!”

He chuckled, adjusting his position to fit in the frame.

Sitting beside you, Iso burst into laughter when the bunny filter appeared on his face which made his eyes look round with a fuzzy nose and bunny ears.

“Look at you! So adorable ~” you teased, unable to control your laughter.

He sighed, playing along with your silly antics. Whatever you say, princess.

As the camera snapped away, capturing silly moments frozen in time, you and Iso shared playful banter, making funny faces and striking ridiculous poses. Laughter filled the booth as you lost yourselves in the moment, forgetting the chaos of the world outside.

After the last picture was taken, you eagerly retrieved the photo prints from the machine, anticipation bubbling in your chest.

You giggled at the sight of grumpy Iso in one of the photos, adorned with cat ears and bright pink cheeks.

“Is that too funny for you, hm?” Iso teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you could respond, he pulled you into a tight embrace, pinning you against the wall of the booth.

“Calm down, Yuyu!” you giggled, feeling his soft kisses trailing down on your exposed neck.

You gasped as Iso’s hand moved lower, moving your panties to the side, his index and middle fingers searching for your sweet spots.

“What if someone hears us—” you started, but Iso quickly cut you off with a reassuring whisper.

“The store’s closed, baby,” he murmured, pressing you closer to him. “No one’s gonna know.”

“So wet for me…” Iso smirked, his thumb sneakily rubbing your clit. You tried your best to hold out your moan but you couldn’t handle the pleasure, you threw your head against the wall of the limited space both of you were squeezed into.

You whimpered in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure washed over you in waves.

“Y/N—” his voice filled with longing, his desire, evident in every touch and every kisses. “‘Need you so bad, bǎo bèi…”

Iso pumped his cock a few times before inserting his tip along your wet folds. He nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck, slowly sinking his teeth into your skin as he tried his best to muffle his moans.

“Oh, so good for me…”

“Yuyu, I—”

Iso leaned back, making eye contact with you. “Look at me, bǎo bèi,” he said, his left hand reaching for your right cheek. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nodded, while holding onto his neck as you let yourself succumb in pleasure.

Iso couldn’t remember the last time he felt this horny. The urge to fuck you dumb right there and then, and he thought he’s going insane. Well, he’s about to.

He began to thrust into you, gradually picking up to a rough and unforgiving pace he knows you usually like.

With your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer, he’s impossibly deep inside your fluttering walls. His big hands palming your ass, almost covering them completely while his grip doesn’t falter, strong arms never getting tired.

Wet slapping sound with each thrust filled the room, your fluttering lips hugging each inch of his dick.

“You’re taking me so good, bǎo bèi… Fuck.” He breathed like it’s a revelation beneath your ear.

You let out soft whimpers and moans, thrashing under him as he sped up his pace.

“Y-yuyu, m’ gonna cum…”

You say through watery eyes, your throat dry from the gasping and moaning you’ve elicited as Iso continued to fuck you.

He chuckled, “I know, darling, I can tell.”

Iso knows too well what he could do to you, Iso knows too well when he feels the sweet clench of your walls around his cock.

Before you could mutter another word, the photobooth’s flash went off.

Wait, what?

“Smile for the camera, sweetheart.”

Your attempt to hide your face away from the camera seemed to fail. Iso’s huge hand grabbed your face, keeping you on display in front of the photobooth camera.

His thrusts became rougher and deeper, which made you roll your eyes.

“Only for my eyes only, only for me…”

You didn’t hear his remarks, too lost in the way his tip touched your cervix to care.

(A/N): iso gets freaky… i want him to be the father of my children hehe

masterlist.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 51: Oliver's Anticipation

Prev > Masterlist > Next

tw: burns, mind control, body control

October 1925

Alexander's sire would be here at midnight sharp.

Oliver had woken up in his master's chambers, pitch black and smelling of woodsmoke and book bindings, with cold arms wrapped around him. For just a moment, it felt like a strange nightmare, until he remembered where he was.

Perhaps still a nightmare, but an increasingly familiar and strangely comforting one.

Warming his master's bed really hadn't been unpleasant, though. Oliver had enjoyed a truly restful sleep under Alexander's spell, and with all of his anxiety over the next evening's social call, it was just as well.

There was a sore spot on his chest, and when he reached for it, he found it was protected by a thick bandage. Where did that come from? His memories of the night before were so fuzzy. He remembered fretting by himself, Alexander coming home drunk... and Miss Lily was there too...

"Mmm." Without warning, his master stirred, and gripped Oliver tight to his chest. "Fitz..."

Oliver's chest clenched. "Um, it's me, sir. Oliver. Your thrall."

"Hm? Oh. Sorry. Yes. Don't know what I was thinking." Alexander's grasp mercifully loosened, and he rolled over on his back, freeing Oliver. "What are you doing here?"

"Um -- I think Miss Lily told me to -- warm your bed, sir? I confess I don't quite remember, but if I've broken any rule and you want me to leave, I'll leave right away, sir."

"No, no, no. You're fine. I don't quite remember either, but no doubt I wanted you to be here." He reached out and touched the bandage on Oliver's chest. "Oh, yes. That was why."

"What is it, sir?"

"...A mark. An unfortunate but necessary one."

"A mark, sir?" The wound on his chest throbbed.

"You can see when you take the bandage off. You'll need to clean it, too. We'll both need to get cleaned up before midnight," he said. "And you'll want to eat, as well. I can take care of my own preparations. It's better if he's distracted by my faults, anyway. Less attention for you. Anyway, you should go on."

Oliver looked around the inky black room, remembering what a mess Alexander's floor was. He wasn't even sure quite where the door was located.

"Is there something else, Oliver?"

"I can't see, sir."

"...Yes, of course. Wait a moment, I'll light a lamp." 

Oliver could hear his master fumbling around in the dark.

"This one's out of oil, damn it. Hang on, I know there's another just... here."

The dim flame lit up the room just enough for Oliver to get his bearings. He was surprised at how reluctant he was to roll out of his master's bed. He could get used to this, and he'd probably need to, given how much his master seemed to appreciate his presence or at least his temperature.

Emerging back out into the drafty, cold manor brought Oliver back to his worries and fears, the ones he had spent the previous evening turning over and over, the one that his master's spell had taken away from him for a while. "...Master?" he said, impulsively poking his head back into the door, hoping he wasn't breaking any rule.

"Yes, what is it, Oliver?"

"...If it's not too much trouble, sir... could you help me to sleep again, at the end of tonight?"

"Of course I can," said Alexander, who sounded quite pleased. "It would be my pleasure, any time."

"Thank you, sir."

The thought of his master's spell of bliss helped calm Oliver's nerves enough to attend to his breakfast and hygiene, and to ignore the ticking of the clocks on the walls.

But he was still acutely aware of the fact that his master's sire would be here at midnight sharp.

Breakfast was a sombre affair, as Oliver found himself without much appetite, choking down a few slices of toast solely because he didn't want to face the night on an empty stomach. Hygiene was an equally somber affair, a short and joyless bath and shave. Oliver peeled off the bandage to find a round and painful scar, swollen and indistinct. 

A burn? His master had burned him? Alexander had called it "unfortunate but necessary," and Oliver couldn't figure out what that would mean. He must have been very deeply under his master's spell to not remember a thing.

When he returned to his bedroom, there was a modest blue dress laid out for him on his bed. He donned it and looked at himself in the mirror, heart thumping in his chest.

His master's sire would be here at midnight sharp.

As soon as Oliver descended the staircase, he was met by Alexander, who looked more put together than he had at any other point Oliver had seen him. He was wearing a sharp suit and his mop of hair was neatly combed. Oliver couldn't help but wonder how had he groomed himself without the aid of a mirror or assistance -- but that was hardly the most pressing question on his mind.

"My sire will be here at midnight sharp," Alexander repeated the words stuck in Oliver's hand like a protective mantra. "Here, let me straighten your dress. You have a lock of hair out of place here, too."

Oliver let himself be fussed over. "Sir, can I ask about the mark on my chest?"

"My sire requires his thralls to be branded, and requires the same of me," Alexander explained. "I don't intend to be under his thumb forever, but for now, I must acquiesce to his rules." His face grew even more grim and sour. "That's why I must allow him to drink from you."

Branded. He'd been branded. That little voice buried deep within him wanted to protest about a permanent mark done without his permission, but it was easily overruled. After all, he was here to serve his master forever, wasn't he?

"I understand, sir," said Oliver, swallowing hard. Why was this so difficult for him? It was a  service his master required, and Miss Lily had taught him that his primary purpose was to provide blood for vampires. But Alexander's unease made it impossible for his heart to calm.

"I would provide a spell to soothe you or prevent you from feeling pain, if I could, but he would detect it and make things worse for both of us. Unfortunately, I have to ask you to be obedient once more. Do not struggle against his control, do not lie, and do not disobey."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, shivering as he recalled how it felt when his body moved on its own. "Sir, may I ask another question, one which is possibly impertinent?"

"Of course, Oliver, you have free permission to ask questions, as always. I just may not choose to answer."

"...Why is your sire so terrifying, sir?"

His master looked up at him in surprise, then let out a sharp laugh without mirth. "Straight to the point. An excellent question. One which has often kept me awake through the day." He sighed. "Well, he does have the power to puppet your body against your will on a whim. He can do that to me, as well -- since a sire always has power over their sired. But even that, terrifying as it is, is not the whole of it, is it?"

"No, sir, it isn't."

"He's a traditionalist, of course. He believes that humans only exist to serve vampires and should have no will of their own. But if that's all it were, he'd merely erase his thralls' minds, as some of my kind do," he said. "I've always thought that, despite his unparalleled power, he is simply... miserable."

"Miserable, sir?"

"Miserable and perhaps even lonely. He doesn't allow himself companions among vampires or humans. He only takes pleasure in cruelty. I could almost pity him, if he weren't the greatest threat to me and mine." Alexander once again reached over to fuss with Oliver's dress and hair. "I expect that's not a satisfactory answer, but it's the best I can provide to you."

"It's satisfactory enough, sir." An image flashed through Oliver's mind, one long buried. His father, stumbling in drunk once more, towering over him. He shook his head. No, it wouldn't do to think of that now. He had to be brave.

His master's sire would be here at midnight sharp, and all too soon, the chimes rang throughout the house. One, two...

And one beat after the twelfth chime, exactly in rhythm with the grandfather clock in the library, there were three knocks on the front door.

"You must answer the door, Oliver. I'll receive him in the music room."

His master disappeared before Oliver could respond, leaving his heart to thump out of its chest as he walked to the front door. As he opened it, he found himself frozen to the spot before he could even fully take in what he was seeing.

He caught a glimpse of the man from the ballet as he was forced into a low, uncomfortable curtsy. Alexander's sire was dressed much as he was then, all in black with a long silver ponytail, posture straight as an arrow.

"Good evening, sir," said Oliver, trying his best to keep himself relaxed and not fight against the bonds gripping his limbs. He had to be the perfect thrall, for both himself and Alexander's sake.

"Good evening," said that entrancing voice. If Alexander's voice was like gentle waves washing over his mind, the Maestro's voice was like a metronome, forcing Oliver's thoughts into an inflexible rhythm. "I trust your master is prepared for this social call?"

"Yes, sir, he will be receiving you in the music room."

"Very well. Follow." With a crisp snap, Oliver was marching behind him like a toy soldier at attention, his thoughts racing even as his body's movements were unnaturally precise.

He could do this. He could. He could make his master proud. 

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Thanks for reading! Next week, the conclusion to Oliver's evening.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping

[temis-de-leon]

Day 5 - Kiss on the cheek

Characters: Asmodeus x gn!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: suggestive, they're horny (bonk), established relationship

.

MC felt in absolute bliss, the fuzziness of their pyjama during winter and the caress of their lover’s fingers grazing the curve of their jaw, his body melting into theirs when the short distance between them felt too long to bear.

“Close your eyes”

The room was in complete silence, save for Asmo’s low humming of a tune MC didn’t recognize and the eyeshadow palettes opening and closing. The hallways were devoid of noise and the only thing surrounding them was the very reason they ended up cancelling their plans for the day, a heavy storm that kept everyone trapped in the house for hours.

If not for the demon, the night would’ve been much more unnerving for them. Shadows on every corner, the wood creaking with age and moist and the faces of gargoyles and dragons deformed under a blanket of darkness.

“Open” his soft voice barely reached their ears “Look up”

They stared at the underside of the canopy, trying to ignore the unpleasant coolness of the glue on their bottom eyelashes. Unfortunately, the view came with too many memories of steamier moments and Asmo’s weight on top of them only made their body remember faster. MC felt their cheeks getting warmer by the second and it didn’t take too long for their partner to sit on his heels with a cheeky smile.

“I wonder what you’re thinking about…”

He squirmed, but his body was slightly out of place and left MC yearning for more. His merry expression and his honeyed eyes left them thoughtless.

“Can you blame me?” they managed to say, gaining a delightful chuckle.

“You’re so sweet! I bet if I bite you you’d taste like sugar!”

“Please don’t”

Their words didn’t carry any conviction and weren’t enough to stop Asmo either. MC could only watch in dense silence as the demon got closer and closer, licking his lips and setting the glue and the rhinestones aside.

“But you’re burning up… maybe you taste like caramel instead…”

They felt him nibbling their cheek, then dragging his teeth downwards until they reached their neck. MC arched their back searching for more, but just when they finally got a hold of his clothes, Asmo leaned back and stared at them in thought.

“Why…?”

“My sweet MC” he laughed “So cute and fluffy… like marshmallows”

“Marshmallows?”

“I can try again if you don’t believe me”

His giggles made MC grin and suddenly everything else was forgotten. They briefly wondered how they looked life, makeup halfway done, swooning over their boyfriend with a dopey smile. They wondered how could Asmo still stare at them like that when they probably looked like an unfinished project.

A thunder broke the sky outside, but none of them paid it any mind.

“Let me taste you instead”

Asmodeus raised his eyebrows at the offer, squirming again in excitement, but his lewd expression decreased when MC cradled his face in their hands and brought him down again, turning his head to the side and kissing his cheek softly before biting his cheekbone and kissing the fresh mark away.

He whimpered at the loving gesture and then it was MC’s turn to chuckle.

“So? Do I taste as delicious as I look?”

MC hummed, unnecessarily stretching the silence to enjoy his impatience. He was blushing, teary-eyed, and they knew it wouldn’t take too long before his gaze turned southwards.

“I’d have to try again”

Asmo rushed, ready to kiss them senseless, until MC grabbed his shoulders and kept him in place. His frown was too cute to take seriously.

“Finish my makeup first, though”

Their smile was wide and obviously not innocent, growing even bigger when the demon above them sat on their waist with a scowl and crossed arms. His cheeks were red and MC wondered if that was due to his previous pleasure or his current frustration.

It felt good being the cause of both.

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @beatlebeesstuff

[flowers-in-your-basement]

(retry of my other all hell breaks loose post but this time with more necrophilia) (early read more so ppl dont have to see what they don't wanna)

Sam's starting to look a little weird. It's been 10 days since that son of a bitch stabbed him and Sam isn't waking up. At first Dean just thought he was sleeping, you know, being stabbed takes a lot out of a person. God he knows.

but Sam isn't waking up. He can't be- dead. There is no Dean without Sam. Those years of Stanford were the worst of his life, empty like a zombie. There is no Dean without Sam.

So he's not dead. In fact, he can see Sam breathing. Dean climbs into bed with Sam. Jesus he smells bad. "We need to get you into the shower, don't we sammy-boy" in his mind Sam laughs at him, makes a small noise, twitches in his sleep. Anything.

And well, the world is laying on the bed in front of him. Who's to say that Sam didn't. Thank god he washed Sam all those other nights, washing away blood and urine, shit and dirt from his corpse.

Sam's sleeping. He looks so beautiful that Dean can't help but touch. And Sam isn't waking up, so that means that it can't be that uncomfortable for him. Here his memories go fuzzy. When he comes to, he's pumping three fingers into Sam and he doesn't see a corpse, he sees his brother, 2 and 12 and 24 all at once.

And Sam has to be alive.

When bobby comes in its a shock. Sam's covered in come and blood. when did that happen?

Bobby looks disgusted, like he can't bear to see what's happening. Dean wants to tell him that it isn't his fault, that Sam wants him too, see? He told him it was okay.

[mendeshoney]

apple of my eye, take a bite

A/N: surprise surprise! this is a part two to "a taste of the devine," with a special little halloween twist! to my lovelies, @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech happy halloween babes! the title is inspired by lyrics from the song “eve” by precious pepala

Summary: You and Andrei go to the team Halloween party at a club, and it takes Andrei down memory lane.

Pairing: andrei svechnikov x f!reader

Word Count: 5,120

Warnings: five year age gap, older woman x younger man, fluff, previously established dynamics (including msub x fdom dynamics, switch, mdom x fsub dynamics), smut, semi-public sex (in a club), hints of biting/hickies, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex

Russian terms used (bearing in mind the author does not speak Russian and definitely Google’d these) can be referenced here.

~

“I feel like this won’t make much sense,” Andrei quietly mumbles to himself, adjusting the ‘hat’ of his costume, his eyes casting to the side once he sees movement from inside the closet.

The sliding frosted glass door is closed, so he can only see your shadow as you move around, and he can feel himself start to get antsy.

You’d kept your part of the couples costume a shrouded secret from him, claiming you wanted to surprise him. 

As far as surprises go, he typically liked yours a lot, but given his current predicament, he found himself a little more anxious than normal.

He glances at himself in the vanity mirror in your shared bedroom, running a cursory hand over the fuzzy material of his Halloween costume, and frowning a little at his reflection.

“Kroshka, I don’t-” He starts, cutting himself off and turning back toward the closet when he hears the sliding door open. 

You finally emerge, body in an emerald green mini dress that you’d sewed fake vines onto so that they curled and twisted around your figure, enhancing your silhouette, vines trailing down your shoulder and around your arms until they rested delicately on your wrists. Those beautiful legs of yours donned a pair of thigh high velvet stiletto boots, the color matching your dress perfectly. 

You looked a lot more like that character that Evgeny used to tease him for having a crush on when they were kids, Poison Ivy, than you did the biblical Eve.

Sukin syn.

Andrei’s hard in seconds, heart pounding furiously as his stomach flutters.

Babochki, he thinks. Butterflies.

He laughs suddenly, feeling nervous out of the blue. 

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body a little so he can get a better view.

“I think there’s butterflies in my stomach,” he says honestly, the words coming out faster than he can process, but when you flush deeply, he feels a twinge of satisfaction. 

“You still have a way with words, don’t you?” You tease, trying to look anywhere else but him, and he knows that strategy.

Sometimes, when you’re not sure how to receive his compliments, you try to brush them off, but tonight’s not a night Andrei can let that fly.

He can feel his hands twitching at his sides, and his feet are moving towards you before he even realizes, that familiar gravitational pull too strong to resist.

“Ty vyglyadish' krasivo, lyubov' moya.” He murmurs. You look beautiful, my love.

You smile at his words, his hands coming to rest on your waist and pull you closer. “Spasibo, malysh.” You finally seem to take in his costume, and you giggle lightly. “You look so cute!”

He frowns, brows pinched together. “I’m glad you think so.”

You smile, giggling a little more. “Of course I think so.”

“Remind me again why I couldn’t just be ‘Adam’ for Halloween?” He asks, fingers playing with a fake vine on your shoulder.

“Because no one cares about Adam,” you remind him gently. “The story’s about Eve and the Apple. Adam’s just there.”

Andrei pouts a little, turning back toward the mirror and staring at the apple suit that covers his upper half, the red hat on his head with the apple’s stem and a little leaf, and the dark brown pants on his legs. “I guess so,” he laments, then turns his gaze back to you.

You know him so well at this point that when the corner of your mouth quirks up in a small smile, he isn’t even surprised, and just smiles right back at you. “Don’t worry, shchenok, everyone still thinks you’re sexy.”

“I don’t care about everyone,” he says without a second’s hesitation. “Just you.”

A small flush works its way up your neck and cheeks. “I still think you’re sexy, too.”

Andrei’s heart pounds then, that familiar disbelief that he was able to call someone like you the love of his life surfacing in his chest. He bends his head, pride surging through his veins when you accept his kiss. 

“We should probably go soon,” you murmur against his mouth.

Andrei hums, shrugging. “Or we could stay home. Have our own little Halloween party.”

“Not an option, I’m afraid.” You say, and pull yourself out of his arms to head back into the closet. He watches, completely entranced, as you pull on a pair of thigh high velvet stiletto boots, the color matching your dress perfectly, and he can feel himself start to tent in his pants. 

“Kroshka,” he tries again, the word nearly getting caught in his throat, “Are you sure we can’t just-”

You cut him off by standing, grabbing your small clutch and his car keys, tossing a curt “Let’s go, moye yabloko” over your shoulder as you head to the garage.

Andrei glances at himself in the mirror one last time, offering his reflection a long-suffering sigh, before grabbing his wallet and trailing after you.

~

His teammates don’t laugh as much as he expected, which he supposes is because out of all the costumes tonight, he looks the least ridiculous.

Jesperi, Teuvo, and Sebastian are dressed as Alvin and the Chipmunks - Jesperi was elected to be Theo against his will, Teuvo gladly accepted the role of Simon because it meant he was the smartest, which left Sebastian as Alvin, who claimed it was only fair since his last name began with an ‘A’ - Freddie, Anti, Jacob, and Brett dressed up as Michaelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo, and Rafael from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Brent was dressed as Sully from Monsters Inc, and those were just the costumes he managed to figure out on his own.

There were far too many others for him to keep track of or understand and some were just a headache to look at, so he ended up focusing on the one thing he knew would keep his attention - the way your ass moved in your dress as you walked through club toward the VIP section they’d reserved for the team party.

The girls complimented you on your outfit and assured Andrei that he looked cute instead of silly, and it only made him feel marginally better.

He was still dressed as a giant apple for the night, after all, while his bombshell of a girlfriend looked like a walking fantasy.

After you’d said hello to everyone, the two of you ended up separated, the girls heading out to the dancefloor, some of the guys heading to the bar to grab drinks and snacks, and the rest settling into the VIP section.

Andrei plopped down between Jesperi and Freddie, removing his costume’s hat and putting it on the little table in their section, tuning out most of the conversation happening within the first ten minutes and instead finding himself focused on you and that beautiful dress out on the dance floor.

His eyes were glued to you as you danced, lost in the familiar way your hips moved and how carefree you were. Other people may have needed a little bit of alcohol in them to be so uninhibited, but you didn’t. You never had.

Watching you now, it reminds him of the first night he met you.

It had been earlier this year, when the guys had been having a particularly rough week of games, and they’d gone out to a club to relieve some stress.

You’d been there with some of your friends, and Andrei had been feeling a little bit too confident after a few drinks. He’d locked eyes with you barely ten minutes after he’d arrived and couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole night, couldn’t seem to find the need to wander more than ten feet out of your orbit.

He finally found the courage to approach you after Martinook had all but threatened to send Freddie after you first, pushing off the bar and heading over to you. 

He tried the gentlemanly approach, introduced himself properly by taking your hand, and from that first touch there was this crazy electric wildfire of sexual tension that neither of you seemed to be able to deny. You didn’t seem disturbed by him being five years younger than you, and he couldn’t have cared any fucking less about you being twenty eight. 

He worried for maybe half a second about you not being able to understand him through his accent, but you had no problems with it, even beyond the blaring music of the club. Then, he offered to get you a drink or a bottle of water - whatever you wanted really, he didn’t care - before asking if you minded if he joined you for a dance.

One dance became two, then four, then six, and then the next thing he knew, you both had locked yourselves in a storage closet down the back hall of the club and he had you pinned against the wall, his jeans and boxer briefs around his thighs, your dress hiked up to your waist, thong pulled to the side, and his cock buried so deep inside of you that you had to bite down on the meaty flesh of his shoulder to keep from crying out too loudly. 

You’d fucked twice in that closet before you took him back to your place and fucked another two times. In the morning, you’d managed to contain yourselves in the shower, but Andrei lost all restraint and licked your pussy on your kitchen table until your throat grew hoarse and your legs shook so much your table started to squeak.

He managed to rein it in and take you on a date two days later, and then you invited him out for dinner another three days after that. After about ten dates without any sexual interactions at all, and about a month in total of you actually knowing each other, he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, and you both celebrated when you said ‘yes’ to him by locking yourselves in at his place and fucking like bunnies for about two days.

Andrei had learned everything about what you liked in bed in that first month, and you’d learned everything about what he liked. 

You’d also learned enough about one another that Andrei was pretty sure he’d end up marrying you and having about five or seven kids within the next seven years, because there was no possible way he’d ever manage to find someone as brilliant as you ever again.

And at this point, you’d barely been dating a year. 

He’d say he was probably moving too fast in any other circumstance, but he was pretty sure you were on the same page.

He feels a nudge in his side, and Andrei glances over, momentarily shocked because he’d completely forgotten his friends were dressed in costumes, and the orange fabric around Freddie’s eyes nearly scared him shitless for a second. 

“You want another drink? The chipmunks lost a bet so they’re buying for the night.” Freddie says, gesturing to where Jesperi had gotten up and was now writing down orders on his phone. 

“Sure,” Andrei says. “I’ll take one.”

Jesperi points to where you are on the dance floor and asks Andrei “One for her too, right?”, and when Andrei nods, Jesperi gives him a thumbs up before stalking over to the bar.

He has a feeling it’s going to take Jesperi awhile to put in the drink orders for the whole section, so Andrei resumes watching you, reminiscing on the day you first met and chiming in on the conversations around him every now and again.

You finally wander over with the girls once the drinks arrive, and Andrei immediately opens his arms, feeling content when you settle into his embrace and onto his lap. He hands you your drink, careful to keep your hair out of your face when you take a sip.

There’s a sound of fake retching, and you and Andrei cut your eyes to where Jesperi’s making faces at the two of you. You roll your eyes, settling into Andrei a little more, and he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you to him.

“Jealous, KK?” One of the other girls asks, and Jesperi’s nose scrunches.

“Hardly.” He scoffs. “I’m basically watching my older sister make out with one of my best friends. It’s disturbing.”

Andrei feels you stiffen in his arms, but Jesperi’s already turning away, and Andrei squeezes you gently. “Zajka?”

You turn to Andrei, a slightly stunned expression on your face. “I…does he really think of me that way?” 

“What way?” Andrei asks, bringing a hand up to gently caress your cheek. 

He can see the shock starting to settle in a little more. “Like an older sister?”

And though Andrei knows they’ve never really talked about it, because it’s not really a topic that would come up, he knows for certain the answer is yes. 

Especially after the way you looked after everyone during the beach trip this past summer, all Andrei heard for weeks during training camp and preseason was how much everyone missed your cooking, people asking how you were doing, and demands for him to bring you around more.

Since you’d barely been together for six months at that point, he didn’t push you about it at all because he didn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, even though he knew you liked everyone just fine. It was another thing he felt like would make it feel like this was going too fast, even though you’d probably be on the same page about this, too.

“I think a lot of them think that way.” He admits. “Pretty sure Freddie thinks of you as a younger sister. Burnsy too, to be honest.”

There’s a thoughtful look in your eyes now, and after a beat, you nod. “I didn’t know that.”

“Is that…is that okay?” He asks, slightly unsure. He doesn’t know that he’s seen you this…contemplative before.

You turn to Andrei, and give him that dazzling smile of yours he loves so much. “Of course it’s okay. Just took me by surprise a little.”

He nods, sitting up a little more so he can press a kiss to the base of your neck. “They love you as much as I do.”

Andrei’s surprised when his kiss makes you shiver a little, and he pulls back a bit, raising a brow at you.

You flush, suddenly bashful. “I just…” He raises a brow when you seem to be trying to find the words to say, and you gesture with your head towards the dancefloor. “Feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

Realization hits Andrei and he smiles, nodding. “It does, zajka.” 

A sly, cheshire smile works its way onto your lips, and Andrei feels his heart begin to pound in anticipation. “Let’s see just how well you can tempt me a second time, moye yabloko.” 

You’re downing the rest of your drink and getting up from his lap faster than he can blink, and then you’re heading back out to the dancefloor with the girls. 

As Andrei watches you walk away, he catches the wink you send him over your shoulder before you disappear into the crowd, and he smirks to himself. 

Da nachnetsya igra.

Let the games begin.

~ 

Drink in hand, Andrei makes his way through the crowd, his puffy apple costume coming in hand by parting the crowd a little as he moves - he even has the ridiculous hat on again - until he finally reaches where you are in the middle of the dance floor. 

He taps gently on your shoulder, and when you turn around, your eyes look up at him curiously, a small smile on your face.

Andrei leans down so you can hear him better, saying “Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, and I thought I’d introduce myself and bring you a drink.”

It’s not exactly what he said that first night, but it’s close enough. So what if he skipped a few cheesy lines?

You lean back a little, staring at the drink in his hand before taking it with a small amount of hesitation. “Thank you,” you say back, leaning in like he had. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“I’m Andrei,” he says, holding his hand out.

You take it, shaking it once when you tell him your name in return.

The nostalgia has those butterflies resurfacing in his stomach, and he tries his best not to smile like a total idiot. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” You say, then smirk a little at his costume. “You know, I’m pretty sure I was warned to stay away from you.”

He laughs a little, stepping closer into your space. Bending down so he’s right next to your ear, he rests a hand on your waist and says “One bite won’t hurt.”

At your responding chuckle, Andrei feels goosebumps ignite on his arms. “I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s different this time,” he promises. “It’s just us. And there’s no punishment.”

“Sounds a little too good to be true,” you say, pulling away a little and taking a sip of your drink, blinking up at him from under your lashes.

Andrei rights himself, shrugging. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” He gestures with his head towards a hallway that he’d confirmed about ten minutes ago had both a storage closet as well as what looked like an unused office full of boxes, but still came equipped with a couch and a perfectly solid desk.

He makes his way toward the hall, waiting for all of five minutes before you appear in front of him, the glass your drink was in now empty save for the cherry stem he already knew had a knot in it.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joke, taking careful steps toward him. 

He holds a hand out, pleased when you take it, and he leads you toward the end of the hall. The door to the storage closet is on the left, and the door to the empty office is on the right. He places you in front of him, his hands resting on your waist from behind.

“Pick a door, zajka.” He says softly. 

You hum a little, taking a step forward. You open the door on the right first, but there’s a small noise that leaves you, and Andrei’s confused when you don’t take a step inside. You open the door to the left, and the second you see the closet, you spin around, smiling wickedly at him before pulling him inside.

He flips you the second he crosses the threshold, shutting the door and locking it before pinning you against the wood, placing his arms on either side of your head. “Didn’t like the office?”

You shake your head, tilting your chin up, waiting. “Not the same.”

“I would’ve liked fucking you on the desk.” He admits, the image of it still fresh in his brain.

“You didn’t fuck me on a desk till I moved in with you.” You remind him.

He smirks. “Oh I remember,” he promises. “Hard to forget the time you made me come so hard I almost passed out.”

You shrug. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

He drops one of his hands from the door only to bring it up between you, running a finger down the side of your neck, to your collarbone, your chest, before teasing at the neckline of your dress. 

“If you rip this dress before you get me in your bed, moye yabloko, you’ll be sorry.” You warn, but even so, your back arches off the wall, pushing your chest into his touch.

Andrei smirks. He’s never been one to shy away from his punishments.

Instead, he trails his hand down your dress and to the hem, pushing it up your thighs until he can reach under it to bring his fingers to your core, pleased when he finds the fabric of your thong already soaked. 

“May I, moya koroleva?” He asks sweetly, eyes focused on where his hand lingers. 

You nod, breath hitching a little when he pulls your thong to the side and runs his finger between your folds. “I want it like the first time.”

Andrei blinks, eyes darting back up to your face. 

That first night was intense - and beautiful - but also not the kind of sex the two of you have most often. He likes to please you, likes taking his time warming you up or worshiping you the way he’s learned that you like best. Other than the occasional quickie, you two rarely ever just get straight to it.

“Can you take me like this? Right now?” He checks.

“I can,” you say. You reach forward, fingers finding one of the belt loops of his pants and pulling him forward. “Please, malysh. I don’t want to wait.”

His heart beats hard against his ribcage. 

It’s rare that you’re the one pleading for him, that you’re the one asking for it this way, and he can feel the way his breath starts to stutter as he tries to maintain his composure.

The second he nods in agreement, it’s a race to get inside of you.

In a hurry, the two of you work to unbutton and unzip his pants, shuffling them down his thighs along with his boxer briefs. His aching cock springs free, and before you can reach for him, he’s bending down to lift you up and pin you against the wall, helping to wrap your legs around his waist. 

He balances you in one arm as you press your weight into the wall, reaching down to line his cock up to your entrance. The second he can feel it catch, he presses in at the same time that you angle your hips downward, and he pushes until he’s seated all the way inside and his hips press yours against the wall.

You take a gasping breath, head lolling back as your eyes squeeze shut, arms flying to his shoulders and nails digging into the skin as your pussy grips him tightly. 

“Zajka?” He asks, worried. “Are you okay?” 

You nod, breathing harshly through your nose. “Move, malysh, spasibo. I need you.”

Andrei has a sudden feeling he’s going to have a hard time trying to remember to breathe if you keep talking.

Carefully, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock rests inside, and then he pushes back inside in one brutal stroke that seizes the breath from your lungs once more.

“Just like the first time,” he reminds you, before setting a rough and steady pace. 

Your moans fill the room in seconds, and Andrei doesn’t care anymore about who can hear you or who can’t. 

Especially when he knows you couldn’t care less about it either.

This time, you’re not at Freddie’s house and worried about making a good impression. 

You’re here, with him, pretending like it’s the first night you met all over again, except this time there’s less to be cautious of for both of you.

Although…

If you do want it like it’s the first time again…

“You can’t moan too loud, kroshka.” He says, pressing in closer to you as his strokes slow a little, dragging himself in and out of you with precision. “Don’t want anyone to hear how pretty you are when you’re dripping on my cock, do you?”

Recognition flashes in your eyes like a bright flame, and you capture your lip between your teeth, nodding obediently. 

“Need something to bite down on, my beautiful Eve?” He murmurs, gathering you up in his arms and pushing until he’s flush against you, tilting his head to expose his neck. “Do it, it’s okay.”

You wind your arms around his shoulder and lean forward, and when Andrei feels your lips on his neck, his whole body shivers, groaning at the way he can feel your teeth bite down before licking over the wound, then sucking a bruise into the skin.

That’s another thing the two of you don’t give a shit about anymore. 

Andrei’s all too proud to wear your marks like a badge of honor, so as you suck on his skin, feeling his pulse beneath your tongue, he knows you take notice of the way his cock drives deeper into you.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to manage a second round in this closet, too desperate to fill you up and then drag you home so he can do it over and over again.

When his hips stutter a little, you finally pull away from his neck, leaning back to examine your work, smiling proudly. “Such a pretty little thing, moye yabloko.”

Fuck.

It is just like the first night all over again.

Andrei remembers the dirty things you whispered to him then, too. He remembers how he’d never heard something so sultry, so sexy in his entire life. It somehow made him hornier, made him feel like he could go insane with how much it made him need you even more in that moment. 

It was like you knew exactly what to say and what to do to drive him insane, to make him feel like he would do anything to prove to you just how good he could be. 

“You’re the same good boy you were that first night, too,” You taunt again when he doesn’t respond, and a sharp hiss falls from his lips when you tug his hair harshly, prompting him to tilt his head up so he can look at you.

His knees nearly buckle, and he thrusts hard into you once in warning. 

“You can’t say things like that,” he breathes out, focusing on fucking into you in deep, hard strokes. 

“Why?” You breathe out, bringing your hands from his shoulders and tossing the hat of his costume off of his head before sinking your fingers into his hair. 

He shakes his head. Any other man might be embarrassed, but that’s never been a thing between the two of you, and especially not when you’re being intimate. 

“It makes me…u menya babochki.” Andrei admits, trying his best to stay focused. I get butterflies.

“Babochki?” You ask, tone just shy of a whine, slightly mocking him. “Do I give my pretty shchenok butterflies?”

He looks up when he feels your hand on his cheek, staring into your eyes, and he can feel himself getting closer to his orgasm just looking at you. You run your thumb over his lips as they part, resting the pad of it on his tongue before his cheeks hollow, sucking gently on the digit. 

You smirk, eyes rolling back in your head when Andrei gives a particularly hard thrust, causing your back to arch a little more and your body to press further against his. He can tell you’re getting closer, can read all your little tells. 

The way your chest starts to heave, how he can see your nipples starting to poke through the fabric of your dress, the way your body starts to go lax, thumb slipping from his mouth and hand moving to rest on his chest instead. 

“You gonna come for me?” You ask, tone somewhere between taunting and begging. 

Andrei nods furiously, welcoming the molten lava spreading across his spine as he finds solace inside of you. “Da, moya koroleva.”

“Gonna come inside of me?” This question is definitely a taunt. “Gonna fill up the pretty stranger the very first night?”

“I did it once,” he reminds you. “I’d do it again, but only for you.”

Your blinding, satisfied smile takes over your face and Andrei feels his heart fall to your feet in adoration. “Come with me,” he begs.

You nod, tilting your hips a little until he’s hitting that beautiful spot inside, and your eyes flutter shut, pussy squeezing tighter around him.

He loses all control after that, cock pounding into you in a frenzied, nearly manic pace, trying so hard to keep going for you while also chasing his own orgasm. 

When he feels you lock him in that familiar death grip, your come drenching his cock and making the slide oh so right, his eyes squeeze shut, and a loud, satisfied groan leaves his mouth as he throbs, spilling inside of you until he feels like he can’t breathe right.

For a moment, the two of you can only remain like that - you slumped and sated in Andrei’s arms and his hips pinning you to the wall. 

When he feels you begin to squirm, he carefully pulls out of you, then sets you back on your own two feet as gently as he can. He’s quick to locate a stack of paper towels behind him and grabs a few to help you clean up before pulling your thong back into place and tossing the paper towels into a trash can near the door.

“Do I look okay?” You ask, fussing with your dress.

Andrei nods, letting out a content sigh. “Beautiful as always. What about me?”

When you glance up at him, Andrei’s expecting the same, but then you blink, and a surprised laugh practically barks out of you. It startles him a little, and your hand is flying to cover your mouth, eyes glistening with delight.

“What?” He presses, starting to fuss with his own costume. “What is it?”

“Drei, how hard did you come?” You ask through fits of giggles.

“You said like the first night, so pretty hard.” He admits, unashamed. “Why?”

“You’re…you’re…” You can barely say it through your laughter. After a second, you take a deep breath, calming yourself, and then smile at him happily. “You’re as red as an apple.”

If he - apparently - wasn’t already red, he definitely would be by now. 

“How bad is it?” Andrei asks, rubbing at his face absently. 

You shrug. “No better and no worse than after a shift on the ice.”

He pouts, brows furrowing. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“It’s normal,” you explain. “It might be tough to explain away when we say goodbye to everyone in a minute, but it’ll be alright.”

“We’re going home?” He asks, already excited. 

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a little. “Pretty sure that’s what we did the first night, too.”

He smirks, stepping closer to you and pulling you to him by your waist. “We did a lot of things that first night. And the next morning.”

Your own cheeks flush now, and you nod. “That we did.”

“Feel like a trip down memory lane, kroshka?” He murmurs, already leaning down.

You rise up on your tiptoes, lips brushing against his when you say “I think that sounds lovely, malysh,” before kissing him softly.

[softspeirs]

gosh, these prompts are just so fluffy, it makes me want to cry! 🥹

maybe these for whoever you're feeling in the moment:

❛ what, am i not allowed to look at you? ❜

❛ seeing you happy is all that matters. ❜

A/N: First, you asked for this so long ago, I'm sorry it took so long! I wanted to explore a lil reunion for Rosie and Grace after (one of the times) his plane goes down and he makes it back. I did a smidge of research for this, but to be clear, this isn't the time he lands in Russia that we see in the show. This is an earlier mission where he crash lands in France - p422 (? I think?) in Masters of the Air if you want to read more. I tweaked the dialogue of that second prompt just a tiny bit, hope that's okay. These Heartbeats Clear Masterlist

Seven. Wounded.

When Robert Rosenthal opens his eyes, for a moment he doesn't remember where he is. There's a brief unsettling moment of sheer panic where he tries to get his bearings, tries to sit up and tries to remember what's happened to him in the last 48 hours.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down." A voice says. American. He sighs in relief.

An unfamiliar worried face swims into his vision. "Major Rosenthal?"

"What--" His throat hurts, his entire body hurts, and he stops trying to talk.

"You've been asleep for almost two days."

"Where am I?"

"Please, try to relax. You're safe. You're in Oxford."

Now that he hears the words, he remembers loud, urgent voices, he remembers flashing lights and the feeling of being manhandled around. It doesn't do much to quell the fear rising in his gut. "My crew."

"They're fine. Some wounded, but everyone's going to be okay." She moves around the bed with quick, sure steps, checking his chart before meeting his eyes again. "You've got a broken arm and a few broken ribs, Major. Now that you're awake, we'd just like to monitor you for a few hours and then we can talk about a transport back to your base."

He nods, thanking her, and she smiles before disappearing down a corridor, leaving him to his thoughts. His mind is slow, fuzzy, but there's one thought blaring like an alarm louder than anything else - he needs to find a way to call Grace.

He swore to her a long time ago that he'd never give her a reason to think he wasn't coming back. He has no idea if anyone knows he and his crew are here.

He also has a panicked thought that he won't be able to fly again, not if they were helped the French resistance. He forces himself to take deep breaths and tries to beat back the anxiety fluttering in his ribcage.

"Rosie?" A familiar voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he tries to sit up before pain laces up his spine, making him wince.

"Croz?"

Harry's worried face peeks around the curtain. "Jesus." He says, making Rosie wonder what he must look like.

"What are you doing here?"

"We got a call. Wasn't going to let you guys walk back to Thorpe Abbotts, was I?" He takes a few steps closer, scraping a chair closer to the bed before sitting down. He looks exhausted. "I volunteered to come get you."

"How long--"

"It's been five days since the mission." Harry rubs a hand over his face. "Can't begin to tell you how lucky you were, Rosie."

It starts to hit him, how close he was to not coming back. He doesn't even remember the plane going down, not entirely. He has no memory of being rescued. He feels strangely guilty. He's the one that's supposed to lead and help his crew when he can.

"Have you talked to a doctor?" Harry asks.

Rosie shakes his head. "Not yet, just a nurse. Obviously I can't do much with this--" He struggles to shrug with his injured arm in a sling.

"It'll be fine. Desk duty until you're well."

"Croz, you know I hate--"

"You can't fly like that, Rosie. Technically you should be pulled from duty altogether."

Rosie clenches his jaw, takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. It's not Harry's call, even though he knows he's right. He's going to do everything he can to get back in the seat again, even if he has to get demoted to do it.

.

He discharges himself so he can leave with his crew and with Crosby and hitch a ride back to base. The doctor fixes him with a stern look as he does it, but he must see the determination on Rosie's face, and just tells him to take it easy for the next few weeks.

Fat chance of that.

"Stop looking at me like that." He grouses to Harry as they bounce along the road back to Thorpe Abbotts, Rosie biting back a wince with grit teeth as the road jostles his muscles uncomfortably.

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

Harry has long stopped trying to convince Rosie of anything, just like Rosie has stopped trying to tell him to get more sleep or eat more. They're all just doing whatever they can to survive at this point. The cost of it all is secondary.

"I'll save the lecture for Grace." He mutters.

Rosie's head snaps up. "Is she--"

"Worried sick? Probably, but you know her. Once she knew you were alive, she went from worried to furious."

"Not like I had any say in the matter," Rosie counters, voice dry. "Didn't try asking them not to shoot at us, though."

Harry smiles, shaking his head. "You know what I mean. Angry at the circumstances. Frustrated with herself for being emotional. That's Grace."

That's Grace. And isn't that the truth. Rosie can't help but smile softly, because he knows Harry is right - he's going to get an earful when he gets back. But he must be a masochist, because he's almost looking forward to it - it means she cares. Not that he's ever had any reason to doubt that.

The truck rumbles along for miles. Rosie hadn't thought about how long it would take them to get back to the base, but he tries to close his eyes and get relatively comfortable until they arrive.

He hears the noise of the gates and opens his eyes to find the sun nearly down. There's a big commotion as they enter and he takes a deep breath to try to get his bearings.

"We'll go to command first, and then to the infirmary. You'll probably have to sleep there." Harry says groggily.

They're let out in front of the command building, Jack Kidd already there waiting for him along with the Colonel. Both look like they haven't slept in days. A few paces behind them is Grace, and the sight of her softens Rosie, makes his shoulders lose their tension. He meets her eyes and tries for a smile, but he thinks it comes off as more of a grimace.

Grace, for her part, is restraining herself. She feels a mixture of relief and anger wash over her at the sight of him, arm in a sling and bruises and cuts littering his handsome face. He looks exhausted, and she's sure she looks much the same.

She knows being angry is the wrong thing. It's not his fault he got shot down, after all. Really, she's angry at herself. She's angry at her heart, at the way it plummeted to her feet when she heard the news that his plane didn't come back, and she's angrier that every day since confirms to her what she already knows: she's in love with him.

And that's as terrifying as it is liberating, because there's a very real chance he could break her heart, whether he means to or not. (She knows that Robert Rosenthal doesn't have a cruel bone in his body, but sometimes, in war, the choice isn't his)

"Jesus Christ, Rosie." Jack says quietly, voice heavy. "I--" He takes a deep breath, and seems to remember what he needs to do. "It's good to see you back. We need to go to interrogation."

"The crew isn't ready--"

Kidd shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Rosie, but the quicker we do this, the better. It's already been a few days."

"Who's back?"

"Maddox, Rubick, Palmer, and Hartos. The others won't be back until tomorrow, but we'll debrief them then. I don't want to wait an extra day."

Jack looks over his shoulder, and Rosie is sure he catches an apologetic look on his face that's there and gone quickly as he sees Grace there. "Twenty minutes, then go to the infirmary." He says as he turns back to Rosie. "Let's go."

The interrogation is as grueling as Rosie expected. He's glad to see some of the members of his crew again. Despite his brain telling him that none of this is his fault, his heart can't help but beat wildly, flooding him with guilt as they give their account of what happened after they went down, when Rosie was knocked unconscious.

It feels like hours before he's trudging towards the infirmary, luckily only a few steps away from the interrogation hut.

The door is opening before he arrives, and Grace's worry-filled face fills his vision. "Grace." Her name leaves his mouth without his permission, his tone exhausted, but full of emotion.

She swallows hard. "Major." Her tone is relieved and... frustrated. He's not surprised, but he hopes she'll spare him Nurse Grace and instead give him the Grace he's been dreaming of for days, though he knows it's selfish, knows that she has a job to do.

He sees the doctor hovering behind her. She opens the door wider so he can come through.

All he wants is to be alone with her. He wants to tell her he's sorry, he wants to tell her that she was on his mind every second, that she is one of the reasons not only that he gets in the seat, but the reason he comes home.

Home.

The exam is quick, thankfully. They took good care of him in Oxford. The doctor leaves Grace to administer pain meds and do the paperwork, and it's only when they're finally alone that he sees the emotion on her face, though she's trying valiantly to hide it.

With each injury she catalogues, her face hardens. Her eyes meet his as she tilts his face up to dab a cooling salve on a bruise forming on his orbital bone.

"You have a look on your face." He says quietly.

"What, I'm not allowed to look at you?" She asks, and he can see how she's trying so hard to hold it together. Pretending. Pretending this is all business for her. He wishes she wouldn't.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, throat dry from overuse.

"Please don't apologize," she says, expression suddenly stricken, as if she realizes what she must look and sound like. "You didn't--" She stops herself, eyes closing for a moment as she gathers her professionalism. "I'm just so relieved you're alive." She whispers. "I'm not angry at you. I'm upset... I'm angry at the war. At these circumstances. That you're hurt--" She stops herself.

He wishes more than anything he had the use of both his arms. He settles for reaching out with one hand, thankful when she doesn't hesitate to take it, lacing their fingers together.

"I never want you to worry." He says, and it's the truth, even though they both know it's pointless.

She shrugs. "Comes with the territory, Major." She squeezes his hand. Her voice lowers to a whisper. "Worry happens naturally when you love someone."

His pulse pounding in his ears is all he can hear. He feels like the world tilts on its axis and then rights itself, all at once.

"Maybe it's too soon or too big for me to say it, but I don't want you to fly ever again without knowing it." She says, voice strong this time. He loves her for it.

He loves her.

He tugs her a little closer and she seems to understand, her face softening as she stands as close as she can, leaning down to meet him halfway. He tries to tell her how he feels when he kisses her gently, mindful of the black eye he's sure he's sporting and the soreness of his cheekbone. His hand leaves hers in favor of cradling her jaw, and the sigh that leaves her is music to his ears.

"Of course I love you." He murmurs, barely a centimeter between them when they break apart. "Probably have for a long time, Grace."

She pulls herself away, just for a moment, and starts to tidy up the triage area where he sits with her. He recognizes what she's doing and gives her the space she needs to gather herself, to come to terms with whatever she needs to. He's relieved at least that the smile hasn't left her face.

"Winning this war and seeing you happy are just about all that matter to me anymore." He admits, and watches as she stops what she's doing to turn back to face him.

"I just want to be sure I'm not a distraction for you."

He shakes his head. "No."

"Rosie, I'm--"

He shakes his head again, cutting her off. "Grace, you don't think I'm going to let you tell me you love me and then push me away, do you?" He tilts his head to one side.

"That's not what I'm doing. I promise."

"Then come over here and let me kiss you again."

She smiles, and he swears to himself that he's going to be responsible for that smile on her face every day, for as long as he can help it. He has no doubt that they have some trials ahead, but they have each other, and sometimes the will of the heart is stronger than anything else.

[dedenneblogs]

HEARTBREAK HIGH S2 ANALYSIS PART 1 (buckle up this is going to be a doozy)

so... it's out (the trailer).

my excitement cannot be expressed...

BUTT! today, i will be doing my iconic mouse analysis of this trailer (this is actually the first time im doing something like this so it's not rlly iconic BUTT it will be soon) with the most comprehensive inspection i can using under 2 minutes of video as a basis....

with that said lets

BEGIN!

the heartbreak highers are back for another "cursed" term....

so glad to see the trio back in action. like. actually so happy. MIGHT explode from excitement... as always, their outfits slaylay.

the boyfriends... friends? boys? BUGS??? found out on hh s2!

these goons are back... gayer then ever,,, seriously. when will these two have an episode long make out 'sesh? unlikely, to much dismay....spoiler alert...you'll see....

MISSY!!!!! and sasha, i guess

SPOILER ALERT AGAINNNN missy looks like she'll be more prominent in this season so...WIN!!!!

also why is she mewing who is rizzing up

and new on the the chopping block-- Rowan Callaghan!

we'll get to rowan when we get to rowan

in other (more important) news-- SHE'S HEALING! HARPER IS HEALING!!!

i... *sobs* i she's growing her hair out oh my GAW...... she's getting better...she... there's a lower chance she'll cock-block amerie (oh but she'll get cock [spoiler-- again!])

butt let's not celebrate just yet-- it's still "everyone hates amerie" up in this joint, smellas

may as well... shot them. huh. well. pop off, i suppose... (amerie asserts her right to bear arms-- truly patriotic coming from an aussie!)

...touché coming from the (still) most hated student in heartly who only adds salt to the wound by... using the pink 'ildo from s1 as a mic... chat... she's lost it.

(unrelated but in the background-- MISSY AND MALAKAI!!! they were building up a relationship between them in s1 and how she and her brother (i think? 'memory's fuzzy) helped him heal from the shit he had to go through in s1 and even better connect him with his aboriginal roots. i hope to see more of these two interact come april 11th and i binge the whole season)

ALSO also ANOTHER new character-- Zoe Clarke!

we will ALSo get to zoe when we get to zoe

anywho-- cue: AMERIE'S ONLINE HARASSMENT ARC! becuz every show needs one...unfortunately. Give a cold welcome to Bird Psycho, heartbreak highers (we will get to bird psycho when we get to bird psycho)

(who ever is doing this shit is a bitch but either way: "you dont get to be the hero" shut your goofy ass up)

oh that's gore. that's core of my comfort character.

ok so maybe this bird psycho cuck isnt fucking around because clearly he's gotten to our girl ams :(

(dw they uh...take her out for ice cream. after this. proabably.)

moving foward-- STAND BACK I SAID STAND BACK WEIRD GIRL QUINNI

oughh im gonna be sick. of course. OF COURSE SHE WOULD GO FULL SHERLOCK HOLMES TO HELP HER BESTIE.

yeah anyways with this in mind she'd totally try and crack the fnaf lore wouldn't she. wouldn't she.

she's slay she's girlboss but at the end of the day she's a weirdo

anywho nuff of my rambling there--

ominous of you to say zoe

BUT ENOUGH OF HER CA$$HHHHHHHHHHHH

ca$h omg eshay eshay eshay pspspspsp,,,

i am so happy to see him (spoiler alert for 2 secs throughout the whole trailer) but anywho remeber? remeber right he's in prison. but seems to be doing okay... (maybe for the best heartly drama is really coming to a boiling point)

<3

and-- oh. uh... chicken dumbell... okay... pop off, missy...

when i said i wanted more missy i didnt expect this

spider seems to be into tho maybe what ??1/1/111.1/?!??!/1/1/1

missy x spider was NOT on my bingo card

WHEN MISSY SAID SHE WAS STARTING TO LIKE WHITE BOYS I DIDNT THINK SHE MEANT THIS.

BUUTTTttttt-- i. am. down. for. it... somehow. frankly, spider needs someone to put him in his place and low and behold, missy seems to be the student to do so..........

hey. if they're both happy with their...chicken dumbells, i am too.

amerie dont be alarmed but there's a white boy to your right

in other news this love triangle scares the diarrhea out of me

look at them. they're the perfect couple (malakai x amerie 4life) and rowan is--

well he's a nice boy but cmon

LOOK AGAIN IM DOWN FOR THEM TO BE HAPPY BUTT when it comes in between THE BEST SHIP IN THE SHOW (looks at amerie x spider shippers with affectionate disdain) i draw the line.

but who knows? rowan seems nice enough, and if he's able to make amerie happy, let them have each other! <3

also knowing malakai's track record i wouldn't put it past him to get freaky with rowan too (threesome attempt 2??? actually no wait thats a horrible idea NEVERMIND [gets s1 ep4 flashbacks])

also also "classic love triangle" scene gives major "erm...well this is akward!" vibes from ams (we stan cringey amerie in this household tho)

and well. shart. max limit of 30 photos. oh well-- ill make a second part! tune in for the update heartbreak highers :3

[papurgaatika]

All The Quiet Nights You Bear

Pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Din Djarin is not warm, he does not drink hot drinks, or sit in steamy baths. But for you, he can try.

Tags: angst, din djarin my sweet boy,, bathing, yes this is just giving Din a bath, fluff, hurt/comfort but I'm hurting all of you and comforting him, mention on Din's mother, angst with a happy ending, tooth-rotting amounts of intimacy, non-sexual nudity, no use of Y/N and no description of reader

word count: 1.8k

A/N: Before I start! This is my first official fic that wasn’t a bullet-pointed list I keep in a locked notes app on my phone so I am begging y’all to please be gentle with me. I want to give a MASSIVE shout-out to @joelsdagger for not letting me off the hook and making sure I stick with this, literally would not have been able to do this without her. So the fic: basically I got in the shower one day and thought about Din just being soft, and thus this was born! Fair warning that I Will by Mitski was in heavy rotation while writing this. I literally love him like a real person and he makes my heart hurt and I want to take care of him, so I got self-indulgent. I also don't really know the star wars universe so this is me making shit up as I go!! Anyway!! Peace and love from me I hope y'all love it as much as I do!!

Din Djarin is cold. He slept under the thin sheet he kept in the bunk of the crest for years, his beskar was always cool to the touch, he took cold showers. The idea of warmth never put him at ease either. It seeps into him, clinging to his body under his armor, reminding him of his blaster right after setting it off. He wants to crawl out of his skin anytime he finds himself on a dry planet, sweltering under its suns. 

Din wasn’t used to just how quiet life ended up being on nevarro. Grogu was in school most days, there was relative peace in the area, yet he still found himself clinging to his old self. Never relaxed, always on edge like he was waiting for a fight to break out. You find yourself watching him more closely, recognizing his routines, wanting to put his mind at ease. But how could you? He still took cold showers, quick and precise about it. Never lingering to enjoy the feel of water on his skin, never stopping to relax.

He thinks that the last time he truly took a hot shower was before he took the creed, when his parents were still alive, when he was only Din Djarin the boy, not a mandalorian. It hurt him to think about it, to picture his mother. Her face had grown fuzzy in his memory after decades without her, but he could feel her. The way her eyes were always soft and warm, her voice like the gentle rain that lulled him to sleep when he was young. He missed her. He missed the way she used to hum while warming the water for his bath, the smile on her lips when he would run up to her. He had tried once, to take a warm shower, to try and remember the oils his mother used to use when he was young. It had ended in him slouched over in the bathroom, the steam almost too much, silent sobs tearing through him. So no, din djarin did not take hot showers. 

But you? You were warm. So warm he felt like he was melting every time he even thought about you. The way you kissed his fingers, the gentleness you have while holding Grogu, the look in your eyes when you lay with him. You were all warm showers. The steam that tumbles after you when you open the door lingers around you like it's trying to surround you, to crowd your senses, to be all over you. Everything that din wants to do to you. He would chase after you throughout the whole galaxy if it meant you would say his name, soft and sweet like he was being saved just by hearing it. 

You were the only warmth that he craved. The only heat he allowed himself to enjoy, to truly want. And so when you call him over to the bathroom, voice soft and gentle, he comes. He will always come to you. You smile when he enters the room and takes in the scene in front of him. The bathtub full of water, steam rising from above it. You, with an expression warm enough to rival the water, eyes locked on his. “Come here,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. He was uncharacteristically slow to move towards you, but you stood there, hand still waiting for his. Your hand took his, your thumb tracing over the side of his fingers so soft he could barely feel it. “Din-” you whisper looking up at him, “let me take care of you, sweet boy” 

That was your boy. The one you were working so hard to melt, to make him soft around the corners. It was rare that he wore the armor anymore, his days usually spent at home with you and Grogu, the need to hide no longer necessary. You bring his knuckles to your lips as a silent promise to be gentle, to not let him break. “Is that okay?” you ask, hand still holding his. 

He nods, not trusting his voice nearly as much as he trusts you, and you smile. God that smile. Din Djarin would live in that smile if he could. The only smile he thinks will be in his mind like his mother’s. You reach for the hem of his shirt, not pulling at it yet, just letting your fingers rest on top of it waiting for any indication that he was okay with it coming off. You hear a small hum leave his throat and you help him take it off. This was a sight you would never tire of seeing. Tan and broad, his tummy soft under your fingers likely because of your cooking, and god was he beautiful. “Always so pretty to look at” Your fingers trail on his chest. You place a kiss over his heart, a gentle reminder that it was yours and that yours was his. 

You watched as he removed the rest of his clothes, admiring the vision that he was. Yours, yours, yours. You nudged him to the bath, waiting for him to get in. He didn't think he could do it. It was hot. It was like the ones his mother gave him. It was not like him. He was not soft or warm, he was cool and hardened from years of fighting. But it was like you. It was for you. And for you, he could do anything. He let out a soft hiss as his feet hit the water, the temperature still taking him by shock slightly.

“It's okay, just relax. I've got you” Your words pulled him from his thoughts, looking over at you with a tilt of his head.

 “You’re not getting in cyar’ika?” he sounds disappointed, almost like he wants to beg you to hold him, but you shake your head at him. 

“This isn’t for me din, just want to help you relax okay?” You move to sit on the stool you put behind the bath, grabbing the basket full of oils and shampoos and letting them fill both of your senses. You use a cup to grab some of the water and pour it over his curls, the strands dampening and sticking to the back of his neck. You take the time to press a soft kiss to his head, nose and lips wet with the water. You pop open the bottle of shampoo you had fought to find. Din rarely spoke of his life before the creed, but you knew enough to set out on a search for it. The aroma of the shampoo grew easier to smell when you poured it into your palm, sandalwood and something almost citrusy being massaged into his hair. Your nails rake over his scalp and press into his forehead where you know he gets headaches. A soft groan leaves his lips, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this alright my moon?” you whisper, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled into the room along the steam of the bath. 

“It’s perfect my sun,” he replies, words uncharacteristically soft for him. A small smile finds its way to your lips as you continue to massage the soap into his hair before rinsing it out, taking care to not get it in his eyes.

 “Scooch up, I'm gonna do your shoulders” You dip your toes into the water, legs resting against his thighs before grabbing the soap and a washcloth. 

“So pretty for me Din,” a kiss on his neck “always so perfect,” another one above his collarbone “don't know what I would do without you.” a third kiss on his shoulder, right above a scar he had gotten over the course of his career. You let the soap run down his back gently, watching the bubbles drip down and hit the water. You rub small circles into his skin with the washcloth, running water over it to rinse off the soap, before moving to his arms. Even before you had seen his arms, you had known that he was strong. Hunting bounties all day, fighting, piloting the crest, had led to his arms and hands being known for violence, for having blood on them. But not to you. To you they were the ones that draped across your body at night, the ones used to hold your son while you were out in the markets, they were warm and strong and perfect. They shielded you and protected you, and while you didn’t think you could do the same for him, you were willing to try. Your fingers trace patterns over the scars and freckles he has, goosebumps forming on his skin.  He is sitting in front of you in the bath, the water so hot at one point, that his skin is a little red. Your hands are in his hair taking time to wash it, to truly wash it. Your nails rake against his scalp as the shampoo lathers, before you rinse it out taking care to not get it in his eyes. You massage the conditioner into the ends of his hair, before leaning down to press kisses onto his shoulder. 

“Thank you for letting me do this for you my moon” you murmur resting your chin on his shoulder. He lets out a soft hum that you can feel as you’re pressed up behind him. “Thank you for doing it, my sun.” you can feel the water growing colder than you would like under the two of you, so you make quick work of rinsing the rest of the conditioner out of his hair, lightly curling a few strands around your finger as you finish. Neither of you wants to make a move to get out, the warmth of each other making the water’s temperature almost obsolete, but a sneeze betrays him getting a giggle from between your lips, and din swears it’s the sweetest sound he will ever hear. He can feel your lips curled into a smile as you let your forehead fall to rest on the back of his shoulder and shake your head. 

“Time to get out I think,” you say, reaching over to grab a towel for yourself before stepping out and pulling it around yourself. Din stands next, taking his towel from your hands and wrapping it around his waist before pulling you into him, a surprised “oof” leaving your mouth as he holds you against his chest. You blink up at him, eyes twinkling at just the sight of him and raise an eyebrow waiting for him to speak. 

“Thank you cyar’ika,” his words tremble slightly as he takes a deep breath “Really, this was amazing.. Thank you.” He presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head before letting one of his hands capture yours, interlocking your fingers together. “Anything for you my love” you whisper back before nodding softly to your shared bedroom “Come now, let’s just rest for the day.”

[polyamphilza]

Baby steps

I wrote a short soft fitpac thing as a gift for @routeriver because they're very cool and I don't know how else to befriend people other than writing for them - please enjoy <3 -🍄#2

AO3 link if that's easier to read, the formatting got messed up on both I'm sorry

Fit often wondered why he'd been allowed to keep most of his memories. 

Sure the others had some of theirs from the far past. Phil remembered Techno and their adventures together, he seemed to remember Wilbur though a lot more recent history was fuzzy. Cellbit could remember his time in prison. 

None of them seemed to remember as much as Fit did though. He felt the only time he’d lost was how he ended up on the train to Quesadilla island in the first place. 

Maybe they weren't all there, and he couldn't tell what was missing, but when he sat in bed at night staring at the ceiling, memories replayed in his mind. 

2B2T, first logging in and seeing the chaos of spawn. The first time he'd made friends, been given gear, only to be double crossed. The sleepless nights, wondering if he'd die, flinching as the sun rose only to realize he'd made it through another night. 

His first kiss, rough and messy, nothing he'd ever wanted from a first kiss but it got the job done as skin grew heated beneath grabbing hands. 

He'd tried to ask Cucurucho once, why he remembered. The bear had just stared with that same ever present creepy smile. 

Fit often wondered who he would be if he had forgotten his past. If he'd arrived on the island as a new person, a fresh start, unworried about possible old grudges coming for him and forgetting the calluses on his hands were made from fighting. 

Would he still hesitate? 

"Fit?" 

He startled, though you wouldn't know it from the outside. He stayed still as he looked over at the voice that had said his name, trying to figure out when he'd left his room and gone outside for fresh air. 

"Hey Pac, what's up?" He asked with a tired smile. 

Pac came to sit beside him with a small grunt of effort. He wasn't wearing his leg, instead using a crutch to keep his balance. He must have been in bed, or about to be when he'd come outside instead. 

Fit couldn’t ignore what a huge sign of trust that was. He didn't know if he could lose his prosthetic with anyone, it made him too vulnerable. 

Maybe for Pac he could. 

"Nothing, nothing. I was uh, coming to check on you and you were not there." Pac explained. The darkness hid his blush for the most part. 

"Aw, I'm sorry. Did you need me?" Fit asked, worried he'd let his roommate down. 

"No! No, I did not need you." Pac cleared his throat. "I just had not got to see you today. I wanted to, before I slept." He admitted shyly. 

Fit's mind took a moment to process that, and translate the meaning behind the words. "Oh, you missed me." He realized and smiled. 

Pac pulled his hoodie up to hide the lower half of his face a bit, clearly flustered at being called out. 

He nodded, keeping his gaze elsewhere. 

"I just get used to seeing you, you know?" He tried to explain. "You are a uh, a here always." 

"A constant?" 

"Yes, yes a constant." Pac smiled and nodded. "So I wanted to see my roomie before sleep." He bumped their shoulders together and chuckled. 

Fit looked over at him and felt warmth flow through his veins stronger than a good shot of whiskey. 

Pac's hair was dark, a beautiful contrast to the bright moon haloing behind his head. His smile was small, but still showed the dimple on his cheeks. He knew that if Pac pulled his lips back a bit more he'd get to see his sharpened teeth and the adorable gap between the two front ones. 

They sat there for awhile in silence, enjoying the presence of the other. Fit's mind continued to spin. 

"Pac," He started, stopped, licked his lips. He dragged his palms over his thighs, suddenly feeling sweaty. His throat was dry. He opened his mouth to continue only to pause again. No words would come out. 

"Fit?" Pac said after a moment, promoting him to continue. 

What if he had forgotten? Would he still hesitate? 

"... I like being your constant. You're mine too. I don't want that to change." Fit blurted out quickly, then bit his tongue and looked away. He covered his mouth with his hand as he found an interesting bit of grass to stare at and inspect nearby. 

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. 

It was as truthful as he could be at the moment, and already he was wondering if he’d gone too far, if it was too much too soon. 

"I like it too." Pac mumbled, and it was the specific tone of voice he had when he was blushing and embarrassed. "I like it a lot." 

Silence stretched between them, and Fit thought that was okay. It was a comfortable kind of silence, with the wind blowing past softly. 

Maybe in another timeline, maybe another universe, he wouldn't hesitate. Maybe he would pick Pac up and kiss him soundly and admit just how much he cared about him. Maybe they would share a bed every night, and Fit would feel comfortable taking his prosthetic off in front of him. Maybe they would hold hands, and cook together. 

Maybe he could be happy. 

He wanted to believe he could have that here too. 

"Do you want help back to bed?" Fit offered. 

Pac blushed and giggled. "Yeah, yeah if you don't mind. Put those janitor muscles to the test." He joked. 

Fit laughed softly as he stood and picked Pac up. He thought about how nicely that color red suited his cheeks. 

"Alright, no funny business or I'm tossing you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes." He warned playfully. 

Pac giggled and rested his head on Fit's shoulder, his hand laying flat against his strong chest. "Okay, no funny business. Professional business only." He joked. 

Fit brought him to bed with a smile on his face. He watched as Pac's eyelids grew heavy and he started nodding off. 

In the dim light of the room, with only God as his witness, he pressed the barest hint of a kiss to Pac's forehead and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder. 

Baby steps.

[mandos-mind-trick]

Instinct - Part 12

Summary: Omegas were rare. Some even thought them extinct. So when Boba contacts Din saying he has a gift Din can’t refuse, the last thing he expects to find is an omega in need of an alpha. Din has to make the hard decision, but what else was he really doing anyways? But naturally, there’s more to this omega than meets the eye.

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fluff, A/B/O, brief mention of injuries, unplanned pregnancy, brief discussion of abortion (more implied than an actual discussion), so much softness omg

A/N: It's hard to believe this story is over. It's been fun writing it and I'm kind of sad that it's over. I wound up going a different direction with the story than I originally planned. I'm a little bummed that I didn't go with the original idea but it would have been more complex and taken a lot longer to get to inevitably the same ending. I think I'm just ready to finish this one up and let it lie with this ending.

Thank you to all of my readers, I'm so grateful that all of you took the time to read and enjoy this story. Here's to whatever comes next!

< Previous | MASTERLIST | OC Version

You stare out at the flickering blue of hyperspace. You’re tired. Your heat has taken its toll on you. You’re still achy, your inner thighs raw from Din’s stubble. You had left not long after your heat ended, Din getting a comm message from Karga about the location of some of the targets, and the bounty on their heads. 

Din wanted to get things taken care of before they disappeared again, or someone else found them. He had packed things up, hauling their belongings and you, still half asleep onto the Crest before leaving the planet. 

Three of them. One more and you’d be on their way to Navarro. 

It wasn’t like you necessarily needed the credits. Boba could easily send more, and would if you asked. Din wanted to do things his way, though. The dumb alpha instinct to prove their worth, to prove they could properly care for a mate, for a family. 

You curl up in your seat, tucking your knees to your chest. Din had proven himself time and time again to more, more than he needed to. You won’t change his mind, though. He was determined to see this through. You’re saving others from what you went through. That’s what you tell yourself. It’s not all about revenge. It would be impossible, now that you know the truth. Now that you remember. 

A shiver runs down your spine as memories run through your head. What happened to the others? Had any of them escaped? Or had you been lucky to survive, to be taken by the pirates and saved from a worse fate? 

You don't want to think about it anymore. You screw your eyes shut, focusing on the scent of your alpha heavy in the air, letting it relax you. He smells musky, both of you still recovering from your heat. From what you can remember, it had been an intense one. More intense than your last. Perhaps the suppressants were finally completely out of your system. Or maybe it was just your body’s reaction to going years without a heat. 

You can still feel the lingering effects of it. Your brain feels fuzzy still, your body warm. Everything is louder, stronger, more amplified. You want to crawl into Din’s lap and sink right under his armor into his skin. 

If only that were possible. 

***

You wake when the ship lands. It startles you for a moment before you’re able to get your bearings. You rub your eyes, Din running a hand over your head before leaving the cockpit. You let your brain wake up more before you follow him, dropping into the hull. 

“Stay with the ship.” Din says, loading the last of his weapons. “This won’t take long.” 

You grab his arm before he can walk away, turning him to face you. You reach up, lifting his helmet just enough to reveal his mouth. You stand on your toes, pressing your lips to his. His hands grab your waist, holding you steady as you kiss him. Your brain feels fuzzy, still fighting the lingering buzz from your heat. 

“As soon as I get this done,” Din murmurs against your lips, squeezing your sides. “I’ll come back and help you.” 

You let out a quiet whine, but relent, letting him go. You watch him leave the ship, the ramp closing behind him. You crawl into the nest, burrowing yourself in Din’s scent to wait for his return. 

It only takes two hours before the ramp is lowering once more, Din leading someone into the ship. You lay still, buried beneath the blankets out of sight. You hear the familiar rush of air from the carbonite chamber before footsteps approach. You don't move, don't reveal yourself, but you don't have to. The blankets shift slightly, a gloved hand reaching beneath them. You lean into his touch, keening quietly. Your underwear is soaked through, your mind racing nonstop in his absence. 

The cool air of the Crest hits your skin as the blankets are tossed off, your body rolling to present for him. His hand presses into your back, holding you flat against the floor. You buck your hips, desperate for any sort of friction, any contact to alleviate the need rushing through you.

Gloved hands slip under the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging both down just far enough. Din inhales deeply, groaning at the scent of you heavy in the air. 

“Could smell you outside the ship.” He growls, pressing his body flat against yours. 

You keens, bucking your hips up to grind against his hard length. He reaches between them, guiding his cock into your slick folds. You gasp at the stretch, back arching to take him deeper. 

“Stinking up the ship with that needy pussy.” He growls, a hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head and reveal your neck. “All for me, huh?” 

“Yes, alpha!” You whine as he pulls back before slamming his hips against your ass. “Need you. Need you so bad.” 

He shushes you, lips tracing your neck. “I’ve got you, omega. Let your alpha take care of you.” 

You practically sob as he begins thrusting into you, his movements slow and deep. Your clit drags along the blanket under you, making you dizzy with pleasure. His lips close around your mark, fingers tangling with yours to hold you steady as he fucks you. You’re loud, keening and whining and moaning under him as he fucks you through your first orgasm. He doesn’t slow any, keeping his pace steady. 

“Alpha, alpha!” You chant his title like a prayer, moving your body with his. “Need your cum! Please!” 

He shushes you, shifting his hips just slightly to hit that spot inside you with every thrust. His teeth sink into your shoulder, your body shuddering violently under him as you cums a second time, soaking him and the blankets with your slick. 

He releases with a groan inside you, keeping his hold on your shoulder for a moment as he fills you with his cum. You let out little whines beneath him, your hips still jerking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He releases your shoulder, running his tongue along the teeth marks indented in your skin. 

You go limp beneath him, his arms slipping under you to roll them to one side. He holds you against his chest, fingers tracing your skin as he continues to lap at your mark. He’s still buried inside you, half-hard in your pussy.

“I need to get us on our way to Nevarro.” He says, lips brushing your skin. 

You make a noise in protest, grabbing onto his wrists with surprising strength before he can get up. 

“I won’t be gone long.” He says, shifting his hips to pull out of you. “I’ll be back.” 

You make a disgruntled noise as he leaves the nest, mind working off of muscle memory to get the ship out of the atmosphere and into hyperspace. As soon as you’re headed towards Nevarro, he descends into the hull once more, crawling back into the nest with you. 

***

The warning alarm that the ship is about to drop out of hyperspace draws him from the nest. You shift in your sleep as he pulls himself from you, climbing back into the cockpit. He lands the ship, finding you sitting up in the nest when he gets back down to the hull. 

“We land already?” You ask, rubbing your eyes. 

“Just did.” He says, putting pieces of his armor back on. 

You get up, stepping into the fresher. “You’re lucky you have armor to hide behind.” 

“You look fine.” He says, slipping his blaster into the holster. 

“I most certainly do not.” You step back out. “If I go out there looking like this, people are gonna ask questions.” 

He eyes the bite mark on your shoulder, and the bruises across your collarbones and the sides of your neck. “You can always say it was a fight.” 

You give him a look. “Yeah, because people are gonna believe that. ‘You think this is bad, you should see the other guy.’” You mock, changing into clothes that offer better coverage. 

“You did quite a number on me.” He says. 

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as you try to fix your hair so it doesn’t look like you’d fucked the entire trip. “Yeah, but no one’s gonna see it but me.” 

“Good.” He growls, his chest pressing against your back. 

You roll your eyes, smacking his arm with your brush. “Don’t we have things to do? People to see?” 

He rests his helmet against the side of your head for a moment before letting you go. He’s glad to see you're back to your normal self again, even if you are a bit of a pain in his ass. His hand brushes your side as you wait for the ramp to lower, feeling the blaster tucked into your pants. He smiles a bit behind his helmet. He never has to remind you. 

He takes your hand, leading you down the ramp. Karga and Cara are there already, waiting for you. 

“You never fail to impress me.” Karga says, greeting Din with a handshake. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” 

“It was an easy job.” Din says.

“Come on,” Karga says, clapping Din’s shoulder. “Let’s get them off-loaded then we can talk payment.” 

***

“How many have you found?” Cara asks as you sit around a table in the cantina. 

“Counting these three, ten.” Din answers. “Not nearly all of them, but things have gotten... complicated.” 

“They’re figuring it out.” Karga says. 

Din nods. “That, and...” 

“The Empire was involved.” You answer for him, not wanting to beat around the bush like Din was probably going to. You had no reason to lie, no reason to hide it. “They were the ones that picked us up trying to escape Mandalore.” 

“What would the Empire want with a bunch of Mandalorians?” Karga asks. 

“They wanted to study our kind.” You answer. “They wanted to know about our abilities. The heightened senses, increased strength, all of it. All beings are capable of waking it, but most have forgotten how. Mandalorians are one of the last groups that remember, and actively practice.” 

“This is getting into dangerous territory.” Cara warns. 

“I know.” Din says. “That’s why we came here after picking up the last three. We...have to decide what to do next.” 

“You can stay as long as you’d like.” Karga says. “I’ll put you up in a nice house on the outskirts, lots of privacy. My treat.” 

Din glances down at you, seeing the desire in your gaze. He’d be content staying in the ship, but he knows you miss a real roof over your head, a real bed. Your last vacation had really taken its toll on your omega instincts. He might never get you to leave if you stay. 

His shoulders slump a bit. “Fine.” 

***

What Din was hoping would only be a few days turns into a couple weeks. You had quickly fallen in love with Nevarro and its newly refreshed culture. You had yet to talk about your next move, as Karga was insistent on spoiling you and showing you all the best that Nevarro now had to offer. You were eating it up, and Din didn’t have it in him to stop you. 

After a few days, you began to slow down a bit. It was really what prompted him to stay longer than those few days. You were acting strangely, stranger than normal. You were more agitated, tossing and turning at night and then sleeping late into the day. He wondered if it was some lasting effect from your heat, or perhaps the underlying stress had caused your heat to start back up. 

You weren't showing any other normal symptoms of a heat, though. 

In fact, you were acting the opposite. 

Besides your grumpy attitude, he had been forced to sleep on the floor a couple times after you’d nearly pushed him off the bed. You’ve dodged his touches a few times, as well as shrugged off a few others. Your instincts were going haywire, and it was putting him on edge. 

His natural first thought was that someone had slipped something into some food or a drink. You weren't acting like you had been slipped a suppressant. Spice didn’t have much of an effect on your kind either, and he can’t think of anything else that could be causing such a reaction. It could just be delayed stress, or your body fighting some sort of illness. He considered contacting Boba, but he probably wouldn’t be able to offer up an explanation either. 

He should just load you up and take you back to Tatooine, but he’s worried a confined space might make you more agitated. The last thing he needs is an agitated omega in hyperspace. He could slip you something to help you sleep through the trip, but you’d be raging when you woke up again. 

He could always command you to. 

He doesn’t want to do that. It would be cruel. It would break the trust that had formed between them. He had told himself he’d only do it if he had no other choice, and this doesn't feel like the right situation. 

He won’t do that to you. 

He resorts to just asking you. 

He approaches you in the morning. You’re seated at the small table in the kitchen, your back to him. He keeps his distance, remembering the stories of how aggressive your omega is. He doesn't want to risk you getting hurt. 

He says your name, watching you from behind.. You let out a grunt in response. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

Your shoulders tense, hands closing into fists where they’re laying on the table. You're annoyed, the sharp scent filling the air. “Why?” 

Din shifts slightly on his feet. “You’ve been acting...different. Are you...feeling alright?” 

“Fine.” You snap. “I’m fine.” 

Din decides not to push it. You're not fine, but you're not in a place to answer either. 

***

You feel like you're’s going insane. You're tired, the same kind of tired you’d felt when you were on suppressants. You can’t sleep, though. Sleep evades you, leaving you tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. You're on edge, every sound too loud, every smell too strong. 

And Din. His very presence is making your skin crawl. His scent, the quiet clank of his armor and shuffle of his flight suit is driving you up the wall. He’s been clingy lately, and you know it’s because of the way you’re acting, but the last thing you want is him close. You want space. You want to run off into the lava fields and just sit in silence for hours and breathe. 

You can’t, though. Din would be after you in an instant. 

Not to mention, you've started to feel sick. Certain smells have started to make you feel nauseous. If you lay a certain way too long you begin to feel it, the churning in your stomach. You refuse to be sick. It would only worry Din more, which would only make you more agitated. 

You hate it. 

So, you decide to visit the medical center. 

You slip out at night, after Din is fast asleep. You felt bad for forcing him on the floor, but the idea of him being that close, touching you, his body heat, all of it made your skin crawl. 

You slip out the door without him knowing, taking the short walk into town. You're on edge, every little sound making you jump and swing your light stick around. The town is dimly lit but quiet as you creep along the streets. Something tickles at the back of your neck as you nears the medical center, footsteps that aren’t your own sounding behind you. 

You slow your pace, hand slipping under your poncho. You spin, drawing your blaster, your heart in your throat. You tense, staring wide eyed at Cara. 

“Sorry,” The woman lifts her hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” Her lips lift in a smile. “You’re a quick draw.” 

You lower your blaster, taking a breath. “I had a good teacher.” 

“Where are you sneaking off to in the middle of the night?” Cara asks, taking a couple steps closer. 

You slip the blaster back into your waistband. “The medical center.” You answer honestly. “I need to get a test done.” 

Cara stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Would you like some company?” 

You swallow nervously. You don't want to go to the medical center. You know you might react like you did the last time. Especially being so on edge, there’s no telling what might happen, and with Din absent...

“Sure.” You nod. Maybe having someone there will help. Of course, Cara might tell Din, but he’s going to find out eventually if it is true. 

***

Din sits up, wide awake. It’s still dark out, the room lit from the moon shining in the window. Something is wrong, something is off. He can sense it, but his waking brain can’t quite figure it out. He glances around the room, seeing no intruders. He can’t hear anything either. 

He glances to the bed, the sheets messy and thrown back. You’re missing.

His heart leaps into his throat, body moving before he can even think. He’s on his feet, stepping through the door into the rest of the house. The fresher is open, the kitchen empty, and the living room. Have you run away? Did someone sneak in and take you? It would be impossible. 

You've gotten past him before. 

He slams his finger on the button to open the door, stepping out into the night. He quickly scans his gaze across the front of the house, the tension leaving his body almost instantly. 

You’re sitting in a chair in front of the house, knees pulled to your chest. The lamp is turned on, on the table next to you. You're staring out into the darkness, not even noticing his presence. 

He moves slowly, approaching you cautiously. You could snap, you could jump at him. If he startles you, you might try to shoot him again. You don’t acknowledge him at all, not seeming to notice, even as he sits in the chair next to you. He casts his gaze out where you’re looking, but he doesn’t see anything. He’s scared to break the silence, but he has to know. You're acting strangely, even more strange than before and it’s scaring him. 

“Din?” You whisper, voice barely audible even in the silence. 

“Yes, cyare?” He says, looking at you. 

Your gaze is still off in the distance, your hands tugging at your pant legs. “I want to go back to Tatooine.”

“Okay.” He says. He had told you all you needed to do was ask and he would. He had meant it. Whenever you wanted to, he would end your hunt and take you back to Tatooine. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You continue.

He doesn’t need an explanation or a reason, but he’s not going to interrupt you. He does want to know what’s been going on, and if this is his answer, then he’s going to let you talk. 

“Din...I’m pregnant.”

His hands close around the arms of the chair, his stomach dropping. This was unexpected. He hadn’t even taken that into consideration. You both have the implant, though he knew the regular implant was questionable in its ability to protect against the kind of virility omegas experienced while in heat. Omegas had their own ways to protect themselves during their heat, but that knowledge had been lost. 

It would explain your sudden change, the aggressiveness, your sleep habits. There was a big change happening within you, and your body was rapidly trying to adjust. He remembered once seeing a newly pregnant omega when he was a boy. She had nearly taken the head off of her alpha. 

“It’s nothing personal.” He had said. “Just her body and her mind doing what it needs to do.” 

She’d calmed as the baby developed, and her bond with her alpha had grown to the point they were rarely apart. Had things been the way they were supposed to, you would have been surrounded by omegas, both mated and unmated, to help care for you during your pregnancy, especially in the late stages. Birthing was a sacred omega space. Alphas were only allowed in if something went wrong. The omegas would have continued to care for you and the pup after birth, until you recovered. 

Things weren’t the way they were supposed to be, though. With fewer and fewer omegas, and fewer and fewer safe spaces for them, omegas relied on their alphas for help. There was nothing sacred anymore, no help that only other omegas could provide. 

“I’m scared.” You whisper, a tear sliding down your cheek. 

He slowly reaches over, giving you plenty of time to turn, to push him away again. You stay still, letting him pull your hand from where it’s tugging at your pants. He wraps his fingers around your hand, squeezing it gently. “You don’t have to.” 

Your head snaps to him, teary eyes wide. “What?” 

“You don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, if you want to wait, to...to plan things before...it’s your choice.” 

You stare at him. “But...but what about you?” 

He traces your knuckles with his thumb. “You’re the one that has to go through this. If you don’t want to...if you’d rather wait...it’s your choice.” 

You look back down at your lap. “I...I don’t know.” You squeeze his hand. “I think having the baby will be the easy part.” 

He tilts his head as he stares at you. “Why’s that?” 

You turn your gaze back to him. “We have to tell Boba.” 

***

Your leg bounces nervously as you sit in the Crest. You’d left Nevarro a few hours ago with promises to keep them updated and visit every so often. You had debated staying there permanently, but deep down you know you want to be with your family. You’d already lost one family, you want to spend as much time as you can with your new one. 

You're also nervous about telling Boba. You had told him you were returning, but you hadn’t explained why. You hadn’t told him about the Empire, or their little accident that led to you remembering either. He’s probably thinking the worst, and you do feel just a little guilty about not telling him anything. 

“We’ll be landing soon.” Din says, the Crest beeping as it warns of their approach. “This is the right thing to do.” 

“I know.” You say, curling your fingers around the end of your poncho. “I don’t think we could do this alone.” 

“We shouldn’t have to.” He says, guiding the ship out of hyperspace and towards the red planet. “It’s our safest option.” 

You let out a long breath as Din flies the ship towards the palace. It feels good, being home after so long, after everything that happened. Tatooine is home now, the first place that’s felt like home since you lost Mandalore so long ago. 

Din takes your hand as the ramp lowers, squeezing it gently. Fennec is waiting for them, a smile tugging at her lips as you make their way down the ramp. 

“So you survived the trip.” She says to Din. 

“Barely.” You snort, wrapping your arms around Fennec in a hug. 

“We weren’t expecting you back so soon.” Fennec says, holding you tightly. 

“There’s been a change of plans.” Din says. 

“That’s not a bad thing.” She releases you, nodding towards the door. “Boba’s got a surprise waiting for you in the throne room.” 

You glance at Din before taking his hand, following Fennec into the palace. She leads you to the throne room, Boba’s voice floating up the stairs. You half expect him to be holding court, but you're surprised there’s no one there. At least not where you’d expect. 

A tiny green head turns as you enter the throne room, letting out a soft cooing sound. 

Din stiffens beside you, dropping your hand. “Grogu?” 

The small bundle leaps into the air, practically flying right into Din’s arms. You take half a step back, surprised at the sudden agility from the small creature. 

“It’s you.” Din breathes, staring down at Grogu. “What are you doing here?” 

“Arrived in an X-Wing.” Boba says, stepping down from the throne. “I thought we were getting a visit from the New Republic.” 

“How long has he been here?” Din asks, holding Grogu against his chest. 

“Two days.” Boba answers. “I was going to tell you, but then I got your message about returning here. Figured it would be a nice welcome home.” 

You step up to Boba, throwing your arms around his neck. He holds you tightly, rubbing your back as you press your face into his neck. You can smell it, the faint whiff of something that might have been, had he not been born as a clone.

“Hello, ad’ika.” He says, continuing to hold you as you cling to him. 

“I missed you.” You whisper, not realizing just how much you had missed him. 

“I know.” He says, gently prying you away. “But you’re here now.” He brushes the hair from your face, before letting you go. 

You turn back to Din, looking down at the green bundle in his arms. You knew about Grogu, at least who he was to Din and what had happened to him. Din had told you all about his adventures with the little green troublemaker who also happened to be a wizard of sorts. Or, at least that’s how Din had described him. 

Din introduces you, looking down at Grogu. 

He leaps from Din’s arms, and you instinctively grab onto him before you even realize it’s happened. “Oh my.” You say, settling him before looking down at him. He blinks up at you with huge brown eyes, tilting his head. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” You practically squeal, slapping Din’s arm with your hand. “You didn’t tell me he was this cute!” You wrap your arms around Grogu, squeezing him against your chest. “I just wanna squeeze him!” You release him after a couple seconds, adjusting him in your arms so you're cradling him like a baby. “You, little cutie,” You tap his little nose. “Are never leaving us again.” You turn, giving Din a pointed look. 

“I think we have a lot to discuss.” Boba says, watching you with a suspicious look on his face. 

Din nods. “We do.” 

“Are you hungry?” Boba asks. 

Both you and Grogu look up at him. “Yes!” You answer before he’s even finished asking. 

“Of course you are. Shouldn’t have bothered asking.” Boba says, calling for the table and food to be brought into the throne room. 

***

Din can barely keep his eyes off of you as you sit and eat lunch. Grogu is happily seated in your lap, eating food off your plate. You are on your third plate, having cleared most of the food yourself. Din’s arm is around the back of your seat, his own plate empty. He’d eat later. 

Instead he tells Boba about your journey. He already knew some of it, thanks to your regular updates, but the last bit and the finer details he had missed out on. Din tells him most everything, keeping the more intimate bits out of the story. He tells him about your injury and the revelation about what had happened to the ship that never made it to Concordia. 

“So why the sudden decision to come home?” Boba asks, looking between you. 

You glance up at Din, staring into his visor for a moment. “I’m pregnant.” 

The room falls silent, Boba setting his fork down slowly. Din’s hand tightens into a fist where it rests across the back of your chair. Even Grogu is quietly watching, looking between everyone. 

“I thought you both had the implant.” Fennec says, breaking the tense silence. 

“We do.” Din says. “Well, we did.”  

“The efficiency of it is only theorized.” You say. “Omegas have a higher virility rate during heat cycles and the implant is designed for non-omegas. Depending on the virility rate during a certain heat, the implant can be rendered entirely ineffective. Omegas used to have ways to prevent pregnancy during heat cycles, but now that most of us are gone and Mandalore was destroyed, I’m not sure there’s anyone out there who still knows how to do it.” 

“This is what you want?” Boba asks, still staring between you. 

“We talked about it. A lot.” You say. 

“We both agreed that maybe it’s time for a career change.” Din finishes for you. 

“The offer still stands.” Boba says.

“Then I am more than happy to accept.” Din says. 

You pass Grogu to Din before standing up, moving to Boba’s side. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “Thanks, Grandpa.” 

“Easy, ad’ika.” Boba warns, but there’s a smile on his face. 

***

Din steps out of the fresher, wearing nothing but a thin shirt and pants. You’re stretched out on the bed on your side, Grogu snuggled against your chest. He was already enamored with you, seeming to understand the new dynamic in the way that he understood a lot of things. Din had told him about you and your place in his life, and though Grogu hadn’t offered much in an agreement of understanding, Din knew he understood. 

Din approaches the bed slowly, your eyes cracking open. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” He asks. 

You shake your head, reaching out for him. 

He crawls onto the bed, settling himself on the other side of Grogu. He can hardly believe Grogu is back. He doesn’t really understand why or how, but he’s glad Grogu has returned. He had missed the little troublemaker. Of course, the prospect of raising two children now is a bit intimidating, he at least already knew what to expect from Grogu. 

You tangle a hand in his shirt, holding onto him. He stretches an arm above Grogu’s head, slipping it under your neck. You press your nose against his arm, inhaling his scent. “I’m happy.” You whisper, turning your face back to look at him. “I’m happy we got some of those nerf herders taken care of. I’m happy we decided to come back when we did. I’m happy you have Grogu back.” 

“We have our aliit back together.” He says, lowering his other hand to your stomach. There’s no real bump there yet, no sign of the tiny life that’s forming, but he knows. Somehow he can sense your child forming inside you. “And soon, we’ll have another member.”  

“I’ll try not to beat you up too much.” You say, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. 

He smiles, kissing the palm of your hand. “From what I’ve heard about you, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t.” 

You smile, laughing quietly. “I love you.” 

He puts a hand over yours, pressing it against his cheek. He stares at you, at the way you seem to glow in the low light of the room. You're beautiful. He’s so lucky to have you, so lucky to have been given the chance at something most Mandalorians only dreamed of. He has his aliit, you’re together and you’re safe. That’s what really matters. 

He smiles, leaning over Grogu to kiss you softly. “I love you too.” 

Taglist:

@donttamethebeasts, @unicorntrooper, @spacecluster, @hugmedin, @hungrhay, @fic-for-readers, @jaydiann, @tonystank3, @lokigirlszendaya, @6oceansofmoons, @star-trekker-0013, @bobaprint

[hollybell51]

It's ok - two

Navigation

Part one

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 7.5K

Summary: you and Adam deal with the aftermath of the pollen debacle

Content: referenced sex pollen and associated dubcon, SMUT, agan maybe a bit of perviness, Adam being down bad, reader being down bad, blowjobs, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's not technically a virgin any more but still kinda is, reader definitely isn't, bit of angst, with a happy ending, getting together, fluff, light dirty talk, praise kink, light body worship, subby Adam, again potential ooc

Notes: this is part 2 so you gotta read part 1 for it to make sense. I hope I fixed the numerous moral issues with part 1's ending lmao also before you come at me for the shower stuff; I'm so white I'm practically reflective, so I do apologise to all my textured-hair girlies for my crimes against you with that... I hope praise kink Adam who loves tits makes up for it. enjoy.

Oh yeah, this is also on my AO3

You woke slowly, swimming up against the gravity of sleep as though it were mud. Your whole body was tingling with a pleasant warmth and heaviness, underpinned by something that wasn’t quite unease, or discomfort, but close enough. A shiver ran down your spine, and you pulled the blanket closer around your neck. Hold on. Blanket? 

You shot upright, cursing as the cool air of the ship’s interior hit your bare skin. Of course. You vaguely remembered the sudden flush of heat that had overcome you, your suit constricting like it was being shrink wrapped to your skin, the incessant throbbing low in your stomach and then between your legs. Everything after that was foggy, as though you were watching a film with a hazy filter, shot through a curtain of water. But you could definitely see Adam’s concerned face close to your own, feel the echo of his hand on your back and on your forehead. And, well, everywhere else. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he’d asked, as if you hadn’t been dreaming about that for months. Hell, you’d been imagining that exact eventuality as you’d frantically gotten yourself off on the floor of the shower. 

Now, you wondered if he was ever going to look at you the same way. It had been quick, hard and rough and you felt bad now for how little thought you’d spared him. You weren’t even really thinking at all, your mind offered. He seemed ok. He came, didn’t he? You felt your cheeks heat at the memory, fuzzy as it was, of his face buried in the crook of your neck, hips jutting up against yours, strong arms wrapped around your waist and your name on his lips. It was better than anything your imagination had ever cooked up, and you were probably racking up some truly awful karma by stowing it away. 

You sighed, pushing yourself off the bed and running a hand through your (mostly) dry hair, fingers catching in the mess of tangles. You were never going to skim information on anything ever again. Actually, screw that, you were never going to go outside again. At least without a full suit and helmet, oxygen tank and air filter included.

The blanket trailed behind you like a grotesque bridal train as you headed for the bridge, bare feet slapping faintly on the cool floors. It had felt nice earlier, but now you wished you’d kept track of your clothes. You’d left your underwear in the shower, hadn’t you? What had happened to your suit? 

The ship was eerily quiet, the bridge deserted but for a pile you didn’t remember leaving on what had been your seat – still swivelled around to face Adam’s for the sole purpose of being able to watch him read the briefing and notes as you packed. 

The pile, as it turned out, was a fresh suit and your underwear, bearing no traces of the frankly ridiculous amount of wetness that had made the walk back so uncomfortable, or shower water. Had he washed them for you? Then dried them, too? Your heart gave a pathetic little jump and twist at the thought. Adam didn’t deserve something like this. Maybe if it had been anyone else you’d have been able to live it down, laugh it off and thank them for the good times, but him? No way in hell. 

You’d felt something towards the newest citizen of Knowhere almost as soon as you’d started really talking to him. He was funny once you’d gotten him to lighten up, and had practically jumped at the opportunity to help repair the damage to the planetoid, even if he’d been the one who caused a lot of it. There was so much genuine curiosity and wonder in him, the painfully obvious desire to do well – which you supposed came from the High Evolutionary and the whole Perfect Man thing – and the fact that he seemed to hang on your every word like it was the gospel… Well, you hadn’t stood a chance. It had only gone downhill from there, and before long you’d been wondering what it would be like to see what constituted the perfect man up close and personal. What would the hands that destroyed so much of your home, and then rebuilt it beside you, feel like on your bare skin? Would your arms fit around those broad shoulders as perfectly as you imagined? Would his lips be as soft as they looked? 

You supposed you knew some of that now. You fit against him perfectly, like you were made for each other. His hands were painfully gentle, and much softer than you’d thought they’d be. You regretted that you hadn’t kissed him more, and done a better job of it. You cringed at the memory of your teeth clashing against his, not an ounce of coordination or forethought. 

He’d been better at it when he’d kissed over your chest, sucked gently at the skin of your breasts. You could see a few faint marks as you did up your suit, far too ill-defined to be called hickeys. Guiltily, you wished you’d gotten him to leave more. 

You were jerked out of that line of thought by something rustling onto the floor. A note, scrawled hastily. 

“Dear (Y/N),” crossed out, then “To (Y/N),” crossed out again, finally just “(Y/N).”

You smiled stupidly. Who knew indecisiveness could be so endearing? 

“I hope you’re ok.” 

“Yep,” you whispered in return. “All fine here.” 

“Sorry I left. I hope you’re not cold. I didn’t want to wake you up so I didn’t dry your hair.” 

God, this man. 

“I washed your clothes for you, but I incinerated the other suit. Sorry. It had pollen on it. Don’t worry, I made sure it’s all gone.” 

You sighed. “Thank you, Adam.” 

“I’ve gone out, but I’ll be back in no more than three hours.” There was time here, too, underlined and in parenthesis. He had about half an hour left. Shit, had you been out that long? Seriously?

The next line started with “I h” but the rest was so heavily crossed out you couldn’t even begin to guess what it said. It was followed by “I hope you’re ok” again, then another bout of heavy censorship before his name. You wondered how he’d originally signed it, but quickly squashed that. Nope. 

“Alright,” you said to the note. You felt a bit stupid checking your surroundings as you folded it and placed it in your pocket, but hey, it might come in handy. For reports or future references or… something. 

How was he being so goddamn nice? A heavy stone of guilt settled in your stomach, along with the distinct sense that he was doing this because he didn’t know better. He was so eager to please, to do good, that he’d probably just assumed fucking you – letting you fuck him was probably a more apt description, actually – was the natural solution to the pollen problem. And yeah, you’d heard the part about dying if you didn’t (which you thought was ridiculous, frankly, and probably said something about humans and their suitability for anywhere outside Earth) but it still didn’t sit right with you. Not even a little. 

Something beeped on the console, the light for the door flashing cheerfully. “He’s back!” it seemed to be saying. “He’s back, he’s back, he’s back!” 

“Yeah, alright,” you muttered, flicking it off. “Think of the devil.” 

“What devil?” 

You jumped. Actually genuinely jumped before you turned towards the voice. “Figure of speech.” 

“Oh,” said Adam, boots thudding dully on the floor as he crossed the space. “Did you sleep ok?” 

“Yeah. Thanks for… this.” You didn’t know what to do with your hands. Fuck, why were your hands so sweaty? And since when had he looked good good in that damn suit? It was ugly on everyone, no matter how pretty they happened to be without it. 

Oblivious to the mini meltdown in your head, as he should be, Adam pulled off his gloves and set them down on his seat with a soft thwump noise. “That’s ok. Sorry I didn’t stay, I didn’t want to disturb you, and then I figured you’d be out for a while, then I thought maybe I should just get it over with since I can…” A pause, a breath, then, “Go out there.” 

“Yeah,” you smiled, “it’s fine. I’d have done the same.” Should you mention the note? No, you decided. It was staying tucked away in your pocket forever. 

He shrugged, then held up his arms. “I didn’t get any on me, by the way.” 

Right, yeah, the pollen. The pollen that had turned you into a goddamn nymphomaniac. You supposed it was going to come up, and better to just bite the bullet, right? 

“Adam,” you started, stepping around your chair to face him. 

His eyes followed every movement, as if he was memorising the way a person walked. Up close, you could make out a faint bronze tinge to his golden face, most likely from the heat outside. You could have studied it for hours. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. It came out quieter than you’d have liked, huskier and less sure of yourself. You forged on. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything, and I just… I…” Deep breath, look him in the eyes. “Thank you. For helping me. I know it’s how the whole ‘saving people’ gig usually goes but… you did. So, uh, thanks.” 

Maybe it was trite. Maybe it was a poor choice of words, but Adam didn’t seem to think so. Very carefully, as though he were afraid of somehow hurting you, he reached out and took your hand. His skin was warm and smooth to the touch as it had been before (after all, why should it have changed?), and just like it had in the shower, his thumb moved in little circles over the back of your hand. 

“It’s alright,” he said, sincere as anyone and only just tinged with something that might have been regret’s cousin. “You didn’t have much of a choice.” 

“Yeah, I… yeah.” You couldn’t help the little huff of laughter that escaped you. You didn’t have much of a choice? Carefully, you lifted your gaze from the hypnotic movement of his thumb. It was odd how such a tiny gesture, such a light touch, could suffuse your entire being with such warmth. It wasn’t like the heat from earlier, it was gentle and soft and the fact that you clung so desperately to it probably said more about you than him, but still… “I’m glad it was you, Adam.” 

You could have sworn he stood straighter, and that the lines of his shoulders became less harsh. Maybe it was just the smile he was giving you, genuine and sweet, and wow you’d never felt so undeserving of a damn facial expression. 

He nodded. “I didn’t realise it could feel like that.” Then, at your frown, “Sex, I mean. I didn’t understand why people liked it so much, but now I think I do.” 

Oh. Oh. Right. That bit. Of course you were going to have to talk about that bit too. Looking back, you were pretty sure that you’d have thought absolutely anything was top-notch in the state you were in, and from what you remembered, the actual mechanics of it had been very one-sided. You had, if you were honest, simply fucked yourself on top of him. 

But you were not going to say that. Instead, you snorted and let your hand fall from his. “You’ve been having sex with the wrong people, then.” Not that I’m the right one, or anything. But maybe I could have been.

Adam eyed your hand, then shrugged and turned towards the panel. “I hadn’t had sex with anyone before you,” he said as he unclipped his radio and dropped it onto one of the few free spaces. 

Woah. Woah, hold on, rewind. He what? That was the first time for him? That? The guilt-stone had become a bloody guilt-boulder, and were you being dramatic or had the ship just wobbled? 

“What?” 

He turned back towards you, frowning. “I hadn’t done it before. Are you ok?” 

“Oh God.” 

“What? Is something wrong?” He was back in front of you, hands ghosting over your shoulders and arms as your mind raced. You hadn’t even considered that. Well yeah, you had, in various imagined scenarios and fantasies none of which involved the prospect of your death if you did not have sex with him. 

“Yeah, I–” You took a breath, forcing yourself to look at him. How the hell were you going to explain this? Should you? Would it just make it worse? But no, you owed him this at least. “Adam,” you said as gently as you could, “your first time should be with someone you want, because you want to do it with them. It shouldn’t be to save someone’s life, let alone someone who… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry.” 

He had a firm grip on your shoulders now, and that damned thumb was giving you the comfort treatment there, too. You wondered if he realised he was doing it. “Don’t be,” he said. “I still liked it. And I did want to do it with you. I know it was only me because there’s no one else here, but I still… I still wanted you.” He paused, then, “I just wish it had been you you.” 

Yeah, so did you. But that wasn’t what stuck with you. He’d wanted you. He’d liked it, shit as it had probably been from his end. “You…” You stopped, swallowed. “You wanted me, too?” 

He just nodded, searching your face. The tinge of bronze had deepened to copper. 

“Oh.” 

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I think about you a lot. I wondered– wondered what it would be like to kiss you. Touch you, feel you like… like that.” 

Again, all you could manage was a soft “oh,” acutely aware of his closeness, how he filled your vision, the temperature of the ship (which seemed to have risen), and his hands through your clothes. “And?” 

His breath hitched in his chest, and his voice was low when he answered. “I’d have liked to kiss you, stay with you afterwards. Tell you… Tell you that you’re important to me, and I don’t ever want to see you in pain again.” 

You drew your own breath. How could this be happening? This didn’t exist outside your mind. It really shouldn’t even exist in your mind. But you heard yourself speak all the same. “You could. Kiss me, I mean. If you still want to.”

His thumb stilled. “Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” You nodded, moving a fraction of a step closer. “I’d like you to.” 

You did not like cliches. You did not like to be trite or banal, but you could have sworn you were living in slow motion as Adam leaned down the few inches between you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it was almost chaste. 

You tilted your face towards his before he could pull away, parting your lips ever so slightly, leaning into the warmth at your shoulders. He seemed to get the idea, his hands sliding effortlessly up your neck to cradle your face, fingers caressing your jaw and cheeks, your own hands settling on his wrists. Your heart thudded wildly, and you felt for all the world like a schoolgirl playing truth or dare at a sleepover, a teenager spinning the bottle with the boy you liked sitting across from you, a Guardian of the goddamn Galaxy being touched so gently by the guy you’d ridden six ways into next week not three hours ago. 

You pulled back first, but barely. “I didn’t do a very good job of this before, did I?”

“It wasn’t too bad. Not what I expected.” You could feel the words on your skin, your face so close to his that his features were slightly blurred. His breath was warm against your lips. 

“Mm,” you sighed, “that’s not usually how it goes.” 

“Oh. Ok then.” He dipped back down momentarily, pulling away just as fast. “I like this a lot better.” 

“Me too,” you smiled, stretching up to kiss him again. This was firmer, more direct. This time his lips were parted too, and he gave a pleased little hum when you moved against him. You let go of his wrists, mourning the loss of his hands on your face for a moment before you mimicked the position, pulling him closer to you. He was good at this, and you vaguely wondered if it was just the sex part that was new to him. His hands had settled at your waist, holding you steady and he hummed into your mouth, a sound that you could have listened to forever. 

“I wanted this for so long, Adam,” you murmured between kisses. “I thought about you too, you know.” 

“(Y/N)...” Adam paused, raising a hand to press against your forehead. 

You just smiled, pressing into his touch. “It’s all me, don’t worry.” 

He nodded, following your lead as your tongue slipped along his lip, a tiny moan caught between his mouth and yours when you slid it alongside his. He tasted like the falsely sweet nutritious bars you never seemed to run out of, warm and smooth and so soft. How could a person’s mouth be that soft? Now you really felt bad for the borderline assault you’d launched on it earlier. 

You’d ended up with your hands on his shoulders, half bracing yourself and half mapping out the contours of his upper arms, neck, collar and chest. Your fingers slid easily through his hair where it brushed his neck, dipping occasionally under the high collar. You needed to get someone onto redesigning those. 

He was holding you so close you wondered if he was trying to somehow pull you into him, his grip firm and decisive on your hips. Carefully, experimentally, you pushed your pelvis against his, a bolt of heat shooting through you at the hardness already growing there. He cursed, muffled by the fact that his tongue was in your mouth, welcome as anything he was giving you. 

“Is this–?” you started, but he cut you off. 

“Yes,” he breathed, drawing back enough to look at you. He was really flushed now, lips swollen and so, so pretty, eyes bright with want. “Yes, (Y/N).” 

“Are you sure? No lives on the line here.” 

He smiled, stroking your hip gently. “I’m sure.”

“Ok.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before taking his hand and leading him towards the bed you’d woken in, your steps sure and determined. He sat, as he had before, watching you expectantly. You considered simply shedding your clothes and letting him take the lead. Maybe you could sit on his lap and jerk him off, show him how to touch you. Maybe. 

“Can I?” you asked as you stood between his legs, fingers toying with the fastenings of his clothes.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Yes.” 

“Would you like me to?” 

Again, “yes.” 

You smiled, running your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta help me out.” 

“Mhm.” He nodded, kissing your palm before reaching up to peel off the suit, rolling the material smoothly down his arms, his chest, letting it bunch at his hips.

This was not the first time you’d seen him without a shirt. There’d been the aftermath of the face-off with the High Evolutionary, for one, and you definitely remembered stripping him before. A few moments where he or you had entered the other’s space as he’d been pulling a shirt on or a suit up, nothing more than a glimpse of midasian shoulders, the ripple of a smooth back, the hint of a belt of muscle. You’d carefully stowed every inch of gleaming gold in the deepest recesses of your mind. 

Now you could touch, too. You bent to kiss him as your fingers curled around the ball of his shoulder, revelling in the little sigh he gave when you dragged your hand down to his sternum. His heart thudded under your palm, and you swore you could feel the warm rush of his blood beneath his skin as you slid your touch sideways, your hand now splayed over his ribs. 

He whispered your name as you moved your kisses to his jaw, still soft, gradually trailing down his neck. Goosebumps prickled under your hand when your tongue brushed his skin, the sharp rush of his breath stirring your hair when you sucked ever so lightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Lower, over his heart, tiny bronze marks standing out against the smooth gold. You felt the skin of his stomach twitch as your fingers met the waistband of his underwear, and you paused. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, craning your neck to look at him. 

“Yes.” His eyes were closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen anything so beautiful. 

“This?” You slipped your hand under the material, tracing the deep v of his pelvis.

“(Y/N), please–” 

Oh wow. The too-tight, too-hot feeling was back, only this time its cause wasn’t sprinkled all over you. He was looking at you like you were an oxygen tank and he was drowning, and how could you ever have said no to that? 

“I can’t do it all by myself,” you smiled, pulling at the bunched and folded material circling his waist, “you gonna help out?” 

He assured you he was, lifting his hips and kicking his pants down to his ankles. It was then that you both realised he still had his boots on. He cursed softly, apologised, bent to unlace them before your hands on his stopped him. You knew what you were doing now, and exactly where you were going. 

“Let me?” you said as you knelt between his legs, your fingers already at work. 

“Oh,” he whispered as he watched you. “(Y/N), you don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to,” you replied simply. “I wanna take care of you, Adam. Can I?” 

“Yes.” It was a sigh, and his eyes when you met them were so full of what could only be described as awe that you wondered if he’d actually heard you. You ran your hands up his muscular thighs, wriggling closer to the edge of the bed, forcing his legs further apart. You bent, laying a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses across his stomach, marvelling at the smoothness and warmth of his skin, the faint tang of sweat and something else that was distinctly Adam. 

“You took care of me,” you whispered as you pulled off his underwear. “I wanna return the favour.”

He was hard, you’d felt – and seen – that much already. What you hadn’t seen, and had failed to even consider in any detail, was that his dick would be – that any dick could be – so damn pretty. It was metallic as the rest of him, ample as you’d felt earlier, flushed copper and fuck you wanted to put it in your mouth right now. 

“Is…” He paused, breathing hard. “Is that ok?” 

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Yeah, Adam, you’re perfect. You’re just… You’re perfect.” 

He sighed again, this time with something close to relief. “Oh. Ok. That’s… That’s good. Thank you.” 

“Can I touch you?” You’d already touched him practically everywhere else, and had done a little earlier, so you didn’t expect that moan that slipped from him. 

“Yes, please,” he breathed. “Please, (Y/N), go ahead.” 

Go ahead, whispered into your neck before you’d sunk down on that dick. So of course, you spat into your hand and wrapped your fingers around him, moving your hand gently to coat the whole thing in moisture. Adam’s thigh tensed under your free hand, his breath catching in his chest. You watched his face carefully as you found a rhythm, mapping every vein and curve, the swell of the head, the wet slit which you slid your thumb over – making his hips jerk ever so slightly into your grip. 

“So beautiful,” you whispered as his hand came to rest on your shoulder. “You’re so perfect, Adam. How’d I get so lucky? What’d I ever do to deserve you?” 

Your name was little more than a sharp intake of breath, and you smiled as you continued your movements. His hand slid up to your hair, around the back of your neck, fingers dipping under the collar of your suit. “Your clothes,” he said softly. 

“Off?” You paused, relishing in the feel of his hand on you. It had been magnified thousand-fold earlier, every brush of his skin lighting you on fire. This was less severe, though not by much. 

“Mhm.” 

“Ok.” You turned your head, kissing his hand before it slipped from you as you stood. You were less graceful than Adam was in undressing, and you knew you were no stripper, but his eyes still followed every movement raptly, as though he were memorising every inch of skin you revealed. You kicked your suit aside, stepping back into place between his legs as you cast off your bra. 

Adam’s hands were quick to settle on your hips, dipping under the waistband of your underwear. “Do you want help with this, too?” 

“Yes,” you smiled as you brought your hands to his hair. You’d vaguely noticed that it was softer than you’d expected, and didn’t catch easily between your fingers, but that he’d seemed to like it when you’d pulled it a little. You could explore that more later, you supposed, too focussed on the way he slid the garment down over your thighs to pool at your feet. He hummed quietly as you continued to card through his hair, fingers stroking his scalp gently. 

You followed his movement as he ducked lower, sucking a harsh breath through your teeth when you felt him kiss your hip bone, his tongue warm and silken. He did again, his moan soft moan when your fingers involuntarily tightened in his hair stifled by your pelvis. He was copying you, you realised, giving you a belt of kisses just like you’d done to him. Except he was moving lower now, becoming sloppier, gently sucking every now and then. 

“What’re you doing?” you asked softly, frowning down at him. 

“I want to taste you,” he murmured, not raising his head. “Want to make you feel good.” 

Oh God. This man, you thought for the second time and certainly not the last. You laughed, the growing heat in your gut throbbing indignantly as you pulled him gently away. He pressed his cheek into your hand again as you let it fall from his hair, his brow pinched in confusion. 

“Next time,” you told him, “ok?” Then, “And you already made me feel good. You fucked me so good it saved my life. Now it’s my turn, hm?” 

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then the confusion cleared and he nodded, turning his head to kiss your wrist. He didn’t break eye contact as you knelt once more, rubbing your hands over his thighs again, up to his hips where you caressed the little belt of copper marks. You matched now. How cute. 

You leaned forwards, kissing the spot where his leg met his body. If you turned your head just an inch, your mouth would be on his cock. It was hot to the touch, still wet with your makeshitft lube, still flushed deep bronze, now beaded with precum at the tip. 

You looked up, meeting his eyes. “You tell me if you wanna stop, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

That was all you needed. You licked up the shaft, ignoring the twitch of his hips and the sharp gasp it conjured. He moaned – really moaned – when your lips closed over the head, then again, louder, as you relaxed your mouth and sank down on him. What didn’t fit in your mouth was taken care of by the hand that wasn’t holding his hips down, not that you’d be able to do much if he decided to face fuck you. 

“(Y/N),” he panted, “oh my– (Y/N).” 

“Good?” you mumbled, though it sounded nothing like the word. He seemed to get the idea. 

“Yes, yes it’s– you’re– Oh!” 

You’d sucked, hard, hollowing your cheeks and sliding your head down as far as you could. You drew back, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before you did again. And again, and again. 

He groaned your name as you sped up, hand moving in tandem with your mouth, hot and heavy against your tongue. His hand had found its way to your hair, not pushing or pulling, just resting on the back of your head as you practically swallowed his dick. 

You’d never had a problem giving head. Liked it, sure, if the guy was nice, but you hadn’t loved it, and had never understood people who did. Now, as Adam cursed and whispered your name, all of it liberally punctuated by stilted moans and the occasional whine or grunt, you thought you got it. The idea that it was you doing that to him, you and you alone teasing forth those heady noises and making his body twitch and jerk like that… You could happily get on your knees for him every day of the rest of your life if this was what it was like every time. 

You breathed deeply through your nose, the warm, sweet and very Adam smell of him managing somehow to overpower the ever growing mess of spit and a little sweat your hand was sliding through. Maybe with anyone else it would have been gross, but here it only forced your own soft moan before trickling to join the wetness growing between your legs. Earlier, as your mind had cleared, right as Adam had been lifting you off his lap, you’d decided that you never wanted to be aroused ever again. You were very happy that wish hadn’t come true as you squeezed your thighs together, eager for any friction you could get. 

You could taste the saltiness of his precum at the back of your throat, feel the throb of his cock on your tongue as you relaxed even further, taking him deeper than you’d tried before. You prayed you weren’t about to make yourself throw up on him. 

“(Y/N),” he choked, thumb rubbing tiny circles where it rested in your hair. That was going to be a bitch to untangle. 

“Hm?” 

“You’re so–” He broke off as you sucked hard, the muscles of his thighs and stomach tensing. “Ah, you’re so beautiful. So soft, you’re so… Oh, (Y/N)--” 

You’d sped up at the praise, fuelled by the tiny, restrained thrusts into your mouth and the tightening of his hand in your hair. He was close, you could feel it, and you wanted nothing more than to make him cum in your mouth.

“So much,” he groaned. “It’s so… so much, I–” 

You squeezed gently at his thigh, a silent reassurance. He’d cum before – in you, no less – but maybe you should have started with something that you could talk to him through. You could have used your hand and told him that it was ok, that he was doing well, while you kissed him and he made all those beautiful noises against your lips. Hell, you could have gone straight to the ninth yard and let him fill you up again, given him control. 

Too late now, you supposed. His cock twitched, hips stuttering, whole body tensing. You squeezed his thigh again, I’ve got you, it’s alright, as he groaned deeply. His chest heaved, head tipped back as he came down your throat, hot and thick and salty. You didn’t stop your movements, hand and mouth working him through his high until there was no more. You pulled back and, after a moment’s hesitation, gently licked away the mess of your own spit coating him. 

You sat back on your heels, hand still resting on his shaking leg, and took him in. He shone with more than his usual iridescence, a sheen of sweat clinging to his torso, some pieces of hair sticking to his forehead, face and neck flushed so prettily, breath still coming hard and fast. You’d done that. You’d made him look like that. You were responsible for the pure, raw pleasure painted in every line of his being. 

“That was…” He broke off, swallowing hard before opening his eyes. He blinked, looked down at you on the floor, smiled. “That was incredible.” 

You smiled back, taking his hands in both your own. “You taste fucking divine,” you whispered as you kissed his knuckles. “And you did so well.” 

You couldn’t tell past the orgasm-glow, but you thought he might have blushed. “You’re so… so beautiful, (Y/N),” he repeated. “And so warm, and soft, I–” 

Now you were blushing, heat rolling up your neck, over your cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” you said softly as you stood, leaning down to press your lips against his. They immediately parted, tongue sliding beside your own, eager and exploratory. You shivered as his hands came to rest on your hips once more, pulling you closer as he shuffled backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed. 

“Adam,” you murmured, still bent over him. 

He tried to pull you closer still, gently, but still insistent. “What?” 

You tried not to laugh at the hint of frustration in his voice. “Bed’s in the way. I can’t get any closer.” 

“Yes you can.” He broke away, frowning. “Just sit on me.” 

“Sit on you?” You glanced at his lap, back up again, raising your eyebrows. Did you hear that right? 

“Yes. Sit on me.” He pulled again, and you were struck suddenly by the realisation that he really didn’t have to ask – or tell – you to do anything. If he wanted you on top of him that badly, he could easily pick you up and place you there without breaking a sweat. Hell, he could throw you across the room if he really got the urge. But he wasn’t forcing you. Even the pressure on your hips was gentle enough that you could have pulled away any time you wanted. 

“Ok,” you smiled, steadying yourself on his shoulders as you knelt over his thighs. 

“You can relax,” he urged, his hands running down over your hips to your thighs, back up again and over your waist, around to your back. His arms circled you, head bent as he mouthed at your neck. “Don’t have to hold yourself up.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ok.” You relaxed your legs, sinking down to rest atop his. He hadn’t stopped the attention he was giving to your neck, nosing your hair aside to kiss under your ear, along the hollow of your jaw, over your jugular, right across the tendons at the base of your throat. You tipped your head back for him, sighing in satisfaction as you ran your hand through his hair. His palms were warm where they pressed into your back, his chest and stomach smooth against your own. 

“Closer,” he whispered under your ear, pushing you further up his legs. 

You shifted, your stomach backflipping as your pelvis met his. He hummed into your skin, pressing you harder against himself, his cock hard again and hot where it lay between your bodies. His mouth had moved lower, to your breasts, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin just as gently as he’d done to your neck. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you breathed, rocking your hips. 

“Hm, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You smiled at that. “You won’t, I promise. I wanna see this tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and maybe even the day after that, too.” 

You felt him nod, and then moaned because yes he was really using his mouth now. His teeth grazed your skin as he sucked a dark mark just below your collar bone, soothing it quickly with his tongue. He looked up at you momentarily for approval, and at your smile, bent again to repeat it. Yep, you were going to be seeing those for a while. 

“Adam,” you gasped as he stooped lower, leaving a trail of wet hickeys down the centre of your chest. 

“Hm?”

“I know I was kind of – oh – in control last time,” you started, biting your lip as he turned his attention to your breast. “Do you want – fuck, yes – to try being in charge?” 

“No,” he said after a pause. He looked up, hand ghosting up your side to stroke a particularly large and dark hickey. “I liked it.” 

That wasn’t what you’d been expecting. He was always so happy to go along with whatever everyone else was doing, which you supposed was another side effect of Sovereign upbringing, you’d assumed he might like to take the lead. He seemed to be having an excellent time exploring your body at his leisure. 

“Ok then,” you smiled as you ground against him. “Do you want me to do it again?” 

“Yes.” His breathing was heavy as he nodded. “Please, (Y/N).” 

“Ok.” You reached down, taking his cock in your hand. “Ready?” 

He broke away from your chest, looking up at you like you’d hung the bloody stars. His hand joined yours as he closed the distance, kissing you softly at first, then with less coordination as you lined him up and sank down, sighing against his lips. His fingers gripped your thigh, tight enough that you wondered if they were leaving marks, a deep groan echoing through the space between you. 

“Alright?” you murmured, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked. 

“Alright,” he echoed. He stroked up your leg, under the back of your thigh, squeezing gently at the soft flesh of your ass and lifting you. You wondered if he was trying to get you off him for a second, then he was lowering you back onto himself and it clicked. 

“Like this?” you asked, rocking your hips over his. God, he fit so perfectly, it was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. How had you glossed over that the first time? 

“Yes, yes,” he sighed. “(Y/N), you’re– yes, like that.” 

You wondered if he knew what he was doing to you as you practically whined, steadying yourself against his shoulders just as you had before. His arm was around your waist, holding you close as you lifted and lowered your hips, your chest brushing his with every movement. 

His lips had returned to your neck, warm and soft. “Is this good?” he asked as he sucked at the as yet unmarked skin there. “For you?” 

Wow, you were ruined for anyone else. “So good, Adam,” you whispered, running your hands over his shoulders, the back of his neck. “You feel so fucking good.” 

He groaned deep in his chest, his hips jerking up into yours. And oh if that didn’t turn you on more than you already were. Just your words could have that effect on him. Eight little words and your touch, and he did that. The power was intoxicating. 

“What you do to me,” he was saying, guiding your movements. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” 

“Yeah?” You slid one hand down, trailing over his chest and stomach before finding the mess of heat and slick and sweat where your body met his. Your fingers danced over your clit, a sharp hiss of air between your teeth. 

“No idea,” he repeated, the words gliding over your skin like water. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, “fuck, Adam. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” 

You felt him smile. “Hm?” 

“You feel fucking amazing,” you hissed past the steady pleasure-ache of his cock hitting that place deep inside you, your fingers on your clit. It was building with every slap of your hips against his, hot and tight. 

“Oh, (Y/N)--” 

“Love feeling you fill me up,” you continued. “Dreamed about what it’d be like.” 

“What is it like?” 

“Like – fuck, Adam – it’s like fucking Heaven, I swear–” 

He groaned your name again, desperate and God, you were so close. 

“You look like Heaven,” you panted, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head back. You searched his face past the pleasure-haze already clouding your vision, dipping down to kiss him hard. It was as messy as the first not-quite-kiss had been, all tongue and breath and your whispered “so fucking pretty” as you licked into his mouth. 

“So are you,” he managed, hands kneading at the soft skin of your waist and hips, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. 

“Love hearing you say my name,” you went on, your fingers working harder and faster. “All those sounds you make, so perfect–” 

“(Y/N).” He said it like a prayer, like an incantation, and if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard, you didn’t know what was. 

“Gonna make me cum, Adam holy shit–” 

He thrust harder up into you, lips fastened to the hollow under your jaw, moving you hard and fast against himself. “Yes, do it, cum on me,” he babbled. “Let me make you feel good.” 

That did it. The bomb of pleasure inside you exploded, fizzing out though your legs as you spasmed around him, a desperate cry of his name torn from you. You held him tight, fingers twisting in his hair, half conscious of his own litany of curses and praises and your name repeated throughout as he continued to move your boneless body. He spilled hot inside you, and when you finally regained control of your mind, he was breathing hard against your chest and shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, combing your fingers through his hair. 

“Yes,” he nodded. His grip on you had loosened considerably, his hands roaming soothingly up and down your back. “Are you?” 

You sighed, then laughed as you drew back. His brow furrowed as you held his face between your hands. “Am I alright?” you echoed incredulously. “Adam, you are amazing.” 

The frown deepened. “So… yes?” 

“Yes.” You leaned down, pressing your lips to his. This kiss was gentle, slow and thorough, and he smiled at you when you parted. “Will you stay this time?” you asked.

“Yes.” Then, “Can I clean you up again?” 

“Yes.” You sighed as he effortlessly shifted you off himself, setting you gently on the bed. You could feel his cum leaking slowly out of you, the air cool against your sweat, his spit still on your skin, and the mess of arousal around your crotch. He wasn’t in any better shape, really, but still he moved with ease and grace towards the doorway, returning in record time with a damp cloth. 

Something inside you ached with how gentle he was. Thorough, but he drew away at the slightest hint of discomfort. He’d done this before, you supposed, when you’d been asleep. You remembered him telling you he was going to clean you up, had heard his footsteps retreating, but had dozed off before he’d returned. Still, you’d woken up relatively clean, and there’d been the blanket, too. If it had been anyone else the thought would have made you feel violated, perhaps, but not with him. With him it made your heart melt.

“Let me,” you said softly when he’d finished, taking the cloth and wiping at the mess around his crotch with a clean portion. You tossed the cloth aside when you were done, shuffling backwards, pulling him to lie with you. It took some wriggling, but eventually you settled face to face under the blanket, his arm draped over your ribs, fingers toying with the hair at the back of your head, your own hand splayed over his heart. 

“I meant it,” he said softly. “What I said before.” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re important to me.” Although the bronze had faded from his face, leaving it the shining gold you were used to, his lips were still slightly swollen, his eyes bright. In the dimness of the corner of the room, with the light behind him, he seemed to glow. 

“Oh,” you smiled, then sighed as you shifted barely an inch closer “You’re important to me too, Adam.” 

He leaned forward over the tiny gap, kissing your lips ever so gently. “Can we… do this again? When we’re back?” 

“Yeah. I’d like to.” You paused, taking your turn to kiss him. “I like being with you,” you whispered as you pulled away. 

Adam smiled. His hand flattening against your shoulder blades, he pulled you in against his chest. His skin was so warm, and you could hear his heart beating, feel his breathing. 

“I like being with you, too.” 

Note: I feel like this wasn't quite up to par with what I've written in the past, and I'm genuinely not sure why or how I can fix it. I've re-read both of these like five times now (after finishing them) and have edited them endlessly, but I just can't seem to make them feel right. Anyone else every get that? Either way, hope you guys enjoyed these x

[stoat-party]

Did you guys ever see the Beauty and the Beast sequel Belle’s Magical World? Every time I describe it to someone I have to comb my memory to make sure it wasn’t just a REALLY weird dream I had.

My perception of the first movie was that Belle realized Beast would never actually harm her and immediately lost all fear of him (and that his servants were never actually scared of him). But no, in this movie, he upends a table and crushes several of his living dishes. To death. We see their corpses being swept up later.

He does this because Belle called him rude. Which she did after he backhanded another one of his servants across the room because it was too hot.

Belle later feels guilty? And wants to apologize? But she wants him to apologize first. So three of the servants (who, bear in mind, are trapped as appliances until these two idiots decide to fall in love) forge a letter from Beast. Beast finds out and banishes the three of them into the snow, threatening to kill them if they return. When Beast finally does decide to apologize, he barges into Belle’s room so aggressively that he crushes Cogsworth against a wall.

Belle fosters an injured baby bird. Everyone is terrified because, we are told, Beast hates animals, especially birds. Belle is so enthralled with the little dude that she misses lunch with Beast. He flips out and barges into her room, sees the bird, and starts chasing it around the castle on all fours like a dog, trashing the place in the process. He’s so checked out in this blind rage that he slips on a flight of stairs, landing on his neck.

Suddenly, he loves the bird and decides to put it in a cage. He yells at it for awhile but it won’t sing for him. Belle says it will never trust him or be happy as long as he’s keeping it imprisoned (*COUGH*) and I’m fuzzy on the details here but then he falls off a building for some reason and the bird is free and loves him.

Beast’s comical levels of abusive behavior are broken up by a weird song from Belle, and an extended sequence where the feather duster thinks Lumiere is having sex with Belle and attempts to orchestrate their deaths. (No, not a vague disneyfied canoodling, it was clearly implied to be sex.)

No, I didn’t make any of that up. You’d think a movie this ??!?!??!??! would at least be not incredibly boring, but you’d be wrong there too.

[isa-ghost]

some qphil and pomme hcs 🥹? i was thinking abt the rescue we were robbed of

Okay bear with me, I didn't get to see her a lot because I didn't watch most POVs she was on so these might not be spicy and deep or smth, they'll mostly be silly or surface level stuff. 😭

Phil headcanons masterlist

He thinks she's one of, if not THE most brilliant egg. Pomme's mind is something else /pos. He'd love to sit down and pick her brain sometime as one big brain to another (though he'd never admit he's big brain).

He makes dad jokes about Chayanne making anything apple flavored/centric like "How could you cook Pomme like that D:" and it always gets him smacked by both Chay and Lullah.

And then he'll see Pomme and be like YOU'RE ALIVE :O!! and watches her scramble like ?!?!?! before dying laughing and explaining himself. Etoiles has started to get in on this, much to Pomme's dismay.

He makes so many apple-related dad jokes in general, he enjoys watching all the kids die inside too much when he makes them. He doesn't even LIKE dad jokes that much, he's just a shithead.

He actively encourages Pomme to "compete" with Richas in collecting dads

There have been multiple occasions where they've had a Moment of some sort with or without other people around and he's told Pomme how much of her parents he can see in her. He's talked about seeing Baghera, Etoiles, and Pierre.

Phil loves the way Pomme just kinda blends in with her parents. She's not a Mommy's Girl or a Daddy's Girl. If she's with Baghera she's a lot like her and that her is different than when she's with Etoiles and those are both different from when she's with Pierre. And so on. Phil finds it endearing that Pomme takes after each and every parent and how it really shows when she's with them individually.

The couple times she (usually also with Dapper or Richas) would come to Phil in the wake of big stressful things going on, it was because she knew of all the islanders, Phil is one of the ones who's no doubt seen the most in his lifetime. He Gets It. He'll be real and raw about it, he won't sugarcoat just because she's a little girl. He'll level with her, and that kind of insight and comfort is what she needs in those trying times.

I think if Phil was Pomme's parent then she would've pulled a Chayanne and personally beat Ender King's ass right out of his body. And she'd spend day and night beforehand painstakingly plotting a plan to ensure it goes right too.

My memory is fuzzy on Pomme's first day, but I remember Phil being on high alert while the French were getting on their feet and offering everything he could in order to help keep Pomme safe while they settled in. Pomme's never forgotten that. If there were ever a crisis that left all of the French AND Bad + their bases inaccessible or unsafe, she'd go straight to Phil next. She knows how much effort he puts into keeping his bases safe and secure, and she knows he has always dropped everything at any moment no matter what in order to prioritize the eggs.

God these two shake hands on the insomnia fr. The only reason Phil eventually passes out is bc of his weird universe transcending fuckery. He may willingly Go to sleep but his ass doesn't willingly Fall asleep if that makes sense. Brain too busy going 90 miles a minute.

Phil's never thought abt this but I am: Of all the eggs, I think Pomme is one of the ones who would survive the best in his Hardcore World. She'd lock the FUCK in.

And Phil would've seen that if we weren't robbed of the rescue. 😔 The rescue would've changed how Phil views Pomme in a positive way I think.

Because as of right now, he just feels awful that Pomme has to grow up and be mature so much faster. There are too many horrors, she just doesn't let herself be a kid. Chayanne does similar things but he at least still let's himself be a kid. It saddens Phil that Pomme seems to think she can't be, even if she wants to be. :(

If he wasn't afraid of an awful accident happening, he'd probably spar with her. She's the daughter of Etoiles, he has no doubt she's a lil fireball. But he only trusts himself to spar with Chayanne and Lullah. (I think I've said this somewhere already,, hm. Well at least I'm consistent LMAO)