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stvolanis · 9 months ago

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Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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kazuhaiku · 3 months ago

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charismatic fool

warnings: gn!reader, fluff, ajaw is annoying ノpairings: kinich x reader

notes: kinich fic because i love this man @chrollogy hai pookie :)

The note Kinich left for you at the Adventurer’s Guild is somewhat worrying. You asked Katheryne about it but she said that Kinich left as soon as he gave that note to her. The note says that you needed to come back as soon as possible because there is apparently an emergency in the house that only you could solve. That was the only thing Kinich had said, and now you’re worrying your ass off because you’re afraid that something bad has happened. Well, Kinich can defend himself pretty well considering that his combat skills are ten times better than you.

Of course, being a great partner you are, you quickly finish claiming your daily commission rewards and head back home quickly. Nothing looks bad when you first arrive back home. No smoke, fire, or flood (Kinich can be a bad cook sometimes).

The house is quiet when you step in, which makes you scared because what if someone broke into your house while Kinich is distracted? “Kinich?” you call out. “Baby, where are you? I’m home, just like you asked.” instead of Kinich answering you, you hear a crash coming from outside, to which you yelp in surprise.

Kinich appears behind you, almost out of breath. “Oh, you got here quick,” Kinich spoke in a casual tone. “I didn’t think you would arrive home this quickly.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked in disbelief. Taking the note out of your pocket, you shove it into his chest. “You left this at Katheryne’s stall saying that there is an emergency at home that only I could fix!”

“Oh, for fucks’ sake…” Kinich sighs, rereading the note. “I asked Ajaw to write and leave the note for me. I didn’t expect him to exaggerate it this much.”

“So? What was that emergency Ajaw is talking about?” you ask. “Pretty sure people were staring at me when I suddenly ran off.”

“Well, considering that you and I have been working hard with commissions and stuff, I figured we could have a relaxing night,” Kinich explains. “I prepared something outside for us to do.” You blink. Outside? How come you didn’t notice? Sensing your confusion, Kinich laughs. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice any of the stuff outside when you arrived.”

“Well, let me see… I think it’s because of the note Ajaw left for me?” you retorted. “Where is he anyway? He’s usually around mocking me.”

“Oh, I put him on timeout,” Kinich says in a matter-of-fact tone. “He kept bothering me while I was preparing the stuff and it was pissing me off.” he suddenly grabs your wrist. “Well, enough about him. Come on, I bet you’ll love what I’ve prepared.”

Kinich leads you outside and there, right in front of your eyes, he’s decorated your tiny garden with a blanket laid on the grass with some pillows on top. Right in the middle of everything is a tray filled with snacks and drinks.

“Woah…” you gape in awe.

“Looks nice, right?” Kinich says. “Mualani told me that tonight will be the best time to stargaze as the stars will look the brightest tonight.” he pulls you down on the blanket, immediately pulling you into his embrace. As you look up, you see stars lighting up the sky. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you agree, feeling relaxed. Kinich wasn’t even paying attention to the stars, but he was looking at you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Kinich shrugs, averting his gaze back to the sky. “I don’t know. You just look really pretty.”

Your breath hitches. “I-I am not! Plus, I just got home all sweaty from commissions, it’s gross!”

“You’re still beautiful regardless.” Kinich shrugs.

The stars were bright, and you honestly feel like you are in another universe. Everything felt surreal, and it just felt like all the problems and burdens had been lifted from your shoulders.

Maybe you had to thank Ajaw for writing that annoying note.

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jetii · 4 months ago

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To the General

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

Words: 14,310

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, some blood/gore, depression, hallucinations, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), some light dom/sub dynamics, a little cockwarming

Summary: It's been over a year since Howzer has lost his General, and yet, the ghost of your memory still haunts him. His guilt and grief threaten to swallow him whole, until Rex returns to the base with a surprise visitor.

A/N: Reposting because I forgot my taglist. 🤦‍♀️ No excuse for the word count I fear. I just love Jedi/Clone forbidden love with all my heart, and I love writing dramatic reunions even more.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Howzer doesn’t remember how it happened.

Their arrival on Ryloth had come on the heels of an overdrawn battle on Bothawui. The entire battalion was teetering on the edge of exhaustion by the time they had boarded The Eclipse. Their hopes of an extended shore leave were quickly dashed as it was announced by order of the Jedi Council and the Chancellor himself that they would be sent to occupy Ryloth indefinitely.

The General had tried to make the most of it. She’d arranged for the mess to cook the finest meal they could get their hands on, which admittedly wasn’t more than some fresh meats and root vegetables, but the crew didn't complain. And if Howzer caught the smell of alcohol floating about when they walked to their stations, he didn't say anything about it.

Still, no amount of finery or good cheer could hide the truth: the crew was worn ragged and the battalion was ready to snap. The men resolved to keep pushing on for the sake of their General, who had taken their heavy losses the hardest. That night, she’d broken into tears over the new helmets lining their memorial wall, a wall that was nearly full.

Howzer had been with her, had stood with her and her tears. He had seen the General in every state of grief, of anger and pain. He'd also seen her at her very best. He'd seen her bright smile and heard her warm laugh. He'd been there for the moments of victory and the moments of defeat.

She was his General and his closest friend, his guiding star, and he would do anything for her.

Howzer doesn’t remember how it happened, but he does remember her. He remembers everything about her.

His first memory is her as a young commander, and the first time he saw her. It was on Kamino, and the first time she had visited. She'd been there with her Master, who had come to assess the cadets' progress. They had all lined up in neat rows for the inspection. Howzer remembers how tall she had looked in her uniform and cape despite how all the men towered over her.

Howzer can't remember what she said or did. But he can recall her eyes and the warmth in them as she walked past them. He had wanted her to look at him.

His second memory is the first time they met, months later. It was shortly after the start of the war, and the 318th was still in its infancy. The General had just arrived to pick her new battalion up, and as her new Captain, Howzer was part of the honor guard.

Howzer doesn’t remember the words they spoke, only that she was kind and her voice was warm, and when she smiled, the whole world seemed to brighten.

In the years that followed, he got to know her and became her aide. They were together almost every day. They spent time with their men and led them through the horrors of war. She was a natural leader, charismatic and inspiring, and it wasn't long before Howzer was completely devoted to her.

But the war continued, and so did the death. They had lost men and friends, and Howzer had to watch the General suffer each time. Her pain was his. How could it not be?

She was the best thing in his life, his bright light in the darkness, and he was in love with her.

Howzer doesn’t remember when he began thinking of her that way. He thinks he might’ve always loved her, always wanted her. Maybe from the moment he saw her in that corridor.

All he knew is that he'd loved her in every possible way a man could love a woman, just as he knew that his love would never be reciprocated.

But it didn't matter.

As long as he was with her, Howzer would pretend, and he was okay with that. He could live with loving her from afar and keeping his feelings in check. As her Captain, his job was to support her, and he would be the best damn Captain she'd ever had.

He could dream of a different reality where she returned his feelings, one where they were not at war, and maybe one where he was not her clone trooper. He would dream of a life where he could hold her and touch her, where he could kiss her and whisper how much he loved her.

But those were dreams, and nothing more.

And reality was very different now.

Now, the General is nothing more than a memory.

It’s been long enough that pieces of her are starting to fade from his mind, and he hates it. He wants to hang on to her as long as possible, but he knows that his memories are all he has left. He doesn’t have a holo or picture of her. He only has the images in his mind and the broken piece of nova crystal he kept tucked away in his pocket.

Howzer doesn't remember how it happened.

But he knows it’s his fault.

Howzer is the one who let her down. He's the reason she died. He must be, even if he can't remember it, because he can't accept any other reality. He was her Captain and her right-hand man, her closest friend and her most devoted soldier. If she died, it was because he had failed her, and he will never forgive himself for it.

Maybe he deserves to forget.

That thought is worse than the one of her death.

There was a time when he had wondered if his love was a sickness, something to be ashamed of and hidden away. He didn't want his brothers to know and judge him, and he didn't want her to know, either. He'd never acted on his desires. He'd never told her, and maybe that's why this is so much worse.

Maybe this is a punishment, and one he deserves.

He knows he must have done something wrong, something terrible, because no man would be this cursed unless they deserved it. The nightmares, the guilt, the emptiness, it had to be some kind of retribution for his transgressions.

He's tried to forget. He's tried to move on. He's tried to be a better man, a better clone. He's tried to do everything that a good soldier should, but no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, his mind always drifts back to her. His thoughts always wander to his memories. He can't shake her. He doesn't know how to. He's never known how.

Every time he closes his eyes to sleep, he sees her. She's the same as the last time he saw her, with her armor and her hair up in its braid, and she is beautiful. Howzer is so happy to see her again, so relieved that she's not gone.

But she is, and he has to tell her.

He tries, but the words don't come out right. Or maybe it's just that he can't say them, that he still doesn't want to accept what had happened after all this time. But the words are stuck in his throat, and his eyes burn, and Howzer knows she's waiting for him to answer her.

And he can't.

She's waiting for him, and he can't.

She deserves to know the truth. She needs to know that she died, that he failed her, and that her death is on his hands.

Howzer can't look at her. He can't face her.

He closes his eyes and waits for her to turn away. He waits for her to leave him, because he doesn't deserve her.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she steps forward and takes his hands into hers. He flinches at her touch, because she shouldn’t be here. She isn't real. She's just another figment of his imagination, his punishment, and he wants her to stop. He can't do this anymore.

"Howzer," she says. "Howzer, look at me."

And he does. He can't help himself. Her face is starting to blur in his memory, he can't remember the exact shade of her eyes, and he doesn't want to forget. Not yet. He opens his eyes and looks at her, but he knows what he'll find.

Blood.

Her blood.

On his hands, on his face, on his chestplate.

There's so much of it, and he can't stop staring at it, at the way it coats her armor and drips onto the floor. He can't look away. He can't do anything.

"Look at me, Howzer," she says again.

But he can't. He can't do it.

He can't look at her, not like this. He can't stand the thought of seeing her face covered in blood, her lifeless eyes staring at him, her body cold and broken and gone.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispers. "It's all my fault."

"No," she says.

She doesn't say anything else, and Howzer wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants her to yell at him and berate him, to curse him and hate him. But when he finally gains the courage to look her in the eye, there's nothing there. She's gone.

It's the worst thing he could've imagined.

He's alone.

Last night’s nightmare plays over and over again in his mind as he stands at the holotable, looking over the map and trying not to think of the General.

It's hard. It's always been hard, but it's gotten worse over the last few months. The dreams are more frequent, and the pain is more intense. He doesn't know how to stop them, or if they will ever stop.

He thought it would get better when he joined Rex's group, that he would find some semblance of peace with the other clones fighting the good fight, but he was wrong.

There is no peace for him, not after what he did.

The others are talking around him, but Howzer is only half listening. It's the usual stuff: what their next move will be, how many supplies they have, and the list goes on. Rex is expected to return from a meeting with Senator Chuchi any minute, and this meeting is more about making sure the captain is updated on what he missed.

But the details escape Howzer. He's distracted by his thoughts, and his guilt is eating at him. It's all he can think about, and he can't shake the feeling that he doesn't deserve to be here.

"Howzer."

The sound of his name brings him back to reality, and he realizes everyone is looking at him.

"Uh, sorry," he says. "What was the question?"

Echo studies him. His gaze is intense, and Howzer has the distinct impression that he's being read. It's a disconcerting feeling, one that he's felt more than a few times in the last couple months since his rescue, and it makes him feel transparent. Like his armor is gone and his emotions are on display.

But that can't be the case, because Howzer hasn't told him what happened.

No one knows the truth, not even the men. Howzer hasn't told anyone about his part in his General's death, and he's not planning to either. There's no point in dredging up the past. He knows he’s not the only clone with guilt about what happened to the Jedi, what they had done.

He’s just the only one who can’t seem to let it go.

"I asked if you were alright," Echo says. "You've seemed a little off the last few days.”

Howzer nods.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says. "Just a little tired."

The lie slips off his tongue easily, and it's one he's told more than a few times before. He's not fine, and he hasn't been since that day, but there's no need to burden his brothers with his problems.

Echo doesn't look convinced, and he's about to open his mouth to ask another question when Rex finally arrives. The captain's entrance is followed by a chorus of greetings and welcomes, and the tension in the room dissipates. The men are happy to see him, and Howzer is thankful for the distraction.

The Captain greets the men, and then he turns to Howzer.

"Howzer," Rex says. "Do you mind if I speak to you privately?"

"Of course not, Captain," Howzer answers.

Rex leads Howzer out of the command center and down the corridor. The walk is silent, and Howzer can feel the tension building between them. Rex hasn't said a word, and he has no idea why he wants to talk to him. Maybe it's about his recent performance, or lack thereof. He hasn't been the most reliable or helpful lately.

Howzer is starting to worry in earnest when they turn, moving away from the section of the compound that holds Rex's makeshift office and toward the doors leading out to the landing zone. Walking slightly in front of him, Rex is tense, his shoulders stiff and his jaw set. Whatever he has to say, it must be serious.

Rex finally stops in front of the closed blast doors and turns to Howzer. His expression is neutral, and it's impossible to tell what's going on in his head.

"Rex," Howzer begins, unable to bear the silence any longer, "if this is about my work, I understand. I haven't been on top of things the last few days, and if you need to put someone else on comms, I—"

Rex puts his hand up.

"That's not why I asked you out here, Howzer," Rex says. "There's someone here you need to see."

Howzer raises an eyebrow, confused.

"I don't understand," he says. "Who's here?"

"Just follow me."

Rex punches in a code, and the doors slide open. The light from outside fills the hallway, and Howzer blinks at the sudden brightness. He steps out into the landing zone, following Rex into the sunlight. The air is warm and dry, and he can already feel the heat radiating from the cracked duracrete beneath his boots.

"What are we doing out here, Rex?" he asks.

Rex doesn't answer, just keeps walking across the landing zone toward the ship. The Remora stands alone on the platform, ramp already drawn. Howzer squints in an effort to see inside the darkness of the vessel, looking for a spot of white plastoid among the shadows.

But what steps forward isn’t a clone at all.

Howzer recognizes you instantly, and he suddenly feels like he’s about to faint.

His vision tunnels, and the world tilts on its axis. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, and his breath is coming too fast, too hard. There's a roaring sound, like the sound of a rushing river, and it drowns out everything else. He feels sick, and his legs are shaking.

It can't be real. It can't be.

But it is.

There’s a loud clang, and he dimly realizes his helmet has fallen from his hands. It's lying on the ground now, at his feet, but he can't seem to find the strength to pick it up. All he can do is stare.

You descend the ramp slowly and place a hesitant foot onto the ground. The corners of your lips curl into an uncertain smile, while Howzer remains frozen, trapped in disbelief.

You take a step forward, and he still doesn't move. He's rooted to the spot, his heart racing, and he's afraid.

Howzer knows he's hallucinating. He's been here before. This isn't the first time you've appeared to him, not the first time you've looked at him with those warm eyes and called his name. But every time he reaches out, the mirage vanishes. He's tried. He's tried so hard to reach you.

He knows he's going to wake up, and you will be gone again.

It doesn't stop him from wanting to believe that it's real. That you're here.

Your smile falters when you notice his helmet on the ground, and Howzer watches your eyes search his. They're the same as they've always been, bright and kind, and full of concern. It's too much. It's always been too much.

"Howzer," you say. "Are you okay?"

"No," he says.

You step closer, and Howzer instinctively backs away. You stop. Your brows furrow, and your eyes fill with hurt, and it makes his stomach twist. He wants to go to you, to pull you close and hold you, but he doesn't. He can't.

This isn't real. None of it is real.

He has to tell you.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" you ask.

You're still walking toward him, and Howzer has to force himself not to run. He has to stop this before it goes any further. He can't let himself fall prey to his delusions, not again.

"No, it's not real," he says.

You frown. "What's not real?"

"You," he whispers. "You're not real. None of this is."

You stop, your eyes wide and worried. "Howzer, what are you talking about?"

He ignores you. He has to make you understand.

"You're dead," he says. His voice breaks on the last word, and it comes out as a choked sob.

The words hang between the two of you, and Howzer braces himself for the inevitable. He knows what will happen. You'll disappear. He's seen it happen enough times, and he can't bear to go through it again.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus, to steady his breathing and keep the tears at bay.

But when he opens his eyes, you're still there.

And then the impossible happens.

You move forward, and he doesn't stop you. He doesn't flinch or back away when you reach out and put your hands on his shoulders. He can't.

Your touch is solid. Real.

You're real.

His legs give way, forcing him to collapse heavily onto his knees. He can't bear the weight anymore. The grief, the guilt, the shame. It's too much.

“I failed you, General,” he says around the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. Howzer squeezes his burning eyes shut, willing the tears away, but they come regardless. He feels his body tremble, his shoulders shaking as he fights against the sob rising in his chest. He tries to take a deep breath, but his lungs won't cooperate, and all he manages is a choked gasp.

“I…I’m so sorry.”

"Howzer, Howzer, please look at me."

It's not a request.

Your voice is commanding, the way he remembers, and it's enough to coax him into opening his eyes. Looking at you directly is almost too painful to bear, like looking directly at Ryloth’s sun, but he does.

Tears are streaming down your face, but a gentle smile still curves your lips. The hand on his shoulder moves to cup his face, thumb tracing the marred skin of his cheek. Unbidden, the memory of you holding him when he received the wound years ago comes to mind. Howzer hadn't seen it then, but the affection is clear now.

"It's okay," you say, softly.

"It's not," he replies. "I shouldn't have let you go."

Your hand moves to his jaw, and you gently tilt his chin upwards. He wants to lean into the touch, to bask in the warmth of your skin, but he can't. He doesn't deserve this. Not after what he did.

"I should've known. I should've—"

"Stop," you cut him off.

Your voice is firm, but the hand on his jaw is soft and gentle, and your eyes are still kind. He wants so badly to believe that this is real, that you're really here, but the doubts linger. He can't let himself fall into the illusion. He can't let himself lose you again.

"You can't blame yourself for this, Howzer. It wasn't your fault."

"I failed you."

"No, Howzer," you say. "You didn't."

He doesn't know what to say. Your hand is still on his face. Your fingers are trembling.

“I forgive you," you whisper the words softly, and it's more than he deserves. "I forgave you long ago."

It's too much.

His composure breaks, and he wraps his arms around your hips, burying his face in your stomach. His tears are hot and wet, and they soak through the fabric of your shirt. His sobs are loud and broken, and he can barely breathe, but he can't stop, and you don't push him away. The hand on his cheek cups the back of his head, and your other arm wraps around his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers.

He isn't sure if you hear him. He's not sure if he wants you to. But you must, because your grip tightens, and your hand runs through his hair.

He holds you, clinging to you like a lifeline, and lets the tears flow. He can't hold back the sobs, the pain, the anger. All of the emotions are coming to the surface, and they won't be held back any longer.

He cries for you, for the pain you endured. For the loss and the hurt. He cries for himself, for the guilt and the shame. He cries because it hurts, and because he's relieved, and because he can't believe this is real and he's so kriffing happy to see you again.

When his tears finally stop, you're still there, still holding him, and he's still kneeling in front of you. His shoulders are stiff, his muscles sore, but he can't find the strength to move.

He doesn't want to.

He wants to stay like this forever.

Eventually, you break the silence.

“Is there somewhere we can go to speak in private?” you ask quietly. Your fingers run through the buzzed hair at the back of his head and linger on the scar there, the one he doesn’t have a story for. A shiver runs down his spine before his brain catches up to your question.

Howzer nods and clears his throat.

"Yeah," he says, his voice hoarse. "My room. We can talk there."

You help him stand, and he takes a moment to collect himself, wiping his eyes. When he looks at you again, he feels a hot sting of embarrassment. It's been a long time since he's let himself fall apart like this, and he's not sure how to act, and he's grateful there's no one else around to witness it.

You don't seem bothered by his breakdown. You smile, and it's soft and warm, and his heart does a strange flip.

"Are you okay?" you ask, and your concern is so genuine that it almost brings fresh tears to his eyes. His emotions feel raw, like an open wound, and he's not sure how much more he can take before he's completely overwhelmed, but when he answers this time, he speaks the truth.

"I will be," he says as he kneels to collect his helmet.

You nod, and there's a hint of relief in your eyes, but the smile on your face never wavers as you step up to his side. He’s surprised to feel your hand threading through the crook of his elbow before he realizes it was he who had held out his arm for you. A force of habit he didn't know he still had, but one that was very welcome.

It had always been your way, before. To walk beside him instead of ahead.

He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders.

"Shall we?"

"Yes," you say, smiling.

As the two of you begin to make your way across the landing zone, Howzer can't help but marvel at how natural this feels. The familiarity of your presence at his side, the soft pressure of your hand against his arm, and the sound of your breathing.

All of it feels so right, and Howzer thinks it must be a dream, a hallucination, something, because this is too perfect. It can't be real. It's been far too long for it to be real.

But the weight of your arm on his and the sound of your footsteps at his side feel real, more real than anything he's ever experienced. He's never had a hallucination this vivid before. He hopes it's not just a dream, but he keeps his eyes on you just to make sure.

You look different. Older, maybe. But also more beautiful.

It's a silly thought, but it's the truth. There's a certain peace and calmness to your expression, and it suits you. You look content, like you've finally found what you were looking for, and Howzer feels a rush of joy.

You're alive.

He still can't quite believe it, and he finds himself staring openly at you. He knows the path to his room like the back of his hand, and he could probably make the trek with his eyes closed. But he doesn't.

Instead, he keeps his eyes on you, memorizing every detail, every curve of your face and every twitch of your mouth. He's desperate to fill in the gaps in his memory, the details he's lost and the moments that slipped away. He doesn't want to forget again.

Your head is on a swivel as you take in the equipment and clones bustling around the enclosed space inside the temple. It reminds him of your first day, and he can't help but smile. You haven't changed at all.

Echo and Rex are in the command center along with a handful of other clones. They watch as the two of you walk through, their faces showing a range of expressions from surprise to confusion to suspicion. But they say nothing, and Howzer is grateful. He knows how he looks, with his reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks. They’ll no doubt have questions later, but for now, they keep them to themselves.

“What you’ve built here is impressive,” you say as you give a friendly smile to Samson when you pass by. He does a double-take, his gaze moving from your face to your arm wrapped around Howzer's, and back to your face again.

Howzer smiles back and doesn't offer any explanation.

Samson isn't the only one looking. Several of the men stare, and Howzer can't help the small thrill of pride that courses through him at their wide-eyed looks.

It's a silly thought, he knows. He shouldn't feel good about being seen with you, not after everything that's happened. But he can't deny the satisfaction he feels at the thought that the men can see the two of you together again, and he wonders how many of them had guessed about his feelings.

Probably all of them.

"This is it," Howzer says as the two of you stop outside the door to the room he claimed as his own.

It's not much—a single bed, a locker, and a desk—but it's enough. It's a quiet place to escape to when the chaos of the galaxy around him becomes too much, though he hasn't spent much time in it since he arrived.

Howzer steps forward and places his hand on the panel, and the door slides open. He motions for you to enter first, and you do, letting go of his arm as you step into the room.

You take a moment to study your surroundings before your eyes land on the lone chair in the room. Howzer can tell what you're thinking. You're going to offer it to him, and he doesn't want it. He can't imagine sitting right now. His legs still feel like jelly and his whole body is still buzzing from the adrenaline of seeing you.

Instead, Howzer leans against the wall by the door and takes a deep breath, watching as you walk forward to examine his desk, your back to him.

The room is quiet, the only sound the faint buzzing of the lights above them. He can't hear the commotion outside. He can't even hear his own heartbeat. All he can hear is you, your soft, slow breathing and the gentle rustle of fabric as you move.

He hesitates to break the silence, but he has to know.

“How are you—how did you survive?” he asks. How are you alive, he wants to say. You shouldn’t be alive. The words stick in his throat.

You stiffen slightly, but you don't turn around. The latest report on their medical supplies is held loosely in your grasp, and Howzer watches the datapad tremble slightly.

“You truly don’t remember?” you ask softly, dropping the report back onto the desk. You pivot to face him, your back pressing into the metal edge, and he can't read your expression.

He swallows. His throat feels dry, and his heart is pounding in his ears.

No. He doesn’t remember. But he needs to.

He shakes his head, the motion almost imperceptible. “No, I…I remember we were speaking in your quarters. I can’t remember what about. There was an incoming transmission, and then…nothing.”

Whatever he said, it must not have been the right thing. Your eyes close as if in pain, your fists clenching at your sides. You inhale a sharp, shaky breath. The sight is almost enough to make him drop the subject. But the need to know is greater than the guilt.

“Please." He says your name quietly, hating the desperation that creeps into his voice. "I need to know.”

He realizes that he’s never called you by your first name before, at least not to your face. It had always been General. He thinks he likes the sound of it, and the way it makes your eyes fly open, surprise and a little bit of warmth filling their depths.

The seconds drag on as he waits for your response, the tension palpable between you. The longer he stares at you, the more he notices. Your jaw is sharper now, your skin slightly more tan. Your hair is the same, and so are your eyes, but there's a new air of maturity to you that hadn't been there before. He's not sure how he feels about the changes, only that he wishes he had been there to see them happen.

When you finally speak, the words are careful and measured. “I can show you, if you let me.”

"Show me?"

"If I'm allowed, I could—"

"Yes," he says. He doesn’t hesitate. He trusts you, and he needs to know what happened.

"Okay," you say, taking a step toward him. "This may hurt."

A moment of silent understanding passes between you before Howzer nods, steeling himself for whatever revelation awaits. You reach out tentatively, pausing a few inches away, and he closes his eyes.

Your fingers press into his temple, and he’s suddenly thrust back into your quarters on Ryloth.

“You seem upset,” your voice says, wavering as if underwater until the haze of the memory begins to lift around you.

The blurry shape of you comes into sharper focus as you move to sit on your bunk. Your beige robes have been discarded, revealing the sleeveless wrap tunic you wear underneath. Another hot evening on Ryloth meant you'd forgone decorum again, loosening the top to allow airflow to your sweat-slicked skin. He remembers admiring the strong lines of your biceps and valley of your breasts revealed with the motion.

He’s in the memory but not entirely, watching himself from the outside like a specter in the shadows. Howzer watches as he forces himself to look away from your body to stare out the window. He can feel the same tension, the same anxiety that gripped him then. He remembers the argument you had that morning. Remembers the hurt, the pain, the guilt. Remembers wanting to reach out, to hold you, but stopping himself.

“What’s on your mind?”

“You,” he answers honestly, for once. It’s a half-truth that sticks to his tongue. “Is it true that this will all be over soon?”

“I’ve felt it coming for a while now,” you say.

Your eyes drift to your hands, and he turns to watch you lace your fingers together tightly in your lap. “Count Dooku is dead. Obi-Wan has moved to engage General Grievous. Saesee and General Windu are arresting the Chancellor as we speak. The war very well may be over now.”

“I see.”

A sense of fatigue washes over him, and he leans against the wall to prop himself up. He wants to leave, to soak the feeling in while in the silence of his own barracks, but something stronger urges him to stay.

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“You always have my permission, Howzer,” you say earnestly. It had taken some getting used to, being addressed so informally. The first few times, he'd had to force himself not to jump to attention every time you called him by name. He quickly started to enjoy the intimacy of it, and the way the sound of his name on your lips made him shiver.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He doesn't know where to begin. The last few months have been hard, harder than most, and it's left him feeling raw and exhausted. He's never felt so torn before. Part of him is thrilled that the war is ending, but the other part, the larger, selfish part, is terrified.

“What will happen to us?” he asks, turning to look at you.

Your face is neutral, but he can tell by the set of your jaw that you're tense. The memory of you takes a moment to collect yourself before speaking.

"What do you mean?"

"After the war," he says, trying and failing to keep the edge of panic out of his voice. "What will happen to us?"

“The clones have fought honorably for the Republic. It’s the least we can do to provide for your future,” you reply. “You’ll be given pensions and housing on Coruscant for as long as you all wish. I expect some will continue their roles in reserve, while the rest will be free to choose their own path.”

He nods appreciatively. He has no idea what he would do with such freedom, but he's grateful all the same. The thought of no longer having a purpose terrifies him, but not nearly as much as the thought of losing you.

He should leave it at that, he should thank you and walk away. Howzer is watching the internal battle he faced on that day and screams at himself to leave. He should leave you be, to enjoy the brief respite the two of you are allowed.

But he can't. Not when this could be the last chance he ever gets.

“Thank you. But I…I meant us, sir.” Howzer gestures between the two of you.

Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but he can see he’s stunned you. He forges ahead, moving to stare at the wall behind you so he can maintain his courage. “We’ve been together so long, I can barely remember a time without you. Without this. I don't want it to end."

There's a pregnant pause as you struggle for a response, and the fear in the pit of his stomach grows.

“What are you saying?” you ask slowly.

“I’m saying I want more,” he says. He meets your gaze and steps forward, and you rise to your feet at the same time, your tunic fluttering around you.

“Us clones try not to think about the future, but I can't help it. And the only future I want is one with you. That is, if you want that too, sir."

His cheeks are flushed, and his heart is pounding, and he's so nervous. This is the most he's ever confessed, and it feels like the world is crashing down around him, but he means every word.

“Howzer…” Your voice breaks, and it sends a hammer to his heart. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you feel the same,” he says quickly. Howzer’s hand reaches out to grasp your bicep, thumb caressing the bare skin underneath his glove. He moves closer, and your breath hitches as you lean back, but not away.

Your eyes close, head tilting down. He waits with bated breath for you to say something, anything.

When you look up, your eyes are filled with tears, and his stomach drops. Your voice is so quiet, he can barely hear you.

“I feel afraid.”

It's like the wind has been knocked out of him. He opens his mouth to speak, to question you further, but his vambrace begins to ping, the message marked urgent. Howzer watches himself let go of you and turn to receive the transmission, and he feels like he's drowning.

No! He screams at himself. Don't take the call. He can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but watch. You can't let this go. If you lose this chance, you'll never have another.

He's frozen, helpless to watch his past play out. You move toward the window to look out at the setting sun as Howzer opens the encrypted message.

“Execute Order 66,” the hooded figure on the holo speaks, its voice graveled and dark. In his memory, Howzer stares down at the projection with wide, unseeing eyes, before he begins to shake. Something is taking over, something he isn’t strong enough to control.

He knows what he must do.

A cold, heavy weight settles in the pit of his stomach, and his mind feels foggy, sluggish. Howzer looks up from the holo, and the room seems to spin. His hands are trembling, and his heart is pounding in his ears. He blinks hard, once, twice, trying to clear the fog, but it won't go away. A wave of nausea hits him, and his head feels like it's about to explode.

"Howzer?"

Your voice is far away, barely a whisper. You turn, your lips parted, brow creased.

He barely has time to get the words out, to fight the fog for just a second. Just one more second.

"Run," he croaks. He watches his eyes glaze over, watches the last remnants of his control slip through his fingers as he turns, drawing his blaster and firing.

You ignite your lightsaber just in time to deflect the shot aimed at your head. Behind the teal blue glow of your blade, your eyes are wide and confused.

“Howzer?” you ask incredulously. Your arms are raised, holding your saber aloft. But your stance is hesitant, your knees bent as if ready to run.

The blaster is in his hand, and it's pointed at you. It's an impossible weight. A weapon made for killing, a weapon he can't use on you. His hand trembles, and he wills himself to throw it, to break it.

But the fog in his mind is too thick, the orders too loud, and his body moves without him. The trigger clicks under his finger again and again. You duck and roll as a bolt goes whizzing over your head, deflecting another into the ceiling. Plaster and dust rain down, clouding the air around you. You cough, covering your nose and mouth with the back of your free hand.

"Howzer, please, it's me!" you cry, raising the hilt of your saber. It's not meant to fight, only to protect. A shield against the bolts that won't stop coming.

He's screaming at you, screaming for you to move, to run away, but the words aren't leaving his mouth. The next bolt grazes your shoulder, tearing your tunic. The pain makes you cry out. Howzer can see the wound, red and angry against your skin.

He hears the sound of footsteps and voices getting closer outside the door, but he’s too occupied with the need to fire his blaster to acknowledge them. Howzer’s mind screams that he’s trapped alone with a traitor to the Republic, a burning hatred he’s never felt propelling him forward to attack.

The small voice inside him begging him not to hurt you is silenced for good when an unseen force rips the weapon from his hand. His arm is held aloft above his head, and he struggles like an animal in a trap to free it.

His eyes are wide and feral. Yours are nothing but pleading.

"Please," you beg. "You're stronger than this. I know you are. I can't hurt you."

"Traitor," he spits, struggling against the invisible bonds. "You'll die a traitor."

There are tears streaming down your face now, and he can see the agony in your eyes. The anguish and pain. But also a strength, a determination he's seen many times.

Fists are pounding on the door, and it tears your attention away from him for a moment too long. Howzer’s arm frees itself, and he wastes no time reaching for the blaster carbine on his back. Your eyes snap back to him, and you quickly hold out both hands to push him back into the wall.

Even during training, you were remarkably gentle with your use of the Force. Howzer had seen you throw boulders and pull tanks with your command of the unseen energy field, but he’d never felt more than a soft touch until that day.

But in this memory, you hurl him across the room with the force of a landslide, knocking the breath clear from his lungs, his head slamming hard enough to crack the duracrete.

He tries to stand, but he can't.

His arms won't work, and his legs are leaden, refusing to respond. He's helpless as he watches you raise your arm, your eyes filled with sorrow. He's powerless as you reach out and touch your fingers to his temple.

A warmth emanates from your fingertips, and Howzer feels the pressure in his skull building, building, until—

The memory vanishes, and Howzer finds himself back in his own quarters, slumped against the wall. You're still there, standing a few steps away. You have your arms crossed tightly, your jaw clenched.

Howzer can feel his head pounding, a throbbing phantom pain where it had struck the wall. He raises his fingers to rub his temples.

It's quiet. There's no pounding on the door, no gunfire. Just the two of you.

"So it's true. I almost killed you."

You flinch. It's so subtle, he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

"You didn't," you say.

He shakes his head. "I didn't? It looked pretty fucking close. You did that—" He motions vaguely toward the door. "—to stop me."

"To stop myself," you correct. "You didn't have a choice. I couldn't hurt you."

Howzer's jaw clenches, and his throat feels tight. The memory is still fresh in his mind, and the feelings it elicited are not ones he'd like to relive. The shame, the fear, the guilt.

"But I did," he says. His voice is low, and his tone is grave. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," you whisper, your voice barely audible. You look away from him, and your shoulders droop. "I didn't know. If I'd known the clones had been reprogrammed, I would have tried to find a way to reverse it. To bring you back. All of you."

You sniff, wiping your eyes, and Howzer feels his chest ache. You're blaming yourself. Of course you are.

"Howzer, if there's anything I can do—"

"Don't apologize," he says. His voice is stronger now, and he's glad. He's tired of being weak. Having you here is a reminder of everything he's done wrong, but also of what he could have. What he wants. He straightens, pulling himself away from the wall and standing upright.

"You saved my life. You didn't know what was going to happen. No one did. And even if you had, it would have been too late."

Your brows knit together, and you look back at him. Your lower lip trembles. "How can you forgive me?"

Howzer doesn't know how to answer that. He's not sure there is an answer. Instead, he walks forward, slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal. You look so small, so vulnerable, and he hates it. He can see the worry in your eyes, the guilt. It's the same worry and guilt he's seen in the mirror every day since the war ended.

He's only a step away when he stops, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could walk away if you wanted. But you don't, and the look in your eyes is enough to make him reach out. He wipes a tear from your cheek, and the corner of your mouth twitches.

"How can you forgive me?" he asks instead.

"Because you were doing your duty. Because I care about you. Because I missed you," you say.

"I missed you, too."

You're so close, close enough to touch, and Howzer can't resist the urge. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug, letting the tension ease from his body. You lean into his embrace, and he rests his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of having you back.

He's not sure how long the two of you stand there, lost in the embrace, but eventually, you pull away. Howzer reluctantly lets go, dropping his arms back to his sides. You look up at him, and the smile on your face makes his stomach flip.

"What you said," you start, swallowing. "That night. Did you mean it?"

He doesn't have to think.

"Yes."

Your breath hitches, and your eyes search his, seeking something. He knows what it is, and it scares him. The last time he laid his heart bare for you, he’d lost everything. But he's spent too much time living in the past. Too much time wishing things were different, regretting the choices he made.

He doesn't want to do that anymore.

"I meant it then, and I still mean it now."

"Really?"

"I do."

He reaches out and takes your hand, lifting it to his lips.

You bite your lip. He can tell you're nervous, and he feels the same. His stomach is fluttering, and his heart is racing. The moment seems surreal, too good to be true.

But he can feel the warmth of your palm in his, can feel the softness of your skin.

"I missed you," he says softly.

"I missed you, too."

Your words are barely a whisper, but they echo in his mind. He can't resist any longer.

"I want to kiss you,” he admits, his voice low. He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, and your skin tingles beneath his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and your breath tickles his lips. He can't resist any longer.

Howzer tilts his head and closes the gap between you.

It's slow, tentative, and he's terrified. But when you melt into him, and your lips part against his, all of his fears and doubts are forgotten.

You're real. You're here, with him.

Your hand grips his armor as you kiss him back, and the world falls away. All that matters is you, and him, and this moment.

He feels whole.

The kiss is long and lingering. It's slow, and sweet, and everything he could have ever hoped for. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, and your fingers play with the short hair there. His own hands roam over your waist and back, mapping out the lines of your body.

He feels you shift onto your toes, pressing against him and pulling him closer, and his heart soars. He can't imagine wanting anything more than this, than the taste of your lips on his, the feel of your body pressed against his.

When the two of you finally part, his lips are tingling, and he can't help but chase yours for another quick peck before he pulls back. You're breathless, and your cheeks are flushed, and he feels his chest swell, his hands tightening around your waist.

He never wants to let go.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice cracking. He doesn't want to ruin the moment, but he needs you to know. He needs you to hear the words, the sincerity behind them. "I think I always have."

"I love you, too," you say, and it's like the sun coming out after a storm. "I didn't realize until it was too late, but I love you. I don't think I've ever stopped."

His heart swells at the words. He can't believe his ears, can't believe he's hearing you say them. His throat is thick, and his eyes burn, and he blinks back the tears.

Howzer pulls you close, burying his face in your hair and breathing in deeply as his arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly, and you cling to him just as fiercely.

"Stay," he murmurs into your hair, the words barely audible. "Please."

He can feel the way your muscles tense. You pull back, just enough to look at him. "What?"

"Stay," he repeats, looking into your eyes. "With us. With me."

He watches you blink, the surprise evident on your face. He realizes what he's asking of you. How much of a risk it is. You could be killed or taken prisoner by the Empire, and he's asking you to put your life in the hands of the very people who tried to kill you.

But he has to try.

"Howzer, I—I can't. It's too dangerous. If I'm caught—"

"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." He reaches up and cradles your face in his hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "Please. I've lost you once. I can't lose you again."

Your eyes search his, and he can see the doubt, the fear. He's never begged anyone for anything before, but he'll beg for you. He'll do whatever it takes.

"Please," he says, his voice cracking. "I need you."

"Howzer," you say, but he can tell you're weakening. Your eyes are watery, and your brow is furrowed.

"I can't do this without you. I can't—I don't want to do this without you."

Your shoulders drop, and your head tilts slightly into his touch. You cover his hand with yours, squeezing gently. You sigh, and his heart sinks. He’s prepared to hear a no. To lose you once more, only this time, willingly. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

"Okay," you say softly.

He's speechless. For a moment, the word doesn't register. He's too afraid to hope.

"Okay?"

You nod. "I'll stay. If you'll have me."

He can't help the broad grin that spreads across his face, and he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you and lifting you off the ground. You squeak, but you laugh, and the sound fills him with joy. He spins, hugging you tight as you giggle into his neck.

He's elated, and he can't hold back the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. He feels light, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. As soon as your feet touch the ground he's kissing you again, cupping your face and tasting the smile on your lips.

He loves you. You love him. You're staying.

The thought is so incredible, so wonderful, that he can't stop kissing you, and you don't seem to mind. He pours all his emotions, all his love, into each brush of his lips, hoping that you can feel everything he's feeling, hoping that you understand how much this means to him.

He thinks you must.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. His hands drift down to your waist, and his thumbs brush against the skin where your tunic has ridden up. He kisses you deeper, and the moan that escapes your lips sends a bolt of heat straight through him.

His heart is pounding, and he can't get enough of you. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you part your lips for him, letting him taste you. The kiss grows deeper, hungrier, and his grip on you tightens, drawing you flush against him.

One of your hands moves to his chest, the other threading through his hair. Your touch sets him on fire, and he can feel himself straining against the confines of his armor. He doesn't know how far this is going, but he can't stop, can't bring himself to pull away.

Not when your teeth sink into his lower lip, or your nails scrape against his scalp. Not when you arch into him, your soft chest pressing into his chestplate. Not when his hands explore your body, mapping out every curve and dip, every muscle and bone.

His tongue brushes against yours, and he moans. He wants more, so much more. He's lost in you, and he doesn't want to find his way back.

"Tell me to stop," he says, his voice rough. His lips move to your jaw, and he trails kisses down your neck, the taste of you intoxicating.

The room spins, and Howzer finds himself pressed against the wall, the cold duracrete sending a shiver down his spine. Your hands are gripping the edge of his chest plate, and your lips are hot and demanding. You bite his lower lip, tugging at it, and his eyes flutter shut.

"No." Your voice is husky, and the sound goes straight to his cock. "Don't stop."

His heart leaps into his throat, and his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. "I want you."

"I'm yours."

The words are a balm on his soul, healing wounds he didn't know he had. He can't get enough, can't stop kissing you. He nearly whines when you break away from his mouth, but the disappointment is short-lived when your lips move to his neck. He gasps, the sensation of your hot mouth and wet tongue overwhelming.

Your hands trail down his body, and his fingers dig into your hips.

"I love you," he moans. His head falls back, and his eyes flutter shut. His entire body is on fire, and the sound of your lips smacking against his neck only adds fuel to the flames. "Fuck, I love you."

You hum against his skin, and he bites back a groan.

"I love you," you whisper, the words ghosting over his neck. "I need you.”

It's all he can take.

His hands reach under your ass and lift, and you wrap your legs around his waist. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, and his teeth clack against yours as he spins and presses you against the wall. You grind against his codpiece, and he breaks the kiss, hissing.

"You're so kriffing beautiful," he groans, his voice ragged. "You drive me crazy."

You're panting, and your cheeks are flushed, and he feels his cock twitch at the sight.

"I missed you," you say again. "I needed you."

He doesn't want to admit how close to home those words hit.

"I'm here now." His voice is rough, and his hands are gripping your hips tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," you say, before pulling him back into another kiss.

It's hard and messy and desperate. You're both clinging to each other like your lives depend on it, and it's almost painful, the need that's taken root inside him. He's wanted you for so long, and now that he's here, with you in his arms, he can't get enough. He can't stop.

You pull back, and his head tilts up to chase your lips. He's dizzy with lust and want, his breathing shallow.

"Howzer, can we—" Your voice is breathless, and your eyes are wild.

He nods, understanding immediately.

He kisses you hard, and he can feel your hands fumbling for the clasps on his chestplate. He doesn't want to let go, doesn't want to lose the contact between the two of you, but he does, if only to help you.

It's not long before the heavy plastoid is removed, tossed haphazardly onto the floor. You waste no time, moving on to his greaves. You're so close, your scent clouding his mind, and his skin prickles beneath the intensity of your gaze. If he wasn’t so dizzy with want, he’d be amused at how focused you are, the way your brows are furrowed and your bottom lip caught between your teeth. But he can't think straight, can barely even breathe.

The pieces fall to the floor, and the sound echoes through the quiet room. By the time his bracers are removed, he's already shaking. He can't help it. It's been so long, and the desire coursing through his veins is threatening to overwhelm him.

He pulls at the laces on your tunic, loosening them enough that he can tug the material down. He leans down, trailing kisses down the newly exposed skin. Your breath hitches, and his name is a sigh on your lips. He smiles against your collarbone, nipping lightly before he sucks a mark into the flesh.

"Kriff," you gasp, your hips jerking forward. "Howzer."

The sound of his name sends a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he moans. He pulls back to lift your tunic over your head, discarding it somewhere behind him. You're bare except for your breastband, and his eyes rake over your body, taking in the sight of you, mapping the scars and curves and dips. Most of them he's seen before, the few times you were injured during the war, but the new ones, the ones he doesn't know, they're more than he can handle.

He reaches out, tentatively running his fingers over a blaster burn on your stomach, and the skin jumps underneath his touch.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," you say, nodding.

He runs his palm over the scar, tracing its edges. The flesh is puckered and pink, and he knows it's a wound that could have killed you. It’s one he should have been there to prevent.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head. "Not anymore."

He traces the scar, committing it to memory. There are others, some fresher, some older, and his eyes follow his fingers, touching each and every one.

When he's done, he meets your gaze. Your eyes are wide, and your lips are parted, and he feels his chest tighten. You're so beautiful. So perfect. And you're here, with him.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm fine," he says, shaking his head. "Better than fine. You?”

"Me too."

His hands move to your back, finding the clasp of your breastband and releasing it. He holds his breath as the band comes loose, and his eyes drop down to take in the sight of your bare chest. His cock twitches in his pants, and he has to stifle a groan.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, reaching out and brushing his fingers against your breast. "Absolutely perfect."

His calloused thumb scrapes against your nipple, and it hardens instantly. Your breath hitches, and he feels his pulse quicken. He wants to hear the sounds you make, wants to know what his touch does to you.

He leans down, and his lips replace his fingers. His mouth closes around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the stiff peak. You gasp, and he feels a surge of satisfaction. His free hand squeezes your other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your body arches into him, and your breathy sighs turn into moans.

He's intoxicated by the sounds you're making, by the way your body responds to his touch. He can’t get enough, and he sucks harder, teasing your nipple with his tongue. Your hands are gripping his shoulders, and your hips are bucking into his, searching for friction.

You're so sensitive, and his head is spinning. He doesn't know how long he spends teasing and torturing you, but it's not long enough. When he finally releases your breast with a pop, you're panting, and your skin is flushed.

“Armor off,” you growl, and he chuckles.

"Yes, sir," he says, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. He reaches down and tugs at his boot, and you slide down the wall. The look in your eyes makes him shiver.

"I'm not your General anymore."

"No, but I'm still your loyal soldier," he says. It’s meant to be a joke, but it comes out more serious than he intended.

You smirk, and the expression sends a jolt of heat straight to his cock.

"Then get to it, soldier."

He raises an eyebrow, and if he wasn’t so turned on, he might be embarrassed by how fast he rips off his remaining armor, his fingers fumbling at the clasps. When he's finished, you're grinning, and his heart skips a beat. He whips the top half of his blacks off, tossing it onto the floor, and before he can register what's happening, you've wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

The feeling of your bare chest against his sends a bolt of heat through him, and his hands find their way back to your waist, pulling you closer. You moan into his mouth, and his cock throbs.

He's so distracted by the feeling of your lips and tongue and hands that he barely registers the tugging on his waistband. Not until his blacks are sliding down his hips, exposing his hard length to the cool air of the room.

"Kriff," he hisses, breaking the kiss. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Hopefully not," you murmur, nipping his lower lip.

"Well, you're sure making it hard."

You look down, and your lips curl into a wicked grin. He feels his cock twitch, and a drop of precome beads at the tip.

"Hard?" you ask innocently.

He groans, leaning his head against yours. "You're awful."

"I know." You reach down and take his cock in your hand, stroking it gently. He can't help but moan. "But I think you like it."

"Kriff," he curses, biting back another groan. "I love it."

He closes his eyes, and your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the slickness around. His breath hitches, and he can feel the pleasure coiling low in his belly. You're so good at this, and he's already so close, and when you sink to your knees and look up at him through those long lashes, his brain short-circuits.

You grip his cock firmly, and he sucks in a sharp breath, bracing his forearm against the wall. You lean in, and your lips brush against his stomach, kissing the soft skin just below his navel. He trembles.

"Relax," you whisper, pressing another kiss to his abdomen.

“Fuck," he groans. "Don't tell me to relax."

He's so wound up, so on edge, his whole body is tingling. Your tongue darts out, and you lick a hot stripe up his cock, and his hips buck involuntarily. You smile, and his eyes flutter shut, his chest heaving.

Your mouth is warm and wet, and you wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit. His eyes squeeze shut, and his breathing grows ragged.

You begin to bob your head, slowly taking him deeper and deeper with each pass. When he hits the back of your throat, you hum, and his knees nearly give out.

"Fucking hell," Howzer moans, his voice cracking. His head falls forward, and his forehead rests against his forearm. His eyes are closed, and his mouth is open, and he's trying desperately to hold back the embarrassing sounds that threaten to escape.

You pull back, and the cold air against his saliva-slick cock makes him shiver. Your hand is still working him, pumping his shaft, and his balls tighten. He can feel his orgasm building, his whole body tensing, and it's too soon, much too soon, and he needs to slow down.

"Stop, stop, stop," he chants, pulling away from you. He's so close, so painfully close, and he can't stand the thought of finishing before he even gets inside you.

You pull away, looking up at him with confusion. "Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to come," he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile wickedly. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"And what if I want you to?" You hum, your fingers teasing the tip of his cock. It’s the lightest touch, but it makes him jump. He closes his eyes, trying to compose himself. He's never been this close to losing control so fast, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself.

"Please," he begs, his voice a choked whisper. "Not like this. Not yet."

The teasing expression on your face melts into something softer, and you rise to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He tastes himself on your tongue, and it only turns him on more.

"Alright," you murmur against his lips, your breath hot. "How do you want me?"

He feels the question like a punch to the gut, and his mouth goes dry. "I—um—"

"Howzer," you say softly, nipping his bottom lip. "Don't make me order you."

His eyes fly open, and his cock twitches. The image of you ordering him around, telling him what to do, how to fuck you—

"Howzer."

He's so fucked.

"Bed," he says, his voice a low growl. "Now."

The corner of your mouth quirks, and you raise an eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

He swallows and reaches down, trailing his fingers along the seam of your trousers. Your eyes flutter shut, and a breathy sigh escapes your lips. He watches you, and he can see the way your chest is heaving, the flush that creeps down your neck. It gives him the confidence to continue.

"I want you to take these off," he breathes. “And I want you on your back.”

"Yes, sir," you say, a teasing smile on your lips.

His heart lurches. "Oh, now you listen to me."

"Maybe I like when you're in charge," you purr.

He can't help the groan that escapes him.

Your hands slide down his chest, and you walk away, turning your back to him as you loosen the ties to your trousers. You make a show of sliding them down your legs, bending at the waist, and he nearly chokes when your underwear slides off, too.

"Kriff," he mumbles, his eyes glued to your ass.

You straighten and toss him a coy look over your shoulder, and he's helpless, completely and utterly enraptured.

"Like what you see?"

"Always," he replies, his voice low.

He can't stop himself from reaching out, his hand running up the smooth skin of your thigh. But you dance out of his grasp, laughing.

"Not so fast," you tease.

He growls, a sound that rumbles in his chest. "Don't be a tease."

"What's the matter, Captain?" you ask, stepping towards the bed. "Getting impatient?"

Howzer lets out a laugh of disbelief. He's beyond frustrated, he's already the most desperate he's ever been. Usually he’d play along with your games, but right now, he needs you, and he can't stand the thought of waiting another minute.

"Yes," he says, his voice rough. "Now get on the fucking bed."

You raise an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yes, sir."

You move, and in one fluid motion, you're laying down on the bed. You spread your legs, inviting him, and he nearly passes out. You look like every fantasy he's ever had, laid out for him, waiting for him.

"Like this?"

"Yes," he groans, his voice cracking.

"Come here, then," you say, your tone seductive.

He can see how wet you are, how ready you are for him. It makes his head spin, his heart race. He wants to taste you, to bury his face between your legs. But the ache in his cock is too strong, the need to feel you overwhelming. He has to take a deep breath before he approaches, afraid his legs won't work.

"What are you waiting for?" you ask.

"Just...taking in the view,” he replies, his voice low and rough. He tries to meet your eyes, but he can't stop staring at the apex of your thighs, at your glistening pussy, begging for him.

You giggle, a sound he's never heard from you before, and he decides right then and there that it's his new favorite sound.

"So poetic," you tease.

"I can be," he retorts, trying to play along even though all his blood is currently rushing south.

"Come on," you say. "Don't make me wait any longer."

He's never been able to deny you.

Howzer steps forward, and before you can register his movements, he's kneeling on the bed between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs. He's not gentle as he pushes them further apart, baring you to him.

"Oh," you gasp.

He smirks, and his eyes rake over your body as he settles himself between your legs. He takes a moment to memorize the sight of you, your hair splayed out on the pillow, your flushed skin, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Please," you whimper, your hips bucking. The sound of it wakes him from his stupor, and he grips your thighs tighter, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh.

"What was that?"

You bite your lip and look away, but he can see the heat in your cheeks, the way your breathing is heavy.

"I said please," you repeat, turning your gaze back to him.

His smirk widens. "I couldn't quite hear you," he teases, his fingertips grazing the outside of your folds. He can feel how wet you are, how hot, and it makes his head spin.

You whine, and your hips buck against his hand. "Please, Howzer."

The sound of his name on your lips is like music, and he can't resist any longer.

Howzer leans down and presses a hot, wet kiss to your inner thigh. You gasp, and he sucks a mark into the skin, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. He repeats the process on the other leg, leaving a matching mark, and your body writhes beneath him. He pulls back, admiring his handiwork.

"You look good like this," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You're a menace," you huff.

He chuckles and runs a finger along the length of your folds, gathering the slick that's pooled there. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"You're not being very ni—ah!" Your words turn into a gasp when he dips his head, his tongue dragging through your folds, the taste of you coating his tongue. He feels you tremble, and your hand tangles in his hair. He loves the way you grip him, and the soft sound of his name spurs him on.

Howzer moves to your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips arch off the bed, and he has to use his forearm to keep you down, his hand splayed across your stomach. He slides two fingers inside you, curling them and rubbing the spot he knows will make you moan.

He's rewarded by the sound of his name, your breathy cries filling the room. He works you hard and fast, his tongue and fingers relentless. You're soaking wet, and he can't believe how hot and tight you are around his fingers.

"I've dreamed of this," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit.

"Really?"

He nods, and the movement causes his stubble to scrape against your skin. "Mhm. Ever since we first met.”

You let out a laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan when his fingers hit the right spot. "I-is that so?"

"Yes," he says, curling his fingers and pressing hard. "All those years fighting beside you, and I could barely control myself. It was torture."

You keen, your pussy clenching around his fingers, and he can't help but chuckle.

"I used to think about all the things I'd do if I ever got the chance."

"I thought about it too," you pant.

He looks up, surprised. The motions of his hand stutter, but he regains his composure, picking up the pace and making you gasp. "You did?"

You nod, and he watches your face, your eyes closed, your brows furrowed.

"What did you think about?"

"This," you breathe. "How you'd feel, how you'd taste, how you'd make me come."

The admission sends a jolt through him, and he moans against your clit, the vibrations making you writhe. He doubles his efforts, and his tongue draws patterns across your sensitive flesh. Your thighs tense around his head, and he feels the way you tighten around his fingers.

"I thought about you fucking me," you continue, and his eyes flutter shut. "About you filling me up and making me scream."

He can't help the noise he makes, a low, desperate groan. His cock throbs, aching for relief, and he knows he can't wait much longer. He needs you to come, needs to feel you come undone beneath him.

He can feel you getting closer, the way your breathing gets shallower, the way your muscles begin to tense. You're panting his name, and your hips are rolling, and he can tell you're close, so close.

“I’ll do whatever you want, sweetheart," he growls, the words muffled against your skin. "Just let go. Come for me."

The pet name seems to do the trick, and a string of curses spills from your lips as your body convulses, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. Your hands grip his hair, tugging painfully at the roots, and he can't find it in himself to care. He keeps pumping, drawing out your orgasm until you're writhing, begging for mercy.

When you're finally spent, he pulls back, resting his cheek on your inner thigh. He can't stop looking at you, can't stop drinking in the sight of you, flushed and satisfied. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and his chest feels so full, so complete.

"Well?" he asks.

"What?"

"Was it everything you imagined?"

Your face breaks into a smile, and you shake your head, laughing. "It was better."

"Good," he says, kissing the inside of your thigh. He slowly withdraws his fingers, and his lips find your clit again, sucking gently and licking up the fresh wave of slick.

You moan, and your hands fall from his hair to the sheets, clutching at them. He can't get enough, can't stop tasting you. He could spend hours between your thighs, and it wouldn't be enough.

"Howzer," you sigh.

"You taste good," he mumbles, not bothering to pull his lips away from your cunt.

"Come here," you plead. "I want you."

"I am here."

"No," you laugh. "I want you inside me."

"Is that an order?" he asks, teasingly.

"It is," you reply.

"Then I better follow it."

Howzer is on top of you in an instant, his lips finding yours. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, and he groans, his hips bucking against yours. His cock is pressed against your slit, and you're so wet, and it would be so easy to slip inside. He can't stand the thought of waiting any longer.

He reaches between your bodies, and you feel him lining up, the blunt head of his cock teasing your entrance. He pulls back, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Always."

The word fills his heart with warmth, and he can't stop the smile that spreads across his face.

He's still smiling when he pushes inside, and his grin only grows wider at the feeling of your tight, wet heat around him. He has to fight the urge to come right then and there, and his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Kriff," he gasps.

"Don't stop," you pant, your eyes screwed shut.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He thrusts in deeper, sinking another inch, and the noise that escapes your lips is the hottest thing he's ever heard. He does it again, and again, and before he knows it, he's fully sheathed inside you, his cock stretching you open, his hips flush against yours.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, the nickname coming out almost unbidden. "You feel so good."

Your hands are wrapped around his neck, and your eyes are screwed shut. Your brow is furrowed, and your mouth is hanging open, and he can't tear his eyes away.

"I—" he starts, but the words die in his throat. He can't find the right ones, can't articulate the depth of his feelings for you. So instead, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another, to the tip of your nose.

You look up at him, and the expression in your eyes is so tender, so full of affection, that his heart skips a beat.

"I love you," he whispers, the words escaping him without thought.

"I love you, too."

His heart soars, and he can't help but lean down and kiss you, his lips crashing into yours. It's a messy, passionate kiss, full of heat and need and love. You cling to him, and he loses himself in the feeling of you, of your arms and legs and mouth. He sets a slow pace, his hips moving in shallow, lazy thrusts.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, and he takes the opportunity to hooks his hands underneath your knees, bringing them up and bending you in half.

"What—" you start, but your question is cut off by a moan as he thrusts deeper, the angle changing and his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you.

"Oh," you gasp.

"You like that?"

You nod, your eyes closing, and he grins. His movements are languid, and you're so wet, and it's the best thing he's ever felt, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock.

"So do I," he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of your knee. "Feels so good, sweetheart. So kriffing good."

"Howzer," you murmur, the word a sigh.

He hums in response, and the feeling of it vibrates through his chest, his mouth still pressed against your knee. You shiver.

"You feel amazing," he says, his voice low and husky. "I can't believe how good you feel."

"Howzer," you groan, your hips bucking, the movement causing him to slide in even deeper on each thrust. "Harder."

"You want me to fuck you harder?"

"Please," you beg, your voice a whine.

"Fuck," he swears. "Yes, sir."

He pulls back and sets a new, punishing pace. He can't stop the noises that escape him, and his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you, the sound obscene. He's so close, but he needs you to come again, needs to feel you squeeze his cock, hear his name fall from your lips as you climax.

"Look at me," he orders.

You do, and the sight of your eyes, wild and dark with desire, is almost enough to push him over the edge. But he holds back, determined to make you come.

He wedges a hand between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. Your breath catches, and your cunt clenches around him, the rhythmic tightening sending him spiraling closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he groans, and he can't believe he's begging, but he is, and he doesn't care. "Please, sweetheart, come for me."

The pressure of his fingers and the sound of his voice are enough, and you shudder, crying out his name as your cunt spasms around him.

It's too much. He's been on edge for so long, and it's impossible to resist any longer. Before he can stop himself, he's coming, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, his cock pulsing as his balls empty themselves, coating your walls. He can feel his release dripping out, leaking down his shaft, and the thought of it is so filthy, so hot, that he nearly blacks out.

"Fuck," he gasps, his head falling forward. He's shaking, his body wracked with the force of his release. It feels like every single nerve in his body is on fire, and his vision is blurred, and the only thing keeping him tethered to reality is the feeling of your hands in his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

When his body finally stops trembling, he opens his eyes, and you're looking up at him, a smile playing on your lips.

"Hi," you say softly.

"Hey," he replies, his voice hoarse. He looks down and sees the mess between your thighs, his cock and your folds coated in his release. He groans. "Sorry, I—I should have asked if you were okay with that."

"It's fine," you reassure him, your hand stroking his hair. "It was good. Really good."

"I'll pull out," he mumbles, leaning down and kissing you.

"Wait," you say, and the sound is muffled against his lips. "Not yet."

"Okay," he whispers, pulling back.

"I just want to feel you for a little longer."

The words make his heart ache, and he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss, softer this time. Your legs fall from his shoulders, and they wrap around his waist, keeping him close.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Perfect," you murmur, running your hands down his back.

He presses his forehead against yours, and he closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of you. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, neither of you wanting to move.

Finally, he pulls away, and the soft, disappointed noise you make sends a jolt through him.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he soothes. "Just trying to find something to clean us up."

You groan and bury your face in the pillow, and the sight is so endearing, he can't help but lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth.

"I'll be right back," he says, reluctantly untangling himself from your limbs.

"Fine," you huff, and the pout on your lips is adorable.

He climbs off the bed and walks to the 'fresher, and when he returns, you're propped up on one elbow, watching him. Your gaze is focused on his softening cock, and his cheeks heat up.

"Like what you see?" he asks, echoing your words from earlier.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk. "Always."

The blush deepens, and he clears his throat. He makes his way back to the bed, and he cleans up the mess that's leaking out of you, wiping up his spend. When he's finished cleaning both of you, he tosses the cloth to the floor and climbs into the bed, pulling the blankets up and tucking the two of you in.

"That's better," you sigh, curling up next to him.

Howzer wraps his arm around your shoulder, and you nestle into the crook of his arm. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, and the two of you lie in silence, enjoying each other's presence.

"I love you," you say softly, after a few minutes.

"I love you, too."

Your hand rests on his chest, and your fingers trace the planes of his muscles. He shivers, and he can't suppress the grin that spreads across his face. He feels like his heart might burst.

"So," you say, after a while. "How long have you been holding onto that?"

He snorts, and his arm tightens around you. "How long ago was that day on Kamino?"

"What?" you ask, surprise evident in your voice. You sit up and look at him, and he's pleased to see the blush that stains your cheeks. "You're kidding."

He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Nope. That's when I knew."

"Howzer!"

"What?"

"That was...that was ages ago," you stammer, and the way you can't seem to get your words out makes him chuckle.

"Yeah, well," he shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"Well, I'm sorry it took me so long," you murmur, laying your head back on his chest.

"It's alright," he says, his hand finding yours and lacing his fingers through yours. "You're worth the wait."

"So are you."

He closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the top of your head. He can feel his eyelids getting heavy, and the weight of your body is comforting. The steady rhythm of your breathing is soothing, and before long, his consciousness begins to slip away.

The last thing he hears is the sound of your voice, sleepy and content.

"I love you, Howzer."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

He drifts off to sleep, and the last thing he feels is the press of your lips against his chest, just above his heart.

taglist: @covert1ntrovert @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what @spicy-clones @qvnthesia

@stellarbit @arctrooper69 @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified

@heidnspeak @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod

@puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado

@aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony

#captain howzer #captain howzer x reader #the clone wars #the bad batch #tbb howzer #captain howzer x you #clone smut #clone trooper howzer #clone x reader #howzer x reader #bad batch howzer #roy writes #*closes eyes and hits post*

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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

Text

(Set right before season 4)

Steve rushes over to the Henderson house after an ominous call from Dustin saying, "Come over as soon as you can, it's an emergency," before hanging up dramatically.

He can hear his nail bat rolling around in his trunk every turn he takes as he gets there in record time. He grabs the bat out of the trunk and rushes to the door, not bothering to knock before he barges in.

He's met with the sight of Eddie Munson staring at him with wide eyes as Dustin yells, "No! No! Don't swing! Not a code red!"

Steve sets down the bat and lets out a deep breath. "What the hell, Henderson?! I could've seriously taken you out with this thing!" He hears Dustin give him a half-assed apology as he tries to get his heartbeat to slow down. "Next time, don't leave such a cryptic message, okay?"

"Okay," Dustin says, holding his hands up.

"What the fuck is that?" Munson asks, staring at the bat.

Steve points at him and says, "Language," before turning to Dustin and asking, "What's he doing here?"

Dustin sighs and gestures them toward his couch. Steve shoots Eddie a look before taking a seat right against the arm of the couch. It's not that he hates him, hell, he's pretty sure he's gotten weed from him before. It's just that he doesn't like sharing this older brother role with another guy - especially one who likes to make dramatic speeches on top of lunch tables.

Based on the way Eddie is similarly leaning away from him and uncomfortably fidgeting with his rings, he can tell there's a mutual tension between them. Dustin doesn't pick up on it as he sits across from them, acting like he's about to deliver the worst news ever.

Steve leans forward a little trying to get Dustin to finally spill and tries not to lean back immediately when he sees that Eddie is doing the same thing.

"Okay, Suzie and I were talking, and her family is considering visiting Hawkins."

Steve smiles. "That's great, but why-"

"Why are you acting like that's bad news?" Eddie asks, finishing Steve's sentence. The two glance at each other, and Steve tries not to size him up.

Dustin groans, "Because I need to take her on a proper date! We weren't able to go on dates during science camp, so I want this to be special. Of course, this is all contingent on whether she can convince her dad to give us alone time..."

"I could be your chaperone, but I'd ditch you once you got to the movie theater," Steve offers.

Eddie scoffs, "Yeah, a date with Suzie will not be at a movie theater."

Steve crosses his legs and turns toward Eddie. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you knew something about dating. Wait a minute." He directs his attention back to Dustin, utterly horrified. "You asked me and Munson for girl help?"

"Don't sound so shocked," Eddie says, but Steve ignores him.

"Yes," Dustin states simply. He sighs and gestures between the two of them. "Steve, you're a lady's man and you know exactly what to say and where the best date spots are, but you pick up the worst girls. Except Robin who you refuse to date." Steve doesn't have time to argue before Dustin points at Eddie, "And Eddie understands all the cool nerd stuff that Suzie and I like, and he's super charismatic. So, I thought we could combine your abilities to create the most epic date in the history of dates."

"No," Steve and Eddie both say at once.

"Guys-"

Steve turns to Eddie and raises an eyebrow. "Why are you protesting my help?"

"Because try as he might, Dustin can't convince me that you aren't an asshole that has never actually wooed a girl. You get by with your pretty looks and think that's enough."

Steve's mind lingers a bit on the "pretty looks" for some reason, but he pushes past it to say, "Please, you're telling me you know a single thing about wooing a girl?"

Eddie leans in with a bright smile. "You heard it from Henderson, I'm charming."

"Charismatic," Steve corrects him, "But I haven't seen a shred of that yet."

Eddie tosses an arm over the back of the couch and scoots in until Steve is trapped against the arm of the couch. Steve tries not to show Eddie how much the sudden closeness is affecting him.

"I could easily charm your pants off, big boy," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve's eyes betray him and flicker down to Eddie's lips. "Please, I'd easily beat you to it."

Eddie tilts his head and looks at him through his lashes. "Are you saying you want to charm my pants off, Harrington? I'm flattered, but I'm not that kind of girl."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Is that a bet?"

"Do you want it to be? Because it kind of sounds like it."

Steve blames his series of bad dates, the meaningless sex with girls with no substance, and the weird tension between them for his response. "It's a date, Munson."

"So, I'm going to assume that was the weirdest way of you two agreeing to help me," Dustin says, startling Steve away from Eddie who he was definitely not just about to kiss.

"Jesus H. Christ," Eddie mumbles under his breath as he moves away, seeming to have also forgotten where they were.

"Sure, we'll create a date for you two and trial-run it for issues," Steve says.

Dustin smiles wide and giggles, "See, I knew you two would help if you just put your dumb differences aside!"

"Something like that," Eddie mutters. "But hey, what does your gut say? Where do you want to take her?"

Dustin shrugs. "I like the idea of the movies."

Steve slowly looks over at Eddie and gives him a cocky smile. Eddie's mouth twitches momentarily into a frown, but he ignores him. "I'll think of something special to do after, but Harrington can fill you in on a movie date."

"I thought you were the expert on wooing," Steve snarkily replies.

Eddie huffs, "Movie dates just aren't my thing."

If they're actually trial-running this, Steve will make it a point to make movie dates Eddie's thing.

"That sounds great. Thank you both!" Dustin says, still ignoring the obvious tension.

"Well, I've got to head out, but it was good seeing you," Eddie says with a genuine smile that Steve thinks he would like to see more often.

"I do, too. Hey, I'm glad I could help. Next time maybe don't make it sound like a nail-bat emergency though," Steve says lowering his voice before grabbing the bat.

He follows Eddie toward the front, but they both stop and turn to mess up Dustin's hair simultaneously. Steve pulls his hand back when Eddie's hand runs on top of his. He looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed.

"I told you you guys are similar."

Steve thinks that Dustin's right, but maybe they're only similar in the way they both obviously care for him.

They finish their goodbyes and head out into the cold January weather. Steve clutches his jacket tighter around himself - he had forgotten to grab a heavier coat in his rush over. He turns to Eddie and says, "Hey."

Eddie turns to him and raises his eyebrows.

"Want to trial-run that date tonight?"

Eddie frowns at him. "I thought you were joking."

With that, Steve should take the clear out given to him and agree. Yes, it was just a joke. Instead, he says, "It doesn't have to be."

It's a long few seconds of Eddie staring at him before he gets a quiet response of, "Yeah, sure. Uh, let's go to my place though. I don't want your reputation to be tainted if you're seen in public with me."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve says sincerely. He's not sure why he's so adamant about this date, but maybe he just wants to see where that moment on the couch could truly lead. "But hey, your reputation would also be tainted if you're associating with me."

"And we wouldn't want that," Eddie says with a small smile. "The freak and the king. What would people say?"

This surprises a laugh out of Steve before he says, "I think your place would probably be a little more intimate than a movie theater."

He can't tell if Eddie's cheeks suddenly flush a little pinker from the cold or a blush. "I told you, I'm not that kind of guy."

"More intimate doesn't always mean sex. You know this."

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. "Why don't we continue this conversation at my place so you don't freeze to death?"

"I like the sound of that," Steve says, making his way to his car and trying to hide the huge smile that's trying to split across his face all because of Eddie Munson.

He rushes to shove his bat into the trunk, hoping that he won't have to further explain that to Eddie. But based on the way his eyes linger on it, he's thinking he won't get away from questioning too easily.

Luckily, he has prepared his Harrington charm for this moment. And boy, he's going to be using it as often as he can to prove Eddie wrong.

Part Two (aka the final part)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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tiny-pretty-sana · 4 days ago

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gf jihyo | headcanons

warning: nsfw content (+18), minors dni

sfw

jihyo is like the sun, the color yellow or a summer day at the beach. she is bright, vibrant and has an infectious energy that matches her beautiful and big smile.

she is outgoing and warm. she enjoys social gatherings and short day-to-day interactions with strangers.

she always greets the bus drivers, wishes the food delivery guy a good day, talks to the old ladies in line at the supermarket, and plays with the baby sitting in the stroller on public transportation. it melts your heart every time.

when she met you she didn't hesitate to ask for your phone number. that same week she invited you for a coffee, making it clear that it was a date.

she is the type of person who doesn't miss an opportunity and is not afraid to be open to new experiences and new people.

she is charismatic, passionate and confident. sometimes it can be taken as arrogance, which only makes her more attractive.

jihyo is self-confident, but she also inspires confidence in others. she is protective and makes you feel safe, so you don’t hesitate in giving her the control.

you let her guide you to places, you are calm when she is behind the wheel, you trust her recommendations and you feel that everything will be fine with her.

she is energetic, spontaneous and loves to be outside whether it is enjoying the speed and lights of the city, the smell of the sea while the sun bathes her skin or the fresh air and tranquility of the forest.

her favorite dates are outdoors and will probably include some physical activity.

she loves sports, so she always tries to make you join her in her workouts at the gym, her hiking days or to try a new sport that she will try once and that may become her new passion or she may never do it again.

her love for sports comes from her need to be constantly active, but also from her competitive nature.

she is endlessly trying to convince you to make bets, races, games and challenges. when you were friends you would bet money, but now the prize is usually kisses or paying for a meal or a drink.

she is the most spontaneous person you know, so expect dates at any time of the day, changes of plans and improvised trips.

despite her spontaneity she is quite a serious and organized person, especially when it comes to her work, where she stands out for her leadership abilities.

this is not a side you see often, but watching her bossing a few men around on the phone with her hair up and her sleeves rolled up is one of the hottest things you've ever seen.

jihyo is a good listener and one of the most empathetic people you know, which doesn't stop her from being stubborn at times, at least you've seen it with other people.

when you say something she accepts it sometimes without thinking, you could say that the sky is green and she would back up your statement without hesitation.

her love language is acts of service, but accompanied by just the right amount of teasing and bickering. luckily, you get more of the first and her friends get more of the latter.

she gets you flowers, opens the door for you, gives you her jacket, carries your bag and she will fight tooth and nail to get the plushie you want at the fair.

you understood why people say “get you a girl who can do both” when you saw jihyo wearing a breathtaking dress and the next day wearing a suit that put all the men who wore one that night to shame.

jihyo hides nothing, she is just as you see her although in private you see a side of her that no one else gets to see.

in private she is much more clingy and playful, but one of the things that melts you the most is seeing that strong and confident woman getting all pouty an whiny around you.

you wouldn't say she's not affectionate in public, but she's more subtle. she gives you the occasional peck on the lips, but her gestures are more subtle... and possessive.

she has a habit of hugging you from behind with one hand around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder or head. she likes you to sit on her lap and when you walk in front of her you feel the constant presence of her hand on the small of your back.

she is passionate with everything she does from singing to sports and when it comes to loving you she is no different.

nsfw

jihyo is as passionate in bed as she is out of it.

she likes control and for her, leading comes as naturally as giving.

in other words, she is a dominant top... most of the time.

you would expect someone who in her daily life is always in control to let herself go in bed, but she doesn't. for her control means comfort, safety and pleasure.

even when you're the one wearing the strap she's the one fucking you.

she's an amazing lover and knows your body like no one else. every time you sleep together it is better than the last.

if there are any personality traits that also come to the surface at this time, they are undoubtedly her confidence and, although she doesn't like to admit it, her competitiveness.

she will call you the sweetest petnames. baby, darling, love, cutie, pretty, princess, babygirl...

her adventurous spirit drives her to try all kinds of sports and experiences, but not in sex. she enjoys the right amount of vanilla and kinky sex.

she doesn't close herself to new experiences and when you try something different she takes her research very seriously to do it in the safest way and always making you feel safe and loved.

every now and then you enjoy a little degradation and a little spanking, especially if you have been a brat.

she secretly loves it when you get a bit bratty and dare to push her buttons or put her in her place.

besides her power kink she likes to mark you, listen to you begging, praising, being praised and there's her incipient breeding kink.

fucking you with the strap on in any position is what she likes best. she has a quite a collection of shapes and sizes, her newest acquisition is an ejaculating dildo.

she loves eating you out and she is amazing at it, it takes her seconds to get down on her knees to please you, but what she loves the most is to have you sitting on her face.

her love language is teasing, but in bed she prefers to praise you and remind you how good you are for her.

it also drives her crazy to hear how good she is making you feel.

her hard work and time spent in the gym is really worth it every time she is naked in front of you and you can see how the muscles in her arms, back, thighs or abs are marked with every move she makes.

not only does she have a perfect body, she is also able to last for hours without needing to rest and she is quite strong.

she can handle you in bed with no problem, hold you in her arms, pin you down and has no problem fucking you while standing up against the wall.

jihyo is beautiful and always looks appealing but some tanning works wonders on her sculpted body, you love the golden hue she has under the dim light of the room.

yes, she can do both too and you don't know if she looks hotter in lingerie or wearing her calvin klein boxers pairing with a matching sport bra.

jihyo is loud. she talks loudly, laughs loudly and of course in bed she is no different. she likes talking during sex, dirty talk, giving you orders and if you are away she won't hesitate to guide you on call while you masturbate.

her sex drive is nothing crazy, but if you haven't had sex for a while and she misses you, she gets moody and irritable.

other times she can get very needy and touchy, eager to please you, make you feel good and be inside you.

the aftercare always starts with her cleaning you up, covering you so you don't get cold and giving you water or whatever you need and then asking you how you felt.

she always asks you what you liked the most and if she has something to improve, she can't help it. she always has to do her best and look for perfection. and if she gets praises she won't complain.

#°❀‿request #twice headcanons #twice smut #twice imagines #jihyo headcanons #jihyo smut #jihyo x reader #kpop smut #kpop gg imagines #gg head canons #gg imagines

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hajihiko · 2 months ago

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ghost talk

So let's say that "ghosts" do reflect the way they are remembered by whoever is experiencing them (for example, you might remember your grandma best when she's in the garden, so her visage is sunny and bright even if you see her ghost in a dark room).

This is obviously not great when it comes to Junko, because she's generally remembered as something extraordinary and powerful. Yes, unnaturally straight teeth and long legs and all that creepy model shit, but also, she was charismatic, sweet, strong, alluring, challenging, unbeatable, depending on what she needed to be to manipulate any person.

Hajime isn't one who experiences the Haunting too much, but if he did, he'd probably be the only person to see her as she, to the unaffected, generally was; a pretty teenage girl who thought she was invincible and had a talent for getting into your head. Nothing more.

#not an art #I am thinking about ghosts tonight #And Lake Mungo! One of my fave movies ever. Watch it if you wanna

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neiptune · 5 months ago

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the pull of you

cw: 1.7k wc, female reader, NSFW, highly suggestive, hinata is your closest friend natsu's younger brother, on a night out you end up learning he grew up to become ever the charismatic flirt who's always kinda had a thing for you :)

The first time you see Hinata Shoyo again, you’re both older but he’s much different.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about him ever after high school. His bright, juvenile presence came to mind whenever you’d text or meet up with your best friend, the memory of the afternoons spent in the room adjacent to his still so dear to your heart. Natsu, ever so proud of her little brother, never missed a chance to update you on his life either. The adventure in Rio and beach volleyball, all the efforts put in understanding an entirely new, different version of the sport he’s always loved. How he accepted a part-time job as a delivery guy, tried his best to learn a difficult foreign language, all while trying to juggle homesickness, inexperience, a distant roommate and a shift in his reality that almost made him drop everything and book a flight back to Japan.

But then Shoyo adapted, just like you and Natsu guessed he would. Because it’s what Shoyo did. And now he shines bright for Tokyo, Japan, the entire world to see.

When your best friend demanded you’d be ready as she was going to bring a surprise, you never would’ve guessed her little brother was going to be it. Last time you saw him, he was a 5’4 teenage boy jumping around with nothing but volleyball on the brain. While apparently his height hasn’t exponentially grown, everything else sure as hell did.

The rounded table is far too little for three people to be sitting around it and while this was supposed to be a regular friday night out with Natsu (drinks on her), it’s turning out to be something completely different.

Hinata is sitting close enough for his knees to be touching yours and at every subtle bump you can’t help but think of how hard and thick the legs wrapped in those dark jeans seemed right before he sat down. Everything else you don’t really have to imagine, it’s pretty much laid out for your eyes to see: his shoulders look scandalously strong in a plain t-shirt, chest oh so wide, swollen biceps and muscles all over that keep bulging and swelling at each subtle movement. And then there’s his smile, a charming grin or one barely outlined crescent, filled with beaming confidence and dangerously flirty.

Because he is flirting.

Eyes shamelessly fixed on you as the conversation between you two just flows. And Natsu doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about her annoying little brother (who used to also kinda be your annoying little brother) being so interested in asking you questions and ignoring whatever gossip she has about her perfect boyfriend.

“I’m just sayin’” Natsu sways in her seat a little, cheeks pink and a few tangerine strands escaping her bun only to stick to her forehead “the secret to a healthy relationship is communication. And great sex”

“Natsu” you gracefully push a glass of water toward her but it gets brutally ignored as she takes another sip of her drink “may I remind you that your little brother is literally sitting here? He can hear you”

“We talk about everything” he shrugs “I always know every disgusting detail in sickening accuracy”

Your friend giggles. “True. And I do too. You see” she winks at you “he’s not so little anymore, is he? How’s your girlfriend, Sho? The one we could hear”

“Jesus, I’m not drunk enough for this conversation” you bring the beer to your lips and take a generous swig, condensation cool against the pads of your fingers.

“We broke up” for some reason, he’s looking at you as he replies and relaxes back into his chair.

“Aw, what a shame” Natsu’s cheerful tone doesn’t quite match her pout “that makes two of you”

“Thanks a lot” you grimace. So much for the confidentiality of the secret shared a few days back, one not even your own mother is yet aware of. It's your fault for letting her drink, really: the years spent with her in college clearly haven’t been a fruitful lesson.

“Nothing to be ashamed of” she clicks her tongue in disapproval “he was an idiot. Who the fuck refuses to…”

“Don’t”

“… pleasure their girlfriend?”

“Oof” Hinata tries to drown the chuckle into his own bottle “that’s why you broke up with him? Fair game”

“Since apparently we’re sharing everything” you sigh, exasperated “he broke up with me”

“Asshole” Natsu shakes her head in disbelief “you were together for so long, too. High school sweethearts. Remember him, Sho?”

“Ah, yeah” he cocks his head a little “Sasaki, was it? Wouldn’t have guessed it went on, that guy never seemed to be a great match for you”

“Man, you used to hate him” Natsu mischievously hides her chuckle behind her hand when she turns to look at you to whisper “Shoyo had such a devastating crush on you!”

“Natsu!” he groans and this time you’re not the only flustered one at the table, as crimson blossoms on his cheeks you finally get a glimpse of the Hinata you remembered. You offer a lenient smile.

“I knew”

His eyes are on you in a second, lips parted and brows knit in surprise “what? Really?”

“Yes, Shoyo” it feels good to utter his name somehow, it weighs comforting and familiar on your tongue “you weren’t exactly great at hiding whatever was on your mind back then”

“Still bad at that” there’s something in the way he says it, in the way he holds you level in his serious stare that makes you all too aware of his knees still warmly pressing to yours. God, he’s attractive. And the worst part is that he clearly knows.

“I need to go to the bathroom” Natsu interrupts the brief staring contest between you two “please keep an eye on my drink” she rises from her seat, a little unstable. You reach out to support her by the elbow.

“Let’s go together, I can-”

“I need you to keep that safe” she indicates her half empty glass “he’s already thinking of stealing my drink, I can feel it” Natsu narrows her eyes at her brother and he raises his hands in defense, amused. You sigh as you watch her stumble toward the back of the pub, where the bathroom is.

“I never understand if I need more alcohol or less, whenever I go out with her” Hinata’s good natured comment makes you chuckle.

“You could’ve spared yourself the agony, tonight. I’m used to it by now” you absentmindedly drum your fingers on the side of the empty bottle you’re still holding.

“I’m glad I came” he takes a sip from his own beer “I haven’t seen you in so long. You haven’t changed”

You scrunch your nose at that. “Really? I was a teenager the last time you saw me”

“Yeah” Shoyo agrees with a little smile as he quietly takes your features in, gaze lingering on your lips as he replies “you’re still just as beautiful. Always wasting your time on people who should be thanking their lucky star you’ve as little as glanced in their direction”

There’s no reasonable way to explain the shudder that runs down your spine, the tense sensation tugging at your stomach when you lean closer to him over the table.

“And you grew up to be such a charmer” the smile you toss at him is incredulous and maybe a little teasing. As if he was waiting for that, Hinata bites and leans closer in turn.

“What is it that he didn’t want to do?”

You scoff but it’s playful, evokes a smile. “C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just me”

“He never went down on me” your tone is almost challenging, as if you’re daring him to laugh or take the piss.

However, Shoyo remains serious, with only genuine surprise evident in his hazel irises.

“But” he tries to make sense of the absurdity you just shared “he’s the only boyfriend you ever had”

“Correct”

“Does that mean no one has ever…”

“It means exactly that” you shrug, attempting to play off embarrassment as indifference “he thought it was gross. I never asked again”

In the end, Shoyo does laugh but the sound is unexpected, incredulous more than it is mocking. “Natsu was right. What an absolute loser” he smiles, confident in a way that is ridiculously attractive “some would kill for that opportunity”

You snort out a laugh in an attempt to mask how fast your heart is really beating “I think that’s a little extreme, I don’t know a single man who would kill to-”

“I would” Shoyo tilts his head as he studies your flustered features, imagination already running wild as he asks himself if you’d look the same while straddling his face.

“You don’t mean that”

“Oh, I mean that. I think you know exactly how much I mean that. I’m terrible at hiding what’s on my mind, after all” he gently unclasps your hand from around the beer bottle, places it on the table and turns the palm upwards, thumb tracing lazy figures on your wrist “I’ll tell you, if you want to know”

He’s not hesitating, only granting you a way out of the conversation. But do you want a way out? No one’s ever looked at you like that, with fierce determination burning behind warm, genuine affection. You know Hinata, he’s never been a liar and you doubt he’s grown to be one.

“I want to know” you find yourself murmuring, entranced by a stare that holds you hostage in the best way. He smiles, rough thumb applying the slightest pressure to your skin as it moves in circles.

“I’d first have you on my knees and against the wall. I’d want to see you, find out what makes your legs give out the quickest. I’m afraid that’s all the patience you’d get from me” his other hand sneaks beneath the table and closes around your knee, wide and warm “I’d turn you around, eat you out from behind until you can’t stand anymore, until I’d have to carry you to my bed and have you sit on my face to take what you need from me. I could go all night, have you cream on my tongue, on my face, over and over again. I’d make up for all the years you spent with that jerk, in one single night” and then maybe you’d never want to leave, he mentally adds. “I know you’d want that too” he says instead, mischievous glint in his eyes. Your mouth feels so dry.

“What makes you think that?” surprisingly, you manage to string five words together. Hinata smiles and he looks as beautiful as ever underneath the golden, dim lights of the pub.

“I can feel how hard you’re clenching your legs right now”

#hinata x reader #hinata x you #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo x you #hq x reader #i feel very vulnerable posting this for some reason LOL

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venny19 · 4 months ago

Text

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚Heartwarming˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

⋆★⋆Noel Noa, Chris Prince, Lavhino, Marc Snuffy x Fem Reader⋆★⋆

Context: You are the Russian coach and player in the NEL and have a hard time socializing, lost in thought you stumble in a problem

જ⁀➴

SFW || Fluff || Love Triangle||

Side Note -> Zenon Martyr is going to be the ALTERNATIVE version of Zenit Saint Petersburg in Russia football team.

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Inhale……. Exhale………

Taking one step each time she passes through the liminal halls of the facility, her dark gaze falls upon the tiled floor, slowly continuing her tranquil life, and luckily she didn't have to do much other than making sure her team gets a good review on others, then she could finally breathe. Training wasn’t a struggle for her but training a bunch of foreign teenagers into shape was one thing to hear, of course she knows that not all boys are naturally flexible but doing constant stress from time to time could loosen their blood flow in their streams.

For her it wasn’t a problem, she was once a ballet dancer, well if you count Russian ballet any easier then you’ll be dead wrong. She didn’t have much growing up, Russia was not a heavenly place to live nor is it the best to be born either, for her it was always cold, alone. But she never complained, she couldn’t complain even if she wanted too, but she knows her home county was filth. Camps, sickness, abuse. Enduring all hardship that slapped on her face. Who could blame her? Life was hell as it is, always wishing her life could do something more than just some random ballet dancer. She had never been on a stage before, always in the training room where the grown woman abused them for their lack of agility. She once remembered one of the coaches made all the girls be on their tiptoes for an out straight.

But she can’t dwell on the pass anymore, she’s now a coach. A football coach at that. Ditching her ballet in her teens and slowly climbing the ladder in success in her name. But she will alway be reminded by the hardship she was shown in learning football. All sports are the same, no matter the activity. They hit you, they laugh at you, mock, cry, cheer. It was always the same to her, She never made friends either. Always having this default state that creepted others out, nor was she social either. She couldn’t remember when was the last time she had a conversation with anyone, or having a conversation at all.

Just give out orders, tell her team what to do, help make progress and be done. That’s how it has always been. She notices how other coaches alway had a bright smile. Or in Noel’s case some good feedback. She always wonders if any of the coaches could help her into being social rather than looking ghostly pale on the sidelines.

Chris Prince is a good example, he was a very charming English man, he was like a ray of sun, smile so bright that he wanted to make [Name] wear sunglasses every time he was near radius.

Lavhino has a charismatic tone to his play, he saw the good in things majority of the time. Laughing and joking with his teammates, a style that [Name] was jealous of. Wishing she could have his confidence in games and with other people. They talked once but couldn’t remember how long that was. She hopes she can talk to him again.

Marc Snuffy was an intelligent man. Making his ways with riches and having the best life there is to offer. It wasn’t until she realized that one of Snuffy’s friends passed away not too long ago. She never had a proper interaction with him but deep down she wanted to comfort the man of what he’s been through, it’s not easy seeing a loved one pass away. She knows how that feels. Always Living in a cold harsh climate all her life she saw eyes of death many times on the road. Whether it be through malnourishment, food poison, or the cold climate, and sadly both her brothers were victims off, she couldn’t get angry but if she did then who would care? Emotions were useless from where she was.

She shook her head at the thought and continued her mindless walking. She soon started to think about Noel Noa. Quite the quiet guy for her. He seemed very pristine, and patient but if there's one thing he lacks it's leadership, she once saw the interaction with the japanese and germans on his team. Some couldn’t get along. Including one of the new gen who have undying hatred with one short player.

She knows her team better not to start fights or have some sort of resentment on others, including with newcomers. She continues to think more about the coaches and remembers the young french coach in PxG. Julian Loki. It amazed her to think someone as young as him is even here. Despite all odds, she never really talked with him or even interacted with him to begin with. Only small exchanges like a wave or a peace sign.

But despite everything she has full respect for the guys, all strong and simple minded with their team and as a coach. It’s even a surprise that Ego, the one that made Blue Lock, invited her as the coach of the Russian stratum of Zenon Martyr. She thought that it was for the male coach but surprisingly it was for her. Apparently, they wanted a Female coach in blue lock.

Which shocked her for the most part, but she accepted neither the less. It’s not an everyday thing to get accepted into a foreign country by someone in power. But to her it was something she always dreamt about. She alway wanted to see the famous cherry blossoms, never once has she seen pink trees and the thought of it just made her giddy on the inside. Spring was very scarce, if not never happens up in the northern part of Russia, unless you're in rural parts in Russia like Moscow. But other than that she can’t wait to see Japan for the first time after NEL.

When she arrived she was given instructions on what to do in blue lock, the facility known for beating JFU and wanting the best coaches in Europe to compete one another for the U-20 world cup. What really disappointed her was the lack of female staff, and girl bathrooms. No doubt that this is a male dominated facility, so seeing a woman was really scarce here unless it’s her and Anri, who was kind enough to give her her own room and bathroom without disturbance. Anri was a sweet person. [Name] can tell by how confident she looked, she wondered if all Japanese women were this classy and diligent. If only she could return the favor of hospitality to her.

“Blyat. Where am I?” Oh yeah. She forgot that she was supposed to go back to her stratum to train her teammates, wasn’t very professional for a coach to get lost easily, and she couldn’t understand the Japanese language but thankfully she had these translating earpieces to hear what they're saying in Russian. She looked around and saw if she could get a clue of where she was. Looking around she saw a way leading to another, deciding where to go she chose to go……

➺ NOEL NOA

Right.

Her steps echoed through the halls as her sharp gaze fell upon one of the entrances of the doors. Upon opening it she saw one of the coaches slouchy sitting on a chair. Noel heard the doors to his room open and close. Cautious, he turned his hazel gaze upon the woman that had entered unexpectedly.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were coming here, much less company for me.” He spoke unamusing. [Name] ignored his words and looked around before looking at him with that sharp ghostly stare. Anyone who looked at her always felt uncomfortable by her presence but Noel didn’t see what was wrong with looking at her since she wasn’t doing or saying anything remotely harmful to anyone.

“Izvinite. This is the vwrong room,” She apologized and was about to turn around before Noel’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Wait. Why are you here on the German side to begin with?” Still confused, she looks at him before looking down.

“I…. got lost.” She admitted. Noel noticed from her tense figure and approached her. “How?” Is all he asked.[Name] just gaveout a hum before telling him the details.

“I vwas lost in thought before my feet started to vwalk on their own, I thought I vwas going to the Russian side. Sorry to disturb you.” Her accent comes out thick under the translation.

Taking in the information he thought it’ll be best if he could walk her back to her own stratum then getting more lost here, it is a pretty big facility so knowing it by one go is technically impossible, and it seems she doesn't remember where she’s going to begin with. “I’ll walk you down there.” He offered.

[Name] was surprised by his genuine offer. Not many people helped her so hearing his words was something she was not expecting. “Da, I vwould appreciate that.” She offered her hand for him to take. Noel was surprised but took her hand with his anyway. Upon making skin contact, he felt her cold skin making contact with his hands.

“You're cold.” He pointed out. [Name] only nodded from his statement. “Da, I barely get warm. No matter the temperature, my body grew cold over time the moment I was born. I lived a cold life.” She looked ahead as they began to walk.

“I see.” He nodded. He looked over at her facial expression and saw a small beauty mark under her ear. Maybe unnoticed by her but it was a nice touch to her character. “If I’m not being rude, can you tell me more about your childhood?” He asked. Listening closely to her side of the story. Noel didn’t know anything about her due to her cold gaze. In his eyes he can see she grew up in a bad environment. And taking in her body language; she always looked down and sad for some reason.

“I don’t think there’s much to say. I grew up bad. Vwhen I was a little devochka I always grew up cold, two bratya with me. One old and one young. One died from starvation and the other from the cold. My otetz vwas drunk. He beat me and my bratya. It vwasn’t easy for little girls to live peacefully. I Lived in Norilsk. Bad vweather, bad people, bad life. It vwasn't until I vwas 15 vwhen I quit ballet and began my journey to play football.” She looks away.

Noel wasn't really prepared to listen to all that in one go but from what he heard he can feel and tell that she's still struggling in past lives. To see someone who grew up so cold could also look so beautiful.

Noel could admit, she was really breathtaking. She is a hidden gem to some people.

“Sorry to hear. It seems you had it rough.” He soothed his fingers across her palm for her to relax. [Name] sighs and looks up at Noel.

“Am I a bad person?” She asks. Noel being the honest man he is, shook his head. “No, why would you say something like that?” He was genuinely confused on why people think she's a terrible person. She does no harm to others and keeps to herself majority of the time. It's just her lack of socialization and gaze which makes everyone turn away.

[Name] sighs and looks down again. “People hate it vwhen I look at them. I've done nothing to harm except trying to help. That's vwhy I think I'm bad.” She admits, without realizing it a small tear slowly cascades down her pale cheek. Noel notices it and wipes it away, causing her to look up at the tall male with shock.

“You were crying there. I couldn't help myself.” He sighs.

“I- thank you for that…. I thought I'll never cry again…. But I vwas vwrong.” She put her hand on where he touched her and she swears she could feel her cold heart melt.

“Hmm, it seems we're here.” The warm feeling of his palm released and put them in his pockets. [Name] wish that warm feeling could last forever but sadly all good things must come to an end.

“Ah, Spasibo Noel. I… enjoy being with you.” She admits, feeling her cheekbones rose a little.

“It wasn't a problem for me, how about we grab coffee some other time to communicate?” He offered, to which she gladly nodded. “Da, I vwould love that.”

Noel nodded as he started to turn back but before he left for good, he said his last words to her. “And you should smile more often, it looks nice on you.” And went away.

[Name] didn't know what he meant until she felt her lips in an upward motion, finally realizing she had just smiled at Noel. A pink hue was splattered on her cheeks as her cold heart began to pound uncontrollably.

“…… thank you…. Noel…..”

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

➺ CHRIS PRINCE

Left.

She didn't know where she was headed to be exact but if she at least finds a way then she hopes she can find her stratum eventually.

Her cold gaze fell upon one of the doors and hoped it was one of her designated rooms, but upon opening she was met with the bright English man drenched in sweat.

“Ah… this is the England stratum…” she finally realized. Nethertheless she entered and wanted to see if Chris is available to engage in conversations with her. She doesn't know how to properly talk out a conversation but the practice would be good for her.

“138….139….. 140!…. Haa! That's a new record!” The English man shouted in triumph while lifting weight. Finally giving his muscles a little rest before lifting again, he sighs in relief as he does some stress to release his blood flow, slinging a towel over his shoulder and picking up one of his famous “Chris Prince” water and chugging it down.

He was so out of thought that he didn't even realize that [Name] was right behind him.

…..

“Chris-”

“PFFTT!! AHEK! AHEK OH MY GOD AHEK YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!!” Chris choked on his water as he slowly backed away from the woman trying to keep his composer still. After the last cough he made he sternly looked at her while whipping the towel on his lips.

“A little warning could've been great?! You almost killed me back there!” He shouted out, grunting as he wiped his templates as he looked back up at the woman who seemed to only be looking down in what seems to be distraught.

“My apologies Chris. I didn’t know how to approach you in a vway, I vwas trying to talk to you about something.” she looked at him to see an amused mix in with confusion plastered on his face. Taking a seat on the bench he had a well knowing grin forming on his lips.”Hm? What did you want to say?” Ushering her on with her words. [Name] slowly looks at him before pointing.

“Is it alright to sit next to you?” She pointed at the empty spot on the bench. Reluctantly he nodded and made room for her to sit, thanking him she took a spot next to his. And so she then started to look down again and started to twirl the ends of her hair.

“Chris…. I just vwanted to say that…. You're amazing….” She admits, as he can feel himself choking on the air from her words.``Ahem I was what?!” His pride and ego started to shoot up through the roof from her encouraging words. “Go on! Say it again!” urging her to speak more.

[Name] then starts to twiddle her fingers in a nervous manner. “You’re like a sun; Chris… You are always bright and smile. Make people happy vwherever you are. I vwish to smile like you and make others happy…. I’m alvways cold. From vwhere I’m from…. Emotions are useless….”

Chris heard her stride of the story and couldn’t help but smile at her kind words about him. “Aww really? I’ll be damned, coming from someone cold as you do warm my heart.” He then placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. [Name] stopped and slowly looked at him before speaking…

“Chris…can you teach me?” She asked silently, “Teach Me how to make others happy?” After she said those words, Chris couldn’t hold back and let out a roaring laughter. “HAHAH! You want me to teach you how to make others smile?” He pointed at her. To which she nodded with a hum.

“Da, I vwant to make others smile….” She repeats again. After laughing away Chris finally calms down and takes a breather.``Sigh Well that was something to ask about, but teaching a hottie like you could boost my reputation!” Without hesitation he grabbed her hand and lifted her to stand up.

[Name] was surprised that someone like him could hold her hand without complaint but in her mind she was glad that Chris was willingly able to help. It was when he held up one finger for the lesson. “First you need to greet yourself properly. Since you do have a history record of sneaking up on people” He whispered the last sentence. [Name] nodded, wanting to see how far she could succeed in this little training.

Chris stuck out his left hand and began. “Hi! I’m Chris Prince, what’s your name?” He introduced himself. [Name] slowly grabbed ahold of his hand.

“Now what do you say?” He urged her to continue through the lesson. “Um…. oh… uh…. My name is [Name] Bogdanova, I’m from Russia.” She spoke quietly. Chris nodded “Okay we’re getting somewhere. How about you be more vocal, raise your voice a little so others could hear you! That's how people know you're sincere.” He smiled. [Name] nodded and started to take more lessons from the englishman.

Through each step [Name] was making great progress on becoming more vocal of her speech. “That’s great!” “Almost!” “Keep trying to do fine!” Chris encouraged her which made her more vocal a lot. She couldn’t help but her heart started to melt away from the cold inside her. Maybe it was Chris who was encouraging her by lighting up the ice inside of her.she didn’t know why but it made her proud.

“Okay for the next and last step! Try to smile!” She put a smile that she swore rays of sunlight shine behind him. Confident she tried to smile but couldn’t get her cheekbones to listen. “I… I can’t…..” she shyly said looking away. Chris was patient and tried to help the best he can. Putting a hand on her shoulder and the other under her chin to look at him

“Of course you can. Think about something that truly makes you happy, whatever it is, whether it would be football, or food, or someone close!”

After hearing those examples [Name] didn’t have much to smile about, she didn’t have a special someone, nor she didn’t like any food other than earl gray tea, but that’s not something to smile about now was it? Slowly her eyes adjusted to where Chris was. To her, he was handsome and bright. He took his time to help train her to be more socialized. Not many take the time to talk to her anyways, so him being here right here and right now just made her cheekbones accommodated and finlay lifted her lips upwards.

“Whoa…” Chris was in complete shock to see her finally smile. It was small but it was progress to him, and the way she smiled was in a cute way. He could totally see her smiling like that again. “Your smile is nice.” He admitted a small speck of blush appears on his cheeks, taking in her beauty that he had never seen before.

[Name] quickly covered her mouth and felt the smile on her mouth. “I… I smiled….:” she gasped. But then I let go and continued to smile. “I actually smiled… T-thank you Chris.”

Then Chris smirked, having more of a cheeky side to him. He knew he was the best. “Heh, no problem. How about a little reward for you?” He grabbed both of her shoulders, [Name] nodded as she continued to smile, not questioning his motives.

“Sure, what is the reward?” She asked, “You’ll see. Close your eyes.” Listening to his words she closed her eyes. Slowly Chris begins to lean closer and closer to her face. Hoping that this was worth the wait.

He leaned closer… and closer….. Closer…

Agi busted down the door and shouted. “Chris! They’re fighting again!- Oh?!”

Chris blushed, With an angry face he looked up at him and shouted.

“GET THE HELL OUT! I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING!”

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

➺ LAVHINO

Forward.

At this point she was headed straight, so going forward again wouldn't hurt anybody. Well she hopes nobody gets hurt, but other than that she kept her stance straight and moving forward.

It took some time for her to actually make it to a door from a different stratum than her own. Without saying a word she opened it and noticed that this was the training room for Spain.

She sighs once again from her lack of directions. But in the corner of her eye she noticed someone training in the room, her curiosity got the best of her and entered the training room without a sound. There she saw the shirtless Brazilian male doing a handstand. A ball on his feet kicking it upward.

[Name] was impressed at the creativity and ability he showed while using this technique. She knew how to do a handstand when she was young and trained in ballet but it mostly hurt her and was never remotely close to creativity.

So seeing Lavhino do something so complicated yet fun made her heart swell.

He then did a fantastic front kick and landed perfectly on his feet. With such momentum the ball traveled upward and came curving down.

Impressed with his agility moves, he let out a groan of relief. “Did pretty good but it could use some work. Welp! Time for uma pequena pausa- AHH!” Lavhino shrieked when [Name] appeared in front of his view. Clutching his chest and beginning to gasp for air from that shocking moment.

“You did vwell.” She says in the most stoic monotone voice that anyone heard from. After calming down he sighs and looks up at [Name] with sweat dripping down his head. “Hey belleza! I didn’t see ya there! Didn’t expect anyone to come here to begin with.” rolling his eyes at the last sentence before smiling up at [Name].

“So what made you come here?” He asked, trying to keep his optimistic side. [Name] shook her head. “Nett, I vwas trying to find my stratum until I came here. You play very nice Lavhino.” She said while looking up at him.

“You are like a bird, free and happy. I vwish I could be free like you.” She admitted slowly looking away. Lavhino felt kinda prideful from her words and snickered. “Heh! If you wanted to watch me play then you could've just said so!” He pointed at himself with a smirk. [Name] nodded and then looked around. Noticing the various equipment and footballs scattered around.

“How….” She whispered.

“Hm?” Lavhino raised a brow at the girl with a hum.

“How do you be happy vwhile playing? You see the light in things, very bright and full of life. I alvways vwondered if I could be free like you, but…. I don’t know how…” She silently sulked.

Lavhino could help but grin at her statement. “Heh! There's no need for you to worry belleza! If you need a little lesson, then I'm the person to help!” Speaking confidentially and putting a hand on her shoulder to assure her that he can be of help.

“Really?” She was surprised that someone as lively as him was willing to help her. But she wouldn't say no to a chance like this.

Lavhino nodded. “Of course! But there's one thing I need to do!” Reaching in his pocket he took out his mobile phone and typed in something.

After a few seconds, he put on some Salsa Romantica music. This completely caught her off guard by the choice of music, but he increased the music and held out his hand for her.

“Do you know how to dance?” He asked with a grin. [Name] was confused by his statement. “I… know how to do ballet.” she shyly said not sure where this is going.

“Eh! Close enough!” He grabbed a hold of her wrist and pulled her towards him, she gasped as she was chest to chest with him, he smirked as he held her hands in a motion. “Just follow my lead.” He whispered to her. She didn’t know what was going on anymore as Lavhino began to lead the dance and she could only follow. Trying to mimic his footing and hearing slow music accommodating the atmosphere made her heart swell. She had never felt this kind of experience before.

He begins to make her twirl and bend her back to do a head dip it shocked her, but she continues to follow his lead, the movements begin to increase, and [Name] could only clutch onto him for support, but slowly she started to get the hang of this.

“Yeah! That's it! You're doing great!” His words of encouragement started to make her feel proud of what she's doing and continues to dance alongside with him. And when the climax of the song came Lavhino picked her up from the waist and threw her up in the air.

“Whoa!” She loudly accumulated before coming down and casting down onto Lavhino’s arms safely and did a last-minute twirl before being her back and having one of her legs lifted on his hips while keeping a secure grip on her waist just as the music ended.

Both of them trying to catch their breath from that intense moment before Lavhino speaking out with a smirk.

“So did you enjoy yourself, belleza?!” He could help but look at [Name]'s eyes that twinkled by his amazing acrobatics.

“Y-yes…. I… never danced like that before, it vwas fun” A hint of amazement was heard in her voice, something that Lavhino was proud of.

“Well, we can dance all night! If you want!” He couldn't help but wink at her. Something about him just made [Name]'s heartburn from his fiery passion. It was amazing he could keep going from such intense play like this.

But dancing all night with him didn't sound so bad. She doesn't have to suffer from all day leg workouts like before and she can finally be free from her restraints of posing. For some reason the corners of her lips shot upright. Giving the male a soft smile to his surprise.

“Whoa! I didn't know you could smile?!” He pointed at her features. [Name] blinked before remembering that no one saw her smiling or giving out the slightest emotion and feeling that smile just send a heatwave of joy through her system.

“I… I guess I am. I didn't think I ever smiled before…...” she held her reddened cheeks before looking at the male in front of her.

“I think you made me smile, Lavhino.” She whispered shyly but enough for the male to hear. This made him blink “Huh? Me?” His face could be seen with a cheeky grin on his face. [Name] nodded and explained about how she felt.

“From vwhere I'm from, girls don't dance freely. They alvways have to dance perfectly if they vwant to become better ballerinas. It vwas never easy, my body vwas alvways cold and thin…. If vwe do one mistake then they hit us, that's vwhy I never thought that dancing vwould ever bring me joy. But you showed me so much, you showed me how to enjoy dancing and that I shouldn't hold back… thank you for that. It's as if you showed me the light of it all. Something I vwish to alvways see. Thank you Lavhino….”

After explaining her story, Lavhino couldn't help himself but pat her on the head. “Hey, I'm sorry for all that crap you've been through. But you're not there anymore! You're here! Enjoying yourself and being proud! How about we drop this sappy story stuff and get back on our dancing! I can teach you how to do the tango next?!” He snickered.

[Name] could help but smile once more, she really did enjoy being with Lavhino. He was like fire. Flames that burn bright and can reach into people's hearts. He really is the ideal person for what it means to have fun.

“Yeah, I would love that…”

“Heh! Now grab on because this is going to get more wilder!”

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

➺ MARC SNUFFY

Backwards.

What's better than retracing your steps, it is best to start where you came from so heading back was a reliable option on her part. Slowly taking each step on the tile floor trying to remember what path she came from. There were many doors and sadly she doesn't know which one was. Still continuing onwards to what she believes is her destination.

Trying her best to focus on where she's going, she then stumbled into a problem. She doesn't realize which door is her section of Stratum.

She believes she went into the wrong stratum since there was a different door than what she usually sees, but maybe she just noticed the new door. Curious, she decided to take a look inside.

Walking in without permission is what she's against doing but her curiosity was getting the best of her, and she'll apologize for interrupting if it's the wrong door. Slowly she opened it up and was met with an unexpected scent of delicious food.

Couldn't help herself but take a giant whiff of the scenes accommodating the room. Whatever it was, she couldn't seem to hold herself and walked in, closing the door behind her. There she noticed another person was in the room with her, lounging on the black sofa. On the coffee table was dishes of Japanese cuisine and sweets.

It wasn't until she realized that someone sitting on the sofa was Marc Snuffy. Finally putting two to two together, she's in the Italy stratum and this was their meeting room. Ah, no wonder the doors increased and seemed out of place.

She was about to leave undetected, but Marc noticed her before she could even turn around. “Ah, I didn't know you invited yourself here [Name], is there a reason you came here?” He seemed genuine in his question as to why the Russian coach made herself present here on his Stratum.

[Name] looked at him before looking down guilty like. “My apologies Marc, I vwas only trying to go back to my stratum but it seems I've gotten lost instead.” She spoke out.

Marc couldn't help himself but chuckle at her stature and sense of direction of this place. No doubt that this is a large facility so her getting lost was bound to happen. But he didn't think it would come true.

“Heh, no worries. Why don't you come join me?” He spoke out giving the grip a genuine smile. [Name] was surprised that Marc wasn't even offended at the slightest but yet solicited her arrival.

“If it's not too much to ask or a bother for me to intrude, then guess it's an honor for me to be here.” She spoke monotonously. She couldn't help but look at the variance of dishes displayed on the coffee table, something in her mind wanted to taste some of them but didn't want to be rude. Marc noticed her stare at the food on the coffee table and decided to invite her along.

“How about you come sit next to me” He asked her to which she nodded and sat on the black sofa next to him. Now having a very good view of each exquisite dish on the table, she couldn't help herself but gulp in hunger.

“I asked Anri if there was anything to eat since I skipped breakfast, but it turns out she got more things than asked for, so now I'm stuck with plates of food that I don't think I could finish!” He then looked up at [Name], a tiny drool cascading down her lips.

“It’ll be nice to have some company to help me to eat with.” He urged her, [Name]'s eyes slightly widened and looked at Marc. “Ah, sorry. It vwould be very rude for me to come here and eat this food that Anri prepared for you.”

Marc quickly shook his hands to turn down her statement. “No no! It's totally fine, I'm inviting you here to eat with me. Since we didn't have much to speak about when we played against teams.” He spoke assuringly. [Name] was quite before slowly nodding to his words.

“Okay. You don't mind if I try this?” She picked up a seaweed sushi between her fingers, showing it to Marc who nodded. “Sure thing, all these foods are indeed famous Japanese dishes.”

[Name] brought the sushi up to her nose to take a small whiff, a scent of fish, vegetables, rice and seaweed in one formation. She then plopped one in her mouth and slowly chewed it. The flavors of the sushi exploded into flavor in her mouth. Tasting a sensation that she never knew before. Her eyes began to sparkle as she plopped another in her mouth, and another.

‘Soo gooood!’

She couldn't hold herself from stuffing her cheeks with many sushi variants. Marc couldn't help but snicker at her swollen cheeks stuffed with sushi, to him she looks like a curious chipmunk. In an adorable way and he couldn't help but watch.

[Name] then stumbled upon a light green paste on the side of the plate. Curious, she picked it up and slowly brought it to her mouth. Marc saw this and tried to stop her from consuming the green paste. “Wait I wouldn't eat that if I was-”

Too late, she already put it in her mouth.

“-you….” Marc then saw the giant whiplash that was exposed on her face. [Name] cringed and made a sour facial expression. Not liking the burning bitter paste that was wasabi. It burned her taste buds and made her nose flare. She didn't want to waste the food on her mouth so slowly she swallowed the disgusting paste down her throat which made her throat even more burnt. "Bleh… that's horrible….” She still cringed at the aftertaste.

“Oh! Here, drink this.” Marc held up a cup to her, thanking him she drank whatever was inside that cup. Apparently, it also burned her throat but had a scene of flavor kick to it. “Damn, I didn't know you could drink Sake like that.” After she was done drinking, she put the glass down on the table and looked away.

Marc noticed the change of movement from her and was concerned if sake wasn't her go to drink. “Hey you alright?” He asked concernly. [Name] just looked down on her hands and fiddled with her fingers. She slowly looked up at Marc with a small blush creeping up to her cheeks.

“I vwanted to thank you…. I never tasted something like these in my life…” she said. Marc was confused of what she meant and asked what happened. “Did something happen [Name]?”

She slowly shook her head. “Vwell, I never grew up to anything delicious like these. Vwhen I vwas growing up all the food and vwater vwas poisoned and tinted vwith lead. Vwhen I became a football player my meals vwere very strict on my diet. I had to have the same cabbage soup or grilled potatoes eating to make my body into a professional…. After eating sushi… I thought my taste just lacked flavor. Instead, I never tasted something so delicious…” she confronted him.

Marc saw that struggle on her face and couldn't help but feel pity. She lived a different life than anyone and was probably mistreated by others. That face looks like she has seen death multiple times and yet she still stays standing. As if she MUST stay standing or else she doesn't have a choice. “God [Name], coming from you. It's awful to hear, I couldn't imagine being in a place that treats me like shit. You're very brave.” He put a assuring hand on her shoulder for comfort. She couldn't help but feel better by his soothing words.

“Spasibo Marc. I've learned to fight it in me. Sorry for me telling you all this.” She looked guilty. Marc smiled and patted her back. “It's fine. I'm glad to be an open ear for you to speak. I just thought you hated us but it seems that everyone has their differences, including facial expressions.” He joked but [Name] didn't find it funny in her case.

She thanked him again for comforting her, looking back at the table to spot out a pink colored ball wrapped in a leaf. Curious got the best of her and learned to grab it. This time without making a mistake she examined it and took a small sniff. It smelled sweet but she knows not to get tricked again. She licked the pink rice in her hands and found it sweet in her case.

Without saying she finally took a bite of the mochi, chewing it softly and swallowing it down.

It's as if a firework went off on her mouth and her cheeks turned pink.

Her cheekbones started to go upright and her face turned flush, a whole new flavor that she never knew ever existed in her life made a whole thing change. “Soo good!!” She squealed in amazement and continued to chow down on the sakura mochi.

Marc was surprised to see a whole new side of her, for the first time he finally gets to see her smile. It really suited her and she seemed really happy about the Sakura mochi. He noticed that she's going faster with eating and growing concerned he tried to warn her.

“Y'know I wouldn't eat that much if I was - hmp!” A Sakura mochi was placed on his lips. [Name] brought a Sakura mochi to him, trying to let him eat the sweetness. “Eat, these are good!” She said her face was already stuffed with Sakura mochi and wanted Marc to try them out.

Marc blinked before taking the mochi in his hand and smiled at [Name]'s unpredictable astonishment. But he can also see she can be quite the messy eater seeing some rice stick to her cheek, he couldn't help but grab her chine to look at her.

Confused on what he's doing she felt his hand brush off something on her cheek. “Ah sorry, there was mochi stuck to your cheek and wanted to get it out.” He said, flicking the rice off his fingers.

[Name] swallowed and was pleased by his kind gesture. “Spasibo Marc. You're an incredible person.” She whispered but loud enough for him to hear. Marc couldn't help but smirk and brought her closer to him, pulling her over where her arm met his chest. [Name] doesn't know what he's doing but didn't question it.

“Y'know you're beautiful when you smile” he said close to her ear. [Name] couldn't help but blush from the closeness between them, it wasn't until Marc slowly came closer to her face, just a inch close before brutally interrupted by the bang on the door.

“OI! Pops! We were looking for- oh?!” Lorenzo made himself present in the meeting room where he saw a sight for him to see. He couldn't help but crackle at his coach.

Marc eyes begin to twitch at the disturbance that entered in and interrupted their moment. “Has anyone told you to knock first, Lorenzo?!”

“You were totally going to make out with her!!!”

[Name] just slowly looked away and continued to munch on her mochi.

‘Soo gooood!’

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Ball……

Why is there a ball?

After thanking Him for the help He had given the girl, she was now going back to her rightful Stratum.

That is until a ball slowly made it to her feet. Confused, she bent down and picked up the object off the ground and looked around to see who left it, that is until she saw the blonde kid from PxG.

Charles was messing around until he kicked the ball a little to hard in the hallway traveling down to someone's feet but he gasped when he saw the Russian coach pick it up and slowly look at him.

Like a deer in headlights, his heart began to rapidly increase when he made eye contact with the coach, petrified by her stare he slowly took steps back, NOT wanting to be near her any longer.

[Name] then begins to go after Charles with the ball.

“AHHHHH!!!”

Terrified he began to scream and run, “GO AWAY GO AWAY!! WAHHHH!” tears were running down his face when he finally made it to his Stratum and entered through a door, locking the moment he closed it.

“Charles what happened? Why were you screaming?” Tabito looked at the petrified blonde who backed away from the door and hid behind his teammates for cover.

“SHE GON GET ME!!”

“Who's going to get you?” Ryusei questions.

And to his answer, a knock came from the door.

*KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!*

“AHHHH! SHE'S HERE!!!

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Russian Translation:

Blyat = Fuck

Izvinite = My apology/sorry

devochka = girl

bratya = brothers (Pural)

otetz = father/dad

Da = yes

Nett = no

Spasibo = thank you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ended

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk #Lavhino #chris prince #noel noa #marc snuffy #marc snuffy x reader #lavhino x reader #noel noa x reader #Chris prince x reader #blue lock world champion #blue lock characters #blue lock oc #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x oc

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shaunamilfman · 5 months ago

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Being Jackie Taylor's controversially young gf

pairing: jackie taylor x reader note: let me be delusional lmaoo

definitely broke up a semi-serious relationship with a man she'd been dating for a year or so when she realized she would have to spend the rest of her life with that guy. In my mind she got really drunk one night at a sorority party and had an “oh, shit” moment and avoided him for two weeks before breaking up with him.

i see Jackie as a news anchor. honestly, I think it would really fit her. always struck me as a morning person.

meets you at a coffee shop that she has to rush into at the crack of dawn before work. she's so fucking happy and in a good mood that it puts you off at first. like seriously, it's like 6 AM, why is she smiling??

Jackie immediately takes a liking to you. starts going out of her way to stop by whenever you're working, even though it's five minutes out of her way and she likes the coffee at the other shop better.

she's so flirty, incessantly even. she derives so much pleasure from making you nervous. even with all the flirting she does, she doesn't seriously expect you to reciprocate her interest. she's immediately stunned and a little unsure when she realizes you wrote a flirty comment on her cup, because don't you realize how old she is?

comes back in the next day and mentions it and is immediately flattered when you just shrug and hand her the usual before she can even order it. Jackie's so flustered by your attention that she leaves without paying. runs back ten minutes later and practically throws the money at you before sprinting back to work.

Jackie really likes the fact that you don't know who she is. i mean, who watches the news anymore??

you finally catch a clip of her as the anchor and realize what she does. she gets so shy when you tease her about it. asking her for her autograph as a joke and she's tripping over herself and bright red

god, she's never like this but you just make her so nervous sometimes. makes her feel like a kid again and she never thought she'd like that.

doesn't even cross her mind to be embarrassed or hesitant about dating someone half her age. starts talking about your college classes and one of her friends is like “oh, it's good they're going back to college at their age” and Jackie's just like “oh no, they went straight out of highschool 🥰.” doesn't even notice the way their jaw dropped as they're doing the math.

worries constantly about how you perceive her. she seems so charismatic and confident that you wouldn't think she would be so insecure, but it's constantly on her mind. she's not embarrassed about you at all but she keeps waiting for the day that you realize she's too ‘old’ ever since someone pointed that out to her for the first time.

tries way too hard to seem hip and cool. she spent hours researching how to use modern slang correctly even though she already mostly had it down.

over the moon whenever you reference liking something from the 90s. she'll talk your fucking ear off about it if you let her.

Jackie values your validation a lot less than she would've at 18, but she still really needs to be the center of your attention. one off comment from you can really have her off kilter for the rest of the day even if you didn't mean it. Jackie's more chill about it now, but she still has a desperate need to be liked.

she gets so jealous when it comes to people your own age. there's so many spaces you’re in that she really just can't enter due to her age and it drives her crazy thinking about all the people who might be able to relate to you better or on a different level.

such a reality TV fan. has you on the couch for days getting caught up on all 12 seasons of her favorite show before the new season airs. you just know she's got the best snacks though.

ridiculously supportive of every little thing you do. if it has a competition attached, trust that she will be in the front row with your picture on a t-shirt. People definitely think she's your mom with how extra she is about it, but she doesn't even care. the crowd audibly gasps when she kisses you afterward, but she doesn't notice as she's too busy hyping you up about getting fifth place.

most considerate gift giver on the planet, I swear. she only gets better with age. it's so sweet and thoughtful that you almost tear up every time.

won't lie about her age but also won't correct other people. your friends are like “what is she, thirty???” in disbelief when they meet for the first time and Jackie's ass is just like “... yes. that's it.”

world’s most expensive makeup collection, i swear. it’s so expansive that you're almost in awe the first time you see it. entire shelves dedicated solely to it

sometimes when you get bored sitting outside the shower listening to Jackie yap you start googling the prices of things just to feel something. what do you mean that skin cream was $250???

Offers to give you a tour as an excuse to get you into her room. You’re looking around her one-story house like 🤔. You’re not sure there’s a single room in this house you can’t see from the living room, but you’re not stupid enough to give up that chance.

#jackie thoughts 🩷#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #jackie taylor x reader

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sunflowers4life · 6 months ago

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Marauders - Moving In

i'll probably do a second part, but lemme know if you wanna see it. I haven't really got to explore Remus in this one, so maybe more in the next one! hope you enjoy! warnings: mention of Y/N, female reader descriptions

pairing: marauders x reader (slow burn)

part 2 part 3

Sitting on your parents couch, you scrolled through craigslist, desperate to find a roommate. God you were sick of being in your parents house. It’s not that you didn’t love them, no, but after a while you began to crave the independence that only being away from home can give you, and distance makes the heart grow fonder. Which is when you finally came along one post. The apartment was only a little bits away, and had 3 roommates looking for a 4th. Viewing the profile that posted the listing, you noted the boy's name was James, and he had 2 roommates, Sirius and Remus.

Tossing it up in your head, you realised you were desperate enough, and quickly sent a text to the number listed. Within the minute, he responded, requesting to meet at a diner nearby tomorrow to confirm, in his words “you weren’t a 75 year old weirdo.” You agree to be fair, what if this guy was some creep? It was set, tomorrow night, at 5:00, you would meet James and Remus, as according to James, Sirius was busy with a gig.

So that's where you are now. Standing outside of this retro themed dinner, its bright red exterior and interior makes you wonder why you had never found this place by yourself. Entering, you were escorted to a booth in the corner, the waitress had told you were the first to arrive. So you sat, for 10 minutes, before the little above the door rung, and you looked up at 2 boys, one quite a bit taller than the other. The waitress smiled, and pointed them towards your location, and suddenly you felt nervous. They were both quite attractive, and you began to consider maybe you should have dressed better.

‘Y/N? Hi, it’s nice to meet you! I’m James, and this is Remus.” James, you noted, had curly brown hair, with round glasses, and was wearing a red button up shirt, but the first 3 buttons were undone. Your gaze then turned to Remus, who towered over you, and you noted the small scars on his face, before deciding to ignore them. He was wearing a super comfy sweater, that was dark browns and greens. Quickly, you cleared your throat. “Hi! It’s nice to meet you both!” You quickly offered your hand to the two, and they scooted into the both. The three of you ordered burgers, and each got a milkshake. James maintained the most of the conversation, you noted Remus appeared a bit nervous, and you noted the closeness of the two.

“Now, we would love to have you move into our apartment, but we just have on warning to give.” You tilted your head slightly, this meeting had gone great, James was charismatic, Remus was kind enough if a bit silent, but you assumed that was just a new person thing. “The three of us, me, Remus and Sirius, are in a relationship. I completely understand if you are uncomfortable, but we really enjoyed talking to you and you seem like a great fit.” You laughed a little, before stating you had no problem, and to be honest, you really just needed to get a space to live. So it was settled, you would move in within the week.

You bought only the basics, as they said they already had a double bed for you, so you decided you would move in any other furniture later. Quickly approaching the door, you knocked, before being met with a head of ruly black hair. “Hey! You must be Y/N! James, she’s here!” You could hear a yell, a trip, before you saw James enter the room. Sirius was almost exclusively decked out in leather, the jacket and his pants being completely black. Finally, his t-shirt featured an AC DC decal. James quickly ran over to the door, offering to grab the box in your hands.

Quickly shuffling you inside of the apartment, they lead you to your room. It was bare, of course, but you noted the desk in the corner, and the bed under the window, pushed up against the wall, making almost half of the room your bed. “So, Y/N, tell me, what music do you enjoy?” You quickly turned around, being pulled out of your own world, and realising Sirius had followed you in. “Uh… Rock and pop, I guess.” You watched a cocky smile appear on his face, the lip piercing moving upwards. “Sick! I play in a rock band, and we are performing at a pub tonight. Would you wanna come watch? James and Remus will be coming as well, and as our roommates, we gotta make sure you know what we do, you know?”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t wanna impose.” Sirius quickly grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you lightly. “You're kidding, right? You literally live with us now, I mean, we’ll essentially be sharing a bathroom, you could never impose by watching me do what I love!” You guessed that was true, so you unpacked the boxes you bought, which held all your clothes, and the bare necessities, such as your toothbrush, sheets, hairbrush etc. Unpacking was fun, seeing all the clothes you had forgotten you’d bought, considering what to wear to the pub.

Deciding on a dress, a deep red, somewhat short, laying a leather jacket above it, with some doc martens, you were ready for what would hopefully be a fun night.

#marauders x reader #marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #x reader #self insert

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jexnkookie · 4 months ago

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The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 5]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3.4k

Authors Note: A little bit of a longer chapter this time around, and I'm very excited to share this part with you. I also wanted to note that I have the next 2 parts in the works, and again, I wanted to thank you for reading my story!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lallataegi @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

Previous Chapter | Interlude

Series Masterlist

The basement is loud with the sound of drunken college students conversing over a pop playlist that played over a DIY speaker system. Boxed wine and cheap beer flowed freely, poured into disposable cups. One of those cups landed in Jung Kook’s hand, and he hoped it would give him the courage to say hello you. He stood against the wall, feeling completely invisible, seemingly blended into the background of grey cement. You, by contrast, were a social butterfly, amazing Jung Kook with how you were able to completely light up the room.

You were sitting on empty table, denim shorts revealing your legs as the swung absentmindedly to the rhythm. A group of your closest girl friends surrounded you, and you sported a large, pearly white smile while you spoke to them. Jung Kook couldn’t hear you over the music and the other party goers, but he could tell just from watching how easily you drew people in.

‘Just talk to her.’ He repeated to himself, taking more sips of his beer. ‘Just talk to her. Just do it. She’s nice, you know she won’t laugh at you. Just do it.”

As though his feet had made a decision for him, he headed towards your little circle of friends. When he approached you, your attention turned to him, and your eyes lit up.

“Jung Kook! I haven’t gotten to talk to you yet this semester, how are you?” You greeted him. Your friends turned to him, smiled and some waved. “You guys, this is Jung Kook, we have a class together! He was in my history class last semester, too.”

“Hi.” Jung Kook waved shyly, not used to being the center of attention. “I-I’m good, thanks.”

With a sigh of relief that the hardest part is over, Jung Kook moved into the space your friends made for him, and attempted to melt into the conversation. He stuttered, unable to take his eyes off of you, but if anyone noticed, they said nothing about it. He desperately wanted to get you alone, away from the noise, but couldn’t quite find the right moment to steal you away from your friends. So he settled for watching your bright smile, sparkling eyes, and listening to your charismatic, sweet voice chat up your friends.

But then,, Kai, the boy who had hurt you just a few months previously, moved in close to you, handing you another cup. Jung Kook detested the way you looked up at him, and the way all your friends fawned superficially over the two of you. Everyone, including Jung Kook, knew he was bad for you, but nobody wanted to say anything when you just looked so happy. He understood, because he never wanted to make you sad, either.

It wasn’t long before Kai led you away from the party, to his parked car, to take you home for the night. You turned and waved at your friends, including Jung Kook, telling them to drive safe. Jung Kook went home right after, feeling sick to his stomach in sadness.

Later that night, at Kai’s, you stepped out of his shower into the steamy bathroom. You feet hit the soft bathmat, and you tied your hair up into a towel before checking the multiple texts on your phone from your group of friends, sending pics of the night.You smiled at the girls, and rolled your eyes playfully at them.

1:13 am - Jihyo: Y/N, that Jung Kook guy is soooo cute. He’s like a bunny lol

1:14 am - Nayeon: I think he likes her??? He stared at her literally all night

1:15 am - Jihyo: I’m so glad you noticed that too lol. I know you have a thing going on with Kai, but he told you he didn’t want anything serious, right? Idk, maybe you should ask Jung Kook out???

1:17 am - Nayeon: Yeah, and I doubt he’ll ever do it himself. He barely talked tonight? I guess he’s just shy.

“Hey, are you alright?” Kai called from outside the bathroom.

“Yeah, I’m fine! Sorry, my friends are texting me.” You responded, putting the phone down and finishing your night time routine.

You met Kai in the bedroom, and he looked like a dream. Shirtless, sitting up in bed with the tv on, he smiled at you, and you wondered how badly it was going to hurt when you inevitably stopped coming over to see him. Logically, you know this was just casual, and that’s all it would ever be. But that night, you put your cares aside, as you dipped under the covers to take him between your lips, just the way you’ve learned that he likes.

“Shit, Y/N…” He groaned, placing a firm hand on the top of your bobbing head. “Go a little deeper… Fuck, keep sucking my dick, baby… Just fucking like that…”

He fell asleep shortly after finishing, leaving you feeling lonely and unsatisfied. You grabbed your phone as he slept, and re read your friends texts. Did Jung Kook have a crush on you? Maybe? You decided to ask him the next time you saw him in class. The worst he could say is no, right?

But the question was never answered when, the next class period, the seat next to yours was empty. As was the day after, and the day after that. You asked around, only to find that Jung Kook had gone home excused for several weeks, apparently to spend time with family.

The reason was only partially true. Jung Kook, after the passing of his father, made it a priority and a personal responsibility of his to take care of his mother. No matter how many times she told him to focus on his studies, supportive of his dreams to be an attorney, Jung Kook came home frequently to help her with house chores, cooking and anything else she wasn’t able to do on her own.

As the pair were in the kitchen, Jung Kook’s hands full with a heavy pot of boiling water and sweet potato noodles, that he carried with an oven mitten on each hand, his mother asked him about his time at university. She sat at the kitchen counter, watching him work as they spoke. The question that always comes up, and that Jung Kook never knew how to answer, was when his mother politely and inevitably asks, “Is there a special girl you’re seeing?”

This time, Jung Kook chose to be honest with her.

“There’s a special girl,” He replies, eyes focused on draining the boiling water into the kitchen sink, careful to keep the noodles in tact. “But I’m not seeing her.”

“Ah, I see.” His mother nodded understandingly. “Does the special girl have a name?”

“Yeah… Y/N.” He said with a small, growing smile, and his mother noted how his expression changed just at the mere mention of you. She knew immediately, without any doubt, that her son was absolutely taken with you.

She smiled as she watched him run around the kitchen, placing the noodles back on the stove, then continuing to cook their family’s special japchae recipe for her. As content as she was with the man her son was becoming, being that he was smart, excelled in school, responsible and kind, she had always hoped he’d meet someone to make him happy. Jung Kook had spent so much of his life taking care of her, behaving just like his father, taking on the gentle protector and provider role. She hoped that he would meet a sweet girl who he could do that for, too. She knew her son too well, and recognized that he has so much more love to give.

“She must be a great girl, to catch your attention.” She chuckled, and Jung Kook’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

“Eomma, stop.” He whined like a child, causing her to laugh.

“I know it’s true, because you’re a good man, Jung Kook.” She said, watching as he tossed the noodles together with the mix of vegetables and sauce. “Just keep trying, and keep being good to her, like I know you already are. One of these days, I’m sure you’ll win her over.”

“Thanks, Eomma.” He said quietly and shyly, ending the topic by handing her a beige-colored bowl of japchae. “I hope this tastes like Appa’s.”

“Your cooking always does.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Jung Kook lifted his head from the pillow, and felt around in the dark for his ringing cellphone by his bedside. The clock said 5 a.m. on a Tuesday, several hours before his time to clock in to the firm, and Namjoon’s caller I.D. was bright on his phone screen. He answered the phone with a drowsy, “Hello?”

“Hello. My apologies for waking you, I know it’s early, but we have a situation.” Namjoon said, his words spilling out quick and panicked. “I know you’ve recused yourself from the Park case, but you’re the only one I could think of to call. I need you at the hotel he and Y/N are staying at, as soon as you can get here.”

“Wait, what?” Jung Kook said, wiping sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain when you get here, just please, be here soon, ok?”

“Ok.” Jung Kook answered before hanging up the phone.

He quickly threw together an outfit that was semi-professional, and did a quick brush of his teeth and hair, before grabbing his keys and phone, and bolting out the front door. Minutes felt like hours as he followed his map to the pinpointed location Namjoon had sent him. The city at this hour was strangely still and quiet, but his thoughts were anything but as he rushed through crosswalks and paced under street lights, thanking the universe for the lack of traffic at this time in the morning. His mind wandered, wondering what was going on, why he was called, and above everything else, are you ok?

“Jung Kook! I’m so glad you’re here.” Namjoon called for him from across the street. Jung Kook looked both ways before he dashed across the road, meeting him in front of the hotel doors. “I’ll explain while we go up to their suite, come on.”

Jung Kook matched his pace as they entered the building, quickly locating the elevator, and entering through its opened doors.

“I called you because Y/N called me.” Namjoon explained, pressing the button for their floor. “You’re from Busan, how much do you know about Jimin? What have you heard?”

“I uh, I knew his family name, like everyone does.” Jung Kook responded. “Honestly, I didn’t know anything about him until I met him.”

“Ok, well let me fill you in quickly.” Namjoon said. The elevator dinged as it stopped, and the doors opened for the men to step out and turn to the right, down the sleepy, luxurious hallway. “Rich kid heir, that much you know. He has a history of alcohol abuse that’s gotten him into some trouble, damaging his family’s reputation among other business leaders, because he’s the next in line to the company’s top position. His father told him not to get in any more trouble, or else he’d be cut off. Getting engaged to a good girl from a good family has been a great look for him. Changing from a party boy into a ‘husband-to-be’ does wonders for saving face.”

“Ok…” Jung Kook said, listening intently.

“It’s important to keep up that appearance. I’ve worked as the main attorney for the Park family for a long time now, and one thing to know about these wealthy families, is that while appearance is everything, it’s almost never true.”

“Are you saying he doesn’t love her?” Jung Kook asked, his heart racing.

“I’m not saying that. What I’m saying, is that it wasn’t enough to keep him away from the bottle. Y/N called me earlier, and she’s distraught. Something about a big fight, I couldn’t quite understand her over the phone. But it sounds like Jimin’s an absolute train wreck right now, and the last thing I need is for my high profile client and his fiancé to have a public blow out in a five star hotel, right before I'm about to argue that he can't be held liable for his bullshit.”

“So why am I here?”

“Personal back up.” Namjoon said, as they pause at the door. “It’s clear that she trusts you, so you’re on my DIY crisis team until we figure this out.”

Namjoon knocked gently on the door, his demeanor changing from stern and focused, to delicate, matching the tone of the situation. Jung Kook could hear muffled cries behind the door, and all he wanted to do was to barge in, wrap you up in his arms, and take you as far away from this as he could. But he steadied his breath, needing to be a calm presence for you.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Namjoon asked softly, moving his ear towards the door. “It’s Namjoon, and Jung Kook’s here, too.”

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, a little hiccup to your voice. “O-One minute, please, Mr. Kim. I’ll be right there.”

“We’ll be right here at the door, ok?” He said, a frown plastered on his face as he looked at Jung Kook, who seemed equally, if not more so, concerned.

A few, long moments later, the two men heard the click of the lock, and then met the attention of the woman who was standing at the barely-opened door. You were dressed in a pink silk night gown, bare feet on the hardwood floors, and your hair was wet as you seemingly just exited the shower. But your face screamed that you were tired, like you hadn’t slept a wink before they arrived. Dark circles under your eyes, and dropping lids. Your skin dull, and cheeks red.

“Y/N,” Jung Kook said, heart break evident in his voice. “Can we come in?”

You nodded, and stepped to the side so they could enter. The luxury, executive suite had been turned upside down. Your clothes were scattered everywhere, across furniture and on the floor, mixed together with empty bottles of varieties of alcohol. As Namjoon walked through the suite, examining the damage, taking note of Jimin’s broken iPhone on the floor of the bedroom, Jung Kook made his way over to you. You slowly moved around the living room, attempting to clean up the mess.

“I’m s-sorry, he’s not usually like this.” You explained in the smallest voice Jung Kook had ever heard. You collected garments from your wardrobe in your arms. “He’s always so sweet, y’know? He’s so good, he’s just dealing with stress and I…I..”

“Y/N.” Jung Kook cut you off from your rambling. Before even having time to realize what he was doing, his body took over to come in close to you and take your hand in his, making you drop your clothes to the floor. This was not how he wanted to hold your hand for the first time, but you needed someone there to steady you. “Come sit with me. Please.”

You nodded, and followed him to the couch without letting go of his hand. Jung Kook, in that moment, felt like safety. He felt like a breath of fresh air, just as you were just about to suffocate. Your mind was quick to self-soothe, telling you, Jung Kook’s here. He’ll make it better. You weren’t sure why, chalking it up to a lack of sleep, but you truly believed that. He'll make it better.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Jung Kook asked, as delicately as he could. His thumb caressed your hand, trying to provide you with any comfort he could.

“I… I wanted to leave.” You said quietly, looking down, unable to meet Jung Kook’s eyes. “He woke up, and-and started drinking again, and I….” You choked up, needing a moment, but tears were already flowing. “I love him, but I can’t watch him do this to himself. So I told him I was leaving, and he got so angry that he took the clothes that I was trying to pack, and threw them everywhere. Then I got upset, and I said I wanted to call Mr. Kim, b-because I knew he would help him. But Jimin didn’t like that, so he broke his phone...he threw it against the bedroom wall, t-to break it, to keep me from finding the number. But I was able to find Mr. Kim’s number anyways when Jimin fell asleep again. He’s just so tired, y’know? He just needs to rest, so he’ll be happy again, but I didn’t know what else to do, so I called…”

“I’m glad you did.” Jung Kook said, his eyes locked on you. Listening to you try to take care of Jimin, despite how much he hurts you, shattered his heart. You deserve so much better than this, angel. Jung Kook thought to himself. “I- We, Mr. Kim and I, are always going to help you when you need us, ok? Never be afraid to call.”

Namjoon stepped out of the bedroom, his jaw clenched in frustration, trying to keep his professional composure.

“Mr. Park is asleep.” He said, his eyes glancing to the way Jung Kook held your hand, but seeing how you’ve settled, he decided against commenting. “Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“I’m ok.” You mumbled. “I told Jung Kook what happened… But, I called because I wanted to ask if you could help me, Mr. Kim.”

“Yes, of course.” Namjoon said. “We’ll clean this up, don’t worry.”

"Thank you, but I actually needed help with something a bit more… legal?” You explained, and Jung Kook felt the way you gripped his hand, as though absentmindedly using him to support yourself. “Is there any possibility that we can defer Jimin’s court date, so that he can seek treatment?”

“You’re asking that your fiancé spends some time in rehab?” Namjoon asks to confirm, and you nod.

“I think it would be for the best. Last night was… scary, if I’m being honest with you, Mr. Kim.” You said, gripping Jung Kook’s hand once again. “He would never physically hurt me, please don’t misunderstand. I just haven’t seen him lose his temper like that, or drink in such an extreme way before. I don’t see how he can sit in a court room and properly handle himself right now.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Namjoon sighed. “Ok, Ms. Y/L/N. Between us, I have some pull with this judge, as I’ve worked in his courtroom several times. I’ll make some calls, and see what I can do. But will you do something for me?”

“What is it?”

“I want you to separate from Jimin for a while. This isn’t legal advice, and please forgive me for stepping out of line into personal business, but I just… I’m worried about you.”

“I am, too.” Jung Kook spoke up, earning a look from Namjoon.

“I’m not sure where I’d go…”

“We can help you move to a different hotel for the time being.” Namjoon offered. “Something nice, so you’re able to have some space.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Kim. I’d rather not be alone right now…”

“Then stay with me.”

You and Namjoon both set your attention on Jung Kook. The words slipped from his lips before he had time to catch them, and now they floated in the air, waiting for a response of any kind.

“Mr. Jeon, I’m not sure that’s appropriate.” Namjoon said sternly.

“I’m not involved in this case professionally.” Jung Kook pushed back, before turning his attention to you. “I’m here as a friend. Y/N, I have a guest room that… honestly, may not be as big as what you’d like, but you won’t have to be alone. Please, just let me do this for you.”

Namjoon didn’t like the hopeful tone of his colleague’s voice, or the line this was potentially crossing, but with your reservations about being alone, and his worry over keeping you with Jimin, he wasn’t sure he had a better option.

“Ok.” You responded, the small smile on your lips being the first you’ve had in many hours. “That sounds nice, Jung Kook. Thank you.”

“Any time.” He responded, sounding relieved.

“Let me grab some of my things, and I’ll meet you at the door.” You said, grabbing a handful of clothes from the floor and going to the bedroom to grab your bag.

Namjoon shot Jung Kook a knowing look from across the room, with eyebrows raised and arms crossed.

“I’m trusting you.” Namjoon told him as soon as he knew you weren’t listening. “Don’t let that be a mistake by being a fucking idiot.”

“I won’t.” Jung Kook said, sure of himself and of the situation.

A few silent moments passed before you were standing at the door with a weekender bag in hand. Jung Kook gave Namjoon a nod as he got off the couch and walked over to you, taking your bag to carry for you, and opening the door for you to exit out of the hotel suite.

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