#v: nothing heals the past like time

[sp4ceboo]

As Selfish as Love: Merman!Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

genre: merfolk au, fantasy au, merman!bakugou x witch!reader, strangers to lovers, bakugou x f!reader, smut and angst and fluff

summary: in a world infested with purgers of magic, neither a clandestine witch nor a lone merman can remain safe for long.

tw: 18+, smut (afab reader, p in v, bkg has a merman cock, marking + biting, oral f receiving, fingering, crying during sex but not like you think, unprotected sex, creampie), violence, blood, death, vivid gore, grief, reader treated as a tool by evil ppl, random worldbuilding, questionable medical knowledge, kinda plot heavy, other stuff i don't remember

wc: 19.8k

For years, all you’ve known is darkness.

Chained by the wrist to a ring in the wall, swaddled and asphyxiating in the blackness of the brig - it is there where your closest companion has become the dark. It is the absence of light: not only because they do not deem you human enough to spare lamp oil on you, but because the kiss of the sun has been reduced to a foreign concept, a distant, syrupy memory.

Every morning when that door opens, letting light leak in and crawl painfully between the cracks of the roughly hewn floorboards like an intruder, you repeat your name back to yourself, remind yourself who you are - a witch, a survivor, a person at the end of their tether but that all the same does what they can to keep the shadows at bay.

For the darkness is not just the absence of light: it is the absence of hope, and if you let it take you, your very substance will dissolve and you will sink beneath obsidian waves and melt away without a sound. They will have won.

This is something you will not allow.

White knuckled, you hold onto memories of the past the way a drowning man clings to driftwood. They swirl in the currents of your mind, fickle things. Sometimes they are so tangible you can feel the grass beneath your feet and the bracing wind of the highlands on your face even in the still, humid air of the brig, sometimes they eddy away before you can catch a glimpse.

You were barely a woman when they caught you, when they tore you out from where you’d been rooted to the earth, ripping through the stitches that held your life together. You were young, and you were naive and ignorant. This would not have happened if I had been as I am now, you think, but as you are now is shackled in the belly of a ship built for the single purpose of hunting merfolk.

They hunt to purge. Their so-called divine has commanded the eradication of magic, and so that is what each and every child is trained for from birth. The land has been rife with their conquest for centuries, making witches such as your kind unheard of, yet the sea for all its worth has lain mostly untouched until recently.

You are jealous of the merfolk. The magic must come easily to them, because they have not had to suppress it out of fear - it seethes in their blood, potent as an ocean storm, imbued within their essences as salt is in seawater. For this, they are feared, and for this, the hunters are more so hellbent on their extermination.

Over your years spent in the hull’s constant night you’ve learnt that your captors are the most celebrated hunters of their time, held above everything but their leader and their divine. They are revered among their people, and that is why they are allowed to chain a witch in their brig and force her to heal wounds sustained from hunting the undeserving - because they are strong enough and honourable enough to not be corrupted by your magic.

There is nothing honourable about the way they treat you.

Though you are human as they are, you are lower than an animal to them. They have no care for your limits - oftentimes, you are pushed to heal and heal and heal until you are exhausted, and yet you refuse to succumb when the darkness calls, because each time you meet their eyes, without fail, you see, buried deep within, is fear.

They fear what is unknown, what is not under their control, and every time you refuse to break when they beat you just for entertainment, every time they push you almost to death yet you survive, you wrest back an inch of control. You are needed, and that is something you will use one day, when the time is right. For now, you collect those sparks of fear in their eyes and let it feed the fire nestled within your soul that fends off the growing dark.

It is a day like any of the other days. Stirring in your fraying blankets, you wake up to the sound of the crew’s strident voices, and as it is sometimes, you almost forget that they are cruel and stained by their own wrong doings because for now, there is no talk of blood shed, just breakfast. You hate that they can seem so normal with so many innocent lives on their hands.

The day very quickly progresses into the type you have come to dread.

They neglect to bring you your daily portion of bread and water, nor the echinacea you had asked for more of, and it can only mean one thing - a hunt is on. Already, you can feel the unruly lurch of the ship as it skims over the waves, picking up speed. The crew’s voices become louder, crowing and eager, and you despise them so deeply your heart twists and becomes an ugly thing in your chest.

Almost imperceptible, you can hear the rattle and hiss of ropes as they ready their harpoons. This part is the worst, where the darkness closes in so near that you can feel its cold touch brush up your arms and its breath ghosting over your face. Sometimes you hear the anguished cries of the merfolk, sometimes the whoops and victory cries of the crew are loud enough to drown it out. You don’t know which is worse.

After will come the wounded, grinning still and soaked in blood of two kinds - theirs and their victims. You are always numb to it by then, turning a blind eye to the crimson dipped trophies they grip in dirty hands: lopped off fins and strips of scales, sometimes small enough to be a child’s.

How they can butcher beings as beautiful as the merfolk and think it the right thing to do, you do not know.

It makes you sick to your stomach, that somehow you have become their accomplice, stitching their wounds with your magic, saving their lives so they can kill again. You vow that one day, you will strike back, but what good can you do now, trapped in the bowels of a boat that was designed as a vessel for murder?

You have to try. You have to survive, if just to try. You are yet to come up with a method for escaping past what you have already attempted, but if you do not, more lives will be lost, more bloodshed that you had inadvertently aided. Right now, on deck, the patterns for it to happen all over again are falling into place.

You’re sure that this time will be no different.

And so you wait for the injured to come, almost defeated if not for the hard, bright little ball of hate settled in your throat. You wait, and you wait, listening to the strange thumping above that you can’t decipher, and still they don’t bring you their wounded. Neither comes their usual sickening shouts of triumph - you wonder if the merfolk managed to escape. You hope desperately that they did.

Listless, you turn your head as footsteps approach. There are more than normal. You can’t count exactly - five, maybe six, and they all walk with a strange irregular gait as they approach the brig.

I hope the merfolk put up a magnificent fight, you think as the key scrapes in the lock. I hope that taught them; you know it never does. The more damage the merfolk do while they fight for the lives of their mates and children, the more they are damned as unnatural and beastly and deserving of the fates that are doled out to them by men.

With a rusty squeal, the door swings wide, and with it comes the same influx of light that always spills greedily through, stinging your eyes and making them ache - the doing of a tiny, wayward star moulded from precious lamp oil. You blink away the tears that well up at your lash line, testament to your accustomation to the dark, and then blink again.

Back when you took the warmth of the sun on your face for granted, you lived too far inland to ever see one in the flesh. You were still a witch under the disguise of a healer, though. You’d heard tales, seen artists’ renderings and gorey body parts wrenched off as sick memorabilia.

None of those could have ever come close to preparing you for the sight before your eyes.

A merman.

Deep in enemy territory - so deep, in fact, that all those surrounding him, bar you, have murdered more than dozens of his kind each. He is on a galleon rammed bow to stern with killers. And yet, despite it, he has not fallen victim to the purge. Yes, there is a splintered harpoon sunken into his side, yes, he is limp and broken, but even so, shallowly, his chest rises and falls.

He breathes. He breathes, and even that is beautiful. The lamp’s light reflects off his scales; he is mainly jet black, but broad swathes of orange run across the length of his powerful tail like they were drawn with the loving stroke of a painter’s brush. In parts, they darken into a ruby red that glitters and winks as the lamp light dances.

Or maybe that’s just blood.

There’s a lot of it. It soaks into the sheet they strain to carry between them, pools in the dip his weight makes, streaks in smears down his chest and face, coats his hands and is embedded under his sharp nails. You hope that all of it is not his, that he made them regret whatever they must have done to get a merman vulnerable enough and far enough from his pod to capture him.

Deep lacerations cut all along his chest and tail, and one of the spines that extend from his sail-like dorsal fin is bent in a way that must mean it is broken. A smattering of scales reach wide across his shoulders and back and down his arms, some of them twisted and bent out of shape. Your eyes fall to the harpoon buried just below his hip, and you feel the bite of your nails digging into your palms.

“Heal it,” commands the man holding the corner of the sheet closest to you. “We’ve been ordered to bring back a merfolk to be studied. It must be in peak condition.”

You frown as they begin to manoeuvre all three metres of merman into the brig. Studied? They must be looking for a weakness to exploit. After all, merfolk succumb less easily to flesh wounds than humans - the magic of the sea resides in their very bones.

A hand fists the front of your shirt and you’re jerked forward. You can feel the hunter’s foul breath on your cheek, feel the violence roiling just below the surface of his skin, and yet you cannot tear your eyes from the merman until you’re struck across the face. Reeling back, you raise your head to look at him, a hand flying up to cradle your jaw where it has begun to swell.

“Are you deaf? What are you waiting for?” he spits.

Your brain is still stuck on the fact that there is a merman before you, alive on a ship full of specialised mermen killers, but your body has gone through these motions many times before and brings you to kneel by your patient so fast your chain jingles crassly in the relative quiet, your hands already working to gather herbs for a poultice that will slow the bleeding.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see your captors filing out of the door, the last of them grumbling and wiping his hands on his trousers as if being near enough to hit you had sullied him. Realisation dawns abruptly on you.

They’re leaving you alone with the merman.

“Wait,” you call.

Disquiet grows in your stomach. As much as you hate the life forced upon you, serving as a tool for men who would not hesitate to kill you if you ran out of worth, you have gotten used to it, and this merman at your feet has disrupted your delicate equilibrium, tripping you as you balance on a knife’s blade.

You have never had problems with thinking fast in a pinch. You are a healer, you are accustomed to endless wells of blood and snapped bones sticking through skin. Conversely, you are not accustomed to the sight of a half conscious merman taking up the majority of your floor space, a single fingernail on his hand no doubt potent with more magic than is contained in your whole body.

Your tongue is slow, your mind slower, but you force the words out, emboldened because whether he likes it or not, this merman is leverage for you. There is no one else on board that could save him.

“I will need a lamp indefinitely, while I’m in the process of healing.”

You realise how important the health of this merman is to their study because the hunter holding the lamp brings it over with no words of criticism, just the curl of his lip when you draw near enough to take it from him.

Its metal is warm in your hands, and you cup it in your palms - a little sun that clears the clinging shadows from the brig like they’re cobwebs. Carefully, you set it on the floor next to you, just outside the border of the canvas the merman lies upon, sitting back on your heels as the door slams shut.

You stare at the merman for a weighty moment. If it did, there’s no telling what organ the harpoon may have punctured - do his intestines extend all the way down his tail? Or are they in the same place as a human’s, and his tail is just muscles, like legs would be?

Never in your life did you think merfolk anatomy would have any significance to you. Even if you’d thought it did, there wouldn’t be any books for you to study on it. A hysterical, jittery laugh builds in your throat, wringing itself from you when you spot the strange slit - for lack of better words - that sits just below where his skin turns to obsidian scales.

The nervous sound breaks the silence, jolting you into action. Never mind his anatomy, he’s still bleeding out. Somehow, you need to get that harpoon out of him: the hunters don’t clean them off once they’ve used them, and if you’re not vigilant, infection will get him before whatever they’ve got in store will.

Determinedly, you scoot closer to his lower half, stretching out a hand to test the area around the wound. In preparation, you will your healing magic to rise to the surface, and it fizzles at the surface of your palms, warming them.

Your fingertips have barely brushed over his scales when pain slashes across your cheek.

The merman jerks away from you so hard that he cries out, and you wince as you see the wound pull wide, blood oozing out from where it gapes. Gingerly, you touch a hand to your cheek - one of his spines had glanced off your face as he’d moved away, its tip sharp enough to shed blood.

Any human patient would have lost consciousness moments after being hit by the harpoon that’s buried in his tail, and if by a miracle they hadn’t yet, the pain caused by what he just did surely would have knocked them out. Inexplicably, he’s still conscious, blood red eyes glaring at you with blatant distrust.

You hadn’t gotten a chance to look closely at his face before - you’d been too busy ogling his tail. Spikey, sandy hair casts a shadow over his eyes. They glow, carmine and half crazed, no doubt with the same agony that pinches at his face and curls his lip, revealing sharp canines that he bares at you, twin ivory warnings.

A rattling, hissing sound emanates from deep in his chest when you attempt to move closer again, his dorsal fin undulating in an obvious threat display. You can tell it hurts him; the spine you’d noticed before is definitely broken, the parts of the fin around it drooping and limp. He growls when he catches you looking.

You really, really don't know what to do.

Your skin prickles, the hairs on the back of your neck rising. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you were left alone with him. Aside from the obvious hostility, his face is effectively blank; there’s nothing in his gaze except the primal instinct to survive, and the unspeakable, offensive terror of a wounded animal backed into a corner and trapped there.

There’s no getting through to him with words. You remember the night you were ripped from your cottage by the hunters, the way you clawed and screamed until your voice was gone and your nails were torn and bleeding. You know what it’s like to have the adrenaline coursing through your veins so fast it burns, you know what it’s like to feel the anger and fear blend together in your chest until it strips away your humanity and you’re reduced to nothing more than a feral, wild eyed animal.

Slowly, you get to your feet, your chains rattling. He growls, making that hissing sound again, and despite his size, despite the muscles straining in his chest and the magic you can sense in his form, he looks small. You grit your teeth. The shock is beginning to wear off, burnt to ashes by a roaring fury that licks up your throat and fills your lungs.

You wonder if he had a pod. You wonder if they got massacred before his eyes.

Ignoring the trembling of your hands, you scoop up the piece of dried fish that remains from yesterday’s meal. It’s the only food you have, so you turn and offer it to him - when he doesn’t hiss immediately, you slide it over to him on the dented tin plate it had been on.

Tentatively, the merman picks up the fish, his nose very obviously wrinkling. As he examines your peace offering, you notice his hands are webbed up to the lowest knuckle and are a little larger than a human man’s, the fingers longer and the nails considerably sharper.

Relief fills you as he begins to chew at the fish, and you retreat to your pile of blankets, sitting down and half facing away to give him as much privacy as is possible in as small a space as the brig. You begin to make a poultice for him, crushing the herbs between your fingers because you’re not allowed a mortar and pestle and depositing them on one of the dishes you have lying around.

Once you’re done, you turn back to him. The edge in his eyes has softened a touch, and when you scoot over to settle closer to him, he doesn’t make a sound, instead just leaning away a little, watching you warily. Warningly, he hisses when you lift your hand, his red eyes flashing.

“I’m going to have to touch you to put this poultice on,” you tell him. “It will reduce the bleeding and might alleviate the pain.”

He twitches but remains silent. You wonder briefly if he even understands - people don’t talk to merfolk these days. They either run or they kill. For all you know, he might speak some ancient language of the sea that you have no hope in understanding.

You scoop the poultice up in your fingers and lean forward, aiming to ease him in by angling first for a smaller wound situated just over a hip bone on a human would be (you’re not even sure if his equivalent qualifies as a hip seeing as he lacks legs).

“Don’t,” he snarls, his voice guttural and rasping, like he hasn’t uttered a word in years.

Fumbling, you almost drop the dish. You guess that answers one of your many questions - he can speak your language, although you presume one word doesn’t really express fluency. For a moment, you consider telling him that they’ll no doubt beat you for not healing him, but it seems rather insignificant since it’s nothing they haven’t inflicted on you before.

Sighing, you sit back on your heels and look at him, defeated. He regards you with those same crimson eyes as before, but they’ve cooled considerably and hold traces of scathing criticism you find you aren’t the fondest of.

You begin to realise that he’s not going to give you any explanation as to why he doesn’t want you to treat him. He doesn’t trust you, most likely - you haven’t given him any reason to think otherwise of you, rather, you’d gawped openly at him. You’re not surprised he hasn’t taken a liking to you. You wouldn’t either.

So you retreat back to what has now become your corner of the brig, since the other three are taken up by the length of his tail and the doorway. On a whim, you prepare yourself a turmeric tea; it’s anti-inflammatory and you know you’ll be needing it sooner or later.

It takes a day, but one of the hunters barges in, light sneaking in past the outline of his silhouette. You don’t know any of them by name, nor would you want to, but you do know that this particular one is the first mate.

The merman hasn’t let you near him still, and although at points his eyes are closed, you’re worried that if you try to sneak up on him, he’ll move away again and tear open the parts of the wound around the harpoon that have partially closed up. The perimeter of blood soaked canvas beneath him has slowed its expansion but still grows.

It’s amazing that he’s survived this long while still losing blood. You presume merfolk must be rather resilient, unsurprisingly - the sea is no easy place to live in, nor is it made any easier by its recent infestation of merfolk hunters.

“Did you not hear your orders yesterday, you useless bitch?”

Passively, you look up at him as he looms closer. “I did.”

“So you don’t want to cooperate, then,” he snaps. “Do I have to encourage you?”

You don’t get to answer. A fist full of scarred knuckles collides with your nose, and your head snaps back, white exploding across your vision as the hunter shoves you backwards. Your back hits the ground and before you can even think of scrambling away, you’re kicked hard in the ribs.

You don’t try to resist it. You’ve learnt it’s better to take it than to fight and make him hit harder.

Red hot pain shoots through you when the tip of his boot catches your chin, clacking your teeth together. You cry out as your blood fills your mouth, streams from your nose, stains his knuckle bones. Hands up in a pitiful attempt at protecting your face, you curl up on the floor, as small as you can. Your ribs throb, your chain trapped awkwardly beneath your body.

You’re still balled up with your arms over your head long after he slams the door behind him. You ache all over, and your lower lip is trembling treacherously. Tears press at the backs of your eyes so you squeeze them shut: you’re not going to cry.

You need to get up.

You need to down that damned turmeric tea you made, just to feel the ginger burn as it slips down your throat.

When you open your eyes, the merman is staring. You grimace as you heave yourself to sit upright, the metallic taste of blood still coating your tongue and curdling until it’s sour. His face is unreadable, shuttered and devoid of any emotion. He doesn’t speak, although that isn’t exactly atypical.

“Well, now you’re not the only one bleeding all over the floor,” you mutter, unable to keep the resentment from your tone.

You turn your back to him as you set your nose with a grunt, letting your magic flow through your fingers and knit your flesh back together. Running a hand over your ribs, you check if any are broken, but when none are, you don’t heal them up; you’ll need to save your energy. The hunter didn’t bring food for you, and you doubt he’ll be bringing you any more until you treat the merman. That could take anything from an hour to a week.

Falteringly, you glance over your shoulder. He stares off to a place far away, a place you cannot see. A scowl furrows his brow, and you sigh, wondering if he thinks of the sea and the freedom that was torn away from him the way it was for you.

Curling up on your blankets, you pull one over yourself, rolling to face the wall and shutting your eyes. Loud in the darkness, your stomach growls, and you twitch but ignore the urge to look over your shoulder and stare accusingly at the merman - you too would not trust a human if all their kind had brought him was pain.

Your ribs hurt. It is alright, though. You’ve fallen asleep through worse.

When you wake, the first thing you do is crouch down beside the merman to check his wounds. The rattle of your chains makes him open his eyes, and you see that his face has paled, the alertness in his gaze dimmer now the adrenaline has worn off. As is becoming clear, he’s more resistant to injury than humans are, but there’s a worrying amount of blood saturating the canvas sheet beneath him, and you doubt he’ll make it much longer without help.

If he lets you near, what you’re going to have to do is far from ideal. The hunters’ harpoons are barbed and vicious, but you can’t exactly keep it in, and you can’t exactly cut it out without risking more blood loss. You’re just going to have to yank on it and hope it doesn’t destroy anything too vital on its way out.

“I’m going to have to take the harpoon out,” you tell him measuredly, gauging his facial expression.

He simply stares at you, his face blank but for the slight pinch of his brow. Shadows bathe half of his face; there is barely any lamp oil left to burn. The little flame flickers and sputters, letting darkness dance up the close walls of the brig, and if you do not hurry, you may have to treat him in the dark.

Slowly, you lift your hand, letting it hover over the splintered end of the harpoon. Tension bleeds into his body, the set of his jaw tight and his hands fisting as if he’s bracing himself, but he doesn’t growl or flinch away. Expectancy and resignation lurk in his gaze.

You don’t like that he won’t say anything in response even though he’s proven he can talk. You can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you gather your materials: the poultice from yesterday, a roll of bandages, a thick strip of worn leather. The latter you give to him, sighing when he turns it over in his hands, quizzical,

“Bite down on it,” you instruct him as you roll up your sleeves. “Either that or it’ll be your tongue.”

He frowns, but does as you say. You glance up at him to check if he’s ready. The hard lines of his body stand out, taut as a bowstring. He looks brittle, as if he might break and crumble into dust the moment you touch him.

Years ago, when you healed children’s scraped knees and the broken bones of men who had fallen from their ladders while fixing leaks in roofs, you had the words to comfort your patients. These you lost to the eternal darkness of the merfolk hunters’ ship, and these you wish to find again but cannot.

Instead, you murmur a quiet warning as you kneel by his tail, wiping your sweaty palms off on your trousers before getting a strong two handed grip on the end of the harpoon. Under your breath, you count down: three, two, one. Pull.

It makes a squelching, sucking noise as it comes out. You cringe but keep on tugging - if you stop now, it’ll be worse for both of you. He cries out, voice ragged and spilling over with agony, his tail arcing off the floor, and you feel the movement in the way the harpoon jerks in your hands with the bunching of his muscles.

All of a sudden, the resistance disappears. His tail fin slaps against the floor as he goes limp, both his and your heavy panting filling the room. You’re left with the splintered harpoon in your hands, a chunk of flesh and a twisted scale still clinging to one of the bloodied, rusted spokes. He spits the strip of leather out and it lands near your knee.

Carefully, you set down the harpoon and begin applying the poultice straight onto the weeping gash in his side, spreading the rest over the bandages which you bind tightly around his tail. Leaking from your fingertips, your magic suffuses across his skin as you work; you can’t heal him accurately without knowing much about his inner workings, but it should help to stave off any infection.

He shelters his face in the crook of his elbow, and though he tucks his other hand tightly to his chest, you can see the way he trembles.

You give him his space by swiftly moving on, busying yourself with his other injuries. You splint the spine in his dorsal fin, ignoring the way his hands shake and gently placing the arm crossed over his torso by his side so you can use your magic to clean and close up the various cuts and slashes littering his scar flecked body.

His scales seem to be damp, even though it’s almost been a full twenty four hours since he was brought in. It must be seawater somehow, you decide, or a sweat-like substance that keeps his tail wet enough when he hasn’t been in water for a while. He doesn’t look the most comfortable: he’s probably not used to having to support his own weight without the buoyancy of the waves.

There are little scars all over him, his skin a map of cicatrices, but the one that catches your attention is raised and jagged, spanning from the middle of his sternum to his navel. You touch your index finger to the centre of it, and he inhales sharply, flinching away.

“Sorry,” you mutter, pulling back, half expecting him not to hear you.

He’s silent for a while, ignoring your apology, but then comes a begrudging: “Thank you.”

Though he won’t see it - he’s still hiding his face from you - you shrug. “You should never have been hurt in the first place.”

He’s quiet again, lying still enough for you to imagine him dead if not for the rise and fall of his broad chest. You slouch, the energy having leaked from your body in order to mend his. The lamp finally gutters and winks out, leaving in its absence a tiny pinprick of light, a vanishing ember at the wick’s tip, buried in ashes.

When you tear your gaze away from your expired little sun, you’re confronted with a pair of blazing eyes. Pinned on you, they glow in the darkness like two pools of blood, but you find their luminosity strangely comforting, like Arcturus and Betelgeuse to a sailor: stars to lead you on your course.

“You are a witch, are you not?”

You jump at the sound of his voice, rough around the syllables but measured, as if he rolled them around on his tongue before he spoke. The scarlet light from his eyes dims a little as they narrow (you’re not sure if that’s meant to convey amusement or distaste) and you become aware that maybe he can see a lot more in the dark than you can.

“I am,” you confirm, still squinting at him - to no avail.

“Why do you not fight them, then?” He demands, his tone darkening. “Surely you cannot like it here.”

You scoff. “Of course I don’t like it here. You think I like the way they beat me?”

He’s silent, and though you still cannot see his face, you sense his scowl.

Sighing, you reign yourself in. This merman comes the closest to being an ally than all the others that have entered the brig, and you cannot squander this. He may not trust you, and you may be ignorant and ill informed of his kind, but you both have a common enemy, and though he may not like the thought, you are similar enough: the raw energy that flows through him is the same that you harness to perform your magic.

“I could fight, but there is nowhere for me to go if I escape the ship - there is just the sea,” you explain. “In the end, they are scared of all those associated with magic, even the witch they keep chained in the dark. The moment they deem that the risk I pose outweighs the use I have to them, they’ll kill me.”

He’s quiet again while he processes what you’ve said. “And what of me, witch? Why have they not killed me yet?”

“They want to study you,” you reply, wincing at how harsh your voice comes out. “I think we’re quite far from their lands - a few months’ travel, maybe - but it’s hard to tell.”

“What - ”

“Enough questions,” you cut him off. “My turn.”

A plethora of questions crowd your mind, but as you think of the merman in front of you, you find that they can wait, because although he must have stories of the sea that you’d only dreamed of hearing, and although magic you could learn endlessly from is threaded through his being, he is primarily, before anything, a soul. He is a soul: a soul with eyes that make the permanent night you are lost within just a little more manageable.

You will have to find out whether the kraken is real or not later; you will ask him about selkie skins afterwards.

Instead, you ask him his name, and tell him your own.

Bakugou, he grunts in response before turning his head to face the wall, clearly ending the conversation. Frowning, you stare at his back - or where you presume his back is, in the darkness - and mull over the name he provided you with; you are certain he has given you the one he gives to strangers. You suppose that is what you are.

Pulling absently at your chain, you sit with your back to the wall, your knees to your chest, and think about the merman, about Bakugou. For a moment, you are seized by the absurd belief that his most grave injury is a bleeding heart, but that cannot be true, for he has not said anything that indicates it. Questions find their way to your tongue, but you let them stick there, stifling them before they deign to interrupt the silence.

Neither of you move from your positions until the door opens, revealing the first mate. Squinting, you rise to your feet, a muscle feathering in your jaw as he purposefully kicks Bakugou in the shoulder, lifting his lamp high so he can see the bandages you’d applied.

“I’ll need a top up on lamp oil if I’m to continue the healing process,” you announce. “And we’ll need food and water. He’ll have - ”

You hesitate, glancing over at Bakugou, but he just lifts a shoulder and makes a face of disgust that you know isn’t conscious. Deliberating for a moment, you wrack your brain for any clues about merfolk diets.

“Fresh fish,” you decide. “And crabs. The bigger the better. Also, he’ll need a tub big enough for him, filled with seawater.”

“Watch the way you address me,” the first mate snaps, taking a step forward.

You shrug. “You wanted him healed, didn’t you?”

Your first two requests come within the next few hours, appeasing the increasing hollowness that had resided in your stomach and sending the shadows inhabiting the brig retreating up the walls and into the corners of the room, but the tub doesn’t come until two days after. It is barely watertight, plugged with tar and made from rough sawn wood.

You haven’t exchanged words with Bakugou since you asked his name and he gave you one, though you find yourself on the receiving end of his red eyes more often than not. He’s silent as the hunters bring the tub in, as they fill it with pails of seawater, as they leave and slam the brig’s door behind them. He’s silent, even as he slips into the tub and into a thin slice of his home.

And then, after a moment, he turns to you, and there’s something painful and cutting and cynical in his eyes.

“You know, the water doesn’t speed up the healing.”

You nod. “I know it doesn’t. You were uncomfortable.”

His eyes blaze. “What do you want?”

You regard him, regard the intensity of the fire in his gaze and the way his chest heaves. His tail fin hangs out of the tub, but even so, water swills over the side and splashes onto the floor like it can sense his agitation. Loudly, the links of your chain clank against each other as you cross your arms. 

“I do not want anything, Bakugou.”

He narrows his eyes. “All humans I have known but one are cruel, witch. You wish for me to owe you something.”

“I don’t,” you reply, noticing the strange look that creeps onto his face. “Who is this human you hold in such high esteem?”

A distant look erases the furrow in his brow, and you get the sense he is no longer talking to you when he speaks again: he is lost in some place far away, a place coated in the golden sheen that tints all good memories. His voice turns soft as he brushes his fingers over the scar on his chest.

“His name was Izuku,” he murmurs. “But I called him Deku.”

“Deku?” You echo, your voice crudely loud all of a sudden.

A flash of grief slashes across his features like lightning on the high seas, there and gone so fast you almost don’t catch it. It’s like a switch flips, and suddenly shutters slam down behind his eyes and his expression melts away until his face is blank and cold. Regret sinks heavy in your stomach.

You wince. “I’m sorr - ”

“He’s dead,” Bakugou growls.

He doesn’t speak to you for three days. There is a certain rawness in his blood red eyes that makes you gentler as you change his dressings and reapply your poultices. He looks at you as if he hates that you are healing him instead of leaving him to die, so you avoid his gaze, staring instead at the scars that cover him like warpaint.

You get the sense that he is mourning this human he told you of all over again, and you cannot help but see the weight of it in the tension of his body and wonder if you could alleviate the pain.

On the fourth day, he shuts the vulnerability away somewhere deep inside of him, buried far enough beneath other things that he can pretend it never even existed. Yet you remember it, still vivid and fresh in your mind as you lie curled up on your side, watching the lamp’s flame until your eyes burn. He breaks the silence by clearing his throat, his gaze fixed on you.

“Witch,” Bakugou says softly. “How did they catch you?”

You glance over at him. “I was young and foolish and alone. It’s easy to snatch a girl from her home under those circumstances.”

“You have been here for years, then.”

“I have,” you sigh. “I tried to escape once. That’s why I’m chained down.”

“A weaker soul would not have survived this darkness,” he remarks solemnly. “You are strong, witch.”

You look down at your hands, watching your fingers fidget to and fro in your lap. Your tongue is frozen in your mouth - you had not spoken properly to someone in years before he was captured, and his behaviour confuses you. No words come to mind that express how grateful you are for his acknowledgement.

“Thank you,” you settle with in the end.

He hums but other than that remains silent.

Later you discuss with him the possible logistics of an escape. He explains to you that he cannot channel the magic the way you can, but that he is soaked in the magic of the sea; he is unable to use it for spells because it is innately part of him, enhancing him beyond human capabilities. Together, you come to the conclusion that you must get off the ship before you arrive at the hunters’ lands, or your chances of freedom will have narrowed to almost nothing.

An actual method of subduing or injuring the hunters enough to allow an exit route evades you, though. After all, you are chained to the wall, and there’s no easy way of moving Bakugou - he is, evidently, far too heavy for you to drag around all by yourself.

Uneasy silence falls over the brig. You stare at the lamp again: with it, your ability to see has been restored, along with a piece of your humanity, but now its light seems to illuminate how small a space you are contained in, how strong the chain binding you to the wall is.

As you drift off to sleep that night, you find yourself gripped by the fear that Bakugou will never return to the sea, and instead, they will inflict unspeakable torments upon him.

You will be the one who kept him alive for them. You will be the one who he grows to hate, because you had the chance to let future pain pass him by, but you saved him, and by doing so, you failed to spare him from their torture. And while they cut him open and study his insides, you will be somewhere far away, still risking yourself to heal their most elite, almost as if they are beloved to you.

The thought gnaws at you as the weeks pass. Blood no longer soaks the bandages wrapped around his tail; his dorsal fin is almost healed. He is gaining strength, more rapidly through your magic, and it is clear he has shaken off death many times before if his scars are testament to anything. In particular, the one on his chest draws you: though it is long healed, you can tell it was deep.

He almost died back then, too - the scar tissue around its edges is strange, lumpy and malformed as if he was kneaded back together by a child who saw his flesh as nothing more than clay harvested gleefully from a river bank. Even so, the shape of it is familiar. You know you shouldn’t pry. You remember the way he flinched away when you first touched it, but you ask, anyway.

“Bakugou,” you ask him once you’ve finished changing his bandages. “What did you do to get a merfolk’s blade stuck in your chest?”

He snarls. “All you do is fucking dig, you shitty witch.”

“I - ”

Hissing, he swipes at you half heartedly, and you stumble backwards, dodging his fist and almost tripping on your chain, caught off guard by the agitation in his eyes. Stunned, you gape at him. The fury is vehement on his face, evident in the grit of his teeth and the tremor in his hands as he grips the side of the tub; you can tell he despises how he is trapped in here with you, fending you off with the sting of his words.

You open your mouth. You’re not certain what you’re supposed to say, other than an apology that he will shake off easily, but you hope that words will form on your tongue. He levels his gaze on you, and this time, within it dwells an overwhelming sorrow that stops you short.

“Don’t try,” he whispers. “You cannot change the past.”

Brow furrowed, you stare at him. You take in the pain carved all over him, and this, you realise, not his scars, is his warpaint - he holds it close to him, like a cloak of inwardly turned, savage blades, reminding him to keep his distance. It is present in the bow of his head, the slump of his shoulders, a weight so heavy it threatens to rend his flesh from his bones.

You get to your feet, and in the lamp light, the single tear that rolls down his face is turned to solid gold.

Balefully, he looks at you, yet he holds still as you reach out and smooth it away with your thumb. A rawness resides in his eyes that you wish you could soothe as you catch the next tear that spills over, gently as if he is made of porcelain.

“You need not bear the weight of your world on your shoulders, Bakugou.”

Your words wrench a sob from him. His fingers curl tight around your wrist, tearing your hand away from his face, silently weeping as he grips you so hard you begin to lose feeling in your palm. You watch as the anguish in his eyes evolves into anger, harsh and brittle and bleak.

“Get away from me,” he spits, voice strangled, and yet he does not release you, so you perch on the side of the tub and make a show of not looking at him so he is not alone in his privacy.

It’s then that you realise that whether or not he likes it, you have gotten through to him. In the month that goes by, sometimes he is cold and aloof, keeping to himself, and sometimes he allows you close enough that you can feel his warmth. You find you savour his company when it’s there.

His wound is fully healed, a pink scar bordered by healing scales, and his dorsal fin spine is back in working order. You check up on him still, every other day or so, careful to monitor them in case you have somehow healed him wrong, careful to keep your regular intersections with him, because although you would never admit it to him, he is amusing, and he keeps the darkness at bay.

You are unsure what he thinks of you. Sometimes, he smacks you upside the head with no real force, and you dare to label it as affectionate. He gives you the name which he gives to those that mean more to him than strangers, too - well, you wring it out of him.

(“Bakugou, what’s your name?”

A scoff. “Witch, have you hit your head?”

“We both know you’re not obliged to answer, so if you’re not going to tell me, spare me the insults.”

Pause. “Katsuki. It’s Katsuki.”)

There are times when he has nightmares, too. You surmise that most of them are about Deku, and that the scar branding his chest, the one made by a merfolk forged weapon, is linked somehow to this dead human. Incomprehensibly, he mutters in his sleep, snarling about krakens and storms and sometimes even witches, but it always leads back to Deku.

Sometimes he protests against him, speaking a language you do not fully understand, cursing and thrashing so hard you fear the tub will splinter, while sometimes he proclaims his love, his voice slurred as he slumbers, but each time, without fail, he begs: forgive me, Izuku, forgive me, Deku, I’m sorry.

Katsuki is unaware of what he gives away in his sleep. Often, he settles down quickly after raising his voice, but sometimes you look over to see him stiff and terrified and shake him awake; he then jolts upright, the water sloshing out of the tub as he reaches for you, his stricken eyes searching yours for something you do not know the identity of, but he always finds.

He does not let you go, not ever. At these times, you lean or sit by the tub and let him crush your fingers in his grip.

He never speaks of it in the morning.

You would not hide from him what you have learnt, nor the feelings that grow treacherously in your heart, but you are too cowardly to tell him of either. It is certain that he loved Deku, and that maybe Deku loved him too. What was it like, you often wonder, to have loved Katsuki?

When he holds onto you, still half lost in the dark lands of his nightmares, you think about it. He would have been less guarded, a young merman not yet covered in scars; he would have given Deku his name immediately, for he would not have learnt that he needed to be wary of humans. Still, he would have fought for him until the end with the same ferocity he would fight for his own heart - because Deku was his own heart.

And Deku, you imagine Deku saw people as they really were. You imagine Deku with bright eyes and a brighter smile, with a face that all his emotions could be read off as easily as a book. He must have been good, persistent, if Katsuki had fallen for him. Soft, even, but tough when he needed to be.

They fit each other, no doubt.

You feel guilty, as if your speculations are invasive, rummaging around within Bakugou’s heart where he has not let you set foot. Mercifully, he can pin his red eyes on you as much as he likes, which he often does, but he will not hear your mind.

Now that he is healed, that is how you pass your days, exchanging words with him when either of you wish to, while you wrestle with the unspoken in your head and while god knows what happens behind his eyes. It is normal for silence to fall after a conversation - it is not awkward, but not comfortable either. It is pensive, it is familiar.

And today, it is shattered by screams up on deck.

Katsuki perks up, his keen ears picking up things your dull ones cannot, and he tilts his head, listening intently. You do not have to hear what he does to know what is happening: there is the sound of clashing steel above you, the all too familiar war cries of the hunters. It is not often that the merfolk are prepared for the hunters as they pass by, but neither is it impossible.

The ship lurches, harshly enough that some of the water in Katsuki’s tub overflows. You wager it must be a whole pod, then, maybe two, and you glance over at him, wondering if he knows who they are, wondering if -

“Are they yours?” You blurt.

“Huh?”

“Your pod,” you clarify.

Bitterly, he scoffs. “If the merfolk wanted to rescue me, they wouldn’t have waited months.”

You freeze. The detachment in his voice does nothing to hide the betrayal beneath, and ice begins to crawl up your spine, for he addresses them as the merfolk, not as his kind, his people. Harshly, you swallow as you start to understand that the hunters would never have been able to capture a merman if he wasn’t alone.

“You don’t have a…” You trail off, feeling far too inadequate and stupid to continue.

“My pod renounced me the moment they learnt about Deku and I.”

A picture forms in your mind, of a Katsuki who lost his family because he gave away his heart to a human - of a Katsuki to which the sea was no longer home, but a huge expanse of alone. Horror closes over your head like cold water as your eyes slide down to the scar on his chest.

His pod didn’t stop at just renouncing him.

You had always hoped that beings whose very essence was rooted in magic would be fair and just as the tales said. Your hope had always been that the merfolk would see that humanity was not united in the purging of them, that they would spare you if your path ever crossed theirs. Never did you think they would be so blind as to turn on one of their own for something as reliant on fate as love. You are a fool.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and it comes out almost like a sob.

“We are no better than you are,” he replies.

His voice is so devoid of hope that it cuts you to the quick. You open your mouth so say more, to try and fill that emptiness inside him if you can, but your words are stuck in your throat and before you can force them out the door flies open, banging loudly against the wall and almost extinguishing the lamp’s flame.

Three gravely wounded are deposited in front of you and then the door slams. Silently, you get to work, sealing the deep slashes to their flesh more carelessly than you should be - but with Katsuki watching, you feel sullied, a betrayer who works for the purgers of magic. Their blood coats your tingling palms, and yet not in the way you wish it could be.

You have just finished the last when four more are dragged in, and you’re hit hard across the face and ordered to work faster, which signifies only one thing: more are coming. As blood wells up in your mouth, you hope that the merfolk are victorious, even if it means sinking the ship and letting you drown within.

Hate rises within you again, searing and acrid like smoke clogging your lungs, but this time it is different. You hate them for what they have made you; a tool, a means to an end. The determination you nurse in your heart is unimportant as long as you do what they say, and yet you cannot defy them, and this is what you hate yourself for.

Prickling sensations begin to claw up your arms as you heal. You are lost in it, the blood and the battle and the patients, and you swear you see the same faces twice: hunters who you healed once coming back more injured than last time. Your energy dwindles like a dying flame and you dip into your reserves when you recognise the violent light in the hunters’ eyes.

You cannot ask for a break. They already bay for blood and death; what more is yours but just another magic using bitch’s?

You are being bled dry. You are no longer aware of your surroundings, just the halting of the flow of blood beneath your hands and the wheezing gasp of your breath and the rattle of the chain locked around your wrist.

They have not been attacked like this in a long time. You almost forgot how fast the darkness closes in when you send out your energy through your palms to knit flesh and skin back together again. Spots cloud your vision, and futilely, you swat them away. Muffled, Katsuki’s voice hums in your right ear, but you do not understand the words he utters.

Your hands tremble. You pitch forward, slumping over your newest patient.

A hand fists in your hair. Knuckles press into your jaw, far harder than a lover’s touch and yet it feels like it in the way your head lolls slowly to the side. It takes time, but pain radiates through your skull, vibrating your teeth and sharpening your focus, and then you can hear yelling, yelling for you to wake up, yelling for you to carry on or they’ll kill you -

There are so many of them. So many hunters with frenzied eyes and blades that shine where they are not coated in innocent blood, and they are hurt and they want to return back to the battle and you must abide by their demands. The air is too thin as it whistles in and out of your lungs. You cannot think.

You press your palms to the blood slick abdomen of the next man placed down before you and do as they say. Your mouth is dry, your head pounds, your eyes won’t focus, and yet, you do as they say, you always do what they say.

What a fucking coward you are.

Letting them push you farther than you ever would let yourself go. You’re right on the edge, right over the edge, clinging onto the side of the perilously vertical cliff face even as the mossy stone crumbles beneath your fingers and threatens to make you fall down down down. But still, you heal. Your body performs numbly what your mind cannot take any more.

All of a sudden, there is not an open wound for you to heal or guts to force back inside a torso, there are just crimson soaked planks and a raised voice. Loud. An incensed, raised voice, cursing and roaring. Can’t you see she’s almost gone? They shout, earsplitting enough to make your head pound. She can’t heal you fucking bastards if she’s dead!

Bakugou. No, not that name. It’s… Katsuki. Katsuki making all that racket. You don’t know when it happened, but now your cheek is pressed to the rough planks that make up the floor. There’s blood everywhere. Some more splatters to the ground and you notice that the din isn’t being made by Katsuki any more. Your eyes are hazy as you lift them upwards and see a hunter raise his fist again.

“Kats,” you slur. “Watch… watch out…”

The lamp goes out, which is strange, since the oil got topped up this morning. You pay it no mind, though.

You’re too tired.

You wake surrounded by water. For a moment, you wonder if the merfolk won, and if somehow you managed to get tossed off the boat and into the sea, but then you move your leg and it hits something hard and vertical which must be wood. Peeling your eyes open, you find you’re in… the tub? Katsuki’s tub?

Lifting your head, you’re met with a pair of concerned red eyes. One is almost swollen shut, and blood has crusted down the side of his face from a wound in his temple, yet he smooths his hand soothingly over your upper back, watching attentively as you come to.

“You’ve been out for just under two days,” Katsuki says. “You need to eat, get your strength back up.”

Your memory begins to trickle back, and with it floods a torrent of shame: you always told yourself that you survived out of spite, out of the belief and conviction that one day you would hurt them enough to negate all the healing they made you to do, but it was all a pretence. You were scared and so you took the easier road of complacency, and it has caused the deaths of hundreds of merfolk.

It is without a doubt that if you had healed even just a papercut more, that if Katsuki had not stopped them, the life force within you would have winked out, and you would have died. Death had loomed right over you, brushing boney fingers over your face, and even now, it lingers.

You are burnt out, exhaustion weighing on you as if a whole mountain rests on your back. Worse is the fear, revealed in the blinding light, shackling you, for you are its slave, and you cannot shake its hold off you.

Your face crumples. “I am spineless, for letting them use me so. I am a coward, a - ”

“They give you no choice, witch,” Katsuki remarks. “Do not put it on yourself.”

You shake your head. “You cannot ask that of me. How many lives have been lost because I obeyed when the hunters told me to save them?”

Bowing your head, you sob. Fatigue envelops you, the chain around your wrist unspeakably heavy, and you lean heavily against Katsuki; he holds you like you are precious, handling you with care so that the pieces you have shattered into do not fall apart and scatter onto the floor. He tips up your chin, forcing you to look him in those eyes of his as he wipes away your tears.

“What was that you told me, as I wept like you do now?” He asks. “You need not bear the weight of your world on your shoulders. That was what you said to me.”

Nodding, you feel more tears leak out when you squeeze your eyes closed. He strokes your hair, and you hide your face in his chest and wish you could do forever, for he is warm and he is far gentler than you ever imagined he could be. You are tempted, but he nudges you and chides you, reminding you that you will feel much better once you have eaten.

Wobbly as a newborn fawn, you climb out of the tub, Katsuki steadying you with a hand on your arm. Wrapping one of your blankets around you like a shawl, you retrieve a hunk of bread to gnaw on before planting yourself on the tub’s rim, loath to be any farther away from him than you have to be.

Though hunger worries insistently at your insides, sending tremors through your hands and weakness in your legs, you force yourself to eat slowly; you cannot risk wasting any of the food by throwing up. Katsuki rests his forearms on the sides of the tub, watching you with a keen gaze that you cannot read. You become more aware of the purpling bruising across his face and reach out without thinking.

He catches your hand before you can tap into the slowly replenishing well of magic inside of you, his fingers circling your wrist before he lets them slip down and lace with yours. Something ignites behind his eyes, and you find you are mesmerised - you lean closer to see how the spark dances.

“Katsuki,” you breathe, and then your lips are on his.

He tips his chin up to lean into you, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulls you closer to him, so tender that it makes your chest ache. You could stay like this for eternity, simply doing nothing but tasting the salt of him on your tongue and savouring the sweet, sweet scrape of his canines over your lower lip; he is all that matters, all that is.

Slowly, his hands come round to cup your shoulders, pressing you closer to him, and so you feel the moment his grip falters and he stiffens, feel the way he recoils from you as if you have burnt him, and you can do nothing to prevent it. You’re propelled backwards with the force he jolts away. Though it is only a few steps, you feel the gap between you yawn wide, stretching into an uncrossable chasm.

“No,” he chokes out, shaking his head. “No, not - not like - ”

Abruptly, he falls terribly, terribly silent. Stunned, you touch a hand to your mouth; your legs buckle, and you throw out a hand to steady yourself against the wall before sinking to the floor. It feels as if you are drowning.

Katsuki does not love you - how can he, when he fits with Deku like they were made for each other? You were wrong to hope for anything else, wrong to give in to what you wanted, because you have torn open old wounds that never properly healed. It is no longer significant that he does not love you, for you should have seen that already; what matters is that in your blindness, you have ripped him open.

You’re beginning to realise that it was not the lamp that kept the shadows back, but him. It is only natural that you are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, only natural that you were too weak to resist flying straight into the fire. This time, it is not only the moth who gets hurt.

You are left alone with your thoughts. Time passes, as it always does, but you pay it no mind. However hard you try, you cannot bring yourself to meet his eyes. You are numb, numb to the slow rock of the ship as it cuts through the waves, numb to the sounds of the crew at their battle stations again, numb to it all now that it is undeniable: you love him.

He cannot love you.

Wearily, warily, you raise your head when the door opens, revealing the first mate, soaked in blood. Crossing the room in a few strides, he stands before you, chest heaving, a frantic sort of desperation contorting his face as he tightens his hand around the hilt of his sword and glares at you.

“The captain is near death. We drop anchor home in a fortnight. I will be put in command if he does not survive, and if this happens, I will make certain that you come upon a death slower and far more painful than his.”

You do not answer, nor do you pay any mind to his threats. You can sense Katsuki staring in your direction, the feeling of his red eyes on your skin unmistakable: no doubt, he has heard what you have. We drop anchor home in a fortnight - a fortnight until Katsuki is delivered into hands who seek to study him, to slit him open while he still lives and examine his insides and the way his heart beats, ensnared in the cage of his ribs.

Just like that, you know what to do.

You wait silently until they bring the captain to you. The first mate did not lie when he said the captain is near death. Sweat creates a sheen on his brow, and though his eyes are open, he is barely conscious, for he has been sliced open from gullet to navel by a merfolk blade. Briefly, you touch a fingertip to the lip of the gash, ignoring the pained moan it causes and the disquieted mutters of the other hunters.

If you were superstitious, you would deem the wound too similar to Katsuki’s to be anything but fate, but you do not believe in such things. Instead, you put your trust in the strength of good steel and the sharpness of a tongue. Yes, you know what to do, and you will do it.

The chain fixed around your wrist is not broken, but it does not have to be. You are free to do what you wish, because before you is the captain, and he is leverage. There is no fear left in you, no shame to hold you back as you look up at the first mate; he opens his mouth, about to ask why you do not jump to heal his captain, but he pauses when he takes in your cold smile.

“Free the merman, and then I will heal him.”

A silence falls. They are left with no other choice but to do as you say, and they know it. The first mate’s hands ball into fists, a reminder to you of what will come once Katsuki is let go and you heal their captain, but it does not concern you any more. None of it is of concern to you, only his freedom.

“What the fuck did you just say, witch?” Katsuki spits.

His voice jolts the first mate into action. He heaves you to your feet by the front of your shirt, seething, and punches you squarely in the nose. Something cracks. Your head snaps back, the air knocked from your lungs when he drives his knee into your stomach and lets you crumple to the floor by his feet. Gritting your teeth, you glower up at him.

“Come at me all you like,” you hiss as blood pours down your face. “It will not save your captain.”

He crouches down before you. You do not listen as he shouts at you, because you see it in his eyes. He knows you have them all backed into a corner, he knows you’re aware he will not risk the captain’s life. Over his shoulder, Katsuki urgently mouths something to you: do you know what they will do to you because of this? They will do worse than just kill you!

“Let them,” you reply, and as you gaze at him, you smile again. To the first mate, you say: “Bring me up on deck. I want to see.”

The first mate hurls you away from him, barking orders at the other hunters, but all you hear is the crash of the waves outside and all you taste is the nectar of victory on your tongue. You watch, still smiling, as they grab Katsuki and drag him from the tub. He fights, of course he does, screaming your name and slashing at the hunters, but there is but one of him, and he is unarmed.

Cursing, the first mate unfastens your chain from the ring in the wall, wrapping the length of it around his hand and jerking you forward with it, pulling you to follow him through the ship. There is murder written on his face and in the curl of his lip, and you let it slide it off you like water from a sea bird's feathers.

He throws open the hatch, and for the first time in years, you see the sun. Slowly, you step into the light, and the salty breeze tugs playfully at your clothes and hair, fresh and briney and strong, pulling tears from your eyes. All around you is empty space, just blue sea and blue sky and the wind that dances gloriously between them as far as you can see.

The air is invigorating and crisp in your lungs. Hesitantly, you take a step forward, then another and another, seeing the way the sun plays on the water’s surface, scintillating as it warms your cold skin. It is as resplendent as you remember it.

“Witch!” Katsuki cries, shaking the hunters’ hands off him. “Why? Why would you do this to yourself?”

There are countless ways you could answer him. Instead, you take him in one last time, his spiky ash blonde hair and his crimson eyes and the way his scales glitter under the sunlight. You do this for love: if you can’t give him your heart, you will give him his freedom.

“Go,” is all you say, and though tears stream down your face, you smile.

“I will not forget you, witch,” he replies, voice thick. “I swear it.”

Running to the side of the ship, you cling to the taffrail and lean forwards to watch as he dives overboard. He slices through the water, the amber of his tail bright as he goes, further from you with each passing second, and your breath catches in your throat - he is more beautiful than you imagined he would be in the light.

As he crests a wave, he looks back at you, and you see the shimmer of his scales and the graceful arc of his dorsal fin one last time before he twirls in the surf and dives. With that, he is gone, and you are alone again, yet you do not fear what is to come.

A hand grips your shoulder, nails digging sharply into your skin. “Enjoy your peace, you thankless bitch, because once you heal the captain, all you’re going to know is pain.”

You turn to the first mate and laugh in his face.

He loves you.

Bakugou Katsuki fucking loves you.

He loves your deft hands, careful despite their calluses and nimble despite the chain around your wrist. He loves the smell of you, herby and laced with petrichor. He loves the brightness dancing in your eyes when you laugh. Most of all, he loves your sweet soul: the fierceness woven into it like second nature, the blaze of your heart when you stand up for what you believe in.

He was stupid for pulling away from that kiss. You had fit your lips to his, and suddenly panic rose in his chest, and he jerked backwards as if ignoring his heart would silence it; he was scared to love another human, scared because last time it led to pain. His fear had hurt you, and this is his regret - that he was the one to cause the slow dimming of the light in your eyes.

There are countless other things he regrets. He should have trusted more easily, he should have fought harder as they yanked him out of that silly tub and away from you, and he should never have left you by yourself on that ship with those despicable hunters.

He didn’t tell you he loved you, and now he is scared he will never get the chance.

He has left you in a den of beasts. Deku would never have let this happen if it was Katsuki in danger. Deku would have found a way to get him out. In fact, Deku did, he saved him instead of himself, and now Deku is gone, and he fears his heart is not strong enough to lose another. He does not want to lose another.

That serene little smile on your face as you watched him go - it haunts him, fucking burns itself into his retinas, because you knew. You knew precisely what you were doing, when you bargained with that hunter’s life, and you knew exactly what they were going to do to you for making them let him go.

You must be hurting right now. You must have been beaten within an inch of your life. You, who broke down the walls he rebuilt, brick by brick, after Deku was gone - the same walls that Deku himself tore down too. Katsuki is beginning to think that their foundation has always been flawed, or maybe they crumbled like Jericho simply because you shine brighter than the sun on the waves, and he could not look away if he wanted to.

He has been tailing the ship for little over a day. Keeping out of sight and in the shadows is easy; he has felt the sting of their harpoons enough and he will not risk an injury when getting you away from them is the priority, yet he can’t help but resent the way he must hide. There is no other way, though. Currently, he has no plan, and he must bide his time.

Katsuki was never the most patient, but he has no choice but to be patient since he has no sword and no allies. It is plausible that he could scuttle the ship by himself, but he can’t risk it with you chained inside and possibly unconscious.

But then he sees it - a shape in the distance.

It is an isle, small enough that it could sustain maybe one hamlet of people, and rather plain, with rocks that make up a small cliff on one side and a sandy beach dotted with rock pools on the other, a thicket of trees spanning the distance between. One could call it nondescript, but there is nothing nondescript about it to Katsuki.

He has bled out on that golden beach. He has fought to protect his own life and the life of another in the waters near that isle, and he has failed. He has wept on that shore, wept enough to cleanse the blood soaked sand beneath his newly fixed body that held his newly broken heart.

That isle is where Deku washed up, half dead, a decade ago. It is where he watched from afar as this green eyed, freckled human nursed himself back to health, and where he watched from a little closer as he learnt that humans were more than what they are portrayed as in the tales of his pod.

He understood many things on that isle: what love was - the touch of his lips to a man with unruly green curls and an infectious smile, and what betrayal was - when his pod found out and the waters were tinted red because of it.

Just like that, he knows what to do.

Hidden in the underwater caves below the isle is a monster that slumbers until a soul dares to wake it. The humans call it a kraken, but the merfolk leave it unnamed, for it is too great to be reduced to a simple moniker. He has seen it once before, through the haze that descends over one close to death, and felt as its power stymied the lifeblood that poured hot from a wound spanning from the middle of his sternum to his navel.

Both he and Deku had lain on the beach after his pod ambushed, both bleeding from fatal wounds. He had been too fucking weak to get to the kraken first, and so Deku had been the one to sacrifice himself and give himself to the monster so Katsuki could live, when it should have been the other way round.

This time, though, he is strong enough.

He remembers slipping back into the ocean with his freshly healed wound so the saltwater of his tears mixed with the sea, unable to understand why Deku would leave him. Now, he understands all too well, and he will not fail to protect the one he loves again.

Summoning the kraken means no going back. After waking it, the summoner is transported into the kraken’s form, and they have a limited time within it before the kraken reaps its payment - the summoner’s soul. It will shatter their spirit and ensure they cannot return to their body.

Katsuki dives down deep, breaking away from the ship and swimming ahead of it to find the gaping mouth of the cave that the kraken slumbers within. He is far down enough that the water is murky, frigid as it weighs heavily on him, the sun a weak pinprick of light suspended somewhere above him that does nothing to pierce the gloom.

The entrance is curtained with seaweed, the cold fronds  caressing his skin as he slips past them. Nestled in the darkness, it lies there, slumbering: a behemoth shadow, looming as high as the cavern’s ceiling and filling its width like the berth of a warship docked in a seaside hamlet’s harbour.

As he swims towards it, he realises he has already had his last glimpse of you through his own eyes. The last time he will see you, he will be fighting to keep hold of himself before he loses his soul to the kraken, and then it will just be bottomless darkness until it is summoned again. You might not even know it is him inside the monster.

It doesn’t matter - a lot has ceased to matter to Katsuki. He can no longer deny that he loves you, and with that epiphany comes another: you knew what the hunters would do to you when you bargained for his freedom, and yet you did it anyway, with no fear of the consequences. Now, it is his turn to put his life on the line for you, and though he may lose it, you will be free.

He will never feel the sweet touch of lips again, but that’s alright. He hopes that you will find another to make you happy, another who will make your heart soar and help you forget him. They will be to you what you were to him: a light to scare away the shadows, a star in the night sky to guide you, even if at times, just like him, you believe you do not wish to be guided.

Katsuki pictures your face as he draws near to the kraken.

Its flesh is odd beneath his palm - slippery and uncomfortably cold. Pressing his palm to its skin, he wills it awake, and it obeys him alarmingly fast, an eye as big as his head snapping open and rolling around until it fixates on him. An abyss of a pupil sucks him in, beckoning him forward to a place that will be the last he ever visits.

Though he knows his body remains still, he feels himself fall forward, sucked towards the magnetic emptiness within the kraken as if it aches to be occupied. For a moment, he resists, pure instincts making him struggle against it, but he forces himself to let go. Sensation briefly forsakes him.

When his vision is restored, he finds that he is looking at his body, limp and vacant. Already he can feel a difference in the water, the sharp tang of fear drifting toward him on currents that hadn’t been there before as creatures begin to flee, aware that something ancient has been roused from its sleep.

A tempest is brewing.

Katsuki - or a version of him that no longer is really Katsuki, but instead a wrathful monster caller - cannot see the dark clouds amassing above, but he knows they are scudding across the blue skies to taint the high midday sun, and it is his doing. Cruel winds accumulate in the shadows cast by his thunderhead, and he can hear the sharp snap of canvas and the raised voices of a crew readying their ship for a storm.

Unfurling a tentacle, he curls it around his old body, careful not to crush it, and reaches up high enough to deposit it on the beach. He begins to move the kraken out of the cave, dislodging pebbles that would have been boulders as the bulk of its body manoeuvres through the exit.

In a way, he is disconnected from the body that is his now; there is empty space that he is not large enough to occupy, like he has donned a garment made for a merman the size of a mountain. It is strangely silent inside this huge vessel, although he is not alone. Shadow wreathed souls lurk in the corners of his mind, and he knows they are disgusted by him.

He is not surprised. Historically, the kraken have been summoned only in the utmost peril. To the merfolk, the kraken are as sacred and as old as the sea, called upon in the wars of old, when the magic beings of the sky were eradicated. Despite being only scattered shards of themselves, the past summoners look down on him, because he does not summon to seek the solution to mighty matters.

For the second time in a lifetime, the kraken is being summoned for a cause as selfish as love.

There’s an awful symmetry to it, really. He imagines the way they must have abhorred Deku, a dying human who did not use the kraken’s power to destroy, but to knit together the wound of a simple, unnoteworthy merman.

Faces contorted beyond recognition flash before his eyes and hands claw at his sides with nails as vicious as knives. They want blood, they want a whole fleet to rip through and ruin. He tells them that they will have to settle with one ship, and they cry their discontent in his ears, their voices rough and rasping, like rusting metal on stone.

He has not broken the surface of the water yet. His body prowls many leagues down, but still, he spots the shadow cast by the ship, and the moment he does, his vision narrows, blurs, and he sees winking lights on board: the lives of the crew, twinkling and tantalising and begging to be snuffed out.

The kraken jets upwards and breaches, spraying up a wall of water, and though he does not command it, he bellows a war cry, the sound so bloodthirsty and wild it almost sweeps him up and incapacitates him. The shadow souls close in, fragments of vengeful souls garbed in shadow, greedy and eager to see him torn apart, and he shakes them off, wrenching himself from their grasp with all his strength.

A twinge pinches at his side, and he glances down to see a volley of harpoons glance off his hide, leaving shallow gashes in their wake. The crew swarm on the deck, their terror sour as he breathes it in and savours it. They are but ants, small and irritating with their measly weapons and made to be crushed and devoured -

He seizes the mast and uses it to rock the ship from side to side, fighting to keep the visions of blood staining the water red away from him. Too fast, his control is slipping, and he feels the souls swarm around him, filling his field of view with darkness until all he can see is those tiny flames that he must put out. There is something he wanted to do, something he needs to do -

Selfish, the souls hiss in his ears, trying to sink their hateful claws into him again, and he agrees with them.

He loves, and therefore he is selfish.

It is no bad thing.

The storm clouds gather over the ship, roiling and rumbling with thunder. Lightning strikes, a bolt of white fury that splinters the deck and extinguishes one of the little lives on board, producing a delighted cackle from the souls at his back, but he ignores them. He knows what he must do.

“Bring me the witch,” he roars.

His voice comes out warped and foreign, the words of men coming out strange and misshapen on his tongue, but the crew understand enough, scuttling to obey, desperate to believe he may spare them if they give you to him. The grip of the souls tightens, squeezing at his throat - he has spent too long in their presence already, and they nip at the edges of his mind, stealing away parts of him when he isn’t looking.

He realises with a jolt that he does not remember his name any more.

It is fine, though. He will join the souls in their namelessness soon. They are a cacophony in his head, and he can no longer hear anything but them, the burn of their claws threatening to tear him apart and shred him the way they are already torn apart, but he barely cares.

The little gnats bring another up and present it to him. This one shines brighter, suffused with a magic the souls cannot wait to devour, and they encourage him forward - surely he too will enjoy the honeyed taste of this offering? Plucking it off the ship’s deck, he brings it to his eye level, and his shadow companions clamour for him to crush it, but he hesitates.

It looks at him like it knows him. In its weak, tiny voice, it yells something that gets lost in the howl of the winds, but even so, it makes the souls shrink back, receding enough for him to remember that this little thing he holds is important. Important for what, he can’t recall, but it is important all the same.

Kicking its legs, the small being beats its fist on his tentacle, still shouting. He leans closer, wincing as the shadows scratch and tear at his back, trying to draw him away again.

“Katsuki!” You scream.

He jolts. It is you, his little, beloved witch - you are why he is being so selfish, summoning the kraken just to save one life. Peering closer, he notices that you are bruised all over, and suddenly the storm worsens overhead, crackling as bolts of lightning stab down like vindictive knives and the wind tears at the ship full of aghast hunters, tossing it violently among the waves.

Carefully, he places you on the beach, next to a body that used to be his. You scramble towards it, limping, and he turns away, looking back towards the ship and the lights it is infested with that still need to be destroyed. Anger comes easily to him, because these are the ones that have marred you with bruises.

The shadows close in again.

Roaring, he tears at the ship, rending it in two and crushing those that leap overboard, yet the souls are never appeased, never satiated. It feels as if power leaks out the seams of his spirit and if he does not let it go it will destroy him from the inside, but he knows he cannot let go. He needs to hold on, to hold himself together, for something that drifts further and further out of reach -

It is as if he has been tied to the bottom of a sea trench for so long, drowning in darkness, that the surface is just a fanciful thought. He does not remember the sun’s sweet face, nor the sound of your voice as you called out the name he has lost again. They sink their teeth into him, ready to tear him apart.

He struggles. He will not go without a fucking fight, he will not let them have him before he has tried valiantly to swim upwards to the sun, where the shadows will not survive.

But the light is so far from him. It floats away every time he strives to be closer, or maybe there are hands holding him back, ripping him open and tethering him to the blackness. They cling to him, shrieking in his ears, sinking curved claws into him and refusing to let go, ready to reap the kraken’s payment.

He is losing himself.

And then - a hand, gentle, touching his face. Emerald eyes fill his vision, wide and lovely, and suddenly he is able to ignore the souls and their blaring dissonance, the pain in his side fading away into nothing. There is a soul that still remains named here, mixed in with those who have been rent apart by hate.

“Kacchan,” the soul says earnestly. “You must fight it, Kacchan.”

“Deku,” he sobs, leaning into the soul’s warm palms as he wipes his tears away. “I’m sorry.”

Deku smiles, and Katsuki weeps, because he looks so proud of him, as if he is worth an eternity spent trapped within a kraken alongside shattered souls that only wish for chaos and destruction. He weeps, because here are Deku and Kacchan, back together again, but they cannot stay this way forever.

“I understand,” Deku whispers, and his touch heals Kacchan once more. “I understand you love her. You need to fight, you need to return to her and love her like you want to. I died so you could live, Kacchan. Let go.”

He looks down and sees the way he clutches onto Deku so hard he is white knuckled, while Deku cradles his hands in his scarred ones, softly as if Kacchan is fragile. Trembling, he loosens his grip, and he feels the light draw closer, the sun’s rays warming his face. Something tightens in his chest when he finally allows himself to release Deku, but it hurts in the manner of stitches pulling taut inside him and binding him together again.

One last time, he looks over his shoulder, to where Deku watches as he goes, smiling brightly, shining like he is a star plucked from the night sky. His brilliance holds the shadows back, rendering them powerless. He pays them no mind, though - his viridescent eyes are lit up and fixed only on his Kacchan.

Deku says something, but the sound of his voice is drowned out by the crashing of the waves and the winds of a dying down of a storm. Still, Katsuki knows what he said by the shape of his lips: I love you. Smiling, he takes a final look at him, at those unruly green curls and those sweet eyes and bright smile, and then he turns and is bathed in light.

The kraken sinks again beneath the waves, but Katsuki does not sink with it.

You know it’s impossible, but you sense the moment Katsuki is back in his body. You’ve heard the tales of the kraken, and you know he should have been taken from you, but there he is, present in the weak pulse of his heart beneath your palm and the steady rise and fall of his chest. Shallow cuts have appeared all over his body, remnants of the damage of the hunter’s harpoons.

His eyes are open, but barely, and he blinks slowly, fighting to keep them fixed on you, giving you only glimpses of familiar crimson. There is a strange looseness to his awareness that must come with the recency of doing the impossible, but still he grips your hand desperately, struggling to stay awake long enough to force words out.

“I - I lo - ”

Before he can finish, his voice cracks and he coughs. His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to start again, but you smile, tears blurring your vision as you press a finger to his lips and hush him, and thankfully he relaxes under your touch, curling closer to you and seeking shelter in your embrace. Once he is rested, he will have all the time in the world to tell you whatever he likes.

What matters is that he is here. That in itself is beyond even a miracle. 

Almost disbelieving, you cradle him to you, pressing your forehead to his as tears you cannot stop spill down your face and mingle with his blood. You are bone tired after repeatedly healing your own cracked ribs and fractured wrists, but you are whole enough for now - you won’t waste your energy on your own bruises while he still hurts.

So you hold him against your chest, sweeping your fingers delicately over the deeper of his cuts to seal them. The sky has cleared, the storm clouds departing as fast as they arrived, and the sea is dipped in ruby by the bleeding sunset. It lacquers the wet sand with the glow of dying embers as the incoming tide smooths over where the storm had churned it up, erasing the mark left on the island as if this afternoon had never happened.

If it were not for Katsuki in your arms, it would be like the kraken never came.

You glance down at him. He seems at peace, though worn and battered, as if he has reconciled something deep within his heart; he has closed his eyes, simply leaning against you with his face pressed into your side, his warm hands tucked just beneath the hem of your shirt.

You cannot help but smile. Because of him, you are free. No chains bind your wrists, no threats limit you in what you decide to do next. You are not sure where you will end up later, but for now you intend to fall asleep beneath the open sky, beside the one you love infinitely more than any life you might have had and even this new life he has fought and bled to give you.

When you drift out of your dreams - just simple, golden things full of a contentment that lingers past waking - the tide is high, the ocean lapping at the sand at your feet. The moon is almost at its highest point in the sky, depositing a residue of silver on everything around you.

Katsuki stirs in your arms, and when you glance down, you are met with the twin beacons of his eyes, luminous in the dark and full, brimming and spilling over with unspoken things that leave a deep ache in your heart. Trembling, he grips your hands, and you lace your fingers with his, brushing your lips over his knuckles and stroking his face as the tears begin to flow.

He cries like he is mourning. You wonder what he saw while his soul donned the kraken’s skin, how poignant it must have been to wrench these fitful sobs from him. Cupping his face in your palms, you wipe his tears away, and he clings to you to keep you close while he bares his newly healing heart to you; it is wrapped in the past’s scars. He shows you the rawest parts of him, and you soothe them as best you can with your healing hands.

There is no magic to this cure, though. It is just the love that burns within you, consuming you so entirely it makes you shake. You did not know it was possible to love like this, but the proof weeps in your arms, a merman who summoned the kraken and somehow conquered it so he could make it back to you.

“Tell me,” you whisper, tracing the strong lines of his face with your fingertips.

Curling his arms around you, he hides his face in your neck. “Deku stood with me against the dark inside the kraken,” he replies softly. “He held them back so I could come back to you. I - I thought I had lost him forever, when he summoned the kraken to save me.”

Carefully, he brings your hand to touch the scar stretching down his chest, and you outline its edges, comforted by the warmth of his body and the steadiness of his breathing beneath your fingers. You would be happy to stay like that forever, linked to him by your skin on his and the synchronised beat of your hearts.

“He told me to fight so I could return to you,” Katsuki murmurs. “So I could love you.”

Your breath catches, your voice sticking before any words come out. He is blunt and honest as always, but this time, he is without his walls, without his guard up, open and vulnerable for you to lash out at him if you wished to, but he trusts you will not. Still, you hesitate, your throat constricting.

“I… I didn’t know him, or what he was like, but I know I can’t be him to you,” you falter. “I cannot be Deku, Katsuki.”

You do not expect your voice to come out so small, so timid. Neither do you expect the overwhelming tenderness that fills his eyes - no one has ever looked at you like that, as if they really see the whole of you, the blemishes and shadows on your soul and they love those too.

“I don’t ask you to be like him,” he replies. “No one will ever be like him. No one will ever be like you, either. I love you because you are you, not because you are him.”

“Katsuki,” you breathe, unable to swallow down the tears welling in your eyes.

“You know I can’t give you the life you deserve, either,” he continues, voice thick. “If you tie yourself to me, you tie yourself to the sea too, regardless of if you like it or not.”

Searchingly, you look at him, and it feels for a second that as you meet his eyes, you know the whole ocean, down to its unexplorable depths, down to every grain of sand and every critter it shelters and sustains. In that moment, there is a total, utter understanding within you - you would love him whatever the condition.

“I would tie myself to the most pitiful of the things on this earth if it meant I could love you, Katsuki.”

“I too, witch,” he replies, and a fond little smile pulls at his lips. “I would summon that kraken a thousand times if it meant I could win your heart.”

You laugh, out of pure joy more than anything else, and he laughs too, rolling in the sand so he can prop himself up on his elbows. Flopping over, you adjust yourself so you can rest your head against his stomach, lifting your eyes to watch as he tips his face up to the sky, letting the stars reflect in his gaze, as if he holds the galaxies of the universe in each pupil.

Your fingers find his as you stare up at the moon where it hangs highest in the sky now, full and silver as the stars. A new moon: symbolising fresh starts and new beginnings, or maybe even the waxing of a love that was planted in the darkness of the brig of a ship soaked in blood, nourished by nothing but the weak flame of a lamp and swift hands knitting flesh back together.

A familiar prickle trails coyly down the side of your neck, and the sound of sand whispering against itself reaches your ears as Katsuki shifts beneath you, lightly skimming the high tide’s surf with his tail. You are not ready to leave the easy silence you’ve made yet, so you bask in his presence and his warmth a little longer.

The moon has just begun its descent when you turn to face him. He’s just looking at you, looking and looking and looking as if he can’t get enough. You smile, aware of the fresh edge in his gaze that was not there before, the string binding your soul to his pulling delightfully taut.

“You’re as beautiful as the ocean,” he mumbles, fiddling with a lock of your hair. “More beautiful than the ocean. But in a different way, you’re…”

You grin. “Worse?”

“Worse,” he agrees, smirking, but he looks at you as if you breathed life into his seas. “Much worse.”

Time stops for a moment, and you sit up, bringing your face close to his until your breaths mingle - you cannot help but let his crimson eyes consume you, heart and soul. You linger there for a moment, the air crackling between you, both of you waiting as if to see who will give in and pounce first.

Bringing his hand up, Katsuki lets his fingers slide under your jaw, lifting your chin so you are merely a hair’s breadth away. He fills your senses; you can feel the warmth of his body, the roughness of the calluses on his fingers, the feather-like brush of his breath against your cheek, smell his briney sea scent, hear the swish of sand as he shifts infinitesimally closer. A lethal spark gleams in his eyes, tying you in helpless knots.

You lean forward and claim his lips.

It draws a quiet groan from him, and suddenly you are beneath him in the sand and his hands are all over you, grabbing handfuls of you and shucking the damp material of your shirt up and over your head so he can touch your skin. The way he looks at you, with those stirring embers that tug at something low in your stomach, reduces you to a sailor under the influence of a siren’s song - he is irresistible, he is magnificent.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him ever closer, licking into his mouth as if you might find the god’s nectar hiding beneath his tongue. He nips at your lower lip with those keen canines of his, and you cannot help but buck your hips as the tide swirls around the both of you.

Chuckling, he skims a palm over your thigh, pulling your leg up to hook over his hip. It brings your clothed core right against the length of his hardening cock that has emerged from the slit in his tail; you stifle a moan at the feel of him, grinding agonisingly slowly down on him and sighing as he trails wet kisses and purpling bites down your throat.

Katsuki licks at the spot under your jaw, and this time, at the second graze of his teeth against your skin, your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at it and squeezing another sweet noise from him. You keep your hands threaded through his ash blonde locks as he licks at the valley between your breasts. Meticulously, he marks your plush flesh with the imprints of his teeth, laying his claim on you.

When he reaches your stomach, he mouths at your skin, nipping playfully just over your hip bone before he raises his eyes to meet yours. They are heavy lidded and sultry, and they stir the fire building in your core as he toys lazily with the waistband of your trousers. His fingers are casual as they curl beneath the fabric.

“Let me taste you, witch,” he implores.

“I cannot argue when you look at me like that,” you reply, breathless. “Nor would I, anyways.”

That is all the consent he needs before he is helping you out of your remaining clothes, almost ripping them in his hurry to have you on his tongue. His hands slip beneath you, gripping your ass and guiding your legs over his shoulders, and there he pauses. Yearning blazes in his crimson eyes, and then he dips his head and puts his mouth on you.

You gasp his name. Your hands scramble for purchase before you bury them in his hair again, yanking to encourage him further, and he responds by sucking harshly on your clit, making your hips jump and buck into his face. He groans into your heat, and the vibrations of it make you see stars.

Slowly, he pulls back, glancing up at you, and the sight of him is enough to make you moan: his eyes are glazed, fervent, worshipful, and your slick drips down his chin, the moonlight making it seem like liquid diamond. Bewitched by him, you choke out his name, and he smirks and slips two fingers inside you. Your legs begin to shake when he pumps them slowly in and out of you, bending them at the knuckle so he can hit that spot inside you.

The friction enraptures you, mounting in the pit of your stomach and winding up tight, and your thighs close around his head, clenching as Katsuki pushes you closer and closer to the edge. Turning his head, he sucks at your skin, marking you there, too.

You balance on a knife blade’s edge.

Abruptly, he slides his fingers out and your pussy clamps down a second too late; already, you open your mouth to lament it when he bends his head and replaces them with his tongue. Your words dissolve into wretched moans; you grind your hips against his face and lightning spears through you when his nose nudges at your clit.

Pleasure rises within you, a gradual, swelling thing that sneaks up on you in the unhurried nature of his movements. You can feel his smile against your cunt. You can feel the light burn as he grips your flesh, anchoring you to him so you could not pull away and part him from the taste of you even if you wished to.

You cry out his name as you come.

Katsuki nestles you close to his chest as you come down from your high, kissing your face as the aftershocks send shivers down your spine. Tenderness resides in his eyes, right beside a longing that makes you melt into him, weak with ardour as you slip your hand between your sea damp bodies to curl your fingers slyly around his cock.

His lips part as you jerk him, and you cross the small distance between you to bite at his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth and swiping your tongue over it as you feel him grow impossibly harder in your palm. Ridges swell down his length, flushed a coruscant orange that blurs down into obsidian at his base.

Tipping your head back, you look him in the eye. “I - I need you inside me, Katsuki.”

The words are clumsy on your tongue. You do not know how to articulate the pressing need to feel him, to not know where you end and he begins, to collide with him right there on the beach of this island that houses a kraken, to get lost in the salt on his skin and the eddy of the sea at your joined hips.

Lowly, he curses, treating you as if you are holy as he spreads your legs and settles between them, gripping the curve of your hip with one hand as he lines himself up. You press your lips against the warm bronze skin of his shoulder, sighing against him, urging him forward, urging him closer, a blissed out sound slipping from you as the ridges of his cock push past your entrance, the stretch nothing short of divine.

At last, he is sheathed fully within you. His hips kiss yours, and he remains there, pulsing hotly within you, the pleasure on his face bordering on pain as your cunt bears down on him, yet still, he will not move. Jaw clenching, he squeezes his eyes shut, and a hoarse groan tears itself from deep in his chest.

Panting, he bows his head, and when he looks up, tears rim his lash line, glittering like individual crystals dipped in the light of the stars. One rolls down his cheek and plops down onto yours, and you raise a hand to caress his face, raking your fingers through his hair to push it back from his forehead; he leans into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm.

Slipping your hand round to cup the nape of his neck, you bring your mouth to his. Delicately, Katsuki kisses you before pulling back to press his lips feather-light to your eyelids - he lingers there, his breath fluttering warmly against your skin, his thumb drawing circles on your cheekbone.

Again, he kisses you, and it is only then that you taste the salt of your own tears on his tongue.

Your soft, raw sob echoes across the beach, and you dig your nails into his wide shoulders, urging him to move. With a gasp, he begins to rock his hips into you, and it breaks you apart. You keen, pushing back into his fluid, achingly unhurried strokes, scrabbling at his back in an attempt to bring him closer, to let him consume your very being.

Right there on the sand, under the moonlight with the seafoam lapping at your sides, he fucks into you, slow and deep, trembling and crying above you, and tenderly, you kiss him again. The roll of his thumb over your clit sends thrills chasing down your spine. He dips his head, burying his face in your neck, and fiercely, you hold him to you.

“Mine,” Katsuki whispers, and his teeth sink into your skin.

Something snaps inside you, and the fire in your gut blazes. Your cunt clenches hard around him, vice like around his cock, and you feel him twitch when your velvety walls clamp down on him, feel his soft exhale and know that he too knows the burn of the inferno in your core.

“Please, Katsuki,” you whine. “Harder.”

“Fuck,” he growls, his voice rasping in your ear, and suddenly you are empty.

Before you can protest, he flips you over, pressing your back into his chest and you reel, momentarily blinded by the night sky stretching high and wide above you. He is solid beneath you, and he knocks the breath from your lungs when he surges up into you.

You can feel all of him. Ruthlessly, Katsuki pounds up into you, as if he is desperate to taste the sea salt on your skin and inhale your scent and never let you go. Your body jerks with each thrust, your voice cracking as you cry out his name, the new heady angle of his cock inside you leaving you writhing, lost in the bliss he wrings from you.

His tail thrashes in the surf as he fucks up into you. You are limp in his arms, trembling all over as your back arches - he squeezes your breasts in one hand while the other settles between your legs, his skilled fingers working over your clit to kindle a mind shattering type of euphoria within you that renders you boneless and speechless, your jaw slack.

Your head falls back on his shoulder, your eyes falling shut as you moan, your pussy constricting tight around him. A hand circles your throat, squeezing lightly, and you mewl, your cunt unashamedly spasming at the feel of his calloused fingers about your neck.

“Let the moon and stars witness how I pleasure you, my love,” he snarls.

Your eyes roll, your toes curl. Somehow, he fucks up into you faster, harder, and his cock hits places that cause your vision to white out, the relentless friction of his ridges on your walls enough to make you sob and claw at the arm he uses to keep you in place. Distantly, you can hear yourself begging him, pleading for him to go harder, deeper, to not stop, to ruin you.

You scream Katsuki’s name as you come for the second time tonight. Uncontrollably, your thighs shake, and your cunt convulses around his cock; you can feel him slowing his thrusts, letting you ride out your high, but despite the overstimulation building in the tautness inside your stomach, you grind against him.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Want - want you to come inside me.”

Your words elicit a groan from him. “Fucking filthy, aren’t you?”

Helplessly, you whimper in response, your pussy fluttering as he hammers up into you. He swears as he comes, spilling hot inside you, the sweet sound he makes muffled when he bites down on your shoulder. Both of you lie there for a moment, catching your breath, before gently, he manoeuvres the two of you so you lie on your sides, careful to keep himself deep in your heat; he is warm against your back.

Katsuki splays a palm over your stomach, holding you close, and you lace your fingers with his, sighing happily as he begins to pepper kisses over your back. You can feel the upwards curve of his lips as he smiles against your skin.

“Are you alright?” He asks, nuzzling the nape of your neck.

“Better than alright,” you confirm.

You remain silent for a while longer, happy just to lie there cocooned in his arms and the quiet wash of the ocean; you can feel the pulse of his heart against your back, steady and comforting. A hushed, steady noise comes from him, a satisfied noise, almost a purr. His cock is beginning to soften inside you, its ridges coming down - you both groan as he slips out, moving so his length is tucked against the curve of your ass.

“How did you know it was me?” He asks suddenly. “When I summoned the kraken.”

You squeeze his hand. “I saw you in its eyes. You know, I couldn’t have missed it if I tried, especially not when you yelled for the hunters to bring me to you. I heard it all the way from below deck.”

He laughs, and you shuffle closer to him, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“I didn’t even know the kraken was a real thing,” you tell him. “I wasn’t scared, though. I knew I’d be safe when I saw it was you.”

Katsuki scoffs. “You’re horrendously sappy, witch.”

You laugh, pushing your ass back against him. “I think you like it, merman.”

Laughing, you roll to and fro in the sand, with you grinding on him as he grips your hips and tries to wrestle you into submission. Eventually, he manages to incapacitate you by holding you tightly against his chest, dipping his head so he can whisper hotly in your ear.

“Keep that up and I’ll have to fuck you again,” he grits out.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” you challenge.

Giggling, you wriggle out of his grip and plunge further into the shallows, just catching him muttering something about insatiable and damn witch before he dives in and streaks after you, his dorsal fin cutting through the water. A hand closes around your ankle, and you squeal, flailing as you shake him off.

Clumsily, you take off towards the rock pools, wading through the sea water as fast as you can. You know Katsuki will catch you (you’re not exactly opposed to it - you’re running into the sea rather than out of it, after all). Again, he makes another grab at you, and you romp with him in the waves, grinning as you fend him off by splashing water at him, squirming out of his arms again.

In the end, he grabs you around the waist and traps you against one of the tide pools, the rock rough against your back as he smirks down at you. The sight of him above you is enthralling: droplets run down his chest in rivulets, rolling down the grooves his muscles make, and the moon hangs the sky behind him, crowning him with a halo made of silver. Your mouth waters.

Taking your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, he brings his face close to yours. A shiver runs down your spine. His red eyes fill your vision, glowing in the night, hypnotic and burning with craving so devout it borders on veneration.

He smiles. “Caught you.”

Katsuki takes you again, against the rock at your back. Afterwards, you lie there, spent and tangled together in the waning moonlight until you grow hungry again and you straddle him, mesmerised by the sight of him staring up at you, pleasure twisting his features as you ride him. You fuck and make love until the sun begins to rise, and it is only then that the two of you are finally sated.

So there you lie, held in his arms and the sea’s embrace - and inexplicably, you find that you do not regret all the pain you suffered at the hands of the hunters, because if it was not for them, you would never have been in that brig to heal him. Inside you, something blossoms within your soul, young and fresh and beautiful as the new moon, and it spills forth from your lips, a whispered confession pressed to his skin like a kiss.

“I love you, Bakugou Katsuki.”

Cupping your jaw, he brings his forehead to yours and murmurs your name. “I love you too.”

Katsuki glances down at you, where you are curled into the curve of his side like you were made to fit him, and he feels his failing, tired heart bloom once again. You have healed him in ways that run deeper than just his flesh.

He looks in your eyes, and when he does, the sea looks back.

You are his home.

A/N: by the way guys, afterwards they travel somewhere cool and the reader sets up a lil witchy abode by the sea and the villagers come to her for cures and half of them are lowkey a bit terrified of her mermaid husband but it doesn’t matter because she still gives really good remedies and he hasn’t eaten anyone yet and sometimes she and bakugou go out in their boat and attack hunter ships for funsies

also here's a picture i found off pinterest which i kind of imagine his tail being like except it's a bit more rigid and the dorsal fins are more spiney and longer, also there's more black and less red

taglist: @freakingsparkydreamer @d1orhaz3 @msjaeger @mellasimp14 @eyesforbkg @cottagedumpling @silkdolli @teeesthings @raksstuff

[anyarose011]

Agape

Pairing: Lucius x Reader

Summary: After the Roman Empire had fallen, birthing the Republic, you and Lucius had finally found a moment to breathe in each other's presence. Over a few years' journey of healing, you find that is both exhausting, yet all the more fulfilling at the same time.

Part 2 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past SA, Depictions of Grief, Violence, Angst, Miscommunication, Historical Inaccuracies [I tried my best to make it kind of accurate], Nudity (sexual and non-sexual), Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex (f receiving), P in V Sex

Paul Mescal's facial hair in All of Us Strangers, if you can hear us, please save us. Nobody ask me how I went from "’Oh, I’m just gonna write some scenes about healing from trauma, and the rest is smut! Easy!" to then making it just a little longer than the first part. I'm a yapper, but holy shit XD. Anyway, this is just shameless pRopAgAnDa at what I personally view a husband to act like (even in modern times). So, without further ado, thousands of words of hurt/comfort and smut.

Word Count: 16.4k

You were a lucky child. When you were twelve and your friend was married off to a man who was forty-two, you asked your father when you would be married.

He tucked you in that night, saying that he wasn’t certain, and that you had nothing to fear; for he wouldn’t promise you to a man who was in a war the same year you were born. He would have to know him personally as well, saying.

“It’s easier to like a man than have to plan his assassination if he dared lay a hand on you.”

You like to think he would have approved of Lucius; he was the once heir to the Roman Empire.

You don’t think he would have approved of your…informal marriage.

“A year.” Lucius stated as the two of you sat together in one of the piazzas. “As long as we are not separated from each other for more than three days, Rome will view us as married if we live in the same household for a year.”

You hummed. “And why should we care what Rome views?”

“Men won’t stop their advances on you if they saw you as my sister.” he explained. “Even as a wife, that doesn’t stir them.”

“It’s a very Christian belief of you to have.”

“But it makes them think thoroughly on if they want to risk tainting you.” Lucius finally looked at you. “Knowing that I would break every finger they touched you with.”

Even with his proclamation, you merely shrugged. “Being the emperor’s favorite whore, I doubt they would care.”

He sighed. “Do you want to know what my mother wrote? Her final words that will forever be with me because they are in ink? ‘Take her as your wife.’”

It had only been one day since Lucilla’s death, since Rome had become a Republic, and no one knew exactly what to do.

Yet…even at the mention of her presence, you felt tears spring to your eyes.

How you hated crying; and crying and crying.

“It is wise.” You finally settled on. “The people here too must see me as a traitor.”

“You would be dead if they did.”

“It’s still early.” You smiled sadly. “I desired to be free of the emperors, but all they must have saw was lust for power.”

Lucius sighed. “If it is a concern, then I believe it is best to leave Rome.”

Suddenly, you were no longer afraid for your life. You scowled. “Leave the city you risked your life to liberate?”

“It is not just my own life I need to think of now, is it?”

“Then think of mine.” you began. “I don’t wish to leave. Where would we even go? I know nothing outside of Rome.”

This would have been solved if you somehow still had the house you grew up in. The moment Geta claimed you, it was gone. Even with the fall of the Empire, and the birth of the Republic, you could not take it back.

Among many other things, you could not take it back.

“We’ll live just outside the walls.” Lucius suggested. “A farm perhaps a few miles from here-.”

“-A farm?” You questioned. “You know how to farm? Because I sure don’t.”

“I’ve lived longer on a farm than I have in a palace.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. You also weren’t in the position to bargain. Even though it wasn’t going to be what most would deem an ‘official’ marriage, he still owned you. That was how it always was, whether living outside of the Roman walls or not. Still, you had to try.

“I will learn as much as I need to,” You shook your head. “but I will find a job in the city. You cannot believe I will be shut out-.”

“-Do you want to share a room, or would you like your own?”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

Lucius restated. “We don’t have any money to buy a farm, so I’ll build us one. Do you want your own room?”

You had only known him for a grand total of a day and a half (if you were to add up all the previous times you had spoken to him before Macrinus’ death), so needless to say, his offer shocked you; more so, it impressed you.

“Isn’t it odd for a man and wife to not share a bed?” You asked.

“So, you want to share a room?”

“No.” was your immediate response. “I just…”

Am not used to compromising with men without them threatening my life.

“Won’t it cost money to build a house?” You asked instead. “None the less, more for another room?”

“I only want you to be happy, if we’re to be married.”

There you were, asking every question and not being satisfied with his answers, yet he was remaining patient.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head in thanks for just a second before questioning. “I am still allowed to have a job in the city? It will help with the cost, of course.”

 “Where exactly do you intend to work?”

He said your name; not ‘Julia’, the name you had whispered to him in his cell. Lucius was the only one who had said it to you, for you did not even tell Lucilla or Marcus. It still felt strange hearing it on your lips, nonetheless, his.

Still, shaking your discomfort away, you hummed humorlessly. “I know two women who run their own businesses; hairdressing and tailoring. I’m better at hair than clothes, but not so much. And you?”

He sighed. “I’ll see if there’s any other farmers needing a hand.”

“You’re going to work for a farmer to build a farm?”

“It sounded more bizarre in your head than when you said it aloud, did it not?”

That was the first thing you found out about Lucius after all the bloodshed and heartbreak of the last week:

He spoke with such a straight tone, you did not know he was joking until he would smile just a hint; you couldn’t really call it a true smile.

You managed to grin. “I suppose it makes sense. You should find one that will let us sleep there.”

And he did. A farm just a few miles outside of Rome took both you and Lucius in. It was substantial, housing five chickens, two cows, three pigs, four horses, and seven human children. Albeit the children helped with the chores, but the eldest was only ten and could not manage any of the heavy lifting whatsoever, which was where Lucius came in.

From sun up to sun down, he’d work on the farm. The farmers, Atticus and Diana, let you sleep in the barn of all places. The hayloft was nice for the both of you; enough space to spread out but not be right next to each other. There was also somewhat of a wall between the two of you, giving the illusion of separate rooms.

It was certainly an adjustment for you; had been sleeping on the softest of beds for months, but even so, you just missed the bed from your old house.

Lucius fell asleep the second he laid on the hay.

Dreams and nightmares were always a peculiar thing. Some days, you would dream of your mother and father, some days, they would be of Lucilla and Marcus.

You had nightmares of what befell you before coming to the farm; Macrinus and his manipulation, Caracalla’s temper, Geta…

Yet, the worst that would happen would be you waking up more tired than the night prior. You knew Lucius was having nightmares too, but every time you approached him, he would lie and say he was fine, or simply not want to speak of it.

You stopped asking.

For the first few days on the farm, you were put to work by watching over the younger children when their mother was busy. Somehow, it was the older ones you didn’t mind, it was the youngest baby who was a handful.

It’s morbid to say, but you always wondered how any of them survived infancy.

Luckily, you managed to get back to Rome after perhaps a week of being stranded on the farm. It was almost an hour walk, and you had gotten up even before Lucius had, but it was worth it.

It wasn’t that you felt dead as you were on the farm per say, but walking through the streets brought a certain kind of life back into your steps.

You spent a good portion of the day trying to find the hairdressers you talk to Lucius about. Just as you were about to give up and try again tomorrow, something caught your ear.

Hebrew.

You turned over your shoulder and saw a man speaking in Latin to another man and a pregnant woman. The father had spoken in broken Latin before turning to his wife, speaking quickly in Hebrew as if to ask her what to say.

The Roman man began to yell, and you rushed over, speaking to the patriarch of the family.

“What’s going on?” You asked quickly.

His eyes grew as if you were the first person in Rome to understand him (you probably were). “I paid for a bag of peaches fairly; two bronze, yet they’re saying it wasn’t enough.”

You turned to the man behind you. “He says he gave you two bronze for the peaches.”

“It was three.” The Roman man gritted his teeth.

Tilting your head, you tried. “Show me your stand so we may see.”

It was perhaps stupid of you to challenge him; yet, he controlled his tempter and led you to his fruit stand. The sign by the peaches indeed said ‘2’, but there was also a good amount of peaches blocking the bottom half of the sign.

When you moved a few, it read ‘3’.

You smiled, looking at the man who spoke Hebrew. “It is three, but it’s not your fault this brute didn’t notice either.”

He nodded, returning your grin before handing the men another copper. With an few mumbled exchanges, the man and his wife were on their way.

“You have Judeans in your family?” The man crudely asked.

Still, you decided to reciprocate his crassness with kindness. “I actually speak five languages.”

He rose his brows. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

He hummed, holding his hand out. “Isidorus.”

“Julia.” Was your immediate response as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles. It wasn’t even your own choice to say that name; it was what you lived by. Retracting your hand, you shake your head and said your own name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“-All of Rome knows who you are.” He interrupted. “Do not be afraid of your own people. Most of them were there simply a week ago when you tried to slay Macrinus but was there to comfort lady Lucilla in her final moments.”

You only nodded, not wanting to be praised. “I thank you for your kindness.”

“With certain.” He nodded. “You are with child; only a monster would harm a woman carrying.”

The events of the past weeks had made you forgotten about the false babe. Luckily, the fear upon your face could be used to your advantage.

“Are you not well?” Isidorus questioned.

You dropped your gaze, stammering your tone. “The…I lost the child.”

He looked down as well. “Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you shook your head. “it’s…it feels odd. His father was terrible but…”

“Why are you perusing Rome unchaperoned?” He changed the subject.

 “My betrothed is being put to work,” you immediately answered. “and I am scouring the streets to find my own.”

“What has your luck been?”

“Nothing.”

Isidorus hummed. “I could change that.”

Even at the thought of what he was alluding to, you smiled. “Good sir, I am not in the position to sell my body-.”

“-None of that.” he waved his hand. “My brother works down at the entrance of the city gates. They’re always in need of translators.”

You nodded, considering. “When may I meet with him?”

“Tomorrow?” He asked. “Midday at the gates with many people watching so you do not feel threatened?”

The two of you laughed, and you agreed. “I shall be there. Thank you.”

“Anything to help a woman of the people.”

You walked all the way back to the farm with a skip in your step. Even at dinner, you were more talkative with the rest of the family. Lucius certainly took notice as the two of you were settling down for the night.

“You seemed better today.” He complimented, laying onto his bed of hay.

“So, I’ve been absolutely horrible the rest?” You teased, peeking around the wall of the hayloft.

 “No, just what I think you were like before everything; more yourself.” He explained. “Did the hairdressers go well?”

Leaning against the wall, you crossed your arms. “I’m actually working as a translator down by the city entrance.”

He gave you a look. “How’d this come about?”

“Well,” you began. “I overheard two men arguing, one was speaking Hebrew, and I asked him what was wrong. There was a misunderstanding over peaches of all things, I helped them talk it out, and it was solved with no bloodshed. The vendor said his brother works at the gates and is always in need of translators and offered to meet with him tomorrow. It will be midday and so many people around; do not worry.”

Lucius nodded. “I’ll accompany you.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? I shall be fine.”

“I have no doubt you would.” You knew that was a lie. “One of the scythes broke today, I’ll need to buy another one in the city.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not, but it wouldn’t surprise you if Lucius would sneak out in the night and break equipment simply to go with you.

Sighing, you went behind the wall to your side of the hayloft. “Fine.”

To no one but Lucius’ surprise, Isidorus had not lied about his brother, nor the job offer. Of course, the brother had been off put at a woman being the translator (because everyone knows that they are the lesser sex). Still, after some convincing (you talked to a Greek family, a man from Anatolia, and two brothers from Persia), he said you could be put to work.

Lucius stood there the whole hour you had proved yourself.

“You couldn’t have gotten the scythe while I worked?” You questioned him while walking home.

He kept his gaze on the road before him, carrying the farm equipment. “It was engaging to watch.”

You hummed. “I could see how engaged you were while you stood like this.” You crossed your arms and scowled.

“I did not look like that.” He scoffed.

“You did so!” You refuted, lowering your voice. “My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, the Last Gladiator, son of Lucilla and Maximus, grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

He looked down, mouth upturning a little. “I do not sound like that.”

“Is that a smile?!” you gasped. “Gods above, I never thought you could unless you were attempting humor!

“Away with you, woman.”

You only laughed as the sun was starting to set.

There was something called a “Fullmoon” period in a marriage. Most now would say it’s “Honeymoon”, but the period in time where a man and woman were in a complete state of euphoria together was called “Fullmoon” because it only lasted for a month.

You and Lucius (even with your strange circumstance) were not immune to this.

A month later, when you had fully settled into a mundane life of working in different areas for hours upon hours, the only times you saw Lucius was when you ate dinner with the farmer’s family, and before going to bed.

It didn’t’ effect you that much for the first three months, as you both were still on good terms and were fine simply cohabitating without affection. This marriage was purely for protection and to honor Lucilla’s wishes.

Then…Lucius came to you one day, saying that together, you both had enough money to build a farm. He already had a patch of land picked out from the help of the famer who employed him. It was five miles away from the farm you stayed at. Five miles more of a journey to the city.

You would move in once the walls were built, which he said would only take a week or two.

It was too fast for you.

Still, you had to go along with it, because you were to be his wife; nothing more. Even so, nothing out of the ordinary besides your hidden, simmering annoyance happened between you two.

The first day construction was to be done was when light was shed upon it.

“Lucius!” You called his name as you approached him and a few other men hauling the wood and stone that would be used. It was mid-twilight when you ran to them.

He furrowed his brow, walking towards you. “Aren’t you meant to be in the city?”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shook your head. “I asked for the day off because of the house. He said I-.”

“-You need to go back and tell him you’ll work.”

Your smile fell from his usual, monotone demeanor. “He doesn’t expect me to come in today-.”

“-Then he’ll be happy to see you.”

“May I just talk for a moment?!” You yelled.

His said nothing.

Sighing, you began. “I will be useful in any capacity. If you need me to help dig for water, measure supports, lift anything-.”

“-Your shoulder cannot carry-.”

You retorted. “-It might be the shoulder you shot, but it’s the shoulder I have to live with, and I will tell you if something is too heavy to carry.”

It hadn’t been the first time you brought up your shoulder after Rome was free. Yet, in the past, it was always out of good fun; something to say to him when you didn’t want to carry as little as an egg from the chicken coop. You told the children the story too why you had to set one of them down after carrying her for so long.

You expected them to cower away from Lucius when he returned for supper, but instead, they all tackled him to the ground to defend your honor.

They didn’t hurt him of course, and you laughed until you couldn’t breathe.

Yet, at that moment, you said it with nothing but disdain; and he heard it in every word. You thought it would have been enough to guilt him into letting you help, you made sure of it.

Lucius titled his head back toward the main road. “Go on, now. The sun will be up soon, it’ll be better to walk without daylight beating down on you.”

The audacity he had. Usually, on the times you’d have disagreements of sorts, you’d try to leave with dignity; perhaps a word of sarcasm or two.

No, you simply turned on your heel and marched away in a huff.

You were harsher that day when translating, and you were still angry by the time the day ended. You ate dinner outside by yourself (until three of the seven children came outside to eat with you), and did not utter a ‘goodnight’ to Lucius before laying down to sleep.

Neither of you spoke to the other for days after that.

It was one morning, not even when the sun was out, as you tried to tiptoe around him, did he ask from his makeshift bed.

“Do you remember where the house is?”

You nearly fell off the ledge of the hayloft. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes!” you whispered, afraid to wake the whole farm. “Why?”

“We made the water pump, and the walls and floors are finished. We’ll be able to sleep there now.”

“I don’t see the appeal in sleeping in a house with no roof.”

“I’ll put half of it on today. Tell your foreman too that you won’t be able to work for the next week.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“I’m teaching you how to tend to a farm.” He wrapped his blankets tighter around him and turned his back to you.

And you continued on your way; making the long trek to the city, which would only be longer when you moved to the house.

When your work was over, you walked and walked. You took a short break at the farmer’s house, making your final goodbyes to the children, and gathering what little belongings you owned.

As you tried to leave, Diana stopped you. She was leading one of the horses, a berber, behind her.

“Take her,” she handed you the reins. “you shouldn’t have to walk so far.”

You shook your head. “I simply cannot-.”

“-I insist.” She smiled. “She’s yours now. Think of it as payment for helping me with the little beasts that are my children.”

Smiling politely, it soon faded. She took notice. “What is it?”

“…I’ve only ever ridden once, and I was a child.”

She sighed yet was still kind. “Come on, my husband’s horse is at your farm. I’ll ride back with him.”

Despite your inexperience, it was actually nice riding a horse. It was perhaps the closest you could ever come to flying in your lifetime; maybe that’s why you enjoyed it. As you were nearing your soon-to-be home, you saw a familiar silhouette along with some others.

Atop the house, against the setting sun, you watched as Lucius continued to add tiles to the unfinished roof. His shirt was off, and even with night beginning to set in with the cold air, he was still breaking a sweat from the rigorous work. You would be a liar if you say that you didn’t catch yourself staring, and it was Diana who had to take the reins.

“What a fine home!” She broke you out of your trance, and when Lucius looked in your direction, you snapped your gaze away.

Lucius nodded. “All that needs to be done is the roof.” He jumped onto the ground just as you were sliding off the horse. He gave you his hand as you were, and you took it.

“Thank you.”

Atticus and the other workers went to a lone tree where their horses were tied. Atticus then approached both you and Lucius.

“Well,” he smiled. “it was lovely hosting the both of you. Please come back as often as you can; I’m sure the children will miss you.”

You all exchanged your final goodbyes, and it when everyone rode off away from you, did you realize something. This was the first time in a while you were alone with Lucius that wasn’t when going to sleep or waking up.

“Do you have a name for the horse?” Lucius asked.

Turning over your shoulder, you led the steed to the tree, petting her as you began to tie her up. “Not at the moment. She’s yours too, do you have any?”

“You’ll be with her more; you should name her.”

Humming you looked at him when you finished securing the horse. “You asked them to give her to me, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “They asked how they could repay you for taking care of their children, I mentioned how it would be a longer journey to the city once we moved here. That’s all I did.”

…He was better at asking for forgiveness than for permission; that was another thing you learned about him. Still, you nodded your appreciation, inspecting the area around you. It was quite beautiful even with its plainness. The fields stretched on for miles, and there were no tall buildings to cover the night sky. Even the unfinished house brought a sense of happiness to you.

Something that was, at least partially, your own.

“Where will the barn and chicken coop go?” You questioned.

A hint of a smile played on his mouth, but in Lucius fashion, did his best to hide it. “You were complaining about not having a roof, and now you wonder about things for the animals?”

“Perhaps I’m more interested in farming that you are.”

“I’ll teach you.” he led you into the house. “Come on.”

 The front living space was large, and in the corner of it had an oven, so that was where the kitchen would be. Lucius showed you the two rooms as well; each having a single pillow and a blanket.

“We’ll begin planting tomorrow.” he announced. “I don’t think I’ll have to wake you up.”

“You won’t.” You nodded. “Goodnight, Lucius.”

“Goodnight.” He said your name.

You didn’t think you’d ever get over the sound of your own name from his lips.

You named the horse after your mother. Well…not the exact same name, but a similar one. It was quite a scene too when confessing to Lucius you could exactly remember how to ride a horse by yourself.

He didn’t laugh at you, that was what greatly surprised you. He spent an hour teaching you, and you were able to ride her on your own.

Farming was more difficult than you thought it would be, but not so horrible either. Yes, where Lucius was patient with you for the first few days, he made a few snide comments as time passed. Nothing outright mean, but still enough to get under your skin.

Still, you managed to pick it up within the few weeks after that.

He had even let you help him finish the roof of the house; something you didn’t expect him to do. After living in the house for a month, both of you managed to buy actual beds for your rooms, among other luxuries like a few tables and chairs for the main living area, and utensils both for cooking and for eating.

The bathroom was completely bare. Having spent all the money on everything else, it would take time for the both of you to buy a bathtub. Bathing wasn’t a problem back on Atticus and Diana’s farm, but now being away from them, you would be forced to rely on the public baths in the city…

Even with some bathhouses having baths only for women, that did not stop men from forcing their way into them.

You didn’t mind being dirty for weeks on end.

The two of you fell into another pattern of life; you going into the city and spending hours translating foreign dialogue, and Lucius working on the farm for most days, sometimes accompanying you.

There was…something else strange as well.

It was always a coin toss on what weeks Lucius would speak to you or not.

Yes, he was always a man of few words, but this was different. There were some days when you asked him about his day, he would tell you what boring tasks he did. Than, on others, it was just one word: “Good.”

Never “Bad”, never “Just okay”; only “Good”. Even when you knew it wasn’t, that’s all he would say.

And you could endure it.

It had already been a little over half a year since the two of you started living together. In the eyes of Rome (as mere Plebians), you would be married once a year passed.

This was perhaps the best marriage you could ask for as a Roman woman. Still…every day that Lucius would not speak to you only brought more dread upon your shoulders.

When he stopped even looking at you, that was when you went to Diana one day.

“It’s so lovely to see you.” She smiled, setting down two cups of wine and sitting. “It’s felt like ages!”

With her youngest baby on your lap, you chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “You honestly didn’t need to get the wine out.”

“Nonsense!” She waved her hand. “It’s a celebration just to be in your presence. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

“How’s the farm? Lucius?”

“Well,” you took another sip, setting your cup down. “the farm has been alright. I know at least how to properly water crops and know when they’re ready to harvest or not. I help Lucius sometimes, but…he likes things his own way. He was a farmer too, I understand.”

She hummed. “And as a betrothed? I hope having your own home would help; to me, you two treated each other more like acquaintances than anything else.”

All you could do was avoid eye contact and bounce the giggling baby on your knee.

“Ah.” She sighed. “So not much has changed?”

“We both talk more than we had at your farm, but somehow, less at the same time.” You explained.

Diana reached over and held your hand, asking softly. “When was the last time you were intimate?”

As if she were a man, you tore your hand from hers. “What?”

“I do not wish anything to be forced upon you,” she stated first. “especially with what has happened to you. But…it is still important, especially to your future marriage.”

“We…we haven’t done anything in…months.” You were not going to tell her you hadn’t even seen him naked. You were not going to tell her you hadn’t done you “duty” as a woman.

She nodded. “There must be something plaguing his mind terribly.”

“I know that!” You cried. “He just won’t tell me.”

“Men do not like talking,” Diana sighed. “I have been married to Atticus for fifteen years, and even after seven children, there are parts of his past I still do not know of. What Lucius frets over is important though. You must dig your heels into the ground and let him know you are not doing anything until he tells you what he has issue with.”

The baby on your lap cooed as you held her, reaching for parts of your clothing. Diana took her from you once the baby started fussing, and you offered her a grateful smile.

“I’ll try my best with him.”

She squeezed your shoulder. “He will come to his senses. If not, then he truly hit his head too hard in the Colosseum.”

Except, you couldn’t confront him when you got home. Even though the sun was only beginning to set, when you arrived, the house was silent. You peeked into his bedroom and saw that he was already fast asleep.

With a sigh, you finished your nightly activities, and when the sun went down, you were in your own bed.

The nightmare was unlike any you had before.

Hands from all around you reached out to you. Some grabbed clumps of your hair, stuck their fingers into your mouth, caressed the most intimate parts of your body, or even tear your skin off.

You blinked and then you were in the palace, surrounded by cloaked figures. Someone forced you onto your back, and you looked up and saw Geta, raising a knife high above his head before diving it into your stomach. He carved it out before digging his hands into the opening he made and pulled out your womb.

After sitting up in bed, you had thought you awoken. When you opened your bedroom door, you were welcomed to a field of reeds, seeing nothing for miles. All but a silhouette in the distance. You could not make out it to be a man or a woman; all you knew was that you needed to run to them.

Yet, even as you dashed through the fields, calling out a name you do not even remember, your feet sank into the ground with each step.

The earth swallowed you whole before you could even reach them.

You didn’t awake with a scream; you didn’t even awake with a cry. You did awake in a sweat. Sitting up, you slowly pulled the blanket away from your body. Your stomach was unwounded, and nothing had happened.

Without knowing why, you rose from your bed and slipped on your sandals. Not even putting on a robe, you walked out of the house into the cold, night air. Numbly, you treaded through the tall grass away from the house and stopped.

The stars above you watched as you fell to your knees, and the past finally had the last laugh.

You wept for your mother (whose touch you never felt).

You wept for your father (who you had to take care of the same way he took care of you).

You wept for Marcus (the first man outside of your father to ever see you as a person).

You wept for Lucilla (the woman who saved you in more ways than one).

You wept for the innocence you lost to the twin emperors (and how you mercilessly killed them).

You wept and wept, until you felt bile claw its way up your throat and out of your mouth.

The tears did not stop even after you were finished.

Two hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you tried to tear yourself away with a sharp cry. You were turned around, and even though your tears blinded you, you could see that it was Lucius.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes grown.

You couldn’t speak clearly, only shaking your head and saying ‘No’ over and over. Lucius led you to the water pump and sat you down by it. Cranking the handle until the water flowed freely, he cupped his hand to catch some of it before gently washing your face.

The cool water grounded you, and your sobs began to slow. Once you were only left with shallow breathing and a stuffed nose, Lucius finally sat beside you.

“What happened?” He asked again, although, returning to his normal, straight-toned self.

“Bad dream.” Was all you said.

He said nothing at first. Then, looking down at the grass beneath him, he said. “Would talking about it help you?”

It was meant to be a helpful question, but it only angered you. “You ask that now? After I run out into the night screaming?”

Lucius squinted his eyes. “Why does that bother you?”

“I know you have nightmares too.” You scoffed. “I have asked you dozens of times if you wish to talk to me about them, and you have always said no. You’ve never once asked me about mine, so how dare you expect me to tell you about it now when you cannot even share yours with me!”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head.

You stood up, walking back to the house. “You’re right, it isn’t fair.”

He jumped to his feet. “You can’t walk away without telling me why this is troubling you.”

“You first.”

“What?”

You turned to face him. “We are to be married in less than a year, at least ‘In the eyes of Rome’ as you say, yet you do not even look at me anymore!”

His shoulders fell, and he shook his head. “I am looking at you-.”

“-I ask you how you are these days, and you lie to me every time.” You interrupted. “The few instances you allow me to work beside you, you criticize every little thing I do. I understand that I am the farthest thing you wanted for as a wife-.”

 It was that word that struck a chord. Despite saying it every so often those past few months…it was only then it occurred to you that where Lucius was your first husband…you were not his first wife.

He tore his gaze away from yours, as if he knew you had figured it out. You sighed. “Gods above…I’m sorry for what has happened to her, and I will never know the loss of a love like that…but I cannot be viewed as her replacement-.”

“-Who told you that you were?” He sharpened his tone.

You swallowed, knowing that this would all end in tears no matter what you said. “You do not tell me anything. I will never ask you to care for me the way you cared for her, but she is gone-.”

“-I couldn’t do anything after she died but weep and watch her body float into the ocean.” He hissed. “I vowed to kill the man that slaughtered her, and I didn’t. It had been perhaps just a month since her death, did I promise myself to another woman. I have dishonored her memory three times.”

“I do not know how long you need me to apologize for something I could not control, but I will if that means you will stop hating me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You hate that I will be your wife!” Your voice was growing hoarse. “I don’t understand it at all. I will be whatever it is you wish me to be in few months’ time, because you will own me. Even if you wish me to be dead, it shall be done because what I want will not matter-.”

“-Must you make everything about yourself?!” He finally yelled. “Would it soothe you if I said I despised every part of you? That if Jupiter himself came down and offered me my old life in exchange for you, I would give you up to him?! Would it give you any peace of mind if I told you I would have rather died in the arena than live a thousand years with you?”

You had expected him to at least pause after he made his confession. To at least have the courage to look you in the eye and watch as the words sunk into your being. Yet, as soon as he finished, he stomped back to the house; and you were alone outside again.

The tears upon your face glimmered from the light in the sky above you, for all you could do was stare at the little farmhouse Lucius had built for you.

How strange that something you once saw as a sign of devotion, was now revealed to be one of complicity.

He had admitted his disdain for your future marriage. You knew that it would be loveless (you would never escape that), but you wished at least for respect. Seeing as how you were not even going to have that, you dragged your feet over to the tree where your horse was tied up.  Mounting her with nothing but the clothes on your back, you raced down the pathway.

For the first day, you had stayed at Diana and Atticus’ farm. You said nothing about Lucius, and tried to spend the most time with the children to avoid any questions.

On the second day, you finally went back to the city. Even though the man in charge of you yelled louder than Lucius had at you, it did not phase you. You merely nodded and returned to work. With what money they paid you for the day, you spent it on a room at the safest inn you could find. You had another nightmare that night. Not as horrible as the one two days prior, but awful enough for you to lay awake until the sun rose.

The third day seemed to be ordinary, until you finished your job, and you were promenading along the market. As you eyed the fruit at Isidorus’ stand, a man came to stand beside you.

“Good sir,” you heard Lucius’ voice. “do you have a wife?”

Isidorus nodded. “I do.”

“What from your stand would you give her if she was angry at you?”

He eyed you before smiling at Lucius. “My ears to listen.”

You turned, promptly walking away. Of course, Lucius followed.

“I didn’t know you confided into strangers about our qualms.”

“He’s not a stranger.” you kept trying to lose him. “And gifts will not suffice for an apology this time.”

He got in front of you, uttering your name. You stopped, sighing. “What else have you come to say to me?”

“That I am a fool.”

Although you weren’t necessarily expecting him to admit it, you only nodded. “You very much are.”

He began. “For my entire life, I was not allowed to be entirely truthful with others. Whether it was how I felt in the moment, or even my own name. I’m not used to the freedom of being candid with one another. And I have been mistreating you; I have provided a home, but I haven’t provided your wellbeing. Ari-.” Lucius paused, breathing through his nose. “Arishat and I lived on a farm, that was all I knew while being a husband. I will love her until the end of my days, but that does not give me the right to neglect you. I will…I will try with all my being to share my thoughts with you.”

You stared at him, feeling as if you would blink, and you would awaken from another dream. Yet once you did and saw that he was still in front of you, you said.

“I didn’t mean to insult your memory of her.”

He shook his head. “I believe she would hit me if she were here and saw how I treated you.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “Truly, for everything. I…it’s not only you, I don’t know if I will ever feel like myself after…everything.”

Lucius already knew. Still, looking around himself, he then said. “Where is your horse?”

“The inn I’ve been staying at has a stable. You walked the whole way here?”

“It’s what I deserved.”

“You smell horrible.” You mustered a shy grin.

He mirrored you, looking away. “I have for a while.”

“I do as well. I was…I was going to brave the baths; would you like to join me?”

Your offer took him by surprise. Usually, a question like that would be an invitation to more salacious activities to take place. Still, what took him aback more was how you were initially so afraid of the public baths, yet there you were.

“I shall.” He agreed.

Thus, the two of you walked beside one another. There were many baths in Rome, yet it would be challenging to find one that had a separate bath for women and one for men. By the time you reached the third bathhouse, you sighed.

“This will do.”

Lucius shook his head. “I’ll ask the workers at this one if they know-.”

“-No.” You stopped him. “It’s fine. I wish to speak more with you.”

He was still hesitant, but gave in. The two of you entered and drifted off to the separate changing rooms. It was strange that the bathhouse had rooms for the different sex to disrobe, but not baths itself.

After locking your clothes away, you ventured out into the main pool. You were welcomed to an array of naked bodies. You weren’t entirely innocent of course, even before everything. You were never to see any of these people again; it was Lucius you would live with.

Quickly, you disappeared half of your body under the surface of the water and clung to the wall of the large bath. Other people around you laughed and socialized, only putting you more in the eyes of men who only came to the baths for one thing.

Yet, before you could take a moment to worry, your eyes fell to Lucius who entered. You soon averted them and felt the water shift beside you as he entered. You turned to look at him, leveling yourself with the side of the pool, essentially shoulder to shoulder with him. The hear radiating off of his body onto yours reminded you too much of that night months ago; the one where you whispered your name into his ear.

“What were you like as a boy?” You questioned in an attempt to hide how flustered you were.

He hummed. “Why do you ask?”

“If you wish to be more honest with me, than I think it should be best to stary with something minor.”

“I understand. I was spoiled growing up in the palace. Still, I wished nothing more than for adventure. All my life, the mere thought of war and battles were taught as a way to bring glory to the empire; pride for one’s family. I had gotten my foolish wish when Maximus died, and my mother sent me away from Rome.” He paused momentarily, before continuing. “I ran all across the land until I was thirteen, where I finally settled in Numidia. I had changed my named too many times to count and settled upon Hanno.”

Your attention did not waver for a moment. When he was finished you asked. “How old were you when you left?”

“Eight…” There was a sad silence between the two of you. A silence held in almost reverence for all the troubles he had been through. “What about you?”

Even with your uneasiness to answer your starkly different childhood, you did so; also have been promising to be honest with him. You spoke of your father, your past friends, the house you grew up in. He never once looked upon you with envy or hatred.

“Your father sounded like a good man.” He said.

“He was.” You nodded, feeling a weight settle in your chest. "I think he would have liked you.”

“I can only hope.”

The conversation halted after that, unknown if you should wait for him to ask a question, or for you to ask another. Both of your eyes drifted around the bath house as people filtered in and out. When your gaze fell back onto Lucius’ you watched his eyes flicker to something behind you. Before you could utter a word, he placed his hand upon your bare back, bringing his lips to the space between your ear and your jaw.

It all happened so fast you had no time to react, and your body shivered upon the feel of him being so close to you.

“There’s a man eyeing you from behind.” He whispered into your skin. “Don’t look at him, just keep looking at me. I’m sorry.”

You pulled away slightly, doing as he told. He traced circles on your back with his thumb, staring intently at you. Even as you shrunk under his eyes, they did not frighten you.

Deciding to play along, you trailed your hand up his bare arm until resting on his shoulder. You felt his skin erupt into goosebumps and he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Okay?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just…it’s been a while.”

Anyone with any sense knew that meant more than one thing. It had been a while since he felt anyone’s touch; nonetheless, a naked woman’s.

From behind him, you saw a small group of girls all looking at you. They all looked a little younger than you, and acted like so, giggling loudly and talking without a care in the world. It was only then that you noticed they were looking at Lucius.

“Is there someone eyeing me now?” He attempted to tease you when he noticed your gaze.

You nodded, no hint of humor behind your voice. “A good few of them.”

“Is that so?”

You removed your hand. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“Wouldn’t mind what?” He pinched his eyebrows together.

“…Getting your release from a woman that isn’t me.” You were puzzled by his seeming ignorance. “You’re a man, I understand-.”

He said your name with somewhat of gasp. You didn’t listen one bit.

“No, I mean it. I will not be more selfish than I already have been, expecting you to remain celibate because I don’t think I will-.”

Lucius said your name again and you stopped. Even when you did, he said it a third time as if to know he had your attention. He continued to run his fingers up and down your back.

“I will not dishonor you-.”

“-I have been dishonored several times before, it does not matter-.”

“-Listen to me.” He said softly yet firmly. “Even if I desired someone carnally, it is not selfish of you to want my loyalty. I’m not a boy who wishes to bed anything that breathes. I don’t think I can do so with someone I do not have any deep feelings for. You are my wife, and I will not treat you less.”

He didn’t call you his ‘betrothed’. As if, the moment you accepted his apology, you were already his other half. To hear him speak with so much certainty after neither of you knowing what any day would bring…it brought an astonishing comfort you never knew you needed.

“Thank you.” You felt like your heart could beat again.

“You don’t-.”

“-No but I do. I don’t…I don’t think I could give you anything of myself if you wanted it. It’s still…I remember a lot of what Geta did to me, and I forgot it at the same time. It doesn’t happen a lot in my nightmares, but it still does. That one night you found me he…he cut out my womb and held it in his hands. I thought I woke up, but I didn’t, and I think I was in Elysian Fields, but I only saw a shadow. I don’t know what any of that means.”

Lucius let you finish all of the anxiety you had thrown onto him. Still, releasing a shallow breath, he said.

“You die in most of my dreams.” He clarified. “The bad ones, I mean. A lot of people do, but you’ve been in them the most. There are times I see both you and Arishat, or my mother, or all three of you and…those are the worst. The night I found you outside, I couldn’t…I had a horrible dream that I couldn’t even see your face, but I knew it was you when I found you hanging in the Colosseum.”

If the both of you weren’t naked and, in the bathhouse, you would have embraced him. Yet, with the most understanding look in your eyes, you brought your hand to the base of his neck, his loose curls between your fingers. You swore you felt him relax into your touch for just a moment.

“I’ve known everyone to have their own beliefs of dreams.” You whispered. “They’re meant to predict the future, they reflect the past, they are punishments, they are blessings, and they mean nothing. I wonder if it’s possible they are all of them.”

He nodded. “I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

“I do.” Lucius unknowingly leaned into you just ever so slightly. You grinned from ear to ear, pulling your hand away from him. “I believe you need to cut your hair.”

He chortled. “I’m not spending anything on cutting it. It’s fine.”

“I’ll cut it then.”

“I would rather be stabbed.”

“Oh, quit being dramatic.” you playfully swatted him. “There’s a reason I would’ve been a better hairdresser than tailor.”

The two of you teased one another for a minute longer after that. Than, even though the conversation died, it was not in vain. There was a quiet gentleness and protectiveness as you both shared a short distance between each other while bathing. Lucius kept his eye on you more than you did him, knowing that it was always possible a man could try to take advantage of you.

When all was said and done, you got your horse from the stable at the inn, and the two of you rode back to the farm with a newfound understanding of each other.

More than a year and a half have passed since the fall of the Roman Empire and its subsequent birth of the Republic. Your strange marriage with Lucius grew into a friendship of respect and understanding. You both talked more than you had when you were first betrothed, even if your busy schedules remained the same.

The farm had improved after its first harvest, even raising enough money to build a chicken coop and house a few chickens. The house itself was more furnished, and the two of you managed to purchase a bathtub, no longer needing to use the public ones in the city.

Both of you had changed as well. Even with what minimal farm work you did, it built both your strength and stamina. Lucius had begun to grow out his facial hair; not much for it to be an actual beard, but more so just under his nose. You’d joke about it looking like a caterpillar, to which he would lightly shove you away.

After the intimate discussion the two of you shared, it was only then you both realized you still didn’t know much about each other. Most importantly, the little things that made each of you a person.

So, you’d take time to get to know one another.

You were helping Lucius pull weeds around the crops when you found out he had ripped a monkey’s throat out with his teeth during his very first gladiator fight.

You were reading a collection of poetry one night when Lucius told you that you mouth the words of whatever you’re reading if you find it most interesting.

During supper one night, Lucius ate the entirety of the plate only to then eat whatever else you hadn’t. That was when your theory was proven right; he does forget to eat sometimes.

Both of you had tried to keep the housework to an equal amount; if he cooked one night, you’d clean the kitchen and vice versa. Yet, some remained stagnant; you always cut his hair, yet he always changed the horses’ shoes.

Cutting his hair was perhaps your favorite way to speak with him.

“Remember to clean your sandals before coming in next time.” He reminded you as he sat on a tree trunk outside. “You tracked in mud.”

Standing behind him while trimming small hairs, you shook your head. “My apologies, master of the house; it was downpouring and I was freezing.”

“Serves you right, I’d say.”

You placed the tip of the shears against his neck. “What else do you have to say?”

He snickered. “That you’re an astonishing woman who I am blessed to be with."

“Wrong answer, all lies.” You pretended to stab him, only to bring the shears back to his hair.

“I’m not lying!” Lucius laughed.

You only gave him a ‘tsk’ before continuing. “Are you sleeping any better?”

He said nothing at first. Your eyes drifted down to his hands and saw him pull on his tunic; another telltale sign of his nervousness.

“I keep seeing my mother’s face.” He admitted. “Only her face, nothing else.”

“It was the third night last night, right?”

“Yes.”

You sighed. “Would you want to hear a dream I had a few days ago to make you feel better?”

“Better because it was happy, or because you think I’ll feel happy I wasn’t you?”

“The latter.”

“Tell me.”

You turned his head to the side gently, continuing your work. “I stood in front of the entire senate of Rome, and they were all laughing at me. I don’t even know what I said, they only laughed and laughed.”

“Is that not what happened to you in the waking day?”

“No, they listened…I think.” You shook our head. “It more so angers me that, in the waking life, I presented logic to them, and they still chose Macrinus who showed nothing of the sort.”

“Some men like to speak of only desiring logic yet run away with their emotions once it is presented.” Lucius stated. “What had you told them?”

“That all of Rome would continue to riot if they killed Lucilla.” You said grimly. “I still don’t understand; they had their proof of the rage Rome’s children could feel when their general was killed, the only reason the city did not fall was because Macrinus was slain. I’m done.”

You set your shears down and Lucius stood, shaking the fallen hair off his clothes. He turned to you.

“If it matters at all, I think the only reason this house hasn’t fallen is because of you.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shoved him playfully. “Away with you, you’re just as much of the reason as I am.”

“I do all that I can.”

There were moments like this where you would not speak of childhood memories or events of your day. These moments were reserved for the days where it felt like time slowed down just to give you two the grace to speak about them in more detail.

With only a single candle between the two of you one quiet night, you told him how you have to walk a different path in the city sometimes simply to avoid brothels; hating the sounds you would hear from inside, the stench of cheap perfume and sweating bodies burning your nose, the men who would brag to their friends about the women they had.

At breakfast one day, before the sun had even rose, Lucius told you about a time when he was ten, still on the run. He had gone into a man’s house with the promise of food, only to then be hit the head with something so heavy, he was knocked out. He had awoken in a dark room, but managed to find a curtained window, and escaped. He never knew what would have happened to him if he had woken up just a minute later.

There was tenderness you shared with him that you had never shared with anyone in your life.You sht

That was only more apparent on one fateful day.

The first bad omen for the day that morning was when you had run out of sugar for breakfast. The second was when your horse was extra stubborn as you rode her into the city; it was so out of the ordinary, you wondered if you did something to make her hate you.

Still, everything was fine once you went to work. At least it was for the first half of the day.

There were aggressive people from across the land coming into the city you certainly had to deal with, but the worst was when a man twice your size bluffed you with a slap. Even so, the other men you worked with had yelled and sent him away.

That day though…there was a woman with a look in her eyes.

You thought you had seen pure rage when you had been with Geta. Yet, that day was a lesson to you; wrath had many faces.

She mumbled in Greek, but you did not know what she said at first. Then, she attempted to speak Latin. You politely told her you could speak Greek, and so with exhaustion, she told you that she was going to visit her mother.

When asked for her mother’s name, she didn’t say it. After asking again, she became enraged, yelling at you that she should just be able to be let in. When you resisted, she grabbed your bad arm, yanking it to pull you closer to her.

The pain shot through your shoulder like a bolt of lightning, and you cried out. She tugged on your hair as the men beside you tried to pry her away from you. Luckily, she didn’t manage to yank any of it out once the men forced her away from you. Tears fell freely over your face as you cradled yourself, unable to stop the sobs from leaving your lips.

They let you leave early yet paid you as if you were there the whole day.

The ride back to the farm wasn’t any better, but at least your steed took notice of your heartache and was more merciful to you. When you made it home, you slowed her down when you saw Lucius limping towards the house.

You both stopped where you were, staring at one another as if you weren’t supposed to be seeing the other.

“Why are you back so early?” He asked first.

“Why are you dragging your foot?” You asked second.

Lucius took a deep breath, and you saw tears in his eyes. “I fell.”

The only time you had seen him cry was when burying Lucilla; it wouldn’t be from simply falling. You slowly pulled yourself off your horse but did so quick enough before he could rush to help you. You wished nothing more than to pull him into the warmth of the house, to sit him down and tend to his wound to distract you from your own.

Yet, the moment you took his hand, he began to weep.

“Oh Lucius.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to cradle his face. He wrapped both of his arms around you, bringing you onto the ground with him. You yelped a little when he squeezed your bad shoulder too tight, and he pulled away.

“What happened?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You need-.”

“-What happened?!”

Knowing he wouldn’t stop asking, you told him. “Someone at the gate attacked me. Pulled on my bad arm, my hair…it wasn’t as bad as you’d think-.”

“-Where is he?” He lowered his tone and his demeanor.

Your jaw dropped into a surprised huff. “She is long gone by now, and even if she wasn’t then as my husband, you should stay with me instead of wandering the streets of Rome hoping to find someone to be your anger’s victim!”

Though he still wore that rage upon his face, it soon fell once he saw your own tears fall from your eyes like dewdrops on flowers. Lucius laid himself flat on the dirt, and you sat above him.

“I have been married to you longer than I had been to Arishat.” He confessed. “I knew her for longer, but-but not as deeply; no, I-I knew her more than…I don’t…It’s been long since her death, yet there are moments I think of her, and I cannot stop crying.”

You never knew this was in his heart. You knew to never speak of Arishat, only listen whenever he would bring her up (even so, it was once in a blue moon).

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled, trying to pull himself together. “I know she is gone, and I shouldn’t be-.”

“-You shouldn’t what?” You interrupted. “Remember her? You think I wish for you to forget the woman you so loved?”

He shook his head. “No, but it’s selfish of me to-.”

You were the one to make him lose his words this time. With both hesitation certainty, you placed his head into your lap. It was too late for you to stop once you did, and you felt your own body tense. Then, upon taking a look at his body battered from rigorous work, and another at his face, which relaxed with his eyes fully shut, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Lucius,” you sighed. “never will I think you are a horrible man for mourning her. You missing her shows just how much you adored her, and how she was a treasure to you. In another life, above all, I wish I could have met her. You are not in the wrong for wanting to see her again. I know you do not love me-.”

“-I do love you.” He opened his eyes upon saying it.

Your heart felt as if it was going to beat itself out of your chest and run away when he said those four words. To preserve your sanity, you took it a different way and smiled sadly.

“Not in the way you loved her.” You said softly. “But what else more can I ask for in a husband than one who treats me with a gentleness I did not know was possible? One who has been there to protect me even before we were married?”

Lucius took a deep breath, rubbing his face to clear away his tears. “You’re too good to me.”

“Gods above,” you groaned tiredly. “we can go back and forth on who deserves each other. Let us just go back into the house, have supper, and sleep.”

“I would like that.” He hissed as he went to stand.

Helping him, once he was on his best foot, you said. “You never told me what you did to your leg.”

He looked behind him at the field. “There was a snake and a rock.”

You gave him a look. “And what happened with them?”

“I don’t wish to speak of it.” He said grimly.

In any other instance, you would have laughed. Yet, as his eyes were still heavy from crying, you just nodded. The both of you helped each other into the house, and you sat him down on one of the several cushions in the living area.

“Your arm,” he asked. “how bad is it?”

You shook your head. “Just really sore. I think she might have left a nasty bruise or two somewhere, but I won’t know yet.”

“Put one of the cloths in the pot with water and put it over the fire.” He told. “Take it out after a few minutes, let it rest for another, then put it on your shoulder. It should help.”

“Thank you.” You stood, doing so, saying. “I swore we had bandages somewhere. I’ll make something for you to drink too; I bought some herbs just last week.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of you as you worked. If it were any other man, you would have felt unsafe; yet, it was only Lucius.

Little by little that night, both of you helped heal one another.

Half a year passed since that night, and you and Lucius had only grown closer. Perhaps as close as you could be with a man who was not your husband by choice.

Not much on the farm had changed; you two were living comfortably, and happily, almost making all the turmoil from the first year worth it. The both of you decided to make more visits to Atticus and Diana’s home, realizing just how much you both missed having someone to talk to outside of each other; but that did not mean you had to keep things hidden of course.

If anything, you shared everything with each other.

So much so, that when Lucius asked you why you held onto him longer when he embraced you on your birthday, you told him the truth.

“I don’t want every time we touch to be when it is in turmoil.” You explained, growing meeker. “And I…I’ve missed the feeling of it when it has not been forced upon me.”

Lucius stared at you with a look you had never seen from him. He had been gentle with you many a times, but they way his eyes fell into yours…

He took a step closer to you, and when you showed no sign of discomfort, he took your face into his hands. Your eyes shut at the feeling of him, and he pressed his head against yours. Never in your life had someone’s breath upon your skin feel so immaculate.

From there on out, it always seemed like you had to have a hand on each other one way or another.

It started with holding hands whenever walking through the city together. He used to ‘lead’ you through the crowds in the past, but more so with a hand hovering over your back. No, him holding your hand meant he would have to go where you would go if anything were to happen.

Alongside this, he’d reach over and hold it at Atticus and Diana’s house; whether it was during dinner, or simply just talking. The eldest child had said what the rest of the household had been thinking.

“They’re finally acting like they’re married!”

Because even when there were no other eyes besides yours, he would still hold your hand. You wonder if it ever became a way for Lucius to ground himself; because it certainly did for you.

You hugged him more often as well. Those used to be for ‘substantial’ occasions; those being celebrations or heartbreaks. Now, they were incorporated into greetings and goodbyes. Of course, it only took a few weeks before they were than made into simple desires.

He would be cooking dinner, and you would come beside him to embrace him. You would be gathering eggs from the chickens, and he would wait for you to set the basket down before tossing his arms around you.

At night, it was normal for you both to trade spots as one of you would read a story, and the other would have their head in the other’s lap.

This happened on so many occasions, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise for what Lucius proposed next, but it did.

“If you don’t favor the question I’m about to ask you, then you are allowed to never speak to me again.” He said, his feet hanging off the arm of the lecti couch you both bought that year.

“Well,” you scoffed, sitting on the end of it. “I will have to speak to you again because we live together.”

“Would you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Never in your life had you thought that would have been his question. When you didn’t speak right away, he backtracked. “I don’t expect you to. I understand if-.”

“-The nights are growing colder.” You stated, no visible uneasiness. “I’ve noticed it, and I don’t think any number of blankets could warm me.”

He swallowed thickly, and this was perhaps one of the first times you’d ever seen him like this. “Yes…it’s cold.”

You nodded, and another beat of silence fell between you two. Standing up, you tugged at the seams of your dress. “I-I’ll go change.”

“Yes,” he sat up. “I shall as well.”

Disappearing into your room, you tossed your day clothes off then slipped on a nightdress. After pacing around the floor for a few moments, you gathered the courage to go out into the hall and knock on Lucius’ door.

It was opened as if he was standing right behind it.

He wore just a plain, tattered tunic, and said nothing; yet, you caught his eyes run down you before immediately bringing them back to your face. You were not even in his room yet, and already your body grew warmer.

“May I come in?” You asked.

“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside and you entered.

Somehow, you were no longer man and wife; you were two people who had just discovered a strange, yet burning, feeling that you both held for one another. A feeling that you were both afraid to say aloud…because then it would be real.

The only light in his room was from the moon just peeking through the curtain of his one window. Looking around, you saw that it was still just the bare minimum; a bed, a small table beside it with a lamp, and a dresser. The only others things of note were his sword leaning against the wall, and just a few dirty clothes on the floor.

“I-I tried to clean before you came.” He mentioned.

“Is the rest under the bed?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Yes.”

Before you could change your mind, you pulled the covers off one side of the bed and slid under them. Glancing behind at Lucius, you saw him wear a look where you knew he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” You asked.

“That’s usually the side I sleep on but-.”

You rolled over to the other side. “Are you content now?”

He wheezed, moving to his designated side, slipping under the covers. “Very.”

“Good.” You smiled up at him.

His own mouth lowered as you could see him thinking. He then said. “I don’t expect us to do anything.”

You watched as his eyes dropped from you, as if it was too invasive just to merely look. Thinking from only your heart, you scooted closer, resting your hand on his arm. You ran your fingers up and down his muscles, but then guided his arm to wrap around your waist.

“Okay?”

He hummed, pulling you just a little closer. “Yes.”

“And we’ll just lay together?” You whispered. “Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

And that’s what you did. The compete truth was that you would caress him only to remind yourself that it was Lucius and not Geta. His arms, his back, his face…he was nothing like him.

After a few more nights, you told him that as you both lay awake, unable to sleep. He had pulled you on top of him that night, saying that you could see his face better in the moonlight. You only giggled, hiding your face in his chest; even that was too much for you.

It was easier to tell each other things in the darkness. You always knew that, but with being in the same bed (you had not gone back to your room for a week), the words flowed out of both your mouths.

“After my father died,” you said one night as you laid on your side facing him. “I would stroke my own hair or even my arms and pretend they were someone else’s. Even when I was with Geta.”

Lucius stared at you, then immediately began to caress your cheek. You shut your eyes, sighing at the feeling.

“I never thought I’d be able to sleep next to another woman again.” He whispered.

“And now?” You looked into his eyes.

He stopped his movements, but did not remove his hand. You watched every part of him. How his chest heaved shallowly, his arms tensing ever so slightly, but his eyes…gods his eyes. They were heavy as they looked at you; a look that made your heart flutter and not shutter.

Swallowing your fear, you sat up and inched closer to him. Your face hovered above his, and your breath heated his skin. His hand continued to trace shapes about your cheek, and shutting your eyes, you placed your lips upon his.

It was the gentlest kiss you ever shared with a man.

You had pulled away, dreading to see how he felt. When your eyes befell his gentle smile, and his other hand came up to cup your face, you kissed him again.

And again, and again, and again.

You climbed upon his lap without pulling your lips away from him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sat up, his own arm encircling your waist and drawing you impossibly closer.

Lucius parted from you, and as you whined at the loss of his lips, they soon settled upon your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your chin. Your heavy pants turned to soft grunts as he kissed down your neck, his mustache scratching your skin in just the right way.

Your hands settled into his hair the lower he traveled, moving your night gown off your shoulder to kiss your collarbone. You felt yourself becoming intoxicated from him, and only then noticed you had been for a while.

Oh, how you wished you could bottle up his laugh, his strength, his stubbornness, and get drunk every night. His kisses only added fuel to the fire that was your desire for him.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, and your body, once enflamed, ran cold.

“No!” You tore yourself from his lap, nearly falling off the bed.

Lucius said your name, leaning forward on instinct but soon stopped once he saw you crawl away. “I’m sorry.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. All you knew was that you needed to go, so you did. Cradling yourself in your arms, you got up from his bed, rushing out of his room and into yours.

You half expected him to knock on the door, then, when you wouldn’t answer, him yell and curse you before breaking it down. Yet nothing of the sort happened. You heard his own door open, and you saw his shadow on the other side, but he did not touch your door. He left after a moment of waiting.

When his own door shut, did you finally cry.

You told yourself that night, you would wake up far earlier than Lucius would so you simply wouldn’t have to see him.

When you awoke, you did the exact opposite. You laid in your bed, trying to return to sleep, only to be forced to lie in the dark. The sun rose into your room, and you heard Lucius’ door open. Still, you did not get up.

It was quite comedic, actually. With your door still shut, he knew you were still home. How he tried his best to keep quiet for you, yet his footsteps had always been heavy, the front door had always creaked, and you could always hear him cursing under his breath every time.

When you knew he had left the house, that was when you stood from your bed, slipping on your sandals. You didn’t bother changing out of your nightdress, leaving your room, and then the house.

Lucius was amongst the chickens when he saw you. He didn’t bother hiding the surprise upon his face at the sight of you. You walked to him until there was little space between you.

“Last night-.”

You took his hand from his side, placing it upon your face. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb as if it was natural. Kissing the palm of his hand, you trailed it down to your clothed breast. He breathed your name with hesitance, but you shushed him. You held his hand there, not taking your eyes off him.

“I will show you, one day.” You told him. “I will show you the mark Geta had made. The one where I myself can scarcely see it, yet I know that it haunts me. But now…” You brought your other hand up to his face, tracing your thumb over his lip. “I just want you to understand.”

He kissed the pad of your thumb, nodding. You embraced him, and he held you with both gentleness and ferocity. The rest of the day carried on as normal, yet you aided him with the chores on the farm.

You went to bed with him that night, but it was the first time he did not entrap you in his arms. You knew he was still afraid of hurting you, but you would be a liar if you said you weren’t thankful for the space.

Still, he would feel your touch every day; whether it was something as small as brushing his hand, or as substantial as kissing his cheek.

As the both of you lay awake one night, you played with the sleeve of his tunic.

“Could I lie on top of you?” You asked.

Lucius looked over at you, nodding. “You never need to ask.”

“I want to.” You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. “I never want to force you to do anything.”

His eyes fell to your hips before returning them to your face. “I’ll tell you if I wish to not do something. I hope you know you can as well.”

“I do. Would you like to touch me?”

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

You moved his hands to your hips, which he held firmly, yet not enough to hurt you. You leaned down so your lips touched his.

“No teeth.” You said.

“No teeth.” He repeated.

Lucius sighed into your mouth as you kissed. Despite how you were on top of him, the kiss was sweet, shy even. When you pulled away, you trailed your lips from his cheek to his ear.

“Do you dream about me?” You rasped.

He said nothing, and you continued to kiss every part of his face besides his lips.

“It’s okay.” You kissed his Adam’s Apple. “I want you too.”

“Yes.” His breath hitched.

“What was I doing in your favorite one?” You kissed his pulse point.

“You,” he breathed sharply through his nose. “you’re touching yourself.”

“Would that please you?” You sat up in somewhat surprise, resting your hands on his chest. “To watch me do so?”

He shook his head. “I want to do what pleases you.”

It felt foreign to hear someone say they want you to feel good. Instead of cowering from it, you faced it head on. You kneeled for a moment, hiking your gown up to your hips before sitting back on your ankles,  exposing yourself to him. Lucius’ jaw clenched at the sight of your naked center, and he drew his hands away from your hips, falling them into fists upon the mattress.

“I wish to watch you as you watch me.”

Without looking away from you, he drew his hand down to his cock, pulling it out from under his tunic. Your eyes grew just a hint. There was no doubt upon him being more well-endowed than others, but it was still different from how you imagined.

Shutting your eyes, you trailed your fingers over your cunt, your thumb playing with your clit. The sounds of Lucius’ smothered grunts, and the skin of his cock on his fingers only added to your pleasure. Digging deeper and moving faster, you felt a coil within your stomach tighten when you opened your eyes and saw as Lucius’ gaze bore into yours.

Light moans escaped your lips as your hips moved with a mind of their own, watching the man beneath you take pleasure from his own hand. It was him chanting your name like a prayer that sent you over the edge. With your eyes shut, the coil within you snapped, and pleasure filled your veins.

Not long after, you felt a warmth coat your nightdress. Opening your eyes, you looked down and saw the white-hot residue of Lucius’ release. Your gaze drew to his cock, still clutched in his hand, yet red with droplets of white running over his knuckles.

You don’t know what possessed you to, but you lowered your mouth down to clean him with your tongue.

“Gods be good!” He huffed, laughing your name.

“What?” You wiped your mouth.

 “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Grinning like the devil, you slid off the bed, walking towards the door. “I hope it’s a pleasant one then.”

He sat up. “Where are you going?”

“To change. You dirtied me as well.” You teased.

“Take one of my tunics from the dresser.”

It almost made you laugh that he didn’t want you to leave for even a second. You opened the top drawer, grabbing the longest tunic you could find before facing him. “Close your eyes.”

He laid on his side, putting a pillow over his head. Many would find it strange how the both of you would see the most intimate parts of yourself while doing one of the most intimate acts together, yet you didn’t want him to see you naked.

But Lucius never thought of it as strange. He knew what you had been through, and never once judged you.

When you were clothed, you slid into bed, wrapping your arms around his body and pressing a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

“You’re a good man, Lucius Verus Aurelius.” You whispered. “I will tell you that until the day you die, or when you finally believe me.”

He squeezed your hand, relaxing into your touch. You never slept so peacefully until that night.

You always had to see him whenever he would touch you so intimately. There would be nights where there was only a single candle in the room either while he caressed the swell of our breasts, or the inside of your thigh as you sat on his lap.

His fingers were too much for you at first, but he never ridiculed you. When you whimpered at the feeling, he retracted them, kissing your eyes. You asked him again to try, and he whispered praises into your hair as the pain from a dry spell soon turned into pleasure.

It was usually at night did these moments of exploration occurred. In the day, the most you would ever do was kiss. That is, until the first time you cut his hair since the discovery of feelings.

“I don’t want to get hair on your floor.” Lucius said as he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the foot of your bed. It was hotter than sin that day. He wore nothing but a loincloth, but that barely did anything to help him from the heat. You wore essentially a thin shift that would usually be under your dress; yet again, because of the heat, that was all you wore.

You sat on the bed, legs draped over his shoulders as you cut his hair. “It’s your floor too. You built the house.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I haven’t slept here for a while now. Besides, I will clean up.”

“I had no idea you favored doing domestic work now.” He turned and pressed a kiss to your knee.

You slapped the back of his head. “Don’t move! I’ll give you a bald spot if you do so again.”

“Yes, my mistress of the house.” He joked.

“You’re horrible.”

“You just told me I was a good man not so long ago.”

“And I can just as easily revoke that title.”

He stayed silent the rest of the time, but not from any underlining anger. Simply from his at ease posture, you knew he was smiling.

He smiled more those days.

When you were finished, you tossed your scissors aside, but Lucius’ hands settled upon your thighs, not allowing you to get up. You scoffed.

“What is it?”

He turned to face you, kneeling up to meet you. “I wish to try something, but only if you wish it as well.”

You rose your brow, but smiled, kissing his nose. “It will be difficult if I do not know what it is.”

Without drawing his eyes away from yours, he slid his hands up your thighs, bringing the bottom of your shift with it. It seemed normal at first, but once he lowered his mouth, your chest tightened.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I want to kiss you there.” His breath caressed your cunt and you mewled at the feeling. “I think you’ll enjoy it, but we don’t have to.”

Your heart changed from beating in fear, to then in anticipation. You loved how he kissed your lips, and every inch of your skin that was not covered, what would it feel like to have his lips there?

Kissing the top of his head, you laid on your elbows, nodding.

“Let me hear you say it.” He nosed the inside of your thigh.

“Yes.” You sighed. “Please.”

He lowered his mouth back down, pressing the lightest of kissed onto your center. You groaned through shut lips, only for them to part open as the hairs of his mustache tickled you whilst he began to lap at your wetness.

Tossing your head back, you sat up, running your hands through his hair, unconsciously rolling your hips to meet his mouth. His groan reverberated through your body, only adding to the pleasure you were feeling.

“Lucius, Lucius,” you babbled his name until it didn’t sound like a word.

His nose bumped against your aching clit the same time his tongue penetrated your cunt. You yelped as that familiar, tightening feeling swept over you. His half-lidded eyes would stare up at you every once in a while, as he would continue to drink from you as if he had been stranded in the desert. Just as you were on the brink of release, you drew him away from you.

“What-what is it?” He huffed. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, pressing your lips to his before scooting further up the bed. With one last breath, you pulled your shift over your head, revealing your bare body to him. His gaze ran over your figure unashamedly.

“Come here.” You beckoned.

He crawled onto the bed and over your body, yet still looked at your face. You took his hand and laid it over your breast. His body ran cold at what was on the side of it. A bite mark.

“He branded me all those years ago.” You confessed. “And it has not left since.”

Geta…

You ran your hand up his chest. “I love you, and I trust you with every part of my body. I need you to know that.”

“I love you.” He echoed, pressing the tenderest of kisses to the mark and you gasped lightly. “I have for so long now; I…I need you.”

“Then have me.”

He sat back on his knees, unwrapping his loin cloth and tossing it to the floor. Precum leaked from his sweltering cock as it stood upright like a pillar. You crawled over, kissing every inch of his face and climbing into his lap. He drew his arms around your waist, his finger tracing circles into the small of your back.

“I don’t know how long I will last.” He puffed heavily. “It’s been so long.”

“I just want you inside of me.” You kissed his jaw, taking his cock into your hand and sinking down onto it. It had been a while for you too, and while you were soaked, it was not enough to completely subside the tightness. “Just…wait.”

“I could die happy if all you wanted was for me to remain still as you’re above me.” He said into your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin because that was the only way to remind you that he was still there. The further you sunk down on him, the easier and more pleasureful you felt.

“I’m going to move now.” You said into his shoulder, and you did.

Slowly, at first you relished in the quiet slapping of skin and the breath moans leaving both you and Lucius’ lips. He trailed a syrupy line of kisses down your throat until he bowed his head to place them upon your chest.

“Your name,” Lucius said into your skin. “tell me your name.”

You gave him a look as you rolled your hips into his, yet sighed your name.

“Again.” He breathed, latching his lips around the tip of your breast.

You did.

“Again.” He kissed the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into his touch, saying your name a third time.

He repeated your given name, than following it with ‘Aurelias’. Your movements stilled, yet he did not care.

“You are the most cunning woman I have met, and you are my wife.” He stated, never looking away from you. Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw the same for him, and you gave him a messy kiss before resuming faster this time.

After months of being called a name that did not belong to you, especially whenever in the bedroom, Lucius was doing everything to remind you that you were yourself again as you felt pleasure.

It felt as if, after two years, ‘Julia’ was finally gone.

You chanted his name as if it was your favorite prayer, burying your hands in his hair and kissing his lips.

“Lucius, Lucius, Lucius…”

Because, just like you, how long had it been since his true name was uttered whilst in the throes of pleasure?

He moaned into your mouth, holding onto you tighter. You squealed when he rose up onto his knees, latching your legs around his waist and only crying out sharply when your throbbing clit ran across his pubic hair.

“Come on, come on,” he urged into your ear. “I know you can give it to me.”

“Lu-Lu-!” You moaned, running your nails over the thick field of muscles that was his back.

He said your name over and over again, until it was one word that was the end of you.

“Please.”

You came with your vision blinded from the state of euphoria you had reached. Lucius still held you above him even as his legs began to quake, bouncing you on his cock. You felt as though you were suspended in air when his groans stammered, and you felt strings of his cum paint the walls of your cunt.

Slowly, he lowered the two of you onto the mattress, laying you on your back like you were the most precious treasure in the world. You kept your legs around his waist, breathing with him with your chests glued together from your sweat.

“Lucius-.” You began, trying to shift under him.

“-Just,” he grunted. “just another moment. Please.”

How could you deny him? Every kiss he gave was loving as he laid upon you. His cock had grown soft, and even you were aware that you could’ve fallen asleep if you weren’t careful.

When he pulled away from you, you let out an involuntary whine.

“I thought you wanted me to get off you?” He kissed your stomach when he stood up.

You shoved him playfully. “Just clean me up and come back.”

“So controlling.”

Still, he did what you asked, bringing a soaked washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning you. You groaned out of both the cold water hitting your hot skin, and the heat from the air itself.

“We should’ve waited until night.” You whined.

“Why?”

“I’m suffocating from the air outside!”

Lucius hummed, tossing the washcloth aside and looming over you. “Then that forces us to wear nothing today, so that we might cool down.”

You nodded. “Perhaps you aren’t as feeble minded as I thought.”

He settled behind you, tossing an arm over your waist and pulling your back to his chest. Even though his cock pressed against you, the two of you were completely exhausted from the heat of the day’s work, and the heat of what took place only moments before.

The only sound was that of the cicadas singing in the summertime. Sometimes, a breeze or two of wind would bounce the curtain off the window, but for the most part, just the even breathing you shared with Lucius was all you could hear.

Lucius’ mustache rubbed your skin when he placed a kiss to your neck. “What’s going on inside of your mind right now?”

You grinned. “A proper wife would say that I was thinking of you.”

“But that’s not what it is.”

“It’s something that has nothing to do with anything of note.”

He squeezed you. “Spit it out, woman.”

Sighing, you felt a sense of dread in your heart; both for your thoughts, and also how your husband would react. So, you tried your best to explain it.

“Do you even wonder how you will be remembered?” You began. “Spoken from mouths? Written in books? Painted on walls? They’ll remember Lucius, the Lost Son, the Last Gladiator…What will they remember of me, if anything? Rome’s Cleopatra? Her Delight? A whore to the twin emperors? I like to fantasize that they will name me the first woman who sat upon the emperor’s throne, even if it was as the last of its consul. Yet, even if they name me…I will be Julia. The name of a slave, the name I only accepted when he would press me into the bed so roughly. I only survived because I would need to tell myself that he was doing all of it to Julia, not to me.”

It felt quieter in that room, even though the sounds outside did not cease. Lucius gently turned your body towards him, and he stroked your face with the back of his hand.

“You’re crying,” he uttered your name, frowning.

You wiped your eyes, wanting to hide from him. Yet, he did not allow it, pulling your hands away from you and wrapping them around his shoulders.

“Would you wish I remain silent, or share with you what is in my head?” He asked.

“Talk to me.” You answered.

“I never cared of what history would see of me.” He stated. “Even as a boy. I know that we are different in most aspects of life, but I believe it serves no one to wonder away how we will be viewed long after we are dead. I do not care if or what a stranger thinks of me in a lifetime later. I care how Atticus and Diana see me. I care what their children think. Above all, I care of what you see me to be.”

You pressed your head against his. “You’re pigheaded and quite foolish sometimes.”

“And it matters you say that.” He pulled you closer. “Because that is what you will tell others when I pass on.”

“You know I don’t think that is all you are.” You remined him.

“I do.” He nodded. “I will know you for your wit, and your protective nature, and your kindness.”

“I never truly thought of myself as kind.” You gave a pained smile.

“That is how I see you.” He kissed your brow. “And what I will say with my last dying breath.”

You wondered how such a man as himself could exist at the same time you did. A man who hated you prior to everything yet laid with you in bed. A man who treated you with a tenderness you never thought possible.

A man who could be the last person on earth with you, and you would only feel at peace.

You did not need to say anything to him. Simply by the innocent smile that spread across your lips, did he know. You fell into the most comfortable of silences together as you laid naked in the summer heat.

The both of you were lost to time as we all shall be one day.

Perhaps you lived on that farm for the rest of your days, or perhaps you moved to a different land.

Perhaps you had ten children, perhaps you had only one, or perhaps you had none and were content with each other’s company.

Perhaps you died before him, perhaps he died before you, or perhaps you both passed onto the Elysian fields together.

All that truly matters, at the end of all things, is the life the two of you led together, and what you and loved ones remembered the most of it.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

[entitled-fangirl]

A wolf.

Cregan Stark x reader

SMUT OMG PLEASE BE 18 OR OLDER

Summary: the reader has been shying away from Cregan, and it begins to affect their marriage. They find a way to fix it.

Warnings: p in v, talks of attempted r*pe, mental health

A/n: Based on many many many asks!! If I had a nickel for every time someone asked for this scenario, I'd have three nickels- which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened three times

Masterlist

………………………………...........

It had been almost three weeks since she had been almost taken advantage of in the Godswood.

Three painful weeks.

She was the same as she had always been outwardly- still outgoing, determined, hot headed, and witty.

But something still stirred deep inside.

Cregan knew that only time could heal the fear that still dwelled deep inside of her.

But the time was started to weigh on him as well.

Three weeks since they had been intimate.

But it was not for lack of trying.

It always started out alright. A few kisses that turned into something more. But when he would lay her on the bed and begin to let his hands wander, he could see the fear that bubbled from deep inside her.

And nothing would continue from there.

He could practically feel the whispers of the rats within the Winterfell walls. Rumors of what had made such a happy marriage fall apart.

He had grown tired of her. She had cheated. Perhaps she was pregnant.

It all angered him more than he liked to admit.

…

He sat with her on the small sofa of their chambers, the fireplace crackling.

“What was your question?” She asked with a smile and a furrowed brow.

“What animal would you wish to face? Here in the north?” He said as he sipped ale from his cup.

She hummed before easily answering, “oh. A wolf.”

He couldn’t stop the chuckle that rose from his throat. “A wolf? You wish to face a wolf, my love? You have no weapons in this scenario.”

“I am aware,” she continues to smile as she stood and moved to the bookshelf.

He watched as her fingers skimmed the spines of the books, “I do not believe you wish to face a wolf.”

She pulled a book from the shelf, satisfied with her choice and she moved back to the sofa. “Oh, I do.”

“You are strong, but I do not believe you may beat a wolf.”

She sat down next to him, “Best him? Why must I do that?”

Cregan was confused. “A wolf is aggressive. Proud. Protective. You cannot walk past it without showing it respect.”

“I do show respect.” She hummed as she began to open the book and read. “What would you choose, Cregan?”

“A mere rabbit. Perhaps a fox.” He laughed, “I do not see you surviving a wolf attack.”

She huffed and set her book aside, “I did not specify which wolf.”

Oh.

Oh.

He felt a smirk rise, “Oh, and what kind is that?”

She smiled and leaned to him, “a hungry one.”

He reached forward and grabbed her chin, “And pray tell, who will protect you from such a wolf?”

“Who said I was hiding?”

He couldn’t stop his lips from meeting hers.

The kiss was deep. Passionate and yet, gentle and kind.

His hands gripped her waist and pulled her to him.

She clambered into his lap.

Cregan pulled away, remembering that perhaps he should start to slow down. “Let us not be hasty-“

“I want you, Cregan,” she panted into his mouth.

He felt a jolt in his stomach.

She hadn’t said that in weeks.

He nodded, connecting their lips again as he pulled at his tunic.

She began to untie the knots on her shift.

He pulled his tunic from him as their lips disconnected, and she pulled her shift off just the same.

“Let us move to the bed-“

“No,” she stated firmly with a hand on his chest. She leaned forward and connected their lips again, “just here.”

He wouldn’t deny that request.

Her hips began to rock against his tented pants, causing him to let out a low hiss.

He nodded, gripping her hips and trying to move her to lay on the couch.

“No, no, no,” she said as she shook her head.

He was beginning to understand.

She felt trapped under him. Overpowered.

It reminded her of then.

But here? She was in control.

He nodded, beginning to trail kisses down her jaw

Her hand moved down pulling at his pants.

He smiled against her neck, bucking his hips up to let her remove his pants. A small whine came from her at the pressure against her.

Once his pants were to his knees, he reached up and grabbed her face, making her look at him, “you’re sure about this?”

She nodded.

“This is not of pity? I will never think less of you if we need to stop.”

“I want this, Cregan. I want you. Please.”

He couldn’t deny that now, could he?

When she began to move herself down to meet him, his hips bucked involuntarily.

He cursed under his breath. He needed to keep himself under control.

Her hands squeezed his shoulders as she sunk herself down onto him, her brows furrowing with the familiar stretch that had almost become foreign due to time.

Cregan let out a groan, his knuckles turning white as he gripped at the couch.

She stopped when she was fully seated on him panting lightly. Her forehead brushed his.

“You alright?” He asked in a whisper.

She nodded and a breathless smile overcame her, “I’m perfect.”

He continued to trail kisses down her neck, pausing when she began to move herself.

His hips tried to buck again, but he caught himself, chewing his lip to pieces in concentration.

“You feel so good, Cregan.” She grinded her hips. “I’ve missed you.”

“Gods, I’ve miss you too.”

His lips moved to capture hers as he pulled her tightly to him.

She kissed back with as much fervor as him, pulling his face closer.

…

“I do believe I like that position,” she finally said as she cuddled against him under the furs of their bed.

He grinned, “Do you?”

She nodded, “it felt nice.”

Cregan moved his head down to kiss the top of her head. “Perhaps next time I may lay down? So I may see all of you?”

Though he couldn’t see it in the dark, he could practically feel the gears in her mind spinning.

“We don’t have to. It’s just a thought.”

“No.” She nodded. “No. I want to. That sounds lovely.”

He smiled and pulled her closer to him. His eyes closed.

A long silence filled the dark room before he spoke again, “You truly believe you could best a wolf?”

She smiled, pushing herself up to meet his gaze, “Only the Wolf of the North.”

He leaned up, connecting their lips, “Yes. Yes, I suppose you could.”

…………………………………….

[tiamathh]

METAMORPHOSIS - CHANGES IN YOUR LIFE

Note: Hello! Thank you for waiting! I hope everyone's doing well, stay hydrated loves 🤭 <33 Check out my Masterlist for more! <3 LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE V APPRECIATED!!

1 -> 3

Do not plagiarise, reword, steal, repost or replicate my work!

Masterlist | Paid Readings | Tip 🍯

Pile 1

The next phase in your life is going to include you moving away from home. This can either include you moving out of your actual house and living independently or you distancing yourself from the familiarity of what feels like home and trying to step out of your comfort zone. You are supposed to be going on a journey or a trip and this is actually going to be life changing for you. If you have a trip marked on your calendar let me tell you something, you're going to be feeling very in touch with your emotions, if you've built walls around you or are someone who frequents the phrase "why am I supposed to care?" etc to protect yourself from caring too much because you think it's cringe or it makes you uncomfortable, times are changing finally. You're going to be owning the way you feel, you're going to be more open about how you feel and give yourself space to be more vulnerable around the people you love and cherish, not feeling like you have to keep up the "tough" image and truly letting yourself live laugh love.

You are entering a time where your relationships are going to be flourishing, some of you have been through a rough few months when it comes to the people around you, you may be feeling used, betrayed, cheated or even sidelined by them. However new people are coming into your life, they're not only going to be on the same level as you but they'll also be people who will be a little contrasting personality wise like they'll fill the gaps for example if you're not good at communicating but they are and if they're not good at being vulnerable but you are, there's going to be a very healthy exchange of energies and it will help you maintain a sense of self without being overly dependent on them or developing a codependent relationship. Also I have to mention you're finally going to be getting a break, you'll get time to rest and relax and just take a seat because a lot of work you may have done in the past, and this I'm getting could be referring to the past few years related to academics or career, is going to be bearing fruit, making life feel more easy breezy for you lot!

Pile 2

Really good messages coming in for you pile 2! To begin with you may have been feeling a little stagnant lately, not in a bad way, just in a "stuck in a monotonous routine" kind of way, where there's nothing wrong but it just feels full and unexciting. That's changing for you, you're going to be entering a time of your life where things will still be peaceful and calm just slightly more fast paced so that you have to work harder to keep up. Anyone that you haven't moved on from in the past, or even anything maybe people maybe situations, you're going to be shedding off that old skin and almost starting over, there will be a new chapter which will be making you feel more enthusiastic about life. You're realising that you don't need to carry the weight of your past around and are going to be putting yourself out there more, you'll be healing and maybe working with balancing your energies. During this time it would be good for you to engage with energy healing or chakra work as well as soundbaths.

After a long while, you'll be more comfortable being alone, you won't be feeling lonely when you're alone but rather use that time for introspection and working on yourself. This time alone will give you a lot of insight about what you actually want when you strip away everything that society or societal norms tell you you need to achieve. Who would you want to be in life if you didn't have any obligations to anyone? Those are the kinds of questions you will be answering and it'll make you more confident in your skin as well, because you'll truly realise who you are and what you want. I keep seeing the fool so this also shows to me that there's a new chapter opening for you, one where you can make mistakes, you SHOULD make mistakes so that you can learn and grow without dire consequences looming over you. Fresh starts are great for that <33

Pile 3

Hi Pile 3! I feel like with this pile, some of you may be struggling a LOT with breaking past patterns, you may be unable to get out of bad habits because you feel comfortable in that pattern of predictability even if it's bad for you, even against your good judgement. For some of you this could be addiction, which is very difficult to deal with and I'm sorry if any of you are going through that, addiction doesn't necessarily have to be related to substance abuse (even if it could be) it can also be related to shopping or escapism and you will be finding yourself being free of it soon. World has been feeling too fast for you as opposed to the other piles, so for you things are finally slowing down, you're nowhere near the completion of a cycle, in fact you may have started one the end of this August/start of September, so you still have a few months for the cycle to end, it'll probably end somewhere next year around February or March (probably March end though). You need to realise that this is the phase of your life you should focus on, going slow is a good thing! It means you can check yourself and your surroundings, that you can be more present in moments in your daily life, that you can cherish the people and situations around you.

This is a time in your life where you'll be celebrating your wins a lot more, you'll be building your wealth and earning, also a lot of savings! You'll be saving money, bringing down your spending and truly deciding what you need to buy and what you will use if you buy it, so a lot more thought will go into where you're putting your money.

Lastly, if you feel like you've been wronged recently, don't worry, divine justice is in the works, you were "betrayed" or "misled" by someone so that you could be removed for a situation where you had no growth potential, doesn't mean it was right though, neither was the gaslighting that came after (ultra specific) and the person or people who did this will get theirs in due time and you may be present to witness it front row!

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[hannieehaee]

content: badboy!wonwoo (he's actually a cutie pie he's just v careless with his safety T-T), established relationship, break up, angst, fluffy ending (it's always fluffy endings here or i die), mentions of shady work, mentions of bruises, etc.

part 2

wc: 1191

a/n: thank you so much to the person who requested this!! im rlly bad with angst so this was hard haha if any of u want a smutty continuation pls lmk <3 i was gonna finish w smut but i wasnt sure ;-;

masterlist

"how can you expect me to care about you when you have such little regard for yourself?"

those were some of the last words wonwoo had heard from you last time he saw you.

he had, once again, arrived home late, blue and grey from yet another altercation he'd found himself in. he had promised you he'd leave his shady past behind. that he'd take care of you and you'd exist happily together, never having to worry for the other's safety.

it had taken you a while to break, begging him to put you out of your misery and either leave you or promise you a life in which you wouldn't be terrified every time he stepped foot out of the door. living without you was just unconceivable for wonwoo, which left him with only one choice.

he managed to keep his promise for about a week or two, happy to arrive punctual at home every night and find you waiting for him, more than ready to shower him with your affections.

he hadn't meant to break his promise. nothing broke him more than the look in your eyes as he entered your shared home, two hours late and with twenty missed calls from you. his skin was once again covered with bruises, disheveled hair and exhausted state to match. he hadn't thought this would be the end. that despite of his pleas to please stay, you'd still pack your bags, eyes filled with tears as you cried at him that you couldn't stay and watch him slowly kill himself like this. what you hadn't realized was that nothing could kill him more than your absence.

~

it had only been two weeks since you left him. two weeks since his last genuine smile graced his face. two weeks since he was able to sleep. and most ironically, two weeks since he'd gotten into some type of life-threatening altercation. his bruises had healed by now, taking longer than usual now that he didn't have you to tend to him like before. he still kept up with you, watching you from afar as you cruised through life. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, hoping to respect your decision to leave and take his heart with you, but your absence was too much for him. if he couldn't have you, he'd at least watch you from afar, dreading what he had lost. so that's what he did, and thats what he was currently doing right now.

you were attending some party, he'd found out. which meant he needed to be in attendance too and watch over you. he felt dejected as he watched you have fun with your friends, sad that maybe the breakup just hadn't been that big of a deal to you. maybe you were truly better off without him. maybe he needed to leave you alone and allow you to enjoy life without a burden such as jeon wonwoo.

he wanted to leave, he truly did, but his body wouldn't let him. he just wanted you back into his life so badly. everything had turned bleak the moment you left, making him just a shell of himself. he wanted to approach you and get on his knees (in front of all the wasted party goes, even) and beg you for forgiveness. he wanted to cry out to you how much he loved you, that you were the light of his life, that he'd leave it all behind for you. but he was too much of a coward to do that. so, he prepared himself mentally in order to leave, sparing one last look your way before disappearing into the crowd. except you were gone. in his distracted state, you had left. your friends were still there, but you were the sole disappearance. wonwoo knew he should've just left you alone, but he couldn't live with himself if something were to happen to you.

he frantically looked for you for a good five minutes before finding you in some empty balcony, sitting down against the rail with your legs hanging from it. he could only see your profile, but was able to spot the shine of your cheeks, a clear indicator that you'd been crying. he once again couldn't help himself when he spoke up.

"baby?" he was slow at approaching you, not wanting to surprise you too much.

you jumped a bit anyways, "wonwoo? what are you doing here?"

"i ... i wanted to see you. i'm sorry"

you had gotten up, now facing him but keeping yourself closed off, arms wrapped around yourself and eyes not meeting his, very much unlike your usual affectionate self.

"wonwoo ... you can't keep doing this. i know you've been following me around. you need to leave me alone."

"i .."

"do you think this is easy for me? i love you. so fucking much. i just cant watch you get hurt over and over. i cant wait home late not knowing if you'll actually come back," you'd began ranting, your emotions getting stronger by the second, "every time you leave it's like i have to hold my breath, and i cant breathe until i have you back to me safely. i can't do this anymore. i love you, i-"

wonwoo couldnt take it anymore. he walked the rest of the way and held onto you. he lightly grabbed you and placed you in his arms, engulfing your shaking form against his chest. you'd begun crying halfway through your speech, your words becoming slurred and you shook and sniffled throughout. wonwoo couldn't physically handle seeing you in such distress without wanting to take it away. so he held onto you. what surprised him was that you held him back. you nuzzled your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him as you sobbed against him, crying that you loved him.

"i love you ... so fucking much," pulling away, he made sure to look into your eyes as he spoke, "i can't exist without you. i'll stop- i stopped. i'll leave it all behind for you. we can leave. together. i'll do anything for you, just- please. please come back to me. i love you."

"wonwoo ..."

"i mean it! i'll keep you safe. i'll keep us safe. we can start new. just us. you'll never have to worry about me again, i promise. just need you back. please. i can't do this without you, i-"

like in any other cliche, you pulled him into you, kissing his words back into his mouth. but he didn't care. he kissed all emotions right back into yours, letting all the sadness he had in him dissipate against your lips. you kissed until you became lightheaded, sighing against each other's lips even when you were out of breath, refusing to pull away. wonwoo was finally the one to pull away, almost losing his mind at the way your lips chased after his.

"let me take you home? i love you. wanna take care of you."

and with that, you walked back into his life, hand in hand, with the promise that his love for you would keep him safe.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: B for Breeding

Summary: You, Swan Maiden of the Lake become King Morpheus's favorite concubine, but it's not enough.

Notes: ~1.7k words, this is just straight-up depressing. Also, don't have a child because you think it would be unconditional love.

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it seriously), p in v, minor fingering, unrequited love, toxic love (from both parties honestly), manipulative love, slight AU? I don't really know, angst no comfort

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

A for Aphrodisiac ⇆ C for Cockwarming

The grandfather clock strikes 12 when the door to your bedroom opens. He comes, always, on the last strike of midnight. His footsteps are quiet when he enters your space but just loud enough for you to hear him. You sit slowly from your lying position on your large bed. You’re decorated head to toe in silk and lace, just how he likes it. 

The Dream King has one queen that he is devoted to only in marriage. In his spare time, he has six concubines to satisfy his needs whenever he needs them, wherever he needs them. Politics was never a subject you understood much, but you understood enough as to why your parents all but gave you to him when he first saw you. He thought that there was no other creature as beautiful as you. 

The first time he saw you, you were a swan swimming languidly in a pond far off in the Dreaming. When you come to the surface, soft white feathers retract, your neck shortens, and your legs lengthen until you stand naked in your human form. You didn’t even notice the Dream King staring at you as you brushed your wet hair with your fingers and admired your reflection on the pond’s surface. 

From that day forth you were nothing but a concubine in Morpheus’ harem. He showered you in gifts, courted you, and wooed you all in an effort to decrease the sting of missing home. You never came in contact with the other five concubines, unknown to you that they kept their distance on purpose. Their disdain for you comes from spite as jealousy wraps its hands around them like a parasite. You were his majesty’s favorite and each moment he spent with you means less time with them instead. The Queen never visited you either, neither did she the other concubines, insisting she was simply better than common whores. She could produce an heir to the throne, you could not. 

Life in the palace gets lonely, so you learn to latch onto Lord Morpheus quickly. If you performed well then perhaps he will stay the night. Talk to you until your eyes are closed or take you out for more than 10 minutes to walk to the palace gardens. You put on a smile when he comes near you, kneeling by the bed so you two are the same height. 

“My sweetness,” He calls to you and caresses your cheek.

You lean into the touch, starved for attention as you have been stuck in your room for the past few days, alone. He chuckles at your reaction as he retracts, your face chasing him but stops quickly. He keeps his eyes on you when he strips himself of his robes, the fabric creasing against itself as it slumps onto the cold floor. His cold hand comes into contact with your shoulder, wasting no time, as he guides you to lie down under him. 

“Forgive me for neglecting you, my dear,” He murmurs against your soft skin, followed by a bruising kiss to the junction of your neck. You only respond with a whimper, your fists clenching at the satin sheets below you. The love bruises he gave you a few days ago still haven’t healed and new ones always appeared. Your once pure skin is now always stained with his love. 

Your legs rub against each other as you try to satiate the gnawing arousal that is growing in your core. You kept your eyes on him when his fingers traced lightly over your clothed breast. The pleasure of it is just as good as the time before. Good enough to close your eyes and feel it all, but he doesn’t like it when you close your eyes, you remind yourself. 

His hands bring the bottom of your camisole over your hip and the night air hits your legs. He hikes it higher and removes it over your head and throws it on the floor near his clothes. Shivers run down your spine, goosebumps prickling at your thighs and hardening your breasts. Your hands go to his upper arm and squeeze at the muscle underneath. His knee prys your legs apart and pushes onto your cunt, which elicits another whine from you and you grind yourself onto him. 

“Patience, dear,” He whispers, his lips leave your neck, and trail slow kisses down to close his mouth over your tit. 

His hand wanders closer to your core, tickling the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before pressing his palm into your clit. He looks at you again when he does it and a smug smile grows on his face seeing the way your face contorts to his feverish touch. Your hands trail upwards and trace his jawline, admiring his face lovingly. 

His eyes grow darker as his lust continues to grow and you swallow down your fear. You lean your face closer to his, his soft lips within your reach. Lord Morpheus ducks away instead and focuses his attention on giving you more love bites, not bothering to soothe the pain after he clamps his teeth on your skin. You swallow again, willing the loneliness of his actions to the bottom of your stomach, to will it never to show its ugly face again. 

Instead, you run your fingers through his unruly hair as his hands now take your underwear off. He throws it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. This time, when his fingers return, they tease your aroused entrance. The wetness of you aiding him as his fingers enter, your needy cunt sucking the finger in. 

Your breath grows rapid and heavy as his fingers move deliberately, its sole purpose to get you opened and ready for him. He guides your legs and rests one over his hip and presses himself into your core, his arousal slipping across your slit. 

He presses his lips to your collarbone before fully sheathing himself into you, grinning as he feels the way your body trembles underneath him. He doesn’t find the patience to wait and removes his cock and fills you again. Your head is thrown back by the familiar pleasure and you clamp your mouth shut, embarrassed to make noise at such a late hour. 

“No, my treasure,” Morpheus voices with displeasure on the tip of his tongue. “I want you to scream my name. I want everyone in the palace to know who the King’s favorite concubine is. Can you do that for me?”

You nod quickly as another forceful thrust enters you. 

“With words,” He commands, leering down at your flushed body. Your hair was starting to get tangled amongst itself and your lips dry from heavy breath.

“Yes, my King,” You weep out, thoughts preoccupied with what he was giving you and your nails run down his back, leaving red streaks of pleasure across his pale skin. 

The Dream King hums in satisfaction before he turns his attention to your skin again, trying to find unmarked spots to mark you again. Your pleasure becomes overwhelming and almost on the verge of pain. His next stroke hits the deepest part of you and you can’t help the scream that is ripped from your throat. Your cries of ecstasy echoed in the large room and slipped through the hallways of the castle. 

“Mhm, just like that,” He praises and you turn into jelly under his words. He murmurs his worship about your skin, your hair, how beautifully glowing you looked underneath him, skin dewy, and muscles trembling. 

His hand caresses between your two bodies, pressing down on your lower stomach. The action causes your sensual pleasure to increase tenfold and your skin feels feverish. He rubs a small circle just under your stomach and hums above you again. 

“I want to see you round with my child, to see you glow with the effects of pregnancy,” He voices and in the back of your head you’re shaking your head no. 

You knew the consequences of siring a bastard. You may be the King’s favorite but that would not protect you against the wrath of her majesty, the Queen. Yet, another part of you silences the doubt quickly. Your child would be something of both you and the king’s. With a tear sliding down your cheek you wished for your child to love you in a way that Lord Morpheus never would. To give you the attention you deserved, to give you something to love. 

Your body spasms and your cunt clenches as your orgasm comes to you unexpectedly, another wonton cry leaves your lips. Morpheus groans at the sudden tightness before emptying himself into you. The only sound that fills the room is the panting of your heavy breaths. Your arms hang behind his neck again and you look at him with adoration. 

“My king,” You whisper like a prayer to him. “Will you keep true to your wish?”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “Do not think too deeply about it, my treasure.” His pet names for you feel empty to you now. 

Your arms drop from his neck at the abrupt change in attitude. You suddenly feel very self-aware of your vulnerable body and cross your arms over your chest to both cover and ground yourself. 

Morpheus removes his body from yours and the cold night air takes his place instead. Your thighs are sore and sticky from your coupling but all it does is make you feel dirty. 

“Your child would be of no use to me, it was only said in the moment.” He picks up his clothes from the floor, leaving yours untouched. 

He leaves you just as he came to you, quietly and without warning. The soft click of the closing door brings you back to the presence. His words hang heavy in the air and swim around your head just like the little tetra that used to swim around your body in the lake. 

Your hand delicately swipes across your lower stomach and you clench your thighs closed. If you hope to become with child this time around, then you wouldn’t need Morpheus. Silent tears run down your cheeks and you hug yourself. 

He wouldn’t spend the night again, leaving you in an empty bed of your combined lovemaking. The satin sheets under you suddenly feel too rough, the air too cold, and the shadows in the room dance as they point and mock at you. 

As if the king could love you back. 

A for Aphrodisiac || C for Cockwarming

Main Masterlist ⇆ Series Masterlist

Is it unhinged of me to say that that gif of Dream crying is hot? No? What's that? I'm just ovulating? Oh, ok.

♡ Yours, Layla

[crazyinlovewithbucky]

"Who would've thought I'd get you?"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x avenger!witch!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky were both in Wakanda at the same time. He was getting the winter soldier out of his head and trying to find his peace and his old self there and you were getting rid of your demons and fighting your dark self who consumed you after reading the dark hold. You both found peace and familiarity in each other's company and got really close to each other. After healing and leaving Wakanda, you lived in Brooklyn and got closer to each other until your relationship escalated and took a very interesting turn.

Warnings: angst, fluff, infinity war, and endgame events, living in Wakanda, mentions of the blip, mentions of therapy, friends to lovers, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, making out, use of sergeant and doll, sub to dom to sub reader, dom to sub to dom Bucky, creampie, breeding kink, magic used on Bucky, magic handcuffs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, manipulating(?), very horny Bucky, very very horny reader, sexting, sending nudes, mentions of oral (m receiving), soft!dom Bucky, aftercare.

This smut was inspired by the song Get You by Daniel Caeser (feat. Kali Uchis)

AU/N: Hey guys, I just want to confess that I can't stop thinking about this fan art of Bucky so I decided to write a smut inspired by it. I found the picture on Pinterest so credit to the artist @daxramires on twitter and tumblr. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and I'd like to remind you that English isn't my first language so excuse me if I misspell or mispronounce anything. Enjoy <3.

"I don't know how I could've survived this time without you by my side," Bucky whispered in your ears while you were sitting by the bonfire, surrounded by trees and fields in Wakanda. It was very late in the night, and everyone was asleep, even the goats and cows. It was just you and him, eating roasted corn and talking under the full-of-stars sky of the night. You looked at him and smiled. He was very beautiful with that thick beard of his and his grown, long, and silky hair. And oh, his gazing, shiny blue eyes.

"I don't know how I could've survived without you too, Bucky. You are stronger than you think you are. Always the guy I could lean on and trust blindly." He smiled at your words, took your hands in his, and kissed you deeply. Kissing each other was nothing new to you both, as you got so much closer to each other during this dark time you both are having when you're trying to heal and fight off your demons.

His demons were his past, the winter soldier and all of those years spent locked and frozen, missing out on everything in life. Your demons were actual demons you accidentally summoned while your soul, heart, and mind were being consumed by the dark-hold. That book taught you everything about dark magic, and as a result, you became the most powerful witch of all time, or as you thought you were until you met the Scarlet Witch herself one day and had one of the deadliest fights ever. Lucky for you, she pitied you and wanted to help, so she talked to her team, the very famous Avengers, savers, and protectors of the earth. They decided to help you, and there was no better place to get rid of your demons than the place of peace, happiness, and kind people. Wakanda.

Shauri introduced you to Bucky and told you he was here too to heal, just like you. Your rooms or your huts were next to each other. He was the first one you saw when you woke up and the last one you saw before you went to sleep. You shared everything together. Food, clothes, water, treats, and even the same chores, and when your therapeutic healing sessions got tough on both of you, you always found comfort in each other's arms. That's how you both started kissing and hugging each other, as a way to ground one another and remind yourselves that you have each other.

But kissing each other didn't just occur after bad news or feeling depressed. It occurred after good news and after feeling happy. You didn't know back then in Wakanda what kind of relationship you both had, but it was a beautiful one, and you didn't want to ruin it if you labeled it or asked him if you were just friends or more. You thought to yourself that maybe you were just a part of his healing path, and you were nothing more than a person who helps him get on his feet again, and as soon as he does, he'll leave and start living his life. You wouldn't hate him if he did, and as much as you loved him, you learned how to keep a distance sometimes, just not to get too attached and have high expectations. You kept reminding yourself that you were here to heal and not break your heart more than you should.

After the whole healing journey, you both couldn't make your dreams come true of going to New York and having an apartment there together and for you to start writing again and achieving your dream of becoming a published writer, and he took an interest in photography, especially when you got him a film camera for his birthday and he started taking very beautiful photos of the nature there, of the kids running and helping their fathers in the fields, and of course he took various photos of you, making food, taking care of the goats, lying next to the lake, smiling and trying to push the camera away, washing your hair, and using your magic to lift a very big pile of hay.

Steve came and told you about the fight with Thanos and how you all need to defend Earth, and there might be a chance of no one coming back. You and Bucky were in disbelief; maybe you were more than him and felt anxious. He pulled you away from the team and everyone and took you to your favorite apple tree. He talked and calmed you down, told you everything was going to be okay, and he would never leave your side. And if everything goes downhill, you'll forever remain in his heart, whether he's dead or alive. You both kind of said goodbye to each other, embraced each other, shared a very deep and passionate kiss, cried a little, and said I love you for the first time to each other.

During the fight, you were still protecting each other. You were fighting with each other as a team; he was killing and shooting any alien who got a little bit closer to you, and with your magic, you were dodging their arrows and weapons that got thrown at him. Until the moment in which Thanos killed Vision and you saw Wanda crying and mourning him. You sat by her side, hugged her tightly, and cried with her. Until you felt total silence and everyone started fading away. In a panic, you ran and searched for Bucky. You found Steve, and you were in the middle of asking him if he saw Bucky or not. Bucky came from behind some bushes and said yours and Steve's names. You blinked, and he wasn't there anymore. Just dust flying away. You felt strange. You looked at Steve with burning teary eyes, and his eyes were filled with horror and confusion as he looked at you. You couldn't understand why. He held you and shouted your name as you looked at your hand and found yourself turning into dust and fading away too. You whispered his name in concern, and then everything went black.

After you woke up, you found King T'Challa getting you up on your feet and telling you, Let's go; they're waiting for us to fight. You didn't understand anything. One second later, Steve was shouting your name, and your hands were turning into dust. The other, King T'Challa, was holding you up and guiding you into a gold ring portal to another place. You couldn't find Bucky anywhere until you felt someone hugging you from behind and whispering in your ear, "I'm here doll. Let's get this over with so that we can get that apartment in Brooklyn as we promised." You cried, turned to him, and kissed him deeply.

"I thought I'd lost you," you cried, and you hugged him tightly.

"Never." He hugged you back and whispered in your ear, "I promised you, I'd never leave you." He pulled back again and kissed you. "Now, be a good girl for me and kill those sons of bitches. Make me proud." You giggled at him with teary eyes and nodded.

Of course, after a huge and deadly fight, you won. It took you both more time to heal from that, especially after knowing it's been 5 years since the fight in Wakanda and that Wakanda suffered a big loss, so they cannot take you both in at the moment and they need to rebuild their country again. So you both got back to New York and started seeing therapists. You both were shaken up by what had happened and decided it'd be a big step for you both to live with each other now, so you wanted to take one step at a time.

You were there for each other still, you lived very close to one another and even shared each other's apartment keys. Most of the time you were at each other's places, hanging out, cooking, and watching TV. But there always was a big sexual tension between you both. From him more because he didn't have sex for almost 80 years now and he was dying every time he saw because he just wanted to rip all of your clothes off and fuck you till you both can't breathe anymore. He was very attracted to you in ways, you can't even imagine. There was this one time he came by to your house, opened the door with the extra key you gave him and he saw you in the kitchen wearing an apron while washing the dishes and he almost came in his pants from this sight alone. Later that evening, he fucked his fist at the thought of you being his housewife, wearing that same apron, and he's fucking his cum into your cunt on the countertop.

You both were watching Scarface in your apartment, cuddling on your couch. Bucky was trying his hardest to focus on the movie, not the way your arms were wrapped around him and your left leg was resting on his leg with your head on his shoulder. He was having a fight with himself, as he didn't want his erection to be visible from under his pants so that you wouldn't get disgusted or creeped out by him. Then the line, "The eyes, chico. They never lie." came on.

You mumbled, "I guess this is true." then looked at him deeply.

He smiled and asked, "Why?"

"I believe that eyes can speak all the words and say all the things we bury in our hearts." Your gaze kept going from his eyes to his mouth, and vice versa. You found his pupils dilating until there was only a sin blue round line of his iris. You bit your lips at him, hinting that you need him too, hoping that he shares the same feelings as you, and you were almost certain he does as you noticed the tent forming in his pants and thought that maybe he does need you as much as you need him.

You were right because you found yourself suddenly underneath him as he started devouring your mouth and neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. Your tongues were fighting each other for dominance, and he was kissing you like there was no tomorrow. You'd die if he stopped. He started humping his hardened erection into your clothed cunt, and both of you were moaning at the movement and friction happening. He took off your t-shirt and found you not wearing a bra. "Fuck, doll. Are you trying to kill me?" He groaned before attacking your boobs with bites and kisses. He kept sucking and kissing your nipples, making all sorts of sounds and groans. His hips never stopped humping you.

You were cut out of your trance by a phone ringing. You both panted, and he took the phone out of his back pocket, it was Sam with a 911 next to his name. This was Sam's number for emergencies; if he called from this number, then it was an emergency. "Fuck, it's Sam from his 911 number." He said it out of breath, then pulled away from you and sat back on the couch, trying to calm himself and steady his breath. You sat next to him, covered your exposed chest with your arm, and tried to breathe normally too. He looked at you with a smirk, leaned his head forward toward yours, and kissed you deeply.

He answered the call, and Sam started talking right away. While Bucky was listening to Sam, you decided to tease him a little and sat on his lap, pushed him back to lean on the couch, and started grinding on him while kissing his cheek and neck. He groaned and held your hip with his left arm as he was holding the phone to his ear with the other and kept moving you on his crotch. His eyes widened a bit as Sam heard his groans and asked Bucky what he was doing. "Ahhh, nothing. It's just a headache. Go on." He smirked at you. You giggled and kept grinding yourself slowly on him as he took your right boob in his hand and started massaging it and pinching your nipple. You tried your best to hide and muffle your moans, but some were getting out involuntarily.

"Okay. Got it. See you in 10." He said this before hanging up the phone with Sam, and as soon as he did, he flipped you both over and kissed you hungrily.

"Excuse me? "See you in 10"? Please tell me it's in 10 hours," you whined, wrapping your legs and arms around him, not wanting him to leave.

"Sorry, doll. It's urgent. Some Hydra scientists were caught in Prague, and they need me to make them confess where their headquarters are now. It won't take long, I swear. I'll make sure to get back as soon as possible to finish what we started here." He mumbled against your mouth and kept pecking your lips and kissing you between his words. You found it extremely difficult now to say goodbye to him after what you both just shared and had. But he had to go, and you understood that, so you let him go, and he promised to get back to you as soon as possible and in one piece.

While he was away, you couldn't stop texting each other all the time, and your conversation and texts got more sexual. It started out simple: I need you so bad right now. I imagine you lying naked on my bed. I want to kiss you. Then, step by step, you found yourself taking naked pictures of yourself and sending them to him, and he was finding any excuse to go to the bathroom and fuck his fist while looking at your pictures and texting you how much he wants to bury his cock in your cunt and how badly he wants to taste you. Your texts, video calls, and pictures you sent to each other were what made you able to endure the pain of him being away.

You woke up one day and whined when you realized he was not here yet, and you didn't know when he was coming back. He said it wouldn't take long, but it's been a week, and you were going crazy. You had a meeting with the rest of the team in the Avengers Tower, so you took a shower to cool yourself down, got dressed, and went there. Throughout the whole meeting, you couldn't stop thinking about Bucky and the various positions and places you'd make love and fuck on. You've never wanted anyone like that before. You couldn't stop thinking about his eyes, his lips, his collarbones, his strong muscular arms, his thick thighs, and his hard cock. You've been humping your pillow, imagining it was his cock. You miss him. You miss his touches, his kisses, his hugs, his bites, and his smile. You found yourself distracted and closing your legs tightly, trying to ease some of the pain and need growing between your legs. Unfortunately, the day was very long and tiring. Tony and Fury had the whole team training and researching for the new big mission in Europe, as during those 5 years, Hydra built itself again and was planning to cause World War 3. So it was in your hands to stop them before they even began. Of course, you were highly distracted that day and couldn't focus on training or researching. You had your butt kicked multiple times by Yelena as she was screaming at you to focus. You were finally able to breathe when you left and got into a cab, taking you home.

In the cab, you texted Bucky, "I've had a bad day, and I'd like to suck your dick to feel better." You smiled to yourself at the vulgar text you just sent, but you both were used to this way of talking now. You hid your feelings and need for each other for too long now, so you felt like you had to make up for all this time of repressed feelings.

He replied instantly, "Trust me, sucking my dick would just make it worse," with a winky emoji next to it. You giggled and texted him that you miss him so much and can't wait to see him. The ride from Manhattan to Brooklyn took too long, obviously, so Bucky and his usual teasing nature asked you to tell him what you wanted him to do to you when he got back. You smirked and told him everything you'd been daydreaming about today and how you wanted him to touch you and fuck you on every surface in your apartment. How much did you want to feel his tongue and mouth on your clit. How much you wanted to ride his face. How much you wanted to cockwarm him and feel his cock so deep inside you while he buries his tongue in your throat.

You found yourself closing your legs tighter and rubbing your thighs together. You were desperate for any friction, but more desperate for his touch. You got a notification that he sent you a picture. You opened it quickly and found a live photo of him stroking his cock while the head leaked on his lower stomach. You could hear him grunting in the background. You bit your lip, closed your eyes, and tried to breathe normally. You couldn't wait till you get home and play with your favorite toy after facetiming him and seeing him fuck his fist at the thought of you.

Eventually, you arrived at your apartment building. You paid the cab driver and rushed upstairs to your place. You opened the door quickly and headed inside. You started to rip and take all your clothes off while heading to your bedroom; you were only in your underwear now, and as soon as you opened your bedroom door and entered it, you were faced with a very naked Bucky on the bed that's now full of red rose petals. You gasped at the sight before you.

He smirked. "Welcome home, doll." You couldn't believe your eyes—you had to blink twice to make sure this was real and actually happening. "I missed you so much. Come here." He sat himself up on his elbows and gave you a devilish smirk. You noticed his phone on the pillow next to him. This motherfucker has been texting me and sending me pictures of his dick while he was naked on my bed all this goddamn time, you thought to yourself. I'm going to fucking kill him.

You ran and jumped on the bed, on him. He caught you and held you by the waist and pulled you down to him. He pressed his lips against yours harshly while he was tearing and ripping off your bra and panties. Your bare, soaked cunt was touching his hardened cock. This feeling of him making contact with you down there made you pull away and moan loudly. You craved more of this feeling so you started rubbing yourself on him and grinding down. He held your hips and made you move faster. "Fuck. I miss you so much" He panted and lifted his head up and started sucking and kissing your boobs. He buried his face between them and started leaving kisses and marks in the space between them.

"No, Sergeant." Using your magic, you pulled his hands away and handcuffed him with bright red magical strings to the bedpost. He was very confused. "You didn't tell me that you were coming today or that you're here, in my bed, playing with yourself like some horny teenager while I was having a shitty day full of meetings and training which I could've not attended if you told me you were coming."

"I'm sorry, baby. I wanted to surprise you." He pouted his lips in an attempt to make you forgive him.

"Nope. Not working on me, Barnes." You raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Now, what's going to happen is that you'll watch me fuck myself on your cock and you won't get to come." He gasped and was about to start protesting but you muffled him with makeshift tape on his mouth that you created with your magic. "Tap on the bed twice with your leg if you want me to stop at any time, okay baby?" You said before kissing his cheek and he nodded. You smiled at him and at how he was okay with you being in control.

You lifted your hips up, grabbed his cock, and started rubbing and moving it between your folds, then lined it up with your entrance. You sat down on it slightly, taking it inch by inch. You cried out at the burning sensation you felt from being stretched out like that. Bucky was big. The biggest you've ever had, but you just wanted him badly enough to even think about him not fitting, so you took your time to adjust. You sat down until he was fully buried in you. You can hear his muffled groans and see how his chest is rising up and down. His eyes were locked on where your bodies were connected. You lifted yourself slowly to make him see the base of his cock soaked with your juices, and his muffled groans became louder and his hips started lifting upwards involuntarily. He wanted to keep it buried inside of you and wanted to feel your hot, soaking walls being wrapped around his achy, hard length. He kept fucking and thrusting his hips upwards, fucking into you, and you let him. You started lifting yourself up and down on him and riding him. Until you both found a steady, fast pace and kept going.

Your moans and screams were uncontrollable at this moment, and you could see he was suffering with these restraints you had on him and how he was squirming his hands and arms, trying to get loose and touch you. You removed that makeshift tape from his mouth, and he was a groaning mess. "Fuck, dolly. Let me kiss you, please. I want to taste you." He whined, and his eyes were very hazy, with dilated pupils and nothing but pure lust in them. You leaned in and kissed him passionately. It was like he had been waiting for this moment, and he started to devour your lips and tongue with his like a man starving. All of that while fucking up into you harder and faster than before. You choked on a gasp, and he never stopped any of his movements or his kissing. You knew that he was trying to distract you from your decision to not let him come. You pulled away quickly, pushed his hips down, and sat on him, not moving while he was still buried deep.

"You sneaky motherfucker." You said, out of breath.

He leaned his head back, and his cheeks were burning red while he was breathing hard, almost panting. "Baby, please. I can't take it anymore. It hurts so bad down there." He looked at you with teary eyes.

"Fuck it, are you crying now, Barnes? It's been only 10 minutes, and you're crying? I haven't even come yet." You felt like you took it too far with him, but he didn't tap his leg as you told him, so you decided to take it easier on him a little and removed the handcuffs.

As soon as you removed them, everything turned around, and you found yourself in a millisecond underneath him with your legs spread out and lifted all the way to your shoulders as he split you in half while his cock was still nestled deep down in your hole.

"Remember when I told you I'm such a good actor? I wasn't lying." He smirked at you before pulling his cock all the way out and thrusting so hard inside you again that you were pushed back into the bed from how hard it was. He kept fucking you with very long, deep, hard strokes like that. You forget all about your dominance over him and your promise to not let him come. Little did you know that he would let you decide when he could come because he didn't want to make you break your promise, knowing that if he granted you that, you'd grant him whatever he wanted. And boy, did he want a lot!

From how deep and good he was thrusting and fucking into you, your mind was filled with white noise. Your mouth was in an O shape, and nothing but silent screams and gasps came out. He leaned in and rested his forehead on yours as he was looking down at the way his cock was disappearing inside of you. "Look at that, dolly. Look how good you're taking me! You're meant for me, baby. Meant to take my dick like that. You fit me so well." You gasped and moaned at his words, and as you were very close to coming, he snaked his hand down and started rubbing quick circles on your clit. Everything turned white for you as you found yourself gushing your orgasm around his cock. You were crying out so loudly as he kept fucking you through your orgasm; you swore you almost went blind from the pleasure he was giving you.

He stopped and flipped you over on your stomach, he put a pillow beneath your hips to give more access to your holes. You whined at the loss of stuffiness in your hole, he moved down and mumbled against your cunt, "Need to clean this beauty up, dolly. You made a big mess." He started eating you out like you were his last meal. Sucking your clit between his lips, licking you in long strokes from your clit up to your puckered back hole, spreading your folds with his tongue and lapping on the new juices gushing from your hole. You were squirming already from the overstimulation so he held your hips tightly and pushed you down again, making sure his mouth never left your sweet cunt. He kept moaning and mumbling words you couldn't hear but it was sending a lot of vibrations and that made you come again all over his mouth. You were panting and a moaning mess. He didn't stop until he cleaned your fresh wave of white liquid then he pulled away, ran his thumb between your folds, "Wish you could see how swollen and red this pussy is, dolly. It's my pussy, now." He pushed his thumb inside your hole while his fingers circled and rubbed your clit. You were crying out loud and squirming again from the overstimulation, you can sense your pulse in your clit, and with his finger, he could sense it too. "So sensitive for me, right doll? So sensitive, sweet, and all mine." He pulled his thumb out of your hole and kissed it, leaving kisses and kitten licks all over your cunt till he reached your clit and sucked it roughly. "I think this is my new hobby now." He licked your clit and moved his head from side to side while doing so.

You screamed from the overstimulation he was causing you, "E-Enough Bucky. C-Can't take it anymore." You whimpered and squirmed again.

"It's never enough with you, doll." He kneeled behind you and noticed that wet and sticky spot his cock made from all the precum leaking from him. He slowly pushed his cock inside you again and started to fuck you slowly. You were in another universe by now. Feeling so high and dizzy from all the pleasure and stimulation. He picked up a pace and started thrusting faster and harder, making sure he hit all your sweet spots. He felt how heavy his balls were and just wanted to empty them all out inside you. He was desperate to come at this point.

"Dolly, please, can I come? It really hurts, baby. I need to fill you up, pretty please." leaned down and whimpered in your ears. And you were so glad he still gave you the upper hand and didn't let you break your promise. His thrusts were getting sloppier and messier. "Please, baby, I can't hold it any longer." He grunted and bit your shoulder.

"Come for me, Bucky. Fill me up." You whimpered and could feel yourself on the edge of another orgasm.

"Only if you came with me too." He groaned and started rubbing and slapping your clit roughly to throw you off the edge faster. His stimulation not only threw you off the edge, but you found yourself squirting your orgasm out and clenching your walls on his cock like crazy. He cried out loudly and spurted his orgasm so deeply inside you. You could feel his hot white liquid filling you up to the max, and you thought he would stop and be still inside now, but he was fucking everything back inside. You almost forgot that he was a super soldier, and that's why he had this much stamina.

You both lay still on the bed, catching your breaths. You felt him pulling out slowly and then lying next to you. He turned to face you, ran his fingers through your hair, and played with it softly. "A bath or a shower?" He asked you with a smile. You smiled back and told him you'd like to have a bath. He got up, went to the bathroom, got a wet small towel, and cleaned you both up first. Then he went to the bathroom again and prepared the bath. You went through your closet and prepared fresh and clean clothes for you and Bucky. Even though you were very close friends before, you always kept each other's clothes in both of your houses, just in case. He called out for you from the bathroom, and you went to find him in the tub waiting for you. You smiled, went in, and sat in front of him, leaning yourself on his chest as he hugged you tightly.

In the rest of the evening, you both discussed your relationship and decided that you should start dating for real now. You wondered why you both didn't take that step a long time ago since both of you share the same feelings for each other. Little did you know, that would be the start of an amazing relationship after an amazing friendship. And that would be the man you spent the rest of your life with. He was your soulmate.

fin

[ynscrazylife]

Can i request a greys anat. fic? Where addison is newley devorced from derek and is falling head over heals for intern reader and gets v teased for it by mark, derek and callie? (I am only on s3 of greys anatomy and i love it sm!)

Addison Getting Teased for Liking an Intern | Blurb

It definitely took some time after the divorce for the awkwardness around Addison, Derek, and Mark to go away and it was difficult for all three of time. After some long and hard conversations, Addison and Derek came to the mutual agreement that their divorce was for the best and began to sort things out between themselves and with Mark (both individually and together).

Their past was still a bit of a touchy subject but they were getting there, which is why it came as a surprise when Mark noticed Addison and Callie standing together and made a comment. “Wow, I haven’t seen Addison look at someone like that since she met Derek in med school,” he joked.

Derek, who had been standing with Mark, and Callie both followed Addison’s line of sight, only to see the new intern who the hospital had been gossiping about talking to Meredith by the stairs.

“Oooooh,” Callie teased, nudging her friend playfully with her elbow as Addison’s face immediately went the same shade as her hair.

She straightened her posture and made a show of rolling her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, I wasn’t giving her any type of look,” she insisted.

“You were practically drooling,” Derek chimed in, teasing good-naturally with a smug look on his face. Maybe he was being a bit dramatic now.

Addison scoffed, though it wasn’t very convincing. “It’s nothing! She’s—she’s . . .” There were no words for her to say to escape from this.

“You’re head over heels, oh my god!” Callie exclaimed excitedly, even clapping her hands.

Addison’s face got redder by the moment. Mark opened his mouth to add something snarky in, when he stopped at the sight of you, the intern, walking over. “Doctor Montgomery!” You said cheerfully, wearing a bright and contagious smile.

Mark and Derek had to stifle snickers at how quickly Addison turned around. “Y-yes?” She said, straightening her coat.

“Would you mind if I discuss a patient with you? I just had some questions about the chart,” you said, holding the clipboard out to her.

Not trusting herself to speak, Addison only nodded with a small “mhm!”.

You pinched your eyebrows. “Yes, you do mind?” You asked, a little dejected.

Addison’s eyes went wide but Callie quickly swooped in to save the day. “She doesn’t mind! She has all the time in the world,” the resident said, practically pushing Addison towards you. You looked confused, but went with it.

As Addison walked away with you, she glanced over her shoulder to see the three doctors wearing shit-eating grins. Derek gave her a thumbs up, Mark was making a kissy face, and Callie was mouthing at her telling her to make a move. She gave them one fierce glare that only she could before turning back to you and refocusing her attention.

[fatecantstopme]

From Past to Future

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After you and Bucky break up, you end up engaged to Steve. What happens when Bucky comes back into your life two years later?

Warnings: So much angst. Cheating, cursing, use of pet names. Some fluff. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), slight choking, metal arm kink (choking kink)

Two Years Ago

"Why are you always pushing me away?"

"It's better for you," he said calmly.

"Who are you to decide what's best for me?"

"I know myself better than anyone...I know my past. I know what kind of monster lives inside of me, so if anyone is equipped to decide you're better off without me, it's me."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"No."

Anger threatened to bubble over. "I can't live like this, James. I can't. I would do anything for you, but I can't make you see that I can handle everything about you, including your past. I'm not afraid of you, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose myself if I keep fighting you like this."

He nodded slowly. "It's better this way."

"How can you be so calm?" you yelled. "Do I really mean so little to you? Did the past year mean nothing?"

He had the decency to look ashamed. "You mean everything to me, that's why I have to let you go."

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of rage and pain clouding your features. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

He simply shrugged.

You hastily grabbed your jacket, keys, and purse before heading towards the door. You turned back to look at him one last time. "I hope you heal, Bucky, I really do. But I won't be around to see it."

You turned and left the apartment, shutting the door behind you. It felt final, as if you'd just shut the door on your old life. You'd left a piece of your soul in that apartment, a piece you prayed you could learn to live without.

**********

One Year Ago

"You are such a dork."

He grinned ear to ear with pride. "That could be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

You laughed warmly and rolled your eyes. "What are you talking about? I'm always nice to you."

He raised his eyebrow teasingly.

"Alright, alright. I'm mostly nice to you."

He chuckled and tugged you against his chest. "I'll take it."

You giggled as you leaned back against him, gaze wandering out towards the ocean and the beautiful sunset beyond it. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

"Every morning."

You looked up at him in confusion.

"I'm blessed to wake up beside the most beautiful woman in the world every day," he said almost reverently.

Your expression softened and you turned to face him, putting your back against the balcony railing. You reached up and caressed his face, eyes shining with emotion. "Steve..." you whispered.

He placed a single finger to your lips to silence whatever you were about to say. He ducked his head to kiss you and you sighed as you melted into him.

After a few moments, he took your hand and guided you back through the open door and into the bedroom.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin as he laid you down on the soft bed.

"I love you too," you said softly, before you got lost in each other for hours.

**********

Two Months Ago

"Seriously? The wedding is in three months!" you yelled into your phone.

Your best friend, Natasha, came into the room when she heard you yell. "What's wrong?" she mouthed at you.

"Well the dress is pretty damn important, don't you think?" you seethed.

Natasha's eyes widened. "What's wrong with the dress?" she asked aloud.

You pulled the phone away from your face. "The tailor lost it."

"What the hell do you mean they lost it?"

You put the phone on speaker so Nat could hear. The man on the other end of the phone was explaining some sort of snafu with the dress and the shop moving locations.

Nat took the phone from your hand. "Let me handle this, okay?"

You sighed and nodded, grateful that she was there to take care of at least some of the wedding issues. Steve had been traveling a lot for work, so the wedding planning had fallen almost exclusively on you. If it hadn't been for Natasha, you were pretty certain you would have lost your mind.

The doorbell rang, bringing you out of your thoughts. You weren't expecting anyone, but you'd been getting a lot of deliveries lately thanks to the upcoming wedding.

You opened the door without checking to see who it was and the moment your eyes focused on the person standing on the porch, you found yourself wishing you'd looked first.

"Hey, (Y/N)."

"What are you doing here?" You winced slightly, the sound of your voice a bit harsher than you'd intended.

"I deserve that," he admitted softly. "I, um...well I heard you were getting married."

You stared at him in shock. "I'm sorry...you heard I was getting married, so you decided it would be a good idea to pay me a visit?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well--umm, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound so good."

"You think?"

Once again, the harshness of your voice made you feel terrible. You knew exactly why you were being rude, but you couldn't bear to admit it to yourself. You hadn't expected to see him again, and certainly not like this. What was worse was you hadn't expected to feel like this when you did. Your palms were sweaty, your heart was racing, butterflies danced a merry jig in your stomach...you hated yourself for the emotions that washed over you at the mere sight of him. Hating him too made it that much easier.

"I just, I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing," he mumbled.

"I'm happy, thanks for asking. You can go now."

"(Y/N)..."

"No," you snapped. "No. Don't say my name like that. Don't you dare."

He looked down at the ground and muttered, "I'm sorry."

When you didn't say anything, he looked back up at you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). For all of it." His words began to come out in a rush, as if he was hoping you wouldn't have time to interrupt him. "You were right. You were right about all of it. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I wasn't...and you--you deserve an apology. Even if it's two years too late."

Your heart clenched in your chest and tears pricked at the backs of your eyes. You were struggling to find the words to say, to fight through the storm of emotions swirling around you, when Nat came to your rescue.

She appeared beside you, took one look at the man standing on your porch, and said, "I don't know what the hell you're doing here, James, but you need to leave. You have no place in her life anymore...not after all the pain you caused her."

Bucky's blue eyes darkened with sadness. "I know," he said softly. "I just wanted to apologize...and say goodbye."

He turned and began to walk down the stairs. You watched him make his way to his bike before you ran down the steps after him. "Bucky!"

He turned to look at you in surprise. You'd stopped at the bottom of the steps, but he could see the emotion on your face as clearly as if you were an inch from him.

"I forgive you," you whispered so softly he almost missed it. If he hadn't been a super soldier, there was no way he would have heard you.

He nodded his acceptance--his gratefulness--before getting on his motorcycle and driving away.

"You okay?" Nat asked softly as she reached the bottom of the steps.

"Yeah," you lied.

She knew you well enough to recognize the lie, but she also knew better than to push you. When it came to Bucky, you'd always been vulnerable. You'd loved him with everything you had--a kind of fierceness she'd never seen before or since. She'd hoped Steve would change that...that loving him would help you forget Bucky, but when she looked at your face in that moment, she knew you'd never stop loving him.

**********

Present

"I'm getting married in a couple weeks," you said with a sigh. "Can you even believe it?"

"Yeah, babe, I can believe it," Natasha teased. "How excited are you?"

For the first time, you were grateful she wasn't there with you. "I can't wait," you lied. You hoped your voice conveyed excitement, even though your face did not.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Nat asked for the third time in your 20 minute conversation.

You groaned into the phone. "Nat, I'm fine. Now can you stop worrying about me and go enjoy your vacation?"

"It's not as fun without you here," she pouted.

You laughed. "I know, I know. I'm the life of the party."

She laughed too. "I miss you and I'll be home in a couple days."

"Miss you too. Give my love to Bruce."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too."

You hung up the phone and leaned your head back against the sofa. You hadn't felt right in weeks...not since Bucky Barnes had shown up unannounced on your front porch.

You hated how he made you feel...hated that even after everything, you still loved him. You were engaged to be married to another man for God's sake, but here you were crying on your couch over a relationship that died two years prior.

You hadn't mentioned anything about Bucky's sudden appearance to Steve. You didn't want to upset him...or at least that's what you told yourself. Seeing him had brought back years of emotions you'd buried long before. You didn't think you could explain any of it to Steve without him realizing what you'd been denying for two years: you still loved Bucky.

You'd managed to convince yourself that it was okay to love two people at once...because you did love Steve. You really did. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you loved him more than Bucky. You were grateful you didn't have to choose between the two. You were marrying Steve and that's the way it needed to be. Steve loved you so much and he treated you like a queen. How could you want anything else?

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts. At least this time you were expecting a delivery, so you didn't think twice as you opened the door.

"Bucky..." you whispered.

He was standing there, flowers in hand, blue eyes warm and gentle.

"What are you doing here?" you asked softly.

"I needed to see you."

"Bucky, you can't be here."

"Please, (Y/N). Can we just talk?"

"I'm getting married," you said, less firmly than you'd intended.

"I know, doll. That's why I need to talk to you."

Against your better judgment, you turned to the side, allowing him entry.

He stepped past you into the foyer and handed you the flowers. "Um, these are for you."

"Thank you," you said softly. "I'll just...get a vase."

He followed you into the kitchen. "Your home is beautiful."

"Thanks."

He stood awkwardly on the other side of your kitchen island, hands at his sides as if he wasn't sure what he should do with them.

"So...what did you wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"Bucky, we can't--"

"Just let me get this out," he begged. "If you hate what I have to say, you can throw me out...but just listen for a moment."

Tears welled in your eyes and every sensible part of you screamed at you to make him leave, but you couldn't force yourself to move--couldn't say a word.

He took your silence as permission to speak. "When we first met, I was a broken shell of the man I used to be. My past was still so fresh in my mind and I hated myself more passionately than any person should. When you came into my life, I desperately wanted to be the man I was before Hydra...but I couldn't. I was scared of hurting you, scared of what I was capable of and what I might do to you if I lost control. So I pushed you away...until you finally got tired of it. I don't think I'd ever had a broken heart before that day."

Tears streamed steadily down your face as you listened to him speak. You were still frozen in place, his words gluing your feet to the floor.

"It took me a while to realize I could never be that man again...that young, carefree, charming guy. I figured if I couldn't be him, then I was just the monster Hydra made me. All that was left was the Winter Soldier." He paused for a moment. "I didn't want to be him, but it wasn't until I was in Wakanda that things really changed...I changed."

"You were in Wakanda?" you asked softly.

He nodded. "For a while, yeah. I dealt with a lot of my issues and I don't have to fear the trigger words anymore...they have no effect on me. But it wasn't until I received my pardon that I started going to therapy. At first it was because I had to, but after a while, I wanted to go...it was helping me in ways I didn't know I needed. I'm not the person I was before Hydra, but I'm not the Winter Soldier either. I'm just a different version of me...but at the end of the day, I'm still Bucky."

"I'm glad you got the help you needed, Buck. I truly am," you said softly. "But what does any of this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that," he answered quickly. "Losing you hurt me infinitely more than I expected it to and at first I wanted to get help so maybe you would want me..." he trailed off for a moment. "I eventually realized I needed to change for myself, not for you. I'm by no means perfect, but I am comfortable with who I am now."

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I know my timing is terrible, but I need to say this or I'm going to regret it for the rest of my unnaturally long life." He took a deep breath before continuing, "I fell in love with you the moment I met you. I loved you every day of our relationship and every day since--I've never stopped loving you. I don't think I can--and trust me, I've tried. You've held my heart in the palm of your hand since we first met..."

Bucky took a step towards you, then another, then another, until he was mere inches from you. "You are my heart, (Y/N), and I don't want it back."

"What do you want, Bucky?" you whispered.

"You," he said simply. "You're all I've ever wanted."

You should have pushed him away. You should have told him to leave. Hell, you should have left...but you didn't do any of those things. You didn't pull away when he reached out to wipe your tears from your cheeks. You didn't stop him when he cupped your face in his hands. And you didn't fight him when he pressed his lips against yours.

Instead, you pulled him closer to you as you returned the kiss--the feeling of his lips igniting a fire deep inside you that you'd never felt with anyone else.

What began as a loving kiss, quickly turned to pure desire, a passion so explosive it couldn't be contained. You practically tore each other's clothes off, leaving a trail of clothing from the kitchen to your bedroom.

A tiny voice in the back of your mind told you this was wrong...that you should stop...but you ignored it. Soon, all coherent thoughts slipped from your mind, replaced by overwhelming pleasure.

Sex with Bucky had always been incredible, but this was so far beyond every encounter you'd ever had before. He was comfortable, confident, and so sure of himself--it was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen.

"Bucky," you gasped as he finally entered you after relentlessly teasing you with his mouth, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body.

"Fuck," he grunted. "I forgot how good you felt."

"So big," you whispered.

He grinned. "Yeah? Well this pussy was made for me, baby. I could stay here forever."

You'd be lying if you said that didn't sound like heaven to you. He felt so incredible...every sensation felt heightened in a way you hadn't felt in years.

His cock brushed against your g-spot with each thrust, turning you into a moaning mess beneath him. "Shit, doll...you gotta stop squeezing me like that or I'm not gonna last."

You'd long since lost control of your body--it was acting entirely of its own volition by this point. All you could do was moan and gasp and dig your nails into his back as he plunged into you again.

Back when you'd first started dating, you'd told Bucky you wanted him to choke you with his metal hand during sex, something he'd vehemently refused to do. He'd been terrified of hurting you, but now as he looked down at you, he found himself wanting to try it.

He gently placed his left hand against the column of your throat, putting only enough pressure for you to know what he was doing. Your eyes widened before rolling back, a moan of need breaking free from your lips.

"You like that, doll?" he whispered.

You nodded rapidly.

He smiled and gave the tiniest squeeze to your throat. You gasped loudly and your nails dug into the flesh of his right bicep. He continued to fuck you as fast and hard as he could, left hand never leaving your throat.

He could tell you were close, but he didn't want you to cum until he did, so he waited until the very last moment before giving your throat another small squeeze. You screamed his name as you came, your orgasm triggering his own. He called out your name as he filled you with his seed, hand slipping from your neck to caress your face.

Bucky's stamina was truly a thing to behold even now. He hovered over you, lips pressed against yours in a heated kiss. Somehow, his cock was still hard, despite having just had the best orgasm in years. Instead of pulling out of you, he began to move again, your shared releases mixing together to provide extra lubricant.

"Bucky," you moaned softly. "What--"

"You didn't really think I was done with you yet, did you doll?"

The sensations began as almost painful, the sensitivity making it hard to enjoy. Within moments though, those sensations turned to pleasure and the need began to pool in your belly again.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked teasingly.

"Don't you dare."

He chuckled darkly and sped up his movements, earning a pleased moan from you.

The two of you were so lost in passion and pleasure, neither of you heard the front door open. Even Bucky missed the telltale signs of someone walking through the house towards the bedroom door.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The sound of your fiancé's voice brought you suddenly back to reality. You wanted to sink into the floor and never come back out.

Bucky's first instinct was to protect you, but when he turned his head to look at the newcomer, he felt nothing but shame.

"Bucky?" Steve said in shock.

"I can explain..." Bucky began as he removed himself from the bed, grabbing a blanket to cover himself with.

You sat up, clutching the sheet to your chest, eyes wide as you stared at Steve. "Steve..."

"Don't," he snapped. "Don't you dare try to talk your way out of this, (Y/N)."

"It wasn't her fault--" Bucky tried.

"Save it. I know you were pissed at me for dating her after you broke up, so maybe I deserved the revenge," Steve said angrily. He turned his gaze back to you, hurt filling his beautiful blue eyes. "But you? I've done nothing but love you. I treated you the way you deserved to be treated...I did everything right."

"Steve, I'm so sorry," you whispered.

"That doesn't change anything." He turned to walk away and you jumped up to follow him, grabbing your robe on your way out.

"Steve, wait--"

"What do you think you could possibly say to fix this, (Y/N)?" he yelled.

You took a step back in shock. Steve never yelled. Ever. "I don't...I don't know..."

"Exactly." Tears pressed against the backs of his eyes and his voice was shaky. "It's over, (Y/N). I'm done."

You hadn't expected him to say anything differently, but it still hurt to hear it. You looked down at your left hand and saw the diamond ring he'd given you. You didn't cry as you slid it off your finger and handed it to him...nor did you cry as you watched him walk out the door and out of your life.

A few moments later, Bucky appeared behind you fully dressed. "(Y/N)..." he began.

You held up your hand to silence him. "Don't--just don't." You stared at the door your fiancé--ex-finacé--had just walked through. "I can't believe I ever thought I was a good person," you whispered.

"You are a good person," Bucky countered, taking a step towards you.

"Please just leave."

"(Y/N)..."

"Just go. I can't even bear to look at you right now."

Bucky knew better than to argue. He loved you more than anything, but he knew he'd made a mistake. He never intended to sleep with you...it just happened.

He shrugged his jacket on and walked out the door, leaving you on the other side of it. Your life had been shattered into pieces because of a choice you'd made...you and Bucky.

**********

"You did WHAT?!" Natasha yelled.

You'd called her a few minutes after Bucky had left to tell her what happened. "I slept with Bucky," you repeated.

"What in God's name were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," you whispered.

"Jesus, (Y/N/N)," she sighed. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. I managed to blow up my life in a single afternoon."

"It's not that bad, okay? We'll figure it out. Just...don't tell Steve."

"Too late."

"What?"

"He walked in on us."

"WHAT?"

You made the sound of an explosion, complete with hand movements she couldn't see.

"Okay, don't do anything crazy. I'll be home in a couple hours."

"Nat, don't cut your vacation short because of me."

"It's one day, (Y/N). Besides, you need me."

You wanted to deny it, but you really did need her. "Thanks," you whispered.

"You're welcome. I'll see you in a few hours."

**********

Two weeks had gone by since you'd slept with Bucky and broken up with Steve. Natasha had stayed with you for the first week...you were much too upset to be left alone.

You spent the second week by yourself...you needed the time alone to figure things out. Natasha had been helpful, but she'd also been upset with you for ruining things with Steve over Bucky. She'd always hated that he broke your heart.

As much as you loved Natasha, you knew you needed advice from someone else. You wanted to believe everything Bucky had told you, but you were too jaded to believe him without proof.

Steve was Bucky's best friend before the two of you had started dating and they really hadn't talked since. Bucky became closer to Sam Wilson over time and you knew they were best friends now. You decided Sam was the person you needed to talk to, so you called him up and asked him to meet you for lunch.

Sam hadn't been surprised when you'd called him...Bucky had told him everything that had happened. What did surprise him was that you wanted to meet up to talk.

He contemplated calling Bucky to tell him, but he decided it would probably be better to talk to you first. So he got himself together and went out to meet you for lunch.

You were already seated at a table in the back of the restaurant when Sam walked in. You waved him over and he took a seat across from you.

"Hey, (Y/N). How are you?" Sam asked as he sat down.

"Honestly, Sam, I've been better."

He was a little surprised by your candidness, and he wasn't sure if he should play dumb or admit Bucky had talked to him already. He opted for something in the middle of the two, "Bucky mentioned he went to see you a couple weeks ago."

"Did he say anything else?" you asked uncomfortably.

Sam knew better than to try and verbally lie to you, so he simply shook his head.

"He may have left some things out," you said softly. "Steve and I broke up."

Sam's eyes widened. He did his best to act surprised as he asked, "Why? What happened?"

"Bucky happened," you said honestly.

"What do you mean?"

You closed your eyes for a second...not quite ready to admit you'd done something terrible. "He shows up back in my life after two years and says a bunch of shit that I don't know what to do with. Who does he think he is? I was happy, Sam. I was getting married in a couple weeks!"

Sam sighed. "I know, (Y/N)...and I've known you for a long time, so I'm just going to say this: you were content with Steve. He never rocked the boat, never challenged you or upset you, never did anything to hurt you--but he also never made you laugh so hard you couldn't breathe, he never made you smile so wide your face hurt, and I know for a fact he never loved you the way Bucky does."

You stared at your friend in silence. You knew Bucky had loved you two years before and he'd professed his love to you mere weeks ago...what you'd spent two years denying to everyone including yourself, was how you felt about Bucky. You'd never loved anyone the way you loved him and as much as you cared for Steve, it never came close to how you felt about Bucky.

"It's okay to admit you still love him," Sam said gently.

"Is he different, Sam? I mean really, truly different? Because I can't--" you took a shaky breath. "I can't go through that again."

Sam shook his head. "He's not the same man he was before. You know how I felt about him when we first met...we didn't become friends just to fill some kind of void in our lives. I love the guy like a brother, but I would never lie to you (Y/N). You're family too."

You swallowed thickly. "Natasha says I should move on."

Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Natasha doesn't know Bucky like I do. She knew him before...she has no idea who he is now."

"I know," you whispered. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "You wanted to know if Bucky had really changed."

You nodded.

"Because you still love him."

"I never stopped," you admitted.

Sam offered you a gentle smile. "You should tell him that."

Your eyes were teary as you looked up at your friend. "I know."

**********

Two days later, you were standing on the front steps of Bucky's apartment. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and you were quite certain you were moments away from throwing up. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt this anxious.

Your decision to come here had been spur of the moment and you suddenly regretted that decision. You'd hit the buzzer for Bucky's apartment, but no one responded. Like an idiot, you hadn't even bothered to check if he was home before coming all the way over there.

You turned around to leave, feeling like a fool, when you heard the door open behind you and a voice call your name. When you turned back around, Bucky was standing in the threshold, looking at you in surprise.

"Oh, I umm--I thought you weren't home."

He gestured to the call box. "The damn speaker is broken again, so you couldn't hear my response. I woulda buzzed you up, but that's also not working right..."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "So...what brings you by?"

You were one hundred percent certain he could hear your heart beating even without his super hearing and your breathing had become obviously shallow. You felt like an absolute moron standing on his front stoop, staring at him in silence. He was beautiful and it always took your breath away...even now.

"I thought we should talk," you blurted.

Bucky looked slightly surprised, but he nodded in agreement. "Why don't you come inside?" He turned to go back through the door.

When you made no move to follow him, he stopped and said, "Or we can just stand out here..."

You shook your head, partially in response to his statement and partially to clear your head. You didn't say anything, but you took a step towards him, so he turned to guide you up to his apartment.

"Sorry about all the stairs. I like being up higher."

"It's fine."

Once inside his apartment, he gestured for you to have a seat before heading into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Maybe something to drink?"

You'd never felt so awkward in your entire life and you knew you weren't going to be able to say anything you wanted to like this. "Do you have whiskey?"

Bucky chuckled lightly. "Always. On the rocks?"

"Is there any other way?"

He laughed. "Touché."

He brought you the drink and sat down on the couch across from you with his own. "Please sit, (Y/N)."

You didn't want to be any weirder than you already were, so you took a seat on the chair beside you. You took a long drink from your glass, almost draining it.

"Should I have made it a double?" he teased lightly.

You looked down at your glass in embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm just--nervous, I guess."

"No need to apologize," he said gently. "And no need to be nervous."

You laughed breathily. "I think I'll have to disagree on that one." You downed the rest of your drink and sat the glass on the table in front of you.

"Would you like another one?"

"No--I uhh, I think one will be enough."

He nodded. "So...what did you wanna talk about?"

The speed with which you'd ingested the whiskey ensured you felt it almost immediately. You took a deep breath, allowing the liquor to calm your nerves. "I wanted to talk about what happened."

"When?"

Your eyes snapped up to his. "Seriously?"

"Ahh...so this is about the other day."

"Yeah, Bucky, it's about the other day. Ya know, when I cheated on my fiancé with you and broke his heart? That day."

"His heart? Not yours?"

You didn't appreciate the tone in his voice, so you snapped, "No, you managed to do that all on your own."

He sighed and sat his drink down. "That was two years ago, (Y/N)."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Hurting you was never what I wanted. But we needed to be apart and the only way that was going to happen was if I hurt you. You just wouldn't leave," he finished softly.

"Because I loved you, Bucky! Is that really so terrible?"

"No, of course not. But I never would have gotten the help I needed if you hadn't left me...if I didn't have a reason to get better."

"I wasn't reason enough?"

"You were my reason and that was the problem. I needed to do it for myself and I couldn't do that if you were there."

You were quiet for a moment. "Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did, James. I didn't think my heart would ever heal."

"How'd you think I felt when you got together with my best friend?"

You winced. "It just sort of...happened."

He sighed. "I wanted you to be happy and if Steve was the one who made you happy, then I had to accept that. But that's why I left, (Y/N). I couldn't stand to be in the same city as you two anymore. The possibility of running into you was too painful to risk."

"I'm really sorry, Buck. I didn't do it to hurt you."

He looked up at you with soft eyes. "I know that. It's not in your nature, nor is it in Steve's. You can't help who you fall in love with."

"I missed you...so much, and Steve--Steve understood how that felt. Better than anyone."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes."

"Were you really planning on spending the rest of your life with him?"

"Yes."

"If he hadn't caught us...would you still be marrying him?"

"I...I--I couldn't. I can't. It wouldn't be fair to him. Not when I feel--what I feel."

"And what do you feel?" Bucky asked softly.

"Bucky..."

"Please."

You sighed heavily. "When I first got together with Steve, I still loved you more than anything. Over time, I suppressed that love just enough that I could open myself up to loving someone else. After a while...it got easier and easier to pretend I felt nothing at all for you. And then you barged back into my life."

Bucky didn't say a word, too scared to stop the flow of emotions coming from you.

"You barged in and you brought all of those emotions back to the surface. You made me remember everything I'd ever felt for you--and I wanted to hate you for it. I wanted to hate you so badly, but I couldn't. I can't find it in me to hate the person I love the most. I never fell out of love with you, Bucky, I just hid it really well."

He wanted to speak, to say something to acknowledge what you just said, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he got up and came to stand directly in front of you, before kneeling down and grabbing your hands in his. "I think this is the moment where I'm supposed to say something deep and profound, but all I can think to say is, 'I love you too'."

Tears filled your eyes. "That's more than enough," you whispered.

He pulled himself up slightly so he could reach your face. He gently pulled you down towards him, kissing you with a loving intensity that set your soul aflame.

Loving Bucky Barnes just felt right, as if it was all you were ever meant to do. He was the love your life and being here with him in this moment reminded you of how good it felt to be in the arms of someone you loved with every part of you.

When you'd left Bucky two years ago, you'd left a piece of your soul with him, a piece you'd worried you wouldn't be able to live without. You'd learned how to, but it wasn't the same--you weren't the same.

For the first time in years, you felt whole--complete. If life was a giant puzzle, Bucky was your missing piece. And in the darkness of his bedroom, wrapped in his arms, you made a promise to love him forever--a promise he returned in kind.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Coffee and Stitches - Part One

Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of blood and wounds, a small hint at violence but nothing insane.

Word Count: 8.1k (damn)

Author's Note: AHHHHHHHHHHH I'm honestly so excited for this. Slow burn is definitely NOT what I normally write, but I've been possessed to do this. She's gona be a long one though, be warned.

Enjoy~

The first time pro hero Earserhead walked into your 24-hour cafe it was almost 2am, and you were shocked. Not by the fact he’s a pro hero, or by how late it is, but by the fact that he was battered and bruised on just about every exposed piece of his skin. It looked like he’s already seen some first aid, what with the bandage on his cheek and his left arm in a sling. But still, he looked much worse for wear.

You were in the middle of your greeting when you gasped at the state he was in. He seemed unfazed. Just after he ordered his coffee — light roast, two sugars, cream and a dash of cinnamon— you ushered him to sit down in one of the cafe chairs. With the cafe empty you can’t help but want to fill the empty silence. 

“Tough fight tonight, Eraserhead?” He only hums, a tired sound really. So you finish up his coffee and walk it out to him, setting it gently on the table. He gives a quiet thanks as you nod and return to your tasks behind the counter. He sat there sipping his coffee for about an hour, before getting up to get another. When you brought out the second one, you also brought out a slice of warmed coffee cake, on the house.

It was about 30 minutes before he came up to the counter once again.

“Is it alright if I ask for your help?” There’s nothing better for you to do with an empty cafe, and he’s a pro hero. You’d help him with anything.

“What can I do for you?” He holds up a tiny bottle labeled eye drops, and asks you to open it. His other hand is stuck in that sling, and until now you hadn’t noticed his entire hand is wrapped up tight like a mummy. He easily tips his head back, letting two drops fall into each eye, before placing the bottle back on the table for you to close.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for distracting you at work.” You chuckle as you return to your tasks, wringing out a wet sanitized rag and wiping down the already clean counters.

“I think good people are worth the distraction, Eraserhead.”

“Shouta.” You blink at him, as he tosses his empty cup in the trash.

“My name is Shouta.” You smile as he walks to the door.

“Have a good night, Shouta.”

“You too.”

The second time he walks in, he’s fully healed. It’s just past 10 and he’s in casual clothing, with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He looks different in civilian clothes, a v-neck long sleeved shirt and jeans, with his hair tied in a low ponytail. He still has that scarf though. Somewhere in your brain you note he looks quite nice in civilian clothes.

He orders the same coffee, this time with a bagel and cream cheese, and by the time you bring it to him he’s got his laptop out with a stack of papers off to the left and a red pen in hand. You already know he’s a teacher at UA, most people do. You’re more than a little proud that your little cafe is his chosen grading spot for the night. By the time he leaves it’s nearing midnight, and he’s worked through three refills.

That’s how it goes for a few months.

Occasionally he’ll step in with his hero getup before and after a patrol, and more often than not he’s in casual clothing after a day of teaching, always grading another hefty stack of teenaged heroes’ homework. Every time it’s the same, a ‘good evening Shouta’ and a tired ‘evening’ in reply.

Every night is the same. Until tonight.

Tonight when he bursts through the door you jump out of your skin from the bang that rings through the cafe. You’re just a little relieved there’s nobody else here to witness the sight before you, and part of you is surprised the glass door hasn’t shattered from the impact. He’s limping and bloody, dripping wet from the rain, and he’s dragging an unconscious mass that must be human behind him all wrapped up in his scarf like a mummy. His voice is riddled with exhaustion, weak and rough, when he addresses you.

“I’m so sorry.”

That’s all he says before falling to his knees and collapsing on the floor. You freeze for a minute, before rushing over to his side. He’s still partially awake, and with whatever sense you have left you quickly get to work. The store is closed down and locked up, shades drawn over the windows haphazardly and you hit the panic button under the counter, which would dispatch an ambulance and a police unit.

Then you make coffee. You infuse your healing quirk into every ounce, then force a semi-conscious Shouta to chug a cup after you’ve cooled it down with ice. You'll regret it later, using it so liberally, but that's a problem you can deal with tomorrow. With that working, you run up to the apartment you live in upstairs and grab a few things. A couple towels, your oversized sweater and sweatpants, your best pair of scissors, and your first aid kit.

The adrenaline is what keeps you from feeling awkward as you unzip Shouta’s hero costume and begin to check him for the worst of his injuries. His half-conscious mind makes him almost delirious as he chuckles at you.

“Isn’t it a little soon for you to be feeling me up?” You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. It’s hard to be mad at someone who’s actively bleeding, and somehow still looks attractive.

“I’m checking you for injuries while my quirk kicks in.”

“And when is that?” You try your best to keep your hands from shaking as you peel back the jumpsuit and tug the tank top he’s got beneath it. There’s a large gash on his right side, not fatally deep, but he’ll definitely need stitches and he’s already lost a lot of blood. It seems like that’s the only bad injury he’s got, which you’re grateful for.

“Believe me, you’ll know.” With that you start to cut the tank off his body, packing the wound with whatever clean towels you have at hand. He hisses at the pressure, but you know that he knows he’s felt much worse. So he doesn’t complain. The rest of his tank top is stripped off him, and you help him tug the top of his jumpsuit completely off so it sits around his hips. You try not to think about his muscles, nor the little happy trail on his abdomen. It’s then that he nearly jolts upright, and you have to catch him from lurching forward. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest and his breaths come out hard and fast.

“Holy shit. I guess that’s your quirk then?” You laugh a little.

“Yeah. Your body’s processing everything faster, so the gash on your side should be trying to heal itself by now.” Lo and behold, when you pull the bloody towels away he’s already stopped bleeding. When you think he’s ready, you urge him to stand and walk him over to the bathroom. He’s a little confused as you do so.

“I said your body is processing things faster. That includes your bladder and bowel movements. You’re going to need to go sooner than later, believe me. Think you can stand alone?”

“Yeah. That quirk of yours did wonders for my ankle, so I think I’m good right now. Thank you.” You nod and hand him the extra clothes you’d grabbed as he shuts the door behind him.

“Call me if you need help.” You don’t get an answer back, but you can hear him shuffling around so you let him be. Now with space to breathe, you allow yourself to relax. That was…insane. Pro hero Eraserhead, a regular at your cafe, just burst in all bloody, dragging a villain behind him. Wait.

You nearly trip over your own feet with how fast you move back around the bar. The dude is still wrapped up in that scarf, except he’s awake and squirming, muffled complaints barely making it through the fabric covering his mouth. His hands are poking out behind his back, and you can see the quirk canceling cuffs slapped on his wrists. At least you know he’s secure.

“Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you.” You nearly jump three feet in the air at the sheer closeness of Shouta’s voice.

“Holy- Make noise when you move, geez! Scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry.” He’s not sorry. He’s laughing at you.

“Anyway. The police and an ambulance should be on their way by now. I’m going to make myself a coffee and a snack. Did you want anything to eat or drink while we wait?” He contemplated for a moment, glancing up at the food menu. He doesn’t seem particularly keen on anything.

“I’ve got a couple pieces of a chicken pot pie left upstairs if you’d like. That’s what I’m eating anyway.” He nods, then asks for his usual coffee with the addition of an espresso shot. It doesn’t take long for you to get everything done. You made the coffee while the pie was reheating in the cafe’s mini oven. Soon you and Shouta were sitting at a table and enjoying your small meal.

It wasn’t long before emergency services showed up. You’d barely finished your food and coffee when you heard the sirens down the street, and the lights came into view a few seconds later. It isn’t until the paramedics are giving you a once-over that you realize you’re absolutely covered in blood, no doubt Shouta’s.

It takes longer than you like for the police to finish questioning you and bagging the villain, but at the end of it all you’re left alone in the cafe with Shouta. The silence is eerie as you stand there together, staring out the door the authorities have just vacated from. Shouta is the first to break the silence.

“Are you okay?” It takes you what feels like way too long to turn and meet his eyes.

“Are you? You lost so much blood. I don’t know how you’re awake right now.” He hums, raising his hand to cover the dressed wound on his side. It’s probably subconscious, at least slightly.

“Being a hero this long you kinda get used to it. Like how someone who regularly donates blood gets used to the dizziness afterward. It doesn’t necessarily get better, just easier to stomach.”

“Wow. That was kinda depressing.” You both stare at each other, then burst into fits of giggles at the insanity of it all.

"I guess that means I should be going now. Sorry again, for dragging you into this." You shake your head, there's no reason for him to be apologizing.

"You needed help, I know this place is the only one open this late. Besides, it's not like I've got much else to do with an empty store." His expression is a mix between apologetic and 'yeah, good point'. When he makes a move to leave, you take a moment to consider a few things. The rain is still coming down hard outside, hard enough you can't quite make out the other side of the street. Shouta came in on foot, which means he'd be leaving on foot as well.

"Are you sure you wanna go out into that?" He follows your gaze to the rain outside, a weak shrug following.

"It's nothing I haven't done before." He moves toward the door, and you make a split second decision. You can't, in good conscience, let a hero walk out into the rain to who knows how far his house is, at this hour, injured. You step directly in his path, stopping him in his tracks.

"Listen, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be going out there. I've got a pull-out futon and hot water." His eyes narrow ever so slightly, head tilting a fraction.

"Are you offering me a place to stay?" The way he says it is playful and light, makes you chuckle just a little.

"It's late, it's dark, it's cold, you're injured, and you're probably exhausted. So, yes, I am offering you a place to stay for the night." He's silent and still as he considers your offer. You don't want him to go, if for no other reason than the fact that there's every possibility he'd pass out once your quirk wears off completely.

"Okay, I'll stay. Thank you." Relief floods your body. With that settled you shut down everything in the cafe and shoot a text to the three coming in to cover the morning shift that they'd need to bring their keys to get in the store. You grab the bodily fluids cleanup kit, take the time to clean all the blood off the tiles, then head up to your connected apartment. Shouta follows you up the stairs in the far corner behind the counter, through the door at the top and into your living space. You haven't had the time to really clean up lately, sketchbooks and pens littering the small coffee table in front of the couch, a towel and a stray pair of jeans strewn over the back of that same couch, a few other bits and bobs dotted around. It's nothing you're embarrassed about.

You grab the few clothing items as you walk by, move the coffee table, pull out the couch and get it completely set up with a sheet, pillows and a blanket. You grab a clean towel, setting it on the coffee table with a spare disposable toothbrush and a pair of boxers you kept in case of emergencies. One of his eyebrows shot up at that.

"They haven't been used, I promise." It's the truth, you have some spares of all kinds of underwear in case friends end up staying unplanned. Or heroes, apparently.

"I’m gonna take a shower, if you want to shower, feel free. Bathroom is the first door on the right, and the fridge is mostly stocked. My room is at the end of the hall, I'll be up for a little longer, so if you need anything just poke your head in the door. I'll leave it open." He rests a hand on your shoulder to look you in the eyes.

"Again, thank you. This is very kind of you." All you can do is smile.

"I couldn't let you go out there in that state. It's no big deal, and you're a hero. I'm happy to help." You wave over your shoulder as you disappear down the hall to collect your sleep set.

"If you need anything, you know where to find me." You take a quick shower before hopping into bed, the events of tonight catching up to you and exhaustion settles in your bones. You don't hear from him at all until you wake up around noon, sounds and smells slowly tugging you from slumber. You make your way out to your small kitchen to find the hero quietly plating some food, setting the plates out on the counter when he spots you.

"Good timing, I just finished up. Take a seat, breakfast is ready." It's strangely domestic, the way he sits beside you in the thrifted bar stools you'd adorned the small kitchen with.

"Thank you for breakfast. You didn't have to do all this." He shakes his head, swallowing the bite he'd taken.

"Of course I did. I burst into your store at ass-o'clock in the morning, soaked to the bone, bleeding, with a criminal wiggling around in handcuffs and you not only healed my wounds but offered me a place to sleep for the night." You sigh, shrug your shoulders lazily.

"Yeah, fair enough. Though I'd argue the only generous part of any of that is offering you to stay the night. I'm sure any sane person would have tried their best to help regardless." He matches your shrug.

"Huh. Fair enough." The mimicked phrase makes you crack a smile. The rest of your breakfast is shared in comfortable silence, the both of you happy to eat and exist as you are. It’s a decent meal, put together with what was in your fridge, but still tasted good. Soon your plates are clean and the both of you work in tandem to clean up the kitchen. He washes the dishes, you dry them and return them to their proper homes. You wipe down the counters and stove top while he cleans himself up, then it's your turn to get ready for the day. It's nice, sharing the space with him. He doesn't make anything awkward even though this is the first time he's been here, and his presence is not just comforting but enjoyable.

"You have everything you need? Not forgetting anything?" He doesn't bother looking around, he's sure he's grabbed all of his things. You'd given him a small spare duffel to carry everything, he probably packed everything before you woke up.

"I should have everything. If I don't, I know where to look." True. With that you both head out your door and down the steps to the cafe. Your coworkers are surprised to see the two of you emerge from the stairway, rather than you alone, and you shoot them some glares. Their scandalous glances fall and they refocus on what they’re doing.

"Thank you again for letting me stay. I'll get out of your hair for now, but I'll probably be back in the next few days like usual." You nod, then turn to quickly make a cup of coffee, just the way he likes it, plus the teeniest bit of your healing infused into it.

"Shouta, take this with you. It's got some of my healing quirk in there, so sip at it slowly. It should start kicking in when you reach wherever you're going." He takes the cup graciously, thanking you again before he's out the door. The voice behind you makes you jump, being so close to you.

"Girl...ERASERHEAD? What the hell happened last night?" You slump over and roll your eyes at Rika, her insinuation not lost on you.

"I'll explain it later. You're gonna have to give me some time to deal with my quirk's backlash for right now, I'll be back down in a few hours." She nods, then allows you to go back upstairs. The climb is a little more difficult now, the effects of your quirk kicking in at the last few steps making you curl into yourself at the sudden pain in your abdomen.

"Shit." It takes a lot of strength and willpower to actually drag yourself to the bathroom, blood already seeping through your shirt. Just like last night, you pack the wound best you can and prep the first aid kit. Sterile needle, suture thread, sterile gauze and medical tape are all splayed out on the bathroom counter after crudely dousing the surface in rubbing alcohol. It's not a hospital, but it's clean enough. Between the blood loss and the pain, you're shaking as you stitch up the gash in your side. It's not as deep as Shouta's. If it were, you were prepared to call an ambulance for yourself. The sound of your door opening and closing filters through your brain, Rika's voice echoing as she approaches down the hall.

"Hey, do you need any help up here? They're okay downst- What the fuck?! Dude we gotta get you to the hospital!" You shake your head no.

"It's fine, I'm almost done. It looks a lot worse than it is." Still bewildered, she reluctantly nods.

"Right...Do you need anything? Water, maybe?"

"Yeah, water would be nice. Maybe some apple juice from downstairs to help my blood sugar? If you can?" She's gone in a flash, a short 'on it!' shouted behind her. Well, at least you wouldn't have to get it on your own. You tie off the sutures and clean yourself up, taping the gauze over the wound. The worst part is over. Rika returns with a full glass of iced water and a small cup of juice, both of which you chug down before cleaning up the bathroom. Your ankle gives just a little as you walk around, and Rika catches you by the arm before you fall face-first into the sink.

"Holy shit are you sure you're okay? Eraserhead must have been seriously hurt last night if this is what you look like right now. You sure you don't want me to call an ambulance or drive you to the ER or something?"

"I'm sure, thank you. I'll be fine, I just need some time to recuperate. You can go back downstairs Rika, if I really need help I'll call emergency services myself." She shoots you a disapproving look but doesn't say anything else before disappearing downstairs to rejoin the rest in the cafe. Limping out to the parlor you notice everything is back in its proper place, and then some. You hadn't noticed when you woke up, but Shouta had returned all of the furniture, washed the sheets and blanket he'd used, and even organized the mess of pens on the coffee table into their pouch. Tenderly, you lie down on the couch, content to rest your body for a while, and your mind decides it’s time to take a short nap. When you wake up again it's nearing 3pm, and Rika is sitting on one of the barstools. Her shift probably ended not too long ago.

"How are you feeling?" You groan as you sit up, careful not to rip the stitches.

"Like shit. But it's not the worst thing I've felt." She scoffs and shakes her head at you, both in slight disappointment and shock.

"I don't know how you're still alive. And I'm not talking about your current injuries. The shit you've already dealt with is insanity." A small laugh is pulled from your throat. You know what she means, and you know why you're not actually dead. Your quirk can heal any and all physical injuries in another person, but the one awful drawback is that those injuries will transfer to your body. You can choose when they transfer, in the span of about twelve hours, depending on how severe the injuries are. But they will transfer, no matter what. Your one saving grace is that no matter the injury, it will not be as bad as the original. Even a fatal wound would be just survivable for you. Shot in the heart? The hole will appear in your chest, but it won't pierce the vital organ. Arm chopped off? The cut would be distributed around your arm, avoiding large arteries and any crucial ligaments or bones. It’s almost like it splits the effects of the injury between you and the original victim.

"I'm alive cause my quirk keeps me alive. You know how it works."

"Yeah, I know how it works but I still have trouble believing it sometimes." That's fair. She nods her chin over to your ankle, which is now wrapped nicely in a bandage.

"I wrapped it, since I couldn’t find a brace anywhere. By the way, isn't that Eraserhead's scarf?" A glance where she’s looking shows you that yes, that is Eraserhead's scarf and yes, he had forgotten it when he left. Clearly he left it in the corner out of the way so it didn't get tangled in anything, but in the process of being in an unfamiliar house he forgot it in its corner.

"I guess I'll just have to take it to him, then. He can't go out doing hero work without his primary weapon." Rika taps through her phone and a number is dialed, and you hear her side of the conversation.

"Hi, yes I'm calling to ask about getting in contact with Pro Hero Eraserhead? I've got his scarf here, I'd appreciate it if you could give him a message. Yes. Okay, I'll hold." She must have found a public call number for UA or something.

"Yes I'm still here. Hello, Eraserhead! Oh, perfect! Yes the number is..." She actually rattles off your personal phone number, giving it to presumably the underground hero himself. Of course, she does it with a sly wink in your direction which you return with an eye roll.

"Oh yes she'll be in the cafe tonight. For sure! I'll let her know. Alrighty, bye bye now." The call ended there and you can't help but sigh at her.

"Let me guess, he's coming to pick it up tonight and I'm bringing it down to the cafe for him?" She nods enthusiastically, a mischievous smile gracing her lips.

"You're welcome, you now have Eraserhead's number." Well, technically not yet. Just then your phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number. 'Looks like I forgot something. Sorry about that.' Well, you stand corrected.

"Yeah yeah, quit tryna play matchmaker. Come help me up, will you? I gotta piss."

Rika stays a few more hours before leaving, not without triple-checking that you feel okay. You swear her voice was playing on a broken record with the amount of times she'd asked if you were sure you were alright. You change your bandages before getting ready for your shift, eating some dinner, popping some ibuprofen, and making your way down the stairs with the scarf in hand and a small brace on your ankle. It isn't long before the man is walking through the door in that jumpsuit of his, waving lazily at you with measured footsteps. He looks much better, now that his wounds are probably almost completely healed.

"Welcome back. You forgot this." You hold out the fabric, looped over your hand neatly. He takes it and slips it over his head in one smooth motion, letting it settle around his neck where it belongs.

"Thank you. Didn't realize I'd left it." You laugh at that, but it puts pressure on your wound and you wince. His expression turns sour, having caught the action.

"Are you alright?" You nod, breathing slowly to ease the ache.

"Oh I'm fine. You want a coffee for the road?" He doesn't comment on the change of subject, but accepts the offer for coffee. You can feel his eyes on you as you work on the beverage, and you can only hope he doesn't notice your tiny limp and the way you favor one side of your body. Handing it to him is easy, and he bids you a farewell without any further questions, though he does mention he'll be back in about six hours to visit again. That's not unusual, it would be the end of his hero shift and he'd be back for another coffee.

So, you spend the next six hours as per the usual. You change out the bandages once more, and being on your feet and moving around is helping to distract from the pain. There aren't many patrons so late, but the few you do get are more underground heroes or construction workers on the night shift, and sometimes the odd college student coming in for a quick pick-me-up to study. None of them stay, and so you're left biding your time by cleaning or restocking however you can in your state. Unfortunately, you'd bent down to wipe out a fridge a bit too sharply, a bit too swiftly. The sharp pain made you groan, the small pop you’d felt meant you'd torn a stitch. You stayed bent over until the throb ebbed away, then slowly righted yourself, only to see Shouta striding through the door, concern written all over his face. He doesn't give you a chance to greet him.

"Don't tell me you're okay, cause I just watched you doubled over behind the counter clutching your side. What happened?" Damn, caught red handed. You sigh, there's no use lying at this point.

"So...don't be mad and don't feel guilty." A single eyebrow lifts on his face, but he waits for your explanation.

"My quirk has some...drawbacks. I healed your wounds, but they transferred to my body in exchange." He seems frozen, blinking slowly at you as you stand there waiting for something.

"Okay, you're never allowed to use it on me again. Now, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" You explain everything, and he's only satisfied when you agree to let him assist you to re-stitch the wound you'd just opened. He didn't take no for an answer. The store is locked up once again, and you both make your way up to the apartment. You've got everything set up and you peel away the gauze and bandages to reveal the wound. Surprisingly, it isn't that bad. You heal faster than the average person, so the bleeding is minimal now and the torn stitch can be replaced with a few steri-strips.

"These stitches are very clean. You did these yourself?"

"Yeah. I ended up teaching myself to suture wounds because I used to use my quirk recklessly. I needed to stitch myself up a lot, or I'd be spending a whole lot of time in the hospital. I took a few low-level medical classes, watched videos, took free online courses. I'm no surgeon, but I get by fine." He nods, then gingerly cleans and applies the bandages. The heat from his fingers makes you shiver just a little, every time he brushes against the skin on your stomach you can’t help but hold your breath. He’s so close, you can see the pinch in his brow while he concentrates on the wound, so careful not to hurt you. 

"I really wish you'd told me about this, I would have stayed today and helped." You can't help but smile at his sweet words.

"That's very kind of you. But it's alright. Like I said, I used to have to do this all the time." He scoffs, not pulling his attention away from the dressings.

"I still would have stayed. You may not have saved my life last night but it sure as hell helped me a lot more than a normal hospital visit. Your healing was the next best thing to Recovery Girl's. And what about the little healing bit you gave me earlier? Will that affect you too?"

"Nah, I put so little in your coffee it would only speed up your healing by a fraction. It probably acted as a painkiller more than anything, so I won't feel any side effects from it." Satisfied with that answer, he nods and finishes with your wound. Both of you clean up and make your way to the couch, and Shouta decides you're not allowed to get up at all for the rest of the night. He's got water, a snack, your phone, and the tv remote all sat on the coffee table within your reach. What a doting man.

"So I'm guessing you got that mild ankle sprain as well." Damn.

"Yeah. But it's not as bad as yours probably was." He nods, remembering how you explained your transferred wounds were less severe. He sits in silence, staring at you, clearly contemplating something. You don't pressure him to spit it out, if he really wants to say something he'll say it. So, you switch on the tv and put on an old slice-of-life/comedy anime you'd already watched ten times. It's soothing background noise. Shouta's voice cuts through the characters flitting around on screen.

"You knew you'd take all of my wounds, you knew you'd be dealing with bad injuries. Why would you do that to yourself, just to keep me conscious? I mean, I wasn't going to die, at most I'd pass out but between the medics and you keeping pressure on the gash I'd definitely live. So why put yourself through his kind of pain?" It takes you a moment to form your response. Truly, you hadn't thought about it like that before. Whenever you use your healing it's a spur-of-the-moment, split-second decision. You'd always just dealt with the consequences afterward.

"I guess I can't help it. I've always just done it, and said 'fuck it, I'll suck it up later'. Maybe it's because I know for sure that I won't die no matter how bad the injuries, and there's no way to know if the victim were to survive. Maybe I can't help wanting to help them, help you. I've always been a sucker for that kind of thing." He regards you for a long moment.

"If your quirk didn't cause you personal harm you'd make an amazing healing hero." It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind more than a few times. If only.

“Yeah. The only other problem is that I’ve never tried to heal more than one person at a time. I’ve never really needed to. So I have no idea how that would turn out.” He nods in agreement. 

“How long will it take for that gash to heal?” That’s a good question. 

“Maybe two more days? It shouldn’t scar either, most of them don’t.” Another nod. He sits in silence then, turning his attention to the anime you’d put on, the characters delving into ridiculous and hilarious situations. Your eyes begin to droop, and you don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up the sun is filtering through the window. The window that’s in your bedroom. You’re in your bed, not the couch, and your ankle has been rewrapped and the dressings for your stitches have been changed. Somehow you hadn’t woken up, but the thought that he’d cared enough to change your gauze and ankle wrap had warmth settling in your chest. Slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen and find a note stuck on the fridge.

‘I made tuna onigiri. See you tonight for my coffee.’ A grin tugs at your mouth and you heat the onigiri in the microwave. It tastes good, the tuna seasoned well and the rice cooked perfectly. Somewhere in the back of your mind you find yourself excited to see the hero, his company welcome and wanted during your long-winded midnight shifts. He’s coming back tonight, and you make a mental note to not let him pay for that coffee, and also to thank him for last night. After your small breakfast you get ready for the day and head down to the cafe for a drink. Rika’s face fills your vision and her shit-eating grin makes you weary of what she’s about to say.

“Someone’s happy this morning. What’s got you all giddy today? A certain pro-hero, perhaps?” You roll your eyes and turn away from her, ignoring the warmth pooling in your cheeks.

“I’m not giddy.”

“Uh huh.” You shoot a half-hearted glare at her.

“I’m not. But he did come up last night and helped with my bandages. And a few other things.” Her hands clamp down on your shoulders and turn you around to face her, making you jump with the strength she’d gathered.

“Ok, my shift ends in half an hour and you’re telling me everything.” Of course she’d wanna hear it.

“Yeah yeah, you can come grocery shopping with me.” She nods, and you disappear back into your apartment to wait for her. It’s not long, you head down just as she’s clocking out and you both begin the walk to the supermarket down the street. You relay the entirety of last night’s events, all the way up to you waking up and she can’t stop giggling and squealing in her excitement. 

“UGH he’s just so dreamy isn't he? The whole thing is so romantic, carrying you to bed, dressing your wounds…girl you’re out here living the dream.” 

“Whatever. He’s a hero, he was probably just doing what he thought was best. Nothing more.” She actually laughs, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Oh hell no, you're not rationalizing this away. I can understand the wound dressing, but everything else was extra effort he definitely did not need to put in. He could have easily put a blanket over you on the couch, he didn’t need to carry you to bed, and he definitely didn’t need to make you breakfast especially when he didn’t stay the night.” For a moment, you let yourself dream that he hadn’t done all that he had because of his moral compass as a hero.

“Yeah, but I’m not banking on it. You may think he’s interested in me romantically, but he might not be. For now, I’m just going to let things play out.” She sighs, her shoulders slumping a little.

“Yeah, that’s the smartest thing to do. No use jumping the gun, huh?”

“Exactly. Now, where’s my grocery list?” Digging into your pocket you pull out the little note with all your necessities, and successfully find all of them in stock. The rest of the day is spent in your apartment talking about random things, Shouta being one of them. You allow yourself to indulge in the thoughts Rika put in your head. Dates and kisses and holding hands, you let your mind conjure what the hero could be like in a romantic setting. He seems to be a gentleman, clearly he’s not one to just take whatever he’s given and run with it. Not to mention even though he’s just an acquaintance right now he’d gone above and beyond to care for you last night. 

Rika departs and you get ready for your shift, only a little bit excited to see Shouta tonight. He may not be romantically interested in you, but that’s okay, you’re just happy you get to spend a few minutes together as always. The cafe empties out around 7, the sun having just set and the street lights making the street glow orange. The lights in the cafe are warm and cozy, and a light drizzle has made a chill settle in the air. It’s a warm drink night, you decide, and steam some apple juice with caramel syrup for your own personal enjoyment. A dash of cinnamon completes the flavor profile, making the drink reminiscent of apple pie. It warms you from the inside out, and you decide you’d make a sample for him to taste. This kind of deliciousness may be exceedingly sweet, but it’s always worth sharing and tasting, if only for the nostalgia of the sweet treat. Shouta shows up soon after, and you hand him both his coffee and the sample.

“It’s pretty sweet, but I think every once in a while sweet doesn’t hurt.” He takes it, and sips it carefully. He’s hit by the sugar rush first, you can tell, but when it wears off he hums and takes another sip.

“This tastes like a dessert I’ve had before…apple pie?” With a grin, you nod.

“Yes! I’m glad you recognized it!” Another hum, another sip, and you take a sip of your own as it cools slowly. You have to make yourself a glass of water to chase it, the sweetness settling on your tongue a little too heavily. You offer him one as well, and he takes it.

“You ready for your patrol tonight?”

“As ready as always. Shouldn’t be anything too crazy, the crime rate has been steadily declining so hopefully nothing wild like the other night.” You reach over and lay your knuckles on the wooden cabinets, knocking three times. Knocking on wood is a habit you’d picked up from your mother. One of his eyebrows raise at the action, but you just shrug.

“Never hurts. Better to cover your bases, I would hate to think you jinxed yourself just by saying it out loud.” He chuckles, then heads for the door.

“Well thanks, it’s nice to know someone’s looking out for the heroes.” He’s out the door and gone before you can get a reply or a goodbye out. In his absence you spend your time cleaning and restocking, experimenting with drink flavor combinations, drink and food combinations, and reorganizing pieces of the cafe that you feel need to be changed or improved. A few customers come and go, one college student sticks around with a laptop and headphones but leaves after a couple of hours. The chalkboard on the wall is outdated, so you take the time to wipe it down and begin to think up a new design and another promotional item to put up. That apple pie drink could work, with the fall season coming up, and pairing it with a more savory pastry item could work. Maybe a cream cheese danish, or a cinnamon bagel. Shouta walks in just as you finish up the board.

“I’m partial to the cinnamon bagel, but that’s just because I like cinnamon.” You grin, collecting your chalk pens and taking a step back to admire your board. You’d outdone yourself. 

“Cinnamon is pretty great. I’m assuming your patrol went smoothly?” You return behind the counter, already prepping to make his usual coffee.

“Yeah, nothing special.” He tugs his goggles off his face and lets them sit around his neck, the fabric of his scarf swallowing up the oddly shaped yellow piece. 

“Well that’s good then, less healing for me to do.” You smile, and he returns one, and when you hand him his coffee he sticks around in the cafe for a little while. He points out the little things you’d changed, the new placement of the tables and the rearranged beanbags in the corner. 

“How often do you change things around here? I’ve never noticed the beanbags.”

“Eh, whenever I feel like it, I guess. I don’t tend to leave things for more than a few months at a time. But the beanbags have always been there, just tucked away in the corner hidden behind the booth. I kept a little alcove there for larger groups, there’s an old couch as well as a large coffee table for the occasional board game night. Every Friday a group comes in to play DnD and they like the area, so it doesn’t go unused.” He nods, taking in all of the details of the cafe that he hadn’t before. He decides to take a seat in one of the beanbags, his eyes fluttering shut as he sinks. You can’t help but giggle at him, he must be tired.

“When do you even sleep? Between midnight patrols and school, when do you find the time?” He hums from his spot, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I have a sleeping bag I take with me to school. I take naps between classes and weekends are a godsend.” 

“Geez, that sounds awful. Naps during the week and only getting a full night’s rest during the weekends? How are you still functioning?” One of those bloodshot eyes peek open.

“Mostly you.” You’re sure he doesn’t mean it the way it came out, but the initial shock of the statement makes you blink at him dumbly.

“I meant the coffee. You’re my caffeine dealer.” His chuckle is tired and slow, chest jumping with the sound. Yeah, that’s what you figured he meant.

“Well I’m happy to help.” Silence falls, and you allow him the peace while you busy yourself with whatever menial tasks you can find to do. You’re almost startled when you hear a soft snore come from the corner, and a peek shows you that he’s sound asleep, his mouth having fallen open just the tiniest bit with his head leaning to one side. He must be constantly exhausted to have fallen asleep so quickly. It’s not hard to keep quiet, and you make sure to turn the volume of the music playing through the speakers way down to a light drone. You shift the playlist to something more relaxed, rather than the current high-energy pop, and dim the lights in the lobby to make him at least a little bit more comfortable. It’s hard not to stare at him, he’s so peaceful and looks so much more relaxed when he’s asleep. Your mind dares to conjure an image of his sleeping form stretched across your couch, his head settled in your lap while you thread your fingers into his hair. Or in your bed, with his body on top of yours as he snoozes away, his head tucked into your chest with your fingers massaging his back and neck.

You have to shake the images of domesticity from your brain.

You let him sleep as long as he needs to. It’s a Friday morning, so he definitely has school. It’s 6 am when you make your way over to his still snoring figure. It takes you a moment to figure out just how to wake him up, but when you call his name softly and he doesn’t seem to respond you decide it’s best to see if he’ll respond to touch. Gently, you kneel and lay a hand on his shoulder and call his name again. Still nothing. He must have needed a nap desperately. You squeeze his shoulder this time, letting your thumb rub back and forth over his suit to try to stimulate a response, and his snoring stops while his head lifts from the soft fabric of the beanbag. When his sleepy eyes meet yours you give him a soft smile.

“Good morning sleepy head. It’s 6 o’clock, I figured you’d need to get home and get ready for school.” He blinks and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“How long was I out?” 

“A couple hours. It was a small nap, but I think you needed it.” You follow him when he stands, and he makes his way toward the door when you stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Shouta, if you ever need to sleep that badly again my place is always open.” He opens his mouth to say something but you hold up a hand.

“I know, ‘you could never impose like that, blah blah blah’. No, I’m genuinely worried for you at this rate. Nobody can get away with that little sleep so frequently. So my offer stands, and I implore you to take it. You already spend so much time here, and the commute back and forth from here to wherever you live eats away at your sleep time.” His mouth snaps shut, and he stays silent for a long while. 

“I’ll think about it.” That’s better than nothing, you suppose.

“Good.” He throws a wave over his shoulder, holds the door open for the three covering the morning shift, then he’s gone in a flash. Your three coworkers eye you suspiciously, one actually nudging you with his shoulder and leaning close.

“So, Eraserhead, huh? Didn’t know you were into pros.” You hit him lightly on the shoulder, scoffing and rolling your eyes.

“Oh shut it, Shun. He’s a regular, he’s just never stayed this late.” One blonde eyebrow rises, his arms crossing over his chest with a pop of his hip.

“Right. And I’m supposed to believe there’s nothing more going on when you’re smiling like that when he leaves?” 

“Smiling like what? I’m not smiling any different!” You swear you aren’t.

“That’s bs and you know it. You like him.” With an eye roll, you flip him off and make your way up the stairs.

“Clock in and get to work. Morning rush is coming soon.” His laugh can be heard from the top step, and he shouts after you.

“You know I’m right!” The door is shut swiftly after that, and you have to take a seat on the couch to steady your racing heart. Sure, you dare to imagine him in a romantic setting, and sometimes you find your mind wandering about what it’d be like to live with the man. And maybe sometimes you think about him while he’s out and about, wondering what he’s doing with his day or night. Even just a few hours ago you were conjuring images of him asleep in your bed. 

Shun is right. You like him. A lot.

You have to take a deep breath and clear your mind, then get ready for bed. This was not something you had to hash out right now, this little crush needed to stay way in the back of your brain for the time being. Regardless of how you feel, Shouta is still a dear acquaintance, dare you say almost a friend, and you can’t risk whatever your current relationship is with the man just because of a crush. You don’t sleep once you’re in bed, it takes you some time to actually sift through all the thoughts in your head, but you do eventually succumb.

[thesweetestdevotion]

Hi can I get bts v as a boyfriend/husband? 💜 thanks

Hello!

BTS Taehyung as a Boyfriend/Husband:

As a Boyfriend:

Dice: Sun, 3rd House, Scorpio

Tarot: Seven of Wands, The Star, Knight of Swords Reversed, Ace of Swords, Two of Coins Reversed, Four of Swords Reversed, The Devil

He’s very defensive of his relationship here, he might feel the need to protect his partner from people’s opinions and comments. Could be his family and friends but also the public perception of his partner. He’s the type to defend his person to the death, very strict energy too. he feels like his partner needs to be deserving of his dedication so he’s very cautious of who he chooses to date. I just heard I know I’m a catch?? So cocky hehe. He’s just very aware of his good and bad sides and he knows he’s able to bring many benefits to his person, so he wants someone who appreciates that and also benefits him back. I think he’d try to be a healing place for his person, he’d want to soothe them and protect them. he also has obsessive tendencies here with the devil. He might be someone that gets attached easily to someone that meets his standards and is possessive. He could be harsh with his words too, because he’s so obsessive he has high expectations from his partner and is not shy about voicing his dissatisfaction with them if he feels it. With his dice, he’d try to keep his relationship quiet, preferring someone he’s familiar with and prioritizing clear communication with his person, even if it can come off as cold and uncaring. With the Star I’m seeing he has a clear vision of what he wants, and is probably someone that tries to visualize their perfect person often.

As a Husband:

Dice: 4th House, Moon, Aquarius

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Sun, The Hermit, Nine of Wands Reversed, Six of Cups, The Hierophant, Nine of Swords Reversed, Page of Coins, Six of Wands Reversed

I just started hearing lana del Rey’s ‘Sweet’ (maybe I’m in a lana mood lol) but specifically the part: Do you want children? Do you wanna marry me? Do you wanna run marathons in Long Beach by the sea? I’ve got things to do like nothing at all, I wanna do them with you, do you wanna do them with me? This song coming in with his dice tell me he yearns for domestic life. is he the type to talk about wanting marriage, kids, etc…?? Cause I definitely see he wants that life. The sun (fertility, children, happiness), the hierophant (marriage, traditions), six of cups (childhood, comfort, nostalgia) all paint a very picturesque view of married life. He’s definitely thought about this for a while, he probably feels like this will bring him a sense of completion and happiness. As a husband i think he’d disappear from public eye, or at least lower his prescience as he would want to focus on the life he’s building with his partner instead. He feels like marriage is an opportunity to get what he wants and heal his past wounds, also to get a better work-life balance and spend some time away from celebrity life. If he ever gets married don’t be surprised if he disappears for a while, it seems he wants that really badly. He’d be very in tune with his partner and would do anything to make them happy, very very devoted here. He’s like the stereotypical perfect husband archetype and is someone who would take marriage very seriously. He’s honestly very traditional in that sense. I think he’d be very aware of negative energies and would try to resolve any issues in his relationship. He’s the type to end up retiring after marriage hehe. I think he’s not that attached to fame as other celebrities are 😭. He wants outttt. Marriage would be the perfect excuse to do that, at least for a long while, maybe not fully permanent but who really knows.

This was very sweet!! Hope you guys like it xxx!!

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT III: CURIOSITY AND THE CAT ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— having one (1) friend is making you a bit too soft to your liking, your dad is dead and you make too many jokes about it, and you need a new suture kit.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, implication of ptsd, gore, blood, murder, death, sexual/suggestive content (in other parts), reader is overly flirtatious

#AUTHORSNOTE— tumblr pls let me write on my phone and still be able to see the words i type thank you xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

the doors to the police department flew open, nearly hitting some people who were exiting. ethan, eyes heavy with bags and hair tousled from being stuck in the mask all night, pushed past people who were waiting dutifully in front of the receptionists' desk, ignoring their protests and harsh exclaims.

the policeman sitting behind the desk didn't even seem fazed, only looking up at ethan boredly as he drawled, "sir, you're supposed to wait in line—"

"where's detective bailey?" ethan asked, eyes cold as he raised his head to peer deeper into the department. when no response was given quickly, he slammed his fist into the table. "where is he?!"

"ethan!" his head snapped towards his father's voice, his eyes welling in tears as he tried (and failed) to keep himself together. but seeing his father with no evident emotion on his face besides his red eyes, completely unlike how he was when richie died, ethan couldn't do it.

he walked up to his father, trying to push past him to make his way deeper into the department. "take me to where i can see her," he sniffed, shoving his father's hands away as he tried to stop him. "dad, i need to see her," he begged, shoving his father, hard, away from him. so hard, that he nearly was knocked off his feet, his face dropping at the sudden strength his youngest child exhibited.

but ethan was too focused on trying to find out where his sister's body was being kept to care.

two policemen came between him and the hallway deeper into the department, their hands hovering over their guns while another policeman grabbed ethan's arm, urging him to leave. he was crying now, just a mess of tears and healing bruises in the police department, but they didn't care.

"she's evidence, ethan. and they took me off the case—"

"she's my sister," he seethed, tears freely flowing down his face as he looked at his father in disbelief. nothing. ethan saw nothing in his face. "don't call her evidence. i need to see her," his voice cracked as he shoved himself away from the other policeman, reaching for his dad like he always did as a child. reaching for some reaction, something, anything, even the bare minimum, only to be shoved away and ignored. and this was no different, because even as he grabbed his arm and begged him to let him see his sister, to let him talk to her, to let him say goodbye, there was nothing.

"dad," ethan cried, reaching for his hand, only for him to move it away quickly. "dad, say something. please," he sniffed harshly, "i wasn't there—"

"and why weren't you?" the detective snapped, and ethan's face fell. "why weren't you there, ethan? what was so important that you weren't there?" his words became more accusatory by the second, and it suddenly felt like he was a child again, being yelled at for something that wasn't entirely his fault. "tell me!"

"i," ethan tried to force out, but the lump in his throat was too large. why wasn't he there? why didn't he make it on time? his dad was right. he had all the power in the world to be there in time, and yet he wasn't. "dad, please," he whispered, but his father was already walking away from him.

"you'll see her soon. but not now." he couldn't even look at him as he walked away, leaving his youngest standing alone in a waiting room full of people, tears dripping onto the tile.

"ethan?"

his head turned to the entrance, finding tara, sam, and chad all standing at the doorway. he couldn't even say a single word out, tears welling up in his eyes again as he tried to force out a sentence, a word, anything, but to no avail.

without another word, tara walked up to him and pulled him into a hug. ethan couldn't even bring himself to sob, only allowing the tears to fall freely as he felt the others' arms wrap around him. since then, he didn't utter a word. usually he had a hard time not speaking, but there was so much circling his head that he felt like he could say anything. he didn't have the energy to, so he sat in silence in the waiting room, waiting for the others to be done with their accounts.

tara was the first to come back. she seemed as shaken up as he was, her shaking hands shoved in her pockets as she walked to stand in front of ethan. she didn't say anything at first, as though she had been pondering her words before she spoke. "my friend drove us here. figured it'd be safer, even though the others don't really trust her."

ethan didn't look up, his eyes dead set on his lap. his hands were moving over each other, one over the other as though he was massaging them angrily. the massaging turned to picking at his hangnails for a moment, before returning to massaging. he was anxious; too many emotions and too much happening all at once.

it was a habit that had been going on for a long time, even when he was a kid. he was an anxious child; bullied for speaking too much and made fun of for being dorky, completely unlike his brother who was charming enough that people had actually liked him. but with his new powers that heightened his senses.. ethan found that when he was anxious, everything felt like overload. it all felt like too much.

"i need air," he murmured, standing up abruptly and moving past tara, ignoring her protests of, 'but it isn't safe!'

the cold night air hit his face, bringing a chill throughout his body that he would've found uncomfortable if he wasn't so desperate to be outside. ethan breathed in the air and let it freshen up his insides, trying to focus on the feeling of air expanding his lungs rather than the fact that his father blamed him for his sister's death.

the hairs on his neck stood up, making him immediately clench his fists and look around, walking a thin line between anger and fear as he looked for what had set off his senses in such a way.

you had been leaning against the side of the police department, obviously out of your element and only mildly perturbed by it. you didn't expect to settle into bed and have tara call you moments later, talking about the attack you had been in as well and how she'd rather get a ride from you rather than take the subway or walk. her reasoning made sense, but you didn't understand why she called you all of people. but sleep had been getting harder for you as the days passed, so you reluctantly agreed to bring her and her friend group to the department.

so you tried to seem as though you weren't uncomfortable loitering around the one place you had been avoiding for the majority of your life. but as you stared at the brunette who had been panicking not even a minute before he had seen you, you realized that maybe things weren't as bad for you as it was for him.

his eyes were red and his hands were repeatedly clenching and unclenching at his sides tightly. so tight, that you could see his knuckles pale despite the lack of light. he was looking at you, you realized, his huge puppy dog eyes glassy with tears and his brows furrowed as he raised a hand and quickly wiped away his tears.

you didn't say a word (you didn't even know him, what could have you said?), choosing to only tilt your head as you peered at his face.

he felt like you were studying him. taking in his features like a painting you'd stare at in a museum, studying the red of his eyes and the drip of his tears, the light dapple of freckles that had been fading due to the oncoming winter. he found himself swallowing down his need to cry so that he could force out a small, "what?" that sounded a lot less intimidating than he wanted it to sound.

"nothing," you said, and he was surprised to hear that your voice was so smooth. you were still looking at him though, probably coming up with your own judgement of him just by looking at his messed up state. you weren't, though— you were just trying to figure out whether you should show some simple human concern for once in your life.

but was some stranger worth it? in any other circumstance, the answer would’ve been simple, but there was something so familiar about the boy that it was

"you have a staring problem," ethan said defensively, facing away from you as he stared into the street.

"better than whatever's going on with you right now." the words fell from your mouth before you could stop them, the brutal honesty in that sentence taking even you aback by them. but they were out now, and you weren't the type to apologize for stuff you said.

you weren't the type. but as you stared holes into the back of his head, having a moral battle over some dude, you found yourself saying a quick, "sorry," that made you feel like you were suddenly naked out in the streets of new york.

“it’s fine. you’re probably right, anyways.” he sniffled, wiping the last bit of tears from his eyes. “i bet you’re having a hell of a better time than i am.”

you took in his words as you shoved yourself off the side of the building, walking ahead of you so that you stood horizontally from him. there was a distance between you both as you stood there, staring at the street. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but the tension was making the air thick; the both of you were waiting for one of you to talk.

"my.. friend got attacked." this time you could feel his eyes on you, boring holes into your side profile as you avoided his gaze. "i had to pick her and her friends up. so, yeah, you're right," you sighed, and your breath came out in white steam, "my situation is probably better. doesn't mean i'm having a good time, though."

“there you are.”

you shut your mouth again at the sound of chad’s voice, turning to the others as they came exiting the station. you watched as chad looked at ethan concernedly, your eyebrows raising when you realized; he was one of tara's friends. that's why he looked so familiar.

you had never stayed around to see them for more than a few seconds. they were tara;s friends, not yours, and to simply linger as thy approached her after her singular lecture with you was far too weird for you. so you often kept your distance, choosing to walk away before she had the chance to introduce you, turning your back before they could ask you what your name was. having one person you considered a friend was dangerous enough in your line of work.

"you already met y/n," sam said to him, looking towards you with a tight lipped smile. "tara called her to drive us after—"

"after the attack, yeah," he was still looking at you with those doe eyes of his, taking in your seemingly nonchalant front. he wasn't blind to the feeling of familiarity he got when he saw you, but knowing now that you were one of tara's friends made sense. you were the girl they always saw walking out of psych lecture with her. "i'm ethan," he said, forcing a toothless smile.

"y/n." you nodded at him in acknowledgement before turning to the rest of the group. "where am i taking you guys?" you asked, starting to walk to your car, which was parked down the street.

"blackmore dorms," chad said, making you nod. "since the apartment is a no-go.. they can probably sleep in our dorm for a little bit, if that's okay," he glanced at ethan, who only nodded. "i'll bunk with ethan tonight, you two can sleep in my room," he said to tara and sam, who only nodded. both of them looked too beat up to even try and protest.

you walked up to your car— a black porsche carrera that your father had stolen before you were even born —unlocking it wordlessly.

"this is your car?" ethan couldn't help but ask, eyebrows raising at the sight of it. it was practically new despite its age, and the fact that you were a college student who casually owned a porsche was beyond him.

"that's what i said," chad said with a small chuckle, "what do your parents do again, y/n?"

"my dad's rotting dead 6 feet below," you responded dryly, unlocking the car for the rest of them and not even bothering to look at their reactions. when no laughs followed except for tara's amused snort, (tough crowd, you assumed), you peered at them with a cocked brow. "well? are we leaving?"

"right," chad mumbled, climbing into the backseat next to tara and sam while ethan took the passenger seat.

the ride to blackmore was quiet, the most of you far too focused on just getting home and sleeping. ethan's head rested on the window of your car, his eyes fluttering closed every once in a while as he struggled to stay awake. he was exhausted, having barely slept a wink between patrolling, school, and fighting off serial killers. his mind was far too focused on getting revenge on whoever killed his sister, but as he listened to the smooth hum of the car and the soft music that played through your radio, he found himself drifting off.

"did you talk to him for a little?" sam asked you from the backseat, and you nodded, your eyes still set on the road.

"yeah. granted, i didn't do much comforting. it's not really my forte, i guess." you sighed. "he seemed like in pretty bad shape."

"it was his sister," tara said softly, looking at ethan's sleeping face with empathy. "quinn. she didn't make it."

the rest of the ride was in silence.

he was jolted awake when his senses went off, sending that jolt of energy through his body and forcing his hand to grab your wrist before it could touch him. it looked like you were just trying to shake him awake, but as his hand wrapped around his wrist, you tore your hand away (with surprising strength) from his grasp.

"shit," you breathed, sending him a look as you tried to process what just happened. "your reflexes are crazy."

"sorry," ethan breathed, eyes traveling down to where your hands were, your other hand massaging your wrist as you stared at him. "i didn't bruise you, did i?"

"not in the way that i usually like," you grumbled, making a dusting of red appear over his cheeks. "it's fine, really. you're on edge."

"still," he mumbled, warily looking at your wrist. there wasn't a bruise forming, thankfully, but ethan often times found himself cautious of his own strength. he didn't want to accidentally hurt you just because he was anxious. "'m sorry anyways."

"it's okay. really."

a beat. "where did the others go?"

"they went ahead. tara 'n sam were tired so chad offered to bring them to your dorm while i woke you up." you shrugged, reclining your seat a bit as you unbuckled your seatbelt. your eyes drifted towards ethan, who was still sitting with his seatbelt, eyes staring holes into his lap. he seemed so far away, almost unreachable. "you don't have to go now," you found yourself saying, "take your time."

jesus, what was happening to you? first you get out of bed for a friend, now you found yourself telling some stranger to take their time with getting out of your car. you were losing minutes of sleep— you could be with your cats, and yet you were sitting in silence next to a boy you only knew the name of. the silence that should've felt uncomfortable simply.. didn't. the silence was comfortable; just two strangers sitting quietly alone in a car.

"okay," he glanced at you with a forced smile. "let's go."

you locked your car behind you as you walked next to ethan, digging your hands into the pockets of your pajamas. he seemed to be more tired than distressed as he trudged next to you, arms crossed over his chest. the night was cold and far more eerie; being attacked in the past hours would do that to you.

"do you live on campus?" ethan asked. he usually hated small talk, as he was one to never shut up to other people unless they were complete strangers. but he was silently thankful that you had been patient with him through the night, even letting him have a bit of time before he exited the car. he wasn't sure why he wanted to ask you questions.

maybe he was curious about you. maybe he wanted to know you.

"no," you replied smoothly, eyes set on the pavement ahead of you. "i have my own place."

"rich family?"

"yeah, their life insurance money was great," you lied in a monotone voice, eyebrows raising in surprise when you heard him stifle a chuckle. "i'm guessing you feeling a little better than before."

"arguably worse, actually," ethan said matter-of-factly, making you hum in response. "i think i'm just too tired to fully feel everything, y'know?"

"makes sense," you said, walking up to the entrance door and opening it with your card. "that's why we gotta get you into your dorm."

"but what about you?" you raised a brow at him as you shut the door behind you. ethan's brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of what he just said, having just blurted it out without another thought. "who'll bring you home?"

you blinked. "my car?" you couldn't decipher that look on his face, as though he was mentally turning over a plan around and around. for someone who seemed to always have something to say, he was suddenly rendered quiet. "are you worried about me?" your tone was teasing, but you were genuinely serious as you asked.

"i'm jus' worried about your safety, that's all!" his eyes widened in slight fear when your arms crossed over your chest, your eyes becoming more unsure by the second. "i mean, you can probably handle it on your own—"

"i can handle it on my own."

"but it's a murderer!" ethan exclaimed as he began to lead you to his dorm room. "you live alone, and no one watches over you— this sounds really bad and i'm sorry —but i don't know if you've watched horror movies, but that's basically how every single one starts!" a pause. "not that i'm saying you can't handle your own or anything!"

"may i remind you that you don't actually know me. we aren't friends." you said dryly, but even that didn't change his mind. you came to the conclusion then that he was far too stubborn for his own good. anxiety filled, almost too talkative, and closed off emotionally, but he was stubborn.

"that doesn't matter," ethan said with a shake of his head. he stopped in front of his dorm room door, looking at you with a worry ridden face. "do you," he swallowed thickly, "want to come in?"

"you already know the answer to that, eth."

"i know, but—" he looked at the warning look you had on your face. “fine. it was worth a shot." he stepped into his doorway, turning around to take the door. "good night, y/n."

"good night, ethan."

".. i went through their financial records dozens of times and this was not in any of them, it doesn't make sense," agent kirby grumbled, looking up warily at the fire escapes that hung over head. the alleyway was tucked away pretty well— you had only used it a few times when getting away, primarily because most of the police didn't even know the theatre nearby it existed.

"maybe you're just not that good at your job," you said under your breath.

"who brought little miss sunshine along?" kirby asked, sending you a warning look. you only gave her a sarcastic smile in response.

"i did," tara said as she walked next to sam. "she helped us last night."

that was an understatement. you consciously rubbed the bandage on your neck, which you had hidden under your jacket. you didn't want them thinking that you had gotten it because you had attacked them.

you had woken up to a text from tara asking if you wanted to come along and investigate. she was under the assumption that you wanted nothing to do with any of the murders, but you saw her invitation as an in. it'd allow you to be able to investigate from the inside, and truthfully, your curiosity was getting the best of you. you wanted to know who was behind everything.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come,” tara said pointedly, but you only shrugged in response, peering up at the spray painted killer on the brick wall.

“what else am i supposed to do nowadays?” you sighed, "helping you avoid murder feels just like another friday at this point." tara scoffed at your words, which made a downward smile appear on your face.

gale swiped her card down at the entrance way and opened it, allowing everyone to pile in. it was pitch black inside, lest and you found yourself gripping your bag tighter to your body, suddenly aware of the knife that was hidden inside of it.

if any one from the group saw it, they'd surely think that you were the murderer. if only they knew that you just liked being prepared.

"what is this place?" kirby asked, hand hovering over her gun as she looked around the dimly lit area.

"a movie theatre," you murmured, walking away from the group to explore further, until gale turned on the energy.

"how'd you know that?" mindy asked you cautiously, eyes furrowed as she looked you. of the entire group, she was the most distrustful of you (for good reason, honestly).

"new york born and raised," you responded with a shrug, "besides; my dad showed me once."

mindy clicked her tongue. "that's only mildly suspicious."

"can't even deny that," you muttered.

"but this place isn't just a movie theatre." gale weathers (who you had only ever seen from afar, as she was usually the one reporting all your burglaries) nodded over to the official entrance to the theatre, where some gears were turning as a run-down curtain was raised. "it's also a shrine."

you swallowed thickly as you entered, eyes widening at the sheer amount of all the souvenirs inside the rundown place. what once used to be a beautiful theatre was replaced by mannequins of outfits worn during the stab killings and glass cases full of what police would call evidence. knives of different variety, all still bloodied by their last victims, were posed proudly within the glass cases right next to sketches showing how they were used. drawings upon drawings of the survivors and legacy characters of the stab franchise was beside almost every item, and based off of the style, they were all from one person.

"they've got the whole god damn franchise," mindy said in shock, peering into one of the glass cases. her face fell when she saw the shirt on display, calling out, "chad," over her shoulder. as her twin walked up to her, she looked back at the black shirt. "this is uncle randy's," she breathed. "they've got everything."

you looked into one of the glass cases full of drawings of the original killers and original victims. they were all drawn with a meticulous hand; the artist was obsessed with them enough to be able to draw them repeatedly over and over. they studied their faces, from how they looked like when they were terrified all the way until their last breath.

"the same artist," you breathed, unaware that ethan had walked up next to you and looked into the same case.

"just one person." he seemed to be in deep thought, his brows furrowed as he stared at the artwork. "do you think one person's behind this?"

"god, no," you shook your head, "but i do think one person is more obsessed than the other. or at least, someone was." you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, watching as his tongue poked at his cheek as he read all the pieces of art.

you saw spider-man doing that once. you shook the thought out of your head as you focused your attention back on the evidence; you were sure that the masked hero would love to hear about this.

but as you stood next to the boy who was studying the artwork intently, a question popped into your head.

"so why are you here?" you asked him casually, crossing your arms over your chest. he turned to you, raising a brow at your sudden question.

ethan walked closer to you, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you suspiciously. "i could ask you the same thing."

"actually, tara—"

"it was so that we could keep an eye on you," chad interrupted, making the both of you snap your heads towards him. he managed a thin lipped smile, putting an arm onto one of the cases. "both of you."

mindy pointed two eyes at her eyes before pointing them at the both of you, her face nothing short of serious. if you weren't being suspected, you would've laughed.

"the killer must've found this place before he murdered jason and greg," gale explained, "and then he.. took the masks off the mannequins. all nine, from stuart and billie to amber and richie."

ethan swallowed thickly at the sound of his brother's name, turning away from the others as he tried to focus on something else. he could feel his father's eyes burn into the back of his skull. how convenient was it that he (and later, his family) moved to an entirely new state just to forget about his brother, only for it to bite him in the ass once he got here. he barely talked about his relation to his father to the others, much less the fact that they were all related to the killer who tried to kill them only a year prior. quinn and his father wanted to move on from richie too. at least, that was what they had told ethan.

"so somebody killed these chuckle fucks and took over?" chad asked, making you roll your eyes at the words he used.

"someone who believes that sam masterminded woodsboro," gal said with a nod.

"if this were a normal stab movie," mindy began, looking at all the cloaks that were left with no mask, "this would be the killer's lair."

"which means that this isn't a normal stab movie," you said with a sigh, "great."

tara's face was unreadable as she stared at the cloak labeled 'billy.' shaking her head, she turned around and left the theater without another word, sam following close behind her.

you sat alone at the edge of the stage, tapping your fingers on the wood as you let everyone figure out what the next move was. the sound of heavy footsteps made you look up, eyes narrowing when you saw detective bailey not too far from you, turning his head away from your vicinity. you couldn't tell whether he was staring at you or not, but there was an unsettling feeling in your chest that gave you enough of an answer.

you couldn't trust anyone.

they had dropped you off before they went on to their new plan. you claimed you had a lecture; and you technically did, but you never went to your lectures most of the time.

you gave them a fake address before walking home yourself. you didn't trust any of them— to casually give them your address was like a death wish. you knew better.

the black mask fit comfortably over your face as you pulled it over. while the others had their own plan, you had your own; you'd do some patrolling (jesus, who were you, spider-man?) and watch over them from afar. you were shoving a gun into your side before you heard someone knock on your bedroom window. immediately, you took out your gun and pointed it at the glass.

it was him. dressed in his suit as per usual, looking at you upside down. his mask was on half of his face, and he managed a toothy smile that made you roll your eyes in annoyance. shoving your gun back into your side pocket, you walked over to open the window for the hero.

"what did i say about friendly visits, spider?" you asked skeptically, moving back to your desk to get your items in place. his feet hit your hardwood floor gently as he swung into your home, shutting the window behind him.

"this isn't technically a visit," he said with a shrug, coming up next to you. he watched you put on your gloves with interest. "a little birdy told me that the stab survivors needed our help."

"and which little birdy is that?" you asked, not even looking up at him. you were too busy making sure every claw was working well, but you could feel him standing next to you. his back was to the edge of the table as he placed his weight comfortably on it. his hands were holding the edge of it as he talked freely with his mask pulled up half way.

"i just used my radio and asked them politely—"

".. you asked the police if you could help?"

"i asked detective kirby if i could help," he corrected, obviously exasperated by your surprise. "i needed an in, so i asked and she told me to be on standby. we'll just be listening to them on this," he pulled out a burner phone, setting it down on your table, "and they'll tell us where some action is happening."

"some action," you scoffed at his words, "that's one way to put it."

"how else am i supposed to put it? anyways, i decided to come here and politely invite you to join me, kitty." spider-man said with a tight-lipped smile. but as his eyes looked you up and down, realizing you were already fully ready, his smile faltered. "did you have your own plan?" he asked you curiously.

"i did." you said pointedly, unsheathing your claws before retracting them again. "i wanted to watch over them. lawfully stalk them to make sure they're still breathing or whatever." there was an odd silence that hung in the air as you worked diligently on your claws. "you seem to be in a better mood than yesterday," you commented, glancing at him from your peripherals before focusing back on your weapons. "are you really feeling that way, spider?"

spider-man cleared his throat at that. truthfully, ethan was masking everything again. he wanted to feel like himself, to be able to freely joke and banter with others how he used to, but everything seemed so forced now. all he felt, all he really felt was anger. he wanted to get revenge, and for once in his life, he was willing to stoop as low as richie and kill for what he believed in.

he hated that you saw right through his act. it was as though you had ignored every forced smile he flashed, ignored how he was desperately trying to feel like himself again, and ignored his light hearted facade.

you knew he was lying to you.

ethan stayed quiet. you knew what that silence meant.

"thought so," you murmured. you looked down at the burner phone, the black screen reflecting your own face back to you. "can i ask how you knew her?" you asked him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"who?"

"quinn." you looked up at him. "there was only one person killed in that attack. quinn bailey, the detective's daughter." his jaw clenched when he heard her name come out of your mouth, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

"just a friend i knew," ethan said, the lie coming out like a taboo secret. to refer to his own sister as just a friend pained him. "i was close to her. incredibly close to her and i wasn't there in time to save her. i couldn't get there in time." he seemed to be millions of miles away as he talked, his eyes set on the floor.

you stayed silent for once, letting the silence surround the both of you. he didn't continue, seemingly too deep in his head to say more about the subject, and you understood that. you knew how that felt, to be physically in one place and mentally somewhere else. "if you're blaming yourself, you're a lot stupider than i thought. none of it is your fault."

you were so nonchalant, as though your words were factual. you never truly lied unless it was for your own gain, and that alone made you distrustful, but as you casually stated his innocence in the whole scheme of things, ethan found himself looking at you with hopeful eyes. he believed you, and whether that was dangerous of not, he wasn't sure.

"don't even say anything, it'll ruin the moment," you added dryly, sending him a warning look.

the burner phone began to ring, making the hero immediately click answer (crazy reflexes). kirby's panicked voice rang through the speaker. "gale weathers' house! upper west side—"

"west 96th," you interrupted, already opening the window.

spider-man blinked as he quickly hung up, already crawling out the window. he pulled his mask over the rest of his face. "how did you know that?" he offered a hand out to you,

"i was thinking of stealing her shit before all this," you grumbled, taking his hand. he pulled you close to him, his hand finding your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"typical." he shot another web up, and you tried not to scream as you were suddenly brought up into the sky, the wind whipping in your face as he began to make his way to the upper west side.

the sun had set significantly by the time you made it, your leg coming up to kick through one of the bedroom windows. spider-man came in right after you, barely making a sound as he listened for any sounds. it was so quiet. even as you stepped towards the ajar door of the bedroom, not a single sound was heard.

you crept out into the hallway, hand grabbing your gun and raising it. spiderman crawled above you as you walked slowly down the hallway, catching a glimpse of blue as you did. looking up at the hero, you nodded in the direction of where you had seen it. he nodded in response, crawling ahead quietly.

gale had seen him as he crawled up the side of her wall, his finger coming up to his mask in a 'shh' motion. she nodded, the phone still up against her ear as she spoke, "the brains and the sex appeal," she responded, turning around to try and find the killer. but all she saw was her dead boyfriend on the ground of her living room, the killer nowhere to be seen. but then she saw you, gun in hand as you pointed it around you, your eyes looking into her's and practically begging her to not say a word.

you heard the muffled talking of the killer through the phone, your gun pointed opposite of where gale had her's pointed.

"can you hold, please?" gale asked, and you raised your eyebrows, turning to her in shock. but she quickly redialed the number, making a loud ringing sound appear from the closet.

you shot it. once. twice. five times, walking closer with each step.

ethan felt that familiar chill run through his body, his eyes widening as he yelled, "watch out!"

the doors flew open as ghostface jumped through, their knife nearly piercing your shoulder as they did. you jumped back before they could reach you, shooting your gun at them and groaning when it didn't stop them. "gale, get back!" you yelled over your shoulder, watching as spider-man swung down to kick them away from you.

ghostface quickly got up as spider-man shot his webs at them, their dodges quick as they tried to lunge at him with their knife.

but as they raised it up to throw it at the hero, you shot their arm, making them groan in pain and let go of their weapon. they fell to the ground, spider-man shooting yet another web at them to stick their feet to the floor.

he was so close to getting him. he was only feet away, walking closer as he did, his hands curling into fists as anger coursed through his veins. they were stuck. they had no way of leaving, no way of escaping.

"remove his mask," you told him, the curiosity almost too much as you kept your gun pointed at him. gale stood behind you, her eyes wary as she watched the hero walk closer. "spider, remove his mask—"

he threw a punch at the killer. the mask didn't fall off, but the groan of pain he heard was enough that he wanted to keep going. ethan kicked their stomach, his anger growing at the lack of response as he kicked it again. and again.

they killed his sister.

another kick.

they slit her throat. they stabbed her and twisted the knife into her chest. they took away the person that cared for him when his dad didn't, who paid attention to him when all his father really cared about was richie. the one family member who truly loved him and cared for him like any older sister would. they killed her.

and ethan didn't even get to say goodbye.

he could feel tears burning his eyes as he grabbed them by the collar, raising them as much as he could with their foot stuck against the floor. he punched them hard, and that's when he felt it. his nerves going crazy, electrifying his body, and before he knew it, all he felt was pain.

his hand went to the hilt of the knife they had stabbed into him. right into the lower left of his torso, and your gun rang as you shot the killer in the chest. they pulled the knife out with them as they collapsed on the floor.

and as he stumbled to the ground, you caught him. "spider? oh fuck," your breaths were heavy as you immediately applied pressure to his wound, eyes wide as you tried to stop the bleeding. your heart was pounding harder and faster in your chest. he was bleeding so much, the crimson pooling into the palms of your hands as you applied as much pressure as you could.

gale rushed forward, her hand going over yours as her eyes, wide and panicked, looked at you. "you have to take him to the hospital."

"i can't—"

"do you want to save him?!" gale demanded, staring right into your eyes.

"i'll be fine," he seethed through gritted teeth, the pain growing as he tried to move. "i can't go to the hospital. i have to—" he coughed harshly and tasted iron. "i have to get him—"

"are you people fucking crazy?!" gale cried out, looking at the hero in disbelief. "you need help!"

"i'm not letting you get back at them.." your words died in your throat when you looked back at where the killer was supposed to be.

they were gone.

the hero groaned as he pushed himself up, ignoring the way you and gale tried to keep him laying down. "where are they?" he demanded, his head whipping around as he tried to look for the killer. it felt like all his hope for getting his revenge was lost in a blink of an eye. he got away from him again, and he was so close. he had him in his hands. "where are they?"

"we have to get you help," you urged, hearing the ding of the elevator as the carpenter sisters ran in. surely the police was close behind.

"i can't leave, please—" he was pleading with you now, gripping your arm tightly as he tried to change your mind, as he tried to make you forget that he was literally bleeding all over your hands. the warmth of his blood made your eyes glass over as past memories ran rampant through your head, but you prevailed.

"we need to get you help. now." you looked into the eyes of his mask, eyes serious. "please. let's go."

he swung the both of you through your apartment window, groaning as he pulled his mask over half of his face and laid on your bedroom floor. you hurriedly shut the window behind you as you ran to get the medical supplies you needed. your hands were shaking, you realized, as you grabbed your first aid kit and tried to calm your body down.

"dad? dad—" your panicked voice rang through your father's head as he stumbled into your home, his hand holding his side. you were so young, still so full of life and completely oblivious to his line of work. but a heist had gone much too wrong, and with no family, no trust is anyone, he had nothing but you, his 7 year old daughter.

"y/n, get the kit in the bathroom under the sink," he managed past heavy breaths, coughing to his side and spitting blood onto the rug of your living room. you were crying now, eyes blurring over in tears as you pressed against where his hand was, your breathing picking up when blood gushed out of him.

"spider? hey, you gotta stay with me, okay?" you said as you ran back to his side, helping him get onto your bed. you sniffled harshly as you grabbed the first aid kit.

you grabbed the first aid kit with shaking hands, the once-white plastic staining red with your father's blood. "i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know what i'm doing," you said over and over, whispering the words like a panicked mantra.

you could feel the walls of your room tower over you as you forced the box open, grabbing the gauze and bandages with trembling fingers. it was different when it was someone else. it was different when the entire situation reminded you of when you realized your father wasn't who he said he was. that he was a criminal, and after keeping it a secret from you for nearly a decade, his cover was blown.

"kitty," spider managed to say, staring at your wide, horrified eyes as you struggled to clean the blood around his wound. you looked terrified. "look at me."

you ignored his words, taking the roll of gauze and beginning to wound pack his stab wound. the red pool that seemed to grow larger and larger around him made your breath hitch.

he was bleeding everywhere. the pool of red underneath him seemed to grow with every passing moment, and you were crying. sobbing as you tried to listen to your dad's instructions of how to wound pack a bullet wound.

you couldn't think straight. it felt like you were reliving the moment again, as though you were barely 7 with your father's blood on your hands.

you heard him hiss in pain as you continued to press the gauze into his wound, but you kept going. everything was white noise to you as you kept wound packing, frustrated tears dripping from your eyes when the red continued to seep into the white of the gauze. "fuck," you muttered under your breath, grabbing another roll of gauze.

he bit down on his lip to keep himself from screaming, head falling back as he tried to focus on something. anything that would keep his mind off of the stabbing. "please, talk to me," he said, pulling his head back up to look at you. "just talk about something. anything."

you packed the gauze into his wound as you sniffled harshly. "i was 7 when i patched up my first wound. my dad," you swallowed hard, "my dad came home with a bullet wound."

"your father was the original black cat," spider-man said, groaning in pain before he could get another word out.

"he was." you had never admitted that to anyone before. "but i didn't know. not until i was patching up his bullet wound on the living room floor." you felt your heart rate slow when you saw no right of blood seeping through the wound. you had to suture him up.

you slowly began to remove some of the packing gauze, your brows furrowing when you realized his own body was healing him from the inside. slowly but surely, his own powers had stopped the bleeding. all you had to do was suture him.

"you were so young," he managed to say before letting out a whimper of pain. "fuck! sorry i can't talk that much all this hurts really bad and the fact that i couldn't get them—"

"it's fine." you looked into the eyes of his mask. you turned back to the wound, grabbing your suture kit (you really had to get a new one) and taking the needle, thread, and forceps.

"it's not fine. it really isn't fine." the needle pierced his skin and he winced, teeth biting harder into his bottom lip. "i should've thought before going to attack them, i should've removed their mask—"

"stop."

"i shouldn't have let them get away." guilt consumed his every being as he spilled his heart out to you, tears blurring his vision. "i was just.. i was just so angry at them because they killed her. they killed my sister, and i couldn't do anything about it because i wasn't there. i was too fucking late."

his sister. your actions paused when your eyes widened in realization.

"it was his sister," tara said softly, looking at ethan's sleeping face with empathy. "quinn. she didn't make it."

ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— pls feel free to ask me for nsfw/sfw headcanons about this series! & thank you all for being so supportive xx

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch , @hotweeb , @marsyay78 , @valenftcrush , @bonkyandsteeb3000 , @bubs-world , @danis-stuff-is-here , @nuhteyam , @ravenstrueluv , @taeversity , @heartipods

[sxxythingz]

Let me show you

Lo’ak Sully (21) x Na’vi fem! Reader (21)

Warnings: smut, p in v, breeding kink, cursing, cream pie, mentions of cheating, aged up characters

Summary: After some time of dating while you were human, you decided that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Lo’ak so you became Na’vi. You didn’t realize that while you were still human, he wasn’t exactly faithful to you until one day you catch him in the act. After you decide to leave him, he figures out a way to make it up to you.

WC: 5.0K (I didn’t realize it was that many words guys I swear)

🛑MDNI🛑

“Get your hands off of me, I am done!” You yell as you snatch your arm out of Lo’ak’s hand, storming through the forest as tears threaten to fall from your eyes. “Wait y/n, just let me explain! Come on, don’t be like this.” He says as he follows behind you while you quickly paste through the forest, far away from his hut.

“No! There is nothing to explain Lo’ak! I caught you with yet another girl. What is this, like the 5th girl in the past few weeks?” You abruptly come to a sudden halt and stand in front of him with your arms folded. He looks at you, defeat in his eyes and he huffs loudly. “I’m sorry, ok? I won’t do it again. It was a mistake y/n, I swear!” He says and you chuckle as you throw your hands into the air. “Cheating on me 5 different times is a mistake? Have you lost your mind, is that what you really think in your head? That this was all a mistake?” A broken giggle leaving your throat to stop you from crying as you run your hands through your soft, loose braids.

“No. I’ll tell you what the mistake was. The mistake was permanently transferring into an avatar just to be with you! There’s no telling what you were doing while I wasn’t here and I regret ever even knowing you.” You shoot him a cold glare as you see the heartbreak cloud his face. “Y/n… you don’t mean that. Don’t say that, just come on. Let me-“ he protests as he tries once again to grab you, but you back up before shaking your head quickly.

“You didn’t even deny being with other girls while I was still human… I thought you loved me, I thought you were my mate, that we would be together forever and build a family together. I did this so we could bond properly, I have no one here except for you and your family. I gave all of myself to you and you continue to pretend that I don’t exist. I just can’t do this anymore Lo’ak. We are done.” You spit at him before you turn around and begin walking off to prevent him from seeing the tears that have begun treading down your hot face.

About 2 months have gone by since you and Lo’ak have broken up and you’ve not sure how you are even surviving at this point. You’ve realized just how much time you guys have spent together since you’ve met, never really parting from each other for too long. After all of the years that you two have spent together, walking past each other as if you don’t know who the other is has to be the hardest part of it all. You’ve left your family and friends on earth, making his family, friends and everyone in the lab the only people that you have left, but it’s just not the same as having him. As hard as it has been without him, you know that going back would be pointless because he’s just going to do the same thing as before.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself as you scoff aloud. He's probably already in another relationship with someone else right now. You walk through the forest, searching for Kiri since you don’t really feel like being all alone. Today would’ve been you and Lo’ak’s 6 month anniversary and people always say time heals all wounds. To you, it quite literally felt like the opposite since you have been dealing with all of the other anniversaries all alone, but it seems that the further out you guys would’ve been together, the worst you feel.

“Kiri!” You yell out as you finally find her in the middle of the forest, playing with the leaves that light up. “Y/n! Where have you been? I have not been able to find you all day.” She says as she gets up and runs into your arms, embracing you with a tight, warm hug. Ever since you’ve gotten here, way before you became an avatar, Kiri has also become one of your best friends, especially considering that she was nearly your family before Lo’ak messed that up.

“I’ve just been walking around. I’ve had a lot on my mind today, you know.” You say as you both begin to walk together. “It’s you guys' 6 month anniversary isn’t it?” She asks and you give her a look of confusion as to how she would remember it when she didn’t even know what day you guys had made it official. “Lo’ak was telling me and Neteyam about it earlier this morning before he and Neteyam went off to training.” She confesses to you and your heart drops at the fact that he even remembered.

“I see.” Your head falls down as you think of how you guys could’ve spent this day together had he not been such a fucking cheater. “He is really broken up still about you guys. Father gets so upset with him because he hasn’t been paying attention during training. We hear about it every single night after they return by father yelling at him.” She says as she rolls her eyes.

“Well that isn’t my fault nor my problem. He’s the reason why we aren’t together anymore, he just couldn’t get himself together and it wasn’t that hard. I have no sympathy for him.” You speak in a low tone, causing her to giggle at your aggression towards him. “He won’t stop talking about how sorry he is and how much he regrets it. It is actually quite pitiful. I asked him why he won’t just tell you that instead of us, he says it is because you won’t hear it.” She says and you let out a small chuckle as you nod your head.

“I gave him plenty of chances Kiri. I excused him the first 4 times that he consecutively cheated on me. I have nothing left in me anymore to give to him. I gave it all away and he just keeps hurting me.” You feel the tears begin to come up while you try your hardest to swallow them back down, but you fail miserably. Kiri glances over to you as she sees the tears begin to flow and she stops, turning you towards her as she wipes the tears off of your heated face.

“Hey, don’t cry. I know what he did was wrong and so does he. Neteyam scolded him for it because he knows how good of a girl you are. You are amazing and we all see it. You know what will cheer you up?” She asks you and you shake your head, looking into her eyes for the answer. You wanted anything to get rid of this dreadful, empty feeling forming deep inside of you. “Let’s go to the lab and see what those skxawngs are up to, hm?” She says, you smile as you nod your head. She grabs your hand and begins walking towards the lab.

You walk into the lab, grabbing masks, wrapping them around your necks as you both inhale deeply in sync before dropping them down to hang around your necks. “Y/n, Kiri. What are you guys up to?” Norm asks as you come and sit next to him while he scrolls on the computer. “Trying to cheer my y/n up. She is feeling a little down today.” Kiri tells him as he looks at you. “It’s the anniversary isn’t it?” He asks you with a sympathetic look, you feel your eyes automatically rolling as you realize. “Let me guess. Lo’ak has told you too, hasn’t he?” You ask him and he laughs a little before looking back at his computer. “He came in yesterday, super upset about it and talking about-“

“How much he regrets it and he wishes he could apologize.” You cut him off to finish his sentence off for him, already knowing exactly what he’s going to say as you watch him nod his head as he chuckles. “You know, if he’s this torn up about it, then why won’t he just tell me about it directly?” You ask as you shake your head in frustration. Norm’s eyes land on you then towards the door as his eyes widen. “Well he might be able to.” He says as you look in the direction that he is looking and spot Lo’ak standing there, his eyes burning holes into your back before you turned around.

“Hi y/n.” He mumbles out as he stands in the doorway as if his feet are stuck in one place. “No.” You mumble as you quickly get up and try to walk away, but he gets in front of you, making you hiss at him. “Just wait. I heard what you said. You said that if I was really that torn up about it, then why wouldn’t I just tell you directly? But you have to give me that chance to do it. Please? All I need is a few minutes.” He begs of you and you roll your eyes.

“Norm? Would you be so kind to set a timer on your phone for 10 minutes?” You ask him as you quickly look back at him, your hair swinging with your movement, hitting Lo’ak in his chest. “Uh.. Done!” He shouts back at you with a thumbs up after setting the timer on his phone and you nod your head before looking back at Lo’ak. “You have 10 minutes, and I’m being generous with that. Come.” You say as you walk towards the door of the lab while he trudges behind you thinking of the perfect words to say. You both walk out of the lab and deeper into the forest before you suddenly come to a stop and stand in front of him. “What do you have to say?” You ask as you fold your arms.

“I-I’m sorry for what I have done. I love you so much more than I thought was possible. It’s been so hard without you and this sucks. I realize what I’m doing wrong and I know that I have hurt you. No, I can’t take it back, but I can promise to do better and cut out the things that hurt you. I can promise to be good for you and to you. I can be the mate that you want out of me. I see that you have completely changed your life for me, you’ve become one of us just for me and I am so thankful for that. I want to show you the right way that I appreciate you and just how happy you make me.”

You feel hot tears forming in your eyes at his words, oh how you wish they were real. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe coming from me right now and I accept that, but just give me one more chance please.” He confesses to you and you look down at the ground, wanting to scream at him. Wanting to tell him how much you hate him, wanting to tell him how much you’ve needed him, how lonely you’ve been without him by your side, but you hold it all in.

“No Lo’ak. It’s-it’s just not that easy. As much as I want to forgive you, as much as I want you to do right for me. I just can’t believe you because you’re telling me you’ll change. I can’t take anymore heartbreaks, it’s tearing me apart.” A tear falls down down your cheek, triggering him to step closer to you. You back up as you look at him, watching his eyes become glossy before you stop and let him continue to step towards you.

“Please y/n. I know it’s hard. I’m trying so hard to tell you how much I love you and if you’ll just give me another chance, I can show you. No more cheating, no more playing games, no more breaking your heart. I just want to make up for what I’ve done so please just let me do that. I’m begging you. What can I do to show you that I’m serious?” He asks you as he places his hands on both sides of my face and more tears begin to stream down your face as you shake your head, not having an answer for him. “How about I show you tonight?” He asks you and you look into his yellow eyes, silently questioning his words.

“Let me make it special. This is not the way that I want to ask you to forgive me so please let me show you tonight. Meet me at the spirit tree right as eclipse falls.” You slowly nod your head, not sure of why you’re even agreeing after you said you were done. “Ok I’ll see you then. I promise I’ll make it right.” He says before he gently rubs your face one last time before letting go of it and walking off, leaving your cheeks to feel as cold as ice without his warm touch.

You place a purple flower in your hair before readjusting your purple loincloth that matches the flower in your hair. You walk out of your hut, looking into the sky to see the moon that just began to appear in the sky. You let out a small sigh before you begin to walk in the direction of the spirit tree. You question why you agreed to such a stupid thing, why you won’t just turn back around and not even show up, but your feet deceive your mind as you continue to walk towards the spirit tree. You said that you wouldn’t go back, that you were done, so why are you even giving him a chance to explain?

I’m so stupid, I know, but I love him so much. It’s so hard to walk away from him. But I have to and I have to tell him that tonight. That I truly meant what I said and that I am done for good. I have to move on and find someone who is good for me, who loves me and who dares not to treat me like an option. You think to yourself as you get closer and closer to your destination.

You approach the spirit tree and your mouth drops at the beauty of it. You’ve only been to the spirit tree once and that was to transfer your soul into your avatar body, so this is your first time truly observing it in its true beauty. You look down and see Lo’ak standing up as he begins to walk towards you as you come to a stop, waiting for him to meet you.

“Wow. You look… beautiful. I’ve never seen you in purple, it makes your skin glow.” He says as he comes inches away from you and you feel yourself smile as you look at the ground, your cheeks burning and your heart skipping a beat. “Thank you.” To both of your surprises, you accept the compliment as you retract your eyes back to him and you feel him grab your hand. “Come.” He says as he walks you to the spirit tree.

“It’s beautiful.” You say to him as you walk around the tree, paying attention to every small detail about it. “This is where we come to connect to our ancestors and the souls of those who have passed away. It’s a sacred place.” He informs you as you turn around and look at him. “Why did you bring me here?” You question his motives as you slowly sway towards him. “Since this is the most sacred place on pandora, I wanted to bring you here for something very sacred if you would allow me.” You raise your eyebrows at his response as you watch him grab his queue and bring it in front of him.

“Before I messed everything up, I know that you wanted to make tsaheylu (bond) and I know that you might not want to anymore, but if you do then I am more than happy to do it. I promise to never hurt you again, I promise to always put your needs first. I promise to be the mate that you always wanted and I’ll do anything to make you happy. In these 2 months, I realize how hard it is being without you and I never want to experience this again. I love you, Y/n. Please forgive me?” Desperation clouding his voice as he stares into your eyes, looking for the forgiveness that he’s asking for. “I-“ You try to speak, but you feel the tears coming as you watch him watch you, his eyes quickly pacing back and forth.

“I-I can’t-” You don’t finish your sentence as you watch him drop his queue in defeat, his head dropping as well. You step closer to him and look at him as he looks into your eyes. “I can’t be without you Lo’ak. I have tried in these 2 months, and it’s been the hardest thing that I have ever done. I don’t want to be without you Lo’ak, but I don’t want to be hurt anymore. All I’ve ever wanted was you from the moment that I met you. It will take a lot.. but I’m willing to work on us and build together. I can’t say that I forgive you right now Lo’ak, but I want you to prove to me that I am all that you want so that I can forgive you. So that we can move on.” You say back to him as you reach behind you, grabbing your queue and placing it in between you guys, causing him to smile and grab his once again.

He grabs your hand and pulls you down to sit right across from each other as you slowly bring your queues closer until they finally connect. You feel your body jolt as your eyes flutter shut, a sensation running through your body as you see all of the memories that Lo’ak has, all of the thoughts that he has about you. Love, adoration, your children to come, the bond that will grow stronger for you two. Your strong partnership and friendship that you’ve both taken the time to build over the years. You slowly open your eyes at the same time as him, a smile creasing your soft lips. “Lo’ak. Nga yawne lu oer (I love you). You say as you reach up and touch his face softly. “Nga yawne lu oer, öeya yawntu.” He says back to you as he leans in and kisses you.

The kiss is slow and soft at first, but it quickly speeds up as you both become hungry for more of each other. He pulls back from the kiss and looks into your eyes before standing up and holding his hand out for you to take it. He stands you up, immediately picking you up bridal style as he looks at you and smiles. “Let’s go back to your hut, my love.” He says and you nod your head as you lay down on his chest while wrapping your arms around his neck.

He walks back to your hut with you in his arms, laying you on your cot before getting in between your legs, accidentally bumping your queues and causing them to disconnect. A groan escapes your lips at the loss of feeling and he chuckles. “I know, baby. But you’re about to feel something else.” He flashes a smirk at you and you laugh before rolling your eyes. He leans back in and kisses you once again, easily slipping his tongue in your mouth as he softly strokes your hair. He breaks the kiss and begins to kiss down your neck as you breathe out.

“Lo..” you moan and he hums in response. “I’ve never done this before. Not as a human either.” You confess to him and he comes back up to look into your eyes. “Duh. I could’ve told you that, yawne. I’ll be gentle and careful, if you want me to stop, just tell me ok?” He says and you nod your head before he begins to kiss you again. You feel his hand stroll down your body, your skin feels on fire everywhere that he touches, until he reaches your clothed pussy. He softly rubs his fingers in circles and you moan into his mouth at the feeling.

“Is it ok if I take this off? I have to get you ready before I do anything else.” He asks for your permission and you nod your head in agreement as you feel the heat increasing between your legs. He unties the string to your loincloth, you both watch as it falls off of your waist and you lift up for him to pull it the rest of the way off before he tosses it next to your cot, on the ground. He crouches down in between your legs as he opens them a little wider and begins to rub circles around your clit with his thumb, your back arching off of your cot as your mouth hangs open. He stops his movement, bringing two of his fingers to your lips while he kisses your thighs before speaking.

“Suck.” He commands and you obey as you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for him to slip his fingers into your mouth and you suck them as your eyes bore into his beautiful golden yellow eyes. “Good girl.” He says as he takes his fingers out of your mouth and brings them back down in between your legs. “This might sting a little bit, but it’s getting you ready. If it is too much, tell me to stop.” He says and you nod your head in agreeance as you feel his fingers enter you, causing you to push your legs closer together from the discomfort, but your body relaxes more as you look down to find him staring at you with love in his eyes, your legs slowly relaxing and falling back down.

He continues to push them inside of you until they are completely in. He moves his fingers in and out slowly and you moan out as you feel your own lubrication consuming his fingers. “Lo’ak.. t-that feels really good.” You moan out, gripping the sides of the cot. He keeps going for a little bit longer as you hear how wet you are, that being the only noise in the room. “I-I think I’m going to..” your words are abruptly interrupted when the feeling goes away as he pulls his fingers out of you, earning a groan from you. “Why did you stop, you idiot?!” You yell out as he sits up, smirking and taking his fingers into his mouth before moaning. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you. And you taste good.” A moan escaping your throat as you feel yourself throbbing around nothing while he unties his own loincloth and throws it on top of yours.

His long dick springs out, hitting his stomach, your eyes widening at the sight. “Oh Lo‘ak, I don’t know if I can take that.” You protest as you back up a little bit, but he pulls you back down by your thighs. “You can take it my love. I’ll go slow and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.” He reassures you as he places his hand above your head and lines himself up with your entrance. “Like I said with my fingers, this is going to hurt at first, but it is going to feel really good once you get past that ok? Just trust me. I’m gonna make you feel good, I promise.” He says as he kisses you one more time before slowly pushing himself into you.

You yell out as your hand flies up to his lower torso, looking down to see that only half of it is completely in. He stops pushing himself in to give you a break as he grabs your hand as he brings it up to his lips to kiss the back of it before intertwining your fingers together. “You’re doing so good, my love. Just a little bit more left ok? The pain will be over soon.” He says as he pushes a little bit further while your back arches off of the cot once again, groaning in pain.

“I’m all the way in. Tell me when you want me to move.” He says planting soft kisses all over your face, leading to your neck where he softly sucks and bites at the sensitive skin. “Move Lo.. please.” You give him permission to move and he nods his head as he pulls out of you halfway, earning moans from both of you as he pushes himself all the way back in.

“Mmm.” You moan out, causing him to look at you and smile. “Did that feel good?” He asks you. “Yes. Keep going please.” You say to him, your hand gently caressing his face. He continues his slow pace making you a moaning mess underneath him. “Lo’ak.. go a little bit faster.” You bat your eyes at him while you wrap your legs around his waist. He speeds up his pace as he groans into your neck. “You feel so fucking good around me. I love watching you go crazy over my Dick, wanting and needing more.” He growls in your ear as he places his hand on your waist before slamming you down on him, you buck your hips as you scream out, knowing that your voice will be gone by tomorrow. He looks into your eyes before licking his lips.

“When do you want to start a family?” He asks you while you pant out of control. “Now… R-Right now.” You manage to breathe out in between pants, tilting your head back while your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head. “Are you sure, my love?” You simply nod your head, not able to form full sentences. “Look at me.” He demands, you tilt your head back to look at him while he moans softly.

“Whose pussy is this? Hm?” His thrusts get harder with each word that escapes his lips. “It’s yours.” You pant out softly, barely audible. “I can’t hear you princess. I said, whose. Pussy. Is. This?” He repeats his question once again, your hips smacking together forcefully with every word. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably as you let out a high pitched moan each time. “I said it’s your Lo’ak! It’s all yours, every part of me belongs to you!” You scream out as you hear him chuckle. “Good girl. I'm not pulling out of you. I’m going to fill you up with my cum.” He says as he grabs your weak hand and places it on your lower stomach.

“I’m going to fill you up right here and give you my child.” You can barely keep your head up and your eyes open as you feel yourself coming closer just off of his words. “I-I’m going to cum Lo’ak.” You tell him as you feel your body shaking. “So am I, princess. Wait, don’t cum yet.” He says as he grabs his queue once again, you observe him and lift up a little to grab yours as well. “This will make it feel a lot more intense.”

You connect your queues to each other and moan in unison as the feeling intensifies. “Now. Let go for me baby. Cum all over my dick.” You feel your body letting go at his words, your fingernails scratching at his toned stomach while your orgasm washes over you. You feel him stop his movement as he groans and curses while he throws his head back, cumming inside of you as you feel his hard dick throbbing. You both breathe out heavily as you finish riding out your highs and attempting to catch your breath.

Lo’ak looks back down to you, a proud smile plastered on his face as you smile with him before he leans down once again to kiss you. He slowly pulls out of you, causing you both to inhale sharply at the feeling. Your queues are still connected to each other as he lazily plops down next to you. You turn around to face him as you lean in and give him a soft peck on his lips before speaking.

“We’re mated Lo’ak.” You say, excitement exerting your tone as you rub his face and he laughs. “We are mated and you might have a little surprise in a few weeks. I just gave you three of the best gifts in one night. I’m amazing, aren’t I?” He brags on himself as he places his hand on your stomach and rubs it softly, earning a laugh from you while you roll your eyes.

“I promise to be different for you and for our family. I am so sorry that I didn’t realize just how amazing you were before I lost you. I love you more than anything that I thought could ever be possible.” He once again confesses his love for you before he brings his lips to yours and you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him in closer to you.

You give his forehead a kiss before you flip over and lay facing the opposite direction of him, backing yourself completely up against his warm body as you feel yourself getting sleepy. His long arm reaches over your body, landing around your waist as he pulls you even closer until your bodies are completely embezzled together. He peaks to look at your face one more time before he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I can’t believe my dick put you to sleep.” He says as he laughs and you roll your heavy eyes. “Shut up and let’s go to bed, skxawng!” You say to him as he laughs, as you both lay cuddled up together, drifting off to sleep in each other's arms.

A/N: Lo’ak being a simp is literally so adorable to me 😭 anywho, I hope you guys loves it!!! 💖 if you guys have any requests, don’t be afraid to let me know and I would be more than happy to do them!

[rise-my-angel]

Shadows of Mandalore

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader, Boba Fett x Female Reader

Length: 20k

Warnings: A/b/o (alpha beta omega dynamics), omega reader, not a poly relationship, angst/hurt comfort, mentions of past trauma, mentions of slavery, smut, oral (f and m recieving), p in v, anal play, anal sex, dirty talk via communicator, slight degradation, one mention of name calling during sex (consensual), m/m/f threesome, no m/m dynamics

Notes: Takes place during the span of episodes 5, 6, and 7 of The Book of Boba Fett.

Perhaps many years ago this vast expanse of darkness below would have been frightening. Now though, you came with the safety that those other then yourself had your back. The fade into what you couldn’t see reminded you of the vast crevasses you had been told to avoid as a child. The elders insisting you went nowhere near where the world split, but your father whispering promises of teaching you not just how to cross but to climb. Such lessons never happened, and so for a long, lonely time you continued to go nowhere near such deep falls. 

By your side however, there was more than just the promises of your long forgotten father. The pair behind you kept far away enough to watch but not listen, but one of them no doubt would not only dive off to catch you but climb up in no time. Both would, but you felt Din’s eyes trained on your back at all times. Even if he was turned to speak to Paz, never once did he not have you somewhere in his sights. Both men watching respectfully, but gave the space and distance commanded by the woman beside you. 

The Armourer sat next to you at the edge of the platform, having requested she speak to you and you alone before discussing thing’s further with those of her covert. Only somewhat taller then you, she still seemed to tower over you with bulk and authority. The fur around her shoulders and helmet designed like that of horns still intimidated you as much now as it did the first time. Sitting next to her, legs crossed as your heart beat a tinge faster, you wondered if her silence was because she sensed it. 

“You were a slave before meeting Din Djarin were you not?” There had been hints of amusement and closeness when speaking to her kind, but the formality of a leader returning with you only adding to the strange worry that you still didn’t belong. You stared out into the darkness as you nodded. Not wanting her to pick up on your insecurity. “And yet you haven’t returned to Werda since being freed.” 

It was either curiosity in her voice or a judgment, a tone you doubt even without the modulator you would be able to ascertain. Your only memory of the place now was of that night. The cracking split in the cliff side and ship so large it looked as if it was rising out of the caverns below, there was painful silence for just a moment until it boomed and lights flew from the ships interior until there was nothing left in your young understanding but fire and screams. 

There was pain in being taken from your home, your family. But where Din’s loss ended in the arms of a people who formed the brave and valiant family in place to heal. You were ripped from a home you didn’t know much about, and tossed into the hands of others with a brand that you still felt the phantom burning of on your neck. 

Omega’s were rare now. Uncommon in the galaxy, and once thought to be extinct amongst Mandalorians. From an isolated childhood to a life of slavery, finally thrusting into the vast world of the very people you heard so much about as a child. You didn’t know what confused you more. Your own presentation as an omega, or the strange fascination different Mandalorians seemed to have with such a presentation.

Din knew there was nothing left of what he called home if he were to travel back, but you didn’t know what was even left behind. Swallowing harshly, you kept your jaw set and forward. “My home, they were killed that night, or they moved on in fear. Either way I would have no way of knowing where to even find them. We didn’t stay in once place if there was trouble, but I don’t even know where home was when they took me.” 

A silence passed between you before she found her voice again. “Keeping in small numbers while hiding to protect those small amounts. An interesting trait for those who claimed to stray far from The Way.” 

Head turning to her slightly, you felt something reach within you as if trying to shield a truth that’s wanted to make itself known for a while now. Your unsure silence spoken as a prompt for her to continue. “Omegas exist outside of Mandalorians but it was with us that their numbers prospered. A presentation once treasured but whose numbers disappeared some time before the Great Purge. Whomever was left, all but perished along with our home world and for some time none of us knew where the remainder had been taken.” 

A sinking feeling in your stomach felt like a powerful weight slamming into it. The shock and surprise of the pirates who stole you from your home, and the scramble to sell you to the highest bidder. 

“Until an omega was rumoured to have shown up on the slave trade after Werda was invaded. A planet many of us thought to be abandoned along with much of The Mandalore System. Hiding our own kind in plain sight.” 

Were you not sitting, hands already wrung together and hidden away in your lap, the shaking may have become painfully clear. Your jaw clenched tightly as the only tone coming from your mouth was that of a whisper. You knew the truth of history, yet the disbelief of stories told as a child fought strongly with that. “No, we went to the Mandalore system after you abandoned it, because you wouldn’t look where you left behind.” 

A creak of distraught peeked into your voice, but neither it or your words offended her. “Who is more likely to be telling the truth, omega. If it is the stories told to you as a child, then you wouldn’t be here right now, would you?” 

Of course it was a stretch, did you truly ever believe the opposite when since day one you had trusted Din and his people more than anyone in your life before. “You said Werda was hiding your own kind, you mean-”

“Mandalorians.” Her head turned slowly to yours, her voice as sure and as absolute as ever. “Or, those born to Mandalorians. Stashed away to keep their omega’s from the very kind of Mandalorians they deemed dangerous for simply putting faith in The Way.” 

You thought of that, even now. The possible truth that the Elders of your home lied of the past and destroyed access to the outside world just to keep it that way. Even now as you walked through the hanger, your mind replayed her final words to you. 

“You are bonded to him,” nodding to Din, “and we are not to disrespect the bond between mates but know this, omega. His transgressions are not yours. You need not swear the Creed to have a place amongst us. An omega born to Mandalorians such as us will always be welcome here should she choose so.” 

Both you and Din had far too much on your minds to even know where to start with the other, and least of all to discuss out in the open as you both were stuck travelling. There were people everywhere, and the transport ship in sight was even less viable as an option. 

Little had been said since leaving the covert, but Din kept you close. A hand on your lower back or keeping you more firm at his side than normal, the spiralling whirlwind of emotions no doubt his was picking up on but also for himself. 

The Armourer had given you a place with their people in the same encounter she told Din, that he had lost his. There was a path to redemption, one that neither of you knew where quite to start but the road there would not be felt likely in his heart. 

Paz spitting he was an apostate, while the Armourer forced herself to stand collected and provided a redemption, but it did very little to settle the fiery conflict the deceleration put within him. You had gently slipped your hand into his, fingers wrapping together, making sure that this not a loss of everything. 

Din had turned to you, back to his people as he cupped your cheek with his other hand. Just like always, you met his eyes through the blackness of a visor and he found unwavering solidarity in your togetherness. He didn’t have nothing, there was still you. For now that would be enough to prevent his mind from falling apart in just another way. 

You both felt the frustration too. All of your belongings now sat either on Din’s person or in the bag wrapped across your shoulders that once held the other piece of your hearts. No home, no child, and now, Din being casted out, an apostate despite the very reason for his sacrifice being for his foundling. A part of their Creed which was supposed to be the most important thing to protect. 

He understood the gravity of what he did, and regardless of how you felt about the repercussions it was still important to him to fix. Something of his identity that through meeting Mandalorians of other kinds, still was part of who he was and wanted to be. You both would fix this, but it was hard to do that in your current situation.

Especially when that situation involved a droid falling it’s alarm that only tripped after you and Din crossed it’s path. Turning back it sat amongst a security luggage port, sticking out a key card telling you to remove your weapons. 

Both of you turning in place to walk towards it, Din was already agitated let alone being yelled at by a machine. “I’m a Mandalorian, weapons are part of my religion.” 

Coming up beside him, you could see eyes on the large man in full armour with worry as if they weren’t regularly surrounded with far more and far worse people who didn’t have the respect and restraint that Din has. “If you wish to discuss this with my supervisor, I will gladly book you on tomorrow’s flight.” 

Sharing a glance between you, a fight with an even more frustrating droid and being stuck here overnight looked even less appealing. Snatching the card from it, Din opened the secure storage, turning to you with a hand outstretched. 

The small blaster wasn’t exactly the best, nor was Din really even happy that you needed one but without the Razor Crest it was a compromise. Tossing it in, he already begun moving onto his arsenal. You remembered the first time you saw the extent of weaponry he kept on his person, yet now you could almost predict what he’d reach for next without looking. Putting it all back though, was going to be a much bigger annoyance then taking it off.

Stepping to his side, Din pulled out the Darksaber. Looking completely unremarkable in it’s deactivated state, but one of the only things that connected you both to that day Grogu left. Sparing a look at the other, you raised your eyebrows with a little tilt of your head in hesitancy.

Din didn’t have a choice, but it certainly felt odd putting a weapon of such apparent importance into a security luggage some droid was going to toss into the cargo. Pulling the card out, Din pointed at the little droid. “I know everything that’s in there.” 

“Proceed.” 

You didn’t know why, but the light hearted tone of it’s response to a threat, made you smile. An act that had Din looking at you curiously, but in an impossible to determine way. His hand returned to your lower back as you entered the transport making your way to whatever seats they booked you in. 

Gesturing you to go in first, you took the bag off your shoulders, letting it hang off the edge of the armrest next to the wall. Eyes shutting with a huff, you let your head rest back for just a moment as you felt Din move in next to you. 

It was those quiet times in the cockpit of the Razor Crest that you and Din felt the most connected. A long way to travel with the peace of just the two of you interspersed with a baby wanting in on the affection. Many times Grogu would end up on Din’s lap, venture over to yours for a while and then back to Din when he wanted to sleep. 

It was those moment’s you felt that bond the Armourer spoke of. Technically you and Din weren’t mated, but your souls reached for one another in instinct at all times and kept any from stealing you away. It was more quiet now though. An unspoken you always felt.

Din able to retain his alpha, knowing it would calm whatever senses your omega had the potential of putting off to much. Feeling his gaze, you opened your eyes to turn and look up at the man already watching you before a child turned in the seat in front of you. 

Curious gaze looking at Din in the same childlike wonder Grogu would often do. The little wave he did and the nod Din gave the kid back pulled too much at your heart. The kid looking nothing like yours but the feeling persisted of how much he was missed. 

It must have gotten stronger, because you suddenly felt a wave of calm splashing onto you from Din as he brushed your knuckle with a few fingers to catch you, voice little more then a whisper. “Cyra’ika,” You must have made Din feel more distressed then you were actively realizing. His touch moving then to brush against your cheek as he leaned in. Forehead not quite touching yours, “How long has it been since you’ve slept.” 

Eyes drooping a slight as you leaned into his hands touch. “Since before the bounty?” 

Smirking at how instantly Din sighed, you shrugged one shoulder. Neither of you slept well since the light cruiser. “I’m not even going to bother pointing out how many days ago that was.” Sliding his touch to under your chin, pushing you to look up at him. “You should try while we’re on here. It’ll be a bit before we get to Tatooine.” 

Narrowing your eyes you grasped his hand, pulling from your chin to keep in your lap. “What about you?” 

His chuckle was light enough that no one but you could have picked it up, making you pout a tad as he pulled away from your lap to slide it up behind your neck. Firmly yet soothingly holding you close to him. “I will, I promise.” 

His hand pulling you to rest gently on his shoulder, knowing that you liked the coolness of the beskar on your skin lately. You had been running hotter the past few weeks, and with little chances to lay together and surround yourself with Din’s even warmer body heat, you took advantage of the beskar’s temperature. 

Din waited until you were asleep to pull out the wrapped cloth. The shirt forged from the spear he used to rescue Grogu. A fitting transference if you asked him. If he squinted, Din could almost see the shape of his head and large ears in the wrappings, but it also certainly was just the loneliness without him pulling at his heart. 

You had each other, but missing Grogu was something else entirely and it left a painful void. He tried to keep the subject from you, Grogu was his and their clan was made just with the two of them, but you were just as important to it. An honorary member turning it to a clan of three that you insisted wasn’t true. You always wanted to keep a distance. Fearing your attachment would come across as trying to invade on their space despite how much both parties wanted you too. 

Your distress at his leaving was more evident, everything you felt lately was more intense. Screaming to the surrounding people that you were omega in distress and Din put forth everything in his power to keep you calm and safe in his arms. Even the rising level of your body heat was concerning to Din. He knew you tried to hide it, but he scanned and checked your vitals through his visor more then you knew, even before you joined him. 

Finding himself scanning you to ensure you were alright and safe between visits to Navarro. It was there he noticed your former slavers brand was red inflamed. You had been working on removing it, but it was leaving a new scar on your neck at how viciously you scrubbed it away. 

He bought bacta specifically for it, telling you to use it before bed and not to touch your fading brand until it was healed entirely. He protected you just like that now, even if it meant keeping both of your pains quiet. The first night you two were together was after Grogu had left, and the feeling off ripped away loss send you hurling towards a stress induced heat. 

Your presentation had never quite gone back down after your heat ended. Like you were stuck on the verge of another, but kept rooted to the ground by Din’s soothing presence and the command of his alpha. He hoped seeing Grogu would be good for you, even if it would still mean leaving him once more.

You didn’t allow yourself a goodbye. Turning your gaze away to leave the moment to them alone, and from the distance he felt more torn apart inside at how raging your omega screamed. Letting what you subconsciously saw as your own kid, just be taken away after everything to rescue him. 

Maybe that’s why Din was handling it just the slightest bit better, he felt Grogu’s gentle touch on his cheek and their eyes on each other until they were no longer together. You didn’t let yourself have that, and if Din wasn’t also fighting this internal struggle of what his people now saw him as? This would be easier for you to handle, but the two of you had too much stolen from you and what to show for it? 

No home, no child, just a weapon that held a responsibility Din had no interest in. Tatooine wasn’t a great place, but maybe enough familiar faces to ease both your pains for even a little while. 

Leaving the artificial light of the transport into the blistering suns masked by nothing but the sand below had you squinting walking off the ramp. Throwing the bag back over your shoulder you remembered the last time you were actually on this planet. 

For the first time since you begun travelling with them, it was the first time anyone outside of Din had given you any kind of flirtatious attention that wasn’t dripping with a creepiness. Cobb Vanth was more chatty then you were used too, and honestly? Having a man smile charmingly at you like that almost felt as unusual as it did somewhat flustering. 

Sitting around a fire, Grogu had been happily plopped down between Din’s feet to sit closer to the fire occasionally climbing gently over his boot to glance over at you, only to find you looking right back. A little game between you and him, who caught who staring first and who would be the first to look away. 

One of the Tuskens had made a rather loud noise to another, breaking Grogu’s concentration and giving ample opportunity for the Marshall to whisper yours over onto him. “You know, I was wondering if I could see the resemblance, but some kids just take more after their father’s don’t they?” 

A hint of a smirk formed as you turned yourself to look at him properly, your voice an inch lower. “Or maybe all those years in the sun just means you don’t see too good.” He chuckled, but it wasn’t as deep and warm as Din’s, though it was odd you’d compare. 

He was quiet for a moment, watching you sip the odd liquid the Tuskens had given you all and it also didn’t feel as nice when Din quietly watched you. Though, you figured it at the least was better then the annoying feeling when it was Calican watched you. Acting as if cocky spunk would endear you to him. “The kid’s his. That much is obvious, now you got me wondering where you fit into all this exactly.” 

Cobb had meant it as a genuine question. A Mandalorian shows up demanding the return of the Marshall’s bought armour, has a very small baby in toe with big ears and curious wide eyes, and you by his side. Not a bounty hunter, nor a Mandalorian, and what Cobb knew all to well was the faded mark of a slave brand on your neck healed out to almost nothing. He was interested in this strange trio that walked into his town and rallied the what he normally felt was a group of dangerous creatures together for a common goal. 

To you? It felt much like then Xi’an asked you the same thing. Only she meant it with malice.  A judgment upon your person that even worse, was extended to the kid. A kid that they sent their bug droid to kill just for being associated with Din. She was the first one who made you question if you belonged with these two. 

Cobb didn’t mean it that way, but you felt it. And surprisingly, so did the kid in question. Grogu at some point had found himself up on Din’s lap. Little hand reaching over to you with a grumble as if upset you were too far away. The man beside you chuckled more, “Just like me as a boy, could never go too long without his mama’s attention.” 

Your heart lept at the word, but quickly Din had scooted over to get your side pressed up against his. Grogu crawling half into your lap before falling over and letting out a half purr half grumble. Din’s voice was in your ear this time, and the warmth filling your veins brought calm to your memory once more. “I’d suggest you hold him a while, but I have a feeling he’d just get upset all over again.”

Hand reaching down to trail softly over his ear, you smiled. Not that you could sense it quite yet, but Din smiled at the sight just as brightly. “Maybe we spoil him too much.” 

A gloved hand reached down to grasp at Grogu’s little hand, baby fingers wrapping around one of his while the remainder covered it entirely in the leather. “Spoiling was when you spent the last of your earnings on that plush instead of that drink you enjoyed.” Din had geared you towards a specific vendor one day, hoping you’d catch the sight of the man selling this strange dark blue drink you loved only to stop at Grogu cooing. 

You had turned to look at him, sat happily in the bag Din kept on him and his big eyes trained on a brown frog plush, a bit on the rough side and just short of his own height. Naturally, you folded instantly. 

Now though, it was just one of the very little items you had left. Din kept the metal ball on him, and you kept the plush frog in the bag once for Grogu himself. The droid at the security station was in far worse condition. Paint chipping and it’s voice box stuttering and movements lanky. It didn’t feel as welcoming as the memory you sank into just seconds before. 

Headed towards the main part of town, thing’s didn’t appear to be in quite as working order as you expected. Nothing was occurring, but there was a quiet unsure feeling among the people like waiting for violence. Din, naturally, kept you pressed almost right as his side until Peli’s hanger approached. 

“Where’s your unlikely companion?” As instant as you froze up in place, Din’s alpha reached out to tame the rising flames before they could spark more. The way he could command your presentation without speaking were it from anyone else, would be alarming. 

“I returned him to his own kind.” 

Peli’s response though, almost cracked something akin to a smirk. “Why the hell would you do that? I could have good money off that thing.” 

Pushing past the dryness in your throat, you turned your head to her. “Pretty sure keeping a baby for just a petting zoo is illegal.” Her head turned to look over at you, the little glint in your eye much easier to read then the stillness of the Mandalorian few were used too. 

Shaking her head with an amused smirk of her own, “It’s not illegal. Just morally dubious. Besides, those big bright eyes would have made me a killing.” 

Approaching something covered in a sheet in her hanger, you and Din paused to glance at one another hesitantly. You weren’t a ship expert but something tells you she had a completely different plan then what she called you both for. “Ready to have your mind blown?” 

Well, that wasn’t really the word. More confused, at least Din was more straight forward. “Where’s the Razor Crest?” 

“I never said I had a Razor Crest, I said I had a replacement for the Razor Crest.” The more you looked at it, the more interested you became. The general design looked familiar but not in a way you would have seen out in the open space. 

The two of them went back and forth for a bit, Din saying “This is a pile of junk.” and Peli trying to sweeten the deal with promises of modification and big game about it being a Starfighter used by some Naboo Queen. Pacing around it, you think you may have read a book with something like this in it. 

Early on, you had started reading up on ships and internal ship mechanics trying to prove yourself useful to Din beyond just watching Grogu. Starfighter’s were in that text somewhere that pinged at your vauge memory. Something you actually know about in a way that’s helpful, finally. 

“I’m telling you Mando, you gotta believe me. This is a classic.” 

While she had inadvertently knocked a panel right off it’s loose hold, you turned to Din from where you stood by one of it’s engine thrusters. “What if we fix it first?” His head tilting, you started gesturing around it. “I mean, we’ll need to fish around for parts, but it doesn’t look salvaged, more like it’s just been stripped.” 

You felt a shiver at his silence, glancing around before backtracking. “Just, I mean it’s not what we wanted, but if we can get it to work,” 

Peli’s high pitched voice yelled out as she pointed to you, “That’s when, not if, missy.” 

Smirking slightly, you raised your hand sin defence. “When we get it to work,” You moved back closer to Din a little unnerved at his silence. “You get to keep all your weapons on you in a Starfighter at least.” 

Could you see under his helmet, you’d see the amused yet done look on his face. Peli, a scrappy friend who was the hardest person outside his clan to say no too. Then there was your hopeful look, and an understanding that you had perked up at the idea of working on the ship for the first time in weeks. 

It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a temporary one that seemed to brighten your face. Glancing up at it, then down to you, your eyes wide and mouth slightly parted in hope. “Fixed up it’ll sell for more then we paid.” 

Peli had a protest to it, but the excitement in your eyes was just the right amount for Din. Hanging your bag up on the wall, you grabbed a pair of gloves and all three of you had some work to do. Peli disappeared to start on looking for certain parts, leaving you and Din in the peaceful quiet. 

Seamlessly working back and forth, interspersed with the goofy little droids that astounded you that they knew how to do anything. But they made you smile sometimes, and hey, five times out of ten, they passed you the right tool. You didn’t even know where to start on the Jawa’s, or more accurately, whatever strange arrangement she had with them. 

You were behind the ship, hands deep in one of the still stripped open panels with half the wiring either missing entirely, or hooked up wrong. “I dated a Jawa once.” Your head flying up, the dead silence Din gave her contrasting Peli not even considering the oddity of what she just said. An R5 unit passing by you, bleeping and shaking from the scavengers still hovering the area. 

Side eyeing it, you just shook your head muttering, “Trust me, buddy. Getting stripped for parts is the least of your worries out there.” Turning away it bumped into you slightly by accident, jostling you forward as one of the open wires sparked. Zapping at your fingertips, one hand gloveless just to have fit your hand through. Pulling back with a quiet hiss, you shook your hand and sat back on your knees. 

Pressing the heel of your palm into your forehead, the warmth came now from beside you not just within you. Peeking to the side, Din kneeled by your side, his hand outstretched towards you. “Here, let me see.”  Handing him the tool but he didn’t take it, just looked at you. “Not that, cyra’ika. Your hand.” 

Dropping it, you hesitated for just a moment ultimately knowing Din would just yank it towards him if you refused. Palm up, he traced your fingers up and tickling the soft sensation. You shrugged not yet brave enough to look at him. “Just a zap, it’s fine.” No words, he looked you over until the image of just dirt and small, older scrapes covered it. But he didn’t give it back. Sparing a look around the room, Peli was no where. “Din.” 

He himself sighed, shoulders dropping in exhaust that had you yearning for the privacy to help wring tension out of. “Sorry, I know. I just-” 

What he expected out of you was not what you had either. “Maybe you should go without me.” 

Helmet snapping up to you, a surge of paralyzing disbelief rushed forth into you. Trying to slip your hand back, Din in fact, yanked you right back into his touch. His heart pumping silence demanding an elaboration. 

Stammering you felt far less confident in this idea then you had when it arrived as a fleeting thought. “I just mean, this means a lot to you two and I wasn’t even there from the beginning,” Din said your name in warning, and pulled you further into him just as you unconsciously fidgeted too far from his comfort. “I just shouldn’t-” 

Peli’s voice rang out higher then both of yours could possibly dream of combined. “I don’t know why you’re always in such a hurry. Build me a ship, fix my blaster holes.” 

Her interruption granting just enough surprise from Din to slip out of his grasp, pushing up from your thighs and walking around the ship the long way from him. “Find us a ship is different then build me one, Peli. Besides we’re the ones doing all the work.” Gesturing to the slowly standing Din. 

Waving her hand at you, “All the work? Trust me, dealing with a bunch of eager Jawa’s always asking me out is hard work, believe me.” The funny thing about Peli is either she didn’t see your narrowed brows as you stared confused at her because it didn’t matter, or she did and ignored it. “You’d know what I’m talking about if you didn’t have a human sized massiff glaring down your potential suitors.” 

Voice flat as ever, one hand on his hip Din just stared Peli down until she threw her hands up in bemused defeat. Not before mockingly covering her mouth and leaning into you, “All alpha’s this protective or just the Mando variety?” 

There was a joke somewhere deep within you, but it was hard to get out at Din’s stare. It wasn’t something you came too lightly, but more and more you couldn’t help but feel this pull of failure that permeated every conversation or thought of Grogu. Not that you’d say it, but you somehow felt like a disworthy omega. Not even given herself the chance to say goodbye to her child and now lacking the ability to comfort the loneliness and dark pain creeping into her mate. 

Or supposed mate, in this case. Kicking nothing at your feet, it became too hard to face that reality the closer the ship was to finished. That was the plan, see Grogu once the ship is acquired but maybe you didn’t deserve it. Grogu was Din’s, his foundling. Not yours. Just a tag along that accidentally fit a nice role of doting omega that now wandered the galaxy lost and without use. 

Tension between you and Din was palpable. His eyes on you at all times the second they were anywhere but the ship. Yours, never met his back. Even through the visor, you found his his eyes perfectly every time. Even his covert making mention of the ease in which you spoke to them like the helmet was just who they were like your face was. 

By the time the Jawa's returned, you had been crouched by a panel away from the door. Knowing both by the quick scramble of small feet and R5 shaking like the least brave droid in existence. Catching it’s attention, you inhaled and exhaled with dramatic movements. But the droid just beeped more. 

Never met a droid that was such a baby before. 

Din’s voice rang out through the hanger. “Where did they get a cryogenic density combustion booster?” 

“Do you really wanna know?” 

Sounded like a fair question, neither you or Din had found the Jawa’s holding a favourable track record of being in the ownership of things belonging to him, or Fett for that matter. A thought that sparked in your head and begun plotting itself out..

“They said they crawled under a Pyke spice runner and crimped it off while they were refueling. Gutsy little fellas.” Hands pausing mid movement, you turned your head just enough to hear her the slightest bit clearer. “Let me tell you something, Pykes do not mess around. Ever since they've been moving spice through the system, everything's gone to hell. Everyone's afraid of 'em and law enforcement won't even go near 'em.” 

Eyes glazing over, you bit part of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in wonder. Things around here looked calm, but that might be in part of fear of what may come through. You’d had enough encounters both with their kind, and that of spice runners in general. Their work and cooperation with the slavers trade were synonymous with one another. Many people you had seen sold off in favour of high quality cut, but not you it seemed. No spice was worth selling an omega until an even greedier profiteer came along with a heftier offer.  

Gears turned, but perhaps ones which wouldn’t make Din very happy. What did though, was how gorgeously fast the Starfighter was. You watching from a view point separate from her hanger, the machine flying through the sky with impressive skill. Peli leaving the field test over to you, saying something about cleaning up after them, either her droids or the Jawa’s who knows.

He unbeknownst to you, could hear the joy in your tone along with the smirk on your face more akin to proud them smug. “How’s the handling?” 

“A little bumpy,” the slight echos of control switches flipping on his end, “let me open her up.” 

The speed catching attention of those on the street’s below, you felt something shiver down your spine without recognizing it. Nor that your tone felt much raspier to his deeper one. “Controls are more sensitive then a Razor Crest, going to have to ease me into this one.” 

It didn’t translate through both the communicator, or the modulator on his helmet but there was a shift in his seat and a grunt along with a more boiling point of his blood before he spoke. “I’ll be gentle. Don’t you worry mesh’la.” 

Face flushing, he called for you again. “Talk to me, sweet girl tell me how I’m doing.” 

If he was doing this on purpose that was unfair. You squirmed in your seat along with a tightness in your chest that felt more thrilling than was appropriate for being alone in a friends control bay. Swallowing your tone down, you shook your head. “Manoeuvrability looks good, take it through Beggar’s Canyon so I can see the navigational stats.” 

Still learning how to read navigational equipment outside of the Razor Crest, you squinted as you watched it coming through, putting together the pieces in your head. “That’s better, you look good out there.” 

“Says the pretty girl giving me orders.” The deepness he spoke in was intentional, it had to be. There was a silence in your bones as he chuckled. The communicator making it feel deep in your chest. “There we go, nice and tight.” 

You barley registered what he was actually doing on the Starfighter, the communicator holding tight in your grip. “What’s an omega got to do to get an alpha to talk to her that way?” 

Oh Din could dish it, but he could not handle hearing it back right in his ear like that. He groaned shamelessly, coming at you like a warning. “Mesh’la..” 

Pushing up from the chair, you braced a palm on an empty space of the control board, far too warm for your own good. “No, please I understand. She’s sleek and gorgeous, I’ll give you space.” Din muttered something in Mando’a that you didn’t know. “I’ll meet you back down there, okay? Treat her gentle.” A quick glance back up to where nothing was visible anymore, you sighed out clicking it off. 

The trek down to the outside wiping away the fluster in your heart, glad this was working out at least in the meantime. Looking around you saw the hanger closed up oddly enough.  Hopping down the final step, you closed the door behind you looking over at the woman with her hands on her hips looking up much like you had chasing a ship too fast to spot. 

“Peli?” 

You jumped back as she did, her hand on her heart as she walked over to you. “Maker, you think that man gets himself into enough trouble, now he’s got people stopping by here looking for him.” A breathless rant you stepped closer to her, hands up almost trying to bring the manic down a tinge. 

“I was gone for less than ten minutes, what happened?” Watching her shake her head, she dramatically inhaled and let it all back out before nodding to the closed doors. 

“Someone came looking for him, both of you. No idea how they knew either of you were in my business but I locked ‘em up in the hanger. Figured Mando’s more equipped for that than you or me.” 

Glancing over, you watched the closed doors for a moment with narrowed eyes until you heard the sleek sounds of the Starfighter back in atmosphere. You and Peli backing up to give him space, it landed like nothing. Peeking inside, Din made it look easy enough but you had a distinct feeling getting used to this one wouldn’t be as easy as before. 

The Razor Crest was a gunship, but more forgiving to pilot. Peli meeting him with amusement in her own voice. “How was it?” 

Din glanced at the pair of you, making Peli cheer to herself as you grinned. “Wizard.” He climbed out of the seat as you walked over, leaning on the side to look over days worth of work. His tall frame loomed over you, were he not in public you’d have felt his hand tilt your chin up to look at him. Instead he stood as close as he could get away with, a strong scent of his inner alpha radiating your senses. 

Your eyes a little dumbfounded at how strong he smelt and how small it made you feel, in a way you wanted more of. “I know it’s not what we wanted, but it’s something, right?” Before he could respond, Peli came back over. 

“Oh, someone claiming to be a friend of you two dropped by.” Holding her hands out, she switched her tone. “Don't worry. I told her I didn't know where you were. Then I locked her in and engaged the hangar security system.”

“She tell you her name?” 

Before anyone said another word, they did for you. “Fennec Shand.” Spinning around, you saw her sitting up on a tricky hanger ledge with a smirk. Hopping down each one, you felt a real grin forming as you and Din met her halfway. “By any chance you looking for work? The pay is good.” 

You could feel even just still beside him, Din’s hovering presence the second anything switched to business. Especially lately. “What’s the bounty?” Being tossed the pay, neither of you even glanced at it’s contents. 

Fennec shook her head, “No bounty, we need muscle.” 

Now the dots made sense. The Pykes, the strange aura of the city streets. Boba Fett challenged the leadership in a different kind of way, no doubt such a name and conquered title would set forth an a new challenger to test it. “Fett’s after the Pykes?” 

Her sharp gaze nodding at you, “Encroaching on his territory. He sure would appreciate it.” 

Neither you or Din had to even look at one another to feel your answers. It wasn’t often Din was shown fair and unselfish loyalty and neither he or Fennec needed to help you when going after Moff Gideon. But they did, and you felt that connecting chain tighten in agreement between you and Din. Tossing the pay back, he was absolute. “Tell him it’s on the house. But first,” 

If he felt that strength of understanding between you go slack, he said nothing until the three of you parted ways. The walk back to the hanger where your stuff hung was painfully quiet and he didn’t deserve this strange silence over something he likely wanted you to look forward too. 

But if Din was straight forward with you, so would you be in return. “Din, I’m not going.” 

He stopped right in his step, turning back to you almost as fast as the very ship you watched sail in the sky. His tall frame hiding the brightness of the sun but leaving your shadows feeling intimidated. “Oh I hear you the first time. What the hell do you mean you’re not going?” 

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came from it as people passed by in the area. Din noting the same, pulled you to the side of the building all but crowding you against it. Trying to pull himself down, his tone turned sweet but you were faster to get it all out. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go with you. To see Grogu.” Your throat closed up, and your hands trembled at your sides. 

Din slightly leaned back, his voice in quiet disbelief. “Mesh’la why would you-”

Crossing your arms across your chest you shook your head. Sinking in on yourself as the wall served as something of a backrest. “He’s your foundling. Not- not mine. You were the one he said goodbye to, I just don’t think I should be there. It’s..between you two.” 

No longer caring of the sight, Din finally captured your chin in his fingers. “Why would you think that?” 

Truthfully you didn’t quite know. Something inside your chest clawed at you and it bled into your lungs until the air felt too strained to breathe. Your arms hung uselessly at your side wishing that you could just hide in his chest like you could before. “I- The Armourer called you a clan of two. Not three. And I guess...I just think there are things you two should do just with each other, without me tagging along.” 

His head leaned into yours, voice tighter then normal as his grip did the same. “You are not just tagging along. You belong with me. With us, you’re apart of our clan.” 

But were you? That first night, those first few days once Grogu was gone. You and Din spent that time together and isolated, your heat had sped into you full force and it’s strength sent his own rut slipping over the edge. So much of those few days you spent in the others bare arms. Blindfolded you felt every touch of his lips, the hot air from his breathe as you freely raked through the lush hair and scratching ones on his face. 

Then the days were over, and the reality of having no home and no child felt painful. You clung to the other like never before, and it had been weeks of almost never leaving the other’s side. Perhaps a number of hours for Din to nab a bounty, but that’s it. It was just the darkness and wandering pain of you both unable to find the lives you lost and just maybe you only had that bond because he lost his other. 

You weren’t even mated. You were just an omega who followed him around the galaxy, it was Grogu, his very foundling that was the love of his life. A truth you never questioned but maybe it was a role that you shouldn’t intrude on. Maybe your place was just this. An outlet for an alpha who was desperate to not lose everything. So you were a body to keep safe. 

You wanted to shake, cry, plead your sorrows, but none came. Just a far off stare, watering in your eyes that were his helmet reflective you’d be forced to stare back at yourself and not the blackness. “You’re a Mandalorian, and he’s your foundling. Just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean I’m one of you.”

Hands drifting up you traced over the Mudhorn on his shoulder. That’s where their clan was created, it wasn’t the day he went back for him on Navarro and took on a stray. “It doesn’t feel right.” 

Capturing your hand in his, Din stared intently struggling to find any kind of word, and even worse, unable to reach your omega. You pushed him out, just to keep him from convincing you. Something you hadn’t done in a long time. “He’ll want to see you.” 

Shrugging, you faked what was likely a not very well executed expression of casualness. “He misses you more then me. He always does.” 

For a moment the both of you just stood in the streets of Mos Eisley, your hand caught in his as you stared the other down until Din broke. Leaning further, he closed the gap. Pulling you in by the back of your neck and resting your forehead against his. A shaky exhale just audible through his modulator and your own shaky one not helped as he held your connected hands over his chest plate to his heart. “This conversation isn’t over, mesh’la.” 

Nodding together, you basked in his warmth as much as you could, trying to steel the spiralling inside of you that screamed of failure. Finally nudging him lightly, you smiled up at him. “Go give the kid his shirt, you went through enough as it is to get it forged.” 

Just another list of things you and Din would have to figure out at some point. His covert. It took more then another few minutes to convince Din to leave without you. Everything deep within being an alpha saying leaving you behind like this was a bad idea. Even if you’d be perfectly safe, he refused to accept that this was you feeling perfectly normal. 

Finally returning to the Starfighter, you wrapped the bag around your shoulders once again. “You contact me if anything goes wrong.” Stopping you in place Din tilted your head up again. “I mean it, Cyra’ika. If the Pykes are as big of a problem as Peli said, I don’t want you wandering the streets alone when I’m not here.” 

Nodding, you secured the communicator on you visible for him to see. “It’ll be fine, Din. You’ve taught me well.” 

Shoulders dropping, he sighed deeply. Something muttered in Mando’a you couldn’t translate leaving his mouth as only a sliver of his alpha was allowed to seek out your comfort. His gloved hand stroked the side of your cheek before turning to hop into the pilot’s seat. Stepping back he called you before closing the top. “Tell Fett to behave himself around you until I get back.” 

Your head jolted back for a second, confused, “What?” 

If there was a smirk on his face, you heard it loud and clear. “Just until I get back, Cyra’ika.” There was little fanfare watching him take off, mostly because the Starfighter just moved at astounding speeds. It would be interesting to see what she’ll feel like with the new hyper drive. 

Tucking everything against your chest securely, you took more than a few minutes getting yourself confident enough to make the trip there. A combination of the last time you were there, it was still the days a brand sat plastered on your neck with the world muted heavily on suppressants. Also, it was the first time on a speeder bike in the drivers seat, without Din also there hands on your waist and gentle words encouraging you. 

But you were under Din’s instructions, and in terms of his protectiveness towards you, his rules were followed and you trusted them whole heartedly. So your insecurity had to be shoved down for at least a number of hours. 

At least there was significantly less risk going by yourself to what was formerly known as Jabba’s Palace this time around, all on your own. The sands of Tatooine were bright and lifeless, not much to watch your back in the kind of way ones may have in the past. 

Sat high on a ragged cliff were the highest of the towers stemming up from the hidden depths of the building below. The main entrance was just as foreboding as memory told, large and fortified to the degree you wondered if it was built such a way for posturing rather than practicality. 

Wincing as you climbed off the bike, you yanked off the old dusted helmet tossing it onto the seat as you walked up. Unsure where to even place your eyes, you debated heading around the long way for where you knew a hanger was. Just as your feet turned in place, a metal slot opened shooting out an extended arm with a circular eye glowing red at the end. 

Looking you up and down, the gatekeeper droid seemed to be scanning for weapons. Slowly, you let it watch your hand reach for the blaster at your side, holding it up by the ends away from the trigger as it considered you for a moment. Telling it your name you kept your other hand up for the droid to keep it’s eye on. “I’m here to see Boba Fett. I have business with him and Fennec Shand.” 

In an instant, the droid flew back inside and the slot slammed shut leaving you in the bright sand. A second passed as you considered what to do, when the large doors slowly rose open. Just high enough for you to walk safely under there was a Gamorrean there watching you. Jumping back you were about to bend to put the blaster down, when he barked something at you and gestured you down the vast empty corridor. 

Raising your eyebrows, you slowly brought the blaster towards your side watching the guard do nothing to stop you. Either you were already deemed welcome, or just looking at you the guard could tell you weren’t any kind of a threat to anyone inside here. 

Sheathing it, you slowly begun walking down the hall as the dim light faded along with the door lowering closed once more. The corridor itself was large, so much so that even a crowd of Hutt’s could fit themselves in no problem. Your boots barley making a sound as you walked through, trying to recall through the fog.

Following in a line should lead you to twist that narrowed down to a stairwell surrounded by blocking rocks carved around them. The activity was silent and not bustling with life as was the time you had been here. Dragged through the crowds with a chain around your wrist to keep your slaver from losing you to the wandering eyes. Not that you noticed. 

Many of your slave owners in that time kept you completely dosed. Sensing that your presentation would stir up whatever alpha’s were in the vicinity they kept you on heat suppressants for years to keep them from ever happening, which in turn, helped keep your scent dulled to that of a mild sweet scent that only the most keen of alphas may not have been able to pick up on. 

The blockers were the worst though. You couldn’t get distracted either, any incidents and you might become damaged property and what good is an omega to sell if she isn’t in pure condition. So you were muted from the world as it was to you. A dreary and fog filled mind that made the beings around you barley feel like human. The effects were worse depending on who was giving them to you, and being dragged to Jabba’s palace, you were effectively a walking sedation. 

The unaware confusion and bumps were replaced with the clarity that there was little but silence until you reached the turn leading to the main room. Slowly what sounded like faint talking, rose up to defiance and yelling. Pressing yourself against the wall, your heart sped up in your chest. The one voice was enraged, but the other was deep and scarring with absolutes. “Whatever arrangement you had with Fortuna, ended with him.”

You could hear Boba Fett further in the room, just enough solace to have you slink a number of steps along the wall before your toes reached the top of the steps. “I made a deal with Jabba, not him. But at least he had the honour to uphold that deal unlike you.”  

Peeking around the wall, you could see not much except for the shadow of a tall, lean figure that even in posture was clearly irate. Fett through his modulator was without question, the power and deepness rippled through your veins in a way only one other had done so. His voice speaking to whomever was there. “If I were anything like my predecessors, you would have been in the stomach of a rancor already for this disrespect. If you want to be treated with the same respect, earn it. Otherwise you stay at the bottom like all the others who’ve tried me.” 

Biting your lip in surprise, the other party begun taking the steps up. Slowly the red tinted scales matched the steam he no doubt wished was coming out of his ears. Kneeling down, you could see with each word he was being told, the snarl on his twisting face morphed. Hand at his own side twitching until he made it only a third of the way up.

Body stopping in place, he turned back to the main room, hand now touching the blaster at his side. A silent exhale through your nose, you very slowly took your feet down. Back pressed against the wall and each foot step slow as you matched the position towards your own weapon as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

The slimy rage coated your ears unpleasantly as you came close behind him. “Maybe this little war of yours will teach you what happens when you turn your back on your allies, Fett.” You barley felt your lungs even work, pulling your blaster out the same painfully slow speed that he was. Your eyes wide and hands trying not to shake, you took one final step behind his back. “Or I could just do it for them.” 

His hand rose up, blaster ready to fire until you rung the shot out firstt. The force jolting you back slightly, but there now was a burning hole in the Elomin’s chest. Blaster dropping from his hand to the ground, you lowered your aim. Coming up behind him, you breathed deeply before rising your boot up to kick him over out of your way. 

Him slumping over to the ground, you took the final steps down before kicking the blaster away from his still hand. Stepping over his feet, you looked up as you put your own back to see the throne room empty save for the one figure. 

Standing partway up the steps, Boba Fett stood clearly having just turned around to fire only to have seen the man slump over before. Lowering his own, your exhale was much calmer this time around as he tilted his head at you. Down a smaller corridor closer to him, Fennec appeared with her own weapon out, but with narrowed eyes dropped it just as fast at the sight. 

Her disposition changing as her eyes dragged up to you, now moving with a lighter bounce towards Boba whose stance relaxed back. “Thought you’d get here when Mando’s back.” 

Sighing out, you walked further into the room. Boots making a notable clunk as you walked along the gated doors cemented in the floor. Head turning to glance down but nothing was visible to the naked eye. “Should I leave and come back?” 

Boba chuckled, watching your curiosity with that of his own. “Nonsense. This place could use an omega, dim enough around here as it is.”

Looking back up, Boba stood on the lower level closer to you while Fennec perched herself casually on the arm of the throne. “Good to know I’m still a useful piece of decoration after all this time.” Behind you the steps of the Gamorrean filed down as he barked more into the air. 

Boba only nodding once to the body at it’s feet. “Get rid of that.” Like nothing at all, you remembered why many crime lords used them as guards. Pulling the Elomin away like it weighed nothing. Turning back to him, you almost jumped at how close he was. 

Both he and Din were far too silent for two fully armoured men of their sizes. “He said it would be safer here then back in the city.” Watching you, it was hard to assess where he stood with you. At this point you could read Din’s slight shifts as good as full sentences, but Boba Fett was still a mystery. One sending shivers down at the black visors cold stare that only intimidated you in such an enticing way back working behind the cantina bar in Navarro. 

But Boba, if you could guess anything, seemed to enjoy making you squirm under his stare. Keeping it up in pure quiet unlike Din’s change of smooth causality to relax you. “Unless-”

“He’s right. No safer place then with us, little one.” 

Eyes flickering to Fennec who watched you with a playful curiosity of her own. Strange as it was, you sort of missed her teasing yet sharp and unquestioning aura. Nodding, you readjusted your bag, if just out of fidgeting nerves. “Okay, so, uhm, what now?” 

Veins flowing with something that burned the way he stared at you, a feeling that wasn’t determined in your strange state. Broken only by Fennec coming up behind him unphased. “How about a tour?” 

Raising your eyebrows, you failed to hold back a smile. “That in your new job description?” In an exaggerated flourish with a deadpan stare she gestured you down the corridor she had come in through. Taking a second to speak quietly with Boba once you moved out of their range. Glancing around, not much had changed it seemed but it was a large room now that you stood in it so freely. 

Turning for just a second as she caught up with you, you caught his eye. Helmet turned a fraction to the side right at you, there was a wave shivering through your chest that had you swallowing nervously. A moment lasting only seconds before you let Fennec give you the run down of this place. 

By evening, the city was ramping up just as the suns disappeared and a calming night washed over the empty dunes. Despite such a high up point, the sight of the planets lands below in the dim early evening light did no such comfort, but not quite for the events to surely follow. 

Hearing the sound of armour, you perked up just as fast as you then deflated. It was of no offence to Boba, but he held a different kind of scent then Din. Just as strong, and strangely alluring but his alpha felt cooling and in control, whereas Din’s was warm and overwhelming. Your fingers twitched on the edge of the balcony as you returned to the skies.

Foolish to think he would just arrive as you seeked him out. You were the one who didn’t go with him, you had no right to miss him. For a second, the hiss of a helmet being removed startled you alert and straight. Coming down only at Boba’s light chuckle. “Didn’t think I looked that bad.” 

His voice bare sounded less scratching, more like a scarred rasp that you wondered if it was a result of the same events that left the physical ones on his face. Eyes flickering over as he came to stand next to you, you gave half a smile for as long as your energy could muster it. “Sorry. Should be used to it by now.” 

Shaking his head dismissively, his own gloved hands mimicked your position. “Nothing to be sorry for, little one. There’s few people who see me without it, but you’re welcome to be one of them.” 

It should feel like an honour, but your heart had little room. Leaning down to rest your forearms on the edge, your legs leaned back by the knee to accomodate stretching your back for a second before relaxing into the stance. There was no uncomfortable feeling in the quiet between you, but something seemed to be picking at your brain. “Your father was a foundling, right?” 

Out of your peripheral vision you could see him turn slightly to you and nod. Biting your lip for a second before continuing. “If he was a foundling, that would make you one as well. Since he raised you.” 

“Is there a question in there?” 

You inhaled your nerves, and blew none back out. “Why would Bo Katan say you aren’t a Mandalorian then? I mean,” Your hands moved to dig at the others nails mindlessly. “On top of everything else she said.” 

Suspecting he knew you were going prying for information in a much more roundabout way, you were still glad he played along. “Kyrze believes in blood supremacy. She was born to a powerful family thus she feels power belongs in her hands by birthright. Outsiders brought in are looked at as less then.” He noted the still somewhat confused narrowing look in your eyes. “I share the exact dna of thousands upon thousands of other clones. To her, my blood is as far as worthy it could get.” 

To even your surprise you jumped in before he could even finish his sentence. “But it’s not about who you’re born to, it shouldn’t matter if you’re a clone. D- Mando’s a foundling, a lot of people in his covert are foundlings they’re supposed to be treasured.” 

“Like omega’s are supposed to be.” 

Whipping around to look wide eyed at him, only to fall flat at the teasing glint in his eye. Shoulders deflating as you turned back to the view a shake of your head. Boba rested one palm on the railing as he turned towards you, mind putting your pieces together. “How about you tell me what’s really bothering you, and I can stop guessing the wrong answers.” 

A shake trembled in your neck and slid further down into your muscles. The trains of thought in your mind pathing you from grievance to grievance wondering what it was it all stemmed from and truly there was only one answer. The same answer you tried avoiding with everyone. 

Boba’s own stare weakening your resolve, forcing you to once again look back into the night for a ship that still wouldn’t come. Breathing deep for a moment before the racing of your heart got out of control. “Everyone talks about my presentation like it means something. Looking at where I’m from and telling me that they lied about where we came from or who we were when I already know that. I knew my family lied the second I was taken off world and the planets and people were nothing like the vicious monsters they made you all out to be. I thought, maybe if I could get out of this one day, finally be free to do as I please, I’d be my own person again.” 

Jaw set, you dug your nails into the harsh railing of the balcony. “But I’m still just an omega. I’m important, I’m uncommon, I belong to these people, no I belong with the people my mother was apart of, I’m supposed to be treasured as a rare commodity to Mandalorians but all I’ve done is get passed around from group to group solely beacuse of a presentation I can’t control. I’m seen as an omega, and so everyone thinks their the ones entitled to have me. Except...” 

Boba seemed to stand closer to your side now, his voice quieter but deeper as it hit your ear. “Except for Djarin.” Without committing in whole, you glanced only for a fraction to the man beside you but said nothing. “He wondered why you never asked him about you or your kind, when clearly he knew.” 

Saying nothing to answer the question he posed, it was obvious he wanted you to fill in the blanks for yourself. It was easy to strip away the barriers and see what was always there. “Because I went to him, not the other way around.” 

“To the others, you are a commodity. Who gets the omega, those her kind were stolen from or people like Kryze’s kind who wanted you out of the way in the first place.” You never did like the suspicious way Bo Katan looked at you, but Din was always there to keep you firmly at his side. "In a way you are right. There probably aren’t many people who see you as anything more then an Omega. But the ones that want you for more then that are already here. Or, in spirit.” 

His head gesturing to the night sky. Two people he meant in that case. So many people obsessed with what you were, and where you belonged or didn’t belong. Something you slowly came to realize, was a common threat amongst both Din and Boba as well. An apostate and an outcast, both alongside an omega who had no idea what her place in the galaxy was outside them. 

“What about you?” Turning your head enough to see him meet your eyes, a knowing deepness in them which you didn’t even catch in yourself. Not sure what it was you truly were asking. “You were asking me-” 

“The polite thing to do when getting to know someone is to ask questions.” Pausing, you squinted at him in slight confusion until the smirk forming on his own face made yours fall flat. “I’m interested in where you came from, because I find you interesting. Just as Djarin does.” 

Taking a step towards you, you straightened up as your lungs tightened in something feeling like a strange set of nerves, not quite stemming from intimidation. Before he found himself intimately close in your space, you found your habits slipping back. “I’m sorry. For dumping all of this on you. I just, I’m not used to being away from Mando without even having the kid, everything just feels weird.” 

Those very nerves turned into shivers flowing through your veins as Boba tilted your chin up to look him in the eye. “Nothing to apologize for, little one. You’re confused and upset,” the knuckles under your chin traced up so his thumb and brushed over your cheek, then down very gently across your bottom lip. 

You had never seen the exact look glazing over Boba’s eye in Din, but the feeling it gave you was all too familiar. The interested pull of an alpha calling to you. “Boba?” He hummed in response, “Is there a reason Mando wanted me to tell you to behave?” 

Oh the chuckle which emerged deep within his chest pulled your soul even closer in ways you once felt purposely from Din. “He sends me his pretty, little omega to protect. One who defends my honour, and opens up about what’s hurting her? I can’t imagine why he’d want me to behave myself around that.” 

His thumb pulled slightly at your bottom lip before sliding off of you entirely. Turning away to pick his helmet up, “You should sleep. Fennec will want to train you more in the morning while we have the time. Once Djarin arrives, I suspect thing’s are going to escalate rather quickly.” 

He almost reached the door by the time you called out for him, his face still just as warm as it was listening to you throw up whatever troubles brewed in your head. “Will be be mad at me? For not going with him to see Grogu?” 

Expression not changing, the quiet tenderness spoke out in his tone. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make him feel that way. Not with the way he speaks about you to me at least.” 

Your lips parted slightly, but he gave nothing else. Leaving the room and thrusting you back into the quiet solace of the dark windy balcony. Your brain stuck in a whirlwind. 

Sick to the stomach of feeling as if you have failed your duties as an omega to protect and support your family, but twisted over what the world wanted from you as the very same presentation. Boba’s warmth wasn’t quite the same, it would never quell the yearning to see Din again. 

But it did bring you a comfort that no one outside that little clan of two had ever provided before. If you were lost in your place in this world, maybe it meant something that the connection you felt with both men, also had their own turmoil of where and how to belong amongst their people as well. 

As it turned out, he was painfully right. Factions gathered, and the Pykes moved in quickly. Whatever negotiations their enforcer Cad Bane had assumed would take place were refused and the violence followed suit leaving little people left on your side. It was a mess, and left you feeling terribly out of your depth. 

Making it worse, you had no idea what happened on Din’s journey. Everything moved too fast and neither of you had time to talk. Just a questioning hopeful look from you, and a stilted head shake of no from Din and a sorrow sat upon his shoulders as danger loomed closer. 

Fighting ensued, and you were grateful that Fennec was a relentless mentor. Pushing you enough in the day and morning prior, building a trust that you could and would follow her lead out on the streets enough to handle yourself when she needed it. Her focus kept you focused. 

She was skilled on the sidelines, left better out the line of fire as a silent take down. A trait in which she recognized was suitable in you, even if by both your admissions, you were nothing close to a fighter. But in war, being a lesser suited follower was fine by you. 

Impossible to say how long the confrontation lasted, but the silence in the streets felt as if it was a sound you hadn’t heard in years. Leaning up against a wall, you shrugged part of your upper arm from the top of your shirt. Fennec coming to crouch at your side as you poured a bit of water of a burn striked through your skin from the dirt and sand kicked up into it. Wincing at the stinging, you glanced up to her and back. “Pretty sure only have a graze is a miracle if you ask me.” 

A slight smile on her face, Fennec reached forward to pull your shirt down better, gently taking the container to do it at an easier angle. “You did better then you think. Just because fighting isn’t your thing doesn’t mean your bad at it. You have a good teacher.” 

Smirking through the final wince as she dragged the fabric backup, “Yeah, I’ll be sure to pass the message onto Mando.” 

Briefly considering helping you up gently, Fennec resorted to just tossing the container onto your lap and standing up alone. “You always get bratty when you’re injured?” 

Throwing your head back in a laugh, you pushed yourself up with palms pressing against the wall behind you. “Maybe next time you should teach me how to do more then mouth off.”  Sharing a laugh, she led you to where the others were gathered in all likelihood. 

From a distance, you could see a rancor, flopped down on it’s side breathing heavily in sleep visible from where you were. But the image became clearer as you approached. 

In the stories of the old world your father told you, they were always grand. Powerful vivid images painting in your head from the words spun of drama and theatrics. Reunions one of those stories always told in whimsy. But there was none to be found here, not in your confused, torn heart. 

He was small, and cuddled next to the rancor on his side, but Grogu’s little green figure was easy to spot from miles away. Stopping mid step, the sights in front of you didn’t quite catch up to your brain. How was he here, Din hadn’t come back with him not by the weightful dread on his shoulders. 

Peli was also here. For some reason. Talking to the one from the meeting that you couldn’t quite tell was annoying or just a bit of a coward. The sight was unusual, but you could see the silver shining off Din’s beskar as he slowly approached the slumbering pair. Steps careful around the large creature, before kneeling down. 

His hand gently running over Grogu’s side who shifted closer into his touch. Din scooping him up in his arm to let him sleep soundly. None of them had seen you yet, and maybe you didn’t want them too. A fleeting thought that stabbed another dagger into your omega’s heart and told your conscious self that you weren’t worthy of that soft, gentle love they gave each other. 

Din’s attention was solely on the kid, cradling him up to watch him as he ran his hand over what he could get. Before you could rationalize it, you took a step back. No plan, what or where to go, but intruding on it felt wrong now. You didn’t go to see him int he first place. Why would you deserve to be apart of this reunion? 

Heart screaming to go see both of them, let yourself hold the one your soul treated as your own and the man who gave you a love once never known before. Your eyes stung like the burn on your upper arm, and before the tears could so obviously overtake you, you let them have this together. 

There was no plan in your head, just the need to get back to the palace where your stuff was and hoping reason and logic would kick in by that point. Instead all you got was more of a memory that made it feel worse. The terror of Din telling you to take the child and leave him. That he needed you, and staying here to help was futile. You could still feel the desperate way Grogu clung to you as you carried him from the room, both of you leaning into the other. Grogu’s scared and exhausted head burrowed into your front, as you looked at IG-11. 

Pleading in your gaze to fix things, you and Grogu might be able to do this together but neither wanted to do it without Din. The binding that kept you three whole. Only the memory didn’t serve as some great analogy like your father tied into his tales. 

Din and Grogu started without out, they didn’t need you. Everyone offered someplace for you to go, a purpose to serve but the only one you wanted didn’t feel as if you were worthy. You failed as an omega to Grogu, and a fierce alpha such a Din would surely admonish you it. If you thought the palace was quiet before, it was even moreso now. 

The biggest threat to his rule this far was taken care of, so hopefully this silence would turn peaceful not stay eeiry as it was now. The bag was tossed onto whatever bed you found yourself falling into the night before. Chucking your blaster beside it, you dragged your feet over. The first thing you saw though, was that silly little frog you kept for him. 

It was stupid. Din gave him what he needed, and more then plenty of what he wanted. The pieces of why Grogu found his way back to Din unknown, but you didn’t see yourself in that future. Slowly picking it up you could still see the way the kid clung it to his chest, making a content little cooing noise only to immediately get upset when you tried to get up and leave him be. How normal it was for the kid to switch between cuddling with Din and cuddling with you, and the excitement on his face when he wanted you to watch him about to do something particularly silly, usually to Din. 

Nothing had felt right since your heat had ended. Where you and Din stood was unknown, he was closer and protective of you, his touch similar to that of one bonded to you, and yet you were ummated. Just a companion who filled a painful emotional void once his son was gone, and now that they were together you failed to picture that dynamic going anywhere. 

He didn’t need to look for the Jedi now, he had enough of a ship to start making his way across the galaxy in his own quest for atonement and so your usefulness had worn out. Maybe you’d stay here if you could convince Boba you could find some way to be useful at all. 

No plan was made still. You had no idea that you even had passed out. The strenuous events of the day, the emotional turmoil of the past weeks and the fear you were no longer wanted had piled too high on the very little sleep you managed to get. 

Totally unaware of your surroundings, you weren’t at all aware of the voices in the room or the weight on the bed that joined you. In fact, such presence was only realized, when the weight on the bed seemed to jump, and land at your side with a high pitched coo. Sound increasing in distress until it was at your face and snuggled right up beside your head. 

Once your eyes fluttered open, big black ones wasted no time in realizing it. Grogu say on his side in front of you, one ear flopped out while the other sat low on his face as he reached out to you. Little hand brushing your cheek before a stubborn little noise flew from his mouth and he jumped almost with no effort right into your neck that managed to push you back. 

“Easy, Grogu.” He almost whined defiantly at the voice behind him, as he held onto you much like that very day. Following you sitting up so your back was against the wall, he started looking between you and the voice, dawning on you it belonged to Din. 

Head whipping over, Din stood by the wall underneath a window. Boba a few feet away, amused at the kid’s antics. Before you could even ask, Din stepped over, sitting down to face you on the opposite side of the bed. Bag and blaster now sat neatly on a surface opposite the bed. “I wasn’t allowed to see him when I got there, saying it was bad for his training for me to be there.” 

Instantly, your brows narrowed, but Boba interrupted right as you opened your mouth. “The real enemy to the Jedi. A loving family.” Your sleep riddled brain couldn’t decipher the double meaning in his tone, but you remembered Ahsoka telling you she couldn’t train Grogu because of how attached he was. That Din was a father to him and that somehow would get in the way. 

“Fett.” Boba raised his hands in surrender at his tone. Din turning back, watching Grogu turn his head, still wanting you to hold him but watching Din with bright affection. “I asked them to give him the shirt, and left. He was right there,” Din’s hand reached out, stroking one of the kid’s long ears making him purr into your chest. “But he came back anyways. He returned to us, of his own accord.” 

The hand on Grogu slipped up to trace over your cheek. “I thought if you could see him, maybe it would make you feel better, but maybe it was better you didn’t come. If I could barley handle it, not sure tearing an omega away from her own foundling a second time would do you any good.” 

It should have clicked that it was unusual Din was having this conversation with you, a third party in the same room. But clicking the gears in your head into place, Boba mentioned both of them had talked about you. To what extent the back of your brain was asking. 

Looking at the space between you on the sheets, just a whisper was summoned. “After everything, I didn’t think it was fair to be just as lost as you, me being upset didn’t matter as long as you were more lost.” 

Boba’s presence was felt behind you now, giving your trio space but never quite enough keep away, which was fine with you. Din leaned in, pulling the back of your neck to keep you close, resting his forehead against yours. Chuckling as Grogu leaned in, gently leaning in the middle, and leaving your touch enough to rest a hand against the side of his helmet. “Our kind belongs together, mesh’la. Not just our presentations, but us. We’re in this together. Got it?”

Biting your tongue, you forced a choking feeling back down your throat for another time. Your hand moving to cover the little one of Grogu’s on Din’s helmet and briefly, Din covered both of yours with his free one. The serene moment ruined, by Grogu letting out a yawning whine as he dropped in both your touches. 

Pulling back, you let Din pick him up. “Alright. Back to sleep, kid.” Seemingly only going into a small room attached to this one, Din chuckling at a little sound Grogu made in his arms. “I know, well this is what happens when you play with a creature eight times your size.” 

Pulling your knees up to rest your forearms over, you watched Boba with a curious look. If he was here not just now, but this whole time, the two Mandalorians must have something up their sleeve and Maker knows you have no idea what they had put together. “Is there...something feels off here.” 

His eyebrows raised in a mocking way that didn’t quite match the play in his eyes. “Only if you want it to be.” The deepness in his tone rippling through you in a way annoyingly like Dins. “It’s all up to you.” 

The sound of a door sliding shut had you looking up to Din, now leaning against the door with his thumb looped through part of his utility belt and the other resting his forearm up on the door frame. A sight that was so simple, yet heated your blood noticeably. “Am I missing something?” 

Din stepped towards you, a hand reaching out for you to take. Letting him pull you up gently, he stood tall in front of you. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to get you out of your head. You’ve been on edge since your heat, and I hate watching you this way.” 

Fingers gently reaching to brush against the cool metal of his chest plate, you shook your head indignantly. “D- Mando,” 

“You can say my name, sweet girl.” You had no idea what was going on here, but you were being pulled so close to the warmth of in’s alpha, but also, part of you in another direction. A pull that Din would be able to sense, and yet, was allowing. 

Swallowing, you didn’t realize Boba stepped closer towards you. “Din, I’ve been trying to be there for you, you don’t need to do anything.” 

“Except he does.” Turning your body partially, you felt Din’s hands fly firmly onto your waist in no time and turned you to press your back against his chest fully. Boba only a few feet away, keeping a respectable distance unbecoming of the darker look in his tone and voice to boot. “An alpha can’t ignore their omega in distress, your pain becomes his. And best be sure you’ve consumed Djarin, little one.” 

Din’s hands tightened with his voice closer to your ear. “Not just me.” 

Your Mandalorian behind you, and Boba a step closer looming over you. “What are you-” 

Din’s hands trailed up, sliding just under your shirt to squeeze slightly at the plush skin he found underneath. “You say no, and this all stops.” Apparently Din expected a response, tightening his grip as he spoke sharper. “Okay?” 

Nodding fervently at his tone, it made your head spin. “Okay.” 

Pulling you closer into his chest, Din’s rasp even behind the modulator continued to destroy something inside of you, weakening your resolve to his touch. “Let us take you, mesh’la. Both of us.” Your mouth parted slightly, eyes trapped on Boba which if you could think clearly, was likely by Din’s design. His rasping words and touch, ached still further by Boba’s dark and intimidating eyes that raked over your body. “Get you out of your head.” 

Your gaze never left Boba’s even as you tilted slightly back towards Din. “Both of you?” 

Din nodded, and so did Boba. Oh this could not be what they both discussed about you, yet here you are. Boba took his turn to make a softer case, letting your true alpha pull your senses underwater as he gently swims his way over. “The only thing anyone’s asking of you, is to let us treat you like a kind, sweet,” Each word he stepped towards you until he was in your space just inches further away then Din was to you. “Pretty, omega you are.” 

Your breathing heaved as his own gloved hand traced your bottom lip just like he did before. Din’s comment for Boba to behave. There was no way they discussed this before, and yet? The protectiveness, the possessive feeling which could consume Din at the sight of other men, another alpha looking or touching you as if you really were just property weren’t there. “But Din-”

Giving you once last reassurance. “It’s okay to say no, mesh’la. But don’t just say it on my account. I want you to want it.” 

The air was stark and silent as you contemplated what on earth you were about to get yourself into, but there was a heat radiating from within and burned almost painfully as Din touched, you pressing you against his back to where he was losing his patience to hide how hard having you pressed against him like this made him. 

Din’s own mind both needing this yet confused at why he needed this. There was an angry possessive feeling he had around you, but Boba Fett came to be someone he trusted. And someone who he could trust with you. Putting you between them and forcing this constant looming anxiety in your heart out even if just for a time. One wouldn’t be enough, but between both of them? You’d have nothing left to focus on but their touch and their words and that’s the level of control Din wanted you to give up. 

Watching Boba touch you was going to be a jealousy that he didn’t know why he was willing to handle, but just maybe it’s beacuse you didn’t get to see how you looked together. Never having the gift of sight as Din touches you, only he knew how insatiable you made him and how addictive you looked writhing in pleasure. 

And he knew, you didn’t get to look at Din as much as you wanted. Always ready to let him blindfold you like an obedient omega so make sure he can take as much as his greedy mind needed. But if Boba was there, Din could sacrifice that just this once. 

You breathed heavily as Boba brushed over your lips, and it was Din’s words right in your ear that crumbled the insecurity keeping you from letting them take you as they wished. 

“Let him kiss you, mesh’la.” Looking back at him, he pushed you forward gently. “It’s okay.” 

It was an overwhelming feeling. The guilt of such an intimate act with another man, but the purring encouragement from Din to just let yourself give up control in their hands. Your hands hovered over Boba’s chest plate, fingertips only slightly making shaking contact. 

Din behind you undoing parts of his own armour almost turning your focus before Boba tilts you up to look at him under your chin. Leaning in he gave you plenty of time to back away, brushing his nose against yours feeling his breathe on your face. 

One hand grabbing your hip, and the other keeping his hold he teased bridging the gap but never sealing the deal. Din’s voice rang out, commanding an order from deep within, calling your omega to obey. “Mesh’la.” 

Jumping in your bones, you pushed up on your toes to press your lips against Boba’s. A small sigh coming from you as your hands continued to shake despite smoothing your palms out. And as soon as you crossed that initial barrier, Boba overtook the control from you immediately. 

Comparing the two of them is impossible. They are of completely different realms in nature with their touch. Boba is like a wildfire. Bursting at the seams from the onslaught, running hot and dangerous that can consume you if you let it do so. Once in it’s trap, escape only possible if it lets you. 

Deepening the kiss, you could feel your lips swell and bruise from the rough treatment, and once he bit the bottom lip he was so enraptured with, you gasped. Not just a gentle teasing nibble like Din, no should he have bit slightly harder he would’ve drawn blood. Your gasp was as much of a whine, his hand raking into your hair and tightening his grip to continue to move you. 

His tongue brushing into your mouth, tasting your own and coaxing you to follow suit. Your hands rising to dig into his cowl as he kissed and licked into your mouth until you had to pull back for air. Grabbing both your hands he pulled them in front to the side of his chest plate. “Undress me, little one.” 

It was hard to tell if they used their presentation to command you, or if having two of them in the room like this was just turning your brain into sludge. Nodding fervently, you swallowed trying to focus hard on taking each part of his armour off with care, just like you do Din’s. Who had ideas of his own. 

Pulling you into his chest once more, only now you felt much more the softer press of his body without the coolness of the armour at his back. Slightly pouting at not being able to do it for him. Din pulled your outer layer down your arms and stood back to let you continue. 

Hesitating once his upper body was done, you look up to Boba wide eyed in question. Shaking as he nodded, raking his hand through your hair once again as you knelt down. Your body feeling like it truly was becoming surrounded by fire at how this position felt, but you made sure to take your time undoing every piece, putting it down gently to where you now could see Din’s not too far away. Stacked just the way you do it. 

Looking up at Boba, now like Din, just in his flight suit, you ran your hands innocently up the length of his calves. “May I?” Dancing up to the bottom of his shirt, Boba chuckled. Watching slowly as you stood up. Hands raising his shirt as you did so until you stood in front of him. He did no work. Watched with dark amusement as you had to lean close into him to pull it off until it was down his arms. 

Din’s touch, crowded you just then. None of the patience, Din pulled your shirt and chest band up and off in one swoop. Not yet touching you he kept his arms around you, one on your hip the other by your mouth. “Bite.” 

Gently taking the leather between your teeth he pulled it off letting you see his hand as he yanked his other glove off and gently took the other from you. Finally able to look, you realized you didn’t really get the chance to see Din the way you could look at Boba now. 

Greedily reaching to run your hands over his large chest, eyes trapped on every scar, burn, gunshot that was painted on no doubt a story to follow. You didn’t know Din’s by sight, but you knew them by touch, so you did the opposite. 

Fingers tracing only lightly across each mark as you barley blinked staring at him. The heat in your limbs travelling between your legs. Skin rough in some places and soft in others you reached down to his pants and gently tucked the seam into your fingers. Not waiting for permission, you went to slowly move when Din did the same to you. 

Yanking your bottoms down, underwear in his grasp in one go. Tossing them aside. You whined in your chest as you felt his rough hands now bare run across your skin while you gently finished undressing Boba. Another sight you never got to see, but the heat between your legs now felt much like a need. 

He was a large and thick man, in more places then one including his cock. Thick and begging for your touch it was more then half hard. His hand thumb traced your bottom lip and tugged, gaining your attention. His eyes black as anything as his face twisted in a more aggressive harshness then the soft patience before. “Small mouth to fit such a thick cock.” 

Your thighs squeezed together as you ran your hands up his thighs glancing back at his length. Shuffling closer, you reached up to run your thumb and forefinger over his leaking tip. His legs steeled in a flex at the sensation along with his muscles constricting. Running them up and down his length slightly before gently cradling him close to the base of his cock. Almost like a kitten, you licked gently over the tip. Each time slipping more of him inside your mouth. 

Knees engaged each side of you as Din’s helmet soothed your sweating skin and leaned into the back of your head. His own hands running over your thighs but much firmer then your touch. He said nothing, but the more of Boba’s cock you slipped into your mouth the more overwhelmed you felt. Boba it seemed, was just as talkative in the bedroom as Din, but with one small difference. 

Boba took pleasure in being mean, and you only got more wet the more he talked. “Djarin’s far too easy on you it seems. Go on, little one you can fit more then that.” Sliding more in, you could feel Din run down to rub gently at your clit, making you moan around Boba’s cock. 

Almost like he couldn’t help himself, he ran his fingers over your throat as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. Full and overwhelmed you felt your nerves on fire as much as the fingers on your clit rubbed harsher, pushing more pressure into you as your mouth soaked the thickness inside it. 

Head starting to bob up and down, you felt tears at the corner of your eyes as well as your heart pounding each time you tried taking him deeper. “All the way this time, that’s it.” You cried around his cock as your nose pressed against the coarse hair around his pelvis soaking as saliva built and even dipped from your mouth the deeper he kept himself in. 

Din’s touch on your clit making you burn and shake wanting so desperately to grasp onto his arms but they were firmly set on Boba’s thighs as you slid his cock in and out of your mouth. “I knew you’d have such a filthy mouth, just not such a messy one.” His fingers swiping the saliva on your skin before tipping your gaze up slightly to see your eyes fluttering. “You wet from his fingers, from sucking my cock or are you just that much of a little greedy omega?” Moaning once more you felt him throb in your mouth as you felt almost lightheaded. 

One of Din’s hands slid up, groping at one of your breasts, fingers twisting your nipple enough to make you want to arch back into his touch, but he only shushed you gently in your ear. Your breathing already strained feeling that much weaker at how much your body wanted to writhe at Din’s touch. 

“Your girl like a mess, Djarin?” 

Both of Din’s hands stopped moving for a second, like he was contemplating something before he slid his hand down, shoving between your thighs as much the angle could offer. Sliding two thick fingers smoothly into your soaked pussy he groaned just quiet enough you could hear it. The one on your breast moved down to your stomach. “No, just greedy.” 

Din’s helmet now resting on your shoulder thrusting his fingers in and out with such little resistance and every slide of Boba’s cock making you clench that much harder. Groaning louder at how much he could see your wetness from even here, his other hand stroking your stomach with his thumb. Refusing to let you wince or flinch at your insecurity. No, he wanted you on full display. 

Boba’s hand raking around the opposite side of your head he pulled you into him close as he could, feeling him twitch inside of your mouth before letting go. “Fuck, such a filthy fucking thing, that’s right swallow all of it, good girl.” Boba’s cum spilling into your mouth, so close to the back of your throat and the twisting of pleasure Din was bringing you with his fingers made you almost want to cry it was too much. 

Slowly pulling you off inch by inch both men watched a mixture of saliva and cum almost dripping from your gasping mouth as Boba’s cock finally left you. Din’s hand turning you by your neck gently to look partially back at him, the darkness of the visor even contrasted to the gritted teeth and dark panting face of Boba’s. He still brought you comfort as Din brushed mercilessly against a sensitive wall inside of you. “Doing so good for me, sweet girl. So fucking good,” 

Your hands free you reached back to grab at whatever you could of Din as the heel of his palm roughly rubbed your clit as he thrusted them in and out almost rougher then before. Gasping you arched back, unashamed at how much it put your tits almost on display. “Din, please let me cum. Please, I’m so-” 

Whinging you couldn’t even finish your owns entrance as he pressed his other palm hard against your stomach as he sped up enough you could hear how much you soaked him. “Come on, you can cum mesh’la. All for me.” 

“Taking all the credit isn’t your style,” Boba’s voice was further away, rasping with a dash of cheeky as Din pulled you right over that edge. Holding you tight against him as you cried out as your orgasm washed over you. Seizing your muscles tightly in his hold. 

“F-fuck, not ugh, your name she’s crying is it though, Fett?” 

Talking about you like your orgasm wasn’t in his arms and on display it just made you stutter a moan out even as you came down. Pulling his fingers out of you, Din pulled you up with him turning you to face his front. Moving your hands to gently pull his shirt off, you wanted to reach to run your hand over his chest only to get pulled roughly into Boba’s back. “He can have you whenever he wants, so how about you lay out for me?” 

Gently climbing up onto the bed, you could see Boba moving around to the end of it and Din carefully climbing up near the wall behind you. Just as you settled, Boba yanked you towards him at the edge of the bed. Spreading your legs wide to fit himself between. 

“Let’s see if an omega tastes as sweet as she smells.” A man with patience in many aspects of his life, but none as he pulled your hips closer to put his mouth on you. Crying out almost immediately as he licked from your entrance up to your clit. 

Din’s breath stuttering behind you, his eyes behind the helmet stuck on how much you gasped, back arched and legs already tensing in Boba’s hold. Brushing your hair sticking to the sweat of your forehead back, raking gently in his bare fingers like out of everything the soft silky feeling is what had him transfixed. 

Sucking your clit before almost biting it to make you jump, he Boba chuckled deep into your pussy as he licked inside of you. The roughness of his hands but the warmth of his mouth working you over so gently making you moan. Thighs wanting to close, but he kept them wide on the bed as he could force them. Refusing to even give you the reprieve of hanging them over his shoulders. You’d still have some control were he to do so. Your core inside hot and burning, too soon after Din made you cum on his fingers you grasped at your chest mindlessly. 

Only to have Din grab them. Despite pulling your head up to his lap, Boba never faltered. Just moving with the action to keep his mouth tasting you. Din however, wrapped your fingers in each of his before pushing them down on either side of you. His own cock unfairly hard and still confined by his pants, but he needed you to come again. He never gets to fully see how you look cumming on his mouth, but now Din refuses to miss it. 

Shaking in his hold, you were far too close from your last orgasm. The coil inside you twisting and flaming as Boba never faltered in his moves. Feeling a smirk against you as your stomach muscles started to tense up. Your hips lifting from the bed slightly as he pulled you into his mouth from a better vantage. His tongue deep as it could go, you started to loose yourself. 

“You gave me one, mesh’la. Fett deserves one too, for everything he’s done for you.” 

Boba’s nails dug into your skin as he pulled you right over that edge, not even hearing the noise coming from either of them. Just ringing in your ears as you came, falling apart on his mouth that refused to stop licking you up and down until you stopped spasaming. Your senses like you were drifting underwater, only soothed by Din’s soft touch letting your hands go to gently cup one of your breasts again, like the small massaging sensation and gently playing with your nipple just enough of a spark to keep you near the top. 

The two Mandalorians however, had no plans on giving you time to catch your breathe. Like you were a doll light enough to be tossed around, Din manoeuvred you to straddle his lap. Your hands instantly running down his chest, eyes wide at how broad and soft he looked outside of even just his flight suit. 

One of his hands ran up the length of your spine, the other running across your hip over you ass and back down your thigh like a pattern. “Pull me out, sweet girl.” 

Nodding mindlessly, you reached for his bottoms. Thighs clenching around his as you pulled his cock out, long and intimidatingly thick as well. You knew it felt as such but seeing what you had previously fit inside of you made you shiver. Wrapping your hand around it, you ran your thumb over his tip. Gathering as much precum as you could and stroking his cock with it, slow and a light grip that Din never touched himself with. His voice raspy and lustful. “We can do this a few ways, but it’s all up to what you’re comfortable with. We can go easy on you if you’re more comfort-”

Shaking your head furiously, “No, no whatever you want. Both of you, please I want you to do whatever you want,” Turning to see Boba who also was know up on the bed behind you. 

His hand reaching out to keep your head turned on him with his hand on your jaw. “Are you sure?” A second nod yes, had Din groan. Covering your hand with his and tightening your grip on his cock. Boba’s eyes on you. “I’m gonna open you up back here while you sit on his cock.” 

Dins hands reaching behind to pull your ass cheeks apart enough to sting. “Come here, sweet girl. Let me feel you.”

Looking back you propped yourself on his shoulders as Din held you by your hips. Sinking you down was far too easy, from making you cum on his fingers and Boba’s mouth you soaked his cock before even sitting on it fully. Din moaned as he sunk into you fully in one go. His helmet dropping into your chest as his own stomach heaved trying to control himself. 

Your moan was high pitched and needy, hands grasping onto the bit of hair sticking out from his helmet his hands pulled your chest more into him. But as soon as you tried moving, Din held you in place head lifting up to look disapprovingly at you. His tone sharp as his words were short. “Are you in charge?” 

Pausing, you clenched around him, making an even wetter mess already but you shook your head no. Your mind too in the clouds to even joke otherwise. Feeling Din trail his hands up to hold you by the back of your neck and waist. Pulling your forehead to his you shivered at Boba’s hands on your hips. 

His large frame pressing into your back as his hands trailed downwards, squeezing your ass lightly, then rougher each next one. Finally, one of his fingers moving down. Collecting the wetness still soaking you and nearly the bed at that point before moving it back up between your cheeks. 

Stilling briefly as he pressed against your ass, heart racing but your head still in the clouds could do enough to nod. Boba leaning closer to your ear with a deep, “Good girl,” before sliding his finger inside of you. 

Gasping, you pressed into Din more who tightened his grip on your hair, but held you not in comfort but to keep you nice and steady for Boba who was keen on riling you up more as he spoke. “Never been taken here have you, little one?” Chucking deep when you shook your head no. “Not treating her right are you, Djarin? If you’re leaving some of her firsts for me.” 

Sliding the hand on your waist, Din moved his thumb against your clit. “I’m the one filling her pussy nice and full, aren’t I sweet girl?” You moaning just as Boba slid in a second finger and such a moan turned into a whine. Your body on fire, your insides already burning to the ground your body only able to focus on either of what their hands were doing. 

There was a stretch and a burn inside your ass that just two of Boba’s fingers were pulling from you, but the gentle side of a third had you jump. Crying out desperately as Din’s hand in your hair tightened painfully. Voice scattered, you didn’t know if you were even making sense as you writhed in place. “I, fuck, I don’t wanna- wanna upset either of, of you..” 

The hand now loosening, Din slid it down to the back of your neck, pulling you to look at him. His voice as rough as you looked. “You could never, cyra’ika. Fuck, you could never upset me, upset us.” 

Boba leaned into your ear, free hand wrapping around the front of your neck. “You ready to take me, little one? It’ll be a stretch, but I’ve opened you up nice and wet for me.” You swallowed, your eyes on Din and your focus on the their hands but you nodded. “You sure?” You nodded again. “Hold onto him, then.” 

Din sat up better, holding you in his lap. The second Boba started pulling his fingers out, Din thrusted just out of you enough to set your insides alight. Thrusting back in but slowly, forcing you to feel his cock stroke against every inch of inside you as you moaned. 

The slow pace making you lean into him quietly, only to cry at Boba now pressing his cock up against you. Leaning forward, he pulled you out of Din’s hold making you lean back against his shoulder to look up at him. Like they were in sync, Din slowly pulled partway out of you as Boba barley pressed his tip in. 

Din’s final reassurance once more like fired the bullet. “It’s okay, cyra’ika. You can kiss him.” 

This time Boba kissed you, his roughness resuming from before and Boba slowly started to push inside you as Din slowly filled your pussy back up. Your body feeling like it was panicing, heart racing from all the stimulation, but Boba kept slowly filling your ass until he, like Din, was sat fully inside you. 

Pulling his lips from yours, not bothering to hide how deep he had his tongue in your mouth he clenched his jaw at the feeling. “You still with us?” It took you more then a moment to answer, barley with an uh-huh as you clenched around both of them. 

Din’s thrusts slowed down dramatically, his cock almost just grinding in you with painfully gritted teeth hiding behind the helmet. Boba, started to fuck you, but far less gentle. Both of them, feeling the desperation of your omega yearning for more of it. 

You couldn’t describe how it felt to have him pound you from behind that way, it was new and almost so foreign it scared you but you were desperate for it. Crying and moaning only speeding his hips up more and more. The slapping of his skin against yours contrasting with how soaking wet your pussy was with each slide of Din’s cock was obscene. 

Should have made you feel embarrassed but with your body pressed between their chests you couldn’t find yourself to care. “Fucking tight little ass, can barley shove my cock inside you can I?” He pounded harder, your body bouncing more on Din’s from the force. 

“Should feel what her cunt’s like, I’d never-fuck, would get you to fucking leave if you felt her.” Din and him just not speaking to you, but about you and yet it just felt too good. Like they wanted to get you out of your messy head, and to do it, treated you like a you for their pleasure and you were burning on the inside. 

Boba’s voice scratched to hell in your ear, “Gonna let me cum inside your ass, little one? Spill inside you just like Djarin would?” Looking up at him you nodded, Boba sharing a glance with Din that you didn’t see before he kissed you again. 

His cock pounding into you fast, your ass jiggling with the force as Din sped up inside your pussy. Himself leaning back against the wall, watching your face and your body transfixed as his thrusts were slower but far rougher. 

It seemed to sneak up on Boba, his orgasm. A few sudden thrusts almost too fast for you to be able to handle, before he pressed up against your back, head sinking into your neck with a groan. You felt his cock throb inside you before it started to fill you with his cum. Thick and lots of it he fucked you until he was empty. Slowly pulling out, to watch your ass gape without his cock still there to fill it and his cum leaking out of you. 

Din, didn’t waste time. Flipping you around so he was on top of you, pressing deep inside your pussy and fucked hard as soon as you were laid out for him. His cock so painfully hard and desperate to cum inside you, Din was rougher then normal. Your legs wide as possible to the point of strain, and the sound of his hips slapping into yours was loud. 

You didn’t expect it then, but you came from nowhere. Your orgasm splitting inside you and washing over your body as you arched back into the bed. Boba, leaning over to kiss you, his tongue commanding yours as Din started to lose composure. 

“Defect, my perfect girl with the tightest cunt, gonna fill you up okay? Gonna let me spill inside this pussy the way I want, like you deserve- oh fuck, baby,” His helmet dropping into your chest as he held both your hips still as he came. 

Slow thrusts as he too, felt like his cum spilled inside you forever. Your ass still full and whatever leaked out now spread against your cheeks as you were pressed into it from behind. Boba’s lips and tongue swallowing your moans and cries as Din gave a few final pushes. His body shaking from how hard and just how much he came inside of you. 

Both of them, let go of your body very gently. Boba slowing his kiss down to something gentle, before pressing a peck to your swollen lips and one to the bridge of your nose. Din took longer to pull out of you, his cock still half hard from how worked up he got, waiting until he went soft before leaving your soaked warmth entirely. 

You weren’t sure if you passed out, or if you dropped that hard. You felt Din’s touch and his gentle words but not much registered as you tried coming back to your senses. Only really feeling back in the world as you settled against Din in the water. 

Water? 

Looking around, you were in a large tub built into the stone ground like an indoor pool. Leaning back you felt his helmet and arms wrapping around your front. “Welcome back, mesh’la.” 

Laughing lightly, you looked around the room. Not quite a room like a refresher, but it seemed to be solely for the tub in there. “Did I pass out?” 

Din traced his hand over your stomach, “Not quite. You were out of it for a little bit though, thought a bath might help bring you back a little bit.” Smiling weakly you just leaned back into him. Enjoying the quiet. 

A question however poked at your brain, “Where’s Boba?” 

“Checking on the kid. Figured it might be a bit calmer for you to come down from tonight with just me for a little bit.” Pausing he almost sounded worried. “Did you...like it?”

Turning in his arms, you straddled his lap hands on his shoulders much more relaxed this time despite both of you being naked now. “I did. It was...a lot. But I liked it. You were were..” Din suggested the word rough, which made you laugh. “Yeah, but I was going to say safe. I don’t think I’d do anything like that with anyone else. But Boba-” 

“You trust him.” Nodding gently, he ran a hand up and down your back. “So do I. Would you ever want to do it again?” 

Leaning into his forehead you smiled. “I think so. As long as I get just you most of the time.” It wasn’t really obvious that the screaming insecurities didn’t rear their ugly head in that moment. You were stiff, quite sore, but content and snuggling into Din like a loth-cat. 

It was quiet for a bit before you asked about Grogu, only to feel mostly as confused as he did for how he got back. Either he was sent across the galaxy all alone or Peli’s story was just wrong. Either seemed plausible considering what you knew about your curly haired friend and the Jedi. 

Not that everything was perfect, but you felt content. The protectiveness of how Din held you was that of an alpha shielding his omega from the world around you. Din almost brought up the question of mating you, but he wasn’t sure his timing would be the greatest were he to bring up that biting into your neck to mate was all he had been thinking about since he got you in the bath. 

He also had a necklace. Two distinct animal skulls carved of beskar into them for when he did. But for now, you both soaking in this elaborate tub in each others arms would have to do.

Besides, he wouldn’t live down the amount of shit Boba would tease him with for mating you right after letting Boba fuck you the way he did. There might be a bit more of this dynamic to explore. 

He and Boba trusted one another, a companionship that made him trust the other man treat you with the proper respect of a fellow alpha. Omega’s were precious to Mandalorians, but Din didn’t want to share you with his people just yet. 

Sharing your affections with just one other was an acceptable middle ground. Well two others. 

The second you saw Grogu again, the idea of you leaving this little clan became practically impossible. 

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter four

well it’s love, make it hurt series

four: some place we can be ourselves

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: The Mandalorian buys you a present.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, Dom!Din and sub!reader, soft Dom!Din, pain play, nipple play, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), collaring (collar in the moodboard is not completely what I wanted. tell me not to have it commissioned just for the purpose of a photo lol), some feelings

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 6: Collar, inspired by @absurdthirst's wonderful prompt list, without which I probably would not have written anything.

also on ao3

3 ABY - Fall

Neither of you were squeamish; you couldn’t be. Injuries were inevitable in your line of work. You had seen Mando burn his skin back together. He had seen you stitch up a gash on your leg.

So why was the slowly fading ring of bruises around your neck so hard for him to look at? Was he still mad about the botched job and your behavior that night? Or did it simply disgust him to see marks on you made by any other hand?

Whatever it was, he needed to get over it. The worst damage had been healed by the bacta spray on the first night, and you refused to waste more over bruising.

You were starting to get mad, now that you thought about it. You had just been examining the wounds in the mirror of the fresher. You had just gotten out, dried off, and dressed when you caught sight of your reflection.

You were up on your toes, neck craned to see around the sides. It was healing up nicely. You ran your fingers over the delicate skin, and it was far less tender. It was almost pleasant, the dull ache when you pressed on them.

Mando chose that moment to walk past. He stopped, staring at you for a half second, and hit the button to close the fresher door on you.

“Hey!” you smacked the door with your hand. “What was that for?”

But when it slid back open, the hull was empty.

You were heading out in the morning for a hunt, one that promised a challenge. As glad as you were for an interesting job, it also meant you and Mando were essentially hands-off until there was a new carbonite slab on the ship.

So really, he was going to have to get over it or live without getting his dick wet for another week. Given the voracity of his libido so far, the latter seemed unlikely.

While Mando putters around in the hull eating his dinner, you curl up in your seat in the cockpit with a book on the datapad. Your routine had settled quietly into this rhythm—he could eat without rushing, you could read without him groping at you, and you both got time alone. For two people who had been mostly solitary before, it was invaluable.

“I’m running into town,” he calls up the ladder.

“What? What for?” you yell back, but it's drowned by the pneumatics of the ramp. “What the fuck?” you say to the empty ship.

By the time he returned, the suns had set, and the moss-dripping trees outside were thick and dark. You had dozed off in your seat, feet tucked under you and head resting on your folded arms. The datapad had slipped down between your knee and the seat.

He shook your shoulder, and you stirred. Not for the first time, you marveled at how deep you could sleep here. How you had stopped flinching for your blaster. You blink up at him, a smile breaking out, until you remember why you had fallen asleep there.

“Hey, what the kriff was that? You just took off, like—” You helpfully demonstrate with a little wave of your hand and a whoosh.

He stares down at you, head cocked, hand still on your shoulder. “What’s with the outfit?” He waves a hand at you in what you're sure is a rude mockery of your previous gesture.

Oh, right. The outfit. It didn’t seem so clever now. You had wrapped yourself in an elaborate headscarf that hung over you like a hood with a tasseled cowl. And, well, nothing else. Your blanket had slipped when you sat up.

You were supposed to be waiting for him bare. Accessible. Ready. And to the little bratty voice in the back of your head that was so mad at him earlier, this was compliant. He didn’t say you couldn’t accessorize. It wasn’t denying him access to your body.

Right now, though, as he put a hand on one hip and glared down at you, it felt like maybe you were in trouble.

“I, um.” Stars, why did you think this was a good idea? You thought you could confront him about the bruises and maybe get a little roughed up in the process. And you would have enjoyed it earlier, but now, suddenly, it feels like you might cry if he yells at you.

He hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken. You know when you’re being given a second chance, so you swallow hard and look back up at him.

“I’m sorry. I was kind of trying to push you, it seemed like a good idea, but I don’t want to anymore, I promise.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why did I want to, or why do I not want to?”

He sighs heavily. “Why did you want to?”

You look down at where the datapad is lodged, picking at the edge of the cushion with your nail. “I was trying to make you mad,” you mumble.

He tilts your chin up with a bare hand. You hadn’t even noticed him take the gloves off, but it feels so nice that you almost forget you're trying to talk your way out of trouble.

“Sweetheart. Why would you want me to be mad at you? If you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask nicely.”

At the low rumble of his wicked words, you no longer feel the cold of the cockpit. Your mouth waters, and you’re hyper-aware of how hard your nipples are, how exposed.

“I—kind of? No, I mean—” You can’t concentrate anymore. His finger that was stroking your cheek brushes across your bottom lip, and you open automatically, waiting. Begging. He pulls it away, and you whine.

“Hmm. Not yet. I want you to finish explaining yourself.”

“I had hurt feelings.” It punches out of you, and you’re mortified to realize it's the truth. You had been telling yourself you were mad, and maybe you were, but you had been lashing out like a hurt massiff.

Mando squats down beside the chair, and you turn, crossing your legs so you can face him. “What did I do that hurt your feelings, pretty girl?”

“It’s stupid, I’m being stupid. I’m—”

His hand snaps out, and unlike the gentle touch earlier, he grips your jaw tight before slapping you sharply across the face with his other hand. You yelp, more from surprise than pain.

“What have I said about that? Are you allowed to talk about yourself that way?”

“No, sir,” you whisper.

“And why not?”

“Because I’m yours, and if I’m disrespecting myself, it means I’m disrespecting you.” It was a lesson you had learned over his knee on more than one occasion.

“Good girl. Now tell me why you’re upset.”

“It’s like you can’t even look at me anymore, when you can see my neck. I’m sorry I fucked up; I’m sorry it’s ugly. I thought if I covered it up, maybe, maybe…”

Your words die in your throat as he stands up off the floor, rubbing a tired hand over his helmet. He snaps his fingers, jerking a thumb toward the pilot seat. “Get up, c’mon, I’m not doing this here.”

You scramble to your feet, confused and a little scared. Doing what? Oh, kriff, what had you gotten yourself into?

“Grab your pillow, baby,” he called from across the room without looking.

You double back for it. He was settled in his chair when you reached him, so you let it fall with a soft thwomp before lowering yourself to your knees.

“Look at me,” he orders. “And take that off.”

Fuck. Someday you’d get it through your head and stop giving in to the urge to hide. He hated it, but it was one of the few holdups you still had.

When you obey, tossing the scarf out of sight, he reaches down and wraps his hand around the side of your neck, avoiding most of the bruising. “I didn’t look because I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me.”

You furrow your brow, opening your mouth to speak, but thinking better of it.

“You were so upset about what happened on that hunt. And I hate that it was someone else who put those there. But stars, baby, do you look beautiful all marked up. I want to sink my hands in until you’re wearing my fingerprints all the time.”

Your mouth falls open, throat dry, and you shift around on your knees. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What, no. Just. Fuck, that’s so hot.”

He leans back, studying you. “You know, I never want you to try something you’re not comfortable with just because it’ll please me.”

“I’m not, I swear. I couldn’t stop looking at them in the mirror and wishing it had been you.”

He swears darkly, leaning forward so suddenly you flinch back a little. His hand cups your cunt between your spread legs, and he swipes a finger through your folds and holds it up. It’s soaked. He chuckles. “Good girl,” and shoves the finger between your lips with no pretense.

You close your lips around the digit, sucking and watching him through wide eyes. You whine when he pulls it out.

“As much as I would like to mark you up, cyar’ika, it’s not safe. But I did have an idea for something almost as good.” He reaches into a pouch on his belt and holds up a strip of leather.

It doesn’t register right away. You stare at it and then at him. He holds it out to you flat on both hands, and you gasp. You've never seen one outside of the holos he's shown you, but you recognize it all the same.

The leather is soft and supple in the same brown as his bandolier. It has a simple double-loop closure. You run your fingers over it for a moment before he snatches it back to dangle it just out of your reach.

“I take it you like it.”

You hold your hands in your lap, biting your bottom lip and whining. He laughs and runs a hand through your hair.

“You want it, sweetheart? Want to wear my collar so everyone knows you’re mine?”

“Please,” you beg over and over.

“You are mine, right? My sweet, obedient girl.”

“Yes, sir, please. I’ll be so good for you.”

He laughs. “Of course you will, needy thing. You’re already all mine. Look at you, trying so hard to please me.”

Your face goes hot. After the last few months of him talking to you like this, you thought you’d stop being embarrassed, but it only seems to get worse.

“C’mere,” he says, voice softer as he leans back. “Want you up here so I can see.”

You scramble onto his lap, straddling him. He pulls you closer so your wet cunt smears where he strains against the flight suit, and you moan.

“Can I put it on you?”

You’re already whispering a litany of pleas before he finishes the sentence.

You stop breathing when he reaches around you, holding as still as you can. You want to feel every second of it. He gently lifts your hair out of the way to settle the strap behind your neck before pulling the ends to meet in the front. He slides it into place, tucking two fingers between the collar and your neck.

“How’s it feel, ner cyare?”

You don’t ask about the new Mando’a. He’s never told you what cyar’ika means, either. Not that you’ve asked. He says it with enough fondness that you trust it’s not mean, and this sounds the same. Not that you aren’t curious. But the only things you know about Mandalorians are things he’s told you of his own volition, and you’re afraid to push.

Your eyes are watering. You trace your fingers over the collar with shaky hands. You’re terrified, actually, because this feels like something heavier than the other ways you play. “I love it,” you whisper.

He tugs on it, yanking you closer to him, before pulling it back, grinning at the way you let your body be moved at his will. “I think I like this a lot.” He holds you in place with it, pinching and tugging on your nipples. He gives your tits a few sharp smacks to feel the way you jerk in his lap.

“Ready for me, baby?” he teases.

You know it’s rhetorical, especially given that he’s already pulled his cock out, but you moan a “yes, please, sir,” just to see the way it makes him twitch. He smacks your clit twice with the head of his cock and then just shoves it all the way in.

He tugs the collar, pulling you to bend forward at an awkward angle.

“Watch, pretty girl. Look how greedy your little pussy is. Look how well you take me.”

You can’t look away. He’s splitting you in half, the pressure sharp and incredible, but you’d never know it from the way your walls and lips are hugging his shaft, beckoning him in. He flicks your clit while you’re watching, but you still jerk back at the sting. You’re stopped short by the collar, and he laughs and does it again.

He pinches and twists at it while you make broken little sounds, moans and cries, and you squirm to get out of range of his cruel fingers. But you can’t. He’s got you pinned so well between the cage of his thighs, bent up behind you, and the grip on your collar.

He only takes pity on you when he moves his attention back to your swollen nipples.

“S’it hurt?” he pants.

You whimper.

“Really? 'Cause you’re fucking soaked, cyar’ika, and your cunt keeps squeezing me so tight. I think you like it.” He flicks your nipple to punctuate his words.

“I do, I do like it, please. Like anything you do to me.”

“Those are dangerous words, sweetheart.”

“Nuh-uh,” you grunt, face twisting as he tugs hard before switching back to your clit. “Nnn. Trust you.”

He pinches a little harder than he means to, struck by the sweet way you bare yourself to him. His fingers dip down to gather some of the slick you’re leaking around his cock, and he brings them back up to your clit, rubbing firm, tight circles.

He drops your collar and grabs your jaw, pistoning his hips up harder so the wet slap of your bodies echoes in the cockpit. “Whose cunt is this?”

“Yours, sir,” you gasp.

“Yeah? Whose beautiful, perfect slut is this?”

“Yours, sir.”

“Cum for me, cyar’ika.” He presses down hard on your clit, and his hips stutter when you immediately clench down, body jerking. He grabs you by the collar and holds you upright so you don’t fall as you twitch and scream.

He doesn’t ease up, rubbing hard at your clit. “Another one. Now.”

You don’t know how he does it. You never have to force it. He knows your body like his armory, knows how much pressure it takes to pull the trigger, knows right when to fire. You’ve never not cum when he commanded.

“Down,” he snaps after you’ve come apart on him a few more times over.

You slide off immediately, sinking down onto the pillow, mouth open and tongue out. Your hands lay in your lap, palms up, and you even remember to keep your eyes open.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” he groans, stroking himself furiously before shoving into your throat as he spills. You take it all, eyes on him as you watch him fall apart for once. His shaky hand strokes through your hair as he comes down before settling around your neck just below the collar.

He pulls you back up into his lap, askew so your legs dangle over one side of the chair, and he can tuck your head against his chest. You’re shaking and softly crying as he wraps you up in your forgotten blanket.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “And cyar'ika?”

You look up at him, sniffling and trying to blink back the last of your tears.

“You did so good telling me when you were upset.”

You bury your face in his unforgiving chest plate, and he allows you the moment to hide. Someday, he thinks, maybe you’ll believe him.

*Title from "Beat Up Car" by Taking Back Sunday. (what is the Razor Crest if not a beat up car persevering?)