#we would give them the worst order imaginable because we hated them for some reason

[trappedinafantasy37]

I'm currently writing up a rather lengthy essay analyzing all of Minthara's endings now that Patch 7 has dropped. There was a particular point that I wanted to make about one of her endings, but I think I need to discuss it separately. A discussion I fear is going to make a lot of you 'good only' players hate me.

During her romance scene after the grove raid, Minthara will want to have a little heart to heart with you. She will explain to you that the Absolute owns her mind and her body. She will also say that she does not know herself, as for the entire time she was unable to determine where the Absolute's will ended and where hers began. She also says that everything she has experienced since leaving the Underdark seems like a dream of somebody else's life.

Now, that is a really hard thing to picture or even imagine. Most of us only ever dream about ourselves. So, what is it like to dream of somebody else's? In Minthara's instance, she was dreaming of herself. More, she was dreaming of a bastardized and broken version of herself, doing things that she would not do. A version that she fails to find any reason or rational behind what they were doing. A version that amplified all of her worst qualities to their extreme as those were the qualities that the Absolute needed. And one of the new evil endings gives us a little bit of insight into what this dream looked like.

Look at this. What a beautiful day! A marvelous day! A great day! Going out to the market. Picking up some fresh, sweet, and delicious apples. Meeting and greeting your fellow denizens. Talking, laughing, just enjoying life because life is marvelous. You feel so carefree and at peace, that you just might start whistling and singing. Everything you do is the right choice, the best choice. And you just can't resist. Why would you? What is there to fight? Life couldn't be more perfect!

But this is what is actually happening the entire time.

This person is not even aware of what they are being forced to do. They think they are living the best day imaginable. But in reality, their body and their mind has been stolen from them, forced to do things that they otherwise would not do. Seems horrible and awful right? A nightmare!

This was Minthara's reality for who knows how long. She was living a completely different life in her own mind, a life that did not align with the reality of what her body was doing. And because there was a lack of awareness of her own actions, she did not have the capability to refuse whatever order that the Absolute, or Ketheric, or Orin gave her. She was denied that choice, she was denied her autonomy. She could not fight back because she was not aware that anything was wrong.

And when you free her from the Absolute, memories slowly trickle in, each of them disturbing in their own right. But she also has a line where she says that she barely remembers the grove as she was not herself. So there is a good chance that she only has a vague understanding of the things that she did while under the Absolute, but does not fully remember them. Meaning that these disturbing memories that are returning to her that are clear and vivid, are the ones that happened to her before being enthralled. Of Orin slaughtering her men, of Ketheric holding her down, of Orin torturing her in the colony, of Orin enthralling her.

We also know that the Absolute gave her false memories, ones that paint a completely different picture of how she was recruited. False memories that seemed so good, that they made Minthara worship and adore Orin. And who knows what Minthara and Orin did together when they were alone. All that is important to know is that if they did anything intimate, Minthara was not capable of recognizing it, nor refusing. To make it even worse, she probably perceived all of Orin's actions as being pleasant, when the reality was much more grim. All I can do is hope that she doesn't remember them. But considering how terrified she is of Orin, some of those memories probably did trickle through.

Listen, I am not trying to tell you that Minthara is a good person or that you have to like her. What I am saying is that it is wrong of you to blame her for the grove raid when she quite literally was not in control of her actions. And it is wrong of you to cast judgment onto her for something she was not even aware that she was doing, something that she was denied the right to refuse. And it is wrong of you to hold her morally responsible for something that she never chose to do. All of these companions are victims in their own way and it is wrong of you to act like Minthara is the only one who isn't (she already blames herself enough for what happened to her).

I do not ever want to hear another person claim that Minthara is a "genocidal lunatic" again.

[melonminnie]

Hello! I'm back, hehehe well I came to ask you something, would you be willing to write for action manhwas? Sorry is that I am addicted to them, blame daddy sung jinwoo.

Leaving the topic, can I have more yandere platonic but this time from Who made me a princess? I have a scenario, maybe the reader was a girl fed up with her life, so you know, she killed herself and ended up opening her eyes in this manhwa and worst of all, she is a rejected daughter of claude.

So in order to survive, she hides from him, contrary to what Atty would do, she decides she doesn't want his attention. She already suffered a lot in her other life from being ignored and crushed by others, as if her feelings were nothing more than garbage and dog poop. That's why this time he doesn't even try, like have you seen the female leads in almost every manhwa quwrer to live and shit? Well, our dear reader DOES NOT WANT TO LIVE, she is tired and fed up with everything.

But imagine if, by chance, an old diary is found in an abandoned library in the ruby palace (forgot to say, but this is 4 years before the initial story, so my reader is 7 at the time) going back to the diary, she He finds it and it turns out that it is magical. So somehow he travels to the past through this book and without thinking he wanders through the old palace finding Claude crying as a child. Because the reader doesn't give a damn about her life, she begins to establish a friendship because if she was already here, why waste this opportunity? he also hates the adult claude ironically he is his dad.

All that shit from his childhood happens and for 4 years the reader goes back and forth from the past to the future, we reach the point where the adult claude remembers that girl a lot and becomes obsessed with finding her since she was his emotional support. Sorry for all that stuff, now imagine that the plot begins and our reader knows it, that's why she decides to run away taking some money (for some reason she became friends with Felix and he gave her 500 gold coins so she can run away) Like reader hates attention, leaves the palace and lives in a cabin, now we move on to claude still having those dreams with that little girl who was becoming a woman, this was always platonic but he is obsessed with finding her, he promised as a child to return all his care and comfort.

She's the only one who knows him best, but we know the reader doesn't care about anyone and just wants to die in a quiet place.

Annnd, you can develop this better, in the end I would like claude to find out that his daughter has always been his best friend in some way and end up locking her up to prevent her from leaving again. I do not know

And I leave you a gift again, hehehe I edited it for a fanfic that I will never finish or publish

(PS: I traced the lineart of the official art, but the coloring is mine and it is based on that scene, this is already old so it has errors)

YAN! CLAUDE X DAUGHTER! READER (platonic)

-Hihi I’m glad you’re back!! Unfortunately I doubt I’ll be writing for adventure manhwa at the moment sense I only read romance at the moment but maybe in the future! Reader has the same appearance as athy, fyi your art always amazes me!! Thank you for requesting mwah 🫶🫶

WARNING EXTREME WARNING CONTAINS SUICIDE DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE this is also extremely confusing I tried making it sound normal 🫶🫶🫶

“Why would she want to die?” Asked one of the dead girls friends, “dunno she had everything yet she became greedy” said the other, standing in front her grave, if the girl was still alive she would’ve choked her, only a pathetic person would be able to make fun of a person in-front their own grave.

Well it’s not like she heard it anyway, and frankly if she did at the moment she wouldn’t care, “I mean she was pathetic with her reincarnation thing and reading fake stuff about it” the friend continued her rant, As she woke up in a non existent body in one of the first novels she’d ever read, but knowing where she was and who’s daughter she was.

To tell the truth, she had reincarnated as the non existent oldest daughter of claude de Alger obelia, the same person who almost drowned his daughter the first he hung around with her, the same person who also killed said daughter in her point of view before she reincarnated, Now she didn’t want the same path, of course she didn’t do the same thing as athanansia did with the rubys, money and gold.

Instead she opted to just hiding away from everyone, it was almost like she was purposely isolating herself, but the maids took it as a joke as she was still a young kid, almost anytime she tired hiding away, one of the maids would find her and then take her back to her room, So she started exploring the entirety of the ruby palace, from up to bottom every bedroom and bathroom.

So of course she soon found the abandoned library, sure it was hard to open the door, but she managed!.

Upon entering said library, it was clear it hadn’t been touched nor used for a very long time, as she took steps her shoes would leave footprints from the dust on the floor, every book she touched had collected dust, While looking around her eyes seemed to wander to a nearly unheard of twinkling sound coming, it sounded sweet almost as if it was luring her in, she searched everywhere to find the source of the sound, which she did!.

It was a old diary frankly she didn’t know it was one till she opened it and read the contents of it, it didnt have a label only twinkling stars surrounding it, of course as a curious 7 year old who can read, she decided to read it.

At first it was boring, the handwriting was messy, as if a child was writing it, it started as writing about what they did throughout the day, it was clear that this diary belonged to someone who had a high noble status.

Soon the soft twinkling noises became cackling noises, it was extremely loud to her ears,but she nonetheless continued, flipping it till she reached a point where the cackling noises sounded so loud that it resembled gun noises, she slowly covered her ears and tried running away from the book.

But she couldn’t, why?, the dust had become fog, just slightly more browner, so with her still covering her ears, coughing sounds erupted from her throat, her eyes becoming watery so she had to close them, she kneeled to the floor continuously coughing as the dust began entering her nose.

Her hands quickly moved from her ears, to her mouth and nose, once everything had settled, and the blonde could finally breathe properly, she slowly opened her eyes, they were met with greenery instead of a dusty library, now this was confusing, as she knew she didn’t walk out of the library.

Because of course she couldn’t, and to her knowledge she didn’t inherit any magical powers, of course it no longer looked like she was in ruby palace, this place was way to extravagant to ruby palace!.

Now she couldn’t go back unless she finds out a way, so she decided to wander around for a bit!.

The blonde haired girl was getting tired, usually she would walk longer, but her legs were giving out, she of course was scared of getting noticed by who ever owns or works here, she’d already worked so hard to not die nor meet any important character, why does she need to die now after being alive for 7 years?.

So she opted to sitting behind a tree hiding her body from everyone, “I’ll just sit here till I gain my strength back!” She thought, she’d lived quietly her entire life, of course this would’ve been easy.

If she wasn’t a noisy person, not even a minute had passed before she started hearing hiccuping noises, it sounded like a boy was crying, whether she wanted to know who was crying or didn’t, it see,ed like her body was punishing her as it started moving by itself to the crying sounds.

There was a boy who was older then her maybe 10?, his appearance matched Claude’s appearance exactly!, but then there was his brother, who looked the same, the girl was standing behind him obviously just starring at him, of course he felt a sudden stare on him, so to his surprise he finds a tiny girl with blue eyes gawking at him.

“What are you staring at?!” He asked slightly embarrassed that someone had caught him crying his eyes out, “Well obviously you your the only person here!” She answered back deciding to sit next to him, “So what where you crying about also what’s your name!” She asked not really caring about what he was crying about, wanting to find out his name only.

“Claude” he mumbled turning his head the other way to whip his tears away, “O-oh” frantically she was quite disappointed, but if this was her hill to die on so be it!, she died once she wouldn’t be scared of facing death again right?, “Well?, aren’t you going to tell me your name” he demanded, “Name..” she answered.

“Then claude, do you want to be my friend?” She extended her hand to his smiling, “W-what do you know who you want to be friends with?” He asked, “yes I do know so do you or do you not?” She asked again, clearly nervous of getting rejected again by the same man who rejected her as a grown adult, being friends with your dad isn’t the best especially when you’ve never personally known him.

“Fine!” He accepted the seven year olds request shaking her hand in confirmation.

“Great” she whispered smiling happily.

“Great..” he said glancing at her hand then eyes.

Of course she found out that by simply it turning night she would return to her original world, the world where the only people who knew of her existence were the maids and lowly knights assigned to the ruby palace, It was good opportunity for the girl cause returning from both worlds affects the timeline greatly, when she’d go to child claude and return at night, It would also become night.

Which meant the maids could leave her alone for days at times, so that’s how the cycle continued, of course every time she returned claude would age up continuously he’d age up a lot in the four years she’d been with him.

In those four years, claude had told her about every aspect of his life, the way his step mother treated him, his brother, family issues, favorite food, Felix, claude slowly realized he’d grown a fond of his friend, he felt like she was a mini version of him, he didn’t notice the way she still looked younger while he looked older, he’d never notice that.

At some point the blonde haired girl knew she needed to stop being around him, it was so that so she doesn’t affect the story line, she’d never want that of course, and so when y/n turned 11, she’d known she’d need to stop, as the storyline was so close to happening, she slowly forced herself to forget she’d ever meet her father as a kid, she knew she needed to stop when he mentioned that his newborn daughter looked like a split image of her.

Now claude would never forget about the friend he made in the garden, how could he?, the way he met her to him was fascinating, he was determined to find her, As the now older man ran a hand threw his hair, he didn’t remember much of you, he remembered how you looked like, he’d know you if he spotted you anywhere, but he just can’t seem to find you anywhere?.

Were you a fairy or an angel?, or were you the ghost of his daughter from another life haunting him as a child.

“Felix!!” The young girl yelled running up to the red haired man, “y/n how are you?” He asked bowing to her, Felix never met you as a child he’d found you behind a tree asleep and took you back when you were eight, ever since he’d been giving you gold to help you escape, as he knew you’d never want to meet your oh so scary dad that you accidentally met when he was a kid.

He just presumed you’d heard rumors about how he killed his own lover afterbirth alongside all his concubines in the palace you’d been at your entire life.

“This time” she breathed heavily as she’d been running, “give me 500 gold please” the blonde begged clasping her hands together mustering the cutest face she could pull off, the red head chuckled softly before handing you 300, “hey! I said 500 not 300”

“Y/n come on what do you need 500 for?”

“Why are you asking please just give it promise you won’t ever see me again” she pleaded with him, “fine don’t let anyone find out though” , he sighed before handing an extra 200.

“Of course I won’t!” The girl replied before running away waving him off with a smile.

“His majesty must never find out..” he mutter returning back to his duties or precisely to Claude’s office.

Y/n kept her promise, she had snuck out in the middle of the night leaving almost everything behind except things she held dearly, and had bought a cabin far away from the capital.

As the years passed by y/n turned 22, it had been a long time sense she’d seen Claude, she’d heard of him of course and her sister athanasia, sense the two had a huge age gap, her younger sister had turned 15 recently, she’d wished she could’ve celebrated with her but she knew if she ever went back there something she’d never want to happen will happen.

Claude had frequent dreams of his childhood friend turning older, claude was forgetting her appearance, it was irritating to him, So the man knew that she wasn’t hiding in the capital she was on the outskirts of it.

He’d heard her say she’d hope to get a cabin on the outskirts of the capital in one of his dreams, Felix knew what was happening to claude wasn’t great he’d tried to stop him multiple times, “are you telling me what I can and can’t do?” Claude asked Felix as the redhead had held his body forbidding him from escaping.

“Your majesty your losing your mind over a nonexistent person” Felix yelled at him, “nonexistent? Felix do you know what the fuck your telling me right now?” The man replied, he cursed him out to no end that night, Felix was getting tired of it, the emperor was going insane over his daughter whom he hadn’t talked nor seen for 22 years, yet now he wanted to talk to her?.

Felix knew where you lived as you made the purchase with his money and he got mail saying he bought a cabin, he threw it out not caring what you did with the money.

Claude was smiling manically the day he knew where you lived, “your highness are you sick?” Felix asked, “No why would you ask that” he replied leaning his head on his hand starring at the paperwork.

Of course, claude knew who you were now, that you were his daughter, that you were the same person who he had met as a desperate kid with no friends.

Claude’s obsession was growing out of proportion, when claude found out where his precious daughter was, he stormed over there an hour later, Felix tried everything possible in his ability to stop him.But he couldn’t.

In those years that you had lived in the cabin your only thought, that was to die, but you couldn’t. You lived in a cabin for no reason, the purpose you couldn’t complete anymore.

While you were asleep, you heard a huge bang at you door, quickly getting up, she opened the door, revealing a tall male with blonde hair and diamond like blue eyes.

Claude starred at his daughter, daggers almost, “I’ve finally found you y/n” he smiled, it was terrifying, how did he find you?, how did he even know who you are, this was absolute hell, the girl tried shutting the door but his grip was stronger then hers, “you can’t run away from now” he said “my daughter” he pushed. The door open and pulled her into a one sided hug.

It was terrifying being held by the same man whom you have been trying to avoid for the past 22 years of your life, he found you like it was nothing, the way he was hugging you was almost bone crushing.

He swiftly knocked you out, knowing the moment he left go of you you’d try to escape.

And he’d never ever let you leave his side ever again, you’ll be forced with the title of the princess whether you like it or not.

Befriending claude de Alger obelia was the worst mistake you’d ever made.

On a side note my request are always open! I don’t bite 🫶

[elvendorx]

The Remus and Sirius height discourse has become so loaded. Today I saw a post claiming that viewing Sirius as taller than Remus means that one supports jkr? (What?)

Canonically, Sirius is taller than Remus. That's just a fact. And I understand that some people don't care about canon, and that's cool!! But even if you don't give a flying fig about canon, that does not make the view that Remus is taller than Sirius any more valid than the reverse, and you can't go around telling other people that they are wrong, or worse, bad people for not agreeing with a version of the character that exists in your head?

Look I get that it would be annoying to have people inject an "ahem actually..." on posts that are clearly based on headcanons. I get that. But that is the natural consequence of taking the names/tags of characters from popular fandoms and using them for your own OCs, and the fact that these fans jump to "they must be horrible people!" as opposed to "they might be confused about my relationship with canon" is... something.

As someone who is neurodivergent, I find that the fandom that claims to love diversity has very little tolerance for people who don't understand the unwritten rules about when canon is and isn't allowed to be used as a reference point. (Somehow, we still hate Snape because canon, but all other canon is garbage?) Sorry for the rant, I'm just tired and confused.

don't be sorry at all, i think this kind of thing needs to be talked about because at its worst, this rhetoric is an attempt at emotional manipulation and censorship. nobody is ever going to 100% agree even with the exact same words on a page - this is the entire literary criticism field, most of the time variation in readings are a good thing but this isn't even a "reading", because it has no bearing on the characters, they just are or aren't a certain height, so it becomes a tool for personal agendas - "if you think sirius was tall, you're a fascist". even though those two facts are not connected, because sirius' height is never anything more than a physical description of him. and it's glaringly obvious that the people who fixate on this aren't interested in sirius as a character, just as a vehicle for their own fantasies/validation.

this is the problem that comes from people trying to put dynamics & personalities that they want to see onto characters who don't fit those moulds. the height thing doesn't actually matter, it doesn't change anything in the narrative, but it summarises the attitude towards canon which for me summarises critical reading & reading comprehension as a whole within hp fandom. i don't think canon is perfect and i don't think it's sacred but i don't understand why you would engage with something that you have to twist out of recognition in order to enjoy it.

part of the fun of fandom, for me, is finding the limits and boundaries while maintaining recognition. at the very least, even if you change everything else, character has to be consistent. you have to recognise who you're working with otherwise what are you doing here? other authors are writing and have written exactly what you want, so why do you need this character with a history and motivations and a distinctive personality to be the ideal version of you/the partner you want (because lbr, that's it!). i'm not saying that people can't use their imaginations and bend things, i do it, and people can do that by bending characters out of recognition if they want. i don't get any enjoyment out of that or see the point in it but i'm not going to try and stop people. it's the flagrant dismissal of logic and evidence that i think is a more dangerous stance when applied more widely.

it's ALWAYS the people who want remus to be taller and sirius to be tiny who have 10 million personal reasons why they need it to be that way around despite it being clear that sirius is specifically tall, and remus is of such average and nondescript height that it's never mentioned. it's nobody else's responsibility to validate anyone's projections onto a fictional character, and your personal reasons for wanting a character to behave in a way that they wouldn't isn't anybody's responsibility. i don't think these kind of people see the irony in how they're trying to force their view on everyone else even though there's direct contradiction to it, yet are claiming that people who go with that feature from the text are violent fanaticists or something.

when you question why it makes such a difference to the "big strong remus and baby boi sirius" people, it comes down to "it's cuter" or "it allows me to simplify m/m relationships into tough and cute and use physical attributes as symbols rather than thinking complexly about personality traits and dynamics." the height thing is basically one step away from top/bottom discourse and just because someone identifies as queer or relates to a character doesn't make it unproblematic. if you need to see a character who represents your specific circumstances, find one or make an original one, imo. it's not an entire fandom's job to validate individuals and it's manipulative to suggest that someone else seeing a character according to the way that character is explicitly described is an act of hatred or violence or something.

apologies if this turned into a rant of its own - i don't CARE that sirius is tall but the attitude towards minor, basic facts is wild to me. it makes no difference to me but idk why you would take being taller than snape away from sirius bc he clearly enjoys being able to tower over him. if i did want to argue that sirius' height makes a difference in the text, i'd say that sirius is tall because padfoot is also a large creature and there seems to be some kind of reflection of the human in animagus forms, whereas the whole werewolf thing is something inflicted externally rather than something that comes from within the person so remus' human height isn't reflected by his lycanthropy. but that's a whole other question i would have to research more.

[fanstuffrantings]

I got a comment about it, so I guess it's time I make a post defending Vivienne because I love her and want to give everyone the chance to have a more nuanced opinion of her.

I know people don't like her, she's a circle mage who doesn't like the rebellion and is pretty uptight. She's easy to dislike if you're promage. So with that in mind let's go over the main reasons people dislike her and why they make sense for her as a character.

1. She's anti-rebel.

Vivienne at her core is a lawful character. She wants order and structure because unfiltered chaos harms and can even kill people. A large reason she joins the inquisition is because she wants to offer assistance in reforming structure and making people feel safe again.

2. She's pro-circle

Vivienne is one of the mages we meet who understands fully that magic is dangerous. She has a respect for her craft and walks into every situation knowing full well people are potentially afraid of her. The circle offered a place for mages to train their skills, and non magical people to feel more safe knowing that mages won't cause harm they can't control. She also fully admits that her experience isn't the same as everyone else's but that it's the only real answer anyone has right now for some way to get mages to a more stable state.

3. She's protemplar

This one is more complicated. Because she wants the templars so that mages have a failsafe should the worst happen, but when pressed will agree that templars aren't the solution to the issue of magic itself. I think in her ideal version of events templars would simply be bodyguards only intended to step in if shit hits the fan but often times like with any society, a group given enough power can become corrupt.

4. She hates Cole.

Imagine this: you're a knight enchanter who had to go through her harrowing which involved combating a demon that would possess you. An event which many mages do not survive, some don't even get the chance to do because they aren't trained enough. Something that no doubt you would've seen happen countless times over your time as a mage. You've heard of demonic possession and maybe even had first hand experience with them and how bad they can be. Then one day a supposed spirit shows up claiming to want to help your new allies. It can disappear and reappear at will, completely hide itself from everyone if it chooses to, can wipe the memories of people so they don't know they met it, and reach into the deepest pits of your mind to pull out your most sensitive and impactful moments which it then speaks back to you in cryptic language. Recounting your exact feelings, making you remember even something you might not want to. Now with those thoughts is it remotely surprising she wouldn't be fine with him having free reign. Demons lie all the time, why would she have any reason to believe his intentions were coming from a good place. I love Cole, he's always in my party in inquisition, but we can't act like people being wary or afraid of him is just nonsensical.

5. She's uptight and posh, expecting the same of you.

You are the inquisitor. A warlord, basically a figure head of the chantry who is gaining influence on the divine. Legends spread about you and some of them even come back to you when Josephine speaks of it. Vivienne 1000% has heard every single one and is far more aware of your social standing than you are. The inquisition needs support to function, some of which will come in the form of the wealthy elite paying good money to be part of something good to bolster their names. Vivienne is a skilled player of the game and a staunch believer that if you have the power, it is your duty to use it and use it well. Just because you don't want to be a symbol doesn't mean you get to avoid it. That option is taken from you the minute you're named inquisitor.

6. She hates everything.

She's judgemental. But fair. Much like any companion if you do something she morally opposes she's going to dislike you. Allying with mages who overtook Radcliffe, pushed out the nobility in charge as well as the people, and then allowed Tevinter to take control? It's rational she'd be upset about that. Letting Celine die so that someone else can take the throne? Regardless of feelings it causes orlais to potentially destabilize in the middle of a war, the sky is ripped open and good allies are now probably kneecapped as they deal with the death of a monarch and changes in how things run. Approving of rebel mages? It's an endorsement of chaos, the mages running free is doing harm. I don't agree with her on everything, but I'm not surprised or mad if she doesn't like me when I don't.

Vivienne is a caring character who has never really been able to just be open when she is. Even if you're on her shit list she does the bare minimum of inconveniencing you by moving around some furniture because, again, you're in the middle of a war where everything is going sideways and actually doing something drastic would be to damage the whole initiative. You don't have to like her but she receives more vitriol than any other character in the series and at the very least people can try to understand her perspective.

[stardustprompts]

before the devil breaks you  (  book 3 of the diviners series  )  -   libby bray  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying   tw ;  death ,  violence 

‘the last thing we need is a panic. panic breeds danger.’

‘i’ve never pretended I wasn’t looking out for myself.’

‘we’ve got bigger fish to fry. bigger than you and me. can we agree on that?’

‘I hate to say it, but you’re making sense.’

‘what do you care? it’s not like you want me, right?’

‘incredible. you actually worked up a little angry spit in the corner of your mouth right there.’

‘i’d rather have you on my side than against me.’

‘I know what it is to lose someone. but when they’re gone, they’re gone. we learn to live without them. to let go. to move forward.’

‘i’m just not accustomed to trusting people.’

‘you know there’s a ghost after you, don’t you?’

‘don’t lose hope. you anchor me. if you lose hope, well, I might, too.’

‘rules exist for a reason. even within disobedience, we need order.’

‘I am my own person. and I wish you could see me, the true me.’

‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know what you’d think of me.’

‘not a day goes by that I don’t regret that choice.’

‘do you think I’m selfish?’

‘oh, I see. It only counts if everyone knows about it.’

‘don’t you get enough attention?’

‘if this kills me I’ll never forgive you.’

‘when did you develop a conscience?’

‘I hate having a conscience. very inconvenient.’

‘you can’t bring back what’s gone.’

‘you said you wanted the truth. well truth is complicated.’

‘it’s the truth. ignore it at your peril.’

‘it feels like there’s this hole in the center of me, and I keep trying to fill it but I don’t know how. like there’s a part of me that’s just been erased.’

‘I got no story. i’m making it up as I go along.’

‘i’m glad I’m part of your story.’

‘it was honest. that’s how much I love you.’

‘you wanna be real friends or pretend friends?’

‘from this day forward, you are a ghost to me. I don’t even see you.’

‘are you saying that to give me to heebie - jeebies? because if you are, it’s working.’

‘expect the worst is my motto. saves on disappointment.’

‘that’s how you behave like a human. take notes so you can remember.’

‘do you think some places just hold onto evil? that you can’t paint it or wash it away? it lives on, no matter what you build on top?’

‘I don’t know if I want to kiss you or kill you.’

‘I love you. I want to save us both. come with me.’

‘i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay. I can’t expect you to risk your life for me.’

‘I don’t like basements. nothing good happens in basements.’

‘you’re sad and you’re lying about it.’

‘everybody lies. it’s how we get along in this world.’

‘I don’t talk about sad things.’

‘you’re not wicked. somebody is, but it’s not you.’

‘I thought you didn’t want to be with me.’

‘does that mean you do want to be with me?’

‘where’d you learn to do that? I wanna send that person a thank-you note.’

‘why be a man when you can be a king?’

‘do you imagine you can rid yourself of me? you have created me!’

‘will you always have to steal what you want?’

‘perhaps you enjoy going through life invisible, though I suspect you yearn for much more.’

‘where does power lie? in wealth? in titles?’

‘it’s so hard to know what the truth is. it shifts, depending on who’s telling it and when.’

‘that is a lie you tell yourself so you can sleep at night!’

‘stop telling me what I have a right to feel and start telling me the truth!’

‘there are choices you make, things you do, that you don’t know are wrong when you do them. only time gives you that perspective.’

‘I hate you for what you’ve done. i’ll hate you till my dying day!’

‘i’m so angry. so, so angry. I want to punch at the world and keep punching, but what good would it do?’

‘I think I’ve been clear. you and I are over. it’s been over for some time.’

‘you know what? when I said you could never hurt me, I was wrong.’

‘if it’s coming for one of us, then it’s coming for all of us.’

‘you don’t know what it’s like to take another man’s life. it changes you. you can’t ever get yourself back, not the same way.’

‘I believe in this right here. I got you. you got me. we got us.’

‘sometimes I think maybe I would like to burn it all down. start over. make different rules for the world.’

‘you can’t stop evil. you can only push back as hard as you can.’

‘I adore you. the truth is, i’d be lost without you.’

‘I know what a toll thinking takes on you.’

‘why do you have to ruin everything?’

‘I don’t know if I want to be touched in that way. I don’t know if my love is a physical love.’

‘the question is this: haven’t you been hurt enough?’

‘I was trying to protect you.’

‘I knew you’d come after me. I knew you’d try to make it right.’

‘you’re gonna make a fine mother / father someday.’

‘they say that those who don’t heed the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them.’

‘you thought telling them the truth would make a difference. now they just hate you for telling them the truth.’

‘people want to be safe, not free.’

‘it feels as if nothing matters. truth, honor, trying to do what’s right. none of it matters.’

‘I just need something that doesn’t feel like a lie.’

‘i’m not perfect. i’m a handful. but you know what? so are you.’

‘what if I love you and you go away?’

‘I want you to hurt. I want to see you suffer. like you made me suffer.’

‘now you’re just trying to annoy me.’

‘it felt like the time for gallant speechifying. I rose to the moment rather well, I think.’

‘I won’t let you do this.’

‘no one listens to reason. they only pay attention to force.’

‘what you’re doing isn’t change. not the kind that matters. it’s anarchy. it’s terror.’

‘I don’t know everything, but I do know this—- bombs and guns and threats—- won’t make for a better world. just a more frightened and angry one.’

‘sometimes it feels like … like the world has given up on me.’

‘I should have stopped her. I should have done something,’

‘soon I will take all you love and watch you burn.’

‘you don’t know the fire you play with.’

[seavoice]

takeaways from the lynch family at the ending. in birth order:

- niall: can’t believe he is just some guy.punctured his grandiose mythology all right!  loves his kids but is simultaneously contender for worst role model figures in the series. range. he is so dumb god bless. kind of endearing but in a very specific awful awful way that would make me hate him if i knew him which i may talk about later. and that rocks!!

- mor: i want to study her and i love her. insane. hot. kind of evil. sympathetic. am singularly interested in her pre-gw prologue backstory than niall’s which is insane because if you told me a year ago i would have no interest in niall’s origins but a random character i never met before this book i’d have laughed. but what do i know.

- declan: love him. soooooo compelling ngl i loved most of his arc to bits he is having the worst time ever!!! (don’t become a niall apologist). he has perhaps one speed and that is fucking up with his brothers and then overcorrecting and it’s hilarious. just please can he think more. and then at a certain point stop the thinking too, because #ouroboros brain at this point for my man

- ronan: i can’t believe those crazy people took you out of that magic forest and got you baptized! character of all time. loved his relationship to his brothers getting to be resolved but i sure do wish he got more time with them this series!!! numquam solus got me bad. again. please think part 2. 

- aurora: justice for aurora. shafted all time every time. all i will say for now because this will be too long otherwise i and im so mad. she should be able to kill. 

- new fenian: what would you do if you get to know your dead father as a cheery upbeat optimistic young man who has been dreamt with all the love he had for you but chose to give up? what if that father was niall lynch? i’m surprised the answer wasn’t to run directly into traffic! EXTREMELY delicious plot point. love it.

- matthew: the only reason i can imagine him coming out with such a good head on his shoulders even after being dreamt by ronan, raised by niall/aurora (figure of speech) and then by declan of all people is that. their insane energies cancelled each other out and we were left with one really cool dude. but also i realise as i’m typing this he just ran away for days 😭😭 “i thought you would be mad” GIRL THEY THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD FOR WEEKS ON END. i love him. that was so sexy of him. him punching declan was one of the BEST scenes and his bryde banter was soooo fun...shame we got zero resolution to his arc apart from a little of that happy sad thing, though :| rip fleshed out matthew arc i shall always miss you and your endless potential

[cannibalcoyote]

David Bowie: Sun Rays to Rainy Days

Imagine not liking David Bowie, and running into him during your stay in New York:

David Bowie, an amazing musician and actor, but also my worst enemy.

Why? Let's just say he said some not so flattering things about me to the press and wrote a not so flattering song that criticized pretty much my entire life. We haven't even met in real life, so I'm not sure where he gets off on the idea that anything he says about me holds meaning or truth.

I just really want to ask him what prompted him to write and say such cruel things about me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Y/N L/N, and I'm an American musician, my genres include hard rock, punk, alternative rock, and art rock; I would say I'm a fairly famous musician in the US and across Europe.

———————

The sky was unrealistically blue this early New York morning, like God had woken up and decided that only the bluest of blue would do today.

Most people enjoy blue skies, but being raised in California makes you either adore or detest them with an undying passion. I personally love rainy weather, so this day is already starting off on the wrong foot.

Checking the clock I sigh in wariness, already feeling tired even though I just woke up. I've been feeling anxious every time I wake up, this only started earlier this year due to the fact that a certain idol of mine has been voicing their negative opinion on me.

I'd normally brush it off and say 'fuck them', but this is David Bowie we're talking about. I love his music, I love his story, most importantly how he went through so many hardships yet still pushed forward.

Now I just regret ever thinking any of this was a good idea, sure all the money is nice, but all my relationships fell through. They started expecting me to pay for everything, wanting me to take them on expensive vacations and get them expensive gifts; now my idol feels the need to hate me as well? Just great.

I'm shook from my thoughts by the stern but smooth voice of my manager. He's a nice man, kind of reminds me of my father in his overall outward aura of professionalism, but a sharp streak of eccentricity shows when you really get to know him.

"Y/N, you've got an interview at 5, that should give you a couple of hours to wander around. Please keep your disguise on this time, I don't need a repeat of London." My manager exclaims with a humorous smile, my face burning in embarrassment at the memory of London. I had been wandering the streets and stupidly decided that it was late enough that no one would be able to recognize me, also being naive and believing I wasn't famous enough to be recognized yet ... Oh how wrong I was. The crowd that formed filled up the streets, I was newly famous, so I didn't expect anyone to recognize me, but the world felt the need to prove me wrong.

"No need to worry, I learned my lesson." I smile sheepishly, he softly pats my shoulder before leaving my hotel room.

Glancing in the mirror I swiftly start fixing my hair and checking my outfit, my mind wandering to my plans. I'm meeting an interviewer today, he's supposed to be a bit of an aggressive one, a little rude from what I've seen, and no questions are out of bounds.

To say I'm a little nervous is an understatement, this is the first interview I've accepted in my 3 years of stardom, so I'm sure he'll be extra aggressive in order to get as many details as possible. I just hope he doesn't bring up the conflict with Bowie, because I really don't have a reason as to how that even started.

———————

My day hasn't actually been that bad, no one has recognized me, so I just got to spend the day as a normal person. I moseyed along the sidewalks, just taking in the hectic environment that is New York. I've been walking around for quite a bit now, stopping in some stores and looking for interesting books to read in my off-time.

I've just bought a sketchbook and some pens when I notice some people that set me on edge. They're about 10 feet away from me, and they're giving me the "is that who I think it is" look. I gulp stiffly as a nervous chill passes down my spine, quickly thanking the cashier as I grab my things and stumble out of the store.

Looking back I can see them follow me, one of them shouting out to me.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" My throat tightens up, I look around frantically, and my fears seem to be coming true. The people on the crowded sidewalks immediately turn their heads at hearing my name. I can see some look for a little, clearly being confused before seeing through my disguise and noticing that it is me.

People start rushing forward, holding out things and excitedly asking for an autograph, something that I usually oblige to, but I am currently in a New York street with no security and no cellphone.

I'm being surrounded, some people are grabbing my shoulders, some pulling on the sleeves of my jacket in the hopes of gaining my attention. All it does is make me frightened, the London event gave me a permanent fear of crowds. I can feel myself start to hyperventilate, all the shouts are turning into one sound, it's so loud yet so quiet at the same time.

My mind is so distorted that I don't even notice I've been running, shoving my way out and being dreadfully aware of how they chase me. Camera flashes are coming from every direction, as are new people fanatically asking for an autograph or a picture; it's all so scary. Why do these people chase me? Why do they swarm around me to get some ink lines on a piece of paper? Why?

I turn a corner in hopes of slickly escaping, but suddenly find myself on the floor, having run into a rather solid chest. I exclaim an apology as I messily stand up, trying to make a run for it, but the person already has a hold on my arms to stop my escape.

"Hold on darling, what are you running from?" I recognize that voice, I look up and want to gasp in both surprise and fear, but the reappearance of the crowd stops me.

"That." I state, staring at the crowd and beginning to hyperventilate again, but I'm stopped when I find myself being swiftly dragged away. I have a hard time keeping up, he is about 5 inches taller than me after all, so he's like one step to every two of mine.

I don't know where he's taking me at first, but when I see the awaiting limo I find myself rushing forward in a burst of speed; dragging him next to me.

He does slap my hand away from the door before opening it and ushering me in before entering.

"Hello John, can you get us out of here." His accented tone is stressed, but still maintains an air of control. I used to love that voice, but now it makes me uncomfortable being so close to him and having to hear him in real life.

I move away from him, pushing myself up against the opposite door and looking at anything but him. The crowd was about 3 yards away when the limo screeched forward, my body finally releasing some of its rigidity as I see them disappear the longer we drive.

I close my eyes, leaning back in my seat as the exhaustion sweeps through me. I rest my hand against my forehead in frustration, in the next hour, all of New York will know I was spotted here and come looking for me. How am I supposed to get in contact with my manager, I don't have a cell, and I can't go asking strangers to borrow theirs.

My mind wants to continue its frustrated tirade, but I am startled out of it by a large hand softly tapping my shoulder. I look over and see a curious David Bowie, offering me a sheepish smile at having distracted me.

"Allo luv." His lovely voice politely rings through the car, I almost want to ask him if he'll write a song with me, but then the harsh reality of everything he's said smacks me in the face.

"Don't call me that." I didn't snap, but my voice was stern, letting him know that this is going to be a tense conversation. His smile falters, clearly not used to being met with such disdain.

"Well... What did you do to get that crowd chasing you?" He brushes off our tense beginning, clearly still curious as to why I was being chased. I glance into his calming eyes and realize he doesn't recognize me, or at least that's what I'm assuming. If he did recognize me, I doubt he would've ushered me into his limo so quickly.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Y/N L/N." He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my sudden words, but his face is now cautious, looking at me as though I've just lied straight to his face. Sighing in irritation I pull off my gray fedora and sunglasses before gently removing my wig to show my short hair. He sits back in shock, facing away from me as his eyes fall to his hands.

"... Oh." The car falls back into silence, he clearly doesn't know how to respond. I roll my eyes as I shove the wig into my handbag, hooking the glasses to my shirt before replacing the hat back upon my head. I feel slightly flustered at being saved by him, I should at least thank him, but I think that can wait until I get out of the car.

"...Um. Where would you like me to go, sir?" David looks startled from his haze, quickly glancing to me before back to his driver. He's about to speak when a loud noise startles everyone in the car, closely followed by the sharp hits of water on the windshield. I immediately look out the window, being met with the unexpected view of storm clouds completely filling the once blue sky. I want to smile, I love rain and thunder, but I have no idea what my address is, and I am certainly not dressed for the rain.

"What? Don't like rain Mrs.L/N?" David's irritatingly attractive voice grabs my attention. I look over to him before back to the rain.

"No.. I actually love the rain, and it's Miss, not Mrs." I respond, watching as the rain drops drizzle down the windows. The people on the streets hurriedly running for cover, seemingly as surprised by the rain as I am.

"Drop me off on that street corner, I'll find my way home from there." I say, not looking at David or the driver.

"What do you mean you'll find your way home? Don't you know your address?" David's voice is clearly distressed at the thought of just dropping me off on the corner of a random street. It's my turn to sheepishly smile, scratching the back of my head as I shake my head 'no'. The driver pulls the car over, coming to halt on a quiet street.

I reach my hand over to the handle, but I'm interrupted by David grabbing arm, his grasp gently but firm. His looks so concerned that I almost pity him.

"Don't go, at least let me drop you off at a restaurant or something... " His sentence drops off at the end, clearly hoping I'll give in, but I am in no mood to deal with any of this today. I pull myself from his grasp, opening the door and stepping out; the cold rain sends a refreshing chill down my spine. I turn away, readjusting my hat and bag, much too busy to notice David getting out after me.

"It's much too cold for you out here darling. Let me drop you somewhere safer than this at least." I can tell he's getting desperate at this point, but it really only makes me angry. How dare he say these things to me after bad mouthing me.

"How dare you act like you care about me." My words are unexpected to both of us, I didn't mean to speak my thoughts, but I guess I can't stop now. I turn around and face him, having to look up at his face due to the unfair height difference.

"You say the most awful things about me to the press, you make fun of my music, then you make fun of my life choices? Now you stand here acting all worried about my well-being?" My voice is equally as distressed as his expression, he clearly wasn't expecting my aggressive response. I take a step forward into his personal space, poking my pointer finger harshly against his chest as I glare into his eyes.

"You were one of the people I looked up to. We had never even met when I randomly heard you say I was some whore who somehow worked her way up to the top." My words are slurring, and my eyes are burning a bit. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional, maybe it's because I was so heartbroken at hearing him kick dirt on my name, or maybe it's because I stupidly gave his opinion a place in my mind.

I didn't even notice that my tears had escaped my eyes and were carving paths down my face until he brought his hands up to cup my jaw. His touch was so gentle as he wiped away my tears, so excessively tender I started to think I was made of thin glass that could be snapped in half.

"I was scared... I was scared, okay? And I know that's not an excuse, and I am sorry." His tone feels rushed yet hesitant, like he doesn't want me to even think about running off. I look straight into his eyes, finally seeing the guilt coursing through them in waves.

"Scared? Of what?" I'm so confused, why would he ever be scared of me? I was only barely a celebrity when he said those remarks, I was no threat.

"You... God, I was scared of you Y/N. You and your lovely young face, with your beautiful voice." He smiles, almost as though finally coming to a realization. I want to speak, but he continues.

"You came out of nowhere and took the world for a spin, I know you don't think you're very famous, but the entire world knows your name darling. You did that in such a small amount of time, I couldn't help but feel I would be forgotten. I know that it is a selfish thing to do, but I promise I'll make it right." I still feel unsure,

"How can I ever trust you, I admired you and you shoved that in my face." I back up and away from him, my arms wrapping around my body in search of both comfort and warmth.

"Well, I guess you'll only know if you give me the chance." His expression is so vulnerable and honest, his hair falling slightly into his face as he tilts his head down towards mine.

"Please, darling... Come with me, let me show you I'm not the awful prick you think I am." His surprisingly warm hands enclose around mine, their warmth causing the rest of my body to shiver, finally acknowledging the fact that we've been letting the rain drench our bodies for about 7 minutes now.

All I can do is nod my head as he brings an arm around my shoulders, quickly leading me back to the awaiting car. Helping me first before following after. I shiver weakly, David notices and has our driver turn the heat up, but we both know it'll do very little.

"Oh I'm sorry darling, let me take you back to mine and we'll get you a fresh change of clothes." I don't know why I'm suddenly so quiet, but all I can really do in response is nod my head. I take my wet hat off, tossing it down near my feet before once again wrapping my arms around myself.

———————

David Bowie's POV:

Oh, she looks so small all hunched over and wrapped in herself. I still feel guilty about what I'd said about her, I had no right making any of those claims, it was disgustingly immature what I did. All I know is that I need to make it up to her.

I must admit that I didn't expect to meet her today, I didn't even know she lived in New York.

"Do you live here Y/N? Maybe we could go to yours instead if you prefer?"

"No, I've been in a hotel, only got here 2 days ago and never made the effort to remember it's name." Ah, well, that's good to know. Looking back over to her I see her still shivering, clearly the heater is doing nothing for her. I shrug off my wet coat and shove it to the side before shifting closer to her and wrapping her up in my arms. Her body stiffens at the contact, but I can tell my body warmth is attractive to her from the way she pushes into me.

"Is this alright, love?" I don't know why I keep calling her these pet names, maybe it's because I like making her flustered. I feel her nod her head 'yes', I smile as I rest my head lightly atop hers. We stay like that until we stop in front of my hotel.

Grabbing my jacket I quickly wrap it around her small form, she opens her mouth to protest, but I silence her with my stern gaze. I swipe her hat from her hands and carefully place it atop her head, giving her a gentle smile before hopping out of the car helping her out.

We rush through the rain, laughing as we go, I hold the door open and usher her inside. We look so messy and out of place in this fancy hotel, but I ignore the looks we get, instead opting to gaze adoringly at this spit-fire of a woman I have on my arm. As we get in the elevator and wait for my floor she starts to shrug off my coat, but I quickly grab it and pull it back onto her shoulders.

"Don't, it looks better on you anyways." She drops her head down as she blushes, I can't believe I somehow got her to go from hating me to blushing at my compliments, all I know is that I want to compliment and make her blush for the rest of my life.

I step back from her as the elevator doors open, resting my hand on Y/N's back as I walk her in the direction of my room. The poor girl is still shivering, I hope she finds my clothes to be to her liking.

———————

Y/N's POV:

I'm still trying to wrap my head around how this man, this man who made me feel like absolute shit, now offers me his jacket and compliments that make my face blush a deep rose. I hope this is real, I don't think I can go back to hating him after all of this.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by him gently pulling me into his room. Carefully slipping off the thick wet coat and hanging it up before turning back to me.

"Alright luv, I'll take you to my room and you can pick the clothes." His voice, God, his voice. I hate to admit it, but hearing his accent in-person just makes him even more attractive. All I can offer him is a gentle nod, his lips turning up into a sweet smile and he grabs my hand, leading me to his room. Opening the closet I see a wide array of clothes, ranging from incredibly posh to walk-out-of-bed to get a glass of milk clothes, I can't help but blush at the thought of him just lazily getting out of bed in the middle of the night for a midnight snack.

"What are you blushing at?" His tone is teasing as he gives me a humorous grin, his shoulder playfully bumping against my own. I can only shake my head in embarrassment as I glance away from him and back to the wardrobe.

"Oh, I can't pick... You choose." I suddenly state, backing up and softly pushing him forward. He seems generally surprised by what I say, but shakes it off as he now thinks about his new task. He rests against the wall and looks at me for a minute or so, just running his eyes across me in an oddly calculating way. He sharply turns away from me and starts rifling through his closet, searching for the perfect clothes, but suddenly stops and turns back to me.

"Don't you have an interview today?" My eyes widened in shock, how could I have forgotten. I glance towards the clock on his bedside table, my interview is in 30 minutes.

"It's in 30 minutes! What am I supposed to do?" I want to cry, this interview is very important publicity for my upcoming album. My eyes burn with tears of frustration, but I find myself distracted by the warm embrace of David, it's oddly comforting.

"Now don't you worry about the clothes, I'll pick something out while you go call your manager and get the address for your interview." He states, pulling back and looking at me reassuringly.

"What do you mean? My manager will never let me go on unless everything is perfect." I don't mean to argue, but I know my manager is a perfectionist, and will surely yell my ear off for putting myself in this position.

"Darling, either you go with what you have, or you miss the interview." I open my mouth in a weak attempt to argue, but I stop, knowing he's right. I nod my head and rush to the phone, hoping David chooses those clothes quickly.

I messily dial up my manager, and as soon as they pick up, I can sense their rush of concern.

"Honey where have you been? Your interview is in less than 30 minutes!" His usually calm tone is higher as he clearly has been worried about my whereabouts.

"I know I know, and I'm so sorry I didn't call sooner. I just... I was out, and people recognized m-" I get cut off before I can finish my sentence.

"They what! Did you take off your disguise?" He sounds so worried, I feel really guilty at making him feel this way, but I would rather I tell him than have him find out via the news.

"No, people saw through it!"

"Well, are you okay? I know how you get in crowds, did you make it out alright?" The worry and concern emanating through his voice lets me know he really wants to give me a hug, and he probably needs one too. I remember the fear and concern when he had to get me out of that London crowd, gosh he was more scared than I was.

"I'm surprisingly alright, but that's really only because I got saved." I say quietly, I leave out the fact that David Bowie saved me because I don't know how my manager will react. He was there with me when David said I was a whore to the press, so I'm not sure that he'll be as quick to forgive him as I was.

"Saved? By who?" His voice suddenly goes from concern to curiosity, oh I hope he doesn't scream when I bring David with me.

"I'll introduce you both at the interview... On that note, can you tell me the address, I promise I'll be there on time."

"Alright Y/N, just please stop giving me heart attacks." This last sentence is humorous, yet completely serious at the same time. I can hear the sincerity, and I hope that I never put him through this again.

"I promise nothing." I reply sassily, writing down the address he tells me. I turn and hurriedly walk back to David's room, accidentally running into him and falling back to the floor. I glance up in surprise as he does the same to me, I can't help but be taken back to the same scenario that happened earlier today.

"I think we've been here before darling." David laughs as I smile humorously at the situation. He offers his hand and pulls me up with a little too much strength, resulting in me falling against his chest. I can feel myself blush furiously as I go to push myself away from him, but find myself trapped by his arms encircling my waist.

He holds me there for a few moments before gently releasing me and motioning to the clothes on his bed. I don't even spare them a glance as I grab them and walk into the bathroom, changing swiftly before looking at myself in the mirror. I was in one of his blue dress shirts with some fancy brown shoes, and some straight legged ivory pants. Everything is big on me, and I feel overdressed, I usually don't care how I look, and dress in a t-shirt, jeans; but David really has me dressing up.

I hesitantly open the bathroom door with my eyes on the floor, hearing David hurriedly stand from his spot on the bed. We stand in silence for about a minute, and I go to shy away from him, but he steps forward and holds me in place.

"I look such a mess don't I? I-" I criticize my appearance, but he gently cuts me off.

"I like seeing you in my clothes." His voice is just above a whisper, and he sounds so attractively honest that I glance up from my shoes and to his face. I immediately notice that we are only a few inches away from one another, and I can't help but look away from him.

I turn back to say something when his hand suddenly reaches up to cup my face, instantly grabbing my attention. I look at him, noticing how adoringly he gazes into my eyes, and I can't help but close my eyes. His lips gently graze my own, he seems to hold back meeting me fully, assumingly afraid of how I react. To stop his assumptions I lean forward and meet his retreating form, himself immediately responding.

We pull back, and I shyly look to the side, seeing him smile in my peripheral vision as he leans down and softly kisses my cheek. My blush comes back with a vengeance, and I can hear him chuckle at the way I respond to him. We pull apart slightly, he offers me a warm smile before checking the time.

"Oh, we better get going, love. We have about 10 minutes to get there, and it's a 5 minute drive." I nod my head, allowing him to hold my hand as we walk out of his room.

———————

Arriving at the interview I wait in anxiousness as David walks around the car and opens the door for me, holding my hand delicately as we walk towards the building. We suddenly stop as he looks towards me and then himself, releasing my hand as he starts to take off his coat.

I go to object, but he pays it no mind, holding it out for me, and helping slip it on. I can't help but feel so in-love at the moment, and it's funny because he's the last person I thought would be treating me like this.

"You look good, I think I want to see you in my shirts more often." His voice is so charming and natural as the cheeky sentence slips out. He said it so normally, but he knows how it leaves me speechless, a smirk appearing on his handsome features as he leads me into the building.

[kuuyandere]

abjklmowx for the letters. i wanna know e v e r y t h i n g about you. i wanna imagine how it feels to be urs 🫀

Oh my, I assume you are talking about the ask game. It took me a while to answer all of your questions. This will be an extremely long post, but I am guessing that is exactly what you want, 🫀-Anon. Some questions have similar answers, so I combined them.

Affection: How do you show your feelings to your darling, if you do? How intense does it get?

Love Language: What are your giving and receiving love languages? How does this apply to your darling?

I do a lot I suppose. I kind of give in all the love languages when it comes to my beloved, and I enjoy quality time and words of affirmation most in general.

I love to spoil my possession both materialistically and by showering affection. I gave her a lot of gifts and love letters, and I enjoy being able to do things for her (whenever I visit, I have to wrangle her in order to wash the dishes because I know she hates it). I love taking care of her and texting her "good morning" and "goodnight" every day with nice messages. And I liked always being in physical contact with her: holding her, holding her hand when we're walking, kissing her forehead.

What I feel for my darling gets pretty intense. Physically painful at times. I try not to show that to her because I wanted to be a healthy person for her.

Blood: What is the most extreme thing you think you’re capable of doing in real life for your darling? What’s the worst thing you have already done?

Obsession: How obsessed are you with your darling? Have you ever stalked them?

The most extreme thing I would consider doing would probably be consensual kidnapping (emphasis on the "consent"). If she ever wanted me, I ideally want to buy a place for us to keep her all to myself far away from everyone else. Would I die and kill for her? Also yes.

The worst thing I have already done is probably cyberstalking her a little while we were just starting to become friends. She intrigued from the beginning, which led to me gathering a ton of information about her address, social media accounts, parents' names and personal information, etc. I could have done more with her email accounts, but I felt guilty. I did tell her about it and apologised profusely later. Although I occasionally still feel the urge to stalk her. Suffice to say, I was and continue to be quite obsessed. Please don't do any of that without consent.

Jealousy: How jealous or possessive do you get?

Very. I don't like hearing about or seeing her interact with other people, even if they are her friends. I don't enjoy having dates in public as much when there are a lot of people because there would be more eyes on my belonging. I hate when others look at her or touch her. It makes me feel violently angry, which is difficult to control. I have learned to hide it very, very well though.

Kisses: How do you act around or with your darling? Is it different from the way you act around everyone else?

I believe I act differently around everyone depending on the company. But I am considerably more doting, emotional, and touchy with her than with anyone else. I am more "simpy" with her, more foolish, and I smile more effortlessly in her presence. For the most part I am pretty low energy and quiet around others, but I try to be a little more upbeat and cheerful when I am around her.

Manipulate: Have you ever lied to or manipulated your darling? Would you?

Lied? Often: I rarely showed her how deep or how crazy the rabbit hole of my feelings for her truly went. And I do not want her to aware of how much I care for her now. Manipulated? Probably. I think the primary reason why we got together in the first place was because she thought I was a different person than I was in reality.

Wit’s End: Would you ever hurt your darling?

That depends on the definition of "hurt". I would hurt her emotionally if it meant keeping her safe or happier in the long run. I would hurt her physically in a negotiated kink setting. But I would never intentionally cause her to suffer too much though, my darling is too precious to me and I love her too much even when she hurts me.

Xoanon: How much do you revere or worship your darling?

It varies, oftentimes I put her on a pedestal and other times I try to be more rational and objective. But love and obsession isn't something logical and objective, so for the most part I am stuck adoring her and worshiping the ground she steps on while simultaneously resenting the pain she makes me feel.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Heeey! Can I request for the Father of Mine universe? Something along the lines of hickeys, maybe smeared lipstick all over their faces at an event, family dinner or something like that?

“Just skip it and stay here with me,” Jason offered as he leaned against the bathroom frame, shirtless and with his arms crossed.

He had been watching Y/N get ready for at least 15 minutes.

She was currently putting on blood red lipstick that went perfectly with her black winged eyeliner.

Jason wasn’t a big lipstick guy – mostly because it prevented him from kissing his girlfriend the way he wanted to. But he couldn’t deny that it looked incredibly sexy.

“I can’t. I promised Bruce,” Y/N explained as she looked at him through the mirror.

“There will always be other charity events,” he answered with a roll of his eyes.

But he’d had enough of keeping his distance and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He started peppering kisses on her shoulders since her dress was leaving the skin completely exposed and he just couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” she began, “you could always come with me.”

Jason stopped his kissing.

“Guess that’s a no?” Y/N sighed with a shy grin.

But she didn’t really care.

Y/N understood that Jason hated these events. To be honest, she might hate them just as much. But Bruce kept asking her and she tried to go when she could. Sometimes she needed breaks and her father understood that.

Jason ignored her question and his hands started roaming heatedly across her body.

“Don’t even think about it,” Y/N warned, immediately pushing him away.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Jason laughed innocently.

“Not yet,” she spun around and pointed at him. “But you were going to!”

“And is that so bad?” He asked with a crooked smirk.

“It is when I’m running late. And the reason I’m late is because you couldn’t keep your hands off of me an hour ago.”

Jason tilted his head and narrowed his eyes playfully. “I didn’t exactly hear any complaints…”

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from laughing and shook her head.

No, there had definitely been absolutely no complaints from her.

“I won’t be there long,” Y/N promised.

Then she brushed past him and walked into the giant walk-in closet.

Barely even glancing at all the shoes, she grabbed a pair that matched her dress.

“Can we order pizza or something when I get back? I’ll be starving.” Y/N asked mindlessly as she slipped the shoes on, using the wall to balance herself.

Jason didn’t even realize he was staring.

But how could he not?

The dress was simple. Just a little black dress. It was a charity event after all. But it fit Y/N like a glove, hugging her in all the right places.

Her heels were at least 4 inches, putting her eye level with Jason – if not a tiny bit taller. She would be above the majority of men at the event, except for probably a small handful.

“What?” Y/N asked self consciously. “Too tall?”

“No such fucking thing,” Jason quickly answered.

Y/N usually wasn’t self conscious about her height. She kind of had to get over that back in high school when she was taller than most of the boys in her grade.

But that didn’t mean she completely stopped having slip-ups. Slip-ups that involved questioning her heels or outfit.

Thankfully, Jason was quick to remedy such situations.

“You just look so beautiful,” Jason added as he stepped forward and grabbed her hips possessively.

Y/N kissed him. “Thank you.”

But she opened her mouth to give another warning.

“You’re gonna be late,” Jason spoke for her. “I know. I know.”

Y/N tried not to laugh at her boyfriends desperation as she grabbed her clutch.

“Remember: pizza!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

————

Bruce and Damian were waiting for Y/N at the venue.

Dick and Tim skipped, going to these things less and less as they became fully grown men with lives of their own.

“Thank you for coming,” Bruce greeted as he kissed her on the cheek.

Y/N was about to turn her attention to Damian and give him a hug.

“What the hell is on your neck!?” The boy cried out before she could.

She blinked in surprise, completely unaware of what her half brother was talking about. Self-consciously, her hand went to the sides of her neck, not sure what she should be hiding.

“Can Todd not keep his hands to himself for 30 seconds?” Damian growled.

That’s when it clicked.

Y/N had a hickey on her neck.

“Damian, lower your voice,” Bruce warned his son.

Meanwhile, Y/N started feeling hot from embarrassment.

“Father, make him stop,” Damian whined.

To her surprise, Bruce cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Damian, Y/N is a grown woman in a relationship. She can do as she pleases.”

It was the right answer, but Y/N was still sweating from the embarrassment.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she quickly mumbled, before disappearing to the nearest bathroom.

But Y/N swore she heard Bruce continuing to scold Damian for his rudeness and for embarrassing her.

When she reached the bathroom, she lifted her head to see that she very much did have a hickey on her neck. It was perfectly hidden in the shadow of her jaw, which was why she hadn’t noticed it while getting ready. If she had, she would’ve put 5 layers of makeup on it to make sure her family didn’t notice.

Thankfully, she brought some cover up with her and quickly started going to work.

After 10 minutes, it was invisible and Y/N let out a sigh of relief.

She pulled out her cellphone, glaring at it as if were her boyfriend.

“You better start behaving. Damian and Bruce just found a hickey on my neck. I’m so fucking embarrassed,” Y/N texted to Jason.

“Who cares?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he’d answer with that.

“Call me old fashioned, but I’d prefer not remind my father and younger brother that I do in fact have a sex life.”

“A healthy, satisfied, and passionate sex life *,” Jason corrected.

Before she could respond, he texted again with, “Did you cover it up?”

“Obviously.”

“What a shame. Maybe it would’ve kept the spoiled rich boys away from you.”

“You’re on thin ice, Jason Todd.”

“Ooo. I love it when you use the full name. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

Y/N sighed and tossed her phone back into her clutch.

She’d given up on making Jason feel any bit of sympathy. That man would never feel guilty about showing the world how obsessed he was with her.

—————

Jason was reading on the couch when Y/N returned home.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted before returning to reading his book.

“Ugh. I drank too much champagne. I have the worst headache.”

“I’ll order some pizza,” Jason offered and pulled out his phone.

Y/N sighed in relief when she took off her heels and then she collapsed on the couch, laying her head on Jason’s lap as he placed their order.

Without thinking, his free hand when to her head and started massaging it, hoping it would help with her migraine.

“Hmm,” she hummed with her eyes closed. “That feels better.”

“Order has been placed,” he confirmed.

“Thank you.”

“Arrives in 30 minutes.”

She didn’t say anything, knowing exactly where he was going with it.

“What could we possibly do with 30 minutes?” Jason teased as he inched closer to her face.

She opened her eyes and giggled up at him.

“Ya know, I heard that sex helps cure migraines…”

“Does not!” Y/N yelled out.

Before she could argue with him further, his lips shut her up real quick.

For as large as Jason was, he managed to maneuver his body very gracefully, until he was hovering above Y/N while she lay comfortably on the couch.

“You look beautiful with lipstick,” Jason said it as if it was law. “But I like it even more when I ruin it,” he added with an almost evil smirk.

It was hard for Y/N to have a clever quip when he said things like that to her.

“How about I mark you up even more?” He threatened.

“Jason…” she warned.

But they both knew Y/N was pretending to be annoyed by it – or against it. When in reality, she kind of loved how obsessed Jason was with the idea.

Just when Jason hiked Y/N's dress up and was tracing her legs, someone cleared their throat.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and actually growled. Then he quickly lowered Y/N’s dress and tried to make her modest again.

Y/N covered her face and groaned. “Please, please, please tell me Bruce is not standing at the window right now.”

Jason smirked. “And Damian.”

Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her and sat up to face them.

There stood Batman and Robin.

Tonight was just not her night.

“You have lipstick smeared all over you,” Damian pointed out to Jason smugly.

“I’d say one day you’d see the appeal, but I’m struggling to imagine anyone ever having that kind of interest in you,” Jason shot back.

“Jason!” Y/N scolded in a yell.

Then she quickly turned to Damian with a sympathetic look, “Dami, he didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I did,” Jason corrected. “What do you guys want?”

“Red Robin is missing,” Bruce stated darkly.

“So…go find him,” Jason replied.

“We need your help,” Bruce clarified.

Jason groaned and rubbed his face. “Fine. But we’re setting some fucking ground rules from now on. I’m sick of you guys invading our personal space. We have a door for a reason. Use it.”

Bruce just nodded.

Then he looked down at Damian and with a glare, got him to nod, too.

“I gotta change,” Jason told them, annoyance clear in his voice.

Y/N followed him into their bedroom, to give them a moment of privacy.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” Y/N sighed as she sat on the edge of their bed.

“They spent all night with you and now they have the balls to interrupt?” Jason shot back. “And I want my damn pizza.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I promise I’ll save you some.”

Jason was in his full gear now, Red Hood helmet tucked under his arm.

He took in a deep breath, tension easing off of him as he saw how cute she was looking up from the bed at him. Her lipstick was half off her lips, but she still looked beautiful.

“Promise you’ll be careful,” her tone was nothing but serious.

“Don’t worry about me,” Jason dismissed as he leaned down at kissed her.

"And be nice to Damian."

"Never."

Jason went back to the living room where Bruce and Damian waited.

“You might want to rub some of that off,” Bruce mumbled as he turned and jumped on the window.

Jason glared at Batman’s back as he reluctantly rubbed Y/N’s lipstick off his mouth with his gloved hand.

Then he looked at Damian. “Say another word about it and I'll skin you alive.”

Damian gave him a dirty look, “I’m not scared of you.”

–––––––––

Let me know if you liked it!!!

[mylittleredgirl]

Imagine, if you will, that you are sent back in time. You are now a showrunner on Voyager through timey-wimey Q reasons. You can now add an arc to a character that deals with mental illness(and deal with it well). Who do you choose and why?

oh i'm immediately sweating at the idea of being responsible for something like that! 😂

[three hours later]: i wrote the longest tumblr dot com essay of my life about mental illness in voyager. it's below the readmore.

tl;dr: voyager Did Some Things with janeway, b'elanna, and chakotay, and i ultimately choose b'elanna, because i think that arc has the most interesting facets to pull apart.

so, voyager does have a few mental illness episodes already: "night" (janeway; depression), "extreme risk" (b'elanna; parasuicidal behavior), and "the fight" (chakotay; psychosis). there are things to love and hate about each of them!

-

"night" sure is a portrait of depression, in a way that's hard for me to even watch. it's a great episode and mulgrew nails it, but the depression isn't named, and it's not treated at all -- the scene where the crew mutinies to keep her from sacrificing herself is great family feels, but the overall solution to janeway's mental breakdown is to fling her back into the fire. "we need you so don't leave us" is a different message than "we see your suffering and are here to help you through it."

janeway needs and deserves a multi-episode arc with how they set it up, and she doesn't get one. HOWEVER, if it were up to me and i were designing the show, i would choose to give my mental health arc to someone other than the captain, especially the first female captain of the franchise. it's 1998 and my girl has enough PR problems.

gender aside, i want my arc to have open disclosure and community support, and that creates real problems when she's at the very top of the military hierarchy (in voyager especially, with no external oversight or chance for respite). any significant mental health arc involving the captain will be about her captaincy as much as her healing.

remember the exchange between the doctor and janeway in "year of hell" when he tries to remove her from command for mental health reasons and she just... says no? what if it's chakotay instead? what if it's tuvok? what if it's the whole command staff sitting around together discussing whether or not to have a mutiny? what if it's the whole world sitting around discussing whether a woman with mental illness is capable of being in charge of something important like people's lives? and is it irresponsible for her not to step aside for someone "saner"? if we put this up for debate in the 90s, we are not going to like what comes out.

realistically, janeway's mental health does impact her command decisions sometimes. the more people who know she has a diagnosed condition, even in the far-flung enlightened future, the more people who are going to have this bit of data in their mind when they consider her more extreme orders and actions.

it's very messy. it's interesting messy, but not the best option for star trek's first time digging into this.

-

i really like "extreme risk," especially the end -- b'elanna is healing, but it will be a journey. it portrays the whole thing so well: the way b'elanna is living this silent parallel life from everyone else that they don't know about, the way they try to reach her but can't, the way she hides it, the way she articulates it.

on the flip side, the "treatment" she gets in that episode is absolutely batshit, and that should really come up more whenever someone says that chakotay would make a good ship's counselor. (neelix, on the other hand, is a GEM to b'elanna here and elsewhere.) if janeway's psychiatric treatment plan was "more work," b'elanna's is "more trauma" (and then more work). i'm going to come back to this one!

-

"the fight" is like... the worst if someone is looking for "good representation." it is not handled well. AND YET, it's the only episode where it's explicitly called out as mental illness (even if it's a made-up one), and the ONLY episode where anyone says it can be treated (successfully!!) with ongoing use of medication. prior to that, we saw mental illness treated one of two ways in trek: counseling (mostly for situational, trauma-based mental illness), or institutionalization (some tos episodes & ds9 "statistical probabilities"). it's wild watching the reg barclay episodes now, wondering why deanna wasn't encouraging him to take an anti-anxiety hypospray.

i've blogged about this before, but i feel like there's some realism in the Terrible Representation parts of "the fight." hear me out: mental illness can be fucking terrifying. especially in the case of a sudden acute onset, it can feel like it will ruin your life. untreated mental illness can be a burden on those around you and impact the children in your home.

also, chakotay has established, unresolved internalized issues with his own culture, so the fact that his grandfather refused treatment on spiritual grounds is going to be a tough thing for him to respect or forgive (and might actually be the origin of some of his resistance to his culture!!). the fact that he's rude and dismissive about his grandfather ("crazy old man") is pretty shocking from someone as generally open-minded and caring as chakotay, but it works... as a starting point, where he's terrified and facing his worst childhood fear that he has never processed as an adult.

so that's where this episode blows it: it brings up all these terrible mental illness stereotypes and then just leaves them there unchallenged. chakotay goes on an emotional journey toward surrender (he has to let himself go "crazy" in order for the ship to survive), but there's no journey toward acceptance. he doesn't come away from it with a greater appreciation for his culture or with a new empathy for his grandfather. and because it's medically handwaved off-screen, he never has to think about it again.

i'm honestly obsessed with the possibilities here for chakotay, but in the context of 90s episodic trek, i don't think i need to spend my magical Q-powers multi-episode arc to fix this. this genuinely could have been wrapped into the end of the episode (and left to the hurt/comfort fic writers after that).

because they don't NEED to magically cure chakotay! it has already been established in the episode that his condition can be managed with "a couple of hyposprays a day." imagine that it's the spring of 1999, and a Strong Male Lead in a family viewing tv show now takes prescription psych meds!!! and they work!!! not only is he on his way back to being first officer with this permanent condition on his medical chart, his mental illness is evidence of heroism, not weakness. at the climax of the episode, the doctor fully activates the gene (with chakotay's permission) so that he can communicate with the aliens -- with an implied warning that it may not be reversible.

so if i'm in charge, we get a scene at the end that's more emotionally in line with the end of "extreme risk": chakotay isn't happy about this outcome, but he will continue to live his life and serve the ship with the full trust of his captain and crew. "this is part of me forever, but i can learn to live with it" kind of vibe. he hopes this will be an opportunity for him to better understand his grandfather, but he's making a different choice that's right for him (medical treatment). janeway says she's here for him. maybe in a future episode we get a mention, the way we do with neelix's single lung. dishes are done.

-

so now, my multi-episode arc can go to b'elanna.

because she needs it. her situation is complex! she has childhood trauma and self-hatred and so much other internalized shit that she needs to process, embrace, and/or unlearn.

and the bones of the arc are already there! there's obviously a connecting line between "faces" and "lineage," because both are about b'elanna not wanting to be klingon due to childhood abandonment, but i feel like a line should also be drawn between "extreme risk" and "lineage" too.

in "extreme risk," she tries to cut her trauma out of herself. she tries to do the same to her unborn child in "lineage" (not incidentally, by undergoing a medical procedure herself). in both cases, she has a "this is the only reasonable course of action" attitude about a WILDLY unreasonable course of action, which feels very personally familiar to me from a mental illness perspective.

in both episodes, her extreme behavior is treated as something situational (as a response to grief; as the result of a hormone imbalance) but it would be soooooo easy and good to tie these things together into a recurring character arc toward treatment and wholeness.

with the exception of "extreme risk," all of b'elanna's issues get pinned on her being klingon ("juggernaut," for instance, where she is sent to punitive meditation lessons to learn to control her temper). any mental health arc for her would have to tease that apart -- what's her natural temperament? what's a chemical imbalance? what's internalized racism? what's an unhealthy coping mechanism? what's a trauma response?

i would love - love!!! - for her depression to be identified as specifically a human problem, and for her to find ways to lean into her klingon side to help her.

that's actually a really important part of this, to make sure it isn't star-trek-ed too deeply into an Alien Metaphor. actually name it! let this forge connections between her and others on the ship! talk about the how the doctor can fix the chemical imbalance (it's the 24th century, after all), but that's not the end of the work that needs to happen.

b'elanna is in charge of a department and could be in charge of away missions, so we can still explore the "is someone with this still capable" question that we could with janeway, but in a way that's more manageable for the audience to take in (basically, something like "juggernaut" reimagined through this lens).

and maybe, instead of janeway at the end of my reworked version of "the fight" up there, b'elanna's the one to offer chakotay support and hope, sharing some of her hard-earned expertise. her hard journey is now a Good Thing as well, because of how she can support others.

thank you anonymous friend for this theoretical exercise, and congratulations to anyone who read this all the way to the end!

[imagineddworld]

FBI training (Part 2)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: The reader is the child of the two most skilled FBI agents of the States. At the FBI training she is paired up with a very determent young man who always finds a way to trouble her.

Words: 5K ( 5004)

Author’s note: I’m so sorry with how late this fic got published. But life got in the way. I also got carried away with this, so sorry for the length of it. Hope you enjoy it.

It was your third day at the FBI Academy. Things weren’t looking any better for you. The other students still didn’t like you. In contrary, most hated you. Jealousy already crept up to them, which was mostly rooted in insecurities. The most common way they outed those insecurities was through mean comments and nasty glares. Another popular way was by pointing out all your imperfections in order to prove that they were better than you. Besides the students that hated you, there were 2 other groups. The ones who didn’t care about the drama, focussing all their attention on the training. And the ones who were too afraid to do anything at all. If they are nice to you, they thought the other students would hate them too. But if they are rude to you, they thought the supervisors would harm them. They were stuck in an internal dilemma, therefore preferring not to acknowledge your existence.

So overall, you haven’t had any luck on making friends. Even small talk was nearly impossible. The most you got out of them was a small nod or a tight-lipped smile. 

Luckily they weren’t too envious yet. There only had been theory lessons about the basics of the FBI life. A few small writing tasks were given due to next week. But those were easily completed if you paid attention to the lectures. Or in your case, easy to complete because your parents had drilled in the same things when you were a small child. You hoped the bigger tasks would be bearable to complete. Otherwise the other students their enviousness would increase, seen that those task would be easy for you due to your previous trainings. It could go two ways. For some reason you choose the hopeful one, but that desirable future went down the drain as the supervisor announced their next statement. 

‘A majority of the tasks will require you to work in duos. To make it easier, we assigned you a partner that will stick with you till the end of the year-’. As soon as those words left his mouth- echoing through the room- all eyes went to you. A lot showed their meanest dead glare, speaking louder than any words could. They rather die than be partnered up with you. Others wore disgusted expressions, imagining how you would steal the show. Which wouldn’t happen, or at least not your intention to do so; but they preferred to believe their assumptions about you. Another part of the students just wanted to see who the unlucky student would be, viewing the whole situation as an entertaining drama show. 

You tried your hardest to focus on the names being called, but your mind was racing. It was overtaken by stress and worry, a million irrational thoughts were crossing your mind. You feared how your future partner would react. They might scream at you, insult you. They could beat you up, which was unlikely but your irrational state kept it as a possibility. They also could ignore you throughout the training, turning the teamwork into a solo job. Whatever their reaction was, you feared the worst. 

With a scared, little heart you awaited the dreadful moment where all hell would break loose. ‘(Y/N)(Y/L/N) and -’, the supervisor spoke with a more lifelike voice than his previous monotone one. There was a small pause afterwards. Most students assuming he added it for dramatic effects, but in reality he had stumbled upon the difficult name again. ‘Mie- Miece-...’, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, trying his hardest to pronounce the forsaken name. Without giving it much thought, you continued for him. ‘Mieczyslaw Stilinski, sir’, your voice was quiet and timid. But none the less the name was pronounced flawlessly. Said boy’s head spun towards you at a rapid speed. He was flabbergasted that someone pronounced his real name correctly.

You met his intense gaze with a shy smile, all of sudden experiencing difficulty looking into his warm, captivating eyes. During your previous ‘staring battles’ he was the one backing out first, breaking underneath your intimidating stare. You had a specific way of looking at someone, making it feel like you were gazing into their deepest, darkest secrets. You could break through the most closed off people by just a simple glance. But that specific skill suddenly failed you. You no longer could break through your opponent - which hasn’t happened before. Since the moment you first met him until now, you were able to read the boy fairly easily. He had set his mind on display. But at the moment it seemed like he had found a new strength to withstand your power

His eyes were clouded with a mixture of emotions, making it hard to read him. As you tried to sense which emotions he was feeling, you only stumbled upon a vague mess of pure chaos - what probably was a close resemblance of the inside of his mind. You didn’t know which thoughts were rushing through his mind, nor could you predict his next moves. It was strange being locked outside of someones mind. It seemed like he purposely blocked you out, withholding your from diving into his darkest depths. He was challenging your skills - something that intrigued you. 

You eventually turned away from him. The intensity of his gaze made your face heat up, painting the surface an uncomfortable bright red. It felt like he was examining every little detail of you - as if he just discovered your existence. It was as if he suddenly saw you in a new light. Perhaps his bubble of wrong assumptions bursted open, revealing him to a whole world of new truths. Or - the most believable one - he had recognized you from the past. Maybe the vague memory that had been fading in the back of his mind finally filled in the blank spots.

You had met him plenty of years ago. His dad, the sherif of Beacon Hills, was struggling with a hard case. It was something he had never stumbled upon before. He was in dire need of stronger agents who had a wider field of experience. As the news reached your parents, they were eager to help right away. They left as quickly as they could, pulling you along on their trip. Their excuse was ‘you could never have enough experience’.

---

As soon as you arrived in Beacon Hills, your parents disappeared into a closed off room where the sherif and his team were waiting for them. You were left behind in the middle of the chaotic police station. People were rushing around, looking through files and discussing various things. Most of them paid no mind to you. Fortunately a few polite men did acknowledge your presence, allowing you to help with some light work. 

You held some light conversations with the men, trying to get to know them a little, while they had given you some small tasks. You were allowed to go through some files, sorting and reading them while making notes. Even if it was a small job, it gave you a fulfilling feeling. You felt like you were a part of their team. You were consumed by the task, making you less aware of your surroundings. You hadn’t noticed how quickly the time had passed, nor had you noticed the young boy staring at you. 

‘Mieczyslaw Stilinski’, the grumbling voice of the sherif alerted the whole police station of his arrival. He and your parents had been on a trip through town, trying to collect more evidence for the case. All chatter came to a stop as everyone’s eyes shifted from the door - where the sherif stood - to said boy, including yours. Most people lost interest after a few seconds, already being used to this type of interaction between the two. But you had grown a certain fascination for the raven-haired boy.

He awkwardly stared at his shoes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while fiddling with his fingers. He was avoiding the sherif’s intense stare, who was walking towards him. Once the sherif stood in front of him, he showed the older man an apologetic smile. He received a disapproving head shake in return. The sherif pulled the boy to the side for a quick chat, trying to avoid any listening ears. But you couldn’t help overhear their conversation. It gave you just enough information to make the mysteriousness around the boy decrease, but at the same time it wasn’t enough to lift it completely. This sparked your curiosity even more. 

‘I told you to go home after school’, the sherif said in a hushed scolding tone that dripped with seriousness. The boy was still looking at the floor, mumbling an incoherent answer. ‘Leave the investigation up to the professionals. Being on those grounds as a non-authorized person is against the rules-.’ The raven-haired boy tried to interrupt the sherif’s speech, but got cut off before any words could leave his mouth. ‘No buts, no arguing. I’m letting you off easy. Don’t push it.’ This made the boy whine, stomping lightly with his foot as he flailed his arms around. ‘Don’t whine. Just go sit on the bench until I’m done for the day.’ The boy held a sad expression on his face, pouting his lip for dramatic effect while showing off his big, puppy eyes. But it only seemed to annoy the sherif further. ‘It’s not going to work on me. Now, sit down.. And I don’t want to hear another word until we’re home.’ Even if the man had kind demeanors, his voice and stare were strangely intimidating. With a low grumble the boy obeyed his orders. 

He sat down with a sour face, fumbling with his hands while bouncing his leg. Being around working people without being able to help clearly made him uncomfortable. He was envious of them. He wanted to solve crimes; go through big files, go on investigations and spend long nights figuring out every little detail. It was thrilling to him. But he wasn’t allowed to do anything of those desired tasks. Therefore it wasn’t too unthinkable that his enviousness got fixated on you. He had never seen you around - a sign of you being new in town - but you immediately had been given tasks. While he had been coming here ever since he could walk and always got send to the bench. Speaking of an unfair treatment. what made you better than him. He didn’t meant to put his emotions on display, but he couldn’t withhold himself from staring at you. Only his gaze was a tad bit too intense, nearly boring holes through your small figure. It as an understandable reaction, but it started to get unbearable.

Once you felt his intense gaze fixate on something else, you carefully glanced at him. You tried to take in every little detail of his features. He had captivated your attention. A strange pull from within tried to tug you closer to him - something that was stronger than your other senses. You had this urge to get to know him, to dig through his darkest depths. You wanted to break through his closed off walls. And seen that the case wasn’t going to be solved overnight, you were going to succeed eventually.

As the day came to an end, most policemen started to head home. You gave the files to one of the polite men, while holding another light conversation as he packed his stuff. He gave you a smaal hug before heading out the door. Eventually they were all gone, leaving you and the boy behind. The sherif, his team and your parents were still in the station, but ‘hiding’ in the closed off room. 

You awkwardly stood next to the desk that you had been working on. You were trying to convince yourself to go up to the boy. It would be weird to continue standing there when you could be civil and sit next to him. 

With each step you took, your anxiety levels increased. They were skyrocketing. Your heart hammered against your ribcage. Your throat started to close up, becoming extremely dry while a huge lump started to form. Your longes had difficulty drawing in air. Your hands and knees started to tremble. But none the less, you continued your way towards him. Even if your body reacted so strongly, your curiosity outweighed all the negative effects and emotions. You were determined to get to know him. 

Unbeknownst to you, the boy’s anxiety had increased as well. He had purposely avoided you, trying to be as far away from you as he could. An odd mixture of emotions had swirled through his veins, immediately overwhelming him He was afraid of how he would react to your proximity. Even if you weren’t aware of the turmoil of thoughts flooding his mind, you noticed other small details. The bouncing of his leg intensified, going more rapidly and seemingly getting more out of control. The fiddling of his fingers and other fidgety movements were more clumsily. A tense energy radiated from him. Both your nervous and tense energies started to dance in the air, filling the room with a crushing weight. 

You sat down near the opposite end of the bench, leaving quite some space between the two of you. His eyes were glued to the ground, but weren’t focusing on anything particular. It seemed like he didn’t want you around, making you question whether you should speak up or not. Your mind was flooding with plenty irrational thoughts; the possibilities of how he could react, reasons as to why he wouldn’t want you around and plenty ‘what if’-questions. As the list of thoughts grew, your ability to speak decreased. A few minutes of silence passed by, making the air seem even more tense. Its weight was crushing you even more. But eventually you were able to strain out a small ‘hi’. He mumbled a quiet ‘hey’ in return. You had hoped that your efforts of greeting him would spark a conversation, but instead you were once again met with the heaviness of silence.  

Your determinateness was strong. Even the warning signs being send off by your brain, didn’t stop you from trying to talk with him. ‘What - what are you-you doing here?’, you stuttered out with much difficulty. ‘Waiting for my dad to be done with work’, he mumbled all his words. It wasn’t really the answer you expected. You hoped that he would tell you more about the reason why he ended up at the station. The boy - who goes by the name Mieczyslaw-  had been dragged in by another cop who had been on patrol. It had sparked your curiosity the most. This adventurous, rebellious side, his huge fascination with his father’s job - those were the things that pulled you to him, the things that made him all that more interesting. But he didn’t seem to spill any of those interests soon. 

You just stared forward, leaning the back of your head against the wall. After some other attempts of good conversation starters, you had given up hope. You weren’t going to get anything interesting out of him. He had been very avoidant. So you had given up for today. You would just wait for your parents in silence. 

‘Are- are you new here?’ The suddenness of hearing his voice shocked you a bit. Your brain took a few extra seconds to process what was going on. ‘Oh, yeah. My parents came to help on the case.’ His big brown eyes shot to your face, staring at you in disbelieve. ‘Really?’, he breathed out. The enthusiasm in his voice was clear as day. He didn’t even give you time to answer as he started to ramble excitedly while flailing his arms around. ‘The top two FBI agents are your parents?!! You are the child of the top two FBI agents?! Woow- I -I can’t believe this. You- you..’ 

‘Mieczyslaw’, you calmly said his name in order to try to break him out of his rambling thoughts. ‘It’s honestly less impressive than you think.’ This only seemed to trigger more thoughts being spewed passed his rambling mouth. ‘Are you kidding me?! You are a (Y/L/N)! That must be-’, he abruptly stopped talking. It seemed like he only now realized you had said his name. ‘Wait- you- You know my name? How do you know the correct pronunciation of my name?!’ He looked you dead in the eyes, waiting for your answer. You shrugged your shoulders, not really knowing an explanation. ‘It’s not that difficult’, it sounded more like a question than a statement. ‘Not that difficult?! No one can pronounce my name. That’s why they call me Stiles all the time.’ You shrugged your shoulders again. ‘You really are a special person’, he said, making you laugh. 

Soon you fell into a comfortable conversation. You were thrilled to hear stories about his life in Beacon Hills and his rebellious adventures, while he was overjoyed to hear about your life. You only stopped talking when your parents came into sight. Your dad ruffled his hand through your hair as a way of greeting you. ‘Hope she hasn’t been too much trouble’, he asked Stiles, making a teasing face towards you. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. Before your playful banter could continue, the sherif entered the room. ‘Let’s go home, shall we?’, he asked with a tired smile on his face. 

In the car your parents explained that you’ll be staying in Beacon Hills for a while. They had made small progress today. They might need a few weeks to solve the case completely. This news wasn’t a surprise to you. What did shock you was when they told you that you would be staying at the sherif’s house. He had offered you his spare room. He didn’t want you to end up in some cheap motel. Besides he enjoys the company. 

As you reached the sherif’s house, Stiles seemed overjoyed by the news. He was going to introduce you to his best friend, Scott McCall as soon as he had the chance to. You were going to go on lots of adventures. He rambled on and on, only to be stopped by a slap on the back of his head by his father. The rest of the evening wasn’t very eventful. You all ate dinner, talked about some lighthearted things and relaxed by watching a movie. 

The next morning was filled with Stiles’ complaints. He had to go to school while you were allowed to join your parents on the investigation. Seen that you were only going to be in Beacon Hills for the period of time it took to solve the case, it would be useless to start at a new school. Once you would have found you place, you would have to leave. So your parents deemed it to be more beneficial for you to help them with the small and lighter parts of the investigation. That way the case would be solved quicker and you would get some extra training experience. 

After a lot of arguing with his father, Stiles finally gave in to going to school. But he made you promise to tell him everything once he set foot into the station. You brushed it off, knowing very well that you weren’t allowed to speak about the case with outsiders unless it is crucial and would benefit the investigation process. But he kept true to his word. As soon as school finished, he raced to the station and barged through the door. Once he saw you, he started his interrogation. ‘Stiles, I’m not allowed to say anything about it’. ‘But-’, he tried to argue, but cut himself off as he saw your serious face. ‘We both know the rules-’. You tried to divert his attention to something else, playing into his overwhelming chaotic mind to keep the ball rolling. You just had to tip him off and he would be talking for hours upon hours about various topics. One of those was Scott. He told you about their adventures, the depth of their friendship and all sort of details. Your conversation kept flowing until your parents took you home. This routine continued till Friday night. Stiles would finally introduce you to his best friend that seemed to be a brother to him. You were thrilled to meet someone so dear to him. 

So the next day, Stiles woke you up at dawn. The sun had just woken up, only showing a few of her sun rays through the trees. Your initial reaction to seeing him in your room was to throw a pillow at him, surely when it was this early. Sure, your parents had done this plenty of times before, but you had expected to sleep in at least a little bit while you were away from home. After some convincing you followed him down the stairs with a sour face and lots of groaning. Not that you had much choice since he was dragging you down by your wrist. ‘Was this necessary? You really had to wake me at dawn?!’, you glared while pulling your wrist out of his grip. He mumbled some apologies, but the other words didn’t get registered in your mind. He spoke in a fast pace, fidgeting wildly during his speech. To his claims, he would have jumped out of his skin from excitement and anticipation if he had to wait any longer to introduce you to his best friend.

While you ate breakfast and made yourself presentable, Stiles nagged your ears off. You were glad to leave the door so his endless complaints stopped. ‘Want to race to his house?’ he asked excitedly. You knitted your eyebrows together at his question. ‘But I don’t know the route to his house.’ ‘Well, you don’t have to since you would be behind me anyway’, he said with a wink. This sentence made you switch your opinion about racing him in the morning. ‘Okay’, you held out your hand to shake on it, ‘first a little starter to the lamppost at the end of the street?’ ‘Deal’. You counted down to three. As soon as you said the last word, you sprinted towards the end of the road. He was a few feet behind you. You leaned against the lamppost, waiting on Stiles. ‘How- how did - did you do - that?’, he said in between breaths. ‘Well, short explanation... my parents have been training me to become a future FBI agent.’ ‘Awesome’, he exclaimed. ‘Nah, not really’.

The rest of the way, you talked about the training, explaining some of the tasks to him. But you didn’t really want to go into depth about it, seen that some parts of the training seemed cruel. But it was a family tradition, so you had no choice but to follow through with the training. 

Once you reached the door to Scott’s house, you felt the nerves bubble in your stomach. But you had no time to calm yourself down. Stiles already had ringed the bell multiple times, announcing his arrival. A lovely looking woman with tired eyes opened the door. ‘Of course it’s you, little trouble maker’, she laughed softly. ‘Come in, I’ll go get him’. She left the door open for the two of you , while she went to inform Scott about your arrival. Stiles easily followed her through the house, whereas you had trouble stepping over the threshold. None the less, you still did it, closing the door behind you. Stiles already sat on the couch, watching some show that was playing on the TV. This was basically a second home to him, so it wasn’t all too odd to act this way. But you were new and had trouble feeling as comfortable as him. You awkwardly stood at the end of the hall, not sure what to do next. ‘You can sit on the couch too if you like’ the kind woman spoke to you as she appeared in your sight. She noticed the hesitation in your face, making a ‘come here’ sign with her arms. This motivated you to follow her towards the couch, sitting gently on the comfortable surface. Her charming energy surprisingly had a calming effect on you. ‘Just wait here till Scott is ready’, she smiled before stepping towards the kitchen, continuing what she had stopped to do in order to open the door. 

After a few minutes a tan skinned, raven-haired boy came down the stairs. Stiles greeted him, while you stayed a few feet behind. ‘Hi there’, Scott waved at you. ‘Hi’, you replied back in a small voice. ‘Stiles has told me plenty about you’, he chuckled lightly, giving off the same charming and calming vibe his mother had. ‘Good things only, I hope’, you teased. ‘Of course’.

You guys talked for a while about all sort of things, mostly just Scott trying to get to know you. Even his mom, Melissa, had joined the conversation for a while before she had to leave for her shift at the hospital. This caused you to quickly fall into a conversation with her about her working field, while the boys starter their own conversation. 

You were fascinated by the medical workers, curious how their day actually went. Your grandma and other family members were medical workers and had told plenty of stories about their work. But you never had actually spend a day with them at work. Hearing that, Melissa offered you to tag along with her at tomorrow’s shift. Which you gladly accepted

The rest of the day was spend talking with Scott and Stiles while exploring the town’s secrets. They promised you to go on adventures every weekend, making your stay in Beacon Hills more enjoyable. True to their words, each weekend that passed by ,was spend exploring town. Beacon Hills had many secrets waiting to be unraveled and you made it your goal to discover as many as possible. 

Sadly enough after a month you had to say goodbye to your new best friends. Your bond with Stiles and Scott had grew quickly over time. But the bond between you and Stiles was stronger, seen that you had spend every evening together talking about endless things. 

The day you had to leave was a chaotic rollercoaster of emotions. You were thrilled that the case was finally solved. The criminals were locked up, awaiting their trails. Your parents and the Sherif would keep in touch if he needed further assistant during the trails. But at the same time you were sad - even heartbroken- to leave Stiles and Scott. You were also sad to go home to your old life again - a life full of endless FBI training. 

Stiles and Scott had took the day off of school to make your last day enjoyable. They wanted you to remember the good parts and adventures. So they took you on your last adventure in Beacon Hills, trying to make it as rememberable as possible - hoping to fill it full with laughter. 

When the day came to an end, you had no other choice but to face the sad part. You first said your goodbye to Scott, who had to go home earlier. ‘I’ll miss you’, you said while hugging him, fighting back the tears. ‘I’ll miss you too’. He squeezed you a little harder before releasing you completely. After that he went home with a heavy heart. Saying goodbye to friends was never fun. Now came your goodbye to Stiles. It was harder than you expected. At first you just stood there awkwardly in the hall while your parents where loading the car. It seemed harder to hide your watering eyes, something he noticed immediately. ‘Oh, come here’, he said while opening his arms. You gladly accepted the embrace, holding onto him a bit longer. He did the same to you, refusing to let go after a few seconds. It lasted about half a minute. You both needed that hug. 

‘(Y/N) (Y/L/N), I’m honored to call you - the child of the top two FBI agents- my best friend’, you rolled your eyes while fondly laughing at his teasing. ‘And I’m honored to call you my best friend too, Mieczyslaw’. He reacted the same way you did. It was part of your playful teasing banter. ‘We’ll keep in touch’. You nodded your head: ‘We will’. You stared into each other eyes, seeing them water even more as the time went by. ‘It’ll be alright’, you said while wiping away a single tear that had escaped his eye. ‘I’ll miss you, that’s all’. You chuckled sadly: ‘I’ll miss you too’. After a few seconds of hesitation, you pulled the green coloured bandana from around your head. ‘Here to remember me’, you held it out to him. He smiled fondly at you. Another few tears escaping his eyes, while you started to let out some too. ‘Thanks’, he said while pulling you into a last hug. This time it lasted even longer than the previous one. It would have lasted longer if your parents hadn’t called for you. 

Later on that evening Stiles had found your note in one of his schoolbooks. You left it there while he was getting ready for your last adventure. ‘I’ll miss you, Mieczyslaw xx - (your phone number)’. He immediately texted you. It became a daily habit, for the first few months at least. But as time went on, your conversations got shorter. There was more time in between responses. The daily texting got reduced to once a week and eventually died out to none at all. 

That was the last encounter you had with Stiles. Even if it was so long ago, the faint memory had stayed in your mind. Every now and then you looked fondly back to it. 

-- To be continued --

[forever-rogue]

Douse the Lights

A/N: I have no excuse for this, except I love one (1) Din Djarin and he deserves this and so do we. Enjoy! A little Happy New Year gift from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) - oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV, choking, degradation, creampie...filth. This is just filth. 

STUTTER SOMETHING PROFOUND (PART 2)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop kriffing staring at me.”

“I wasn’t even looking in your direction.”

“You,” with a sharp turn of your head you saw that he wasn’t even near you. Nope. Not at all. 

Kriff. Awkward.

“Lothcat got your tongue, Princess?” you’d never seen his face, but Maker, you just knew there was a wicked smirk on it.

“Just mind your own business,” stowing away your clean blasters with a huff, you prayed with all your might that he couldn’t see the flush of warmth on your face or hear the crack in your voice. You hated him. Everything about him.

At least you wanted to; you would have given anything in the galaxy to. It would make constantly being around the Mandalorian that you called your employer a lot easier. 

Maybe if you kept repeating it yourself, you would manifest it to become true. That you could hate that annoying, half-witted, tin can. 

“Thought that’s what I was doing,” there was the most minute inkling of amusement in his voice as he came over, lithe and silent - ever the hunter. He was at your side in an instant, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cool metal of the beskar as he sent shivers up and down your spine. Along with the low pooling of heat and desire settling in your belly, but you were going to ignore that for now.

Almost as if he knew the effect he had on you, he made it a point to brush a gloved hand over yours as he nudged you to the side to inspect some of the weapons he’d tasked you with cleaning. You had to be quick in order to shut your mouth and keep a small whimper from escaping your lips. 

How long had it been since someone last touched you? Maker, it had been….dank farrik. It had been way too long. A simple hand brush - there wasn’t even skin to skin contact - and you felt like a lothcat in heat. You really needed to get...some company and have your frustrations taken out or surely you would explode. There was no way you were to give Mando the satisfaction of knowing the type of hold he seemed to possess over you. 

Perhaps once you were out of this more than awkward conversation you could slip out for a few hours and seek some pleasure. The little one had just gone down for a nap a short bit ago, and he was likely to be out for some time. Surely he wouldn’t have a problem for a few hours. Then you could -

“These are still dirty,” was his voice always that rough and low? He had to be doing it on purpose, surely. Before you could contemplate it too much, he took one of the blasters and shoved it back into your hands. Not rough or gentle, but with enough firmness to remind that he was in charge. You looked it over and raised your eyebrows as you inspected it yourself - it was polished to an almost pristine shine, “clean them again. All of them.”

“What the fuck, Mando,” you scoffed with indignation as you rolled your eyes at him, shoving the blaster right into of the black T of his visor. You waved it almost as if to prove your point, “this is clean. I dare you to find a cleaner blaster in this Maker forsaken galaxy.”

He was quick to your grab your wrist, his grip was firm as he kept your hand from moving. You didn’t normally argue with your stoic and mysterious employer, but this was apparently new and uncharted territory. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a shift between the two of you, something had changed. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick you could cut it with the dullest of knives as you stared back at him. 

“Clean it again,” it was a growl that went straight to your cunt as you subconsciously clenched your thighs at the sound. Either this was a one time deal that you would commit to memory or you were going to make it a point to annoy him more often. As he stared you down, he slowly let go of your wrist and pointed at the discarded cleaning rag, “and make sure its actually clean this time.”

“You are the worst,” you tried to retain the little bit of composure that you had remaining as you swiped the blaster back.

“And you are a brat,” brat. Brat. Brat. Brat. Of all the words available in all of the galaxy, he had to choose that one. This was absolutely on purpose. The Mandalorian never did anything without careful planning and calculating the risks. The same could be said with his words; this was all carefully and deliberately chosen. He cocked his head to the side, almost as if trying to gauge your reaction, “but here we are. Get them clean.”

“Or what?” it was a mere pathetic squeak as found yourself almost unable to meet his face.

“Just get it done.”

Without another word he strode away, as silent and dangerous as he was when he first came in. If you were stronger, if you weren’t a weak little fool, you would have looked away and focused on your work. 

But no. Not today.

Instead you watched him go, staring shamelessly at his imposing figure as he moved to disappear back into the cockpit to do whatever it was that he did. 

Was his ass always that nice? Were those thighs always so strong and sturdy? Was he always so damn broad and wide? 

Shit. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you hissed at yourself as you picked the rag back up and slammed yourself back down on the bench in order to re-clean all the weapons that you had just done. He wanted clean weapons? You’d give him the cleanest blasters he’d ever seen. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost an hour had crept by when you’d finished your second round of cleaning. At this point you honestly didn’t care if the Mandalorian deemed the job satisfactory or not. The longer you had ruminated on his words, the more frustrated you became. 

Each word, each touch seemed burned into your mind as you let your imagination take over. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him before. There had been a number of sleepless nights when you imagined it had been his hand between your thighs, his fingers running through your slick folds before they slipped inside of you. On nights when you really couldn't help yourself, you even imagined it was his cock, how he would feel buried to the hilt inside of you. You wondered what he would be like, but something - this day in particular - told that he was big. And he would get the job done.

But it wasn’t going to happen. 

Nope. No. Nah. You were just his sidekick little employee that most definitely was not going to act on any impulsive or rash decisions. You might have been a lot of things, including a huge fool in that moment, but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t need to create some unnecessary strain in your relationship with the stoic warrior or even worse, lose your job and home and be left stranded in a forgotten corner of the galaxy. 

Even as you tried to rationalize all the ways in which acting on your impulses was a horrible idea, the frustration and the throbbing between your legs didn't wane. You were getting so desperate and pathetically needy that you sat on the edge of your small bench just at the angle so you could get a little bit of friction on your clit. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

As you rocked back and forth, trying to keep the little mewls and whines from slipping past your lips, you realized you couldn't do this.

You couldn't risk getting caught by the Mandalorian. Oh yes, everything's fine, just getting myself off. Don't worry, I'm super horny because of you. Yeah of course I'd love your cock.

Yeah. Cool, cool, cool. This would never happen. 

Just when you before you reached your breaking point and had your hands halfway to your soaked core, you stopped. 

"Kriff," you sighed to yourself as you pulled your hand back out and stood up. What the actual fuck had gotten into you? A few commanding words you were completely losing your control. Either you were desperate for a release from something other than your own hand or you craved the mysterious Mandalorian. 

Hastily stashing the impeccably clean blasters back into the weapons cache, you discarded the rag as you quickly came up with a plan. 

Tiptoeing quietly back to where the little one was sleeping, you sneaked a peek and saw that he was still fast asleep. He wouldn't even notice you were gone - that's what you tried to convince yourself as you delicately touched his soft ears and button nose. 

You weren't sure if you were speaking of the Mandalorian or the baby. At this point you really didn't care. 

You glanced back at the ladder towards the cockpit, watching almost as if you expected him to come down and catch you sneaking out. Hells, technically he'd know as soon as you left the ship. You scrawled a quick note telling him that you needed a cleaner or something, in your haste you couldn't even remember what you put, and would need to go to the market.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was totally plausible, you insisted to calm your own nerves as you slipped on your boots and a cloak before making your final decision to leave. Attempting to be as quiet and subtle as possible, you slowly made your way off the Crest and started scurrying towards the nearby desolate town of Mos Eisley. In reality you looked more like a scrap rat scurrying away from the light than a woman heading into town to find something. 

Whatever.

Mos Eisley wasn’t exactly known for its sparkling reputation, and you were sure you could get exactly what you wanted quickly enough. In and out, you thought to yourself as a flush rose in your check, well precisely that. For at least you were hoping. 

But the Mandalorian, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for a reason, and didn’t miss a single trick. He was aware of what you were doing before you even left the cargo hold. If he was this frustrated and turned on you by you, his cock hard and straining against the confines of his pants, he was sure you must have been in the same position. 

Oh, but he had been close to breaking, just like you. How easy it would have been to seal the hatch to the cockpit and relieve himself of the desire and ache. But no - just like you he had limits and wasn’t about to give in and stroke his hard cock while you were within earshot. No matter times he had imagined it - fucking your mouth or burying himself deep between your luscious heat before pounding you into oblivion, he wasn’t going to give in this easily. 

He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but with your little backtalk and the way you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes and pretty pouted lips sure had him feeling like one. The thought of burying himself inside you, to watch as you bounced on his cock with your tits in his face was enough to make up his mind. 

One time couldn’t hurt, right? People had casual encounters all the time.Why should this one be any different? If you were willing of course, although judging by how your pupils had dilated with each word from his mouth, had little doubt you felt the same way; but consent of course was key. 

And tomorrow? You’d be back to being the same way you had always been.

Hopefully. Maybe. Probably.

Fuck.

This was a bad idea, and the small, sensible part remaining in his brain told him so. But he was too far in, too deep and lost in his own desires to stop himself. 

He was watched as you ran away, deciding to wait until you were halfway to Mos Eisley before going after you. He’d take the kid to Pelli, sure she’d more than happy to watch him for the night. The rest? That was to be all consumed by you. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

The old cantina was dirty, dingy, and smelly. There was no doubt in your mind it must have been at least a decade since it was cleaned, and yet it still remained a hot spot; granted not for those of politer society, but enough to get the job down.  You pushed that to the back of your mind as you clambered through the crowd and to the bar, sitting down next to a handsome Zabrak you had spied when you’d walked in. You’d never been with one his kind before, but you’d heard rumors of them, especially when it came to their prowess behind closed doors, and something within you was piqued. 

He must have sensed something was up - as soon as you sat down, he motioned for the bartender to come back and bring the two of you a new round. 

“You’re new here,” he said gruffly, a dangerous edge to his voice, sharp like a knife as he took one of the luminescent drinks and shoved the other towards you.

Before you could even move to grab your drink or utter so much as a word in response, a hand darted and quickly grabbed your wrist, the grip biting and firm. 

“She’s mine,” the words washed over you before you could even turn to look at the Mandalorian. His chest was rising and falling heavy as his visor was trained on your would be companion for the night. A shudder ran up your spine as he pulled you off the stool, the two men glaring at each wordlessly. 

He pulled you behind him, storming out of the cantina as the crowds parted at the sight of the gleaming silver beskar. They knew better than to stand in the way of the Mandalorian. You felt like a child being scolded as he refused to acknowledge you, keeping his gaze trained straight as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. 

“What the hell, Mando?” your question was an indignant shout as your voice climbed an octave. His grip didn’t waver for a moment as he grunted in his response. Oh, he was mad. Yup. Definitely. You had fucked up. 

Any thought of talking back or prodding him further were estopped as you could see him fuming as he dragged your ass back to the Crest. 

This was it, you realized. This was the end where he would fire you and send you packing. Of all the places in the galaxy to be stranded, Tatooine was not one of your top destinations. No one to blame but yourself, you reckoned. 

Instead you hung your head as he refused to look back, making quick work of opening the cargo hold and shoving you inside. There was something about his touch that was rough, almost sending you falling to your ass, but there was still an odd gentleness.

You stared back at the blank visor in challenge, attempting to figure out what was going on. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stared back at you. Neither of you were about to get a good read on each other. 

“Did you really think it was a good idea to just walk away without saying anything?” his voice was dangerously low as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you tried to come up with either a smart response or an excuse but instead of anything coherent, it was a mixture of the two. Great. Now he's going to think you were an idiot on top of everything else. 

“I didn’t...just um...doesn’t matter what you...I needed something from the market?” you swallowed the lump on your throat as you dropped your gaze to the floor. He sighed for a moment - heavily - as you’d come to know was his penchant to do. 

“You needed something from the market?” it wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

“Mhmm.”

“What was it?”

“C-cleaner,” you lied. Somehow it sounded better than saying yeah, I really just wanted a quick fuck because you have me feeling some type of way. 

“There's a new cleaner right in the cabinet,” he said as you internally groaned. He was right - there was a brand new gleaming bottle on the top shelf. He’d gotten some last week, “or did you conveniently forget that?”

“Umm,” you couldn’t get anything else out as he took a step closer and left minimal distance between your bodies. He reached up and put a hand under your chin, turning your face up to meet his, “uh huh.”

“Uh huh, honey,” his voice warmed you up from inside out as you gave him an innocent look. If he hadn’t known what he was doing earlier, he certainly did now. And he was going to milk every second of it, to push this as far as it would go. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a subconscious gesture, but not unnoticed by the Mandalorian. His hand slipped from your chin and jaw and slid until he was gently holding your throat. His grip was light, and he was barely squeezing, but Maker, you wished he was, “is that really what you were going to do?”

“Y-yeah,” how much longer were you going to keep up this little facade? You had no clue. But the feel of his hand around your airway, pushing slightly, ever so slightly, had your mind positively reeling.

“Then why did you go to that filthy old cantina?” he leaned closer, his helmet mere inches from your face as you closed your eyes, the blood rushing to your ears as you the heat pooled in your belly, “why were you talking to Zabrak? Did you really think he was going to fuck you? To make you feel good?”

“Mhmm,” you managed to murmur after a few beats of silence as you realized what was happening. This was new, uncharted territory - for the both of you - and if you went any further, there would be no going back. And you - fuck it. Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look into the visor, right where his eyes would be, “needed someone to do it, since you never would.” 

And there it was - finally out in the open and hanging thickly between the two of you. All you could ever was a small huff from under the helmet and you were positive he was smirking like a victorious predator.

“Is that what you want, honey?” he asked and you nodded. Give and take and then...it all broke, “get on your knees. Now.”

And you wasted no time sinking onto the cool metal floor, now level with his cock, where you could see the hardness straining against his rough fabric. Shaky fingers worked to hastily pop the button and pull the zipper, but just before you could get to what you wanted, Din roughly grabbed jaw, turning your face up to his, “you take what I give. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you promised, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each word. But then, with another gentle tap to your chin, he seemed almost...gentle, “Mando?”

“If you don’t want this, just say stop,” he waited for you to nod as you a sense of warmth fluttered over you at his desire for consent, “I will not be gentle, I will not-”

“Give it to me then,” you beamed at him before turning back to his cock and pulling out of his underwear. You almost moaned at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking already; and just as your little fantasies had led you to believe, he was more than adequate. 

Spitting into your palm, you took him in your hand, pumping him a few times before licking the head, just small light licks, just enough to tease. Licking a stripe up his shaft, you played with his balls for a moment, earning what you were sure was a small groan from under the helmet. Making it a point to draw it out, you shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand went to the back of your head as he pushed you onto his cock. 

A sound of surprise was muffled by his cock as you took all of him into your mouth, doing your best not to gag as he hit the back of your throat and your nose brushed against the soft curls of hair at his base. Your hands slid up his thighs and found purchase on his hips as he began to fuck your mouth. He started slowly at first, almost as if he was afraid to give too much. When you grew accustomed to him, making it a point to hollow your cheeks and suck him as best as you could, he picked up the pace. And it was brutal in all the best ways, spit was starting to run down your chin along with a few tears that had spilled over, but if nothing else, it worked to spur him on. 

“Look at you,” he grunted between thrusts as he took in the sight in front of him, “take me so well. Knew your big mouth had to be good for something. Always wanted to fuck that pretty face.”

You hummed in delight as you raked your nails over the exposed slivers of his skin on his hips, golden and delicious and you wanted it all. His thrusts slowly become more erratic and sloppy as he twitched in your mouth. His hand dropped from the back of your head as you took over and put a hand back on his shaft as you worked to finish him off. 

Soon enough he did, followed by an almost primal growl as he came, his hot, thick, cum coating your mouth and you eagerly swallowed all that he offered, which unsurprisingly, was a lot. As his breathing slowed down and he slowly came down from the rush of his high, you pulled back from him, looking up at him with innocent eyes and a wicked smile. You cleaned him off, but just as you went to wipe at your mouth, his gloved hand was faster and he collected the spit and cum that had spilled out and pushed it back into your mouth with two fingers. You grabbed his wrist and made a show of sucking his fingers clean, tasting him along with the worn leather of his gloves. 

“Good girl,” he praised before hoisting you to your feet, “strip.”

“What about you?” you turned your head to the side, but he shook his head in response. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was having second thoughts, but just quickly, he whipped off his gloves and tossed them onto the floor before putting a hand on your cheek and stroking it tenderly. You swallowed thickly before nodding and working to pull off your clothes. 

First was your shirt, tugging slowly over your chest and tossed down to join the gloves. Your arm went to your back as you tugged off your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders as an almost nervous breath escaped your lips. 

“Keep going,” he commanded, eyes trained slowly on you as he drank in the sight of you. You undid your own zipper and pulled your pants and panties down in one fluid motion before kicking them off along with your boots and socks. You’d never felt more vulnerable or exposed in that moment, wanting to cover up but also relishing in the fact that you seemed to have rendered the Mandalorian speechless. He looked you up down, not bothering to hide the fact as he looked at your form, glancing at your soft mound before your breasts and then landing back on your face.

Beckoning for you to come closer with a simple crook of his fingers, you did so, standing directly in front of him. His hand flitted from your cheek and down your body before resting at the apex of your thighs. You gasped lightly in surprise as he dragged his fingers through your soaked folds, coating them in your copious arousal, before chuckling darkly. A hand immediately went to his shoulder as you steadied yourself and tried not to completely lose it at the simple touch, “all of this for me, honey?”

“Mhmm,” you admitted as he gently rubbed over your clit, teasingly in the slowest, most tantalizing way possible. Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “always think about you. Always get so wet.”

He made a small, noncommittal sound as he pulled his fingers away from your wetness and brought them to your lips. He tapped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, sucked his fingers clean from your own arousal, “I’ve thought about fucking you too. That mouth, that pussy. You’re such a brat, but you drive me crazy.”

“I like when you get mad,” you said as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, “‘s sexy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice deeper and lower than ever before, and you felt your knees start to buckle at the sheer sex it exuded, He brought his large, warm hands to your tits, touching over your pebbled nipples as you bit back a moan. While you wished it his mouth on them instead, this touch was just as well, as he massaged them, trying to get a good feel of them and seeing what drew out those sweet mewls from you. But before you could enjoy it too much, one hand gripped your waist like a vice and the other went between your legs. He ran his thick fingers through your folds, before slowly inserting one into your wet heat. You moaned as he slowly inserted another and then a third, stuffing you full and already having you seeing stars in no time, “make yourself cum.”

“What?” your eyes snapped open as he stilled his actions, “you’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he popped the p loudly as he lightly teased your clit, eyes boring into yours, “you act like a brat and you want to cum? You have to work for it.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned as he moved to pull his hand away, as if to show you just how serious he was. This time, you caught his wrist and held him in place. He chuckled lightly in triumph as one of your hands returned to his shoulder for balance and the other went to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He held completely still, a practiced and patient man, as he made you work for it. He wasn’t kidding by any means when he said he would not be gentle. 

He remained quiet, watching your pretty face shift through a range of expressions as you worked to reach your own high. He was glad for the helmet, for if you had been watching him, you’d have seen the tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d envisioned this many times, no doubt about that, but he’d never thought it would become a reality. Maker, you were gorgeous as you thrust onto his hand using him for your own pleasure a string of gentle filth spilled from your lips as you rubbed slow circles onto your clit.

“Mandooo,” it was soft as you felt that familiar blinding haze start to take over you, and your toes involuntarily curled and your cunt started to clench around his fingers. Your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as your vision turned blurry and that familiar warmth started to spread all over your limbs. He felt his cock twitch from where he had tucked himself back in after you’d pleasured him. Before you could finish though, something different met your ears.

“Din,” he said as bit your lip in order to keep from crying out completely, “my name is Din.”

And there it was. Completely unexpected and out of the blue. It wasn’t just a name - no it was so much more than it. It was a sign of trust, of closeness, of the fact that whatever this little situation was, it was neither the first or only time something like this would happen. No, your story with Mando may have come to an abrupt end, but your relationship with Din was just beginning.

It was almost as his name, uttered softly and almost unsurely, was exactly what you needed to push you over the edge as you came around his fingers. A soft moan left your lips along with the sweetest sound he was sure he’d ever heard, “Din.”

A merciful man when he chose to be, he took over for you and worked you through your orgasm as you almost collapsed into his arms, “there you are pretty girl. You did so well, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Not enough,” you rested your against the soft cowl of his neck as he pulled his hand from you, but not before slapping your ass a few times, almost as if testing to see how far he could push you. You made a few sounds of delight at the sting, only spurring him on as he slapped and then gently needed the ample flesh of your backside, “please, need you to fuck me.”

“Is that what you need, pretty girl?” he purred in your ear as he pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, taking in the already blissed out expression on your features, “you want me to fuck you? Think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you were practically ready to beg at this point, “I’ve been wanting it for so long.”

At your words, he almost dragged you to the small bed that was reserved for you in the corner and motioned for you to sit. You watched with eager eyes as he scrambled for the waistband of his pants and hastily pulled them down and kicked them off, letting them join your discarded clothes. He practically ripped off the rest of the beskar until he was bared in front of you, save for the helmet. His cock was already painfully hard again, standing at attention and leaking fat drops of precum.

“Can I trust you?” he asked as you nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. You’d never questioned the fact that you’d never seen his face or that he apparently just never showed it to anyone. You respected him and his decisions, and you’d never dare to push the envelope or destroy his trust. 

“Always,” you promised as he walked over to the wall and hit the switch for lights, cloaking the room in darkness. You sucked in a breath before you heard him shuffling about and the beskar helmet clanged against the metal floor. He stood in front of you, you could feel his breathing as he touched your cheek before wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Hands and knees,” he instructed with a delicious rasp, made even better by the lack of filtering from the vocoder of his helmet, “now.”

The singular word was enough to send a fresh rush of arousal through your veins, as you laid on your belly on the small cot before positioning yourself so your ass was in the air. He shuffled behind you, his large hands grazing over the soft flesh of your ass. He spread your cheeks apart before dragging a thick finger through your soaked folds. A small sound of pleasure rippled through your throat as you clutched onto the thin, scratchy blanket of the bed, “please.”

“Quiet,” it was harsh and biting as  the palm of his hand slapped your ass, the sting delicious and leaving you wanting more, “you like that, don’t you? You like being spanked, pretty girl.”

“Only by y-y-you,” before you could say anything, he slapped your ass a few more times before kneading the soft flesh to make sure the sting wasn’t too painful. 

Mando - no, Din - shifted his weight and you could feel him line himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds. A moan escaped your lips - and his - as he slowly pushed into you, giving you a brief moment to adjust to his considerable size. The stretch was amazing, the slight burn quickly turned into pleasure and you felt full, so completely full. He groaned as he bottomed out, already feeling pussy dumb by the way your velvet walls hugged him, “this - kriff - this pussy is perfect. Just like it was made for me.”

“Din,” you buried your face in your pillow as he pulled out, slowly, before thrusting sharply back into you. He was not lying when he said that he would not be gentle. His large, warm hands went to your hips as he held them in a bruising grip. You were sure you’d bear his marks for days. 

He set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with no mercy as he slammed his hips into yours. There was nothing gentle or intimate about, no - this was months and months of pent up frustration and desire coming out all at once. Din was not a talkative man, but as he fucked you into oblivion, he was whispering strings of filth and praise into your ears. All you could do was lie there as he pounded into you, so lost in your own pleasure as you became a whining mess under him.

Before he came, his arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his chest. One large hand went to play with your breasts as the other went to your clit as he rubbed and circled at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth hung open in a blissful haze as he kept going, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your skin and shoulder, alternating between nipping and sucking and making sure to leave plenty of marks so everyone knew you were his. 

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he grunted in your ear, “taking my cock so well. You love this don’t you? Getting used like this.”

“Mhmm,” you bit your lip as he kept going, kept abusing your spent pussy as he started to stutter in his thrusts, “‘m so close, please, wanna come.”

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he commanded as you nodded, “and I’m going to fill you up and make sure you know who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” you insisted as you felt your walls clench around him and his cock start to twitch, “only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he turned your head to place a rough kiss on your lips. It was the sheer act of the moment and feel of his stubble that sent you over the edge and cumming all over him. You were like jello in his arms as he held you up, giving you a few more thrusts before spilling inside and coating your walls with his cum, “ahh - fuck - so fucking good. Maker, you feel like no other. Perfect pussy - just for me.”

He held you tightly against his body as he caught his breath, the two of you breathing in sync. You thought he might pull away immediately, but instead, he pressed more kisses, chaste compared to your previous actions, down your back as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. You couldn’t even form words as you laid there, cockdumb and already feeling his arousal along with your own dripping onto your thigh. 

“You did good,” he praised gently before reaching between your legs and scooping up some of his cum that had started dripping out. You whimpered at the touch, still sensitive, and listened as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

Din gently flipped you onto your back so you were lying face up and exposed to him. He sat between your legs and slowly spread them apart, admiring his handy work. He leaned back before climbing off the small and getting on his knees, pulling you towards his face. Just as you had gotten on your knees for him, he kneeled only for you. 

“Din,” you sighed contentedly as he kissed along your inner thighs, working his way back to your dripping heat. He nuzzled his nose against you, taking a moment to take it all in, “already so much."

"Come on, honey," his voice was like liquid gold as he reached up and touched your breasts, cupping them easily in his large hands, "you've got another one in you. I know you do. Aren't you a good girl?"

"Mhmm," you arched into his touch as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. How this infuriating man got you to become a pile of mush in his hands you'd never know, but you definitely weren't going to question it. He leaned up and kissed your hips before burying his face between your legs, "I'm your good girl."

And with those words, he licked a long stripe up your soaked folds, still soaked from your combined juices. His nose, which you presumed was aquiline in nature, nudged your clit as he ate you like a starving man. You were the shining prize, glimmering in the distance, and he was the wrecked man crossing the desert to get to you.

This time you didn't even bother to hold back as you mewled and cried, tears of pleasure and overstimulation welling up at the corners of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks. Din hummed in content as he licked and suckled at you, making sure to focus on your clit as you came completely undone.

Reaching down, you carded a hand through his locks - curls - as you pressed his face against your aching core. You could practically feel him smirking against you as he slipped a few fingers inside to join his ministrations. Expertly curling his thick fingers, he quickly found the sweet spot that made your toes curls and you see stars.

"Almost there," he grinned as he gave you a moment of reprieve before diving right back in, "I can feel that perfect cunt squeezing around me. Taste so good, pretty girl."

"D-Din," his name falling from your tongue was like pure magic as he became transfixed by how it sounded. Your mouth dropped open in a small O as your legs shook around him. He pulled his fingers from you as he held down your hips in order to keep you from squirming away from him, "feelssogood - makerohstars - Dindindin."

"Come all over my face, pretty girl," his tongue darted into you for a few moments before he gave your clit a harsh suckle. That was all it took before you came again, screwing your eyes shut as he worked your through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your juices, refusing to waste even a drop, "there you are - taste so fucking good. Perfect."

He was relentless until he was sure you were completely done and a practical ragdoll on the bed. Slowly, he pulled back from you, trailing light kisses up your body, stopping when he got your face. Almost as if he was able to see even in the almost complete darkness, he wiped away your remaining tears. He hesitated for a moment for leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed softly as you rolled onto your side and scooted closer to the wall, making room for him. 

It was a big thing you were doing, boundaries had been crossed and blurred and any rules you'd previously had were thrown out the window. Neither of you were sure what came next.

But you did know that you didn't want him to leave - not yet anyway.

"Din?" you asked softly as he pulled the blanket over your spent body; he was surprisingly gentle for a man that had just sent you to heaven and hell and back. 

"Yes, pretty girl?" 

"Will you stay?" your voice was small as you prepared yourself for defeat and for him to leave.

"Yes," he whispered softly as he slid in under the blanket and next to you, "I'd like that."

"Me too," you admitted as he shifted and pulled you in his arms so you could lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart, "Din?"

“Hmm?”

"I'm in charge next time," you smirked lightly as you kissed his soft skin. He inhaled sharply but you could tell he was into it. The man might have just been in charge, but you had a feeling he might like being told what to do as well - and you were going to find out, "I want to ride you."

"Kriff," he groaned under his breath, "You're going to be the death of me, little brat."

"I'll make it worth your while," you promised with a small yawn, "I'll have you crying in no time - begging me for mercy."

“Mhmm.”

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” it was your turn to put your hand on his throat and give it a gentle, but firm squeeze as he stiffened at the feeling, “I know you’re a good boy, Din.”

“Fuck.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog  @sheridans-dynamos  @queenbbarnes  @persephonesnebula   @ah-callie  @blushingwueen  @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander  @rae-gar-targaryen    @hiscyarika  @readsalot73  @huliabitch  @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd  @beepbeepsephy   @scarlettwitcher  @nerdyknightwritersblog  @choicesarcade  @arrowswithwifi  @everythingaboutnothingstuff  @suckerfor-fanfics  @bestintheparsec @winters-buck @javihoney  @aeryntheofficial  @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial  @asgardianvamp21  @keithseabrook27  @karmezii  @dearspacepirates  @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou  @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @kochamcie @lv7867 @artsymaddie @gooddaykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @heyitmelexie @criminalmind1927 @justanotherblonde23 @coni-martina​ @thewayofthemandalorian

[rein4r1]

I’m Getting You Out

Warning/s: Familial Abuse, Implied Depression, Sex, Not proofread

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Pairing: [MODERN AU] Eren x F!Reader

AN: I’m still practicing on writing smut I promise. English isn’y my first language so...

Eren promises to get you out of that f*cking hellhole

Statistics are numerical figures resulting from research. And statistics show that one in seven children are exposed to abuse at home.

To become a part of a whole is to be subjected in a fractional value in a case of one of many. Just another victim. Just another unfortunate case.

You have wished for nothing more but to be treated as a person, a human being. Society should have spared people like you from becoming into something inanimate. When at home, you are nothing but an object of captivity, breed to become an investment in a capitalistic dystopia.

You grew up feeling nothing but a bruised porcelain doll. They used you, in many ways you couldn’t even count. From being treated as their personal punching bag, to an insurance that is meant to project the contradicting state inside of your home whenever you face your parents’ friends.

Every moment you make is monitored by invisible cameras. That’s why they say the walls have ears, and the ceiling have eyes. Do you even get to decide for yourself? Everything you do has been regulated to their ideals. “It’s because we love you.”

You are nothing but a dumbed down version of a golden child. Used as a puppet, nothing more and nothing less. They do it because they love you. And you believe it.

You have never prayed for anything, God is nothing but a being who abandoned you. But for once in your life, you have never wished for something, and its in a form of a young handsome boy named Eren Jaeger.

The irony of wishing someone you once hated. You hated him at some point, but only because you know what he said about your family is true. That “your family is nothing but leeching bastards who even sucked their child dry.”

Deep down, Eren’s straightforward comment haunted you. And hearing it from someone so transparent, made you anxious. You needed to hear it, but the creeping anxiety says otherwise.

And because you blame yourself for being like this, you hated Eren Jaeger.

Eren was wrong, for saying it straight of the bat. He even got Armin to hit him for saying something overwhelming.

He was wrong for saying it right out of the blue, but what he said is nothing but the unequivocal truth.

He knows your parents, leechers of society. Leeching of his wealthy father. He hated them, but not as much as you do.

He saw you in the winter of his sophomore year in university. There you stood like a statue, with restrained movements. He wanted to hate you too, but seeing that you’re your parents worst victim. Made him see them as devils.

He didn’t pity you, Eren and freedom are one. He believed that you should be free of the cage that reduced you into your parents’ slave. He knows you have your wings, and you can fly. You just need help.

He talked to his therapist once, about a bird with their claws tied. He knows that the only way for the bird to fly is if they used its wings, but he wants to help it destroy its cage.

So he did, the moment Eren decides to become your friend, you felt there was something wrong. Something wrong in the status quo. Like a change in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t sudden per say, but there is a shift. And you don’t mind it.

Having Eren is like finding comfort in a state of distress, it felt like breathing fresh air in an area saturated with pollution. For you once in your life, you get to feel what freedom is all about. That you get to be unorthodox in a way your parents wouldn’t imagine.

And maybe that’s how you fell in love with him. As much as you believe that God should beg for your forgiveness, you begged him to let you be with the person you love.

The attraction wasn’t one-sided. That the more Eren spent time with you, he gets to be with the you that the universe failed to see. The you who made the mundane things in life enjoyable. The you who’s eyes light up in watching every studio ghibli film. The you who is Eren’s girl. His girl.

You have sought his heart and he is willingly giving you every piece of vulnerability. Because you are the girl that the Eren Jaeger loves.

And now he gets to say it, confessing your love under an oak tree in campus. And he gets to say it to you, whisper it to you in the secluded corner of the library where you get to share kisses in secret.

And he gets to say it out of the blue, when you order your coffee and you ask for his. “Baby, I love you so much.” And every letter and every word never fails to trigger the butterflies.

And he gets to say it with you at night, whenever he sneaks into your room. His touch claiming every piece of your skin. His kisses traveling all over your body. And when he’s deep inside you, he whispers his love to you.

“I love you baby, God I- Fucking love you. Feel so good around me.”

“You’re so- so good to me baby f-fuck.”

And you’re beautiful like this, getting lost in the pleasure he gives you. “Baby please cum for me- baby please.” And you do, he fills you of him straight after, marking you as his with his cum.

You’re his, and he’s yours. Such simplicity in complexity.

Eren is no good person, he knows he would kill for you, set the world in flames for you. But as much as he wants to fall into his instinct, he respects you so much, that he has become your loyal servant. Ready to go to war for you.

That’s why every time he consoles your crying figuring, reasons of what they had done to you, again. Everything turned red, the word “fight” repeating in his head again and again until you begged him to just take you into his arms, and fuck you until you forget the horrors of in the form of the people who gave birth to you.

But on this particular moment, something was off. Seeing the bruises on your skin has completely set him off. God forbids he sees your parents, because he will become a criminal you’ll hate.

But you don’t want him to kill for you, because killing means he’ll be dragged away into some worn down prison, and you fear for him. But you fear for losing him the most.

He place his hands on your cheeks wiling away the tears that continue to betray your godly eyes.

“I promise to get you out of there baby fuck- I PROMISE” And he embraced you once more, because this time he’ll forcefully open the cages to your prison.

He kept his promise, because two days after that, you left everything behind. Destroyed all your photos that tells of your life in this hell. They don’t get to remember who you are. They don’t deserve that.

And from that day, the bird flew with its wings. Claiming back its freedom and happiness. Now with the person you love.

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

[maemelany]

Fixing the Broken (Part 1)

Part 1 

Summary:

People say that time heals all wounds. In your case, time made it worst.

You’ve been married to Chris for five years, but his absence spoke louder than his words. After 5 years of trying, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough, and you left him. But Chris doesn’t want to let you go; he doesn’t want to give up on your marriage.

Would he be able to fix what you consider irretrievably broken?

Warning : None

Word count: 1.2k +

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Author’s note: Here’s the first part! I needed to set the scene, but I promise you a lot of angst in the next chapter!

Prologue, Part 2 

Masterlist  

Denial is the worst kind of lie... because it is the lie you tell yourself.

- Michelle A. Homme

Usually, the first thing Chris does when he comes home is searching for you. Since you work from home, he usually finds you in the study. But tonight, Chris was so tired that he didn’t even notice the house’s deafening silence. He didn’t notice that your room is in perfect order, which was never the case. He didn’t see your many skincare products are missing from your bathroom when he goes to wash his face.

After two extreme months filming his new movie, Chris only wants one thing, sleeping in his own bed.

It’s the sun that waked him up the following day. That’s the first thing that confuses him. You hate sleeping with the curtains opened. Chris even remembers a night you spent together in Paris. He rented a hotel room with a view of the Eifel Tower, but you closed the curtains as soon as you were ready to go to bed. He explained that it would be amazing to see the Eifel Tower with the sun rising, but you didn’t care. It was unthinkable for you to sleep with opened curtains; you felt too exposed.

Chris smiled at that thought. He reached out to your side of the bed, but it’s empty. The clock on his side of the bed signals 9 AM. That was the second sign that something odd was happening. You were not a morning person. Chris always teased you about that. If it was up to you, you would stay in bed until noon. You were most productive after 8PM. That’s why he didn’t overthink it when everything was dark yesterday. He knew you and how focused you tend to be when you were closed to a deadline.

The last thing that made me tick was the fact that Dodger was nowhere to be found. Usually, he would be staring at him, waiting patiently for Chris to wake up. It wasn’t the case today. Chris was alone in the big bed, without his wife and his dog.

Then he remembered you texting him that Dodger would be staying with his sister and the kids. It made sense. When you were under stress, you always feared that Dodger would feel alone or that you would not be attentive enough to his needs. Deep down, he knew you were overthinking it. You loved Dodger, maybe even more than he did, but he understood your need to be safe. That was one of the first things that attracted him to you. You felt safe; you felt like home.

He took a quick shower, deciding that it was time for Dodger to come home. When he went downstairs after his shower, the house was still lifeless.

“Y/N ?” Chris shouted, trying to find you

You weren’t in your study, which again made him raise an eyebrow because of how organized the place was. Chris loved you more than anything, and you had a lot of qualities, maybe too many for your own good, but organized was not one of them. You always described your office as an organized mess necessary for your imagination.

Today the study was pristine. The brown oak desk was spotless, with not even one paper out of place.

Chris was now beyond confused. Something was wrong. Maybe you had writer’s block. It had to be it. He didn’t have time to think too much about it because his sister texted him that he could come and get Dodger now.

He would ask you the questions later. He was even sure that seeing Dodger would cheer you up.

“Uncle Chris!” Stella screamed as soon as she saw Chris

“Are you Stella?” Chris Jokes before lifting you up. “Who is this grownup, and what have you down with my tiny niece Stella?”

Stella laughed. “It’s me, Uncle Chris!”

Chris lifted her down and greeted his nephews. Dodger began to bark as soon as he saw Chris entering the room. He was frenetic, making sounds that made the whole family laugh.

“I know Dodge’, I know,” Chris said, accepting the leaking and the barking.

“How are you?” Carly asked him when the euphory had passed, and everybody had a chance to greet Chris.

Chris knew his sister, and the expression on her face meant something was wrong.

“I’m good. Tired, but I’m okay,” Chris answered.

“Do you…” Started but got interrupted by Scott

“Look who we have here, a ghost from Hollywood!” Scott said before hugging his brother

“You’re not funny Scott, you should really stop trying” Chris joked.

After the children came and ask Scott to help them do something only Scott would accept to do, Chris turned back to his sister.

“You were about to say something”

Carly smiled. A smile that looked somehow sad. “We can talk about it later, or whenever you’re ready”

Chris frowned, confused. He didn’t know what his sister was talking about. He was too happy to be with his niece and nephews to think too much about it.

It was later that day, when they were ready to eat, that everything started to unravel.

“I made your favorite,” Carly said, referring to the dish in her hand.

Chris smiled. “As tempting as it is, I have to decline. Y/N is surely waiting for me to eat too”

Now that he was thinking about it, he surprised him that you hadn’t been calling. He’d been at Carly’s for hours now. He confirmed what he was thinking, you had to be focused on your work, so much that you weren’t even thinking about eating.

“Maybe I should bring some home. Knowing Y/N, she’s still working” Chris added.

Carly looked at Scott with the same worried look she had the whole day.

“What? What’s going on, Carly?” Chris asked

For some reason, his heart started to beat quicker. It was as if he knew something was wrong from the beginning but refused to admit it to himself.

“Carly, tell me what’s wrong”

“Chris… when was the last time you talked to Y/N?” Scott finally said

Chris frowned. “Hmm, a few days ago… I mean… the last week of filming was crazy, but I texted her… I …”

Chris stopped when he realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had his wife on the phone.

“She texted me… she told me Dodger was with you”

“Chris… Dodger has been here for two weeks now” Carly whispered.

Chris didn’t know what to say. He needed to sit down. Chris didn’t understand what Carly and Scott were trying to tell him. He didn’t want to understand.

“I need to go home. Y/N, I haven’t seen her since…”

And then it hit him. He hadn’t seen you; he hadn’t seen you at all since he came home. He didn’t see you yesterday, and he didn’t see you this morning.

It hit him. It wasn’t that he didn’t see you; you weren’t there at all. You weren’t too busy yesterday when he came back, you didn’t suddenly become a morning person, you weren’t in another room when your office was empty. You simply weren’t there.

Chris fell down, the gravity of the situation punching him in the stomach. “Oh my God,” he murmured.

Carly sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Chris… she left”

Chris closed his eyes, the word echoing in his head again and again. Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but hearing it, it hit different.

He sat there in silence with his sister and brother by his side, not saying a word. There weren’t words to be said anyway.

His wife, his love, Y/N, she left him.

[thestarrynightslover]

Babe, huh?

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Voight!Reader

Word count: 2,097

Warnings: A little angst (but more in a comical way, I think).

Summary: Jay and the reader have been going out for some time when he spots her happily chatting with Sergeant Platt at the district's front desk. He's happily surprised to see her there, but there's one thing she had been holding back from telling him: who her dad is.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: I think that this could have turned out a lot better than it did. But I think it isn't too bad either.

Also, I wanna thank y’all for the amount support that I’ve been getting on my fics! That really means the world to me, guys!! 💕

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

It was an unusually sunny day in Chicago when you left work that noon. You didn’t always go out on your lunch breaks, preferring to just grab something on the machines scattered across the office, but on that Wednesday you’d told your dad that you two would meet for a father-daughter date. And that really was all you were thinking about, as you walked up the steps of the small staircase in front of the 21st District.

“Hey, Trudy!” You greeted the desk sergeant, who had been a friend of your family for as long as you could remember.

“Hi, (y/n/n)! What a surprise to see you here!” She told you, a huge smile on her face. “A nice surprise, for a change!” Platt stated, looking sharply at a younger woman who was standing at the corner of the counter, probably filling out some paperwork.

“Ah, Trudy! You flatter me!” You said innocently, looking at her through your lashes, the face you always used with the trio: Your dad, Trudy, and Al.

“Ha! Always so cute!” The sergeant spoke again, like she was talking to a baby, as the other woman just stared at the scene in shock. “But what are you doing here, anyway? Came to surprise your dad? Because I’m sure he’ll love that!”

“No, it’s not exactly a surprise! We’d previously agreed on a lunch-date for today...” You trailed off.

“Oh! Then that’s why he came back from the raid they just made pacing like a deer in headlights!” Hearing that comment, you couldn’t help but laugh, as you imagined your father acting like that. “Hey, Burgess!” She shouted at the woman near to you. “Are you finishing that already? Because, when you do, you need to go back upstairs and let your sergeant know that his date’s here.” Trudy said simply, winking at you, to which you just responded with a smile.

“Oh, c’mon, sarge! Really? Why can’t you just call or text him?” The woman, Burgess, questioned, poutingly.

“Because I don’t want to? And tell me, again, since when did I start needing to give you a reason to follow my orders, huh, officer? Because I don’t recall getting the memo!” The sergeant barked, practically biting the younger officer’s head off.

“Geez, sarge-” Officer Burgess started answering, as reality finally began to hit her. “Wait,” she breathed out, turning to face you this time, “you’re Voight’s dau-” Burgess stopped in the middle of her sentence, now being cut off by another voice that was very familiar to you.

“Baby?” Shit, you thought. “What are you doing here?” Your boyfriend asked you, with a bright smile on his face.

How could have you possibly forgotten that Jay worked here? At your dad’s district? Of course, you still hoped that they somehow wouldn’t know each other. But you weren’t prepared for that introduction just yet. And it would happen, taking that he wasn’t shy at all about kissing you that passionately right in front of Trudy Platt. One of your dad’s best friends, Trudy Platt. You knew you couldn’t blame him, though. After all, you were the one who kept him in the dark about who your dad was.

“H- hi, Jay.” You managed to mumble whilst catching your breath.

“Hey,” he started, giving you those cute love eyes of his, “I’m surprised to see you here, but not complaining!” He said, raising his hands and smiling at you. “You wanna grab lunch?”

“Uh, I, uh-”

“I’m afraid she’s already taken for lunch, Halstead.” None other than your dad huffed out, from the top of Intelligence’s stairs. Of course, he would have to see that entire scene, and, of course, he would have to know your boyfriend.

Hearing that, Jay turned his head between you and your dad, and, then, looked at Trudy and Burgess, more confused than anything. “Babe?” He decided on asking you about it. To which your dad just gave a side-smile.

“Babe, huh?” He mocked, walking closer to where you were standing. “Something you wanna tell me, honey?”

“I-” You barely started when someone interrupted.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re shacking up with him, (y/n)?!?!?” Trudy cut you off, half-asking, half-begging while you started feeling the heat coming to your cheeks.

"So, (y/n), you gonna explain this? We're all here waiting." Your father told you, no more sense of humor in his features.

"Look, guys… " You started, not really knowing how to move from there. You didn't think you'd have to have the conversations with both your father and your boyfriend at the same time, and in front of Trudy (not to mention the other cops passing by). So you went for the easy way out, maybe it was a bit of a childish choice, but still. "You know what? No, I'm not gonna explain anything to anyone right now," you spoke, making clear that that was meant for all of them, "and, I don’t think that I’m in the mood for lunch anymore, dad." At that, the three cops just kept staring at you, Jay being the first to speak up.

"Uh, dad? (y/n), baby, just tell me what's going on." He pleaded with you, eyes already showing some hurt, which made you feel like the worst person ever. But you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to properly explain anything to anyone at that moment, not in that kind of circumstance anyway, so you decided to get the hell out of there before you buried yourself even deeper.

After you fleed the building, leaving a bunch of stunned police officers behind, Trudy took it upon herself to figure out why on Earth you’d be kissing the stupid Detective Jay Chuckles Halstead: “So, how’s it gonna be, Halstead? Why the hell were you kissing our (y/n/n), hum?” She asked, bluntly, while motioning between herself and Hank.

“Your (y/n/n)?” Jay shot back, completely confused by the whole situation.

“Actually, she’s mine. My daughter.” Voight finally spoke again, fulminating the younger man with his eyes.

“Okay… I think this is my cue to leave." Burgess finally decided to say 𑁋 as she was feeling very awkward 𑁋, sliding off towards the back exit.

“Uh, yeah, um, I’m gonna- I’m gonna go, grab some lunch outside too.” Jay ranted a little, running his hand over the back of his neck and moving towards the exit, right on Kim’s track.

The rest of the day went by tensely at the police district: Jay avoiding both his superiors, as you ducked his calls, and Hank and Trudy sending almost tangible hate waves on his way. It wasn’t like your time at work gone too well either, with the mess you’d made always in the back of your mind.

So 𑁋 after you got back home 𑁋, knowing it was the right, mature, thing to do, you called Jay and, then, your dad, telling them both to come by your place for dinner. Yes, you were about to ambush them. Because you’re a mature person.

“Hey, babe!” You cheerfully greeted your boyfriend, perking up to kiss him, as you opened the apartment door more.

“Hey.” Jay answered coldly while dodging your kiss, at which you frowned in confusion.

“So, um,” you decided to start again, tucking a string of hair behind your ear, “I called you here because I needed to talk to you-”

“Yeah, we definitely need to talk.” He said, cutting you off with a stern look on his face.

At the exact moment you were about to open your mouth to say something, the doorbell rang again and you knew it was your dad. Okay, maybe that whole ambush thing wasn’t a good idea after all. You gave Jay an apologetic look in advance, as you walked back towards the door, only to open it and reveal a, still, very pissed off Hank Voight.

“What’s he doing here?” Your dad barked out, not wasting a second, as he pointed a finger at the man standing behind you.

“You called him too?” This time it was Jay asking. “I thought it was gonna be just the two of us…” He then added quietly.

“Just the two of us! Who the hell do you think you are, huh, Halstead?!”

“Sarge, I’m just trying to-”

“I don’t care what you’re trying to do, you need to get out of here right now so I can talk to my daughter. That’s what you need to do!”

“Enough!” You yelled, finally getting both men’s attention. “Dad, you need to stop talking to Jay like that.”

“But-”

“But, nothing! He is my boyfriend and I love him!” You blurted out, Jay giving you a small smile in response. “So… Now that that’s out of the way… Jay, this is my dad.” You added, motioning for where your father stood by the door. “And, before any of you asks, no, I didn’t know that you two worked together! I thought that maybe you knew each other, but wasn’t ready to make the introductions just yet. And I’m sorry if that caused a, um, situation.”

“Baby… Why didn’t you ever tell me that your father was a cop?”

“I- I just, I was just afraid that’d push you away from me. You know, before we even had a chance.” You admitted shyly.

“Why- why would that push him away from you, (y/n/n)?” That was your dad’s turn to ask.

“Well, I know that you have a reputation, dad. So I figured that maybe he wouldn’t wanna get involved with your daughter of all people. Wouldn’t want the trouble.” You confessed one more time. “Besides, we all saw how, um, fiercely Trudy was willing to “protect me”.” You added, making them both giggle a little.

“Alright, there’s just one more thing that still doesn’t add up.” Your boyfriend started again, still serious but more relaxed this time. “Why isn’t your last name Voight?” He asked, still unsure of what was going on, as you and your dad traded knowing looks with each other.

“Ah, that... After my mom died, I started using her maiden last name. You know, as a way to remember her. It’s been so long now that I actually forget that the Voight’s even there.” You explained. “Sorry, dad.”

“Nah, it’s okay. You know I like the idea.” Hank replied, a soft smile on his lips.

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” Jay said nervously and started scratching the back of his neck, like he always did when he was getting anxious. “Just- just so you know, princess, I wouldn’t have backed out of our relationship, then. And I’m not going to, now, either.” The anger in your father’s eyes relit but you didn’t really care, not when all you wanted to do was jump your handsome detective and not let him out of your apartment until, at least, the next morning.

“Dad,” you began saying, after deciding to go for a more conciliatory version of it, “don’t be like that, okay? I know that you wanna protect me and everything, but I’m happy with Jay. I really am.”

“And I promise I’ll never, ever, do anything to hurt her, sarge. But, if I do, you should definitely hurt me back with all you got.”

“Oh, I will! And I think you’ve been working with me long enough to know that I don’t need your ‘go ahead’, or anyone else’s, for those matters, Halstead.” Your dad cheerfully stated while shooting a typical Hank Voight fake smile in Jay’s direction. “Now, if my daughter says she’s happy with you…” He started, turning to look at you, as if trying to confirm the information.

“Yes! I am!”

“Then… I suppose I could accept this.” You didn’t give him a single chance to second guess, pulling him in for a tight hug while Jay watched the scene smiling.

“Now let's have dinner! That way you guys can finish talking this whole macho tension out and we can all make a plan to appease Trudy." You told them, moving to heat the takeout you’d ordered earlier in your kitchen, Jay coming to help you in tow.

Many other times you, Jay, and your dad met for dinner, lunch, or even breakfast like that. If you and your boyfriend ever went a little overboard on the PDA, the infamous Hank Voight huff would definitely be heard. But, overall, you knew he was happy for you and Jay. Just like you knew that the detective liked hanging out with you and your dad.