#yes I read chapter 22

[acourtofquestions]

Wtf I thought Rowan was fae NOT a vampire?🤣

[goldeunoias]

Favorite Student.

WARNINGS: YES THIS IS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT FUCKING IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT DON'T READ IT. both of yall are adults i think like 22 and 28 or something like that so it's not like the worst of the worst but yes. there are power dynamics blah blah, sunghoon is massive pervert, ITS ALL FICTION YALL

um includes....perverted sunghoon, eating out, teasing, pet names, sex in an office, fingering, it's me so ya know

Synopsis: A class you'd hated, but a professor you'd always admired...

A/N: DAISY BACKKKKK

SUNGHOON STANS ARE THE BESTTTTT at writing and giving me anons and feedback and comments and reblogs which is why I will always spoil them bc they treat me the best <333. next fic is a heeseung one sooo if you want more heeseung content make sure to give that one as much love too when it comes out!

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He was the meanest professor around, bar none.

But in your current predicament, he was the only professor left for the class you needed to take, unless you wanted to wait and thus delay your graduation by a whole semester.

That's how you found yourself standing outside his office, swinging back and forth on your heels, trying to get the courage to go in and ask him for help on the chapter that seemed like no one in your class was getting, you included.

"What are you doing standing outside my office?"

At the sound of his voice you jumped and turned around, heart racing in your ears as you tried to give him some eye contact; ultimately failing miserably.

"U-Um, I needed help with chapter 14 in the textbook and no one in my section really got it either so I figured I'd stop by-"

"Did you look at the lecture notes?"

"Y-yes sir."

"The supplemental videos?"

You nodded again.

Dr. Park sighed and moved past you to unlock his office door, letting the door swing shut past you as you walked in. The vibes of his room was austere to say the least and you couldn't tell if anyone had ever sat in the chair across from him given how spotless and un-creased it was.

Well, first time for everything.

"So what are you needing help with? Do you have any notes or something?"

"U-uh yes sir, give me a sec," you stuttered out as you fidgeted with your bag to pull out your laptop, showing him all that you had done.

He leaned on his side of the thick oak desk so he could get a closer look at what you had done, the closer proximity causing cologne you could only surmise to be expensive filling your nose. You fidgeted in your seat and moved some to lower your skirt as it rode up, trying to think of something to fill the awkward silence as he scrolled through what you had done.

Luckily, he beat you to it.

"Well, it's not the worst thing I've seen." He sighed, taking off his glasses and pointing to your screen. "You still aren't understanding the basic concepts of this chapter yet and it's reflecting in your notes. You see this summary outline you wrote here is-"

Your eyes absentmindedly drifted to his alabaster forearms that were shown from the rolled up sleeves of his button up, thick large hands scrolling on your keyboard. His jaw and nose were sharp too and from the closeness you could make out his dark lashes, usually hidden by the thick framed glasses he wore.....

You were jolted out of your thoughts when he snapped his fingers in front of your face, eyebrows knitted in annoyance at you wasting his time by daydreaming.

"If you're going to come to my office I would think you'd listen to what I have to say," Sunghoon said through a clucked tongue.

You looked down and immediately apologized profusely, feeling tears well in your eyes. You weren't the best with scolding you never had been, but to have someone who was already not in the best of moods have it become worse because of you only made you more sensitive.

He looked at you from across the desk, a grown girl with mannerisms like that of a meek fawn.

A prey.

You swallowed thickly as he stood up and leaned over the desk, strands of mahogany hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you.

"Hey hey, don't cry, we'll work through it together mmkay? You're a smart girl aren't you?"

It was a voice you'd never heard him use on anyone, and it made the hairs on your neck stand up and your legs squirm as he held your chin.

"I'm sorry it's just this is one of my final classes I need to graduate and everything is hard and I don't want to waste your time-"

"Aw, princess don't stress, don't stress," he cooed. The sweet and gentle tone of his voice was causing you to melt into his touch, wondering how someone who usually only spoke in stern curt sentences could produce such sounds.

You couldn't stop bouncing your legs and squirming in your seat as his fingertips stroked the underside of your chin softly, making soft shushes and coos at you to calm your nerves.

Fuck, he wanted to ruin you.

But he had to wait for you to make the move. He was in the precarious position and even though he could see in your gaze that you were begging for it, you were going to have to show him.

A little teasing should do the trick.

"Here, we have some time before the next test don't we? Start coming by my office everyday and we can work through this unit together so you won't have to worry alright" he offered up, sitting back down in his office chair with a soft smile on his face.

You sniffled and nodded at the premise before rushing out a plethora of "thank you"s to him, unable to stop the tingling on your chin from where he had touched you as he left........

_________________________________

"Here sweetheart move your chair over to my side of the desk so you can get a better look at my screen," he offered up, moving his chair over some to make some room.

"O-okay sure," you agreed, the name "sweetheart" ringing throughout your head. Had he always used that nickname for you? Or was he just using it as a coverup for forgetting your name? Whatever the reason, your mind was spinning in circles at the gentle way he said it.

“Cmon, you can come a little closer than that, I don’t bite ya know”, he hummed, pulling your chair closer to his. You nodded because you didn’t trust your voice and your mind couldn’t stop wandering to how large his hands looked as he pointed out errors in the extra assignments he’d given you, talking you softly through each one.

"Does that make sense?" he inquired gently, placing his head on your thigh and squeezing it. The contact made you jolt in your skin and you gulped before profusely nodding, truly able to grasp just how large his hands were as they sat on your plush thigh.

"Good girl, see you had no reason to be so worried, your work is been improving exponentially".

"T-thank you sir. I have to go to my next class now...." you trailed off awkwardly, fidgeting in your seat.

He smiled and stood up, waiting for you to do the same before escorting you to his door.

"Of course. Same time tomorrow?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, scurrying out of his office. You made a b-line to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face, wondering if there was anything that gave away just how flustered you truly were in his proximity.

How can someone be so cute? Sunghoon hummed to himself as he sat at his desk, fiddling with his pen. His own hand still buzzed with excitement at how soft and warm your thigh was, and his mind couldn't help but trail further down a rabbit hole.

For the next month it seemed Sunghoon had only gotten friendlier and friendlier: you found out that he had a dog which he adored and would bring to the office if he was allowed to, that he had a younger sister, used to compete in sports (which you could attribute to his frame), and really liked fashion.

All the while, Sungoon used every opportunity to get you used to his touch; the stroking of your ear during one session, the soft touch of your shoulder the next. Every time you'd jolt before absentmindedly melting into it, and before you knew it you find yourself craving his touch.

You didn't dare your friends or anyone around you of your extra tutoring sessions, or that his hands were somehow find themself on yours. Surely you should be disgusted at yourself instead of electrified by the touches he leaves on you right?

But those thoughts would always disappear every time you walked into his office.

"So sorry I'm late!" you rushed out as you stepped into his office, panting from having sprinted up the stairs to get here.

Sunghoon looked up from the papers at his desk and smiled, flickering his head to come sit down.

"It's okay sweetheart don't worry," he hummed, trying to pull his eyes away from the sheen the shone on your neck.

"I've been so frazzled lately I hope you're not too mad at me being late," you rushed out, practically stumbling over to sit down in your chair.

He hummed and stared at your plush thighs that clung to the leather of the chair and watched as you shifted to prevent them sticking, getting flustered when you saw he was watching you.

"Sorry, I'm a bit sticky it's a bit warm outside, s-should I just stand instead?" you offered up quickly, standing up and fixing your sundress.

"Why don't you sit on my desk instead then? Here let me move these papers out of you way-"

"W-won't I get the desk dirty since I'm all sweaty" you interjected, heart racing as he cleared his desk off for you, making space so you'd have no choice but to sit right in front of his chair.

"Don't worry about it, now be a good girl and come sit," he cooed, giving you eyes that almost dared you to disobey him. Quickly you went over and sat on his desk, swallowing thickly when Sunghoon began massaging your calves as he removed your shoes.

"Poor baby rushed over to our tutoring session, your legs must be exhausted and aching," he soothed, tender hands working into the soft flesh of your skin.

"Only s-slightly, it's fine I"m used to it," you excused, squirming as Sunghoon leaned closer to your skin. "Is this something a professor should be um...doing, I mean I know we've gotten close b-but.." you trailed off, yelping when Sunghoon dragged his lips against your knee.

"Then tell me to stop kitten," he taunted, kissing the inner of your thighs as he slid off your other shoe, looking up at you through framed lenses.

"You're not stupid baby, your test grades prove that well enough. Surely you kept coming to our lessons hoping it'd end up like this," he continued, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he pulled you closer against his face.

"I...I don't know," was all you could muster out, toes curling as he softly kissed your inner thighs. Sunghoon chuckled under his breath and stood up, pushing you down onto his desk as he took of his glasses.

The air was knocked out of you for a second as you lay splayed on the desk, the cool hardwood being a stark contrast to your sticky skin.

“It’s okay baby,” he leaned in, licking the sweat from your neck. “It’s okay to say you like doing perverted things with me. Go on, tell your professor how much you like it”, he cooed, rubbing your puffy clit with his thumb.

You whined as felt something tightening in your tummy, mustering up the courage to speak.

“I-I like it”, you choked out, your toes curling in your tube socks as you started to feel how thick his fingers really were.

“Awww, give me more than that yeah? Tell me exactly what you like.” He couldn’t help himself. He wanted you to profess all types of profanities through hazy eyes and shaky legs, for you to beg to be ruined and defiled by him.

“I like..doing perverted things with you.” You felt your face burn as you stumbled your way through the sentence, rutting your hips into a feeling that only got tighter.

“Aw you do? Well in that case let me teach my princess all the perverted things we can do together..." he trailed off, squeezing the side of your thighs.

"Good girl~, such a good girl~" Sunghoon cooed, lifting up the hem of your sundress. "Cute panties," he drawled as his index finger slid down the slit, pressing against the sticky wet patch. "Mind if I keep them?"

You couldn't help but buck your hips into the feeling as you nodded without a second thought, your nails digging into the gloss furnish of his desk.

"Sweetheart you shouldn't agree to everything I say," he spoke, cupping your heat in his hand and massaging it. You gripped onto his shoulders instead and whimpered into his chest as you felt trickles of wetness soak your cotton underwear, meak "I'm sorry"s leaving you.

"It's okay, it's okay, don't apologize. It's just," he moved the hair covering your ear with his mouth before kissing against it, letting out deep groans as he rutted himself against you.

"there are some bad people out there, waiting to take advantage of pretty young girls like you. Are you going to spread your legs for everyone?"

"No, it's j-just because it's...you," you whimpered against his chest.

Sunghoon sucked air through his teeth as his self control unraveled at the seams.

"Because it's me?" he inquired, kneeling down so he was eye-level with your soaked core, messing with the hem of your panties.

"Wait Ihaven'tshoweredso-" your legs shook around his head as his tongue pressed against the soaked wet patch of your underwear, groaning at the taste that trickled onto his tongue.

"Is that why you taste and smell so sweet princess?" He groaned, pulling your underwear down without a second thought to expose yourself barren to him, his cock twitching in his pants at how sticky you already were.

"Here hold my hand sweetheart, squeeze it as hard as you like," he cooed as he offered up his free hand to you. You obliged immediately and squeezed his digits as his other free hand rubbed softly against your swollen clit, leaving light kisses on the puffy bud.

You let out meek "I'm sorry"s as your nails dug into the alabaster skin of his hand, struggling to keep yourself still as you felt the warmth of his lips wrap around your clit before sucking softly.

"It's okay princess, just sink into the feeling, I'm going to make you feel so so good," he groaned between your legs. You nodded and felt your eyes flutter into the back your head as you felt every ridge of his tongue against your entrance, saliva mixing with arousal as he lapped up everything you gave him.

The pleasure only increased as he wantonly hummed around your bud, Sunghoon drunk off of how sweet and syrupy you tasted on his tongue.

Sunghoon was doing his best to not just pin you to the desk and fuck the daylights of you, not understanding how someone could be so intoxicating. Every thing from your little gasps of air to the whimpers you were trying to hide in your throat were making him dizzy, desperate even.

"Your hole is twitching every time I suck your clit princess," Sunghoon remarked as he came up for air, licking his lips clean. "It must want something in it huh?" he drawled, sliding two thick digits into you. Your back arched off the desk as you felt the tight stretch between your legs, your hands going to squeeze his wrist you whimpered.

"Oh no no baby, don't try to move away from it. Take it like a good girl, like my favorite student would," Sunghoon praised as he scissored his fingers inside of you, chuckling at how droplets of arousal leaked out.

Hearing him say you're his favorite student made your heart thrum in excitement, your thighs tensing up when the pads of his fingers pressed down against the spongy part of your walls.

"Pull your sundress down and play with your chest for me princess," Sunghoon ordered gently as he moved to the skin of your neck, infatuated with how he could feel your heart beating through his kisses. "Do it like how you do it when you're in your bed all alone, fingers between your legs..." he whispered against your ear, unable to hide his grin.

Your body felt unbearably hot as you whimpered and complied, pulling down the straps of your sundress and moving your bra. Your legs inexplicably shook as you tugged the pert buds, biting down on your lip as Sunghoon sped up the pace of his fingers.

Sunghoon made a mental note of your movements so he could replicate them next time, his mouth getting hungry as his mouth encircled a free nipple.

You spasmed slightly at his movements as you felt his coarse tongue suck and lick around the sensitive skin, making a point to hold eye contact with you any time your stare met his. Coupled with the gushing sounds he heard between your legs only got more turned on, leaving deep marks on your chest he was sure would last for days.

He couldn't help it, he was getting impatient, desperate to have you whimpering out his name and begging for him to ruin you in this godforsaken sundress.

"Fuck~ you're gonna get me in so much fucking trouble," Sunghoon groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers. "I'm sorry baby but I can't let you come from just some fingering now can I?" he teased.

The eyes you gave him almost broke him down right there as he pulled out his digits and sucked them clean, unbuckling his belt with the other. On any other occasion he'd love to have you on your knees trying to fit him in your soft mouth, but his patience for that was long gone.

Your eyes enlarged as you watched his member spring free and press against his lower abdomen, Sunghoon hissing through his teeth as he stroked the reddened tip.

"Don't worry princess, we're gonna make it fit okay? Even if you are this tight," he reassured teasingly, kissing your temple as he pinned both your hands in one of his.

"Y-you don't need a condom" you choked out.

Sunghoon raised brows and chuckled at the fact such a statement could come from such a timid mouth of yours, ripping it with his teeth and putting it on regardless.

"Mmm of course I do sweetheart," he cooed, rubbing his length between your folds. Even through the condom you could feel how warm and heavy his member felt between your legs, your mind racing at the fact that you were going to have sex with your professor.

"Besides, if I came inside would you be able to keep my load inside you like a good girl? We can't have a mess in my office now can we?" he drawled in your ear, pushing his thick tip past your walls. You already felt a stretch that was incomparable to his fingers and started struggling against his grip, Sunghoon only laughing at you and tightening his hold even more.

"Shhhh don't run princess, don't run, this is how it feels to be fucked by a real man yeah? No college guy could find my baby's special spot like I could," he soothed, finding it so cute how you sucked on your bottom lip to cope with the stretch.

You raised your head slightly to discover that he was only halfway in, despite how full your lower belly felt. When Sunghoon saw your widened eyes he could only pout at you, finding you absolutely adorable.

And adorable things deserved to be ruined.

"Here princess, kiss me yeah?"

Shakily you reached up some and connected your lips with his, jolting against his mouth as Sunghoon had taken the opportunity to push himself to the hilt.

"P-professor" was all you could whine out as you felt your mind go dazy, Sunghoon using the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me princess, such a good girl," Sunghoon praised softly in between kisses. He knew once he started moving his hips you'd be a goner, already evident by how dazy your eyes looked when he stared into them.

You felt his tip push against the entrance of your cervix and you couldn't help but let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, biting down on Sunghoon's shoulder to cope with the heavy sensation in your tummy.

"Hello? Mr. Park are you in your office?"

Your eyes widened and you went to move to hide, recognizing the voice as your fellow classmate. Sunghoon only laughed at your attempts and pinned your wrists, giving you a "shh" motion as he continued pressing his hips against yours.

"Yeah, I'm here. However if my door is closed that means office hours are also closed correct?" he tsked, sucking a breath between his teeth as you clenched down around him.

Despite his seemingly calm composure you had your mouth squeezed shut feeling a tight knot start to form.

Your legs shook as you tried tapping his wrist with your bound hands, Sunghoon cooing at you softly and kissing your cheek.

"I know you're close baby, I know I know, just hold out for a bit longer mmkay? I'll take care of you, I will."

You could only nod as your face scrunched up from holding back your moans, desperately wondering why this student was so keen on getting into the office of one of the most stubborn people alive.

"I know, but there's this problem I really-"

"Rules are rules" he interjected, taking out his point on you by an extra forceful snap of his hips. Yours nails digged into your own skin as you tried to follow your professors wishes and hold out just a bit longer for him, softly whispering his name to garner his attention.

“Just a bit longer,” he shushed warmly, kissing your temple as he listened to the footsteps outside the door. Sure enough there was a sigh, followed by the sound of sneakers against the tile floor and the student walked away, Sunghoon relinquishing his grip on you and slowly speeding up his hips.

“P-Professor my tummy," was all you could manage out, squirming as you felt the knot get tighter.

"Mmm, you feel the pressure building right here?" Sunghoon couldn't help but tease, firmly pushing down on your lower belly. Your nails left red marks down his back and chest as you gasped at the feeling, mind slowly entering a point of incoherence.

You hazily nodded and felt your toes curl as Sunghoon peppered your neck with open mouth kisses, unable to stop himself from marking you.

"I'm close too princess, hold on just a bit longer for me and we can come together yeah? C'mon, I know you can," Sunghoon purred as his hips only sped up faster, raising your lower back slightly make sure he hit your spot every single time.

You could only hold your breath and scrunch your face as you tried warding off the feeling that was only getting stronger. Sunghoon's own resolve had withered away as he bit down on his bottom lip to suppress the groan that would be heard by the whole hallway, sweat on his entire body as you squeezed down on him like a vice.

"Fuck~ princess, go ahead and let loose for me."

You felt your mind go blank as the knot snapped tighter than you were anticipating, having to suppress your moans by burying yourself into Sunghoon's neck as liquid gushed from between your legs and your walls pulsed around sporadically.

Sunghoon's came shortly thereafter by burying his face in your own neck, his breathing ragged and uneven as he lay shaking on top of you.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you and your mind started swimming at what you'd just done and the mess you'd just made, knowing that if your ancestors were ever to watch you they'd hang their heads in shame.

Yet, that didn't stop you from wanting to do it again.

"Professor," you began, refusing to make eye contact with him after what you'd just done.

"Mmmm yes sweetheart?" Sunghoon cooed as he slowly pulled out, his collarbones and forehead glistening with sweat as he hid the evidence.

"Next time, I-I wanna do it...at your place," you offered up. This was a dangerous and well, a fireable request, you both knew that. However, that didn't stop Sunghoon from bending down to kiss your collarbones and chin, beaming it with happiness.

"I think I'd quite like that arrangement princess."

[pshbites]

LOVE ON AiR

SYNOPSiS » two podcast groups, both equally popular on the internet, start interacting with one another. however it isnt how fans want it to be.. OR yn sees sunghoon hating on lauryn hill and accidentally starts an entire fanwar with him.

PAiRiNG » sunghoon x fem!reader

FEAUTRiNG » all of enha, giselle of aespa, txt briefly mentioned

GENRE » smau (social media au), fluff, angst, enemies to lovers (barely), chronically online humor, romance, podcast au, influencer au, HEAVILY inspired from suburb talks and under the influence podcasts, SLOWBURNN

WARNiNGS » profanity, suggestive humor, kys/kms jokes, lots of pop culture references (im chronically online im sorry), drinking, drugs, fanwars, yn haters (BOOOOO), stalking (sorta?) manipulation (NOT FROM SUNGHOON OR Y/N) changes every chapter.

STATUS » completed — (08/03/24) to (10/26/24)

PLAYLiST » your eyes only - enha, after midnight - chappell roan, ex factor - lauryn hill, kiss me - dpr live, read your mind - sabrina carpenter, 3005 - childish gambino, poison poison - renee rapp, thirst - dpr live, just a little bit - enha, daisy - wave to earth, nouvelle vague - wave to earth, thinkin about you - frank ocean. (got carried away .. 😁)

AUTHORS NOTE » BIGGG thanks to my bestest friend ever, my fav british person, @lqfiles , ily so so much and thank you so much for helping me with this process. teaching me how to work tumblr like i was a grandma even tho im only 2 years older than u and making this AMAZING cover (isnt she talented), i love u sooo much more than words can describe, you annoying brit (endearing) 🫶

TAGLIST CLOSED!

written chaps in blue

🔴 RECORDING..

teaser (read first for context!!)

profiles i & profiles ii

1) call my phone a vibrator the way it keeps buzzing

2) YAP CENTRAL EP.135: alpha male podcasts?!

3) first hate thread. feeling nervous

4) pussy slay queen!

5) okay alpha

6) ROUND TABLE EP.149: perfect pitch :o

7) 1 down 3 to go

8) what the fuck is a ynhoon

9) YNXOXO VLOG: night out w/ won and riki

10) wet and bothered

11) just a normal tuesday

12) jungwons evil arc

13) YNXOXO VLOG: cafe date with my girls <3

14) the battle of thirst traps

15) twitch streaming era

16) YAP CENTRAL EP.136: did social media ruin relationships?

17) second interaction: kinda scared

18) fuck skater boys

19) park sunghoon v. round table

20) riki emo era: OVER

21) sunghoons side hoes

22) ROUND TABLE EP.150: we traded phones?!

23) bro define: friend

24) spidey sense

25) on my cellular plan i pay for?

26) YNXOXO VLOG: night time routine + surprise!!

27) a face i would kiss

28) collab of the century

29) YAP CENTRAL EP.137: has love lost its meaning?

30) eyes don’t lie

31) operation: ynhoon (postponed)

32) crybaby

33) operation: ynhoon (BACK ON)

34) chat is this a date yes or no?

35) boss baby jay

36) boyfriend

37) soft or hard?

38) what da heck *tyla voice*

39) YNXOXO VLOG: ice skating! | vlog w/ a special guest!!

40) love is on air

UNCUTS

1) operation: get riki ip banned on twt

2) try not to blow up challenge: FAILED

3) JAYS KITCHEN: my friends trying to help me make food blindfolded. (spoiler: it’s a fail)

4) YNXOXO VLOG: my boyfriend does my makeup voiceover !

5) YAP CENTRAL BLOOPERS: riki kat and yn patreon ad

© all rights to pshbites 2024

[pombeom]

keep reading | soobin fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: bf!soobin x bookworm!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, nipple play, boob play, handjob?, riding, nipple sucking, cockwarming, unprotected sex (pls use protection), creampie

summary: soobin loves listening to you read but when he chooses the book you guys read, things take a dirty turn

a/n: this was mostly inspired from a tiktok i saw where a couple was reading the book in this fic together (particularly chapter 22) and to anyone whose read the book, pls let me know in the comments below so we can fangirl together!

Even though Soobin didn’t like the type of books you did, he always made the effort to sit and listen to you read your latest book out loud. But little did you know that his intentions behind this today were far less innocent than you could have imagined. 

Whilst on your little bookshop date, you decided to venture outside the world of classic literature and explore “booktok”. The local bookshop presented a display of all the books that are growing in popularity on “TikTok” and Soobin encouraged you to pick a book named “Twisted Love” suggesting the title sounded intriguing. 

“Come on read it for me, baby,” Soobin whined, trying to drag you from the kitchen into your bedroom, your usual reading spot. 

“What do you think you’re gonna eat for dinner then?” 

“You…” he mumbles under his breath but loud enough that you heard it, earning him a slap on his arm. 

“I’m nearly done just wait.” 

Acquiescing, he sighs and ventures off into the living room, slouching on the sofa. 

20 minutes later…

“Soobin, come on let’s eat! I’m starving.” 

He makes his way back to the kitchen and grabs a serving of the pasta you made. Before even sitting down at the table, he gobbles down half the food, rushing to finish the meal. You raise suspicion at his behaviour particularly as he’s never this excited for your reading sessions. 

Rather than question it, you also finish your meal at a quicker pace than usual. Soobin’s excitement was quite intriguing.

“You finished?” He asks, as you put away your plates and cutlery in the dishwasher. 

“Yes I’m done,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at his behaviour. 

“Come on, let’s go.” He places an arm around your waist and guided you to your shared bedroom. 

He sprawls across the double bed whilst you grab the book from the shopping bag and you slot yourself in between Soobin’s legs using his chest as a back rest. 

“Ok, let’s begin shall we?” You ask getting your answer through the form of a back hug as his arms sliver around your waist and places his chin on your shoulder, encapsulating you in his body. 

Usually, your reading sessions last from anywhere between 30 minutes to 1 hour, yet today you’ve been reading at it continuously for 3 hours, unable to put it down. You comment on the characters’ stupidity and question plot holes whilst Soobin simply nods his head and agrees with you. He seemed more distracted than usual: his thoughts were elsewhere. 

“Chapter 22…” you begin. Soobin’s grip around you, suddenly gets tighter, pulling you closer to his body. You could guess from where the plot was going that this chapter was going to contain some sort of smut and honestly you expected it. 

“Is this why you picked out this book, Soobin? You knew about this scene didn’t you? That’s why you were so excited!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about baby,” he replies, acting clueless but the tone of his voice was an instant giveaway of his fibs, “Keep reading.” 

The chapter instantly starts off intense and each word that comes out your mouth sounds seductive to Soobin. It’s as if you were beckoning him to ruin you tonight. Each sentence is hotter and dirtier than the last and before you even reached the 6th sentence, you could feel Soobin’s lips attach to your nape, kissing and sucking at your skin. His mouth lowers to your shoulders, leaving a trail of bruised red marks. The sensation of his lips on your skin sets a wildfire in the pits of your stomach and you instantly shut the book and your eyes. 

“I want you to keep reading babe,” he whispers in your ear, “Keep reading.” 

You open the page back up again at chapter 22 and continue reading from where you left and and every so often letting out a suppressed moan at the contact between the two of you. He proceeds on removing your top from behind and slides down your baggy pyjama bottoms with ease. His movements matched the scene of the book where Ava, the female protagonist, was now stripped naked of her clothing. 

As if on cue, Soobin’s dick stands erect just as the male character Alex’s does. You feel his hardness through his grey joggers on your naked ass and you begin rubbing yourself against him. 

“You want me to take you, Sunshine? Ruin you, pound you into a pathetic mess, turn you into my little fuck doll?” You read out loud, feeling Soobin’s hands move from your waist in opposite directions: one head up to grab one of your breasts, while the other rubs your pussy. You arch your back, leaving your head into the nape of his neck, leaving breathy moans right under his ear. 

“You like that, baby? Want me to ruin you just as Alex is going to do with Ava?” 

“Mhm- ahhh,” you shriek as suddenly you feel 3 fingers inserted into your entrance. 

The hand that was on your boob, travels into your mouth, gathering your spit before moving down to meet the other hand at your pussy. Soobin rubs his thumb on your clit whilst fingering you deep and rough, leaving you feeling overpowered by the sensations you were feeling. 

It’s not long before you throw the book into some corner of the room and turn your body to face him, removing yourself of his fingers. You pull up his tshirt, teasing him by scraping past his nipples, making him let out a soft grunt. You work your way down to his joggers which were stained with precum, and pull them down in one swift movement revealing his cock. It was long with an average girth but the way he used it on you was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

You pump your fists up and down his member before lifting yourself up and sitting down on it. You ease yourself into position as his hands move up to your waist, securing you tightly. Your movements begin slow, adjusting yourself to his size, because no matter how many times you guys fuck your hole is always too tight, even as it oozes with slick and wetness. 

You eventually pick up the pace, your tits bouncing uk and down in front of his face, your nipples grazing it every so often. Soobin guides you well pushing his cock in deep into your pussy, hitting all the right spots. 

“You’re taking me so well baby. Fuck you’re so good!” He mutters, his grunts mixing with your whimpers and moans. 

“Soo- Soobin! I don’t thi- think I can- last a- any longer! Shit! That was- so good!” Your slewed words were a melody to Soobin’s ears. 

He quickens his pace as you’re left riding him so fast you can’t even think. His mouth suddenly latches onto one of your nipples as he begins sucking and licking your tit. 

“Agh! Soobin that feels so good! Do the other one!” You manage to say in between your moans. 

Soobin follows your instructs and moves to your other breast, repeating the same actions. 

“I’m gonna cum! Soobin keep going! I’m so close!” 

“Look at you. So desperate for my cock? Cum with me baby.” 

Not even seconds later, your orgasm comes crashing, letting out the louadest scream. Your mind is numb as you fall onto Soobin’s chest, grabbing his shoulders for support as he continues to ride both your orgasms. His cum mixes with yours, leaking out your pussy while you remain seated on his dick, cockwarming him. 

“Stay like this for a bit more babe.” Soobin wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you and pulling your naked body closer to his, “You did so well. Let’s get you cleaned up shall we?” 

“No, please let’s just stay like this tonight.” 

“Anything for you baby.” 

Soobin lies you down next to him without removing his cock from your pussy. He’s now spooning you form behind and you both instantly fall asleep, tangled up in each others naked forms. 

[noneorother]

I bought Aziraphale's Bible so you don't have to.

Am I insane? Yes. Was it worth it? Maybe. In most* of both season 1 and season 2 of GO, there's a very specific Bible on a bookstand next to Aziraphale's desk. It's a vintage illustrated plate book by Harold Copping, known as the Harold Copping Bible, published by the religious tract society in London in 1910. It features some of the most well known Old Testament stories, summarized and annotated by the Bishop of Durham at the time, and illustrated by Copping, who was freshly returned from a sojourn in the middle east. Ironically, It was meant as a lay-person's version of a comic book, short, exciting by use of exotic illustrations, and easy to read.

But my (expensive) gain is now your gain! As I've collected here every visible page in both seasons for your reading and viewing pleasure.

Season 1: All episodes Adam & Eve Genesis iii (1:3) / HCB page 10

Season 2: Episode 1 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28

S2E1 14:21, S2E1 17:41, S2E1 39:45

Season 2: Episode 2 Jacob's vow Genesis xxviii (1:28) / HCB Page 22

S2E2 5:49

Season 2: Episode 2 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28

S2E2 13:38 (see S2E1 above)

Season 2: Episode 2 The Brazen Serpent Numbers xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36

S2E2 16:12, 43:40

Season 2: Episode 2* Bible on the desk, Magazine on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)

S2E2 22:10

The French L'art pour tous industrial design periodical will have to be a story for another post. For now, just enjoy this 1880 edition copperplate of cherubs discovering a microscope...

Season 2: Episode 2 Imaginary page from HCB, Job KJV Job (18:1) / HCB N/A

S2E2 22:29, S2E2 40:05 Obviously, the plate illustrations and text look different here than in the real bible, because they were created for the show. But there are a few more particularities here. For one, this layout with the thin grid around the text, as well as the paragraph symbol next to the first title, indicate that this would have been a printer's proof copy, not a finished book. It shows you the layout grid and can be annotated for changes. Second, there seems to be a war going on between fonts. Where the "chapter" of Job begins, we get a font and a style similar to the original bible, which gets rudely interrupted by a dropped capital (from the real book) and a Gothic-style font/verse numbers like in the original King James version of the printed Bible.

Season 2: Episode 3 The Brazen Serpent NUMBERS xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36

S2E3 1:18 (see episode 2)

Season 2: Episode 5 By the Rivers of Babylon Pslam cxxxvii (19:137) / HCB page 52

S2E5 21:20

Season 2: Episode 6 Bible missing, L'art pour Tous on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)

S2E6 10:21, 17:21, 18:15, 34:28 (see episode 2)

Season 2: Episode 6 Closed HCB, L'art pour Tous on the stand behind HCB page 0

S2E6 37:58, 44:20, 48:08

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 22] || [Chapter 22.5] || [Chapter 24]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.1K~ cw: selfish john price, also john price is a hypocrite/liar? Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Their drinks + nicotine of choice is fully INSPIRED by this post by @ceilidho

Chapter 23: Kiss and Tell?

Simon, Kyle and Johnny sat outside the base, in the open air, each one of them engaging in their typical vices.

Simon with a milky breakfast tea and a nicotine patch, Johnny with a vape and an Ultra Blue Monster, Kyle with a weird green tea drink and a cigarette.

It’s way too early in the day for them to be doing that… But they are nonetheless.

They’re just having some downtime, talking to one another, shooting the shit… Not at all waiting for you to wake up and text them back, not at all.

John joins them soon after and sits beside them, carrying a cup of black coffee and one of his usual cigars. He sits down with a groan before kicking his legs up on the ledge of the outdoor table.

“Captain.” The men greet him as he lights his cigarette and grumbles a “Lads” in return.

“A word?” John says as he puffs from his cigarette, wet lips and tongue tasting the brown wrapping as he sucks in the smoke.

That attracts the attention of the other three, all of them glancing over with varying degrees of displayed intrigue.

“I’d like in on your little… agreement.” He says casually while exhaling the smoke and taking a sip of his pisswater-like coffee.

The lads look at each other, almost like silently begging each other to say something.

“Why, Captain?” Kyle ends up asking, leaning forward on his knees to glance at John.

“What Ghost said resonated with me.” He explains. “How I enjoyed my time with them as well.” He says simply.

“Right, but that’s different from datin’ them.” Ghost retorts as he sips from his milk tea, brown eyes locked onto John as if trying to read his intentions. “Can’t just force something that isn’t there.”

“I know that, Simon.” John retorts, his eyes boring into Simon’s harshly, causing a blonde eyebrow to raise in response. “But I wanted to talk with you lot about it before I go on pursuing them.” He explains.

Simon can tell John is hiding something, but he knows better than to address it in front of everyone. He knows Kyle and Johnny trust John blindly, and he doesn’t want to ween them of that with a harsh reality check.

“Well…” Ghost says with a shrug, fingers nudging at the nicotine patch on his shoulders while pretending to stretch his arms a bit. He’s been wearing them as an extra ‘pick me up’ for a decade now. “Not like we’re a… ‘closed’ relationship.” He explains.

“We’re not?” Johnny asks playfully. “Ye’re seein’ more people on the side, L.T.?” Johnny quips with a smirk on his lips while setting his Monster can down and taking a hit from his flavored vape.

“Yeah, you cheating on us?” Kyle jokes with a smirk.

“Oh, piss off, both of ya.” The blond retorts and rolls his eyes, sipping his tea once more, earning some laughs around the table. “Bloody insufferable, you are.” He adds, causing the younger sergeants to nudge each other while murmuring “He’s talking about you.”s to one another.

“What I’m trying to say is,” He tells John as he looks the older man in the eyes. “you shouldn’t be askin’ us about this. It’s all on them if they take you into the fold.” Simon retorts.

“Already did.” John replies, eyebrows raising as he takes another puff of his cigar. “Paid them a visit last night, explained what I felt about your situation, they eased a lot of my worries…” He trails off. He’s mostly saying the truth.

“Helped me realize maybe I was just… feeling left out.” He says. He conveniently forgets to mention he spent half of the night rearranging your guts. They don’t need to know that.

“No way, Captain, ye were jealous?!” Johnny teases and then bursts into laughter, for which Kyle joins him.

“Yeah, yeah, take the piss out of me all you want.” John quips and rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but hiding a little satisfied smirk behind the rim of his mug. He’s not going to deny it.

“Well, I’m fine with it… The more the merrier!” Soap says to Price with a chuckle and a wagging of his brows.

After a sip of his green tea drink, Kyle speaks: “Filthy pig.”, earning a nudge on his side. 

“Haud yer wheesht! I weren’t the one balls deep in ‘em last week.” Soap retorts.

John’s attention is turned to the bickering Sergeants, having been unaware of that detail until now.

“I was just being a good friend!” Kyle retorts as he takes a drag of his nearly-burned-through cig. “Was shaggin’em for Simon.”

“Don’t drag me into this… I didn’t ask you to do that.” Simon retorts as he narrows his eyes at Kyle.

“Oh, please, as if your blood didn’t rush ‘down south’ before I even arrived-” Kyle continues his playful tease.

“Right. Ye’re speakin’ as if ye weren’t jerkin’ off the whole time, L.T.” Johnny adds.

“Wait, he was jerkin’ it?” Kyle asks with a gasp as he turns to his right side to glare at Johnny.

“Aye? Ye didn’t see? Ye were there!” Johnny tells Kyle.

“I was occupied, Johnny!” Kyle replies, though he looks like he’s a bit sheepish about saying it aloud.

“That ye were.” Johnny quips with a smirk. Kyle rolls his eyes. “Didn’t peg ye for a shaver.” He adds.

Kyle groans in frustration, even he getting a bit flustered/annoyed by Johnny’s teasing. He looks over at Simon, as if seeking out help only for the blond to say. “Don’t worry, Kyle, it’s good you shave. You’ve got a really pretty cock.”

“That he does.” Price slips in casually as he sips his black tea again, which causes the other men’s eyes to widen as they stare at him like he’s just said something unexpected.

“What? I’ve seen all of you naked.” John shrugs and smirks playfully under his mustache.

That leaves the other men sputtering a bit, exchanging glances, three pairs of eyes trying to wordlessly figure out if the others know that the Captain isn’t just hinting at ‘locker rooms’, ‘showers’ or ‘urinals’ for all three of them… 

Trying to figure out if the others have figured out that all of them have been below the Captain at one point or another in the last decade.

John knows better than to let them figure it out, so he instead changes subjects: “So… when are you planning on making it official with them?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[hywonuka]

every step that i take is another mistake to you | jww (intro)

Sypnosis: It's another night out for Wonwoo, except for the small dare he has been given: to win Y/N's heart in 4 months. Could he, a lame virgin who has no idea of how to talk to women, be able to fulfill the dare?

Pairing: college!wonwoo x college!fem!reader

Genre: college au, falling for a bet or dare trope, fluff, angst, smut

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of virgin wonwoo, they are all dickheads except for minghao, wonwoo is a huge loser

Word count: 623 words

A/N: hiii :) i intend to make this a series (thats why i wrote fluff, angst and smut on genres even if in the intro there is none of it)!! its my first time posting any of my english works, so i hope yall like it!! wrote this mainly cuz i had the urge to read something of this trope with ww but found nothing lmao. as i go on with the different chapters, ill write the respective warnings :3

intro | chapter 1

"No way you are asking me to do that", Wonwoo said, as he took a sip of his drink, looking at Vernon with his eyes wide open. They were at a bar, with some other of their friends, chatting and laughing until Vernon dropped the bomb.

"Yes way, or what, you don’t have the guts??" Mingyu chimed in, laughing at his friend's reaction. Hoshi looked at Wonwoo, who was still stunned at his friend’s dare.

It wasn’t weird that they would dare each other to do random stuff. In fact, it was kinda the most charming part of their hangouts, which the whole group enjoyed and laughed at. It wasn’t weird either that, as they kept drinking, the dare would turn more… interesting. But, what was weird, was that Vernon, out of everyone sat at that table, would dare Wonwoo to do that.

"Y-you seriously want me to court Y/N?", the one with glasses asked, slightly tipsy at that point, but still sober enough to comprehend his dare. "Like, h-how?"

Vernon, who is clearly drunk, and even at the verge of falling of his chair, laughed at the desperation of his friend. "I don’t know, that’s up to you!! I'm not the one that got dared".

"C’mon Wonwoo, it can’t be that bad", Mingyu says, patting his friend’s back, trying to reassure him in some sort of way. They all knew this would be actually hard for Wonwoo, but somehow makes everything more entertaining.

"Worst thing that can happen is that you finally get to touch a boob", as Vernon said that, he immediately got smacked by Minghao, who was clearly against the idea of that dare. "Hey, I’m about to fall!”

“Deserved. That dare is degrading, not only to Wonwoo but Y/N. Have you even thought of how she would feel if Wonwoo goes along with this dare?" The whole table went silent at Minghao's words, knowing he was right.

"It’s not like he is gonna pull her Hao, be honest”. Wonwoo looked at Vernon offended, but deep down he knew the drunk one was right.

“Yeah, like if a 22 year old virgin who is a huge nerd can pull Y/N", Hoshi suddenly said, immediately looking at Wonwoo. "No offence, just… stating the facts”

Minghao was at the edge of punching his friends. How could they be so stupid? The lack of emotional intelligence in men was something that truly made him mad, specially coming from his friends.

“Anyways, are you in Wonwoo?" All eyes were on him, and he knew it. He could sense the gazes of all his friends, expecting his answer. He couldn’t say no, could he? After all, if he said no, he would indirectly accepting the fact that he couldn’t pull Y/N, and that would hurt his pride, even if he knew it would be impossible for him to fulfill the dare.

"What do i get if I win?"

“100$ and me being your servant for a week”

Wonwoo looked at Vernon, reconsidering his words. "And if I don’t?”

“I’ll choose your outfits for a week”

The one with glasses looked at his friend, terrified. He wasn’t scared of Vernon’s fashion choices (even if he should), but mostly at the fact that Vernon could pick a pair of boxers and say that’s an outfit. And trust him, he knows Vernon is capable of it.

“How much time do i have?”

“4 months”

After a couple of minutes of silence, that felt like an eternity for everyone sat down at that table, Wonwoo spoke up. “Cool, I’m in”

Everyone in the table, except for Minghao, cheered the dare, and ordered a new round of drinks. Meanwhile, Minghao could only shake his head, completely disgusted to the situation.

“This is gonna end so badly…”

A/N: aaah, tysm for reading!! if you wanna be added to the taglist pls tell me!! ill try to update the next chapter asap :3

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 22

a/n: i am continuously blown away by your support. thank you for sticking with me through this. as always, thank you @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter 21 here ]

Chapter 22: Of Seungmin and Karaoke

Your frustration with Chan hardly subsides over the next couple of days. Thankfully the rotation announcement was on a Thursday, so you don’t have to worry about sleeping in his room the rest of the week. You assume he’s keeping to himself in his room because you don’t see him around the house all day Friday. The next time you see him is at the dinner table on Saturday.

You’re seated at the opposite end of the table, conversing with Hyunjin, Felix and Charlotte. You can feel Chan’s eyes boring into you damn near the entire time, but you refuse to look in his direction. After that night in his room, you have to wonder if you constantly caving to him is what’s putting both of you in this position. If you resist and stand your ground, maybe it will make it easier for you both to pretend you feel nothing.

But you can’t understand why it’s so hard to do. You’re trying to be an active participant in the conversation, but you have to keep telling yourself not to look up at him. The fucked up thing is that neither of you are in the wrong here. And that just makes it all the more confusing.

He’s not wrong in suggesting that you should try to distance yourself from him in preparation for what’s to come. However, he could have gone about it in a completely different manner. He instead retreated back to asshole Chan mode with how he spoke to you. A defense mechanism, perhaps. It was a failed defense, though. Your Chan slipped through the cracks—the way he stopped you from leaving his room...the way he fucked you as if you’re the only thing he needs to survive. His body calls to yours and it always responds because you need him just as much.

After dinner, a handful of the boys offer to wash the dishes since the girls have to get ready to change rooms tomorrow. None of you give them a chance to change their mind as you all stand from your seats and file out of the kitchen towards the den. Chan, having left the table a few minutes before, stops you in the hallway by lightly grabbing your arm. The other girls glance back at you, and you motion for them to carry on without you.

“Y/n,” he says softly.

Your heartbeat quickens when he breathes your name, the skin on your arm where he’s holding it feels like it’s on fire. You don’t turn around to face him, but you don’t pull your arm away either. You allow yourself a moment to take in the heat and passion that’s radiating off him.  

“About the other night,” he continues, “I’m sor—”

“Don’t be,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “You’re right. We should want to do this. And I’m going to give it a try.”

You don’t believe the words you’re saying, even as they fall from your lips. But you have to be the stronger one. You must be the one to push him away. If you stop giving in to him, maybe it will be easier for you both to accept your separate futures.

He lets go of his hold on you and you take a tentative step forward. He doesn’t attempt to stop you; and it fucking hurts.

You start thinking back to your trip together—maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to go. You shouldn’t have asked him to pretend with you. But you’ve never seen him happier or more authentically himself. Would this all be easier if you never knew how he felt about you? Yes. Do you regret him telling you? Absolutely not.

You leave him behind in the hallway and join the girls in the den. You take a seat on the last empty papasan.

“Everything okay?” Charlotte asks.

“Yeah…just Chan being Chan…have fun with that, Allie.” You keep your tone light, wanting it to sound like a joke.

They carry on with their conversation about switching rooms tomorrow and how best to cope with the rotations. To your knowledge, no one else in the house knows how Chan truly feels about you. They have no clue that this entire rotation debacle is your fault, and you want to keep it that way.

The girls seem quite rational in their discussion. Rhiannon reasons that since none of you can be with them in the future anyways, what use is there harboring any jealousy? Someone else, in the real world, will have them after you.  

Allie agrees, saying you’re all just a blip on the radar of their life, which hurts to hear, but is a fact. She digs deeper by stating that they’ll go on and forget about all of you.

Charlotte chimes in that the SKZ house has presented a once in a lifetime opportunity. A house full of undeniably attractive men that you all get to experiment and discover yourselves with without any judgment.

Unfortunately, you cannot deny any of their logic.

Sunday afternoon, the house is abuzz as you and the girls shuffle your belongings around. You make a stop in Chan’s room to grab your linen. You make a beeline for your bed, pull the sheets off the mattress and bundle them up with the pillows and all. You hold them close to your face on your way out, obstructing your view of him. It’s less painful when you don’t look at him.

You throw your sheets in the washing machine then head back up to Hyunjin’s room to get your clothes. You take enough outfits and underwear to last throughout your time away. Before you depart, Hyunjin kisses you and tells you that you’ll always be his favorite, to which you roll your eyes.

The idea of Hyunjin being with Allie doesn’t bother you as much as you thought. He’s a lover, through and through. And Allie’s a sweetheart—all the girls are—and she should experience what it’s like to have a man spoil a woman the way Hyunjin can. You know he can do those things with her without any inhibitions, and it doesn’t mean he cares for you any less.

Chan on the other hand…

No. You don’t want to imagine him doing the things you’ve done together with anyone else. It has to happen, you know that, but you can push the thoughts out of your mind any time they surface. You will have to tell yourself it’s for the greater good or some bullshit like that.

You choose to stay with Seungmin tonight, since it’s Sunday. Although Changbin would be an entertaining distraction, you feel closer to Seungmin. You also feel that with the rapport between you two, he’ll be less likely to make a move on you. You don’t know if you’ll be ready for that in week one…or even week two.

When you first walk into his room on the second floor, it’s brighter and cleaner than you expected. Like, pristinely clean—everything properly in its place. Not a gym bag or dirty sock in sight. His bed is against the wall with two windows on either side, overlooking the front yard. Your twin bed is to the side of his.  

You can’t shake how weird it feels being in his room…to be bringing your belongings in here. As you finish putting your sheets on the bed next to his, you hear a knock at the door. You turn around to see Seungmin sauntering in with his new, short haircut and a smile on his face. 

“Welcome,” he greets. “You have enough room for everything?”

“Yeah…Rhi cleared out a drawer for me.”

“Good. Make yourself at home…get comfortable.”

“Comfortable with the idea of being passed around between you guys?” you scoff.

“I didn’t say it like that. Do you not want to be here with me?” he asks blatantly, walking towards you.

He comes to a stop in front of you and you instinctively take a small step back. You’ve never been this close to him before. In a bedroom. His bedroom. He wraps his arm around you, placing his palm against the small of your back. He pulls you closer to him and your breath catches in your throat at the sudden move.

“I don’t know,” you manage to get out.

You can see so much of his face now that he’s cut his hair. There’s no denying that he’s handsome, attractive even. Your body feels flushed all over, but you can’t tell if it’s from the proximity or something else. His dark brown eyes meet yours, reading you for a moment, gauging your reaction. Can he sense your apprehension?

“The separation is meant to be a lesson,” he tells you. 

“A lesson in detachment?”

“It teaches us that the work towards our futures outweigh any joy, pain or sadness we may feel or experience in the present.”

You don’t like the way he recites that as if it’s been drilled into his head from a young age.

“Does my hand here make you uncomfortable?” He draws your attention back to how close the two of you are standing. He presses his hand harder against the small of your back.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. 

“You don’t know a lot apparently,” he teases as he drops his hand. He turns around to walk to his bed. “We have time to figure it out, though.”

“What if I’m simply not attracted to you in that way?”

He sits on his bed, facing you, and cocks his head to the side. A crooked smile plays out on his lips as if what you just said is ludicrous. 

“Sometimes attraction can grow,” he answers. “You just have to be open to it.”

“What if I don’t want to be?”

He’s silent for a while. When he responds, his tone is compassionate.

“Then you’re setting yourself up for a lot of pain at the end of this semester, y/n.”

He doesn’t mean to hurt you with what he says. You know that. None of them do when they’re simply stating the facts of the situation. However, they’ve had much longer to come to terms with this than you.

“I know…you’re right.”

“Don’t stress yourself out over it,” he shrugs. “This rotation isn’t only about physical attraction. We don’t want just sex from our assignees. It’s more than that. You can connect with multiple people in multiple ways and still find value in the differences.”

You remember how Hyunjin explained everything from his perspective at the start of all this. Seungmin seems to have his own take on it, too.

“So, you won’t hate me if we don’t fuck?”

He laughs.

“No. But I do sleep better at night when I’m holding someone.”

You chew on the inside of your bottom lip, mulling it over.

“I can maybe agree to that. Maybe.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You grab the pillow from your bed and throw it at his face.

The first time you see Hyunjin and Allie together is a little jarring, but not upsetting. They’re sitting next to each other on the couch, his arm is draped around her shoulder. Allie seems comfortable with him, as you expected. He has a natural way of putting people at ease. He winks at you, and you feel yourself smiling in return.

You don’t see much of Chan, except in passing or if he decides to have dinner at the table with everyone. You haven’t spoken to each other since that day in the hallway. You wish you could say the heat you feel whenever he’s near is burning out, that it feels cold between the two of you, but it’s the exact opposite.

It's hardly working.

Your first two nights with Seungmin, you sleep in your own bed. You two stay up talking about the most random things. On your last night with him for the first week, you climb into his bed with him and bring your own blanket.

“Really?” He remarks as you crawl towards him.

“Take it or leave it,” you reply.

“I’ll take it,” he concedes.

He waits for you to get situated, then cuddles up behind you. There’s enough blanket material between you, though, so you can hardly feel where his body is pressed against yours. You let out a breath and try to relax. Laying like this, you’re not uncomfortable with him, which is a relief. It doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily, but it doesn’t feel quite right either.

“So,” he says quietly. “I’ve decided on my useless superpower.”

“Worse than being able to teleport only an inch at a time?”

You’re starting to enjoy your nightly nonsensical conversations. It’s a nice change of pace. You can unwind from the day with the unseriousness of it all.

“I can identify any poison—even if it’s tasteless or odorless. But I have to ingest it.”

“And are you immune to it?”

“No. I’d die.”

Your body shakes with laughter. He chuckles behind you and pulls you closer to him.

Thursday, February 8th is Jeongin’s birthday and your first night with Changbin. You take a few of your things to his room on the third floor, down the hall from Chan. His room is just as you expected. A little messy, but he calls it organized chaos. After you put your things away, you both go down to the basement to join the others.

As you reach the last few steps, you immediately catch sight of Chan sitting at the bar. His back is towards you and he has a drink in front of him. He looks over his shoulder and your eyes lock for a brief moment, but you quickly avert your gaze.

“What’re you drinking?” Changbin asks.

“Whatever you’re having,” you shrug.

“That’s my girl,” he grins, walking behind the bar to pour you both drinks.

Chan knocks back the brown liquid in his glass and refills his cup.

You slip past him, trying to ignore how erratic your pulse becomes, and make your way to the back area of the basement. The TV is on and karaoke mics have been connected to it. The lyrics to the song are displayed on screen, but Jeongin and Seungmin know the words by heart as they face the ‘audience’ and belt their adorable little hearts.

You take a seat on the couch and let your eyes roam around the room; everyone is in their mixed-up pairings. Charlotte is sat between Felix and Lee Know in deep conversation. Rhiannon, now with Jeongin and Han, is seated in Han’s lap, watching the performance. You don’t see Hyunjin and Allie though.

Changbin sits next to you and passes the drink he made. You take a sip and make a repulsed face.

“It’s my special concoction,” he beams.

“It tastes like death.”

“Only the strong can handle it,” he taps his cup against yours before taking a drink.

You take another sip and grimace.

Felix and Charlotte are next up on the mics. They do a hilariously horrible rendition of ‘Summer Lovin’’ from Grease, but you cheer them on anyway. Changbin wraps his arm around you as you both watch and sing along. The more time that passes and the emptier your cup gets, the easier it is to relax against him. And you can’t lie, for as buff as he is, he’s oddly soft and comfortable to lay on.

You nudge Changbin to go when the mic is free.

“I’ll show you how it’s done,” he says. “This is a crowd pleaser—this one is for you, y/n.”

He queues up his song and as soon as the beat starts playing, you can’t hold yourself together. He chose ‘Run the World (Girls)’, by Beyonce and his performance does not disappoint—accompanied by dance moves and all.

Hyunjin and Allie come into the basement then and Hyunjin falls to the floor in laughter. Changbin doesn’t miss a beat and keeps putting on the show of a lifetime. You glance behind you; Chan is still seated at the bar and even he has a small smile on his face.

“Who’s next?” Han asks when he and Lee Know finish singing ‘Take On Me’ by a-ha.

“Chan-hyung” Jeongin shouts and points at him.

You look behind you and Chan is adamantly shaking his head.

“For my birthday,” Jeongin adds to guilt trip him. “Stop being boring and old.”

Lee Know stalks over to Chan, grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the room with everyone else. Chan takes the mic from Lee Know and lets out a sigh. With him in front of you, you feel yourself inch away from Changbin the slightest bit.

“For your birthday,” he agrees, clearing his throat. “What do you wanna hear?”

“That new song you were finishing up last week,” Jeongin says.

“No, not that,” Chan scrunches up his face and shakes his head. You notice him wobble a bit with the motion and wonder how much he’s had to drink.

Jeongin stands from the couch and connects his phone to the karaoke speaker.

“Yes, that. It’s my birthday.”

The song starts to play, and Chan is facing the TV, though no lyrics appear on screen. The sound of his vocals surprises you. You heard the song from their chapter project, but this sounds so different. His voice comes out passionate and effortless all at once. And the lyrics. You can’t help but hang on to every word that comes out of his mouth.

“We’re pulling at each other like magnets, the rules are telling us to ignore them.”

He was working on this last week?

“All that I want is you, even if I’m a fool. Why do I fall for you? No turning back once we’re connected.”

He turns around to face everyone as he continues singing. His eyes land on you and you set your cup down. A weird feeling is growing in the pit of your stomach, making you feel uneasy and nauseous. Thankfully, he doesn’t stare at you long enough to draw attention.

When the song is over everyone claps and Jeongin thanks him with a hug. He accepts the embrace, hugging him back, before making his way back to his lonely seat at the bar.

Rhiannon drags you up next and you agree to do ‘All About That Bass’. If it weren’t for her at your side, you’d be absolutely mortified. But you’re having a good time, it takes your mind off the previous performance. Towards the end of the song, though, you spot Allie next to Chan at the bar. She’s standing between his legs, one arm on his shoulder and he has one on her waist. You wonder what they’re talking about. You can’t help it.

You turn away from them and stare at the lyrics on the screen, even though you don’t need to read them. It’s just easier to look at right now.

When the song is over, Hyunjin takes his turn—doing ‘Versace on the Floor’ by Bruno Mars. Changbin acts as though Hyunjin is singing specifically to him throughout the performance.

The next time you look behind you, Chan and Allie are gone.

It’s nearly one in the morning when everyone else starts to disperse. You and a stumbling Changbin return to his room. You notice Chan on the couch in the living room, but he doesn’t say anything to anyone as you all pass by.

“Only the strong can handle it, huh?” You say to Changbin when you enter his room.

You only had one cup—you lost count of how many he had. Too many, judging by the way he’s struggling to remain upright and take off his belt at the same time.

“Here, let me,” you say, going to help him. “Be still.”

He drops his hands and lets you unbuckle his belt. Once you have it off, he immediately begins to unbutton his pants. You shake your head and turn around, not wanting to see him accidentally expose himself. You hear his pants hit the ground, then the sound of him falling onto his mattress.

“The room is spinning,” his voice is muffled.

You retrieve his water bottle from his desk and take it to him on the bed. You help him get beneath his blankets before making him drink from the water bottle. When you move to stand, his arms lock around your waist.

“Can you play with my hair?”

Of all the men in the house to want to be babied—you would not have guessed it to be him.

“Drink some more first,” you tell him.

He does as he’s told, and you position yourself on the bed with your back up against the pillows. He nestles his head into your lap, and you stroke his soft, dark locks. It doesn’t take long for him to doze off.

You slip away from him and change into your pajamas before heading back downstairs to get water for yourself.

On the first floor, you see Chan in the living room. He’s still sitting on the couch; the TV is still on but now muted. He turns to look at you. You keep your eyes locked in front of you and continue into the kitchen. Of course, there aren’t any more water bottles in the fridge when you check there first. At least it means everyone was staying hydrated tonight.

You go to the pantry and retrieve as many water bottles as you can hold at once. When you turn to exit, Chan is standing in front of you. He reaches for your waist and pulls you against him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asks huskily, eyes dark and glazed over.

[ read chapter 23 here ]

a/n: i won't make you wait too long for chapter 23, it's already complete. it's chan's POV and will rehash some of the things we saw here, and then pick up where this ends! i'm sooooo excited for you all to read it.

[strwbrythoughts]

no stopping a man in love | alhaitham

In which the traveler and Paimon catches Alhaitham indulging in something unexpected.

A/N: I might as well make this whole blog dedicated to Alhaitham because man's got my heart in a chokehold :(

Divider by @/osqrie

The House of Daena was filled with the sounds of pages turned over and the quick footsteps of the students flitting from one bookcase to another. Furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips decorated each of their faces. The librarian seemed stressed out to navigate the flurry of students and assist them in finding books. Even a stranger could tell the obvious; examination season was right around the corner.

Alhaitham, the ex-Acting Grand Sage and current Scribe of the Akademiya, had his eyes glued onto his surroundings. Though his expression remained neutral, he couldn't deny the feeling of annoyance building up inside him. The library was way too noisy to be called one. It was a good thing that he was enjoying his read so far. Though, the choice of reading fiction was something that not a lot of people would expect from him.

Yes, he had a book titled "The Genius Falls in Love!" nestled in his hands.

He didn't really catch the eye of anyone. After all, it wasn't weird that the Scribe would spend his day in the library instead of his office. His work hours were long but he never really complied to them. That was something that the students were mighty jealous of. What they didn't know, however, was that his work was always submitted on time with the highest quality. A trait that most of them could only hope to achieve.

Alhaitham put on his noise-cancelling earphones. His eyes relaxed slightly as he could focus better on the book in his hand. He was already on chapter 22. An impressive amount of reading, given that he only received the book that morning.

His body rested fully onto the chair he sat on. He closed his eyes, remembering the sweet smile his wife gave him as she handed him the book.

'Here, honey!' she exclaimed, shoving a book into his hands. 'If you miss me at work, read this book I wrote! And tell me how it went, yeah?'

From the moment he stepped out of their shared house, he flipped the book open. 'Ridiculous,' he thought to himself. 'I always miss you when you're not by my side.'

And so off he went. He finished all the work he deemed urgent enough on that day, before immediately going back to reading. It was quite the comical sight, really. The stoic genius reading a fictional book? A romance, at that? Impossible. Utterly ridiculous.

And yet, here he was.

The work day passed by so quickly when he spent it reading. Before he knew it, the librarian came over to his spot and told him that the library was closing. Alhaitham immediately got up and left to go home.

--

The walk back was quiet and peaceful enough. The mere sight of his wife's face as she greeted him at the door was enough to make a smile appear on his face, no matter how slight.

"Honey! How was work today? What did you eat during lunch? Did you have time to read my book?" It was expected that his wife would bombard him with questions the moment he came home. However, she was special in every way. For instance, he would always answer each question she had calmly, no matter how frequent or stupid they may be.

"I'm back. Work was completed like usual today. I ate the lunch you prepared for me, and I'm halfway through your book, my dear."

His wife giggled at the thought of her husband taking some time out of his busy day to read her work. What she didn't know was that his day was scheduled around her, and never around anything else.

Until the traveler and Paimon had some interesting news to bring to her.

--

"Traveler, look! Is Alhaitham reading...a romance?"

Paimon's voice bounced off the walls of the House of Daena. She had successfully captured the eyes of many students, causing the traveler to put their hand over their head. Perhaps to block a headache induced by her lack of realisation that they were in the library.

Paimon's hands flew over her mouth right after the words were uttered. Her eyes seemed apologetic enough, darting over to the traveler as a silent apology. The traveler merely shot her an awkward smile.

It was a good thing that Alhaitham himself did not pay them any mind. The way his ears perked up slightly showed that he indeed heard Paimon, but perhaps chose to ignore them. However, the eyes glued to his person was quite bothersome, even for someone as stoic as him.

He shut the book in his hands quite loudly, hinting his irritation at Paimon. She only gulped and shot a panicked expression at the traveler, who deadpanned at her. The both of them stood still as they heard Alhaitham's footsteps approach them. He was getting closer and closer with each thud of his footsteps.

"I would appreciate if you did not point out whatever business unrelated to you." His voice was calm, just like his expression. His eyes told a different story all together. The traveler's flying companion could only apologise repeatedly, while the traveler shot him an apologetic smile.

After a few seconds of awkward silence between the trio, the Scribe walked away from the both of them. His right hand carried the romance book he was reading quite delicately, as if it was his most precious treasure. And it truly was.

Anything related to his wife was a treasure to him, and he would never forgive himself if he failed to appreciate even the simplest things about her.

--

"...and that was it! He seemed really annoyed that the Akademiya students were looking at him curiously." Paimon ended her story to Alhaitham's wife. She merely chuckled at the tale.

"Of course he was. He dislikes people getting into his business after all."

"Are you sure he isn't acting like that because he's embarrassed about getting caught reading something so...unexpected, of him?" The traveler furrowed their eyebrows as their companion asked such question with no hesitation. She really needed to learn to read the room sometimes.

Before she could answer, Alhaitham embraced his wife from behind. His eyes were calm, as if having his wife in his arms was all it took to make him feel tranquil.

"Do you really think I'd be reading such book in public if I were to be 'embarrassed' about it? Moreover, how could my lovely wife ever make me feel embarrassed?"

That was more than enough of an answer for the traveler and Paimon. They smiled sweetly at the response. The smiles were short lived, however, as Alhaitham sent them both out of his house, wanting to be alone with his wife.

Ah, well. There's no stopping a man in love, is there?

Thank you for reading! <3

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (6/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

An open bar and Joel in a tailored black outfit mean trouble at your father's garden party. Enough reason to do something you haven't done before.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni 🔞🔥 Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 43), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 3.4K A/N: I finished writing the final chapter last night and y'all, I'm giddy as fuck. Big BIG thanks to @milla-frenchy and @reallyrallyauthor for your support and reading Part 6 and 7 early to make sure this hits juuust right!

< part 5 | series masterlist | main masterlist

There are too many people in your backyard. Mingling, chatting, networking, kissing ass - all accompanied by canapés that are too fancy, beer that is so painfully hip and micro-brewed that you don’t even want to try it, and outfits intended to seem semi-casual yet also upstage everybody. You hate these gatherings. It’s far from the first time you’ve had to endure them because of your father’s work, though. Even your grandmother liked reminding you when you were little that your grandfather also hosted affairs like this. “It’s important to build connections.”

You don’t care. All you give a damn about tonight - or maybe these days, if you are honest with yourself - was Joel, dressed like a fucking vision. Well fitting black pants, that you suspect are tailored, an ever better fitting black dress shirt which is absolutely tailored, and matching black boots. His hair, usually curly and messy, now looks so sharp that you wonder if he got a haircut this morning; it’s a little shorter, definitely neater, and brushed back a little.

But what your eyes keep going back to the most are the few buttons on his shirt that are undone, showing off his tanned skin and a smattering of freckles you had barely noticed before. It makes you want to trace every single one with your tongue and find out if he would whine when you'd suck a hickey on his neck.

He’s at the bar, waiting for his drink, so you slide in right next to him and bump against his arm. “Hey. Don’t tell me you’re drinking those craft beers?”

“Jesus. No, of course not.” 

The expression on his face is one of instant disgust, and you can’t help but laugh at the candid response. “Wow, didn’t think there’d be someone else who’d hate them as much as I do.”

Joel grumbles something, then gives the bartender a nod as he takes a glass of whiskey from him. When the guy turns to you to take your order, you point at Joel’s glass. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

The guy gives you a doubtful look. “Can I see some ID?”

“Yes, you can. It’s called ‘I’m the daughter of the guy who is paying your salary tonight’ and I’m twenty two. Thanks for making that drink now.” You stare at him, daring him to push back against you - you are NOT in the mood for this tonight, especially not in front of Joel. After a few moments, the bartender sighs and shrugs as he turns around, reaching for a glass and some ice. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, so you turn towards him to give him a similar look. “What? Go ahead. Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m being a brat.”

“Nah.” Joel shakes his head as he sips from his whiskey. “You’d just get off on that. That’s not brattiness - you’re actually being rude,” he says, then wanders off to go talk to someone nearby.

You stare at him with an open mouth, anger starting to creep into you. How the fuck does he dare to just say something like that to you? It hurts, and most of all it gives you a pang of concern that maybe you’ve ruined your chances with him - between this and the way he responded at the pool a few days ago.

“Oh honey, forget about it.” The bartender gives you a look that’s bordering on pity and disdain, his inflection drastically different all of a sudden as he pushes a glass towards you. “That man ain’t into you. Wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. Why don’t you go find somebody of your own age to play with, hmmm?”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”, you snap at him as you grab the glass and stalk off, his words feeling like claws that have sunk into your skin and won’t let go of you. The burn of the liquor doesn’t help you in the way you’d hoped for, and you find yourself craving something stronger, sweeter. Anything that’ll help you take the edge off.

Anything, in this case, turns out to be 6’3”, blond, looks like a jock and is named… Brady? Brody? Brad. Ben. Blake. Something like that, you can’t remember, but it’s unimportant after having chatted with him for all of ten minutes. What matters is that he’s not a bad kisser, smells fine - not woodsy like Joel unfortunately - and his hands are large as well as eager, pressing you with your back against the solid wood of the pergola. 

If it wouldn’t ruin the mood for him, you probably would’ve laughed at the irony of making out with Blaine - Brandon? Brayden? No. Bruno. Bruce. Barry. Maybe it was Chad after all - right against the pergola that Joel had built over the past couple of days. 

You’d been watching Joel from your bay window, his muscles straining in the sun, while he grunted the way you had memorized from his Instagram videos. And for all of those three days, you’d had several orgasms as you’d watched him. Some of them were thanks to your fingers, others due to toys - varying from the small bullet vibe to the thrusting rabbit vibrator you used for longer sessions. But in the end, all of this had been going on for too long. The flirting, the way you’d feel him look at you regularly, the build up of tension; it had you feral by now, and you just wanted Joel.

You are gonna get him. Soon. Even if it means needing to make him jealous.

“Should we- should we go inside?” Jock guy pauses his kisses, leaning his forehead against yours as he runs his hands down your body, and you can feel him press hot and heavy against your thigh. Fuck, he is hung. “We’ll have some more privacy, and…”

“No, this is fine,” you say quickly, your eyes scanning the crowd of people across the yard. Most of them are unaware of your makeout session, and your glance slides right past them, but suddenly you detect Joel not too far away from where you are. He is staring right at you, gripping his whiskey glass in your hand, and when the guy next to him says something, he only shakes his head, not breaking his glance with you.

“Are you…”

“I said this is fine,” you said sharply to the guy with his hands on your hips. A frown plays over his face, and in a gesture of good will you let your hand brush over the crotch of his pants, tracing the outline of his dick. “Nobody is watching.”

He groans, his lips finding yours again as he pushes himself against your hand. You kiss him back eagerly this time, your arms around him as you turn him just the slightest bit so you can keep your view of Joel. He’s talking to the guy next to him now, a back and forth conversation, but every now and then his eyes slide back to you, and then there’s a nod he gives you that makes you shiver.

Baxter, or Bart, Bobby, or whatever the hell his name is, slips his hand under your skirt, and you moan when his fingertips trace your lacy underwear. You hear how he sucks in air for a second, then his chest almost puffs up in pride at how wet he finds you. Silly guy. He thinks it’s because of him, that his not-too-bad kisses have riled you up so much. Has no damn clue how Joel’s eyes are back on you again.

“Touch me,” you breathe at him, and then hold your breath when he does so. Thick fingers - though not as thick as Joel’s - slipping under the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side while your eyes remain locked on Joel. You’re trying to merge the touches with your fantasies and the visual of Joel right in front of you, conjuring up his voice. You think of the way he’d tease you with slow, playful strokes over your pussy, each time a little more focused on your clit, making you delirious with need before he’d even consider sliding a finger into your soaked cunt.

But reality seems more than unwilling to blend with your fantasies. While initially the guy seemed to smell fine, you’re now noticing the overwhelming amount of generic fuck boy cologne he’s wearing, the scent unsettling and clearly something Joel would never even wear. He doesn’t smell like a hard day’s work on Joel does and his hands are too smooth, too well taken care of. No roughness from manual labor whatsoever, no finesse to tease you, and definitely not much muscle memory on how to properly get a woman going. 

Instead he’s just clumsy, perhaps because all the blood has rushed to his cock that’s pressing insistently against you. Substitute-Joel’s fingers slide over your folds only one disappointing time, clearly not even attempting to find your clit. He fumbles around as his own breathing grows heavy, then suddenly tries to push two fingers inside of you - without any further prep or even checking if that’s okay with you. 

It abruptly ruins the horny spell you’d been under several minutes ago, and you swear as you grab his hand to stop him, your pussy strongly objecting to his fingers trying to invade you. 

“Hey! Fucking hell,” you hiss, pulling his hand out of your underwear before he can go any further. “You always fingerbang girls without properly prepping them?”

“What? You’re practically dripping on me,” he hisses back as he looks confused. But you’re not about to end up in a discussion about how being wet doesn’t mean he can just shove his fingers inside of you - let alone without any warning.

“Never mind,” you say as you push him away from you, then straighten your clothes as you move away from the pergola. “Let’s just forget this happened, okay? I’ve gotta go say hi to someone.”

“Bitch,” he mutters at you, adjusting his tie and the collar of his shirt. On most days you would’ve gladly torn him a new asshole for that, but you’re just not in the mood to further engage with him. So you start to head into Joel’s direction, but then see that he seems to have moved elsewhere, leaving you to look around in confusion.

You look up when you hear a group of men laugh, and see your father shake some hands as he offers his audience a few more words. Joel is there too, you realize, still with a drink in his hand. Your father gives him a friendly pat on his arm, which is returned with Joel’s signature nod, as he then heads over to some other people who look more than eager to greet him. It makes your skin crawl to see him acting like some kind of politician, eager to make a good impression on everyone, and you quickly turn away from him to look back at Joel - who is now looking straight at you again, without saying anything.

It’s not until you’re back at the bar for another whiskey - you’ve lost track of how many you’ve had - that he shows up next to you, giving you a gentle nudge like you had done to him earlier. “D’you eat anything recently?”, he asks, absentmindedly playing with a coaster on the bar. You can smell the smokey alcohol on his breath, see that the buttons on his shirt are just a little more opened than they were a little while ago, and it just makes you ache for him.

“Shut up, Joel,” you mutter, but he doesn’t follow your suggestion - instead he picks up the whiskey that the bartender slides over to you and takes a sip of it.

“A water for her, please?”, he asks, then covers the liquor glass with his hand when you try to reach for it. “No. You’re done.”

You’re starting to seethe at this point. “Who the fuck you think you are telling me how much I can drink?,” you snap at him. His eyes are infuriatingly calm, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips makes it clear he’s a lot more amused than you are.

“Easy, darling. Just looking out for you, okay?” He pushes the glass of ice water on the counter over to you, but you have half a mind to throw it at him.

“Why are you bothering me?”

His eyebrows raise at the word ‘bothering’, but he doesn’t quite respond to it. “Just have some water and food,” he says softly. “You’ll feel like shit if you don’t.” 

“You’re drunk too.”

Joel rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, well… have to get through this all somehow, don’t I? Been drinking water too, though.” He gives you a look as he takes another sip of whiskey, sighing.

“I don’t get why you’re here.” Your head is spinning a little, but at this point you’re not sure if it’s the booze or proximity to Joel that’s getting to you. The memory of that jock guy’s cologne is far from your mind by now, replaced now by that smell that you crave - the cologne you would recognize anywhere, layered with Joel’s own scent. And it’s driving you mad. “Nobody is making you, unlike they’re doing with me.” 

A smile plays over Joel’s face and he shrugs. “Your mom asked me.”

You can’t help but laugh. “My— what? And that’s why you’re voluntarily subjecting yourself to all of this?” You gesture around the yard, the groups of stuffy people, pretentious bite sized food and music that makes you desperately want to connect your phone to the speaker system. “I’ve been to so many of these. It’s awful, every single time.”

You’re waiting for him to tell you it’s not that bad, or even that you should suck it up. But instead he simply doesn’t respond, and only gives you a raised eyebrow as he has some more whiskey. When he puts the glass down on the bar, you impulsively swipe it and drain it before he can interfere, waiting for an actual retort this time. 

A frown slides onto his face and you grin almost triumphantly at the reaction, pushing the empty glass back towards him, only ice cubes remaining in it now. “I think you like dramatic,” you then blurt out, and see how he blushes slightly, the red flush creeping up from his chest to his neck.

“That what you think?” His eyes flick over you, and you nod, poking him in the chest with your finger. 

“Yeah. You’re… practical. Proper. Maybe kinda boring. You got your routine.” You really should stop talking with all that liquor in your system, but you refuse to admit he was right about you needing to sober up. “Maybe getting close to a midlife crisis? Working your job and then all the reno on your house. Don’t see you chill a whole lot.” 

You run your finger a little down his chest, then place your full hand against his shirt as you lean over to his ear. “I think you want some fun,” you whisper in his ear, barely audible due to the music playing at the party. “Somebody who shakes things up. Brings a little drama and excitement.”

Joel’s eyes are slightly unfocused from the whiskey, just like yours probably are, and you can tell that his guard is down in ways that you haven’t experienced before. “Old, huh? Boring, old, and close to a midlife crisis,” he says after a moment, a smirk on his face as he shakes his head. “But you would shake things up? Why would you bother with an old man?”

“Maybe I’m into that.” You bite your lip as you hesitate for a moment. “The whole DILF thing. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you watching me.”

His smirk widens into an actual grin now as he laughs, looking away at some commotion or a gathering that’s happening at the party. When he looks back at you, his eyes are darker than usual, and you can’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine.

“Little girl. You are in over your head.” His words are measured and quiet as he seems to pick them carefully, his hand now reaching for yours that’s still resting against his chest, and he gently pulls it off his shirt. “ Y’don’t even have a clue of what you’re playing with, darling. What are you gonna do? Rock my world? At your father’s party?”

“I don’t give a shit about his party,” you say sharply, but he shakes his head, interrupting you.

“But that’s the thing. You do,” he murmurs. “Y’couldn’t be more thrilled than to do so here, just to make a scene. Like you did with that guy.”

You feel victorious hearing him confirm that he had been watching you, and together with his ‘little girl’ comment it’s enough to make you soak your panties on the spot. “Were you jealous?”, you ask him challengingly.

He chuckles again, this time getting up from the barstool, and you take in his physique, admiring the way those tailored pants fit around his thighs. “Have some more water. And food,” he tells you, and in the split second you have before he turns away, you make up your mind. Perhaps it’s more like instinct, to do what you’ve been stopping yourself from doing for a while now. 

You grope him. 

Fingers quick as you cup him through his pants, closing around his balls and a part of his dick. It takes effort to bite back a whimper at finally feeling him, thick and hot and heavy in your hand, after all those weeks that you’ve been here and tried to figure out what the right move was. You hold his eyes defiantly, lips parted as you’d like to use your words but they all seem stuck in your throat.

His surprised intake of air when you grab him is immediate, and he looks frazzled as he shakes his head, tugging your hand abruptly away from his cock. “You out of your damn mind?”, he hisses, looking more than just a little flustered. “In front of everyfuckingbody?”

“So come insi—” The words die on your tongue when you suddenly see your mom approaching from a couple of feet behind Joel, unaware of what’s happening between the two of you, but apparently in search of you as she calls your name. Joel and you immediately step away from each other, him leaning against the bar as he seems to need a moment to compose himself. You have even less time to plaster a smile on your face for your mother, so you just nod enthusiastically as she rambles at you about some person’s son you should come meet. Your heart feels like it’s hammering out of your chest as you force yourself to tell her that you’d love to meet them, bringing a smile to your mom’s face.

Just as you’re about to join her to meet this person, your mom pauses at the bar and puts her hand on Joel’s shoulder. “By the way, he said that he could use your help with moving that thing, if you have time? Think he’s inside, couldn’t find you,” she said, and Joel nods while humming something affirmatively. His eyes flit to you for a split second before he looks down at the bar again, and he seems to wait until the two of you have moved away until he goes inside.    

You’re in a mild daze as you follow your mom through the crowd, performing the role you’re expected to play, while the moment that you grabbed Joel plays on repeat in your head. The gasp that spilled from his lips, the way he didn’t say “no” - just “in front of everybody?”, which was an entirely different thing, and frankly… he wasn’t wrong.

You can wait. Just that little bit longer. It’ll be so worth it.

Joel's outfit at the party (as a dress shirt and pants instead of a jumpsuit):

series masterlist | main masterlist

Thank you for reading, commenting or reblogging - I appreciate it so very much 🙏

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates + turn on notifs to see when the finale drops later this week!

[acourtofquestions]

“Rowan lit a few candles. The act alone left a hole in his chest.”

[kyri45]

✨ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU Q&A (22-09)✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@spec7rejay ha chiesto: First, for the lmk au: oh my god, they were roommates. Second: this may be a bit of a stretch, but I was listening to Lindsey Stirling and her song Foreverglow made me think of the ISaT S:CotL AU Third: your art and AU’s are amazing and I hope you have a nice day! :)

Aww you're right! It is kind of fitting! :D

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hi! I have a question about your Sky x ISAT au In your au, does Aurora exist? Would she be a preformer or something closer to the version of her in queendom?

AURORA in the AU is more similar to a performer who's also a seasonal guide, and the songs they play during the concert where you get teleported and become a bird or a jellyfish are like a collective meditative experience.

da3gr3d ha chiesto: Im finishing to play sky cotl at light speed just so i can read your au comic without spoilers of the game bc im obsessed with the lmk bio parents one and now i wanna read the other one as well bc you are so good at drawing and scripting the comics

(i said it and ill say it again i LOVE your stories im obsessed)

Anonimo ha chiesto: ur isat x sky:cotl au made me pick up sky <3

AAAHHH TY!! Hope you like the game as much as I do!

Anonimo ha chiesto: god your s:cotl isat comic has been making me absolutely completely insane im so obsessed with it. it's so so beautiful and so so good and im just auugughhhh

@queenofskys5 ha chiesto: I hope everyone who came for LMK is enjoying ISAT x Sky:COTL the way I'm enjoying LMK after basically learning of its existence from here

hehe glad you liked the LMK one as well!

Anonimo ha chiesto: the. the pararel between him and siffrin. that doesn't mean anything right haha I'm proooobably looking too deep into it def and it's def not because I think the king is siffrin in some way and I'm totally not looking at the same placements of their three eyelashes and the way they both have their left eye covered. I'm going. insane. tell me I'm insane please. love your art btw! :D

Ah yes, the 2 school of thoughts about Resh in the Sky fandom: either you are team Resh is you/you are part of resh or Resh and Alef are two different beings

@melodyofthevoid ha chiesto: Since in the new COTL event there's a spell that makes you a crab... if the gang got hit with that on the island... It'd truly be their worst nightmare /j

But it would also be so fuckong funny

Anonimo ha chiesto: TEY SIAD TEH THIHGBTEHYSA ISAID TEH THING IM SCREAMING OH MY GOD how long did it take for you to think of that dialogue, siffrin being from ISAT saying that and resh being from COTL saying that, people saying their respective game title names puugghhgh I'm gonna eXPLODE

Ahah since May I knew I was gonna add the name of the game (Sky) into that conversation. As I was drawing the chapter I thought that maybe I could also add the ISAT name as well

Anonimo ha chiesto: (regarding your current update on the ISAT cotl au) I SCREAMED. I SCREAMED. LOOOOPPP. OH MY GOD THEIR FAMILY. IM SCREAMING IM GONNA THROW UP /POS

LOOP! THEY WILL SAVE THE DAY!

[604to647]

Safest with You (✨Series Finale✨ Ch. 22 - The Long Road to Forgiveness)

16K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

No Summary or Warnings to avoid spoilers! (18+ Content, MDNI please - there are no warnings that would apply that haven't been noted on a previous chapter in the series).

A/N: This is it! Our series finale!! 😭😭🥰 (And it's a monster - sorree🫠) I love these two so much and I don't think I will ever truly say goodbye to them - there is still an Epilogue coming and possible one-shots in the future, but this is the end of our main story/relationship arc for them; I hope it's enjoyable and satisfying 🥹. Thank you to everyone who has read along with the series - it was my very first foray into fanfic and I've learned (and I hope, improved!) so much as a writer over this past year - I can never thank Din, Pretty Bird and all of you enough for this experience. Merci, merci, merci et je t'aime 😘😘😘

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 😘 / Series Masterlist

You don’t know how long you stand there, unmoving. 

He’s here. 

You truly believed you would never see Din again, but here he is sitting before you, looking more handsome than you remember.  The strong lines of his face and soft waves of his hair are both longer than when you saw them last but he’s still the same man who exudes a gravitational pull that you can’t help but feel tug at you.  And yet, you remain rooted in place - unable to go to him, but unable to leave.

Finally, Din stands and rises to his full impressive height, looking at you pleadingly with soft, unsure eyes; he starts to slowly move closer, one gentle footstep a time - as if afraid to spook you.

You count his steps.  One… Two… Three… Twelve… Fifteen… until he stands right before you, close enough for you to reach out and touch. 

There’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you that even though Din sought you out, that you’re the one who has to speak first; your words the only ones with the power of invitation… or dismissal.

The only problem is you don’t know what you want to say.  You had already made peace with the idea that you and Din would never speak again and chosen not to lingered on what remains unsaid, never mind how you would ever go about approaching those topics.  While you frantically try to navigate the questions that suddenly flood your mind, Din gingerly holds out the peony bouquet to you in offer.

And like he had done so a million times during your relationship, Din quiets your overthinking mind with a simple, but sweet gesture so you can think clearly.

You reach out to take the flowers from him and briefly admire them – they’re beautiful.  Your favourite.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Din’s voice is equally soft, cautious.

Raising your eyes from the pretty pastel blooms you find Din looking at you with such familiar tenderness that you can’t stop your heartstrings from strumming.  It was one thing to have worked through your feelings, finding a peace in being over Din while on your own; it’s another thing entirely when he’s right in front of you.

“Din, what are you doing here?”

Din’s countenance is one of resignation and apology, “I- um.. I just… I just wanted to let you know you’re safe.”

You don’t know how to respond to this declaration.  Din takes your silence as a request to further clarify, “To be clear, you were always safe… always protected.  I just mean that the threat made against you has been eliminated… no one is after you.  And no one will ever come after you.”

It’s still not much of an explanation, but you ask, “And the others, they’re safe too?”

Of course you would worry after the others, smiles Din, “Yes, everyone is safe.  You’re perfectly safe.  You’ve always been safe and you always will be.”

And while you immediately understand that Din’s intention in coming today is to reassure you, give you closure, you find his words insufficient.

Eyes piercing, but voice soft, you sigh, “I didn’t feel very safe.”

“Oh fuck, pretty bird.  Shit.  I thought you knew that even if we weren’t together, the Family would protect you.  I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean f-”

Your hand comes up slightly to interrupt, “You misunderstand, Din.  I didn’t mean I felt like I was in any danger or that I was scared.  Because I didn’t.  I meant I didn’t feel safe.  How could I?  When the person who made me feel the safest, the one who I trusted the most to care for my well being had abandoned me?” 

You inhale and exhale a deep, surrendering breath, “There’s a difference between knowing I’m safe and feeling I’m safe, Din.”  Unsure of where these words are spilling from, you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to, “You need to know that you have more to offer someone that just protection.  To me, you were comfort, steadiness, security – my port in any storm no matter how big or small.  With that taken from me, how could I ever feel safe?”

The look of devastated comprehension on Din’s face nearly makes you regret your words.  You hadn’t meant, nor do you harbour any desire to make Din feel badly - he had come to you today with the sweetest of intentions. And so, you try to give him a kindly smile through your sad eyes, “Din, it’s okay.  Really.  I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel bad or because I need you to apologize for it.  I know you did what you thought was the best for me, what kept me the safest… but, for the sake of the next person you’re with – I hope you can consider that making someone feel safe is as much about being there for them, being reliable, as it is protecting them from danger.”

The silence that follows is heavy with regret and contemplation.  And even though it wasn’t the point of your speech, Din, for the moment can only speak to the one thing he’s sure of, “There’s never going to be anyone after you, pretty bird.”

“Din…”

“It’s the truth, but I know that that’s neither here nor there.  I didn’t come here today to try and beg you for another chance or to see if you wanted to still be with me.  I know it’s impossible - I ruined any possibility of us.  But, please know - there isn’t any universe where I get over you.  Where there’s a ‘next person’ - you were it for me.  And having heard what you said today, I now know that as much as I thought I did what was needed to keep you safe – I do have to be very sorry and apologize because it turns out that I still failed.  I’m so sorry, pretty bird.”

Din sinks to his knees and wraps his big strong arms, the very ones whose warmth and security you knew so well, around the back of your legs and presses his face into the softness of your belly.  As you card your fingers through the silky curls of Din’s hair, the familiarity of the gesture softens your heart even further.

You know Din is sorry.  You can feel his remorse and apology with every fibre of your being - and so, heart complacent in the face of Din’s complete surrender and capitulation, you forgive him. 

There’s nothing more to it.  Din’s sorry and he carries an albatross of regret for having hurt you - you have no desire to punish him more. 

It had been naïve of you to think you had nothing left to say to Din - there are words that had, unbeknownst to you, been hiding in your heart, trapped with nowhere to go for the last four months, now beating loud against their makeshift prison to be heard.  For your own hard-won peace, you can’t let Din go without having him hear them. 

“Din, I meant what I said: you are so much more than the protection you provide.  You were the keeper of my heart.  Being with you was a dream – I had never felt more confident, content, and hopeful for the future.  Everyday, I was the most cherished, adored woman on earth, and I believed you would safeguard my heart as if it was your most precious treasure.  Every time you decided for me that my safety was compromised by being with you – every time you left – it felt like you were ripping that comfort and security away.  Please, Din - I’m not saying I don’t appreciate your concern for my physical safety, but it should never have come at the expense of the safety of my heart.”  Din rises as you punctate your point, “The hardest thing was losing the security I thought I had that our love was worth something to you too.”

You start to walk and Din follows, the emotion and sincerity in your voice holding him a willing hostage.

“And it’s not just how you approached the threat made against me, Din.  I know you always kept secrets from me about parts of your life that, I don’t know… you thought might make me see you differently?  And maybe that was partially my fault for being okay with it in the beginning out of some desire not to encroach on things that might not have been my business.  I don’t even know anymore.  But even if you didn’t know how I would react or thought I couldn’t handle the type of things you said I was too ‘good’ for, I think it hurt us in the long run that you didn’t give me the benefit of the doubt to try.  Did you genuinely think I would choose to leave?  I mean, Din - are you ashamed of who you are or any of the things you’ve done?”

In every battle Din’s ever fought with himself when it came to being with you, he’s asked himself this question, “I… I can live with myself, pretty bird.”

“Then maybe I could have, too?  For the entire time we were together, you only ever made me feel supported and uplifted, comfortable no matter the situation, Din.  I was certain there was nothing that I could tell or share with you that could ever make you love me any less.”

Against your wishes, your eyes well up as you think back to Din’s abandonment, “That’s how much I trusted you, how much my heart believed in your goodness.  I… can’t help but be hurt that you didn’t trust me the same way.”

You allow Din to walk you down to the subway platform, and when he curls himself around you to shield you from the wind tunnel the incoming train brings, you heart pulls unexpectedly with a longing that you had thought was long extinguished.  It’s this: this care, this thoughtfulness that has always been, to you, the measure of the man Din is – you leave him with this final thought before the subway car doors close behind you, “You didn’t need to protect me to make me feel safe, Din.  You were enough.”

Din goes home and thinks about what you said.

He doesn’t think anyone has ever loved him the way you did – he had never had any one say that they saw him beyond being a protector.  It touches something deep inside him to know that he gave you comfort and you had loved him for his soft and giving nature, not the hardness of his utility.  He chose to provide for you in the manner he thought he was best suited, but what you had sought was something he never considered anyone would want from him: a true, equal partnership.  That you had felt he didn’t believe in your love, in you - and that he hadn’t held both in the high esteem that he does?  Well, that was inexcusable.  Din adds it to the long list of ways he had hurt you that he could never forgive himself for.

Din doesn’t harbour any illusions that he has another chance with you, but this he can still make happen – he can show you that he does trust you. That he had held dear your belief in him and still does.  He can show you that the love you had bestowed upon him was the greatest gift he had ever received.

He can find the courage to be truthful about all the things that he had thought he had to keep a secret from you.  You were right - he hadn’t been wholly honest with you.  Saying it was for your protection, but the truth was Din had been afraid if you knew the realities of his world, the darker side of who he was, perhaps you would look at him differently.  Maybe you wouldn’t have been able to look at him at all.

But you were the most reasonable, smartest, sweetest, generous person he knew – and he hadn’t treated you as such.

You were right.  He hadn’t shown very much faith in you or your love – but he could fix that.  What did he have to lose by showing you the truth of who he was?  He had already lost you - the least he could do is try and take away some of the hurt he had caused.

To say you’re surprised to see Din again the next day is an understatement.  Having once again resigned yourself to never seeing him again after leaving him on the subway platform yesterday, you can’t deny the warmth that blooms tentatively in your chest when you find him sitting in the courtyard waiting for you after work once more

This time, it’s you who approaches him – an unspoken question on your bemused face.

Din rises to meet you and holds out another bouquet of peonies, just as beautiful as the one with which he had met you the previous day, “So, pretty bird, do you want me tell you who was behind the threat?”

Din comes every day to pick you up after work and sees you all the way home.  Some days you take the subway together and on others you walk the long walk – but Din always stays to walk Al with you once you reach your building.  He waits patiently downstairs while you go in to get Al and lovingly greets the pup who receives him as if Din hadn’t disappeared from his life for nearly a year.  It makes you smile to see that their bond remains unchanged.

You and Din talk - freely, unrestrained; no more secrets, no emotions withheld – nothing is off limits.

As promised, Din starts with the topic of what came of the threat made against you and other Fett Family loved ones.  You insist that Din not spare any of the details that he might be tempted to temper or deem too unsavoury for you; you don’t know that Din has already made the commitment to be nothing but transparent with you.

It was the Hutts.  Everything had been the Hutts all along: from the small incidents of vandalism and theft to the minor outbreaks of violence that had increased in intensity and frequency all the way up to Cass and Rikard’s wedding, even the assassination attempt at Boba’s birthday, and then the threats made against you and those nearest and dearest to the Fetts.  The Hutts had been behind it all, though they had not done it alone.

Ultimately it had been the Fett-Pyke engagement announcement (made some time when you and Din first started dating) that had set things in motion.  When Cass and Rikard announced their intention to marry, there had been a small, contingent group of Pyke Syndicate members that had not been as happy for the couple as they claimed to be.  They had tolerated the relationship even though they found it distasteful, but a marriage?  A marriage meant a formal, legal tie to the Fett Family and that they just could not allow.  It had been years since there had been any bloodshed between the two clans, but in their eyes, some things could never be bygones.

But what could they do?  They were an older, fading minority in the Syndicate.  Lom and Marg were progressive leaders who had numbers and support - if they wanted the union to happen, their followers would fall in line.

So, they reached out to someone who abhorred the idea of the Fetts and Pykes coming together even more than they did: The Hutts.  The Hutts couldn’t care less about the legacy of old grievances - what they didn’t want is for two of their rival clans to become allies, even if they were, for the moment at least, only getting along for the sake of a couple of kids.  They feared that the ties between the Fetts and Pykes would only become stronger and that eventually, familial ties and business ties would blur.  If the Fetts and the Pykes were to work together, they would indisputably become the strongest crime syndicate in the city, easily overpowering and out-muscling the Hutts and other clans if they wanted to.

The small group of Pyke conspirators worked with the Hutts to slowly, and without raising suspicion, create discourse between the Fetts and the Pykes.  They even enlisted the help of the Crymorah Syndicate to sow the seeds of mistrust.  Those months of unrest and escalating security incidents during your relationship with Din had been the work of their efforts – Din had been right, there had been a behind-the-scenes culprit orchestrating it all.  At first, they hit all the clans and their territories with impunity - not marking anyone as an obvious target in order to foster a general atmosphere of unease and instability.  Then gradually, they increased the pressure on only Fett and Pyke marks, hoping that it would cause the two clans to start pointing the finger at each other and destroy any goodwill that the engagement had garnered.

To their great frustration, aside from putting everyone on high alert and causing undue stress on security teams from both sides, it seemed that the newly forged bonds of friendship and trust between the Fetts and Pykes, while tentative, were holding strong.

The wedding had gone off as planned to the displeasure of those who had been conspiring against it.  A few of the lower-level Hutt footmen had made a last ditch attempt to make their frustrations known by crashing the end of the wedding and getting into it with the younger Pyke cousins; but even that disturbance had been easily squashed by Din and the Mandos.

The brief period of respite that had occurred after the wedding was due to the Hutts and the rogue Pykes regrouping for their contingency plan.

This time, instead of targeting both clans in order to insinuate some kind of escalating payback between the two families, they would target only the Fetts and frame the Pykes.  The plan included a two-pronged strike on the Fetts: first, on territories and businesses that bordered those of the Pykes, and second, where it would hit the clan the hardest - family.  Between the threats made and the unyielding onslaught of attacks and violence, they hoped to run down the Mandos and throw the organization in such disarray that the Fetts would foolishly follow the planted clues leading to the Pykes being responsible – thereby breaking up any potential alliance and possibly even leading to a war that would end the possibility on a permanent basis.

It was diabolical.  And it could have very well worked if not for Boba’s instincts and his belief in the inherent good of those Pykes that he now, through marriage, considered family.

Din tells you every detail of his and Paz’s investigation: every false lead they chased down, the twist and turns of every revelation, and each and every time they fell for one of the Hutt’s traps.  You hear the names of more Hutts and Pykes and Crymoreans than you can keep straight and you learn how Din got the information needed out of each one of them.  Din doesn’t mince words and he leaves nothing to innuendo: he trusts you with the whole truth, no matter how dirty, gritty, or damaging.

Your expression gives nothing away.  You ask a million questions.  Din answers every single one in full.  He talks so much that your time together eventually extends to include Al’s late-night walk so that Din can share as much as he can before needing to wait before he sees you again the next day.

You’re not sure when, but during one of these nightly dog walks, Din’s fingers tentatively lace through yours and instead of pulling away, you give his hand a gentle squeeze and leave your hand resting comfortably in his.  He holds your hand every chance he gets after that.

After he finishes his tale with an assurance that those responsible in the Pyke Syndicate have been weeded out and dealt with, along with some graphic details on how Boba exposed and put an end to the Hutts’ subterfuge, Din opens up to you about his past.

He tells you everything you’ve ever wanted to know about the type of work he’s done for the Fett Family in the past and what he still does to this day.  Every scar on Din’s body that you’ve ever traced beneath your delicate fingers has a tale of savagery and he tells you every single one.  You grimace at the graphic descriptions, but your eyes never shy away from Din, tender and worried even now for wounds long since healed over.

Your heart breaks for Din with every story he recounts where he lost a friend, was betrayed by someone he had trusted, or where he saw the duplicitous nature of the people who occupy the world he was born into.  Every loss, every breach of trust has carved a mark into this man that you thought you knew so well, molding him into the cautious warrior that he is – only now, perhaps, do you truly understand why Din is so protective over those he holds dear, why he had been so protective over you.

He’s the man you always knew he was: honourable, loyal, true of heart, wise but somehow not jaded or world weary.  Din remains unchanged in your esteem: a good man who tries his best.  You can’t help but admire him.

One night, right before you and Al head in, instead of wishing you a good night, Din looks nervously at his feet.  

“Pretty bird, can I kiss you?”

You look at Din, not without affection but still unsure of how you feel or how you want to feel now that your story seems to be continuing beyond what you had reconciled yourself to, and shake your head, no.

Din nods understandingly and tries to give you an expression that’s devoid of disappointment; while he would have loved for you to have answered affirmatively, he would never push you.

He continues coming to see you every day and the conversation resumes without reservations.

You go back in time in your relationship and ask questions you didn’t even know you had back then.  Din remains candid and open – he’s found it to be easier to be plainly honest with you now that he’s started.  For your part, you’re astonished to learn of things you probably should have suspected, like how the boxing circuit is mob dominated because of the rampant gambling, and other things you never have would guessed, like how Mayfeld owns a successful chain of barbershops.

Sometimes the conversation veers again to how you and Din separately fared over this past year.  He always apologizes profusely and refuses to shy away from any re-airing of your insecurities and confusion about this time.  For the first time, he confesses aloud the depth of his depression and the emptiness he felt without you in his life.  It brings you no joy to hear how Din struggled and how he’s punished himself while you were apart.

It’s with sincerity that Din tells you that he found a small comfort in knowing you had moved on, that if not gone, at least the hurt he had inflicted on you had lessened; you tell him about your healing turning point: when you returned his items.  He listens, full of emotion, as you recount how going through his things unearthed memories of a loving relationship and that you consider him to be a great love of your life.  When you tell him this, it’s with an unnamed swirl of feeling that thunders in your chest.

You chuckle somewhat awkwardly when Din tells you about how Peli had stormed into Mando’s after you dropped off his boxes, bellowing that even though you had made Paz promise not to tell Din he had seen you, she “didn’t effing promise.”  Though the image that Din paints of an irate Peli is amusing, you sheepishly explain the reasoning behind the promise you extracted from Paz.  Din can’t quite believe it – you had wanted to protect him?  After everything he had done?  He thanks you for having attempted to shield his feelings, though he doesn’t think he deserved it - but then again, he never thought he deserved you.

With earnestness, you assure Din that he did and even after learning everything he’s now been so transparent about, your opinion hasn’t changed - he’s a good man.

It takes several weeks of you repeating this for Din to maybe concede that he could be.

Every night before he leaves you, Din asks you the same question, “Pretty bird, can I kiss you?” 

And while your affections for Din continue to grow and your trust in what he says solidifies, still you shake your head and say no.  Your nightly refusal is received with an understanding nod – no guilt, no pressure. 

After about a month walking you home everyday, Din suggests getting dinner one night.  You could bring Al, he says, hopefully, and cites the nice weather and abundance of dog friendly patios.

You have dinner together that night.  And the next night.  And the next.

Din’s company is as comfortable and easy as you remember; his very presence can still calm you and his sweet words and longing glances set your heart a flutter the way they used to.  You find yourself sometimes wishing Al’s nighttime walks were longer just so you can stay with Din, even though you know you’ll see him again the following day.  And yet…

“Pretty bird, can I kiss you?”

Your answer remains unchanged.  When you look deep in Din’s eyes, you see a yearning that mirrors the one that’s started to grow in your heart, but even with all that’s been said between you and him over these past several weeks, you’re still terribly unsure.  Unsure if you can trust Din with your heart again. 

Tonight, instead of just nodding at your response with graceful acceptance, Din looks at you with seriousness and gingerly brings his hand up to cup your face - he wants to makes sure you see in his eyes the sincerity that comes with his next words.

“Baby, I want to be clear - I love you.  I’ve never stopped and my feelings for you are as strong as they’ve ever been.  But I have no expectations and I would never ask you for anything.  If all I can ever be to you is someone whose company you enjoy once in a while, then I’m happy.  These past few weeks is the happiest I’ve been for almost a year.  I don’t expect you to feel the same way as me and I won’t push.  If you want me to stop asking to kiss you - if it makes you uncomfortable, or you just don’t want that thought to have any place in this friendship we’re rebuilding, then I’ll stop and I promise I’ll be okay with it.”

There he is - the considerate man you had loved.  The one who took intimate care of your emotional safety and for whom disrespect and unkindness were never an option.  You don’t know if there’s a future for you and Din in the way that he’s imaging, but Din’s sweet words and the way he’s looking at you right now make you hopeful for the possibilities. 

“Don’t stop asking,” you say in a shy voice.

The smile on Din’s face couldn’t be more radiant - it lights up his whole face and he breathes, eyes soft, “Ok, pretty bird.  I won’t stop asking.”

Din’s daily presence and the time you spend together become such a comfortable part of your life that you hardly recall what it was like before; as time goes on, your conversations become less expository and return to an easy, natural rapport.  

You ask after Paz, Lisa, Poe, Cass and Boba, and even Fennec and her mods, all the Mandos, Peli and the more colourful characters from the gym – delighting in all their recent shenanigans.

Din always asks about your friends.  When he admits how much he admires them, especially Rory, you tell him he reminds you of her sometimes and that she’s surprisingly been his biggest champion.  You think he looks proud at this.  To your surprise, Din tells you that he’s read Bea’s book – he happily discusses its characters and plot points with you, and you giggle at how he tries to hide his excitement when you tell him insider info on the upcoming second book in the series.

Topics of discussion come out of nowhere but the conversation never wanes: what books you’re both reading, new and upcoming fighters at Mando’s, Greef’s short lived attempt at mandating a required book club for all the fighters (“Gentlemen, we need to also exercise the mind”), the latest season of the Korean dating show that you were both addicted to, Katie’s upcoming play, Mayfeld’s sad attempts to recreate your garlic knots.

When you offer to make a batch and bring it over to Mando’s one day, Din jokes that he won’t tell Mayfeld unless you want him to replace Din at your next after work pick up.  Inwardly, his heart is doing backflips at you making any future plans that involve him, however tangentially.

He’s in love with you and he won’t even lie to himself anymore about wanting you back.  But he meant it when he told you he’ll never push or pressure; it would pain him to make you uncomfortable in any way.  Din drinks in every happy smile you give him and floats on the waves of your musical laughter; contents himself with stealing admiring looks when you’re not looking and he holds your hand like it’s the most precious thing he’s allowed to touch - because it is.

Din endlessly compliments you and it truly takes him no effort to make you feel the way he always did: special, beautiful, smart and witty, and like everything you do and say matters.  Your kindness and sweetness to him seems to know no bounds – he should have never expected anything less; even knowing everything you do now about him, you still treated him like he’s someone worth being around.

He thanks you for this.  For being you. 

You tell him there’s nothing to thank you for as you squeeze his hand and something in your expression gives him courage; he asks you again, “Can I kiss you, pretty bird?”

Tonight, you nod.  As Din leans in, your heartbeat quickens not just from anticipation, but also fear. 

You’re frightened.  Frightened because you want Din to kiss you.  Frightened because you think you want to open up your heart to him, but you don’t have any assurance that he won’t abandon you again.  Frightened because you want to take the risk, because you think he’s worth it.

As soon as Din’s lips touch yours, the tingling spark that spreads throughout your entire body from the familiar and missed touch leaves you shivering.  Din must feel it too because he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close, crushing his mouth to yours to deepen the kiss.  When you open up to invite him in, you unexpectedly let out a loud sob that bubbles up from your chest without permission and hot tears spring from your eyes, running down your cheeks.

“Baby,” Din gently cradles your head in his large hands and strokes your hair soothingly.

You hiccup and choke out, “Was I so easy to leave, Din?”

“Oh fuck, sweet girl – no, of course not.  Leaving was the hardest thing I ever had to do; it nearly killed me every time I walked away from you.”

“You did it so many times,” you cry, sad and exposed.  Din had left you.  Even if you understand his flawed reasoning, you still can’t quite reconcile it with the love he professes to feel for you.

“I know,” Din hangs his head in shame, he tilts your trembling face to his and tries to brush away your tears. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll probably never understand the anguish I put you through – I told myself it was better than if any physical harm were to befall you, but I hated it, hurting you.  I only ever wanted to keep you safe, care for you, and give you everything you deserve, but I had convinced myself that it was worth it if you were safe.  When I saw the way you looked at me that night with Vanessa, I could see the betrayal you felt… it gutted me and I knew right away I had made a mistake.  I felt like the biggest piece of shit on the plant.  I was the biggest piece of shit on the planet.  And it was probably nothing compared to how I made you feel.”

You want to tell Din that you don’t like it when he talks poorly about himself, but you let him continue.

“I already didn’t deserve you, but the way I left you… the way I hurt you?  Well, that just confirmed it.  How could someone who could hurt an angel be deserving of that angel?  But baby, I loved you so much - you were my everything, my sun, my moon.  And I missed you so fucking much.  Every single waking moment of every day, all I could think about was you.  How you were, if you were okay, hoping I hadn’t somehow hurt you beyond repair.  Part of me wished you would have forgotten all about me so that I couldn’t hurt you anymore, and the more selfish part of me hoped you wouldn’t – that you might still remember what we had before with love.  When you told me that you had questioned everything about our relationship, I realized how stupid I had been to think I understood the damage I caused.  I was a bigger piece of shit than I already knew.  If it was possible, I was even less deserving of you than I thought.  I didn’t expect you to ever be able to forgive me.  So whenever I thought there was another choice between your safety and my happiness… I couldn’t choose my happiness.  I didn’t deserve it… and you deserved better anyways.  So, I always chose your safety and walked away.”

Din’s own tears have now begun to fall; he lets you wipe them away with your soft thumbs.

“But it was never easy, and I am so, so sorry, pretty bird.  Walking away from you is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.  I love you more than life itself.”

He looks broken.  He’s so hard on himself, you think.  Din’s words touch you and you believe them to be genuine, but you don’t know how much stock you can put into them, “How do I know you won’t do it again, Din?  How do I know that when push comes to shove, if you think it will somehow be good for me, or if I deserve better, or if you’re saving me, or whatever, that you won’t leave again?”

“I could never leave you again, pretty bird.  I would rather die than hurt you ever.  And it would fucking kill me; it almost destroyed me to be apart from you this last year.  Absolutely nothing could ever be worth betraying your trust and heart again… even imagining it makes me sick to my stomach.  I love you and I won’t ever go away unless you wish me away.  I’m going to dedicate everything in my power to making you happy and to make things up to you, to earn your trust back – because that’s what you deserve.  You deserve complete devotion, loyalty, unquestioned love.  I was too stuck before on if I was deserving of you, but fuck – that was so fucking stupid of me – the only thing that matters is giving you what you need and deserve.  I’ll never leave again, baby – I promise.”

Din debates getting down on his knees to beg you, “If you give me the chance, I’ll spend every day proving it to you.  Every day trying to earn back your trust.  Would you be willing to give me the chance?”

The truth is you don’t really need to think about it - for these past few months, Din has already been on the long, slow road back into your heart.  It hasn’t always been easy and there had been unexpected turns, but Din has been unwavering and consistent in his pledge to be open and honest.  He’s extended himself and now you want to do the same; you look at him, soft and earnest, and nod your answer.

Before the joy that blossoms in Din’s chest can explode, you place a tender hand on his cheek and your happy expression mixes with one of concern, “Din, promise you’ll never call yourself a piece of shit again, okay?  The man I loved, the one I want to love me again is honourable, loyal, unflinchingly kind and sweet - and I need him to know he’s a man of value and true genuine worth.  You said so yourself, it was simpler for you to walk way when you thought you didn’t deserve me - when you believed you weren’t the one for me.  I need you to feel like you’re the one for me, okay?  Forgive yourself, please.  I deserve a man who is as kind to himself as he is to me.”

How are you so fucking sweet?  Din doesn’t deser- no, that exactly the type of thinking you just asked him to stop feeding into; he shakes it off and agrees to your request.

Din means it.  He could never leave you again - even if the world was burning down, he’d stay by your side.

He reminds you of his vow ever day after.  Tells you.  Shows you with his soft and hard kisses and with the way he holds you and treasures every touch you share.  He demonstrates it in his commitment to and the dependability of his love - showing up everyday and being unflinchingly open and honest about everything.  His raison d’etre is to cherish you, adore you, support you in the way you deserve.  Din’s love for you has never wavered and he can only show up day after day after day so that you hopefully never have a reason to doubt it again.

And then one day, Din’s not there.  You leave your office at six, around the usual time when you’d find Din waiting for you.  Only today he’s nowhere to be found - not in the courtyard, or alongside the building, or out towards the street.

You’re momentarily confused - he’s here every day, where is he?  When your head clears, you realize that it’s not just that you expected Din to be here, you want him here.  You look forward to seeing him every day and enjoy having him as a regular and consistent part of your life again.  Whatever is going on between the two of you, however or whatever you’re still figuring out, it makes you happy that he’s here. 

And today he’s not - your heart constricts at what this might mean.  Is Din okay?  Is he hurt?  You hurry down the steps of the courtyard straight to the street to flag down a cab so you can head directly to Mando’s.  It never even crosses your mind that Din has had a change of heart, that maybe he no longer wants to walk this slow road that the two of you have been treading - the one paved with trust and forgiveness, all leading to a destination you haven’t even defined.  Not for a second do you worry that Din may be giving up on what has essentially amounted to the hint of a promise that the two of you were working towards being to each other what you were before.

Because you already were.  Because you believe every word he’s said about never leaving you again, how he would be open with you about everything, that being apart nearly killed him, and how he would never give you reason to doubt him ever again.  You had told yourself you wanted to believe in Din and that you eventually could, but your heart already had.

So, if Din wasn’t here, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be - there had to a reason.  You’re nervously fidgeting in the cab when you get a string of texts about halfway to the gym.

Unknown number [6:27 pm]: Hello!  This is Jimmy!  A big delivery of equipment for Mando’s came late today and we’ve been unloading it and Din left his phone up in his office and didn’t realize what time it was.  He told me to text you and tell you he’s sorry he’s not there to pick you up and he’s really sorry and he’ll call you when he can get back up to his office and he’s really sorry! 

You breathe a sigh of relief and laugh a little at yourself for how worried you had been. 

You love him. 

Your head’s been proven right with what your heart already knows: Din will always come through.  He’s your steady rock – your person to depend on, to trust.  You love him.

As soon as the cab pulls up to Mando’s, you spot Din.  His back is to you as he pulls a giant box off of a truck to load onto the pallet that Jimmy’s patiently holding the handle to.  Din’s back and arm muscles stretch and strain against his shirt as he lifts the heavy cargo in one swift motion, carrying it almost effortlessly - though you can see from the bulge of his veins and the tension in his neck that an impressive effort is being exerted.  And though he looks positively drool worthy, it’s the knowledge that that same strength devotes itself to your care and safety that has your heart racing.

The moment he’s set down the box you’re running to him, calling his name; Din turns at your voice and the surprise on his face is quickly overtaken by a grin so bright it might send you stumbling if you weren’t so determined to get to him.

Slamming into his hard chest, you bury your face into the comforting wall before you happily breathe in Din’s familiar, musky scent. 

“Hey pretty bird.  Did you get Jimmy’s text?  I’m so sorry – I really meant to pick you up as usual.  This delivery just took longer than I thought it would.  I’m sorry, baby.”

Mumbling into his chest, you nuzzle in further, “It’s okay, Din.  I know you would have been there if you could.  But…”

Pulling back so there’s no misunderstanding when you say what your heart wishes for Din to hear, you lace your fingers behind his neck, “I hated that you weren’t there and I just wanted you to know that.  I want you always, Din.  I don’t want you to… away.”

Din presses you back to his front and chuckles into your hair, “Okay baby, you already know I’m yours, always.  And after the way I fucked up this last year, I couldn’t be apart from your even if I was stupid enough to try.  It would fucking kill me - I’m never going to ‘away’, sweet girl.”

“Good,” you murmur, tipping your head back and letting Din’s lips find yours.

It feels like a first kiss.  Not a tentative or exploratory one like the first time your lips touched all those many moons ago, but like the first kiss heralding in a new era.  One full of promise, of giddy bliss and of partnership.  A future.  Every stroke of Din’s tongue against your own is brave and insistent and he fills your mouth with the emotions leaping from his chest that he can’t quite articulate because you won’t allow him the air to speak.  You nip and lick and sigh – wanting nothing more than to devour him, and you just might have if the hoots and hollers from your audience at Mando’s didn’t tear you, suddenly shy, from Din’s kiss swollen lips.

“Alright, alright, knock it off,” Din shouts over his shoulder good humouredly - he looks down at you, unable to contain his elation, “Pretty bird, should we go and get Al?”

You nod happily.

Over the next two weeks, you and Din enter a new phase of your renewed courtship.  No more hesitation or careful treading of your feelings, only open and jubilant reveling in your affections and love for one another.  Din dotes on you and spoils you as he always did, and you let him – generous in return with your praise and reassurances that he makes you undeniably happy.

He wines and dines you with enthusiasm, taking you out nearly every night even though you insist it’s not necessary.  He tells you that he has a lot of dates to make up for.  You make out like teenagers and take Al out on longer than necessary walks just so you can stay in each others’ arms.

Though your time together gets progressively more amorous, you don’t spend the night and Din hasn’t even come up to your apartment - as much as you can’t keep your hands off one another, you haven’t had sex.  You’re not exactly sure why this is, except that you know Din is respectfully letting you take the lead, so it must be you.  It’s not that you don’t want to – Din remains the most delicious man you’ve ever set eyes on and just one look from him can sometime send your heart racing and pussy clenching.  The way he’s been gripping your waist tighter, coupled with the heat that radiates from his hands when he runs them down your back and over your ass when you say goodnight indicates Din wants you just as much as you want him.

But for some reason, you just can’t cross that threshold with him yet.  You don’t have any doubts about Din’s commitment or devotion, and you want him with a near constant ache between your legs, so what is your deal?  Do you just want this flirty, almost innocent phase of your relationship to last a little bit longer?  Is it that once you fuck him again, you know you won’t be able to stop and you don’t want sex to overshadow the bond you and Din have been rebuilding?  Or is that while you believe in him, your brain can’t stop reminding you that at the end of the day, Din’s promises are just words with no tangible assurance that they’ll be kept?  Are you a crazy person?

You need someone to talk you off the ledge – you’re counting on your friends to help you figure out why you’re being so ridiculous when you go out tonight for Jen’s belated birthday celebration.

---

Unfortunately, you never get the chance to ask your friends for help in analyzing your self-imposed celibacy because the dinner goes off the rails almost immediately.

It starts when your pre-dinner cocktails come and inexplicably included is a round of beer that none of you ordered.  Your waitress gives you an apologetic look and explains that a group of guys at a nearby table sent them.

It’s an obvious ploy so they can invite themselves over since none of you ordered beers, so you send the pints back over with a polite, thanks but no thanks.

They approach anyways.  There are five of them of varying ages, but all old enough to know better – and all imbued with too much liquid courage and arrogance to care that they’re intruding and unwelcomed.

Successively, the men come over individually or in pairs, as if their smaller numbers might put you and your friends at ease.  It doesn’t.  Your polite assertions that it’s a girls’ night and that you’re looking to spend time with only each other are purposefully ignored; as your dismissals get more insistent, so do their efforts.

You and your friends get no reprieve or peace from the group’s increasingly aggressive advances and inappropriate comments.  When one of the men gets too comfortable with putting his hand on your lower back, you recoil and an unsettling chill runs up your spine.

It feels calculated and unnerving – too aggressive to be considered eager, but just this side of menacing.  You suspect that your table’s would be suitors aren’t playing dumb; the decision to ignore you and your friends’ clear wishes and boundaries feels deliberate.  It’s almost as if once their rejection was assured, they thought it would be fun to mess with you, scare you.

When Lala runs back from the bathroom to report that one of them grabbed her on her way back, that’s when your general sense of annoyance and discomfort morphs into anxiousness.

While the obvious answer might be to leave, you all realize quickly that at least in the restaurant, you’re in public – you’re more than sure that if you attempt to leave, your group will be followed out of the building… right into a dimly lit, possibly empty street.

And since your harassers haven’t done anything for which you can lodge a formal complaint (there were no witnesses to Lala’s run in), the five of you remain trapped at your table, unsure of what to do next.

“I’m going to call Din,” you finally say - whenever something feels off or potentially unsafe, your instinct is to run to Din

“What can he do?”, asks Jen.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll have some ideas,” shrugging, you dial Din's number and hope he’ll pick up.  Luckily, he does so after the first ring, “Hey, pretty bird.”

You almost sigh in relief, “Din…”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You can’t help but grin into the phone, “How do you know something’s wrong?”

“Just your voice,” Din says lightly.

Suddenly you're plagued with uncertainty.  Why did you call Din?  What could he do?  Would he be annoyed that you bothered him over something that really amounted to a 'bad feeling'?

“I don’t know if it’s anything,” chewing your bottom lip, you're hesitating when Din interrupts with the soothing tone and words that you need to hear.

“Baby, if you called, then it’s something to you.  And that means it’s something to me.  Tell me what it is.”

He’s always been so good at reassuring and grounding you - you continue with a little more certainty, “Well, you know how the girls and I were going out to dinner tonight?  Well, we’re at Toshi’s and there’s another table of just guys that have sort of been… harassing us?”

You can practically hear Din frown and you hurry to explain the series of events that led up to your call, finishing, “It’s not that they’ve threatened us or anything?  They just haven’t left us alone all night.  They know we’re not interested but keep coming by and making comments that make us feel uncomfortable like how they’ve already decided who’s going home with whom from their group?  One of them tried to grab Lala when she was going to the washroom and now none of us want to get up by ourselves and we’re starting to wonder what’s going to happen when we try to leave the restaurant.”

Din doesn’t miss a beat, “How many of them are there?”

“Five,” you grimace, “same as us - they’ve made that observation out loud already.”

“Okay, pretty bird, you did the right thing calling me.  Would you be okay putting me on speakerphone?”

As soon as you press the button and place the phone in the middle of the table, you and your friends lean in.  Din’s voice comes through calm and sure, “Hey everyone - I’m so sorry you’re going through this and that your evening has taken this turn.  I know it’s easier said then done, but don’t worry.  Everything will be okay - no one is going to bother you again and you’re all safe.  I know the owner of the building that Toshi’s in and I’m going to give him a call right after I hang up – building security will keep an eye on things until I get there.  I’ll bring a couple guys and we’ll be about ten minutes.  Is that okay?  Do you need me to bring anything?”

Everyone shakes their head and choruses a thank you to Din before he hangs up; you’re happy to see some relief settle over the faces of your friends.

It probably takes less than ten minutes, but the wait for Din feels long.  Your appetizers arrive but no one is really in the mood to eat; everyone remains kind of somber, though Bea and Katie do attempt a few light hearted jokes about how things would be so much easier if Toshi’s was a mob front.

Even before you see the look of recognition flash in Rory’s eyes at someone or something behind you, you feel him - your body untenses as if it senses that Din’s entered the room and it comes as no surprise when a few seconds later you feel the familiar curl of his strong hands around your waist.  You close your eyes and without turning around, lean back and completely relax against the warmth of Din’s hard chest.

“Hi, pretty bird,” he whispers in your ear, giving your temple a soft nuzzle with his nose.  Tilting your head back, you feel his soft lips brush over yours, “Hi, Din.”

Once he’s sure that you’re comfortable, Din gets straight down to business, “Is everyone okay?  I know which table of guys you were talking about – just the ones over my left shoulder?  None of them have bothered you since I hung up, right?”

Your friends confirm readily and Din continues, “I want you to know that you’re all safe.  You’ve been safe since the moment you called me.  But I know there’s a difference between knowing you’re safe and feeling you’re safe.”  You turn your head to plant a soft kiss to the base of Din’s neck upon hearing your own words used to comfort your friends.

“You don’t have to all look at once,” he chuckles, “but building security has had their eyes on you for the last ten minutes.  There are two guards by the bar, one at the stairs, another at the top, and a fifth by the bathrooms.  The manager of Toshi’s has also been alerted, so any move by those guys would have resulted in them being thrown out and it still will.”

You’re sure the entire restaurant hears the collective sigh of relief from your table.

“Now, the five of you – you’re in total control of what happens next, but there’s no rush or pressure to make any decisions.  If you’re done with this evening, we can leave right now and I’ll escort you upstairs where Jimmy and Woves will ensure you’re unbothered as you get in the cars.  We’ll personally drive you all home or anywhere else you might like to go.  But you’re also welcomed to stay if you feel comfortable enough to try and salvage your evening – again, you’re perfectly safe.  I’m here now and I’ll make sure of it.”

Contended, you see that all your friends are smiling, their shoulders and overall energy decidedly more relaxed; Jen even starts eating her calamari.  Din’s tone is authoritative, but accommodating – he’s here, here to take charge and take care of you and your friends, but just as importantly, letting you call the shots and doing what makes you feel comfortable instead of dictating the terms of your well being.

His next words surprise even you, “The other thing that is completely up to you as well, is what you want to do about those guys.  You can let bygones by bygones and pretend they never existed, because for all intents and purposes, they don’t exist to you anymore.  Or, if you would like them to be taught a lesson on… how to respect women?  We could do that too.  Completely up to you.”

You look up at Din in wonder.  Of course, you know what he is suggesting, but him being so forthcoming and transparent with your friends about this side of him?  It’s so… vulnerable.

“I think you all know what I would choose,” says Rory, frankly and without a hint of hesitation, “but honestly, Lala, you’re the one who got the biggest scare when that guy grabbed you.  What do you think?”

“Oh!  I mean… yeah.  That shit was inappropriate and no one should ever get away with thinking that was okay,” Lala says thoughtfully, “but I’m not the only one they got physical with.”

She looks pointedly at Din and he looks down at you, voice a little graver, “Did one of them touch you, pretty bird?”

You sigh and your face says it all, “It was just my lower back, Din.”

“Which one, baby?” 

Before you can decide if you really want to answer the question, someone else chimes in, “The one in the blue.”

“Bea!!!”  You look wide eyed at Bea and she makes a face like, What? No remorse at all.

It’s not that you care to spare any of those assholes from their deserved fate, but you don’t want Din to get more keyed up than he already is.

Trying to get things back on track, Katie waves her hand in the middle of the table and puts forth, “I think I might like to stay and eat.  I’m starving and I think I would prefer to wash away the memories of the last hour with some more pleasant ones.  And… my vote is that those dickheads get what’s coming to them.”

It seems like everyone agrees, but as the main courses start to arrive and the waiters comically try to arrange the plates on your cluttered table, Din looks down at you, “That okay with you, baby?”

Your heart melts at how he’s still deferring to you, even though you know from the way his fists clenched at Bea’s words that he likely has his own preference on how he’d like to handle things.  You appreciate the effort he’s making to let you lead - you appreciate him.

Nodding, you whisper, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come for you, pretty bird,” Din whispers back.

“Your pretty bird.”

Din is doing his best to do things differently.  He’s taken into account all the things you’ve talked about over the last two months in regards to him letting you into his world and not shielding you from things that might be less than innocent – he’s unsure if he’s doing it right but he knows you’re worth the effort, “Mine?”

You look at him with soft, but sure eyes, “Yours.”

He practically growls, “Mine,” before slotting his mouth over yours.  The kiss starts sweet and gentle, but you quickly deepen it to show Din some of the urgency that’s been building since he arrived.  He returns your affections with a similar insistence and possessively tightens his hold around you.  When you finally pull away, it’s with a gaze of devotion that you shyly drop before snuggling into his shoulder, fitting comfortably into your favourite nook beneath his jaw.  Din places an affectionate kiss to your hair and murmurs, “Eat,” - gently turning you towards your food.  Your heart fills with joy when you look at your friends - for the most part they look like they’re enjoying themselves, eating and chatting as if this were a regular evening.  Din did that, you smile to yourself.  Happily, you turn your attention to your plate, mindful of Din’s reassuring presence and the ever-present hands on your hips that steady you on your stool.

---

By dessert, things feel back to normal - just a regular fun night out with your friends.  The only reminder that anything was amiss earlier is Din standing sentry at your table.  Though his presence is perfunctory, that hasn’t stopped Din from joining in on the conversation and joking around with your friends.  You’re practically gleeful seeing them get along so well – knowing that in some ways, Din has won back the hearts of your friends the way he has yours. 

After the last plates have been cleared and the last of the drinks drank, Din wraps his arms around you and plants a loving kiss to the top of your head, “Ready to go?”

“Anyone need to use the restroom?” He winks at Lala, who punches him in the arm and laughs.  You beam, proud that your strong protector’s warm blanket of safety has enveloped your friends and put them at such ease that they can now laugh off events that were so upsetting only an hour ago.

“Yep!  Right after we settle the bill,” chirps Bea.

“Oh, uhhhh…” Din scratches the back of his neck and avoids eye contact with your friends, “I took care of that already.”

“DIN!”

You don’t even need to join in, your friends ready to reprimand your boyfriend without any assistance from you.

Din puts his hands up in surrender, “Look, I settled it over the phone on the way over!  I wasn’t sure if you guys would want to leave right away, so just in case, I paid so there wouldn’t be any unnecessary delay.  I’m… sorry?”

“Oh. That was smart,” concedes Rory.

“And incredibly thoughtful,” you add, smiling appreciatively at your considerate man.  The truth is, you’re prodigiously proud of Din’s display – he’s smart, strategic, decisive, but never arrogant; he’s good at this.

“Alright, pretty bird.  You lead the way, okay?  Jimmy and Woves will be right outside to get you.  I’ll bring up the rear.”

You nod and do as Din says without question.  As you’re climbing the stairs towards the restaurant exit, you spy from the corner of your eye that table of guys also getting up to leave and a (very small) part of you feels sorry for them. 

Upstairs, your relief and happiness at seeing Jimmy and Woves is second to only how you felt when you saw Din earlier.  They hug you cheerfully and greet your friends with protective warmth and familiarity before ushering you all into Din’s truck after your friends say they don’t mind squishing together in the back.  You notice that when Din comes up, he’s followed by who you assume are the five guys from building security that he mentioned earlier.  They line up to block off the sidewalk in what you recognize as a flanking position – they’re there to cut-off any escape routes.

Oh.

Din walks over and opens his passenger door, leaning in to give you a quick kiss; with a look you can only describe as apprehension, he whispers, “Pretty bird, you don’t have to look.”

You know what he’s saying.  This is the part of him and his life that he’s always shielded you from – a type of violence and barbarity that he deems you too ‘good’ for; he won’t hide it from you anymore, but it doesn’t mean you need to have a front row seat.

Kissing him back fiercely, you need Din to know that he has nothing to worry about - there’s nothing you can see that will change how you feel about him, who you know him to be.  You think his slightly dazed expression when he checks in to makes sure everyone in the backseat is doing okay means your message was received.

Through the still open car door, you hear a growing commotion and raised voices; via the windshield you see that the offending group of men have emerged from the restaurant and are now being roughly handled and herded by Jimmy and Woves into an alley.  Though they outnumber them, the guys from the restaurant are no match for the two Mandos’ size, strength and skill; with the additional intimidating presence of building security, they have no choice to comply – but it doesn’t look like they’re doing so without loud protest and undeserved indignation.

The last thing you hear before Din closes the passenger side door is Woves laughing, “You dumb fucks really don’t know whose girl you were messing with, do you?”

You don’t watch. 

Not because you don’t want to see Din when he’s like this or even because you’re especially squeamish, you just don’t really see any reason to.  The minimal sounds that you can hear through the door coupled with your friends’ gasps and reaction commentary tell you enough of what’s happening in the alleyway.

You know it’s over when you see Jimmy reach into the car in front of you and hand Din a towel to clean his hands right before he walks over to his own driver side door.  Quickly, you whisper to your friends, “He’s going to be anxious that we saw him like that, okay?”  It’s probably unnecessary, but you give them a look that that conveys how important it is that Din feels comfortable about having shown them this facet of his character, knowing how difficult it was for him.  You don’t care what happened or what he was doing outside of this truck only a minute ago, all you care about is that Din extended himself, opened himself and this part of his life up to you and even your friends – you want him to know he's appreciated for his efforts.

When Din gets in the truck, you can tell he’s uneasy - so without saying anything, you take his right hand and place it on your upper thigh, closing your legs and trapping his fingers between.  You then wrap yourself around his arm and look up at him with tenderness - you want him to know that you’re not afraid of these hands.  You adore these hands.

Upon understanding your feelings, Din’s entire stance relaxes with relief and gratitude; he leans in to press his lips to yours, sealing in his returned affection.  No words are exchanged, none needed.

It’s Bea’s deadpan that breaks the silence.

“So… is this what you meant when you said you could ‘take care’ of Gideon for me?  Because, I would have taken you up on it.”

The entire car fills with laughter and even Din can’t help but chuckle – you’re glad to see any remaining tension he’s held onto evaporating as he realizes that your friends are still comfortable around him.

And though he no longer worries that they may think so, Din still wishes to make sure that you and your friends don’t view him as some type of violent thug – a monster, “Just so you know, none of those guys are severely injured; no one has to go to the hospital.  They’re just… banged up a little.  Not trying to ruin anyone’s life or anything – just wanted to teach them a little lesson like you wanted.”

“What were you guys doing at the end?” Lala looks genuinely curious.

“Oh, you saw that, eh?  Yeah, we made them hand over their IDs and we took down their addresses, just to keep an eye on them for the next week or so.  Plus, maybe a Mando or two shows up unexpectedly to remind them not to forget the important lesson they learned here tonight.”

“Dannnngggg, Djarin.  You’re cold,” marvels Katie, half amused, half impressed.

“Well,” Din voices lowers, serious, “I don’t take very kindly to men who take pleasure in making women feel uncomfortable.”

Your friends nod appreciatively.  You lean over the centre console and press a soft kiss to the pulse of Din’s throat; the movement forces his hand to slide a little further up your inner thigh and you smile against his skin when you feel his Adam’s apple bob beneath your lips.

“Still had to wail on that guy in blue a little though, huh?”

Din catches Rory’s eye in the rearview mirror and sees her playful smirk, returning it with one of his own, “Well, you know.  It takes some people a little longer to understand the lesson than others.”

The car fills with a lighthearted laughter again and then that’s the end of any talk regarding what transpired tonight.  The men that harassed you and your friends earlier this evening and their comeuppance now a thing of the past – nothing good can come of thinking or talking about it anymore. 

As Din pulls the car away from the curb, you can’t help but gaze at him in admiration; there’s no need to tell him that he was impressive or that his display of restraint was commendable - you know that he didn’t do any of it for accolades.  Din did what he always does: protect and uphold his duty to make things safer for others.

Your friends chat comfortably in the back seat as Din drops them off at home, one by one.  You don’t join in the conversation – instead, you lean against Din’s arm and soak in the warmth of his hand in between your legs, focusing on the way he steers the car one-handedly.  The showcase of power that he exudes with just his left arm, open palm deftly pressing against the rotating steering wheel and the way the veins on his forearm flex when he power steers the truck through tight turns has you practically drooling.  You’re no longer able to deny the hot sticky desire that’s pooling just a few inches from where Din’s right hand currently resides.

At every stoplight, you notice how the streetlamps catch the handsome profile of the man next to you and wonder again at the goodness he exudes.  Even knowing now all that he’s done in the past and having bore witness to some of that brutality tonight, you want to tell Din that you see no viciousness in him; that it’s easy to see past his ferocity and to the good that drives him, to the decency that’s the core of who he is.  You want to tell Din that you know him - you want to show him that you know him.

The ride to your place is quiet, but comfortable – filled with light touches, soft looks and even softer kisses.  The serenity in the car is quite opposite to how you’re feeling inside - it’s nearly overwhelming now, how much you want this man.  Never having had a chance to talk it through with your friends tonight, you’re still not sure what your reticence to sleep with Din was, but whatever the reason was, it’s moot now.  Tonight, Din not only showed you the measure of the man you’ve always known him to be, but the man he’s become for you.  So many of his actions and efforts tonight, both overt and nuanced, took into consideration the feelings you had laid bare for him over the last two months.  Every doubt, insecurity, hurt that you had given voice to regarding Din’s secrets, making decisions for you, not trusting you – he had taken each to heart and you saw first hand tonight that he was never going to put you in the same position that had driven the two of you apart almost a year ago.

You don’t expect Din to be perfect, lord knows you’re not – but you can trust him to care, to look after your heart above all else.

When he turns off the engine, Din looks over at you with some returned hesitation, as if he’s still not sure how the events of the evening might have impacted you and where the two of you stand.  Bringing your hands up to scratch Din’s facial scruff the way he likes, you kiss him with surety, knowing what you want and more confident in your feelings for him than you’ve ever been, “Din, do you think Jimmy and Woves might be willing to drive your truck back to Mando’s?”

He nods, eyes still uncertain, “Sure, pretty bird.”

Your own eyes bright and sure enough for the both of you and you shyly offer, “So you can come up and spend the night?”

The smile that breaks out across Din’s face lights up all his handsome feature and takes your breath away; the thought strikes you that you want to always be the reason he smiles like this. 

Din helps you out of the car before handing his car keys over to Jimmy and you float through your goodbyes to the Mandos for the night, but remember to thank them again and again for coming the rescue of you and your friends.  Their heartfelt hugs remind you again of the joy you’ve always felt at being accepted as one of theirs and you’re so grateful to be familiar with that feeling yet again.

The kiss that begins in your elevator is all consuming and hungry, open-mouthed and full of anticipation.  Din licks into your mouth like a man starved - you match every stroke and brush of his tongue with a more ravenous one of your own.  You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, even if you wanted to – you need to touch him, grab him, hold him, never be apart from him again.  Din’s own large hands roam your body, possessed by some primeval need to explore, mark and claim – the desperation in his touch makes staying quiet an impossible feat.  You moan and simper shamelessly, body throbbing with want.

Your joint passion carries the tangle of your bodies through your front door, into a place where the last held memory of the two of you was one of heartbreak.  You erase it with your desire for one another tonight, letting your renewed love and whispers of affirmation and devotion wipe the slate clean – you’re making new memories now.

Pulling back for what feels like your first breath of air since you walked into your building, you cup Din’s face in your hands and nearly gasp at the tenderness and love you see in his eyes.  You hope he can see the same in yours, “Din.  You let me see.  You let me see you in that alleyway tonight.”

He nods into your palms, rubbing his rough scruff against your delicate skin, “And you didn’t run away, pretty bird.”

Smile bright, you declare yourself as his, “Why would I?  Why would I run away from a man who stands up for what’s right?  Who comes to the aid of those he cares for with no hesitation?  Who care for their safety in every way that matters?  Why would I run away from a good man?”

No words.  There are no words in existence that can convey the depth of Din’s feelings for you.  He’s overwhelmed by your openness, your sweetness, and yes, your goodness.  After everything the two of you have shared over these past several months, he’s made it his priority to be forthright with you and not shield you from the truth of his world, no matter how ugly - he had faith in your love, and it was time he showed it.  But even so, there had been a part of him that worried despite your pure intentions, when actually faced with the darkness that was sometimes a very real part of his life, you might find it too much.

But tonight, as always, you proved to him that you were more than he could have ever dreamed.  Not only did you not run away from him, here you are, readily telling him that you still believe in him.  In his goodness.  Fuck, he loves you.  And though he’s promised you that he would no longer think himself undeserving of you, he still can’t quite figure out what he’s done in his life so that he does. 

He supposes he will just have to do what he can to deserve you from this point forward.

“Need you, baby,” Din groans against your neck, humming into that sweet spot just below your earlobe; adding, when he feels you shiver, “Don’t worry, pretty girl – we’ll go slow.”

As Din trails his lips down your neck, slow and sensual, you tilt your head to give him more access and sigh, “But what if I don’t want it slow, Din? What if I want it rough, daddy?”

Now it’s Din’s turn to shiver.  He growls against the hollow of your collarbone before nipping at the delicate skin there with his teeth, “Then I give my girl what she wants.”

Authoritatively guiding you backwards towards the big balcony window, Din undresses you without ceremony as you cross your darkened living room.  The trail of your discarded clothes tells a tale of impatience and desperation, and when you’re finally pressed against the cool glass, it’s with a firmness that makes you gasp as much as the sudden press of the frigid surface to your naked body.

Din’s eyes, blown wide and dark with lust, devour you.  Already hard and panting just from the exertion of stripping you of your clothes, now that he has you bare and gorgeous before him after so long, Din can’t imagine how he ever thought he’d go slow.

He descends upon you - hands groping your hips and ass harder than the softness of those curves deserve, but you whine into Din’s mouth to express your approval.  Din smiles a wolfish grin against your lips before he parts them with his tongue to consume you again and you willingly accept his frantic and punishing kisses.  The cold glass that you’re being pressed against doesn’t feel quite so cold anymore - you’re warm all over despite being naked and only getting hotter as the searing heat of Din radiates off of him in waves, fueling your own desire.  Greedy and shameless, you claw him for more, more, more even as your arousal drips and coats your inner thighs.

“Need you, daddy,” you whimper, hands reaching out to feverishly relieve Din of his clothes; he steps back to tear his shirt over his head and undoes his belt with a fluid flick of his thumb.  Pussy thumping, your mouth waters as your eyes rake over the perfect male specimen before you.  If possible, everything is bigger than you remember – Din’s shoulders span wide and impossibly broad, framing the thickness of his expansive chest; it calls to you in the dark, hard but inviting.  His arms are like tree trunks, powerful even in their current dormancy - you eye the tight muscles currently flexing as Din’s hands itch to touch you again.  As you ogle lower, the sight of Din’s softened stomach makes your entire being melt; before you is evidence of a hard man who has fought and earned his right to a gentler life.  You don’t dwell on this tender moment however, because your eyes can’t help but trail further down to the already hard, girthy cock that bobs between your bodies.  Mesmerized, an involuntary whine escapes your lips; you lick them as your body instinctively arches towards Din’s, pussy practically crying to be filled.

With the reflexes of a hungry wolf pouncing on his prey, Din’s hand flies out at your needy whimper and pins you at the base of your neck with his paw of a hand; though not squeezing, he nevertheless holds firm your body as he pushes you flush against the window.

You gasp at this display of roughness, but it’s Din’s next words, huskily growled as he towers over you, that have you buckling at the knees:

“Did that guy really think he could touch what’s mine?”

You shake your head the best you can while still in Din’s grip and bite your lower lip, looking at Din with a coquettish look, “No one can touch me but you, daddy.”

“What else, pretty bird?  What else am I the only one allowed to do?”

You pretend to think, “You’re the only one who can kiss me.”

“Here?” Din murmurs as he bends to kiss your neck tenderly – a marked contrast from the hard grasp he still has on its base; at your breathy moans, Din takes his time nipping softly from the sensitive spot under your ear, down the column of your throat and back again.

Din’s barely touching you and you’re already vibrating with need.  “Mmmhhmmm,” you answer his question with the lightest of sighs.

“Where else, sweet girl?”

“On my mouth, baby.  Only you can have my mouth, Din.”

Din groans at your words and seals his lips to yours.  You open eagerly for him and his tongue enters your mouth to claim you brusquely, kissing you harder, deeper.  His hand releases your neck, but Din keeps you pressed against the window with the heaviness of his body, slotting his knee between your legs and groaning a throaty roar when your slick wets his thigh.  “Dirty girl,” he hums as he moves his to worship your breasts, cupping them both in his meaty hands and thumbing your pert peaks. “What about these pretty tits, baby? Is anyone else allowed to touch these perfect tits?” he buzzes against your lips.

The sound you make is near pornographic as Din starts to grope your breasts - pulling, twisting and teasing so you dissolve beneath his touch, “Only you, daddy!  Only you can play with my tits… oh f-fuck.  And only you can suck on my nipples, daddy.”

Din takes your direction to heart - lowering his mouth to kiss your breasts, sucking and decorating your soft flesh with marks of his devotion.  You roll your hips at the sensation, urgent in your own search for some friction, but your body is jolted from its lustful efforts when you feel Din take one of your nipples between his teeth and tug, “Yes, yes, yes, Din. Just like that…”

“You like that, pretty girl?  Is this what has you moaning like a slut?” Din mumbles as he moves to give your other breast the same treatment.  The abandoned nipple is soon comforted by Din’s furious and equally talented fingers - rolling and tweaking, pinching and pulling on your hardened tip until you start to tear up from the overwhelming sensation.  It’s almost too much for you to handle and you let loose a string of unabashedly needy ramblings, “Oh god, yes, please, Din.  Right there, oh yes, daddy, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it… Din, Din, Din!  Yes! That’s what your little slut needs, oh yes, yes. Please.”

Mindlessly, you start to grind down on him, so lost in the pleasure Din’s giving, you grab onto the soft curls of his hair for some semblance of stability.  Spurred on by your near incoherent babbling, Din’s hands move down to your ass and he lays down a sudden hard spank across your backside that has you gasping in surprise.  Grabbing a cheek in each hand, he stills your movements and hums, his face still buried in your chest, “Is there something you need, sweet thing?  Something only daddy can do for you?”

Whimpering from the still reverberating ring of Din’s smack on your ass, you eek out, “Only you can make me feel good, daddy!” Almost contrite, you plead, “Need you to touch my cunt, please, please.  Fill her up, please, Din.  This pussy is yours, no one else’s.  She needs you.”

Din looks up and the sight of you already wrecked above him nearly sends him to the moon.  He almost gives up on his assigned task of being rough and unforgiving with your lithe body – all he wants to do is kneel at your altar and venerate the needy mess he’s reduced you to.  How long could he conceivably petition you to let him pray, awestruck, to this goddess above him with her half-closed eyes and dirty thoughts spilling from her perfect pouty lips?  Forever, he hopes.  He could love you forever. 

Except you want him to touch you now.  With no choice but to obey, Din runs his hands from your ass down along the back of your legs and then over the top of your thighs, inching closer to your crying core.  Mouth still occupied with sucking, nipping and licking between your peaked nipples, Din’s hand knuckles over your slit before sliding the tips of his dexterous fingers through your drenched folds, “Look at you, already soaked.  Who is my good girl so wet for?”

Sighing from relief, you smile dreamily, “You, daddy.  This pussy only gets so wet for you.”

Din’s response is to sink two of his thick fingers in to the hilt with one swift motion; you cry out from the stretch of him, having nearly forgotten how he fills you so completely.  Your body hasn’t forgotten – flooding Din’s hand with a fresh wave of slick, your pussy pulses around his fingers as if to say welcome home.  He pumps into you with the gratitude of a man whose been denied the light of day, resigned to blindly feeling his way in the dark and is now being offered the salvation of the brightness and warmth of sunshine.  His sunshine.

“Still so fucking tight, baby,” Din grumbles, mouth still full of your heaving breasts.

“She missed you, Din,” you confess as your arms tighten around his neck, hands fisting his wavy hair.

Din bites down on the pillowy soft flesh that fills his mouth and growls, “Missed her more,” before increasing the intensity of his movements; the wet slapping sounds of his worship drowned out only by the wail you let loose when Din angles his hand so he can press his thumb down on your throbbing clit.

When Din’s other hand comes down, open palmed and harsh against your ass, you scream from the pleasure of the sting and it launches you towards your first orgasm.  You’re trapped between Din’s two monster hands: one that’s thrusting and curling to your deepest, most sacred parts and the other kneading and groping your cheek so hard, you welcome the hand marks you know you’ll find there tomorrow.

“Open your eyes, pretty bird,” Din commands, “Want to see you when you come.”  You open your eyes at his rough tone, but the eyes that meet yours are soft, a sea of devotion, veneration, love.  The very sight pushes you over the crest of your own pleasure and you shatter – chanting daddy, daddy, daddy, as you flutter.

He fucks you through it with words of praise that only serve to prolong your high – Such a good girl.  My pretty slut looks so perfect when she comes.  Never going to let you go again, bun.

You’re still catching your breath when you feel Din slip out of your sopping hole; you barely have time to bemoan the loss when you feel Din spin you around to face the window.  In the darkness of your apartment, illuminated by the brightness of the moon, you see the reflection of yourself and Din perfectly - the sight has a fresh wave of honey leaking down your leg.

“Look how fucking gorgeous you look, baby,” Din murmurs in your ear as you take in your fucked out expression and the dark obsidian of Din’s eyes as they travel your naked body; his hands roam every inch of you as he maneuvers your body into the position of his liking.

Spreading your legs to make room for himself, Din places your hands against the clear glass so you can brace yourself, before pushing gently on your lower back to arch your ass out to him.  Taking a moment to admire the view before him, he notches himself at your entrance and then curls over your body, hands covering yours, “Gonna fuck you now, bunny.”

You hum, low and welcoming as Din pushes in, his girth presses its attention against your warm walls and your cunt quivers as she remembers who he is.  You wiggle your ass playfully, beckoning him in further, which earns you another smack to your ass that has you clenching and gushing.

“Greedy little slut,” chuckles Din darkly, but he gives you what you want and thrusts in, bottoming out and punching all the air out of your lungs.  The two of you stay like this as you get used to him again - you feel so full, needy, loved.  When you tilt your head back, Din captures your mouth in a hungry kiss; you invite him in and moan as his insistent tongue glides over yours and leads it in a passionate dance, pausing only for air.

“Daddy, need you to move now, please,” you sigh through your oxygen deprived daze.

And move he does.  Thrust after thrust, drag after drag, Din’s cock moves inside you and lays claim to the heaven he’s been dreaming of for longer than he can remember.  He sets a steady but fervent pace, gritting out dirty words of praise in your ear that have you pushing back against him for more, even as your body screams at you to run from how good it feels:

My perfect slut, taking me so good.

Wish you could see how you’re creaming around me, pretty bird.

This needy cunt is so tight, it’s choking my cock.

You had forgotten how vocal Din can be and how much you love it, crying back your own song of filth and desperation:

Daddy, fuck, daddy – no one fucks me like you!

Love taking your fat cock so deep, baby.

Wreck this pussy, Din – it’s yours.

You move with him, meeting every drive of Din’s length with a downwards bounce of your own so that he bottoms out and taps your sweetest parts every time.  Din’s dirty words, hot breath, and nipping teeth on your shoulders push you closer and closer to the edge.  But it’s the wrap of his protective stance, the curving of his large frame over your smaller one, and the overwhelming feeling of Din taking care of your pleasure that has you closing in on your summit.  Feeling you tighten around him, Din drops one of his hands and takes yours with it, cupping your heat together.  He presses your delicate fingers to your clit, and with his larger ones on top of yours, draws perfect tandem figure eights.  You’re so close, so terribly close, and you whine your predicament back to Din.  He coos back reassuringly as he continues to fuck you hard, pushing your pulsing clit into the pads of your fingers as his larger ones hold them firm, “Let go, pretty bird.”

It’s the sight of Din’s hand that’s still pressing yours to the window that sends you toppling over the edge.  Large and meaty with bruises and scraped knuckles that burn bright in the darkness, each minor injury a reminder of the violence and damage that its capable of inflicting and that it did inflict tonight – to protect, attend, avenge.  And yet that same hand holds you steady, cradles yours with care and devotion.  Din’s yours like he’s no one else’s.  You’re safe and loved and untouchable because you’re his.  You cry out as much as you come.

Then he’s punching up into you, chasing after his own high to those same musical cries, now incoherent and babbling.  Din’s own words somehow soft and sweet, belying the punishment he’s doling out to your cunt:

Love being so deep inside you, baby.

You were made for me, pretty bird.

Don’t want to be anywhere except with you.

You’re spent and limp, just a worn-out fuck doll for Din to use, but you hold yourself up for him, wanting him to join you in your euphoria.  And when his pace gets sloppy and sweat starts to dot his brow, Din’s laboured pants punctate the softest of his pleas: Do you know how good you feel, baby?  What you do to me?  How much I love fucking you?  How much I love you??

Your melodic refrain of I do, I do, I do sings Din off the cliff, the repetition of those two little words conjuring up a bright flash of an image of you in white, walking towards him down a petal strewn aisle and he comes with an ear-splitting roar; painting your insides before collapsing on top of you, pressing you both to the now foggy window. 

You do.  You do know beyond a doubt how much Din loves you.  The two of you trade quiet vows and promises as Din regains his strength while holding you tight.  You stay knit together, melted and molded to one another as he softens inside you – bathed in the pureness of moonlight and wading in the pool of your love.

“I love you, Din.”

“I love you more, pretty bird.”

Locked in your loving embrace, having been apart for too long, neither of you is in a hurry to let the other go – even though you both know you have forever.  Din’s strong, protective arms band around your chest and waist, his calloused but gentle fingers lace through your graceful ones that hold his just as faithfully.  Your soft breath fans over his lips whenever Din lifts his head slightly to look once again at the beauty before him.

“Din?” you whisper, smile playful.

“Hmmmm?” He mumbles, spent, into your hair.

“I think I might want it slow now.”

Din looks down at the heaven he holds, knowing he’ll forever cater to you, devote himself to you, unable to ever deny you anything - even if you didn’t have the sweetest, most beguiling smirk on your face right now, “Anything my pretty bird wants.” 

You loll your head back against Din’s shoulder and watch your reflection in the glass shudder as Din detangles one of his hands from yours and slithers teasingly to your core – gushing as he begins to draw slow, lazy circles over your still swollen clit. 

---

Later, at midnight, when you and Din are out walking Al, your phone starts buzzing incessantly.  You chuckle when you look over the messages coming in over the group chat.

Rory [12:03 AM]: So, we gave you until midnight.  You and Din are done fucking right?

Bea [12:04 AM]: RORY!

Katie [12:04 AM]: Omigod, Rory!

Rory [12:05 AM]: What????

Jen [12:05 AM]: Jesus.  What Rory means is, we hope you get this message before the morning.

Lala [12:06 AM]: Because we want to invite Din to brunch!

Rory [12:07 AM]: It’s not really an invitation because he has to come.  We won’t take no for an answer.

Katie [12:07 AM]: We want to thank him for helping us out tonight!

Jen [12:07 AM]: Tell him brunch is on us too. Since he paid for our dinners.

Bea [12:08 AM]: Do you think we should ask Jimmy and Woves, too?  Technically they helped as well.

Lala [12:09 AM]: Or another time? Maybe this brunch should be all about Din.

Bea [12:09 AM]: Yeah, you’re right!  Another time then – we owe Din a bunch of brunches.

Rory [12:10 AM]: Right!  He has to come to all the brunches for the next month at least.  Unless… like, he’s too injured… you know, from all the sex.

Katie [12:11 AM]: I swear to god, Rory!!

Looking up at Din, who’s already smiling down at you, you beam, “You’ve been summoned to brunch tomorrow.”  You show him your phone and he laughs, “They don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but it’s a big deal to them, you know?  And me, too.”

“They’re not… put off by what they saw?”

Your heart melts at Din’s hesitation.  He must still not understand how clearly his virtue and honour shines through.  You’ll have to spend the remainder of your days showing him.

Looping your arms around Din’s waist, you look up at him in adoration, declaring with all your heart, “Never.  They feel perfectly safe with you.  Same for me, Din.  I’ll always feel safe with you.”

Din looks back down at you, heart full and in awe, forever grateful to whatever mystical force brought you into his life, “And you always will be, pretty bird.”

You believe him.

Thank you to every single person who has read this series - I really can't express what it's like to know you were as invested in Din and Pretty Bird as me 🥹🥹. Tagging a few people who I hope will enjoy and find this ending to be worthy of their interest in the story 😘😘🥰🥰:

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe

@bebsjo @yopossum @cartonkid1200 @rav3n-pascal22 @sjc7542

@xxx-silhouette-xxx @pedroswife69 @kilamonster @mandoshoney

[eamour]

2 ⋮ neville goddard booklist

hello again, babes! for all the people that want to read the original source of the law of assumption, i have prepared two lists that, together, contain all 15 books of neville goddard from 1939 to 1966. this is list two, continuing with 7 books from 1952 to 1966.

the power of awareness ⋮ 1952

1 ⋮ i am

2 ⋮ consciousness

3 ⋮ power of assumption

4 ⋮ desire

5 ⋮ the truth that sets you free

6 ⋮ attention

7 ⋮ attitude

8 ⋮ renunciation

9 ⋮ preparing your place

10 ⋮ creation

11 ⋮ interference 

12 ⋮ subjective control

13 ⋮ acceptance 

14 ⋮ the effortless way 

15 ⋮ the crown of the mysteries 

16 ⋮ personal impotence

17 ⋮ all things are possible 

18 ⋮ be ye doers 

19 ⋮ essentials

20 ⋮ righteousness 

21 ⋮ free will

22 ⋮ persistence 

23 ⋮ case histories

24 ⋮ failure 

25 ⋮ faith 

26 ⋮ destiny 

27 ⋮ reverence

awakened imagination ⋮ 1954

1 ⋮ who is your imagination?

2 ⋮ sealed instructions

3 ⋮ highways of the inner world

4 ⋮ the pruning shears of revision

5 ⋮ the coin of heaven

6 ⋮ it is within

7 ⋮ creation is finished

8 ⋮ the apple of god's

seedtime and harvest ⋮ 1956

1 ⋮ the end of a golden string

2 ⋮ the four mighty ones

3 ⋮ the gift of faith

4 ⋮ the scale of being chapter

5 ⋮ the game of life

6 ⋮ "time, times and an half"

7 ⋮ be ye wise as serpents

8 ⋮ the water and the blood

9 ⋮ a mystical view

i know my father ⋮ 1960

1 ⋮ i am

2 ⋮ i come with a sword

3 ⋮ the foundation stone

4 ⋮ the i'm-pression

5 ⋮ he who has

6 ⋮ circumcision

7 ⋮ crucifixion and resurrection

8 ⋮ no other god

9 ⋮ thy will be done

10 ⋮ be ears that hear

the law and the promise ⋮ 1961

1 ⋮ imagining creates reality

2 ⋮ dwell therein

3 ⋮ turn the wheel backward

4 ⋮ there is no fiction

5 ⋮ subtle threads

6 ⋮ visionary fancy

7 ⋮ moods

8 ⋮ through the looking glass

9 ⋮ enter into

10 ⋮ things which do not appear

11 ⋮ the potter

12 ⋮ attitudes

13 ⋮ all trivia

14 ⋮ the creative moment

15 ⋮ the promise

he breaks the shell ⋮ 1964

1 ⋮ intro and 1st act

2 ⋮ 2nd act

3 ⋮ 3rd act

4 ⋮ 4th act

5 ⋮ conclusion

resurrection · a confession ⋮ 1966

1 ⋮ chapter

2 ⋮ chapter

3 ⋮ chapter

with love, ella.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I Skip My Pride - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: What an amazing opportunity to use that gif. Takes place in Chapter 22. Title from Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA.

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary/Warnings: You share some music with Ben over text. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

whjt is empty v 

What? 

annie and mm are talkinng avout empty v. wat is it. Ben frowned at his phone, watching the little bubbles appear and disappear, and added theyre foghting about something calld a reeahna  

The bubbles disappeared for half a second, and then- 

Ask MM how to spell that. 

Ben ahead of him, where MM and Annie were locked in an argument about something that sounded fucking stupid. 

“How the fuck do you spell that.” 

MM twisted, frowning at him. “Spell what.”

“That weird fucking word you said. The reeahna.” 

“Do you,” Annie paused, exchanging a weird fucking look with MM. “Do you mean Rihanna?” 

“Sure. How the fuck do you spell it.” 

Ben listened as Annie sounded every letter out—slowly, like he was fucking stupid—and entered them into the phone carefully. 

rihanna. 

The response was immediate. Jesus fucking Christ, Ben. 

wat 

She’s a singer. And you’re thinking of MTV. 

whats mtv 

MTV was launched in the 80s. You should know what MTV is. 

Ben paused, then typed, cabel channel 

Good work. I’m proud of you. 

shutt up. why is that shit still aroond 

People love music, celebrities, and drama, and MTV provides all three. 

od they still do thw msuic show 

VMAs?  

sure 

Yes, they do.  

music goood 

What???? 

is musac still good 

I’d say it is, but it’s an incredibly subjective medium. 

wat music do u liek tha most 

Ben knew what music She liked. He’d spent hours listening to all her fucking songs, over and over while she was gone. But the variety had almost killed him with whiplash, and he didn’t have the goddamn time to comb through the infinite amount of songs she seemed to enjoy. If She’d just spell out the best ones, he’d memorize them because he loved Her, and not bother with shit that wasn’t necessary.

The little bubbles had started up again, appearing and disappearing for several seconds before- 

Did you listen to the playlist? 

dont knoww how

Do you want help?

He sighed, glancing up at Annie and MM to ensure they wouldn’t reach back and grab his fucking phone from his hand, and looked back down. yes 

Yes… Please? 

dont puush it 

I’m not helping you if you don’t say please, Benjamin. 

Ben scowled at the screen. pleas 

Thank you. Open the app, go to playlists, and hit the one labeled Benjamin Music Education Initiative. 

Ben rolled his eyes, but followed Her instructions, returning to the messages when he was done. now wat 

Listen to the music, dummy.  

i dont know theese songs 

That’s the point. There was a brief pause—Ben was really starting to hate these stupid fucking bubbles—before, There’s four songs per decade you missed. Three that are important for you to know, and one that I like. I also added some more familiar stuff that I thought you’d like, so you don’t listen to Toxic and explode.  

stuf i like 

Hughie said you like Steely Dan, so I went off of that. Ben grinned at the screen, even as the next message came through. Old fucking man music, by the way. You’re not doing yourself any favors in the “I’m not a goddamn dinosaur, Sunshine” department. 

He wasn’t a fucking dinosaur. Normally, Ben would’ve immediately typed that into the phone with a glare, but something in his chest was making him all fucking soft and fucking happy. He loved Her so fucking much, and it was making him a pussy, but Christ, he couldn’t bring himself to give a flying pig’s fuck. He could picture Her perfect face in a mock frown, almost hear Her voice dropped into that dogshit fucking impression of him as he read her words, and he did like Steely Dan. He had absolutely no memory of telling Hughie that, but Ben didn’t really fucking care if he’d mentioned it and forgotten, because now She knew. And She’d added a few of their songs to the stupid playlist, mixed in with a bunch of shit Ben didn’t recognize. 

doo i have to listeen now 

Do you not want to? 

i dont want to stoop talking to u 

There was a pause, and then, You can do both. They aren’t mutually exclusive. 

why 

Because two apps can run at once.  

Ben blinked, and went back to the playlist, hitting the button labeled play and almost dropping his phone as the music blasted through the car. 

“Shit!” MM turned around the glare at Ben as he smashed his thumb onto the screen, trying to stop the guitar splitting filling up the air. “Use fucking headphones, you asshole, not all of us want to listen to Nirvana right now!” 

“Nobody gave me headphone, you dicksack-“ 

“Here,” Annie threw a pair of thin white wires at Ben’s face, shrugging. “Those are my backups, they were like fifteen dollars. You can keep them.” 

Ben scowled at the alleged headphones. “This is fucking string.” 

“Goddammit,” MM muttered, snatching Ben’s phone and the wires from his hand and chucking them back into his lap, now somehow connected together. “You’re welcome, motherfucker. Go back to sulking about your separation anxiety and use those if you want to listen to music.” 

Ben didn’t know how to use them to listen to music. Headphones were big, and they went over your ears. These couldn’t go over fucking shit. 

how do u use wiires as headpones 

What? 

annie gav me string and said to use is to musicc 

Oh. Those are earbuds, you put them in your ears.  

Ben glanced down at the wires. There were little pieces on the end that looked bigger, and could maybe fit in his ears. 

They did. It felt really goddamn weird, but when he shook his head they didn’t fall out, and when he pressed play again it was like the music was being pushed into his brain.  

i got it 

Good work. 

shut the fhck up 

Rude. Do you like the music? 

its ok. loud 

I’ll take okay and loud. I did start with grunge, so it’ll get quieter.  

its not baad. didnt fuckinng expect it tho 

I have so many old man jokes. 

Ben rolled his eyes. brat 

Cunt. Wait until you get to the 2010s, you’re going to hate it. 

He might. Ben didn’t understand half the pop culture shit in the modern world, but She did, and he trusted her. He wasn’t listening to his music for himself, it was all for her. To find out what fucking music she deemed worthy of showing him, what stuff she loved, so he could love Her better. Maybe manage to understand her insane, genius fucking brain a little more. And he hadn’t been lying, the music wasn’t bad. A lot of it was weird as shit, but none of it made him want to rip off his ears.  

And it was making something inside of Ben all fucking soft and gooey, that She’d successfully figured out what music he liked. That she’d taken the time to do this, just for him. It was the Benjamin Music Education Initiative. This was for Ben, from Her. He fucking loved Her, and she cared about him enough to do this. He was going to memorize every single fucking song on this list, and maybe she’d do it again.  

He’d love Her no matter what. Even when she made old man jokes and called him a cunt, Ben would keep loving Her until it killed him. 

i thogt u hated romeo an juilet 

I do. Why? 

song 

Well, this version has a happy ending, and it’s an excellent fucking song. 

its fine 

It’s amazing. Do not disrespect that song, Pretty Boy. It’s blasphemy.

i said its fuckig fine 

I’m going to make you listen to the whole album. The entire discography. 

He could live with that. If it kept Her at his side, Ben would easily put up with listening to this twangy guitar for a million goddamn years. If it made Her smile, all the fucking better. wahtever 

Don’t test me. I’ll do it.

i no 

Know. 

fuckk off

No. You’re stuck with me. 

Ben could live with that as well.

End Note: Do you guys think Ben would be a swiftie. I feel like he would but he'd be like, angry about it.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 5

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Wanda receives a gift and finishes her final exams, then decides to go out drinking to celebrate with her friends and accidentally makes a very awkward phone call.

content warnings: drinking, vision being a fucking creep, throwing up

word count: 4.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The door squeaks as Wanda fumbles with her keys, stepping into her apartment and hoping that Kate wasn’t home. She can feel her face burning, her thoughts having been filled with the enigmatic woman that was Natasha Romanoff on the drive home. Her hands, so close to her waist yet not touching her. Her hair, falling over her shoulder as she leaned in to speak. Her lips, so soft and kissable and right fucking there. Her cinnamon perfume wafting over Wanda and making her dizzy with need-

“Hey, you’re home!” Kate calls out, and Wanda groans internally. “Tell me all about the date, don’t skimp on any details.”

Walking around the corner, Wanda sets her bag down as her eyes find Kate grinning at her from the couch. The brunette pats the spot beside her, her eyes lighting up as she takes in Wanda’s flushed face. 

“Okay, fine…” Wanda starts with an air of faux reluctance as she sinks into the couch. She grins, and Kate giggles as she tells the story of her first date with Natasha Romanoff.

—

“Oh my god, Wanda. She totally wanted to kiss you.”

Wanda smiles, ducking her head. Her fingers trace a nonsensical pattern against the blanket thrown over both her and Kate’s lap. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just hoping she wants to and making things up in my head.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate surges forward and grabs Wanda by the shoulders. 

“Of course she wants to kiss you, you dumb lesbian! Literally everything she’s been doing and saying has been to show you that she is interested in you, oh my god.” Her words are emphasized by the small shakes she delivers, Wanda’s body rocking back and forth from the force of it.  

“Okay, fine,” Wanda says, a smile breaking across her face as she lets Kate’s words sink in. 

“She likes you. She asked you out on a date and reassured you that it was an actual date multiple times. Also, she was totally going to kiss you. Natasha Romanoff wants you, I swear on my life.” Kate says, her voice serious. 

Heat spreads across Wanda’s face, and she just smiles as she ducks her head. Kate doesn’t like her lack of response, and Wanda startles when she shakes her by the shoulders again, this time a bit more forcefully. 

“You are quite literally the most beautiful woman I know, Wanda. Don’t roll your eyes at me, you’re the total package. Hot and cute at the same time, smooth skin that I would literally die for, and you’re really fucking nice. Like, I don’t think it’s even possible for you to ever be mean to somebody.” Kate rambles, her eyes wide and earnest. “Do not argue with me on this.”

“Fine,” Wanda chuckles, pushing away the thoughts of self-doubt that begin creeping into her mind. “She’s kind of out of my league though.”

“What, because of how much money she has?” Kate asks, scoffing. Wanda nods her head. Yes, exactly. Natasha Romanoff is powerful and rich and more gorgeous than a 22-year-old about to graduate college could ever hope to be. 

“She’s richer than, like, 90 percent of America. That’s not something I’d compare, Wanda.”

“She’s-”

Kate doesn’t let Wanda finish her sentence, instead shoving her computer towards her. The screen glows brightly, a new email having recently popped up from Vision. Kate clicks on it, burrowing into Wanda’s side as they take in the edited photos from the photoshoot earlier that day. 

God. Wanda didn’t need the reminder that Ms. Romanoff was practically a goddess among mortals. Her striking features stand out on the screen, her eyes piercing yet somehow warm, even through the lens of a camera. Or, maybe Wanda was just going insane and imagining things as her mind attempted to comprehend the photos. 

Her features are perfect. Too perfect. Wanda finds herself flushing, her brain searing Ms. Romanoff’s face into her memory. 

Why would someone that perfect go through the trouble of getting to know Wanda? Ms. Romanoff probably had hundreds of women waiting for a crumb of her attention, what made Wanda so special?

Nothing. She’d just made the unfortunate yet memorable first impression of tripping through a doorway. 

That night, Wanda dreams of cold, green eyes that find her lacking. 

—

“Wanda, there’s a package for you,” Kate calls out, her voice tired. 

Closing her laptop, Wanda rolls her neck, feeling her tight muscles as she does so. She’s almost finished with finals, her last paper in the final stages of edits. Kate was grabbing her keys, uncaring of how she looked in sweatpants and a hoodie as she headed over to campus to take her last exam. 

“I’ll grab it in a minute, thank you,” Wanda shouts, hearing the door close after Kate yells a quick goodbye. Standing, she stretches as she walks towards the front door, her eyes bleary and mind focused on the numerous edits she needed to finish. 

A brown Amazon box waits for her on the counter, the packing slip offering no return address. Wanda blinks, her eyebrows furrowing. Interesting, considering she couldn’t remember ordering anything. 

The kitchen scissors easily cut through the tape, and Wanda considers putting on the kettle as she notices the new box of green tea Kate had picked up earlier. She could definitely use some caffeine. Her eyes return to the box, catching a glimpse of what seemed to be a book. 

Suddenly wide awake, Wanda hurriedly opened the box, her eyes widening as she took in the contents. 

The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson lays innocently inside the box, the ornate cover catching Wanda’s eye as she sinks into a chair. Gingerly picking it up, Wanda flips it open slightly, the smell of old paper hitting her nose as she softly thumbs through the pages. 

There, a publication date. The numbers stare up at her, and Wanda resists the urge to scream as she realizes that this book is a first edition. A genuine, authentic first edition. 

Only one person could have sent this, and Wanda gently sets the book on the counter while she digs through the box until she finds a note. The neat handwriting mocks her, the only thing written on the card is the flowing script of Natasha Romanoff’s name. 

Goddammit.

She can’t accept the book. Google tells her how much a first edition is worth, the number sending Wanda’s head reeling as she throws a glance towards the book innocently lying on her kitchen counter. She’s never even possessed that much money in her life, and now a book worth literally thousands is in her apartment. As a fucking gift. 

Wanda needs a drink. A strong one. 

—

Glasses clink as Wanda takes a large swig of her dirty Shirley. As much as Kate makes fun of her, she truly hasn’t found another drink that she likes quite as much. Something about the sweet flavor and distinctive red coloring with a cherry on top just brings her indescribable joy. She hasn’t found another drink that meets her expectations, and she grimaces as Kate chugs a beer while cheers ring out around her. 

“I can’t believe the semester is finally over, we’re officially real adults!” Kate exclaims, her words only slightly slurred as she gestures widely with her arms. A cheer sounds out again, the bar packed with graduating seniors celebrating the end of their college careers. 

Wanda smiles, drinking slightly faster. She hadn’t partied in a while, the stress of finals having consumed her for the past few months. Now that her final grades were in and she would be walking the stage next weekend, she let herself drink and relax. She deserved it. 

“To the end of exams and homework,” Wanda says, holding her glass out. 

Laughing, Kate echoes her words and clinks her glass against Wanda’s. Paul clinks his glass of Diet Dr. Pepper against hers and claps Vision on the shoulder when the blonde sways in his seat as he cheers. 

Vision doesn’t graduate for another year, but having Paul as a roommate meant going out with him whenever he asked. Wanda didn’t mind too much, since having another person in their group meant less money she had to pay when the bill came around. Besides, even though Vision had an obvious crush on her, he hadn’t yet found the courage to ask her out. Wanda hoped he never found the courage. 

“I’m going to smoke,” Wanda yells, her voice barely carrying over the loud music. Kate nods at her, spilling some of her beer on the table as she attempts to gesture with her hands. A goofy smile spreads across her face, and Wanda chuckles at the sight of her roommate attempting to clean her mess with the paper-thin napkins the local dive bar provides. 

Walking towards the exit, Wanda focuses on not stumbling as she pulls her pack of cigarettes from her pocket, fumbling with the lighter as she steps out into the small patio the bar offers. A few other smokers are out, one girl slumped over the bush as her friend holds her hair back and rubs her back. 

Lighting her cigarette, Wanda takes a deep breath and sighs contentedly as the smoke hits the back of her throat. Leaning back against the brick wall, she looks up at the night sky with bleary eyes. 

Pulling out her phone, Wanda glances at the numbers. Her thumb scrolls, the names in her contact list blending together as she takes in another breath full of smoke. Ah, there. She stops scrolling, her thumb hovering over a new contact. 

Natasha Romanoff. 

Fuck it. Wanda’s thumb presses on the number next to her name, the action barely registering in her mind as she leans harder against the side of the building. Her fingers loosely hold her cigarette as she flicks some ash onto the ground. 

She answers on the second ring. 

“Wanda?” Her voice has a hint of surprise, and Wanda giggles. Honestly, she’s surprised that she had the guts to call, but she wasn’t much in control of her own actions after a few drinks. Then, a thought hits her. How does Ms. Romanoff know it’s her?

“Why did you send me the book,” Wanda says, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. She brings the cigarette to her mouth, listening for a response as she takes a deep breath.

“Wanda, are you alright? You sound different.” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is laced with concern, and Wanda just raises an eyebrow. Not that the other woman can see it. 

“I’m not different,” Wanda retorts, her mouth spewing words before she can think about them. “You’re the one who’s different. All mysterious and reclusive, ooooh.”

There’s silence for a beat, and Wanda takes another drag of her cigarette. One of the other smokers drops his used cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his heel before pulling out another one. Wanda does the same, fumbling in her pockets for another. Then, Ms. Romanoff’s voice sounds out through the speaker, firmer this time. 

“Have you been drinking, Wanda?”

“Maybe, why do you care?”

“I’m just curious,” Ms. Romanoff says, and Wanda hears fumbling on the other side of the line. “Where are you?”

“I’m at a bar, it’s not suitable for you.”

“Not suitable?” Ms. Romanoff’s voice sounds slightly strained. “Which bar, Wanda.”

“A college bar.”

The woman changes tactics, and Wanda hears more fumbling through the phone. It sounds like the woman is getting dressed, and she’s immediately greeted with thoughts of what Ms. Romanoff might wear in bed. Hopefully nothing. 

“How are you getting home?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda can hear her words slurring. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m only going to ask this one more time, Wanda. Which bar are you at?”

Sighing, Wanda lights her second cigarette. Letting the silence drag on for a moment, she smiles at the huff of breath she hears through her speaker. “Why did you send me the book, Natasha?”

“Wanda, tell me where you are. Now.”

Giggling, Wanda remembers how much of a control freak Ms. Romanoff is. The image of the woman wearing a latex bodysuit with a corset and a riding crop flashes through her mind, and Wanda can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. 

“God, you’re so… dominant.”

“I swear to God,” Ms. Romanoff trails off, and Wanda smiles at the exasperation in her voice. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, Ms. Romanoff. So naughty, using bad words like that.” Wanda feels her head dropping as she says the words, the contents of her last drink finally working their way into her system. Fuck, she’s lost her cigarette somehow. Her fingers fumble around in her pocket, drawing another one from the pack and lighting it. 

“Wanda, so help me-”

“Goodnight!” Wanda calls out, sucking in a large breath and admiring the smoke that she exhales into the cool night air as she hangs up the phone. Then, she frowns. She never got an answer about the book. Oh well, the only objective she had tonight was to get drunk… and she had successfully accomplished that mission. Her vision swam, and Wanda took the last few puffs of her cigarette before crushing it on the ground. 

Fuck. Did she really just call Natasha Romanoff? Who does that?

The phone rings, and Wanda answers it without looking at the caller ID. Only one person would be calling her right now, and she hates the way her voice sounds as she utters a meek ‘hello’.

“I’m on my way, don’t leave the bar.” Ms. Romanoff says, and Wanda feels herself blushing at the commanding tone as the woman hangs up.

Wait. 

An ice-cold awareness makes its way through Wanda’s veins. She feels herself sobering up, and blinks blearily as she remembers the phone call. Fuck, is Ms. Romanoff actually on her way? Did she really just talk back to the woman over the phone? 

It was the alcohol, Wanda decides. All the blame is on the alcohol… and now that she’s sobering up, she should definitely take another shot. She walks back into the bar, ordering a shot of fireball and telling herself that it’s not because the smell and taste remind her of Ms. Romanoff’s cinnamon perfume. 

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Kate says, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulder when she returns to the table. “Where were you?”

“I was smoking,” Wanda says, and her roommate doesn’t argue, instead cheering when Wanda knocks back the fireball in one smooth motion. 

“So what now?” Paul asks, his cheeks flushed from the humid air of the bar. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and Wanda is suddenly acutely aware of just how stifling the air is. She can feel her shirt sticking to her skin, and suddenly feels as though the room is too small for her. 

Wanda manages to mutter something about fresh air before she pushes herself onto unsteady feet and makes her way towards the exit. She can feel the beat of the music thumping through the floor, and breathes a sigh of relief as the heavy door closes behind her, muffling the sound slightly. 

The parking lot is blurry, and no matter how many times Wanda blinks, she can’t seem to focus her eyes. The ground seems unsteady, and she leans against the wall as she gratefully sucks in the cool night air. 

“Hey.”

Fuck.

Wanda turns, a half-smile plastered on her face as she takes in the figure of Vision next to her. She can feel it turning into a grimace, and decides to look down at the moving concrete instead of his face. Ah, bad choice. Now she’s nauseous. 

“Are you alright?”

“I just think I’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Wanda says, her smile dropping further when Vision steps closer to lean against the wall next to her. 

“So have I,” Vision says, and Wanda gets the sense that he meant for the words to sound suave, but instead they’re slightly slurred and his eyes are glazed and his hair is all mussed and out of place and all Wanda can see is his stupid face leaning closer and closer and-

Ducking her head to avoid his lips, Wanda pushes him away firmly, her palm connecting solidly with his chest. “I’m okay, Vision. I just needed some space and fresh air.”

“Wanda,” he says, leaning closer and placing his hands on either side of her head, his body almost pressed against hers. “Please.”

“I’m a lesbian,” Wanda hates how soft her voice is and how weak her hands are as she tries to push him off her. “I’m sorry Vision, but I don’t like you that way.”

“I like you so much,” he says, and Wanda wants to bleach her nostrils as she catches a whiff of his cologne. 

Her hands are more forceful now, pushing against his chest as he stumbles back slightly. It has barely any effect, his wide blue eyes locked on hers. Wanda tries again, her voice panicked as he leans in again. “Vision, no. Stop it.” 

Wanda closes her eyes, feeling Vision's body press against her as he ducks his head. She can feel his boner pressing against her pelvis, and feels bile rise when he sloppily trails his lips against her jaw. Everything feels wrong, and Wanda’s head is spinning and she feels like she’s suffocating and drowning in cheap cologne as her brain goes into overdrive, her body freezing as Vision’s hands start running over her shoulders and down towards her-

Cold air hits her face, and Wanda sucks in a deep breath of fresh air as Vision’s presence is ripped away from her. Her eyes fly open, meeting furious dark green irises for a moment before Ms. Romanoff starts backing Vision up against the wall. 

“She said no.”

Holy fuck. Ms. Romanoff’s voice is ice cold, and Vision’s eyes go wide as he begins to stutter and attempt to explain. The woman is having none of it, and silently points towards the door of the bar, her face stony and posture tense. Taking the hint, Vision quickly mutters an apology in Wanda’s direction before scurrying back inside. 

“Holy shit.”

“Language,” Ms. Romanoff says, her eyes softening as she slowly walks towards Wanda. She makes it three steps before Wanda’s stomach decides it’s had enough excitement for the night. 

Her throat burns as bile rises. Wanda turns towards the bushes, expelling the contents of her stomach as she feels a firm hand pull her hair away from her face while Ms. Romanoff gently rubs her upper back. She doesn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed, and decides to never drink again. Her body heaves one last time, before Wanda sucks in a breath and coughs, her throat feeling scratchy. 

“Would you like some gum?” 

“Please,” Wanda says, pushing away her embarrassment as she accepts. She pops the gum in her mouth, snorting at the cinnamon taste. Of course Ms. Romanoff would chew cinnamon gum, it seemed to be her signature thing. 

Leaning her forehead against the cool stone of the wall, Wanda feels her stomach settle slightly as her mind clears momentarily. Panic worms its way into her chest. What was Ms. Romanoff doing here? At this bar? Actually…

“How did you know I was here?”

“I tracked your phone.” There isn’t a trace of humor in Ms. Romanoff’s voice, and Wanda just accepts the answer. Of course a multi-millionaire would have the capabilities to track phones. Glancing over, Wanda takes in the strong silhouette of the woman. It’s intimidating, but leaves a certain warmth coiling in Wanda’s stomach. 

“Ah, well. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Standing up fully, Wanda lets her eyes roam over Ms. Romanoff’s figure. She blinks, taking in the soft fabric of an expensive-looking hoodie. The woman must have been relaxing at home, before receiving a phone call from a very drunk college student. 

“For the phone call and the…” Wanda gestures towards the bushes, and is rewarded with an amused smirk. 

“It happens.” Ms. Romanoff seems to brush off the apology, her eyes intense as they lock on Wanda’s. “It’s all about knowing your limits, dear. And as much as I enjoy pushing limits, it’s quite dangerous to go too far with drinking, do you understand?”

A tendril of irritation rises within Wanda, but then she hiccups and remembers how much of a drunk fool she’d just made of herself. The reprimand was well deserved, but that didn’t mean Wanda had to like it. Some part of her was vehemently against being told what to do, or being spoken to like a child. 

“I don’t drink like this often, but we’re celebrating our graduation.” Wanda can’t help the edge in her voice, and judging by Ms. Romanoff’s single, raised eyebrow, the woman doesn’t approve. 

Scowling slightly, Wanda attempts to push off the wall with the intention of escaping the weighted look the older woman is pinning her with. She still doesn’t understand why Ms. Romanoff cares, or why she drove to a bar late at night. Her head spins, and Wanda stumbles right into the CEO’s arms as her vision goes slightly fuzzy. 

The warmth of Ms. Romanoff’s body pressed against hers and the weight of her arms around Wanda’s shoulders is only making her more dizzy. 

“I’m taking you home,” she says, with an air of finality.

Wanda just nods, her head beginning to pound as her stomach twists. Her thoughts seem scrambled, the main thing on the forefront of her mind was how good Ms. Romanoff smelled, and how much she liked the closeness of the woman, and how soft her hair was-

“I need to tell Kate.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re here and that I-” Wanda hiccups again, and pretends not to notice the small, endearing smile that graces Ms. Romanoff’s lips. “I’m going home. She’ll worry if I leave without saying anything.”

“My sister is already inside,” Ms. Romanoff says, her voice gentle. 

“What?”

“My sister, Yelena,” she explains, her voice low and words clear. Wanda would pout about the tone, but her head is far too scrambled to care. “She’s inside speaking with your roommate. She was with me when you called.”

Pushing away the embarrassment that rises at the thought of Ms. Romanoff’s sister hearing her drunken phone call, Wanda manages to look the woman in the eye. She feels the tips of her ears burning as she flushes under the intense look she receives, but manages to speak, her words only slightly slurred.

“I want to tell her myself, she’ll worry otherwise.”

“Fine, do you need help?”

Wanda wants to say no. But, she can barely see straight, let alone walk. So, she nods and allows Ms. Romanoff’s arm to wrap around her waist. It’s not that bad, the woman’s muscles flexing against her as she holds her up, her fingers digging slightly into Wanda’s hip. It makes Wanda want more of her touch, and she immediately shakes her head to clear it of those thoughts. 

Horny thoughts and a drunk brain never mix well. 

The humid, stale air of the bar hits her as Ms. Romanoff opens the door. Wanda immediately wants to go back outside, into the fresh air and the tension and the comfort of the other woman’s presence. Instead, she walks on unsteady legs with the sexiest woman alive holding up half her weight. 

“Kate!”

“Oh my god, Wanda are you okay?”

Sitting down, Wanda leans in towards her roommate’s ear, ignoring the wide-eyed look the brunette is giving Ms. Romanoff. Her eyes are glancing between the CEO and the muscular blonde woman, who Wanda assumes is Yelena, as they speak to each other quickly in Russian. 

Vision is nowhere to be found, and Wanda smiles. 

“Uh, ‘m gonna… gonna go. Home! Going home, with a hot woman,” Wanda says, breaking out into giggles. Kate smiles at her, putting an arm around her shoulder as she attempts to focus. After all, Kate was almost as equally fucked up and wasted as Wanda was at this point in the night, it was her graduation too. 

“I think I’m gonna go home with her sister, have you seen her muscles?”

“You know I… only have uh, only have eyes for,” Wanda hiccups again. “Only for Ms. Romanoff.”

“Aww, you useless lesbian.” 

Wanda lightly shoves her, reminding Kate to check the Life360 in the morning to make sure she isn’t in a ditch somewhere before she stands. Ah, wrong move. 

Swaying, Wanda reaches out her hands in the general direction of Ms. Romanoff. Strong hands catch her by the shoulders, the scent of cinnamon wafting over her and wrapping her in a tight embrace. Wanda catches a glimpse of red hair, and feels a water bottle pressed into her hands with the stern command to sip slowly. She barely registers the walk outside, pausing to light a cigarette as she leans against a large car. 

“Is this a bad habit of yours?”

“Only when I’m drunk,” Wanda responds, her mind hazy and eyes blurry. The smoke hits the back of her throat, and she closes her eyes as the world spins. The rumble of an engine reaches her ears, and she feels herself leaning forward. 

And then she doesn’t stop. She just keeps falling and falling and there are strong arms and a soft voice and the most beautiful eyes she’s ever seen and a long road and bright lights and soft blankets and gentle hands wiping off her makeup and and and-

“Goodnight, Wanda.”

Next Chapter

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