tomsparkyr

[tomsparkyr]

So I’m a cheerleader.. and I was thinking Stiles being with a cheerleader reader and he gets all hot and bothered seeing her walk around the school in uniform because it hugs her figure perfectly, so he pulls her into an empty classroom and you know 😉😉 and he tells her how short her skirt is and how it’s “easy access”

Stiles Stilinski is not subtle.

Especially when it comes to his staring, which was made very clear to you the day you first joined the team, before later showing up at his house in your new cheerleading uniform.

And his eyes had nearly bugged out of his head.

And he drooled.

Literally drooled.

All down his chin.

And it's for this very reason that you've decided to wear the dangerous outfit to school today, just to make sure he gets a really good look.

Technically, practice isn’t until after school, and most of the other girls prefer to change in the locker room just before.

And that’s normally how you prefer it, too. After all, this skirt leaves little to the imagination but even more so…it lets in a draft.

And it’s February. And very cold, and very brisk, and your legs are very bare.

But it’ll be worth it to watch the line of drool dribble from Stiles’ mouth as you swing your hips by his desk.

And you’re rewarded with exactly that as you saunter your way from one side of the classroom to the other, pretending to be oblivious to your charm, and to his presence, as you call a greeting to your friend.

You keep your back to him because you know if you catch a glimpse of his face, you’ll smirk. And if he knows you know what you’re doing, then he’ll make sure to make you regret it.

…which, you suppose wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Still, you keep him behind you and begin a conversation with one of the other girls on the team. You exchange stories about how your weekend was and what you’re looking forward to during practice.

But you don’t miss the sound of his throat clearing. You don’t miss the sound of his chair scraping across the floor, or the sound of his footsteps parading after you. 

And you smile.

“What, no hello for me?” comes the familiar, soft taunt, slipping just over your shoulder.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and glance to the side. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Hey, Stiles.”

He swallows a scoff. “Oh, I think you can do better than that.”

Your eyes roll as he steps in front of you and leans back against your desk, forcing your attention on him.

Then, he grins. “So…do better.”

Still, you keep your playfully annoyed expression firm on your face as you shrug and let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. Hello, Stiles. Is that good enough for you?”

“Mm-mm.” His head shakes. “Try again.”

Your arms cross in front of your chest. “Well, it’s just gonna have to be, because class is about to start, and I don’t have time for this.”

With that, you reach out to lightly shove him to the side and out of your way so you can slip by and take your seat.

But you hadn’t anticipated the contact to be so…electrifying. You suppose it makes sense. After all, you and Stiles haven’t really had a lot of…quality time together recently. Both so busy with extracurriculars, homework, and friends. 

You hadn’t meant to go two weeks without, and truthfully, you thought you’d been doing fine. Sure, once in a while, you’d find yourself lying in bed with your fingers between your thighs. But Stiles was always on the other side of that phone call, talking you through it, telling you how much he missed it, and how pleased he was to hear you fuck yourself to the sound of his voice.

Now, as you wrestle him out of your way, you feel his fingers brush the outside of your thigh as you pass by, and your breath catches in your throat as your mind suddenly goes fuzzy.

You both seem to still, now abundently aware of how badly you need each other.

You look up at him.

He looks back.

You swallow.

He smiles.

“Uh…Mr. Clark?” he’s suddenly calling, turning toward the man now taking his place near the front of the classroom.

Mr. Clark looks up. “Yes?”

“I’m…I’m not feeling so hot,” Stiles says, voice labored and thick as if in great pain. “I need to go see the nurse.”

Mr. Clark sighs as he waves his hand through the air dismissively. “Fine but be quick about it, please. We have a lot to cover.”

“Yes, Sir,” Stiles replies, taking a step back before stumbling rather dramatically as his hands reach out to grasp onto you. “Oh. Oh, gosh. I…I don’t think I can make it there on my own, I feel…I feel so weak and dizzy.”

Mr. Clark’s expression drops into an unamused frown. “Is that so?”

Stiles nods, blinking innocently. “Yeah, I…I sure hope I don’t pass out on the way there. That would just be…so bad. I could seriously get hurt. But…no. No, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll…I’ll just hold onto the wall and hope I remember how to walk—”

“My god, just take him,” Mr. Clark interrupts, now nodding his chin at you. “It’s fine. Just take him, and hurry back.”

Doing your best not to laugh, you chew on the inside of your cheek and loop your arm under Stiles’ shoulder to help guide him toward the door.

He pretends to be faint, swaying from side to side as you do your best to keep him walking in a straight line.

And because this is Stiles, he makes this as difficult as possible, resting almost all of his weight on you as work to keep yourself upright.

Once you’re in the hall, you expect him to drop the act, but he doesn’t. Not until you’ve passed the few straggling students and teachers.

You also expect that he wants to actually head to the nurse’s office. His favorite place to have you because it's quiet, secluded, and it has a bed.

But this theory of yours is also proven wrong when he suddenly skids to a stop in the middle of the hallway, grabs onto your wrist, and yanks you through what seems to be a random door.

Once you’re both safely inside, you peer around the dark space, and piece together that he’s brought you into one of the empty study rooms. 

However, you aren’t afforded an opportunity to discover much more than that because just as you’re starting to get comfortable, you feel his hands.

One is on your hip, and the other is nudging between your thighs to pry you open. And as he does, he guides you back toward one of the desks and places you on top before placing himself between your legs.

Your palms meet the cold, hard surface behind you as you brace yourself and stumble over a gasp. “What…what—”

“This?” he murmurs under his breath, fisting at the fabric of your cheerleading skirt with contempt. “This is fucking cruel.”

Your lashes flutter but you can’t deny the flush of your cheeks at his approval. “What do you mean?”

He makes a noise deep in the back of his throat as he guides the fabric up your lap, eying it—and you—closely. “You know exactly what I mean, sugar. Know you do. Know you wore this just to hurt me. Know you wanted me to see just how easy it would be to have you. Right then. Right there. In front of everybody.”

You stay silent because he’s right, and you just hope he plans to do something about it. 

“It does, you know,” he continues softly, long fingers caressing the soft, tender skin of your inner thigh. “It does hurt me. Every inch of you hurts me. Not having you hurts me. Not being with you hurts me—”

He stops, and your heart just about drops to your ass as he ghosts his lips above yours and hooks his thumb under the lace of your underwear.

You both still.

“—do you wanna hurt me, sugar?” he asks, and you immediately shake your head. “Good. S’good. So…what do you want?”

He won’t go further than this until you say the words, and while you appreciate the sentiment, your tongue doesn’t seem to want to work right now.

“You,” you breathe. “Always you, Stiles, please.”

You watch his entire face light up as he finally concedes and kisses you. God, he kisses you with so much love and lust and adoration that your head spins and your lungs just about give out.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

You nod.

“Good. Then let’s do something about it.”

~ Full Masterlist

~ Other Dylan Blurbs

[tomsparkyr]

torn at the seams

description. "and if we don't lose our virginities by seventeen, let's just lose them to each other, okay?" you were serious when you told STILES STILINSKI that in middle school, and now that you're both adults, and both still virgins, you intend to hold up your end of the bargain.

includes. SMUT MDNI 18+, loser! stiles (that's just canon), virginity loss for both parties, fingering, protected sex (hallelujah!), typical nervous stiles, teaching, lots of kissing, childhood friends

wc. 5.7k+

a/n: started this a yr ago and found it and finished it. for my bsf, happy (early) birthday! artwork is the kiss by edvard munch. title from cherry by lana del rey

From below, there was a soft thump of music, upbeat song after upbeat song following each other as whatever playlist your friends decided on played throughout the house. The floors and walls vibrate occasionally, giving you a faint idea of the beat. 

You would’ve focused more on it, maybe tried to figure out if it’s a song you’d pressured them into putting into the rotation, if you weren’t so distracted by the body steadily moving around your bedroom. 

You watch Stiles Stilinski, eyes trailing from the back of his faded shirt to the hand holding a red solo cup that you were 80 percent sure was half full of diet Coke. He walks around your bedroom, eyeing the pictures and collectible items you’d acquired over the years. 

Your own solo cup sat on your nightstand, temporarily living with more trinkets. A photo of you and friends, a few rings you didn’t intend to wear tonight, a tube of chapstick that usually sat on your lips in place of the lipgloss you wore tonight, a hand cream. The items you intended to use shortly were stashed under your pillow, purposefully put there for easy access. 

You had the urge to slide your hand under there and check their location, suddenly fearful that something had happened to them between the time you sat them there and went downstairs to join the party. 

But doing so would’ve been too obvious, so instead you sit still on your bed, shoes discarded and your feet folded under you. 

You continue to watch Stiles observe, your lips tugged into a small smile, remembering just how hyperactive Stiles could be. 

“And this picture. When was this?” he asks you. 

You lean forward a little, looking around his body whenever he steps off to the side. The photo in question is of you standing at an amusement park, just a year or so younger, a grin on your face as you stood in front of a popular attraction. 

“Early last year, my family trip.”

Stiles nods, understanding without details that every year your family went on a trip together, extended and immediate meeting at one location for at least a week. There were times when you were younger when you had to ditch plans with Stiles for your family. 

He doesn’t point out another picture. He rocks on his feet, amber eyes looking up at the ceiling. Suddenly, it occurs to you that Stiles is nervous. 

It’s different from how he used to behave when he was nervous as a kid. Then, he would stammer, gnaw on his bottom lip, tap his hands on the desk or his knee. Now his fingers subtly tap against the rim of his cup, his other hand stuffed in his pocket. He’s silent. He licks his lips instead of gnawing on them and the action directs your gaze right to them. 

You try not to stare, averting your eyes elsewhere. 

Scooting over to make room, you let your feet dangle off of the edge of the bed and pat the newly created space beside you. Stiles falters, glancing at your hand and then at you. It takes him a second but he eventually places his solo cup on your desk and skitters towards you.

The bed dips with his weight. He sits a little far from you, basically on the other end of the bed. It’s silent again. You both stare straight ahead. You wonder if he’ll speak first, so you remain quiet, waiting for him to make a move. When he doesn’t, you take a breath. 

“Do you remember when we were in middle school? And we made that pact?” 

You look over at Stiles in time to catch him thinking for a second, his eyes squinted and his lips parted. You see it come to him when he turns to face you. 

“You mean the whole virginity thing. If we didn’t lose our virginities by a certain age—” 17. If neither of you lost your virginities by seventeen. “Then we would …” he trails off, leaving the last bit in the air. 

You finish for him. “Lose it to each other.” 

“Yeah.” A beat, a moment where Stiles doesn’t say anything and neither do you. It’s then that you hear his fingers drum against the bed. “But … but that was just a stupid little pact. We were kids, y’know?” 

You shrug, turning your head to look over at him, fingers starting to twiddle in your lap. “Well, yeah. But I was serious. Were you not serious?” You don’t mean to sound as dejected as you do, but it comes out naturally, an accompanying pout forming on your lips. 

It feels a little manipulative, and you’re trying to get rid of it as quick as it appears, but Stiles already sees. 

Not expecting the effect on him, you’re slightly shocked when you see him start to worry a bit, nerves pushed to the side as he instantly attempts to soothe you. “Wha—Yeah. I mean, yeah. Of course, I was serious. ‘Were you serious?’ D-” He can’t continue his rambling when your lips are pressed against his, gloss finally ending up where you wanted it to. 

He hesitates and you start to worry that you overstepped a boundary. Before tonight, you and Stiles haven’t hung out since freshmen year. Lots of things have changed with you since then, and who knows what could’ve changed with him. Maybe he has a girlfriend, or maybe he was serious about the pact in middle school, but he isn’t serious now. Maybe he already lost his virginity and you’re just the late bloomer. 

You make the first moves to pull back, already planning to scoot to the edge of the bed, apologize, and down the rest of your liquor before going back downstairs. 

But then he kisses you back. Tentatively at first, nothing but a small press of his lips against yours, mimicry of a peck. It’s a tiny movement, but it’s all you need. 

You push yourself closer to him, your duvet rustling under your body. You place your hands in his flannel, fisting the fabric as his hands find your back, his palms resting flat along the curve. 

Eventually, the two of you peel apart, lips separating slowly, leaving both of you to look into the eyes of the other. 

“Was … is this okay?” Your voice is soft, but not because you’re shy. Your voice is soft because that’s how this moment feels—gently, soft, delicate. You feel comfortable in Stikes’ presence, and any timidness dissolves from your body. 

He takes a second, pretty brown eyes scanning your face with a look you’re not used to seeing on his face. His lips pulled into the hint of a smile at the corners, his eyes soft, a little lidded like they were the one time you got high freshman year. He looks relaxed in the way that he is in the morning right before he wakes up, with no stress present in his body at all. Knowing that he’s like this because of you makes you feel giddy inside. 

Stiles blinks and cups the back of your head with one large hand. He pulls you closer and places his lips back on yours. 

Kissing Stiles is nice, to put it simply. 

He tenderly kisses you with attention. His lips, smoother than you thought with the faint taste of cherry, glide over yours with precision. He doesn’t kiss you like he’s starving, but he kisses you like he’s appreciative. Like he’s as thankful for this moment as you are. 

You’ve always imagined yourself in this position. 

During late-night talks with your friends where you discussed crushes each of you would never get over, Stiles was always the first person on your mind. When you lay in your bed at night, sleep just out of reach, you’re only able to get closer to it with the thought of someone—with the thought of this. 

Truth be told, you didn’t expect him to kiss so well. His lips move with a bit of hesitation as if he’s still testing the waters, but his hold on you—large hands on the back of your head and the middle of your back— is secure. He keeps you in place, not like you’d want to be anywhere else. 

You move even closer until your knees knock together. You don’t know if it’s a reaction, but Stiles’ hand moves lower until his pinkie finger is against the small strip of skin left bare by your shirt and your jeans. His touch is warm, and it ignites something low in your belly, making you aware of a feeling you’re suddenly desperate to reach. 

You start to kiss him with a little more fervor, the change instantly picked up by Stiles who matches your energy. He guides both hands onto your back, sliding them lower until they rest at the top of your ass. He circles his grip around solely your hips and digs his fingertips into the meat of your skin. When he tugs you closer to him, there’s nowhere left for you to go. It’s only logical that you straddle his hips instead. 

You throw one leg over both of his, giving him unobstructed access to slide both of his hands down to your ass, the palms cupping the shape through the denim. You want to keep kissing him, but the small inhale of air through your nose isn’t doing much, so you pull away, instantly making it your goal to get as much air as you can as quickly as possible so you can go back to him. 

Stiles, though, wastes no time, his lips latching onto the skin around your jaw, kissing down your neck, reaching your collarbone. You’re incredibly thankful that you decided to wear a revealing shirt tonight, leaving the tops of your tits visible, open to Stiles’ lips. He presses kisses into the tops of your breasts, spurred on by the way you grip the back of his head with both of your hands. You throw your head back and breathe languidly, taking in slow gulps of air and letting them out even slower. 

The straps of your tee shirt fall down and then Stiles stills. You dip your gaze down to look at him, noticing how he’s staring straight at where he’s been pressing his lips. Your shirt still sits over your tits, but barely. If you relaxed and leaned forward a bit, the fabric would fall around your waist. 

Stiles looks up at you, his eyes wider than they have been all night as if all of it is suddenly dawning on him. “Are you sure? Do you want to stop?” 

You shake your head, hands starting to twitch at the back of Stiles’ head with anticipation. You run them up, fingers curling into his hair. Stiles’ eyes flutter shut and the image is breathtaking. It makes you wonder if he likes his hair pulled. Something you’ll have to try out eventually. 

“I’m sure,” you assure him, “but if you want to stop, just tell me, okay?” 

His small smile makes your chest a little tight, a deep breath just barely getting rid of the feeling. 

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” His head tilts and he looks fucking adorable. You want to see Stiles like this as often as you can, even outside of the capacity of fucking around. 

You shrug, hoping you look half as cute as he does. “It can go both ways, can’t it?” 

And you can’t resist him any longer, needing to have your lips back on his. It’s quickly becoming an addiction, kissing Stiles Stilinski. You kiss him with hunger this time, tasting the lingering vanilla Coke on his tongue. Your teeth clack a few times, the sound and feeling both unpleasant. So why do you keep letting it happen? 

It’s definitely because you’ll let Stiles do anything to you. That’s why you’re completely pliant even when he flips you over. 

It’s quick, and a little devoid of grace, but it does the job. 

You end up with you on your back, legs bent at the knees and spread open. The warmth of Stiles kneeling between your legs is comforting. It’s nice to feel crowded like this, but it doesn’t last for long. Stiles is kneeling between your legs for only long enough to kiss you once, and then he stands at the foot of your bed, staring down at you. 

You know you look a little disappointed, a pout probably on your lips, but when he leans down and reconnects your lips one more time, you’re smiling again. As he pulled away the tip of his nose brushed against yours as his eyes opened just enough to stare fondly at you. 

“I’m gonna take your pants off. Is that okay?” He asked you, hands already settling on the fly of your jeans. 

You nodded, your noses playing with each other with the movement. Stiles’ need for consent was driving you crazy in the best possible ways. It’s like you could feel arousal steadily gushing out of you, increasing tenfold when he stood up fully and positioned his hands at the waistband of your jeans. 

His eyes found yours once more, seemingly checking for any indication that you wanted to turn back. There was none deep in your body, and you hoped that your face hadn’t betrayed you and displayed any apprehension. To ease your worries, you gave Stiles a gentle smile, feet digging into the bed beneath you as you lifted your hips just a bit. 

Stiles took your answer in stride, slightly shaky hands peeling the button out of the hole, then sliding your zipper down until you saw the cherry-printed fabric of your panties. Stiles took a manual breath at the sight, hands halting as he just stared for a few seconds. He blinks twice, then hooks his fingers in your waistband and tugs your jeans over your ass, down your thighs and legs, and off around your ankles and feet, leaving you half-bare in front of your lifetime crush. 

You’ve always known that Stiles is one to stare, ogle even. When you were in the same fifth-grade class, he would spend lunch looking across the room at a certain redhead. When you constantly watched a horror movie together the summer before sixth grade, Stiles would shamelessly stare at the main character, even when she had one of the most brutal death scenes you’ve ever seen. 

Ogling is something Stiles is known for in your book. But having that directed towards you feels different. It makes you a little nervous, teenage jitters fluttering low in your belly, making you wring your fingers together and gnaw on your bottom lip. 

Stiles, realizing that he’s staring for once, takes a breath, his hands hovering at your hips before it reoccurs to him that he’s allowed to touch you in a moment like this. You’ve permitted him. 

His hands shake as they approach your hips, but they steady when warm flesh meets warm flesh. 

“You’re so pretty,” he tells you, voice soft and earnest. The moment is tender, it’s vulnerable, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable. 

“I’m not even naked yet.” It’s your attempt at a light joke to ease the heavy tension that’s suddenly painted itself on the walls of your room, surrounding both of you, trapping you in the very thing you’ve wanted since you were young. But having it makes you uneasy, the uncharted territory suddenly a whole lot scarier up close. 

For once, Stiles doesn’t take the bait. He doesn’t crack a joke back, he doesn’t make you double over in laughter with his sarcasm. His amber eyes look at you, his pink lips curl up into a smile, and he tells you, “You don’t have to be naked to be pretty. You’re beautiful.” 

And you’re sure that your friends will tell you that it’s a little cheesy when you tell them every single detail of this moment, but you don’t care about that right now. Right now, your heart is soaring in your chest and your entire body is alight and you need Stiles Stilinski in ways you didn’t even think were possible. 

Your breath hitches. You lick your lips. 

“Stiles,” your voice is softer than you intended, it makes the moment even more tender. His eyebrows lift and you continue. “I need you to touch me. Please.” 

He wants to, you can tell he wants to. But something is holding him back and you think you know what it is. 

“I can teach you how. I can tell you what I like.” Not like you know much, either. Only things you’ve learned from your own explorations. 

He nods, eager, and his hands find the hem of your shirt. “I wanna all of you. Is that okay?” 

Again with the consent. It makes your vision swirl for a second, two blinks bringing Stiles back in focus as you nod and sit up completely, arms over your head so Stiles can take the top off. 

Your bra and panties are the only garments left, and you look down at your frame, a surge of confidence overtaking you as you reach behind you and unclip your bra. 

It falls and the sound Stiles makes would be comical if it weren’t for the situation. Actually, it still is comical, you just stifle your laugh for his own sake. 

His pretty eyes are having some serious tunnel vision, eye line straight at your tits. You sit a little straighter, puffing your chest out just enough to make you question if drool is starting to pool at the corner of Stiles’ lips. 

You know that this is the first pair of tits Stiles has seen in person and the revelation makes you even more proud of the set you sport. 

You eye Stiles’ frame, suddenly all too aware of the stark contrast in clothing. 

You squint at him accusatively. “Are you gonna even the playing field?” 

He blinks at you dumbly once, twice, and then he looks down at his dusty blue shirt. “Oh!” 

He rushes to throw his flannel off and does the same with his shirt off, barely even giving you enough time to do some admiring of your own before his hands fumble with the buckle and zipper of his cargo pants, his legs were suddenly useless as he awkwardly stumbles out of his pants. When he stands up straight, there’s a proud smile on his face that makes you giggle just a little, and just that one moment eases any tension or nerves you are feeling. 

Because this is Stiles. Your Stiles. The kid with the hangout house who would always invite you over after school for movie marathons. The kid who would quickly let you copy his homework before the teacher got to you. The kid who would always wave to you in the hallways, even when your cliques were completely separate and you hadn’t properly spoken for months. 

And now he’s watching you climb further up your bed, following after you, a hungry gaze in his eyes as he trails his eyes over your body from head to toe. 

His hands find your hips once more, his touch light as he trails it down. His fingertips graze over the tops of your thighs, then they find your inner thighs. His touch makes your legs part more, some reference to the Red Sea hidden in there deep beneath all of your all-encompassing hormones. 

Stiles watches between your legs while he brings two fingers to your center. They trail down, separating your lips, letting the tips of his fingers add pressure that already has you wanting more. You gasp, just a small sound that’s accidental, and Stiles licks his lips, a determined look in his eyes. 

It’s a sudden movement when he pulls your panties down and off, tossing them at the foot of the bed where the rest of your clothes sit. There’s not even a moment for you to even imagine being insecure or uncomfortable with your bare skin. Stiles is already positioning his hand at your bare cunt, fingertips just millimeters away from connecting with your skin. 

He wants to act, you can see it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he waits, he hovers, and he glances up at you. “I … I don’t,” he takes a second to breathe, and you let him finish. “What do I do?.” 

There’s just the smallest amount of shame hidden beneath his words, but you don’t let it exist much longer when you soften your eyes. 

You sit up, reaching out for him. “Stiles,” his eyes lift to connect with yours, the furrow between his eyebrows starting to relax. “There’s nothing to worry about. Okay? I want you, like really bad, if you can’t tell.” There’s just enough amusement in your tone to ease the tension, Stiles’ lips turning up into a satisfied smile. 

He leans forward, presses his lips to yours once, and then slides his middle finger into you, slow and steady, met with just enough resistance to showcase your inexperience. His pace is slow, almost tortuous as Stiles slides the single finger in and out. 

The depth that his slender finger reaches is enough to have you begging for more. You lift your hips from the bed and push your pelvis out toward his hand, with a plea for another digit leaving your lips. 

Stiles easily complies, sliding his ring finger in to join his middle. The stretch burns for a second, but you’re fucking dripping at this point, and the haze in your mind combined with the lubrication prevents any possible discomfort. Instead, you’re focused on directing Stiles, directions filling the air along with your moans. 

He listens easily, something you’re more than thankful for, especially whenever his fingertips brush against a spot that sends a tingle up your spine, and he’s finding the spot to abuse over and over again as soon as you tell him where it is. 

When your eyes peel away from the ceiling, and you’re able to keep them open enough, you connect with a set of warm brown that lights your body. Stiles’ eyes are so attentive. You don’t think he’s been looking anywhere but at your face this entire time, despite your sheer nudeness. His lips are parted, still glistening with your gloss and saliva. His eyes are wide, never straying from you, eyebrows raised just enough to give the look of innocence. 

But nothing is innocent about the way his free hand is palming his dick through his briefs. 

Your eyes find the tent accidentally, a blink that sends your gaze downward for just enough time for you to pick up on the bulge beneath checkered boxer briefs. You can’t make out the size from here, especially not with the slight blur in your vision, your eyesight unsteady even as you try to blink it away. 

You start to speak, to ask Stiles for what you really want, when he does, too. 

“I wanna feel you.” 

“I wanna taste you.” 

Both of you sit still, Stiles’ fingers stopping, too. He stares at you as if he’s shocked that the words came from his mouth, and there are three blinks shared from each of you before your hips move again, chasing a high you had briefly forgotten about. 

“Can we do that next time?” The words leave your mouth surrounded by gasps, little breaths that prove how worked up you already are. 

“N…Next time?” His stutter is cute, a little flattering, and you’d spend more time thinking about it if you weren’t on the cusp of an orgasm. Stiles has started moving his fingers again, pace just a little faster, fingers starting to curl at an angle that has your hands fisting the sheets. 

You nod, muscles starting to tense. “Yeah. Next time. Just need you so bad right now, Stiles.” 

“Yeah.” He nods, stares at you, and then nods once more. “Okay. Yeah.” You’re close, so very close, and then Stiles—overeager, enthusiastic, about to blow his pants Stiles—pulls his fingers out.

The noise that spills past your lips is completely accidental, almost guttural. It’s deep, and comes from the part of you that’s so obviously frustrated (the part of you that’s purely hormones and no logic). Stiles looks startled for a second, a string of curses coming past his pink lips as he fumbles off the bed and towards his pants. 

“Shit. Were you about to cum? I’m sorry, fuck, that’s totally my bad.” He’s speaking to you, but his eyes are watching his hands which ransack his pockets. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, the thud of jeans and a leather wallet hitting the floor alerting you. 

“What is it?” Your tone is a little more bitter than intended, but you’re disastrously horny and Stiles is under too much duress to notice. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he tells you, voice wobbling like it’s the worst news in the world. Like he’s telling you about the impending doom that’ll fall onto this plane of existence. His face is the most serious you’ve ever seen, and it’s a look you don’t really like on Stiles’ usually happy-go-lucky face. 

You don’t bother replying as you dig your hand under the pillow, ignoring how Stiles stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. 

It’s not until you whip out the two condoms you have, pinched between your middle and pointer finger like you’ve seen in countless movies, that Stiles’ face relaxes. 

“I came prepared.” You’re proud when you say it, happy that your anxiety-ridden over planning paid off in the end. 

Stiles looks relieved, too, quickly resuming his previous spot with one of his hands reaching out towards the aluminum packet between your fingers, except this time without his boxers. 

You try not to stare, truly, but it’s hard to keep your eyes from tilting down to look at his hard dick between you both. You're trying to calculate the length-to-girth ratio, making educated guesses on just how much pain and how much pleasure you’ll be in, but you’re just too busy taking it all in. 

Looking at the thick happy trail that leads down to the patch of pubic hair resting above his dick. His abdomen is tight, something you’ve known from the times he’s changed in front of you, too busy ranting about Coach Finstock to notice the way you’d stared at him. Now, you don’t care if he notices. Because Stiles is fucking hot, even more so in his position. 

His eyebrows politely furrow when you pull the aluminum out of his reach, his lips starting to form a question that you already started to answer. 

“Let me put it on. Please?” 

Stiles short circuits, you can see it with the way he dumbly blinks at you. It takes some prompting from you—a simple raise of your eyebrows—for him to nod, retracting his hand and sitting back on his heels.

“Go right ahead,” he confirms, his hands resting on his thighs. 

 You rip the packet open and pull the condom out, throwing the aluminum in the general direction of your nightstand, leaving it there for you to deal with afterward. Placing your fingers over the condom in a mimicking shape, you press it onto the tip of Stiles’ dick, instantly cataloging the way it’s just barely flushed the same color of his lips with a bead of nearly translucent pre cum drooling off to the side. 

The pre smears over his skin as you glide the condom down, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of Stiles’ dick in your hand as you go down. You don’t see it, not when your eyes are staring intently at the cock in front of you, but Stiles’ eyes have fluttered closed above you. His lips have parted, his nostrils flaring just a bit with the exhale he lets out. He’s getting off to you putting a condom on him, and you only catch the tail end of it when you throw a curious glance up at him once the condom is seated completely over him. 

“Good?” 

He nods, opening his eyes to stare down at you. “Fucking great.”

You lay back, spread your legs, and let Stiles back in. 

He hovers, asks you if you’re okay, and as soon as you nod, he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. 

When your friends ask you about it later, when they press you for details and inevitably come to the question that everyone wonders about, you’ll tell them that it hurt. Because it did. More uncomfortable than anything, a feeling that you had to breathe through. Luckily, Stiles was there coaching you through it. 

Demonstrating breaths that he repeated with you, gently nodding even when his face screwed up. You could see the way he was holding himself back, the veins in his arms prominent as he held your hip with one hand, the other pressed into the pillow beneath your head. 

“Keep going?” he eventually asked you. Excitement clearly flooded his eyes when you nodded. 

He gave you slow thrusts, deep and meticulous as if he were terrified of hurting you, and he was. He kept glancing from the sight of where the two of you were connected up to your eyes, watching attentively for any sign that you wanted to stop. 

But it never came. After the initial discomfort, you hooked a leg over Stiles’ back. It’s like a switch flipped, telling you that you needed as much Stiles as you could get. He was in you, yes, and he had his hands over your body, but it wasn’t enough. 

Stiles could give you his all and it still would never be too much. 

“More?” 

You nodded. “More, please.”

Stiles was eager to obey your request. He didn’t give it his all, you could still feel the restraint in each of his thrusts, but he gave you more. He drove into you with a little more power, holding his punches towards the end. The drag-out happened faster, as did the slide-in. 

It was a steady pace, rhythmic enough to provide stimulation. You won’t cum from just this, it’s obvious to you, but this is good. It puts a tickle in your lower belly. One that flutters around your insides, twisting them every so often. 

You feel so good, euphoric, even. At this moment, you understand the claims of post-sex glow. How could you not glow after this? It’s like Stiles is a fucking natural. There are a few moments where he’s a little off, but he picks up where he left off. He seems confident, and undoubting of his abilities, and it only makes everything better. 

Stiles groans and you’re brought back. You stare up at him, taking in as much as you can. The freckles and moles dotting his face and shoulders, the slight sunburn he has over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, how his hair falls over his forehead, a few strands sticking to his pale skin. 

He’s so pretty. You don’t know how you ever thought you would have gotten over him. After this, you don’t think you ever will get over him. 

He leans down and knocks his forehead against yours. 

“You feel so good,” he admits. He sounds so honest and it turns you on. 

You curl your fingers in Stiles’ hair, pulling only a bit, but the reaction is still there. The sound he makes resembles a whine. It’s addicting. You want to hear it again. 

So you pull Stiles further down and suck on his jaw, combining it with another gentle pull of his hair. He doesn’t make the same sound, not immediately. At first, he moans, clean and simple, and then your cunt flutters around him and he whines again. 

It’s such a pretty sound. 

He starts to fuck into you messily, lacking any of the precision from before. His thrusts become more shallow, and you watch his features relax. 

“Are you close, Stiles?” you ask him, although you think you know the answer. 

He nods. “Yes. Yeah, ‘m so fucking close.” 

He takes his hand off of your thigh and searches. You don’t realize what for until he finds your hand. More fumbling and then your fingers are interlocked. Stiles presses your hand back into the pillow, the secure weight of his own hand keeping it there, and then he presses his lips to yours. 

He kisses you for a second, and you’re able to reciprocate for the sole moment. But you’re close, too. You can barely reciprocate when you’re as focused on your own orgasm, everything else pressed to the back of your mind. 

You use your free hand to tweak your clit, speeding your pace up when you realize that Stiles is just a few thrusts short of cumming. 

When he does cum—shooting into the condom with a final thrust, his forehead resting on your sternum as his grip on your hand tightens—you’re not far behind. Stiles weakly thrusts into you a few times and it’s during the second one that your muscles seize, an orgasm unlike anything else you’ve ever felt taking over your body, your middle finger absentmindedly rubbing against your clit as you let the orgasm wash over you. 

It takes a minute for both of you to come down. Stiles stays hovered over your body, his forearm keeping him up as he relaxes the lower half of his body onto yours. A couple of minutes pass before he even makes an attempt to move, and even when he does, he keeps your hands interlocked. 

He speaks first. “Please tell me that was as good for you as it was for me.”

You nod, unable to do anything other than blink up at the ceiling for a second. Eventually, you tell him, “Yeah.”

It’s not much, which Stiles is quick to comment on. “Are you sure? You don’t sound sure.”

“‘m just a little out of it right now, Stiles.” When you turn your head to look at him, he’s smiling like he’s proud of himself. You scoff, weakly kicking his shin. “Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Sorry. I’m just definitely gonna be thinking about this for a while.”

[tomsparkyr]

hiii could you do the reader and jj diving for the necklace, getting attacked by those guys, and jj goes to get the reader with the group checking up on them and they end up getting the bends, going to the hospital to be put into that chamber and it’s just really cute and soft <3

Hyperbaric Chamber

jj maybank x reader

OBX season 4 SPOILERS

a/n: I was hoping someone would request this! I didn’t know if you wanted smut or not so I didn’t include it but let me know if anyone wants smut in the hyperbaric chamber!

“Look, it’s too dangerous for you to dive alone Im going with you,” you stated.

“You sure?” JJ questioned.

“Yeah I’m sure. It’s not safe. You need a buddy.”

“It’s 80 feet down in the dark.”

“I already decided so,” you replied.

“Okay, that’s that.” JJ spoke.

You and JJ were going to receive an amulet that had been said to break the curse of the Genrettes that’s haunted their family for over 300 years. You were a little nervous but you knew you had JJ with you. You and JJ, plus Pope and John B take the boat out to where Blackbeard’s ship was wrecked.

“Don’t forget your safety stop, all right? Fifteen feet for three minutes. Hear that, JJ? Fifteen feet, three minutes,” Pope reminded you both.

“Copy that.”

“Or what?” you ask.

“The bends, remember? Nitrogen in the blood, excruciating pain, death, et cetera, et cetera.” Pope recites.

JJ looks at you and you can tell he will never forgive himself if something happened to you. “Hey you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah I’m good.”

“Okay.”

“Diver down.”

“Diver down.”

You and JJ put on your gear and fall back into the water. You both turn on your flashlights and swim down into the water. There’s a lot of fish but you finally reach the ship. JJ pushed open a window and you both go through it.

JJ finds the necklace and uses his knife to break it off the wall. Out of nowhere someone attacks you and takes your breathing tube out of your mouth. JJ takes his speargun and thrusts it at the guy, he manages to shank him in the arm.

JJ starts to fight with the guy and the guy ends up locking JJ out. JJ calls out to you, his voice desperate and he bangs on the door. The guy grabs you by the leg and cuts off your tank leaving you with no air. JJ screams for you and you scream for him.

JJ managed to break a hole in the door and he put his arm through and unlocked it. He then urgently gave you his mouth piece to give you some air. He looked down at his monitor and saw that there was only 17 seconds left.

“We gotta go now.” JJ urged.

You finally reached the surface and you both gasped for air.

“You okay?” JJ asked.

“Yeah. That was so close.”

“I know.”

“Who the hell was that down there?” JJ questioned.

“Where’s John B?”

The two of you start yelling for Pope and John B. They hear you and you swim over to them. Pope gets the ladder.

“Y/N, hand me your stuff,” Pope offers.

You let out a groan.

“Wait. Where’s your BCP?” Pope asks.

“It’s gone.”

“What? What do you mean it’s gone?”

“I mean, it’s gone.”

“You all right?”

“Yeah.”

“There was a guy that tried to kill us.” JJ breathed.

“We saw a boat out here too. They were armed. We need to get out of here now,” Pope said urgently.

“No, you don’t understand. There’s a guy down there-“ JJ was cut off.

“There’s a boat. We just saw it pass,” Pope repeats.

John B starts to move the boat and you all sail out of there. Once you all get back to the château John B speaks, “Alright what the hell happened?”

“Someone tried to kill us,” you responded.

“What? Why would someone try to kill you? That doesn’t make sense,” Pope was confused.

“Obviously, they were going after the same thing we were, right?” John B stated.

“My stomach hurts,” you announced.

“Hey, man, did you take your safety stop?” Pope inspects JJ’s eye.

“I’m gonna say it one more time. Someone was trying to kill us. We did not make the safety stop,“ JJ replied.

“They have the bends. We need to get them to the hospital. Now.” Pope says worried.

Everyone hopped in the twinkie and John B drove as fast as he could. You and JJ were moaning and groaning in pain. Sarah told you to take deep breaths.

“Y’all are not going to believe this,” JJ says as he hands the amulet to Sarah.

“You found it?”

“Holy shit.”

After what felt like forever you finally make it to the hospital. Your friends held you up as you walked in. Pope explained that you went diving and you need help.

“Their vitals and mental status is stable, and the pain scale is moving in the right direction, but they still need time in the hyperbaric chamber. They just bought themselves 12 hours in the tank,” the nurse said to John B.

The two of you were in a lot of pain and you were panting as you laid down in the chamber.

“Y/N.”

“Mmm.”

“You almost died. I should’ve never let you go down there,” JJ says with regret.

“Then who would’ve saved your life?” You reasoned.

“I saved you too.”

“Ya know we’re in here for 12 hours,” you began.

“Yeah but there’s no one else I’d rather be in here with,” JJ shared.

“You’re sweet.”

“You’re my whole world you know that? I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you.”

“I’m here J, right here,” You take his hand and hold it as you lay down.

JJ looks at you and then looks at your lips. You scoot closer to him and lean in. JJ cups your face with one hand and places his lips on yours. The kiss was needy but gentle. JJ was relieved to be kissing you. Your lips were crushing together.

You felt warm all over and your stomach was tingling. JJ’s heart was palpitating. JJ’s tongue explored your mouth. You lapped up his mouth. After making out, you took a breath and JJ brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“My beautiful girl,” JJ whispered as he cradled your face.

“I love you so fucking much,” JJ confessed.

“I love you too.”

“I’m gonna marry you some day. We’re gonna live on the beach and have a bunch of kids. It’s gonna be perfect,” JJ talked to you about your future.

“Sounds like a dream,” you stated.

“It will be. So do you want a small wedding or a big wedding?” JJ asked.

“Hmm maybe something small and intimate. Like just the pogues and family,” you suggested.

“Yeah I like that idea. Where do you want to go for our honeymoon?”

“What about Greece or Italy or Fiji?” You thought out loud.

“Any of those would work for me, as long as i’m with you,” JJ replied.

You rested your forehead on JJ’s forehead and smiled. You spent the rest of your time in the chamber cuddling and talking. It was an experience. You turned out just fine and you had JJ so that was nice.

[tomsparkyr]

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. BEFORE — Josh Washington

SUMMARY — A rekindled romance with Josh Washington leads to a night of pleasure and requited feelings for one another.

W/C — 6k words.

NOTES — Written in 2nd person POV, includes smut, smut, SMUT. Lowkey a bit of fluff, considering writing a part two involving Josh’s psycho prank reveal.

The tension in the room escalates as a heavy silence settles over the group, and the cold air reflects the unease on everyone’s faces. The atmosphere grows thick with unspoken words, and the other friends exchange worried glances, unsure how to intervene in Emily and Jessica’s argument.

Standing in the centre of the room, Josh senses the confrontation spiralling out of control. He takes a deep breath, determination flickering in his eyes as he steps forward, his voice attempting to cut through the mounting anxiety.

“Mike, why don’t you check out the guest cabin? The one I told you about,” he suggests, trying to redirect the group’s attention away from the simmering conflict.

Looking at Jess with an eagerness that masks his concern, Mike jumps at the chance to shift gears. “Yeah, alright. Want to go do that?” he asks Jess, his tone light but tinged with hope.

Still bitter and glaring daggers at Emily, Jess responds with a sharp edge. “Any place without that whore,” she retorts, her voice dripping with disdain. Her eyes flicker to Emily, who stands rigid, hurt and anger swirling in her gaze.

Emily’s fists clench at her sides as she takes in Jess's words. “Wow, Jess. Classy,” she fires back, her voice strained as she struggles to maintain her composure.

Caught between the two, Josh tries to keep the mood light, though disappointment hangs heavy in his heart. “It’s right up the trail,” he chimes in, glancing nervously between them, desperate to diffuse the situation.

Mike, feeling the weight of Jess’s glare, takes her hand and pulls her gently away from the tension. “Let’s go,” he says, leading her toward the door, eager to escape the simmering conflict behind them.

As Jess and Mike step outside, the door clicks shut, leaving a heavy silence in the lodge. The warmth from the fireplace feels suddenly distant, and the atmosphere is charged with unresolved tension. Emily stands frozen for a moment, her heart racing with betrayal and anger, her body trembling as she processes the sting of jealousy.

Josh shakes his head slowly, disappointment etched as he watches Mike and Jess walk away. His eyes linger on Emily, concern flaring up as he witnesses the distress radiating from her. The remaining friends exchange uneasy looks, each uncertain how to navigate the sudden rift that has opened.

Matt, Emily’s boyfriend, stares at her with concern and confusion. He’s distressed by her jealousy, feeling her emotions pressing down on him. “Em, are you okay?” he finally asks, his voice hesitant, trying to bridge the gap between them.

Emily's expression hardens, turns on Matt, frustration spilling out in a flood. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’ll let her treat me like that! And do you know where my pink bag from the rodeo is?” she demands, her voice rising with agitation.

Matt is caught off guard and hesitates before responding. “Uh, I don’t know… I thought you had it with you,” he replies, unsure how to react to her outburst.

Emily’s eyes flash with anger. “Well, I don’t! So we need to find it. Now!” she insists, her tone leaving little room for argument.

With a heavy sigh, Matt nods, resigned to her request. “Okay, let’s look for it,” he replies, attempting to keep his voice steady, even as uncertainty lingers in his gaze.

Across the room, Sam, sensing the tension, tries to control her situation. “I’m going to have a nice, warm bath,” she announces, her voice breaking through the thick silence. “Maybe some relaxation will help.” She gives the group a small smile but does little to ease the tension.

As the air in the lodge remains heavy with tension, Josh takes it upon himself to bring some warmth back into the space. He moves toward the fireplace, fumbling with kindling and logs, determined to ignite a fire that can literally and metaphorically chase away the chill. He strikes a match, watching it flicker momentarily before it catches, the flame dancing to life.

His eyes search yours, filled with a mix of hope and vulnerability. At that moment, the noise of the lodge fades into the background, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones left in the room, standing on the precipice of a more profound connection amidst the chaos of friendship and rivalry.

Meanwhile, Ashley and Chris sit together in the corner of the room, their eyes darting nervously around the space. The silence between them stretches, filled only by the crackling of the match against the wood.

Ashley fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, her cheeks flushed slightly. “It’s pretty intense, right?” she replies, trying to keep her tone light despite the seriousness of the situation. “I never thought it would get that heated. We’re supposed to be here to have fun, not fight.”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s like, one minute we’re all friends, and the next… everyone’s at each other’s throats.” He glances over at Josh, who is still wrestling with the logs in the fireplace, trying to coax a flame to grow. “You think he’s going to be okay? I mean, he’s trying so hard to keep things together.”

Ashley nods, her eyes following Josh’s movements. “I hope so. He’s a good guy, you know? He wants everyone to have a good time. It’s just… hard to watch everyone fight like this.”

Chris, sensing a moment of connection, leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I appreciate how you always try to keep things positive. I wish I could be more like that sometimes.”

Ashley looks at him, her heart fluttering a little at the compliment. “Thanks, Chris. That means a lot,” she replies softly, a shy smile creeping onto her face.

Before they can delve deeper into their conversation, Sam returns down the stairs, a towel draped over her shoulder. She looks a bit flustered, running a hand through her damp hair. “Hey, guys,” she calls out, her voice bright but tinged with frustration. “I just checked the bath, and the gas is off, so the water’s cold. Great, right?”

Josh is still focused on getting the fire to catch and grimaces. “Seriously? That’s not what I needed to hear right now,” he mutters, finally coaxing a small flame into existence.

Sam rolls her eyes playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, let’s just add it to the list of things going wrong tonight.”

Josh, however, takes the news in stride and turns toward you with a spark of determination in his eyes. “Y/N, how about we go to the basement and check the gas? It shouldn’t be too complicated, and I could use the extra hands.”

Ashley and Chris exchange glances, their conversation momentarily forgotten. “Do you think you can fix it?” Chris asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

Josh nods confidently, but there’s a hint of uncertainty beneath the bravado. “Yeah, it’s probably just a quick adjustment.”

Sam shrugs, a smile returning to her face. “I’ll keep an eye on the fire for you guys. Just don’t blow anything up, okay?”

“Promise,” Josh replies, flashing a grin as he heads toward the basement door, glancing back at you. “You coming, Y/N?”

Josh’s hopeful gaze offers a chance for distraction, perhaps even a moment to connect without the chaos of the others hanging overhead.

“Yeah, I’m in,” you respond, pushing off from your seat. You can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline at the idea of stepping away from the drama and into the unknown of the basement with Josh.

He smiles, a mixture of relief and excitement crossing his features. “Awesome. Let’s go.”

Together, you head toward the basement door, the creaky wood floorboards echoing softly behind you. As Josh opens the door, a rush of cool air greets you, starkly contrasting the lodge's warmth. The darkness beyond is thick, with only a few dim lights flickering in the distance.

“Do you have a flashlight?” you ask, glancing back at him.

“Yeah, I got one,” he replies, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, rugged flashlight. He flicks it on, illuminating a narrow staircase that leads down into the gloom.

You descend the stairs together, the light casting long shadows against the stone walls. The air grows more relaxed, a bit musty, filled with the scent of old wood and dust. As you reach the bottom, the beam reveals an assortment of old furniture covered in sheets, boxes piled high, and the occasional rustle of a rat scurrying away.

“Welcome to the dungeon,” Josh jokes, trying to keep the atmosphere light as he sweeps the flashlight across the room. “Quite the sight, huh?”

You chuckle, appreciating his attempt at humour. “At least it’s not filled with creepy dolls or something.”

Josh nods, stepping further inside. “Let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on with the gas.” He moves to a panel on the wall, inspecting it closely. “It shouldn’t be too complicated. Just a valve adjustment, I think.”

You step closer, watching him with a mix of admiration and concern. He looks determined, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he kneels to get a better look at the mechanism. The moment feels profound and fragile as you and Josh exchange lingering glances. But the sudden crash from the living room jolts you back into the present. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts and take a deep breath.

“I think it came from upstairs,” you reply, your pulse quickening as your heart races. “Should we check it out?”

Josh hesitates, glancing toward the stairs. “Maybe we should finish with the gas first? If it’s nothing, we don’t want to leave it unattended.”

You nod, trying to push aside the unease creeping into your thoughts. “Right, let’s focus on this first.”

With renewed determination, you both turn your attention back to the valve. After a few moments of adjustments and checking gauges, Josh finally gives a satisfied nod. “I think that should do it. Let’s head back upstairs and let them know.”

As you return to the stairs, the unsettling feeling in your gut lingers, amplifying the sense that something isn’t right. The sounds of the lodge—laughter, tension, muffled voices—float down to you, becoming a mix of reassurance and dread.

Just as you reach the top of the stairs, another loud noise reverberates through the lodge, a sharp sound like something heavy being knocked over. You exchange worried glances with Josh, both of you feeling the shift in the atmosphere.

“What was that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Josh replies, his tone serious as he tightens his grip on the flashlight. “But we need to find out.”

With that, you both step back into the main room, the previous tensions overshadowed by an unfamiliar fear. The crackling of the fire is drowned out by hurried footsteps and raised voices, the friends agitated by whatever’s happening.

“Did you hear that?” Josh asks, his eyes darting around the room.

You nod, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing down on you. “We need to stick together,” you suggest a quiet resolve forming between you.

“Stay behind me,” he replies, stepping closer as you prepare to confront whatever lurks in the shadows. The night is far from over, and the real challenge has only begun.

Just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, a sudden flash of colour catches your eye. Before you can react, Chris bursts into the hallway, wearing a ridiculous, oversized bathrobe with a floppy hat and fuzzy slippers. He strikes a dramatic pose, grinning widely.

“Behold! The Phantom of the Lodge!” he exclaims, his voice booming as he swings his arms for effect.

You jump back, letting out a surprised yelp. Instinctively, you grab Josh’s arm, clinging to him tightly as your heart races. “Oh my God, Chris! You scared me!”

Josh chuckles, his initial shock melting into laughter as he steadies you. “Seriously, man? This is the best you could come up with?”

Chris leans into his performance, spinning around in the robe and throwing his hands up. “What? You don’t like my haunting style? I thought I’d bring some fun to this dreary evening!”

You can’t help but laugh, the night's tension momentarily dissipating as you release Josh’s arm, albeit reluctantly. “I mean, if the ghost you’re trying to scare is one of my nightmares, then sure, it’s working!”

Josh shakes his head, still smiling. “You need to get better at hiding, Chris. That was way too easy.”

Chris pretends to be offended, placing a hand over his heart. “Easy? I’m a master of scare tactics! Just look at my costume!” He twirls again, the robe billowing dramatically around him. “If I were a real ghost, I’d have you all quaking in your boots!”

Josh rolls his eyes but can’t help but smile at Chris’s antics. “You might want to reconsider your career choices, buddy. You’re more likely to make us laugh than scream.”

The lighthearted banter creates a much-needed distraction, and the tension from earlier seems to fade a bit. You take a deep breath, feeling more at ease, though you still chuckle as Chris prays around in his ridiculous outfit.

“Okay, okay, you’ve had your fun,” you say, finally regaining your composure. “But seriously, let’s focus. We must check on the others and see what’s happening.”

Chris drops the act, his playful demeanour shifting to concern. “Right, right. I just thought a little laughter would lighten the mood. Things have been pretty intense tonight.”

“Yeah, they have,” Josh agrees, his expression turning serious again. “But let’s get back out there and have some fun.”

As you enter the main room, the lingering echoes of laughter from Chris’s antics fade into the background, replaced by the familiar tension that still lingers among the group. You glance at Josh, feeling the weight of your unresolved feelings.

“Hey, Josh,” you say, lowering your voice to ensure Chris doesn’t overhear. “Can we talk for a second? Like… about last year?”

Josh’s expression shifts, a mix of curiosity and concern. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I feel like we’ve both been avoiding it. Everything that happened before...”

His gaze softens, the vulnerability in his eyes mirroring your own. “Before my sisters disappeared.”

Just then, Chris, standing a few feet away, suddenly perks up. He catches Josh’s eye and raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Uh, I’ll be waiting over there,” he says, gesturing to a corner of the room. “You two take your time.”

You can’t help but smile at Chris’s teasing, but Josh rolls his eyes, a hint of embarrassment colouring his cheeks. “Thanks, Chris. We’ll try to keep it brief,” he replies, trying to suppress a grin.

As Chris saunters away, you turn back to Josh, feeling a rush of nervous energy. “So, where do we even start?” you ask, glancing around to ensure no one else is listening.

“I guess we start with the fact that I missed you,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. “When everything happened, my only focus was on finding my sisters. But I’ve thought about you a lot and regret not saying anything sooner.”

You feel your heart flutter at his words. “I missed you too. I didn’t want to complicate things when you already dealt with so much.”

“I know,” he replies, his expression pained. “And I appreciate you allowing me time to heal with my parents. Last year was such a mess. I’m just glad you had nothing to do with Hannah’s prank,” Josh admits, stepping towards you.

“Never, I could never have anything to do with that,” You say softly, giving him a warm smile.

He nods, his gaze unwavering. “I know. It would’ve hurt me a lot if you did.”

After a few moments, you poke some fun at the tension lingering from the past. “You know,” you say playfully, “I couldn’t have possibly been part of Hannah’s prank. Thanks to you last year, I was too busy being in a compromising position.”

Josh raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh really? Care to elaborate on that?”

You can feel the moment's weight hanging in the air, the tension from earlier dissipating as you lock eyes with Josh. The connection between you feels electric, and for a fleeting moment, the chaos of the lodge fades into the background.

You raise an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Are you trying to charm me, Josh?”

“Maybe,” he replies, leaning slightly closer, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been known to have that effect on people. And honestly, what sane woman could resist it?”

Josh glances back to ensure no one is watching before he reaches out, gently brushing your arm with his hand. “Let’s go upstairs,” he says, his voice low and inviting.

As you both make your way toward the staircase, a voice interrupts your moment. Chris and Ashley round the corner, eyebrows raised in unison.

“Hey! Where are you two sneaking off to?” Chris calls out, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

You exchange a glance with Josh; both are caught off guard. “Uh, just... checking out the view from upstairs!” you manage to say, attempting to sound casual.

“Yeah, you know,” Josh adds quickly, “the top floor has the best spot for stargazing. I just wanted to make sure we don’t miss it.

Ashley leans in, her expression sceptical. “Right. Because you two need alone time for stargazing.” She smirks, clearly not buying it.

Josh nods, his grin still plastered on his face. “Yeah, we just want to hang out for a bit. You know how it is—sometimes you need a break from the chaos.”

Chris and Ashley exchange a knowing look, and you can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up under their scrutiny. “All right, all right,” Chris finally concedes, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply, rolling your eyes, a grin breaking through.

With one last playful eye-roll from Ashley and an exaggerated sigh from Chris, they leave you and Josh standing at the base of the stairs.

You and Josh make your way down the dimly lit hallway, the faint sound of the wind howling outside, barely breaking the heavy silence. The air feels cold against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You instinctively lean closer to him, and he responds by wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in a little tighter to keep you warm.

“Is it just me, or does it feel like this place gets colder the further we walk?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood despite the chill.

Josh chuckles softly, glancing down at you. “Yeah but don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He squeezes you gently, his warmth radiating through his skin, making you feel more at ease.

As you approach his room, the door looks more inviting against the shadows filling the hallway. Josh stops just outside, looking down at you with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. He turns the handle and opens the door, revealing a cozy space with warm lighting, the comforting scent of wood, and something faintly sweet. As he steps inside, you follow him, and he quickly shuts the door behind you, locking it with a soft click.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifts. The hallway's darkness is replaced by the warm glow of a bedside lamp, illuminating the room and casting soft shadows on the walls. It feels intimate and safe here.

Josh’s gaze drops to your lips briefly, and everything shifts in that instant. The air between you crackles with electricity, and before you can process it, he closes the distance, cupping your face gently with his hands.

Time seems to slow as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly as your heart races. And then, his lips find yours, soft and tentative at first, as if testing the waters.

You respond instinctively, leaning into him, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate as the tension and unspoken feelings from before surging to the surface. It feels natural as if this moment has been building for far longer than the few minutes you’ve been alone. The warmth of his body envelops you, and you lose yourself in the sensation, the world outside fading entirely from your mind.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look into Josh’s eyes, searching for the same emotions you feel swirling inside you. His cheeks are flushed, and his gaze’s a look of wonder.

Your warmth intensifies as your lips meet again, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, a blend of pent-up emotions and undeniable attraction. Josh’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. The world outside the door fades entirely, leaving only the sound of your heart beating in sync.

You feel excitement as he deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a newfound hunger. His hands explore your back, fingers brushing against the fabric of your sweater, sending shivers down your spine. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, the kiss growing more heated with each passing second.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," Josh murmurs against your lips, his breath warm and heavy, making your heart race even faster.

"Me too," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, the thrill of his admission sending a wave of excitement through you. As if sensing your need for more, he deepens the kiss, and you melt into him.

You feel his hands explore your sides, fingers brushing against your skin, igniting every nerve ending. The sensations swirl around you, and you lose yourself in the sweetness of his kiss, his intoxicating taste. Josh pulls you closer, the pressure of his body against yours, heightening the tension. You can feel the heat radiating off him, pulling you in like a magnet. The kiss becomes more frantic and desperate, as if you're afraid of what might happen if you stop.

When you break apart momentarily, Josh’s eyes dark with desire. "I can't believe it took us this long to do this again," he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sends shivers through you, and you lean into him, craving more.

Without breaking eye contact, he leans in again, capturing your lips in a soft and demanding kiss. You feel the fire between you intensify, and you sigh softly as you return the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and you can feel his warmth against you, making it hard to think. The world outside ceases to exist; the two of you are wrapped up in this moment.

"Y/N," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, desires flickering in his gaze. He gestures towards your top, tugging at the bottom of it. “Can I?"

Your heart races at the question, but the answer feels instinctual. "Yes," you reply, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions.

With a spark of determination, Josh slides your t-shirt over your head. His hands slide down your back, gripping your hips as he pulls you closer, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He pulls you down with him, guiding you onto his lap.

As you settle onto his lap, the heat between you grows palpable. Josh's hands remain firm on your hips, grounding you in the moment—his gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, filled with hunger and tenderness.

With a swift movement, he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing toned muscles that glisten softly in the dim light. The sight sends a rush of excitement through you, and your breath catches in your throat.

He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I want to see you." The request ignites a thrill of anticipation within you.

Josh's fingers trace the delicate curve of your spine as he gently removes your bra, letting it fall to the floor unnoticed. His gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he takes in the sight of you. The room is quiet except for your joint breaths, each heavier than the last.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

He doesn't wait for a response. Instead, his hands slide around to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You gasp, arching into his touch, your head tilting back instinctively.

"So responsive," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jawline as he moves closer to your ear. "I love how you react to my touch."

His words tingle your skin, and you can feel the heat pooling between your legs. You want more of his hands, mouth, and more of him. You nod, unable to form words through the haze of desire clouding your mind.

With a wicked grin, Josh shifts his grip, one hand still playing with your nipple while the other slides down to your waistband. He tugs at your leggings, pulling it down your hips until it crumples at your thighs. Your panties are now exposed, and he wastes no time reaching under them, his fingers brushing against the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands softly, his voice firm but not unkind.

You obey, parting your legs slightly, allowing him better access. His fingers continue their journey upward, dipping just inside the edge of your panties before finding their target. You feel the pad of his index finger glide over your clit, a slow, teasing stroke that makes you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

"That’s it," he encourages, adding another finger to circle your clit faster. "Let me hear you."

The combination of his dirty talk and touch pushes you closer to the edge. You try to maintain some semblance of control, but his fingers on your clit have reduced you to a quivering mess. Your breath comes in short gasps, and you can feel the tension building rapidly inside you.

“Josh…” you manage to whisper, your voice cracking as waves of pleasure begin to crest.

He responds by pressing harder, his thumb circling your nipple while his fingers work magic between your legs. The sensations are too intense, and you know you won't last much longer. Your body stiffens, muscles tightening as you feel the familiar rush of an impending orgasm.

"Cum for me," he orders, his voice laced with authority. "Show me how much you like my fingers."

Those words tip you over the edge. A cry escapes your lips as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you, your body trembling with the force of your release. Josh doesn't let up, continuing to stroke you through the aftershocks, ensuring every ounce of pleasure is wrung from your body.

When the tremors finally subside, you collapse against him, weak and breathless. Josh pulls his fingers away, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. The look in his eyes tells you this is far from over.

"Now," he says, his voice rough with unspent desire, "it's my turn."

He stands up, lifting you effortlessly and laying you back onto the bed. You watch as he quickly sheds the rest of his clothes, revealing his hard, eager cock. He positions himself between your legs, his hands resting on either side of your head as he hovers above you, maintaining that intense eye contact.

"Tell me what you want," he demands, his tone brooking no refusal.

You bite your lip, considering your answer. The power dynamic has shifted, and you feel thrilled at being under his command. But you also know what you want—what you need.

"I want you inside me," you confess, your voice soft but clear. "Please, Josh."

A smile curves his lips, triumphant and possessive. "Good girl," he murmurs, lowering himself until his cock brushes against your entrance. "This might hurt a little at first. I want you to take every inch."

You nod, understanding the challenge. He slowly pushes forward, stretching you, filling you. The initial sting gives way to a deep, throbbing pleasure as he sinks deeper, inch by agonisingly delicious inch. You clutch at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself as he continues his relentless advance.

"All of it," he growls, his muscles straining as he reaches the hilt. "Take all of me."

You whimper, overwhelmed by the fullness but also by the primal rush of having him entirely inside you. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust, his hands moving to cradle your face as he gazes down at you.

"Are you ready?" he asks, though it sounds more like a statement.

Before you can answer, he pulls out slightly and then thrusts back in, which is more challenging this time. The impact makes your breath hitch, and you can't help but cry out at its intensity. He repeats the motion, each thrust more vigorous than the last, pushing you higher and higher.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he mutters, his voice strained. "So tight."

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you meet his thrusts, your hips rising to greet him. The rhythm builds, becoming more frantic, more desperate. The world narrows down to just the two of you, locked in this primal dance of lust and need.

Suddenly, he changes pace, slowing down just enough to tilt his hips differently. The angle hits a spot deep inside you that makes your vision blur with pleasure. You can feel your second climax approaching, and you cling to him for dear life.

"Josh... I'm close," you gasp, your voice barely audible.

He smiles darkly, taking that as his cue. "Then cum all over me," he says, speeding up again. "Let go."

His words trigger something within you, and you feel the dam break as another powerful orgasm rips through you. Your body convulses beneath him, and you moan his name as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

Josh doesn’t stop his thrusts, making them harder and rougher with each stroke. You begin to feel the slick between your legs turn into a gush, tiny droplets of your heat squirting on his pelvis. He slides out and pushes back in, going deeper each time. You feel his hands on your hips as he thrusts into you harder and harder, your slick still flying onto his abdomen. He looks into your eyes with a wicked smirk, his cock never slowing.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you mumble, barely coherent.

You feel like you’re on fire, your muscles are so tense they feel like they’re about to snap, your body is clenching down on him so hard it hurts, and you feel yourself pouring like a waterfall.

Josh suddenly stops and flips you on your side, his body following suit as he lays behind you. You feel his arms wrap around your waist, his chin nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“You know I’m not kidding when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers into your neck.

You feel him stiffen behind you and realise he’s still inside you. You moan quietly, and he slowly starts to move again. His hands grip your hips, and he picks up the pace, fucking you harder this time. You push back into him, your body desperate for his cock.

“I knew…” he grunts, his movements getting faster and faster. “I knew it the first night we met.”

You gasp at his words and start to feel another orgasm build. His cock hits a different spot inside you this time, and you feel it fill you. You begin to shake and moan as your muscles clench down on him. He lets out a loud groan, and his movements become more erratic.

“I’m gonna cum,” he moans. You feel him pick up the pace and drive himself into you repeatedly. His cock swells inside you, and you feel his hot release cover your walls. His cum floods your pussy as he fucks you through his orgasm. He collapses behind you and pulls out. You feel his cum dripping out of you and look over your shoulder at him. He’s watching your pussy with a look of satisfaction on his face.

Josh wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer into his embrace. “I shouldn’t have left you for so long. I’ve been so caught up with Hannah and Beth disappearing… but seeing you tonight reminded me of everything I’ve always felt for you.”

You stay silent, waiting to hear his following words. A short while later, you feel him getting up. You roll over onto your back and watch as he walks away, naked and utterly comfortable in his own body. He disappears out the door and returns a minute later, holding a box of tissues and a damp washcloth.

He climbs into bed, pressing the washcloth to your pussy. “I want to take care of you. I want to make sure you feel good.”

“I want to take care of you too, Josh,” You whisper, voice barely above a whisper. You’re exhausted but relaxed beyond any relaxation you’ve ever experienced.

“I love that you’re all fucked out for me,” he says. You smile at him and watch as he tosses the washcloth away and opens the box of tissues.

He pulls out a few and gently wipes his cock clean. He looks up at you as he does it, watching your reaction to him cleaning himself. You feel your body start to get warm, and your nipples perk up at the sight. He smiles as he realises what’s happening.

“I’m tempted to go for round 2, but I think it would be kind of rude for the house host to disappear for long periods… even if it’s to spend time with a super gorgeous woman,” Josh says, throwing the used tissues onto the floor and crawling back into bed with you.

“Let’s lay here for a little while,” You tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to you. He pulls the blankets over both of your naked bodies and comfortably wraps his arms around your body.

“We can lay here, but not for too long; the others will come busting in here and find us naked,” Josh laughs, playing with the hair strands dangling over your chest.

“Fine,” You yawn, feeling yourself slip into a deep slumber, “We’ll only stay for… a little… while.”

Yawn after yawn, your physical tiredness overtook your awakened state. Slowly, your eyes closed, and your muscles relaxed into the comfort of Josh’s mattress.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Josh whispers into your ear, unaware of your sleeping state. He hears a slight, feminine-sounding snore and peers over your body, observing your half-open mouth and closed eyes.

Kissing you on the forehead, Josh slowly gets out of bed and gets dressed. He has big plans for tonight, sadistic, messed-up plans… and he wanted you to have no part in it.

[tomsparkyr]

the ones i love

summary: after an argument with your now ex boyfriend, you turn to the one thing you can trust, your piano.

pairing: cole palmer x singer!reader

warnings: argument, hate towards yn, angst

notes: i wrote this at 3am after sobbing to a film then deciding to listen to livs unreleased music mwahah. possible part 2…?

you sat in the passenger seat of cole’s car, tears threatening to spill from both of your eyes. the radio was turned up louder than it should’ve been, but it was drowning out the thoughts swarming both of your heads.

you and cole’s relationship wasn’t a secret, but you didn’t flaunt it either. so when you were on a date and paparazzi found you, cole didn’t like that. which is what brings you to where you’re sat in his car.

“i just don’t understand cole, why are you being so defensive about this?” you choke back a sob as you speak, having to stop and take a deep breath to stop it from creeping up your throat.

“i cant have this shit messing with my career” he mumbles. the words stung, they stung so bad. although you knew he didn’t mean it in an awful way, you still took it to heart.

“what…” that sob you were choking back? yeah that didn’t work. sobs wrecked from your throat, tears streaming down your face. “you think our relationship is messing with your fucking career?”

“you know i didn’t mean it that way, y/n” he fiddled with his ring clad fingers, all of which that were bought by you. few tears made their way down his cheeks, causing your heart to hurt even more.

“i don’t get it. i thought you loved me? i thought you loved being with me? what have i done for that all to change? are you ashamed of me?” your words come out as a whisper, you don’t dare raise your voice any louder, afraid of your voice disappearing completely.

“i’m not ashamed of you y/n, you know that. i just… it’s so difficult having a relationship while being a footballer. you wouldn’t get it” he tried to explain, but every word that he uttered felt like a knife to the heart.

“fuck you cole. i wouldn’t get it?! what the fuck do you mean by that? i get hate from your fanboys every day but you don’t see that getting me down. i love you, i love you more than anything but all you seem to care about is football”

cole’s face dropped, tears now flowing like a waterfall. he pursed his lips, as if he were away to say something but stopped. he took a deep breath before telling you to get out his car. to which, you obliged.

“as soon as i’m out of this car, we’re done” you closed the car door with a slam. and as soon as you did this, regret filled your body. your legs could hardly keep you up as you watched cole’s car drive away.

you waited until his car was out of sight before you sprinted into your house, ignoring the calls from your younger brother asking where cole was. you ran straight to your room and sat down at your piano. you had to much to say, and this is the only way you knew how.

ynyln

liked by colepalmer10, user1 and 573,994 others

ynyln ‘the ones i love’ out now

view comments

user1 they can never make me like you yn yln

user2 FUCK YN YLN

user3 cole’s performance has been so shit since yn broke his heart yk

user4 first strangers again, now this. they definitely had a heated ass argument

| user5 oh 100%

[tomsparkyr]

"Did the love affair maim you too?" | Series materlist

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Series summary: Joel doesn't like you until he loses all his memories of you.

series warnings: Angst, miscommunication, mentions of blood, mentions of death, grieving, smut, and fluff.

status: completed.

w.c: 70,6k

part i

part ii

part iii

part iv

part v

[tomsparkyr]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[tomsparkyr]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ. MISCELLANEOUS !

♡ fluff ✪ angst ✧ suggestive

𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄

⇨ father charlie mayhew

haunted by you ✧ part two! ─ summary | father mayhew is being tormented by dreams of a worshiper at the church, who appears both angelic and temptingly sinful in his visions. as the dreams grow more intense, he begins to wonder if they’re a sign from above or a test of his faith. when you confront him, father mayhew must choose between maintaining his distance or giving in to the passion that’s been haunting him

love is the one thing that cannot be tainted by love or fear ✪ ─ summary | you and father charlie share a bond that goes beyond the confines of your church duties, with your public image as a nurturing servant masking the frustration and resentment you harbor privately. when nun megan grows suspicious and begins spying, she uncovers the intimate, vulnerable side of your relationship, catching a moment where emotions boil over into something more forbidden

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒

⇨ nicholas chavez

scream queens ♡ ─ summary | after filming Scream with cooper and nicholas, you and nicholas develop a slow-burn romance filled with subtle tension.

[tomsparkyr]

You being a singer and wearing Jadon’s shirt on stage and u get all blushy and he teases you about it later on cos theres pics all over insta x

Hope this makes sense 😭

You decided it was time you outed yourself a bit since everyone already du caught up with your secret relationship with Jadon. It was a big deal but you decided it was finally time. You wore one of his shirt to your show. Pictures were being taken and it was all over the web. That night Jadon flop down next to you on the bed with a smirk. You turn to him your hands slowly caressing the back of his head.“My instagram was very active today…something about some singer wearing one of my jersey on stage”He laughed making you roll your eyes.“I really don’t know what you’re talking about”you mumbled hiding your face in his chest.“Really because I recall you trying on a pink dress for the show not my jersey”he replied.“You looked good in it”he mumbled trying to make you look up to him.“Are you blushing baby”he laughed taking your face in his hands. You bit your lips making him smile wider at how shy you were acting.“I love you baby”he whispered kissing your lips making you smile.“I love you more”you replied.“Impossible”he argued.“No, I think you mean you are impossible”you argued back making him roll his eyes attacking you with kisses.

[tomsparkyr]

Support

Hi I got a request for Cole palmer You are a footballer for Chelsea women And you and Cole started dating and you and Cole goes to each other games to support each other Word Count: 409 You had recently joined Chelsea women, a dream come true to even be in talks with them. Still being in complete shock that they wanted you, especially jumping at the chance to play in the WSL for the current champions.

Playing at Stamford Bridge was so special, especially as your family and friends all got to watch you make your debut on the pitch as well as making your WSL debut. As you stepped on the pitch, you felt as if your heart was beating out of your chest. You had your whole family up in the crowd. There were a few rumours floating about from the girls that some of the men's team were coming to watch the game. You weaved in and out of the defence, seeing an empty gap in the net as you took your time on the ball and smashed it in the back of the net. "OH MY GOD" you screamed as you hadn't exactly planned what celebration you were going to because you weren't even expecting yourself to score. The game ended 2-0 to Chelsea as you headed down the tunnel after what felt like a lot of interviews talking about your goal. It felt like an absolute dream come true, scoring on your debut at Stamford Bridge in front of your friends and family. You walked towards your family as they had the biggest grins on their faces as soon as you saw them and giving them the biggest hugs you had ever given them. "We are so proud of you" your parents held each arm as they held you tightly in their arms, pulling away as you heard footsteps from behind you. "Hello you" Cole whispered as he grabbed you in for a cuddle. "Hello" you smiled as you pulled away from him. You had been dating for the past few months, you had both met when you had joined Chelsea. "That goal was so special, I am so proud of you. Lowkey gutted you didn't do the cold celebration because that may have been the hardest launch of our relationship" Cole smirked. "Hmm I thought about it to be honest, but thought it was funny doing it my way. People will eventually find out about us sooner rather than later. But I am glad I have you supporting my every move in this new journey" you smiled as you grabbed his hand as you headed down the tunnel together.

[tomsparkyr]

Jack Champion recs

☁︎ = fluff    ⚠︎ = smut    ❇ = angst    ☘ = au's    

☕︎︎ = slow burn    ✿ = series    ᰔ = blurb

Navigation . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Jack Champion

Good days (☁︎)

It's not puppy love (☁︎)

Without you (❇)

Ghost of you (☁︎, ❇)

Exes (☁︎, ❇)

Ethan Landry

Vero amore (☁︎)

Just a summer thing (☁︎)

Sparking up my darkest night (☁︎)

Sleepy (☁︎)

Drunk n love (☁︎)

Kiss (☁︎)

Guilty as sin (☁︎)

Stepbro Ethan Landry (☁︎)

Unable to save you (❇)

Floral panties (⚠︎)

She can't know (⚠︎)

Mommy (⚠︎)

Loaded (⚠︎)

Creep (⚠︎)

Keep quiet (⚠︎)

Soon-to-be-stepmom (⚠︎)

Come inside (⚠︎)

Your biggest fan (⚠︎)

Breeding (⚠︎)

"I had econ!" (⚠︎)

The perfect virgin (⚠︎)

Secret admirer (⚠︎)

Surprise getaway (⚠︎)

Save a horse, ride a cowboy (⚠︎)

A little help (⚠︎)

Study buddy (⚠︎)

Sweet treat (⚠︎)

Shopping spree (☁︎, ⚠︎)

Boyfriend!Ethan headcannons (☁︎, ⚠︎)

I hate you (⚠︎, ᰔ)

Face sitting (⚠︎, ᰔ)

Tragedy (pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4) (⚠︎, ✿)

How you get the girl (☁︎, ☘)

I can see you (☁︎, ☘)

Glitch (☁︎, ☘)

Fight or flight (❇,☁︎)

The better brother (❇,☁︎)

Return pt 1, pt 2 (❇,☁︎)

Savior (❇,☁︎)

Fuck ups & Make ups (❇,☁︎)

August pt 1, pt 2 (❇,☁︎)

Two hearts (❇, ☁︎, ☘)

Spider

Got a secret (☁️)

Little tawtute (⚠︎)

send me more fics to read! ₊˚⊹♡

Last updated: 8/7/24

[tomsparkyr]

love your fics so much could you write one where jude and the reader are football player it could be fluff or like any other scenario ❤

"Mum can I go and play football with Jude?" I asked 

"As long as you are back for dinner go ahead and remember what I've taught you about being mindful of your surroundings" my mum said 

"Thank you thank you" I replied grabbing my boots and running out the door 

Jude was waiting at the end of my driveway for me with his boots and a football in hand. Before I even reached the end of the driveway he challenged me to a race to the football pitch at the end of the road. He always does this he likes to challenge me to a race when he knows I'm at a disadvantage but today I was ready and I started sprinting until I overtook him just before the entrance to the pitch. It's the first time I've beaten him in a race so I celebrated while he sulked and told me I cheated. 

To settle our argument we decided on various tests to see who was best at football which is something we also argue about a lot but it makes us better as we spur each other on to be our best. Without Jude I wouldn't be as good as I have become without him making things hard for me I wouldn't have made the academy for the local girls team but that doesn't mean I don't want to beat him. The first challenge was dribbling which I am so much better at and I beat Jude quite easily next was 1v1s which he was better at as he was able to get past me with just a bit of force. We did more challenges after that but we were still even by the end of them so we decided to settle things with a keepy uppie competition. It isn't our strong suit but we were both so determined to win that we both reached our personal bests before all of a sudden I lost control of the ball and dropped it giving Jude the win.

"That was fun we should do this again sometime and see if we've improved" Jude said 

"Yeah but for now congratulations you did well" I said 

"Thank you but you were great too you are going to kill it at the academy" he said 

"Thank you I sure hope so" I said 

"I hope we both make it as professionals would that be fun we can tell people we were friends since we were 6 and we played together every day after school we can be the best friends that conquer football" Jude said excitedly 

"That would be fun" I replied 

~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm leaving for Germany next month I signed a contract with Borussia Dortmund" Jude said 

"But we'll still stay friends right?" I asked 

"Of course I might be moving but that doesn't mean you won't still be my best friend" he said 

Those words still stick in my mind. Jude left a year ago now and he kept up with his promise for a few months but as he got busier and got more media attention he forgot about me and we lost contact. I always knew Jude would make it and I hoped that we would stay friends when he did but I was stupid to think that he'd remember me when he could have famous friends. For a while it hurt but then I used it as motivation to make myself a better player so I too could make it and become successful like Jude. 

It took a year of hard work and a lot of sacrifice but I did it. Last night I flew to Barcelona to sign my first proper contract as an fc Barcelona player. I never thought I'd get to sign for one of the best if not the best women's team in the game but clearly I made enough of an impression in the women's championship for someone to see something in me and take the chance. I know this is a big opportunity and I don't want to waste a single second of it any chance I get to play I am going to put in 110% as I know this is my chance to live my dream. 

Going to the club to have my presentation feels so surreal. The transfer announcement came out yesterday and ever since my phone has been blowing up with messages from just about everyone I've ever met in my life and my following on instagram has reached numbers I never thought I'd see. Before my presentation I had a bit of time to chill so I went to text my mum as she's been my biggest supporter and I wouldn't be here without her so I want to keep her updated on everything going on as she couldn't make it to be here today. Just as I was about to click on her contact a text popped up from the last person I expected to hear from. Jude. He must've seen something on social media and remembered my existence finally but honestly I couldn't be mad I was just happy to hear from him again. 

Jude 

Hey I've just seen the announcement congratulations I always knew you'd make it Barcelona are lucky to have you 

You 

Thank you it's been crazy but I'm so happy to be here how have you been it's been a while 

Jude

Yeah I'm sorry about that I didn't think my schedule would be so insanely busy but I've been good playing for a big team is so much fun you'll really love it 

You 

I'm already loving it I've got to go to my presentation now but promise me we'll actually keep in touch this time 

Jude

I promise and I won't break that promise this time 

~~~~~~~~~~

Jude actually kept his promise this time and we talked every day but it was like no time had passed since we last spoke. Jude has always been so easy to get along with and that hasn't changed we can speak for hours about nothing but it doesn't feel like it the time passes so quickly. After we started talking more we made time to actually see each other in our free time I'd go and visit him in Germany and he'd come and see me here not as often as we'd like but it was nice to see him again. 

Both of us had grown up a lot in the year we didn't see each other Jude had grown and he didn't look like a kid anymore. I'd never found Jude attractive until I arrived in Germany and saw him waiting for me at the airport. I didn't think I'd ever look at him that way as we've always just been friends but something about his smile and the way he'd matured made him so much more attractive to me. I tried to ignore it as we've just reconnected as friends and I needed the support of someone who's experienced their first season and knows the ups and downs. 

Ignoring it didn't last long though as Jude arrived to Barcelona to surprise me on the weekend of my debut with roses and asked me on a date after the match. I didn't see it coming at all but he explained that he'd had feelings for me for a while but after we lost contact he'd pushed them to the back of his mind until we started talking again and he couldn't ignore them anymore. I was a little hesitant as I was scared that things wouldn't work out but after our first date all those worries went out the window as it was just so perfect I felt like a little kid with a crush the entire time which is not something I've felt on any other date. 

We went on a few more dates before Jude asked me to officially be his girlfriend. Since then we've made a lot more effort to see each other as much as we can even if it means flying to random cities to catch each other for a few hours or using our days off to go and see the other play in important matches. It's not easy to be so far apart and have schedules that don't work together but we've made it work and it makes our time together so much more special so we have to soak up every second we get together. The hardest part has been the uncertainty of football you never know when you are going to get hurt or when another team might make an offer and you'll have to move to another country but we've been really lucky so far that nothing has gone too wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Barcelona star under fire after details of relationship with new Real Madrid signing Jude Bellingham emerge 

The new Romeo and Juliette? How did the forbidden relationship between y/n y/l/n and Jude Bellingham begin

Questions about y/n's commitment to Barcelona as relationship with Jude Bellingham is confirmed 

I should've seen it coming after Jude told me about his move to Real Madrid but I thought people would have enough common sense to realise that Jude and I got together long enough ago that he wasn't a Real Madrid player at the time. It also shouldn't, matter my commitment to my team shouldn't be based on who I'm dating and I shouldn't be receiving so much hate over it especially when Jude isn't getting any. Jude has been great though he's been defending me and our relationship in interviews and he's been telling me that what other people think doesn't matter as we know what we have and that it doesn't affect our careers at all. 

I wasn't worried about the media though they can think whatever they want I was worried about my teammates and if they would judge me. It was stupid to think that though as instead of acting cold towards me or judging my choices the first thing they asked was if I was ok after the barrage of hate online. They all understood that I'm more than my relationship and that I didn't have control over Jude's career. Having their support meant a lot to me as my team is incredibly important to me and I'd never want to break their trust but luckily they don't see this situation as me betraying them like everyone else seems to think. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Today was the most nerve wracking day of my life the champions league final the biggest match of my career so far. All of my friends and family including Jude were coming to the match which added to the pressure I was putting on myself as I didn't want to let any of them down after they travelled to watch me play. My teammates were also counting on me as I've become a vital member of the team with the injuries we've had and of course I don't want to let them down either not after they've had so much faith in me from the minute I arrived. 

It was a hard match the first half was tough but eventually we were able to make a break through and somehow the ball ended up by my feet and I knew I had to just go for it which I did and the ball went straight past the goalkeeper and into the net. The feeling of scoring a goal in such an important game can't be described I felt like I was going to cry but also explode with excitement at the same time. That feeling carried me for the rest of the game until the end where we finished the match winning 2-0. Hearing the final whistle is when I finally let my tears go I just couldn't hold them in anymore as all of the adrenaline I've been feeling all day came crashing down. I'd just won the biggest trophy of my career and I scored a goal it all just felt so surreal. 

The trophy presentation went by so fast and before I knew it friends and family were allowed on the pitch. The first person I saw as my mum so I ran straight to her to hug her and of course she was crying which made me cry again but we still shared a lovely moment together. Then I saw Jude who was smiling so much as he picked me up off the ground and spun me round while kissing me. Once he put me down I showed him my medal and I started rambling about the game as I love to talk to him about all my games as he understands what I'm talking about. As we were talking a tv crew came over and the presenter asked us to do an interview. 

"Jude you must be so proud that was a great match for the whole team but especially y/n" the interviewer asked 

"Yeah I couldn't be prouder I think y/n has shown everyone that she's an amazing player that isn't affected by the unnecessary hate she receives online" Jude answered 

"We know that there was a lot of backlash over your relationship has that affected you at all" they asked 

"I didn't receive much hate it was all directed at y/n very unfairly but no it hasn't affected either of us we are still both dedicated to our clubs like we always have been even before I moved to Madrid and we support each other no matter what as it's not like we will ever play against each other so I will always be her biggest cheerleader" Jude said 

"That's very sweet I'm glad you are both happy together and congratulations on the win y/n hopefully you can do the same in a few weeks Jude" the interviewer said

Jude's interview really made me blush as he's always stood up for me but to be stood right next to him and hear him say all these things while he held me tightly to his side made me fall even more in love with him. Once the interview was over Jude told me to forget about all the hate and the people who don't like and to just enjoy the moment which he's right about this is a big moment in my career and I need to just soak it all in. There is no one I'd rather soak it all with than Jude so I'm glad he's by my side. 

[tomsparkyr]

hands off ★ Trent Alexander-Arnold

synopsis: in which food proves how loyal trent is.

warnings: food(lmk if you see more:))(lmk if there’s any mistakes)

You know better than anyone how possessive Trent is when it comes to his belongings. But that possessiveness skyrockets when it comes to food. You can take anything from him, but asking for a bite off his cookie? That's like asking for his birthright in his book. And recently, a tiktok trend has been popping up on your for-you-page as if it was tailored just for your boyfriend.

  It was a trend where the girlfriend would film while their boyfriend was eating and they would try to act like they're taking their food from them but instead would actually take their phone. By the looks of it, it was kind of to prove that their boyfriend was loyal and would show that they have nothing to hide because they would protect their food and not their phone. It was a no-brainer that you should do this challenge.

  You walk into the dining area and smirked when you see Trent sat on the barstool, eating the cookies you bought just an hour ago. With his eyes glued to the tv trying to figure out the plot behind some k-drama you’ve put on, you discreetly propped your phone up in an angle that could see the both of you. You walk closer to him with your hand stretched out and reached over in front of him. 

  You’ve never seen him act this quick as he pulled the plate of cookies away and shield it away from you.

  “Ay, get yer own from the box, you thief!” He whined, pushing you away slightly.

  You laughed as you leaned on the counter, watching his small frown as he still tried to keep his cookies away from you.

  “I just wanted to borrow your phone!” You laughed, holding onto his arm as you doubled over in laughter.

  Trent clicked his tongue as he slid his phone towards you. He took a bite off his cookie and smiled at you before ushering you away.

  “That cookie looks good, babe.” You teased. 

  Trent laughed and shook his head before turning his head to the box of cookies. 

  “Yeah, it's so good you’d wanna get your own and not from your boyfriend.” He responds, giving your forehead a light flick.

“Ow!”

  Trent laughed before eating the last bite of his cookie. You take your phone and stop recording and quickly edited and post the video. Putting a caption “my bf shutting down cheating allegations left and right😁”

  “I would tell you to delete that but you're really stubborn, you know?” Trent tutted, trying to wrestle the phone out of your hands.

  You cackled as you dodged him quickly.

  “Next time, give me a bite of your cookie.” You replied, smacking his arm slightly as you sat on the couch.

  Trent stuck out his tongue before plopping on the couch next to you.

  “Last time I checked you ate all the cheesecake that Virg’s wife made, so it's only fair I eat all the cookies now.” Trent shrugged, scooting over next to you.

  “Whatever, you food hog.”

  Needless to say, Trent’s got nothing to hide from you. Except maybe all the snacks in the house.

taglist: @neykomi

[tomsparkyr]

Is it just acting?

Ethan landry x gn reader enemies to lovers

synopsis- both you and Jack champion are actors the problem is the directors called both of you to addition for the new scream movie but that's not all both you and Jack want to be ghostface in the movie and sadly there is only one part left

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Genre: enemies to lovers/angst to fluff

Status: will post chapters when I have time to

Taglist: open

1. Not delulu

2. Wish me luck!

3. Don't jinx it

4. Getting the call

5. Practicing

6. Some competition

7. Why are you like this?

8. The part will be mine

9. Why won't he back off?

10. Let's all hang out

11. Secrets

12. Hold on what the fuck

13. I knew it no I didn't

14. What does this mean?

15. Just date already

16. I'm sort of processing

17. They're dating?!

18. We caught them

19. You ruined my dreams

20. Stop being horny

21. It must come to an end

22. The show must go on

23. Bonus- prank gone wrong 🔞

[tomsparkyr]

Right Where You Left Me

summary: Din reunites with you many years after your whirlwind romance for a mission you begrudgingly accept to help him with.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: angst, injuries & blood, hurt/comfort

rating: T

word count: 15.387k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

As soon as you saw the flash of silver at the open doorway, you froze. Your grip on the rag pulsated, your stare assessing the silhouette that was too achingly familiar.

And immediately, you wanted it gone. Him gone.

“Get the hell out of my bar, Mando!” Your voice was a bark, as piercing as your threatening gaze. You tossed the rag over your shoulder and crossed your arms, defiant. Though you knew his real name, had even exclaimed it in private before, you still refused to out him by using it now in front of others—despite the hurt he had caused you.

Din’s amused huff wasn’t lost on you as he ignored your directive and strided into your establishment. “Nice to see you, too.”

It was only inevitable that he would show up one day, but to do so like this was simply insulting. The Din you knew was far from an asshole, but this version of him was already threatening to challenge that notion. 

“Is that beskar on your head keeping you from hearing me?” You took up the rag again and snapped it towards the doorway. Din froze and raised his gloved hands in surrender. “Get. Out.”

“I won’t stay long.” Din nodded his helmet. “Promise.” You rolled your eyes and didn’t bother hiding it from him. This was the honorable Din Djarin that you had known, and while it used to be endearing to you, it was nothing but annoying now.

“You won’t stay at all.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I mean it.”

Din shifted his weight between his feet. You hated how it made your chest ache for him. The years hadn’t erased that tell of his. “I only need a few minutes.” His modulated voice was getting desperate. “Please.”

Of course it was working on you, but you couldn’t let it. You had spent all this time building your resolve to prepare yourself for this day, so that you could confidently turn your back on him without remorse—just like he had done to you. “You should’ve thought of that before you left.” You threw the rag at him, and he caught it without so much as flinching. “Mind wiping those tables on your way out?”

Then you did it. You turned your back on him, intent on hiding in the back room for the next standard hour or so with a glass of the galaxy’s strongest whiskey.

But the strong grasp on your wrist kept you from getting anywhere.

You spun around, your gaze a raging fire as it met Din’s cold visor. He still had the rag clutched in his free hand, and you watched his hold on it tighten in your periphery. As much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, the feeling of his touch still sent as many shockwaves through you now as it did years ago.

Din’s low, modulated voice broke the tense silence between you. “Please.”

Your jaw ticked as you gave him a thoughtful once-over. It was only just now that you were realizing he had an entirely new suit of armor, having exchanged the ragtag tan flight suit and mismatched red armor for brown and pure silver. Something had changed, and it was no doubt that something that had his voice so strained and desperate.

Still, you tugged your arm out of his grasp and scowled. “I never took you for the type to put your hands on someone like me without permission.”

Din’s armored shoulders deflated. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You waited for his excuse, but he didn’t give one. You raised your brow. “But?”

Din lifted the rag without looking away from you, his helmet tilting as he fumbled with the cloth between both his hands. “But what?”

You scoffed and shook your head, your gaze falling to the small amount of distance that was still between the two of you. “Fine. I’ll ask.”

Whether he was playing your own curiosity against you intentionally or not, it was a genius strategy. You couldn’t help yourself. You reached out for the rag and snatched it back from him, throwing it over your shoulder again and setting your weight on one hip.

“What brought you here?”

Din let out a soft sigh. His visor gave the room a careful stare before he leaned in closer. You nearly did the same out of habit. “I need your help with something.”

You crossed your arms and gestured with your chin to the doorway. “I’m retired. Can’t you tell?” You let out a terse laugh. “But of course the only reason why you’d show up here all these years later is for help.”

Din stiffened. The amount of pity you wanted to give him was exhausting. Old habits die hard. “I… didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

You lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, thank you for making the decision for me.” You turned and started to walk back behind the counter. “You’ve lost my interest. Your few minutes are up.”

Din’s gloved hands all but slammed against the countertop. You jumped and looked at him with wide eyes. “Your research.” His voice was even lower, even more secretive, than before—but it had only grown even more desperate.

You blinked a few times, fighting against your shock. Your tone matched his when you finally found words to say. “What about it?”

Din relaxed once you spoke to him. “Do you still have the list?”

Your brow furrowed. “The list of what?”

“M-count targets.”

You stepped up to face him across the counter so fast that the end of it jutted into your stomach, but you didn’t care. Your face was only inches from his helmet when you spoke through gritted teeth. “You should know better than to say that out here in the open.”

Din was unfazed. “Do you still have it?”

You searched the horizontal section of his visor before letting out a heavy breath. Your gaze fell to your hands, which were splayed on the countertop right next to his. “Even if I did, I haven’t updated it in years. I have no idea if any of the targets are still active.”

Din took a steady breath, his visor looking to the side as he processed your words. Meanwhile, you were doing the same with this entire situation. His sudden interest in this was baffling, and there was only one conclusion you could think of for someone like him. It made you grimace even more harshly than you had before.

“You want exclusive access to track them down, don’t you?”

Din’s visor snapped back to your gaze. “No.” His tone got sharper, finally matching your own. “You really think so little of me?”

“Seeing as you left me for this line of work without hesitation or care, yeah, I guess I would consider it to be a pretty strong possibility.”

Din looked down at his hands. His armored body rose and fell with another deep breath before he changed the subject. “I had an M-count target.”

You scoffed. He was proving your words right, and you hated how devastating that really was for you.

“I didn’t realize it when I got assigned to the job. I was told the target was fifty years old. But…” Din paused, and when he went on, there was a new emotional strain to his words, “it was a child.”

Your brow jutted up at that. A fifty-year-old child was certainly new, but in this galaxy, it was definitely possible, especially if they were non-human.

“I saved him, took him on the run, and returned him to his own kind.” Din’s voice nearly broke on his last few words. You tried to picture it; Din Djarin, running around the galaxy in that old-ass Razor Crest, all while taking care of a child. It was a hilarious yet heartfelt image, because it was something only he would do, especially after what he went through as a child.

You hated that you knew that about him.

You pushed these thoughts aside and prioritized one of the many questions that lingered. “His own kind?”

Din’s helmet tilted at you, as if the answer should have been obvious. “The Jedi.”

You were the one to grab his wrist this time, tugging him along the edge of the countertop until he was next to you again. Then, you pushed open the swinging door to the back room, waiting until it closed to question him. “You were really running around the galaxy with a Jedi youngling?”

Din nodded. Your eyes doubled in size as you balled up your fists at your sides, now coming upon a new, frightening conclusion.

“Din, not every child with an M-count is a Jedi, especially not on that list!”

Din didn’t say anything, not for a long time. Your brow began to furrow in confusion more than anger until he gave his helmet a quick shake. “Sorry.” He shifted his weight.

You narrowed your eyes. “What was that?”

Din hesitated before he went on. “You said my name.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a curt laugh. “Get a grip.” You set your hands on your hips. “Did you even hear the rest of what I said?”

“Yes. I can multitask. You know that.” The urge to roll your eyes at him again was too strong, especially once your ears started to burn. “Don’t worry. I spoke directly with another Jedi, and she said that he was raised at ‘the Temple.’” He shrugged. “Whatever that means.”

You ran your hand over your face in disbelief. “You just casually ran into a Jedi? In this day and age, when the Jedi Order is all but nonexistent?”

“Actually, I’ve met two.”

You scoffed and closed your eyes, exhaling an annoyed breath before smiling sweetly at him. “Congratulations.” You grew more serious as you hardened your expression. “But my point still stands. If your plan is to get this list and try to return all these kids to their ‘own kind,’ then it won’t work. Most of these children were never Jedi.”

Din held his hands on his hips, just above his belt. “That’s not my plan.” Worry strained his voice as he went on. “I just want to make sure they’re all safe.”

You blinked at him. “That’s it?” Din nodded. “What about hunting? Don’t you need to work?”

Din tapped a pouch on his belt. “I’ve got enough credits to last me a while.”

You gave him a cautious once-over. “How?”

Din huffed. “That’s a long story, and I promised I wouldn’t take up too much of your time.” He nodded towards your desk in the corner of the room, where your datapad was sitting. “All I need is the list.”

You bit the inside of your check as you took a deep breath. The nobility and meaning of what he was doing meant too much for you to just hand him a list that hadn’t been checked in years. It could send him chasing inactive targets, wasting precious time that could be used to save children in need.

“You need more than that.” Your tone was decisive as you spoke, leaving no room for argument—though you were sure Din would try.

And try he did. “Is that so?”

“It is.” Your gaze flickered over to your datapad. “I told you before, I haven’t updated the list in years. If you’re really gonna be tracking down these targets, then it needs to be checked.”

Din nodded. “Okay. How long will that take you?”

You shook your head. “Time isn’t a factor. Distance is.” You walked off towards your desk and explained before Din could ask. “I have to cross-check the names at an Imperial terminal.”

Din’s voice was behind you, getting closer to where you now stood with your focus on your datapad. “Do you know where to find one?”

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “How else would I have made this list in the first place?” Din tilted his helmet, and you tried hard to fight your amused smile as you turned back to the datapad. “I’ve found a few, but I usually go to Ptelan.”

Din was right behind you, now. “Where’s that?”

“The whole other side of the Outer Rim.” You held back your sigh as you turned around to face Din, pasting on that sarcastically sweet smile again. “If your old-ass ship can actually make it that far.”

Din stiffened. Your mischievous grin started to fade even before he said the words in a low voice. “I… don’t have the Crest anymore.”

You attempted to keep the mood light as you opted for the likeliest explanation. “Did she finally die on you?”

Din sighed, but it was sadder than usual. “I guess you can say that.”

Your lips tightened at the thought of whatever you weren’t being told. You spoke as you opened your datapad to make sure you still had the list. “Let me just add that story to your ever-growing list.” Din chuckled, and you fought a relieved smile at the sound of it. “So, tell me about your new ride.” 

“I don’t have one.”

You paused, your gaze slowly peeling from the datapad’s vidscreen to Din’s visor. The implications of his words hit you all at once. “You took public transport to get here?”

Din set his hands on his belt. “That’s what I’ve been doing, and it’s what I’m gonna keep doing until my contact finds me another Razor Crest.”

You blew air sharply out of your nose. His stubbornness certainly hadn’t faded over the years. “So, let me get this straight.” You lowered the datapad and took a step closer to him. “You expect to show up here, years later, unannounced, have me hand over my most precious research, and then borrow my ship?”

Din’s helmet tilted. He was amused. “I never said anything about a ship.”

You laughed. “Well, you sure as hell aren’t getting to that Imperial base on Ptelan with public transport.” You waved the datapad in your hand. “And you don’t even know how to cross-check this with the terminal, anyway. This plan of yours is starting to look real lousy.”

“To be fair, I didn’t realize I was gonna need more than the list.”

You stared at him for a few solid seconds before you closed your eyes and lowered your head in defeat. Your grip on the datapad tightened as you came to terms with what you were about to say—and, more importantly, do. This is what you got for running as far away from your research as possible: a multi-day trip with your ex. 

Cursing under your breath, you circled your jaw and lifted your head back up to look at him. “The list is the least of our problems. I need to get the ship fueled up for us to go.”

Din’s gloved hands fell back to his sides. “Us?”

“I’ve seen your piloting.” You pulled the corners of your lips up in a smirk. “I’m not letting your recklessness destroy my ship.”

Din sounded concerned as he looked over his shoulder. “What about your bar?”

You shrugged. “I have plenty of managers who can step in while I’m gone. We shouldn’t be away for more than a few days, anyway.”

Din’s visor gave you a quick once-over before he nodded. “Okay.” He straightened his shoulders and tilted his helmet towards you in a way that, aggravatingly, made your knees weak. His voice was strained with meaning when he spoke. “Thank you.”

You avoided his visor as you returned his nod. “Let’s just make it quick.” You turned to your desk and picked up a datarod. “Take this and head to the hangar. My ship’s in bay three.”

You extended the datarod to him, and Din was gentle in reaching for it. His gloved fingers brushed yours as you made the exchange. You silently cursed yourself when the sensation sent a pleasant chill down your spine. Remember what he did to you, and don’t forget it.

You spun away from him again. “Get the ship fueled up while I pack my things. I won’t be far behind you.”

Din nodded, dutiful as ever. He set the datarod on his belt before he turned and strided out of the back room. As soon as the door swung closed, you braced your hands on your desk and closed your eyes to focus on your breathing.

All these years, you had planned on turning your back on him the moment you saw him. Now, you had just signed up for a multi-day mission with him. That meant seeing him constantly. Sharing an enclosed space with him. Reminding yourself of what you once had, both the good and the bad.

But what he wanted was too noble for you to ignore. You were willing to sacrifice your own heart for the safety of these children.

You pulled yourself together and packed your necessities. You triple-checked that you had the datapad in your satchel before you pushed your way out of the back room and tracked down today’s manager. The Twi’lek woman gave you a concerned look as you approached her.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Her green eyes gestured to the cantina’s entryway. “What was up with that Mandalorian?”

You sighed and wished that you knew as little about Din as she did. “Everything’s fine. Listen, I’m going on a quick trip. I’ll be back in a few days.” You nodded at her. “I need you and the others to keep this place running until then.” You tapped the comm on your belt. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”

The Twi’lek nodded, but her brow was still furrowed. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

You pasted on a reassuring smile and set your hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure.” You squeezed and lowered your hand back to your satchel. “I’ll see you all in a few days.”

You didn’t give yourself time to dwell on her worried expression. If you did, there was a good chance you would come to your senses and realize how bad of an idea this all was. Instead, you strided over to the entryway and walked through the door that had slid open for you.

The hangar was only a block away, and bay three was one of the first in the hangar’s circular structure. You walked in to see your faithful vessel sitting there, with Din easily maneuvering the fueling source away from the hull. Your mind was suddenly flooded with the many memories of this very same sight, but with him fueling up the Crest after yet another risky mission.

No. You didn’t want the warm, familiar fondness that was flooding through your chest. You swallowed hard and pushed it away, continuing your stride as you spoke to Din without looking at him. “Ready to go?”

Din huffed in amusement. “That was fast.” When you didn’t respond, he grew more serious. “Yeah, it’s all ready.”

“Good.” Your lips pulled tight as you dropped your satchel off in the hold. Your ship was only half the size of the Crest, considering the fact it was a singular deck as compared to two, but you still had plenty of room to work with. There was a closed refresher and more than one bunk, thank the stars, as well as a booth and a small table. This was all connected to the cockpit, which was conveniently fitted with two chairs.

As if he was always meant to be here.

You scoffed and all but threw yourself into your chair. It groaned with both familiarity and age when you turned and toggled around the controls, preparing for takeoff. Din’s bootsteps soon made their way onto the ship, and the sound was just as familiar as your chair had been. Like no time had passed at all.

Stop. You gave your head a small shake to snap yourself out of it. It’s been years, and he left you. Don’t get used to this again.

You tightened your hands around the joysticks and jerked the ship up. It was hard to fight the cruel yet amused smile tugging at your lips when you heard Din stumble somewhere behind you. He cursed before speaking up over the ship’s rumbling engines. “And you said I was a reckless pilot.”

You couldn’t hold back your curt chuckle, though you wanted to. Din took his place in the chair beside yours, but you kept your focus on the clouds you were currently soaring through. You still remembered the coordinates to Ptelan as you punched them in, even if it had been years since you last traveled there. It wasn’t long before the blue light of hyperspace was swirling all around you. It would continue to do so for nearly an entire day.

Suddenly, this ship was beginning to feel a lot smaller.

With the ship in autopilot, you rose from your chair and headed to your belongings in the hold. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted two sparkling items leaning against the wall of the interior hull, a jetpack and a long, pointed spear. The former was something Din had been wanting for a long time.

So many stories left to tell, so much time spent apart, and yet so much distance now between you. It was hard to come to terms with that after you had once known him so well, and had him so close.

“I’m gonna freshen up,” you announced, rustling through your bag and the other compartments on the ship for your necessities. “We’ve got a while to go until we get there, so I recommend resting. I’ll make something to eat when I’m done.”

You turned to head to the refresher, but Din unknowingly stood in your way. His visor was trained on your gaze as he nodded. “Can I help with anything?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. “No.” You brushed past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you did so. “I’ll take care of it when I’m done.”

You’ve done enough is what you wanted to say, but that wasn’t a conversation you really wanted to have in such an enclosed space—especially with such a long trip ahead of you. Instead, you focused on washing up, hoping you could wash your thoughts of him away with the water. The refresher, unfortunately, was even more enclosed than the rest of the ship, which was only making it harder to breathe with the knowledge of who was outside it.

It would all happen again. As soon as Din had what he wanted, he would leave. Only this time, you wouldn’t give yourself the chance to be attached, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let yourself miss him. Not anymore.

Not that you had ever healed from the first time.

It was only when you finished washing up and drying yourself off that you realized the grave mistake you had made. Thanks to how Din’s mere presence had flustered you, you had completely forgotten to bring your change of clothes in with you. And there was simply no way you were going out there in nothing but a towel.

You leaned close to the door of the refresher, your eyes closing as you thunked your forehead against the cool metal. The embarrassment was already warming the tips of your ears as you raised your voice enough to be heard. “Din?”

There was a pause before you heard footsteps shuffling by the door. “Yeah?”

The gentleness in his modulated voice threatened to ruin you. With a heavy sigh, you went on. “Turns out I do need your help.” Your voice was a sardonic laugh. “Can you grab the pile of clothes by my satchel?”

“Sure.” Din’s response was immediate. You could still hear his footsteps as they made their way across the hold and then back to the door. “There. I set them on the floor.” There was an awkward pause, accompanied by a shifting of weight. “I’m… not looking.”

You let out a more genuine laugh that time and spoke before you could stop yourself. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen me like this.”

Yeah, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. It stunned both of you into silence, but maybe that was a good thing. The towel was wrapped tightly around you as you opened the door and reached down to grab the clothes, shutting the door again just as quickly. For a moment, you leaned your back against the cool metal and let the material raise the hair on your skin. It was the cold reality you needed to ground yourself again.

You made quick work of dressing to save yourself from at least part of the embarrassment. Once you were decent, you stepped out into the hold, where you saw Din swinging his spear around. He turned to face you right away, setting the blunt end of the spear against the ground. It made a faint clanging sound, reminiscent of Din’s armor.

“That’s quite a weapon you’ve got there.” You spoke to him even while you stepped forward and focused on putting your belongings away. “Did you trade that for your rifle?”

Din didn’t answer right away. You stole a look at him over your shoulder in curiosity. His gloved hand was holding the spear even tighter, and his visor had fallen to focus on his boots. “Not intentionally.”

The pain in his voice struck you hard. You were caught between wanting and not wanting to know what happened. Curiosity and genuine concern for him were fighting a courageous battle, but your resolve to keep him at an arm’s length was even stronger—at least, for now.

You found something else to say into the strained silence. “Well, at least this one fits in with your armor a lot better.”

Din chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You listened to him shuffling around behind you as you started to prepare the broth and bread. The clink of metal told you he had set the spear against the hull again, and the shifting of weight that followed said even more. With a fond smile you couldn’t shake, you spoke to him again.

“If you really want to help…” you pushed two bowls and small plates out to the side, “you can set the table by the booth.”

Din was at your side in seconds to grab them. “Thank you.”

You huffed as he walked over to the booth. “You’re thanking me for letting you help?”

“I am. It’s rare that you ever ask for help.”

You gave the broth a harsher stir than necessary. “I didn’t ask. I offered.”

Din’s amused chuckle warmed your cold heart. “Right.”

It wasn’t long before the broth was steaming at just the right temperature. You brought it over to the table, and Din made room for you to distribute the broth equally between the two bowls. After setting a small loaf of bread on each plate, you sat down, wordlessly encouraging Din to do the same.

You were prepared to watch him eat the way he always used to around you. He would lift his helmet just enough to sip the broth and tear off chunks of the bread. That was all you ever got to glimpse of his face. His untrimmed jaw, the tip of his hooked nose, his warm lips that felt like home…

Used to feel like home.

But before you could even raise the first broth-soaked chunk of bread to your lips, you saw Din lift both hands to his helmet, preparing to slide it off completely.

Out of instinct, your free hand snapped around his wrist. Din froze, his visor finding your piercing stare. “What the hell are you doing?”

Din’s tense form relaxed, a soft laugh crackling through his modulator before the hand you weren’t restricting covered yours. “Relax, sweetheart.” The familiar nickname made your heart turn over in your chest. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this.”

His words hit you with a dizzying amount of thoughts and emotions, but the most prominent of all was hurt. He had removed his helmet for someone else, that much was clear. Had you not been worthy enough to be the first?

You didn’t say anything in response, and you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You let go of his wrist and let him follow through on the action.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, as much as you wanted to. Dark hair accompanied the dark stubble you had once felt against your own skin, falling in soft waves over his head and coating his upper law and jaw with sweet familiarity. The rest of the hook of his nose was long and gentle, leading up to a furrowed brow. You followed those lines to meet his eyes.

Time stalled, and your breath caught. His brown eyes had already met your stare, golden flecks glinting in the flashing blue light of hyperspace that illuminated the ship’s interior. Your gaze flickered between them, imagining all the different ways these same eyes might have looked upon you all those years ago.

You wondered if they had looked at you then the way they were looking at you now.

Din’s stare fell to the helmet he had set on the booth before focusing on the steaming broth and bread in front of him. You, however, continued to look at him, to study him. It was all you had ever wanted when he was yours, even if you had refused to confess that to him.

You were startled when Din’s natural voice broke the silence. “Your broth’s gonna get cold.” His amused tone was familiar, but seeing that same emotion in his eyes made your chest unravel with sweet warmth.

Then his words sank in, and you blinked a few times before looking down at your meal. Your ears burned both in embarrassment and from the tangible feeling of his eyes on you. “Sorry for staring. It’s just…” you stopped with your bowl near your lips to let out a soft chuckle, “I never really thought I’d ever get to see your face.”

Din offered the hint of a smile. “I understand.” He took a sip from his own bowl before raising his brow. “What do you think?” When you gave him a quizzical look, he clarified. “About what you’ve seen.”

You huffed and smirked at him. “Never took you for the type to fish for compliments, Djarin.”

Din’s face started to flush, though he tried to shrug it off. “It’s just unnerving to have eyes on me after so many years of not being seen. But I’m trying to get used to it.”

You finished chewing a piece of bread before freeing the simple question from your tongue. “Why?”

Din exhaled, his lips pressing into a firm line before he chuckled. “Add that to your growing list of stories that I owe you.”

You laughed and nodded. His response filled you with an odd sort of relief. He was promising an answer, and that meant it wasn’t something he wanted to keep from you.

The rest of your meal was eaten in silence, with you stealing looks at Din whenever you thought you could afford them. He was the first to finish, clearly hungrier than he would have ever let on about. You tried to suppress the natural worry that festered in your chest for him as you watched him stand from the booth.

“I’m gonna wash up, if that’s okay.” Din gestured with his head to the refresher.

You nodded. “Of course. I left my stuff in there, so feel free to use it. I’ll just be resting if you need something.”

Din bowed his head in gratitude. He took his dishes and rinsed them out first before disappearing inside the refresher. You closed your eyes and steadied yourself with a breath, but the backs of your traitorous eyelids continued to show you the image of Din’s face anyway.

If that was all you could see whenever you closed your eyes, then you didn’t have a single chance of earning rest on this trip.

You focused on your mundane tasks and lost yourself in the routine. After washing out your own dishes, you set up the bunks, hoping to at least get some sleep during the course of this lengthy journey. A few minutes spent in your bunk, however, proved that rest would be impossible right now.

You took to pacing and flipping your blade in the air, warming yourself up for any potential fight that would come should things go south on Ptelan. They hadn’t before, but there was certainly a first time for everything. There was too much on your mind that threatened to drown you, and focusing on the shifting of your blade offered an escape.

Until the refresher door opened at the same time you paced forward, and you ran straight into Din’s firm form.

Even worse, as you clutched your blade and took a step back, you realized that he was more vulnerable to you now than before. His soft waves were wet enough to leave droplets streaming onto his forehead and face, and you followed one that fell down his jaw and over his completely exposed chest. Tanned, scarred skin was shining from the refresher’s humidity, ending only where Din had the towel he was borrowing around his waist.

And you were breathless. If you couldn’t stop staring before, you sure as hell couldn’t stop now.

“I’m sorry.” Din stammered. His face was even redder than it had been before, his gaze wandering. “I was… I needed to grab my blade so I could shave, and I thought you would be asleep.”

You managed to let out a curt chuckle. “Well, I’m awake.” It was then that his words hit you. “Wait, your vibroblade? For shaving?”

Din just shrugged.

“Absolutely not.” You spun around and headed towards one of your miscellaneous cargo crates. “I think I have one somewhere around here.”

“Have what?”

You scoffed. “A blade meant for shaving.” You found what you were looking for and checked it over to make sure it was clean. Din’s brow was furrowed now as you walked over to hand it to him. “You can keep it.”

Din looked between you and the blade. “You just happened to have one of these on hand?”

You shrugged and crossed your arms. “Someone must have left it here.”

Din didn’t respond right away. You watched as his brown gaze darkened, a change barely visible in the blue light illuminating the hold. “Who?”

“Don’t know.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why does it matter?”

Din’s stare cut away from you, and it was the tick in his jaw that made the realization fall upon you.

You let out a scornful laugh and shook your head. “No, you do not get to be jealous.” Din’s gaze snapped back to you. You pointed an accusatory finger towards him. “May I remind you that it was you who left me, not the other way around?”

Din’s jaw circled as he kept focusing on something behind you. “You don’t have to remind me about the worst mistake I ever made.” His brown eyes found you again, both his words and his stare knocking the breath from your lungs. “I already think about it all the time.”

Your lips stretched in a heartless smile. “And yet it still took all these years for you to show up, Djarin. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Din stiffened, an action that was even more visible with the muscles rippling under his skin. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to change the topic, your focus going back to the blade in his hand.

“Do you know how to use one of those?”

Din’s own stare lowered to the blade in his hand as he shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”

You snickered. “Yeah. I guess if you could use a vibroblade to shave, you can use anything.” Din let out his own huff of amusement as you studied the small scars on his face. You kept your tone amused as you gestured to what you were seeing. “I’m willing to bet half of those are from shaving.”

Din actually laughed at that, a sound that ignited a pleasant shockwave along your spine. “Surprisingly, no, I’ve never managed to nick myself badly enough to leave a scar.”

You furrowed your brow. “So, these are all from what? Taking hits to your helmet?” It was hard to understand how something as impenetrable as beskar could still leave his face vulnerable to scarring.

Din nodded. “Only in serious cases.” His gaze had fallen to the blade in his grasp again, as if he was growing shy under your observant eye.

But you couldn’t keep it from wandering. Your stare found a long scar across the bridge of his nose, one you certainly hadn’t seen before in those rare times when he would accidentally slip his helmet up a little too far. “How did you get this one?” You couldn’t keep yourself from reaching out to brush your fingertips along it.

Din drew in a quiet breath, and out of your periphery, you could see his chest stall for a moment. His brown eyes found you again, the warm depths of his gaze pooling into yours as he responded in a soft voice. “I got caught up in an explosion on Nevarro.” Your eyes widened. “I almost didn’t make it out, but…” he chuckled, “ironically, it was a droid who saved me.”

Your hand was still raised, fingers trailing over the smooth skin along his cheekbone as you grimaced. The worried question fell from your lips before you could stop it. “You almost died?”

Din’s gaze softened at the breathlessness of your words. You hated it, this constant worry and concern for one another, but you couldn’t stop it. As much as you had tried to bring yourself to despise him over the years, it had never worked, and knowing he had almost died in your absence was frighteningly unnerving.

Din tried to lighten the mood with a small smile stretched across his lips. “It’s not like I haven’t almost died before.”

You gave your head a small shake and let yourself get lost in the movement of your hand, which was now settling more firmly upon his cheek. “But I wasn’t there this time.”

Din’s hand wrapped gently around your wrist. His words were firm yet so achingly soft and genuine. “That’s my fault, darling.” He began to run his hand down your arm, his rough fingertips skimming the exposed skin that led up to the short sleeve of your casual tunic. “Not yours.”

And there it was, your ultimate undoing, the thing that had always made Din so different from anyone else. He owned up to every mistake he ever made. Usually, he would do whatever it took to make it right, which is why it stung even more that he had never bothered to come back for you over the course of all these years.

But that harsh reminder wasn’t on your mind right now. All you could think about was the electricity crackling between the two of you, the touch of your hands igniting sparks that drew you closer to one another. He was becoming dangerously irresistible, especially with the weight of such sweet familiarity sitting between the two of you.

It was worse now that you could actually see him. The longing in his eyes, the way they darkened as he mused upon whatever desires he had for you and flickered between your own eyes and lips…

Just like that, you were running back to him, back to the familiar and the home you had once made in him. He did the same and met you in the middle, his parted lips meeting yours and sealing the gap between you.

Unfortunately, it was the most complete you had felt ever since he had left you.

Your hand slid from his cheek to the damp, brown waves that fell over his ear, and the other ran over his scarred chest towards the back of his neck. You wanted him impossibly close, as if having him there would erase the years you had to spend without him. Din reciprocated the feeling with his own gestures, one of his hands also wrapped around your neck as the other held the rib cage that protected your wildly racing heart.

Before you could stop yourself, you pulled him backwards, and he followed. Two long strides with Din’s arms supporting your weight was all it took to set your back against the cold, metal hull. Your toes had been dragging against the floor with the ease of his grasp, but he helped you steady yourself on your feet without once having to separate his lips from yours.

But that stability was lost just as quickly the moment his tongue pushed through your parted lips. He could still devour you like no one else, doing so with a reverence that purified you. All the consequences of these actions were forgotten as your hand in his hair pulled him even closer, and he relented, his hips marrying yours.

It was that, and the hand that was now lowering from your neck along the curve of your spine, that forced you to break away from him with a breathless gasp of your only conceivable thought. “Din…”

Din. The man who was making you feel a way you only had years ago. The same man who had left you alone in your bed the morning he left and never came back.

What the hell am I doing?

The thought was enough to break you out of your lustful haze. Your eyes doubled in size as you lowered both hands to Din’s bare chest and pushed him back. He stumbled but easily got his footing, his own eyes widened as he held his hands up in surrender. The two of you were heaving from both the heat of the moment and your sudden outburst.

You wanted to speak, but you were thrumming with so many emotions that it was hard to choose just one. Din blinked a few times, one hand running through his damp hair as he also tried to find his voice. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He exhaled a breath and closed his eyes, leaving his hand in his hair. “I don’t know what came over me.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, that was pretty fucking bold.” The ferocity of your words made Din’s eyes fly back open as his surprised stare met yours. “In fact, all of this is.” You waved a hand to the rest of the open hold. “This stunt of yours. Convincing me to come along with you somehow.”

Din shook his head. “That’s not—.”

“No.” You held up your hand to stop him. “It’s my turn to have the final word, since you so kindly didn’t give me a chance to the day you left.”

Din deflated at the truth of your words, but his sense of honor wouldn’t win you over this time.

“If you think that you can make things right by just showing up after all this time and apologizing, you’re wrong.” You hardened your expression. “If it’s my forgiveness you’re looking for, you’re never gonna find it.” You lowered your voice as it trembled in pure rage and true hurt. “Not even after slipping off that helmet for me.”

Din flinched, but there was no anger to be found in his expression. He simply nodded, bowing his head and drawing the blade you had given him from where he had slipped it between his body and the towel that still covered him. “Thank you for this.” Din gave the blade a small wave.

You gave him no response, instead crossing your arms as your gaze avoided him.

Din turned back towards the refresher, but he stopped himself before he walked through the door. “All I want is that list. As soon as you get it, I’ll leave, and I’ll make sure you won’t ever have to see me again if that’s what you want.” His voice wasn’t full of any bitterness. Instead, it was strained by his genuine desire to fulfill your wishes.

Din waited for your answer, but you didn’t have one to offer him. What you wanted was becoming more and more difficult to decipher, and this kiss had only made things even more complex. Din took your silence as your response and stepped inside the refresher, closing you off from him.

You lifted a hand to your face and closed your eyes, exhaling and wishing all your tumultuous thoughts and emotions would go with your breath. You were consumed with waves of anger and guilt for the things you had said and done. It was easy to hate Din at a distance, but having him back reminded you of exactly how much you had lost the first time he left.

Maybe it was really just the why you had been looking for all this time.

You numbly drifted back to your bunk, laying yourself upon it even though sleep was the last thing you were capable of doing. It was easier to hide from Din that way, to avoid the devastation he had hidden within the brown depths of his eyes that you had only just seen for the first time today. You had waited all these years to hurt him the same way he had hurt you, but now that you had taken the opportunity to do so, it didn’t feel nearly as fulfilling as you had hoped.

You were on your side facing the interior hull when you heard the refresher door open again. Din wandered to somewhere in the hold before he made his way to the bunk you had made up for him. It was built into the hull just beside yours, leaving one metal barrier between you. That wasn’t nearly enough to ease the tension that suffocated the air of your already modestly-sized ship.

You closed your eyes and flopped onto your back, letting out a sigh before you spoke loud enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

Din’s response was immediate. “Don’t be. You were right, and I deserved that.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line and stared too closely at the top of your bunk. There were a dozen questions floating through your mind, but only one managed to free itself onto your tongue. “Can I just know why?”

You heard a shifting in Din’s bunk before he spoke. “What do you mean?”

You closed your eyes in a vain attempt to ward off your sudden embarrassment. “Why did you leave?”

Din was silent for a long moment. After a steady exhale, he finally said the words that your every breath hung from. “I shouldn’t have.”

You huffed. “That wasn’t the question.”

Din hummed, as if he was considering chuckling and thought better of it. “Right.” He took another brief pause. “I… was scared.” Your brow jutted up at that. Those were three words you had never heard your Mandalorian utter before. “I thought that pursuing the line of work I had been training all my life for would put you at risk. So, I did what I thought was best for you.”

“And left me without even trying to talk about it.” Your words weren’t as sharp this time, but they were still truthful. “You took my agency from me with that decision, Din.”

“I know.” Din’s voice was pained. “I’ve done more cruel things in my life than I’d like to admit, but… that was my cruelest.” He took another breath. “And I’ve regretted it every day since.”

You sighed, and oddly, the ever-present knot within your chest loosened. His words brought you a clarity and closure you hadn’t realized you needed. It wasn’t anything you had done that made him leave.

You blinked a few times and found your voice. “Thank you for telling me that.” You imagined Din nodding in response, whether he actually did or not. You took his silence as an invitation to change the topic. “Now, I believe you still owe me a few more stories.”

Din chuckled. The lighthearted nature of it filled you with relief. “Which one first?”

“Let’s go in order.” You thought back to the first mystery he had mentioned. “Tell me about your M-count target.”

It took a while for Din to say something. When he did, his voice was even lower than before. “Grogu.”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

“That’s his name. Grogu.” You smiled at the sudden fondness in his voice. “He’s tiny, and green, and he’s got these petal-shaped ears. Really big eyes, too.”

“What species is he?”

“Don’t know. Pretty damn cute, though.”

You laughed at that.

“The first Jedi I talked to said that he was raised at ‘the Temple’ and somehow escaped after the Clone Wars ended. It was about a standard year ago that I found him on Arvala-7. He was being hunted by the Empire for his blood, just like you had talked about with your research.”

You began to put the pieces together. “So, that’s why you’re doing this.”

“I don’t want any more kids to go through what he went through.”

You beamed, rolling onto your side so that you were facing the hold. “You really care about him.”

You noticed Din shift his legs to kick them out over the edge of the bunk, putting just a small sliver of his profile into view as he looked down at his hands in his lap and nodded. “I do.” He lifted his hand to run the back of his thumb over his forehead. “It wasn’t easy giving him over to the Jedi. I… still miss him.”

The corners of your mouth turned up in a soft, sad smile as you sat up on your own bunk. You mirrored his position, glancing over at him and hoping he could sense your comforting stare. He did, and this time, you were more content to let yourself drown in the warmth of his brown gaze. “I’m sure he misses you, too.” You looked down at your hands in sudden shyness. “I know the feeling.”

Silence blanketed the hold as the two of you processed your heavy words. You cleared your throat when it became too much.

“Okay, now that that’s covered… what about all those pretty little credits in your pocket?”

Din laughed. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me when I tell you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that a challenge, Djarin?”

Din gave his head a fond shake. “No. It’s just…” he exhaled and nodded once down at his lap, “I turned Moff Gideon over to the New Republic.”

You racked your brain for a memory to match the name to. “Gideon? Isn’t he…” you trailed off, still searching.

“The Imperial who led the Purge on Mandalore.”

You looked over a Din with disbelieving eyes. “How the hell did you manage that?”

Din’s jaw tightened. “He was the same one who was after Grogu, and he had taken the kid from me. I found a way to his light cruiser and detained him.”

Your brow shot up. “By yourself?”

“Well, I had some help.”

You splayed your palms out on the bunk behind you and leaned your weight upon them. “Sounds like another story we have to add to the list.” You both chuckled, despite the small ache in your chest. Gideon had taken so much from Din and his people, and you suddenly began to wish you were there for Din when he had to face him. “What about the Crest?”

Din inhaled air through his teeth. “Yeah, that one connects to the pulse rifle story, actually.”

“Ooo, a crossover event.”

Din chuckled, but the sound wasn’t as amused as you had hoped it would be. “It was destroyed by the Empire.”

Your eyes widened at him as your heart plunged into your stomach. “Destroyed?” It was hard to imagine the home Din had made on the Razor Crest being gone, especially with such a violent fate. “How?”

“Gideon’s cruiser made a single shot. That was all it took, really. I lost everything except that spear.” Din pointed at the spear that still rested against the hull before he drew something from a pocket on his belt. “And this.”

You narrowed your eyes as you studied the spherical object in his fingers. “What is it?”

Din steadied himself before he squeezed the metal in his palm. “The shifter knob. The kid loved playing with this thing.”

You softened, smiling as you scooted yourself just a bit closer to his bunk. “I’m glad it survived, then.” You glanced down at your feet, watching as they kicked in the open air. “I’m sorry to hear about the Crest, though. I know how much that ship meant to you.”

Din shrugged. “At least no one was hurt.”

No one but you. It wasn’t hard to imagine how Din had reacted to what happened. On the outside, he put his head down and kept going, but on the inside… it was like losing another home all over again. Like Aq Vetina, the childhood that was torn away from him.

And you hadn’t been there for him.

But that had been his choice, and he had acknowledged that. He chose on your behalf, and he would have to live with that burden, not you. It still didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Forcing all these complicated thoughts away, you focused on the story you desperately needed to hear, your gaze studying the sharp and gentle curves of his face as you prepared to say it out loud. “What about your helmet?” Your follow-up question came out quieter than you wanted it to. “Who was it for?”

Din’s stare caught yours, and the comfort you found there washed over you in a soothing wave of relief. “It was for Grogu.”

You exhaled a light, silent breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You may have chastised Din earlier for being jealous, but the truth was you were harboring that very same feeling at the thought of another lover seeing his face before you.

“It was the only way I could find Gideon after he took the kid.” Din’s focus fell to his hands, which were fumbling together on his lap. “I needed to get the coordinates from an Imperial terminal, probably like the one you use on Ptelan, and it required a facial scan.”

“Yeah.” Your voice was a mere breath. “That’s pretty standard protocol for those things.”

“I was hoping to get it done quickly enough to not be noticed, but… an Imperial commanding officer saw me. A drink and some blaster fire later, only one other person who had seen me kept breathing.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “One of the aforementioned allies?”

The corner of Din’s mouth raised slightly as he shrugged. “I guess you could call him that.” He grew more serious as he went on. “Then, when I was saying goodbye to the kid, he wanted to see my face.” Din nodded to himself. “So, I showed him. Grogu and the Jedi both saw my face, and a few others were in the room, too.”

You waited to see if he was done, and when he didn’t continue, you blew out a heavy breath. There was only one word you could come up with. “Wow.”

Din huffed. “Yeah, the feeling’s mutual.”

You gave him a once-over. “So, what’s up with the Creed now? Can you just start showing your face more regularly?”

Din shook his head. His brown eyes were lost, missing that golden sparkle you had already come to adore, as much as you tried not to. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find my covert, or at least what’s left of it, but—.”

“What’s left of it?” Your eyes widened in shock.

Din looked up at you with a wrinkled brow. There was an invisible burden weighing his shoulders down even further, and a remnant of grief in his gaze that struck you like a blow to your gut.

You softened. “I’m assuming that’s another story?”

Din forced out a chuckle. “A quick one.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall again, his chin tucked towards his chest. “Most of the covert was wiped out after they revealed themselves to help me get away from Nevarro with the kid.”

Your chest caved in with the heavy weight of sorrow. The urge to reach out and touch him had never been so strong. “Din… I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “It was their choice. They knew the risk, and I hadn’t even asked them for help. But…”

You know me. Those were the unspoken words that floated in the tense air between the two of you, now composed of something more familiar and wholesome than the anger that had transpired before. And it was true, you did know him, which is how you recognized the guilt that was painted all over his expression even if you had never seen it on his face before.

Din was clearly ready to move past the topic. “Anyway, it’s…  yeah. It’s complicated. All this shit with the Creed.” He snorted. “Never thought I’d be in this position.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “It has its advantages.”

Din gave you a hopeful glance. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned close enough to playfully rap your fingers against his arm. “As pissed as I still am about it, that was a hell of a kiss, Djarin.”

Din’s face began to flush even as he gave you a once-over. “I had a lot of years I was trying to make up for.”

You twisted your lips at that. Ignoring the small spark of hope that burned inside your belly, you prepared to snuff out his own hopeful flame. “Din…”

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m a few years too late. I made that choice for both of us when I closed the door on what we had.”

You studied him for a long moment, your eyes still addicted to the sight of his face. Learning the tells in his expression was both easy and enjoyable, from the small tugs he gave the corners of his mouth to the furrow in his brow that had become almost permanently etched there. It was then that you thought back to the moment when you first saw him earlier, remembering how he had responded to your initial observation of him.

“I like it, by the way.”

Din’s brow knit together. You chuckled and set aside your pride as you continued.

“What I’m seeing.” You waved a hand over your own face for reference. Din began to flush even more as he smiled shyly down at his hands in his lap. “A lot, actually.”

Din beamed. “That means a lot coming from you, sweetheart.”

You tried, and failed, to ignore the burn that crept up your neck towards your ears. Your smile was impossible to repress as his words filled you with an intoxicating feeling that made you remember why it was so damn hard to cope with him leaving all those years ago. He was the heartbreak you could never quite get over, because he made you feel like you were his whole galaxy.

But one creeping thought broke you out of this trance and stole the smile from your lips. You watched your hands run over your thighs before you got the words out. “You had to go through all of this alone.”

Din tensed, a movement you saw in your periphery that broke your heart all over again. He steadied himself with a breath before responding. “I chose to be alone.” His tone told you everything his words hadn’t: I wish I chose differently.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the tragedy of it all. “I would have stayed, you know. I would have been there with you through all of it if you let me.”

“I know.” The strain of Din’s voice drew your stare back over to him. The way his handsome features were pulled taut in guilt and regret shattered you. “But that’s my burden to bear, not yours.”

You frowned, your sympathy for him being washed away by a new, smaller wave of frustration and anger. “That’s not true, Din.” Your use of his name earned you his gaze again. “You’re not the only one who had to live with the consequences of your choice. What you’ve gone through is way more tragic, but I still had to live on my own, too.” You shook your head at him. “And I didn’t even get a say in it.”

Din blinked a few times at you before he clenched his jaw and looked away. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes as his shoulders shook with a trembling breath. “I know you don’t want to hear this, and you don’t have to accept it, but I’m gonna say it anyway.”

Din lowered his hands and folded them together, keeping his elbows against his knees as he spoke to the open air of the hold.

“I’m sorry.” His devastated yet sincere brown gaze looked in your direction, but it couldn’t quite meet yours. “I thought I was making a selfless choice, but it was actually a selfish choice. I gave in to my own fear instead of letting you help me through it. I made a decision that we should’ve made together, and what I chose ended up hurting you worse than the alternative would’ve.” He let out a self-deprecating chuckle and ran the back of his thumb over his forehead. “And I’m so fucking sorry for that.”

You had always imagined how good it would feel to hear him try to apologize for what he did without giving him the relief of forgiving him, but as it turned out, you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. These words were nothing but sincere, and the true remorse within his gaze was impossible to ignore. Din had been mulling over what he did the same way you had ever since he left.

It wouldn’t solve every problem, and it certainly wouldn’t erase all the pain of the last few years, but you were willing to at least absolve some of the suffering he had been subjecting himself to ever since.

You maneuvered yourself close enough to him and his bunk to set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Din’s brown eyes finally found your gaze with a look that left you breathless for a moment. Once you had gotten your words back onto your tongue, you spoke in a soft voice. “I forgive you.”

Din’s stare flickered between your eyes, his shoulders and his brow lifting as the spark of hope returned. You pressed your lips in to a firm line to stave it off.

“I can’t do more than that, but… I hope that’s at least enough for you to start forgiving yourself, too.”

Din nodded earnestly. “It is.” He lifted a hand to cover yours on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

You returned his nod. It was hard to peel your gaze away from his, but you forced yourself to do it, just as you forced yourself to pull your hand away from him. “You should get some sleep. I can imagine you’ve been losing a lot of that lately.”

Din huffed. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.” He gave you a concerned once-over. “You’ll sleep, too. Right?”

This was another promise you weren’t going to make him, but he didn’t have to know that. He didn’t have to know how hard it was to sleep alone after getting to sleep right by his side for so long. “Right.”

Din nodded once more, clearly satisfied enough with your answer to push himself back into his bunk. The movement concealed him from your view once again. You did the same, letting out a soft breath as you laid your head against the pillow and stared at the shining metal above you again. Each revelation Din had shared swirled around in your mind like a frightful, galactic storm.

There was so much you had missed, so many new wounds and scars across Din’s skin and soul that you hadn’t been there to heal. It made you frustrated, but it also made you ache. Above all, it made you want to be there with him the next time something like that happened to him, to shield him from the galaxy itself.

You just weren’t sure if your heart could take it.

You closed your eyes and willed sleep to come. With the knowledge that Din was so close by, it did, and—of course—it was the best sleep you had gotten in a long time.

You woke to the sound of light clanging in the hold. Sitting up fast enough to nearly whack your head against the top of the bunk, you spotted Din with some of your cooking supplies and relaxed. He glanced at you with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Sorry.” Din chuckled as he lifted what he was holding to show you. “I was hoping you would wake up to the smell of breakfast, not the sound of it.”

You let out a curt laugh and gave your head a fond shake. “It’s okay.” You rubbed your eyes and stepped out of the bunk. “I’m gonna freshen up and see how much time we have left.”

Din nodded as you stepped away to the refresher. It didn’t take long to reset yourself, and you were surprised to see that you only had another hour left of the trip. Thankfully, there wouldn’t be much to brief when it came to the actual mission. You would go in while Din guarded the ship, and after a few minutes, you would come back. Simple as that.

Stars willing.

You went back to the hold, where Din was just finishing with whatever he had fixed up for breakfast. “Thanks so much for doing this, Din.”

Din spared you a smile as he finished plating the meal. “It’s the least I could do to repay you for this.” When he spotted your furrowed brow, he waved a hand to the rest of the ship. “Coming all the way out here with me to get this list.”

You chuckled as you nodded to yourself. “Right.” You kept your tone playful as you accepted the dish he passed you. “It was for the kids, Djarin, not you.”

But Din just kept smiling, his admiration of you so obvious that it made your ears burn. “I know.”

You looked down, bashful, and started to eat your meal. Din did the same, and the two of you ate in peaceful, comfortable silence. It was so nice to have the tension between the two of you resolved, as if the weight of your past had finally been lifted and set you both free. You weren’t sure yet what the future would look like, especially with this mission on the forefront of your mind, but that didn’t matter. Sharing the same space with him was enough for now.

Once you had both finished, you got down to business. “We’re just under an hour away, now.”

Din’s brow shot up. “Wow.” He gestured towards the cockpit. “She’s a hell of a lot faster than the Crest ever was.”

You laughed. “Well, that’s because she’s not an ancient gunship that has to tow massive amounts of cargo and weaponry around.”

Din chuckled and raised his hand. “You got me there.”

You smiled and shook your head, forcing yourself to focus again. “It should be a quick and easy retrieval. You’ll stay on the ship and I’ll head inside to the terminal. I’ll only need a few minutes to cross-check the list.”

Din’s brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you sure you want to go alone?”

“I have to. It’s what I used to do before.” You shrugged. “Haven’t run into any problems doing this yet.”

Din released a steady breath, leaning closer to you without invading your space. “That wasn’t the question.”

You blinked at him, musing upon the same words you had thrown at him last night. You had been avoiding the truth without even realizing it. It had been years since you retired from missions like these, and that made the likelihood of something going wrong much greater. The quiet, creeping chill of fear and dread began to snake up your spine.

Din read your hesitance just as well as he read the rest of you. His hand found your shoulder just as yours had found his last night. “I’ve gone in disguise as an Imperial before, remember? When I first took off my helmet.” He nodded at you. “I’ll do it again if you want me too.”

You wanted to melt at his selflessness and the comfort his gaze was offering you, but instead, you held onto your resolve and shook your head. “I only have one Imperial uniform.” You set a hand over his. “I’ll be fine. I’m just second guessing myself.”

Din held your gaze so intensely that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “If anyone can pick up exactly where they left off like this, it’s you.” He offered another reassuring nod. “And I’ll be right here, ready to provide backup if I have to.”

You smiled, gently easing his hand off of you as his words sank in. “Thank you, Din.” You let out a sigh and willed your complicated emotions to go with it. “Let’s look at the schematics.”

Din accepted your topic change with grace, and he followed you up and over to the cockpit. You were able to pull up the schematics of Ptelan’s tiny, Imperial base in blue holographic light, both the hangar and the terminal marked by red dots. You talked him through the entire process, from your disembarkation to the data retrieval and exit. So long as nothing had changed too drastically over the years, it would only take a few minutes.

“I’m gonna get changed.” You gestured with your head to the refresher.

Din nodded. “I’ll clean up and help get things ready.” His gaze cut towards the dishes that still sat out in the hold.

You offered him a smile of gratitude before standing and digging through the cargo crate that contained the dusty Imperial uniform. Brushing it off and double-checking that you had all the pieces, you stepped into the refresher and exchanged your clothes for the stiff uniform. You smoothed out all the wrinkles and straightened your posture, recalling all the things that used to be like second nature to you.

A new wave of dread overwhelmed you enough to force your eyes shut. You steadied yourself with a deep breath. Think of the kids. They need you.

Then it was Din’s words that ran through your mind next. I’ll be right here.

You relaxed. You weren’t alone anymore—at least, not right now. It was more comforting than you cared to admit.

You gained enough faith to finally reemerge from the refresher. Din had already cleaned everything up and was running more drills with his spear when he caught sight of you. He stopped, his stare leaving a warm trail over your body that you tried, and failed, to ignore. You wondered if he understood the power of his gaze without a helmet to hide it.

“What do you think?” The question slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You acted casual as you put your normal clothes away and slipped your weapons into their proper places.

“Honestly?” You glanced at him over your shoulder and nodded. “I think you make everything look good.” You beamed at that. “But seeing you in one of their uniforms is… unnerving.”

You huffed. “Yeah, you and I are in agreement on that.”

The last thing you checked for were your code cylinders, which were thankfully all aligned inside your pocket. You grabbed your datapad and headed towards the cockpit, with Din following close behind.

“We’re almost there.” You sat down and fixed your attention to the comlink on your belt, removing their earpiece and fixing it into its proper place. “Let’s get you set up on the proper comm frequency, then we’ll be ready to land.”

Din nodded, obediently following all your instructions before he slipped his helmet back on and did a test run of the comms. He kept it on as the ship dropped out of hyperspace and headed towards the rainy world of Ptelan.

You had refreshed yourself on all your codes and protocols before, but they still came easy when you were prompted by their comms tower. It was too easy getting assigned to a bay inside the hangar and landing. The hardest part was taking a deep breath and preparing to disembark.

Din stood at the same time you did, his gloved hand finding your shoulder again as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be ready.” He nodded to affirm his words. “But you’ll be fine.”

You nodded. There had always been something about him that made you want to embrace your vulnerability, to confess every uncertain thought you had to him and let him fix it. This, however, wasn’t the time. You were more than capable of doing this before, and you would do it again.

“I’ll let you know if I need you.” You tapped your ear as you said the words. Din nodded once more, and as you stepped away to lower the hatch and set off on your small mission, you felt the warmth of his brown gaze behind his visor following you the entire way.

You didn’t want to stop feeling, not now, not ever, and certainly not after this little trip of yours was over. But there wasn’t enough time to dwell on that right now.

Your face went stone cold as you descended the ramp. The usual small group of Imperials came to greet you, a lower-ranking officer flanked by two stormtroopers. You nodded at them and stopped when they stood in your path.

“Welcome to Ptelan,” the officer greeted you. “What’s the reason for your visit?”

“A layover.” You gestured back to your ship. “I’ve spent a fortnight dealing out undercover inspections on various worlds, and Ptelan was the closest outpost for me to rest for a time.”

The officer nodded. “Understood. I don’t envy your position.”

You huffed, the dignified version of a laugh. “Nor do I yours. This planet is quite dreary.”

The officer snickered. “That’s an understatement.”

He stepped aside, letting you through. You steadied yourself with a breath as you walked forward, charting out the path a million times inside your mind. The mess hall wasn’t too far from the hangar, and given how unpopulated this particular outpost was, it was unlikely the terminal you needed was being used. Only a few minutes stood between you and the trip back home.

The trip when you would have to come to terms with Din leaving you again. 

You gave your head a small shake and willed your thoughts to dispel from your clouded mind. It would take all your focus to cross-check this list as quickly as possible, and you weren’t intent on spending an extra second you didn’t have to inside that Imperial base.

The mess hall was quiet, aside from the sounds of the few dispersed Imperial officers and stormtroopers eating their mediocre meals. You headed straight for the terminal, never once breaking your stride as you withdrew the datarod from your pocket. Each breath you took was magnified inside your own ears, the air rushing through your lungs in thunderous waves.

The work was instinctual, mechanical. Your face was scanned, and you tapped through the information to find what you were looking for. A few sly codes later, the updated list of names was running over the vidscreen, and you synced it with your datapad to correct the information you already had.

Just like always, you were done in a few minutes. You exhaled a light sigh of relief as you withdrew your datarod and stuck it back in your pocket. It would be your backup of the data in the event something happened to your datapad, which meant that you were keeping it just as safe as the device tucked in your arm as you turned around to leave.

Before you could slip out, an officer twice your size stepped in, trailed by two stormtroopers as he smirked at you. You stopped just a few feet short of running straight into him, straightening your posture even more and forcing yourself to make direct eye contact.

“Lieutenant.” The man’s voice was arrogant and low as he gestured with his gaze to the squares on your left chest. “You look to be in a hurry.”

You bowed your head for a moment. “Just eager to get some rest, sir.”

“What brings you to Ptelan?”

You repeated what you had told the first officer before. “A layover.”

The officer tilted his head. “From where?”

You told him the first planet name that came to mind. It was near the system, but lacked a strong Imperial presence from what you knew. You held your datapad closer to keep your hands from trembling.

“Ah.” The officer took a step closer to you, and you fought the urge to take a step back. “What did you need the terminal for?”

You lifted your chin higher. “I’m afraid that’s only for my commanding officer to know, Captain.” You narrowed your eyes just enough to look arrogant rather than aggressive. “Our work is delicate.”

“Do you see my rank, Lieutenant?” The captain’s lip snarled. “I am your commanding officer.”

Your jaw tightened. “If you must know, Captain, I was merely confirming the coordinates of my next few inspections.”

The captain reached out a hand to tap your datapad. “Show me.”

You swallowed hard and assessed the room all in a quick moment. He didn’t have much backup, and the few Imperials who had been in the mess hall when you entered were gone. There were only one or two more lingering, their attention drawn to the scene the captain was creating. It would be easy to take all these men down, and as long as you could still run as fast as you used to be able to, you would get to the ship no problem.

It was a split-second decision you had to make, and you did so without hesitation.

You drew your blaster and shot at the captain’s chest, needing him to be fully out of commission due to the size advantage he had on you. The two stormtroopers lunged towards you, but you ducked and turned just in time to shoot one of them down. The other began firing shots that you had to focus on dodging before you could take cover behind a nearby bench and take him down with another shot.

Only the two others in the room were left. You drew a blade from your boot and threw it at one of them, sinking it into the center of their chest as the other received a clean blaster bolt to theirs.

You only spared enough time for a few quick breaths before rising to your feet and running towards the exit. Din had been right; you weren’t so rusty after all.

The thought of him led you to lift your hand to your ear and speak. “Din, get the ship ready for takeoff. I’m—.”

You were forced to cut yourself off and come skidding to a stop when an entire team of stormtroopers stepped out in front of you. Backtracking towards the mess hall, you barely managed to escape their rain of blasterfire, the shots echoing down the corridor. You picked up one of the fallen stormtrooper’s rifles inside the mess hall and jammed the blunt end of it into the panel, sealing the door shut for now—and trapping yourself inside.

With the imminent threat taken care of, you were able to focus on Din’s panicked voice inside your ear. “What is it? Are you okay? I’m hearing a lot of commotion.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. The longer you and Din both stayed here, the more time they would have to get backup, and the harder it would be to get out. He might have been ready to come to your rescue, but you weren’t willing to take that chance.

The children whose names were written inside your datapad and datarod had to come first.

“I’ve been compromised.” You said the words calmly as you strided back over to the terminal. “I’ve locked myself inside the mess hall.”

Din’s response was immediate. “I’m on my way.”

“No.” You practically bit the word out as you activated the terminal once again and began feverishly tapping around its controls. “I’m transmitting the list to the ship’s databank right now. Once it’s done uploading, you need to get out of here.”

Even the crackling of the comm channel failed to hide Din’s disbelieving tone. “What? Why the hell would I do that?”

“We don’t have time for this, Din. If you stay and help me fight, they’ll have enough time to get backup, and who knows if we’ll ever make it out of here after that. You have the chance to go now, and I’m giving it to you.” You huffed to yourself at the cruel irony of it all. “You need to leave me here.”

“That’s not an option.”

Your head snapped over your shoulder when you heard a slicing at the door. The Imperials were beginning to carve a way inside. You tightened your jaw and worked even faster, your desperation mounting. “Those kids need you!”

“And I need you.”

His words gave you pause, as if he had the ability to make the entire galaxy freeze. You blinked at the vidscreen, your brain mulling over his words endlessly. The rawness of them, the vulnerability, struck you all at once.

“I’m not making the same mistake twice. I’m not leaving you again.” Before you could even think of an argument, Din repeated his words from before. “I’m on my way.”

You closed your eyes in selfish relief. He was finally choosing you. Above all else, for better or for worse, he wanted you, even at the risk of his own safety.

It healed the last broken fracture of your heart.

But the pressing matter at hand was quick in disrupting your emotional moment. The Imperials were almost done slicing their way through, and you were standing completely vulnerable to their next attack. You dove towards the nearest table and kicked it over, drawing your blaster and leaning your back against it for cover. After a few breaths, you rose enough to prop your blaster on top of the table, aiming it for whatever poor soul walked in first.

As soon as you saw the first flash of white, you pulled the trigger. The stormtrooper fell, but right behind him was a second one, a trooper who had uncharacteristically decent aim.

You ducked just in time to avoid most of the blow, but part of their blaster bolt still caught your arm. You gasped and clutched the wound with your gloved hand, baring your teeth as you glanced over at it. It had been enough to tear through your uniform and singe your skin, with a small circle of it hit bad enough to bleed.

Okay, so you were still a little rusty. But now you were also pissed off.

You set both hands on your blaster and rose again, firing in precise shots to take down two more troopers. They were the only two advancing on you, with the others distracted by something else—someone else, when you remembered you weren’t here alone.

Sure enough, there were sounds of panicked shouts and gargled last breaths, all without blaster fire. You stood and rushed out with your blaster raised to get a closer look, just in time to see Din run his spear through the last stormtrooper standing there. His visor snapped up at you before the trooper’s body even hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” Din’s modulated voice was a mere breath as he hurried over to you.

You didn’t address his question. “Let’s get out of here.”

Din’s visor found the wound on your arm in record time. “You’re hurt.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. “Barely. Come on, Mando.” You took his gloved hand and began to lead the way back to the ship. “You might love a good fight, but I’m retired.”

Din huffed at that. “I don’t love it when you’re hurt.”

You scoffed at him. “Barely!”

You tugged him along the corner hard to keep him from arguing with you further. Another team waited for the two of you there, but between you and Din, you were able to make quick work of them. You focused on aiming your blaster as Din went back in with his spear, slicing through his share until the entire team had been taken care of. With a nod, the two of you pressed on.

It was a rhythm you had been missing for a long, long time.

You turned the last corner into the hangar bay, and as it turned out, Din had already taken care of the greeting party on his way to come and assist you. You both had boarded the ship before the next wave of stormtroopers even entered the hangar, leaving their useless shots to clip the exterior hull as you pulled up on the controls and piloted the ship far away from their attack.

Inputting the coordinates back to your current homeworld, you waited to relax until the blue lights of hyperspace were flickering around you again. It was only then that you released the heavy breath you’d been holding, the adrenaline pumping through you and elevating your heartbeat inside your eardrums.

You chuckled and looked over at Din, who had assumed the same leaned-back posture as yourself. “Turns out I underestimated our abilities.” Your tone was nothing but amused as you spoke. “We didn’t have a problem getting out of there before backup arrived.”

Din snorted at that. “It’s always hard to judge how skilled these remnants will be.” He removed his helmet and set it in his lap, allowing you to openly admire his face that glowed in the aftermath of the fight. “Thankfully, Ptelan is in the middle of nowhere, and they probably didn’t want to waste resources on it.”

You hummed at that. Your order for him to leave you was starting to feel embarrassing, but everything had been charged by the past that his mere presence had dug up. The panic of something actually going wrong when it never had before only added to that.

You were about to acknowledge all this when Din spoke up first. “I’m sorry.”

You shot him a confused look. His brow was furrowed, and his gaze was downcast at his helmet. “For what?” You racked your mind for even a mere idea of what he could possibly be apologizing for. “You saved my ass back there.”

Din’s gaze found yours, and the longing there was so strong that it knocked the breath from your lungs. “I went against your wishes by not leaving.” He held a cautious breath. “I just… I couldn’t bear doing exactly what I had done all those years ago, especially after spending so much time regretting it.”

You let out a soft sigh and studied him. Din’s expression was written in guilt and remorse, both of which were so genuine that you could feel those very same emotions yourself by just looking at him. He had just proven to you that he wasn’t the same man he was when he left you, that he had learned from his mistakes and changed.

That was all you had ever wanted, and you had certainly spent enough time dwelling on the what-ifs. You wanted to know what a life with him would be like, a life where you both had made a different choice the day he left.

You stood from your chair, earning Din’s rapt attention as you peeled the helmet from his hands. Half-setting and half-tossing it onto the empty chair behind you, you took its previous place, tearing off your gloves and holding his face to bring it to yours.

There wasn’t a single ounce of regret or uncertainty in this kiss. Instead, it was a shared feeling of relief, a gesture of understanding and desperation that only brought you closer together. Using the hand that had woven into his brown waves, you tilted his head back further, deepening the kiss to prove the sentiment behind your actions.

The way Din pulled your chest against his showed his own understanding.

Still, you spelled out the words on your tongue for him to feel rather than hear, your other hand running along his jaw and gently tightening along the back of his neck. Din hummed into your mouth, the tension having melted from him completely as he melted underneath your touch.

You only pulled away when you had lost your breath, but you stayed close enough for your forehead to lean against Din’s. You opened your eyes, letting your gaze meet his up close like this for the very first time. It sent a jolt of the sweetest electricity throughout your body, proving that you were making the right choice.

“Stay.” You lifted your hand back up to his jaw and ran your thumb over his lips. “If you’re waiting for me to make the choice this time, then that’s what it is.” Your nose brushed his. “I want you to stay.”

Din closed his eyes and exhaled a breath that helped every single feature of his face relax. The small smile that began to tug at the corners of his mouth was breathtaking. “I will.” His eyes reopened to depict his severity as he nodded, minding your head against his. “And I won’t ever leave you like I did before. I promise. I swear.”

“I know.” You ran a hand over Din’s head, brushing his hair back and smiling when his eyelids fluttered in content. “You've just proven that to me.”

Din returned your smile before he kissed you again, but he kept this one brief, his sparkling gaze finding yours again. “I meant what I said the night I left.” His voice was barely a whisper, though every word he said carried its own heavy weight. “And I still do.” Your eyes were beginning to get misty from pure relief as he cradled your face. “I never stopped loving you.”

You beamed at him and whispered your own words upon his lips, the truth of them shocking you. “Neither did I.”

Even amidst all your anger towards him over the years, that love still remained, the same love that seeped into this kiss that could finally take its time. He had carved a part of himself into your heart, and that’s what had made it so difficult to watch him leave. But you knew he wouldn’t do it again. You knew he would stay by your side at all costs this time.

But above all, you knew that he would protect you from the galaxy, and he would no longer doubt his own ability to do so—just like you would protect him, too. Whatever happened next, you were doing it together.

Thank the stars you hadn’t turned your back on that opportunity.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

din djarin tag list: @yorksgirl @zenrobbins0021 @cyaredindjarin @cw80831 @maddiedrmr @pigeonmama @violetlilly2020

[tomsparkyr]

can you do a lamine yamal where r and lamine have been secretly dating from the public because reader is also a spanish barca player but when lamine win euros it gets revealed because not only is reader happy for her country winning but is also happy for her boyfriend winning too 😭❤️

(it sounded cuter in my head)

Secrets on the Pitch (Lamine Yamal.)

Summary: You never expected to fall for Lamine Yamal, another star player at FC Barcelona. Your romance blossomed in secrecy away from the media's eye. Both representing Spain, you shared hidden moments and cheered for each other's victories. When Spain won the European Championship, your tears of joy revealed your love to the world. Despite the newfound attention, your bond remained strong, proving that love and football can unite even in the spotlight.

AN: Thank you for requesting, Anon! Here youu gooo! I hope you like it and I hope I meet your story expectation 😊

I'm beyond proud of you, Lamine! Keep up the good work 💪

You never expected to fall for Lamine. From the moment you met him at FC Barcelona's training grounds, there was an instant connection. He was charming, funny, and shared your passion for the sport. Little did anyone know, your relationship with Lamine bloomed in secret, away from the prying eyes of the media and fans.

As fellow FC Barcelona players, maintaining privacy was crucial. The public eye was relentless, always hungry for the next big story. But with Lamine, it was different. He understood the pressure, having faced it himself as a rising star in the Spanish football scene.

Months passed, filled with stolen moments, secret dates, and late-night conversations about goals, both on and off the field. You cherished the anonymity, the freedom to simply be together without the world scrutinizing every move.

Then came the European Championship. Lamine's talent shone brightly on the pitch, driving Spain towards victory. You, too, were competing, representing your country with pride. Each match brought tension and excitement, but deep down, you secretly cheered for Lamine as much as you did for your own team.

When the final whistle blew and Spain clinched the championship, the stadium erupted in cheers. Cameras panned across the crowd, capturing the joy and celebration. Amidst the sea of faces, yours stood out—a mixture of pride for your country and uncontainable happiness for your boyfriend.

It was in that moment that everything changed. The cameras zoomed in on you, capturing the raw emotion etched on your face—the tears of joy, the proud smile. The commentators speculated, the fans wondered, and soon, the news spread like wildfire.

Your relationship with Lamine was no longer a secret. The world knew, and surprisingly, the reception was overwhelmingly positive. Fans admired the love story unfolding between two football stars from FC Barcelona.

In the days that followed, interviews and media appearances became a part of your routine. But through it all, Lamine remained your rock, your confidant. Together, you navigated the newfound attention with grace, never letting it overshadow your love for each other or the game.

As you stood together, hand in hand, facing the cameras and the world, you couldn't help but smile. The journey from secrecy to celebration was unexpected, but you wouldn't change a thing. Because in the end, love and football had brought you closer, making your story one for the ages.

[tomsparkyr]

as it was ; logan howlett.

track seven of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; logan howlett x mutant!scientist!gn!reader

synopsis ; you first met logan as weapon x, wiped clean of any memory of his past life. he had nearly killed you then. and now, almost two years later, he’s pressing kisses over the very same scars his adamantium claws had inflicted.

words ; 9.1k

themes ; angst, fluff, action, mutant au, scientist au

warnings / includes ; descriptions of violence and gore, death, blood and injuries, alcohol, smoking, emotions™, logan calls you 'bub' and 'darlin', reader has the ability to manipulate matter, reader is a scientist, based on marvel comics presents: weapon x issues #72-84, mentions of the brotherhood and the rest of the x-men, charles is your bff :D, not accurate x-men timelines </3

main masterlist.

You pressed your knuckles into your tired eyes, wincing when bright colors exploded behind your eyelids. Gingerly, you blinked to adjust back to the brightness of the laboratory’s artificial lights, stifling a wide yawn with the back of your palm.

It was your shift to watch him. Weapon X.

Everything was deathly silent, other than the rhythmic beeping of the machine in front of you. The machine that told you he was still alive. Still breathing.

You shifted in the leather chair, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in your throat. 

The man—was he even a man anymore?—laid motionless and limp within the vat. His features, softened with unconsciousness, were still rugged and intimidating, nearly hidden by the hundreds of wires sticking out of his form. 

They brought you in just a week ago, so you were still getting used to everything here. The other scientists in the facility had told you that the man was a volunteer for the Weapon X project—that he needed to be given an adamantium skeleton or his own mutation would kill him from the inside out. Being a mutant-in-hiding yourself, you felt a certain calling to help him out.

So if you were helping this man recover, why did it feel so wrong? 

Biting the side of your cheek, you slipped out of the chair and strode up to the vat, resting a hand on the glass barrier. It was cold beneath your fingertips. 

You could’ve sworn you saw his foot twitch—

The door to the lab whooshed open, and the head scientist, Dr. Cornelius, strode in, shooting you a humorless look, wordlessly telling you that your shift was over. 

Pursing your lips, you pulled yourself away from the glass, sparing the man in the vat one last glance before stepping back to the chair to gather your things. 

“Anything interesting to note?” the old man asked you. 

You clicked your tongue against your teeth. “Nothing at all for the past couple of hours, Doc. He’s responding exceptionally well to the chemical bath.”

He made a disinterested noise, as if the prospect of things going well bored him, before sinking into another chair and heaving a large sigh. 

Hesitant, you stepped forward to ask, “Doctor? Sorry, I was just wondering if I could ask you some questions.” It was about time you knew just what was going on here—there was definitely something that he wasn’t telling you.

The man lifted his gaze to you, seeming annoyed already. “What is it?” A scowl threatened to play by the corner of your lips, but you forced on an indifferent expression. 

“I just… I keep thinking about him.”

“Who? Logan?”

His name was Logan. He had a name. Well—of course he did. You suddenly felt sick.

“Yeah. I keep thinking about what we’re doing to him.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but wisely chose to remain silent, goading you to carry on.

The machine beeped. You glanced at the unconscious man in the vat. 

“Before I came here… was he—was Logan—here? And I don’t mean him as Weapon X. I mean it like the man before this. Was he here?”

“No,” Cornelius replied, far too quickly for your liking. He averted his gaze, focusing on the machine in front of him. “I don’t know. What are you asking here, kid?”

This time, you didn’t bother to suppress the frown budding across your face. “I mean,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “did Logan sign up for this?”

“I already told you,” Cornelius gruffed out, “he volunteered.”

“And why should I believe you? Why have you named him Weapon X if all we’re trying to do is cure him? Why did you have to erase his memories? Why have you been forcing him to fight wild animals in the forest? Are you making me attach adamantium to his skeleton because you want to help him, or because you want to manufacture a mindless killing machine?” Your voice had raised several notches in volume, and the doctor seemed to recoil at your words. Sucking in a breath to calm your erratic pulse, you spoke again, “You’re not telling me something, Cornelius.”

The doctor, stunned into silence, took several moments to gather what he wanted to say. A rebuttal was just on the tip of his tongue, but he knew it would be fruitless. 

You’ve figured it out.

And he would have to kill you for it. 

“Was he abducted? Kidnapped?” you asked again, voice strained.

“Congratulations,” the doctor sneered, slowly rising to his feet. “You’ve put together the puzzle pieces.”

Bile rose in your throat. “Logan was forced into this. He didn’t want any of it. You… you’re trying to make a monster but—you’re the real monster here.” Slowly, you started backing up. “You were using me. You knew that I wouldn’t help graft the adamantium to his skeleton if I knew the truth. You’re insane. You’re sick.”

With a mangled cry, the doctor lunged forward, knocking you to the ground as his palms found your throat. Pain flourished through your spine as it thudded against the sleek tiles of the floor, a strangled sound crawling from your lips. You clawed at his hands at first, desperate and losing air far too quickly. 

Then, you grappled at his face, scratching at his cheeks until blood welled in tiny droplets from the red marks you drew. This only seemed to enrage him further, fingers pressing harder into your trachea. Dark spots danced about your vision and you gasped for breath, eyes misting over with unshed tears. 

Fuck. You needed to do something. Quick.

Maybe… your powers—

No. No, you’d find another way. You refused to lose control of yourself ever again.

The chair was right beside you. If you could just… hook your foot around one of its legs and tip it forwards…

Your mouth fell open as your lungs begged for mercy, limbs growing weaker with each passing second. You gave it your all to jerk forward, just enough to shift you down and catch the chair with your foot and yank it forwards. 

The heavy metal seat tipped forward slowly, before giving in to its own weight and crashing on top of Cornelius. The bald man howled with pain, and his grip loosened on you momentarily. You hiked your knees upwards and slammed them into his stomach, shoving him away with a yell. Your chest heaved raggedly, greedily swallowing as much air as you could take. 

The doctor was quick to recover from his initial shock. You thought he’d lunge for you again, but instead, he brandished a walkie talkie and yelled, “CODE RED, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW! CODE RED!”

Without a damned clue what ‘code red’ meant, you rushed forward and slammed the emergency lockdown button on the control panel. A haggard sigh of relief left you when thick metal slabs slowly lowered down over the doors.

Cornelius, infuriated, grabbed the back of your head and shoved you down, slamming the side of your face into the plethora of buttons. A loud groan of pain ricocheted across the laboratory, blood seeping from one of your nostrils and slipping into your mouth, running a metallic copper taste along your tongue. He did it again, and again, and again, far too quickly for you to even begin to react. Faintly, you registered a whooshing sound in front of you—one of you must’ve accidentally hit the button that released Logan from his chemical bath. 

You spat blood over the buttons with a snarl, reinvigorated, shooting your hands out to stop him from bashing your face in once more. Twisting your body, you kicked at his knee as hard as you could, which made Cornelius collapse forward. You messily drove your fist into his eye socket, pushing him back, away from the control panel. The doctor fell onto the ground and you kicked at his skull with the heel of your shoe. 

There was blood dripping down your chin. Your nose was throbbing. You were disoriented, vision splitting into blurry duplicates. Dizzy, you dropped to your haunches, crawling as far away as you could from Cornelius.

Noises were coming from the other side of the lab. Where Logan was.

Wincing, you were just about to turn to look before Cornelius’ hand wound around your ankle, yanking you to him with surprising strength. He punched you in the shoulder first, trying to aim for your face. You flailed your limbs, attempting to kick your feet, but he had trapped your legs between his. A struggling whimper shook your lips, breaths coming in fast, staccato beats. The second time he punched you, he hit you dead on. Your vision went dark for a good ten seconds. You could tell one of your eyelids had already swollen shut.

Desperate and panicked, you lurched upwards and bit into whatever you could. You sank your teeth in until red squirted straight into your other eye, and copper flooded your mouth once more. An ear-piercing scream rattled through the lab.

As you furiously wiped away the dark ichor from your eyes, you realized that he wasn’t screaming because of you—not really, at least.

He was screaming because there were three adamantium claws protruding from his abdomen.

And just behind him was Logan.

A terrified garble tore through your own throat. A string of nonsensical words fell from you—ranging from cries for help, prayers to whatever god would listen to you, and incoherent sobbing as pure terror ripped through you, whole and consuming.

There were still wires hanging off of the man’s starkly naked form, dragging against the ground behind him. His skin glistened with the residue from the chemical bath, droplets still falling from his damp hair and rolling over his defined muscles. With a near animalistic growl, he threw Cornelius’ lifeless corpse to the side, his adamantium claws streaking down both your arm and your side in the process. Another wail erupted from you and you curled into a fetal position, cradling your injuries and fruitlessly trying to put as much pressure as you could against the wounds. Blood seeped from you, staining the once-pristine floors with a growing pool of liquid rubies. You were light-headed, tilting your head up to look at Logan standing in front of you. Horror painted your insides with a thick, tar-like substance. 

He made no move to hurt you any further, only regarding you with dark, distant eyes, like he just could just barely recognize your face. He remembered you.

You wanted to plead—beg him for mercy.

You cracked your shaking lips open, but the words lodged firmly in your throat, a sob rippling through your lungs. Hot tears streamed down your bloodied cheeks in fat dollops. 

The mutant surprised you, then. 

He spoke.

“I am…” he croaked out, seeming slightly miffed. It took him another couple of seconds to articulate his next words. His brain had been fried over and over again, the English language was something he had nearly completely forgotten. “I am… dead? I remember… death. Dying.”

You were shaking uncontrollably now. Whether it be because of the terror, or because of the insurmountable blood loss, you weren’t quite sure. Most likely both. 

Voice warbling, you croaked out, “No, Logan. You’re not dead.”

His dark pupils darted to the pool of blood by your side, then moved down to his own hands and claws, practically soaked red. His chest heaved. 

Slowly, you raised a trembling hand to point at the winding metal staircase at the back of the laboratory. “Run, Logan,” you hoarsely whispered. “They’ll be here any minute. You have to go before they catch you again. Go upstairs—there’s a rear window you can escape through.”

The man narrowed his eyes at you. 

He stalked away wordlessly, leaving only droplets of Cornelius’ blood in his wake. 

The tension melted away from your body instantaneously. The urge to cry laid heavy on your conscience, but you shoved down the tears and slowly pushed yourself to your feet, placing pressure on your wounds as you staggered onto your feet. With a grunt, you limped to Cornelius’ corpse, kneeling down to rip his belt and shirt off. 

A low groan rumbled from your chest when you tied the belt over the deep gash Logan had inflicted on you, wrapping his shirt tightly over the leaking wound on your waist. Whether it was an accident or a purposeful move, you had no clue. Immediately, blood seeped through the fabric. You decided not to pay it any mind. 

Faintly, you registered shouting from the other end of the barricaded door. You were running out of time. 

Huffing a curse, you struggled to your feet and stepped over Cornelius, bee-lining for the metal staircase. Upstairs, you could see the droplets of blood Weapon X had left behind. You swallowed heavily, before following them to the open window. 

“Fuck,” you coarsely spat out, glancing down to see snow blanketing the ground nearly at knee-length. Trembling already, you hopped off the windowsill and onto the fire escape’s ladder, gingerly placing each foot on the lower rung until you were near enough to jump down.

The wind whispered frost into your ears as you looked forward, into the dark forest. 

They would kill you if you went back inside. It seemed like you had no other choice but to follow Logan. He was your best chance at survival.

Your sigh misted into an opaque fog as you followed the trail of blood on the snowy forest floor. 

It’d been hours. 

You had lost nearly all sensation in your feet, numbed by the frigid cold. You supposed that was one upside of the frost—you could no longer feel the pain of your wounds, despite the large blooming of crimson seeping through Cornelius’ shirt. The lids of your eyes were heavy, drooping closed every few seconds before struggling back open. You wrapped your arms around yourself lethargically, struggling to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

Logan was only a couple minutes in front of you. At least—you thought he was. Hell, he could’ve been five hours away by now, considering how out of it you were. 

You swallowed your throat, dry and scratchy from the whipping wind of the forest. 

Not even ten steps later, you found yourself tipping forward, succumbing to the exhaustion. 

The snow was suddenly flush against your cheek, the world now angled vertically. Black spots danced about your sight. You only barely registered the pain of hitting the ground, a wooden stick poking uncomfortably against your leg. You couldn’t be bothered to move. You couldn’t feel anything—yet it felt like you were burning alive. Perhaps it was the blood loss. Maybe the shame of failure. Or it could’ve simply just been the fact that you’ve been wading around in the snow for hours. A small breath slipped from your lungs and your eyes fell shut. 

A nap wouldn’t hurt… would it?

Just as the corners of your vision waned dark, the shadow of a figure loomed over you. 

The last thing you felt right before you succumbed to the cold were a pair of warm arms winding around you.

Lights—far too many, far too bright. Your heavy eyelids narrowed as soon as they blinked open, and you gingerly turned your face to the side to avoid the glare of the harsh luminosity. 

There were a couple things you registered in your early stages of rousing. You were no longer cold, bundled in several layers of woolen blankets on what you presumed to be an infirmary bed. You could feel the slight pressure of a proper bandage around your waist, which still throbbed but wasn’t nearly as painful as you remembered. 

And there was a man in a lab coat beside you.

You stared at his back as he busied themself with colorful pills and bottles. Your throat was so dry, it took you several moments to muster yourself to croak out a warbling, “Hello?”

The man seemed to jump out of his shoes, turning abruptly with wide eyes behind thick, rectangular spectacles. “Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” He shuffled to your side, watching you with evident concern.

You winced as you propped yourself up on one arm, slowly pulling yourself to sit up on the bed without putting too much weight on your wound. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s unfortunately quite expected—you’ll be feeling that way for a little bit before you get better. You took quite the beating out there—I tried my best to patch you up but I’m afraid the lacerations you got on your abdomen and arm will scar forever. Those bruises on your face, however, will be gone in a week, two tops.” The man paused, as if wanting to ask you a question, but thought better of it, shaking his head. “I’m gonna call somebody here to come talk to you. And I’ll go get you some water and food. Is that okay?”

Still reeling over everything, you nodded slowly, watching as he strode out of the infirmary. 

Not a minute later, you heard the smooth rolling of wheels against tile. A bald man on a wheelchair swiftly entered the room, greeting you with a genuine smile and a bow of his head. 

“You must be Doctor L/N,” he said, stopping just by your bedside. “I’m Charles Xavier. Now, I’m sure you have many questions—so let me try to answer them. You’re currently in Xavier’s School of Gifted Youngsters. I sensed your distress through my own telepathic mutation and had some of my X-Men go pick you and Logan up.”

At the mention of Logan, your muscles tensed, and your gaze snapped upwards to meet his. 

“Logan… he’s here?”

Charles tilted his head, thinking back to the burly, pacing man in his office. “Yes, quite.”

“Is he okay?” you asked softly. 

A wisp of a smile graced Charles’ lips. “He’s fine. A bit disoriented, but his memories are steadily returning. You, I’m more worried about. I know you’re a mutant, Y/N.”

Something dangerous flashed behind your irises. “I’ve never purposefully used my powers on anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. What happened to Logan—was because I was foolish enough to trust bad men.”

“I’m not blaming you, Y/N. You thought you were doing the right thing. Besides, the group who tricked you have been apprehended by the X-Men. They won’t be conducting anymore experiments on mutants,” he said, not unkindly. “I wanted to give you the liberty to explain what your mutation is… and if you can control it.”

“It’s only happened once before,” you whispered, fiddling with your nails anxiously. “I can manipulate matter, I think. Rearrange atoms and molecules in space. Once I start, I can’t control it—so I don’t ever intend to use it again.”

Charles regarded you for a moment, before nodding. “That’s quite the commitment. Would you mind me asking why?”

You hesitated, your teeth worrying into your bottom lip. “The first time I found out about my powers, someone died because of me. There was a car crash and my friend tried helping me and I… I panicked—” Tears quickly blurred your vision and you hiccuped, stopping to furiously wipe them away. “Shards of glass flew everywhere and…”

You trailed off, releasing a frustrated sigh. 

“The cops ruled it as an accident, but I knew it was my fault. I moved out of town, started doing research with a university in molecular biology in hopes of finding out more about myself, when I got an offer to work with this company that ‘helped’ mutants. They lied to me. They were experimenting on them—and I should’ve known better. I thought I was saving Logan’s life.”

Charles hummed in thought, before shaking his head. “It’s not your fault. It was an accident—you didn’t know how to control your powers. But we can help you with that. If you stay, that is.”

Mouth parting in surprise, you leaned forward slightly in confusion. “You… you want me to stay here? After everything I’ve done? What will Logan think?”

“He knows it’s not your fault. There’s a reason he didn’t kill you—and a reason he carried you through the snow until we found the two of you. The deal is still on the table—just think about it. You’d make a valuable asset to our team.” A genuine smile etched over his face before he asked, “Would you perhaps want to see Logan?”

“No!” you exclaimed, a little too quickly. Charles’ eyebrows rose. Arms wrapping around yourself, you gently shook your head, repeating in a quieter tone, “No, thank you.”

The man observed you rather pensively before humming, “Alright, then. I’ll let you get some rest.”

“Thank you.” Despite the tautness of your tone, Charles knew you were wholly grateful. He bowed his head, and wheeled out of the infirmary room, leaving you with your thoughts.

To none of his surprise, leaning against the wall right next to the door, was Logan.

There was a cheap cigar wedged between his lips, hands clutched over the dog tags around his neck. He cocked his head to Charles as a greeting, gruffing out, “Are they alright?”

It was rather amusing to see such a brooding, stoic man lose his wits over a person he barely knew. Logan cared about you, and that made Charles all the more curious.

“I think Y/N’s going to be just fine.”

Logan huffed in something akin to relief, blowing out a puff of opaque smoke. After a long stretch of silence, Logan queried in a strained voice, “Can I see them?”

“It’s best if you give Y/N some time. They’re still a bit rattled over everything,” said the professor, patiently. “Have you gotten your memories back?”

“I think so. I remember most of my life before getting kidnapped. I taught self defense here, right?” Logan muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely sure of himself. When Charles grinned and nodded, Logan spoke again, hesitant. “I remember Y/N. Their face, watching me through the glass. Talking about curing me—helping me. I remember the doctor there trying to kill them once they found out the truth.”

A low growl rumbled within the grizzled man’s chest, and he slumped further against the wall. “What are you going to do with Y/N now?”

“Well, that’s up to them. They are a mutant after all—I offered them a place here. Whether they stay or not is not for me to say.”

This seemed to pique Logan’s interest. “Y/N’s a mutant?”

“Yes,” Charles stated matter-of-factly. “Though, they don’t use their powers because it’s far too dangerous. Which is why I proposed that they stay so we can help. Now, if you excuse me, Logan, I’ve got to grade some papers. Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” replied Logan, distant. He saluted Charles with two fingers as he wheeled away. “G’night.”

The rest of the X-Men warmed up to you rather quickly. Hank would joke around with you while he did your daily check-up, and Jean, Ororo and Anna introduced themselves with sweet smiles and baked goods that they made just for you. They’d stay with you in the infirmary until late at night, playing boisterous rounds of Uno and exchanging stories of their own childhood mishaps with their mutation. Kurt Wagner was a delight to speak to—you quite enjoyed your conversations with the lively teleporter. Scott Summers was a handsome fellow, who had acquired a broken arm from a training accident, which gave him a good excuse to hang around you. Charles often visited you as well, each time asking once again if you were planning on making your residence here permanent. He even offered you a job to teach the kids here some science—which you kindly declined.

The friendly nature of the mansion and the people residing there really made you want to stay. 

But you knew you shouldn’t. 

Especially not when Logan was so clearly avoiding you—it was a tell-tale sign that you were definitely overstaying your welcome.

You’d only seen him a small handful of times since you arrived. Lingering in the hallways, passing by the door, and once in Charles’ office when you dropped by to ask him a question. He had stalked away with nary a sound, not even bothering to spare you a glance.

So it was quite the surprise when he stepped into the infirmary while you were packing a small duffel bag with travel necessities nearly two weeks later, practically bristling at the thought of you leaving. Leaving when he hadn’t even said a single word to you. His jaw clenched.

“L… Logan?” you asked, nearly dropping the shirt you were holding out of shock. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

He stared at you for a long while, unsure of what to say. The man was on his way to a bar for a beer or two before he caught sight of you practically flying across the room in a rush to pack. He was not prepared for this conversation at all. A part of him wished you could just read his thoughts like Charles could, because his mind was running a mile a minute. There were just too many things he should’ve said, too many things he waited too long to say. And none of it seemed to want to come out.

So he opted to heave out a grand sigh, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, not once breaking eye contact with you. You had awkwardly resigned to folding the last few pieces of clothing, stuffing them into the bag. 

The action prompted Logan to husk out, “You’re leaving.”

It was more of a statement than a question. Your muscles tensed at his voice. He seemed angry—frustrated—and you weren’t entirely sure if it was directed towards you, or himself.

“I have no place here,” you whispered, words nearly lost to the deafening silence. 

Logan’s brows furrowed. “This is a school—a home for mutants. You belong here.”

Fixing him with a curious expression, you zipped up your bag, shaking your head. “It’s not fair to you, Logan. I can’t just keep pretending that me being around doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“So you’re leaving because of me.” Logan pushed off the wall, stalking towards you until he stood just in front of you. This close, you could smell the faint cigar smoke on him, accompanied with a fresh pine-like aroma. He smelled like the forest, like sitting in front of a fire place with a mug of coffee cradled in your palms. A lump formed in your throat, grip tightening on the strap of the bag.

“I’m leaving for you,” you corrected. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did all those awful things to you. I know it doesn’t absolve me of anything but—I really did think I was helping you. Oh… and thank you. For coming back and saving me.”

The hardness to Logan’s features seemed to soften just a bit. He watched you keenly, studying the genuine tenderness to your eyes, the way your lips screwed to the side in a fruitless effort to stave away the tears. 

“Hey,” he said, stepping even closer. “I forgive you, bub. I forgive you, alright? Stop beating yourself up. Charles told me you thought you were helping me—and I believe it. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, the man truly responsible is dead, thanks to you. You helped me escape, remember?”

Your eyes flickered from the ground to meet his. “Of course I remember.”

A low rumble resonated from Logan’s chest. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing for damn near killing you. I found you passed out in the snow and I—I was terrified. I carried you, worried to death the entire time, thinkin’ you were going to die on me. But Charles found us—and you lived. We both lived. I want you to stay. Hell, if you want to leave, then go ahead. The door’s wide open. But don’t let it be because of me.”

He watched as your shoulders trembled ever so slightly, then sagged as you loosened your hold on the duffel bag. Relief seeped through his bones. For a moment, he was scared you were really going to leave.

Without another word, Logan nodded, stepping back. He turned to walk out of the infirmary, itching for nice, cold beer. Or two. Probably five. Oh, who was he kidding. He could blaze through twenty bottles and barely feel buzzed.

“Logan,” you called out.

He stopped by the doorway without turning.

“Thank you,” you croaked, wiping away a stray tear. A happy one. Maybe you could even ask if the job Charles had offered you was still on the table. 

A minuscule smile played by the corner of his lips. He ducked his head, and strode away.

ONE MONTH LATER.

The snow was thicker than ever before. Nearly everybody was outside, either making rotund little snowmen with carrots for noses or playing a game of dodgeball. You caught sight of Kurt teleporting just above Rogue to dump a large armful of snow atop her head. You huffed out a laugh from behind the window when she started spewing out a long string of curses, cheeks tinted red from the cold.

Movement from your peripheral vision made you turn your head to look out the other window. You were met with the lovely sight of Logan hauling lumber nearly double his size from just over the hill, a layer of snowflakes icing the top of his dark tresses. You shook your head, wondering why he hadn’t asked anyone for help.

Ever the lone wolf, he was.

Commotion from the other window made you turn once more, watching with a snort when the kids began pelting Logan with dozens of snowballs, laughing with unbridled glee. The chuckles died away when the burly man dropped all the wood he was carrying, rolling up his sleeves with a wolfish grin. They screamed, scurrying away whilst hiccuping with laughter. 

“Quite chilly outside,” Charles’ voice broke out from beside you. “Come have a hot chocolate with me.”

“If this is your way of bribing me to grade your classes’ papers, I’ll have you know I’m not easily swayed,” you teased, though fell into step beside him as he led you into his office. “I’ve got my own class to attend to.”

Despite only knowing Charles for around a month now, the two of you have grown very fond of each other. He was like a big brother to you—just as the rest of the X-Men had gradually become your family. 

The professor scoffed. “That was one time! I just wanted your expertise, was all.” He gestured to the array of mugs on his desk, then to the thermos right beside them. “Please, help yourself. Paper grading wasn’t really what I wanted to discuss with you. I have another proposition to make you.”

You arched a brow while pouring the both of you a generous serving of thick, creamy hot chocolate. “Always with the propositions, Charles,” you said, sipping on your drink with a hum. “What is it?”

“I want you to join our missions.”

The lighthearted nature of your conversation visibly seemed to sour. “What?” you asked, placing your mug down. “Charles, I thought we made this clear—”

“You don’t use your powers, yes. I’m well aware. Let me rephrase. I want to help you… er, reacquaint yourself with your abilities. Just to try it out. And perhaps if all goes smoothly, you’d make a remarkably valuable member on our team. I promise, if we try it out and things go south, I’ll let it go. Never speak a word of it to anybody.” There was an earnest tone to his voice, hopeful and contagiously optimistic.

Your finger traced the rim of the mug, pursing your lips in thought. “Just to try it out?”

He nodded. “Just to try it out. I’m curious for you, Y/N. Haven’t you ever wanted to be able to control your powers?”

“More than anything in the entire world,” you murmured quietly, voice cracking. 

It took me a while to control my powers, too, Charles said, but his lips weren’t moving. It took you a moment to realize that he was speaking to you telepathically. The key is patience. And I do believe with enough time, you can gain control of yours as well. Imagine how many children who are struggling with their own mutations you’d be able to help if you had a grasp of your powers. 

“You’re one hell of a motivational speaker,” you snarked after a moment to mull over his offer, despite the smile fiddling at the corner of your lips. “Alright, Charles. You convinced me. When do we start?”

The large, antique grandfather clock in your office merrily trilled thrice just as the hands turned to three in the afternoon. You glanced away from the homework papers you were grading, before filing them away for you to finish off later. You were in need of a long overdue break. Rising from your chair, you groaned softly as your bones popped with the stretch, rolling your shoulders to ease the mild tension. 

Training all night with Charles yesterday certainly took both a physical and mental toll on you.

You needed to get out of your office for a bit—take a walk to clear your head. As you donned your coat and a dark yellow beanie to tuck just over the top of your ears because they grew particularly cold in the harsh winters, you strode out the doors. 

Before you could make your way to the snowy outdoors, you passed by one of the training rooms, where you heard a familiar gruff voice.

Logan was teaching a group of about a dozen kids—self-defense class, if you could recall. He was moving his arms about animatedly, demonstrating with a dummy that seemed to be a brush away from falling apart. The kids were watching with rapt fascination, gasping in unison when Logan speared the poor thing straight through the abdomen. 

A small grin splayed over your features as you leaned against the doorway.

A young boy raised his hand, asking, “When are we gonna be able to practice?”

Logan sheathed his claws and crossed his arms. “I’ll let you practice with your own dummies next week. But for now you just watch and learn—Y/N? What’re you doin’ here?”

Blinking at suddenly being shoved into the spotlight, you sheepishly stepped forward and waved to the kids. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss is about with Mr. Howlett’s famous self-defense class. Heard it’s the students’ second favorite class.”

“Oh, yeah?” Logan chuckled, arching an eyebrow to the rest of the class. “And what would be their favorite, then?”

You grinned. “Mine, of course.” The kids groaned in protest, though laughing at your blatant sarcasm. You waved them away with a roll of your eyes. “Oh, hush. You guys love science.”

Snorting, Logan propped his fists onto his hips and directed a roguish grin towards you. “It’s not a competition—even though they obviously like me better.” He turned back to the dummy with a nod. “Anyways, where was I—er, yes, Rogue?”

The student’s arm was stuck up in the air, an excited grin painted over her lips. “Why don’t you and Professor L/N try dueling each other? I’m sure it’d teach us a lot more than that dummy,” Rogue drawled in her thick Southern accent. The rest of the students murmured their agreement, bobbing their heads to the idea. Besides, they were all curious about your infamous mutation—they’d never seen you in action before.

Immediately, your stomach dropped and you were quick to shake your head just enough for Logan to see. His features seemed to soften with understanding. 

“That’s enough, settle down,” Logan gruffed. “Professor L/N came here to watch, it would be unfair to spring an entire demonstration on them without any warning. The dummy’ll do just fine. Look, it’s in tip-top shape!” His burly fist wrapped around the dummy’s throat.

And the head popped right off.

Logan blinked, stunned. The class burst into laughter. You joined them, hiding a smile behind your palm. Logan watched you keenly, before a crooked smile broke through his rough features, chuckling lowly under his breath.

“I’m sorry about them,” he said, making his way to you once he had dismissed all his pupils (though not before assigning them a butt-load of homework that made all of them groan exasperatedly). “I know you weren’t expecting that.”

Waving his words away, you were quick to shake your head. “No, no, it’s alright. I’m just… not entirely comfortable with using my powers yet. Charles and I are still working through it—I’m not really at the stage of combating an experienced mutant as yourself. Anyways, I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you’ve got a ton of school-related errands to run.”

You crossed your arms with a hesitant quirk of your lips to assure him that you were okay, watching him keenly as he tried to mirror your expression. It came out more as an awkward stretch of his mouth, so he dropped it soon after. 

Logan sucked on the rooftop of his mouth, before stoutly nodding, and turned around to walk away. You’d mentioned he probably had school-related errands to run. Hah. As if Logan ever worked outside of the classes he taught. All he had in mind was to head over to a bar and drink as many beers as the barkeeper would allow him. 

By the time he reached the doorway, Logan abruptly stopped in his tracks. He could feel your eyes watching him go, practically searing the skin on the back of his neck.

“God damn it,” he whispered quietly beneath his breath. He couldn’t just leave you alone. Not when his class thrust you into the spotlight like that. Definitely not because he felt an irrepressible urge to spend more time with you. And especially not because he thought that little grin of yours was so darned cute. Of course not. 

He turned back to you with a set expression, jaw clenched tight. If you didn’t know any better, he appeared to be angry. Or constipated. One of the two.

Either way, you were surprised to hear him addressing you by the doorway, in a brusque tone.

“The school day’s over. I’m heading out to grab a drink. You wanna come with?” 

It took you a moment to respond, a little too frazzled to formulate a coherent thought.

“Yeah,” you finally answered, slightly breathless. Logan pointedly looked away when you beamed at him. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

His thigh was pressed up against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off of him through his jeans. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which leaned against the bar’s countertop, palms cradled around his tenth (or was it his eleventh?) frosty mug of beer.

You were slowly nursing your fifth drink, snorting into the rim when Logan made an off-hand comment about how stupid Scott looked on one of their most recent missions. 

“I take it you don’t like him?”

“Who?” Logan asked, turning his head so he could look at you. Beneath the dim amber-glow of the bar’s lighting, your skin appeared flushed, eyes just a tad brighter. You were too damned close to him. 

Nose wrinkling, you nudged his shoulder with yours. “Scott, dummy.”

His eyebrow rose. “Why, do you want me to like him? Do you like him?”

The questions made you splutter beer all over the counter as you choke-laughed, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “You’re not answering my question, Lo.” You began giggling again, before downing the rest of your mug, swaying slightly on the leather stool. Logan had half a mind to clamp his palm over your thigh to keep you from tipping over. 

“I like Scott, yeah. He’s nice. I know he has a thing for Jean though—I’ve been trying to convince him to ask her out but Scott keeps saying it isn’t the right time. Jean likes him all the same, too. They’re just really stupid.” A fond smile grew on your lips and you began laughing once more. 

Logan watched you in amusement, just before ordering another beer for himself. You were a giggly drunk, Logan realized, as you buried your face into your hands as uncontrollable laughter shook through you.

“Alright, that’s enough drinks for you. What’s got you crackin’ up, bub?” Logan sighed in part-exasperation and part-mirth when you leaned back so far your stool began to capsize. He was quick to shoot his arm out and yank you back forward. This only made you laugh harder, for reasons unbeknownst to him. 

“I just—” You had to pause to heave a breath through your cackling. “Your hair just looks so funny—why does it stand up like that?” 

God, you were so drunk. Your hand reached out to pat down the tufts of hair sticking upwards, but missed the mark and instead brushed over his jaw, slightly prickly with day-old stubble. 

Logan watched you carefully as your laughter died away, a strange look shadowing your once gleeful one. His eyes flickered down to your lips, which were parted ever so slightly in thought. “You look much younger than you used to—back in that tank.” 

Gently, he captured your wrist and stroked his thumb over your palm once, before setting it back down by your side. “Let’s go home. You’re drunk.”

“Yes, sir. ” You mock-saluted as he helped you off the stool and offered his arm when you nearly toppled over your own feet. 

You swayed to and fro when walking back to the mansion, hiccupping between every giggle as you told Logan about this one time Kurt teleported into the kitchen and scared you so badly you hit him with a frying pan. Logan let himself laugh at that one.

By the time the two of you reached your room, a good night was right on the tip of his tongue before it was yanked away from him when you grabbed him by the shirt collar and tugged him towards you in a drunken fashion, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your system. A startled noise fell from his lungs, and the corner of your eyes wrinkled as you smiled. You swiftly planted a soft kiss to his cheek, nose slotted right against his cheekbone. He was frozen to the spot, unsure of how to react. 

“You’re a sweetheart. Good night, Lo,” you murmured into his skin with a lopsided smile. 

You were drunk. So very drunk.

Logan had to remind himself of this when you pulled away. You wouldn’t have done that if you were sober. 

The door groaned as you pushed it open, moonlight spilling over your features. You promptly slammed the door in his face, and he heard you giggling behind it just a second after.

He wasn’t able to snap out of his reverie until an entire minute later. 

“G’night, bub,” he mumbled, knowing full and well that you were probably passed out on top of your bed by now. No doubt you’d have a raging hangover tomorrow. He shook his head, before heading off to his own room, a warm sensation clawing at his chest.

The familiar voice of a certain professor rang out across the kitchen, and you groaned at the sudden noise. The hangover headache pulsating through your skull wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when you had initially woken up, but it was still there. And Charles most certainly wasn’t helping.

“Morning,” he exclaimed with a knowing smile, eyeing you with a look you misliked. You grumbled under your breath, before shoveling a spoonful of scrambled eggs into your mouth so you didn’t have to respond to him. Charles didn’t seem to mind, continuing his amiable chatter. “I noticed you weren’t in last night.”

Humming in confirmation, you lifted your mug to guzzle down more apple juice. 

“Funny coincidence,” Charles quipped, wheeling up right beside you. Without even looking at him, you just knew that his eyebrows were raised suggestively. “Logan was also nowhere in the mansion yesterday.”

You scowled, then set the mug down. “We just had a couple drinks together.”

“Mmh, right.” Charles narrowed his eyes, clearly in disbelief. “Well, nice to see that the two of you have… warmed up to each other. I’ve got to head back now but don’t forget about our session at three—just because you’re hungover doesn’t mean you can skip out on me.”

A discontent noise erupted from your lungs and you stuck your tongue out at his back when he turned away. 

“I saw that,” said Charles, amusement lacing his tone. “Well, I didn’t actually see it. I know you did it, though.”

And with that, he left. 

You groaned, before lowering your head to rest against the cool kitchen countertop. 

A moment later, a voice disrupted the rare-found quiet. Logan. 

“You alright, bub?”

When you lifted your face up, you blinked away the colorful blurs spotting your vision, Logan coming into view. He was wearing a simple white tank top tucked into a pair of faded jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. You eyed his biceps warily, which glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. You swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat. 

“I’m good. What’re you up to?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Logan replied sheepishly. “Was in the training room all night.”

He leaned against the doorway, a mild smile itching at his lips upon observing your disheveled state. Your hair was mussed, wearing a simple wrinkly white shirt and a pair of grey shorts. The expression on your face told him that you were still working off the hangover.

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked, patting the seat beside you.

Logan pursed his lips, before moving towards you. “Yeah,” he said, swinging his leg over the chair. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The cold of the porcelain sent a shiver up your spine as you slumped against the toilet seat, grumbling under your breath. Logan watched you keenly as he dampened a towel, bunching it up in his hand, kneeling down in front of you. 

Your first mission as an X-Man was nothing short of disastrous.

You’d warned Charles—told him you weren’t ready to use your powers in an uncontrolled setting—but he’d assured you that you’d be fine. Besides, the rest of your teammates were there for you.

Except the Brotherhood had taken down everybody else and you were the last person standing—and you lost control of your powers. Again.

It wasn’t until Logan stumbled towards you, pushing through the tornado of glass shards whirling around your hyperventilating form, barely even noticing the cuts appearing over his skin. His healing factor was quick to weave together the broken skin—all that mattered was getting to you. Your explosive powers were enough to severely alarm the Brotherhood, and they thankfully retreated soon after your outburst, though he doubted they’d stay away for too long. 

Logan had grabbed you, pulling you close until your face was flush against his chest, cradling you atop the cold, hardened dirt, mumbling sweet nothings that you couldn’t really make out into your hair. When the air stilled, you pulled your face away, tear-stricken and bloodied. 

The incident was far too similar to the first time you used your powers—when your best friend’s life was taken as a consequence. 

A single, searing tear meandered down your face at the memory, and you bit down on your lip to quell the sob rising in your throat. 

“Hey, bub.” Logan took your chin between his fingers, grounding you back to reality. It was just him and you—in a small bathroom. He was close, so close that you could see the buzzing lights reflected in the burnt umber of his irises, or how he had a small, faded birthmark just beside his left eye. He tilted your head up so you’d meet his concerned gaze. “It’s okay. You did good. You drove ‘em away. We would’ve all been in hot shit if it weren’t for you. Storm was knocked unconscious, Kitty and Rogue had their powers stripped away, Scott was no match against Quicksilver, and the rest of us were this close to being ripped apart. You did good.”

Your stomach lurched uneasily. “Feels more like I fucked everything up. I told Charles I wasn’t ready.”

Instead of a reply, Logan merely sighed, shaking his head. Softly he swiped the damp towel across the bloody gashes on your face, his fingers on your chin moving to cup your other cheek. His palm was cold against the flushed heat of your face.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered, the usual gruff tone of his voice nowhere to be found. “Wish you had the healing factor instead of me.”

“Nah,” you replied softly, wincing as you leaned forward, closer to him. The large slash over your abdomen from a broken metal pipe Magneto sent hurtling your way burned with every shift of your body. “You’d be dead a thousand times over if it weren’t for your healing factor. And I’m really glad you’re not dead.”

The towel on your cheekbone paused for a second. Logan scrutinized you for a moment, before returning to the task at hand. “Yeah, I guess I’m glad, too.”

A comfortable silence thickened between the two of you, only interrupted by your quiet groans of pain, which were always followed up by Logan’s sheepish apology.

“I still haven’t graded the kids’ homework papers—they’re expecting it back on Monday,” you gritted out, hand shooting forward to grip Logan’s shoulder, nails digging into his collarbone when he moved down to clean up the shallow wound across your torso. 

He quirked an eyebrow towards you in amusement. “You’re crazy, you know that? Almost died today and all you’re thinkin’ about is grading papers. Pfft.”

“That’s not all I’m thinking about,” you weakly protested, smacking his hand away when he playfully pinched your thigh.

After wiping away all the crusted blood and dirt on your brand new X-Men suit, he was satisfied to see that your gash wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. He hauled himself onto the edge of the bathtub so he was sitting right across from you. “Yeah? What else are you thinking about?”

“You.” The single word came out as nothing but a low mutter. 

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried,” he replied with a roguish grin, pupils darting between your eyes and your raw-bitten lips. 

You huffed out a laugh. “Maybe both.” His forehead leaned against yours as you breathed him in, relishing in his calming presence. “I really like you, Lo.”

Those five words were what spurred him to push forward, slanting his lips onto yours, stealing your breath away. You made a small noise of surprise, before practically melting into him, looping your sore arms over his neck and tugging him all the closer. He kissed you slowly, careful about where to place his hands, because your body was littered with fresh scars. He settled on just above your waist, smoothing his thumbs out over the back of your ribs, as if to constantly reassure himself that you were here. You were okay.

His nose bumped into yours, and it hurt to smile—oh, it practically burned with each kiss—but you smiled into him anyway. Because for Logan, it was worth the pain.

“Ow,” you lightly complained when he accidentally knocked his knee against your busted one. “Watch it, old man.”

A growl caught in his throat. “You know, I was gonna say I really liked you, too, but I don’t think that applies anymore.”

You burst into a fit of laughter, clutching at your stomach a second later, moaning out with pain. “Don’t make me laugh! You ass!”

He could only smile at that, roping you towards him once more with his fingers anchored over your jaw. This time, the kiss was hot and heavy, more confident. Your hands ran through his hair, gently tugging at his roots, which made pleasant shivers spider down his spine. It was needy with want, his kisses wandering from your lips to the apples of your cheeks, to your trembling throat. 

The hand on your back was only starting to traverse downwards when the door flung open, revealing a smug Rogue and an awfully mortified Kurt just behind her.

“I knew it! I knew y’all were a thing!” Rogue called out, clapping her hands excitedly. “Scott totally owes me twenny bucks!”

She scuttled away gleefully, leaving the blue elf staring at the two of you with wide, amber eyes, completely still.

“You can close the door, Kurt,” you hesitantly told him, before Logan could snarl out something unsavory. You were uncomfortably perched halfway between the toilet seat and Logan’s lap, with his hand flush over your ass. 

“Er… right… I’ll just use the bathroom upstairs,” he breathily stumbled, before teleporting away in a hazy cloud of sulphuric fumes. 

“Damn elf didn’t close the door. Of fuckin’ course.” Logan groaned, pulling himself away from you with a scowl. “You alright, darlin’?”

An embarrassed grin replaced the initial shock of being found. “Yeah, I think so. You?”

“Worst night of my life. The entire school’s gonna know by tomorrow,” Wolverine grumbled, before fondly glancing towards you. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, though.”

You hobbled up with his support, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheek. “You think the entire team bet money on us?”

“Oh, yeah,” Logan chortled as he helped you out of the communal bathroom, heading upstairs to your bedroom. “Charlie bet a hundred bucks on us. I heard him talking to Storm about it.”

You side-eyed him with amusement. “So did he win?”

“Nope,” Logan said, popping the ‘p’, looking far too smug to be ripping away a hundred dollars from his old friend. “Thought neither of us would have the balls to confess until next month.”

“You’re sick,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Did you kiss me just to spite him?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” countered Logan, shoving the door to your room open with his shoulder. “Professor losing a hundred bucks was just the cherry on top, you know?”

You sank onto your bed, dragging Logan with you, barely giving him enough time to slam the door shut. “Yeah,” you mumbled, pulling him into yet another kiss. “You’re awful, Lo.”

“Love you, too.”

Placing your hand on his chest, you pulled away hesitantly, unsure if you heard him right. “Yeah?”

Logan smiled, all warm and genuine. “Yeah.”