#but in my defense i have been busy so i haven’t drawn as much as I’ve wanted to

[gffa]

It has been a whole entire week since I posted my previous set of recs and guess who is still hip deep in BATFAMILY fic and really wants to cry about feelings about all the Bats and Birds, but most especially my beloved Dick Grayson? I enjoy fic of all the characters, there should hopefully be something for most fans here, I eventually spread my wings a bit (ha ha) through the fandom, but absolutely I feel I should warn you all that I play favorites and I’m not subtle about it. In my defense he’s really annoying in the most delightful way, how could I not love him the most? So, here, have week #2’s recs where I dump 60+ more fics on you because this fandom is on fucking fire with how good it is and how much I love everyone here. God bless fic writers, you are all doing the lord’s work of giving me three novels worth a week to read and knocking it out of the park while you do it. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ The Painful Truth by RascalJoy (DarkQuill), dick & bruce & wally & artemis & m'gann & conner & dinah, 6.2k      In a mission gone wrong, Robin finds himself being forcefully interrogated under…influence. “Now, you’re probably wondering why we haven’t just yanked your mask off and been done with this whole thing, hmm? It’s because this way is so much more fun.” ✦ a home not yet a home by Mayarenerose, dick & bruce, 1.1k      Dick just likes climbing to the roof sometimes. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He doesn’t. He just needs to be high up sometimes. He likes looking at the stars. Stars are hard to come by in the city and you need to be high up to even see them properly. ✦ Friends That Say (You’re Not Alone) by ProsperDemeter, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 3.5k      Richard. The kid. Richard Grayson. Clark didn’t feel ready to meet the child that Bruce took in. What if he was a mini-Bruce? What in the world would Clark do then? ✦ Taking Flight: A Tragicomedy in Four Acts by WingFeathers, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 48.7k      John and Mary Grayson die; Dick becomes Robin. This is everything that happens in between, a/k/a, how Gotham City ripped one family and identity from Dick and gave him another. An origin story in the Rebirth spirit, weaving together threads from Tec #40, Dark Victory, Robin: Year One, New 52, and more. ✦ Motion Sickness by Arwriter, dick & bruce & cast, 4.2k      A routine patrol is interrupted when Robin realizes he’s being followed. There’s no attack, no ambush, no weapons drawn. Dick doesn’t understand what this man wants, or why his gentle touch hurts so bad. But Batman seems to know, and Dick just wants someone to tell him what he did wrong. ✦ do as I say (not as I do) by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 1.1k      “Don’t be mad.” Bruce has been raising Dick long enough to know that that sentence never bodes well. Especially when it’s the first thing to pop out of the twelve-year-old’s mouth when Bruce answers the phone. ✦ Burn Rubber by HoodEx, dick & bruce & roy, 3.5k      Roy couldn’t help but feel out of place like his presence was keeping Bruce from acting like himself. Whatever “himself” looked like. Bruce had always been a bit of a cold asshole anytime Roy had been around him. Even when Bruce talked to Dick, there was a barrier there that made their conversations seem strictly business. Some part of Roy had always wondered if Bruce was the same way with Dick at home. For Dick’s sake, he sure hoped not. OR the one where Roy gets to see Bruce act like a dad. Also, there are cars. Lots of cars. ✦ Surprise, You’re Adopted by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce, 1.8k      Dick gets kidnapped. Bruce gets worried. Things turn out alright in the end, though. ✦ without you i am surely the last of my kind by nosecoffee, dick & bruce & clark & j'onn, 6.6k      (Bruce Wayne also knows how it feels to be a scared little boy who just watched his parents die, telepathic mind meddling aside, and has had his eyes fixed on Dick Grayson since his parents fell, so of course he’s going to get him. It’s all he can do.) (Or, Dick Grayson is a traumatised alien empath with bad timing, and Bruce Wayne still needs to learn how to verbalise his emotions.) ✦ The Bone Road by scpnightwing, dick & bruce & alfred, 63.8k wip      By night, Robin was his partner in crime, but once the sun rose, all Dick could be was a mirror of his tragedy, haunting his halls and asking for more than Bruce had in him to give. (The early days of Batman and Robin, and the many mistakes therein) BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ The Shape Of You (Was Jagged And Weak) by WinterSky101, dick & bruce & jason & tim & slade & cast, 40.6k      Six months ago, Nightwing died. They never found the body. Last week, Deathstroke arrived in Gotham. He brought a partner with him. ✦ We Were Built to Fall Apart by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & tim, 1.2k      Dick is hurt, tired, and ready to let go. Bruce doesn’t seem to be ready to let him. ✦ It’s a Wonderful Earth-218 by BeatriceEagle, dick & bruce & past dick/babs & cast, 7.4k      As Blüdhaven burns, Dick makes a wish that he’d never been born. He wakes up in a world where that’s true, being followed around by a supervillain who just really wants to get back to taking over the world. ✦ the higher fidelity by birdsofthesoul, dick & bruce & damian, 3.6k      Bruce goes sheet-white, looking like Dick’s just cut him to the quick, and Dick can’t help but think they should have booked a flight, discretion be damned. This — this is why they don’t do road trips. Cars are like confessionals, cramped spaces built for coercing confessions, and neither of them are good with words. ✦ Theory of Relativity by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & jason & cast, de-aged!dick, 2.2k wip      In which Dick Grayson gets de-aged and everybody freaks out ✦ hold the fort (for i am coming) by deargalileo, dick & bruce & jason & tim & duke, de-aged!dick, 3.6k      Jason’s jaw dropped. The tiny human child toddled in front of him, gripping at his pant legs. Automatically, he bent his knees slightly. The child lost its grip, and fell flat onto its ass. They both froze. The child’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. “No no no, don’t cry,” Jason rushed out. He leaned down and scooped the child into his arms. “Don’t cry, okay?” The child grabbed onto his shoulder as Jason settled it (him?) onto his upper hip. Big, blue eyes blinked up at him, shining with unshed tears. When the fuck did B have the time to adopt a new kid? ✦ There’s Always Another One by lapsedpacifist, dick & hal (& bruce), 2.5k      After Bruce kicked Dick out, there was a very particular place Dick decided to visit. Well, visit, hide in, it was all one and the same. He could do it without Bruce! Just a shame Hal was finished with his assignment a week earlier than anticipated. ✦ The True Sons of Batman by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & damian & jason & talia & cast, 10.8k      What if Dick Grayson was Bruce Wayne’s biological son? ✦ Hey! He Attempted a Coup! by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & clark & justice league & zod, 3.1k      What if Dick Grayson was a Kryptonian? ✦ Unsteady by 60sec400, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cast, 14.8k      Nightwing is 22 when he’s hit by, well, something. They haven’t actually figured that out yet. But now he’s ten years old and a child and Damian struggles to see the man who he had looked to as a father forget who he ever was. De-aged fic. AU. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Mirage (What I See In You) by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & damian, 3.4k      Grayson’s gaze flicks upwards to meet his, and suddenly his expression softens. He smiles. “It’s okay,” he says, the movement of his lips clear even if his voice sounds like it’s coming through a broken radio. Suddenly, he’s pressing a rebreather to Damian’s face. His own rebreather, whole and unbroken. ✦ The Dog Days Are Done by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & cast, 3k      Dick is a good guy. He is. He knows that. Just like he knows that bribing your wayward, animal-loving, emotionally-traumatized brother to come see you with a puppy is exactly what all good guys do. That was a fact. ✦ To the Moon by theLiterator, dick & damian, 9k      A newly resurrected Damian Wayne does not believe Dick Grayson is dead. Spyral has been quietly helping to deal with the aftermath of Leviathan’s reign of terror and is wary of clones. Dick Grayson does not believe Damian Wayne is alive. (Together they fight crime, but’s always been true, hasn’t it?) ✦ Redemption Lies Plainly in Truth by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & damian, 6.2k      Damian tries to pull his wrist out of his grasp. Any other time, Dick would let him go without hesitation, always careful to make sure his personal space is respected. This time, he catches his other wrist as well, gentle but firm as he crouches down to make eye contact. “Hey,” he says, smiling gently. “Do you trust me?” ✦ whether you’re high or low by Anonymous, dick & damian & jason, 1.9k      Dick’s first visit back to Gotham in a while ends with a shattered TV screen and more questions than answers for Damian and Jason. ✦ wrap myself in a thin sheet of ice by emavee, dick & damian, 3.3k      Damian falls victim to a witch’s curse, giving him a week to live before his heart turns to ice. There is a cure, but there’s no way someone like Damian would ever receive a kiss of true love. ✦ as love carries its strength, but not its labels by AlterHarpia, dick & damian, 2.7k      Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I’m not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ Say Uncle by Megaerakles, tim & jason & bruce & dick & steph & cast, 46.3k      Tim is prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that Bruce will not feel obligated to adopt Tim when a comatose Jack Drake inevitably dies. But what could be better than preventing Bruce from ending up with a son he doesn’t want? Bringing back the one he does. Jason agrees to the Replacement’s stupid, stupid plan to invite some strange adult man he’s never met to come live with him, if only to keep the idiot alive long enough for him to serve his purpose in the Great Red Hood Revenge Scheme. Might this new roommate situation have an impact on either of their worldviews? Surely not… ✦ Ain’t No Compass, Ain’t No Map by ebjameston, tim & jason & dick & cast, outsider pov, 51.8k      A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood’s lieutenant, and an intern who’s promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It’s a weird day for Theo. ✦ The Longer You Stay by emiv, bruce/selina & dick & jason & tim, 64.3k      Bruce Wayne was never meant to be part of Selina’s clean slate. Then again, neither were a circus boy, a street rat or a rich kid. For a girl who didn’t like strings, Selina found herself getting attached. ✦ Falling, Catching by Freezer7, dick & jason/roy, 4k      The call comes in at two thirty-four am, on Dick’s first night off in three weeks. ✦ Piñata by Maximum_Quinn, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & steph & duke, 2.2k      “I found… something weird today.” “Weird how?” “I was checking out that half-destroyed apartment building today, and there was, like… papier-mâché everywhere? In Robin colors.” (Duke learns about an odd tradition between the Bats and the Rogues.) ✦ Five Times Dick Was Tim’s Safety Net and One Time Tim Was Dick’s by PrinceJakeFireCake, dick & tim, 5.2k      “Tim forced his gaze away from his phone, took a moment to breathe deeply, then tried to figure out the best way not to die anytime soon. For Bruce. For Alfred. For his friends. For Dick.” Dick has always been there for Tim, even before they knew each other. ✦ wet teeth, shining eyes, glimmering by a fire (who will i be tonight?) by lifetimeoflaughter, dick & jason & cast, 2.3k      They’re standing on a rooftop. It’s not very high up; only about ten floors, give or take. The moon isn’t out tonight. It’s dark. It’s too dark to tell if it’s blood that’s dripping from Jason’s gloved fists. ✦ smeared with oil (like david’s boy) by call_me_steve, bruce & dick & tim & damian, de-aged!damian, 2.1k      Dick’s leaning over the edge of the couch, watching a tired Bruce stare lovingly down at the baby cradled in his arms. The baby’s swaddled in soft green blankets, probably procured by Alfred at some point or another. It’s hard to believe that this is actually Damian- Damian, and his big, bright, brown eyes; his soft, baby hair; his pudgy cheeks and small fingers. Clear of a snarl and frown and, instead, reduced to soft babbles and the occasional giggle. In his chest, Dick’s heart flutters. He feels his breath stop for all of a moment- God, this kid already has him wrapped around his finger. “Can I hold him?” ✦ There in the Sudden Blackness by CamsthiSky, dick & tim & damian, 1.7k      Tim and Dick argue, and at the end, Tim’s not actually sure if either of them actually won. ✦ The Mechanics of a Hug by incogneat_oh, dick & tim & damian & bruce, 4.1k      “So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.” ✦ Taking Care of Business by Nokomis, dick & tim, 1.7k      Tim (only somewhat reluctantly) accompanies Dick on an undercover mission at an Elvis convention. ✦ where were you when I was king in this part of town? by Cerusee, dick & jason & bruce, 4k      The teen sitting next to him had mostly polished off his pork noodles, and he was eyeing Nightwing’s. Nightwing handed them over without a word. “Why,” he said, more to himself than the kid, “why, oh, why do I feel like I know you?” Because you do, came the unbidden thought. ✦ head in the clouds by Alienu, dick & jason & tim & damian, 4.7k      “Hey,” Tim says out of the blue. “Has anyone ever noticed that Damian has, like, weirdly sharp canines?” Dick makes a face. “What?” he asks. Then seems to think about it a little more, and says, “Oh, I mean… kind of? I don’t really pay attention to his teeth.” He turns to Damian. “Robin, let me see your teeth.” The kid growls. “I’m not afraid to bite you, Nightwing.” “Furry,” Jason coughs. Damian throws a batarang at him. ✦ A little more heart and soul by ruesyblues, dick & jason & damian, 2k      What do you do when the brother you raised and loved and left now seems to be withdrawing and you want the best for him but you’re not sure if you did the right thing and oh fuck what if you made a mistake?? (Dick wants Damian to be happy. He just has no clue how to accomplish that.) ✦ To Reconcile by CasualDanger, dick & jason, 2.4k      “Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?” ✦ damian clone triplets!!! by drakefeathers, dick & bruce & damian, 2.1k      Bruce finds and rescues three baby Damian clones~!!! babies~!! ✦ fear toxin (◡‿◡✿) by drakefeathers, dick & bruce & jason & tim & cass & steph & damian & alfred, 3.6k      six drabbles about batkids crying and screaming after being dosed with scarecrow’s fear gas~ (⊙‿⊙✿) ✦ Two Birds, One Stone(d) by MichaBerry, tim(/kon) & bruce & dick & jason & alfred, 5.8k      After a drugs bust gone sideways, Tim is a very high little bird. Cue shenanigans and family bonding. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once, tim/kon & damian/jon & dick & jason & bruce & cast, nsfw, 22.4k      Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And- Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t- BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Hard Truths and Other Realities by CKBookish, dick & bruce & jason & clark & wally & cast, 113.6k wip      Clark shifted his weight making the floorboards creak and groan under his feet. “Dick I hate to see you–” He paused searching for the right word. Dick snorted. “Wallow?” Clark sighed. “That’s not what I was going to say.” “I know. I can go to the barn and hang out there if I’m bothering you and Lois.” Dick pushed himself up. Of course he should have thought of that. Lois didn’t want some random teen laying around her home on Christmas Eve. ✦ You Won’t Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & damian & jason & tim, 5.2k      Dick’s captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ The Robin Manual by lurkinglurkerwholurks, dick & bruce & damian, 2.3k      Bad days were nothing new. Most of the time, he could feel them coming the way a swimmer could feel the approach of something huge beneath the surface of the water. The pressure would start to build, tugging at him like undertow by the shore, and it was always a gamble to see how long he could tarry before the pull yanked him under. ✦ the world is ending and i’m still numb by Arwriter, dick & bruce & jason & tim & alfred & cass & stephanie & damian & barbara & duke & cast, rape aftermath/read the tags, 20.7k      She’s gone, and he’s home, but Dick doesn’t know how to move on. He isn’t alone, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to ask for help. ✦ Up High by CamsthiSky, dick & damian, ~1k      “Grayson, what are you doing up here?” Dick shrugs, a sad smile pulling at his lips. He’d stopped asking that when his feet first started to take him up here years ago. “I like the view.” ✦ here comes the rain again by pocketofsky, dick & jason & tim & damian, rape aftermath/read the tags, 14.1k      Dick doesn’t patrol when it rains. Not since Blüdhaven. And everyone knows that, but they don’t know why. Or: Dick slowly but surely confronts his trauma. Now featuring: a train, pain, and a lot of rain. ✦ Happy Little Bluebirds Fly Beyond the Rainbow (Why Oh Why Can’t I) by honeycombclaire, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass, 26.9k      After being subjected to the Mad Hatter’s dream machine, Dick gets stuck in a dream world where he finally has everything he wants. His parents are alive, his family is together, and he still gets to be Nightwing. Everything is perfect. Using the machine, the Bats invade Dick’s mind to bring him back. They don’t expect to find out just how much Dick has been hurting. ✦ Maybe, just maybe, he should call Bruce…Nah. by memearchive, dick & bruce & jason & tim, rape aftermath/read the tags, 5.8k      “Yeah, 34 deaths, 35 including Blockbuster, is a lot. Yeah, his home and everything he owns is gone. Yeah, his safehouses and everything in those are all ash, too. Yeah, yeah, yeah, he gets it- but he’s dealt with loss before, and maybe 34 is a bit high, and maybe he could have stopped Tarantula, but he’s never been like this before. Not even after his parents’ deaths, and that’s a terrifying thought. Was this really the thing that broke him?” ✦ right through my walls by wingdingery, dick & bruce & barbara & jason & alfred, 6.6k      Sure, yes, Bruce and Jason attacked Dick and left him injured—but they were under the effects of fear toxin, so it wasn’t really them. Dick’s gone enough rounds with fear toxin to understand that. He’s perfectly fine with what happened. Now if only the rest of the family would believe him. ✦ gray by iselsis, dick & bruce, 1k      Grief demands to be felt, but Dick doesn’t have to be alone. ✦ How Far Love Goes by BeatriceEagle, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & barbara, comics violence as child abuse/read the tags, 99.5k      Plenty of family reunions end in fighting. Not that many end in explosions. A mass Arkham breakout brings all of Bruce’s children home, and with them, all the drama, secrets, and anger they’ve been keeping for years. Amidst rising tensions and a mysterious new threat in Gotham, the family has to work together to round up the rogues—and confront their feelings about each other. BATFAM FIC RECS - THROW BABY DICK AT BATTISON, C'MON DO IT, IT’LL BE HILARIOUS: ✦ romanticize a quiet life by lwbones123, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.7k      it’s parent teacher conference day for battinson and his robin ✦ when i call you come home by lwbones123, dick & bruce & alfred & jim, 3.2k      ummm battinson and his robin and angst and hurt/comfort idk how to summarize this one so you just have to trust me ✦ Dark by Cant_Smoke_Eggs, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.9k      aka Baby Dickie thinks Bruce is a Vampire. Bruce thinks he’s figured out he’s Batman. Misunderstandings and Identity reveals ensue. ✦ Just Two Dads Having a Chat by red_jaebyrd, dick & bruce & clark & kon, 1.5k      “I’m not giving you an interview, Kent.” “You always say that, and I always tell you that I’m not here for an interview,” Kent laughed, not at all bothered by Bruce’s aloofness. “We’re just two dads at soccer practice having a chat.” ✦ I Don’t Think Like I Should by shipNslash, jim & barbara & dick & bruce & cast, 13.2k      Featuring unmasking vigilantes as a father-daughter bonding activity, awkward small talk between two dads (both at crime scenes and PTA meetings), and Babs and Dick’s natural progression from classmates to besties in the name of chaos. This is a direct sequel to I’m a Good Pretender but can be read as a stand alone.

[starkitters]

✨Hello!✨

👁 You’ve been visited by the Oc Cryptid of Knowledge! 👁

💀Someone wants to know more… MORE, MORE! ABOUT YOUR OC(s)!💀

📖Knowledge is powerful. Here’s what they want to know.📖

11. Who was your first oc? (Oooh…!)

23. Which oc of yours has the BEST fashion? (Aaahhh!)

31. Tell us about an oc/canon ship you have! (How lovely!)

44. Which oc of yours has the most meaning behind their name? (Sparkly…!)

HEWWO???? HEWWO ANON YOU JUST OPENED THE FLOODGATES—

I had to sit here for awhile like “Fuck who do I talk about—” because oh lordy I have way too many ocs across different fandoms. I’ll… probably go with Megaman ocs to make things simple?? But depending on the question I’ll throw a few other ocs into the mix. 11. If we’re talking about the very first oc I ever created? That would have to be my girl Alex Storm, who I. have not drawn recently I need to get on that huh. She started out as like… a general self insert and ended up becoming an original oc who’s story I’m still working on on and off.

If you mean like, fandom wise? The first MegaMan oc I ever made was actually Float Woman! I haven’t posted about her or the other DTNs as much as I’d like to, but I got the idea to make her after getting introduced to Blast Man (and mega man in general) through watching @milosdumb stream MM11. I just thought it would be funny to make an Uraraka/Uravity kinnie since Blast Man was basically Bakugo under Wily’s control. 23. Mmm… Okay I wouldn’t say she has the “best” fashion, but I think it’s my Pokemon oc Cassiopeia? She generally wears formal/business wear, but that’s. Kinda because she’s the leader of an “evil team” so LMAO. Gotta keep up appearances, plus she likes to look her best in general. Most of my other ocs wear varying styles of casual clothing, and usually range from goth to kinda futuristic to all of the above.

31. HOW ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE ME CHOOSE ONE I HAVE WAY TOO MANY—

Okay so in the case of MM classic, I have at least 3 ships? 4 if you include a more self-indulgent self insert one. This is absolutely subject to change because I am a multishipper and I really enjoy playing with different character dynamics. MM X I really only have one so far, but that is also subject to change. Pokemon… Really only 1 as well since I don’t have too many Poké-ocs, but that’s going to change super fast because I have Ideas™.

I guess since I can only talk about one I. Guess I could talk about BluesJazz?? Uuuh I dunno how in depth I’ll go with it but.

I guess for a little bit of context, Jazz is one of my other MM ocs. I do plan to go more in depth about her at some point but I guess to start, she was built some time after Blues was but about a couple of years before he took off, cuz like. There had to have been other “””prototypes””” after Blues that’s just common sense. you don’t have one “perfect” prototype and start mass-producing, there had to have been other tests by other people. bUT ANYWAY I’M GETTING OFF TRACK BACK TO SHIPPY STUFF—

For the most part I’ve been categorizing their relationship as “Annoyances to lovers” + “We need to stop meeting like this”? Like, the two of them keep running into each other at inopportune times, Plus I’m gonna be honest both of these idiots (affectionate) are snarky in their own way and can be equally as defensive. I genuinely love the idea that these two ultimately become a “bickering married couple”, but it definitely takes some time and effort from both parties. I dunno their dynamic is really fun and I want to talk about it more at some point. 44. I’m going to be 100% honest, depending on the oc I don’t think too too hard about the name? Some of my ocs have do have names that have some sort of meaning behind them (sometimes unintentionally), but a lot of the time I just pick a name that I like or fits with the media, or I just kinda go “Oh. Oh that’s fun.”

The later is especially true for MegaMan ocs, since. Most of the Robot Masters have two word names?? For the most part you really only have to think about what their job is, and base the name off of that.

Off the top of my head, I think one of the ocs I put some of the most thought into name wise was my Lego Monkie Kid oc Ao Qingyun/Feng Yún? Mainly because I haven’t had an oc with a chinese name up until this point, and I wanted to make sure that not only was I was respectful, but her name made sense when it came to being cloud/sky themed. Honestly I’m still not. entirely sure if I did it right if I’m being entirely honest.

[soysaucevictim]

“it feels like my brain (was floating in a fishtank)”

(See warnings/summary on Ao3.)

[ Prologue/Start ]

Chapter 1: Falling Awake

It didn’t know what home was supposed to feel like anymore. So, the ocean called it westward, toward the Pacific. 

The only thing it truly knew was hunger.

Along the way, it would feed and feed and feed...

-

Within the first month that the Espinozas arrived, Janus had everyone assembled in the dining hall. Fancy dishes lined the table they all sat at.

Janus clinked a wine glass to take the floor, “I’m pleased you continue to accept me as host. Despite some… differing opinions.”

Vee sat there to the side, arms crossed, not bothering to take the bait.

Carrie looked like she wanted to say something, but Remus spoke up enthusiastically, “Well you did hide a body for us!”

Vee moved to cover Patton’s ears about that, in futility. The child still gasped, astonished.

Ellis chimed in, “Care to elucidate why you have gathered us here? Admittedly, I wish to finish some experiments I was running.”

Janus cleared their throat, “… of course, I would never want to cut into your precious time, Elle.”

Ellis looked at them with a touch of annoyance.

Janus elaborated, “Well, this is mostly for our new guests’ benefit. I wish to tell you some of the house rules.”

Remus groaned and Vic sympathetically patted his shoulder. Carrie spoke, “I was wondering about that... ma’am?”

Janus chuckled a little bit, “That address is more than fine, Mrs. Espinoza. I’m not terribly fussed with others, as well. To the point, we don’t get many… visitors that aren’t staff, around here.”

Vee grumbled, “For good reason…”

Roman twiddled his thumbs as Janus continued, “I carefully vet all who enter my properties – there’s no telling what they may hide. I do hope you all understand.”

Roman nodded, “Y-”

Remus cackled, “You honestly think I’d drag some random asshole over here? How many people do you think I-we even know, Snakey?”

Carrie prodded Remus lightly before responding, “Duly noted, ma’am.”

Vic acknowledged them, so Remus begrudgingly followed.

Janus added, “For similar reasons, you must not tell anyone about the Brood or this location that I haven’t already cleared.”

There was a brief pause to accept that, before Janus continued.

They pointedly looked at the twins’ parents, their tone chilling by the end, “Also note, I have many figurative plates to spin, so I’m not always going to be fully present to check on you. My trust is freely given to you four – but it will not be easy to earn back should you break it.”

The Espinozas nodded again as Janus continued on with a few more of their rules.

They all eventually got to eating without further incident.

-

Vic being the most “normal” of the group felt like a tether to the Espinoza’s lives from before . He tried not to dwell on it, to varying degrees of success.

He was sorely tempted to come to Carrie’s defense whenever Vee gave her the stink-eye. She stopped him before he could. The boat was already rocking enough.

He wondered how the guy would get along with his sons. Beasts’ experiences were on an entirely other wavelength to Vic, so he was never quite sure of the state of things.

When his kids outed themselves, it reminded him of just how little he truly knew. He was before a dam brimming with strangeness and terror, and Steve broke it all down. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

He was reminded that a mere half foot of rushing water can knock a grown man down. And he was losing his footing.

-

It had been a couple months since their introduction, and Roman was minding his own business, soaking in a new find from Downtown Disneyland.

He wasn’t going to outright admit that he was there to case the joint for a much larger heist, someday. The thought had him starry eyed, as he jangled a ring of old and new beautiful key chains. He didn’t have anything concrete planned, nor even a timeline, but he was drawn to the idea ever since his last marathon.

During the little adventure, Roman carefully tucked in a couple coffee mugs into his jacket, keeping his eyes trained away from the pin displays. He eventually saw another guest take the last Nightmare Before Christmas piece in the store. Once he glimpsed his name written on it, he knew he had to have them. He tailed them a while after they bought their things and left. This person made the mistake of stuffing it in a half-open backpack, very easy to just reach into without detection.

He could just brush behind them when they got distracted and take it. But he had a deep need to see their reaction to it, too. Make just enough of a scene to realize it and leave before he could get caught.

They were heading for a cafe, Roman took the opportunity to swipe it first. None the wiser.

They took their order and a seat, resting the backpack on the floor next to them and started to mess with one of those fancy new smartphones. Roman had gotten close enough to get his “tail” to spill its contents all over the floor and voila, snack time for his Horror.

It all went flawlessly. Their confusion was priceless as he walked away, caressing his prize. There was constant mental noise telling him it wasn’t particularly admirable. He was able to mostly ignore it, this time.

When he got back to the estate, he was never really alone. Vee had taken to hovering in the corner of his vision and disappearing whenever Roman looked back. It was a little unnerving.

Eventually, Roman snapped at him, “What’s your damage, Jack Smellington!?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I just want to make sure you don’t do anything stupid!”

Roman jangled the chain teasingly, “Are you talking about this? You want it?”

“YES. I mean no! I mean- SHUT UP! Humans can NOT know we exist. And don’t get me started on Heroes!”

Roman froze a moment, “If this is gonna be about Mom again, I’m not hearing it.”

Vee was dripping in sarcasm, “DO Forgive me for being a little worried here!”

Roman grew sullen, “If you’re going to tell me about how dangerous Heroes are, drop it. I already got a good fucking round of that before we got here.”

Vee opened his mouth and closed it a couple times before talking again, “… you really did get marked by one of them, huh?”

“Correctamundo! And I’m really trying not to think about how to fix that right now, thank you very much.”

Vee looked like he was going to say something else before saying, “Mais gardez donc! The walking target board has neon lights attached to it.”

Roman made a shooing motion, grumbling, “Ah bueno.”

When Vee melded back into those shadows, Roman tried to get back to treasuring his little haul.

In his chest, the thrumming of Steve’s vile energy was constant. It gnawed at him while in the store, one glance at the wrong displays and it would be like Mowgli versus Kaa. Embarrassing at best, and... he’d already known the worst. At least, he thought he did.

Steve was dead. The curse remained.

-

Given that almost a quarter of the Espinoza-Banaag’s extended family had served, Memorial Day was a thing observed in the memory of those who died or whom had lost their friends. It usually was a day where the families would come together and commiserate. A number of Carrie’s aunts and uncles, and her Lolo, Datu, being among the remembered. 

There was often a delicious potluck of Filipino, Costa Rican, Mexican, and a few other cuisines. Barbecue was a go to, it was fun smelling the grill firing up and mingling with the neighbors. Sometimes the neighbors would go to the Espinoza house and exchange even more food and recipes.

The memories were great and always a little chaotic. Roman and Remus concocting some mischief with their cousins, their parents chatting it up with siblings and in-laws. They all enjoyed those gatherings.

As the day approached, the Espinozas weren’t sure if they were up for it. Mostly, Carrie and Roman weren’t sure. Still very much on edge about how much all their lives were turned upside down the past year. It was Vic and Remus that convinced them to continue the tradition. Vic stated that some normalcy was needed and Remus just wanted to hog all the food.

A concession was made to limit these get-togethers to holiday events, for the most part. Or to at least consider this a test run, for the first time since Roman and Remus experienced their Devourings, since before Carrie and Vic knew what their children truly were. The twins were told to try to keep their abilities under wraps, in their company. It earned some grumbling, more from Remus, though.

Vic was getting impatient and wanted to let the rest of their families know not to worry about what was going on. This would be the best way to prove that, better than simply phone calls. Carrie knew he was right about that – her Lola Marikit would mobilize everyone into a damn search party out of concern.

Carrie and Roman loved preparing their contributions to the event: tamales, inihaw na manok at pusit, and so much garlic fried rice. One of Carrie’s brothers, Jovie, was roasting some lechón – he’d arrive with it already stuffed and seasoned. Their cousin Lucero helped set up the serving arrangements.

While they cooked, Remus would bug the Tran cousins – another set of identical twins on the Espinoza side of the family. They were girls, a couple years older, and a conversation topic with Vic since his kids were born. They commented on Remus being somehow more wild than they remembered, which he took as a compliment. There may or may not have been an incident or two where Remus set something on fire, that more than one of his uncles stepped in to extinguish.

Everything turned out well, even though the family lingered well past sundown, in interest of catching up. Vic, Carrie and their sons had to awkwardly leave behind all the supernatural and traumatic things they all experienced. But they did enjoy hearing from the rest of the family.

Vic was a little smug about this to Carrie when they all parted ways.

Carrie was secretly relieved that there didn’t seem to be other Heroes or Beasts attending the get together. That was a form of awkwardness she was not ready to deal with. 

Roman and Remus noticed that their Tía Beatriz and Abuela Julieta looked at them all funny, though. They weren’t sure what to make of that.

-

Vee had just left for his job, one evening. Roman wasn’t sure yet what it actually was, but he was still too sour about the Emo Nightmare’s surliness to give a damn. He heard the name Milo mentioned a few times, in passing.

Janus was on some kind of secret errand. Ellis locked himself in the library, again. Roman decided not to stick his nose in all of that.

Remus was at the zoo with Vic again. Carrie was out working too. Roman was almost alone in the estate, he sometimes wanted to act like he was the king of the castle. But he held too much respect for their gracious host to do that. 

Roman was sitting in the home theater appreciating the quality of the speaker system and the picture. He noticed, but didn’t really care if the closed captions were enabled, he basically memorized those movies at that point. He wanted to marathon the entire Disney Animation catalog here, overjoyed that Janus had a damn near complete collection. The only thing about that that annoyed him was the fact they weren’t ROMAN’S collection. He made a note to fill his Hoard with his own copies of those films sometime, so help him.

He tried to swipe something, once – but he was quickly reminded of the fact it wasn’t nearly as satisfying to take from a fellow Beast as a… human. Especially from a… brood mate. At least Janus merely laughed at him for the attempt, as they plucked the reel back from his grasp.

It was in the basement floor of the estate, next to the dining space at the landing of the stairs down from the foyer. It was the same space Janus had held that first formal meeting in and directly behind it was a massive locked up wine cellar.

Tucked in the corner of this dining area and just outside the theater room was a popcorn machine and soda fountain nearby. Roman helped himself to several trips back there during the marathon. During one of those trips, he saw Patton staring at him quizzically.

“What?”

Patton didn’t have much of an indoor voice, “Can I watch movies with you?”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“‘Membering Bad Stuff, again.”

“O-okay. Sure.”

Before he could ask, Patton pointed out that he wanted some Sprite and popcorn from the station. Roman obliged and they walked back into the theater room. Roman just finished watching “Aladdin'' for the bajillionth time. He frankly wanted replicas of virtually everything from the Cave of Wonders in his Lair, just all of it. It was good timing on Patton’s part.

He was going through the chronological list, and before he started queuing up the next one, Patton got all bouncy again. “Oooh, are we watching my first brother’s favorite next!?”

Roman grabbed a handful of popcorn, impressed that he could get this fancy and delicious salted toffee flavor from the station. Roman answered with his mouth very full, “Nigh’mare ‘fore Chris’mash?”

“Huh? YES!”

As they watched, Roman wondered a little bit about this kid and Vee. And without prompting, or at least he didn’t think he was prompting, being halfway distracted by the movie and snarking about it, Pat would talk.

“Did Mama Jan tell you how she found me and my big brother looong time ago?”

“A little bit?”

“Yeah. It was hard. And scary. And very confusing? Yeah. Confusing. I feel safe here. My brother doesn’t have to work so hard anymore...”

Roman wasn’t sure what this kid was talking about but he did try to listen. Admittedly, he was still mostly distracted by the movie, but Patton didn’t seem to mind.

A few more minutes passed, and Patton looked over at Roman, “Hey, Roman?”

Roman had shoved another mouthful of popcorn, “Hmm?”

“Can you make the words bigger?”

“Oh, alright.”

Roman fumbled about for the remote. He squinted at the controls a bit and fiddled around with the menus. He unknowingly turned on another set of text, in his frustration and confusion. Patton giggled at Roman. Roman restrained himself from cursing about it, “What’s so funny?”

Patton pointed at the screen, and Roman palmed his face, “Why is that happening!?”

Patton just erupted into even louder giggling. Roman pouted at the child for the indignity of it all.

Eventually, Patton caught his breath from the giggle fit and asked, “Okay, okay. Hand me the remote, please?”

Roman reluctantly complied and in a few button presses, the second block of text was gone. Roman was displeased and Patton explained, “Oh, yeah. I was just yanking your tail! Open captions! Can’t change those!”

Roman narrowed his eyes, his aggression not fully serious, “Okay. First of all, I didn’t know that was a thing. Second of all, you little-!”

Patton gasped, “Language!”

“I-I didn’t say the word, I don’t think? ANYWAY! Back to the movie!”

“You’re the Boss, Hoss!”

Roman was flustered at this point, but he couldn’t be too angry, “What does that even- I’m not- Ugh! Zip it. Movie. Ahora.”

Patton snorted and did the zipping mouth gesture and complied. Despite that mess, at least Patton was way sweeter than Vee, by a catastrophic landslide.

-

Everyone was going to be busy with other things and Remus grew bored. His fingers itched to wreck something again, the impulse being the only reason he didn’t get back to bed after the family breakfast.

While channel-surfing, he saw a certain local ad spot play on TV. One he’s had drilled into his skull for who knows how long.

A boisterous salesman was jump-cutting all over a car lot, “Need a car and you got no credit!? No problem! Over here at Edison AutoMart, we can get YOUR dream car for a steal and lightning fast! You can call us at… -EDDY! Tell your family! Tell your friends!”

A fast soft wipe showed the guy dressed up in a knock-off Hamburglar costume, twirling a badly tacked on fake mustache. He quieted down to a stage-whisper, “But! Don’t tell your bank, that Eddy sent you.”

Just as the mustache was on its last leg, there was another wipe back to the car lot. Eddy was back to shouting with absolutely no inside voice, “Come visit Edison AutoMart, for some steals on wheels! Again! Our number’s… -EDDY!”

Remus grinned, this time knowing exactly where he could get that fix.

Roman decided to join their mom on a “bring your kid to work” day. It was going to be Roman’s first time touring the hangars she worked at since he was an infant, well before the nightmares started. Needless to say, she lit up over the idea.

Vic had to cover for some major transitional housing for some new animals, it was going to be a several day affair. Remus asked him if he could drop Remus off at the dealership. He said he just wanted to do some window shopping and thought about getting his own. Vic narrowed his eyes at Remus a moment, “Well. I guess I’ll let your mom know about this.”

Vic barely kept his vexation with that business a secret, cough-muttered, “Never liked those sleazy rip-”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “¿Cómo? ”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I just gotta ring her up and take you.”

It was a short car ride. Vic left him with a last word as he pointed at the burger joint across the street, “Your mom and brother’s gonna grab some dinner, when she gets you. ¡No alborotar el panal, mijo! ”

It was a busy day at Edison’s, where Remus was left to his own devices.

There was not enough time to question his father’s very misguided faith in him, but plenty of time to wreak some havoc.

There was a shiny foreign-looking pick-up on the display ramp, propped up with cinder blocks, probably a Holden Ute. With it were also the usual variety of pick-ups, minivans, and sedans. Some looked nearly new, some had a few patchy spots in their paint jobs, some upholstery that’s seen better days. Remus watched various shoppers looking around like he was, some being hooked in by one of the salesmen. There were three middle-aged guys on the job outside, Eddy’s sons – Edward, Edsel, and Edgar. Eddy would occasionally hop out of the office like a trapdoor spider to essentially extort people, after some successful schmoozing.

Remus squeezed into a gap of attention from anyone and stared at a few unattended cars and a nearby fire hydrant. The planning of the place sucked and the occasional “hauler” dropping off “new” vehicles clipped that thing often. This hadn’t been the first time Remus haunted the place to see the sorry state it was in.

He would eventually find one of the brothers, who was off in the corner messing with a BlackBerry. His name tag said Edsel. Edsel was shrugging off a few customers, which clearly pissed off the most animated of the three brothers, Edward. Meanwhile, Edgar was off doing most of the sales, really buttering people up.

Remus inched closer to the two of them, overhearing more bickering.

Edward was basically the only one talking and he looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel, “Listen HERE, ‘Sel, if you don’t pull your weight ‘round here, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

Edsel shrugged, not quite rising up to it, “You’re going to do what? I’m not the only one not doing his fucking job around here.”

“If you would just-”, Edward reached for the BlackBerry.

Edsel, being the tallest, pulled the device well out of reach of Edward.

Remus saw an opportunity. He used one of his unseen tentacles and slapped it out of his hand, hard. That shut the two up, fast. They blinked at each other and stared at the device flying toward the street. The thing crashed into some poor sod’s windshield as they were driving by. Said driver swerved straight into the dealership’s display vehicle stand, narrowly missing them and some stray customers.

The brothers just stared like it was happening in slow motion. Edward was looking at the low speed car collision. Edsel watched his poor phone hitting the asphalt and getting crushed by a couple cars going too fast to stop and rubberneck. Edsel whimpered out, “My BlackBerry!”

The display vehicle wobbled slowly and precariously before tipping and halfway rolling over its neighbor. When it came to rest back onto its wheels, the trunk popped open. The third car’s frame caved in like dry, rust-filled spaghetti noodles, under the weight. All the noise was loud enough to get Eddy out of the office. Remus could barely restrain himself from laughing as he went for that dodgy fire hydrant again.

Those that managed to get out of the way in time were rattled enough to complain to Edgar about nearly dying. Edgar was also in the middle of trying to calm down other customers. They were joined by the driver of the car, also angry. Eddy was trying and failing to smooth it out, especially after attorneys were mentioned.

Edward resumed arguing with Edsel, “This is all your fault!”

“MY FAULT!? I don’t-”

A few other customers awkwardly started to disperse, but Remus didn’t let them just yet. He imagined his Lair. He imagined the place flooding around him, but this time churning the “water” around more to give people moments to “breath”. It wasn’t real, but it was going to feel like it.

Just enough moments of pressure to hold them all a captive audience. Well, most of them. One of the stragglers backed their car into the hydrant in panic.

Remus willed the new water feature’s discharge to creep into every nook and cranny of the nearby vehicles. The crud that it washed off the asphalt chewed up everything metal inside them, at an accelerated speed. It was like they were infested by termites. No, shipworms.

He could practically smell the ocean.

One by one, their corroding frames creaked and sagged. Half the lot of cars must’ve been totaled, by the time he released the illusion from the crowd.

Remus grinned madly and was absolutely sopping wet. A refreshing perk in the summer heat. 

The whole Edison Family gaped at the chaos as more customers fled the scene – many of whom were left drenched. It was hard for Remus to pretend to be another shocked bystander, deliciously swept into the surrounding waves of confusion and fear.

After lingering for a while longer, he took off across the street to wait for his ride.

He was left hankering for some tamilok, too.

-

Carrie saw some of the aftermath and her son was still drenched in water, “You know what? I’m not even going to ask.”

Roman rolled his eyes, but laughed with Remus during the ride back to Janus’s estate.

Remus was immediately greeted by Patton, once back. The child gave him a weird face, “Someone’s been naughty!”

“Oh really, now?”

Patton giggled and nodded, “Did anybody get hurt?”

“Just their wallets… and maaaybe their sanity.”

Patton crossed his arms trying to look authoritative to someone nearly twice his size and age, “Good.”

Vee was basically a helicopter mom with this kid, suddenly appearing from a shadowed corner of the entryway, “You have that look.”

Remus played innocent, “What look?”

“Oh, I don’t know-”, Vee unhelpfully gestured at all of Remus.

“Use your words, V for Vendetta!”

“You just Fed. I want to know what you-”

Patton interrupted Vee, “Hey, wanna go watch the Spidey-man?”

Vee sighed and glanced over, “Okay, okay fine.”

Vee left Remus with an “I’m watching you” gesture as he left.

-

Remus savored the dealership incident, and thought about retreating to his Lair and tend to his lovely garden of ruined memories. His thoughts were interrupted by his Dad, with noticeable urgency.

“¿Cómo es que’s?”

“Just got a page about a serious situation at the zoo. I might need an extra set of hands.”

“Did some lions get loose or something? Am I going to see some carnage?!”

“I don’t know yet. You ready?”

Remus nodded eagerly and started to run for the door. He shouted back, even though Vic was close behind, “¡Vamos! ”

The car ride usually was never a long one, which was great for an on-call job like Vic’s own. Golden hours worked for all kinds of emergencies, regardless of what the animal was.

What he wasn’t expecting was seeing one of the trainees on the floor slid down into a heap against a nearby counter. They were unconscious, bleeding, with their pager flung away from him in the collapse, and there was no one else around. As Vic got closer, almost slipping on the slick flooring, he saw that they were still breathing. He also found their pulse rapid. He needed to address that bleeding part, next.

Vic thought he told Remus to call 911 while he assembled the medical supplies and looked them over. Remus, however, stood there transfixed.

Vic was too focused on the problem in front of him to understand why. Remus’s gaze darted around, chittering noises surrounding them. Remus commented, “Uuuh… what’s happening?”

Neither of them knew where they even came from – but the sounds were from an approaching swarm of mice. They bizarrely congregated around the scene as if to watch what was unfolding.

Vic’s heart started to race, feeling his hair stand up, and a brief chill ran through him. Gasping, he wasn’t sure how to answer Remus. Vic saw strange glyphs blinking in and out of sight, as he stared at the trainee.

“ ¿...papá? Y-you okay? You’re just-”

The scene around Vic felt unreal, like the room was rippling under water. Water could mean so many things, Vic wasn’t sure why, but he had to experience whatever it was.

The building around him had turned to black basalt and crumbled. He stood on a great precipice above and surrounded by dense forests. He heard the thunderous rush of water flowing and falling nearby. It made him notice that the tile floor had turned into a riverbank laced with a tangle of exposed roots and thorny brambles. The sounds of the river and otherworldly creatures in the distance drowned out whatever Remus was about to say.

The blood around the trainee thinned and moved outward like streams, tracing the contours of roots below. Despite all the thorns biting into Vic, he drew closer. He felt an arousing warmness fill him, he started to sweat and- he was unable to begin to reason what was happening.

He brought a finger to their blood and he felt another, sharper prick. His own blood and sweat mingled for a moment with that of the trainee. He didn’t flinch as he felt like he left a piece of himself there. He watched the fluids turn into water and work its way back into the trainee’s fractured chest.

In moments, their color returned to them. Their breath became less shallow, as their ribs started to realign and the wound stitched itself together. Despite the dramatic turn, they remained peacefully asleep.

In an instant, the mice scattered and the scene returned to the clinic area.

Vic jolted backwards, realizing what happened.

He stared at his own hands and then looked back at Remus. Remus was about as stunned as he was, despite not witnessing that vivid other world himself. The two of them blinked in silence for a good while, until Remus spoke again, “I have no idea what the fuck just happened, butt. Janny HAS to know about this.”

-

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[ Next ]

[blooming-violets]

Pinky Promise || TASM Ch.1

Summary: You have custody over your seven year old sister. One day you get a call from her school that something is wrong. You try your best to save her but sometimes you need outside help from a certain Spideyboy. [set a few years after tasm2]

Warnings: suicide attempt, very brief mention of heroin

A/N: I haven’t written anything in over a year. Apparently my hyperfixation over AG’s Spiderman has cured my writing slump though. Anyway I’ll love Peter Parker saving children forever and always.

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

Your phone vibrated in your pocket. It pulled your thoughts out of the clouds and back into reality. Dread filled your stomach before you even glanced at the caller id. Please don’t be the school. Not today. Please.

Your silent pleas went unanswered. Olivia’s Elementary School. With a soft groan, you answered.

“Yes, hello?” You did your best to make your voice sound professional and older than you were. At 23, most people didn’t seem to take you very seriously as your sister’s caregiver. It was hard to blame them. All it took was some simple math for them to assume you gave birth to her at 16. Then when they found out you were actually her sister, their judgement went from distaste to pity. What kind of parents would dump one child on another? Were they dead or just deadbeats?. You could always see their brains churning, wondering about your lives as if it was any of their business.

“Ms. Miller? This is Diane Fleming, Olivia’s teacher. I was wondering if you could come in this afternoon? The incidents we’ve been speaking about prior have been happening more frequently. I think it would be best if we could sit down and talk about this in person.”

You closed your eyes and did your best to keep from smashing your head against the wall in front of you. This is not the news you wanted to hear today. “What did she do now?”

Poor Olivia had been struggling in school this past year. Second grade had not been kind to her. The other children seemed to view her as an easy target. There had been a lot of building tension which seemed to spill out over the last two weeks. It seemed almost every day you were receiving a call from her teacher about another incident that happened. Monday it was because Olivia had drawn very graphic pictures of her classmate being murdered by a giant metal Rhino. You weren’t even sure how she remembered that Rhino man that once attempted to terrorize the city. She was only a toddler back then. Tuesday had been a horrible poem about how she hoped her teacher would get run over by bus. Wednesday was the day she decided to cut off half of her braid in middle of a spelling test. Thursday went by without a call but, it wasn’t until she returned home, that you noticed her bottom lip was split open. Then it was your turn to call the school. They seemed awfully quiet about the whole thing, claiming they had no idea what happened. Olivia refused to say. Now it was Friday.

“Well Ms. Miller, this afternoon, Olivia dumped a jar of spiders down the back of the young girl sitting in front of her.”

Your eyes widened at the news. How in the world did she even collect a jar of spiders? Where did she get the jar from? Why would she do this? It was so outrageous of a thought that you had to stifle a laugh. A small exhaled managed to escape your lips though.

Mrs. Fleming picked up on it right away, “I’m sorry but you do think this behavior is funny? Olivia is a seriously disturbed child. Her behavior is getting out of control. We do not tolerate this sort of bullying in our school.”

Any bit of humor you found before sizzled into anger. “What do you mean you don’t tolerate bullying? Liv came home with a busted lip yesterday and none of you seemed to care too much how she got it.” You could feel yourself becoming defensive. You knew Olivia was slipping away from you. You had been working overtime lately to make rent. You hadn’t seen her as much. This was your fault.

Mrs. Fleming sighed. You could almost hear her rubbing her eyes with her hands. “We currently have Olivia detained in the office. The mother of the young girl who was assaulted is already thinking of pressing charges. It would be best if you could come down here as soon as possible and help us figure out what the next move for Olivia should be.”

Pressing charges? You stomach started to ache. “Ok,” you mumbled quietly. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Anxiety coursed through your veins as you walked out into the crisp winter air. What were you going to do with Olivia? You had no idea how to be a parent. Your only role models were terrible.  

Sometimes you wished your parents were just dead. It would make things easier. You could have been seen as the hero, taking care of your poor orphaned sister, the two of you against the world. Instead, you had to live with the harsh reality that your parents were both alive. A father in a jail and a mother living on the streets trying to score her next fix. She had always chose heroin over her children. As a child, yourself, you bounced between foster homes and your mother. Sometimes your mom would step up. She’d get clean, get a job, start fresh, and get you back. The two of you would live a happy little life for about a month or so before she’d fall back into her old habits. Then it was back into the system for you. Eventually you stopped relying on her to take care of your wellbeing.

When Liv was born, you had to put your own dreams aside. You had dreamed of graduating high school and going to college, making something of yourself, becoming a function adult...all that had to be packed away and stuffed into the closets of your mind. You dropped out of high school, got a job as a house cleaner, and managed to rent a shitty one bedroom apartment. Sure, it was full of mold and you had to kill the occasional cockroach but at least it was a home.

At 18, you filed for full custody of your sister, and the rest was history. You were going to make sure that she didn’t have to live the same life as you. Just because you didn’t get to reach any of your dreams, doesn’t mean that she had to follow the same path. The older she became, the harder it was to keep her happy though. She knew she had a different family life from her peers. She had always been an intelligent little girl. Wise beyond her years. She saw exactly where she came from. She knew she was different.

The sound of sirens pulled you from your thoughts. Three police cars raced by you, the cold wind blowing your hair around your face. You brushed it away and followed the cars with your eyes. There was always something crazy going on in Queens. The distant sound of sirens was usually quite comforting to you but, up close, the sound put you on edge. You watched as the cars sped off into the distance when they suddenly took a sharp left into the school parking lot. Your heart beat sped up. You had no idea why they could possibly be there but, in your heart, you knew something was wrong. Something was wrong with Olivia.

Your legs were running before your thoughts even had time to process what you were seeing. You sprinted the remaining way to the school and stopped short by the sight that greeted you. The three police cars had stopped out front, the sound of their sirens off, but the lights still flashing a blinding red. A group of people were gathered outside. All of them looking up with fear. Your eyes followed theirs to the top of the building. Panic seized your throat and you almost vomited on the spot. Standing three stories in the air, her little black boots hugging the edge of the roof, was Olivia.

She looked so small up there. So fragile. The winter wind whipped her short, brunette hair around. Her skirt uniform blew around her wool tights. Even from down here, you could see she was shaking. From fear or the cold, you couldn’t tell.

A piercing sob ripped out your throat at the sight. It alerted one of the teachers to your presence. They tried to come over to you, reaching out a hand of comfort, but you swatted it away. How could they have let this happen? Before the teacher could even speak, you had shoved your way through the crowd and into the school. You had no idea how to get up to the roof. All you knew was that you needed to get up the three flights of stairs as quickly as possible. Your feet hardly had time to touch the ground as you ran, each flight bringing you closer and closer to your sister. As you barged into the third flood, you saw Olivia’s teacher, the principal, and an officer standing at an open door. They turned to look at you as you stumbled forward. The melting snow on you boots causing you to slip across the laminate tiles towards them.

“This area is off limits,” the officer commanded.

“It’s okay, it’s the girl’s sister,” Mrs. Fleming replied. Her face was etched with fear. “She won’t let us get close to her. Every time we attempt to go up there, she threatens to jump. We were forced to come back down here for fear she might actually do it.”

The pressing feeling of bile rose in your throat again. Why was this happening? How could they let this happen? You had trusted the school to protect its children. “I need to see her,” your voice didn’t sound like your own. It was meek and scared, it shook when you spoke. “I need to see her.” You repeated the sentence again.

The three of them quietly stepped aside.

“Just be careful. If it looks like she’s about to jump, retreat immediately. We called in a firetruck to bring a ladder up to her but it has yet to arrive. Ambulances are standing by if she falls.” The officer’s words rattled about in you head. Falls? No, not your Liv. You’d bring her back safely. You just needed to get to Olivia. You needed to hold her in your arms. You needed to protect her.

The old metal ladder creaked as you put your weight on each step. Blinding sunlight shone into your eyes as you crawled out of hatch into the bright afternoon. The sky was too blue, too perfect, for any of this to be happening. How was it even possible for a child to get up here? Shouldn't there have been locks? Alarms? Anything?

Your sweet, baby sister stood across from you. Her back turned. No more than 50 feet yet she felt like a lifetime away. “Liv!” You called out to her. “It’s me! Please! Get down off of there!” Your voice felt drowned out by the wind rushing past. It was much stronger up here than it was on the ground. You took a few steps closer to her. “Livvy, please! I need you!”

Olivia turned around on the ledge when she heard your voice. Her legs shook unsteadily under her. Her lips were blue and shivering. There were tears spilling down her face. You wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in a warm blanket and hold her safe in your arms.

“They want to take me away!” She shouted back at you. “I heard them talking! Ashley said they were going to put me in jail for what I did. She said I’d never see you again!”

You guessed Ashley was the girl who got spidered this morning. If it was possible to hate a child, you definitely hated Ashley right now. You shook your head, stepping even closer to her, your boots slipping on ice under your feet, yet you held steady.

“No one is going to take you, Olivia. I won’t let them. Please,” you begged. “Please get off that ledge. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

As you took another step forward, she inched back. Her heels now hanging off the side of the building. You could hear a collective gasp from the people below. Someone began shouting into a megaphone up at her. You couldn’t make out what they were saying. Nothing but fear filled you as you called out to her, “Stop! Stop moving! Please, I’m begging you. Please just don’t move any further.”

Olivia shook her head. “Don’t come any closer. Leave me alone! You don’t know anything! You don’t know what it’s like to go to this school! I hate these people! They’re all horrible.” Big, fat tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. She hugged her navy blue cardigan tighter around her small frame.

“Okay. I’m not coming any closer until you say it’s okay to,” you said with your hands up in defense. “But I’m not leaving you. I’m staying right here. We can talk about this. I’ll take you away from this school. We can find a new school. Fuck it, we can move to the Alaskan wilderness if it’ll make you happy! But we can’t begin to do any of that if you’re not around to see it. I need you to get down off that ledge, Liv.”

“I’m no good...” Her voice could scarcely be heard over the howling wind. She sounded so powerless. So lost. “Everyone here knows it. They want me to end up in jail just like daddy. They tell me all the time. I’m so stupid. I’m a bad person. Even the principal said so. She said Ashley’s mom was going to call the police on me. I don’t want to leave you.”

Your heart ached for your sister. No seven year old should have that kind of weight on her shoulders. You wished you had been more observant. You could have fought harder for her. Instead you worked late and left her to fend for herself. It was you who was no better than your mother.

With a heavy sigh, you inched closer to Olivia. “I love you, Liv, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe. It’s not your fault. You’re not a bad person. You’re the best person I’ve ever met! You’re so smart. Smart enough to get a full scholarship to this stupid private school. Smart enough to win every science fair you’ve ever entered. Smarter than I’ll ever be. You’re going to grow up and change the world but you’ve got to be around to do that. I need you. I need you with me. Without you, I’m nothing. You’re my family and I promise I will keep you safe. I won’t let anyone here hurt you ever again. I’m going to get you whatever help you need. I promise. Just let me come get you.”

She nodded slowly and your hand reached out for her. Your eyes locked with hers. Pain etched deeply in her features. You watched as her shoulders sagged in defeat. She reached out to take your hand, stepping towards you, you could almost feel her skin against yours, her safety just within reach...when a large gust of wind pushed past you. Olivia lost her footing, the ice causing her feet to fall out from under her, with her eyes wide and her mouth open in a gasp, you watched as your seven year old sister tumbled backwards off the building.

A heart wrenching scream ripped out of your chest. Time slowed as she disappeared from your view. Nothing but the sound of your own screams filled your ears. No. Not Liv. Not her.

It felt like you were wading through waist high mud as you ran to the edge. You couldn’t get there fast enough like the world was trying to hold you back. You threw your body across the ledge as you looked down. Your brain couldn’t comprehend what you were seeing. She was gone. Not dead. But...gone. Her body was no where in sight. You scanned the crowd, the ground, even the wall to see if she was somehow hanging on. There was nothing. No sign that Olivia had been there. She had seemingly vanished into thin air. It was like she never existed at all.

Your breath came in panicked bursts. The hysteria numbed your body. Your fingers tingled with the ghost of Olivia’s hand in yours. Tears clouded your vision. “Liv...” you called out meekly. You stumbled back from the edge. Your legs gave out as sobs wracked through you. The ice below your knees cut into your skin as you knelt in anguish. Where was she? How could she just disappear like that? How was any of this possible? You wailed in sorrow. Nothing mattered but her.

It was then someone cleared their throat behind you. Your head whipped around as you fell onto you backside in shock. The cold of the roof top seeping through your jeans and into your skin. Your heart was pounding.

Standing in front of you was New York City’s very own Spiderman. Clinging to his chest, her head buried deep in the crook of his neck, was Olivia. Your eyes widened. Just as quickly as she vanished from your life, she had reappeared. She was okay. She was safe.

“I thought you might want this back,” he said through the muffled mask as he nodded his head towards your sister.

Every emotion in the world flooded through you as you scrambled to your feet and threw your arms around both Spiderman and your sister, squishing her between the two of you. Your body shook with loud, unabashed sobs. She was safe. Olivia was safe. The world was okay again.

You clung to the two of them for a few moments. Your head was spinning and you felt dizzy. You were afraid if you let go, Olivia would disappear again. She was safe pressed between you and the masked man. You wanted to keep her that way for as long as you could. Safe. Your baby girl was safe.

With a light sob, you finally let go long enough to collect her from her saviors arms. Olivia clung to you, wrapping her legs around your waist as you held her tightly, never going to let her go again. The two of you sunk to the ground and you cradled her in your arms like you used to what she was a baby. You brushed your fingers over her face, feeling her, making sure she was really there. She was so cold but she was alive.

You shrugged your winter jacket off and wrapped it around her. You were both still in shock, unable to say anything, unable to move other than to cling to each other. You held on so tightly. So, so tight.

Safe.

Spiderman squatted down beside the two of you. He ruffled Olivia’s hair. “I think she’ll be alright. I’d still get her checked out at the hospital. It seems like she’s been in the cold without a jacket for too long. They’ll want to take her vitals and make sure she’s okay.”

The sound of another person’s voice was enough to snap the two of you out of the little world you had created between each other there on the roof. Olivia’s eyes welled up with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry. I’ll never do that again. I was so scared. I’m sorry. Don’t let them take me to jail.”

“Hey, now. Who said anything about taking you to jail?” Spiderman shuffled closer to her and placed a gloved hand on her back.

She sniffled, peaking her head out from your shoulder to look at him with wet eyes, “I put spiders down Ashley’s shirt and her mom said I would go to jail.”

Spiderman laughed. His laugh sounded angelic to your ears. Maybe it was because he had just saved Olivia and, therefore, became the most important man in your life but you were filled with a deep love for the masked stranger. His laugh cut through some of the tension you had been holding. You felt your body being to relax a bit. Olivia was safe, you kept reminding yourself. It’s okay now. It’s over. You nuzzled you face against your sister’s hair even managing to give a smile of your own.

“I bet Ashley deserved it, didn’t she?” If you could see his face, you’d be sure he was smiling too. “I’m friends with those police officers down there. One word from me and they won’t even think about sending you to jail. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” Olivia reached out a shaky hand to her new hero and extended her pinky.

“Pinky promise.” You watched as Spiderman locked fingers with your sister. “Now let’s get you both down from here and out of the cold. I don’t want either of you to freeze to death on my watch.” He helped you up, pulling you and Olivia to your feet with ease, then lead you towards the hatch in the roof. His hand stayed dutifully on the small of your back, making sure you didn’t slip, as you carried your sister back to safety.

“Mr. Spiderman?” Olivia asked as she stared back at him.

“Please. Call my Spidey. Mr. Spiderman was my father.”

“Uhm, okay, Mr. Spidey will you come over to our house for dinner?”

You shushed Olivia, “He’s a busy man, Liv. He can’t just stop by people’s house for dinner. Besides how would he even eat if he can’t take off his mask?” The thought of the famous Spiderman sitting in full costume with the two of you at the dinner table made you smile again. It felt nice to smile.

Liv gasped, “He can’t take off his mask? Is it glued onto his head? Mr. Spidey is your mask glued to your head?”

“That’s not what I meant, Liv. Just drop it okay. We have to worry about you first. You caused quite a lot of chaos for such a small child. I’m going to have to do a lot of damage control here.” You knelt down next to the hatch and started to lower Olivia onto the ladder. It physically hurt your heart to let her leave your grasp but there was no way you could climb down the ladder carrying her.

Before she fully disappeared into the building, she popped her head back out one last time, “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Spidey. I hope you come visit me for dinner some day...even if your mask is glued to your head.” With that, she disappeared down the hatch into the arms of two paramedics waiting below. You didn’t want to leave her out of your sight for too long but, before you could follow her, you turned around to face Spiderman.

“Thank you,” you spoke softly to him. Exhaustion starting to settle into your bones after the panic you had went through. “You saved my world today. You saved my sister when I couldn’t. Thank you.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you pulled him into a hug. You could feel his muscles flex under his suit as he hugged you back. Your eyes closed as you embraced this stranger. No, not a stranger. A hero. Your hero.

“Thank you,” you whispered again before placing a soft kiss against his masked cheek. With one last grateful look, you climbed down after your sister, leaving the Spiderman behind.

[Part Two]

[sukirichi]

not shy

megumi was not shy around his crush — and that’s a fucking lie.

request: shy megumi who is really flustered around his crush + his friends and gojo-sensei helping him confess

note: this is fluff and a semi crack fic too LOL i hope you guys enjoy this, i had a lot of fun with this one! unedited too, as usual!

word count: 4.5k

masterlist !

playlist made by the lovely @savantsoulfinder​ thank you so much! 

“Yo, Megumi-kun, can you take—” Satoru halted in his steps, following the trail of sight that his dark-haired student seemed to be so enamoured in to not even notice his teacher walk his way. “What are you staring at?” when his gaze landed on you, head thrown back in laughter and slapping Panda’s arm over Yuuji’s joke, Satoru’s eyes beamed even under the blindfold. “Oh? You like Y/N?”

Upon hearing your name, Megumi immediately snapped back to life. He scoffed and turned away from you, scowling to himself with his arms crossed against his chest. “No, I don’t. I don’t like anyone.” So defensive.

“Is that so?” Satoru teased while biting back his laughter, “Guess you won’t mind if I call her then. Hey, Y/N!”

“Gojo-sensei, what’re you doing?!” Megumi grabbed his teacher’s sleeve, whisper-hissing and cursing under his breath when Satoru caught your attention. You waved at them both, skipping until you were getting impossibly closer and closer and closer.

“Well, I don’t want you to carry these all alone. You’re gonna need some help.”

“I’m perfectly fine – h-hi.”

Shit, you were now here. You smiled up at him, hands folded below your bottom before tipping your head to the side, looking under Megumi’s ducked head to see his face. “Hey there, Megumi! Looking cute today,” you winked, causing the poor boy to blush madly. You never noticed, though, your attention now taken by your teacher turning red as he stopped his laughter. “Gojo-sensei! You called me?”

“Oh yeah, you’re just right on time. I was going to ask Megumi here to bring these books all back to my office but it’s probably too heavy for him so I asked—”

“It’s not heavy,” Megumi took the books that Satoru placed in your welcoming arms, the slightest touch sending jolts of electricity down his spine. He pulled away and clutched the books closer to himself at the sudden buzz, narrowing his eyes at his teacher who obviously couldn’t mind his own business. “I can carry it by myself.”

“I still wanna help, and I really don’t mind. Plus, I haven’t talked to you in a long time. I actually kind of feel like you’re avoiding me,” you pouted, and that simple gesture had Megumi feeling like he was sinking deeper into the ground.

He was ready for the whole world to swallow him up.

Satoru took pleasure in Megumi’s reddish ears and clenched jaw, cupping his own jaw with his hands as if to mock. “Aw, Megumi, why would you avoid precious Y/N? Did she do something wrong to you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, if there’s nothing wrong, you two better scoot before you get late to your other class!”

“Alright, see you around, Gojo-sensei!” Shit, why were you such a good girl? Now he was stuck with you, and Megumi huffed while hesitantly sharing the books with him. You walked close enough to him that he caught a slight whiff of your shampoo, the scent clouding over his usually sharp mind. Now, though, Megumi could barely recognize the hallways he walked on, relying only on you to lead the way. “So...how’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How about your studies? We have an exam next week – maybe you want to study together? Inumaki-senpai and I were supposed to have a study group with the others but everyone just wants to study by themselves,” you turned to him with a small smile, “I do better when I’m with someone though.”

Megumi managed to give you a split second glance before he darted his eyes back in front of him again, swallowing audibly because he couldn’t understand why you had to look so pretty smiling like that.

His palms grew sweaty with each passing second, and he grimaced at the uncomfortably feeling of his collar getting sticky. “Uh, wh-where would we study? We don’t have a library or anything.”

“The training grounds is refreshing, but I’d like it to do it better in my room.”

“Do what?” Megumi halted in his steps, his eyes blown wide at your words.

“Study, of course. What else?”

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be worried that you frowned in confusion, almost as if you didn’t understand the weight of your words. But then again, you’d always been so damn oblivious that it made sense. Megumi shook his head, continuing on to the teacher’s office before remembering he still lost his sense of direction, so he bit his lip, obediently following you around like a puppy.

“You shouldn’t just invite anyone to your room, you know.”

Once you both made it to the empty room, you carefully placed the books down on Satoru’s desk. He raised a brow at the extra detail you put into, tongue peeking out from the edges of your lips as you made sure all of them were placed together neatly.

Satisfied with your work, you clapped your hands and turned to him.

“I’m not. You’re not just anyone to me, Megumi,” Suddenly, you leaned over him, his mind screaming at him when your lips lowered down to his neck. Megumi’s spine stiffened so quick he might as well be a flat board, his chin pressed to his neck when he felt your teeth graze his exposed skin for a moment. “There’s a loose thread,” you showed him a small thread with a small smile, which fell as fast when you saw Megumi standing uncomfortably straight. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to invade your personal space like that!” “I’m a little weird, aren’t I? That would explain why you’ve been avoiding me. Do I make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not that...it’s just...”

“Just what?”

His mind blanked. Ask him anything about curses or their history and pretty much anything – he’d be able to answer – but not this. They didn’t teach this in the books and out of frantic nervousness, Megumi ended up spewing the first thing he could think of, his brows drawn together that only added to his intimidating look.

“I’m just annoyed that you scored higher than me on the previous exam.”

“Oh,” you fell for it, snapping your fingers together as you laughed. Somehow, the sound of your melodious laughter had his shoulders easing from the tension, the smallest of smiles hinting at the edge of his lips. Gosh, he was so whipped for you. “Was that really it? I thought you were avoiding me for something serious! Well, how about this, let’s study together and let’s see who’s the smarter one. The loser will get tickled to death!”

“I haven’t even agreed to that condition yet.”

“Okay, what do you want if you win?”

Megumi blushed as he blurted out, “You.”

Before he could regret what he just said, you scrunched your nose and pointed to yourself. “Me what? You want me to do something? You want me to buy you ice cream or—”

“Never mind,” he mumbled behind his palm that was now covering his mouth, refusing to show you that he actually wanted to laugh at how naive you could be. Not that he was complaining; it saved him great pain that you could never know his feelings for you. “I’ll ask for it when I’m sure I’ll win.”

“Ah, not a man of uncalculated risks, I see,” you ruffled his hair, the poor boy stiffening up again under your touch. “This is why I like you so much. You’re so thoughtful.”

“Please don’t touch my hair.”

Megumi was complaining, his shoulders raised beside his ears while he scowled at you, but the way a small, almost inaudible purr left his lips said otherwise. He didn’t want you touching his hair – only because he was shy and it would be the death of him if you saw how easily flustered he was around you.

Thankfully, you showered mercy upon him, raising your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, we should go back to class now.”

Megumi sighed in relief, content for now to walk you all the way back to class as you talked about your day. He wasn’t actually listening, but a stupid smile was there on his face, anyway. He likened the sound of your voice to those of birds chirping and sunshine waking – and he felt like he was the fresh earth you always kissed.

“You’re going to burn a hole in her if you keep staring at her like that.”

“Shut up,” Megumi averted his eyes away from you, stabbing his yogurt with his plastic fork. A part of him felt annoyed that you just had to look so pretty today, your bright voice filling in the cafeteria that put his constant sour mood to shame. The stark difference between you two made Megumi sigh in his seat, abandoning his fork as he leaned back. There was no way you’d like him back. “I wasn’t looking at anyone.”

“Ugh, why are boys so creepy? Staring at Y/N like that, ew.”

Yuuji ignored Nobara’s comment, and for once, Megumi let it slide when Nobara stealed his untouched yogurt. “Why don’t you just tell her you like her? She’s literally the sweetest person ever – the chances of her turning you down are low!”

Nobara snorted, “Yeah, but if the sweetest girl in school rejects you, that’s really humiliating. That would mean she likes everyone but you.”

Satoru popped out of nowhere – that stupid blindfolded bastard who started all this – his arms looped around Yuuji’s neck whose entire face illuminated at having his favourite teacher around. “I think the scary-looking Megumi-chan is actually just too shy to be confess,” he wiggled his eyebrows, pointing a finger fun to Megumi’s deadly narrowed gaze. “Can you believe it? My dark, brooding student is hopelessly in love with the cute, sunshine girl next door that he’s so scared around her? Isn’t that so adorable—”

“Everyone shut up!” he hissed through gritted teeth, “I’m not scared of anyone or anything.”

“Then tell her you like her.”

“Fine, I will.”

“I bet you ten dollars he won’t do it,” Satoru whispered, the two students who shared one brain cell beside him nodding eagerly.

“I said I will!”

“Good morning, Megumi! Come in, come in,” you ushered him in once he stood frozen at your door, his hands now awkwardly clutching his own notes. “You can take a seat on the bed.”

Megumi wasn’t nervous of the fact this was his first time visiting a girl’s room, but rather because it was yours, and each part of your room resembled you greatly. From the organized and clean space, but the noticeable adorable little trinkets and polaroids of you with everyone sticking on the wall, he could feel your entire soul living in that room. When his eyes landed on an old photo of you holding up the peace sign and noticed for the first time he was standing in the background, unaware he was captured in the frame, Megumi inhaled sharply.

Had you pretended to take a selfie just to see him there?

No, he shook his head, there was just no way. He really couldn’t ponder about it long enough because you’d dragged him by the sleeve until he was sitting right next to you, the fresh scent of your body wash making him feel stunningly warm inside his clothes even when the windows were open.

The whole time, Megumi couldn’t absorb a single thing you were saying.

He was just too distracted by everything about you – the way your lips moved when you spoke, how you’d tuck back a stray hair behind your ear, even to the way your mouth would form an ‘o’ shape as you learned something new. No, he couldn’t focus at all.

Megumi has lost count of the times he’d wiped his shaky, sweaty palms on the pads of his sweatpants, hitching his breath every time you leaned close to him to glance at his notes.

At this rate, he’d be the loser in your little competition. It was just impossible for him to focus on anything else.

“Megumi?” you waved your hands in front of him. When it wasn’t enough to get his attention, you resorted to flicking his forehead and he yelped, rubbing at the sore spot. He faced you, a complaint ready to be spoken when his eyes widened at the sudden lack of proximity, your nose booping against his. “Hello, Megumi? I’ve asked you the same question twice now and you haven’t answered yet.”

As nicely as he could, he pushed your face away, his heart thumping loudly when you laughed as you went back to your own space. “Sorry, could you repeat that? I wasn’t really listening.”

“Yeah, I can tell, you were just staring at me the whole time,” you held your phone up in front of your face, checking your reflection on the screen on different angles. He watched, enchanted by how gorgeous you looked no matter what side. “Is there something on my face...? I’ve been checking non-stop and I don’t see anything weird.”

Megumi swallowed nervously, “There’s nothing wrong with your face. I just can’t focus. You’re too close and I-I can smell you.”

“Do I smell bad?!”

“No, you don’t! You smell really sweet!”

“Aw, thanks! You smell sexy too,” you winked at him, wiggling your shoulders as if to share your scent with him. Megumi’s eyes widened when your shoulder rubbed against his, and he recoiled, arm placed over his nose to hide his emotions that were a train wreck right now.

“Sexy?” he spluttered, “Why would you say – me – sexy? You’re so weird, Y/N. You shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

You patted his thigh in a manner that should be comforting, but the teasing smile on your face only had him wanting to jump out the window even more. Then, you stood up and stretched the material of your shirt riding up until he caught sight of your navel. Megumi turned away and closed his eyes, cheeks trapped between his teeth. “We should take a break. Treat’s on me – where do you want to go?”

“Err,” he scratched the back of his head.

“Oh, don’t look too worried, it’s a weekend. Plus, Gojo-Sensei isn’t around to bother us or something.”

“You...you want to go out...” he drawled out slowly, tentatively, surely – just to make sure that he was hearing it right. “...with me?”

“Yeah, I did just ask where you want to go.”

“Oh,” Megumi nodded with a blank face. Then, your words sank in, and he folded his knees to his chest to hide his face and his sickly sweet smile, the butterflies in his stomach progressing into a fucking zoo. “Oh.”

“Are you sick? You’re so red,” your palm connected with his heated forehead, “Megumi, you’re burning! Should I take you to Ieri-san?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he pushed your hand away, still repudiating to look you in the eye. He just couldn’t, not when you were too inquisitive and he could easily give a dead clue before he got the chance to properly confess. “I mean, I don’t really have a certain place in mind. I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

He should’ve noticed it then – the mischievous glint in your eye that told him you weren’t up to no good. But because his knees always weakened around you, Megumi agreed way too eagerly than he’d like. “Just make sure you don’t regret it, okay? There’s something I’ve always been wanting to try but I never got the chance to and no one wanted to go with me, so you’ll be my willing victim!” And so, half an hour later, Megumi’s jaw dropped as the chill of the arena nipped at his skin. You didn’t even tell him to bring a jacket. “Ta-da!”

“Ice skating?”

You nodded happily, dragging him all the way to the shoe fittings. “It’s going to be fun, come on!”

“But I don’t know how to.”

“Neither do I!” Megumi wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know how to. No matter how much he tried so hard to learn, he just couldn’t balance himself. The sound of your laughter that let him know you enjoyed this way too much reached his ears as he glared at the ice, his ears red either from the cold or the humiliation of being an utter failure in front of you, of all people! “Need some help there, buddy?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking. And no, I can do this by myself.”

You masked your chuckle with a snicker, squatting to watch as he struggled to heave himself up back to his feet. “Really? You’ve fallen like, a hundred times now.”

“Shut up. Humans aren’t naturally supposed to do this anyway. We don’t have a human instinct to be upright – whoa!” Megumi slipped again from the ice, this time knocking you down with him. Instead of it being romantic where you two ended up gazing at each other with love in your eyes, your eyes widened into saucers as his elbow landed into your belly, crushing the wind out of your body.

“Ow!”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to – ugh, this is why I said it was a bad idea!”

All the way back home, Megumi was still entirely convinced it was a bad idea. You were limping beside him, having to use his bicep as a crutch with your head resting on his shoulder. You and your stupid ideas, really, now you were injured and sprained your ankle from the fall. Instead of worrying about your own safety, you only slapped your knee in laughter as the medics fixed you up, still in disbelief that Megumi had fallen a lot of times yet came out unscathed.

“Megumi~ are you still mad at me? Why won’t you talk to me?” you pouted, squeezing his bicep to get his attention.

“It’s because I told you it was dangerous. Look at you – your knees are all scraped and your legs are all wobbly. We’ve still got a long way back home.”

“Maybe you should carry me then.”

“C-carry you?”

“Yeah, so I don’t fall,” you snorted, pointing to your shoeless ankle covered in bandages. “I mean, it was your fault I’m injured. If you hadn’t fallen for me, then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Fallen for you? Did you know that he – ? Megumi’s head snapped to yours so hard he nearly had whiplash, but the only thing he could focus on was the pounding of drums within his chest. “F-fall? How did you know?”

“Megumi, you literally fell on top of me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten already.”

That had him blinking back, his face flattening into a blank expression. Then, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stopped in his tracks. “Sometimes I forget you’re terribly naive.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Now get on,” With burning cheeks and a heart that fluttered way too much than what was considered healthy, Megumi squatted down to the ground, patting his back with a groan. You less than jumped into his arms, a little too excited to get a piggyback ride and Megumi expressed his faux distress with a groan. You only pinched his ear and told him to pay you back for your injuries, which made him complain again.

In the end, he was just happy you couldn’t see how much he struggled to hide his smile then, for if you saw it, you’d surely believe he was crazy.

Or so he thought. By the time you’d gotten back to the dorms, you were long passed out on his back. There was a small patch of drool on the back of his shirt and he shuddered, then wiped it away by whispering to himself, it’s okay – as long as it’s you.

Padding back to the dorms wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be, considering everyone was almost asleep or out to the city as well.

Megumi gently laid you down on the bed, wrapping the blanket around you and making sure your head was comfortable on the pillow. He stayed there for a solid minute, just staring and memorizing your pretty features until he felt confident he could draw it upon memory. Not wanting to be creepy though, he cleared his throat, about to leave the room when your fingers tugged at his wrist.

“Megumi,” you moaned sleepily, “Don’t go. It’s too cold.”

“I’ll get you another blanket.”

“No, stay,” you whined, patting the space next to you. “Please?”

“To sleep here with you?” he asked, baffled and at the same time elated. The last thing he wanted to be was a pervert and he’d never outright admit that his thoughts of you hadn’t always been giggles and rainbows, but he pushed those down, reminding himself that this is you – he respected you above all else. His self restraint slowly thinned though, whatnot with you pouting up at him like that.

Megumi groaned and took off his shoes anyway, planting himself beside you. “This is insane. I think I’m losing my mind,” he muttered to himself. “Move over and make space for me,” you obediently followed his command, using his bicep as a pillow while your cheek squished against his chest. He wondered how you weren’t bothered by his heart’s beating, or maybe it soothed you to sleep because you were falling deeper and deeper asleep, burying yourself in his arms. “God, this is so uncomfortable. I feel like I’m crushing you—”

“So warm,” you cut him off, his mind turning completely mental as he felt your lips pad over his chin. “Goodnight, Megumi.”

How did you expect him to sleep now?

But as soon as you’d settled and only your stabled breathing could be heard from the room, Megumi’s eyes began to droop as well, and it didn’t take long before his arms relaxed around you, lazily pulling the covers up to cover the both of you.

He’ll tell you another time.

“MEGUMI!” you pushed through everyone and showed him your paper, the bold red mark of 100 glaring back at him. Before he could respond, you stole his test paper from him, laughing at the sad 98 that showed. “Ah, I won!” In the blink of an eye, you’d tackled him to the ground, your knees keeping his legs locked underneath you, test papers flying around the field. Your hands were relentless and brutal as it ran and poked up his sides, eliciting squeaky little gasps from him.

“Stop, stop!” Megumi doubled over in laughter, keeping his feet flat on the ground to prevent himself from accidentally kneeing you. He’d hurt you enough during the ice skating dilemma – he didn’t want to cause you anymore injuries. “No, stop!”

“I won, Megumi, I won! Face the tickle monster!”

“I said stop or else!” he warned, completely aware that he wasn’t as threatening or serious as he wanted to be when tears leaked from his eyes, his laughter embarrassingly giggly and high pitched.

“Or what, loser?”

“I’ll kiss you until you shut up!”

“That’s adorable, but let’s see you try!” you kept tickling his sides, the both of you completely oblivious that the rest of your classmates – your teacher who was more than supportive of this pairing included – were hiding behind a bush, their phones whipped out to capture each second of this moment. “Loser!”

As you mocked him one more time that you wouldn’t stop tickling “losers,” Megumi had to draw the line. Using all his strength, he flipped you over until you were underneath him, the sheer force of the impact keeping you nestled between his arms.

Both of you were panting, but this time his breath was taken away from how beautiful you looked under him like that. Such innocent eyes staring back up at him, but don’t think for a moment he didn’t notice how your eyes trailed over his lips. He knew – because he was doing the same, his grip subconsciously gripping harder at your wrists. If he leaned down...

“This is taking too long!” someone whined from behind the bushes, tips of white hair peaking from the plant. “Just kiss her already!”

Both of you turned at the source of the voice, simultaneously shouting, “Gojo-sensei?!”

“Don’t be shy, Megumi-kun! Just tell her already or I’ll tell her myself.”

“Tell me what?”

Now that your face was peering up at him, he knew he was trapped. Cornered. Megumi closed his eyes, hands trembling and losing their grip around you as he was confronted by the situation. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” he fumbled over his words, “But I...I actually—”

“Boring! What kind of confession is this? Say it louder and clearer or she won’t be impressed! Is that how a man does it, Megumi-kun? You can do better—”

“All of you, shut the fuck up!” he roared to his peers who only cackled around the bushes, Yuuji and Gojo-sensei doubling over in laughter while Toge bit his collar to stop the gleeful sounds leaving his mouth. Irritation and humiliation bubbling up in his chest, Megumi finally found the courage to confess. “I like you, okay? I’ve always had a crush—”

You sat up to wrap your arms around his neck, silencing him with a sloppy kiss. At first, your lips kissed the edges of his mouth before Megumi groaned, his large hand clasping the back of your neck to guide you to where he wanted you to be. Smiling through the kiss, you pulled away, rubbing your nose on him affectionately. “Me too, Megumi,” you giggled, “I like you too. Actually, no, I fell in love the moment you almost broke your nose on the ice—” he cut you off by kissing you again, his grip on your waist threatening, “Hey, no fair, I was still confessing!”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ll kiss you to make you shut up,” his confidence had now risen up, all traces of the shy Megumi now gone. “Now tell me that again. Tell me you like me.”

“Okay, but can I get another kiss?”

“You’ll be spoiled rotten.”

“I think I deserve it, don’t you think? I’m pretty cute – you’re lucky you get to kiss—” Megumi tugged you by your collar to slam your lips on his, his teeth nibbling at your lower lip. You tugged at his hair playfully and laughed, slapping his shoulder gently to tap out. “Fine, fine. I like you too!”

“Say it again. Please.”

“Not so shy now, eh, Megumi?” Satoru teased for the final time, and Megumi was so close to bursting a vein in his neck when his teacher showed up from the bushes, sexily posing on the grass as he winked at the both of you.

“SHUT UP!”

[gojology]

Intense Healing Session.

the request :

pairing : caring! healer! fem! reader x gojo satoru hehhehe warnings : cursing, implications of seggs after sum intense kissing, pet names wordcount : 2.0k a/n : yoyo i’m back!! semi-long one for u all. cute request, anon. sorry for late delivery. pls dont rate me a 1/5 on yelp </3 hehe the title is kinda funny LOL

     You’re beginning to hate Satoru.        Surprisingly, it’s not for the reasons people dislike him- he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, never quite learned how to seal his lips just because of how important he was to the jujutsu world. Unsurprisingly, he gets away with everything because he’s attractive and crucial to defeating curses, and there’s no shame in admitting it.       People hate Satoru for his destructive personality, he’s carefree and doesn’t let anything get to him. This may be a good trait for the untrained eye, but look carefully and you’ll see just how hectic he gets. It’s manageable since you don’t have to deal with him at the level of the Jujutsu elders.       You don’t particularly hate him for this, though.       It’s the fact he puts you through so much work, for almost no reason. You’re a healer- something very important to the quaint school that you worked at. Healing abilities are often overlooked, it’s often said that if a jujutsu sorcerer can’t provide offense, then they’re not much of a jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you have little to no talent in the battlefield, so essentially you’re a meat shield to everyone.      It was a growing occurrence to see him after every business trip, slightly roughed up but not enough to kill him. He comes into the room you share alongside Shoko, almost always when she’s not there, takes his shirt off, and displays a wide variety of cuts and bruises on his back like he’s a museum. You’d scold him, asking him how he’d get such abrasions with his infinity up constantly- but Satoru would hum, unanswering while you’re working your hands on his back.      Maybe you’re overreacting- but something tells you he does this on purpose, perhaps to fuck with you, and you’re bitter about it.     So it wasn’t surprising to see him whistle a sweet tune, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets, casually strolling into the medical attention room for the fifth time this month.    “Gojo Satoru.” you say his full name aloud, just so he knows how much you hate his presence. Turning to look at you, his face displays innocent shock, but you just know that he’s probably rolling around in the inside seeing how riled up you got just by him stepping into the room.     Drained, lifeless eyes stare back at his childish bright ones.     Gojo places a hand on his chest defensively, “Well, I’ll be, Y/N. When did you want to disrespect your senior?” he snickers before shutting the door behind him. “You mad?”      “Unbearably. Lucky I care for you.” you utter back, venom dripping in your words, you feel like you’re making a fool of yourself as you shove your lunch aside that you had been enjoying on the tiny table next to you, sighing and rubbing your temples, tugging and effectively straightening your coat. “Get on the bed, let me work my magic.”     Looking at you with a shit-eating grin, he whistles, placing his elbows against the mattress, his roughened hands caressing his cheeks. “Working your magic? I’m interested. Tell me more, Y/N. Does this involve... Getting naked, perhaps?”     Staggering, you give him a dirty glare, “Satoru! I’ve been working my ass off like every week to get you all healed up, and you dare be perverted in my-”     “No cursing, lil girl! You wouldn’t want this rubbing off on Yuuji-kun and everyone else, would you? You’d be charged with a felony!” leaving you stunned for a second time- the first time being when his lanky figure strode into the room like it was his room- you don’t even know how to respond. How could one possibly be so... Ungrateful for your work?  Well, then again the elders existed... That was besides the point, though. You’re not even sure if Yuuji knows what the word fuck or shit is.     He drags his finger lazily along the cot, drawing various shapes into existence, giving you a skeptical look. “Not gonna answer? Stumped?”     He broke through your train of thought, and you shake your head. “Satoru, I don’t know any sort of fighting jujutsu, but I will fucking pulverize you and make sure you’ll be dust by the time I’m done with y-”     Butting in, he raises his hand as a way to shut you up. “Honeybun, you’re an amazing jujutsu sorcerer, but I hope you realize why they call me the strongest of all time. If you haven’t noticed, it’s because I have a constant shield. The closest you can get to doing that is maybe poking me.”     Giving him a snooty face, you’re frankly about to push him out of the room with sheer willpower and hatred alone. It seems he realizes this, a moment of adoration flickering across his eyes before finally neutralizing. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing with you. You’re so cute when I do though, like a little... Rabid raccoon! How can I not resist?”     It’s difficult to tell if that’s a compliment or an insult, with Satoru, it could be several things. But, you’re still slightly flattered, knowing him he’d go out of his way to lengthen his insult if it was one- just another reason why you hated him. Being called a rabid raccoon was definitely not on Satoru’s top 10 utterly offensive insults.       “Shut up, Satoru. Here, take off your shirt, what did you get yourself into this time?”       He obliges with a nasty grin on his handsome features, hastily yanking off his uniform. Underneath was a very meticulously trained body, toned muscles and all. You can’t help but to also catch a glimpse of his collarbones, which were so defined it looked like it could cut your butter for your morning pancakes. You gulp, blinking, you had forgotten just how well-shaped he was in the one week you hadn’t seen him.       “No need to stare, sweetums.” he chirps, realizing your darkening cheeks. “Feed my ego any more and I’ll probably burst and my organs will decorate your walls. You can donate my body to the local college, they’ll be surprised by how top-notch they are.”       Giving him another stern, but much more sheepish gaze, he snaps his mouth shut, but a triumphant smile replaced his grin in place.      “Please, no gruesome detailing. I’d much rather my cute kitten posters.” you motion to a white cat slumbering peacefully in a basket.      “Looks just like you.” he says.      You close your eyes and pretend he’s not there, choosing to ignore yet another one of his compliments, but your heart thumps faster in your heaving chest. Heaven knows how curious your hands could get if you could see where you were touching-      “Those are my abs, Y/N. I think we’re focusing on my back.” he muses aloud in an almost teasing tone. You can already imagine how obnoxious his face is, opening your eyes hesitantly, blinking to adjust to the bright room lights. Your hands are still hovering above his abs, his gaze is upon yours, looking at you with a mix of speculation and speechlessness. Instead of his unusual smug smirk, there’s an almost coy expression on his features, which shocked you.        “How’d your hands get there? Last time I checked, abs are at the front, not the back, hmmm?”        You grit your teeth, your face flush with warmth at your sudden realization. There was no cheeky retort you could’ve possibly come up with, after all, he was right, how did your hands wander to his abs? You weren’t thinking of doing it. You weren’t interested in him either, but he was attractive. Of course you’d be too curious for your own good.. Yes, that was it..       “Your hands are still on an inappropriate place, Y/N. Except, a lil lower than last time.” he chuckles wholesomely as you jerk up, straightening yourself and clearly sweating, your arm wiping your brow and exhaling a drawn-out and awfully dramatic sigh.       “Give me a break, Satoru. I just, um, you know... Zone out.” your pitch was unconvincing, high-pitched and wavering, bringing your chances of believability to a low.      “So, this is like, the 375th time since you’ve zoned out, lil girl.” he tsks, “You’ve gotta sound convincing if you wanna fuckin lie, you know.”      “I--” you falter, now clearly a shade darker than you were just 5 minutes ago. Your heart beating so rapidly it was almost like you were running a marathon. Why was your pulse so quick? Why was everything in the room a blur besides him? Why couldn’t you focus on healing him? What was he doing to you?      “You haven’t even begun the healing process.” he murmurs, his large hands caressing your arm that was by your side. “Anything you want to tell me, pumpkin? I’m on a tight ass schedule, but I’ll let Ijichi solve that. Spit it out.”       His voice rang out high and clear amongst the hectic fight that was going inside your head, steadying your thoughts. A few moments pass by, studying him, lips moving but no words coming out. Why was it so difficult to say through the insults, you cared for him, and wanted him to be more careful? Was it because of the monster inside of you, who wanted him to get hurt, to spend his time with you, listen to his horrible compliments and giggle at the jokes he made as you worked at a snail’s pace on his back, that weren’t even funny, but was funny because of his presence in the dead room, his boyish laugh very much needed in such days of flatness?      “Satoru..” you finally muster out, his eyes flickering on you once more as he was studying the kitten poster with much boredom. “I just.. Care for you.”      “Huh.” is all he says, face falling and examining the spotless floor. “Is that all?”      Acknowledging his body language, you huff, suddenly filled with the need to defend yourself. “What else did you want me to say? I just feel like you’ve gotten yourself hurt a lot more recently and... I just, want you to be more careful. That’s all.”     “No.” he was barely audible, so you had to lean down to hear him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re hiding something. Do you prefer me to say it?”     Puzzled, you peer at him with childlike curiosity gleaming in your eyes. What did he know about you that you didn’t? Surely, you knew all about yourself?    “You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?”     “Huh?-” you begin to speak, clearly offended, but you’re stopped.     By none other than his lips.      They’re soft, pillow-like even. A familiar warmth floods inside of you at the sudden physical contact from Satoru, except it’s amplified by 10 times. A moan slips out of your mouth, his hand against your back so suddenly you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there just a millisecond ago. His lips were mashing against yours, as if he wanted to have done this a long time ago. You hungrily push back, teasing your mouth with his tongue that slipped just barely into your mouth before indulging in you, which you thought wouldn’t had ever happened prior to this.      You grip the back of his head firmly, as if he were to escape, other hand tangled in his snow white tufts of hair. Eyelashes fluttering, heavy breathes fanning out both of your noses, your lips were sure to be swollen after this. Your tongues dueling each other, working your mouth against his. His unoccupied hands start to play with the hem of your shirt, and another moan slips out of your mouth, anxious to have progressed so far to the removal of clothing, but at this point, you’re ready for anything.    ‧₊˚✩彡.       “I don’t think Gojo-Senpai and Y/N-Senpai are just in an intense healing session.” breathed Yuuji with a terrified look in his eyes, clutching his arm that was bloodied up, his head leaned close to the firmly shut door.        Nobara looked like she was about to faint, looking at the door as if it was a several feet tall monstrosity of a curse.        “What? What are they doing in there?” Megumi knelt down to where Yuuji was, pushing his ear against the door, and immediately his eyes shot open, a traumatized look in his fearful eyes.        “What the fuck.” 

[arvinsescape]

His rich girl, her pirate.

A/N: I’ve been watching way too much pirates of the Carribean and this popped into my head, a longer one again and I hope you all enjoy!! 💕

Warnings: Language, smut (minors do not engage), oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it up people), mentions of death. Maybe a few spelling mistakes.

Summary: He rescues her and she’s everything he ever wanted, even if he didn’t think so at first.

W/C: 6.8K

“Captain!” Tom heard his name shouted from outside his quarters on the ship, he was busy mapping out a new course, in search of some treasure or other. Tom dropped his pencil onto the table, huffing as it slid onto the floor with the sway of the tide.

“What?” He asked as he opened his door.

“We found someone.” His crewmate answered and Tom furrowed his brows, they were practically in the middle of nowhere.

“Someone?” Tom asked, brows furrowed as he followed his friend to the side of the ship, looking over and onto a few of the rocks below.

“There.” Another man shouted.

Tom followed the man’s finger and his eyebrows shot up at the sight. A woman was laid out on a rock, she looked almost dead, god knows how long she’d been there.

“Release the ladder.” Tom said, watching as one of his men threw the ladder over the side of the ship. “Stay here.” Tom ordered as he climbed over the side and onto the ladder.

“But captain,” one of his men stopped him. “It’s bad luck to bring a woman on board.” He continued and Tom rolled his eyes, this particular member of his crew had always been superstitious to a fault. “She might be a siren.” He panicked.

“I don’t hear her singing.” Tom grumbled as he continued down the ladder.

“Captain, you’ll bring bad luck to us all.” Chris shouted again and Tom ignored him as he jumped off the ladder. Tom moved carefully towards the figure, she was laid out on her front, back facing up, it looked bruised, and Tom wondered if she was in fact alive.

“How’d you get out here?” Tom asked himself as he carefully turned her figure over, he was in awe of her. She was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, her dress was in tatters, probably because she’d ended up overboard, the water and rocks won’t have helped much. He knelt down next to her, pressing his head to her chest, she was alive, just barely but alive none the less.

The rain had started, covering everything in its path, including her. Tom huffed as he became soaked in rain water, it was heavy, the droplets big, probably a storm. He lifted her carefully and placed her over his shoulder, making his way back to the ladder, it was an awkward affair getting up the ladder with her on his shoulder.

“Captain, you should throw her back overboard, see the rain has come.” Chris said, drunk as usual.

“Christopher, we have sailed through storms and all sorts. If you are frightened of a little rain, perhaps it is you I should be throwing overboard.” Tom snapped as he made his way into his quarters, placing her figure down on his bed. “Where did you come from?” Tom asked to himself, taking in her figure properly now, with some light to help him see, it was late in the evening by now.

She was dressed in fine clothes, Tom could see that much, a noble woman? It wasn’t attire a pirate like himself was used to seeing that’s for sure. He watched as she struggled to breath, struggled to take large breaths, hers being short and shallow. Tom took in her dress and cursed before grasping his knife. He grasped the front of her dress being careful as he ran the knife through the material, freeing her from her corset.

It was almost immediate, a long breath was taken in her unconscious state. Tom was careful as he removed her torn dress, keeping his eyes trained on the task at hand, not on the skin he was revealing to himself. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman’s company, but this was nothing like those times, he needed to rid her of her wet clothing, get her into something dry so she could warm up.

He gasped as he took in the bruising around her stomach and chest, what had happened? Tom left to find one of his shirts, it was the best he could do. He carefully lifted her as put it on, taking note of the bruising to her back. Once successful, he pulled his sheets over her body, watching as she seemed to snuggle further into the warmth, letting out a sigh of content. Tom found himself smiling.

He left her alone in his bed, leaving his room as he went back onto the deck, locking his door behind him. Some of the men on this ship he wouldn’t trust as far as he could throw, his men now eyeing him.

“She’s alive and I demand that every one of you leave her be. She’s not to be harmed.” Tom snapped out and half the men looked deflated, it had been a while since any of them had had a woman’s company. Although Tom had never had a girlfriend and slept with quite a few women he still had respect for them, some of the men here didn’t.

“Captain, please listen to me.” He heard Chris. “She will bring death to us all, women shouldn’t come aboard a pirate ship.”

“We will drop her at the next port, what do you propose I do? Leave her to die?” Tom snapped, clearly growing annoyed with the man.

“If we live to see the next port.” Chris huffed back as he disappeared, probably to find more rum. Tom rolled his eyes as he made his way up to the wheel of the ship.

“How long until the next port?” He asked and watched as Harrison turned his head to him.

“Maybe three days, if the wind is kind.” He answered and Tom nodded. “We need more supplies?”

“No, I mean we could pick more up but no. We’ll be dropping the woman off, maybe she’ll find her way back home.” Tom answered and Harrison laughed.

“Don’t wanna keep her around?” Harrison joked as he nudged Tom with his shoulder.

“Harrison.” Tom warned.

“What? About time you found a woman.” Haz laughed.

“Yeah? Where’s yours?” Tom joked back and Harrison shrugged.

“I prefer the pirate life, if I ever met a woman who’d want to do this with me then I’d have a girlfriend, but they aren’t interested in the life of a pirate.” He laughed and Tom joined.

“Sure it’s not just because they find you as infuriating as I do?” Tom teased.

“Maybe I should be more like you, grumpy, snappy, bad tempered overall. You are more of a hit with the women than I am.”

Tom laughed as he clapped his best friend on the shoulder, making his way back to his room, unlocking the door. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, he glanced into his bedroom and furrowed his brows when he saw her figure had disappeared. He made his way into his room and found her in the corner, butter knife pointed at him. Tom held his hands up as she eyed him, distrust clear in her eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” She asked and Tom found himself amused. Pushing down how beautiful your voice sounded to him.

“Meaning of what? I saved you.” Tom said back and she scoffed.

“You’ve kidnapped me.” She replied.

“Kidnapped? I don’t think that’s what this is.”

“You locked the door, like a hostage.” She snapped and Tom laughed, lowering his hands.

“To make sure you’re safe. I assume you haven’t grasped what kind of a ship you’re on.”

“Pirate, I gathered that much with your charts over there.” She said, Tom found something endearing about her, the way she challenged him, she was brave, he’d give her that.

“Okay sweetheart,” Tom started as he made his way towards her, she held the knife higher, and Tom easily took it from her grasp. “You won’t be doing much damage with that.” Tom laughed and she huffed.

“You undressed me.” She snapped and Tom made his way to one of the many chairs scattered around his quarters as he sat, and she followed. He took his boots off.

“The cold would have taken you if I hadn’t.” He pointed out. “Besides, I dressed you again didn’t I?” He mused.

“Such a gentleman,” she rolled her eyes. “I demand you take me back to my ship.” She said, voice firm but it amused the hell out of Tom.

“Your ship? I think we passed the wreckage just before we found you.” Tom laughed and watched as her face flared with anger.

“I do not appreciate your tone. Do you know who you’re talking to?” She said and Tom looked at her, she was clearly from money, that much he could tell, the way she carried herself and spoke was enough of an indication. He almost shook his head, she looked good in his shirt, thoughts of her wearing them more often drifting into his thoughts.

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m not the sort of man you are used to dealing with, but I am all you have at the moment sweetheart.”

“Y/N.” She snapped.

“Tom. Look, it’s been a long night, how about I have a bath drawn for you and you can warm up. I’ll have some food arranged to be brought here.” Tom spoke as he stood, pulling his shirt from his pants as he relaxed for the night, grabbing himself a drink. “Want one?” He asked as he handed her a glass with the liquor in it.

He watched as she took it, taking a sip before coughing. He laughed as he took the glass from her grip, handing her a glass of water instead, he watched as she drank it. It hadn’t dawned on him that she might be slightly dehydrated as he handed her the rest of the bottle filled with water. She didn’t waste much time in drinking it, she was so elegant in everything she did, such a lady, it had Tom slightly struck with her.

He called for his men to draw a hot bath, and then instructed them to bring some food to them. Tom placed his hand in the bath water, deeming it hot but not so hot that it would scold someone.

“Here.” Tom said as he held a hand out to her, she hesitantly took it, eyeing Tom and then eyeing the hot water. “Don’t worry,” he threw his hands up in defense as to put her at ease. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Do you have any clothes?” She asked, head held slightly higher than most women he was used to dealing with. She intrigued him, he wanted to know where she’d come from, how she’d ended up stranded. He shrugged.

“Not for women I don’t. I would have the clothes I found you in washed but they are somewhat in bits.” Tom smiled as he watched her furrow her brows. ���I’m happy to try and find you something to wear for now.” He said and watched as she nodded. He smiled once more before making his way out of the room and shutting the door.

He heard a knock at his door, opening it to find Harrison with food in hand. He took a shot with his next question, shocked with the answer.

“You don’t happen to have a dress do you?”

“I do actually.” He said and Tom furrowed his brows. “One of the women I slept with last time we docked left it. It’s clean, might fit her.” Harrison shrugged and Tom smiled as he asked his friend to bring it, a few minutes later Haz reappeared, dress in hand as he handed it to him and bid him a goodnight.

Tom knocked on the door of the room she was in, watching as she answered, towel clad body eyeing him.

“One of the crew had this, here.” He said as he handed her the dress. A few minutes later and she was sat across from him as they ate, even the way you ate was graceful. The dress she had on made her look even more beautiful. “So, what is a woman like you doing so far out at sea?” He asked.

“I was accompanying my uncle to an isle nearby, we hit a storm.” She said, a sadness to her voice. “I suppose I should assume they are all dead?” She asked carefully and Tom couldn’t help but want to ease her nerves.

“You didn’t.”

“I suppose.” She smiled slightly. Tom finished his meal and placed both his feet up on the table, much to her horror. “Have you no manners?” She asked and Tom let out a laugh.

“Some. Probably not as many as you though princess.” She huffed at that.

“How is it I get stuck on a pirate ship?”

“Trust me, I’m not the worst one you could have gotten stuck with. You’re welcome by the way.” He said and she looked at him in confusion. “You know, for saving you.” He pointed out and she looked slightly embarrassed for a second before recovering.

“Yes, I suppose I never said thank you.” She said, stubborn tone. Tom liked her, one of the first women he’d met that didn’t want to be in his room.

“And you go on about my manners.” Tom teased and she laughed lightly, a beautiful sound to his ears.

“I’m sorry, I’m being judgmental. That isn’t kind of me.”

“I think I can forgive you.” He smiled and she joined before yawning into the back of her hand. “You should get some rest.” Tom said as he gestured back to his bed, and she looked at him like he had two heads.

“Just what are you insinuating?”

“Absolutely nothing. I can sleep anywhere however, I imagine the princess is only used to a bed.” He really fucking liked her, found her adorable, a challenge but he liked it.

**

The next day and she’d opened up slightly, less tense. The crew had taken an instant liking to her, Tom knew most of them were being nice in hopes she’d join them in their chambers and Tom laughed as he watched her face contort almost with disgust, they weren’t fooling her.

“It’s going to be tomorrow when we hit the port, the wind has been almost unbelievably kind.” Harrison informed Tom and Tom found himself almost sad, she was going to be leaving their company sooner than he’d hoped.  

“Great.” Tom mumbled as he made his way back to his chambers where he found her tidying up. He raised his brows in question.

“Sorry, I just thought I’d tidy this place up a bit, it’s very messy.” She laughed and Tom smiled.

“I don’t care much for cleaning.” He said as he made his way to the music box he kept in his room, choosing a classical piece he’d stolen in one of the ports they’d sailed to.

“I didn’t take you for a man who listened to this sort of music.” She said and he looked at her before shrugging.

“It’s calming.” He said simply and she smiled.

“I had to dance to this once, I ridiculous man who wanted to be my husband.” She laughed and Tom smirked.

“The lady is not married?”

“No, much to my father’s annoyance. I refused to marry a man who drank too much and the last man he wanted me to marry was old enough to be my father.”

“Sounds like a shitty life, not being able to do what you want.” Tom said.

“It has some advantages. Life on the sea can’t be all that good.” She said but it wasn’t in judgment, more curiosity.

“I have seen more of the world than I imagine you have. I have the freedom to do as I wish.” Tom said honestly and she smiled.

“I always wanted to live in the sea. Used to wish I could be a mermaid when I was a small child.” She admitted childishly.

“Mermaids aren’t so nice.” Tom shrugged and he watched as her eyes widened.

“You’ve met one?” She asked and he snorted.

“Don’t be daft, there’s no such thing. The kraken? That doesn’t exist either.” He laughed and she smacked his shoulder playfully.

“It’s not kind to tease.” She said, small smile on her lips.

“I suppose it’s not, the look on your face made it worth it though.”

“You are not kind to me Tom.” She laughed.

“I think I’m very kind, gave you a place to stay.” He raised a brow.

“I’m sure my family will pay handsomely for that.” She said and he laughed.

“I doubt it. People like you think people like me should be grateful just to be in your presence, to speak to you.”

“That’s not true!” She said, growing annoyed with him. “My family may be noble, but we are not snobs.” She defended.

“No?” He teased. “How much time do you spend with people who are not like you? Tell me, where you allowed friends of a poorer status?” He asked and she huffed.

“I’m going to bed.” She said as she stood up, Tom reaching out for her hand.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. But I suppose you’ve never known what it’s like for people like us.” He said, the softness of her hand a stark contrast to his own calloused ones. She sighed before sitting down again.

“I know. Look, my family can be snobs, awful really. I never wanted to be like them. I did have a friend once, she was the baker’s daughter, a lovely girl. My parents found out and I never saw her again.” She admitted, a tear in her eye. “I always wanted to run away, it was my plan. It was why I was on the boat in the first place, I was going to run away. Instead, I almost died, and I only have you to thank for the fact that I didn’t.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Tom said as he placed his hand on her cheek and wiped at the stray tear, he watched as she sniffled before standing.

“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. Crying in front of someone else.” She said and she tried to leave put Tom grasped her hand tighter, making her stop and look at him.

“You are allowed to cry. Keeping those emotions bottled up is no good for you.”

**

They’d arrived in the port, the men having disappeared to find what they wanted. Tom took you to a noble looking man who was taking names from one of the ships that was not a pirate ship.

“Name?” The man asked without looking at the two of you.

“I was hoping you could find this woman’s home.” Tom said as he looked at her, she’d become very quiet, much quieter than usual. The man peered over his sheet and looked at her, Tom decided to leave the two of you alone as he smiled at her, the gesture had become returned.

Tom made his way back to his ship, waiting for his men’s return, a sadness set in his chest, he was going to miss her. The only god send being he’d get his bed back, an ache had set in his back from sleeping in the chair.

“Tom!” He heard his name, the last voice he expected to hear. He looked up from his spot on the step he’d sat on. Her beautiful figure making its way over before stopping in front of him. “I want to come.” She said simply and Tom furrowed his brows.

“You want to come? Live aboard this ship?” He asked, completely in disbelief.

“Yes. My family will assume I’m dead. You can take me to see the world, can you not?” She asked and Tom’s eye brows shot up.

“Princess, I’m not sure a pirate life would be for you. Besides, you’d have to share a room with me.” Tom said, thinking this was a fleeting thought for the woman, something she’d not thought through.

“You’re not so bad.” She admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Charming.” He laughed and she joined.

**

That was that, a week later and you were sailing towards a treasure Tom had set his eyes on. The crew had decided they liked her, taking her as one of their own, all but Chris. Tom had lost eyes on Chris as he looked around the deck from his perch above.

“Where’s Chris?” Tom asked Harrison.

“Should he not be scrubbing the deck today?” Haz replied. It was a glorious day, she’d disappeared to do something.

“I can’t see him.” Tom said and watched as one of his men ran up towards him.

“Captain, you should know Chris was talking some shite this morning. Now I’m worried for miss Y/N’s safety.” He said and Tom shot to his feet.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he made his way down the steps.

“He was talking about her being a bad omen, how she needed to be dealt with, killed captain.” The man panicked, but nowhere near as much as Tom was. He rushed into your now shared quarters and saw red at the sight in front of him. Chris had her pinned down, hands wrapped firmly around her throat as he tried to squeeze the life out of her.

“Never should have come aboard. Must save the crew and the captain.” Maybe Tom had overlooked this man’s drinking problem. He was fast to act, knocking the man from atop of her. He restrained him as he watched her cough, gasping for air. Tom handed Chris to Harrison who’d made an appearance.

“Take him out of my sight.” Tom snapped as he helped her up, pulling her to his chest as she fisted his shirt. “Lock him up, we’ll drop him at the next port.” He said as he held her closer to him.

“Captain?” Chris asked, wide eyed.

“Just be thankful I’m not making you walk the fucking plank.” Tom almost shouted and Chris silenced himself as Harrison took him away. “Hey,” Tom said when they’d gone. “You’re okay.” He reassured as he ran a hand through her hair as he kissed her forehead.

“Thank you Tom.” She spoke. “I suppose I owe you my life at this point.” She laughed lightly as she pulled away from him, he instantly wanted her back in his hold.

“Don’t sweat it.” He shrugged in reply.

**

It was later on that evening, everyone was enjoying a drink on the deck, an evening of partying had ensued. She was enjoying herself, lightly tipsy as she held a bottle of run in her hand, Tom was surprised when she drank from the bottle.

“Not very lady like.” Tom teased and she laughed as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I suppose I can’t call myself that now. Pirate I am.” She laughed as she raised the bottle, much to Tom’s amusement. “Or should I say a fucking pirate?” She laughed again as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Miss L/N, what a dirty mouth you have on you.”

“I’m almost as bad as you.” She laughed and Tom felt his heart pound in his chest, she was so beautiful to him, more free than when he’d first met her.

“I don’t swear in front of ladies.” He said.

“No, but I’ve heard you swear in front of the crew. You swear at them a lot. A true sailors mouth.”

“I thought we were pirates.” He teased and he watched as she took another swig and shrugged, pulling a laugh from him.

“You’ve grown on me.” She suddenly said.

“Good to know.” He said as he pulled her even closer to him, he was intoxicated by her scent.

“I really like you Tom.” She said as she looked at him, his heart soared when she reached out and moved a stray piece of hair back from his face. Her fingers running down his cheek as she studied him, almost as if she was admiring a painting. She ran her fingers over his lips, he kissed the tips of them, making her giggle.

“You’re okay.” Tom simply said with a smirk as she slapped at his shoulder.

“Arsehole.” She huffed. “I thought we were having a moment.” She said with a laugh.

“Oh, you wanted a moment?” He asked as he stood, pulling her with him as he took the bottle from her hand and passed it to Harrison.

“Tom?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed. He bowed, the music being played by the crew, she knew what he wanted. He held his hand out to her and the crew watched in awe as their captain, their grumpy captain, took the woman’s hand in his and pulled her into him. Chest to chest as he placed a hand on her waist and held her hand, her free hand making its way onto his shoulder.

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance.” She said in amazement. Tom laughed as he tugged her impossibly closer.

“There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, I’m sure.” He said back as he twirled her under his arm, pulling her back into him. The crew watched as their captain danced with the woman, so happy, soft, careful. She was smiling like a woman who’d had all her dreams answered in the last five minutes.

“Tom?” She asked after a while, she had her arms around his neck, head on his shoulder as his arms stayed firmly on her waist. He hummed in response, it was a beautiful night, he’d forgotten that the crew were still around, although they’d all started chatting to one another, the music slowing to a gentle pace as they swayed with one another. “I meant it.” She said.

“What?”

“I really like you.” She looked up at him. He looked down at her, she looked as beautiful as ever, her eyes had a shine to them he’d not seen before, she looked so happy, genuinely content with life and it made his heart beat for her all that much harder. Their faces became closer, almost impossibly so.

“Are you going to kiss me Tom?” She asked him, her breath hitting his face in the most breathtaking way.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asked, lips brushing one another’s.

“I didn’t think pirates asked for permission.” She whispered, standing on her tip toes, drawing herself closer to him. He let out a breathy laugh before capturing her lips with his own and god, he wished he’d done it sooner. Her lips were sweet, soft pressed against his own, her hands winding into his hair as she pulled him closer, he hummed into the kiss, a hand trailing up her spine and into her hair. She pulled away for air and looked at him in such a way that had him, there and then, he was hers.

“Wow.” She breathed out, a hand playing with the curls at the back of his head.

“I really like you too by the way.” He whispered as he placed his lips back against hers.

**

Two weeks later and they’d kissed a few times, they made port for the night in a pirate port. Dropping Chris off to do what ever he wanted, he was still muttering shit as they dropped him off. They were in a bar, having a few drinks and he watched as she conversed with the crew, Harrison had found a woman for the evening. No one was yet wasted, they’d only been in there an hour.

“I hear you’re captain of a ship.” A woman said, voice seductive as she stood in front of him.

“That I am.” He replied simply.

“Do you want to show me your room?” She asked and Tom looked down at her, she wasn’t leaving much to his imagination, breasts almost on full display.

“Not really, I have a room-mate.” He dismissed. He hadn’t noticed that Y/N was watching them.

“Just tell him you’re busy.” She said as she gripped his collar, pressing her lips to his. He was too shocked to do anything for a moment. That moment took too long as Y/N walked out of the bar, tears streaming down her face.

Tom pushed the woman off him gently. She huffed, trying to reattach their lips.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re lovely but no.” Tom said as he walked out in search of her. He didn’t find her, making his way back to the ship, only hoping that was where she’d gone. “Y/N/N?” He called when he got back to the ship, he heard her sniffles and found her sat on the steps that connected the upper deck and lower deck. “Y/N/N.” He sighed as he sat next to her.

“You really are just a pirate aren’t you?” She sniffled out.

“That’s not what that was, it wasn’t what it looked like.” He said.

“Bullshit.” She snapped as she stood, making her way into their shared room. “You are the same as the rest of them.” She said, ego clearly hurt, and Tom huffed.

“I just told you, it wasn’t what it looked like. Can you not just trust me? Have not proven enough that I care about you?” He said and she scoffed. “I get it, your feelings are hurt.” He snapped. “But I would have thought you’d trust me by now.”

“Trust you? Tom, you steal shit, you take what you want. Including my feelings and you toss them aside like they mean nothing.” She shouted and Tom felt his own heart ache, she didn’t trust him?

“You’re behaving like a brat. A complete child.” He shouted back at her. “I didn’t want her to kiss me, she just did. I don’t know what else to tell you.” He shouted, they were close, very close, he’d gotten her almost backed up into the wall.

“Me a brat?” She shouted in disbelief. “I’m nothing of the sort.” Something about her anger, the way she was screaming at him with such passion, such a fire in her eyes, turned him on to no end.

“You are so difficult.” He snapped as he caged her in with his forearms around her head.

“You’re an arsehole.” She snapped back, tension thick.

“You really can be a little brat at times.” He said back and she jumped on him, taking him by surprise as her lips fell to his. He pulled her closer to him, this kiss far more needy and desperate, one goal in mind for the pair.

“I never should have come back.” She said as she removed his shirt and he pinned her to the wall as he kissed her neck, placing a hand to other side.

“Never should have let you come back.” He retorted as he hiked her thigh up his leg. She pulled him closer to her with the leg wrapped around him. There crotches were close now, Tom groaning as he felt himself harden against her.

“Such an arrogant prick.” She said through a moan as he found her sweet spot. He laughed as he looked as her, running his hand up her thigh that was around his waist.

“Stuck up, childish brat.” He fired back. It was almost like they were revisiting that almost hatred of first meeting each other, the very personality traits that drew them to each other. Yes, they’d had their moments, much softer but they’d still had their moments, she challenged him in a way he didn’t know he wanted to be challenged.

“Fuck, Tom.” She breathed out in a moan as he squeezed her thigh, almost teasing where he knew she wanted him. He pulled back as he turned her around, her back facing him as the complicated lace of her dress stared back at him. Fuck this, Tom thought as he grasped at the material, ripping it as he heard her gasp. He turned her round gain as the material fell down her shoulders.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” He murmured as he pulled the dress from her frame, watching it pool around her feet.

“Thought I was a brat?” She fired back, eyes dark with lust and fuck, Tom was in love with her. Tom laughed at her words, pinning her back to the wall, kissing along her collarbones.

“Oh, sweetheart, you really fucking are. An absolute brat.” He said as he cupped her chin, she looked at him and he knew this was the first time in her life a man had been rough with her, and she fucking liked it. “You like it when I put you in your place? Remind you that you can just be an argumentative brat?” He asked and she moaned as he sucked her collarbone, pulling him closer, hand fisting his hair.

“You fucking kissed her Tom.” She fired back as she pulled his head up and connected their lips, god this woman. “Was she as good as I was?” She asked and Tom couldn’t help but shake his head.

“No baby, she wasn’t. I bet she had far less of an attitude though.” He said as she released the drawstring of his pants, them pooling around his feet as they both took their respective shoes off.

“You like being challenged don’t you Tom? Like someone who argues with you, challenges your status as a captain?” She said as she pushed him back onto the bed, Tom wanted this woman and he never wanted to let her go.

“Just as much as you like being put in your place. Being reminded that you’re just another rich girl who never had no said to her. A brat.” He said as he watched her remove her underwear before climbing on top of him, fuck, he’d never had an encounter like this before and fuck, he was turned on to fuck.

“Bet she wouldn’t make you feel like I do Tom.” She said as she kissed his neck and he moaned slightly, it had become a complete fight for dominance, neither of them knew which one would win and ultimately neither one cared.

“That’s why you’re here right? Because no man can make you feel like I do. I excite you don’t I? I know when to treat you like a lady and when not to and you fucking know it don’t you?” He said as he flipped the two of them, taking his own underwear off. “You get off on the idea of me being rough with you, putting you in your place.” He said as he kissed her neck and she moaned as he traced his tip down her slit. “You’re so fucking wet princess.”

“Fuck me.” She breathed out.

“Oh gladly, but first I want to taste you Y/N.” He said as he made his way down her body, kissing every inch that he could, her hips raising off the bed in anticipation. He pinned them back onto the mattress as he came face to face with her glorious heat, visibly wet for him. He licked a stripe through her folds and moaned at the sounds she made. He’d never met a woman like her, and he didn’t think he ever would again.

He practically buried his face in her cunt, licked and sucked at her clit as she moaned his name, moaned for him not to stop. He traced a hand down her thigh, running his fingers up it as she her moans reached a higher pitch. He was reveling in her sounds, moaning against her every so often and it pulled a louder moan from her.

He traced his fingers around her entrance before placing two in with ease, she was so wet and tight, Tom couldn’t wait to bury his cock inside her.

“Oh, fuck, Tom.” She moaned out and he removed his lips from her clit for a second as he spoke.

“Such a filthy mouth on such a lady.” He teased and she moaned, raising her hips off the mattress, getting herself off on his fingers. “Fuck, you like that. Like my fingers buried deep inside you?” He asked as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, her wetness making it easier to slide them in and out.

He placed his mouth back on her clit and she tightened around his fingers, she was close. He licked and sucked on her clit until she screamed his name, her orgasm washing over her as he fucked her through it, carefully removing his fingers when she was done. He moved himself back up to her face, she looked so blissfully happy, pleasure painted all over her face. Tom placed his fingers in his mouth, licking her orgasm off his fingers. She looked at him as if it was the filthiest and biggest turn on she’d ever seen.

“Open up.” He said as he placed his fingers in her mouth, she sucked on them, eyes never leaving his and Tom felt himself grow harder than he ever had before.

“Fuck.” He muttered before entering her, giving her a minute to adjust as her walls clenched and unclenched around him, both of them moaning. She nodded at him, lifting her hips, a signal for him to move. He did, drawing his hips back before slamming back into her, she moaned as her head rolled back.

“Let’s see if we can fuck that brattiness out of you.” Tom moaned and she joined, moaning louder than she had so far. He continued his pace, slamming in and out of her, his own orgasm climbing up him. She clenched particularly tightly around him, and he moaned, she was close again. He moved a hand to rub her clit, resting all his weight on one arm.

It wasn’t long before she was screaming his name and digging her nails into his back, he knew she’d have left scratches, but he didn’t care, it added to his pleasure, pulling him further towards his own orgasm. He was so close, so unbelievably close and she pulled him down, her lips against his ear as she spoke.

“I love you, Tom.” She said and he moaned as he pulled out of her, hot spurts of his cum making ribbons on her stomach. He collapsed on top of her, as they both panted, both sweaty messes. He kissed at her shoulder, they both shook as the aftershocks of their orgasms went through them, both cuddled close.

“I love you.” She said as she lifted his head and peppered kisses along his face.

“I love you too. So much.” He said as he placed his own kisses to her face.

He cleaned the two of them up and for the first time since he’s rescued her, she was laid against his chest as they shared a bed, his hand running up and down her arm. Placing the occasional kiss to her head.

“Long overdue.” She giggled as she traced patterns along his chest with her finger.

“Yeah, long overdue.” He said, pulling her closer. She still looked blissfully fucked out, content and happy. It wasn’t long before they both drifted off to sleep.

**

Five years later and Tom was running the best pirate ship in the sea. Women had joined now, Harrison had a girlfriend, some of the other crew did. Y/N and Tom where still perfectly and happily in love, she still challenged him in ways he wanted to be challenged and he still treated her like a princess, but not between the sheets. He made sure she had everything she wanted, she made sure the same.

They were prefect for each other, Tom found her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his hands on her stomach. She was watching over the side of the boat, finding content when she watched the sea, he took her left hand in his.

“Mrs, Holland, I do believe it’s about time for your foot rub.” He said.

“Mr Holland, you are never late.” She said as his finger traced the ring on her hand.

“I love you.” He said as he placed his hand over her growing bulge, hands rubbing at it, the growing baby inside her. She reciprocated the feelings as he turned her and led them back to those same quarters they fell in love in, the same quarters where he had spent hours showing her how much he loved her, cared for her. There was no one else for him and there was no one else for her.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(TFATWS) Bucky x Reader: Protective- Part 1

 (Author’s Note: I watched TFATWS and loved it.  So here we are).

 The tension had finally fizzled out an hour or so into the trip- at least for a little while.

   Your consulting criminal, Zemo, made himself comfortable as soon as he set foot on the jet.  He was leaning back in his seat across from you, looking very pleased as he read a book and took an occasional sip from his champagne glass.  His contented demeanor had visibly affected both of your friends, Sam and Bucky, causing their irritation with him to skyrocket earlier.  But after some of the confrontations concerning Bucky’s inherited notebook from Steve, Sam’s music, and Zemo’s observations of you, things had finally calmed down.

   He was a crafty one.  He knew how to push buttons, knew exactly what to say to trigger each individual’s weak points.  Things had begun to escalate especially when Zemo turned his attention to you.  His piercing gaze had you frozen in place as he made inquiries.  While he didn’t ask anything outwardly uncomfortable, the probing questions about your life were starting to make you uneasy.

   The other two males didn’t take too kindly to Zemo’s attempts at conversation with you.  Bucky stared out the window with his jaw clenched.  At one point, Sam let out an exasperated sigh, causing the criminal to halt mid-sentence. He leaned over to raise his brow at you diagonally across the aisle of the jet.   “_________, is he bothering you?”

   You didn’t have to speak: the look on your face said it all, and Sam shifted in his seat again to look over at Zemo.  “Alright, that’s enough.”  His tone was firm and leaving no room to question.

   Directly across the aisle from you to your right, Bucky’s shoulders relaxed when Zemo followed Sam’s command.  The jet had fallen silent except for the muffled whirring sounds of its mechanics.

   You pretended to skim through a magazine that you’d found laying on a tray.  With one hour down and twelve more to go on the flight, you felt the need to unwind a bit.  Everything had happened so fast from the moment you agreed to go with your friends to Berlin to see Zemo.  After Thanos’ horrible plan came to an end, things heated up when John Walker went public as “the new Captain America.”  He’d even offered you a place working with him since you were part of Team Cap back in the day.  You declined, of course, and found yourself even more determined to help Sam and Bucky.

   You were happy for Steve.  You were.  It was still hard to have him gone.  For years, ever since the Avengers broke apart over the Sokovia Accords and Bucky’s framing, you’d followed Steve.  Even before then, when it was discovered that Hydra had been infiltrating SHIELD, you’d left the broken agency to join him as he continued his fight against threats to the world

   You hadn’t imagined that you and the others would be left to keep fighting without him.

   “You in the market for a new grill?”

   You were drawn from your deep thought to a set of dark blue eyes that looked from you to the magazine page that you hadn’t turned in at least ten minutes.  You chuckled and closed the magazine, playing along.  “Yes, I figured with all this extra time, I’d do a little shopping.”

   The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched up in a brief show of amusement.  You rose from the seat to go to his side, kneeling down beside his chair.

   “Why does he even have this?”  You lowered your voice as you glanced at the eccentric baron, setting the magazine back down onto the tray.  “You’d think there would be more European fashion magazines or something.”

   Bucky’s eyes flickered to the man in question before leaning in to speak in an equally quiet tone.  “I have to admit.  We lucked out with him.  Not only does he have a lead, but he’s got private transportation so we can stay under the radar.”

   “I think we made the the right choice going to him,” you replied.

   “We can only hope,” he muttered.  “Seriously though, what were you thinking about when you zoned out?”

   “Oh.”  You averted your gaze, playing with the hem of your jacket.  You didn’t want to delve into your train of thought.  It was plain as day that Bucky and Sam were both dealing with Steve’s departure in their own ways, and you didn’t want to add to it or open up any healing wounds.  So, you settled on being vague.  “Just...everything.”

   He seemed to know what you meant anyway.  The silence that followed made guilt gnaw in your chest, but before you could say anything, Bucky spoke.

   “Hey,” he nudged you with his shoulder, making you meet his gaze again.  His eyes had softened significantly and forehead smoothed in absence of the lines caused by furrowed brows.  It was a nice change from the scowl he had since the mission started.  “Sorry we dragged you into this.”

   You dismissed the apology with a casual wave of your hand.  “You guys didn’t drag me into anything.  I was along for the ride from the beginning.”

   A comfortable silence fell between you then.  He returned to gazing out the window while you stood up and headed back to your seat, sinking into it and letting your head tip forward.  You figured that a cat nap was in order since you hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.  All that business with an internationally-known criminal breaking out of prison had you on edge.  With nothing but the sounds of occasional page-turning from Zemo’s book and Sam tapping his foot lightly to the beat of music he listened to on his phone with earbuds, sweet sleep claimed you in no time.

   You were pulled from your dreamless slumber by voices, but your body wasn’t ready to respond just yet.  The first thing you noticed was that you were leaning against something on your right side, your face resting on a soft material that held the scent of leather and cologne. Bucky’s scent.  It must’ve been his jacket balled up to serve as a pillow.  In fact, it was his voice rumbling closest to you.

   “Stop looking at her like that.”

   “Apologies, James, but I don’t know what you mean.”  Zemo’s accented voice was quieter, but there was a sprinkle of amusement in his tone.

   “You’re doing it right now.”

   “Bucky, come on,” Sam interjected.  “We managed to make it a few hours without killing the guy.  Don’t let him get to you now.”

   Zemo’s tone took on a new intensity, as if he was gripped by fascination.  “You seem very protective of __________.  The way you move around her is intriguing, as if prepared to defend her at a moment’s notice.”

   “Don’t engage,” Sam warned in a low voice.

   By now, you were almost fully awake.  Despite the potentially awkward situation that Zemo was creating with the analysis of your friend, you figured it would be best to intervene.  You shifted, blinking your eyes open.

   “What’s going on?” you muttered, voice still a little rough from sleep.  “It better be good because I haven’t slept that well in a while.”  You lifted your head from Bucky’s jacket, eyes darting up to see him staring out the window again.  “Sorry,” you muttered, brushing a bit of drool from his jacket before handing it back to him.  He stole a glance in your direction again, not seeming to mind.

   “No big deal.  You needed the sleep.”

   Bucky didn’t say another word, so you turned to Sam for answers.  He shrugged with the shake of his head.  “Zemo’s being... well, Zemo.”

   You nodded in understanding, as if that simple phrase was all the explanation you needed.  Zemo caught your gaze, the corners of his lips turning up a smile.

   “As I mentioned before, we will have to go undercover to meet with Selby in Madripoor.  I was merely thinking of disguises for you and Sam.”

   He seemed like was telling the truth, but you didn’t doubt that he relished the added bonus of getting under Bucky’s skin in the process.  While Bucky had been protective of you and those who chose to put themselves on the line to prove his innocence when it came to the UN bombing, you hadn’t expected him to be quite that defensive in this situation.  As flattering as it was in some ways, it made you worry.  Zemo knew what buttons to push.  Would he eventually push a button to make things go his way?  To forward some plan of his?

   You got up to stretch and use the refresher.  You took your time since there were still several hours left in the flight.  Zemo had informed the group that upon landing, there would be  limited window to get into costume and go over your characters before heading to Selby’s club.

   - - - - - - -  

   “Only an American would assume that a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp,” Zemo complained.  You stole a glance at your friend who gave his outfit another displeased look.  “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing.  The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”  He handed his phone over so Sam could get a look at his character’s picture.

   “He even has a bad nickname.  He does look like me, though.”

   “And who am I supposed to be?” you asked, pulling the jacket over your form tighter.  You wore a dark blue dress that went to your knees.  The material was soft and had a subtle glimmer in the light, and the outfit was complete with a pair of black heels that clacked on the pavement with each step, a shiny silver bracelet, and the black jacket that you were glad to have in the chilly air.  The group was walking to the halfway point of the bridge to be picked up.

   “You will be my date,” Zemo replied casually.

   You gave him an incredulous look.  “Really?  I’m just the date?”

   He released a sigh before launching into explanation.  “You don’t exactly resemble any crime bosses.  Besides, it’s not uncommon for dates to come and go in this town.  No one will be asking who you are.  No one will expect what’s coming to them if we need to fight.  You may have the greatest advantage out of all of us.”

   As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point.

   “Just remember to remain at my side at all times,” Zemo continued.  “Make it look convincing that we are together.”

   You refused to meet his amused look.  “Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.”

   A black car idled just ahead, and Zemo once more reiterated how important it was to stay in character. He told the group about High Town and Low Town, though you were a little distracted by the city lights reflecting off the water.

   You squeezed into the backseat between Bucky and Sam.  The ride was tense with only the sound of your breaths in the small space.  Bucky stared straight ahead through the windshield even as motorcycles surrounded the car and escorted it the rest of the way.  The car dropped you all off near the club, and Zemo held out his hand to help you out of the vehicle.  He put an arm around your waist at a respectful level, but Bucky took one look and halted.

   “Okay, this isn’t going to work,” Bucky snapped.  Everyone’s eyes were on him.

   Sincerity was written all over Zemo’s features as he responded.  “I assure you, it will.” Suddenly, his eyes flickered with realization, though you glanced between the two men in confusion.  “I know you don’t trust me, James, and I understand your discomfort.  However, you are playing the part of the Winter Soldier.  It is best if she remains inconspicuous as my date.”

   “Wait, that’s what this is about?” Sam asked in disbelief.  “Who ________ pretends to date?”  Your eyes fell to the pavement.  The situation was already unpleasant.  The last thing you wanted was to bring confusing feelings into the mix while in the middle of an important mission.

   Bucky began to protest.  “No, I-”

   “Relax,” Sam said, holding up his hands to show he meant no offense.  “________, you can stay by me.  Smiling Tiger can have a date, right?”  He looked to Zemo for confirmation.

   “Excellent idea.”  He nodded in approval.  “Just remember to stay in character.  All of you.”  

(Link to Part 2)

[haztory]

OK BUT THAT'S ME BEING AN IDIOT HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA drabble/sfw JAHAHHAHAHAHAH DAMN

““You better catch that fucking bouquet, babe. Our relationship is on the line!” + “You wanna go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?” with Bokuto for the loveliest Clara! from my writing event that is now closed!

warnings: adult langauge and that’s it!

a/n: i answered her previous ask for the quotes so i’m just posting the drabble here! thank you for your patience my love!!! i hope you like it <33333

bokuto koutarou x f!reader; (fluff, all the fluff and wedding shenanigans)

Bokuto loves weddings. They’re truly his weak spot. Ask him to attend and he’s there an hour early, regardless of whether you’re his best friend or his cousin twice removed. The man lives for a wedding.

He loves the sentimentality of the ceremony that never fails to make him teary-eyed and oppositely, he loves the liveliness of the reception, half tempted every time to push the DJ aside and take over the mixing of music with a drink in his hand and a sloppy yell. He’s a vivacious mess of mixed moods and energy, but truthfully, he’s the best date anyone could ever ask for.

The best attendee too, considering almost everyone wants him to be a groomsman. He usually can never say no, but this time, it wasn’t even a question; Especially not for Hinata.

But above all, he loves that every wedding he attends grants him ample opportunity to enter into the sanctity of his fantasies and imagine his own.

“Did ya see him up there?!” Atsumu barks with a hard laugh, one hand clutching his whiskey and another his suit-clad chest, “He was cryin’ more than the groom!”

Met with the boastful laughs of his fellow team members, all gathered in a scattered circle by the bar, Bokuto jokingly pushes the blond on his left with a loud scoff and a faux-defense tone.

“I held it in!”

 “I heard you sniffling when Sho finally entered the venue,” Sakusa says, pointing a finger at Bokuto with the same hand that held his own alcoholic drink, “Don’t lie.”

 The group erupts into even more scattered laughter, that of which Bokuto finally joins in. His suit jacket has long since been abandoned, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he holds his hands up in surrender, “What can I say? I love weddings!”

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, Meian joyfully says from beside him, “At least we’ll know now how you’ll be at your own.” His eyes waggle in accompaniment and Bokuto feels his cheeks start to ache from the intensity of his smile. 

“We’ll bring extra tissues!”

Flustered to the core, Bokuto dips his head in abnormal shyness— the likes of which have the entirety of his friend group leaning forward in curiosity, their own interested smiles painted on their faces.

Fascinating as it may be to see the loud and boisterous wing spiker reduced to flushed cheeks at the mention of marriage, it doesn’t take much to figure out why; Even if they didn’t know him as well as they did, it was more than clear as to the reason when Bokuto’s own gaze tries to covertly dart to the side. That of which they all notice and blatantly follow. 

Stood beside the table of the bride, there you stood in all of your sheer elegance laughing with a number of the bridesmaids, blissfully unaware of a loving gaze that was drawn much too heavily to your turned figure. Focused on the way your dress shimmers in the dim lighting and the way you speak amongst the other guests, Bokuto feels locked in the trace of your magnanimous presence. Shyness dissipating quickly and replaced with the overwhelming flutter in his stomach.

And, not for the first time this night, he wonders briefly what it would be like if it were you walking down the aisle; If instead of the sheer, shimmery dress that adorned you beautifully, you were wearing a white one.

As he watched with exuberant joy as one of his closest friends married the one he loved, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if this were his wedding. If it were you walking down the aisle to the ethereal orchestra with your closest friends and family in attendance, all watching with eager rapture at your astounding beauty as he surely would be. But none of them, not a single one of them could ever compare to the intensity of his own stupefied gaze.

He’s imagined the scenario too often, felt tears prick the corner of his eyes every time, and he grows more excited each time he’s fantasized. But nothing gives him more butterflies than the thought of interlocking his hand with yours, placing his ring of eternal promise on your third finger, and avidly vow forever with you.

It’s not like he needs a wedding to promise that; He sees his future every time he looks at you—even if you have your back turned to him and are chatting away unsuspectingly with the fellow attendees.

 But a wedding would be nice, he thinks.

“That’s if he can get married,” Atsumu mutters into his glass cup and takes a long drink of his whiskey.

Bokuto, interrupted from his loving stare at the back of your head, snaps his own head to the blond with the speed to break necks. Eyebrows furrowed, fantasy ruined, and full offense coating his syllables, he exclaims, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, Atsumu leans one elbow on the surface of the bar counter and swirls his drink around, “Ya keep sayin’ yer gonna do it, but how long’s it been? Seven, eight months? If you haven’t done it yet, yer not ever gonna.”

A quick flash of sternness settles into the eyes of their captain, his arm still wrapped around the shoulders of the slowly deflating wing spiker. “He’ll do it when he’s ready, Atsumu. There’s no need to rush something like that.”

Rolling his eyes, Sakusa chimes in from across the three men. Pointing his stare at Koutarou, who resembles a kicked puppy at this point, he sighs. Not one to expel too much effort in emotional comfort, he decides this one is worthy of some kind of attempt. Albeit a minimal one. 

 “Don’t listen to this idiot, Koutarou.”

“‘m jus’ sayin’. She won’t wait for long, man,” Atsumu shrugs his shoulders again, eyes flitting to his right. Out of the corner, Koutarou deflates even more— shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth downturned noticeably. He huffs out a quiet laugh through his nose.

Step one, complete.

“Since when were you such an expert in what women want?” Sakusa snorts.

“I have experience, thank you very much!” 

“That’s hard to believe.”

Sticking his tongue out at Sakusa, he pointedly ignores the insult to his knowledge of the feminine desires and turns his attention to the subject matter at hand.

Atsumu knows what women, having dated quite a few in his years. More specifically, he knew what you want, considering one drunk evening you had wondered aloud— quite heartachingly in your alcoholic daze, he might add— if the boisterous wing spiker even wanted to marry you. Bokuto, in your words verbatim—

“He just always gets fidgety when I bring it up and I jus’ dunno if he even likes me anymore cause yesterday, he said that my dinner was just ‘okay’ when he always says that he really loves it. Do you know how that made me feel? How could he even want to marry me when I make just ‘okay’ food? Do you know how much he eats? How can he survive!”

And as the ever so loyal friend that Atsumu considers himself to be, who is never one to ever meddle in the business of others, decided it was only right of him to solve this slight problem himself.

By taunting Bokuto, of course. 

If only to make him take matters into his own hands and finally do what everyone has been waiting for. What he knew the poor man has been dying to do forever, considering he never shuts up about you.

And also, to finally have you stop drunk texting him, no matter how endearing he may find them to be.

“So,” Atsumu sings once more, ignoring the look of exasperation on Meian’s face and instead, zoning in on the face of despair before him, “what are ya waiting for?”

In his stupefied stare at the blond beside him, Bokuto finds his gaze once more being drawn back to your turned figure that stands right in his line of sight. Wearing that pretty dress that you face timed him to get his opinion on, smelling of sweet lavender and jasmine— his favorite perfume of yours— and the lip gloss that you begged him not to mess up. He didn’t listen, and truthfully, you hardly minded all that much.

What is he waiting for? He knows what he wants, so why hasn’t he done it yet?

What if you’re growing tired of how long he’s been waiting? What if you’re unhappy that your relationship hasn’t progressed to the next stage? Oh god, what if--

His mouth opens then closes, then opens once again, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I… I don’t know.”

“Do ya want to marry her?”

Bokuto nods eagerly, as though through the action alone he could dispel of any lingering doubt that ever had the audacity to pervade his thoughts, “Of course! I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“Ya think she’s gonna say ‘no’?”

Looking at his two other teammates, who each have their own curiosities piqued at the line of questioning, he shakes his head with finality.

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Then ya just need a push!” Placing his drink on the counter, Atsumu slaps his hand on the man’s shoulder, “How about this: If yer girl catches the bouquet, ya rip the band-aid and ya ask her—”

Stepping in once more, Meian chimes, “Don’t push him to do something he’s not ready for—”

“I ain’t pushin’! He’s got the ring already, right?”

“You do?” All eyes fall onto Bokuto, who stares with widened innocent stare at each of them. He quickly shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out his fist to reveal a velvet box in his hand. 

“I’ve been carrying it with me every day for the past six months. I just didn’t know if I should do it.”

Three pairs of eyes stare blankly at the man before them. Sharing a quick look at one another, the message is translated seamlessly between each of them and voiced eloquently by Meian himself. Ever the efficient captain.

“Holy shit.”

“My friend,” Atsumu laughs, squeezing his hand on the broad shoulder of his closest friend. His smile, innocent enough to the passing gaze, holds that twinge of mischief that Bokuto has come to know rather intimately; A taunting smile that has been directed his way one too many times that usually never ends well.

“I dare ya to propose to yer girl if she catches that bouquet. If yer really a man, that is.”

Bokuto’s eye twitches, his features narrowed at the utterance of the dare, and that’s how Atsumu knows he’s got him in the bag. It has his own smile widening even further, as Bokuto’s face scrunches in suspicion, knowing full well that he could never resist a dare.

With the single word alone, long gone is the hesitancy and doubt that plagued the man just a moment before, and instead stands a man tall in his ushering of competition. A man who thrives off the challenge, especially wherever his teammate presented one. It’s almost startling how quickly he sheds his mopey behavior and embraces his natural presence, which overwhelms and overpowers everyone around them. 

Step two, done.

“And if she doesn’t?” Bokuto asks, smugness filtering his words as he entertains the notion— silently accepts the provocation laid before him and drastically alters himself in order to successfully combat it. 

In order to win.

Spotting the glint of devilry that grows in strength in the narrowing of Bokuto’s eyes, Atsumu smirks and meets it with one of his own. He’s got him, hook, line, and sinker.

“Ya break up.”

Bokuto reels backward physically, shaken from the competitive trance and staring at the man in grotesque shock. The kind that almost borders anger and offense. Huffing a breath through his nose, he takes a step forward, away from the present comfort of Meian and almost in accusation.

“Are you trying to ruin my life, blondie? You trying to go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?”

Atsumu laughs, holding his hands up in defense, “I’m tryna get ya married, big guy!” Shoving his hands into his pockets, hardly phased by the proximity in which the large man has entrenched onto his space, he shrugs once more, “That is… if yer man enough to take it.”

“Deal,” Bokuto says without hesitation, both incredibly and not at all to the surprise of the other two men who have been silently watching from the sidelines. Like a sudden reset, the tension that resided stiffly in the shoulders of Bokuto rescinds, and replaced is the confident, joyous man. 

A man who looks as though he’s won easy money and then some. 

Smiling widely, Bokuto turns in his place and begins a bold strut away from his friends. In the direction of his beloved, “Excuuuse me, gentlemen. I’m going to go teach my lady how to catch a bouquet.”

Meian and Kiyoomi step to the side, allowing enough space for Bokuto to walk through with the hint of laughter in their small smiles. 

Spinning on his heel and pointing his thumb at his chest, Bokuto exclaims proudly, “This time tomorrow, I will be a married man!”

“One wedding at a time, Kou.” Meian laughs at the retreating man, who is beaming from head to toe.

“Better train ‘er good, big guy! Or else I might be the next one to propose to her!” Atsumu calls out as Bokuto gets closer and closer towards your turned figure.

“I’ll kill you!” He calls back, hearing the echoing laughter diminish as he finally steps beside you.

Turning from the conversation with one of the bridesmaids to the new presence, you shine beautifully upon recognizing who it is, and Bokuto feels his resolve grow almost stronger.

“Hi baby,” You coo, instinctually placing your hand into his and leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek when he quickly presents it to you, “Did you have fun with the boys?”

Wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, he places his own kiss on your cheek, humming against the surface of the skin yet making no move to part from you. “Mhmm. Just missed you.”

You laugh, rubbing your hand on his arm, “You were only gone for a couple minutes, Kou.”

Trailing his lips downward, he nuzzles himself into your neck, inhaling deeply. Lavender and jasmine. His favorite scent.

The one he wants to smell for the rest of his life.

“Ten minutes is too long.”

If possible, he manages to pull you even tighter against him. Two strong arms wrapping around you, pulling your chest into his and squeezing you tightly. Lovingly and entirely too comforting. Home.

You return the embrace eagerly, holding him to you equally as tight, “You’re right. It was starting to get boring without you.”

His hand, warm and large against the small of your back, rubs the surface up and down before he pulls back slightly, if only to look at your face in its entirety and the lip gloss you have unfortunately reapplied.

“You’re gonna do the bouquet toss, right?”

You raise an eyebrow, “I usually do. Why?”

He glances to the side, avoiding your inquiring stare. He raises a hand from your waist, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile, “Maybe we should go outside, and I can throw a couple of rocks at you. Just to practice your catching skills.”

“Kou— “

“Can’t have anyone disrespecting you on the floor, can we? We gotta let everyone know you’re a winner! Cause you’re my girl, and whoever disrespects you, disrespects me! You know? So, you better catch that fucking bouquet. I mean, our relationship is on the line, here!”

“Koutarou—” From the tone in which you say his name, he knows he’s not making any sense. You’re confused, incredibly so, and he can’t blame you. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, only that he has a goal, and he has to make you see it without revealing himself entirely.

 “I mean, only if you want to. It just… means a lot to me, and I want you to say yes, because I love you. And if you win, I win in a lot of ways. And I want to win with you, for the rest of our lives.”

Realizing almost entirely too late that he was talking with duplicity that you have most certainly caught on towards, he decides there is a good place to stop talking entirely. Oh god, he’s such an idiot. What was he thinking? He can never hide anything from you!

If you couldn’t tell from the way he was talking in metaphors, you could most definitely see it from the way in which sweat beads at the top of his forehead.

Your eyes flicker from each of his, your warm palms cupping the sides of his face as you watch him with concern.

“Baby,” You breathe out, voice steady and calm as you watch his resolve slowly crack under your watchful stare, “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

He tried desperately to remind himself that he has a mission to accomplish, that there was a dare that Atsumu had challenged him to that he must complete—but it’s you. You’re the trump card, the weakness in his defense, his priority above all else. He could never hide anything from you because you would catch him in a quick minute. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to hide anything from you.

It was easy to hide the ring under the guise of waiting for the perfect time, a mental barrier that he could excuse as a good cause behind his hesitancy, but now that he’s accepted a dare that is forcing him to put his desires to immediate use, he can hardly wait for the bouquet toss to arrive.

He’s got to do it now. The time is right, it will never be more perfect. You look beautiful, you’re held tightly in his arms, and he’s never been more convinced of the fact that he loves you. Why has he even waited this long?

He has to do it—Atsumu be damned.

“Marry me.” 

**

Extra:

“You really think she’s going to catch it?” Meian asks Atsumu, as they both watch from afar the way Bokuto wraps himself around your body, nuzzling unabashedly into you.

Atsumu scoffs, “Hell no. Girl can’t catch fer shit.”

Furrowing his brows, Meian stares at the blond with intense confusion, “Then why did you—”

“Just had to plant the idea in his head. He’ll do it soon, jus’ give it a minute.”

The two watch you both silently, noticing the way in which Bokuto pulls away from you and starts to speak rapidly. Neither of them can hear what he’s saying, but they can see his lips moving. More importantly, can see the way in which you stare in perplexion.

Then finally, his lips stop moving and your hands cup his face. The setter and captain feel their breaths hitch and they both lean forward if only to see if they can read the wing spiker’s lips from where they stand.

They can. And from the way you respond with a laugh and an eager kiss, they know it worked.

Looking to Meian, Atsumu raises his brow with a smile, “Told ya!”

end note: to everyone who sent a request, it is on it’s way! i just don’t know the definition of a drabble and instead make 3k long fics, so that’s fun. 

[theskywaslookingback]

[AO3]

“Why do you even have that?”

Sasha looks up from her laptop to give Jon a quizzical look. They’ve been deep in a research hole for hours now, Jon with his files spread out before him like a buffet and Sasha picking her way through line after line of code to access things that she really shouldn’t be able to access - although, the government should have better security if it didn’t want to get hacked so she tried not to feel too badly about it. Jon’s not looking at his files now though, his gaze appears to be drawn to her shoe-box sized kitchen.

“Why do I have what?” She asks, “A kitchen?”

“No, the--” He flicks his fingers in a vague gesture to the counter, and his eyebrows pull together in a fetching little wrinkle that Sasha desperately wants to smooth away with her thumb, “the absolutely massive thing you have taking up half your kitchen.”

“Oh!” Sasha says, and then starts to laugh.

The stand mixer is large, honestly, too big to store in the meagre storage space of her cabinets and taking up half the countertop next to the stove. It’s also a garish bright red, loud against the backdrop of beige walls and a white lino countertop. She wonders why on earth Jon’s bringing this up now, they’ve been working for hours now and this certainly isn’t the first time he’s visited her flat, and decides the answer to simply be that ‘it’s Jon, he’s probably just never noticed.’

He’s fully scowling at her now, in a way she knows is defensive. He probably thinks she’s making fun of him. He can be so sensitive. “Sorry,” She says when she stops laughing long enough to speak, “I think you just caught me off guard. It was cute.”

“Cute?” Jon starts to sputter, the tips of his ears darkening and his nose wrinkling.

He is cute, Sasha thinks.

She waves it off. “It was a wedding present. That’s one of the big ones, I think, for most people. First thing I added to the registry.”

Jon couldn’t look more blind-sided if he’d been hit by a lorry. He even drops his pen, staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re married?”

Sasha snorts. “Don’t be daft. Does it look like I’m living with someone?”

Jon looks around anyway like he’s looking for evidence. “Divorced?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ with extra emphasis and grinning at the helpless confusion radiating from her friend.

“Then--” Jon trails off. He looks at the stand mixer again, like maybe it holds the answers he’s seeking. He looks back at her, and then down at his files. Suddenly his head jerks up and he says, “Wait, have you ever even been engaged?” He says this so seriously it tugs at Sasha’s heart. His eyes narrow like he’s caught her in some kind of trap, as though that wasn’t what she was expecting.

Sasha grins. “No.”

Jon looks at her incredulously, like he’s fitting together a bunch of puzzle pieces in his mind. It’s fun. Jon is so fun. “Sasha, did you fake an engagement just to get a stand mixer?”

“Yes!” Sasha slams her laptop shut and points at Jon, “But do not tell my great aunt that, do you understand? It took me years of work to get that stand mixer, Jon!”

Jon stares at her silently for just a moment, absolutely bewildered, before he dissolves into laughter, curling in on himself and digging his fingers into his sides. It shakes his shoulders and Sasha swears there’s tears in his eyes and before she knows it she’s laughing too, hard enough it hurts her chest and blurs her vision. To an outside viewer they must look positively loony. It takes ages for them to stop and gather themselves back together. Jon takes off his glasses to wipe tears away from his eyes while Sasha rubs at her face and tries to stop the giggles that keep bubbling up when she looks at Jon.

“God,” Jon says at last, “I haven’t laughed like that in--” he clears his throat, “anyway.”

“Yes,” Sasha agrees, “anyway.”

She looks at the clock and is both shocked and completely unsurprised that it’s after midnight.

Jon must follow her gaze because she hears him utter a quiet, “good lord.”

She’s dangerously close to laughing again.

Jon starts to shuffle his files away back into their folders. “Later than I thought.” He says.

Sasha hums in agreement, putting her laptop away and sorting her notes into neat piles. “No use trying to get home this late, you might as well just stay the night.”

“Ah,” Jon’s nose does that cute wrinkle thing again, and Sasha’s lips twitch, “that’s quite alright. I’m sure I can just find a cab.”

“Could do,” Sasha agrees, “but it’d be easier if you stayed. I’ve got an extra toothbrush and everything. Plus, tomorrow is Saturday so it’s not like we have to rush back to work or anything.”

Jon’s got all his things put back in his messenger bag, a solid olive green canvas affair that Sasha privately thinks is dreadful looking. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your weekend. I’m sure you have plans.” He’s stalling, looking for a reason not to go. Sasha wishes he’d just tell her what he wants.

She smiles, because Jon isn’t easy but she knows him and she likes him anyway, “Well, I was going to put that stand mixer to work and make myself some bread. But other than that--” She shrugs.

Jon’s eyes go once more to that bright red piece of kitchen equipment. “You make your own bread?”

“Sure. It’s cheaper and it tastes better.”

Jon makes a thoughtful noise. “Well, I suppose… that is, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Lovely,” Sasha beams, and then adds slyly, “I’ve even got some of Tim’s things you can sleep in.”

Jon goes properly red at that and buries his face in his hands with a groan.

-

Sasha busies herself with getting her ingredients together while Jon wakes up. Before they’d become friends she’d always just kind of assumed he’d be a morning person. He had that air about him at work, sharp and alert even when she was still trying to get her head on. The truth is that while Jon has difficulties getting to sleep, he would happily sleep until mid-afternoon if she let him, so she makes sure to wake him at a decent hour and then goes back to check and make sure he hasn’t fallen back asleep. Since her flat is basically a glorified closet, and Jon sleeps on the sofa, this is not a hard task to keep an eye on.

It takes a good twenty minutes before Jon comes and sits himself down at what she generously calls a kitchen table. His hair hangs in curls around his shoulders and he impatiently pushes a hand through it where it covers his face. He’s still sleepy-eyed, the sleeves of Tim’s jumper she’d let him borrow pooling around his hands.

“Good morning.” She says with amusement.

He grunts, flopping into a rickety chair. “Coffee?” He asks.

“All out. Tea alright?”

He nods.

“Great. Kettle is over there.” She gestures vaguely to the area next to the fridge, “Tea is top cabinet.”

Jon sighs, like it’s a great effort for him to make his own tea, but offers no further complaint as he retrieves the kettle and fills it with water.

With Jon out of the way Sasha appropriates the table for more space to set out her scale and bowls. She won’t need anything too fancy today so it doesn’t take long to get set up. She hears the kettle and turns around just in time to see Jon half-way climbing onto the counter. “Jon!” She scolds, similar to the way she would her cat when she was a child.

He freezes and gives her a sheepish grin. “You said top cabinet.”

She did, and she hadn’t thought about the almost foot of height she had on Jon. She snorts and waves him down. “Grab the mugs, I’ll get the tea then.”

He grumbles something about doing it himself but obliges, plucking two mugs from the drying rack.

“Green tea alright?”

Jon makes a dismissive noise. “Black?”

“Out.”

“I’m taking you shopping after this, Sasha James, this is downright unacceptable.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hands him the box of tea bags and he rolls his eyes at her, muttering as he fills their mugs with water.

“Do you at least have milk?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.”

Sasha rolls her eyes and gets back to her scale, weighing out her dry ingredients.

“Why are you doing it like that?”

“By weight?”

Jon hums.

“It’s more accurate by weight than by volume, typically.”

“You can’t just, I don’t know, eye-ball it?”

“Jonathan Sims have you ever baked anything in your entire life?”

She takes the jerky shrug he gives in response as a no. She shakes her head and dumps her flour and yeast into the mixing bowl of her stand mixer. Jon hovers there at her shoulder, watching, so close she can almost feel his breath.

It gives her a wicked idea.

She reaches a hand up, like she’s checking something, and then flicks the mixer on high.

Flour explodes from the mixing bowl in a cloud of white, covering her and Jon and the countertop.

The little shriek Jon gives will stay with her for a very long time.

“Why?” He asks, mouth agape and positively covered in flour.

“Because I knew it would be funny.” Sasha says, laughing. There’s flour in her hair, and she’ll definitely need to wash her clothes, but the look in Jon’s wide eyes and the slowly blooming smile on his face is worth it.

It takes less time than she thinks to get everything clean again, and the second time she even allows Jon to help her measure ingredients and start the mixer. He’s very serious about the whole thing, watching the scale with a grim kind of determination like it would mean death if he added just a bit too much yeast to the dough, but it’s the most fun Sasha’s had in forever. By the end of the day she has enough bread to wrap a loaf up for Jon to take home, and he looks at her like she’s just given him the greatest gift he’s ever received.

“Same time next week?” She asks as she wraps his scarf around his neck.

“I suppose.” He says, ducking his head to avoid the kiss she tries to plant on his cheek. “If you’re amenable.”

“I’m amenable.” She says, and kisses the top of his head anyway.

Sasha watches him leave and Jon turns back at the end of the hallway to wave, before disappearing into the stairwell. She laughs, bright and happy, and closes the door.

[sevenstarsinning]

Sweat

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11

Chapter 12

The faint sound of birds chirping pulled you from a heavy sleep, forcing you to shy away from the brightness of the sun and turn directly into a broad chest. Your eyes flitted open, curious when Vegeta had returned home and how exactly you got home, but it wasn't Vegeta and you weren't at home.

"Goku?! Fuck." You sat up instantly, recognizing precisely where you were.

"What's wrong?" He sat up with you, immediately on alert.

"What's wrong?! I'm here, that's what's wrong. Why am I in your bed?!" You started to panic.

"You passed out and Kyla said to make sure you got to bed after I dropped her off." He explained.

"She probably meant my bed, Goku. Not yours." You scrambled out of the bed, in full panic at the fact that you'd spent the night with Goku.

"I didn't think Vegeta would like me showing up in your bedroom with you in my arms. Plus, I-I missed having you here." He admitted.

"Goku, I know this hasn't been easy on you, but you can't just-"

"I slept last night. I don't sleep when you're not here." Goku climbed off the bed and stopped you from putting your shoes on, "I don't want you to go."

"Goku, I'm with Vegeta."

"But he doesn't need you like I do. He doesn't want to spend every second with you."

You let out a soft sigh, feeling even more conflicted by the second.

"Goku, I-" Before you could finish your sentence he cupped your face and kissed you.

You pulled back instantly, staring up at him in disbelief, but you couldn't stop yourself. You threw your arms around him and pressed your lips to his again. He pushed you back against the wall, hands gripping your hips as his tongue slipped between your lips. Everything about him was so soft, so sweet and perfect, it was hard not to get wrapped up in him.

"Stay with me. Please?" He begged softly against your lips between kisses.

"I- I can't." You said, feeling like you were breaking his heart all over again.

He stopped kissing you and pressed his forehead to yours, "I know. I just wanted to ask again."

"This was a bad idea. All of it." You admitted.

"I can take you home now if you want?" He stepped back from you.

"That's also a bad idea. We need more time, Goku. I think at least for a while, we should stay apart." As you said the words they almost tore your heart out completely and you could only guess how it felt for him.

"Okay. If that's what you want." He said, barely audible with his head hung low.

The ride home in the cab was heavy, every ounce of your being telling you to go back, to leap into his arms and never leave, but it wasn't that simple. You took a deep breath before you pushed the front door open, almost running straight into the wall of muscle and anger known as Vegeta.

He squeezed past you with nothing but a glare on his face and headed outside.

"Wait, can we talk? I... I'm sorry about not coming home. I started drinking and I ended up passing out," you explained, hopeful he wouldn't ask where you stayed. At least, that's what you thought you wanted until you realized he didn't care enough to ask.

"I'll be home later, we can talk then if you're even here."

"Can't you skip training so we can figure out whatever is going on between us?" You tried to keep calm and not start crying, but the entire fucked up situation was too much to process.

"I'm not training, that ridiculous Bulma woman is making me clean up the mess I made of the gravity chamber last night," he grumbled.

"Wait, what? You're skipping training to help Bulma?" You asked, brow furrowed at how ridiculous the idea was.

"Only so it'll shut her up," he added. The surly prince crossed his arms and let out a heavy sigh.

You knew there was absolutely no reason you should be jealous, or that you even had a right to be, but you couldn't shake the feeling.

"Can I come with you? We can talk on the way."

"No. You'll only slow me down." He shot you down quickly.

"I really want you to stay so we can talk about this stuff." You pushed, needing him to stay.

"Talking got us nowhere last time. I see no point in continuing the process over and over again."

"What other choice do we have, Vegeta? If we don't figure this out... " you trailed off. Neither of you needed to say what you knew was true. Something had to change or the relationship was going to be over before you ever got to fully enjoy it.

"I'll be home later," he said again.

He left without another word. You stood there, feeling empty and alone. You wanted to force him to stay, to hash things out, but honestly, what else was there to say? Your relationship began with him cheating on Kyla and with you fucking his friend.

"How dire is my situation if I'm considering day drinking?" You asked when Kyla answered her phone. Somehow, you had already adjusted to having her in your life as a friend rather than an enemy. Kyla without Vegeta was a drastically different person. Or perhaps you just never saw her as anything more than Vegeta's bitchy girlfriend.

"Well, that depends. If you're drinking right now, I'd say it's pretty fucking dire. At 5pm? Not so much," she answered without missing a beat.

"Damn. That's what I thought." You sighed.

"Dickhead do something?" She asked.

"Kind of, but not really. I spent the night with Goku and-"

"Hold the fuck up. You spent the night where?" She interrupted.

"He didn't take me home last night. We just slept, but we kissed this morning." You wanted to go back to that moment.

"And now Vegeta doesn't want to talk and he's over at Bulma's helping her with something. All of this makes me want to drink." You sighed.

"Fuck, it makes me want to drink." She said.

"I really don't know what to do anymore. I thought I could ignore the feelings for Goku, but they just keep getting stronger."

"If you want to really figure out how you're feeling and what you want, alcohol isn't the best option." Kyla said.

"When did you become the voice of reason here?" You knew she was right.

"When I started letting Yamcha hit it and found out he really is just empty space." She said with full seriousness.

"Apparently we both need a break from the bullshit."

"We've tried that two nights in a row. Both nights we ended up getting trashed with Goku and I'm pretty sure the three of us would've fucked last night on the baseball field if you two weren't hopelessly in love with each other," she said in one breath.

"We're not hopelessly in love." You argued.

"Oh, do you have evidence that you're not?" She shot back.

"Yes, I'm with Vegeta." You said simply.

"You do know that's not really helping your case, right? You can be with someone but still love someone else."

"Okay, well, we aren't hopelessly in love because Goku doesn't understand the concept." You felt like you were grasping at any defense.

"He may not understand the concept, but he understands what he feels, which is complete devotion to you." Kyla said.

"Goddamn it." You sighed.

"We can do this all day but you haven't given me a vaild reason against it. You also haven't mentioned actually being in love with Vegeta either."

"You're relentless, Kyla, goddamn." Your chest heaved and you let out a long, slow breath.

"Yeah, at some point I actually started to care about this shitstorm. Seeing Goku like this really tugs at those annoying heartstrings."

"What if you're right about me and Vegeta? The whole sexual attraction mistaken for feelings thing." You cringed at the mere thought.

"Then you have a choice to make. Stay with him despite knowing there are no real feelings there, or end things as they are before it gets any more complicated."

Everything she was saying was spot on, but you couldn't sift through the feelings without worrying you were wrong or making a mistake.

After your conversation with Kyla you tried to find something else to focus on. You cleaned the house from top to bottom, showered, cooked lunch, and even organized your bookshelf. By the time you finished you'd actively spent your time avoiding the topic of your love life, but the second you sat down, it all came flooding back.

You frantically searched for something else to keep your mind busy, but you came up empty. After collapsing on the couch, you began flipping through the channels on the tv, settling on one of your favorite movies that you'd seen a million times before but still loved. You focused on the movie and the insane chemistry between the two actors, finding yourself getting drawn in to the sex scene as it unfolded. Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties as you felt yourself getting more turned on by the second.

You closed your eyes and thought about the last time you had sex, how rough Vegeta was with you, how he bit you. Soft moans escaped your lips as your fingers circled your clit. Images of Vegeta crawling up your body, eyes hungrily gazing up at you. You rolled your hips against your hand, Vegeta faded and Goku replaced him. His sweet smile never failed to leave you weak. The way he could  be rough with you and gentle right after was a balance no else could achieve, at least not in your experience. You were already getting close to coming just from the mental image of Goku on top of you, thrusting into you with the perfect amount of force. It wasn't any special saiyan form, just him. That was all you needed.

You bit your lip to hold back the moan, knowing which name you were close to screaming. It was all so confusing and complex. You focused more on how perfectly Goku fucked you, how quickly he'd learned how to work your body to give you the best orgasms. Your fingers moved faster as you neared your release, short breathy moans escaping your lips along with broken remnants of a name.

"Fuck... Goku..." you whimpered as you finally let go.

"Why did you even bother coming back?" Vegeta asked, ripping you away from the very private moment you were having.

Before your brain could process just how bad your next words were going to sound, you blurted them out. "I don't know."

"Foolish human. You don't know what you want- "

"Fuck off, Vegeta. This isn't one sided and you know it," you snapped.

"Don't assume you know what's going on in my head, woman. I was fine with whatever this is, you've been the one ruining it," he shouted back.

"Whatever this is? It's called a fucking relationship, Vegeta. Or maybe it was just sex for you and I was stupid enough to believe it was something more!"

It hurt to watch your relationship with him deteriorate so quickly, but you didn't cry like you expected. You did start to think it was mostly a physical attraction, but that wasn't something you were ready to admit.

"It is something more, you frustrating woman! I want you around more than anyone else on this pathetic planet," he roared, revealing more of his feelings than you expected.

"Then why weren't you here? Why have I spent the majority of our relationship either alone or with your ex?" You stared back at him, waiting for some explosion of anger.

"You chose to strike up that friendship with Kyla, not me. And you were well aware of how I spent my time but you couldn't be satisfied with that." He said.

You stood up and approached him, "I wasn't satisfied with seeing my boyfriend every now and then and having to beg him to stay home. I need more than that, Vegeta." You hated to admit how much you needed reassurance, affection, but it was the truth.

"I'm not going to be the weak, clingy boyfriend you want. You'd think your new friend would've caught you up on that little detail." He said.

"I don't want clingy, Vegeta, I just want  you to be here, at least half the time." You felt like you were begging for basic attention.

"You're the one who pursued me, you wanted this."

"I didn't fucking want this. And I remember you being the one to kiss me first and then fuck me to prove whatever power, dominance thing to Goku."

He made two easy strides towards you, "don't act like you're innocent in any of this. You were jealous of Kyla from the second we started dating and I was no longer looking in your direction."

"Oh I'm far from fucking innocent, I know that." You had been carrying the guilt with you since day one.

"What do you want, woman? Just tell me what you want." He asked.

"I-I don't know anymore. I thought I wanted this, you, but now it just all seems so fucking... fucked. What about you? What do you want?"

"I'm not answering the question for you. You either want to be with me or you don't. It's that simple." He crossed his arms.

"It's not simple though." You shook your head, everything seeming more complex by the second.

"Then I'll make it simple."

In one swift movement, he had your body pressed against his and kissed you like he never did before. You could feel his need, and it threw you off. For a second, you thought it was an accident. But you knew the mighty prince of all Saiyans, if he let that little trace of emotion through, it was because he wanted you to know.

You kissed him back, feeling the ache in your chest growing. You wanted Vegeta, or at least you wanted to want him. Seeing him vulnerable like this was almost too much to take, especially when all it did was make you even more confused. But you continued to kiss him, hoping things would suddenly become clear, that you'd know the answer instantly.

You pulled yourself away abruptly, "I-I don't know. I- this isn't helping. I just need some time to think."

Vegeta's expression quickly turned from a rare softness back into stoic and brooding.

"When you figure out what the hell it is that you want, let me know." He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

His words echoed through the night, circling your mind as you fixated on them. What did you want? Who did you want? It was a simple question, but there were no simple answers.

You tossed and turned, finally giving up on sleep. You resorted to standing in the living room having fake break up conversations with both of them. That only complicated the process of sorting through your feelings and you were left feeling more confused than you were before. Part of you wanted to work it out with Vegeta. He was willing to show a softer side, something you were desperate for.

Meanwhile, Goku was amazing, affectionate, and he wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of you. There was a third option, your last resort if there was no clear decision. You could distance yourself from both of them. The question was, could you handle the pain of not having either of them?

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Can I request a Thomas (tmr) x f!reader soulmate au maybe where he comes up to the glade after she’s been there for a while with her name on his wrist. And that brings back her memories of him? Thank you!!

Of course, sweet Anon! 😊 I don't usually like AU, but I actually do like the soulmate trope lol. Also, this took too long, I know. I've been so unmotivated and I have no idea why and I still have like 4 more imagines to do hahahahahaaa......ugh

Aaaanyway...*cough cough* this is...what it is. I have this disease, called "backstoryinitis" where I add too much backstory to an imagine, so, uh, sorry?

~~~~~~~~~~

Wiping a bead of sweat off your brow, you stopped hoeing the ground when you heard the loud alarm that rang every month.

Another month, another Greenie...

You'd lived in the Glade for a couple years now, so you were used to new kids coming up in what everyone called the Box every month. It's really the only way you could keep track of how long you were stuck in this place.

Every month, you wondered if there was going to be someone like you sent up; a female. Being the only girl in a group of dozens of boys, it got lonely. Of course you had friends, but it just wasn't the same to you. And what was even weirder, you had a tattoo on your wrist, a name.

At first, when you came up in the Box without your memories, you actually thought it was your name, until you remembered your actual name.

Looking at your wrist every day and night, you tried to comb your brain for any sliver of memory that could answer your hundreds of questions that you had. Why was this name on your wrist, and who was this person? You hoped you'd find out, one day.

You ran alongside your friend to the Box, Chuck. Well, more like closest person you considered a younger brother. He very well could've been for all you knew, but he was just one of over fifty other boys that could've been a relative. But you always called Chuck "baby brother," not that he enjoyed that nickname, in public at least. He did get teased a bit by the other guys if you called him that within earshot, so you eased up on the name a bit. But you couldn't help that protective sister side of you when you thought Chuck was getting too close to the Box when it still hadn't come up all the way.

You looked around at all the excited faces of the other boys, anxious to see the new Greenie, anxious to hassle him more like.

You always tried to be nice to Greenies, remembering how poorly you were treated when you arrived in the Glade a couple years ago. No one would really take you seriously because you were a girl. You didn't even get a job assigned to you until a few months later, of course besides the stereotypical doing the laundry and helping Frypan in the kitchen, until you almost burned down the whole shack. Turns out, you were a terrible cook. Fry still teases you about it from time to time.

Eventually, you gained everyone's trust, even Gally's, that kid definitely took some convincing though. You thought he hated you if you were being honest, but in time, you saw through your anger and understood why. Some mysterious girl just shows up with a name tattooed on her wrist when nobody else did? It probably would've freaked you out too. Thankfully, everyone stopped asking you about it when you didn't even know yourself.

You winced softly when a dull pain shot up your hand, the ink in your wrist started to itch. Huh, it's never itched before? You tried to think nothing of it when the Box finally came up all the way, Gally reaching down and opening up the hatch doors.

Everyone peered over the sides of the heavy metal doors, trying to get a good look at the new Greenie. Of course, it was another male, cowering in the corner in terror like so many other boy you've seen. An odd feeling washing over you, like nostalgia but mixed with an almost sense of overwhelming joy. The feeling was so all consuming that you didn't even notice the new Greenie taking off in a dead sprint until all your fellow Gladers started to whoop and holler, obviously finding the Greenie's fear amusing, the boy faceplanting only adding to their boisterous laughter.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling to yourself, "The dude's just scared."

Of course, the Greenie being terrified out of his mind didn't stop the Keepers from deciding to keep him in the pit until he calmed down, a sentiment you did not share. Newt chuckled, gaining your attention quickly. "What're you laughing at?" You asked.

"Nothing, just adorable how you feel for the Greenies."

"Oh, shuck you."

"Why so defensive?"

"I am not." You pouted, crossing your arms. "It's not like he's the only one that's totally freaked out on the first day. He shouldn't be locked up in the pit."

"That is true, but you know it's for everyone's safety, including his." He said, walking away.

"Yeah, yeah..." You sighed, uncrossing your arms and choosing to lean against the hoe that you were holding, eyes completely focused on Alby and the new Greenie. To say you were curious would've been an understatement.

It was strange, you usually didn't have such a peaked interest in Greenies like this before. You felt yourself drawn to him, for some unknown reason. And another thing that was strange, your wrist tattoo had been tingling ever since he came up in the Box, but you just wrote that up as a coincidence. There was no way it could be correlated...right?

"Y/n!"

You turned to Alby, quickly making his way to you with almost angry expression on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Do you know the Greenie?" He asked, his expression not changing.

You furrowed your brows, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips. "Of course not, why would I?"

"Your name is on his wrist."

You froze, your confusion clearly etched on your face. "W-What?"

"You really don't know him? If your name is on his wrist, then I think it's pretty safe to assume that the name on your wrist is his."

"No, that's...impossible. I..." You were at a loss for words, how could this be happening? All this time, you just thought, maybe you had a partner before your memories got wiped and got their name tattooed; but now, you had no idea the hell was going on.

"The Greenie also claimed he didn't know where the tattoo came from, or who the name belonged to."

"You didn't tell him...about me?"

"No, not yet. I wanna keep this under wraps until we figure out what the shuck is happening here."

"But Alby, everyone knows about my tattoo, if someone sees his-"

"He's wearing a long sleeve. If he knows what's good for him he'll listen to me when I told him to cover it." Alby sighs, hardening his expression once more. "I swear, Y/n, if you know something about this-"

"I don't." You assured, you were just as confused as he was.

"The bonfire tonight will be a good opportunity to talk to the Greenie, everyone'll be too drunk to notice."

"Alby, you still trust me, right?"

"That remains to be seen."

The anxiety that you felt the rest of the day finally bubbled to the surface when the bonfire party started. You pretty much avoided the Greenie all day. You didn't know if you had any reason to be scared, but so many fears plagued your mind. So many "what ifs." But were sure nothing would be worse than having to wait to find out.

Looking over to see the Greenie and Newt sitting together away from the bonfire, Alby gave you a look, stern but not stern enough for you to feel threatened, although you still felt nervous.

Slowly walking over to the Greenie, you kept telling yourself over and over that this is the moment you've been waiting for ever since you were sent to the Glade, the moment you found out if this boy was the one who's name was permanently engraved onto your skin. You could finally have some sort of closure, maybe not complete, but just knowing would be enough.

You nervously cleared your throat, both boys looking your way as you stood above them. "Hey, Newt." You quickly started, "thought I'd introduce myself to the Greenie." You gave Newt a look that told him to leave the two of you alone.

Newt chuckled. "Right, of course. I think I'm gonna get myself another drink." And off he went, leaving you and the Greenie in an awkward silence, but more of an anxious silence on your part.

"Sorry I haven't introduced myself yet, been a busy day." You forced a smile, taking a seat next to the Greenie.

"Do you guys throw parties like this every time a new...Greenie shows up?" The boy asked, a slight bitter tone to his voice.

"Yeah, pretty much. We only really started this tradition a year ago, we thought we might as well celebrate another month of surviving here, also welcoming the newbies."

"Yeah, well, doesn't really feel like a warm welcome, despite the bonfire." You chuckled. "Are you...? Uh, never mind."

"No, what?"

"Well, just looking around, you seem to be the only girl here. Why is that?"

You shrugged. "Beats me. I came here just like everybody else, no memories. I wish I knew. Speaking of, have you remembered your name yet?"

The Greenie frowned. "No." He whispered, suddenly rubbing his sleeve covered wrist.

"What's wrong?" You asked, noticing his discomfort.

He sighed. "Uh, nothing. My wrist just hurts a little, might've sprained it or somethin'."

This was taking too long, and the bonfire party was starting to die down. It would be over soon, you had to speed this up.

"Alby told me..." You started, nervously taking a deep breath before continuing, "about your wrist."

The Greenie looked to you with wide eyes. "He told me to keep quiet about it, why would he tell you?"

"Because...the name on your wrist is mine."

He furrowed his brows, his mouth slightly agape, rolling up his sleeve slightly, just enough to see the top of the outline of your name. "Wait, really? How is that...?"

"I don't know. But I'm guessing," You rolled up your own sleeve, "this is your name?"

You held up your wrist, the light from the bonfire illuminating the ink enough for the Greenie to read what it said, "Thomas." Thomas' confused face mirrored your own, both of you feeling a strange mix of emotions all at once. He reached out, you flinching away slightly. "Can I?" He asked.

You nodded curtly, extending out your wrist for him to hold.

As soon as his skin made contact with yours, you felt a spark of electricity rush through your whole body, so intense that it made you jolt with a quiet gasp. Thomas seemed to have felt the same, his grip on your wrist tightening as he felt the same rush.

You suddenly felt like you were hit in the head with a brick, sharp flashes of images of you, but not in the Glade. These were different, you saw yourself smiling, laughing, with an older woman, smile lines and subtle wrinkles around her eyes, tuffs of greyish white hair scattered about in random spots amongst her lush natural colored hair. You instantly teared up...this was your mother...you remembered your mother.

"I remember." You and Thomas said at the exact same time.

"My name is Thomas." He confirmed, tears welling up in his golden brown eyes, giving them a shine. "I remember everything, my family, my friends, why I came here..."

"I remember my life before here too. I was...taken. They took me away from my mama." You quickly felt a surge of anger rush through you. "W.C.K.D. They did this."

Thomas sighed. "I know..." He took hold of both your hands. "I remember you too, Y/n." A slight rosy blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Me too." You said softly.

You both had worked at W.C.K.D. together, you both had the same distain for the company and wanting to take them down together, both of you being betrayed and sent here. You knew it was dangerous for W.C.K.D. to send you both to the same Maze trial, how could they make such a stupid mistake.

"We have to get everyone out of here, Thomas."

"We will."

"Together."

~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that escalated quickly. Hope you enjoyed it regardless, Anon😊

[ladybugout-au]

Luka waved to everyone as they headed off of the Liberty, Marinette flashing him a warm smile while Juleka went off to spend the day with Rose. He sighed happily, content in the fact that everyone had a good time, and seeing Marinette in particular being as happy as she was only strengthened the feeling. Ever since LadyBugOut had been made, she'd been less stressed overall, and while the only information he had on that was that she was honored to be working on such a thing, he was just glad she was doing better.

As he turned to head back below deck, he felt a familiar presence on his shoulder and looked over as best as he could. Trixx was lounging there, tail swishing with a hint of amusement.

"For how much you enjoy Marinette's company, you don't spend a lot of one-on-one time with her," he observed.

Luka blanked for a moment, finding the question odd. Giving a one-armed shrug for the sake of not jostling Trixx, he replied, "I'm happy with what we have, and Marinette likes getting the whole group together."

"Ah," Trixx hummed in thought, "so you don't like spending time alone with her?"

"I do," Luka responded, "but I want Marinette to do whatever she's comfortable with."

"So she doesn't like spending time alone with you?"

Luka raised a brow, growing suspicious of where Trixx was going with this. Still, he genuinely thought about it, walking over to sit down on a nearby instrument case to think. "I... don't know. I haven't spent time with her since..."

He trailed off, his confession to her feeling so long ago by now. It wasn't as if he'd intentionally kept his distance from her ever since, though perhaps he unconsciously felt like he'd drawn a line where he could only get so close to her without seeming like he had an ulterior motive.

"And you never asked her?" Trixx questioned.

"I wouldn't want to pressure her," Luka replied. "If she asked me, of course I'd agree, but—"

"No, no, I get it." Trixx took a moment to stretch his limbs out, then let out a breath and glanced up at Luka casually. "You want her to make all the decisions."

Luka was about to answer affirmatively when Trixx's words fully registered. While the tone had been entirely neutral, the implication was there: that he was making Marinette do all the work. He tried to come up with a proper response like it's not like that, or that's not what I mean, but he ended up saying nothing.

Trixx grinned, having clearly hoped for that reaction, then patted Luka where his paw could reach. "You're a good kid, but how's she gonna know that you like her the way you do if you don't want to show it?"

"I'm not trying to date her," Luka gently retorted.

"So?" Trixx flew up, hovering in front of Luka without leaving his relaxed pose. "There's nothing wrong with spending time with her without anyone else around. The worst she can do is say 'no,' but she can't do that if you never ask."

Luka felt somewhat defensive at first, having always been of the belief that he'd go at whatever pace Marinette wanted to go, but Trixx cut in before he could say anything.

"Besides, what if she's doing the same thing and you don't know about it?"

Luka paused at that, the thought having never occurred to him. Marinette was considerate enough to do something similar with him, and even if it wasn't strictly romantic, he wouldn't have been surprised to hear that she never asked him out anywhere so as to not give him the wrong idea about her feelings. Still, regardless of how she felt about him, if both people let the other set the pace, they wouldn't get anywhere and were needlessly making the other starved for their attention.

Trixx smiled knowingly, floating closer and adding, "You can't catch prey if you don't chase them."

Immediately, Luka squinted in disgust. "Marinette is not prey."

"And that's how I know you'll treat her well," Trixx replied, his point apparently made, "and that you don't see it as a game to win. Look at it this way—" He briefly stopped to gesture to the instrument case below. "—what would you think if you were playing a duet and your partner always waited for you to start first?"

Luka didn't answer, but admitted to himself: I'd think that they didn't want to.

He supposed he may've presumed too much about what was and wasn't appropriate to ask Marinette about, simply because of what he thought was best for him to do. As much as he believed he could be on top of things, Trixx was right, and he wasn't doing Marinette any favors by deciding not to ask her out anywhere while also not telling her that he was doing so. There was a boundary he'd made that she wasn't aware of, and that wasn't fair to her.

Luka's hand twitched, then reached back and pulled out his phone. Unlocking it, he navigated to his contacts and then to his text conversation with Marinette. He hovered his thumbs over the keyboard, hesitated, then glanced up at Trixx, who seemed wholly amused at his reaction.

That was enough to get his thumbs moving.

Hey, Marinette, would you like to hang out at the park sometime? It can be whenever you want, and I'll bring my guitar if you want me to play for you.

The park seemed like the easiest place to choose for her. After all, it was right next to her house, making it convenient, and it being that close by meant it was normal enough for her not to view it as a date—

"You're thinking too much," Trixx observed with a chuckle, having flown near his shoulder again to read off the message. Luka was still getting used to someone being able to read him that well and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

He turned off his phone's screen and set it off to the side, then took a breath and leaned back, still mulling over the situation. He wasn't egotistical enough to think that Marinette always thought about how much time she wanted to spend with him, but the possibility was there, and he wouldn't want to miss it if it was something she wanted. He might've had feelings for her, but it didn't mean he couldn't hang out with her like any other friend would, right?

Not even a minute later, his phone dinged thrice, Trixx making an idle comment about the swiftness of the reply. Luka was about to remind him that it could've been anyone, then he turned on the screen and saw that it was indeed Marinette.

Of course I'd like that! You know I like hearing you play!

Are you free tomorrow afternoon maybe? I'll bring snacks!

(I didn't mean that I'd only bring snacks if you're free tomorrow afternoon! I swear I'll bring them no matter what time we go!)

"Hm~" Trixx hummed, flying over to the phone to lay across the top of it, resting on his side while looking down at the screen. "Yeah, I see what you mean. She seems very pressured to me."

Luka barely heard the teasing, too busy grinning like a fool.

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void Ch3

Well. it’s HERE. sorry it’s a bit short, if I fit in the next events then it would well succeed a reasonable amount of words. about 1500, a few words off.  Reblogs fuel me 1000% more than likes. please enjoy and comment any typos ‘n stuff

my askbox is also temporarily turned back on, for this!! after a few days they’re closed, and i’ll hopefully go back to queuing up a bunch...

This is crossposted on AO3

and for Chapter 1, head here

Chapter 4 is HERE!

and @petrichormeraki Hope you didn’t forget about your Whitelist AU :)

Now that they were settled in their boats, Tommy was given a moment to realize where exactly it was he was going. And, oh shit. The builds he could see were bigger than any one solid, finished structure he’s seen on the Dream SMP.

Pockets of strange, purple clumps of spores poked out by the shore, in contrast to the rest of the island. A portion of hte island, too, was covered in the crimson netherrack. It was absolutely insane- Tommy didn’t think he’d ever seen buildings quite like them.

“...Holy...Fuck..” He voiced, breathless.

The brunnette woman in the boat beside his frowned, peering over her and Grian’s own boat. “We’re not exactly a PG server, but I think we’d all appreciate it if you tried to keep your language just a smidge cleaner,” She’d passively comment, eyes narrowing on the blond boy who turned to glare at her.

“Stress, they’re teenagers.” Grian would laugh, before the blond would be given a chance to respond. “I’ve heard Doc’s drunk ranting. We’re definitely not clean.”

She turned, raising a brow at the dirty blond. “Grian, I haven’t heard you say a naughty word, even once!” She chuckled, tilting her head.

“Sure,” he remarked agreeably, “but I was a teenager.”  Giving a small, sharp smile, he turned his head back out to sea.

Tommy, huffing with effort as he continued rowing his and Tubbo’s boat, felt the fight sizzle out. His defenses dropped, too busy looking at the buildings cluttering the island. Masses of structures, all of varying sizes and designs, were impossible to look away from.

As if remembering suddenly of Tubbo’s lack of perpetual vision, he turned, nudging their arm.

Tubbo practically jumped, almost tipping out of the boat. They pulled their arm out of the water, where they’d been contently dragging their arm along, and tilted their head towards their friend. “Huh? Uh- hey! Sorry. I was spacing out. Are we there?”

“Nope,” Tommy shook his head. “But this island looks insane! Seriously, what the hell? How many of you people are there! What the FUCK is this place!” He gawked, turning back towards the Hermits. Considering Stress only gave an exasperated smile, he didn’t feel too bad with his language.

“Our Cowmercial district! Mind the, uh, terrain. We’re in the middle of handling a.. Disagreement.” Grian chuckled, a wolfish grin sprawling across their face. “Just for the principle, y’know?” 

Tommy stared blankly at the back of Grian’s head, the older Brit unphased.

“..Sure, right. But no! What the fuck! I’ve never seen, like, half of those blocks before in my life! What are those buildings?” He gawked.

The strange, shadowery mansion- intricate patterns and overheads marking each wall, with scales on top. A giant chest! With..Eyes? It was twice the size of the community house! He could see four separate beacon lights! At least!

“Tubbo! There’s a- a huge ass chest with eyes! And a fuckin’ mansion, and it’s all dark and shit! Is- is that a cloud made out of glass, up there? What the fuck!” The boat was practically rocking as he cried out.

“Tommy, we’re gonna fall in, Big Man!” They chuckled nervously, grasping at the wooden walls of the boat. “Are all the buildings huge? I bet they are! I heard Hermitcraft servers always have huge builds!”

“Yes, and there’s SO FUCKING MANY! WHAT THE HELL!”

“You’ll be able to see them in time, don’t worry!” Grian chuckled, drawing his boat into the shore. “We have a lot of builds, we’re almost a year into this world. These are just our shops! You’re more than welcomed to pick up something if you need it.” He explained breezily, throwing his legs over the sides as he pulled himself to land.

“We’re sure you don’t plan on staying long, and we can’t blame’ya,” Stress added on, as Grian helped pull her out of the spruce boat. “But we’re sure there’s some necessities you’ll need.”

Grian beside her nodded, pulling up his Tablet. “I have shirts and hoodies that should fit you guys, and some other Hermits would happily pitch in. We have more than enough resources to house you two.”

Tommy, who’d already pulled himself and Tubbo out of the boat, slumped, rolling his eyes. “We’re fine. Thanks.” He tackled the last word on half-hazardly, his lips drawn down into a scowl.

“Mate, whenever your server’s ready, we’re happy to get you back. Or get in contact with your Server Admin now, even. You just need to say the word to X, and he’ll take care of it.” Stress looked over the two, her brows pinched as she looked over them.

What in the Sun’s name is happening over there to leave these two so roughed up? She thought idly, noting it in the back of her mind to bring them potions later.

“C’mon, we can get you more situated later, if that’s fine with you two. You both need to eat, asap.” 

Food. Right. That’s a thing, Tommy pulled his stares away from the towering structures, naturally slipping his hand back into Tubbo’s.

The two Hermits led their way at a slow and even pace, the two teenagers trailing behind. Tommy and Tubbo both were quietly thankful for this. They were less quiet when it came to Tommy’s rambling, incoherent rants from his attempts of describing the District to his friend.

Whatever works to get them on their way, the pair of Hermits agreed, sharing a look.

It was a struggle all of itself, getting them both on track to the bakery. Tommy had poked his head in every building they crossed, with Tubbo going at an increasingly slow pace, trying to allow their Communicator to describe the complex surroundings.

They made it in decent time to the bakery, all things considered.. Tommy’s jaw dropped at the size of it, bright blue eyes surveying the large, detailed replica of a cake.

“What the fuck! There’s- there’s so many blocks! It looks crumblin’ and bitten! What shit! Tubbo! Tubbo the bakery is a giant fucking cake! It looks so realistic! Holy fucking Prime-”

“It smells so good in here, too! Wow! Does this place just sell cake? Is there enough demand, for that?”

“Wh- are those shulker boxes! What! That’s- that’s like, seven shulker boxes! Is that all just for the shit for sale??? What!”

Both of the teens were incomprehensible. Neither Stress, nor Grian, could get a word in.

“Hey! Guys, both of you, it’s alright, yeah? We have plenty of shulkers. Also, Keralis is..Yeah, probably the richest Hermit, so shulkers for his shop isn’t out of the ordinary at all.

All of us have a buncha shulkers. I’ll clear out some of mine, too, for you to have. It’d make setting up a base much easier, I’m sure.”

...Everyone has shulkers. And he’d be willing to let Tommy and Tubbo just..Have some? No way. Tommy gave a look towards Tubbo, and he could tell the other was as perplexed at the notion as he.

“You guys just.. Just have shulkers- I. Yeah. sure. Rooms with diamond armor and fuckin’ elytras lying around..Right.” Tommy took a breath, fist clenched beside him for a moment.

Tubbo, with their hand holding his arm, above his elbow, gave him a reassuring smile before turning generally towards the Hermits direction. “Thank you, like- so much?” They chuckled, sheepishly. “We really don’t need, like, anything like that. We- we should be getting back to our world soon. Hopefully- uh, probably.”

Grian frowned, humming. “Sure, but I think any Hermit that went even twenty-four hours without working on something, would lose their mind. When you go home, you could give them back. Even if you took them home, I promise that it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

The two teens shared a look. The older brit’s word may sound sincere, but they both knew better than to blindly believe someone, other than each other. Tommy shot a glare to the man, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He scoffed. The dirty blond met his stare, unphased. A relaxed, easy smile remained on their face. Tommy didn’t trust it for a second.

Stress had begun opening some of the shulker boxes, exposing the sweets and goods inside to the starved teens. “C’mon, now.  If you two want to work on some of that later, you can do that. But you’re with us, right now, and it’s time to eat. Grab whatever you’d like, Loves.”

The brunette teen gasped, tugging at the blond boy’s arm. “C’mon Tommy, do you smell that! Oh Void, this place must be lovely! Thank you for bringing us, uh, ma’am! ‘N sir!” Tubbo beams, their smile lopsided.

Tommy glanced around, towards the candy-and-sweets themed furniture in the dining area. Right. Sure. I can deal with this, for Tubbo.

[hermannsthumb]

I've read fics where Hermann disapproves of PDAs but what about the reverse? As in he's so stunned at winning the most amazing man in the Shatterdome (6 phds, literal rockstar, gorgeous Newt) that he deliberately provokes contact and shows of affection. Just to show off to people and send a clear back off signal. And Newt just dotes on him obliviously.

ok this one is another super old prompt and when I was writing it this week it KINDA got away from me. but I hope everyone enjoyyyys. partially inspired from conversations with @k-sci-janitor 👀 totally sfw, except for one brief reference

anyway, a fic about hermann being all affectionate with newt and also discovering what relaxation is 

——————————————-------------------------------------------

The day after the world doesn’t end, Hermann brings Newt breakfast in bed.

Honestly, it surprises Newt more than the whole world not ending thing. Up until the previous evening, after all, Newt was pretty damn sure the guy absolutely hated him, and that if Hermann was gonna do something as out of character as bringing him breakfast, it surely meant he’d spat in it first. Or maybe poisoned it. If hated isn’t the right word, Newt would say Hermann at the very least barely tolerated. And then the whole sharing the neural load thing happened. And, after that, hugging, not once, but twice, and then falling asleep in bed together. And now Hermann’s perched on the edge of his bed (which they shared while they slept) and handing him a plate.

“You had quite the busy day yesterday,” Hermann says kindly. Hermann has never spoken to Newt kindly before. Atop the plate are two pieces of toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of coffee. The coffee and toast (Newt notices) are exactly the shade he prefers. He wonders if Hermann picked up on it before or after the whole mind-melding thing. Before wouldn’t surprise him—Hermann has always been weird about noticing details like that. The egg, however, is something purely Hermann in taste. “I imagine you could use a nice spot of breakfast,” he adds.

Newt shoves his glasses on and blinks at Hermann groggily. He struggles to sit up, partially tangled in his sheets, and then takes the plate. A little bit of coffee sloshes down onto one of the slices of toast. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” he says.

Hermann smiles and looks down at the ragged old MIT sweatshirt he’s tossed on. He may have a few inches on Newt, but he’s still one skinny motherfucker, and it hangs almost comically off his frame. “I am,” he says. “I poked around in your closet, I hope you don’t mind. My clothing was in a rather sorry state.”

Sorry state is an understatement for both of them. Newt’s surprised they haven’t been formally ordered to burn the shit they wore to the bone slums yet. Blood, dirt, and kaiju guts aside, Newt’s, at least, reeks to high heaven with sweat. “No worries,” Newt says. He picks up the coffee and blows on it. He wonders where Hermann got coffee that smells this good. It’s been hard to find anything decent and non-instant on the base these days, and (thanks to limited rations) chain shops like Starbucks cost an arm and a leg for even a small. He also wonders what people thought when they saw Hermann strutting around the base with bedhead in a sweatshirt that obviously wasn’t his. Newt almost wants to blush on his behalf. Scandalous.

Before Newt can so much as take a sip of the coffee, Hermann is suddenly unbuckling and shucking off his grey slacks. “Dude!” Newt yelps, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears. Hermann blinks at him innocently. “What are you doing?”

It’s not so much that Newt is upset as it is that it’s so wildly out of character for Hermann that he feels he owes it to Hermann to act at least moderately scandalized. In all his years of knowing and working alongside Hermann, he’s never so much as seen Hermann’s bare wrist before. Now he’s in Newt’s goddamn bed flashing calves, and thighs, and neatly-pressed little white briefs… Hermann rolls his eyes and tosses the slacks (unfolded!) onto Newt’s desk chair. “Making myself comfortable,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”

Does Hermann iron his underwear? It would be at odds with the rest of his clothing if he did, which is usually in various stages of frumpy to outright wrinkled, but Newt can’t think of how else it would look like that. He wonders if Hermann’s stitched his name on the inner waistband. It seems like the kind of thing Hermann would do. Newt suddenly realizes he’s been staring at Hermann’s briefs (and, worse still, considering how cute Hermann looks in just them and Newt’s sweatshirt) for an uncomfortably long time, so he quickly shakes his head and drags his eyes to Hermann’s face. One of Hermann’s eyebrows is quirked up. Newt hasn’t been subtle. “No,” he says. He clears his throat. “No, dude, you’re—all good.”

He chokes down a too-hot sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth.

Hermann smirks.

The bedcovers are drawn back. Hermann slips under them and drapes an arm across Newt’s chest, his hand curling protectively over Newt’s hip. With his other hand he snags Newt’s coffee from his grasp and takes a sip. Newt watches his jaw and throat work as he swallows it, a funny feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. The mug is handed back over, Hermann’s fingers brushing against Newt’s, which make Newt feel even funnier. “Newton,” Hermann declares. “I think we ought to have sex.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Certainly,” Hermann says.

Newt’s heart pounds as he spreads a little packet of margarine across one of the pieces of toast; he can feel Hermann’s eyes on him, never straying once. Hermann’s hand draws little circles on his hip. Newt drops his toast twice to the plate before he can successfully take a bite, and even when he does, he doesn’t taste it. Hermann’s fingers dip under the hem of his t-shirt. Newt swallows his toast. “Why?” he says.

Apparently it’s the right question. Hermann nods, like he’s pleased Newt has asked. Like they’re talking theories or something. “I came to the conclusion while I fetching your coffee,” Hermann says. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have gotten up at seven in the morning to get coffee for just anyone. Then, of course, there is the whole drifting business—”

“You realized you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone too, huh?” Newt says with a smile. Hermann’s hand on his hip stills, and his cheeks go pink. Newt’s relieved to have gotten some ground back here. “Hermann, that’s sooo romantic.”

“The world was at stake,” Hermann sniffs.

“It’s okay,” Newt says. “I won’t tell anyone the great Dr. Gottlieb has feelings. So, what, you realized you have a big ole crush on me?”

Hermann takes the unfinished piece of toast from him and sets it down on his plate. He pulls Newt’s glasses off, kisses him soundly, and then puts Newt’s glasses back on. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. “On the contrary, I’ve always suspected it,” he says. “It’s just that now I have the time to confirm it.” He reaches up and strokes at Newt’s hair. “We have the time for lots of things, now, Newton. Whatever we’d like.”

Newt finishes off his coffee quickly, not even caring when he burns his tongue, and then tosses the remainder of his breakfast to the floor. His egg spills onto the massacred skinny corduroys he wore yesterday. Whatever, Newt’s burning them anyway. “God, get overhere already, man,” he says, tugging at Hermann’s borrowed sweatshirt. He needs to help Hermann confirm his crush or whatever, pronto.

--

It’s a few days before Newt and Hermann finally drag themselves out of bed and to the lab to tackle what little work remains for them to do—cataloguing what are apparently the last kaiju samples known to man (Newt), recording and backing up their drift data (Newt’s solo drift, and then their joint data), drawing some random scribbles on the board and pretending they’re important calculations about the possibility of the Breach reopening (Hermann. Okay, whatever, maybe they are important). Unfortunately, the delay isn’t for any sexy reasons, as much as Newt would’ve liked it to have been. The events of the last day of the war caught up with them pretty quickly after that morning in Newt’s bed, and they mostly just slept, ordered out dinner, popped ibuprofen for their various aches, and avoided medical at all costs. (Rumor had it the medical staff on base were looking for him and Hermann so they could do some brain scans. Apparently drifting with a kaiju brain is potentially dangerous, who knew.)

A rancid smell washes over them the second they push the heavy lab doors open, and Newt spots several hunks of kaiju organs rotting away on his workbench. Hermann clamps a hand to his mouth. “Oops,” Newt says, turning to Hermann sheepishly. He can’t help but cower as he does. He and Hermann got along swimmingly the past couple days—it’ll be sad to see all that hard work go down the drain over this. “Guess I forgot to clean up the other day. In my defense—we were kind of busy.”

But Hermann doesn’t snap at Newt, or thump his cane on the ground, or call Newt an idiot, or even look annoyed; he lowers his hand from his mouth and laughs. Albeit a terse laugh, but still. Newt gapes at him. “We were rather busy,” Hermann concedes. “So long as you clean it up in the next ten minutes, I—what, Newton?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, quickly. “I’m gonna—um—deal with it now.”

Hermann disappears from the lab while Newt is digging around in the storage closet for extra heavy-duty trash bags. When he comes back an hour later, he’s holding a cardboard tray of small plastic cups, and Newt has just hefted his last spoiled sample into the lab’s airtight biohazard bin (a bit mournfully, if he’s being honest, since he’s sure there’s still more to learn about the kaiju from them). Newt squints at the cups in the tray while he rips his messy disposable work gloves off. “What’s that?” he says.

“Iced coffee,” Hermann declares.

The gloves slap, wetly, into the biohazard bin, and Newt lets out a low whistle. “Dude. No way. From where?” He’s not sure when he gave off the impression that the way to his heart was good coffee, but maybe it’s true. Then again, Hermann could probably win him over with a cup of lukewarm tap water. Not because Newt is desperate or anything. He just really likes Hermann.

“A little shop a bit away from the base,” Hermann says. “I took the bus.” He draws back his chair and sits down with a soft sigh, setting his cane against his desk. Then he draws out a small brown paper bag from his parka pocket. He tosses it to Newt; Newt catches it with one hand. “They had these funny little cakes on sticks. I thought you might like one.”

“Cake pops?” Newt says.

“I presume,” Hermann says. While Newt inhales the little chocolate-dipped cake pop (which is so good, oh my God, Newt hasn’t had dessert that didn’t come from a vending machine in plastic shrink wrap in years), Hermann adds, “I wasn’t sure what sort of iced coffee you liked, so I made sure to get a variety.”

“Sick,” Newt says, spewing crumbs on his shirt. “Um. But, like, why though?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says. “I suppose I wanted to do something kind for you.” He carefully slides a straw out of its paper wrappings and pokes it into the lid of one of the coffees. Once he crumples up the wrapper and tosses It into his train bin, he grips his cane, and uses the handle to nudge Newt’s desk chair towards him. “You worked awfully hard cleaning the laboratory.”

Newt preens a little, even as he privately wonders why Hermann’s acting so weird. Well, nice. But nice is weird for Hermann, so they’re basically the same thing. Is this part of his whole deciding whether or not he digs Newt thing? Newt just assumed the awesome morning they spent together would be proof enough of that. Then again, Hermann’s pretty thorough. “I guess,” Newt says. “It was kind of my mess, though.”

Hermann pats at the empty chair with a smile. Hermann’s smiles are so rare—crooked, and stupid cute—that Newt’s heart gives a painful little twist at the sight of it, and he realizes he doesn’t actually give a shit about why Hermann’s being all weird, actually. “You’ve earned a break,” Hermann says. “Besides, I’d like to spend time with you.”

Newt’s too stunned to argue with that one. When he sits down, Hermann inches their chairs together until their knees are touching.

--

They don’t necessarily fall back into their usual habits by the next week, but the better ones they’ve picked up (being a little kinder to each other, a little more patient, a little more respectful, and also the fact that Hermann can’t seem to stop touching Newt) all but fall into the background as Newt throws himself into his work with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his desire to get it all done as soon as fucking possible speaks less to his awesome work ethic, and more to the fact that he’s just not sure what else to do with himself now, and he likes that work gives him the excuse to not think about it. Hermann said they have all the time to do whatever they like now. Well, Newt likes working. He knows working. Relaxation is a foreign concept to him, and it was a foreign concept to Hermann up until recently. While Newt is toiling away over his decaying kaiju samples in the lab, Hermann is out—

“Where?” Newt says.

Hermann gives Newt the most serene smile Newt’s ever seen cross his face. “I took a bath,” he says. “It was very nice. I bought some nice soaps, and lit some candles, and looked online to see how to do one of those mud masks. It was very relaxing. You ought to try it.”

“Try bathing?” Newt says.

“Yes. Well, no. I mean taking a bath. Is there something you’re not understanding?”

Newt tries to imagine Hermann with a mud mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes and fails miserably. Hermann hates messes. He would never stand for mud, let alone on his skin. Where’d he even find a bathtub? Did he break into the rangers’ locker room again? Aren't candles banned on base for being a fire hazard, anyway? “Yeah,” Newt says. “Pretty much all of it.”

Hermann shakes his head with a snort, and Newt catches a whiff of something floral and fragrant—his fancy new soap or oil, he guesses. “I’m not surprised. You know, Newton, you are awfully tense.”

Hearing that from Hermann of all people, the king of having-a-massive-stick-up-your-ass, is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to Newt. He laughs out loud and plunges a bare hand into his kaiju sample with a gross squelching noise. “Sure, dude.”

He’s almost too engrossed in his sample to feel Hermann sidling up behind him and setting a hand at his waist. He definitely feels Hermann nose a kiss behind his ear, though, and the hot flush that spreads down across his neck from it. Newt’s hand goes sweaty around his scalpel. One thing he definitely wasn’t expecting from a post-no-apocalypse Hermann is how free he is with affection in any and all forms. “Give it a rest, love,” Hermann murmurs. He nudges at the heel of Newt’s boot with the end of his cane. Love? “Why don’t we head back to my quarters and watch a film? You can pick.”

“But.” Newt fidgets. “I have—my sample—”

Another little kiss. The soapy-oil smell is stronger now. Newt thinks it might be lavender. He wonders if the mud mask left Hermann’s skin all soft. “It won’t be going anywhere, Newton.”

Newt sets down his scalpel.

When they they pass by a group of LOCCENT staff in the hallway, Newt makes to drop Hermann’s hand (which Hermann had laced together with his own before they left the lab), but Hermann holds fast, maybe even faster than before, and looks at him with his stupidly sweet set of big eyes. Newt waits until they round the corner to say anything. “Sorry,” he says, lamely. “Um. I thought—you wouldn’t want—” Hermann continues to stare at him. His iris is still ringed red like Newt’s. “I just mean I know you’re weird about stuff like that. Public stuff.” Hermann has been a closed and tightly-bound book for as long as Newt’s known him; he can’t imagine that would suddenly change and he would start broadcasting his emotions far and wide in the course of a week just because he’s a little less stressed.

Or, you know. Maybe Newt’s totally wrong on this. “Ah,” Hermann says. He nods, very seriously. “Yes. I have been considering that as well. I see no reason to hide recent developments in our relationship.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. "In fact, I see no reason to not be quite, er, proud of them. You’re quite the catch.”

Newt remembers the stolen sweatshirt. Maybe Hermann wearing it out to get them breakfast was more calculated than he realized. “So if I made out with you against the wall right now you wouldn’t be mad?” Newt says.

“Well,” Hermann says, inclining his head to his door, "seeing as my quarters are right there, it seems a rather unnecessary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt smiles as Hermann leads him in. “Can I really pick the movie?”

“Within reason.”

[joel-millerr]

Righting The Wrongs

Chapter Eight of We Are One When Together

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17k (yes, I know, I’m sorry)

Summary: Reader must face her past, and also deal with something they weren’t prepared to do... be without Mando.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex (like... almost causing bruising so read with caution), oral sex (both female and male receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, shower sex, hair pulling, aftercare, a little bit of violence, angst (as per usual), 

A/N: I make shit up about using the force lol. also, my knowledge of coruscant is based off tcw and the prequels so if there’s something in here that doesn’t fit with the books or whatever, be nice :) 

--

“Who are we meeting here?”

“Someone I used to work with.”

As you make your way through the streets of Level 1313, you’re almost trembling with nerves. It’s a little over a year since you’ve been on this planet and you had been avoiding coming back ever since.

Firstly, Coruscant is way too populated for your liking. The streets are always filled with people, no matter the time of day. Crime lords, spice lords, rookies trying to make a living—legally or illegally, families seeking refuge; nearly every single person from all walks of life eventually made their way to Coruscant, overcrowding the streets and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Secondly, the lower levels of Coruscant basically have their own crime empire. Every illegal thing you could possibly think of existed here. The black market thrived, and the smuggling business was always booming. Despite your old profession being one of the very empires that fueled this economy, you didn’t like the idea of living and breathing that life. There was always a need to get away, forget about the job for a couple weeks and then, when you were itching for the thrill, you’d eventually return. Unlike you, your crew would live out their days here, getting high and drinking more than their own body weight in alcohol.

Thirdly, the last time you were here… didn’t really end well. In your defense, it wasn’t your fault that a shootout ensued—you were just trying to get the right amount of payment for the right amount of work. It’s not your fault they disagreed and resorted to shooting their way out of the deal, and it’s definitely not your fault a few of them died…

Needless to say, Coruscant was just another planet that you ended up leaving on rough terms.

Mando stays by your side as you walk together, so close in fact that your arms keep brushing against each other as you trek through the lower levels of the city. Even during the day, there’s very little light down here. You’ve ever only known what it’s like to live so deep underground and sometimes you’d daydream about what a life in the upper levels looked like. Do they live as extravagant as you imagine they do? You were told by a few drunk strangers in cantinas that the people who lived in the upper levels lived in huge apartments, way bigger than they ever needed to. Was that true? The idea of someone living in a home that actually overlooks the Coruscant skyline is something you can’t even wrap your head around. You’re convinced anyone who lives up there sold their soul for it. There can’t be another reason for it.

Upon arriving, Mando thought it was best to leave the kid on the ship. You—on the other hand, noted that the safest place for him is with you two. Besides, trusting that Grogu wouldn’t get himself into trouble while you’re both gone is a risk neither of you should be willing to take. Reluctantly, he gave in and now the kid is sitting in the makeshift pouch Mando made for him.

“Mando, I don’t like this,” you mumble under your breath.

“Neither do I, but we don’t really have a choice,” he replies, keeping his visor fixated on what’s in front of him. “You can go back to the ship with the kid, if you want.”

“And leave you here alone? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Realistically, you’re both aware Mando can handle his own in whatever could happen, but over your time together, you two have become somewhat of a unit. One doesn’t leave without the other. It’s an unspoken thing—no one bothered to mention it but also, neither of you have denied the company.

Ever since Mando’s confession, there’s definitely been a shift in your relationship.

The biggest change is that he’s become much more vocal. He shares his opinions more openly, he engages in conversation a lot more, and he’s not shy about showing you small displays of affection whenever he wants. When he moves passed you on the Crest, his hand always touches the small of your back or your hand if it’s within reach.

He’s also been a lot more engaging with Grogu. You can’t help but notice that whenever he holds him, Mando flexes his finger so that the kid can wrap his little claws around it. He speaks to Grogu a lot more and in turn, the kid mumbles incoherently back at him, as if Mando can understand him.  

It’s probably only been two days since Mando’s opened up to you about his favorite color—although you can’t be sure because time in hyperspace tends to blend together, but there’s been a lifetime amount of change that’s happened since and seeing him become more open and giving around both you and Grogu just reminds you of that softer side to Mando that he doesn’t share with many people.

As you look around and take in your surroundings, the streets begin to look extremely familiar. On your left, you see the diner you used to frequent with your old crew. They had some of the best sliders you’ve ever had. Even thinking about it now makes your stomach rumble.

Maybe you could pop in for a quick meal. You’re about to tell Mando about it but catch yourself just before you do.

He doesn’t take the helmet off. Kriff, how could you forget something so blatantly obvious. You haven’t even seen his face yet and for just a split second you thought he’d take his helmet off in a room full of people just to eat with you?

Stupid.

Shaking the thought of your mind, you try to ignore the sudden ache you feel in your chest.

“We’re close,” you hear Mando say and your previous thought is wiped from your mind. It’s now that you realize which cantina you’ve been walking towards, and when you turn the corner and see it, your heart drops.

The cantina you’re meeting this person Mando used to work with is unfortunately the very same cantina you used to celebrate with your squad after a successful spice run. A night full of drinking that usually ended with some random typical bar fight. Words spoken, blasters drawn, and the very rare shootout. Regardless of the night outcome, you were always back in the cantina the next night like nothing happened.

As you near the door, your feet suddenly feel like durasteel, gravity pulling you into the ground, stopping you from taking another step forward. Your heart is already in your stomach, heating your body up with haste. Stars, you haven’t been here in so kriffing long, and the possibility of getting smacked in the face with your past is something you didn’t plan.

Mando seems to sense your tentativeness because he turns his body to face you, his hand catching your forearm. “Are you okay?”

Trying to reassure him, the corners of your mouth curl into what could be considered a smile, although your eyes are screaming to leave.

Wherever he goes, you go, you remind yourself.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, passing him and squaring your shoulders just as the cantina door slides up. It’s in the early evening hours, so it isn’t too populated inside—just some of the regulars you’ve noticed that are always there, no matter what time of the day it is. Trying your best not to draw any attention to yourself, you drop your head down slightly, eyes shifting around the room, hoping you won’t catch sight of anyone who might know who you are.

Your attempts to be subtle are gone with the wind once Mando enters. The energy changes straightaway. All the chatter goes deafeningly quiet as a dozen heads turn towards you and having so many eyes on you causes your cheeks to heat up. For a moment, you had forgotten that travelling with a Mandalorian causes heads to turn and voices to hush. Of course, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride whenever you see strangers make the connection that you and Mando are together, but it’s quickly followed by major anxiety. Being stealthy and trying to keep to the shadows is damn near impossible when there’s a man standing next to you covered in what is arguably the most reflective durasteel in the galaxy.

“No fucking way,” you hear someone exclaim. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you turn your head in direction of the voice and see a female Twi’lek coming right for you. “Is that really you?”

“Dank farrik,” you mumble before they’re within listening range. Mando’s helmet cranes towards you.

“I thought you were dead!” Their arms wrap around your torso before you can even process what’s happening.

“Hey, Sula.”

“Stars, is that really you?” Another voice beckons, a hand clamping down on your shoulder, “You here for a job?” The male Rodian asks.

“Nah, not this time Odas,” you answer, angling your neck in the direction of the Mandalorian standing just a few inches away from you.

“Holy shit. A Mandalorian?”

“I’ll leave you to it,” The modulator informs you, and then he’s sauntering over to the bar. It’s not lost on you that for the first time in days, he’s left without reaching out to touch you in some way. Fortunately, you don’t have time to dwell on it before someone’s talking to you again.

“Come have a drink,” Odas begins to say, “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

Your eyes drift off to look at Mando who’s in the middle of speaking to the droid behind the bar.

“Uh—” Before you can kindly decline the offer, Sula grabs onto your wrist and nearly drags you over to the table they were all previously sitting at. Already seated is Venka, a nasty piece of work. You haven’t worked with many Trandoshans, but the ones you have worked with were ruthless and dangerous. Each of them wanted blood, no matter what the situation was.

Odas pulls a chair from a nearby table and gestures for you to sit. Unenthusiastically, you slide into the seat.

“Everyone said the New Republic got your ass. Glad to see we were wrong,” Odas says with a smile, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.

“Travelling with a Mandalorian? How the hell did that happen?” Sula asks.

“I didn’t even know there were any Mandalorians left,” Venka mutters, clearly peeved about something.

“How much are you paying him to protect you?”

“What?” Eyebrows pulling closely together, you look over to Odas quizzically.

“She’s probably paying him in other ways, if you know what I mean,” Sula laughs, bumping her elbow against your arm.

“Oh, shut up, Sula. It’s not like that.”

Odas props his elbows on the table and leans in closer towards you. “Then do tell us how you managed to slip through the New Republic’s grip and then somehow get a Mandalorian by your side, because they’re like the—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard the stories. ‘Best warriors in the galaxy’. So, they say anyway,” Venka hisses through his snout.

“Still hate them, huh?” Sula jests.

“I just don’t see it. Apparently, they’re the best warriors in the galaxy yet the Empire wiped them all out.”

“If that were true, there wouldn’t be one standing just over there,” your finger points to Mando still standing at the bar.

“Oh, okay,” Sula throws her hands up in defense. “We get it, you’re with him now.”

All of a sudden, you hear Mando’s voice coming from the commlink in your ear. “Stay here. I’m going to meet them in the back.”

Your body stills, wanting to get up and join in but knowing you can’t very well just get up and leave your old friends without so much as another word. As ridiculous as it seems, you feel like you owe it to them to stick around for a bit.

“Are you all waiting for the next job?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the fact that Mando’s just gone off on his own. He can handle himself; you repeat in your head.

“Yeah, supposed to take off at first light,” Odas answers before throwing back a glass of red liquor.

“Still room on the ship, if you want to join.”

“Thanks, Sula, but I’m pretty much done with smuggling.”

Venka all but chokes on his beverage. “Kriffing hell, you’re kidding.”

Shaking your head slowly and lips pressing into a thin line, “It’s just not for me, anymore,” you say, glaring at him.

“Not for you?” He grits out.  

“Isn’t that what I just said?” You snap, feeling the annoyance itching inside you.

“Okay, let’s just take it down a notch, all right? We’re just a couple of old friends catching up. That’s all,” Sula interjects, in hopes to deescalate the situation.

Venka rolls his eyes before finishing his drink, swallowing it with a snarl. Why are Trandoshans so aggressive with everything that they do?

Sula clears her throat to ask, “So, what are you doing back here? Last time you were here, I believe you said, ‘I refuse to return to this shithole of a planet’.”

“I’m sure we’ve all said that about this kriffing planet at least once or twice, but we always find our way back, don’t we?” Odas says to you, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m not really sure why we’re here—” You start to say but are cut off by Venka.

“So, your partner doesn’t bother keeping you informed? How nice.”

“Oh, shut up, Venka. You’re so negative,” Sula scolds.

Turning your attention to him with poison in your eyes, you ask him, “What’s your problem?”

He slams his cup on the table, red liquid spilling all over the surface. It’s not uncommon for him to try and pick a fight, so you’re not entirely surprised by his behavior right now. You’ve only ever lost your temper on him once and Tye was able to pull you away before something really bad happened.

“You’re seriously going to come back here as if you did nothing wrong? Everyone—and I mean everyone here, was worried about you, and not a single fucking one of us received a hologram from you saying you weren’t in prison.

“And when Tye told us that a kriffing Mandalorian snatched you up, we thought ‘she’s a goner’. But here you are, parading him around here like a fucking trophy.”

Caught up in the moment, you almost miss what Venka’s just told you. “Wait, Tye’s alive?”

“Yeah, he’s alive,” Sula confirms.

“He managed to escape just before your ship exploded. He was pretty fucked up for a while, but he’s a lot stronger than we give him credit for,” Odas admits.

“I… didn’t know,” your voice is low, filled with guilt.

Venka laughs, answering you with derision in his voice. “No fucking shit.”

“I didn’t come here to parade him around. I didn’t even know we’d be coming here,” you explain, then angling your head to Odas, you ask, “Is Tye here?”

Before Odas can answer, Venka speaks up. “Why? So, you can finish the job?”

“Fuck you, Venka.”

Reptilian eyes glower at you, your own are all but seething in anger as you scowl back. Trandoshans—at least the one’s you’ve had the unpleasure of meeting, are always on the prowl for a fight. They purposely get under everyone’s skin in hopes to rile them up. Usually, you’ve been able to keep your anger under control but that was mostly because you had Tye to keep you in check, to bring you back down from a blind rage. Now that he’s not here, you’re sure everyone at this table doesn’t really want a fight but that they’ll happily watch if it comes down to one.  

“Excuse yourself. We’re leaving. I’ll meet you outside,” Mando’s voice suddenly cuts into your ear. Thank the Maker.

“Let’s just all calm down, okay?” Odas finally interjects.

“Actually,” you start to say, taking the drink in your cup that you haven’t touched and chugging it all in one gulp, “I have to go. It was nice catching up with you guys, though.”

Once on your feet, you turn on your heel and make for the door. Just as you’re about to head out through the doorway, you hear Venka hiss at you, “Does he at least take helmet off when he fucks you?”  

You should ignore him; you should just take the last two steps through the cantina door and disappear. You reallyshouldn’t turn around and punch him square in the face.

But, sometimes, they deserve it. So without another thought, you’re already stomping back over to the table, pushing chairs out of your way as you walk straight up to Venka, and punch him in the nose with so much force, he loses his footing and falls flat on his back. The cantina goes dead silent—everyone staring at you in complete shock.

“Is Tye here?” You ask, chest heaving.

“Uh… yeah, he’s at your old apartment. He’s coming with us on the job,” Sula responds, stunned that you actually just punched Venka in the nose.

“Thanks for the drink,” you say to her before whipping your body around and making your way to the door. It’s not clear, but you think you hear Venka shout something at you, something with the word ‘bitch’ in it, but you’ve already made your point. It’s not worth going back to hear what he has to say.

Looking down at the hand you used to strike him, you notice three of your knuckles are split open, little drops of blood running down your hand. In an effort to conceal this from Mando, you wipe it haphazardly along your thigh, just as you exit the doors.

Mando’s leaning against the door, his hands resting on his belt and once he sees you, he kicks himself off the duracrete wall to stand.

“What happened?” He asks, taking note of how erratic your breathing is. When the visor looks down at your hands, he grabs hold of your wrist, pulling your hand to him and inspecting the small gashes on your knuckles.

“It’s nothing,” you attempt to assume him, trying to jerk your arm out of his grip, but Mando’s much stronger than you, so he pulls your hand closer to his cuirass.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I really don’t want to get into it.”

His sigh breaks up in his helmet and you know he wants to press you again, but he ultimately doesn’t. “You took care of it?”

“I did.”

“Good,” he answers tentatively, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze and then letting go, starting to head for the hangar. You linger for a moment, staring down at your busted up hand and watching the tiny droplets of blood bead down your skin.

Fucking Trandoshans, you think to yourself.

As you stroll through the crowded streets, mulling over the conversation you had with your old friends, you quickly realize that if Tye really is here, you need to see him. You need to explain why you did what you did or didn’t do, as well as show him that you’re okay. Actually, that you’re more than okay. You’re the best you’ve ever felt which makes you feel incredibly guilty.

“Mando,” you call out because he’s a few feet ahead of you. He stops in his tracks and waits for you to catch up to him.

“There’s something I need to do before I go back.”

Grogu coos worriedly, his ears drooping.

“I’ll be okay, little guy,” you assure him, simultaneously trying to convince Mando the same.

Mando shakes his head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll leave the commlink open,” you say in an effort to ease his apprehension.

“No,” he says more sternly, the modulator dangerously low.

“Two hours. That’s all I’m asking for. If in two hours I don’t check in, feel free to tear this city apart looking for me, but I need to do this and I need to do this alone.”

Mando sighs begrudgingly, the sound breaking apart through the helmet. “Fine. Two hours.”

You mouth ‘thank you’ before disappearing through a crowd of people, and then darting down a dark alley.

With your hand hovering over your blaster, you slip through various streets and alleys on your way to the apartment you and Tye shared in between jobs. Every step you take makes your heart race faster, the reality of the situation sinking in. You hadn’t even taken the time to consider that Tye might not even want to see you. The last time you spoke, you hadn’t parted on good terms and now that he probably knows you’re still alive… it’s not going to be an easy conversation.

When you turn the corner onto the street of the apartment, you’re practically quivering. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage, palms are sweating, and you think about turning around. No one would know you were here if you left. The chances of you coming back to Coruscant after this are slim to none—you could do it.

No.

You have to stop running away from things that need to be faced. You’ve been running your entire life, trying to keep yourself busy in an attempt to forget about your responsibilities. Truthfully, you’re tired of running away. It’s time to right your wrongs.

Once you reach the building, your eyes slam shut and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through your lips and head inside. Climbing up the stairs slowly, you hold onto the railing to steady yourself. The anxiety is really getting to you, now.

Was this a bad idea?

Fuck.

To your surprise, the door is open. Either it’s been abandoned, or you think he’s expecting you. Feet hovering in the doorframe, the pounding in your ears is damn near deafening but you press on, taking a step forward and then another and then another until you’re standing in the hallway of the apartment. The door hisses shut behind you, causing you to jump at the sudden sound.

The place is almost unrecognizable. The furniture in the sitting room is flipped upside down, shards of broken transparisteel littered around the room, and the room’s so dark, you can barely see a thing. The only light source illuminated the room is coming from the outside lamp posts, highlighting the disaster that’s displayed in front of your eyes. You begin chewing on the inside of your cheek, becoming more aware of the possible danger you’ve just walked into.

“So, you’re alive,” you hear in the darkness.

“Tye?” You ask aloud, eyes shifting around the room, trying to locate where the voice came from.

A silhouette appears from the kitchen, illuminated by the outside light fixtures. The shadow look like him, but it also doesn’t. The voice sounds like Tye, but its’ darker, rougher.

“Kriff, you’re actually here.”

You take a couple steps forward, stopping just shy of the counter that separates the kitchen from the seating area. Tye stands in the kitchen, hands pressing into the marble surface, taking you in. As his features become clearer, your breath catches in your throat.

Your best friend since you were a child. The one person that’s saved your life more times than you can count. The single person in this galaxy that has been with you through the darkest moments in your life. The person you thought you had seen die right before your eyes, standing just a few feet away from you.

There’s a darkness in his eyes that you don’t recognize. His eyes were a gentle, warm shade of green that made others gravitate towards him. They used to bring you comfort; you could be at your lowest and then when you’d look up at him, you’d feel at ease.

Now when you look at them, all you see are broken fragments of tainted memories. Like all the pain and suffering he’s endured in the last few months has been bundled up and are now locked in his eyes for everyone to see.

You want to reach out, but something’s stopping you. There’s not a single thing you recognize about him. Hair that was once blonde is gone, shaved off. His shoulders are more sunken too. He used to hold himself with such confidence, not unlike the kind of strut that Mando carries himself with. Tye’s cheekbones are more pronounced as well, and it worries you that he’s begun using spice more than he used to.

Unsurprisingly, it was somewhat normal for smugglings get high on the supply they were trafficking, and you’ve seen Tye do it from time to time. You—on the other hand, never did. You had seen what it could do to its abusers, and you knew better than to do something that foolish. It was kind of a twisted morality code. Willing to smuggle it and let others abuse it, and yet you thought you were above using it yourself.

“What happened to you?” You ask him, completely in disbelief that this is what Tye has become.

“They said you were back, but I didn’t believe them,” he murmurs, his voice so low that you barely catch what he says, his gaze fixated towards the ground.

Maker, even the way he talks is different. Tye had the bubbliest of characters. He was larger than life, his voice echoed in every room he was in, boisterous and kind. The type of intonation that was infectious. Now, his voice is rough, it’s terse—like all the joy has been sucked out of him and now there’s just a hollow sound left.

This isn’t the man you grew up with.

The thought makes you nauseous.

Did you do this to him?

Are you the reason he’s so… different?

“Why didn’t you tell me or anyone that you were okay?” He nearly croaks.

Guilt overwhelms you. “I… thought you were dead.”

Tye lets out a noise that’s similar to a laugh, but you know damn well he means anything but that. He takes a step back, rubbing the back of his head and takes a sharp breath.

“You could have sent someone a hologram. You could have come back to Kijimi. Stars, you could have come here but you didn’t.”

Your jaw hangs, trying to find the words that might justify why exactly you didn’t tell anyone that you were never arrested, but whatever reason you come up with hangs on your tongue, unable to actually speak. It all just happened so fast.

“I had to hear from fucking Sula that you were—not only alive, but that you’re actually fucking traveling with the same Mandalorian that hunt you down. The one that shot me out of the kriffing sky,” his anger grows with every word.

“All these months, I blamed myself for what happened. I thought ‘she’s probably dead by now and that’s on me. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed’.” He rambles, voice cracking.

“I fucked up, Tye and I’m sorry, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I didn’t intend for any of this happen. Everything happened so fast, I couldn���t…” Your voice trails off, too many thoughts racing to your mind, unable to sift through them and think of a coherent explanation.

“Why are you with him?”

“He… saved my life, Tye.”

Tye crosses his arms against his chest, scoffing. “What?”

And so, you tell what happened. You tell him about Nevarro, about the Empire, about what Ahsoka told you. As you explain everything, Tye’s expression changes from resentment to almost disbelief.

“A Jedi?”

“If I wanted to train… yeah.”

“Well fuck, look at you,” he mocks.

“Don’t patronize me, I’m trying to explain myself.”

Tye holds his hands out in defense. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Wringing your hands, you wait for him to say something else… but he doesn’t. He stares at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something else.

“So… what does this mean for us, now?” Your voice is soft, hoping there’s some possibility of reconciliation.

“There is no ‘us’ anymore,” he says lowly.

“Okay, I half expected that…” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck absentmindedly.

Not surprising.

“Did you really think that you could come back here and give me some bullshit excuse and expect us to be friends again? After the shit you put me through?”

“I guess not.”

Tye says nothing else, keeping the same expression on his face. Betrayal, pain, anger. It’s all staring you right in the face.

“Time’s up,” Mando’s gruff voice whispers in your ear.

Cursing to the Maker, you want more time. There has to be something else you can say to him that’ll better explain why you didn’t ask anybody if he was still alive but then you realize, you just didn’t do enough. Quite frankly, you did nothing. You should have done something, you could have done something but ultimately, you didn’t and that’s something you’ll just have to life with.

“I should head back,” you tell Tye, who just shrugs at you. Turning on your heel, you look over your shoulder to see him still standing in the kitchen. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

Please say something, you say to yourself as you make for the doorway.

He doesn’t.

--

“Everything all right?” Mando asks you as soon as you’re walking up the ramp.

“Yeah,” is all you answer.

He doesn’t press you, taking note of the way you’re clearly not in the mood for chatter.

You prop your elbows atop one of the crates, leaning on it and staring down at the ground. Feeling guilty about bringing down the energy inside the Crest, you find yourself trying to make conversation, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“What happened with your friend at the cantina?”

“They need me to do a job, and then we’ll have enough credits to pay for the fuel we’ll need in order to get to Tython.”

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “What kind of job?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be staying here with the kid.” He answers dryly.

Stunned, you push off the crate and turn your body to him, facing Mando head on and crossing your arms across your chest.

“Is there a problem?” He asks, taking in your body language.

“What if you need help?”

“It’s a four-person job. They had three before I agreed.”

“Which means you’ll be outnumbered if something goes wrong,” you retort, eyebrow cocked.

“I need you to stay with the kid.”

You clamp down on your jaw, tapping your foot on the ground while you consider his last words. “I don’t like this, at all.”

“You don’t have to, but it isn’t up for discussion.”

“But—”

“No.”

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you know he’s right. It is safer for someone to be with the kid and it’s not exactly like you can do the job instead. Once again, you’re stuck following Mando’s orders.

“So then, when do you head out?”

“Soon. I should be back before morning,” he answers, rummaging through his armory.

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Sleeping in the cockpit.”

“Mmm,” you hum in the back of your throat. Noticing Mando’s back stiffen, he takes one of the blasters off the wall, and inspects it.

As you watch him examine his weapons and take in the way he twitched hearing you purr, a cunning thought crosses your mind.

Since he refuses to let you come along, you want to give him a reason to be counting down the minutes until he’s back with you on the Crest. It’s not that you want him distracted, but the possessive side of you wants him to be constantly reminded that you’ll be waiting here—for him.

Without trying to be discrete, you saunter over to the armory, making sure to graze his arm against yours as you pass by him to pick up one of the multiple blasters hanging on the wall. Holding it your hand, you twist the gun around, in an unbashful attempt to get his attention, puffing your chest out as you stare down at the weapon in your hand. You can feel the visor on you, but you don’t look up. Instead, your gaze stays glued to what’s in your palm, knowing Mando’s studying you carefully, like he’s trying to understand what you’re trying to do.

Putting the gun back on its placeholder, you saunter passed him, the tips of your fingers hooking onto his cape, stroking the fabric between your fingers, then dropping it as you head over to the small closet where the ration packs are kept.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

Turning around to look at him, you cross your arms along your chest and with the most innocent tone you can, your tongue darts across your bottom lip and then whisper, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mando tilts his head and lets out a deep breath that scratches through the modulator, but he makes no move on you. Rather, he goes back to inspecting the weapon that’s sitting on one of the higher crates.

Okay… so you’ll have to be more unsubtle. Craning your neck to either side, you let out a small groan as you hear your bones crack, but once again, Mando’s visor stays peeled to the gun. Starting to get annoyed at the lack of attention he’s giving you, you start to wonder if you should pull back, give up and wait until he comes back in the morning, but honestly? You don’t want to give up. You know you can seduce him; you just need to find the right trigger. Feeling some courage and boldness suddenly overcome you, your feet bring you over to where Mando is standing, and come up right next to him, leaning back on the crate and propping your elbows on the crate behind you, puffing your chest out even more to showcase your breasts. He glances over at you for just a moment and clears his throat. “What?”

“Nothing,” you answer with a devilish smile. You’re almost close enough for your arms to brush against each other, but you stop yourself from closing the gap.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he tells you, voice strained and tight.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“No.”

Inching yourself closer to him, your hand grazes the vambrace on his right arm. He makes no sound, but by the way his chest puffs in and out, you know you’re getting under his skin, and that makes you even bolder. With your right hand, you grab onto his vambrace and slide between him and the wooden crate, essentially pinning yourself between the two. Mando groans deeply, his head craning to the left, exposing just the smallest amount of skin as he does. Stars, even just the sight of his neck causes you to squirm, rubbing your thighs together.

“Not enough time,” he pleads, nearly fucking panting.

“Mmm,” you whine back, bringing both your hands to grab at his waist, digging your fingernails into the fabric just above his utility belt. When Mando doesn’t pull away, you slide one of your legs between his, feeling his growing erection against your knee. His visor looks down at you and you can’t help but bite your lip in an attempt to hide the smug smile from forming. His hands are on either side of your body, pressing into the wood so hard you can hear it crackling under his firm grip.

Leaning into his body, your neck cranes upwards and you’re forced to go on the tips of your toes to whisper into the side of his helmet where his ear would be, “If you want me to stop, just say the word.”

“Fuck…” is all he manages to say, and then you’re slowly dropping to your knees, your face aligning with the bulge in his pants.

Your hands fumble down to the utility belt, but through hooded lids, you continue to look into Mando’s visor. Unhooking the belt, you push his flak vest out of your way and find the waistband to his trousers. Mouth practically watering, you swallow hard, and finally tear your eyes away to look at the bulge between his legs. Your pussy gushes as one of your hands push against the waistband to cup him inside his pants. Mando jerks forward at the touch, a guttural groan etching through the vocoder.

“Stars…”

You pull his pants down just enough for his cock and balls to spring free, and your jaw fucking drops at the sight. This is the first time you’re seeing him, truly seeing him. In that alley on Tatooine, it was too dark for you to be able to observe him, but now? Fuck, he’s a goddamn sight.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how fucking big he is, it’s a shock he’s able to fit all of himself inside you. Steadying him by wrapping your hand around him at the base, you take a moment to appreciate him. Mando’s uncut with just tip of his head poking through. There’s a bead of precome forming from the tip, and you dart your tongue passed your lips to lap it up, the taste of him on your tongue makes you hum.

Your free hand settles on his thigh, while the other begins to slowly stroke up and down his length, licking up every bit of precome that oozes from the tip.

“Ah, shit… Feels so go—” He begins to say but is cut off by you engulfing his entire length in your mouth.

Mando grazes the back of your throat, and your body tenses, fighting the urge to gag. You pull away from him slowly, hallowing your cheeks as you feel every vein of his cock until he slips through your lips with a loud, wet pop. Your tongue darts along your bottom lip, coating it with saliva before taking him once again. Repeating the process a few more times, and feeling Mando writhe from your slow taunt, he unexpectedly becomes impatient. His hips grind against you, practically begging for more. He’s entirely at your mercy, being the one in control right now is making you dizzy. To see someone as strong and commanding as Mando practically mewling because of you is sending you on a power-trip.

When you take him in your mouth again, instead of pulling away, you begin bobbing your head up and down his cock, the wet sounds echoing through the Crest walls. Already, you’re getting better at taking him into your mouth without gagging as much. Because of his size, you do end up gagging a couple times, your body tensing as he grazes the back of your throat, but you press on, because hearing Mando praise you over and over is intoxicating.

“Kriff, your mouth feels so fucking good… fuck… makes me want to bend you over his crate and fuck you until you’re begging to come.”

Hearing him only spurs you on, guiding him as far as he can go, and letting him just sit in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his girth, precome dripping down your throat. It’s salty, but it’s also the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted in your life. A mixture of saliva and precome dribbles down your chin, but you continue to swallow as much of him as you possibly can, nothing’s going to stop you from making him come like this.

Your panties are fucking soaking now, pussy throbbing and damn near hurting from the lack of touch. All your concentration is being focused on making Mando feel good, and he knows it. He knows this is for him, and he’s reveling in it.

“I bet you’re so fucking wet right now, pretty girl,” he pants, placing one of his hands behind your head and cradling it gently as he begins to fuck your mouth. Just as you start to feel him twitch inside you, a faint alarm begins to ring, and you feel him still.

He has to leave.

“I-I ha-ave to go,” he whimpers, your lips still firmly wrapped around his cock.

But you don’t stop. When you feel him try to pull away, your hands grab onto his hips, digging your fingers into him and trying your hardest to keep him right where he is, and begin sucking him even faster, bobbing your head up and down his length at a quicker pace.

“Oh fuck… that feels so fucking good.”

The alarm is still ringing, but you don’t care. You’ll make damn sure he’ll come, you just need a few more minutes…

He holds your shoulders, keeping you in place and then he’s backing away from you. His cock slips through your lips, leaving a trail of spit behind that falls down your chin. Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Mando hooks his arms under yours and lifts you to your feet, only to spin you around and push you against the crate, bending you over, the gun falling to the ground.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He growls at you, grabbing the waistband of your pants and pulling them down to your knees. “I have to leave.”

Your chest is heaving, arousal making your head spin as you wait impatiently for what he’ll do next. “So, go,” you mutter breathlessly.

“You want me to leave?” He taunts. You hear something light hit the ground, and then he’s pushing your underwear to the side and cupping your sex with calloused fingers.

“Fuck!” You cry out, the touch already relieving some of the building pressure.

“Maker, you’re fucking soaked,” he admires, and then he’s sticking two thick fingers deep inside your pussy, curling them and hitting that spot inside you that nearly blinds you. Jerking forwards, your stomach digs into the blunt edge of the crate, but feeling Mando’s fingers fuck you overpowers the discomfort. It’s desperate, it’s rough, and hurried but that makes it all so much more exhilarating.

“I’m gonna c-come,” you pant into surface, almost surprised at how close your orgasm is.

Mando suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out of you and smearing your slick all over your entrance and clit.

The tip of his cock pokes your entrance, but he doesn’t move. He strokes himself between your folds, teasing you. “I have to go,” he groans.

You grind your hips against him, and push your ass out, arching your back in the hope that he’ll slide inside you, and to your surprise, he does. He aligns his hips with yours and slams right into you, pushing you further up the crate, fully sheathing himself between your walls.

He wastes no time fucking you, holding both your shoulders and jackhammering into you so hard, there’s no fucking air in your lungs. Your feeble whimpers are breathless and empty, jaw fully slack as he continues to wreck your cunt.

“Mando? Where the hell are you?” A voice comes from the commlink on his vambrace.

“Fuck,” he growls, somehow quickening his pace and driving you fucking insane. You don’t even know how close you are to coming until it’s ripping through you, almost making you convulse underneath him, sobbing brokenly into the air. Your fingernails are digging into the wood so violently, you hear it splinter. Knees buckling, you’re already completely spent, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re supposed to be here by now. Mando, where the fuck are you?”

Grinding his hips even more into your ass, he bends over so his cuirass is pressed against your back, his cock hitting a part inside you that only he knows how to touch. You’re so fucking full, a second orgasm is moments away if he continues to fuck you from this angle.

“Do you see what you do to me? Ah—shit, I’m supposed to be with them, but—fuck, instead I’m here,” He snarls in your ear, the side of his helmet grazing your cheek.

Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, feeling his body weight press you into the hard surface, and his cock driving you fucking wild. Your mind is blank, your throat is bone dry—unable say a fucking word. You’re helpless underneath him.

“Pretty girl, you’re going to be the death of me.”

His weight leaves you, and then he’s grabbing both your hands, crossing your arms behind your back and holding them in place with one hand. He starts a pace so mind-blowing hard, pounding his cock inside you and hitting your cervix with every thrust. It’s the most delicious pain you’ve ever experienced. If it were anyone else, you’d tell them to stop, but this is Mando. He knows what you can and can’t handle better than you do, so you let him slam into you at a grueling speed. You can hear his balls slap against your skin, and another orgasm begins to form deep in your belly.

He grinds into you a few more times and then he’s somehow burying himself even more inside you, and you snap. A second orgasm splits you apart, whatever pathetic noise comes out of you is drowned out by Mando’s guttural groan as he reaches his own climax, his cock pulsing as his seed is pumped deep inside you.

“Mando!” The male voice shouts once again through the commlink.

Even though you’re entirely spent, a laugh escapes you. He’s just completely ignored someone calling him just so he could finish fucking you.

“Coming,” he responds curtly, pulling out of you quickly and tucking himself back in his pants.

You don’t expect Mando to linger any longer than he absolutely needs to, so with the very little strength you have left and using your palms, you push yourself upright, knees shaking profusely, and to your surprise, he grabs the waistband of your pants and begins tugging them back up your legs.

“Mmm, it’s okay. I’ve got it,” you try to assure him, but he doesn’t listen. He shimmies them back up until they’re around your waist, and then he’s turning you to face him.

“I have to go,” he tells you, and you sense some regret in his voice. He doesn’t want to leave, either.

“I know,” you smile at him, sheepishly.

Mando reaches out, both of his hands cupping the sides of your face and presses the helmet against your forehead. The coolness of the beskar feels amazing against your hot skin. He lets out a deep breath, baritone dangerously low as it comes up tight through the helmet. You press back into him, closing your eyes and taking in this sweet, tender moment. Letting out a deep breath through your nostrils, the smell of beskar and Mando’s own scent—a mix of soap that you’ve grown used to smelling on yourself, as well as hints of sweetness and musk, almost drowns you but in the best fucking way possible.

“Come back in one piece, okay?”

He doesn’t respond, only continues to hold your face in his hands. Time seems to still, and for a fraction of a second, it’s just you and him. It’s somehow the most intimate moment you’ve shared. Without saying a word, you say your good-bye’s and watch him head down the ramp, waiting until he’s no longer in sight before heading the fresher.

--

It’s been a couple hours since Mando left, and you hate to admit it, but you miss him… like a lot. Definitely more than you should. Come to think of it, this is the first time since Kijimi that you’ve been away from each other for this long. Ever since then, you’ve been beside each other, or at the very least knew where the other was, but right now? You have no idea where he is, who he’s with or how long he’ll be gone, and you’re driving yourself crazy.

You keep commlink open—just in case anything goes wrong, he’ll be able to contact you and while you pray to the Maker that nothing does go wrong, you can’t help but wish to hear his voice through the little speaker.

A simple check-in would instantly calm your nerves, but you know better than to call him yourself. He could be hiding; he could be in the middle of a gunfight. The last thing he needs is hearing your voice asking him if everything is okay and distracting him. Needless to say, the negatives outweigh the positives, so you continue to pace anxiously up and down the galley of the ship, waiting to hear that intoxicating voice of his.

The kid’s been up for the last half an hour, babbling to himself with that kriffing ball in his grip. You feel bad for him, being stuck in this hunk of metal all the time but risking both of your safeties just for a little walk around is simply not worth it. The quicker Mando gets the job done, the sooner you’ll be off Coruscant and on your way to Tython.

You could try to get some sleep, but you know damn well you’ll be tossing and turning in the cot, anxiously waiting to hear his voice on the commlink.

There has to be something you can do that’ll keep your mind occupied…

Grogu looks up at you in your lap, cocking his head to the side as his ears peak up at you, and then you get an idea.

Ahsoka had told you Grogu was trained at the Jedi Temple for years before being forced into hiding, and since you’re both bored, this could be the perfect time to practice. Albeit, you have no idea what you’re doing, but anything is better than sitting around waiting for Mando’s return.

At first, you consider staying within the Crest, but there isn’t nearly enough room, and quite frankly, you know the two of you could benefit from not being locked up in the ship. Picking Grogu up into your arms, and grabbing your blaster, you make for the ramp and descend it. The hangar is empty, now. The owner’s retreated for the night, so you don’t have to worry about being watched.

The hangar itself is much larger than Peli’s. Easily twice the size, and it’s located on a large platform that overlooks the underworld portal. It’s the perfect place for a quick getaway and doubles as a scenic view.

Sometimes between jobs, you’d come to one of these various hangars and spend hours just looking at the steady flow of traffic coming in and out of the lower levels. You’d sit on the edge of the hangar; feet dangling in the air and stare up in amazement that something this vast could exist in the galaxy. Thousands of different beings travelling through this canal, beings you’ll never know or see again, but being aware that each of them had their own life, their own struggles and triumphs, all travelling in the same place at the same time is almost hard to wrap your head around.

You settle Grogu on a nearby table and place your blaster just to his right, making sure to turn the safety on.

“Grogu,” you say softly, holding your hand out face up at him. “Give me the ball.”

He hesitates at first, pulling the ball closer to his chest, but you continue to coax him, speaking gently until he finally places it in your hand.

“Thanks, little guy,” smiling and wiggling your finger in front of him, you then take a couple steps back.

You could try to push the stone to him, but you haven’t the slightest idea how to do that, so instead you opt to get Grogu to take the ball from your hand. Holding the ball between your thumb and index, you begin to sweet-talk him into taking the ball from you.

“Okay, let’s do this, kid. Can you take the ball out of my hand?”

His head moves from side to side and his arms reach out as far as they can, cooing happily.

“Come on, you did it with Mando. I know you can do it.”

Squinting his eyes momentarily, his hands start to twist and all of a sudden, the stone flies from your hand into his. The baby squeals with excitement, showing you the sphere in his grip with pride, and then resumes sucking on the durasteel, no longer interested in what you had planned to keep you two busy.

You smile to yourself, amazed that this little creature can do things that you would have never anticipated. The thought of reuniting him with a Jedi and the possibility of having to say good-bye breaks your heart. You’ve grown such an attachment to him. Seeing him every day, feeding him, playing with him, watching his little face light up whenever you give him the ball, and even seeing the gentleness in Mando that Grogu exudes from him, it’s all things you’ll miss dearly.

Looking down at your palm, you wonder if you’ll also be able to wield the Force and carry something over into your hand. Eyes meeting the blaster that’s resting to Grogu’s left, you begin trying to clear your mind and focus only on the gun and bringing it into your grip. Extending your arm as far as it can, you take a deep breath and exhale through slightly parted lips, furrowing your eyebrows as your concentration on the blaster grows. All the white noise suddenly drowns out, hearing only the steady thumping of the blood in your ears. Your fingers are shaking but the gun doesn’t budge. It stays completely still on the table.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, your arm drops to your side. Maker, you know it’s possible, you’ve done it before during a fight, but of course the one time you actually try to do it without having the threat of death, you’re unable to get that kriffing blaster in your hand.

Squaring your shoulders, you close your eyes and once again try to clear your mind, focusing only on the Force—feeling it flow through your body, harnessing its power, and bending it to your will. In an attempt to steady your heartbeat, you take, deep, long burning inhales, feeling your lungs expand as much as they can, holding the breath for a few seconds, and ever so slowly letting exhaling through your nose, all the while keeping your eyes closed and maintaining your focus on the Force.

You crane your neck from side to side and roll your shoulders a couple times and then your arm slowly raises once again, lining up with the blaster, and transfer all the power you feel inside you to the palm of your hand, and then to the tips of your fingers. You can picture the blaster in your head. The soft curve of the handle that connects to its clip, the narrow barrel pointed in your direction. As you continue to piece the weapon together in your mind, you start to feel a strong current flow through your veins to the palm of your hand. It’s more powerful than anything you’ve felt before, and yet it doesn’t scare you in the slightest. Instead, it feels empowering and familiar. When you finally open your eyes, they shift to your hand and your jaw damn near drops.  

The blaster is in your hand, fingers wrapped around the handle tightly. Bringing it closer to your chest, you examine the gun as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen it. Your eyes move between it and the table a couple feet away, completely stunned that you were actually able to do that yourself.

“Did you see that?” You call out to Grogu who’s squealing with joy. You’re not sure if he actually understands why you’re so giddy, but you’d like to think he does anyway.

Making your way over to him, you wiggle your finger in front of him and gently bop him on the nose. Not too far away, you see a piece of scrap durasteel on the floor. Peering down at Grogu, you shrug your shoulders. “Should I try it?”

He coos curiously and you take that as him saying ‘yes’. Repeating what you did previously, you raise your arm in front of you and focus on the small item and inhale through your lips, exhaling through your nostrils. Clearing your mind and only thinking of durasteel, you watch it begin to shake on the ground. Excitement sets in as it slowly lifts off the ground, hovering in the air for just a moment and then, it flies into your hand, causing you to lose your balance from the power of it.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” You exclaim.

“Holy Maker, you weren’t bullshitting me,” you hear behind you. Moving quickly, you drop the durasteel to pick Grogu up in your arms, grabbing your blaster and whipping your body around to point it at the person behind you. Tye lifts his arms, showing he’s empty handed.

“Whoa! Take it easy, I’m unarmed.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you slip the blaster back in its holster on your thigh and take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, and how the hell did you know where I was?”

“I have my ways,” he says, eyebrows darting up and down in jest. “What is that?” He asks when he sees the green baby in your arms.

“I’m not sure, really,” you answer honestly, looking down at Grogu.

“Didn’t think you had any motherly instincts.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Neither did I.”

Tye passes by you, heading for the edge of the hangar. You eye him cautiously, trying to gauge what he’s up to. When you see him sit down, feet dangling off the edge like you used to do, you walk over to him, still holding Grogu in your arms. You catch yourself just before you’re within earshot and put the kid down.

“Can I trust that you won’t tear this place apart?”

The kid mumbles something at you and begins waddling away.

“I’m keeping an eye on you, you little womp rat!” You shout at him, before strolling back over to where Tye is and sit to his right.

You’re looking at him, trying to find something recognizable about him, something that could show you he’s still the same person you knew when you were kids, but everything about him is different. He looks like an entirely new person.

“Do you remember the first time we got here?” He asks, staring at the portal’s traffic.

Your eyes leave him to look at the various ships coming in and out of the ports. “I remember thinking ‘I hate it here’.”

The corners of his lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, you always hated busy places.”

“They’re just too noisy. You can barely hear yourself think down here.”

“Yeah…”

Neither of you speak for several minutes. You know he’s here for a reason. Whether it’s to forgive you or kill you, that’s probably up to what you say next.

“Tye, I’m really sorry for what I did,” you whisper, tearing your eyes away from the portal to stare at his side profile. “I was being selfish, and I didn’t take anyone’s feelings—especially yours, into consideration.”

“You know, when I got the hologram from Sula and saw Venka’s bloody nose in the background, I just knew it was you.”

Rolling your eyes, you jab him with your elbow. “You did not.”

“You’re the only person with enough nerve to punch him.”

“That’s true… It felt pretty damn good too.”

Tye chuckles, shaking his head. The sound instantly reminds you of all the moments you’d tell him a stupid pun and watch him cackle like it’s the funniest joke he’d ever heard in his life.

“Do you ever think about getting out?” You ask him.

“Getting out?”

“Yeah, putting all this smuggling shit behind you and finding a nice, quiet planet to live out the rest of your days. Meet a local girl and settle down. Maybe even have a couple kids.”

For the first time since you sat down, Tye looks over at you, and the kindness in his eyes that had seemed to disappear is looking back at you, bringing you to your younger years on Tatooine. That outgoing, carefree kid that always got you in trouble. The guy who laughed at everything, who found the silver lining in any given situation; he’s looking right at you.

“Nah, I’m not built for that kind of life.”

“Life has a way of throwing you some curveballs.”

“I see that…” he says with that smile that always brought you joy.

It suddenly dawns on you that this is Tye’s way of saying good-bye. That—after this conversation, you’ll probably never see each other again. You’ll no longer be involved in each other’s lives. There won’t be any more meetups on Kijimi or Coruscant or any other planet, and while the thought makes your chest tighten, you understand why. Honestly, you don’t know how you’d be able to forgive a friend for doing what you did, let alone have it be your oldest friend. Without even knowing it, you’ve chosen who you wanted your family to be, and to your surprise, it isn’t Tye.

Against your better judgement, you lean your head on his shoulder. At first, he stiffens, and you worry you’ve gone too far, but then he relaxes, even craning his neck to lean his head against yours, breathing you in.

“I hate to admit it, but you seem happier.” He tells you, feeling defeated.

“Hey, are you there?”

Mando’s voice in your ear makes you jump. Putting a finger up to Tye, you excuse yourself and walk back towards the Crest, just far enough so he’s no longer without earshot, all the while making the kid hasn’t gotten into any trouble. You catch him waddling around the hangar, chasing what looks to be some kind of flying insect. Womp rat.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, pressing your finger into your ear.

“The job’s taking longer than I thought. It’ll take another day or two,” he speaks low, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s talking to you.

Your heart drops. Another day? You hadn’t even considered the idea that he might be gone longer than he expected. Does he need help? Has something gone wrong? Should you ask to meet him?

“Are you still there?”

“Shit, yeah, sorry I’m here,” you answer, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Don’t let the kid out of your sight. Stay inside the Crest.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll try to check in again, but I might not be able to.” There are voices in the background, calling for him. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon.”

The other end goes silent. He’s gone.

Refusing to let yourself get too upset, you exhale through your lips and roll your shoulders, turning back over to Tye who’s still sitting on the ledge.

“What was that about?” He asks as you get closer, using his arms to push him back to his feet.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“So secretive,” he teases.

A sudden crash grabs your attention. Twisting your body in a panic, you see Grogu standing alongside a pile of miscellaneous scraps that have fallen over.

“Dank farrik. Kid!” You call out as you jog over to him. Once he sees you coming for him, he runs over to you, squealing in fear.

“Don’t worry, little guy. I got you,” you assure him, picking him up and holding him close to your chest. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

Grogu looks up at you and pouts, ears hanging low.

“I should get going. Gotta head out soon,” you hear Tye say to you.

“Okay.”

You stand a few feet away from each other, shifting awkwardly because neither of you know how to say good-bye.

“Well, um…” Tye says before clearing his throat, and then rubbing the nape of his neck with one hand.

“Good luck on your run.”

He looks down at the ground, kicking it absentmindedly with his foot. “Good luck with… everything.”

“Thanks,” you answer, voice barely audible.

You watch as Tye heads for the hangar door, waiting for him to look back, but he never does. You think about chasing after him, wrapping your arms around him one last time but your feet never leave the ground. They keep you firmly in place. With your chest tight, you expect tears to form in your eyes, but they never do. Not even seeing your best friend leave can bring you to tears. Does that make you a horrible person? Maybe.

The door hisses shut, leaving you and Grogu all alone in the hangar. You feel empty, like a part of you has walked away with Tye, and maybe there was.

He was your childhood, your adolescence… he was everything, and now he’s just gone, existing only in your memory.

“Hey,” you say, trying to distract youtself. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

Grogu fusses in your arms and you head into the Crest, shutting the ramp behind you and going straight for the sleeping bunk. You crawl into the cot, placing him in the makeshift hammock and closing your eyes.

It’s gonna be a long couple days without Mando.

--

It’s been a day since you’ve last heard from Mando, which means you’ve been stuck in the Crest for a whole kriffing day, and you’re getting serious cabin fever. There aren’t any more ration packs—you and Grogu have finished the last of them a few hours ago and you’re still hungry. You both need some real food.

Remembering that diner you and Mando passed yesterday, it makes your stomach growl. It’s almost too tempting. You’ll both get some sustenance, and you’ll get time to stretch your legs. Really, it doesn’t take you much time to make up your mind. One little venture out can’t hurt, right?

Before heading out, you make sure to take your blaster and a two vibroblades from Mando’s armory. It may seem like overkill but it’s better to be safe than sorry. With Grogu tucked in the sash across your chest, you head out of the hangar.

Walking around without Mando is more dangerous, for obvious reasons. Only an idiot would pick a fight with a Mandalorian, so wherever you walked with him, you knew you’d be safe. It’s completely different walking by yourself. You know the area, you know the safer spots to walk and the areas to avoid, but you’re sure to keep your eyes open and walk with caution. Coruscant—no matter the time of day, can be dodgy. Should you have checked in with Mando that you were going out? Probably but it’s only for an hour or two and the odds of him coming back while you’re out are slim, so you take your chances. If he’s somehow able to find out that you left the hangar after he specifically told you to stay inside the Crest, you’ll just have to deal with the consequences, but until then, you’ll enjoy the little freedom you have right now.

Trekking the same route as you did with Mando, you keep your head down and navigate through various crowds of people, all the while keeping your hand just above the blaster strapped to your thigh. Even though you hate this planet, you can still appreciate its culture, and diversity.

Here, you can see every single possible being known in the galaxy. From Jawas and Wookies, to Gungans and Vodrans. Everyone eventually came to Coruscant, no matter who they were. If it wasn’t such a shithole, you’d probably enjoy living here. The best way to learn about other planets and other beings is to come to Coruscant where they had the knowledge about such things, and knowledge in abundance. It’s the metropolitan of the galaxy and if you were able to forget about all the crime and injustices that occurred here, you could probably stay just to learn.

The diner is almost full as it’s now midday. You’re lucky enough to find an empty booth near the kitchen when an older looking woman comes to greet you at your table with a datapad in hand.

“Hi there, can I get you anything?” She asks kindly.

“Can I have some broth and a plate of sliders, please?”

Looking down at the pad in her hands, she puts in your order and looks back at up at you with a wide, toothy grin, “Coming right up, sweetheart.”

As you wait for your meal, you look out the transparisteel and watch as waves of people pass you by on the street, exchanging smiles with those you make eye contact with. You wonder what kind of trouble Mando’s getting up to out there.

Is he nearby?

Is he on the other end of the planet?

More importantly, is he safe?

You wish he were with you. The idea sounds almost too domestic, sitting in a diner with you and Grogu, sharing a meal like normal people. It’s probably something you’ll never actually get to experience together but it doesn’t stop you from daydreaming about it. Never would you have guessed that you’d be longing for domesticity, for normalcy. Mando’s brought that out in you which is pretty ironic considering neither of you have experienced something close to normalcy in years but then again, it’s pretty fitting.  After living such a nomadic life, moving from planet to planet, risking your life every time you stepped out on a run, it’s all led you to this, to Mando and Grogu.

“Here you go, sugar,” the waitress says suddenly, two plates of food in her hands. She gently places them in front of you and Grogu. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Perfect, thank you,” you say, all smiles.

Grogu starts to eat immediately, grabbing the spoon with his firm grip and sipping the broth. Looking down at the food in your plate, you’re practically ravenous. This is the first proper meal you’ve had in months. While living off of ration packs have satisfied you up until this point, there’s nothing quite like munching down on real food, something that didn’t come out of a pack. You make a mental note to take some food to go before heading out, for Mando. You assume it’s been even longer since he’s had a decent meal and you’re sure he’d appreciate it.

You eat quickly, just because it’s so kriffing good. The attempts to really savor it are lost on you. The juices from the patty nearly drip down your arm, you’re sure you look a hot mess right now, but you pay no mind.

The best thing about eating something other than a ration pack is that this actually tastes like nutrition. Ration packs are just enough to keep up your strength, but they’re not made to satisfy you. It’s just to keep your body up and moving.

Before you know it, you’ve cleaned your plate. The kid has also finished his broth by now and is giving you sleepy eyes, blinking up at you slowly. A proper meal is enough to make anyone tired, including you, but there’s still a few errands you want to run before heading back to the Crest. Before leaving, you had made a list of all the things you’ll need to buy on your day out.

1.    New clothes

2.    Ration packs

3.    Soap

4.    Food for Mando

It’s a short list but having only a few hundred credits, you’ll have to budget everything very carefully, even try to bargain with merchants if it comes down to it. Luckily, you think of yourself as a pretty good dealer, so you’re prepared to do it if it comes down to that.

The waitress comes back to pick up the empty saucers and you ask her to for another platter of sliders to go. She obliges, again with a smile.

While you wait, you take the opportunity to pick a sheepish Grogu and place him back in the pouch across your chest and walk over to the counter to wait. Within a few minutes, the kind woman reappears from the kitchen with a paper bag in her hands.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you answer, taking the bag from her hands, and placing a few credits in her hand.

“Safe travels, my dear.”

Offering her a smile, you turn on your heel and head out the door, back into the mayhem that is Level 1313.

Based on memory, you walk in direction of where ration packs are sold, remembering all the times you used to come to this very spot just before leaving for a job. Every building, every street sign, it’s all familiar. It’s like you’re taking a stroll through the past, almost seeing your old self in strangers you pass by, realizing how much has changed since you were last here. It’s funny to think that on a planet as vast and modern as Coruscant, you seem to be the only thing that’s actuallychanged. You’re no longer just looking out for yourself. Now, you worry about Grogu’s safety, you worry about Mando’s safety. It’s a change you couldn’t have anticipated but are so thankful for.

The merchant selling the ration packs cause you a bit of trouble, claiming the broth packs and bread packs are different prices—which you know is bullshit because you’ve been buying them for years. You’ve seen him do this before, to other women who try to buy packs. Why he thinks he could increase prices for women and not men are not unusual. Men tend to think women don’t know the actual price of packs and can therefore get away with selling them at a different price. It happens so often that most of the time now, women have their male counterparts buy the packs for them, since the exchanges usual end with them not receiving any packs at all, but you know his game. He’s been trying to hustle you for years and has never been able to get the best of you.

“This is enough for five packs, that’s all,” he says when you place some credits on the table.

“No, that’s enough for two weeks’ worth of packs,” you snarl back.

The man laughs at you. “Maybe on a smaller planet, but you’re on Coruscant, girl. It’s more expensive, here.”

“That’s such bullshit and you know it. Give me two weeks’ worth of packs and I’ll be out of your way.”

He scowls at you, his eyes glaring you down. “Have you gone deaf? I said five.”

Taking a deep breath, and craning your neck to either side, you press your palms into the table, leaning forward and stopping just inches from his face. “I’ll say it just one more time. Give me the fucking packs.”

“Hey, we’re all waiting over here!” You hear someone in line shout at you.

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“I can stay here all day, and you’ll lose out on way more than just a handful of packs,” you tell him, taking a step back and crossing your arms against your chest. “Your call.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. You can tell he’s considering it by the way he continues to glare at you. It’s not worth losing out on a whole day’s worth of business just for a handful more packs.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, grabbing two handfuls of ration packs and throwing them on the table.

“Thank you,” you sneer, grabbing them all and stuffing them into your backpack.

1.    New clothes

2.    Ration packs

3.    Soap

4.    Food for Mando

The rest of the afternoon goes by smoothly. You manage to get everything you needed without overspending, and you’re pretty proud of yourself. By the time you’re back on the Crest, the kid’s fallen asleep. You bring him up to the cockpit and put him down on one of the chairs and let him sleep. Since you’ll be rummaging through the galley to put everything away, this is probably the quietest place for him to sleep. After putting him down, you descend the ladder and begin unpacking everything you bought today. Placing the ration packs where they belong, the soap in the fresher, and checking out the new clothes you got. Nothing too extravagant, just another dark colored tunic and some cargo pants but it’s perfect for you.

You look down at the commlink on your wrist, checking the time. It’s early evening, making it almost a day and a half since you’ve heard from Mando, almost two days since you’ve last seen him, not that you’re counting the days.

Okay, you are but that’s not the point.

The point is you miss him terribly. Each hour that passes is an hour closer until you see him again, but it’s also another hour that you haven’t seen him, and your body aches. Is that possible? To miss someone so much that it actually hurts your body? The only logical explanation is that he’s taken a part of you with him, leaving you with a gaping hole inside your body, waiting for his return and waiting for him to refill it. It can’t be that it’s just because you miss him so fucking much, it can’t be.

It can’t be…

--

You’re half-asleep in Mando’s seat in the cockpit when you hear the hangar door slide open. Eyes opening immediately, the familiar sight of shimmering beskar instantly releases all the tautness in your body that you held onto while he was gone. The relief and joy you feel seeing him after basically two days apart reminds you of something like teenage love. The inability to be away from one another even if just for a couple of days is almost embarrassing, given that you’ve tried so hard to distance yourself from the very love you have for Mando, but quite frankly, it feels fucking amazing to have someone to care for this much. The kid is still asleep in one of the passenger chairs, so you get up ever so quietly from your seat and tiptoe your way to the ladder.

Once you hit the ladder, you shut the cockpit door and then you’re racing down the ladder, jumping off of it before you reach the bottom. You heart is racing, the smile on your face is impossible to hide—not that you’re really trying to, anyway. Standing just at the end of the ladder, you watch as Mando heads up the ramp without a word, pressing a button the vambrace that shuts the ramp behind him. Once closed, the air surrounding you changes drastically. The smile disappears from your face, and all of a sudden you feel heat prick at your cheeks.

He damn near stalks towards you, only stopping momentarily to detach the jetpack from his back and then placing it on the ground lazily. It topples over, the noise making you jump but he doesn’t bother to bend over and pick it up. Mando’s got the visor planted on you, and you’re frozen in place, a pool of arousal begins to build in your lower stomach causing your jaw to slack open. Half of you wants to cower, to hide at the sight of him. A Mandalorian pursuing anyone is enough to trigger the fight or flight response but there’s something animalistic in the way he’s coming for you, and you’d be lying if your panties weren’t drenched right now.

“Close your eyes,” he says breathlessly as he draws in closer.

You obey immediately, and suddenly hear a hissing noise, followed by something heavy hitting the ground—his helmet? Before you can ask him, his hot lips crash into yours, pushing you up against the small wall that separates the refresher from his bunk. Large, gloved hands wrap themselves around the crooks of your neck, his thumbs resting on your cheeks. The yelp you let out in surprise is caught in his mouth, his tongue darting out to trail along your bottom lip before meeting yours.

The kiss is sloppy and rushed. His hands grab at your body, your waist, the small of your back, and then settle on your hips. Your own hands fly up to grab fistfuls of his hair. His locks are damp, probably due to sweat, and you pull tighter. Mando groans lowly in the back of his throat, feeling the vibrations in yours as your cunt throbs in response. He smells of gunpower residue and musk. It fills your nostrils, almost making you lightheaded from the sensation, it’s somehow the sweetest scent you’ve ever smelled.

Both of your chests are heaving, the need to pull away to catch your breaths continuously increasing. You continue to grab at each other hastily, one of his hands wrapping around your neck and craning your jaw to expose naked skin. His lips finally leave yours, although not without you trying to keep him still, and then he starts sucking at your neck. The stubble along his jaw scratching against your skin feels so fucking good.

“Thought about you… the whole… time… couldn’t… focus…” He growls into the crook of your neck between chaste kisses, already feeling the skin starting to bruise.

Maker, is it even possible to be this turned on, right now? Mando’s desperation throws you for a loop. You knew how much you missed him, but knowing he felt the same way is so comforting. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Need… need… to have you—"

“Stars… please…” You mewl back, hands dropping to his hips and pulling him closer to your body, his breastplate flush against your chest.

“Have to clean up first,” he whispers lowly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His voice is velvet smooth, like dripping honey. How can he be so gentle and commanding?

“Shhhh,” you tell him, before blindly grabbing at his arms in hopes to find his pauldrons and when you do find them, you start to detach them. Throwing them aimlessly on the ground and return grabbing at whatever piece of armor you can, you try to pry it off his body as he continues to lick and suck at either side of your neck.

It’s a little awkward trying to undress him while being so close to each other. You can’t even see what you’re doing so you’re sure it’s not the most elegant way of stripping him, and he seems to pick up on it because he finally pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. You feel his hot breath on your even hotter skin and the urge to open your eyes almost takes you over, wanting so desperately to look into his eyes and see him.

“Let me do it,” he coaxes, barely above a whisper.

“But—”

He presses his lips onto yours once more, and just when you try to deepen the kiss by moving closer towards his body, he breaks it off. Immediately, you begin to hear various pieces of his armor hit the floor, heart banging against your ribcage in anticipation. Stars, you want him so fucking badly. You become impatient, grabbing the hem of your tunic and beginning to lift it up your chest.

“No,” Mando orders.  

Feeling his body close to yours again, his hands grab onto your wrists, placing them on his waist. Rubbing the fabric between your fingertips, you assume he’s wearing only a long-sleeved tunic now. It’s soft to the touch, just like his skin. As your fingers trail down his sides to the hem of his shirt, you hike it up just enough for your thumb to circle the v-lines of his stomach, feeling small bumps form on his skin.

Mando grunts through gritted teeth and then he’s dropping to his knees. Your hands are back in his hair, running your fingers through his wavy locks. He grabs the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them all the way down your thighs, lifting each of your legs and helping you slip out of them. Discarding them to the side, Mando’s calloused fingertips trail up your legs, kissing the very tops of your thighs as he makes his way to your underwear.

Placing a chaste kiss on the thin piece of fabric, you can’t help but tremble. Mando’s ability to be rough one minute and then gentle the next is quite literally mind-blowing. It keeps you on your toes, never knowing exactly what’s going on in his brain.

He hooks his fingers around the hem of your underwear and slowly pulls them down. You’re naked from the waist down and beginning to feel shy, being exposed and the fact that you’re unable to open your eyes and see his face or gauge his body language—it’s eating you up.

His fingers slide between your legs, tracing all the way up the apex of your thighs, forming goosebumps on your skin. Once he reaches your cunt, two fingers slip between your folds, coating them with your slick.

“So wet, pretty girl,” he admires.

All you can do is mewl when he touches you. Mando continues to massage his fingers between your folds, gathering as much of your slick as he can and then he’s pushing two digits inside you, causing you to lull your head back and accidentally hitting it against the back wall a lot harder than you expected.

“Fuck, that hurt,” you giggle, hands rubbing the back of your head.

“Are you okay? He asks, stilling his fingers inside you.

“I’m fine—ah shit,” you answer just he begins to curl them inside you, hitting that angle that only he knows how to reach.

Rubbing tight circles on your clit with his thumb, you arch your back, pushing your hips right into Mando’s face. Using his free hand, he holds the small of your back in place and darts his tongue out to lick at your bud. Your whimper echoes through the Crest’s walls, his tongue flicking your clit as he continues to finger fuck your cunt. All you can do is pull on his hair tighter, unable to move or squirm as he holds you in place.

Knees beginning to buckle, you can feel the stirring in your stomach gradually building, your orgasm bubbling up to the surface. Mando seems to catch this because he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a quicker pace, now sucking on your clit and making you fucking squirm.

“Ma-Mando, I’m g-gon-nna come soon,” you tell him, voice breaking.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he flings one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your legs apart and lapping you up with even more fervor. You’re basically quivering now, climax getting closer and closer, and Mando knows it. He knows your body better than anyone else, better than you know yourself.

“Shit, ah-fuck, Mando…”

Right as you feel yourself about to release, Mando pulls his fingers out of you and his tongue leaves your clit, placing a chaste kiss on your inner thigh and then rising to his feet. It’s damn near impossible to hide your disappointment. It’s infuriating—being so fucking close to release, only to be denied at the very last second.

“Why—” You begin to ask but the rest of your question is silenced by his lips crushing onto yours. His tongue finds yours and you can taste yourself.

“Shhhh,” he whispers onto your lips, and then he’s pressing his body on yours once again, arms wrapped around your back as he carries you into the fresher.

The space is just big enough to fit you both, your bodies practically stuck together. Your eyes are still closed and that only adds to the intimacy. His hands grab onto the hem of your tunic and he instructs you to lift your arms. You do as your told and he lifts the shirt above your head, discarding it at your feet. You stand there, naked and fully at his mercy.

“You can open your eyes,” he says just after hearing the door slide shut. At first, you hesitate, unsure if the room really is pitch black or if he’s trusting you enough to look at his face. When you finally do open your eyes, you can’t see a damn thing. The light inside the fresher is off and you feel a sudden rush of relief and disappointment wash over you because of course he’d make sure the room was dark enough so you couldn’t see his features. Why would you think he’d be comfortable enough to show you his face?

You don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s already pushing you up against the wall, hands resting on the wall to either side of your face and sucking at your neck once again. The skin is tender, little bruises protruding along the sides of your neck, but Mando is mindful enough to be gentle. Then his mouth trails down your neck, giving chaste kisses along your clavicle, travelling down just above your breasts, cupping the flesh with his hands. With his thumb and index, he rolls your nipple, pinching the skin and then giving it a gentle nip with his teeth.

“Maker…” you whisper in awe. No one has ever been so tender with you. With all your previous sexual encounters, you’ve made it clear that it was purely about sex—nothing more. With Mando, everything is different. Neither of you are in a rush. You take time to understand each other’s bodies; what makes you writhe, what makes you scream, what makes you come. It’s about what will bring out the most pleasure in each other. You could both spend the rest of your lives learning everything about each other, from the curves in your skin, to each birth mark, to each scar.

He pulls away momentarily and using what little time you have; you grab only his hips and spin you both around, so he’s flush against the wall. Your fingers grab onto the bottom of his shirt once more.

“Can I?” You ask him tenderly.

Mando says nothing and you take that as him consenting. You hike up his shirt just a little bit, waiting for him to either stop you or allow you, and when he lifts his arms up so you can remove it, you throw it on the ground, somewhere close to where your own shirt is. You stand just inches apart from each other, neither of you are able to see the other. Wrapping your arms around his biceps, feeling the curve of his muscles as your fingers trace down his arms, across his chest.

His chest is covered in marks, scars from previous battles he’s fought in. Your fingers brush over his pecks, down the centre of his stomach, all the way to the small trail of hair that meets his shaft. When your hands settle on the waistband of his trousers, you unbuckle them and begin to push them down. He helps you a bit, stepping out of his pants.

In the fresher, you’re both fully exposed, completely vulnerable in a way you’ve never been before. The last time you were in here together, it was after the first time you had sex. That was different. You were both still dazed in the aftermath of what happened, neither of you fully aware of each other’s own nakedness, but now it’s so different. You’re not only aware of each other’s vulnerability but you’re relishing in it.

Mando turns the water on. A warm, steady stream cascades over your bodies. Steam from the warm water quickly fills the air, blending with each other’s body heat. Within seconds, you’re both soaked and for the first time, you’re the one who leans in for a kiss. For the first time, you’re the one with the courage to plant your lips on his, to catch him off guard. Mando groans in his throat, catching the sound in your own and swallowing it. With your hands placed on either cheek, you think this might be the first time anyone’s actually held his face and Maker, how fucking lucky you are to be the one to do this. He’s opened himself up to you; something he’s never done with another soul. You might not know what his face looks like, but you’re able to make out enough of his features by touching them. The sharp cut of his jawline where you feel his stubble, his moustache has tickles and pricks at your skin whenever he kisses you. The curve and bump of his nose as it clashes against yours, it’s enough for you to paint a picture of what you think he looks like, and if he looks anything like what you’ve made up in your mind, it’s a damn shame that the helmet covers up something so breathtaking.

You lean down to plant a kiss on one of his pecks, feeling the goosebumps form right where your lips meet his skin. There are a million things you want to tell him: how much you care for him and Grogu, how much he’s changed your life, how thankful you are to have him by your side. All these things you’ll probably never be able to tell him because expressing how you feel about someone has always been something you struggled with.

Although, you get the feeling Mando is in the same boat. Like he too is carrying the very same confessions as you that he too is unable to express. Maybe you’ll never know how he truly feels about you, just like he might never know exactly how you feel about him, but sometimes, words aren’t necessary. It’s more about the way you lean on one another, the way you touch one another. It’s your own way of communicating. Expressing yourselves through each other’s actions—that’s what draws you together.

He deepens the kiss, wrapping his large arms around your waist and pulling you to him as close as he can. Sloshing your mouths together, darting each other’s tongues, lips saturated in each other’s spit, it’s the most chaotic, desperate kiss you’ve ever had. When you finally pull away, chests are heaving, you’re both practically panting into each other’s mouths.

Mando takes a small step forward, hooking his hands under your arms and lifting you off the ground. You lock your legs around his waist, feeling his rock-hard cock grind against your stomach and then, your back’s on the wall again. His large hands cup your ass, digging half-moons into your skin as he nips at your shoulder.

“Fuck me … please,” you pant in his ear. His cock twitches, feeling drops of precome paint your stomach.

He wastes no time obliging as one of his hands lets go of you to align himself with your entrance. You wait impatiently for him to fill you up.

His head pokes at your entrance and immediately you feel your pussy gush. Bucking your hips forward, you push his head inside you, a pathetic mewl escaping your lips.

“Impatient,” he scolds and thrusts himself inside you all the way to the hilt. “Fu-u-uck,” he grits, biting back a moan.

Your head drops down to rest on his shoulder, arms crossed around his neck. Mando doesn’t move at first, letting your walls acclimate to his size. When he feels you relax around him, he begins to slowly grind his hips against yours, making sure you feel every fucking inch of him inside you. Trying to stifle your moans, you bite down on his shoulder and he whimpers at the sensation, driving himself even deeper, hitting your cervix.

“Fuck!” You cry out, head lulling back to hit the wall behind you.

Mando begins properly moving, slamming into you at a fast pace. The sound of skin slapping skin is only exacerbated by the water still pouring down over your bodies.

“Ah s-shit… fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good,” Mando says through gritted teeth. You clench your legs around his waist and feel him grind his hips in response. “Kriff…”

He stills inside you for a moment, and you start to wonder if he came prematurely. When you open your mouth to say something, he answers the question before you can ask it.

“I didn’t come, don’t worry,” he mumbles breathlessly, and then he’s pulling out of you.

It’s stupid but you feel empty. You already miss the feeling of his cock stretching your walls, the way he fills you up so perfectly, like you were made to take him.

Your feet touch the ground, and you only have a moment to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. Tongues darting out to catch each other’s; it’s a wet, sloppy kiss, but with his hands cupping your face, hands that almost cover your face entirely, it nearly throws you for a loop.

He pulls away just far enough so you can still feel his breath on your lips, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Maker, you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you just from his words. Turning you around so that you’re facing the wall, you hear him spit and then his cock is teasing your entrance again. Rubbing his length between your folds a couple times, slathering it with your slick, he lines himself up and slams into you with as much force as he can, knocking the air right out of your lungs as your cheek clashes with the durasteel wall.

His hands find their way to your hair, and he grabs as much of it as he can and pulls, forcing you to arch your back and steady yourself by holding onto the wall in front of you. The rhythm he sets is so brutal and rough, the only thing you can hear are his balls slapping against your clit. Your throat is raw, unable to make a single sound. Wrenching your eyes shut, the way his cock hits that spot inside you is making you see stars. There’s something desperate in the way he’s fucking you. The day and a half without you seemed to have really taken its toll on him, and now he’s taking it out on you. You’d let him leave without a fight if it meant you’d get fucked like this whenever he came back. Feeling your slick drip down your thighs, you know you’re so close to coming.

“Ma-ando, I’m go-o-onna c-c-come.”

“Good girl,” he praises.

When you finally come, the cries burn your throat, raw and broken. Mando fucks you all the way through it, never once relenting his rhythm, pushing as many whimpers and screams out of you as he can. Your body nearly convulses from the sheer power of your climax, exploding pleasure from every nerve-ending inside of you. Maker, you’re fucking spent. Knees barely able to keep you standing, almost going limp as you come down from your orgasm.

“Come again for me, pretty girl,” he says gently, dropping one of his hands to spread your legs and cup your sex.

“I-I can’t,” you answer with a trembling voice, making a feeble attempt to close your legs.

“Yes, you can,” he hums, forcing your legs open and using two fingers to rub your clit.

You squirm underneath him, the overstimulation really hitting you as the rhythm on your bud gets faster and faster. Your cunt is fucking worn out, you’re barely able to take any more pleasure but you refuse to let Mando down. You want to make him proud. Taking a shaky breath, you attempt to relax your trembling thighs and within seconds you’re coming again, biting down on your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ll end up breaking skin.

Mando makes a guttural noise, a purely animalistic groan as he feels you come around his cock. “Fuck, yes… good girl,” he growls with praise.

Grabbing your upper arms, he pulls you upright and flush against his chest, peppering wet, messy kisses along the nape of your neck. Your arm wraps around the back of his neck, pulling at his wet hair. His cock drives into you at a ruthless pace, and then he finally stills inside of you. Pulsing between your walls, he pumps his seed deep in your pussy, moaning your name into your ear.

When his hold on you slackens, you nearly double over and fall to the ground. He pulls out of you quickly and lifts you back up to your feet. Turning you around gingerly to face him, he leans you up against the wall.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He says with his hands on your face, a hint of guilt lingering on his lips.

You’re pretty sure your eyes are closed but you can’t be sure. Everything is so dark, your mind fuzzy. “No, ‘m okay,” you answer sheepishly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m okay, Mando.”

Feeling his forehead press yours, he plants a chaste kiss on your lips. If you had any energy left, you’d kiss him back but you’re teetering the line between consciousness and unconsciousness, too fucking exhausted to move any of your muscles.

After that, your mind goes… fuzzy.

It hits you in flashes.

You vaguely remember Mando cleaning you both up.

The water turning off.

Being guided out of the fresher.

Something being wrapped around your body—soft and warm, his cape probably.

Him slowly putting you down on the floor…

Someone warm close to you.

And then you fall asleep, the last thing you remember is feeling calloused fingertips grazing up and down your back.