#don't hesitate to hire him he's a good boy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadesoflsk · 5 months

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RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind.

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president.

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer.

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works.

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why.

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain.

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness.

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human.

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes.

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition.

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be.

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers.

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that!

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now.

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed.

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk.

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. — He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows.

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes.

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words.

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon.

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before.

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter.

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s.

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you.

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face.

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone.

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment.

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead?

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her.

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air.

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you.

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret.

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air.

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest.

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his.

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception.

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.”

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body.

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end.

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him.

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair.

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it.

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day?

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax?

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus.

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact, you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was.

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it.

But right now he wants to be a child again.

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary.

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision.

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body.

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted.

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up.

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed.

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced. You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend.

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying.

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek – you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it.

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way.

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago.

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep.

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.”

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.”

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming.

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love.

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone.

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside.

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others.

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off.

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world.

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe.

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence.

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs.

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task.

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist.

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch.

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length.

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you.

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant.

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace.

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love.

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs.

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face.

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax.

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands.

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while.

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand.

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side.

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose.

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny.

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him.

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him.

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions.

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.”

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism.

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there.

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night.

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture.

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.”

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now.

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him.

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat.

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?”

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on.

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #resident evil

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jessejaredstories · 9 months

Text

Walk on the Wild Side

Sergio was a walking gay man’s fantasy. He was tall and muscular as fuck. Beefy could barely even begin to describe him as everything from his biceps, chest, thighs, back, and even ass were massive! He made his living off of flexing his hot body as well as fucking other beefy dudes on camera. Sergio was truly living the life many could only dream of having.

But although Sergio was living the good life, he couldn't deny that something was missing. More specifically, something about his sex life. Sergio loved his very active sex life and was more often than not satisfied after every hookup he had. Yet at the same time, Sergio found himself wanting more. He wanted something new, and he knew exactly who to contact. Kris the Kink Witch.

Sergio reached out to Kris through Twitter DMs. Kris, like Sergio, also made his living off of recording and selling the videos of his gay escapades. He was known to be one incredibly kinky motherfucker online, and he took great pride in it too- as evidenced by his self proclaimed title the Kink Witch. But unlike Sergio, Kris took a much more professional approach to his line of work. For Kris, it wasn't about pleasure, it was about money. He meant business, and he never shied away from demonstrating that fact.

Fortunately, Sergio was also pretty well-known in the online gay community. Kris recognized Sergio and responded back to him within a couple of minutes. Their conversation went as follows...

S: Hey, you're the Kink Witch right? I've got a request in mind.

K: Yo. Yeah that's me. You want to film a collab together?

S: Not at all. I was actually thinking you and I can link up and have some fun. No cameras.

K: Sorry, I don't do charity work.

S: Trust me, I don't either. I just need to have some real fun and I know someone like you can help me out with that goal. I'll pay you a good amount too if you're interested.

K: Go on, I'm listening...

Sergio and Kris went on to negotiate the deal. In exchange for a kinky night of fun, Sergio would pay Kris $2500 in cold, hard cash. However, in order to earn that money, Kris needed to get Sergio to cum and to feel real pleasure while doing it too. But before they could seal the deal, Sergio gave Kris a heads-up by saying that he had already done almost everything anyone can think of. If it wasn't something new and exciting like he wanted, then Sergio had no problem calling the deal off. Yet despite his stark warning, Kris accepted the deal without any hesitation. It slightly unnerved Sergio how confident Kris was. He was pretty sure they both had more or less the same amount of experience when it came to sex. Could Kris really know something Sergio didn't?

Regardless of the initial unease Sergio felt, it was too late to back down now. Kris was already on his way to his apartment. Sergio passed the time by doing the usual prep work of cleaning himself out, just as Kris told him to. Yet despite his best efforts to distract himself, Sergio couldn't help but wonder what Kris had in store for him.

Does this twink really think he's gonna satisfy me just by fucking me? Ha! I've already taken on plenty of men, there's nothing new he can do there!

Sergio chuckled at his own thoughts. His curiosity was making his mind run wild. Luckily it didn't take much longer for Kris to arrive. He showed up at the entrance of the building and Sergio buzzed him in. Sergio then welcomed the young man into his home, and although he was excited to hook up, he couldn't help but wonder if he was in over his head by hiring some 20 something year old dude with messy hair and a dirty hoodie.

"Alright, you ready?" Kris said as he began to strip down to nothing but his underwear.

"Yeah, do you wanna go-"

"Wrong answer," Kris interrupted Sergio. "I'll excuse the first mistake but you'll only address me as Sir, Daddy, or Papi from here on out. Got it?"

Sergio was thrown off by how to-the-point Kris was but decided to just ignore it.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy, now whip out your cock. Get hard too,"

Sergio did as he was told. Kris did the same. Sergio was impressed with Kris' member. It was long and hairy with some decent girth too. Although his was definitely longer, Sergio's cock was the thicker one. They were both hung, Sergio like a bull and Kris like a horse. Once they were both erect, Kris reached down to his pants. He pulled out two rings out of the back pocket, one gold and one silver. He put the gold ring on, then handed the silver cock ring to Sergio.

"Put this on, then on the count of 3, twist it to the right."

Sergio held the cock ring in his hand. The silver hue of the ring almost seemed to glimmer under the light. He hesitated putting it on. It definitely wasn't the first time he wore a cock ring, but Sergio got an inexplicable feeling telling him that he shouldn't put it on. Kris noticed his hesitation right away.

"C'mon, don't be shy, put it on!" Kris said firmly. Sergio looked up and met his gaze but didn't say anything. A moment of silence passed, then Kris sighed.

"Look man, you paid me to do a job and I plan to deliver. You trust me, right?"

Kris seemed slightly more empathetic now. It was just enough to make Sergio trust him. Sergio nodded, then proceeded to put on the ring. He placed it on the tip of his dick and slid it down to the base of his rock hard member.

"Alright, ready? 1... 2... 3!!!"

Sergio and Kris then twisted their cock rings to the right at the same time. The moment they did, a wave of orgasmic sensations hit their bodies, causing them to throw their heads back with pleasure.

"UURRGGGHHHHH!!!" They both moaned obscenely loudly.

Sergio's vision blurred as he felt the wave of pleasure overtake him. His body trembled as the ring grew tighter around his cock, making it engorged. Then suddenly, Sergio became extremely lightheaded. He could feel his very soul leaving his body. As his soul stepped out of its vessel, Sergio lost all physical feeling as he became nothing but a mass of light. He looked ahead and saw the same had happened to Kris. Both of their souls had just stepped out of their bodies!

Sergio was mind blown by what he was seeing. But before he could even react, his soul began moving on its own. His soul was floating towards Kris' body. At the same time, Kris was floating towards his body. During the brief moment they passed each other, Sergio could've sworn he saw Kris smirking. His soul continued its march towards Kris' body, and as soon as it made contact, it began sinking into the soulless body. Sergio's soul aligned with its new vessel within seconds. Every single cell of Kris' was invaded by Sergio's soul, and he could feel ecstasy wash over him as his soon-to-be new body surrended itself to his control. Once it was done, Sergio immediately felt the difference as he longer possessed his jacked, beefy body but instead a hairy twink like Kris.

"Arghh fuckk.. what the fuck..." Sergio said with his new voice. All of the extraordinary sensations he just experienced made him fall to the ground. While he was busy trying to recover, he could see his body moving out of the corner of his eyes.

"Bro look at these fucking pecs! These are some massive slabs of meat on your chest!!"

Sergio watched as Kris bounced and groped his pecs with shameless joy. Slowly but surely, while Kris was enjoying himself, Sergio came back to his senses. He sat up, then kneeled down onto his knees. Well, Sergio was mostly back to his senses anyway. The sight of seeing a burly man play his own chest was filling him with lust. The only thing on Sergio's mind was how to best worship and please his master.

Kris noticed Sergio was basically drooling and smirked.

"What's the matter, you want something?" Kris stripped down naked, then bounced his pecs again. Sergio nodded his head vigorously. "Then ask for it, tell Daddy what you want."

"I want milk Daddy..." Sergio said with bated breath and dilated pupils. "Please, Sir, let me worship your beautiful pecs!"

"Good boy," Kris put his thumb on Sergio's chin and flicked it down, leaving his mouth hanging open with his tongue out. "Now show your Daddy what you can do with that mouth."

As soon as he heard he got permission, Sergio couldn't contain himself anymore and pounced onto Kris. He immediately planted his mouth on one of Kris' nipples and began suckling away while Kris enjoyed getting serviced. He was smirking all the while. His plan had gone off perfectly; the cock rings switched their bodies! That was the kink Kris had planned for Sergio, and he knew it would be the fun night he could've never predicted. After all, nobody knew how literal his title of Kink Witch was. But while Sergio was aware that they switched bodies, there was one little detail Kris kept to himself. Both rings would allow a body swap, but only the gold one would let the user retain their original personality. Because Sergio used the silver cock ring, his soul was forced to absorb Kris' hidden total sub personality when it took over his body. It might still be Sergio in mind and spirit, but it was now Kris in personality. With Kris possessing Sergio's muscular body with his mind still intact, the conditions were now set for him to complete the request Sergio made.

"FUCK yeah, just like that!" Kris moaned. He could feel as Sergio alternated between licking, sucking, and flicking his nipple with his tongue. His warm mouth felt amazing against his sensitive nipples. Kris pressed Sergio's face down into his chest. Sergio let out a muffled groan of pleasure as he motorboated Kris. They were both having the time of their lives, filling the room with their sensual moans.

Kris let Sergio worship his chest for a while longer before moving onto the next phases. Within the span of the next half hour, they made out passionately and intensely. Kris stuck his tongue inside Sergio's mouth as they grinded their bodies together, sharing their body heat together. Kris then began moving his mouth down Sergio's body, covering his neck and torso with hickies as he bit and sucked on his body. All while Kris had his middle finger firmly set inside Sergio's ass, massaging his hole and making him squirm while he claimed him as his sub.

Then, before the final act, Kris tore Sergio off his body. He had a hand wrapped around his throat, lightly choking the panting young man. Sergio's eyes were lit with an intense lust, begging and desperate for more. Kris smiled internally. He had him right where he wanted him.

"Fuck, Boy!! You really know how to please your Master, I wanna give you a reward... Are you ready? Are you ready for Daddy's present for his favorite sub?"

Sergio whispered "yes Sir, please Sir." Kris then pulled out a couple more things he brought and gave them to Sergio, who put them on enthusiastically.

Sergio laid there with his ass perked up. Kris came up from behind and laid his big, strong hands on Sergio's perky cheeks. He massaged him first, letting Sergio's bubble butt jiggle in his hands for a bit. He then spread his cheeks apart and leaned down to stick his tongue deep inside his ass.

"Nghh..." Sergio groaned. He could feel Kris' tongue swirl and flick around inside of him and it. Felt. AMAZING.

Kris ate Sergio out for a while, making sure his ass was nice, wet, and ready for his girthy cock. Once he had enough of using his tongue, Kris got back up and positioned himself just above Sergio. He let his dick rest in between his cheeks and moved it up and down, making Sergio squirm in anticipation. Then, with a wide grin on his face, Kris stuck his dick inside of Sergio. He let out a silent "fuck..." as he watched his cock head penetrate his bound up sub. He thrusted slowly, letting inch by inch of his fat member disappear into Sergio's hole. Kris was proud of his tight and warm hole, and now he finally got a chance to fuck himself in a very literal way. He waited a bit to let Sergio's wall expand to accommodate his dick, then began pounding away at him.

Loud obscene moans, guttural groans, and boorish grunts filled the room as the two men fucked. Kris found the perfect rhythm to move his hips, fucking Sergio like he was a jackhammer. Sergio closed his eyes as he took the dicking down like a champ. Somewhere in the back of his head was the vague memory that he and Kris had switched bodies. The thought of getting fucked by his own body made his pleasure increase tenfold. It was his own cock stretching out his hole and rearranging his insides. It was a strange thought, but Sergio didn't care. All he could think about was how he was Daddy's personal fleshlight and how much he was loving servicing a big, strong man like Daddy.

They fucked for a while longer until Kris couldn't hold his load in any longer. He pulled out, flipped Sergio over, tore off the jockstrap, then stuck his cock back on.

"C'MON! CUM FOR ME! COVER ME WITH YOUR- FUCKKKKK!!!!"

Kris finished mid sentence. He rammed his throbbing dick deep inside Sergio and let out all of his loads inside of him. Hearing Kris' satisfied groaning as he cummed along with the sensation of getting filled with his seed made Sergio shootout ropes of warm jizz all over. Within seconds, they had both become incredibly sweaty, potently musky, and drenched in Sergio's spunk. Sergio got his walk on the wild side and Kris completed his job.

Once they cooled down and cleaned up, Sergio collapsed onto his bed. Aside from the mind blowing sex, he was also exhausted by swapping bodies. He was a first time swapper after all, it was only natural.

But just before he could drift away into a deep sleep, he noticed Kris was still moving around with his body.

"Hey... what are you doing?"

"Daddy's gonna go have a night out with his bros. Don't worry about it, just go to sleep."

Kris hopped into bed with Sergio. He kissed him on the forehead, snuggled with him, and watched as he fell asleep in his embrace. Sergio was way too tired to question it, and Kris was glad. Kris then hopped out of bed and let Sergio rest inside his body while he went out to complete his next assignment: find a hairy, muscle bear with a big ass. Now it was his turn to bottom, and although Sergio woke up the next morning not knowing where Master was with his body, he had no problem patiently and eagerly waiting until Daddy returned home.

#male body swap

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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 days

Text

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: When Dave is hired by your dad to clean your pool during the summer, something you'd known for a long time becomes even more obvious

Genre: Fluff with a smidge of suggestive content 😏

Warnings: flirty!reader, submissive undertones!dave, shy!dave, dave and reader are eighteen, swearing, making out.

~ here you go my lovely @moonlightspencie 🫶💕~

You and Dave Lizewski aren't by any means close during the school year. You both live in completely different circles. You have your more popular friends and Dave has his small group of nerds. In all honesty, the only time you interact with him is when you occasionally take out the trash at the same time and see him from across the road.

He'll wave nervously and you'll smile to yourself.

He really is cute.

However, you weren't expecting to hear his voice as you're sunbathing by your pool on a sunny July afternoon.

You sit up instantly and push your sunglasses up on your head as you hear the small, "Yes, sir," Dave mutters as he holds the pool stick in one hand and listens to your dad explain how to clean the pool.

"Ah, Y/n, this is David—Mr. Lizewski's son—he lives next door," your dad calls when he sees you, "He's cleaning our pool for a quick buck."

He then turns to Dave and gestures to you, "This is my daughter, Y/n."

You smile and tilt your head as some water from your damp hair hits your shoulders. "I know, Dad. He knows. We're both seniors now," you say and sip from your lemonade, eyeing Dave.

"Hi, Dave," you say with a smile and the poor boy's cheeks turn crimson.

Thank God you wore your sexy bikini.

Your dad looks between you both, his hands on his hips, but he doesn't comment. "Alright, well, good meeting you Dave. I'll be inside if you have any questions," he says and once he's gone, Dave looks like a deer in headlights.

He's still standing by the pool, wearing embarrassingly colorful shorts and a white T-shirt. His brown curly hair is only a little longer than you remembered from a few months ago and he looks slightly fitter.

"You gonna stare at me the entire time or work, Lizewski?" you laugh and turn onto your stomach, pushing down your sunglasses again and resisting your head on your arms. You smile to yourself when you hear Dave's mumblings and shufflings as he works.

Around fifteen minutes later, you shift onto your back again and see that Dave looks already sweaty from the excessive heat. Shit, he looks good.

"How long until I can take a dip," you cross your legs and ask, smiling at him as he jumps in surprise at the sound of your voice.

"O-oh, um," he avoids your gaze as he looks down at the pool, "I haven't added the chlorine and s-stuff y-yet, but after that probably I think- like thirty minutes?"

You sit up and frown. "I'll just take a dip now, then, I don't wanna wait that long," you say and stand, running a hand in your hair as you walk to the stairs.

Dave watches you and he can't help but admit he's staring at your curves in your bikini. He resists the urge to adjust his shorts.

"Y-yeah, s-sure," he stutters, unsure what to do now.

You find him adorable so you smile at him as you walk into the pool. "Come, join me," you say, "It's boiling outside. My dad won't mind, promise," you say and guide some water onto your arms.

Dave looks nervous now, his blue eyes round and unsure. "I- I don't want to bother you."

You smile at him and duck under the water, coming up and pushing hair from your forehead. "Nonsense, Lizewski. I'm inviting you in. Now, c'mon," you chuckle and swim around the pool.

Dave hesitates but he finally shrugs off his shirt and awkwardly covers himself until the pool water reaches his waist. He can feel you staring at his arms and chest and he blushes harder.

You swim to him. "Why're you so shy?" you ask curiously. "Usually guys that look like you are arrogant assholes."

"Guys that look like me?" Dave questions, walking further into the pool to meet you in the middle. He lifts his arms as he winces from the coolness of the water.

You laugh and swim even closer until you're standing face-to-face in the water. Dave still looks blushed and you smirk. "Yeah. Guys that are handsome and cute and—" your gaze flickers to his abs, "hot—like you."

Dave looks like he could explode any second by how flushed he is and he rubs his nape. "Y-you think I'm all those things?"

You laugh, "Don't you own a mirror, Lizewski?"

He clearly doesn't know how to answer that so he goes with a compliment instead. "You're hot too, and cute–and b-beautiful," he mumbles shyly, "and your personality is totally banger–" he tries and you can tell he means it he's just nervous.

You walk closer to him and hover your hand over his cheek before you push some of his curls behind his ear with your wet hand. "Dave, have you ever kissed a girl?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

His breath hitches. "N-no–"

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" You look into his blue eyes and then at his pink lips.

Dave stutters, "B-but your parents—"

"Aren't paying attention to us. Promise," you smile and cup his cheek fully in your hand. You pull him in, pressing your lips to his gently. He's stiff in the beginning, his hands awkwardly finding your shoulders.

"Relax," you tease and bump your nose against his.

Dave relaxes and he lets out a small gasp as you push his back to the cool tile of the pool, your mouth exploring his hungrily. He's not a bad kisser for someone who'd never done it and when you wrap one leg around his hip, his hand dips under the water to hold your thigh. You groan into his lips and continue to kiss him as the water splashes around you.

The sun is warm on your skin and Dave can taste the lemonade from your lips. It's intoxicating and he wants more. He pulls away, breathless as he looks down at your body glistening from water and his dick fully hardens at how sexy you look in your bikini. His eyes are glued to your tits.

"Here," you laugh, feeling him becoming all hot and bothered so you guide one of his hands to your tit and continue to kiss him as he feels you up. You run one of your hands up and down his abs under the water. "Good boy," you praise between kisses and you feel like you're also on fire.

No experienced boy has ever made you feel this good. How is that even possible?

You make out for another few minutes and then as you pull away, Dave's lips are red and moist. His eyes are blown wide and he's panting. He looks breathtakingly beautiful.

You smirk and kiss his cheek, pushing away from him. "Times up," you tease and walk out of the pool, feeling his eyes linger on your figure as you wrap a towel around yourself. You turn to him, your tone light, "You should get back to work—Dad doesn't like slackers," you taunt him and grab your magazine.

You hear Dave scrambling to exit the pool and you toss him an extra towel.

"Might have to fix that big problem of yours first," you giggle, smirking.

Dave immediately presses the bunched-up towel against his boner as he makes an embarrassed squeal. Your heart leaps at the sound and you look over your shoulder, waving at him as you walk away.

"I'll see you around, baby," you say with a wink and he is left a blushing mess behind you.

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indigosunsetao3 · 1 month

Text

The Date

Warnings: Jealousy, Manipulation, Smut

Third expansion of the Ex Husband Price list.

The lawn was out of hand. You had been letting it grow, not bothering to venture out to the shed to even pretend to know how to use the mower. John would show up and take care of it like he always did, even if you told him not to. You had the sense that he was letting it go on until you cracked and called him but you wouldn't, not this time. He would have to be the one that gave him.

But then you received a deposit in your bank account. It was the exact amount John sent you via check. You find it odd; he always sent a check just to agitate you. But you woke up with an email alert one morning that the money had arrived at 12:01 in the morning. Maybe he was out of town for work. Fine. You'd just wait for the next check and keep watching the weeds and lawn grow.

Then the next check came via deposit two weeks later. The email alert was once again at 12:01 in the morning. It was as if it were on schedule to automatically draft out of his account to yours. That sets your nerves on edge a bit. He wasn't sending checks and he had set up an automatic payment.

Then an anonymous letter in your mail box a few days later made you realize you really had to do something with the lawn. Apparently some neighbors were 'concerned' about the overgrowth and wanted to inquire as to if you 'needed assistance'. It was enough to piss you off that you debated on just leaving it for another month just to make them even more 'concerned'. But in the end you hired the teenage boy down the street to clean it up and give him an extra large tip for how much of a mess it was.

After six weeks of silence from John you finally gave in. He had never been quiet this long. Even when you were freshly divorced and he was deep in a mission he always reached out one way or another. You stare at the phone trying to figure out who to call after three calls to him go right to voicemail. His parents are long dead, no siblings to speak of and you had only met a distant cousin once at the wedding. You tried Gaz, he had always been the most reasonable of John's men. But he didn't answer. The call at least rang a few times before going to voicemail so his phone wasn't off and he didn't decline it. You don't leave a message.

By week nine you've become desperate. You drove by John's apartment to see his truck is parked outside of it but by the looks of it, it's been there a while. You circled back a few more times over the following days and it doesn't move. There are also never any lights on inside his place.

At week ten, against your better judgement, you try Ghost. His Lieutenant had always been a stand off guy but Price had told you in the very beginning if something happened to him Simon would be the one in contact.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings. The automated voice for his voicemail box answers up and you hesitate before leaving a very brief message asking him to have John call you. You make up a lie about an issue with John's payments to you, before hanging up. Simon never calls you back, and neither does John.

Three months have gone by and now you're mad. No one has reached out to you. Not a single call returned. You had even gone as far to dig through old files of John's you still had that he never picked up to try and find other contacts. Not a single person picks up or returns messages. No emails are ever answered and you've run out of options.

Every twos week though, John's money is deposited into your account like clockwork at 12:01 in the morning. You think that has to be a good sign, that he is fine because the money would run out eventually.

It's a false hope. You know how much money John has from his work. Those deposits could continue without him adding more money to his bank account for years to come. But if he was dead, surely they'd freeze his assets? Someone would reach out to you as next of kin since you were all that was left of his family. Even if you were the ex-wife.

Maybe he really was done this time. Maybe he decided you weren't worth the time or effort. You had been the one to ask for divorce, to have him served the papers and hounded him to sign them. You should be happy that he finally cut ties, that he was moving on which meant you also needed to move on.

Fine.

The dating pool is dismal. You finally download a few dating apps after your friends give you recommendations and it's a nightmare. The men on there are all too young for your taste or, after a bit of internet stalking, you find they are actually still married and looking for some action on the side. Then the ones you think may actually work end up boring, lack any sort of personality or they just disappear after talking for a few days.

Three failed dates makes you think you need to give it up. Maybe dating wasn't for you, at least not right now.

But finally one of them clicks. Luca. He's attractive enough, the reason you had swiped right on him to start, even if a few years younger. You talk for a bit, play the game of getting to know one another over text and eventually level up to some flirtatious pictures. It's fun. He always greets you in the morning with a good morning text and keeps the conversation going throughout the day. He's paid you much more attention than any other guy has for what seems like months.

You keep your options open though. Finding that a few men have shown interest in you and you match with a couple of them as well. No need to tie yourself down, not yet. You had just gotten out of a marriage, commitment was not at the top of your list. You chat with them, keeping the conversation going...yet you find you are neglecting a few of them in favor of talking to Luca. They don't quiet disappear, some actually strangely persistent which boosts your confidence a bit more after all the other failures.

Four months of John being gone and you are going out on a date that you are actually excited about.

Luca had arranged the whole thing; an art exhibit, drinks and dinner. He insists on picking you up, arriving with flowers, and opens the car door for you. The art is mediocre in your opinion, but you weren't there for that. You were there for Luca who is attentive to anything you could potentially want or need. He orders top shelf drinks at the small hole in the wall lounge and makes sure your table at the restaurant is tucked in the back so you can talk in privacy.

By the end of the night you decide you're taking him home with you; and not just because he's the one driving. On the car ride back, with a pleasant buzz vibrating through your body, you slide your legs open a bit wider when Luca rests his hand on your thigh. He grins to himself but doesn't verbally let on that he's noticed. Instead he gently swipes his thumb over the soft skin there, letting his hand venture a few inches higher every time he returns to touching you after shifting gears in his sporty little car.

When he takes the exit toward your house you offer for him to come in for a nightcap, which he agrees to. His pinky gently swipes over the lace of your underwear, his hand so far up your skirt he barely has to move. It's chaste as if to test the waters after all the teasing. You grin at him, resisting grabbing his wrist to guide him to fully you touch you as he pulls into your driveway.

"Is the lace for-" he paused as he throws his car into neutral and pulls the brake. "Who is that?" His eyes are locked out the windscreen and you twist to look at what he's seeing, you had been too busy watching him drive to even look at your house.

There in the headlights is a man standing by a truck. You know that truck, and you know that man.

John.

Four months of nothing and here he was, leaning casually against his vehicle as if you were late to meet him. The relief that floods you to see that he is actually alive is soon replaced by anger. How fucking dare he. Four months of radio silence. No calls, no emails, no one reaching out to return your increasingly desperate messages. And now this, of all the nights.

"John," you say as you stare at Price. Your hand gently pushes Luca's off your leg, as if afraid John will see.

John doesn't move from his casual position as he looks toward the car. The cigar in his left hand flares bright as inhales and the gesture is calm, but you know him. You can practically feel the seething anger from this far away.

"Who is he?" Luca asks, his voice a little unnerved as he watches John. John is staring daggers right at Luca even if he couldn't really see in the car thanks to the bright LED headlights. "Do we need to call the authorities?"

"What?" You stammer tearing your eyes from John back to him. "Oh no. He's my ex husband," you explain and Luca's eyes widen in disbelief. You had told him you were recently divorced so that wasn't the shocking part, it was more the fact your larger than life ex was sitting there like a dad waiting for his kid that was late for curfew. "He must have just gotten back from deployment. I have no idea why he's here."

"Deployment," Luca repeats back, his eyes darting between you and John, obviously a bit nervous. John still hasn't moved, he's still taking his time savoring his stupid cigar. "If he's your ex, why is he at your house then?"

"I have no idea," you say truthfully. "But I fully intend to find out and send him on his way. Bastard thinks he can ignore me for four months then show up as he pleases," you seethe as you grab your clutch from the floor.

"Do you need me to-" Luca starts as he reaches for his keys as if he were going to climb out the car with you.

"No!" You say a bit too fast, "no it's alright. No need for you to deal with my mess," you smooth over. Truth is you are fairly certain John would murder Luca if he even moved to open the drivers side door.

"I'll call you in the morning. Make sure everything is alright?" Luca asks, actually seemingly a bit relieved you told him no to getting out with you. He doesn't seem impressed by the whole situation but his self preservation keeps him from saying or doing anything else.

"Yes, please. I really did have a nice night," you say genuinely. You do not want John to ruin the one good thing that has happened to you in a long time. He wasn't going to win everything, damn it.

Just as you lean over to press a kiss to Luca's cheek you see John adjust. John pushes up from the truck and takes one last long drag of the cigar before throwing it into the darkness of the lawn. Asshole. You had actually been paying to maintain the stupid thing and he's just discarding his things around like he owns the place.

And, as if he did truly own the place, John walks up to your house and produces a key to let himself in. He doesn't look back as he walks inside and shuts the door, though a second later the porch light clicks on for you.

"Talk to you in the morning," Luca says, though his tone doesn't sound promising. Fucking hell if John took this away from you, you were going to murder him yourself.

Scrambling out of the car you shut the door, not bothering to look back, as you stomp up the front walkway. You need to deal with John right now, you can fix things with Luca later.

The front door is unlocked as you bang it open and you slam it shut behind you before yelling out for John. He doesn't answer.

The downstairs is still dark but the light in the upstairs hallway is on so you know that is where he's gone. Throwing your clutch onto the couch, the stupid fucking couch that you hadn't bought a cover for yet, you proceed upstairs. Your feet are screaming at the brutal steps you take and at the top you find your bedroom door is open, though the lights are off.

"John Price you better not being in MY goddamn bedroom," you snap as you walk over and swing the door open. He is. He's standing on the other side of the bed, one hand holding back the curtain to peer down at the street where Luca is driving away.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You yell as cross your arms over your chest. "Four months and you decide now is the time to show up? Fuck you John," your hands shake, as if in need to throw something at him. "Fuck you for disappearing and fuck all of your men for never returning a single message. I thought you were missing, thought you were dead," you continue to rant. "But you show up in my driveway like it's your house?" You laugh sarcastically. "I don't want you here, I want you out. You want to disappear from the face of the Earth? Then fucking disappear. Forever."

Your chest is heaving. All the hurt and pain from four months of worry had flown out of you before you really could think about it. And yet, and fucking yet, John just calmly watches you from his position by the window. His arms are crossed over his chest as he assesses you and you find yourself lifting your chin at his appraisal as if to dare him to say something.

"Worried about me, love?" He asks with a cocky smirk.

"Are you serious?" You snap as you gesture your arm for him to get out. "Go John, get out of my house. I don't want to see you. I don't want you here. And leave the key." You gesture again as he hasn't even moved from his spot.

"Gaz and Simon said you called," John says simply as he finally uncrosses his arms and moves around the edge of the bed toward you. "Laswell said you even dug up one of her alias emails to message her. Got my ass right chewed for leaving that lying around," he smirks as an embarrassed flush creeps up your chest.

"Well fuck her too for not answering me," you say, stepping a bit to the side as John gets closer. "And fuck you for thinking it's funny," you barely whisper.

"Never said it was funny," he answers as he crowds you between the dresser and wall. He's not too close, not yet, but just his presence makes you feel like you are suffocating under him. "Why did you call so much? Did you miss me?"

"I was worried," you finally say with an exasperated tone. "You were always just...around. Then you stopped showing up. Stopped sending the checks. I thought something had happened," you reason. "Just because I divorced you doesn't mean I want you dead," you pause, "well before. Now you can fuck right off. All of you can. Leaving me scared out of my mind, desperate for a scrap of news. Someone could have called me. But no. You decide to just, what, toy with me?" You reach out and shove his chest, the anger flaring back up, and move to go around him. "Just go John."

He catches your wrist though and he tugs you back to face him, spinning you on your heels so you stumble a few steps. You snap your arm back to get him to let go but he holds firm and then pulls you toward him, using your off balance stance to his advantage until you're pressed against him.

"I had work," John says simply, his other hand coming up to gently tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. "You didn't seem too lonely though. Had a few dates it looks like," he smirks though it doesn't meet his eyes, his hand tilting your chin up to look at him. "Find anyone you fancy? How many boys you bring home?"

"Piss. Off." You snarl, mad at yourself for leaning into the gentle gesture he had given you before he went for the jugular like he always did. "What does it matter if I've been on dates? You left, not me."

"I left because you made me leave," John counters. "You filed for divorce. You always tell me to leave. You are the one who wanted me gone." He tilts his head to the side a bit, his signature move when he knows he's correct and dares you to fight him on it. You don't because he's right.

"You know why. You know why I filed," you start and when he doesn't answer you forge on. "Because your first love is your job, it's always your job. I can't be second to it. I can't be your after thought." You push at his chest with your hands but he holds you fast, even as you dig your nails into the fabric of his thin shirt. "And you did it again," you laugh though there is no humor in the sound. "Screw you, John, for assuming that I'd be okay being second best in your life."

"My duty is my job," John answers, "you knew that when all of this started. You accepted it when I warned you. You came back time and again when I tried to give you an out," he states, his tone starting to rise to anger now. "I tried to push you away, but you were persistent. You were determined to make me love you. Showing up on the damn base and nearly bowling Gaz over when he told you to leave because you knew I was in my office avoiding you." He pauses as you cut your eyes to him and you swear there's a hint of pride in his voice from that bold act.

"Then when I finally did allow myself to love you, against my own better judgement, that's when you decided you couldn't do it anymore. That you couldn't handle it. So, sweetheart, fuck you for making me love you then deciding you didn't want me anymore." He finishes with sarcasm but you can see the hurt behind his eyes. Always hiding his emotions, careful to keep that guard up and everyone at arms length, even you.

"I'm not having this conversation," you say after a second, tucking another stray hair behind your ear. This confession out of him had been the most honest one you had ever gotten. But you didn't want it right now. You wanted to be mad, wanted to be furious and to storm about the house in your rage. "You could have said all this before but it's too late now. Just like you are too late to get back this time. I've finally moved on." Lie.

"Is that why you practically shoved the pretty boy off you and followed me inside?" John asks quirking an eyebrow. "You could have easily just left. Yet you came after me and had him leave," he leans so his face is barely an inch away from yours. "Doesn't sound like you've moved on," he smirks.

"You went into my house, of course I am going to follow you! I also want to know where you get the damn audacity to just show up and act like nothing has happened." You snarl pushing again but his arms are like vices around you.

"Because, sweetheart, we both know nothing has happened." He reaches up and grabs one of the clips in your hair and pulls it free with a swift motion and tosses it to the ground. It's one he had given you, a gift from his many travels, and the green jeweled tip reflects in the dim light from the hallway as it falls to the floor. "I knew you'd follow me," he grabs the second one, the first ones twin, tossing to the floor as well. You feel your hair fall down the nape of your neck.

"You may have filed that paperwork, may storm and rant like a petulant child," he runs his hands through your freed hair, almost massaging your scalp as he shakes your hair loose, before grabbing a handful and yanking your head back causing you to gasp. "But you haven't moved on from me. You need me, miss me," he searches your eyes as you stare up at him. He knows he's won, he can see the way your eyes are searing into him, the way your breath hitches in anticpation.

He crushes your upturned lips with his, nearly sucking all the oxygen out of your lungs with the brutal assault before pulling back. "And you know I'm yours until the world burns to ash," he finishes, his lips grazing over yours as he talks.

You know he's right. You know that no matter what, John Price was going to be part of your life because he was yours and you were his. You had broken him down, made him love you and now there was no other option for either you. There was no life after John, not a real one anyway. Time and again you would come back to one another, through all the fights, the anger and pain it would still be the both of you.

You kiss him back with fervor, your fingers fisting his shirt in your hands and he doesn't waste time finding the zipper on your dress. He has it undone in a matter of seconds and he doesn't savor taking it off you. His hands are rough as he shoves the off the shoulder sleeves down further as you wriggle out of them, his booted feet kicking away the silky material without a second glance.

"Splurged for new lingerie for this date?" He mutters as he takes in the lacey matching number you had worn. "Poor Luca is missing out," he smirks as his hands slides down your sides before finding the delicate dark green lace. His fingers hook into the material before he pulls on them, hard. The tearing noise echoes around the room, followed by your offended gasp.

"John!" You snap as you look down at the tattered pieces on the floor. You hadn't even caught onto the fact he knew the name of your date without you ever mentioning his name. His eyes are racking over your freshly exposed lower body and you watch him raptly, enjoying the hunger in his face.

"Oops," he taunts. He would be damned if you kept lingerie you bought with another man in mind. "It was very pretty," he teases as he grinds his boot down knowing the dirt under them is marring the material beyond repair.

John pushes you back toward the bed, one hand snaking around your back to brace you as he bends you onto the mattress. You sigh into the kiss as his lips find yours again, your hands running along his back to grab at his shirt. You tug it up, pulling as far as you can before he assists you the rest of the way. He leans back and uses one arm to pull it over his head, exposing his tanned and toned chest and the soft stomach that hides the taut muscles underneath.

"Don't you dare," you threaten as his hands come down to the small joint of lace between your breasts. He doesn't listen. He yanks on the lace, jolting you up off the bed a bit in his strength, and rips the bra clean in half. "Damn it John," you say as he pushes the tattered pieces off your skin before your words turn into a groan as his calloused hands find your breasts and grab palmfuls of each.

"I'll buy you more," he answers simply as he bends down to kiss at your neck, his fingers pinching and teasing your nipples as you squirm. "Just for me," he warns as he bites down on the soft skin near your collarbone.

"Just you," you agree as his lips move to your sternum and up your right breast to lick teasingly at one of your nipples. You arch up, pushing him to continue, as his now free hand slides down your plush hips and leg. He's surprisingly gentle as he hooks one of his hands behind your knee and hikes it up, spreading you underneath him. His fingers trace long sweeping lines up and down the sensitive skin on the back of your thigh as you whine.

"I can already feel how wet you are," John says before he bites down on your abused nipple then moving to the other one. "Already down your legs," he continues as his other hand pushes your left leg up to match the right. You're completely spread, and pinned, under him and you can feel the roughness of his jeans barely pushing against your clit.

"Please," you whine as you try to push your hips up for some more friction, pressure, even if his belt buckle was dangerously close. He doesn't give it to you though, he pulls away slightly and you huff frustrated as your hands move to grab at his lower back and tug him down. He doesn't move his hips but he does relent and let his fingers swipe up your leg and right over your center.

"Because you asked so nicely," he answers, fingers teasing outside of your entrance as his palm grinds down against your clit. He adjusts so his face is hovering over yours, watching you as you twist your head to the side to try and breathe, your hand pushing your hair off your face. "So fucking needy for me," he says as he feels you try to bare down and push his fingers into you. "I love watching you like this. So desperate," he pushes your face with the hand that is braced near your head so you look up at him.

You don't give him a chance to talk more, your hands coming up behind his head and tugging him down to kiss you. Just as you open your mouth to let his tongue sweep in, he pushes a finger into you causing you to groan into him. He begins a slow and delicious pump, adding a second finger without warning, though it slides in without resistance.

"Always so ready for me," he praises as your hands scramble at his back. "What's the record for how fast I've gotten you to cum?" he teases as he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that soft spot, "five minutes?" He bites at your lip and tugs it gently. "I think I'm about to beat it. You've missed me," he smirks as he picks up the pace, letting you rock your hips in rhythm to his ministrations.

He wasn't wrong, you aren't sure how fast it was but you feel the snap of coiling tension release in your belly as John gently strokes your inner walls. It's pure bliss that you feel as you arch up on the bed, your body almost trying to get away from the sensation as he continues to push you through it. It's a good thing you didn't leave the bedroom window open when you left the house earlier or the whole street would have known with how loud you cried out.

While you come down you feel John pull his fingers out and you pant as he slides the two fingers in his mouth to suck them clean. You're staring at him blatantly, not bothering to even try to shy away and close your legs, as he moves to undo his belt. His eyes are boring into you as he slips out of his pants and kicks them away, he hadn't bothered with boxers this evening.

"Pretty little thing," he grins as his hand finds your center again and he runs his index finger over your center and clit, causing you to twitch a bit. He grabs your hips to yank you to the edge of the bed where he's standing. He rests one hand on your lower belly before the other grabs his own heavy, leaking, cock to guide it to your entrance.

He slides in with one easy thrust, not an ounce of resistance. Your body ached for him and it was more than ready to welcome him back home.

You both moan together as he bottoms out and with his hand pressing on your lower belly you know he can feel himself within you. He smirks as he pulls back and thrusts back in, his fingers clenching a bit over your soft skin at the sensation. He keeps up the slow movements, savoring the feel, enjoying watching your face as you rock along with each roll of his hips.

Soft and slow were a rarity between you, especially as of late, too desperate for one another to take your time. So it doesn't take long for him to increase his speed.

"Fuck John, fuck," you whine as he has both of your hips in his hands, pulling you down onto him as he fucks into you. You clench down as his expertly trained fingers find your clit again and he groans at the tension. "There, right--John," your words are a babbling, panting, mess as he pushes you toward that edge. But then he pauses and you drop your head back onto the bed from where you had bent up to watch him slide in and out of you. A frustrated groan leaving your lips; you were so damn close.

"Patience," John admonishes, "you've already had one." He smirks as he grabs your legs and pulls them up so your ankles are resting on his shoulders. In this position you feel him slide that fraction of an inch deeper and you gasp. You know you're going to be sore for days after this position but damn if it didn't feel good in the moment. And the soreness was more of a delicious ache, a sweet sting of a reminder of how John thoroughly wrecked you.

"There it is," he grinds out, more to himself than you. You know he can feel he's kissing your cervix. The pressure is a bit painful for a moment as he experimentally rocks, as if letting you prepare yourself. Satisfied you aren't whining in pain his hands grip your thighs like vices to hold you in place as he fucks you proper. "Fuck sweetheart, so fucking tight," he practically grunts out.

You don't have a response. Your hands are holding onto the comforter for dear life to keep yourself from being pushed to far back up the bed. Your throat is growing dry from the panting and groaning, unable to contain yourself as you feel his rigid head run rub against that spot over and over again. "John," you cry out, a warning and a plea.

"I know sweetheart," he answers, his tone comforting as he twists his head to softly kiss the inside of your ankle. "I can feel you-fuck," he breaks off speaking as you tense, arching up as if your body was a coiling spring getting ready to snap.

Two more rolls of his hips and you fall apart. Your hands grasp at his on your thighs, scrambling at his fingers for some sort of grounding. He loosens his grip just a bit and holds your fingers as you fall over the edge, whining his name as you feel him twitch inside you as he comes. The wet squelching sounds that fill the room as John rides out his orgasm are filthy, delicious and most importantly wonderful.

Your hands fall limply back down to the bed as you come down, John finally letting go of their painful grip on your thighs as he finishes. His hands are gentle as he lowers your shaking legs down from his shoulders and he bends down to kiss you. Careful to not pull out just yet, knowing that you savored that connection. Something that he had denied you these past few times in a cruel power move.

You kiss him a few times as he smooths the sweaty hair off your forehead and neck. You can feel the sheen of sweat down his back as you run your hands up and down the hard, scar marked skin. He doesn't move away from you as you pull him further down onto you and nuzzle against his neck, just breathing him in. You missed this, missed this second half of the intimacy with him. While the first half was always more fun, the second half was what sealed your connection. Something you hadn't felt with him in over a year.

"Get comfortable," John says after a few minutes of silence and you've laid back, shutting your eyes just enjoying the moment. He pulls out of you slowly and you snap your eyes open at that. Fear that he was leaving must have been evident in your eyes because he pauses, "I'm not going anywhere."

You nod, using your elbows and hands to move yourself up the bed and to dig at the blankets to get under them. John walks around to his side of the bed, the side you never touched, and slides in next to you. His hands smooth over your body as he tugs you tight against his chest, his face half buried in your hair as he holds you.

"I've missed you," he says quietly after a long while. A confession he would only let slip in the dark where you can't see his face, and one you potentially wouldn't hear.

You smile to yourself as you grip the back of his hand that is between your breasts a little tighter. An acknowledgement of his words, too tired to speak as you are on the brink of sleep. You feel him gently kiss the back of your shoulder before you slip into slumber.

John's phone lights up in his discarded jeans pocket an hour later. It's a text from Soap with the simple message "It's done." John checks the phone once he knows your asleep before curling back up behind you, leaving you none the wiser.

John had known all about your venture into the dating pool. He had his men monitoring your activity, using fake email accounts to corral you into a very specific algorithm; one that Alex Keller may or may not have cracked. A favor John called in to his old friend in the CIA and Alex hadn't asked a single question. And maybe John himself had been two or three of those men that seemed promising. The ones that had chatted you up only to disappear after a few days, leaving you on read. And perhaps Ghost had scared off some of your in person dates when men managed to slip past their careful caging of your dating pool.

Luca had been an unforeseen issue. He was compatible, a good match for you really, and Gaz hadn't been able to work him out of your interest no matter how tempting his words had been behind the fake profiles. So when the in person date had been arranged (a simple phone call to the phone company allowed John to get a transcription of your texts) John had been sure to be waiting for you when you got home.

And for good measure Soap had been waiting for Luca when he got to his own home. Soap had been lounging casually on the bench in his foyer to give Luca a simple warning. Never call you or text you again. The man had been too spooked to do anything but nod at Soap's words. Johnny patted him jovially on the shoulder and slipped back out, dropping the key he pilfered a few days ago in the little dish by the door.

When you wake up a few hours later and climb into John's lap to sleepily ride him you don't see the cocky grin on his face in the dark. You assume the blissed out kisses he gives you are from you grinding down on him and not the fact he knows his plans have worked.

You're his again.

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Tag Request: @shadofireshinobi

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod #fanfic #cod fanfic #my fic #ExH!Price #john price cod #cod john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #18+ content

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multifandomimagin3s · 1 year

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Mercenary! Reader - 141, Los Vaqueros + Konig

So I recently rewatched Deadpool, and I was thinking about what the boys reactions would be to finding out that (r/n) is a mercenary - gave them a little bit of Wade's personality too~

Mentions of violence, strong language, little bit of angst if you squint.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Oh, he definitely doesn't trust you.

He's impressed by your skills on the battlefield, and knows that you're very good at what you do - otherwise you wouldn't be a mercenary - but he absolutely wouldn't turn his back on you.

Price would have probably already told 141 about you, but even if he hadn't he probably would have put two and two together on his own.

Doesn't judge you...much - he's done some pretty fucked up things, it comes with his line of work, but being a mercenary is on another level.

Your sense of humour piques his interest, his humour is dark at the best of times so the fact that you can match his dark comments with some of your own is fine by him.

Don't get it twisted though, if he thinks that you're trying to double-cross his team, he wouldn't hesitate to kill you.

If you were recruited to help 141 on a mission, it would probably mean that the mission was going to be hell on Earth; I can see Shepard hiring you - his intentions were probably never disclosed to you, which makes you trust him less and less.

Given that you're not part of the British Army, your clothing and gear probably wouldn't be similar at all; picture the suits from Black Widow, because Yelena is a goddess~

He definitely hasn't secretly admired your arse when you're not looking - Soap definitely caught him once and was given a glare as a warning to keep his mouth shut.

You'd have to prove yourself to him before he lets himself feel any of the feelings of attraction he has for you - mans has a lot of past trauma that he doesn't want repeated, so until he knows that you're trustworthy, he's going to be cold and calculative as always.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

While he may be a generally friendly guy, Johnny is far from stupid; he'll make small-talk with you in the beginning, but knows not to let his guard down - no matter how much your sense of humour makes him chuckle.

Watches you take down 4 soldiers almost twice your size with ease, and almost pops a boner.

If you're anything like Wade, he's a bit of an over-sharer; when you tell him about parts of your past that led to you becoming a mercenary - some parts which may have been slightly traumatic and concerning to hear - with a smile on your face, he's a bit worried for you.

Definitely flirts with you on the regular - Ghost just gives him a blank stare, wondering why Soap likes to gamble with his life since the team barely even know you.

Once you prove that you're trustworthy, he opens up to you more; we've seen how he acts with Ghost, undeterred by the big guy's cold exterior.

He asks to train with you - doesn't mind being thrown to the mats a hundred times over, "I don't mind the view from doon here, like ;D" [doon = down], "Aye, I knew you'd look great on top a' me"

Asks to try out your weapons - some are not too different from his own, while some are quite clearly black-market issue.

All in all, Soap's an easy-going guy - so as long as you don't try to kill him or anyone he cares about, you're golden.

Captain John Price

Another one who doesn't trust you at all.

He's been in the military for a long time, and he's encountered mercenaries from across the globe - most of them weren't the friendly type, especially when they were after the same target.

He's definitely angry when Shepard tells him that you'll be accompanying his team on the next mission; he's offended, for one, as it makes it seem as if his team are incompetent or not skilled enough to go it alone.

Doesn't take his eyes off you for a second - in his eyes, you're not a soldier, you don't abide by legalities and you essentially kill for money so you might as well be a fully-fledged assassin.

Doesn't bat an eyelid at your humour either, and doesn't let his guard down.

Your fighting skills are undeniable - you're very good at what you do, and you're clearly very intelligent, but don't mistake this for respect.

You probably don't show your face at all - revealing your identity would probably incriminate yourself and put yourself and anyone around you in danger; this doesn't phase him, but it makes it harder for him to trust you.

For Price to trust you would take a hell of a lot of work; you'd have to prove yourself, not just in the field but from a moral standpoint too.

If you do manage to prove yourself to him, then he might gradually start to see you in a different light.

Soap may or may not have caught him eyeing you up appreciatively - but a stern look from his Captain shut him up immediately.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

I can see Gaz keeping out of your way as much as possible.

Out of everyone in 141, he's the youngest and hasn't been in the military for very long either, so he hasn't encountered mercenaries before.

That being said, he knows what a mercenary is and knows that Price doesn't trust you at all - the fact you were hired by Shepard is questionable in itself, so he keeps his interactions with you to a minimum.

Doesn't know what to make of your humour - sometimes your comedic timing and the things you come out with are quite funny, he can't deny that. But other times, you come out with some twisted shit that makes him wonder about your mental state.

He's naturally curious at to how you went from being a soldier to a mercenary - he doesn't have to ponder for long, sometimes you'd just openly remark about things that happened in your past and he was able to figure it out on his own.

He'd never admit it out loud but watching you rile up Ghost with your sarcastic comments and dark humour was entertaining - even if he did fear for your safety when the hulking soldier was due to blow a gasket.

If you showed him your face, he would be pleasantly surprised - Price definitely gives him the disapproving Dad face whenever he catches Kyle oggling you after that.

Alejandro Vargas

*I used google translate for both Alej, Rudy and Konig so if the translations are wrong I apologise*

Oof, he is angry.

We saw how he reacted with Valeria, he doesn't like soldiers who turn their back on morality for money.

He doesn't even attempt to hide his distaste for you.

"Eres un maldito traidor y un asesino." ["You are a fucking traitor and a murderer."]

Finds out you're working with 141 and he's just >:(

"¡¿Por qué diablos están aquí?!" ["Why the fuck are they here?!"]

Warns you that if you betray the team - his friends - that he'd be coming for you, and he would kill you without hesitation.

Your dark humour would probably rub him the wrong way, further solidifying his perception that you were a soldier who walked down a path that you couldn't come back from, "No tienes verguenza?" ["Do you have no shame?"]

I think that even if you did prove yourself, he still wouldn't fully trust you - it would take years for him to look you in the eye with a modicum of respect.

If he sees you getting along well with 141, it might slightly make him think differently of you - especially if Ghost seems to be okay with you being around them.

But it would take him a while to see you as anything other than a killer; "No eres malo, pero recuerda, traicionarnos y estarás muerto antes de que puedas correr." ["You're not bad but remember, betray us and you'll be dead before you can run."

Rudy Parra

Rudy's naturally quite a quiet guy, so I doubt he'd say much to you anyway.

However, this silence doesn't mean acceptance.

He keeps a close eye on you, analysing every move you make.

Would probably ask for your opinion on things when you're on a mission; it's partially out of curiosity, a way to see how your mind works, and other parts to air on the edge of caution because your sense of humour consisted of coming out with some crazy shit.

I reckon if he did trust you, he'd still be very cautious and aware of what you were and what you were capable of; after seeing you take down soldiers like it was nothing, he's inwardly grateful that you were fighting on the same side...for now.

If you let your guard down and told him about aspects of your personal life, it might change his mind a bit - it shows that you're human, you have a life outside all of this...but that being said, he's never seen your face, so you could walk past him in the grocery store and he would never know. It's unnerving.

If you do trust him enough to show your face, he's conflicted; "No te ves como esperaba que te vieras." ["You don't look how I expected you to look.] You look perfectly normal, minus the black paint around your eyes - pretty, even.

Alejandro doesn't like you one bit from the jump, and is constantly hovering around you both like >:(

It'll take a while for Rudy to trust you, but rest assured if you were to break his trust, it wouldn't end well at all - he's a Sergeant Major, and don't let his quiet nature fool you, he too is capable of doing damage.

König

The big guy is unphased - he's a mercenary too, so if he were to judge you then that would make him the biggest hypocrite of all.

Nonetheless, he doesn't trust you either - if you're not from KorTac, and he doesn't know who you are, then he's not letting his guard down at all.

Your sense of humour could go one of two ways with him:

If he's out on the field, and you're making dark jokes and sarcastic comments, then he'll probably laugh and join in; he's a completely different man when he's working, it's what makes him so good at what he does.

But if he's back on base...he's probably going to be a little awkward - the adrenaline's worn off and he's back to being his normal, shy self.

Wants to train with you but is hyperaware of his size and strength - he's seen you take down soldiers his size, but he's still concerned that he'd seriously hurt you.

Pin him to the mat and watch as his eyes widen and he averts his gaze, cheeks heating up under his mask; "Du kämpfst gut." ["You fight well."

There's a slim possibility that he would show you his face - you made the mistake of teasing him and he almost backed out, "Show me yours' and I'll show you mine~"

If you show him your face, he won't be able to look at you the same; how is he supposed to focus now when he knows you're attractive?!

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erwinsvow · 1 month

Note

you write rafe so good and like you get me like sometimes i’m reading and i’m like “how’d they know😦” so HEAR ME OUT lifeguard!reader (bc i’m a lifeguard at a few country clubs) and i think rafe would be drooling and kelce and top would make fun of him and they’d like break all the rules like back flipping off the diving board just to get readers attention

oh my god first of all i completely adore you!! im so glad yess we must be little brain twins <3 i would love to know which parts made you think that! but here is the best i could come up with for a lifeguard au which is soooo cute but imagine.. its a pogue reader...

rafe knows every pretty girl who frequents the country club, he's made a point of making sure he does. so a fresh face in the crowd stands out pretty easily, especially one like yours.

you're pretty without trying, hair tugged behind you in a ponytail and a simple red one piece, the bottoms covered with denim shorts. it's not the usual kind of outfit for the club, but maybe you're headed out by the pool or something.

he can only see you from the back, though when you turn around, he sees the white cross on the front of your swimsuit. then he sees the boy in matching red trunks next to you, the whistle around your necks and a little first-aid box in your hands. a hot life guard, it doesn't get much more stereotypical than that.

you look around the club, following the boy who can only be giving you a tour of the facilty, with curious eyes like you've never been here before. it's only then a comment from top snaps him into a frankly startling realization.

"can't believe they hire pogues for this shit. wouldn't be surprised if shit started going missing by the pool deck."

rafe thinks normally he'd throw another line in, laugh at what top's saying, but he can't find it in him today. so he keeps watching, the sweet way you smile at a little girl who stopped you to ask for a bandaid, the way you nod while taking in something else in your training.

"alright. you've been staring at that pogue girl for twenty minutes. what gives?" kelce asks finally, after rafe ignores what they've been saying to him for the third time.

"huh?" he snaps back, tearing eyes away from you to look at his idiot friends.

"don't tell me you got hots for the lifeguard. what're you, thirteen?" they laugh, but rafe doesn't.

"shut up." he stands, downing the rest of his drink. "m'goin' to the pool. you loser can come and shut up or stay here and yap."

when he finally gets out there, you've shed the shorts, looking over the kiddie section of the pool with a watchful eye, taking the responsibility of watching brats seriously. he doesn't hesitate, jumping into the deep end with a huge splash, one that gets your attention.

you walk over, making sure whoever that was didn't just fall in, when two boys yell over.

"hey! lifeguard! our friend needs help!" you turn to look back at the boy who's been training you, wondering if you should dive in or wait since you're still in training, when you hear them again.

"not him! you! in the red. hurry!" you don't hesitate, though you're confused, jumping straight in and swimming over to the boy. he doesn't look like he needs help, in fact, he looks like he's floating.

"um, excuse me-" that's all you get out when you get close to him, because he scoops you up like he's rescuing you, carrying you out of the pool like a bride. you kick your feet, yelling out. "hey! put me down! you're not even drowning!"

he sets you down, and you wipe your face, staring up at pretty blue eyes and an arrogant face, once you recognize, one that your best friends hate.

"oh. you. i should have known."

"me? yeah, heard about me, have you? only good things, i hope."

"yeah, no. what the fuck was all that? i thought you were drowning."

"yeah, i was. thanks for the help." confused, soaking wet, and not appreciating his two little sidekicks snickering behind you, you try to get away, when rafe follows.

"so, uh, how long you been working here?"

"it's my first day."

"yeah, i thought so. i never forget a pretty face, so-"

"are you serious?"

"dead serious. and yours is definitely pretty."

"rafe," you say, leaning in closer so he can hear you clearly. "stop hitting on me. i have to work. some of us actually have to work."

"know my name already, huh? what else have you heard-" you roll your eyes, he laughs.

"i heard you're a good swimmer," you say, taking another step closer.

"yeah. from who?"

"i don't know. i'm about to find out." with one hand, you push his chest, and he falls backwards into the pool, the water splashing around your feet. you laugh, watching him bob in the pool, his friends laughing too. "good talk. hope we never speak again."

rafe gets out of the pool, pushing his wet hair back. he calls out after you.

"yeah we'll see about that."

#oooo she a snippy girly #its bc she spends all her time with jayjjjjjj #if you wanted something more cutie i can make her the lifeguard in the kids section & rafe brings toddler wheeize #lmk bae #this is actually garbage lmfao itwas a fun exercise tho

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sopebubbles · 1 year

Text

Master List

Eight

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: Jin's form of leadership comes to bite him in the ass, and everyone will have something to say about it. Will they still follow him?

WC: 8k

Warnings: ANGST, fighting/yelling, swearing

Jimin's head snapped to attention when a knock at the door pulled him out of concentration. His coworker Nina poked her head inside.

"Jimin, there's a girl here to see you."

"I told Sana we would meet after lunch. I'm still trying to catch up on some paperwork from last week." Jimin looked bewilderedly at the stacks of papers cluttering his desk.

Nina shook her head. "It's not Sana. It's some girl named Y/N. Never seen her before. But I'll tell her to come back another time."

Jimin shot out of his chair the instant he heard your name. "No. Don't! I'll see her."

Nina paused as he opened the door to follow her. "I thought you were busy."

Jimin blushed and smiled. "This is important."

Nina gave him a playfully suspicious look before walking back to her desk. Jimin followed her and felt the tightness in his chest release when he saw you sitting in a chair, swinging your feet while you waited. Yoongi was right; you did seem like a little girl, especially the way you curled in on yourself.

"Y/N?" His voice was so quiet he wasn't sure you would hear him, but your head turned in his direction.

He'd been so thrilled by the news that you'd come that he hadn't stopped to think about why until he saw your wide eyes look at him from gaunt features. The last time he'd seen you, you were well fed, energetic, almost glowing. That might have just been the tail-end of the heat hormones, but you almost looked like a different person now. Your skin was ashen, with dark bags under your eyes. It was only a week since he saw you, but it looked like years on your face.

"Y/N," he repeated.

"Surprised to see me?" You asked as you got to your feet and approached the counter once again.

"Yes," he nodded. "But it's a good surprise." He wanted to launch into a million questions, but he hesitated. The last time he tried to really talk to you had backfired. He followed your gaze to Nina, who quickly looked away when she realized she was staring. "Come to my office so we can talk."

"I'm glad you came," he said as he closed the door behind you and gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. "Where have you been staying?"

You looked at your hands in your lap, but didn't answer. "How is Hoseok?"

Jimin tried to smile for you, but it was weak. "Hobi is fine. He's wondering where you've been. He was hoping you would stay. We all were."

"I don't think everyone was," you mumbled.

"What?"

"I know Seokjin was just trying to be polite. I would have just been in the way. It's better for everyone if you just pretend you never met me."

Jimin's heart sank. For a moment he had believed you came to him so he could take you home, but you wouldn't make things that easy. "So why did you come here?"

"You said you could help me find a job." He froze momentarily before sitting on his own chair. Was that really the only reason you had come? "I've been looking online for the last week and I just…" you looked up at him and he met your gaze expectantly. "I haven't had a lot of luck the last couple of years trying to pretend I'm Sap, but it's really hard to get a job I can manage when they know I'm omega. So, you said you knew people who would hire me…"

Jimin nodded knowingly. Unemployment was generally considered an alpha problem because many, if not most, omegas chose to stay at home, but that trend had been changing. Omegas faced a lot of stereotypes about not being able to handle physical work (which wasn't true) and for their frequent heat cycles, making employers view them as unreliable. On top of that, you were far from the only omega to not finish high school since the onset of heats made attendance difficult at best. While Jimin was all for omega empowerment, he couldn't help wishing you'd choose to just stay at home with Hoseok. But he was getting ahead of himself. Jimin clicked around on his screen for a moment before his printer began to whir.

"I have a list of businesses that hire omegas, and who give priority to people in your situation." Jimin grabbed the sheet of paper off the printer, but hesitated before handing it to you. "Would you reconsider coming back to the house?"

You sighed and shook your head. "I can't, Jimin."

"You really can. I know that maybe Jin didn't seem so keen, but Hoseok is worried. Yoongi–" he stopped himself from admitting that his alpha was a wreck, but he didn't think he imagined the glint in your eyes as the mention of his name. "He really wanted you to stay. So do I. We want you to be safe."

"It's nice of you to worry," you said, reaching for the paper. Jimin reluctantly handed over, feeling defeated. "I can take care of myself, though. I promise, I'll be fine."

When you stood up to leave, Jimin had the sinking feeling that you really wouldn't be, but there was little he could do about it. He couldn't lock you in this office until you agreed to come home with him. He sighed in resignation. "You can tell anyone on that list that I sent you and put me as a reference," he told you, picking up one of his business cards and scribbling his personal phone number on the back before he handed it to you. "And if you change your mind, you know where to find us. Our door is always open to you, Y/N."

"Thanks, Jimin," you smiled sadly.

He wanted to do something crazy, like ask you for a hug and maybe try to give you a proper scent mark so that you'd walk out of there with a bit of him, a bit of them. But he could only watch you go.

Yoongi drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as he drove to pick up Jimin from work. Normally the beta went to and from work with Namjoon or Jin, depending on their schedules, but today the pack alpha had sent a mysterious address to the group chat and told them to meet there after work. The location happened to be in the opposite direction of home from Namjoon's school, so Yoongi offered to pick Jimin up. He was more than happy to do it. He'd been feeling edgy all day with the house feeling so empty, everyone gone to work and even Hoseok mysteriously missing from the house in the afternoon, taking Taehyung with him. Your absence rang from every corner of the quiet house, mocking him.

When he pulled up outside the shelter, Jimin was chatting casually with some alpha teens in front of the building. He flashed Yoongi a crooked smile, and not the endearing kind, but the troubled kind; the kind that let the alpha know immediately that something was off with his younger mate. He cut the engine and stepped out of the car.

"Hey, Yoongi!" One of the young men on the sidewalk called as he stepped up on the curb and held out an arm for a greeting. Yoongi clasped his hand and bumped his shoulder. "Where you been? Missed you on the court."

Yoongi grimaced. Playing with the kids was one of his favorite things to do with his free days. Jimin liked to act like it was some sort of mentoring program; and maybe it was, but it was very informal. Just a few hours playing around and maybe every now and then Yoongi managed a conversation with one of them and was able to give them some advice, but it wasn't a big deal. Nonetheless, Jimin knew it meant a lot to the young alphas to have Yoongi spend some time with them and treat them like people, something that was frequently absent from their daily interactions, as you well knew. He also knew Yoongi enjoyed it beyond the game.

"Sorry, man. I promise I'll come by later this week," Yoongi told him and meant it. He turned his eyes to Jimin. "Everything okay?"

The beta nodded. "C'mon, let's go."

Yoongi opened the car door for Jimin, then nodded to the guys still standing around before he walked around to the driver's side. He started the engine and pulled into traffic before either of them spoke another word. Silent minutes stretched before them, but Yoongi couldn't take it.

"Are you afraid to kiss me in front of your clients?" Yoongi asked, half joking, although he'd usually get at least a kiss on the cheek from Jimin when he first saw him, even if it was on those afternoons he showed up at the shelter.

"Of course not, hyung," Jimin answered lightly but didn't look in his direction.

Yoongi reached out his hand to take Jimin's. "Then can you tell me what's wrong?" He asked with a kiss to the back of his hand.

Jimin's fingers tightened around him and he cleared his throat. "I saw her."

Yoongi came to an abrupt stop a couple meters short of where he meant to at the red light.

"Y/N?"

Jimin nodded. "She came to see me at the shelter."

Yoongi turned his head to look out the rear window. "Is she–? Did she–? Is she staying there?" He finally managed to ask, when he really wanted to ask why you weren't in the car with him right now going back home.

Jimin swallowed. "She's too old, hyung," he reminded his alpha and watched him sink back into his seat. "Besides, she said she wouldn't come back with me. She thinks…she thinks it's for the best, and that we were just being polite."

Yoongi leaned his head back against the rest and a thousand protests died on his lips. Jimin didn't need to hear them. "Do you know where she's staying?"

A car honked as they sat in front of a green light and Yoongi slowly pressed on the accelerator. "She wouldn't say, but that makes me think it's the same shelter as before."

"Shit," Yoongi muttered.

"I'm sorry, hyung. I should have found a way to make her stay. I should've called you. I just…it all happened so fast."

Yoongi spared him a quick glance. "Jimin, did you think I'd be mad at you?"

Jimin squirmed. "Not mad…"

Yoongi laid his hand on Jimin's smaller one again. "Jimin, of course I'm not upset with you. I know you couldn't hold her there. If she wasn't willing to come, that would only scare her, and the last thing we need is for her to be scared of the least intimidating member of our pack."

"I'm going to try not to be insulted by that, hyung."

Yoongi smiled in spite of himself. "Damn. Okay. I mean, it sucks. You know I want to find her. But this is good. We know more than we did. At least she knows where to find you if she's in trouble but—oh! Is she in trouble? Why did she come to you?"

"She's not in trouble as far as I can tell. She just remembered that I said I could help her find a job, so she came to see me. It seemed like maybe she was ready to stop pretending to not be Lykos." Jimin almost sounded proud.

"And?"

"I don't know. All I could really do was give her a list of places I knew are usually hiring and tell her she could use me as a reference."

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. "That's good. If anyone calls you trying to hire her we might be able to find her," he said, mostly mumbling to himself.

"Hyung?"

Yoongi pulled to a stop in front of a large, yellow house. Jungkook and Namjoon pulled up right behind him in the police cruiser. They all stepped out at the same time, sharing a glance before turning their curious and confused eyes toward the property. Yoongi noticed the realtors sign in front with the bold red "SOLD" sign. His stomach flipped.

"What the hell?" He muttered in a low growl before he made for stairs up to the porch, trodding carelessly over the green lawn. Stomping up the steps, he knocked loudly on the front door.

Hoseok answered the door with a beaming, heart-shaped smile. "Welcome home!"

Jimin watched Yoongi's jaw clench, and he was certain that if it had been anyone but Hobi who answered the door, Yoongi would already be on a tirade. Jimin reached out to grab his elbow, silently telling him to stay calm but also reminding the alpha that he was there as they stepped over the threshold of the house.

"What is this, Hobi?" Yoongi barely restrained his growl, but his discontent was clear. He moved further through the entryway into what would be the living room only to let the others inside.

"This is our new home," Jin said, standing at the counter where the open concept living room and kitchen blended. Yoongi opened his mouth to speak, but Jin cut him off. "Before you start, let me show you around first. There's so much more room. There's a detached garage where Taehyung can do his painting. There are also three bedrooms upstairs. The master bedroom is absolutely massive. Wait till you see. And plenty of room for the kids," Jin rambled on, setting one foot on the first stair, ready for them all to follow him up.

"Jin," Yoongi said the syllable firmly without raising his voice.

The older man froze and looked down at him in frustration. "Can you at least look around before you get upset."

"So you understand that I'm upset?" Yoongi asked calmly.

"You're always upset about something," Jin mumbled in response.

"That's not true, Jin. And that isn't the point."

"Then what is the point, Yoongi?"

"Did you buy this house?" He asked through his tight jaw.

Yoongi's citrus went bitter, stinging their noses, and Jin swallowed but stood firm. "Yes. Hobi and I came to look at the house yesterday and made an offer. The seller was highly motivated and we signed the papers a few hours ago."

"You and Hobi? And who else was involved in this decision?" Yoongi demanded, casting his gaze momentarily at the omega.

"No one. Hobi liked the house, and I bought it."

"Oh, Hobi liked it, so that's all that matters," Yoongi threw his hands up and walked toward the back door.

"Yoongi, it's really a great house. Just take a look," Hoseok tried to persuade him.

"I don't care about the house!" Yoongi snapped.

"Don't yell at me!" Hoseok snapped back, stepping closer, but Jin came off the staircase to get between them.

"How could you two do this?"

"I know you hate change, Yoongi, but–"

"This isn't about not wanting to change!"

"Then what is it about, Yoongi?" Jin tried hard to keep his calm.

"It's about you deciding we're all going to move suddenly, like we're just pieces of furniture in your house."

"Yoongi, Jin and I have been looking for a house for months," Hoseok reminded him.

"I know. But I always assumed when you got serious about buying one you would consult us. How can you just make a huge decision like this for all of us?" Hoseok balked at the betrayal in Yoongi's eyes.

Jin's chest puffed out before he spoke. "We made the decision we thought was best for everyone."

Yoongi shook his head. "Your un-fucking-believable, Seokjin." Jin let out an exasperated sigh. "What gives you the right to treat us like this?"

Jin growled low. "I'm your pack alpha. It's my right to make the decisions I think are best for this pack. You're just upset because you wish you were pack alpha over me."

Yoongi stared him straight in the eyes as he spoke. "I don't, Jin. I don't want to be your pack alpha. I just want to be treated with a little respect." He took a step closer to where he had to look up to keep eye contact. "But if I were the leader of this pack, I'd do a hell of a lot better job than you've been doing lately."

"Yoongi," Namjoon finally stepped in, his voice a warning that Yoongi did not want to heed.

"You think this is easy?" Jin snarled back.

"It's not meant to be easy! But you see it as a set of privileges when it's meant to be a set of responsibilities!"

"I am trying to be responsible! I'm trying to build a proper home for our children!"

"Damn it! That's the problem! For your children. Because you're so ego-maniacally focused on these kids you don't even have yet that you don't give a shit about what you're doing to the pack you have right now!"

"That's not true, Yoongi," Hoseok jumped in.

Yoongi held up his hand. "Don't defend him, Hoseok. For the last year you've been catering to him instead of facing the fact that he's changed."

"I've-"

"You used to be so caring about all of us. You had such a big heart when I met you. You were so open and that's why I fell for you. You made me feel so safe. You brought Jimin into your home without a second thought. But now I don't even recognize you. You don't care, do you?"

"That's not fair, Y–"

"You don't care that Tae will have to walk outside at night to get to his studio when his nightmares keep him up? Or that this house is so far from Jungkook's station? Or that you're taking me and Jimin out of the most stable home we've ever known without even asking us? Or-"

"Yoongi," Hoseok gasped, chagrined at the alphas slipped admission.

"No. Fuck this. I'm leaving." Yoongi hung his head in defeat and shouldered past Namjoon to get to the front door.

"Hyung, wait!" Jimin called, going after him.

"Jimin–"

"Give me your keys. You're not driving angry like this," the beta reasoned. Yoongi gave them up without a fight and stormed out of the house. The door shut with a thud of finality.

Jin swallowed in the silence that followed before he spoke. "Let's go see the rest of the house." He turned toward the stairs, and Namjoon made to follow.

"Kim Seokjin." He froze at the frigid tone of Hobi's voice.

"He's just pouting, Hobi. He'll get over it," Jin said over his shoulder.

"Jin," he said more loudly this time. "He is our packmate. And he is just asking us to listen to him. Now you're going to take me home and listen."

When Jin and Hobi arrived at the house the first floor was dark except for the sliver of light underneath the closed door to the spare room, but they could hear Yoongi's angry footsteps upstairs. Hoseok rushed up the stairs ahead of his mate to find Yoongi rummaging through drawers, pulling out shirts he thought were his. It had become difficult to tell the difference between yours, mine and ours. Five years together had made their lives enmeshed in the most intimate and simple ways.

"What are you doing?" Hoseok asked softly from the door.

"Making it easier for you all to move without me," Yoongi mumbled as he closed one drawer and opened another.

Hoseok's voice trembled as his hands did. "What do you mean?"

"If it's easy to make the decision to move without even asking then it doesn't matter if I go with you, right? So I'm taking my stuff, and you can take the rest."

"Yoongi, that's not true," his omega said, stepping closer to try to stop his hands.

"Hoseok, back off."

He let out a small whimper. "We made a mistake. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, but I know I was wrong, okay? Please, let's sit down and talk about it calmly."

Yoongi held still, trying his best to resist acting out. He wouldn't get violent. He wouldn't get physical no matter how much he felt like exploding. Not to Hobi. "I don't feel calm right now. I need you to give me some space and let me do this."

"No!" He whined. "Don't do this! Don't leave us, please?"

"Who's leaving who, Hobi?!"

"It's not like that, Yoongi, honestly."

"Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?" Jin said from the door.

A growl started in Yoongi's chest when his eyes fell on the alpha.

"It's just a house, Yoongi," he added.

"Maybe to you. Maybe to you it's just a place to live."

"What else is it then Yoongi?" Hoseok asked, desperate to understand what was going on in his head.

Yoongi sighed and hung his head back to stare at the ceiling. "You guys are so privileged. You don't get it. You grew up in homes that were yours, where you were born and where you belonged. Then you came here to live in your own home. You take it for granted that wherever you go to live will be your home. You don't know what I know. What Jimin and Y/N and even Tae knows! Do you get that this is the only place I've ever felt I belonged? That until I came to live here and you accepted me, that I was only ever a guest wherever I was? Do you know what living with that kind of insecurity is like? This is the only place I've ever felt safe and you've just taken that from me."

"It will be the same at the new house, Yoongi," Hoseok spoke softly. "It will be your home."

"How can I know that? When it feels like you don't want me there because if you did you would have asked about my feelings before making such a huge decision? I feel so unsafe with you both right now. So if it seems like I'm acting childish, maybe I am, but I feel so out of control right now. And if that's how I feel, how do you think she will–" Yoongi's voice died.

"Y/N?" Hoseok asked after a heavy silence.

"She's gone, Yoongi," Jin reminded him and received a black, watery glare in return.

"She's not. Jimin saw her today. She's not ready to live with us but she went to Jimin for help, so she might. Only if she comes here, we'll be gone. And what would she think except that your offer to stay meant nothing and that there is no place that's safe. You're pack alpha. You're supposed to make us safe."

Jin watched Yoongi as he ranted and felt his anger soften. The man was right, he hadn't considered those things at all. If he was being honest he hadn't cared if Yoongi or the others disagreed with their choice of home, but he hadn't even considered that they might have such a strong reaction. The new house was a better one, and he thought that would be all that mattered. When he finally responded, he spoke as softly as he could. "Yoongi, I didn't mean to make you feel that way. Honestly, I didn't know that it would matter that much, and I'm sorry. But you're safe and you belong in our new home just as much as you do here."

Yoongi scoffed. "A year ago I might have believed you."

"What do you mean?" Jin questioned and didn't miss the way Hoseok's back stiffened.

"You've been pushing us all out ever since you started trying to get Hobi pregnant," Yoongi accused.

"Not this again."

"Yes, this again! Every time Hobi goes into heat you treat the rest of us like we're less important than you. Like you're the main character and we're all just the supporting cast."

"Because he's my husband! He's my omega! This is my pack! If you hate it that much then go find Y/N and start your own! See if I care!"

"Jin!" Hoseok cried as if in pain.

"Fine! I will!"

"Yoongi, no! Both of you stop it. Don't say shit you don't mean. No one is leaving. Fuck!" Hoseok stepped close to Yoongi and cradled the alpha's face in his hands. "Please, baby. Don't leave me. I swear. We can work this out. Calm down, please." A tear dropped down Yoongi's cheek, and Hoseok wiped it away with his thumb. Yoongi wrapped his hands gently around his wrists and pulled his hands away.

"I'm sorry, Hobi. I just…" his eyes flickered to Jin. "I just need some space right now."

He took the bag he had been filling with random t-shirts that may or may not have been his and walked past Hoseok, past Jin and down the stairs. He didn't know how much they heard, but Namjoon, Tae and Jungkook all stared at him as he moved quickly through the living room toward the spare room, which Jimin had been readying for both of them to sleep in.

The others slowly made their way upstairs to see their pack alpha and omega. It wasn't particularly that they wanted to comfort Jin and Hobi, but they all knew there was nothing they could do for Yoongi at the moment, and none of them had gotten the chance to say their piece yet. They found Hoseok sitting on the edge of the bed facing the window that looked out onto the street, while Jin remained by the door, both speechless and not acknowledging the other.

"Are you here to leave us, too?" Jin asked bitterly.

"Hyung, don't get angry with us. Especially when you're the one who caused this," Jungkook spoke softly. Despite being the youngest, he had known Jin longer than anyone, except Hoseok, and he wasn't afraid to tell him the truth.

"I'm the bad guy for wanting to give my family a better home?"

"No, hyung," Namjoon answered as he sat on the corner of the mattress, facing his alpha. "But at any point did you even think to ask us what any of us thought would make a better home for all of us?"

"We've been looking for a long time and none of you have ever said anything," Jin defended.

"You and Hobi have been looking," Taehyung corrected. "You show him things you're looking at. Maybe we should've spoken up before, but we didn't know how. Honestly I've been kind of terrified of what's going to happen and then…this was kind of sudden."

Hoseok turned to see his youngest alpha with a tear-streaked face. "What are you afraid of Tae?"

He sank down onto the bed beside his omega, facing him and letting the contact of their legs sooth his fraying nerves just a bit. "I guess…I don't really know what's going to happen when you eventually have Jin's baby. I'm not sure what it's going to mean for the rest of us."

"What do you mean? It will be everyone's baby. It will only add to our pack," Jin told them, a little shocked by Taehyung's implication.

"Then why does it matter so much if the baby is yours? Why can't it be any of ours? Mine or Namjoon's or Jimin's? If nothing will change between all of us, then why has so much changed already?" Tae wondered in a shaky voice.

"We're still a pack. Nothing has changed. We'll still be a pack," Jin tried to assure him.

"With all due respect, Jin, only you, Hobi and Jungkook know what it's like to have a pack this big." Namjoon shrugged. "The rest of us don't know what happens to other partners when a couple has a baby. We've just been following your lead, and it seems like…I don't know. We get pushed to the edge?"

Hoseok choked down a whine. He didn't know why, but he'd known his husband was struggling for months with his feelings about having a child. When he couldn't get Jin to talk about it, he decided just to support him in any way he could. That had mostly meant going along with his ideas and boosting his confidence. He hadn't realized how much he had been neglecting his other pack members. Suddenly it made so much more sense that Jungkook, Yoongi and Taehyung had been spending so many nights outside his nest when he realized they didn't feel as welcome there.

Hoseok reached out to grip the back of Tae's neck and meet his eyes. "Tae, baby, your home will always be with us. And I'm so so sorry for not making that clear enough, and for not discussing it with you before we made such a big decision."

Tae smiled weakly and wrapped his arms around the omegas middle to bring him closer. It was far from making everything better, but he still appreciated being told explicitly that he was still wanted. "Things might change when you have Jin's baby," he said, not able to keep the worry from his voice even though he kept it quiet.

"Why is everyone so obsessed with the fact that it will be my baby?" Jin grumbled.

"Why are you so obsessed, hyung? You said the baby will be all of ours, so why does it have to be you?" Jungkook reiterated the question they could never get a straight answer for.

"I have a family line to uphold. I know you all don't understand that, but it's important!" Jin cried out, finally cracking under the crushing weight of that pressure.

"Is it more important than not alienating your pack? Is your family–which already has a whole group of kids to carry on its name–is it more important than the one we've spent a decade building?" Hoseok asked, looking at Jin for the first time since Yoongi had left the room.

"No. Of course not," Jin sighed.

"Since when was it ever important to you anyway?"

"Well, you are my husband. Shouldn't your first child be mine?"

"You didn't answer the question, Jin," Hoseok said sternly, crossing his arms.

"Fine! It's never been important to me. But it is important to them! And I thought maybe if I could prove to my mother that I'm a proper pack alpha then for once she wouldn't look at me like a huge failure!" The loudness of his voice got away from him even though he felt relief for finally getting that off his chest.

"I cannot believe this is about your mother!" Hoseok shouted back. "You're going to risk losing Jimin and Yoongi over your mother, who has never treated you the way that she should?"

"What do you mean lose Jimin?" Jin asked seriously.

"Look around, Jin. Where do you think he is right now? Do you honestly believe that if Yoongi goes, Jimin won't go with him?" Jungkook asked. The thought caused him a great deal of pain. Everyone relied on Jimin, more than he probably knew. But he understood, because even if Jin was being a complete ass, Jungkook knew he would stick with him, too.

"Who else wants to go with them?" Jin looked around the room. Half expecting to see every hand raised.

"No one wants to go, hyung. Not even Yoongi," Tae told him. "We just want to know it matters if we stay."

Jin rushed to sit behind Tae on the bed, covering the younger man's back with his chest. "Of course, Tae. Of course it matters. I would never want to live without any of you," he promised. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being the pack alpha you deserved and for making you think you weren't important to me. Hobi, I'm sorry for causing all this drama and putting you in the middle of it. I never meant to. I was just-"

"A spoiled brat."

Jin sighed and flopped back into the nest on his back. "Yeah. And I need Yoongi, too. To put me in my place when I'm clearly out of line and out of touch."

Jungkook crawled onto the bed to where his leader rested and pulled back his bangs to lay a kiss on his forehead. "We can all do that. But you do have to apologize to Yoongi…if you want him to come with us."

Jin looked sadly into the betas eyes. "Of course I want him to come with us. How would we manage without him?"

"What if he won't come?" Namjoon asked. "What if…I think she's more important to him than we are."

Hoseok still faced away from the group, but spoke clearly. "She's not. He just knows she needs him, more than we do. Or at least, more than we've been showing him. Jin needs a baby and Yoongi needs that omega if we're ever going to have any peace."

"Hobi–"

"Everyone get out."

"Hobi, wait–"

"You're in my nest with your work clothes on. Get up. Go get some pizzas because I don't have time to cook tonight. Get cleaned up before you think about crawling in here again."

Hoseok's boys didn't wait to be told twice before moving and getting out of his way.

Yoongi entered the spare room while Jimin was in the bathroom and flopped onto the bed. The beta had used the blankets from your brief nest to make the bed more cozy. Your sweet apple scent was fading, but he took a deep breath in while he could.

"I'm sorry, it's not a proper nest," Jimin said from the door to the bathroom. It could never be a real nest unless it was made by an omega.

Yoongi raised his hand in the air toward Jimin. "It will be great if you come down here with me."

Jimin did as he was bid and cuddled into his usual spot, draping his body half way over his hyung's. Yoongi took a deep breath of him, lavender and apples and regrets.

"I don't like hearing them fight," Yoongi said after several minutes.

"I know. But it's not your fault. It had to happen eventually," Jimin reassured him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, hyung."

"I'm acting like I know all the right things to do, but right now I don't know. I don't–" Yoongi tried to hold a sob that was caught in his throat. "I don't want to leave, Jimin. Truly. I love it here so much. I love them. All of them. Even Jin. Even when he's being the world's biggest asshole. But he–"

Jimin stroked his hand along Yoongi's chest to calm his breathing. "It's okay, Yoongi. I trust you. Whatever decision you make, I'll be with you. If there really isn't room for you and me anymore, we'll find our own place. We'll find Y/N. We'll make a home together."

Yoongi pulled Jimin tighter to him and sobbed into his shoulder, whispering repeated apologies while Jimin tried to hush him until they fell asleep just like that.

It had killed Yoongi to leave Jimin in the middle of the night to go to work, but he'd made it through the shift with that hollow, numb feeling left in your chest after you've expelled all your other emotions. He didn't realize how many had actually been boiling in his chest and for how long until he finally got them out. He hoped that he'd make it home in time to drive Jimin to work, but when he arrived, only Jin and Hobi were in the kitchen. Their eyes met with his briefly before he ducked into the spare room and shut the door. He knew he'd have to speak to them eventually, but he wasn't ready yet. The raw anger caused by built-up hurts that he let explode yesterday was gone. He almost didn't feel angry at all anymore. But all the hurt was still there, but while he couldn't tell them how to fix it, talking to each other would only risk inflicting more harm. He showered quickly before he sank into bed and fell asleep surrounded by the scent of you.

When he woke in the afternoon he laid in bed and listened to the soft sound of Hobi's footsteps moving from room to room, already organizing to move their whole lives across town. The papers had already been signed. The decision wouldn't be changed. It was fine. Yoongi got up and changed into basketball shorts and an old extra large t-shirt (which was in fact Namjoon's), slipped on his basketball shoes and walked straight from the bedroom out the door before he could be caught out by anyone.

Yoongi kept his basketball in his car because he was always ready for a pick up game. He tended to have a relatively new one at any given time because when all the balls at the shelter inevitably wandered off, he would leave his and go straight to buy a new one or two. He picked up the ball from the floorboard of the backseat where it wouldn't roll around too much and headed into the shelter.

Nina, or anyone else who might be working, never stopped to ask him what he needed anymore as he strolled past the desk. She merely offered a pleasant 'hello, how ya been?' And let him be on his way. He went straight back to Jimin's office first.

"Come in," Jimin said quietly when Yoongi knocked on his door. The alpha could see the exhaustion on his face as soon as he walked in. "Hey," he smiled tiredly, but he was genuinely relieved to see the man.

"Hey, sweetheart. How are you?" Yoongi went around the desk to give him a hug they both needed. He nuzzled Jimin's head under his chin, making sure to give him a good scent marking like he had intended to do this morning.

"I'm alright. Just tired."

Yoongi crouched down to examine the beta's face more closely. There were dark bags under his eyes and an unfamiliar frown on the usually happy man's lips. "Did you sleep after I left last night?"

"Off and on," Jimin shrugged and continued when he saw Yoongi breathe in to speak. "And before you say sorry to me one more time, don't! You're banned from apologizing for anything."

Yoongi closed his mouth to pout for a second before he asked, "for how long?"

"Until you've done something you need to apologize for. And that doesn't include going to work or leaving me on my own for a few hours. I'm a big boy, Yoongi."

"Well…:

"Don't even start, hyung!"

Yoongi chuckled and pulled him in for a chaste kiss before he stood. Leaning against the desk, he took a look around Jimin's small office. "Anything interesting happen today?"

Jimin knew what he meant to ask, but he hadn't seen or heard from you. "Not today."

"Okay then." Yoongi did his best not to sound disappointed. "I'm going to go shoot some hoops for a while and then I'll drive you home. Make sure you tell Joon." Jimin hummed, and Yoongi turned to leave but stopped and hesitated a moment before he asked, "How was it this morning? I wanted to drive you but–"

Jimin waved his hand dismissively. "It was fine Yoon, don't worry. We didn't talk or anything, but we don't normally talk much on the way to work."

Yoongi grinned. "Neither of you are morning people."

"I'm literally amazed we make it to work every morning," Jimin agreed.

When Yoongi got to the basketball court it was empty. It was unusual, but not a total shock. It was really a lovely spring day out and if the kids wanted to soak up some of the sun's energy, that was perfectly understandable. He didn't mind playing alone for a bit until someone came in; they eventually would. He stretched before warming up a little and practicing his free throws. There was something calming about having a basketball in his hands. No matter where or when, the feel of the ball at his fingertips never changed. No matter where he moved to or who was around to play, there was always a court, always a game. If it wasn't for basketball he might not have met Jimin at the court where Jimin went to meet his friends even though he never played.

He let his mind wander as he dribbled and shot, all according to muscle memory. There was too much on his mind for it to completely go silent, but he let the thoughts run through him instead of trying to control him, and by the time someone came to break up his solo practice, Yoongi had a plan.

Earlier in the morning, Jungkook and Taehyung had gone to get moving boxes and soft packing materials. Since then, Jungkook had gone to work and Tae was responsible for getting his painting room packed and cleaned, leaving Hoseok alone in the kitchen carefully packing dishes with one eye on the front door and the other on the clock, just waiting for his packmates to come home.

When Jin comes home first, he can't help but feel a short pang of disappointment. He'd been dying to see Yoongi all day, just to be able to look at him and know he was doing better. Even though he knew that was probably too much to expect. Even though he didn't feel like he should be forgiven yet.

He couldn't believe how thoughtless they had been—how inconsiderate he had been. When Jin first took him to the house, Hoseok fell in love immediately. He could imagine them all there so easily and picture how their lives would blossom and thrive there. He even pictured you there. There were two smaller bedrooms down the hall from the master suite. One would make a charming room for the children, and the other would be a perfect room for you, at least until you got more comfortable with them. There was space for everyone and Hoseok just wanted it so badly. They moved too fast, but it all seemed to fall into place so perfectly. He had overlooked any immediate concerns in view of the future happiness they would all have, and now he felt terrible for it. Knowing he was complicit in how things played out was the only thing keeping him from being cold toward Jin. Even though he still didn't fully understand Jin's own motivations and wasn't ready to talk about it, he knew it wasn't all Jin's fault. And it wasn't only Yoongi that he needed to make amends to, although the others he felt certain he could placate with plenty of TLC and reassurance. What he didn't know now was whether Yoongi would even give him the chance. And then there was Jimin, who hadn't said a word and hid himself away. Hoseok wasn't sure quite what the beta was feeling, but he knew that when he found things too difficult to face, he tended to hide behind Yoongi and let the alpha speak for him.

Hoseok's focus snapped to the door the instant it opened again and was relieved to see his two smallest packmates enter together. Yoongi met his eyes and he couldn't help brightening up just a bit. At least they'd come home. Jimin went straight to the kitchen where Hoseok was wrapping bowls in paper and washed his hands. After he dried them, Jimin hugged his back. Hosek froze for a split second at the unexpected contact before he melted into Jimin.

"Do you want me to order dinner tonight? I've been craving Chinese all day," Jimin said, nuzzling the omegas back in a way that made him want to purr.

"That sounds great, Jiminie," he smiled and missed him the moment the beta let go. Jimin didn't go far though, only pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.

Yoongi took a bowl from the stack on the table and a piece of brown paper and began to wrap it carefully, but Hoseok laid his hand over Yoongi's.

"You don't have to help," he said softly.

Yoongi paused and looked him in the eyes for a long moment. "Am I still a part of this pack?"

"Of course you are."

"And I'm still one of your alphas?"

"Always, Yoongi," Hoseok assured him.

He shrugged and began wrapping again. "Then of course I'm helping. You need me. I'm an expert mover."

"Yoongi, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to exclude you. I was thoughtless and I'm really so sorry," he rushed out, unable to go another second without at least trying to put things right.

Yoongi gave him a half smile. He bit back the knee-jerk 'it's okay' because they both knew it wasn't. "Apology accepted. I'm sorry for flipping out."

Hoseok shook his head. "It was a big deal and you reacted the only way you could."

Yoongi sank into a chair and covered his face with his hand. "I felt like a stupid teenager, yelling at my mom because I didn't know what else to do."

Hoseok frowned and reached for his hand. "I feel terrible that we triggered that for you."

"It's alright, Hobi. What you and Jin did was shitty, but I think I was brewing for a while. I should've noticed last week with how upset I got over Y/N, but I think going to her old apartment set me off. My mom and I lived in a few places like that, and those were the most chaotic times of my life."

"I'm sorry, my love," Hobi said again, stroking his hand.

Yoongi laughed and looked at Jimin, who was already looking at him. He ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, I get it now." Jimin grinned back, but Hoseok only looked confused. "No more apologies, Hobi. I've already forgiven you. It's done."

Hoseok pouted for a moment. He didn't feel like he'd said enough. "I have to say sorry to Jimin, too. I should've thought more about your feelings."

Jimin shrugged. "I know you won't let it happen again.

Hoseok nodded and continued. "I need you to know you'll always be a part of this pack. I shouldn't have been in such a rush, but you have to know that it was because I could see how happy we could all be there. I even have Y/N's room picked out already."

Yoongi's back straightened. "Y/N's room?"

"Yeah. I don't know how you would, but I just feel like you'll definitely find her, and she has to be part of our pack."

Yoongi felt the slightest twinge of possessiveness, wanting you to be only his. But his fingers tightened around the omega's. "Thanks, Hobi."

"Does that mean you'll move with us?" Jin asked softly as he entered the kitchen.

Yoongi looked at Hoseok and shook his head. "Not yet. I think I should stay here a while."

"When I saw her yesterday, I told her that if she needed anything she could come here. Yoongi and I want to stay for a while to see if she comes," Jimin explained the plan Yoongi had discussed in the car. Even though they accepted Hoseok's apology and wanted to stay with the pack, they knew they still needed some time to cool loff from the hurt their packmates had caused, and waiting for you would help, especially if you actually did show up like they hoped.

Jin nodded thoughtfully before meeting Yoongi's eyes. "That's fine. The house is already listed, but you can stay until it sells. And in the meantime I'll do anything I can to win your trust back. I hope you know how sorry I am for how I've made you feel."

Yoongi nodded but said nothing, knowing that trust could only be built with time.

A/n: i am the tiniest bit sorry about mc being basically absent this chapter. But all in good time i swear. 💜

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Taglist is still acting weird. I'm sorry.

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shinestarhwaa · 7 months

Note

16,25,32,69-yunsanhwa please? thxx.!

I got a little too excited with this one HAHA I'm sorry, I hope you enjoy it cuz I rly did xo

WHAT HAPPENS IN LONDON || YUNSANHWA

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Ateez!Yunho/San/Seonghwa x manager!reader

Word Count: 3k

Tags/warnings: Idol!AU, Dom!Yunho, Dom!San, Sub!Seonghwa, Sub!reader, Foursome, Dirty Talk, M x M (only SanHwa), bottom!Seonghwa, top!San, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (m receiving), lots of orgasms, handjob, Seonghwa is a wee bit pervy, voyeurism

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @1-800-shedevil @glintneon123 @mjyungi

ENJOY!

It had been a fun evening so far, walking around the city with the three boys. They treated you on a meal and you showed them various locations and even took videos of their silly Tiktok ideas.

They were lovely really, very different from the artists you had worked with before. You've had two managing jobs before but they didn't last long because of various reasons, but you got hired by KQ for Ateez and you couldn't be happier.

It paid well and they treated you nicely. They always made you laugh and made sure you were comfortable while you're the one who should take care of them instead. Somewhere in your heart you felt like they truly cared for you and you really felt like you didn't deserve them.

After safely getting them back to their hotel, San invited you and the other two boys into his room for a nightcap. After some begging and pleading you finally agreed and entered his room.

As Seonghwa and Yunho had already sat down on the chairs you stood a little awkwardly beside San's bed, drink in your hand. "Just sit, manager-nim," San pouted, pulling your sweater. You couldn't help but smile at the boy and you nodded, sitting down next to him.

The conversation carried on normally until Yunho decided to ask you more personal questions. "So, you're not involved with anyone, manager-nim?" He asked. You shook your head and laughed a bit sheepish. "No, it has been a while, I'm too busy with you idiots," you answered with a grin.

"Oh, really? Well then I'm sorry," Yunho apologized, "we should make up for that in some way right?"

You locked eyes with Yunho as your mouth went dry. What did he mean by that? "I mean, it is only fair," he carried on, "you're taking good care of us as our manager, Y/N, but who's gonna take care of you?"

The way his name fell off your lips made you feel all tingly, a feeling you tried to ignore and block out, but it was impossible because his deep voice send shivers and all kinds of signals directly down to your core.

"I-I...," you stammered, "I can take perfectly good care of myself, I have my own apartment and I don't have debts-." "I believe that isn't what Yunho meant," Seonghwa chimed in. His stare was a little more intense than you were used to from him, his soft and shiny boba eyes gone.

"You know what we mean," San suddenly hushed by your ear, "who's there to please you? I bet we can do it better than you and your little toys could." "T-toys?" You gasped. "We know what's in that red bag of yours, remember the day you slept in our hotelroom last month?" San asked, reminiscing the night where you lost your keys so you crashed on their couch.

"You looked in my bag?" You asked, nervously. "Well, it was open for everyone to see so, yes, I saw what was in there," San confessed. "But believe me, my cock is bigger than that, I could please you so much better than that thing... I bet all three of us could."

You swallowed thickly and crossed your legs. "I-I don't know San, this all seems quite unprofessional," you muttered. "It's just one night, Y/N, and besides that, no one has to know about it," Yunho said. You hesitated, looking at the gorgeous men in front of you.

It was too good to be true right? Three hot and famous men wanting to have sex with you in a beautiful hotelroom on the other side of the world? But how could you say no if they looked at you like this?

"How... would that work?" You asked carefully, earning a few glances and smirks from the boys. "Well you know how sex works right? You can't be a virgin," San grinned. "No, no I know... I'm not a virgin," you said, blushing, "it's just... how would it work with the four of us...? You'd all be naked in front of each other, is that not a problem for you?"

San smirked and let his hand glide over your thigh. "I'm kinda excited about it, actually," he confessed. "Always have been curious about seeing their cocks hard and leaking...," he went on, "and Seonghwa hyungies hole."

Seonghwa blushed and his eyes went wide as he tried to hide his growing boner with his sweater. "Wh-whatt?" He giggled as he looked away, unable to face him. "You heard me." What did he say?

"I don't care what you guys want, all I know is that right know I'm gonna rip off those stupid tight clothes and I'm gonna ravish your naked body," Yunho grunted. "Hm, we'll share," San said.

San kissed your lips and you immediately melted in his embrace. You had always wondered what his arms felt like, his big strong arms that drove every woman on the planet absolutely insane and they felt great.

San kept kissing you as Yunho got on his knees in front of you, pulling down your skirt and spreading your legs a little, seeing the wet patch on your underwear. "Ooh, did we get you wet, Y/N?" Yunho smirked. You broke off the kiss with San, already missing his soft lips as you nodded and slipped your panties off. Yunho nearly growled at the sight of your bare pussy in front of him, running his hands over your soft thighs.

San undid your blouse and bra in a few simple motions, leaving you completely naked. You felt so exposed, looking at the three completely clothed boys and they caught up on it quickly. One by one they started to undress, leaving just their underwear on.

Yunho got between your legs again and licked a stripe up from the bottom of your cunt all the way to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. "O-Oh, Yunie," you panted out, making Yunho grin as he heard the nickname you always gave him roll from your tongue in the form of a moan.

"Yunie, Yunie, Yunie!" You moaned as he fucked you with his tongue and occasionally sucked on your clit. "Stay quiet dear, they'll be able to hear us," San smirked as he kissed your neck and fondled your breasts. You saw Seonghwa in the corner of the room, clearly nervous but palming his crotch as he watched Yunho eat your pussy.

"A-Are you not joining in, Seonghwa?" You asked him, as you were kind of hoping he would come closer and pleasure you. He was a little shy, but he nodded and came closer, sitting on your left side. "If we're gonna do this I want all three of you," you said in a husky tone as you kissed his neck and latched your tongue on his sensitive skin.

His brows furrowed and he swallowed thickly, clearly getting harder from your actions. Your hand reached Yunho's dark hair and pulled it slightly. He looked up at you from between your legs and moaned against your pussy as he kept eating you out.

"So when did you start thinking about fucking me?" You panted out as you grinded your sex on Yunho's tongue. "Hmm, for months now," he moaned against your cunt. You moaned out his name again, a little louder this time.

"You want them all to hear, don't you? You want everyone to hear how good Yunie's making you feel?" San smirked. You couldn't even form a proper sentence because Yunho was currently bringing you to fucking paradise on that skilled tongue. Your moans grew louder as your orgasm washed over you, body trembling in San's embrace.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Seonghwa breathed out as he watched Yunho ride out your orgasm, licking your pussy clean. "Yeah? You want in too, hyung?" San smirked. Seonghwa bit his lip and nodded. He really seemed to be a bit more submissive towards the other boys, wondering what he would be like to you.

"Kiss first then," San stated, pulling Seonghwa closer by his neck and crashing their lips together. Fuck. You were squished between them as they made out, your pussy clenching around nothing as you got needier and needier.

Suddenly you felt two of San's thick fingers in your cunt, pushing in and out of you, making you moan out. Seonghwa reached for your pussy too, rubbing your clit with his middlefinger as San kept fucking you with his fingers. You cried out and clenched around their fingers, the pleasure being so good. ''O-Oh my fucking God,'' you moaned out as Seonghwa picked up the pace. This way you could never last long.

Before you knew it you came again, arousal seeping out of you and coating San's fingers. The boys pulled their hands away and ended the kiss and San held his fingers in front of Seonghwa's mouth, ordering him to lick them off. Seonghwa sucked San's fingers clean while looking at him so intensely as you pulled San's underwear down.

San's dick was rather girthy and thick and it nearly made you drool. Wow, fuck. You got on your knees in front of him and Seonghwa followed your lead. ''I think our hyung is a little needy for cock, don't you think?'' Yunho grinned as he sat on one of the chairs, stroking his erection through his underwear. ''Are you needy for cock, Seonghwa hyung?'' San asked, raising his right eyebrow.

Seonghwa's cheeks and ears were red, so embarrassed but God, it was so cute. ''Can I?'' Seonghwa asked with a small voice. ''Hm... What about Y/N then?'' San asked. Seonghwa thought for a few seconds until Yunho showed up naked and sat next to San. ''She can suck my cock first.''

You swallowed thickly as you saw his big cock sitting between his legs. ''Wow,'' you breathed out, ''where the fuck do you hide this thing?'' Yunho laughed and leaned back a little. ''If you suck it well enough I'll let you ride it.'' You nodded and quickly got to work.

Yunho's muscles tensed when he felt your hot, wet mouth swallow his cock. Your head bobbed up and down as you used your hands on the part you couldn't fit in your mouth. The idol threw back his head and moaned out as he watched your 'innocent' eyes look up at him.

Suddenly you heard groaning beside you as well, making you let go of Yunho's cock with a pop and watch the two men in awe. Seonghwa was sucking San's dick as if it were the sexiest porno in existance, it looked and sounded so incredibly sinful.

The slurping sounds and the moans Seonghwa let out as he gagged on San's cock made your pussy throb. San was moaning and thrusting his hips upwards, fucking his hyung's throat. You gasped as Yunho grabbed your by your hair and forced you back down on his cock. You moaned and gagged around his member as he made you choke on it, fucking your mouth just the way San was doing to Seonghwa.

Yunho and San gave each other a glance, smirking as they were abusing your throat's for their pleasure. ''Fuck, that's so good, such a good girl,'' Yunho moaned as he felt his release coming closer. ''Are you gonna cum Yunie?'' San smirked. ''Fuck yeah, gonna paint her throat all white, ah!'' he moaned out as he came deep in your throat, forcing you to swallow his seeds. You let go of his cock with a pop and you panted out.

Seonghwa was still working on San's cock, drool all over his chin and down the base of San's shaft. ''I'm gonna cum in your mouth now and you're gonna fucking take my load,'' San grunted, ''you're gonna fucking take it, okay baby?'' Seonghwa moaned around his cock before swallowing the big load that San released with a loud moan. Seonghwa panted heavily when he got off his wet cock, tears in his eyes. ''That's a good boy,'' San said as he caressed Seonghwa's hair.

''Fuck, this is the hottest thing I've ever experienced,'' you breathed out as you got on Yunho's lap, hands over his toned chest. You pushed him down to lay flat on the bed as you mounted his cock, letting it sink all the way in. You let out a long moan as you felt him stretch you out.

''I-I want all of you, please, all of you at once,'' you whimpered as you bounced lightly on Yunho's length. ''Oh? You want all of us at once? What a naughty little girl,'' Yunho smirked, ''well you heard her boys.'' ''Hm, you're one to like having all her holes filled don't ya?'' San smirked. ''You're not fucking my ass San, do you understand? You're not fucking my ass'' you said, rolling your eyes, knowing about his ass-obsession. San laughed and nodded as he got behind you. ''I promise I won't fuck your ass, only Hwa's.''

San slid his rigid cock right next to Yunho's, deep into your pussy. ''Oh-Oh my God!'' You cried out. ''What about me?'' a now naked Seonghwa asked with his boba eyes. God, those eyes. ''Kiss me,'' you whimpered, pulling him close by his hip. Seonghwa got closer and passionately kissed you on the mouth, driving you inside with his soft lips.

Yunho and San slowly started moving inside you, making you moan into Seonghwa's mouth. You took his long cock in your hand, pumping it up and down slowly, trying to match Yunho and San's pace. Seonghwa moaned along with you and bucked his hips up.

''I had no idea Seonghwa hyung was this filthy,'' Yunho smirked as he rolled his hips up into you. San and Yunho were moving faster, fucking you harder and it felt so good that you could barely keep on kissing Seonghwa. You kept moaning and moaning, eventually breaking the kiss and resting your head against his shoulder. You kept pumping his cock rapidly, earning the most beautiful moans from the boy.

''O-Oh my, you're driving me insane,'' he moaned out. ''Hmm... I always knew he was filthy, I still live with him,'' San smirked before continuing, ''He's always fucking touching himself, fucking himself, listening to us when we're jerking off, he's a little pervert,'' San smirked. Seonghwa could only nodd, whine and moan at San's words,

''I-I'm sorry, I don't wanna be a pervert,'' he cried out, ''I-I just couldn't help it!'' ''It's okay babyboy, it's okay,'' San cooed, ''I'm gonna take care of you after this.''

San's hips thrusted quickly into you, his balls softly clashing against your ass. ''Fuck, you are so good for us,'' Yunho moaned. ''Y-Yes, so good for you, so good for you, I'll fucking let you ruin me whenever you guys want I promise y-you can use my pussy,'' you moaned out. ''Oh? You want us to use your pussy as a good little fucktoy when we're on the road? Well I cannot say no to that.''

''Yes, please, please, please!'' You begged them as you kept working your hand on Seonghwa's cock. He bucked his hips up in the air and started fucking your fist, cumming all over it with a loud moan before he could even announce it.

''What a filthy boy,'' San said, smirking as he pounded into you, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. You let go of Seonghwa's cock as you felt forward onto Yunho's chest, moaning out from the friction you got on your clit. ''Oh look at you, you're close aren't you?'' Yunho said, smirking. ''Y-Yes, Yunie, yes! G-Gonna cum so hard,'' you moaned loudly. San and Yunho thrusted a few more times before they send you over the edge, making you scream out in pleasure.

Only seconds later Yunho came as well, spilling inside you with a loud moan. He pulled out of you and so did San, seeing him watch the three of you by himself. San laid Seonghwa down and smirked at the innocent-looking boy. ''Shall I fill you up now, huh?

''Y-Yes, please, please I've been wanting you for so long,'' he cried out. You and Yunho felt quite fucked out so you laid in his arms as you watched San lube up his dick and slide it into Seonghwa's puckering hole.

''I'm gonna fucking make you scream, hyung,'' he panted out as he let the older one adjust to his size. ''Please, have no mercy on me, I can take it.'' ''I know you can, I've seen that dildo underneath your bed,'' San smirked. Seonghwa's eyes grew wide as San moved inside him, starting off with a rough and fast pace.

He already earned so many sinful, slutty moans from him, making you think that Seonghwa went in the wrong entertainment business cause damn he was sexier and hotter than any pornstar you've ever seen.

''Yeah, you like that baby?'' he smirked as he plunged deeper inside him. San grabbed Seonghwa's cock and jerked it off as he kept fucking him, turning him into a moaning mess. ''I-I'm not gonna last long like this!'' Seonghwa moaned out, ''Your cock is too good, too fucking good!''

San smirked and absolutely went nuts inside him, ramming his cock deep inside him and letting out the most animalistic groans. ''Fuck me, fuck me hard, give me your cum, please!'' Seonghwa begged. With a few more jerks of his hips San released inside Seonghwa, moaning out his name.

Seonghwa moaned louder as he felt his orgasm approach, clenching down on San's cock, milking him dry. San's dom facade slowly broke down as his pleasure took over and watched Seonghwa unravel beneath him, spilling all over his hand and abs.

After getting cleaned up you wished the boys good night before getting back to your own hotelroom, rethinking the shenanigans of earlier and you couldn't help but smile. This was definitely not gonna be the last time this was happening.

What happens in London, doesn't stay back in London. It's comin' back home, you thought.

#kpop #ateez #smut #seonghwa #san #yunho #shinestarhwaa's promptlist❤️#shinestarhwaa

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respectthepetty · 2 months

Note

Rose's Day of Asks

Top 5 "it's cannon to me" couples.

Have a great Day💜

No. NO! NOOOOOO!!!!!! I will not pick between my beloveds! No. I can't! I won't! I shan't! No! I have too many and all of them are special to me. NO! But I will give you something because this is a good ask!

Top 5 "It's Canon to Me" Couples of 2023

and as usual, I will finesse my way into more!

Let me begin with the couples who cannot be considered for various reasons:

ToddBlack - Not Me

The reason they are being excluded isn't because they weren't in 2023. No! The reason they cannot be included is because THEY ARE CANON! Not just to me, but in the show. They. Are. Canon. They love each other in their warped way. They have fucked and will continue to fuck. And even on this day of marriage equality in Thailand, they still wouldn't get married because Black doesn't believe in the institution of marriage since the government is too involved in it and it's a capitalist tool used to push a heteronormative agenda, and Todd has a team of lawyers there to make sure Black gets everything he wants from Todd including the right to pull the plug on him, which he won't do BECAUSE THEY CAN'T KILL THE OTHER!

Guang Yan x Yi Yong - Oh No! Here Comes Trouble!

It's canon. Once again, it's not just canon to me. It's canon in the show and if people don't want to believe it, they can argue with the ghosts, but the ghosts also know it's canon because they witnessed these two fall in love with each other, so those negative people will still lose! When Yi Yong fell, Guang Yan ran to Yi Yong like his entire world was being destroyed right in front of him, and as a future doctor, he was losing his shit trying to keep Yi Yong alive. Then he stood in front of Yi Yong's mom, god, and ghost grandpa and stated directly into the microphone without any hesitation that Yi Yong was his heart and he needed him to come back to him. And if I ever get a second season, I know they'll still be sleeping in that bed, together. They. Are. Canon.

Peach x Home - Peaceful Property

This show hasn't been released yet, and the word on the streets is that it won't be a BL, but . . . it's canon to me. It's Tay and New. They are always down to kiss a homie. The pilot trailer was color coded, and although color coded boys don't have to be in love, they ARE in love. Therefore, they are canon. I don't make the rules.

Now for the actual list:

#5 - Saifah x Name - Dangerous Romance

They knew each other in high school, and when they met again as adults, there was chemistry. Name should've shot Saifah. Name should've been harsher to Saifah, yet he was granting leniency to Saifah. Then Saifah wanted Name out of the business. He wanted him to be safer and happier. Even though that didn't happen, Saifah still showed up in that jail to let Name know he would be waiting for him, no matter how long it took.

They are canon.

#4 - Oab x Guy - Bake Me Please

They were best friends. They started a business together with their other (bitchass) friend who Oab was in love with. They hired another baker to help their (bitchass) friend and Guy developed feelings for him. But . . . they actually loved each other! This isn't me being delusional either! When the dust settled, Guy and Oab sat down at a bar in the final episode, and Guy made it clear that not only was he far removed from his previous crush on someone else, but that he was there for Oab to help him get over his broken heart, in any way Oab needed him *wink*

They are canon.

#3 - Hyun Jae x Simeon - Jun & Jun

Simeon is an experienced idol. Hyun Jae was his manager, but Hyun Jae quit with no notice to go take care of the main character. The conversation when Simeon confronted Hyun Jae after he found out was thick with tension, and I do mean the physical kind. Simeon schemed his way into seeing the main character years later, but I truly believe it was a guise so he could see Hyun Jae because everything he did was to draw more attention from Hyun Jae. After that first encounter, they argued in cars, on rooftops, in dressing rooms, and standing on city streets, and I fully believed they fucked in all those places too!

They are canon.

#2 - Dome and Khatha - Midnight Museum

Dome is a god. Khatha is immortal. And they traveled through time and space to be together. The show labeled them as "brothers" but I don't know if it's because Gun and Tor could have chemistry with a broomstick, but THEY WERE IN LOVE! What convinces me even more is that Dome wasn't actually Khatha's "brother" Chan but looked like him. Khatha even confronted Chan AND KILLED HIM so he could be with Dome. Khatha made a decision to kill what we had been told was the most important part of him just so Dome could be safe. Then he ran through time to find Dome in the middle of a war with bullets flying and bombs dropping all so he could save him again just like he had the first time they met, and if I ever get that second season (MIDNIGHT MUSEUM 2 WHEN?!), GMMTV better let Gun kiss another man who isn't Off.

They are canon.

#1 - Yui x Soichiro - I Cannot Reach You

These two were just chilling in the background of every scene. TOGETHER! On a school trip? Together. At a festival? Together. Looking at books in the library? TOGETHER! Even though we never saw them kiss, their taiyaki kissed, so that's good enough for me! They were color coded (pink x green), which I think is one of the best color-coded pairs to ever exist, and Yui was giving advice to the main couple to get their shit together, probably because he was already in a loving and long-term relationship with his boyfriend!

They. Are. Canon.

#it's canon to me #but then again‚ it's canon in the show too #if you don't agree‚ ya lyin'#toddblack supremacy!#oh no! here comes trouble knows what it was doing #peaceful property #dangerous romance #jun and jun #bake me please #midnight museum #I cannot reach you #let Gun kiss other men!#GMMTV why couldn't he kiss Sing or Tor?!#SPEAK INTO THE MIC!#Inquiring minds would like to know

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yuniv-bluetea · 8 months

Text

SVT!Dad HCS

->first time meeting the boyfriend of their teenage daughter (Part 1)

-> d/b/n visits them at home to eat dinner together

Seungcheol

"... took him long enough"

he was well aware of this boy who dated his daughter for several weeks now

but having literally no information about d/b/n nearly killed him

if it wasn't for his s/o Seungcheol would have already hired an private investigator

he's very protective over his daughter

one wrong move and the boy can say his prayers

wouldn't be easy to impress either

wears a poker face throughout the whole dinner

will observe d/b/n closely

to his daughter's despair Seungcheol would interrogate the boy without mercy

making very clear whose daughter he is dating

and that breaking her heart was no option if he treasures his life

would give his daughter his honest first impression of d/b/n after he leaves

Seungcheol would try to say good things about d/b/n -if there was anything that he saw as a positive character trait-, but would not hesitate to tell his daughter about the things he views as problematic about d/b/n

"And it's not only me who thinks that way... Kkuma could also sense d/b/n bad vibes!"

wants no "gangster boyfriend" to break his precious daughter's heart

Jeonghan

"So she's that age now...huh"

having a younger sister he should have seen such a situation coming

but why so soon??

knowing how significant the first relationship can be for a teenager, he tries to not scare the boy away

would offer d/b/n a weak smile and introduce himself

his s/o would be the one to ask d/b/n some questions and start a conversation now and then

while Jeonghan would observe the boy infront of him quietly

how is d/b/n treating my daughter?

is he politely to s/o?

what does these answers tell me about him?

how is his body language?

"You like Monsta X?"

it was the first time Jeonghan spoke in a while this evening

"Uhm.. Who?"

"You don't know this K-Pop Group?..... I see, so you´re that kind of guy....Interesting"

he then would continue eating

knowing very well that d/b/n would be so confused now

nobody said anything about not messing with the boy a bit

would ask his daughter later in the evening if she was pleased with how the evening went

their conversation would be filled with honesty

Jeonghan would carefully listen to his daughter´s impression of the evening

"So... do you like him?"

" He seems... decent"

"Dad!? Do you just dislike him because he doesn't know the K-Pop Group Monsta X ?"

"Nooo! ...It´s more because I'm not sure if I will ever think that someone is good enough for you"

his daughter rolls her eyes while smiling

"But now that I'm thinking about it... Not knowing Monsta X... How did you manage to find such a person?"

"........I was honestly shocked too Dad !"

Which member(s) should I do next? Thank you for reading it <3

#seventeen #svt #svt headcanons #svt hcs #svt imagines #svt reactions #jeonghan #choi seungcheol #s.coups #svt dad #svt as dads #svt daughter #seungcheol!dad #jeonghan!dad #hip hop unit #vocal unit #kpop

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eggtartz · 1 year

Note

Hi, can I request Mikey, Draken, Kawata brothers, Hakkai and Kazutora with a s/o that's direct and sweet? Just looking randomly to the boys and saying something like "Are you more handsome today?" smiling and running a hand over the boys' cheeks/hair/lips? How shy would they be? Ty

a/n : thankyou for requesting this and enjoy anon 🫶🏻

masterlist

souya kawata

you two were situated at the table where souya was cooking ramen for the two of you. you were staring at his back, him swiftly moving around to chop the ingredients here and there. "are you sure you don't want me to help souya kun?" he looked at you and smiled so sweetly. "it's okay y/n" he placed the ramen in two separate bowls and served in infront of you. "wow! thankyou souya kun it smells so good!" "no worries y/n go on eat it" you took the chopsticks and slurped the noodles, moaning at the salty taste. "ugh souya kun your cooking never disappoints, chefs should hire you at this point!" souya became so shy he wanted to drown himself in the ramen broth "w-well thankyou uh y/n" he had to excuse himself for blushing too much and his cheeks were hot.

hakkai shiba

he was dusting away his suit in front of the mirror to attend mitsuya's fashion show, you were gazing at the man who had a ponytail. his suit was emerald coloured, matching with his sister's. "hm do i always mentioned that you look so handsome hakkai?" you blurted out. hakkai stiffened and looked at you through the mirror, his cheeks started to get pink. "oh um, i do think you always mention that?" "hm then i'll say it more often then" it's the way you say it so honestly and without hesitant that made his knees buckled.

nahoya kawata

he was just done beating up unwanted intruders at the area, you being surrounded by his members until he's done. he approached you and smiled but a different one, like a genuine one. "hm although you look so attractive like this, all bloody and all just go easy okay?" you stroked his cheek that has blood on it, not his blood for sure. "okay then wait here i'll beat up more people so i can be more attractive for you" "nahoya kun.." he has no problems at accepting your honest compliments, he does gets blushes over them he just doesn't admit that.

ken ryuguji

draken had just woke up and took a shower. he sat on the floor while you were drying his hair, not trusting him to do so when he's still sleepy and everything. draken had his hair routine done by you for a while now, as he had to wake up early and you were a morning person you saw no harm in doing your boyfriend's hair. after drying his hair, you combed the hair with your fingers humming at the softness "your hair is so soft ken.." the statement made draken's eyes widened as your voice was enticing and the fact that he couldn't see your face made it more nerve-wracking. "well, you take care of them everyday, they're soft because of you" you kissed the top of his head braided his hair while draken blushed.

manjiro sano

he was busy stuffing his face with the delicious dorayaki while you stared at him eating so happily. it made you content that he enjoys dessert, it's so obvious at everyone's eyes and it's so adorable. he had dorayaki fillings stained on his lips so you used your point finger to remove the stain away, touching his lower lips. mikey stopped his munching and looked at you. what he also doesn't expect is when you ate the filling that was on his lips, making him look somewhere else to hide his flusters. "do-do you want some dorayaki y/n?" "oh it's okay mikey, you eat them okay?" yeah man just blushed even harder.

kazutora hanemiya

nokazutora is oblivious towards flirting sometimes so he's glad he dated with you who's direct and says things simply like that. so whenever you compliment him, he truly acknowledge that it's the truth you're talking about, not just some random flirts. "y/n did you really mean it when you said you like my long hair?" he hesitantly asked you who was on your laptop. "yes tora, i think the yellow highlights go well with long hair. but i think you look good in any hairstyle" you smiled at him who was lying down on the bed. you didn't noticed how he buried his face in the pillow, tempted to scream at your sweet compliment. "well, i think you look good in every hairstyle too y/n" he made eye contact with you and had to buried his face in the pillow again so you wouldn't see his red cheeks.

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shinskichan · 9 months

Text

synopsis: reader asks their rules about the mentioned words below and sees what his reaction is.

characters: Mikey, Sanzu, Kaku, Koko, Ran, Rindou, Takeomi, and Mochi

notes: fluff, crack,

MIKEY

When it comes to curfew, Mikey doesn't like you to come home later than 11:59 p.m.

If you do, he might be waiting for you patiently, sitting on the couch, and asking you why you are late.

Then, it's up to him to decide whether to punish you or not.

It depends on your reasons; if it was reasonable, he might let it slide, but if not, prepare yourself.

As for the clothes, he lets you wear anything you want that makes you feel confident.

He can shoot anyone who looks at you with lust, so he's fine with anything you wear.

He isn't against sleepovers, as long as it's all girls.

But if there are guys, he would just advise you to stay at home.

He's fine with piercings as long as they're not overdone.

He's also fine with tattoos and thinks that they look hot if you have them.

He's okay with parties as long as he's going with you everywhere.

He's also good with drinking as long as he's by your side, not that he doesn't trust you, but he doesn't trust anyone else beside you.

SANZU

He doesn't give you a curfew, but since he's protective, he hires someone to look out for you since he's a very busy person too.

He only hires someone if he knows that you're coming home late.

He doesn't want to let you know about it because he doesn't want you to worry.

He just wants you to be safe.

He's really protective, so he just lets you wear outfits that aren't too revealing.

He's fine with all girls sleepovers.

He's more than willing to go with you if there are boys.

Piercings, he's okay with it, and he thinks it adds more attractiveness.

The same goes with tattoos, but he doesn't want them to go on appropriate parts.

He would let you party with friends while secretly looking after you from a distance because he's worried.

Same with drinking, he would be looking after you from a distance and would stand up to get you if he knew that you were already drunk.

KAKUCHO

He would ask you first if you were coming home late.

If you said yes, then he'll ask you to text or call him if you're going home so he can pick you up.

He lets you wear anything you want.

But if it's too revealing, he will be standing by your side to ensure you're safe until you both go home.

He lets you have sleepovers.

He would still let you sleepover with guys because he trusts you very much.

You just have to keep him updated about what's going on so he won't overthink things.

He's good with piercings, but he doesn't want them to go in inappropriate places.

"How about tattoos?" you asked while intently looking at him, and he didn't hesitate to answer, "Fine with me, your body your rules."

He would let you go to parties.

It's okay with him if you're going alone, but he prefers it if you invite him to come.

He would also ask you when you were coming back, and if you weren't, he would surely go to the place and pick you up.

KOKO

He doesn't really want to give you a curfew, but he doesn't want you to come home late either.

He would call you from time to time or text you if he was going to pick you up already.

He might be a little possessive, so he won't let you show too much skin.

He's good with sleepovers as long as they're all girls.

If there were boys, he might offer one of his houses and include himself in it so that he doesn't have to worry.

He's okay with piercings, but only for appropriate parts.

He's okay with tattoos either way, as long as they're not overdone.

He's good with you partying.

He will always remind you to keep him in touch.

He would also ask you until when are you going with the party because he will pick you up, no buts.

There's a chance that he might go and follow you because he can't help it.

Drinking is fine as long as you don't go home wasted.

If you go home wasted, he might not let you drink without him again.

RAN

He's not going to give you a curfew as long as you're honest with him about where you are at the moment and when you're coming back.

But if he found out that you're lying even once, he might decide on giving you a curfew until 11 p.m.

Later than that, he might close the doors because he doesn't like waking up in the middle of his slumber, and he doesn't like to let the doors open if he's asleep.

So make sure you always carry a spare key.

He's overprotective, so he won't let you wear anything revealing.

He would agree with all girls sleepovers.

"How about if there were boys?" you asked, squinting your eyes. "It's fine with me," he said, which surprised you. "Really?" you asked in shock, and he nodded. "Yes, but you'll be sleeping outside after."

Piercings is fine with him.

And so are the tattoos, he would even want to get a couple tattoos.

He would allow you to party and drink with your friends, but you should go home before 11 p.m.

He would ask you if he should pick you up.

You can call him to pick him up, but if you want to go home by yourself, let him know you're on the way home.

RINDOU

He really overthinks a lot, but he doesn't want you to have curfews.

If you're going somewhere and he knows that you'll come home late,

He would be your personal driver, taking you to your destination and picking you up after.

Just give him a text or call, and he'll be there, no matter what the calamity is.

He's really overprotective, but he doesn't want your confidence to drop, so he lets you wear not-too-revealing clothes.

He would let you show skin at some parts and is ready to throw punches at every guy who will look at you with malice.

He's good with sleepovers.

If there were guys, then he might invite them over to his house and just do the whole sleepover at his place.

He doesn't like you to go alone with boys, and he doesn't want you to be sad, so he just settled with that.

Piercings are fine with him, but not overdone.

He's fine with tattoos as long as they're not too big, and he likes or prefers cool and minimalist tattoos for you.

Parties is okay with him.

It's okay if he's not with you at that moment, but he will make sure to always ask you how you're doing.

Drinking is fine with him, but you have to tell him so he can pick you up when you're drunk.

TAKEOMI

He doesn't want you to have a curfew, so he lets you be.

He's kind of protective, so he wouldn't let you show too much skin, especially the bottom part.

He's okay with sleepovers and would always remind you to take care of yourself.

Piercings is fine with him as well; he might be going with you to check it out.

Tattoos are fine with him as well.

"I wanted to get some tattoos, are you fine with it?" you asked as you asked his permission, and he nodded. "You know what's right and what's wrong," he said, and you nodded.

Parties are good with him; he would let you enjoy your time with yourself from time to time.

But if it's too much, he might tell you that you're not going anywhere.

Drinking is okay with him, but he prefers that you drink with him instead as you talk about your lives and future plans.

MOCHI

It depends on your situation. He would ask you if it was going to make you come home late.

If it's not late, then he'll let you.

If it's late, he will pick you up.

He's good with any clothes you wear.

He's also good with sleepovers.

But if there are guys, never mind, you're staying.

Piercings are okay, but not too much.

Tattoos are fine with him too.

He also okay with you going out to party, but you should be responsible.

He will let you borrow his car so that you won't have any excuse for not coming home and won't come home drunk.

When it comes to drinking, he would say, "Drink responsibly."

214 notes · View notes

marisferasiop · 1 year

Text

FUSE

Ao3 link

PART 2

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Plot with Smut

Categories: F/M, M/M, Poly

Fandoms: The Mandalorian (TV), Prospect (2018)

Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader; Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader; Din Djarin/Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader

Characters: Din Djarin, Reader, Ezra (Prospect 2018), Grogu | Baby Yoda, Cee (Prospect 2018)

Additional Tags: Sex Pollen, Marathon Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, but only in the dark, Force-Sensitive Reader, Ezra loses the arm, no y/n, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, oh no we got feelings in our sex pollen smut, Everyone in star wars is bi til it's proven otherwise, Ezra is definitely a mouthy bottom, Switch Din Djarin

Summary:

Din and reader are working as a Guild crew living on the Crest (and quietly pining for one another). Din picks up a bounty on a harvester dodging creditors who had fronted funds for prospecting work and finds a surprise: someone who looks exactly like him. While on the way to drop him to the client, the three of you are accidentally dosed with a pollinating spice strain meant for cold blooded biologies! Now you three have to ah- "get it out of your systems" somehow!

"Take the bunk, iisa. I’ll kip here,” he says, dragging Grogu off the panel and into his lap.

“Alright,” you say, not surprised, and head down the ladder. Mando’s bunk is narrow and not particularly comfy, but it sure beats the durasteel floor or being upright in the cockpit. He makes sure you have a stark two-thirds split of the usage of it, only using the other third because you prod him when he gets sore shoulders or a crick in his neck when he doesn't. You curl up on your side on the thin bedroll and next thing you know, the Crest is juddering to a stop outside of the hyperlane over a small, verdant green moon.

“I shouldn’t be gone more than a day. The mark is purported to be a charlatan, but not much of a slippery catch, despite the long chase. He doesn't even have a ship,” Mando says, a while later, hesitating on the ramp. "Just keeps managing to sweet talk his way into rides, but sounds like he got stuck here." He checks that the fob is still beeping and tucks it into his belt.

“Ah, a chatty one. A favorite trait of yours; I am familiar.”

Mando snorts and passes Grogu to you. “More encouragement to drag him back and slab him so we don't have to listen,” he says. The kid sends you a flare of annoyance and squirms to get down, so you kneel and set him down, and he immediately goes back to Mando’s shins, bashing them with his little claws.

"I can't take you, kid. The air is toxic."

But Grogu simply leapt into his pram and popped the bubble shield you had engineered, staring up at his buir in defiance. You stifle a laugh and Mando sighs, resigned and continues to equip his standard weapons.

“I’ll check the ship and do maintenance as needed. Comm me if you need backup,” you say needlessly. He’s never needed your field skills yet, but that’s because he usually takes the kid. You're glad when he takes the kid. Knowing he has some kind of backup is a relief with how often Mando manages to get his ass kicked. And Grogu hates being left behind, typically showing such feelings like now.

The reputation you’d racked up on Nevarro as a force-sensitive, retired, Rebel Alliance sharpshooter- cum- mechanic had done little for you in the way of an easy life, but when you’d fixed Mando’s junker of a gunship after a nasty crash, and talked to his kid like some Ahsoka lady they'd met, he’d hired you on his crew and you’d had an enjoyable time since (even if you wished the idiot would notice how hard you have been holdinf a torch for him for cycles).

But it did no good to pine after a Mandalorian, you knew. Especially one as adhered to the Old Ways as Mando appeared to be. You’d met others in your time, as a child when they weren’t so secretive, and later, in the galactic war. And later still, when there was a covert beneath the city everyone pretended to ignore, and their beroya was out working, another would surface now and again to find work or socialize. Sometimes you’d hire them on for a day to move product, or assit with a fix, or break old machines down for parts.

You’d taken two different ones to bed, even, on various holdovers. They never removed their helmets, but you’d enjoyed the ah- rides, nonetheless.

Not this one, though. He had to be either the most dense (or simply the least interested) Mandalorian in the galaxy. Which really did so much for your self-esteem.

So after Mando departs with the kid in his pram floating along, his amban glinting across his back, you turn off the ship's air scrubber and seal your helmet and head outside to check the landing gear. The Crest was balanced on a patch of thick moss, its feet embedded in the soil below. You tutted at the soft surface and carried on inspecting for damage.

That evening, you rehydrate a sachet of soup, attach it to your suit's feed hose, and sit on a fallen log a few meters from the ship, grateful for the susurrus of nature. The forest moon is rich with fauna and life, desite the dust in the air that makes it unbreathable for humans. You wonder for the thousandth time how Mando is doing on his hunt, and decide to go back inside for a brief nap, keeping your comm unit close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din is– surprised. Bounties don't often actually surprise him, but finding his quarry to be a lame-armed and barely- breathing man who looks and sounds uncannily like Din himself, hitched to a young woman by a length of tie-down belting strung between their suit loops in the middle of a dense forest has to land somewhere on his chart of weirdest discoveries. The fact that the young girl is aiming a strange blaster at Din and standing half-over the collapsed bounty is another tally on the list.

“Ezra May?” Din asks, leveling his amban rifle at the girl, seeing as she's the one with the weapon. The man sags against a tree and struggles to catch his breath in lieu of answering. He raises his his left hand and lists to the side a bit, which pulls on the girl and nearly knocks her down.

“I am indeed, my… shiny friend. I suspect that makes you a bounty hunter?”

Din faces the red- flashing fob at him and pockets it again. The man glances downward and cocks his head, looking curiously at the floating pram and little green kid in it. “Curious.” The heaviness of his labored breathing fogs the glass dome of his helmet.

“I am only here for you. The mark said nothing about another. Who is this?” Din waves the pronged end of his rifle at the girl, who eyes him with a feral glint. He keeps the rifle trained on her after a second thought spared for her shaking hands, but he straightens his finger off the trigger. He can shock her if need be.

“That is Cee. I stumbled upon her and her father's campsite and somewhat contributed to the death of the man after a bit of-- misunderstanding. I have found myself indebted to her, as she has attempted to save my life,” he shrugs his right arm with some pained effort and gasps to regain his breath, having been winded by simply shifting the injured limb. “But I am dwindling fast. My wound- it festers. The dust has gotten in the suit from the second injury," he waves to his chest with his left hand. "I suggest, Mandalorian, if you want that full bounty you’ve undoubtedly worked so hard for- you’ll help.”

Din watches the man’s chest hitch again and thick blood drools from the wound in his breastbone, causing the labored breathing. He motions for the girl to drop the strange blaster and she does, begrudgingly, after May murmurs to her that the Mandalorian has disintegration rounds in his bandolier and likely also loaded in that rifle.

He's not wrong.

“Can you walk?”

“I can, boss. But it’s slow going. My lungs are blocking up with infection from the wounds I have sustained. It is worse now with the new injury from our most recent aggressors,” he gestures at his chest again and wheezes a weak cough.

“Untie yourself,” Din motions to Cee, who glances at May and does so with a huff. “Go to that tree and sit.” He cuffs her behind her back to the tree, sitting propped against it, and goes back for the bounty. The man is in a badly damaged flight suit riddled with taped-over blaster holes and a vibroblade stab to his chest, from which the blood is leaking. His right arm hangs completely limp and the sleeve around it is soaked dark with blood, tied round with a tight makeshift tourniquet just under the shoulder.

Din slaps a tracking cuff on May’s ankle and sets about investigating the wounds since the suit is punctured anyway. He has a deep gash circling his whole bicep, nearly down to the bone the whole way 'round, that is blackened at the edges and still sluggishly bleeding, but has obviously cost him a lot of blood, and has indeed started to turn gangrenous with rot. “What happened?”

May chuckles and then coughs, his chest stuttering with the effort. “Another bounty hunter caught up to me in The Green, before I ran into Cee. And the fauna here… is far less forgivin’. Even if the aurelac diggin' is well worth its weight in credits. He shot me in the arm and I went down in a gorge of vegetation. Some of the dust, it released– and got in my suit through the hole, and thus into my wound. I tried to scrape out the black rot, but botched the excision. I went chasin’ radio signals looking for aid, and stumbled onto Cee and her father’s campsite, and simply pulled faster than the dearly departed Damon when I requested aid and he suggested at the end of a rail gun that I fuck off-” he chokes off a gasp and clenches his teeth when Mando flushes his chest wound with his flask.

Din works silently, zipping off the ruined suit sleeve at the shoulder joint for better access. He glances back at the pram. Grogu has floated a bit closer and is gurgling curiously. “No,” he says to the little outstretched claw, wagging a yellow-tipped finger at him. “Don’t waste your strength on a bounty. We’ll get paid either way.”

No small part of Din wonders if Grogu is wanting to heal Ezra May because Grogu is the only being in the galaxies who knows what Din looks like, and is staring at a face he most likely recognizes and might even be confused by. Hells, Din is confused by what he's seeing. Is the man related to him, somehow? Either way, Grogu's power shouldn't be used on a quarry of all things.

May frowns and flicks his dark eyes between them, endlessly curious or suspicious, one. His breathing has leveled out, at least.

“It is deeply infected. I’m going to have to amputate your arm if you want to live,” Din sighs, standing and pulling the saber from his belt.

“That…is a bold conclusion,” May huffs indignantly, trying to straighten his lean against the tree. He doesn't quite manage to make it.

“It’s gangrenous and still open. You’ll bleed out or die of the infection before I can get you to a Core planet, or a bacta tank.” He activates the saber and turns to Grogu. “Can you help? Just make sure he doesn't bleed out? No extra healing.” The child nods and turns his luminous eyes back to the man on the ground.

May frowns again. “Is your child a healer?”

“He is none of your concern. Leave this here.” Din lifts the bounty's dead arm, laying it outstretched and utterly limp on a fallen log beside May so he can slice clean downward. “The blade will cauterize. He will make sure you don’t bleed out. I’ll finish cleaning and covering the stump when we're back to my ship. You will behave, or I'll let you bleed out and take the lesser bounty, and leave her tied to that tree.” Din points at the girl and waits until May nods.

“I will do my level best to acquiesce.”

“Good,” Din grunts, and brings the blade down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dank farrik,” you curse, the top half of you in an exposed panel that is sending sparks out as you weld a loose wire clip back into place.

“Problem, iisa?” Says a familiar vocoder, and you smack your helmet on the panel frame trying to straighten back out of the hull. You snort at the timing of the nickname, if nothing else, rubbing the back of your head. Fuse- you grip the soldering tool more firmly in your hand and pull fully out of the hull.

“Mando! Glad you’re back. No, just cleaning up my emergency job from last time. Find your– oh,” you say, pausing when you see the body on a travois dragging behind the pram. There's a girl tied by the binders to Din’s belt as well. He has an extra (oddly shaped) blaster tucked in his belt and the kid seems a bit groggy but is happy to see you.

“That him? And a stowaway?”

“The girl is with him, he asked me not to leave her here. Promised good behavior for it, before he passed out.” You can read from the tip of his head and his body language that he's saying see what a nice guy I am? It makes you huff a laugh.

“How’s your field medic training?”

“I was on Hoth, nerfherder. You know it’s fine. I’ve patched your clumsy ass up more than once. What happened? You shoot him?”

“Found him like this,” Din waves at the travois and unlatches it from the pram, letting Grogu float inside. The girl scoffs at him and kneels by the unconscious man. “Well. Mostly.”

“He’s missing an arm and burning up!” you say, prodding the man's body and feeling. You check his pulse where the gasket of his suit meets glove; he’s alive, at least.

“His wound was septic. We’re days from a Core planet. I had to remove it.”

“You used the saber?!”

Mando shrugs. “It cauterized it.”

“Maker, the brashness of men will kill us all,” you grouse under your breath, and stalk into the ship to make a pallet on the floor. “Drag him in!”

Din does, sitting the girl near the ladder with her wrist cuffed to a rung. “Don’t imagine he’s going far, but leave that tracker on in case. If he loses the leg trying to get rid of it, he really won’t get far.”

You snort a laugh, used to Mando’s dry (and vaguely morbid) sense of humor, and get to work. The wound is large but indeed thoroughly cauterized. You clean and coat it in bacta gel and wrap it firmly, setting a hardening casting wrap over it for good measure and binding it to his ribs over the dressings on his chest wound. Finally, you set up a hemopak and dig out a bag of IV fluids and hang them off a racking hook in the hull. By the time you're piercing his vein in his remaining elbow, the man is stirring with a reedy groan and squirming away from your touch.

“Easy, mate,” you say quietly. He blinks awake and focuses on you after a moment. “Stay down or you’ll earn a better scar than this. Assuming you live to scar over,” you bite the end of the med tape in your teeth and tear it, smoothing the end down.

“My word, I was not aware I'd have such… stunning company on my final journey to certain death,” the bounty says, still surely delirious. You hear the leather of Mando’s glove creak as his hand tightens over the hilt of his blaster, and snort at Din more than the comment. The man’s impossibly deep eyes soften at your smile, flicking all over your face and hands as you work on his wounds.

“Easy, pretty boy, you silver-tongued devil,” you lean in and stage whisper. “You gotta wait til the big guy goes upstairs for that kinda chat.” You give him a ribald wink and pull away at the man’s baffled smile, organizing the medkit before looking up at Mando. “You gonna freeze ‘im?”

“I probably should. Him passing out after I cut the arm off was the only silence I think I've had in the last two days.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You’ve been gone less than one day!”

Mando tips his helmet at you as if to say: point.

You roll your eyes and huff. “Dick. If you do, his arm won’t heal right. Assuming he stays alive after the client gets him and it gets a chance to heal.”

“Assuming.”

“Any idea what they have planned?” you ask as you stow the medkit away and start digging out dinner. You can feel May’s dark eyes following you closely, watching your interactions. You're pretty sure he’s delirious from blood loss and pain, but you can't deny he’s a stunning specimen of a man to look at, even half dead and coated in sweat and muck.

“No, no questions asked. He is wanted for slipping on investment debts for prospecting though, so maybe they’ll put him to work til he drops. Although now I can’t imagine he’ll earn much, one handed with a rotten chest. You’ll mind him, then, iisa?”

You sigh the sigh of the deeply put-upon and nod, passing out food around the hold. “Here kid. Eat up.” You hand the girl a ration bar and flask of water, which she tears into greedily, before seeing to Grogu with a cup of rehydrated bone broth. Mando watches you for a moment before retreating up to the cockpit with his own ration bar. You leave him to it so he can take off his helmet.

“Can you sit up?” You kneel and ask the bounty, and he manages to get up to his remaining elbow and lean heavily on the hull while you rehydrate and heat another soup sachet. While it heats, you knock back your own cup and work on padding out his pallet on the floor.

Grogu stands next to the man’s boot and coos curiously at him, pushing you some errant thoughts and feelings. One makes you pause as he focuses on the bounty’s face and weighs it heavily against something guarded from you, limned in shadow even in his mind. You back away from the thread of thoughts, half sure it’s Din’s face for some reason, and go back to the task at hand.

“Here’s this,” you make sure Ezra is propped to a proper sit, back against the wall, before you pass down two painkillers and, once he’s tossed them in his mouth, a flask of water to wash them down.

“Dinnertime.”

The man allows you to tip the metal cup to his mouth and he swallows down the soup, humming at the spreading warmth. “Thank you, gem.”

You huff a laugh at the nickname and instead of retorting to what is surely a slip of the tongue in the man’s inebriated state, you provide your name. You watch his eyes soften as he accepts the gift for what it is.

“Ah. The sun shines on a dead man. My name… is Ezra, and that little bird that got lashed to my sinkin’ ship is called Cee,” he sighs, sipping more of the soup as you tip it into him. He brings his left hand up, curling his fingers very lightly around your wrist.

“My dear. I know I don't have a single bargaining chip to use as the gallows loom near. But. If I can beg something of you? Do not drag that poor girl into my mess. Convince your man to leave her on Coruscant. She can go to school, make somethin’ of herself. She doesn't deserve to see what happens next, or live through it. Or die, if they decide to extend to her the same fate. Cee is innocent in this. All she has done is try to help with my injury and tried to escape this damnable moon.”

You glance at the girl and meet her flat, steady gaze for a long moment. Grogu gurgles, and you glance at him, appreciating the sense of truth he pushes at you. You nod after a long moment of silence between you and the Child, tipping the rest of the soup into Ezra’s mouth. “I’ll talk to Mando. lay back down and rest. Those pain tablets should knock you out soon. I’m sure your rugged good looks can only improve with some beauty sleep,” you wink at him, pulling a chuckle from his chest.

”My word, gemstone. You are a wonder.”

You get up and clean and put everything away and scoop the kid up, checking the binder on the girl and putting one on Ezra’s remaining wrist for good measure, keeping them on opposite ends of the hold.

“You decent?” You call up the ladder, smiling at Mando’s snort and crackly yes as he replaces the helmet. You climb up and set Grogu in his seat, taking the third and meeting the flat expression of the T-visor when Mando turns.

“May begs that we take the girl to Coruscant and leave her at the Academy. He says he stumbled upon her in the Green and killed her father, and took her on as a mutual source for survival before he was injured. Mando.” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees. “If that is true, and the kid says it is- we can’t take her back to Canto Bight. She’ll be traded off as chattel, at best. Kept in a pleasure house more likely. She’s young, hon. We consign a life and get payment, but we save the other? What’s one more stop?”

Mando looks at you for a long moment and glances to the kid, who jabbers at him. “He agrees with me, by the way,” you translate. Mando shakes his head and turns back to the panel, plugging in new coordinates.

“If you want.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drop off is significantly more emotional than you or Mando had anticipated.

You had spent the last few days in hyperspace listening to these two pickups talk and talk and talk, about everything and nothing. And now she was wide- eyed and clinging to Ezra’s lone hand, knowing she’d probably never see or speak to him again. She had explained over the days how no one ever talked to her, or how they always put her thoughts and feelings down, so she had learned to be quiet and how to appear thoughtless, even with her mind whirling. But Ezra had always engaged her verbally and probed her thoughts and gave her equalizing jobs to do and met her expectations with his own, rather than treating her like a starry-eyed mooncalf or a burden.

Ezra, on the other hand, didn't seem to give a shit if he was listened to at all - he just couldn't stand silence. It grated on him; so he filled it. He liked conversation and thrived on engagement from the audience; he could never get enough. He absorbed everything Cee had to say and conversated with her amiably or arguably enough. He talked with you when you were in the hold with them, but to be fair the man would talk to a wall if given the opportunity and enough isolation.

Your untrained Force senses are nowhere near as strong as Grogu’s, and you wonder what he is picking up as the girl rushes across the hold to Ezra the second you take off her binder. Mando stands on the ramp with the Child, waiting while Cee lingers and drags out her goodbyes. You can feel the anxiety and stress on her like deadweight.

“I don't want to leave you with them. We can- we’ll pay him off. You can stay with me. We’ll find a place, find some work–”

“As much as I would love to linger, and live long enough to read all the stunning stories you will assuredly write and put out into the universe, I don't think this Mando is the type to be paid off, Cee. And it would require credits we do not have at our disposal. Now go on, girl.” He nudges her away with his forehead, patting the back of her hand on his chest. “Take my chain code- I won’t be needin’ it. Clear out my accounts ‘fore I'm gone, rent you a little place. Go to school. Be a writer. Do everything we talked about. Go on,” he nudges her again with his knee when she doesn't move, her hand tight on his.

“I want one of your comm codes,” Cee says, standing on the top of the ramp, wiping furiously at her damp face and glaring at you and Mando. “You’ll comm me when you're dropping him to your– to whoever’s paying you to do this.”

You glance at Mando and huff at his approving head tilt, offering one of your various recycled comm links. Grogu babbles from Mando’s elbow at her as she leaves the ship, pushing a sad greyness toward you. “I know sprout. She’ll be okay. She’s tough.”

“That she is,” Ezra sighs from the floor, his head not far from your hip. He blinks up at you with one of the sardonic, sad little smiles you’ve come accustomed to in the last few days. You curl your hand into a loose fist to resist the urge to card your fingers through his hair in a consoling gesture.

“Need any shopping done?” Mando calls from the ramp, and you are quick to hand over your growing mental list of parts, soldering strip, replacements for the medkit, food, and water filters. And your favorite snack, if he has time.

“I’m going to find a travel station and run this guy through a wash cycle, he stinks,” you nudge Ezra’s knee with a boot and he gasps in mock offense, making himself cough for it but still grinning. You roll your eyes and start loading a bag. “Bring him back a change of clothes? He’s like… Exactly your size. Maybe a bit leaner. It’s weird.”

Mando hesitates almost imperceptibly before he nods and trods off with the kid tucked in his elbow and the girl, Cee, trailing after him. He intends to take her to the Academy grounds and then head for one of the many markets in the huge city.

You finish packing your bag and grab your coinpurse, intending to return quickly and grab a nap while the boys are gone. Assuming Ezra doesn't talk your ear off. Maybe you’ll dose him up and knock him out after you wash him down.

“Thank you, gem. I am in your debt. For as much good as that does anyone,” the man says, teetering even with his back against the hull where you left him while you gathered supplies.

“It doesn't do anyone any good, considering you're effectively broke and on the way to forfeit your life over your outstanding debts to the wrong people on a gambling planet,” you deadpan, hooking an arm behind his back and pulling him upright. He hisses when the motion pulls on his wounds in his chest, but the bacta patch prevents it from re-opening. “But at least your girl is safe.”

He hums in reply and nods, as somber as you’ve seen him yet.

“Careful. Swing your legs– there you go.” You get him ready to stand and kneel, putting your shoulder under his remaining arm, and get him up to his knees, then his feet in stages. Lots of pulling and grunting and swearing later, Ezra leans against the hull, panting, his short curls stuck to his head under a fresh sheen of sweat.

“Now I have soap and whatnot in my bag, and a change of clothes. Some of Mando’s old loungewear, which will be too baggy on you, but it’ll cover your bits until he comes back with something. I got mouth cleanser and all… deodorant. Can you wash up one-handed?” you ask as you stuff a clean rag into your pouch and flip it closed.

“To be honest, gem. I have not had the pleasure of a water bath since this injury happened,” he shrugs his stump and coughs lightly, still dislodging the dust from his lungs. “And surely not since your boss cut if off. So I do not know. But I'll make the best effort, naturally.”

“I’ll help. The showers are communal, and I trust enough that you understand how to keep that hand to yourself unless you want another appendage missing. Or to end up in carbonite.”

Ezra’s brow locks down in a scowl and he straightens his shoulders. “Of course. I am not in the habit of abusing my position, or women, gem. Despite what you must presume of a bounty, on principle.”

“Mmmmhm,” you hum noncommittally. “Come on,” you drag his arm over your shoulders again and fix your hand around his ribs, and start walking. The tracker on his ankle beeps low and steady, echoing in time with your wristcomm as you leave the ship. You trudge down the ramp and close it, locking the Crest up, and make your way down to the end of the line of docking bays to the traveler service station.

Thankfully the place is none too busy, being midday. There are a family of bluish Ortolan clumped together in one corner and a few straggler smugglers or merchant longhaul cargo pilots keeping to themselves along the rows of showerheads in the wall. There are thin flimsiplast dividers between the showerheads that come up to about chest-height but the back ends are open to the room. You push Ezra into one and help him strip off the flightsuit and his ratty-thin smalls.

“Kriff this suit stinks,” you scrunch up your face and drop the bundle into a nearby sonic clothing compartment to have the dirt and stench of infection and dried sweat buzzed from it. After a brief hesitation, you stuff your own clothes in as well. "How long were you in the green with your injuries?"

“I wandered for a day with my arm injury before I found Cee and her father. And she and I wandered another four before the other bounty hunter found us. And another full day before Mando found us. I do apologize for the smell, at least. Though I imagine you understand why it's so bad, considering your thorough care of me thus far in our odyssey.” Ezra tips his face up into the cool spray while it warms and sighs in relief, deeply appreciating both the pressure and refreshing cleansing after miring in his own stink for weeks. He watches you soap up a rag and drag it up his arm, scrubbing just enough to tingle and really get the dirt and sweat off.

“I do. Arm up,” you tap his elbow with the soapy rag and wash him down clinically, curling your lathered knuckles into the hair under his left armpit and carefully doing the same to the right, avoiding his arm wound, then spreading soap over his face and neck, curling into his scraggly beard and up behind his ears and then down across his too- lean torso. You hand him the rag to scrub over his own half-hard (and unfortunately impressive, you note) genitals before you instruct him to turn under the spray and do the same treatment down his back and legs.

Ezra talks the entire time, endlessly distracted with whatever tall tale crosses his mind and very pleased to have a listening ear to natter into. Right now he's animatedly detailing a yarn about massacring an infestation of channel rats, of all things. If the incessant chatter helps prevent him from getting any more hard under your hands, you're fine with it, you decide with an amused quirk of lips.

Ezra is certainly attractive as hell, but you're not just going to fuck a bounty in a service shower. Part of you can't ignore the abrupt thought that if he’d come up to you in a cantina, you definitely would have dragged him to an inn or ship as soon as you could. He is stupidly cute, with that charming wide, squinty, toothy smile and big, dark brown eyes and that wild tuft of white hair at his temple. Even the tiny, soft roll of his belly had been a surprising delight to find with how malnourished and lean the rest of him was. You definitely enjoy the tenor of his voice, remarkably similar to Mando’s, but unmodulated and thick as syrup with that twangy accent. You interject with little encouraging noises every now and then, spurring him on, even if you're hardly absorbing his story.

Soon enough you're scrubbing the shampoo bar through his hair, scratching your nails firmly into his scalp to get all the sweat and grime out. He practically dissolves under your hands, humming in deep appreciation until you push him back under the stream to rinse. Finally, you peel back the dressing on his missing arm to carefully wash the huge wound cap to prepare for redressing it.

“Stay there and let the water run on your stump for a few minutes, flush it clean. I'm going over here to wash, and then we’ll head back.” You hand him a capful of mouth cleanser and he knocks it back, gargling thoroughly and spitting.

Ezra watches you slip under the flimsiplast divider and turn your own water on. He leans against the wall under the showerhead and lets it flow down his shoulder and off the end of his stump, stinging only slightly as it washes out the scabbing wound and softens it. He has a single passing thought of making a run for it that dissolves down the grate in the floor as quickly as it had been formed; the debilitating combination of injuries and a rotten chest and you have very nearly declawed him. He thinks loosely about the imposing (but hardly unwelcome) image of the Mandalorian, too; tough and hardened but clearly not cruel; quite reasonable and fair, in fact, if his handling of Ezra’s request for Cee is any indication of his character. He even has a child. Ezra shakes his head to clear his swirling thoughts and watches you, keeping his eyes politely on your face even though he's quite tall enough to see all of you over the divider. Nevermind that you were just in here with him, bare and wet while you washed him over. He couldn't help plumping a bit down below due to proximity and general passive interest, but he steadfastly ignores it.

“Are you and our beskar-clad mutual ah- entangled?” He asks, genuinely curious.

You snort and scrub the rag over your body. “I’m not exactly sure Mando is interested in anyone like that. I suspect he had a questionable fling right before he met me in Mos Eisley, some half-feral desert Marshal in the Dune Sea, but I think it left him a little broken-hearted. He hasn't ever acted interested. And he’s my boss, maybe that's why, doesn't want to cross that line.” You shrug. “I mostly mind the kid and do maintenance on the ship and lend a second gun on bigger or tough bounties.”

“And he found you as a mechanic?”

“Yeah, I was working a recovery job for his friend, came in with a rickety heap of a M-111 I'd bartered with some Jawas for and he bought like half the parts off it immediately, had me and Peli knock his own Crest back into shape. And then asked me if I was interested in staying on as a crewmate, and I was, mostly to get off Tatooine. I’d actually first seen him on Nevarro when his covert was there, and he was working as a beroya for the Guild when Karga was running it. I left Nevarro after Karga started shaping it up and the Core started flavoring it too much. And then he found me on Tatooine; rest is history.”

“Beroya?” Ezra tests the word on his tongue and frowns. It's unfamiliar, and he so loves words.

You huff a laugh. “That’s his people’s word for bounty hunter.”

“Hmm. And the little green fella?”

You huff again, eyebrows dancing. “Long story short: Mando’s a bit of a collector, mate. Lost things, loners, the broken and the damned. He tends to save them, sort of despite himself, and then just keeps going, finding others. Gave me a job when I was considering spacing myself off the next public travel barge.... He saved the kid when the Imps wanted to experiment on him. Saved an old merc from a forced labor camp, saved a former drop trooper from her own hand... He flies in to save the day all the damn time. The list goes on.”

“Imps? You're friendly with these folks?”

“Kriff, no. Not intentionally. Way I understood it, the kid was a bounty. Mando couldn't bring himself kill him, so he turned him over warm for a substantial reward, and the guilt ate at him til he broke back in the compound and took the kid back, killed half of Nevarro on the way back out. Been running ever since.”

Ezra’s mouth turns down as he mulls the news over.

“Anyway. Just mind your manners and you won't end up slabbed.”

“I surely will, gem. Being thawed from that process is hell itself; I am unfortunately acquainted with the burning in one’s sinuses for days after. Nothing tastes right for weeks. I'll keep to myself until we must part ways.”

“Good. He doesn't mess around when me or the kid are involved; I'm sure it’s been impressed upon you by now that you’ll end up worse off than this if you even try,” you nod at his stump and shut your water off, ignoring the bounty’s frown.

Ezra watches your form just a little indulgently as you turn away and dry off, appreciating the glide of fine bones under your smooth skin, the soft curves and more toned muscles. He shuts his own water off and starts drying off, managing a patting motion over most of himself, though reaching his legs is giving him trouble.

You dress quickly and come back under the divider to finish his right side, carefully patting the scabbing end of his stump before stepping away for the single set of loose lounge clothes Mando keeps (even though he has never worn them near you).

“Sit and get your feet in,” you instruct, kneeling and holding each leghole open for him to slip his feet in. Ezra sits on the bench and does so, tipping to his left as he balances his weight with his hand planted on the seat.

“I do miss being– symmetrical,” he hisses, carefully maneuvering his stiff right shoulder as you stretch the neck and armhole of a tee shirt over his head and arms.

Despite yourself, you laugh at his complaint. His dark eyes flick up to you and a small smile ticks up one side of his face. “Alright, let's walk back and let this dry a bit, and I'll redress it once it does. Don’t let it touch anything,” you say, spraying the whole raw end of his stump with bacta and wincing at a sharp mental jab of empathic pain when he screws his face up from the sting.

“If you ah- have any of those tablets you have given me since the first day, gem, that would be… Just creamy,” he stammers through gritted teeth, getting back to his feet. “I believe the wash down was simply sinful, but I must admit my wounds are giving me some real grief for it, now.”

“They’re back on the ship. Let me get our clothes out of the sonic and we can go back. I’ll dose you up and feed you, you can sleep it off.”

Ezra nods and watches with his dark eyes as you empty the sonic clothes compartment into your shoulder bag and return, putting everything you brought to rights and shouldering the bag before holding a hand out to drag him upright.

When you make it back to the ship, it's still empty. Din hasn’t commed, so you assume he’s still out shopping, or trying to leave the loquacious and generally nerdy and strange Cee (who has warmed up just enough to be both demanding and overtly chatty) at the Academy. You stifle a laugh at the image of Din trying to deal with her, certain that Ezra won’t appreciate it while he mourns her loss. Even if he is not her father, they were clearly bonded from trauma and circumstance, if nothing else.

When you're safely inside the ship, you leave Ezra at his pallet on the floor and fetch down the painkillers.

“Damn, I only have one tablet left. Let me comm Mando so he can pick up more at the market.” You hand Ezra the tablet and dart up the ladder to do just that, waiting for an affirmative return before you go back down. You jump down the last few rings to find that Ezra has dry swallowed the tablet and managed to flop mostly into his bedding.

“I do appreciate your care of me, gem. Even if I am not meant to live beyond the next few days, you have given me a decent sendoff.”

You hum and start putting things away. “Canto Bight is always moving, and at the moment it's a long way off, so you can estimate it to be more like, eh… nearly a standard week?” You shed your outer layer and start rehydrating a sachet of bone broth for him, already keen on the way he’s listing from the exercise and mounting pain levels. He’ll fall right to sleep after getting a full, warm belly, you’re sure.

“Gemstone, could you be bothered to hand me the satchel I came on this fine vessel with? If you are out of painkillers, I have something to tie me over until our armored friend returns with a more performative narcotic.”

You frown at him and lift the bag, eyeing his outstretched hand. “What does it look like?”

“Kevva, woman. You just showered with me. I am not interested in harming you in the least, not that I imagine I could in my state. But if you insist, it would be a small, thumb-sized, off-white bottle. White lid.” You find it quickly and shake it, hearing tiny caplets plink against the sides. You don't recognize the swirly script the label is written in.

“What are these?”

“They are painkillers from an old field kit from Cee’s father’s drop ship. They are well past expired, but if it’s all I have, I will manage until our reflective leader returns.”

You roll your eyes and shake out a few pills into your palm, offering them. The dosage had long since worn off the label. Ezra takes them all and chews them up before you can snatch any back. “You better not have just OD’d, asshole,” you grit, handing him the cup of broth.

“I know it’s equivalent to asking a mountain to bow down, but do endeavor to trust me just enough to know I would not end my life before my time is due, gem. I said they are expired, I have only taken extra to ensure some semblance of relief for this incredible ache,” he shifts his stiff right shoulder and his whole face screws up with pain, body rigid with it.

“Let me-” you start, and move behind the pillow behind his head and shoulders. He is unconcerned but watches you with those fathomless dark eyes, curious. You lay your hands on either side of his neck and squeeze.

“If Mando shows up, you’re dealing with the fallout,” you say, massaging rhythmically. Ezra clenches his jaw on a sigh and rounds his shoulders out, seeking more.

“Understood, friend. Oh. I am– endlessly grateful.”

You find a tight whorl of muscle quickly, just under the right shoulderblade near his spine. You set to working your thumb into it, coaxing it back into shape, and eventually it releases, along with the tension you feel in his aura. The pained groan Ezra can't quite stifle is positively sinful, which nearly makes you laugh. He turns his head with a sardonic smile at your stifled snort.

“To be honest, gemstone. That spot has pained me more than the wound itself since I was injured. Your friend spared me much of the site pain when he cauterized the wound with his laser- blade. But that muscle, from carrying myself somewhat tilted, has only gotten worse. I find myself in your debt yet again.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just behave til the next port and we’ll call it even.”

“Now I must riposte, my dear. I have behaved quite admirably in your care, have I not?”

You chuckle, nodding. “You have, though you are also healing and no doubt getting an itching fever from being consigned, injured, to the hold of a ship in space with little leg room and now one less ear to babble incessantly into. I’m asking that you continue to behave, then.”

“Incessantly!”

“Ezra, you know full damn well that you could say half as many words in Basic and get your point across! You like the sound of your own voice!”

“Listen here, little bird, I wouldn't natter on so much if you didn't like how similar I sound to your tin man!” He grins quick when he sees you flush, caught.

“You do sound oddly like him. Not as uh-”

“That is a bedroom voice,” Ezra interrupts, breaking into a grin at your blush. “I thought the same thing when he leveled his rifle at me in the Green. He cannot be doing that on purpose all the time. It has to be the vocoder, something not wired right in his bucket.”

You laugh, which makes Ezra smile again, softer this time. “Have you truly never seen him?” you shake your head and his eyebrows lift. “Not even by accident?”

“He’s very careful. It’s important to him, his beliefs. I don't think he's taken it off without knowing I'm gone or dead asleep since he hired me. Maybe even before, with his kid. But I know the kid has seen him.” You wink, wiggling your eyebrows as if sharing juicy details. Ezra huffs a laugh and lays back in his netting.

“How do you know? Do you speak his language?”

“Grogu has the Force. I am Force sensitive, but untrained. He sends me thoughts and feelings now and again, and I translate, to a degree, for Mando. Though the guy’s getting good at understanding the kid’s coos and gurgles and body language by now; I don't have to do much. I know Mando’s name, because of that, but I believe it was an accident, a passing thought- and Mando has never told me it, so I won’t use it. Or share it!” You hold up a finger to stem off the next question just as the man’s mouth opens. He grins quick again, as if mysteriously proud of you for some reason, and you continue.

“Anyway. Grogu will tap his chin now and then, just under the lip of the helmet, and there is sort of a longing around the gesture, but he gets an image in his head- a memory- but he clears it or drops a wall between us before a face can form. I can only assume it's because of me.”

Ezra bites his lips and is quiet for a long moment. “I was going to ask about your powers,” Ezra defends himself, playing up his sulk, but his eyelids are growing heavy. He yawns hugely and you grin. Got him.

“Not much to tell. I’m like more of a– palpable empath than a Jedi. Go to sleep.” With his grumble of assent, you take his empty soup cup back and rinse it before dropping into the bunk across the hold, watching the comm link and waiting for Din to come back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din returns to the ship a few hours after he left it, bereft of one child and holding that much more tightly to his own. He remembers well what it feels like (what it felt like) to give his own child away after too- short a time with him, because he thought Grogu going with the Jedi would lead to a better life for him. Grogu had been quiet as a womp rat since they left Cee at the Academy and the complete silence was grating on Din’s nerves.

He had received your comm for painkillers as he was leaving the market, so he doubled back and retrieved what you asked for at the first stall he saw with med supplies. By the time he’s scaling the ramp into the Crest, he’s ready for a meal and a nap before they take off again. The dock fees are paid up for the full day, after all.

He enters to find the bounty snoring hard on his pallet and that you are lightly asleep in Din’s own bunk. He stops and watches you for a long moment until Grogu gurgles excitedly at the sight of you and you stir.

You inhale sharply and roll over at the sound, blinking and sitting up by the time he seals and locks it. Grogu squirms and gets down, toddling off into the hold.

“Nice shopping trip?” You ask, taking some of the supplies and beginning to stow it.

“Not bad. I intend to nap for a bit and then we’ll head out, take him to Canto Bight?” He tips the helmet at the man snoozing on the floor and you nod. “Here’s those painkillers, iisa.”

“Ah, thanks.” You shake one out and dry swallow it, wincing at a pull in your lower back, and pull down the medkit to stow them and start putting everything else away, closing panels and hanging larger items in cargo netting. “Go on and nap, I know you pulled an all-nighter.”

“You can keep the bunk,” Din says, shifting his weight. Grogu yawns in the crook of his arm and droops over it, ready for his own tiny hammock. “Two of those please?”

You snort and grin at him, passing two tablets over. He never takes meds; he must be really going through it. “Yeah, point. I had a nap. Go on, take that bucket off and shut the door, get some rest. I’ll knock at the door when the docking timer goes.”

“Alright,” Din sighs and bumps his shoulder fondly against yours before crawling into the bunk. Just before the door slides shut he hears Ezra stir. You hear him, too, and take the clothes he got for Ezra and lay them in a folded pile on a low shelf near the nest.

“Gem, is our Mando back with those meds?”

“He is. Is your expired experiment not cutting it?”

Ezra huffs a pained laugh and shakes his head. “It is not, I'm afraid. May I pilfer some of those?” He tips his forehead at the bottle in your hand and you come over, shaking one out.

“You already had one, and it's only been half an hour. So you can wait for it to wear off, or you can have one, now. I'm not boxing your kidneys over expired meds and some site pain."

In answer, he reaches up and accepts the single tablet, swallowing it dry. “I am not eager to see how this feels with nothing in my system, gem.” He shifts his right shoulder and winces, hard. “Thank you.”

“Don't have much of a pain tolerance, do you?”

Ezra huffs a laugh and nods dreamily, still mostly asleep despite the chatter. “Never thought much of it before I sustained this injury. It seems I do not.”

There is enough room on the bundle of blankets for two, so you drop to a knee beside Ezra’s hip. “Shove over a bit,” you murmur, tapping his side with your knuckles, and he does, shimmying toward the wall. You glance back at the hatch to Din’s bunk and see it closed, and you can hear the kid already snoring from within.

You slip down and lay on your back beside the bounty, who is laying still but not quite tense. “Forgive me for not trying too hard to avoid you, whatsoever, gem. We did wash up together, after all. and I am a bit of a cuddler, truth be told.”

“Hush, dummy. He hears you, you’re gonna end up in carbonite.”

“Is he so possessive of you?”

You snort at the mental image. “Not how I'd put it. Overprotective, maybe. He has a loyalty streak a parsec wide, not that it ever does him much good. Mando gets his ass kicked on about half the jobs he does.”

Ezra chuffs a soft laugh and straightens on his back, uncomfortable with his unbalanced weight on his side. The move pulls on the still- sealing wound in his sternum and he hisses quietly.

“Just go back to sleep. The alarm will go off in six hours and we’ll leave for Canto Bight.”

“Well, gem. I can't think of a better way to spend my final hours than laying here peacefully with you. Maybe if our shiny friend joined us- sans the shiny, for the sake of comfort- it could be a real party.” Ezra yawns hugely and settles, falling asleep quickly as the fresh tablet hits his bloodstream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stir awake to the sound of the bunk door sliding open, maybe an hour later. “Hmm? Mando?” You whisper and pop your head up, feeling sweaty and wildly overheated in the blanket nest. Ezra has curled against your side on the pallet but he’s not got an arm to drape over you; you're not even touching all that much. The heat can’t be from him. Not all of it.

Weird.

You sit up and see that Din is wriggling out of the bunk silently and very carefully, struggling to avoid disturbing Grogu snoozing hard in his little hammock. He slaps the door controls to shut it as soon as he is out.

“Osik!” Din gasps, falling to a knee. “Ii– iisa.”

You can feel the panic in him even as it's edging into his voice and jump up, rushing the few feet across the hold to him. “Mando! What’s wrong?” you hiss in a whisper.

“So– so hot. What’s- is it hot in here to you?” he shakes his head when you nod, watching the sweat roll down your temple and chin to soak into the collar of your flightsuit. "Okay."

“I am feeling it too, though I do not think it’s the temperature in the hold, Mando,” Ezra grits, struggling up to an elbow. “Did we all ingest something similar? Or were we exposed? Something is perhaps having a – biological response with each of us?”

You wipe at the sweat beading on your brow and try to think, which is easier said than done. Your thoughts are snarled tight and your blood is thrumming under your skin, pooling in your belly and thighs.

“We... Oh! We each took a painkiller. Or two,” you say, turning to Mando, who is on his hands and knees and panting under his helmet. He already seems far worse off than you or Ezra.

“Dank farrik. Soup. And – the tablets.”

“We've been having the same soup sachets for a week. That can't be it. What in Kevva’s name was in those tablets?”

You turn to Ezra and blink slowly. “Let me get them,” you fumble for the medkit and bring it down, digging for the white cylinder tube. “It’s just the usual standard medkit bottle- see? It says– oh. Uh, Mando? Where did you get these?”

Ezra reaches out his hand and you pass the shaker to him. It does look exactly like a standard over- the- counter Core painkiller bottle for a standard field medkit- but apparently recycled by spice runners and handed off by mistake in the busy market. The label reads Spiced Honey in Aurebesh and Huttese, though the script is faded. He squints and reads off the rest.

“‘Pollination Aid for Insectoid, Reptilian, Amphibious, and other cold-blooded sentient beings. Not recommended for mammalian biologies. For consenting adult use only; do not take more than one tablet in a standard cycle day. Common side effects in warm- blooded mammalian biologies include heightened basal temperature, undue sweating, erections lasting longer than four hours, hypersensitivity, amorous behavior, increased self-lubrication, and full loss of inhibition in varying degrees of strength. Do not combine with other intoxicants’. Well. We’re fucked, perhaps quite literally,” Ezra drops the shaker into the nest of blankets and curses under his breath, glancing at Mando mindlessly kicking off his boots and then to you.

“Gem, I know you have taken one as well, but I highly recommend you freeze me and lock yourself in the cockpit or the bunk before Mando loses his grip. He took two. And even with one arm and in a good bit of pain I find myself unlikely to hold back if this settles in further. I have no desire to harm you, especially against your will. I don't imagine he does either, but we may not be in control much longer.”

Your eyes are hazy, glassy, breath catching in your chest as you frown, deciphering Ezra’s words while the rest of your vision blurs. Your body heat feels doubled- tripled with both of the men’s suffering assaulting your heightened Force senses. Din is already sloughing his gambeson and flightsuit, leaving the armor attached to the connection points at shoulders and thighs, his breathing labored. Soon he is down to his compression bottoms and a ratty-soft liner shirt and the helmet, the neck stretched wide. You stare at his flushed bronze skin and the beginning of a thatch of chest hair peeking out of the neckline and lick your dry lips, abruptly very eager for a taste of the salt of him.

Both of them.

“Iisa, please. I don’t– what the fuck,” Din groans desperately, dropping his helmeted forehead to the durasteel floor. He’s got both arms crossed around his stomach, heaving deep breaths as if all the air being circulated by the scrubber is not enough.

“Mando, I suggest you come over here and slake that particular thirst with me, unless your partner is willing. You can take me if you like; I must admit the desire is mutual, and I do not mind being the passive party, especially considering neither my balance nor dexterity is what it once was.”

Din is already crawling across the space to the pallet, gripping Ezra’s ankle and tugging desperately until the other man is dragged to the edge of the nest of blankets. He mantles over Ezra and pauses, tips the helmet back and up to face you, still kneeling nearby. “Go up and lock yourself in the cockpit, or join us, cyar. I can't guarantee you won’t be– touched if you stay- my control is– slipping.”

“I want to stay. I want to watch you. I want to- touch you. Both,” you add, your hands shaking as you run them thoughtlessly over your body. Your nerves light up at every press, even over your clothes. Suddenly it’s far too hot and, like Mando, you start tearing at your flight suit and smalls.

You cup your tits and warmth pools low in your belly, rising to a rolling boil as you watch Din whine low and demanding as he drags Ezra’s bottoms off, too impatient to shuck the man’s boots so his loose pants get caught. They have a quick struggle which ends in the bounty with one boot off and leg freed, and his pants twisted around the other ankle. With a frustrated growl, Mando shoves Ezra's shirt up to his armpits. May wriggles the top off, tugging one-handedly at Mando’s liner shirt until he drops his head forward and the stretched neckline slides easily over the helmet. He throws the garment to the side and takes one of Mando’s hands, bringing it up to his face.

“Yes. Get them wet,” he demands. Din drives three fingers past Ezra’s loquacious lips to wet them on his tongue. He draws them back a moment later, thoroughly soaked, to wrap a slicked fist around both their cocks. Ezra’s head falls back to the bedding with a thunk, a strangled groan squeezing out of him.

The bounty’s single hand can’t stay still, he roves it over his own chest down to where his legs are spread around Mando’s thickly muscled hips and then up, catching on a peaked brown smudge of nipple. He pinches it with a twist and grins quick at the rough sound it earns. Din growls at the tease and ruts his hips forward, gripping a bit tighter if the noise that punches out of them both is any indication.

Din wants very badly to rub his bare face against the man’s chest- your chest- any skin. It feels like every instinct he has is to bury his face in skin. It is incredibly frustrating to be unable to, but he has just enough coherence to keep his helmet on, for now. He hopes idly that you’ll have the wherewithal to slap the lights off if he tries to remove his helmet. He drops his forehead to Ezra’s sternum, avoiding the weal of pink scar tissue that has healed up nicely under the bacta patch, and whines low and plaintive. The drag of his fist and wet and heat on his cock is not enough.

“I don't know if I have slick,” he grits out, lifting the visor to face the bounty below him. Ezra blinks slow at him, frowning slightly before it clicks.

“I may have some in my satchel. Gem, where did you set it?” He turns to face you, legs snapping shut around Din’s hips as the Mandalorian squeezes them tighter and ruts harder.

You whimper, a hand in your smalls and flightsuit shucked to your waist. Both men snap their attention to you at the sound and slow in their rutting. Din reaches his other hand out and makes grabby hands at you, seemingly past the capability of words.

“Gem, get the slick, then take off that suit and come sit on my face,” Ezra growls, rutting up against Din anew until the man plants a fist by his head and drives down, deeper and harder.

"Maker, yes, iisa. Do that," Din says.

You dump Ezra's bag on the floor and find the vial easily enough. You then squirm the rest of the way out of your suit and crawl over, eager and desperate for the press of skin on yours. Your own skin feels too tight, flushed and overheated.

“I want to–” you start, gasping when you reach them and Din pushes your face down to Ezra’s lips, coaxing you both into a desperate kiss that is mostly tongue and teeth and not much skill. Ezra clings to you with his hand, his belly flexing with the force of Mando's jarring thrusts from below.

“Come here, precious thing. Bring your leg over. There you go. Come down to me- I can’t quite–” he drags your hips down with a yank and your mound crashes into his mouth. The vial of slick skitters off toward the shelves, unneeded for now.

He growls into you, the vibration lighting up your entire body and you throw your head back, nails sliding on his chest, narrowly avoiding the bacta patch at the base of his sternum. You're kneeling over Ezra's head, facing Mando, struggling to keep your knees planted under the assault that is Ezra laving broad strokes through your folds and sucking on your clit in turns. His arm is an iron band just above your ass, keeping you planted on him. His nails are pressed into your opposite hip, a tiny bite of pain to accentuate all the swirling pleasure. Sweat beads on your skin, blood thrumming with need and lust and desire.

Ezra's tongue winds you up tighter and tighter, his hand alternately squeezing your cheek roughly before drifting round to cup and knead your breast. He thumbs your peak before he slides across to the other with a low hum of satisfaction into your core. You push your chest into his palm and, when he brings his hand back to pull you back down to his mouth, you tip forward and curl your tongue around the perfectly twinned tips of their cocks peeking out of Din’s fist. Din makes a choked noise and pushes his own cockhead at your lips, throwing his head back when you suckle them both at the same time. As a reward, Ezra flattens his tongue against you and encourages your hips to start grinding on his face.

“Bring yourself to completion on my tongue, gem. I want to drink from your fountain before our friend truly loses himself. I believe watching you come on my face will be the tipping point.”

You do exactly as you are told, planting both hands on Ezra’s chest and riding his face until you shatter. As you shiver through the come down, you abruptly want them both, desperately. You wildly consider fitting them both inside, somehow. But before the thought accumulates steam, Din is wracked with a wave of lust a good deal stronger than you or Ezra are feeling. He did take two tablets, after all.

Din makes a low, desperate sound and reaches for you. “Cyar. Please, can I?”

“Din. Please, yes. Come, come here,” you slip and use his name, but he barely notices, only enough to tip his head briefly in confusion as you drag him away from wedging between Ezra’s thighs and urge him behind you. “Give me your cock. I need it! I feel so empty,” you complain, grinding back against him when he kneels behind you, over Ezra’s crown.

“Mando, let me get you good and wet for our gem. Put that in my mouth before you spear into them,” he laves over you once more and tips his head back, catching the head of Din’s cock as it throbs downward, making the Mandalorian shudder at the sudden warmth and wet.

“Ours?” Din murmurs distractedly before it dissolves into a heady groan at whatever Ezra does with his tongue. He thrusts forward into the man’s throat and Ezra soaks his cock, thick spit clinging to the tip as Din pulls away and notches the head at your weeping entrance. "Iisa. Ours."

You bend forward and drop your mouth over Ezra’s turgid length just as Din pushes inside you to the hilt, his fat cock stretching you beautifully. You both groan at the stretch and tight squeeze, respectively. Din pushes his forehead into the dip between your shoulder blades and grinds his hips forward, staying sheathed deep.

“Oh! Oh, gem, my dear, your mouth– please!” Ezra paws at you desperately when you lift off to gasp, but you take him back in eagerly when he tugs on your shoulder. His stomach tenses to hardness when he lifts his head up, lapping at your apex while the rest of you is stretched tight around Din’s girth. His tongue traces where you are joined and Din makes a low sound that is barely human. Ezra’s hand can’t be still- he roams it over you and Din each, finally squeezing the Mandalorian’s muscular ass and encouraging him to thrust a bit more energetically, which drags your clit over the bounty’s tongue with each push.

“Oh, fffffuck,” Mando grits when you clench around him at Ezra’s additional stimulation, milking his cock with a rhythmic squeeze. He pulls out slowly, snapping his hips back in and pounding against that deep spot, high up by your cervix. It makes your eyes roll back, your jaw slack around Ezra's girth as you suck in a breath, and you feel the abrupt urge to pee and clench that much tighter, which just makes Din do it again.

Ezra’s tongue drags upward down Mando’s shaft and over his tightening balls, sucking one fuzzed globe into his mouth before Din pulls back and repeats the thrust, tilting this time to hammer repeatedly into that same spot. Ezra’s hand slides from around your hips to your belly, pressing up between your hipbones with the backs of his knuckles, pushing your deepest spot down until you're sure to shower him with your cum if Din keeps up the punishing strokes. He returns to sucking your clit, kneading the bud carefully between his tongue and teeth.

“Boss, I do believe our gem deserves to be filled with your seed. Pump this gorgeous pussy full, so I can clean it up,” he demands, urging Din on. His thrusts become more brutal, his hands gripping your hips turning to a bruising strength, and you love it.

“Yes- yes, Mando! Fill me up. I need your cum,” you gasp, thrusting your hips back on him. He growls beneath the helmet, the sound coming out flat and that much more grating for it.

You can feel your orgasm building low and insistent in your belly, the swelling heat and pressure of it blooming outward into every extremity. Ezra flattens his tongue against your clit, giving you something to grind against when Din knocks your hips forward. You suck weakly at the cock in your mouth, using your hand to move over what you can’t manage in the moment, more applying tongue and wetness and heat than anything akin to actual talent but Ezra seems to be loving it. His hand presses up on your belly again just when Din nails you deep and holds your head down on Ezra’s dick, and you– break.

Your cunt grips tight around where Din is buried deep, all the way to the hilt, grinding in firmly and giving you something substantial to milk. A gush of your juices flows into Ezra’s mouth as you choke on his cock, your whole body clenching and releasing in a full-body orgasm that steals the last wisps of your breath.

With a chest-deep groan, Din’s head falls forward again with an unforgiving thump of helmet against your shoulder. He grinds deep, coming with a ragged gasp as your insides milk an orgasm out of him that seems to last forever. He absolutely floods your channel, his movements making it gush out with every thrust and grind.

Ezra pops his hips upward, sucking greedily on your soaked folds, lapping your combined come, and dragging his tongue hungrily up the hard rib on the underside Din’s cock. Gasping and still rock hard, the Mandalorian pulls out of you and buries his soaked and still- hard length between Ezra's lips instead.

When he pulls out, Ezra picks up a low chant, murmuring depraved things about the taste of your perfect pussy, the salt of Mando’s come, your heat and wetness and deliciously slick insides. He buries his tongue in your channel, sucking more come out. The bounty thrusts up into your throat once- twice, and Din finally lets you pull away enough to breathe just as Ezra floods your mouth.

“Ffffuck,” Ezra cries out, turning his face into your thigh as he shakes through his orgasm, clinging to your body collapsed onto his. “It has- oh! Been a long time since I received such attentions, gem- forgive my abrupt– fffffff! Finish!”

You barely have time to swallow before Mando is already dragging at your hips again, rutting up along the cleft between your cheeks despite your still-pulsing cunt. He’s still rock hard and stifling a petulant groan. You pull away and he whines but lets go, only to turn his demanding hands on Ezra.

“Let a man breathe, Mando,” the man gripes, swatting uselessly at the hands grabbing him.

“I’m sorry. It’s– maybe you should freeze me,” Mando says to you, and you scoff.

“Not a chance,” you pant, and flop to the side off of Ezra’s chest.

He keeps his hand braced on Din’s ribs, asking for a moment to recover. “Would an intercrural rut suffice while I catch my breath, tin man?”

Din simply growls at the nickname and crawls back down over the other man, rolling them to their left sides and spooning up behind him. You watch, enraptured and overheated, noting with curiosity how very similar their bodies are. The mushroomed tip of Mando’s unceasing erection peeks in and out of the clench of Ezra’s thighs, made slippery by the slick you left on Mando’s cock. Din’s fingers claw at Ezra's chest and belly, holding him almost too-tightly. You feel the ghost of that grip on your hips and groan, feeling yourself leak afresh at the memory.

“Iisa, please. Are you alright? Did we–?” Din presses his forehead against the knot of Ezra’s right shoulderblade, growling at his loss of words. He can’t focus. Luckily, you and Ezra are more clear minded, if no less under the influence of extreme arousal.

“I’m fine, Mando. Just need a breather. Not everyone has highly- trained stamina and endurance,” you chuckle, rolling back toward the men. Ezra lays on his left side, hooking his ankles together to tighten the squeeze. Mando seems to appreciate it; his hips stutter forward sharply.

“I can’t- I don't think I can come like this. It’s not enough. I need– inside something. Friction isn't– enough,” he grits out, hands wandering down Ezra’s torso to drag his top leg back and up over his hip.

“Easy, boss. You can't go jammin’ that weapon in there without some prep, and something to ease the way. How about you come up here and abuse my mouth again, and we’ll see to the other, after, if you are still in need? Our gem and I seem to be faring better with the foggy mind. Perhaps another orgasm or two will help you?”

You prop against the adjacent wall of the hull and watch in abject fascination and want as Din crawls over Ezra, shoves him to his back, plants his knees in the man’s armpits, and feeds him his cock.

“Maker,” you sigh, a hand drifting thoughtlessly to cup your throbbing cunt. The tease of the touch is enough to make your legs shiver shut around your hand.

Ezra, for his part, takes Mando’s cock down his throat skillfully and a little greedily. He talks - filthy things- when Din slides out too far. It makes Mando growl and thrust deeper when he goes back in, which makes Ezra grin around his girth like he's won something.

“What I wouldn't give to set my mouth on every inch of you, you gorgeous thing,” he says before being choked on the fat tip nudging past his tonsils. You watch as the bounty simply rolls his head side to side to make it fit better, even deeper. Mando whines and shakes his head, already desperate for a kiss and struggling to recall why his damned helmet is still on. “I bet you are pretty, aren’t you?” Ezra drags his hand up Din’s torso, thumbing his nipples, tweaking one meanly.

“Tight body, pretty cock- why wouldn't your face match? It’s quite a sin and sacrifice to keep that mouth all to yourself, don't you think? Though at least you are willing to share this,” he tongues the throbbing head of Din’s prick bobbing against his lips, sucking the head methodically, working the tip of his tongue into the slit and grinning with Mando whines and shivers at the focused stimulation.

“Iisa,” he pants, gripping Ezra's wrist as his hand slides down his belly. He pins the man’s arm to the floor above May's head and thrusts deep and slow a few times, relishing how deeply Ezra takes it in his throat without struggle, though tears are brimming in the corners of his eyes. Din catches his breath when he slides all the way out and holds himself there, balances on his knees and one fist, the other hand still pinning Ezra's.

Your eyes are locked on the way Ezra breathes like a fighting bull up at him, nostrils flared, brow furrowed, fingers curled around the back of Din’s hand, jaw stretched wide around his girth. Your own fingers are absently strumming your seam, gently stimulating yourself back toward desperation. Din calls your name and your eyes flick up to meet the impassive visor, in stark contrast from the rest of his body language, broadcasting his need.

“The lights,” Mando prompts, and your breath punches out of your chest. He's going to take it off.

Belatedly, you reach up and slap the lights off. The only glow is from various controls dotted around panels in the hull, red and blue and a dim, grimy white that gives off the impression of shadows only- no details in the bleached space, only black form over an indistinct background. You hear the helmet grate across the floor and the wet sound of a mouth on something before Ezra (you think- they sound so similar) groans low and needy.

You crawl back to the pallet and find the men where they were, only now Din is bent double and plundering Ezra’s mouth with his tongue instead of his cock.

“Boss, I strongly– urge you to give our gem the gift of your mouth while you can. Let me attend to the fires down below,” he pants between kisses. You reach out to card your fingers through his hair and can feel that Din still has him fully pinned. In the next breath, Mando has you swept up to his chest with both arms around your back and he licks into your mouth, groaning into you as Ezra swallows him again, a pioneering finger tracing over his hole from behind.

“Cyar,” Din breathes against your lips. “Sit on his dick, while I fuck his mouth.” He grins against your lips when Ezra groans in disbelief beneath him and you scramble to obey, giddy off the high of feeling Din smile against your mouth, rather than hearing it through the vocoder. Din dismounts Ezra’s chest and turns, pinning his arm again, under a shin this time, and feeding the bounty his balls while he strokes himself. He hears you slick Ezra with your cunt by sandwiching it between your seam and his belly and rutting along the length before you position yourself over him.

You grip Ezra in your hand and can already tell the difference, even in the dark. Ezra’s cock is a bit leaner than Din's, though they are remarkably similar in both look and form. Each the full length from your fingertips to the heel of your palm, both uncut and a ruddy brownish-pink and flushed at the tip, framed with a thatch of tidy, dark curls and nicely bundled balls. Mando was perhaps a bit girthier, but then so was he compared to Ezra’s malnourished and ill frame.

When you line up and drag your dripping cunt over his length, you can feel Ezra’s whole body vibrate with a groan that is echoed when Din pulls back. He feeds Ezra his cock just as you sink down on the man’s length, ripping a desperate sound from his throat which vibrates around Mando’s root. Din can feel the forearm pinned under him scrabbling for something to hold onto. He adjusts and drags the hand up, holding it against his own chest as he tips his hips down. You grind forward, settling Ezra deep inside you.

“Come here, iisa. Give me your mouth,” you gasp at the softness of Din’s voice, unmodulated and hopelessly endearing. Your mouth meets his, cautious but desperate. He encourages you to o0en your lips, so he can tease your tongue with his own. It's not skilled, of course- how could he be? But the kiss goes from exploratory to hungry in seconds. Din licks into you, a low growl rumbling in his chest as Ezra swallows around him. He works his hand from Din’s grasp and grips your hip, rutting up into you and sucking desperately at the length on his tongue.

“Make him come,” Din demands, breathy and demanding, and you nearly swoon. Your core tightens impossibly when Ezra thumbs your clit, winding tighter until it snaps and your stomach unspools in clenching and releasing spasms. Your limbs feel heavy, legs no longer wanting to work as you try to lift and drop again. Under your hands, Ezra's belly is taut with tension, his hips working against your weight for a few more thrusts to meet his own end now that you have been sated.

Ezra clamps a hand on your hip and whines around Din, the onslaught of sensation almost too much before he simply- snaps. You feel him pulse and spill inside you, painting your insides that are already slick from Din’s come moments before, and you drop your weight, seating him deep, overwhelmed and incredibly tired. Mando is not anywhere near finished, though. The thought occurs that he might fuck you both unconscious before his stamina and the spice wears off.

“Kriff,” you groan, sliding forward off Ezra’s cock, your gushing-slick passage leaking all over his soft, lean belly. The man sucks harder at the length in his mouth and Din moans- the sound heady and desperate without the flattening of the vocoder- and spills on his tongue.

“Oh kriff is– is right, iisa.” Din flops bonelessly to the side, facing up but with his head by Ezra’s hip. You are still straddling Ezra's waist, but you list to the side as Din tugs you down between them

“You know my name,” he says quietly, brushing the hair off your sweaty face with soft, callused fingertips. You snort and duck your head.

“Yeah, ah- I think the kid thought it by accident once when our connection was open. I think it was an accident anyway. He makes sure I can't see your face in his memories, but that one slipped through, I guess.”

“I don't mind.” He pushes your foreheads together and you sigh, relaxing.

Ezra simply lays there and enjoys the afterglow, his face buoyed on your chest. The worst of the spice is out of your and his system, and the pain is creeping back into the wound and the knot of his shoulder. He speaks up:

“How are you faring, boss? Has the spice run its course through you, or are you still in the throes?”

Mando hesitates for a moment. “I am still painfully hard, though not as– inebriated as I was. I can- maybe make do,” he starts to pull away but you and Ezra tug at him.

“I said you could fuck me and I meant it,” Ezra chuckles, and the wind punches out of Din’s chest.

“I– yes. Please,” he asks.

“Well then. Did we find that slick, gem?” Ezra is already levering up to his elbow, letting Din paw at his hips til they are both on their knees. You pat around the floor, corner to corner, in search of the slick in the dark.

“Can you balance like this?” Mando checks in, pushing the bounty forward. He holds Ezra ‘round the ribs and supports his weight with ease, showing his strength. Ezra drops to his forearm with a grunt and wriggles, testing his weight and balance, before nodding.

“Yes. Just go slow, to start. I’m neither as turgid nor as numb to oversensitivity as you at the moment, boss. And I have already come twice under your and your partner’s skilled attentions, which I have not done in one sitting in a terribly long time.”

You crawl forward and pass off the vial of slick, accepting a searching, heated kiss as Din cups your face and drags you closer on your knees. “Lay under him, iisa. Meshurok,” he teases, calling you as Ezra does, in his own tongue. “Let him bury his face in these,” his hands drop and cup your breasts, kneading playfully. You huff and press another kiss to Din’s precious mouth before ducking to do as he says.

“Well hello there, gem. I can’t see you, of course, but I can tell by the firming of this beautiful cheek against mine you are feeling quite ebullient.” Ezra nuzzles your face, tucking his nose under your ear, and gasps at something Mando does from behind. You feel his hips lift and push back, and a low groan pushes out of him into the soft skin of your throat.

“Come here,” you say, gripping his sweat-damp hair and turning his face up to your own for a sweet kiss. “I’ll hold you- just relax, pretty boy,” you coo, carding your hand through his sweaty hair. You tug at the blonde patch until he exhales hard and melts against your whole front.

“I don't think that particular label has ever been granted to my generally- undesirable person,” Ezra mumbles, gasping quietly again when Mando adds a second finger. "But I can't deny I do enjoy it coming from-- you."

“You must not have met many folk with eyes, then,” Mando quips, scissoring his fingers before Ezra can retort, though the one-two combo punches a breathy laugh out of him. Even if Ezra looks an uncanny amount like Mando, himself, he can compliment the man without it feeling too much like narcissism. For as much as they look alike, they are quite different.

“I agree,” you murmur into Ezra's soft hairline. The gentleness of you both gets to him, quicker than anything else has. Gets under his skin and into his heart.

“That I can – Oh! Oh shit, oh shit-” he pants, rocking back on Mando’s fingers now, hardening against your thigh, despite feeling like he couldn't possibly. He ducks his head to your breasts, nuzzling and then slipping his mouth over the soft swell of one, panting at what Mando’s doing from behind, gripping at you while trying to balance his weight. You push your chest up into his face, encouraging him to change to the other breast, sucking your nipple into the heat of his mouth. You arch into the stimulation and can’t help but tighten your knees around his ribs.

Din feels animalistic. As bad as any time he's been separated from the kid in a battle, but different. He wants to rut, fuck, come, mark– rub his scent and grip bruises into flesh. He ruts his painfully hard cock against a spare curve of flank and curves his hand upside down, his palm at the top of Ezra’s cleft and fingers still curled inside, draping his weight all along the man’s spine. He nuzzles his nose and mouth against the back of Ezra's head, into his dark, short curls. The man smells like your soap and antiperspirant, and the flame of desire in Din’s chest blows wide into a bonfire of pure lust. He rubs his face all over the back of Ezra’s neck and shoulders, reaching under him for you, palming a breast, stretching forward and sandwiching the man between you for a kiss.

“Mando,” you sigh, scritching at the scruff under his chin. You unerringly find the sparse spot on the left side and press a kiss to it. Ezra growls a little between you, feeling somewhat neglected, and turns his head into the right side, finding the matching spot there and dropping a wet smear of a kiss on it.

Din presses back up to his knees and withdraws his fingers, pushes back in with three, bares his teeth at the stretch around his knuckles. Ezra makes a desperate sound and ruts back on him, his voice muffled by burying his face back in your chest.

“I could expire here and now, and consider myself surprisingly lucky, even imprisoned as a bounty and missing my dominant arm. Between you two is heaven itself. Mando,” he cries out at the firm curl of fingertips over his prostate. “Get in me or do that harder, you are driving me to distraction, gentle-man-!” He demands, only to be cut off with a wheeze as Din fixes his slicked cockhead at Ezra’s softened entrance and pushes just inside.

Slowly, inexorably, Din presses onward until his hips are flush with Ezra's rump, all of him inside and suddenly wildly overheated. He waits, still, until Ezra tips his hips up in invitation before moving back and then returning with a much more sharp thrust.

“Oh– stars, just like that,” Ezra chokes, nuzzling into your breasts again, licking slow over one curve to find the tip and latch on. He can’t keep his balance and paw at you or reach for his cock, but he enjoys the assault of sensations for now. Mando is so deep inside, stretching him nearly to the point of burn but not quite. Despite the spice clouding his frontal lobe, Din did a good job stretching him to ease the way. Each pass over his prostate causes a jolt of nerves that light up his whole belly and down his legs. His shoulder pain is long forgotten. There is only your soft skin beneath him and Mando’s hardness inside him and raw strength behind him.

Mando sets a firm, rhythmic pace that has his hips slapping hard into Ezra’s spare ass as he drives forward, but he knows Ezra is not getting the stimulation he needs. It takes several minutes to convince himself, what with the drugs in his veins telling him otherwise. Eventually Din slows to a halt and pulls out. He chuckles at the disgruntled noise from above and flops to his back.

“Come here, May,” he grabs a lean thigh and hauls the man over in a show of strength, nearly dumping Ezra onto his face before he can steady himself.

“Kevva waits, you could have just said come ride me instead of yankin', boss! I can barely fuckin’ balance as it is.” Ezra grouses. He gets his knees under himself and adjusts his weight, surprised to find plenty of room for movement under his thighs with how broad Mando appears in all his armor.

“Sit,” Din demands, pulling on the man’s hips. Ezra quirks a grin in the dark and resists, planting a hand square on Din's heaving chest.

“Gem, you hear that? He’s losing those pretty manners of his,” Ezra huffs a delighted laugh when Din growls a please at him. He reaches behind himself, clumsy with his off hand, and lines that fat cock back up along his well-slicked crease.

“Yes, please,” Mando groans and his hips jolt upward as Ezra slides down his length, impaling himself in a smooth glide.

“Mando, this magnificent- turgid- specimen could cure ailments, I swear to the Maker. Every- spot- stimulated so perfectly. Oh!” Ezra pants as he grinds forward and back experimentally, his belly jumping under Din’s hand at the consistent torment on his swollen gland. Din fists his cock and Ezra growls: “Gem come here, gorgeous gemstone. Come here and join us.”

You have been watching their shadows move together since they rolled and adjusted, cupping between your legs where the flesh is hot and swollen, wet with the dregs of the spice in your system. You roll to your side and then up to your knees, dipping over Din’s face for a thorough kiss before following his hands, letting him push your face up to Ezra’s. The bounty cups his hand around the back or your neck and hauls you up, his hips rolling insistently against the length he's impaled on.

“Kiss me, sweet thing. I need– nngh!” Ezra shivers around a particularly brutal thrust against his prostate and kisses you like you’re his last meal. You're both growing tired, the spice waning from your systems, but the buzz for one more orgasm is just there under your skin. You let him lick into you, taking over with your own hand where he is fucking forward into his fist and then back against Mando.

“Yes, your hand- so soft- thank you, gem!” He plants his palm on Din’s heaving chest again for balance and works the cock in his ass, lifting and dropping, grinding and rutting. Mando makes some truly impressive sounds before pawing at you.

“Come here, iisa. Turn. Across- now sit. Now fuck him,” he hooks his thumbs around your hip bones and pushes you down, facing him and straddling his belly, in front of Ezra. He grabs Ezra's cock and guides it into you, making you both gasp.

“Oh– Kevva! I will not last in this state, Mando! Gem- your pussy is as perfect a fit as I could hope for. So wet- warm! Ngh!” Ezra, bless him, reaches forward and strums your clit messily with three fingers, working you up where you are already dripping and panting between them.

Mando grips your hips, wishing he could see, but he will take the trade gladly if tasting you both- kissing, licking, sucking- is in the cards. He realizes belatedly that he has not got his mouth on either of you yet. If you all survive this round and don’t tap out, he decides he will.

You howl as you come hard on Ezra's cock, collapsing forward into Din while you catch your breath behind his palm (he’s clapped it across your mouth to avoid you waking the kid). He scoops you close and pins you to him with his arms wrapped around your back, sucking your lower lip between his teeth, holding you still for Ezra to fuck into and ride Mando’s cock until they both explode.

“Oh shit- oh shit, oh shit ohshitohshit–” Ezra grits his teeth and his ass clamps down, sitting down as hard as he can on Din’s hips to get him deep, milk his balls empty while Ezra paints the swollen, hot edges of your cunt with the last weak dregs of his come. The last of the spice fizzles out and the ache bleeds back in with nothing to stymie it.

You each fall to a side of Din, starfished in the floor and chests heaving. Every bit of each of you is wet and sticky and exhausted. Din whines in the dark, a small movement catching in the dim glow of the lit buttons.

“I’m still fucking hard,” he complains, sounding more offended than anything. “Dank farrik. This is ridiculous!"

You can't help but laugh at the complaint. You pop your head up, confused by Ezra's silence. Is he asleep? You suppose it’s not entirely out of the question; you feel awfully close to sleep yourself. But then he speaks:

“Boss, I am not sure either of us has the stamina to go again, but if you can be patient a short while, I believe I can manage for you to use me to find your end, if nothing else.”

He hums in contentment when Mando glides a hand up his belly and chest, scritching fondly in the scruff under his chin. Din catches himself being so casual and forward and curses internally, forcing his hand to drop. He must really be out of it. Not only fucking a bounty but dragging you into it just because he didn't actually look at the bottle of meds he'd bought. The self- doubt creeps in, lingering like a thick cold slab on his chest until you curl a leg between his own and slide your whole front against his left side.

“Ezra. Get over here.” You grouse sleepily, reaching across to curl your fingers around his wrist, laying on his own chest, and pull at him til he rolls to his side and snuggles in close.

Your warmth and gentleness dissolves that slab on Din's chest as thoroughly as the kid does. He's come to rely on it, which feels dangerous.

Soon, Din notices that you have stopped moving and your breathing has evened out. He huffs quietly in vague amusement, warring with the concern he feels over the perpetual throbbing in his cock. The mental fog has dissipated, but he’s still horny as fuck and rock hard to prove it.

“Does the sonic on this vessel fit two?” Ezra stirs and interrupts his thoughts. Din blinks and turns his head to the other man, running a hand possessively down his side. His skin is starting to crawl again with heat and need, already. He feels like it will never be out of his system. "Not really."

“Nested together as we will no doubt be, we could probably manage. Your partner took such thorough care of me at the service station, and I hate for those efforts to remain reversed due to these -- sticky circumstances. A clean- up would not go amiss. I can feel your seed leakin’ outta my ass already, though you are assuredly about to plant more.”

“Shut up,” Din grouses, rolling them, making Ezra snort. He lays on Ezra, belly to belly and knees on either side of the man’s narrow hips. He leans heavy over the bounty and mouths over his collarbones, pressing his teeth into the knotted muscle of Ezra’s damaged shoulder. “Can I have you again?” he asks into the other man’s mouth, breathy and heated.

“Ah, you found your tongue and your manners again, Mando.” He chuckles with Din bites down on his lip with a growl. “Yes, and let it drain the last of this accursed spice from your system. You have spilled so much under its spell. I don’t think I can manage to come again, but you are welcome to try. At least until the oversensitivity assails me.”

Rather than responding, Din licks into his mouth, opening his jaw wide with a thumb pressed to his chin. The kiss is heated and exploratory, stealing Ezra’s breath away handily. He wriggles under the weight of the Mandalorian, worming his hand between them to grasp the man’s cock and give him a firm circle to thrust into.

Abruptly, Din grips Ezra by the elbow and hauls him over to his belly, caging the man with his own forearm braced on the ground beneath Ezra’s good shoulder, his stump against the ground and his face and upper chest mashed into the blankets. He is thoroughly pinned, especially once Mando plants his huge palm on the side of Ezra’s head, fingers tangling in his hair to keep his face pinned to the side. If he even possibly could at this stage, Ezra wagers he’d be a hair’s breadth from coming again.

Din spits on his fingers and wipes the wetness over the head of his dick, smears it across Ezra’s hole, and presses in. Ezra whines but grits his teeth, knowing that if he can get over the first painful rush of frayed nerves, it will turn sweet again. Thankfully, Mando is tiring out after four rounds in what must have been scarcely more than an hour or so. The prospector feels the first twinge of something good, low in his belly, and tips his hips up against Mando's snapping thrusts. His cock hangs heavy and not quite half-hard, thoroughly spent between his thighs. Din has a fistful of hair in one hand and a death grip on Ezra's hip with the other, keeping him pinned with his only arm rendered useless. All he can do is take it, and that unlocked a particular kink the bounty had been secreting away for a long while.

Too soon, Ezra gasps and his hips turn down with a sharp pain. “Too much,” he chokes, and thankfully Din has the wherewithal to withdraw gently and let him go. Ezra pants into the bedding, spooling back out from how tightly he’d clamped up from the rush of pain. “Apologies,” he says, and accepts the pat to the back of his thigh with only a little chagrin.

“Stop apologizing.”

At Ezra's sharp complaint, you had stirred with a deep breath, stretching on the pallet beside them. “Oh,” you sigh, enjoying the shapes of them moving against one another in the dark. “Mando, Ezra is too sore. Come here,” you yawn, scooting closer to them. You see Din pause, pulling away from the bounty and reaching for you.

“Thank you, gem. I am indeed weary, and the pain is inching back in with the spice on its way out. Forgive me, Mando.”

“Nothing to forgive,” Din murmurs, and latches his mouth onto your seam. He tastes himself and Ezra, you at the edges. It's intoxicating. You squirm under his attention but spear your fingers into his hair and he leans into it with a whine. He craves the softness as much as the spice is making him crave the roughness. Once you're sopping again and your juice is running down his chin, he pushes himself up to mantle over you, hooking your knees around his narrow hips.

You run your hands up from his waist, curving over firm muscles and soft skin, the puckering of scars here and there. You wind his sweaty curls around your fingers and tug, eliciting a groan. He shakes his head, finding everything at once- his head being touched along with all the skin contact, his own flesh crawling with need and the sweat pouring off him- overbearing.

You release him and let your hands travel again. His rump is small but fits blessedly in your palms, and the feel of your fingers closing over his ass urges him on. Din hums against your mouth and slides the length of his cock through your folds, a tease, smearing the wetness gathered there. He notches his head at your entrance and slides in.

Din drops down over you, elbows planted by your head, your thighs spread by his hips, knees and calves hooked over his ass. You reach up and run a hand up the side of his neck, over an ear, dragging him down for a searching kiss. He growls into your mouth, needy and tiring out, unable to purge those tablets from his system just yet.

“I want you to come on my cock,” he says, panting into your open mouth. You grin against him, exhausted and unsure if your body can enmven manage another orgasm. “Felt so good earlier. Again,” he demands, pushing up to slide a hand between you, flatten his thumb on your clit.

“Mando, I'm not sure I can. I’m so tired,” you whine even as you feel your core clench around him at the added stimulation.

“You can. What else do you need? I’ll give you anything, iisa. Tell me,” Din implores, bending his neck to lick down your throat. He nips at a collarbone, recalling dimly that you had thoroughly enjoyed Ezra’s mouth on your tits earlier. He ducks his head and noses, laves over a plush mound until he finds the peak of your nipple and sucks it into his mouth.

“Oh! Both- the other–!” You cry out, back arching as he hits that spot deep inside your cunt and sucks just right on your nipple.

Instead of switching, Din grips Ezra by the upper arm and hauls him over to his belly beside you. You drop a hand to reach for him too, and your hands bump when Din fists a hand in the man’s hair and drags him into place latch onto your other breast, all without pausing in the suckling of the one between his own lips. Ezra catches on quickly and, after a quick peck to your mouth he obeys Din’s demanding grip.

You sob out at the feel of it, two strong mouths sucking, nipping, and laving over your sensitive breasts while Din pummels away at your cervix, thumbing your clit, stretching your abused pussy on his cock and taking what he needs.

You feel a tightening, an impossible new winding-up in your core that seems to take all the muscles in your limbs with it. Din brushes your clit with his fingers again and you shatter, screaming behind your teeth, your face buried behind your palms to keep quiet because of the kid. Ezra mouths his way up your neck and claims your lips again, capturing your noises, letting Din drop his face into your sternum while he finds his end in your impossibly clenching insides. You’ve turned into a limp doll, boneless with exhaustion and at least four orgasms- damn, you lost count.

“Maker,” you pant, struggling to catch your breath with the weight of Din’s collapsed heft on your chest. “We’re disgusting. Dammit, Mando, I just washed him!” you snark, making the Mandalorian giggle into your skin. You crack up at the sound, struggling to laugh quietly as you feed off his suddenly effervescent joy. He rolls to his back between you and Ezra, the lot of you sweaty, sated, bone-tired and delirious.

“I’m not sure we can go to the service station just yet, iisa. I’m still –”

“Hard as a pike?” Ezra interjects, dropping his hand between Mando’s legs, earning a gasp. “Go to sleep, man. The lust seems to be over, even if your biology hasn't caught on quite yet.”

You all lay there a few moments more before Din’s soft snores are echoed by Ezra’s. You snort at them and roll to your knees, keen on a thorough wipe-down and a nap if the kid will stay down.

But of course, as all kids are prone to do, he wakes the minute you finish yanking Din’s bottoms back on. You’d wiped him and Ezra down with a damp cloth and slung the new bottoms on the bounty’s lower half, but Mando’s compression leggings were a squeeze for him, even when he wasn't passed out and deadweight.

Sighing, you scoop the kid up out of his hammock and take him up the ladder with a snack, leaving the lights off and Din’s helmet beside his shoulder on the pallet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I still have your arm,” Din says, apropos of nothing. He is checking the star chart as the Crest exits Coruscant’s atmosphere.

“Excuse me?” Ezra whips his head around to stare at the back of Din's helmet.

“Your arm. I slabbed it when we came back. You were unconscious.” Din sets the course and turns to find Grogu in the bounty’s lap with a tiny claw fisted in his tunic, staring up at him curiously. Ezra has his remaining arm hooked around the kid, making sure he doesn't fall off his perch on the man’s thigh.

“Why?”

Mando shrugs. “In case you died. Easy proof of destruction. But now… I'm thinking I might drop you somewhere else for a few days. Go to Canto Bight, turn in the arm, collect the lesser bounty. Pick you back up.” he pauses and the flat face of the helmet stares back at Ezra for a long moment, waiting on a response. He tips it to the side. "If you're interested."

Ezra, understandably, is flabbergasted. “Why?”

“Iisa likes you. The kid likes you,” Mando tips his forehead down at Grogu gurgling up at him. Ezra’s eyebrows shoot up and he stares down at the child. “Despite the fact that you never shut up, I like you. If you're not interested, I can cut you loose and still get the bounty.”

“No I– I appreciate the sentiment, Mando, I do. You’ll forgive my wariness, considering the circumstances. I am not accustomed to men wanting to keep me around for anything more than manual labor or to warm a bed, and even then only for a short venture. If I understand you- you are meaning for a while?”

“Until you want to leave,” Mando shrugs. “Same as any of us.”

Ezra chews his lip and his brow threads together. “And what does this life look like? A one-armed former prospector with little in the way of domestic skills, and a sharpshooting force-sensitive mechanic, and a force-wielding xeno child, and a bounty hunting Mandalorian living on a small gunship together with one bunk?”

To his great amusement, Mando actually snorts at him and ducks his head. Ezra grins and waits. “Exactly that. We make port most days, stretch our legs. When we’re in the stars, we stay above lightspeed and head to the next job. I’ve got- friends- all over, especially in the Outer Rim. Finding places to lay low for a few days isn’t a hardship.”

Ezra nods and thinks of you. They’d woken and Din had put on his helmet and tugged on his thin liner shirt and helped Ezra into his own tunic. After, they had discovered you dead asleep in the cockpit with the kid playing with his ball in your lap. Mando had scooped you up, limp as a ragdoll, and you'd remained sound asleep as he had lugged you down the ladder and into his bunk.

Ezra thinks he would very much enjoy more chances to wake up like that. Or in a tangle of all of you.

“Where will you leave me?”

“It’s a bit of a back track but you have two options. I can hide you with my covert on Glavis, or leave you with a friend on Tatooine. To be honest, I'd rather leave you on Tatooine. Harder for other hunters to find you in the Dune Sea, and environmentally safer for you. My covert is currently under the ring world, and footing is dangerous even with two arms for balance.”

“And you will come back?”

“Yes. I will leave iisa and the Child with you, if you like. My trip to collect the bounty from Canto Bight won’t take long.”

“Mercy, man. You’re offerin’ me a whole new life. I can’t simply accept that it’s just because you three like me.”

“Would you rather take your chances with your pissed- off investors?”

Ezra scowls at him. Din grins behind his visor. “Don't toy with my heart, Mando. You know I would not. It’s just going to take some accepting.”

“Well. We’ll be at Freetown in two days. Think on it. If you decide not to stay with us, I'm sure the Marshal can put you to work in his town somehow."

"And what? You would schedule conjugal visits?"

Mando snorts and turns back to his charts, setting coordinates for Tatooine. "If iisa wanted. If that's your intent I'd rather not leave you in Freetown, though. It might be a bit awkward for me to negotiate frequent visits."

"Ah, your lost love in the desert?"

He bites his lips against a knowing grin when he sees Mando's shoulders flatten with tension, but is surprised to get a response. "Something like that."

"Well then. A few days to stretch our legs and a pickup would suffice. And I'll let you know if it stops being sufficient. Do we have an accord, boss?"

Din turns around and eyes the hand Ezra has outstretched. After a beat, he takes it.

"Deal."

____________________ end _____________________

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