#he has no choice but to learn patience and tenderness

[sirdindjarin]

The Choice - (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

After returning Grogu to his kind, the Mandalorian must also face the consequences of his bounty hunting. Or:Din Djarin Has Two Very Bad Days.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

AO3 Link

A/N: Canon-divergent - Grogu is saved at the Seeing Stone. Citing again my same sources from The Concession.

TAGS: two smut scenes, helmet stays on, helmet comes off, child neglect lmao (din trusts grogu not to get into trouble way too much), angst, fluff, light torture lol, allusions to sex, P in V, rough-ish P in V.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

It happened slowly. The change that the Mandalorian wrought in you, though dramatic, was one born of love and patience. While he had always detested your acting like a servant to him, now you were banned from even feeling like a lesser lifeform. Din insisted you learn whatever he could teach you. You needed to know how to protect yourself, and how to trust yourself. He had even demanded that you learn to control the Razor Crest. That had been a scary day. 

Day by day, you began to see yourself through the Mandalorian’s eyes. Self-esteem through your own merit bloomed, and it was the encouragement of Din Djarin that watered the soil. 

Once, during a particularly grueling training session, Din saw defeat darken your eyes though he hadn't yet won.

“No. Don’t do that,” his modulator flatly stated as he relaxed his posture.

A caught breath later, you'd asked what he meant.

“Don’t concede the fight before it ends.”

“You’re going to win. I’m terrible with strategy.” 

“Then rely on your strengths. You are quick. Resourceful. Don’t give up again.” 

He had waited, patient and calm, until he saw the fire return to your eyes, and then he sprung at you. 

Your favorite weapon was the smooth beskar spear Din had been gifted by the Jedi he’d met. It was hard to hide your admiration of it. An ideal weapon for you, it was your frequent choice during your sparring matches. You’re grateful Din even allowed you to touch it. But Din was far from offended by your fascination and talent with the spear; he found it turned him on, actually.

Days spent sparring always ended in another, more intimate, type of physical activity. Sometimes, such as the day he watched you give up, it was tender and slow. Sometimes it was as desperate and aggressive as the first time he had taken you for himself. You loved both.

Tonight, after he eases himself from you and tucks you in his lean arms in the dark, he is quiet. Though Din was often contemplative after lying with you, this silence has the strain of anxiety. It sets you on edge. You let him drift through his own mind until finally his low voice fills the tiny room.

“As a Mandalorian, removing my helmet is forbidden. While I have technically broken this rule, you have not seen my face.” It's obvious he's thought about this in depth; the tone of his voice is rich with unseen emotion. “That intimacy is reserved for committed partners. For those who share in a riduurok.”

You don’t mean to tense up, but his seriousness forces every fiber of your body to listen, to absorb his words. 

“You okay?” He murmurs when he feels it.

You nod on his chest, so he continues.

“When a Mandalorian removes their helmet for another, they are asking that a decision be made. You have known me as no one has. When my helmet is removed, free of all impediments, then will I be asking that same question.”

What decision was there to make? To explore your options? You’ve been enslaved for most of your life, but even you can see that this - this with him - is as good as life gets. There was nothing more you could ask for, let alone want. If you were going to tie yourself to anyone, it would be Din Djarin - a man of sheer will, loyalty, and an Outer Rim type of honor. Your body relaxes.

“I understand. If that moment comes, I’ll have an answer.”

“It is not a question of ‘if,’” he states, his sultry voice full of restrained feeling. 

You can’t see him, but still your head tilts up to his face. You let your fingers drag through the patches of hair along his jawline, and then you press a kiss to his pulse point on his neck. 

“I mean, I can give you my answer now… if you’d like?” He can hear the smile in your voice.

His muscled arm pulls you tighter against him, as though your answer might be no. You hear Din’s hair scratch on the durasteel wall as he shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to rush you. I only wanted you to understand the way I will do this.” 

The room quiets again as you trace his lips, then his throat, then lower. Small bumps appear on his skin, and you brush over them. 

“I’ll never understand why this feels as good as it does,” he sighs contentedly. “All we are doing is touching.” 

Agreeing, you laugh, “I don’t either. But I never want it to end.” 

“Good,” Din gruffly replies.

___________________________________

The Mandalorian feels the time slipping through his grip. Too many weeks had passed since his meeting with the Jedi. The Seeing Stone awaits Grogu. Determined to do right by the child and his creed, Din finally navigates to Tython. You watch from the Razor Crest as Din cautiously sets Grogu upon the Stone. Din waits. You wait. 

For hours Grogu sits there, consumed by the blue light around him, reaching out. When the sun begins to meet the rocky horizon, Din treks back to the Razor Crest to check on you, and that’s when everything falls apart.

***

As you lean forward in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian swoops his creaking ship down an embankment and fires upon an errant Imperial TIE fighter. You’ve been around good pilots, but Din is the best. Despite the grief you gave him for continually abusing his ship, he truly is talented. 

Another TIE fighter screams past, and Din pulls the Razor Crest up from its dive. He fires two blasts, but his first shot was true. The TIE fighter explodes.

On the Stone below, as Din makes another pass, you can see pure Force flowing around the child. His eyes are closed. 

“How much longer can this take?” You ask rhetorically. You know Din is as exasperated as you are. Probably more so.

“I tried to get him back, but the shield was too strong.”

“I don’t think that’s a shield, Din. It’s the Force.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t let me get to him,” the worry in his modulated, tired voice breaks your heart. 

“In that case, at least he’s safe,” you try to reassure the Mandalorian. “If you can’t get to him, neither can the IMPs falling from the sky.” 

Din presses his lips together underneath his helmet. While you have a point, he wouldn’t feel right about this until the child was back with him. 

The Mandalorian has been shooting down incoming Imperial fighters for almost an hour, and he’s starting to believe it won’t end when his radar picks up a different, older spacecraft. You shoot forward, staring at the viewer. 

“Is that an X-wing?” You ask incredulously. “The Republic came all the way out here?” 

If it’s Republic, that means it’s low on Din’s priority list, so he pays it much less attention than the three TIE fighters that break the sound barrier above him. 

You’re suddenly thrown back in your seat when the Razor Crest’s shield system rings the alarm and Din calmly spins the ship skyward, arcing over another ridge to maneuver out of the target lock of an IMP. When he banks, he yanks the thruster backward, and the TIE fighter screams by. Din wrenches on the trigger and the black craft disappears in a ball of fire. 

Rising up through the flame, another black fighter barrels down on the Razor Crest. Before Din can shove the Crest into a better attack position, the third fighter flanks him. You hear the Mandalorian sigh. 

From the east, red laser blasts blow apart the first TIE fighter, and then the second. The X-wing flies lazily through the debris, looping above the rock where Grogu sits. 

A crackling sound pops into the cockpit of the Mandalorian’s ship, then a dignified, cheerful voice speaks.

“My name is Luke Skywalker. I’m here to help the child.” 

Uncharacteristically surprised, Din had been expecting that X-wing to be carrying some stuffy officer bent on harassing him, not a kriffing Jedi.

He hits the button on the comms.

“I can’t get to the kid. He’s stuck inside that Force… shield.” 

“I see him. Looks like he’s sleeping.” 

Sure enough, as Din crests the hill, the blue light flowing around Grogu is gone. 

“There will be no more Imperial fighters for a while. You’re safe to land.”

You make a skeptical face, wondering how the Jedi could know that. Reaching forward, you tenderly grasp Din right above his elbow. Din’s tension is greater now than while he was shooting down scores of the Empire’s best. 

For the Mandalorian, that had been the easy part.  

***

By the time the Mandalorian settles the Razor Crest down and the two of you race to the top of the rocky ruins, Grogu is awake. The Jedi, Luke Skywalker, is seated and clearly performing some kind of Jedi magic to read Grogu’s thoughts. 

Grogu’s ears perk up and he turns from Luke when he hears the clinking footsteps of the man striding toward him. He raises his childlike arms, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m glad to see you, too, buddy.” 

Grogu babbles in the cradle of Din’s arms. His head swivels to look back at Luke.

“Your young one is strong.” 

Din nods, his two-toned glove on Grogu’s back. You step up behind the tall Mandalorian. Reaching around the broad man, you rub Grogu’s ears. He purrs under your affection. 

Luke speaks again, “I can see he was well cared for. Grogu is very fond of you both.” He frowns. “Attachments are forbidden to Jedi. Emotion clouds our judgment. It’s best that he learn the ways of the Jedi -  and when he is older, he may make his own decision.” 

“Yes. I was tasked with bringing him to his own kind,” the Mandalorian’s modulator hides most of his voice, but the devastation radiates from him. He tilts his helmet down to the child.

Grogu, eyes shining, reaches up to touch Din’s helmet, expressing his feelings for the man who has protected and loved him.

“You have to go with the Jedi, pal,” Din murmurs, hating the words.

Grogu whimpers, his ears drooping, and with only a moment’s hesitation, Din begins to lift his helmet. 

Inhaling sharply, you move further behind the Mandalorian and drop your gaze. This moment is between Din Djarin and his kid.

_________________________________

“Ducked in there,” you tilt your chin at the seedy cantina door. 

Several members of the local crime syndicate stand outside smoking death sticks, the smoke spiraling up into the vibrant night air.

“You good?” Din asks, his hand reaching toward you protectively.

You wipe your lip free of blood, “Yeah, I should’ve seen it coming.”

“When we go in, we cir-”

“I know, Din,” you smile fondly at him. 

In the past year, you’ve completed plenty of bounty jobs with him. It was easy to use the same tactics on different targets, so you’ve become familiar with the Mandalorian’s strategies. And anyway, it made sense. Of course you would flank the quarry.

Din watches, not a little besotted, as you confidently walk into the business full of slimeballs. It always ached to let you go into danger, but that was why he spent hours each week pouring his knowledge and experience into you. You’ve always been capable, strong, and as ruthless as he is. Din follows you inside.

The thumping bass and flashing lights play with your eyesight. Unlike the Mandalorian in his enhanced helmet, your eyes were susceptible to any kind of trick or weakness. You squint slightly against the glaring lights. When you sweep the room, you catch sight of Din circling around the far side of the bar. He inclines his head at you, then disappears. 

One of the red strobe lights twists from the stage and into the crowd, and that’s your excuse for not seeing the quarry as it hurtles into you. They tackle you, taking you to the sticky cantina floor with a wheeze. The blue, humanoid woman lands another blow to your face before you overpower her, ripping her off you. You nimbly get to your feet, drawing your blaster. The woman grins wickedly from her seated position on the black floor, then she feints to the right.

“Stop. Stop moving,” you warn, the barrel of your blaster now pointed at her head. 

The pounding music makes the quarry’s voice near inaudible, but you hear her snarl, “I know about you. You’re a karking slavegirl. Where’s your master?”

Insults had run out their efficacy on you fifteen years ago, and this weak attempt is no different. You look bored. 

“Give me your wrists,” you indicate with your chin. And when the woman’s eyes dart to the exit, you shift on your feet, stating, “I don’t want to blast you.”

Suddenly noticing the scuffle, a stranger looks from your pointed blaster to your face and shouts, “Hey! No officers allowed.”

“Not Republic,” your eyes stay glued to the woman on the floor. “I’m -” 

Your sentence ends when the stranger - a large, Dyplotid with four eyes blinking simultaneously - wraps a massive hand around your blaster arm. You whirl, trying to break his hold, but he’s much too strong. Instead, he curls his arm around your throat and squeezes. Your eyes refocus as you watch the quarry sprint to the door. 

A man, his armor reflecting the rotating colored lights, lunges at the quarry, gripping her arm. Using her own momentum, he flips her onto the floor and snaps binders around her wrists. It’s then that he looks up to see why you had allowed her to get so far. 

Abandoning the quarry, Din strides powerfully forward, his steel gaze locked onto the Dyplotid, when its head jerks.

A hole burns through its arm, and the Dyplotid stumbles back, clutching and screaming at it. You let the blaster fall away from where you'd placed it against his arm. Shaking your head in annoyance, you look up at your partner. Din carefully, wordlessly, raises your chin, looking you over.

“Let’s just get her out of here,” you grouse. 

***

In the cockpit, while Din freezes the quarry, you begin the takeoff cycle. Grumbling under your breath, you mentally poke at yourself over your failure with the quarry. Muffled steps echo as Din climbs the ladder. 

“You did good,” Din quietly praises when he reaches the top.

He swivels the pilot’s chair you sit in around to face him. He knows you’re upset. Standing, imposing as always, he watches you duck your head in shame. 

“I shouldn’t have let him get so close. If I had been faster -” you stumble over your thoughts. “I’m a liability to you. I’m not a good partner if I get caught up like that.”

Din leans, his hand tilting your face upward again. 

“You are not the only one who gets into fights. What matters is that you get out of them. Which you did.” His thumb presses against your lips, and his voice turns suggestive. “Would you like me to make you feel better?”

His advising words will take root and grow, but his offer is one you can’t accept. Because he can see your distress, Din would be gentle and sweet, and you don’t believe you deserve that at the moment. 

“I don’t feel right about you taking care of me,” you admit. “I want you to be mad at me.”

Din’s beskar mask tilts in interest. He nods once. Your eyes drop to the grooved, durasteel floor, knowing he will leave you to your task. 

The Mandalorian pulls off his gloves slowly. He tosses them on the control panel behind you where they land with a dull thud. You look up at him - a question in your eyes. 

“Stand up,” his modulator orders. His chin tilts upward.

“Din -”

He leans forward a fraction, his body eclipsing all else.

“Stand."

A knot forms in your gut, and you obey him. He doesn’t back up, so you’re forced into his personal space. The Mandalorian’s hands slide underneath the bottom hem of your top, palms against your skin. His callouses leave a burning trail.

Din’s hands stop their advance on your ribcage. You know what he wants, so you lift your arms. His skin skates over yours as he rips your top over your head, leaving you exposed in his cockpit. Your eyes toss him a shy look, and Din feels something dark take over. 

He grips your upper arm and pushes you over to the side panel. Din turns you to face the exterior. His hot palm lands right at the top of your spine, and he bends you over the chair. Desire coils and pools where you want him most. Your hands grasp at the bottom edge of the side windscreen.

Thank the Maker Din landed on the outskirts.

Din shoves your pants down your thighs, grunting airily as he does so. One of his rough hands comes around to grope at your breast, lazily rubbing at your peaking nipple. Moderating his strength, his boot kicks your foot to the side, allowing him to fit closer.

You can hear the rustling of his flight suit, and you clench in anticipation. A rush of wetness dampens your thighs when he thrusts his velvet length against your folds. Encouraged by your arousal, he continues.

“You wanted this,” he gruffly warns not a second before he draws back and spears his cock inside you. 

From the outside of the Razor Crest, if someone stumbled past in the vast landscape, they would see your mouth agape, your body jolting, and the Mandalorian fisting your hair. They would see him slip a hand around your throat, thrusting you back onto him. 

But they wouldn't hear the rhythmic slapping, the duet of pleased and desperate sounds from two drunk voices.

Your mind is numb with the plunging feeling of the Mandalorian splitting you in two. Something heavy and metallic falls to the floor, rolling away. Then Din's scruff scrapes against your spine as he hunches over you, wantonly biting and sucking at your shoulder. 

His pace is intense, and if you close your eyes, hyperspace is passing through your eyelids. He grunts as you clench down on him, legs shaking. Your knees knock into the edge of the chair with each thrust. Filthy are the squelching sounds that your joining bodies make. 

"D'you still-" he groans when you arch, allowing him deeper. "You still want punishment?" 

It's not a real question. He was never going to deny you pleasure. This is as close as he can get to hurting you.

Din slips a hand between your legs, his fingers performing your favorite melody. You throw your head back, body locking as your orgasm builds. When the pressure shatters into bliss, your moans, your fluttering around him has Din fighting his own peak.

Arm barring your chest, his other hand cups your throat and his unveiled cheek presses against yours. You slam your eyes shut, wanting to experience every bit of his touch and ignore the temptation to look at him.

"Damn, you’re squeezing me s-" he mutters, but his words end in several rough groans as his cock pulses violently. 

Cheek to cheek, his lips hang open right next to yours. He pants, his cold chestplate stinging your back, as he releases himself. Din relishes the way you whimper in tandem with each of his spurts inside you.

He drops his forehead to your shoulder and brushes his lips along the bruised skin he finds there. The two of you stay motionless for a moment, basking in it. It’s one of the best experiences you’ve yet had with him, and you’re unsurprised he came so quickly considering you did as well.

Din allows his hands to linger - he skims your chest, your sides, then gently cups your ass as he pulls himself from you. The Mandalorian's sweet, unmoderated voice cuts the silent cockpit.

"Turn around.” 

Though he is uncovered, his request tells you that he's not intending on asking you anything, so you face him, eyes shut.

His soft lips pry yours open. He kisses you with sensual tenderness, as though he wasn't just ramming you against a window. His wide tongue slowly drags through your mouth, over and over, upending your sense of direction. Din's hands cradle your jaw, thumbs sliding over your cheeks. 

Tears spring up behind your eyes at his care. You drift toward him, craving his steadiness. When your naked chest touches his beskar, you shiver.

"Sorry," he remembers your state. 

Din lets you go and you wiggle your bottoms back up, head down. The Mandalorian crouches and picks up his helmet, replacing it. 

"You did well today. I am proud of you," Din's modulator lets you know you can open your eyes. “Do not argue with me.” 

He drops into the pilot's seat and finishes getting the Razor Crest ready.

You laugh, biting your lip. “No point,” you tease. “It’s only another thing I wouldn’t win.” 

The Mandalorian’s head swivels to you, and after a pause, he deadpans, “You didn’t learn much just now, did you?” 

You smirk at him. “You’ll have to explain it again.” 

***

The Crest drifts past an exploded star. Long had it burnt out, no cause for current concern. Din Djarin simply wanted you to see it. The gas and debris that hang in spacetime manifest in purples, blues, greens, and yellows. It’s incredible - unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Sitting in your usual chair, your lips are parted slightly in awe as you take it in.

The Mandalorian has seen it before, so he watches you instead. Something heavy presses on his chest, and he can’t quite put name to it. He feels as though he weighs as much as the karking ship he pilots. 

You make a comment to which he doesn’t respond, so you tear your eyes from the view outside to the view inside. He’s facing you, his shoulders hunched. 

“Din, what’s wrong?” You immediately push out of your chair and reach for him. 

Caressing his helmet, you frown, knowing something is brewing underneath. Sometimes, you hate that helmet. Though you know it as Din, and therefore love it for that reason, the human connection that it cuts him off from saddens you.

“Nothing is wrong,” he flatly asserts, though he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You touch your forehead to his and he inhales sharply. You take his hands - blessedly ungloved - and settle them on your waist. 

“You miss the kid,” you state gently.

Din does not allow the stinging in his eyes to become tears. He grits his teeth, then opens his mouth to allow a pained sigh to escape. Din finally identifies the weight pressing on his chest. It’s a void. You and Grogu make up his heart, and with either of you missing, the emptiness makes itself known.

“Could we not go see him?” You murmur, drawing back to look at the Mandalorian.

You smile at the thought of Grogu’s excited coos, the way his ears would perk up at Din’s voice. 

The Mandalorian sits back in his chair, renewed by hope, “You're right. We should find him. Make sure the kid’s alright.”

_______________________________

Din Djarin found the location of the Jedi's training facility easily. All it took was tracking down an old Republic archive worker, bribing them to provide Grogu's implanted beacon code, and then finding a device capable of tracking such an outdated string of symbols. 

It took the Mandalorian less than two days. 

The new problem was that the Razor Crest suffered a hull puncture during an unforeseen meteor shower. Frustration and impatience line his back and bow his shoulders as he lands the Crest on the nearest populated planet. Repairs would take at least a day, and that was a day that could've been spent getting to the kid.

"This planet is in the same system as Charal. Where you dishonestly obtained a room for us."

You laugh, "I remember that planet for an entirely different reason."

The T-shaped, black slit turns to observe you. 

You oblige him with an explanation, "It was the first time you touched me." 

But Din was already smirking underneath his helmet.

"I remember."

***

Walking alongside and slightly behind the Mandalorian, you hide your grin at the way he parts a crowd. You watch as people eye him as a danger, and others eye him as an object of interest. For all his social isolation, he drew attention like a tractor beam with that swaggering confidence and gleaming beskar. 

And he was all yours. 

You wait a few steps away while Din trades credits for some type of food you’re unfamiliar with. The Twi’lek vendor actually bats her eyes at the Mandalorian. When he drops the credits in her hand, she stumbles over her words when his glove contacts her skin. From a distance, you grimace - whether in embarrassment for her or irritation on your part, you’re uncertain.

Seemingly oblivious to the Twi’lek’s distress, Din wordlessly rejoins you, touching your elbow to indicate his presence. It wasn't that he didn't notice the attention, it was that he didn't care. Though you never doubted the man raised on devotion and respect, it was a balm to your disquiet soul that you could trust him in every way imaginable. 

A few minutes later, he abruptly swivels his head to you, “I have something I need to do. I’ll find you.” 

The fingers on Din’s right hand twitch as though he wants to touch you, but something tells him not to. The Mandalorian could never be certain whose eyes were watching. Instead, he bows his helmet solemnly at you, and disappears down a narrow alley. 

Din had mentioned a task earlier, so his departure was expected; but now you had to face the thronging marketplace by yourself. The last time you were alone amongst a crowd, you were running for your life from a frothing bounty hunter on Niamos. 

While Din had bought food for the two of you, your goal is to get the little womp rat something. So, you straighten your shoulders and stroll down the busy venue. 

Your attention is fully focused on sorting through the unreadable languages, garish banners, and hot smells to find something that Grogu might like when the hair on the back of your neck rises. Swearing you felt a puff of air on your skin, you furtively search, but the milling crowd gives nothing away.

So many eyes and yet none of them seem to be looking at you. Continuing past several chrono traders, you slink down a peaceful side street. It’s shaded from the pinkish sun by balconies and overhangings. 

Forcing yourself to relax, you lean against the smooth, exterior metal wall and close your eyes. You let your mind wander back out into the mass of lifeforms, wondering who had gotten close enough to feel their breath. You try to absorb any shred of detail you can hear or remember.

Your eyes snap open when you realize, with a self-conscious scoff, that you’re imitating the way Grogu reaches out with his mind. But something is wrong. Something is coming. Angling your body to peek around the corner, your eyes frantically search the crowd.

Where is Din?

Before you can finish worrying about the Mandalorian, a hand slaps across your mouth, effectively silencing your startled yelp. Then another hand, cold, immutable metal, manages to snag both of your hands behind you. Thrashing, you jerk your head around, vainly hoping Din decided to play a cruel joke. Instead, a female cyborg grins maliciously down at you. 

You allow her to drag you away from the mass of innocent people, fighting convincingly the entire way. She smells like unwashed armpits and oil. It’s foul and you fight a gag as her arm winches your throat.

Once out of sight of innocent bystanders, you suddenly drop all of your body weight to your knees, and she toddles off-balance. Thrusting your shoulders forward, you throw her over you. She lands with a guh! as the wind is knocked from her. 

Able to assess the threat now, you take stock of her cybernetic left arm, waist, and left leg. Her right arm, right leg, chest, and most of her face are still flesh. The cyborg snarls at you and rolls to her hands and knees, preparing to spring at you, when you draw your blaster and fire from your hip. A move Din made you practice daily.

A pathetic, horrible sound issues from the woman as the blaster bolt burns through her right eye and she falls to the ground, smoking. 

***

As he struts back through the town, the Mandalorian weighs the small package in his hand with contentment. Though you had loved that beskar spear, the Armorer was right: it was far too dangerous a weapon, and it could serve a greater purpose. 

Din is thrilled with his deception. There hadn’t been any damages to the Razor Crest - well, not any that couldn’t wait a little while. Din simply needed a reason to land on this planet and find his Covert without you asking him a thousand questions. 

Now, his task is complete. Grogu will have something to keep him safe and remember Din by, and you’ll have… the Mandalorian’s smirk falters a little when his thoughts consider your reaction to what he had made for you. He rarely second guesses himself, if ever. But this is territory he never considered.

All at once, he notices that people seem nervous for a reason other than him; he can hear the hushed whispers between friends. Din’s keen ears latch on to the word ‘abducted.’ His heart rate kicks up.

He tucks the small package of gifts into the pocket behind his belt, and lengthens his stride. The Mandalorian flicks on his heat sensors, but there’s too many warm-blooded species swirling about, and he growls as he flicks it back off. 

To Din’s left, two booths set up to sell chronos are quickly packing their wares away; they look considerably more afraid than the rest of the crowd.

“What happened here?” Din demands of the closest shopkeeper, a Trandoshan. 

The chrono seller winces as a Mandalorian stalks toward him, and rapidly answers: “A girl was abducted. Right there -” he jerks his hand to the side, pointing at the alleyway next to his booth. 

“What did you see?” Din isn’t threatening the Trandoshan, but his quiet, forceful voice certainly sounds like it.

“I- I don’t want to get too inv-”

Din’s body language shifts ever so slightly. He cocks his head; and that’s all the Trandoshan needs to restart his sentence.

“Human girl. She was being dragged off by a karking cyborg. It was terrifying; I tried to help her but the thing was too big,” the giant lizard’s words flow so fast, they blur as though he took a shot of spotchka before answering.

Din lurches past the vendor before he finishes his second sentence. Though the Mandalorian has no proof you are the girl in question, the knot in his gut and the hollowness in his chest tell him all he needs to know. 

Heat sensors back on his viewscreen, Din follows the yellowing, fading trail. The tunnel-like road is utterly quiet; it’s clear it’s a residential street, but there isn’t a soul to be seen. 

The trail ends in an expansive lot. It’s a confusing tangle of heat signatures in the dust, and Din can’t make out exactly what happened. He switches the sensor off again and crouches to examine the footprints himself.

Someone had been dragged. Din looks up and to his right. A small ship idles on the far edge of the field. Scanning the ship, he identifies two lifeforms - at least one is female. The Mandalorian's footsteps are quick and quiet as he approaches the small-scale freighter. The boarding ramp is down, so he slips on board. 

At the far end of the cargo hold, in a pile of cargo hauling material, lies a female body. Din knows without further examination that it is not yours. Over the past year, Din Djarin had memorized every facet of you; he committed you to memory like each entry was a precious artifact. And this body is decidedly not yours. 

Din switches his heat sensor back on to look for the other lifeform, but a brutal blow to his ribs sends him on his side. Din scrambles to his feet and is shocked to be staring into the face of Con Macta. 

“Come to settle a score?” 

The Mandalorian goes to draw his blaster, but, from behind him, the arms of the female cyborg cinch around his neck, tightening rapidly. Too quickly for Din to react, Con Macta stabs through Din's flight suit and into his bicep with a syringe. Unconsciousness steals the Mandalorian.

***

The cockpit of the Razor Crest is cold, silent. 

Cara Dune’s blue face greets you with a grimace. 

“It’s good to see you, but not like this. I sent his chain code to the Razor Crest. And, hey,” she frowns. “I can be there in less than a cycle.” 

“In that time, I’ll have found him,” you insist. “Thank you for searching the Republic database." 

"Anything for you two,” she smiles grimly and the visage fades. 

You spin away from the fading hologram and begin powering up the Razor Crest's navicomputer. The hologram of the star system flickers to life in front of you. Two planets fill your vision, and on the planet adjacent to your current position, a small yellow dot blips. 

Slightly taken aback that Din is no longer on the same planet, you recover quickly. It doesn't take much for you to add up all the evidence. A cyborg attacked you and now Din is on Charal.

You bring up the entry log from that cyborg job a year ago. The data screen reads in Aurebesh: 

Con Macta - Stormtrooper, 607th Battalion - Missing/Killed in Action 1 ABY. 

You frown. Either the database had missed an important detail, or the female cyborg was on a revenge mission. Chewing on your lower lip, you’re finally thankful Din taught you how to fly.

***

Brought to wakefulness by searing voltage in his veins, Din's jaw muscles are forced taut by the current, preventing his pained groan from escaping. His entire body tenses painfully.

Laughing cruelly, Con Macta cuts off the switch on the dirty, steel wall. 

"Good afternoon, bounty hunter. Really didn’t think you’d be so easy to capture. I didn't even have to go looking for you. You thought your apprentice was on my ship, didn't you? Very touching, your affection for her." 

Din doesn’t reply, too busy catching his breath.

“I sent my own lady friend to snatch her up, but your rather wily apprentice almost killed her. Say hello, Venita.”

Venita saunters toward the containment field Din is suspended in and taunts, “Hello, Mandalorian. You really were a disappointment compared to your friend.” 

“You know, we never did find your real name. We found your apprentice’s, but yours seems to be kept in a secure section of Imperial files. Very interesting. And in that case, don’t worry about dying here. You’ll be going to meet them next. They pay top dollar for their bounties.”

The Mandalorian does not speak. Hanging as he was inside this energy field, there was little he could do. Whatever he’d been injected with still held him in a dazed consciousness. 

“You were all bravado when last I saw you, Mandalorian. What’s changed?” Macta goads. He flips the electricity on for a second, then cuts it again. “You don’t like this? This is what you forced me back to. My maker created me here, in this filthy lab, against my will. Poor stormtroopers. We’re all pulse-cannon fodder or failed experiments.”

Din once again does not reply. Nothing he could say would change the outcome, and he damn sure wasn’t going to give Con Macta any sense of satisfaction.

The cyborg huffs. “You’re far more boring than the last time we met. I guess I’ll have to find your apprentice. That will make you lively.” 

The Mandalorian forces every ounce of will he has into not reacting to that statement, but his sudden rigidity gives him away.

“I can find her, Con. Let me have another go,” Venita begs in a hiss.

The cyborg takes his demented friend by the arm, leading her out of the room. 

Din can just make out his answer: “We’ll both go. If she’d blasted your real eye, you’d be dead.” 

The Mandalorian growls with frustration. It’s essentially useless to struggle. Containment fields are made of pure energy. The control panel with the large, white power switch sits unhelpfully across the mid-size, gray room. 

The cyborg had yet to remove Din’s helmet, thank the Mythosaur; but Din is unable to reach the vision-changing settings, so when a small, dark shadow creeps in from the steel doorway, the Mandalorian squints to hurry its focus. The light from the containment field blinds him to much of what occurs outside its glow.

The shadow moves to the control panel, and Din loosens his muscles in preparation. Tensing would only make the spasming more painful. To his great shock, the blue energy field suspending him disappears and he falls to the ground with a clang. 

Groaning, still groggy and in pain, he unsteadily rises to his feet. They must’ve accidentally released him and now he had to fight. But as he continues to squint, a soft, anguished voice comes from the direction of the control panel.

“Din! Dammit, what did they do to you?” 

You hurry to him, sliding your shoulder underneath his to stand him up fully. 

“I’m alright. Injected me with something,” he shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The two of you move toward the exit. “How did you find me?” 

“I ran to the Razor Crest right after I was attacked. I had a bad feeling, so I holocalled Cara to give me your chain code. Can’t have been much more than half an hour behind you.” 

Underneath his helmet, Din’s eyebrows shoot upward. “You were smarter than I was,” he chuckles. 

“I was terrified,” you whisper.

His arm clutches you to his side and he rubs his thumb across your hip soothingly. 

Din releases you to retrieve his blaster from its place on a table. They hadn’t removed any of his other weapons; he supposes they didn’t deem it necessary. He feels a little insulted. 

Suddenly remembering, Din jerks his hand to the place he’d held yours and Grogu’s gifts. Empty. He growls under his breath. 

You peek around the open doorway out into the hall. Your options are left or right. Following the same way you came in, you go right. 

“Those two droids,” he says it like the slur it is to him, “went this way. Stay alert.”

Two blasters are pointed down the dark hallway as you and Din skirt the circular building. It was shaped like a moisture silo - round and high. You’d set the Razor Crest down a click to the west. All you needed to do was find the busted ventilation grate you’d entered through and sprint to the ship. 

In the poor light, you can’t see the object flying at you. A weight slams into your stomach, and you crumple to the floor. Unable to catch your breath, you try to duck out of the way when the gleam of a metal arm comes at your face. It stops mid-air with a dull sound, and you focus your eyes to see that the cyborg’s fist has been caught by Din’s hand. 

The mechanical woman rips her arm from his grip right as he tries to grab a better hold. She disappears into the darkness. You fire your blaster in her direction and the instantaneous red beams of light creepily illuminate the hallway. It’s too brief to confirm, but at the apex of the curve, two figures seem to be lurking. 

The Mandalorian is a protector; dividing his attention between you and the threat is as easy as breathing. He flips on his dark-vision, and with his other hand, he gently helps you stand. Slowly, you get to your feet, clutching your ribs.

“You okay?” His voice is clipped, worried and angry.

“Yes,” you groan. 

His world lights up a sickly green. The two antagonists are at the apex of the curve, believing themselves to be hidden and waiting in ambush. 

“For an ex-stormtrooper, he is extraordinarily unskilled in tactical matters,” Din whispers drily. 

The pain in your torso spasms when you snort a laugh under your breath. “Can we make it out alive before you start imparting your wisdom, O God of War?” 

The Mandalorian’s hand splays across your lower back in familiar affection. He keeps his eyes trained on the two cyborgs as they crouch in wait. 

“They’re setting a trap for us.”

“What do we do?”

“Walk into it."

“Are you still feeling that drug in your system?”

“Yes. Start firing when I do.”

Advancing on the hidden threat, you keep your blaster at shoulder’s height, waiting for Din’s cue. Blood red light casts the hallway into faint relief as the Mandalorian’s blaster repeatedly fires. Your blaster joins his, and the two of you continue approaching the now-dodging cyborgs. 

The female launches at you again, apparently very upset about her missing cybernetic eye. This time, with Din’s dark-vision, he sees it coming. The Mandalorian bumps into your blaster, preventing you from shooting him in the back, as he lunges in front of you. He catches the woman mid-air and brutally throws her to the ground. 

You poke out from behind him and fire another blast at the oncoming Con Macta. His yell changes in pitch when your shot burns through his left thigh. Limping, his charge is slowed considerably. 

In the split second you take to shoot at Con, the Mandalorian is kicked in the back by Venita. As she gets to her feet, Din twists and fires at her. His blast does not go through either eye, but through the center of her forehead. 

Con Macta’s roar echoes throughout the building. The mechanical mixes with whatever’s left of his humanity to form an utterly hair-raising lament. 

“Mandalorian, you’ll watch yours die for that.” 

The cyborg steps underneath an exterior grate, and in the faint, purplish light, you can see that he had undergone further modification after the Mandalorian had taken out his bounty. Before, his entire head was flesh, now only his eyes and mouth remain uncovered. His cheeks and forehead are plated in a tan, utilitarian metal. His thin upper lip snarls. 

“I also have this.” The cyborg pulls a fist-sized red and white bundle from a pouch on his hip. 

Din tenses beside you. 

“Let’s see what’s inside. I hadn’t gotten around to examining my spoils yet, but I’m curious what a minimalist Mandalorian could be carrying so dearly.” 

As the cyborg looks down to untie the material, the Mandalorian raises his weapon and pulls the trigger. Con Macta stumbles as the bolt hits him in the arm. The package drops to the steel floor with a muffled clink. 

He roars again, charging at the two of you. He dodges the Mandalorian’s blasts until finally he leaps, knocking Din to the ground. Unwilling to accidentally shoot Din, you try to get an angle on the twisting cyborg. Deciding that was no good, you finally just kick Macta’s partially-human head. 

The tortured, destroyed ex-stormtrooper cries out and wobbles to the side, giving the Mandalorian an opportunity. Still pinned, Din thwacks his right leg on the ground, firing a knee rocket directly into the cybernetic back of Con Macta.

Following the ear-splitting explosion, the cyborg delivers a groaning death rattle, and slowly collapses to the ground with a resounding crash. 

The Mandalorian hefts to his feet, and quickly walks to the small bundle lying on the dirty floor. He brushes it off absentmindedly, and turns to you. 

"You still okay?" 

Nodding, you move toward him. He holds out his hand, palm down, and jerks his head toward the exit.

__________________________________

Grogu sits on a yellow stone. His eyes are closed and his breathing is audibly shallow. His mind is focused on the incoming ship. The Jedi across from him can feel it, too. 

Luke Skywalker frowns with acceptance. The child had made its choice. 

***

“You’re very quiet,” you observe, hoping Din will tell you his mindset.

He doesn’t. The Mandalorian continues performing the landing cycle with rote movement, jostling slightly as the landing gear settles onto the gravel below.

“I can’t wait to see him,” you smile, peering out the glass, hoping for a glimpse of the kid. “His little face -” 

“I know.” 

You press your lips together in a knowledgeable smile. Din is anxious. 

***

The boarding ramp lowers, and you bounce once or twice on the balls of your feet. Beside you, Din is composed except for the fingers on his right hand. As the two of you strut down the ramp, a figure in form-fitting black materializes from the treeline. 

“Hello. I was expecting you sooner, actually.” Luke smiles. “You really do care for the child to have denied yourself for so long.” 

The tall grass sways for a second before Grogu flips out and onto the gravel path. 

“Patu!” The child begins waddling toward the Mandalorian.

Din strides forward and crouches to one knee, taking the kid into his hands. 

“Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.” 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes at the blatant love in Din’s voice. Grogu reaches for the Mandalorian’s helmet, but Din does not remove it this time. He half-turns, and Grogu’s attention shifts. His childish hand raises at you, cooing. 

Nearly jogging to them, you allow three stubby fingers to grasp your thumb. Pressing a kiss to his wrinkly head, you murmur an affectionate greeting. Grogu begins to purr.

“Is he happy here? Is his training going well?” Din asks the Jedi. 

“Happy enough. But he is distracted. I believe Grogu has made his decision.” 

Your brow furrows, “What decision?” 

“Grogu has learned all he will from me. I know his feelings, sense his thoughts. They remain with his father. A life dedicated to the Jedi Order is not his path.” 

“You’re saying that you won’t train him anymore?” You clarify, shocked.

“Grogu has seen both of his choices and made his decision. That decision is to return to you.” 

Though you can’t see his face, your eyes turn up to the Mandalorian anyway. Your imagination serves you well enough. His eyes are surely glassy, and a soft, disbelieving smile is certainly spreading across his face. 

Luke bows slightly, and turns away, walking down the path with his hands folded behind his back. In the distance, a stone hut is being built by spidery droids. You watch him go for a moment in curiosity before returning your attention to the two in front of you. 

Din’s helmet tips down to look at the child. “You’re coming with us?” The hope in his voice confirms your picture of his expression. 

Still aggressively purring, Grogu burrows down into the crook of Din’s arm. 

The T-shaped slit tilts up to you, and you wish you had the ability to freeze the image. The Mandalorian contentedly holding his green child, looking at you with what you're sure is pure happiness.

"Let's go, then," you grin. 

_________________________

Deciding that a reunion could be better savored while resting on a peaceful planet, the Mandalorian lands the Razor Crest. Gentle hills of sand roll in every direction, and, once outside the ship, the sound of ebbing water can be heard.

"This is Illen. The entire surface is made of small islands. The waterline is on the other side of that dune," Din points his chin upward. 

"Is it late in the day's cycle?" You wonder, referring to the soft, golden light that illuminates the planet.

"The sun does not set here." 

You raise your eyebrows in appreciation, "It's beautiful." 

Din kneels, laughing under his breath at Grogu's immediate fascination with the sand. 

"Kid, I have something for you." 

Grogu's ears flop slightly when he looks all the way up at Din. He tilts his head in curiosity. 

The Mandalorian unwraps the little bundle he'd carried with him and pulls out a child-sized chainmail shift. 

"This is yours by right, Grogu. You are a Mandalorian foundling, and part of this clan." 

The child seems to understand the gift he's being given. His eyes look upon his father with adoration, and his hand touches the beskar chainmail with respect. 

***

Several hours later, Grogu begins to slow his excitement. His tiny mouth opens wide showing a range of even tinier teeth as he yawns. 

Grogu plops down in the sand, grabbing fistfuls and letting it trickle through his fingers. Miniature crustaceans with towering, swirly shells scuttle by, fascinating the kid as he slowly starts to drift to sleep. 

"He'll be busy for a while," the Mandalorian nods his head toward the ridgeline. 

Traipsing through the soft, sifting sand makes your journey to the top of the dune longer than usual, but when you join Din at the top, your breath catches. 

"Woah," you blink, ensuring your eyes aren't lying to you. 

Gentle waves lap at the silky white sand. The ocean is a vibrant blue, contrasting beautifully with the golden tint of the sky. Purple and yellow clouds dot the horizon. The burning sun casts yours and Din's shadows far behind you. 

Din gallantly holds your hand as the two of you trudge down the dune, stopping several paces from the water. 

"I have something for you, too."

Tearing yourself away from the natural world, you turn to look at your own. 

"What?" 

Din's thumb and forefinger dig into his pocket, and he fishes out a metal pin shaped like a Mudhorn. 

"You are also part of this clan, if you so wish. This does not bind you in any way, however," he assures. 

You smile warmly and raise your palm for him to drop the pin onto. It's even lighter than it looks. 

"Being bound to this clan is all I want," you shake your head and pin the object to your shirt. Your cheek twitches up into a lopsided smile at him. 

The Mandalorian simply stares at you for a breath, enjoying the moment.

Reluctantly, he starts to speak. “While I am reminded of it: I did have something I wanted to teach you,” he unhooks his real binders from behind him. "You are going to learn how to get out of these.” 

Your shoulders fall and your face is unmistakably wary. “Seriously? Can’t we have a single day without some type of exercise?”

Real binders represent a litany of bad memories. If you can avoid this, you will.

"No. And don't be afraid. You trust me." 

He says it as though it's a fact. And you realize that it is. The bond of trust between the two of you hasn't been up for debate in a very long time. He has your best interest at heart. Always.

The Mandalorian clasps the thick metal around his own wrists, and to your immense shock, a shadow in your mind whispers something excitingly foul. 

“When you’re…” Din’s words trail off when he notices something. The blank face of the beskar helmet tilts. “Your heart is racing.”

"It's not," you lie.

"I’ll get you out if you’re unable to break them. You need to learn how to do this." 

Din worries that your past might be causing you to fear. It was, but a more insidious idea has taken root.

"No, I know. I believe you."

Din's shoulders tense, his bound hands folded in front of him. "Then why is your heat signature rising?" 

The breeze from the sea is cool, and the sun is at a perfect place in the sky to allow for a comfortable amount of warmth. Trying to understand, the Mandalorian watches as your cheeks flush, and it finally strikes him that you're embarrassed.

"This -" he pauses, truth dawning on him. "You like this, don't you?" He raises his hands.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look at the shifting ground beneath your feet. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know why." 

Din considers that for a moment. It wasn't hard to understand. A lifetime of servitude and bondage, you might enjoy being on the other side of it. 

The Mandalorian shifts his body, his knee cocking. “If you win today, I'll see what I can do." 

Your eyes widen, nerves sparking already at his voice. Then you frown. 

"But I never win," you retort. 

Din shrugs his shoulders. 

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, "Alright, well. Show me how." 

The Mandalorian twists one of his hands, working against one of the hinges. One edge of the hinge springs up. Then, Din raises his hands above his head and jerks them down and apart with all his strength, popping the hinge. One cuff remains, but his hands are no longer constrained together.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed. 

"These are a low-grade set. You won't be able to break free of the high-end binders; unless you pick their lock," he explains. "But I want you to know how to do this." 

Din resets the hinge, and holds out his hand for you to take them. As your fingers close around the binders, however, the Mandalorian sweeps your leg out from underneath you. 

Instinct takes over, and, though you're laughing at the change in plan, you duck into a recovering move to the side, giving yourself space from him. 

He nods at you, and the fight is on. Binders still in your hand, you feint to his left. Din actually reacts, so you take advantage and charge his right. 

You land a blow to his side, then grab his arm and try to set him off-balance. From the modulator, you hear him breathily laugh at your pathetic effort. He crouches and whirls you off him, sending you down onto the sand. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you're laughing too hard to focus. Even without a weapon, his strength was such a formidable opponent that you'd never win. 

"You can do better.”

"I can't," you snort. "Din, you're as broad as an X-wing." 

He gestures like So what?

"Try again," he demands, folding his hands cockily. 

Huffing, you narrow your eyes, looking for some kind of misstep. But he's just standing there - unimpressed as a karking Republic officer. Eventually, you decide on trickery; that seemed to work before. 

Feinting again, Din expects you to go to the opposite side like you did last time, so he twists a little to that direction. But then you continue through on your "feinted" movement, launching at him. You come at him from below this time, grabbing and pushing at his waist, and as he bends, your leg swipes out his knee. 

He grunts, rotating and falling onto his back, and you go down with him, arms still around his waist. 

Din takes the opportunity, while your ankle is awkwardly underneath his knee, to wrestle on top of you. He's chuckling under his breath, clearly enjoying this. 

As Din supports himself above you, you knock your elbow into the crook of his arm, causing it to give out and his body to drop to one side. He grips your waist as you roll and force him onto his back once more. A click resounds between you.

"Stop doing that," he growls at your cheap shots on his joints.

As you straddle him, he hears a second click. 

The Mandalorian looks down now at his hands where they lie against your stomach. Binders lock his wrists in place. The black slit on his helmet considers you with a sigh. 

"Well done,” his modulator conveys his flat, raspy tone. “I concede." 

Your eyebrows draw together, mouth agape, and you place your hands on his breastplate for stability. 

"You can't concede a fight you lost." 

"I just showed you I can break out of these, did I not?" 

"That doesn't negate my win." 

Din huffs dramatically. The motion tenses his abs underneath you. Once again, you’re tempted by the way he looks right now, bound and pinned underneath you. Heat begins to pool where you sit astride him. 

Suddenly, the Mandalorian lurches upward, looping his bound arms over your head and around your waist. He shifts on the sand until he's sitting up with you in his lap, your legs still sprawled around his waist.

"Can you take this off for me?" His gravelly voice asks. "My hands seem to be tied up."

There comes a lurch in your stomach that has very little to do with your position around him.

"The helmet?" You whisper.

"Yes, the helmet." 

"Din, are you sure? Shouldn’t you -”

“I think it is fitting. You won and I’ve already made my decision. You make yours.” 

Reverently, you place your hands on either side of his beskar face. Your fingers curl around the concave shapes that resemble cheek bones. A third Death Star could splash down into the ocean and you'd only know when the tsunami engulfed you. The weight of the moment is almost too much to bear. 

The sharp edge of the helmet crests the top of his head and short, wavy, brown locks fall away from the interior. You set the helmet down beside him, and, with the gravitational pull he has on you, you can’t stop yourself from touching his face.

His face.

Huge, sensitive brown eyes look up at you, reading your reaction. His full lips pout in a way that forces you to stutter over them several times in your exploration. You’re surprised at how easy he is to read, and for a moment you believe it’s because of how well you know him, and that is much of it. But then you understand. A life behind a mask meant that he never learned to hide his expressions. 

You press a gentle kiss to his angular nose; to the patch of missing hair on his jaw, oddly shaped like a heart; and finally to those unfair lips. Your hands cradle his jaw as you press your kisses, and he sighs underneath your touch. 

The Mandalorian is beautiful underneath beskar and bone. 

This is the first time Din has seen you without his helmet, and the weight of his gaze as it travels across your face, down your throat, and back up to your lips sets your already-taut nerves ablaze. The knot in your stomach has yet to loosen; instead, Din only twists it tighter. 

Taking a liberty, you peck him on the lips shyly, drawing back almost immediately. The corner of his mouth turns upward ever so slightly and his hooded eyes pin you with a look full of deep admiration.

When you pull back, your eyes open to the true intimacy of the moment. The Mandalorian could not show you any more blatantly that he cares, that he’s yours. Bound and unhelmed under you, Din is still in control. At any moment he could break his bonds, but he chooses not to. You take a shaky breath, then surge into him again. This time, however, your lips slot between his with heated fervor. 

He groans into your mouth, crushing you to him. Din reclines a few degrees onto the sand dune behind, allowing you a better position on him. Your sounds become more desperate, and Din breaks the kiss.

“Take this off,” he indicates his chestplate. 

His eyes are hooded and completely on board with this new dynamic, so you comply. You bite your lip, trying not to ogle, as you carefully divest the Mandalorian of his armor. The illusion of control was yours, but he always held the power. Him choosing not to use it makes your blood boil. 

When his armor is lovingly placed to the side, abandoned in the daylight, you run your hands up his chest over his flight suit. Without waiting for instruction, you unfasten it. Quietly he watches you, his arms still around your hips, and his breathing grows shallow. 

You pull open his flight suit and duck to press open mouth kisses along his chest. Sparse, dark hairs curl in the center, tickling your cheeks and lips as you move.

Din groans through his nose, his eyes closing above you. At the apex of your thighs, his length twitches and thickens. You kiss along his collarbone, encouraged by his faint sounds, then suck a biting kiss on his tense neck. 

A wrecked groan rips from his mouth, and his hands press into your back, egging you on. Your hips buck of their own free will as his arousal becomes hot and hard between you. His eyes roll closed when you drag along him just right, and the sight of his pleased face soaks your underwear. 

“You going to run the whole show?” He murmurs. “Or would you like me to -”

Before he’s finished speaking, you retrieve the thin key for his binders, unlocking them. Pulling off his gloves and tossing the binders into the sand, he immediately skates his hands underneath your shirt, tugging it off you. When Din tosses it away, his eyes shamelessly follow his hands as they explore.

He suddenly sits forward, his arms cradling your back, and he sweeps you underneath him. His knee spreads your legs, so it’s really his own fault when your drenched, needy core rides his thigh. Looking directly into the Mandalorian’s soft eyes, you whimper; his eyes darken further, and he roughly shuffles your pants down. 

Your hands fumble with the rest of his flight suit, but he shrugs out of the sleeves, tying them around his waist. He opens the codpiece area and your eyes widen. It’s not the first time you’ve had sex with him in the daylight, but those times had always been from behind. Din’s hands are already large, and yet his cock makes them look smaller. The memory of it inside you is enough to make you arch into him.

Your arms reach for his neck, and he bows over you, tenderly kissing between your breasts. He makes his way to your throat before he returns the favor, sucking a bruise into the crook of your neck. Din’s heavy erection settles against your thigh, and it throbs when you moan.

“Stop teasing,” you beg breathlessly. 

“I’m not teasing. I am enjoying this,” Din says honestly. 

“I really need you,” you take his face in your hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss. 

The Mandalorian takes the hint. He groans; his hands grip your waist, pinning you into the sand. One hand abandons its post to drag his length through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Brown eyes bore into yours as he lines up and, with a rough sigh, nestles the head of his cock inside you. The Mandalorian breaks eye contact to look down and grab the underside of your knee. He throws your leg up over his waist, maintaining his hold, and inch-by-inch, buries himself in your tight heat. 

Watching him enter you has you teetering on the edge of an early orgasm. His eyebrows draw together and his full lips part slightly. His chin tips upward with pride when you cry yes, and his heavily-lidded eyes blaze with lust. 

Adjusting to his size is simple when he’s driven you to the point of an orgasm just from insertion. You wait for him to move, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you without agenda. You relax into him, letting him lead. He said he was enjoying this, and the more you touch him, the more you agree. 

Curling your hands in his dark brown waves, you drift with the roll of his tongue and his lips. His slow sensuality seems to turn him on even more. You whine each time the Mandalorian throbs inside your body, and each time it sets your heart racing. 

Eventually, when your body shakes with anticipation and sheer want, he has mercy on you. His hand leaves your knee, sliding down your thigh and between your two bodies. His thumb rubs smooth circles over your sensitive bud and you tighten around him immediately. 

Whining, muscles stiffening, you lean away from his lips just to breathe, when his low, crisp voice asks earnestly, “Will you come on me like this?” 

It’s the missing piece. It whips through you like a wildfire, and you bear down on his cock. He groans in his throat, enraptured, as you shake beneath him. Din takes advantage of the moment, surging forward to claim your lips. 

Din drags his length out along your walls, loving your overstimulated expressions. Then, he reseats himself in a single motion, sending your body forward in the sand. You cry out, begging him for more.

The Mandalorian thrusts into you, replacing his hand around your knee and using it as leverage to please you deeper. His muscular arm settles near your face for balance. Burying you in the sand, his warm body pressing into you from above and inside, the feeling of bliss sinks into your very marrow. 

Grunting, his lips lose their steady rhythm on your mouth, insteading hanging above you. Sweat shines on his forehead, his brown hair curls in the same place, and he looks at you with such admiration that you can’t stop yourself from cupping his face between your hands, kissing and worshiping every part of him you can reach. 

Your second orgasm sneaks up on you. Din loops an arm around your back, pulling your chest flush with his while he works himself into you, grunting as his aching member begins to empty itself. The coase hairs between you tangle, acting as friction. The thrusting of his body nudges your clit, and the powerful shuddering of his cock in your overstimulated channel forces you right over the cliff. 

Shaking in his arms, he rides it out with you, breathing rapidly into one another. Sand sticks to the both of you where you’ve perspired. Din leans his forehead against yours, whispering his affection. He kisses your nose, then carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lie there for a moment, basking in it all. 

“I’m too dirty to put my clothes back on,” you laugh. 

“I am, too.” Din agrees. 

He stands, having tucked himself back in his black flight suit. His upper torso is still uncovered, though, and you stare. 

The Mandalorian holds out his hand and you take it without hesitation. He helps you stand, then begins to undress himself further, not wanting his knee rockets and boots to get waterlogged.

 “You’re… going to bathe with me?” Your lips curve into a coy smile.

“Is that not obvious?” He responds drily, chucking a boot onto the beach. 

“I’m not going to keep my hands to myself,” you warn in a whisper.

“Neither will I,” the Mandalorian promises. 

_________________________________

Taglist:

@morks-watermelon @leithatnight @sexygaypalpatine @leeeesahhh @taro-666 @bitter-sweet-slut @cockscombkingdom

[tewwor-moving]

tender interaction call ( accepting while i cry ) — @icarusplunged

The way Ricochet presents himself has always been dangerously oversimplified. There’s the permanent scowl etched onto his face, a doomful aura that hangs around to deter unwanted conversation. Everything about him warns against interaction and he doesn’t fight to change that. Silly choices in life have molded his path into something deeply gnarled and compacted. So much so that light can be optional for growth and betterment.  But there are times where even roots can bloom into something fruitful. Where some time and patience can endure a surprising harvest of something good and less harsh.

That’s where he sits now. Legs loosely crossed with the slow, confident motion of hands twining in red hair — delicately handled but with definite skill. The roughened skin of his fingers occasionally catch, but he's sure to apologize softly for it.  “My sister used to hiss and howl at me like a cat whenever one side comes out more lopsided than the other.” The casualness of tone still feels unfamiliar to him, but he’s learning how certain things, people, don’t always need to be kept at bay with barbed hostility. Slowly but surely.

[adureus]

At his heels lie beds of near every hue ( pampered, thriving ), though their floral collection is limited. It's not for lack of ambition, or a lack of labour. Nay ⸻ the Blight has robbed the land of much. In that quiet morning, his only company is the babble of rills throughout the backyard's nursery, an echo of a lifestream in all sense. Not too long ago, this sight was consigned to fantasy. During their nascent years, they had naught ⸻ no seeds, no preparations were salvaged since Kupka's assault. All which remained would serve as monuments, mementos, proof of an existence lost to time and dust. He bristles at that. They need not desecrate memory with a want so trivial as a sample of a wildflower. Would he have thought the same of this passing request, some moons ago, regarding the harvesting of Snow Daisies and their seed ? Their temperamental needs were attributed and tailored to their environment. To mimic these conditions would normally be considered a trivial use of resources already strained thin. Once vernal lands choke on hibernal corruption, half-buried dreams, and an unprecedented scarcity both flora and humans alike must face. Yet their gardeners had achieved the impossible. Despite the odds, despite the difficulty. In secret, they'd mottled what they could. A modest patch, tended and nurtured. And now, their patience is rewarded, with the added boon of resilience.

Daisies aren't a common choice, but they embody a particular beauty. Refined, reticent in their presence, yet deadly. As is one Jill Warrick. Horticulture wasn't his forte, though he'd been informed of their toxicity. A fitting comparison perhaps, considering her skill with a blade. Roses, while cliché, deliver messages of affection effective and clear. Though, he gathers them this day not for the uniqueness of the arrangement, rather for a union of loyalty unwritten. Both flowers serve as vestiges of home, bundled in delicate parchment, suspend the glory and essence of nations beloved and bold. Rosaria and the Northern Territories, respectfully. Now they rest as bitter shells of yesteryear.

It’s a small, meaningful lull to days of activity and no pause. He’d even gone as far as inscribing words of appreciation onto paper ⸻ far from a letter of love ( and uncharacteristic ), he’d never been the sort to find himself fanciful with language. But she needed to know her importance to him : her contributions, his pride in seeing her grow and heal, and her ascension to personhood ⸻ unfettered, she climbs closer to the fruits of freedom.

The quill pauses then.

In youth, following her arrival, she held a predictable reticence. Yet, she also lacked a certain regality about her ⸻ no pretension or haughtiness embittered her words. The Princess of the North graced them all : a sharp interruption within the walls of Rosalith. So different. So stark. Blue to red. Red to blue. The Rosfield heirs welcomed her as any other, lacking prejudice and honouring her origins. It wasn’t long before she established roots for herself, now warmly settled despite her apprehension. And as they grew close, he’d learned much from her. With her, she'd brought wise perspectives, intentional words. Emotion guided her, true, as it did all youth ( before logic and maturity stunted their wonder of the world ), but she enlightened him with what many would consider an ancient wisdom. Perhaps the conflict had acquainted her with worldly knowledge, of lessons seldom taught so early. But war was not courteous enough to spare anyone. She’d protected him, cured him of indiscretion and lapsing confidence, remained realistic. She'd kept his expectations within the realm of man, constrained and attainable, promoted his success. Even at an age so tender, she carries words so wise. A song honed through generations, as though the Queen of Rime sung them within her ear, imbued through slumber. She’d done much for him ( down to catering to his own hound ! ) and in return, he’d incurred naught but debt ⸻ debts she futilely reminded he need not pay.

He’d insist.

During one of his father's annual tours, he'd reciprocate. Once they'd broken from the procession, exploring field and wood unseen, he'd aimed to surprise her with sights wild and wonderful. It would not be. The heavens wept, drowned his hopes, and earned her a nasty cold. Yet, she laughed nonetheless. Laughed lovely and sweet. He apologized post-haste. Bashful. Ashamed. Still, she forgave him. In retrospect, that’d been the day he’d come to love her much more than a friend. But fate is not so forgiving, and their separation stung deep and malignant as a wound ⸻ perhaps more so. Physical wounds mended with time and patience. The brunt of emotional wounds had a lifetime to foster their potential. And it’s precisely what he’d feared would happen. Once reconciled some thirteen years later, she forgave him. And again, he requests a pardon. It’s naught but apologies which he gifts her, or torment, or eves marked by worry. She gives unconditionally. He wishes to do the same. It took their reunion to rend him from a myopic, transactional relationship to war and destruction and a devilish temper.

To him, love is not overt. It’s intentionally unassuming, expressed through touch. The sweep of a strand too keen upon her brow, or a reassuring stroke to the small of her back. It's delivered through questions regarding her well-being, through attentiveness, through notes of her preferences. It's expressed through a protective glance in battle, or an assist ( akin to a dance. Poetic, albeit macabre, but harmonious nonetheless ). It's through the way he trusted her wholly with his affairs, both personal and professional. While she supports, she also challenges his ire, grounds him, reminds him of the alternatives. He needn’t be so headstrong, and throughout the years, she has reinforced his empathy, strengthened and nourished his soul.

The letter is completed, with melted wax to seal. It's melded with the pigments of woad and rouge leaning stains, not quite overtaking the default alabaster in its bleed. Two fingers press to lips, fall downward, impress atop parchment. Unseen, as an incantation, yet present. It’s the gesture which mattered most. He'd likely find her hovering about the map table of their shared chambers ⸻ her routine was predictable. She’d sift through newly delivered missives and glean any urgent matter. If she hadn’t dealt with them then he would upon his return. In that time, he hopes she will appreciate the gift in full, in the peaceful hum of shared company and thought. And, as predicted, as he emerges from those oaken doors, he is greeted by his beloved and a silken hello. She is usually the first to initiate, but he’d done so first, sinking into her approach, leaning, pressing lips flush and wanting into her own. It’s comforting. It’s sanctuary. The flutter of lashes tickle cheeks, as does her giggle ; in times like these he doesn’t feel so scorn. As they retreat to their short distance, fingers entwine with the bouquet and foreheads press. They fall into step naturally, recalling bygone days and the countless lessons for galas they never wholly got to appreciate. It’s only the creak and whispers of the Hideaway which serve as their tune. He didn’t mind. It’s a comfortable silence, a comfortable appreciation of the company they kept. He needn’t honour a day to show his gratitude, but at times he needs an arresting realization to slow down. He didn’t just live for himself anymore.

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫. @nievea

[the-red-company-if]

Who are the big spoons and who are the little spoons out of the ROs?

Liran - Big Spoon. As a naturally protective and caring individual, Liran likes the role of the big spoon. He likes the feeling of holding his partner close, providing warmth and security.

Makena - Switch/Little Spoon (preference). Makena has a preference for being the little spoon, as it offers an opportunity for her to enjoy the feeling of being held and cared for but if her partner needs a good cuddling she will gladly be the big spoon as well.

R - Big Spoon. With their competitive, dominant nature and a "fight or flight" mentality, R prefers to be the big spoon. They need to be in control and feel secure in their surroundings. However, with time, patience, and trust, they could learn to relax and even enjoy being the little spoon occasionally.

Ghost - Switch. Ghost is an easygoing person who is equally comfortable being the big or little spoon. Their decision may depend more on the mood or their partner's preference.

Joryn - Little Spoon. Despite their flirtatious demeanor, Joryn really enjoys the comfort and security that comes with being the little spoon. It's a rare moment where they can truly relax. It's also a testament to their trust in their partner, showcasing their more tender side.

Rothar - Big Spoon. It’s more of a practical choice for them. Rothar struggles with what is mostly known in Keelos as Rhyala’s Spite or Slumber’s Scourge (or as we know chronic insomnia) and by being the big spoon, they can ensure they won't accidentally wake their partner during their sleepless nights.

[granatkoroleva]

Head Chef Bucky

Bucky is a highly skilled classically chef with years of experience in high-end restaurants, and best selling cook books. He's known for his innovative dishes and bold flavors, but also for his abrasive personality. His subordinates fear him, and he's not afraid to make his displeasure known. He has little patience for those who don't meet his high standards, and he's not one to mince words. Despite his reputation as a mean and rude chef, Bucky is respected for his talent and his unwavering commitment to his excellence.

Line Cook Bucky

Grumpy, family-trained Bucky is a badass tattooed and pierced line cook at his family's diner. He may not have the formal training of fancy chefs, but he makes up for it with his grit and determination. He learned to cook from his grandmother and has been working in the kitchen ever since. He's not afraid to speak his mind, even if it means going up against asshole rude customers. He's fiercely loyal to his family and will do whatever it takes to keep their business afloat.

Secret Chef Bucky

James Barnes is the secret chef at a high-end restaurant that is known for its exclusivity. He's never appeared in public or been interviewed, and his real name is not known. The only way to experience his cooking is to be invited by the restaurant's owner, who personally screens all potential diners. Bucky’s has dishes with flavors and textures that are impossible to describe and replicate. Rumors abound about his training and background, with some speculating that he trained in Japan with a master sushi chef, while others claim that he was a protégé of the famous chef Ferran Adria. Despite his secrecy, Bucky has a cult following among foodies and critics, who consider him to be one of the greatest.

Food Truck Chef Bucky

The owner and chef of a popular food truck that specializes in fusion cuisine. He's always on the move, traveling to different locations to serve up his unique and delicious dishes. He's known for his creativity and willingness to experiment with new flavors and ingredients. He has a magnetic personality and a passion for sharing his love of food with others.

Pastry Chef Bucky

A gifted pastry chef known for his artistry and attention to detail. He honed his craft in some of the finest pastry kitchens in France before returning to the States to open his own patisserie. His desserts are as beautiful as they are delicious, with delicate flavors and stunning presentations. But he is a perfectionist who demands the best from himself and his team, he's also a kind and patient mentor to his apprentices. He takes pride in using only the finest ingredients and is always experimenting with new techniques and flavor combinations.

BBQ Pitmaster Bucky

A master of smoke and fire, Bucky and his BBQ is the stuff of country cook out legend. Years spent perfecting his craft, and his award-winning brisket, ribs, and pulled pork have earned him a reputation as one of the best pitmasters in the country. Bucky's secret is his love of tradition. He uses only the finest cuts of meat and slow-cooks them over wood for hours until they're tender and juicy. While He's always experimenting with new rubs and sauces, he never strays too far from the classic flavors. His gruff loner nature is only off putting to those who don’t know just how much of a sweetheart this lumberjack of a man is.

[our-flag-means-death-ao3feed]

Let Go

by PleaseRingTheBell (Birdie_Lo_Green)

'“Edward-” Izzy pants. Ed knows he wants more, wants the pain and the bruises, wants it all to stop for a while. But he also knows to go slow, has learned that the hard way. They are not young men anymore, after all. Ed leans in, breathes a kiss behind Izzy’s ear, right where gray hair is curling with sweat.

“Patience,” he hisses, tightens his hand just a fraction until Izzy wheezes, grateful. It’s the heat that’s getting to him. Fucking sweltering, even without black leathers, and Izzy’s been on edge all week, lashing out at captains and crew until Ed had no choice but to scruff him like a cat. Drag him down into a storage room and rip the sweat-soaked shirts off both of them, Izzy’s eyes shining defiantly in the gloom. They’re not even here to fuck, too bloody hot for that, but Izzy needs to get out of his head and Ed would be a pathetic captain - husband - if he refused to help.'

- safe and sound - chapter 4: breathe by dinoromance89

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Israel Hands

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Israel Hands

Additional Tags: Fanart, Inspired by Fanfiction, Art, Pencil, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Hurt Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Bruises, Fainting, Tenderness, Cuddling & Snuggling, Shirtless, Blackbeard | Edward Teach Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Israel Hands Has a Pain Kink

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48637393

[unitedbyprayer]

(via He Is Our Heavenly Shepherd) He Is Our Heavenly Shepherd

https://www.unitedbyprayer.com/.../he-is-our-heavenly...

It is a Psalm that contains lessons from days of old which are designed to help us to learn from the past, to encourage us to make the right choices in the present, and to live as God has ordained that we should live. By God's grace, may we seek to live our lives according to His Word and for His greater praise and glory as we reflect on His tender mercies and gracious patience - He is our heavenly Shepherd, and He is our eternal King Who has promised to guide us in the way of righteousness and to uphold us with His gracious hand.

So he shepherded them according to the integrity of his heart, And guided them by the skillfulness of his hands.

Our United Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You for the many lessons that we may learn from Israel's past history and Your long-suffering grace towards them. We pray that we may learn all that You would teach us from their past failures so that we may not repeat the mistakes of the past - but we pray, O Lord, that we may walk in integrity of heart and humility of spirit all the days of our lives - for Your greater praise and glory. This we ask in Jesus' name, AMEN.

[willowser]

okay, but. single dad!bakugou has such a quiet and shy son. listen to me.

[refloralisation]

Batfamily and the kitchen.

Dick: can cook, but not very well. Salt is either too much or too little. Amazing at the grill, for some reason. Big on nostalgia while eating. His best loved recipes are usually the ones some warm, happy memory is attached to.

Jason: could honestly give a Michelin star chef run for their money. Instinctively understands how to balance flavours and textures. Marco Pierre White wants him. Very adventurous pallate. Will eat everything at least once.

Tim: can cook but has no patience for it. Mostly takes his recipes from one pot/pan dinners. Likes food where minimal amounts of effort is involved - put stuff in a pot and let it bubble away until it's done kind of guy. Gun to head can eat anything, but given a choice and he basic stuff like chicken tenders or box Mac and cheese.

Cass: the spiritual successor to Bruce "will somehow discover new explosive elements in the kitchen" Wayne. Salt looks the same as sugar so naturally they can be substituted in recipes. Sometimes the league of shadows likes to watch her cook because that's how they devise recipes for new poisons. Will eat gravel if she needs to.

Stephanie: cooks a mean roasted chicken. Slightly picky about food - specifically certain textures. Food is how she bonds with people. Will learn how to cook your favourite foods. Baking is too precise for her taste. If you ask her to recreate something she made, she will never be able to. Lets how the food is smelling guide her.

Damian: isn't allowed in the kitchen after the knife incident but is generally competent. Talia made him learn basic stuff like dal and sabzi. Doesn't derive pleasure from food. It is sustenance and as long as it is vegan he will eat it with minimum fuss. It's not like these white people know what flavour actually is, anyway.

Duke: somehow whatever he cooks is always good. Second best in the family after Jason, except his food is definitely more experimental. Balls to walls madlad. Who knew mixing pickle brine into the marinade while making cornflakes crusted chicken would make it so delicious?

Bruce: has caused so many explosions, that homeland security felt that they had to visit. There's a file. The president has been asked to pass a law to make it illegal for this man to enter a kitchen. Can digest ANYTHING. never had an upset stomach his entire life. If he could have his way, everyone would drink nutritional and flavourless beige smoothies.

Alfred: her majesty the queen was ready to leave the crown behind for his cookies

[falling-pages]

the Hosts as Dads

I'm late for Father's Day but WHOOPS! have some fluff

-

Tamaki:

Literally his greatest wish in life is to have a family, so he would be desperate for kids

As soon as you’re ready to have them, he’s ready

Worships you and your baby bump

To him, you are a goddess--you create life, you carry the most precious gifts in the world

He passes out the first time you go into labor

And is a bawling MESS when he holds his child for the first time

Cannot stop crying and cooing over the baby

Wants as many kids as you do, and then begs you to pop out another one

Maybe 5 or 6

Impulse buys EVERYTHING

Tamaki we’re only having one baby we don’t need three cribs

Tamaki we already have three toy boxes FULL--

Raising his sons to be little hosts and his daughters as little ladies

Spoils them ROTTEN with all the affection he never received as a child, but they’re all so sweet and not brats because he’s their dad

Refers to himself as “père” or “papa” and you as “maman”

Teaches his babies French, of course

He has very strong European genes, so most of the kids end up looking more like him

IMAGINE THE TINY TAMAKI DOPPLEGANGERS TODDLING AROUND SPEAKING HALF-FRENCH HALF-JAPANESE

Honestly? Becomes a stay at home dad

Teaches his little ones to play piano

Kyoya:

Doesn’t have the first inkling of how to raise a child

Straight up when he finds out you’re pregnant his first words are, “Good, the Ootori Company will have an heir.”

Kyoya I stg--

Holds you in extremely high esteem as you carry your children

Not really the doting type, but he does make sure you have everything you could ever want

Very subtly checks on your comfort, if you’re in any pain, etc and tries to fix it

Chooses not to watch you go into labor. He doesn’t think it proper and he honestly believes he will be a hindrance

He stops breathing when he sees his child for the first time

A little baby girl with a full head of black hair

Of course he loves her, but he doesn’t know how to articulate it

All he knows is that he doesn’t want to be like his own father

But one day you were out of town overnight, and all the nannies had gone home so when the baby cried, Kyoya had to check on her

And when he held that baby and truly looked at her, looking at his future, holding his entire world in his arms, he fell apart

Sat in the rocking chair and CRIED as his baby went back to sleep

After that his favorite thing to do is have her nap on his chest while he reads a book

And just likes to look at and admire her

Second child is a son

Daughter is bossy and business minded; son is laid back

Both kids need glasses

Hikaru:

Okay we know this boy has no patience and very bad impulse control

So it comes as no surprise to anyone when he knocks up his college girlfriend

Is a surprisingly well-adjusted dad

His parents were never really around for his childhood, and even though he had Kaoru, his little baby boy doesn’t, so he’s as hands-on as possible

Proposes to his girlfriend on their child’s first birthday. All the pictures have the kid smashing cake in them

Every single host is dying at the opportunity to babysit

Hikaru is still as reckless as he was when he wasn’t a father

I mean, he has a little more common sense, but not much

Thank God for Kaoru

Imagining 19-year-old Hikaru sitting in his sophomore tech & software classes with his baby in one arm and writing notes with the other hand

Showing up to his first day at his internship with a diaper bag, computer bag and baby strapped to his chest

You and he wait a while before the next kid--get married, start your careers, settle down

Baby boy is the ring bearer

Your son is pushing six when you have another baby boy, then three years later you have a girl

The middle child is an absolute angel, while the oldest and youngest are devils

Hikaru likes to sing to the babies when they’re fussy. He’s horrible at it, but nothing calms them like their father’s voice

Crawls into bed with them to soothe them when they have nightmares

Imagine walking in on them one morning, toddler’s head curled on Hika’s chest, him sprawled out, both of them drooling buckets

Roughousing with his boys and his girl, playing football, wrestling, just being a goofball

Please. dad Hika with a baby strapped to his chest is sending me to the astral realm

Kaoru:

He would love to father his own kids, but I firmly believe he would adopt as well!

Have two of his own, and then adopt one or two

Would also be a really great stepdad, I think

Cracks Dad jokes as soon as he finds out you’re pregnant

Normally a sensitive soul, he becomes extremely protective

Holds your hand and kisses your forehead during labor

Has the biggest, brightest smile through his tears when he holds your son for the first time

Does most of his work at home

Also keeps the baby in a harness strapped to his chest

He loves carrying the diaper bag and will bite anyone who tries to take it from him

His kids are his biggest inspiration, so he decides to open a kids clothing line

Your babies are the models

Because of that, one of them pursues modeling as a career and Kaoru couldn’t be more proud

They all look like him, but they don’t look like Hikaru, which is weird and messes with your head

He’s the perfect Dad. He spoils them but is also very disciplined

Spends quiet Sunday afternoons sketching and cooking with them

Mitsukuni:

All his babies are tiny. Doesn’t matter how tall you are. Your children are tiny

They have his body type, too. Small, bird-like, narrow bones

But they still kick ass

He didn’t give them a chance to opt out of martial arts. They don’t have a choice--it’s the family business, and they will learn it

Unsurprisngly, they’re all very good at it

They train often with Uncle Chika and their cousins

He cheers and coaches them on at competitions

He’s offended when they don’t share his sweet tooth

I mean, they like candy. What child doesn’t? But you raised them to not be obsessive about it, which displeases him

Takashi:

Lord. Don’t get me started on him as a dad

He is a family man. It’s in his blood. That’s how he was raised and trained and taught

So he will pump eight or ten kids into you if you let him

Cries the first time he finds out you’re pregnant

Worships you like a desperate man kneeling at the temple of his god

Belly kisses. Forehead kisses. Really tender palm kisses. Kisses, kisses, kisses.

How else could he thank you for giving him the most special gift?

Even more protective than before

Scary dog privileges

Has to have a hand on you/the bump at all times

He’s so tall that he has to lean down a little to reach it, but he doesn’t mind

Prefers to hold both you and the baby, so he reclines on the couch and pulls you and the bump into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and encouraging you to rest against his chest. Let him carry the baby for a little while

Thinks you look ravishing in the maternity clothes

Stares daggers at anyone who tries to touch your bump, curling an arm around it and turning you away with a low growl

Goes slightly feral whenever you reach your due date

Each labor is difficult, but he lets you crush his hand. He’s pretty silent, but he wipes your forehead and grunts with you. Seeing you in pain makes him feel pain

When that precious little baby is delivered, he just stares at them without a word. He can’t believe that you and he made something so perfect and innocent and pure

His hands are so big. He can hold the baby in just one palm

Smiles the brightest when holding his child

He was raised with honor and chivalry and a moral code, so he raises his children the same way

Teaches both his sons and his daughters how to be kind, gentle, and nurturing while also teaching them self defense and other fighting moves

Diaper changing pro

Y’all have kids pretty close in succession, so while you’re at work he can be seen walking with a baby in a chest harness, one strapped to his back, one in a stroller and a toddler holding his hand

Sorts out and categorizes what heirlooms will go to each child

BIG emphasis on birthdays. He’s a man of tradition, and feels happiest when his children are honored.

all of your kids have his jawline and his height

-

-

-

[bijoumikhawal]

🍒⚡️

favorite sweet quote from a wip

Hmmmm I don't really do straight forwardly sweet stuff for garashir, which is all my current fan wips- I rambled embarrassing in a comment on some smut I think about how I feel about the word "tender" in relation to these two and how its a word used to refer to things that are injured and healing

That said have another snippet from the hypothetical "a dozen Cardassian orphans adopt Garak" thing

Julian-sweetly, hesitantly- reached for Garak's hand and clasped it in Yut'amn. "You remember, the night you left, telling me you'd forgotten that- philosophy you were explaining to me?"

"I do."

"I feel as though I've been asleep for the past year and a half. I could not bear to be awake- just as, I think, you could not bear to remember." Julian stared down at their hands. "Your letter forced me to awaken… in some terrible way it made me want to awaken. To take inventory of my wounds and to get on my feet and do what I should have done instead of letting you bully me into a goodbye neither could quite bring ourselves to say."

"Doctor…"

"Julian. You've earned it. I allow it- I demand it of you."

He has only called him Julian and nothing else aloud the night he was leaving.

"Julian. My dear, you honor me too highly."

"Elim." Julian hesitates but continues. "My crown, you obsess over the place I have in your life, and the truth is your presence in mine is just as consuming." He meets his eyes once more. "I want to keep learning about you. About myself. about the hybrid we create around each other. To know you I must know Cardassia- this is not news to me. I am a hands on learner."

"This would be a very ill advised proposal."

Julian laughed. "I have never been that over eager." He shifted his fingers to yut'mer. "Wil you have me, with all my failings?"

"A fitting fate for the man who first extended me mercy." He could feel his heartbeat in his fingers as he leaned in and kissed Julian.

A startled child's gasp interrupted them before they could really begin.

wild card: dealer's choice of quote from a completed work

this bit from patience and reward is really silly but I'm a big proponent of laugher during sex and having fun:

Garak gave a sharp bite to his arse, and Julian laughed despite himself. "Mm, I should hope not the latter. If so, I'll have to send you back to the kitchen- the texture indicates you're raw and in need of a rise."

[wornoutmouse]

Can you do a Todoroki one where he has a spanking kink?

Im so unbelivably behind it aint even funny. I'm so sorry babes

Todoroki is a calm man, anyone could vouch for that no matter whom you asked from villain to hero. But there is always a limit to one’s patience, and there is always going to be a point where they snap. So maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have sidekick like yourself parading around with the ‘guns blazing’ attitude of pro-hero Dynamight.

A sniffle escapes your lips, but it is ignored. This is your fault, after all, you just wouldn’t listen. You knew better than to go against Todoroki’s orders during an extremely high-risk mission. All you had to do is stay and stand watch as he made sure the perimeter was clear, nothing more, nothing less.

But you, his ever-excitable sidekick, couldn't even do that.

No matter where it was or what he’d say, you’d always find a way to undermine or dip around whatever he ordered even if it was for your own good. It could be petty things you’d fight tooth and nail over or you'd defy his orders altogether because your curiosity became too much.

The Todoroki family all believed in the perseverance of order and rules, so your very existence went against everything he stood for. However, there was a method that always worked on problematic employees like yourself. A way that secretly, Todoroki craved to exact on the supple skin of your ass cheeks.

"So why are we here again?" Your head hung low as your body was suspended in the air by the thick thighs of the pro-hero. Todoroki's monochrome eyes studied your body. You couldn't see it but Todoroki found himself relishing in the control he had finally gained over your actions and your form. "Still not answering? It's okay, you will learn eventually.

Your defiance excited him, but it also surprised him. You weren't that far into the punishment and you were already sniffling, yet even though you were in obvious pain, you wouldn't even pretend to learn your lesson. A striking clue as to why coated his pant leg like a highlighted sign, but he would play into your facade nonetheless

Todoroki had you strip from the waist down moments before, allowing you the grace of keeping your underwear. Said piece of fabric was bunched in his calloused hand as he rubbed the soft skin of your rear. Raising his hand, he makes contact once again, and resounding smack echos in his office room. "Simple directions you can't seem to follow."

Another smack. "And it would be neglectful on my part if I didn't discipline you correctly." Todoroki smacked your ass again and you couldn't help but grip onto his calf as you moan in discomfort. Your ass was warmed and buzzing with a constant tingling sensation. You couldn't tell whether or not Todoroki was using his quirk but at that point, you wouldn't even begin to tell.

Todoroki's voice was flooded with cockiness from the pathetic sound you made. "Oh, are you ready to talk now?" You knew he liked seeing you like this, and that thought was proven when he didn't even let you respond before hitting you 4 times in a row leaving you no choice but to cry out. "I learned my lesson Mr, Shoto!"

Todoroki twitched his head, flicking away straw white and red strands. "Are you sure?" Todoroki smacks your thighs that quivered from your constant struggle to hold back your noises. "Because." With each word, he traveled higher until he met your ass again. "I. Don't. Think. You. Have." The knee closest to your groin bounced abruptly making you tense your body as the tiniest bit of stimuli made it to your clit. "You think I'm stupid?"

You shook your head as your ass is met with an onslaught of pain. "You think I wouldn't notice how deep down inside, you were taking this punishment as pleasure?!" Todoroki pulled at your underwear before releasing it and making it smack the already tender skin.

Todoroki was a hypocrite. Underneath the many layers of his hero costume, his junior was rising to meet you as well. But he wouldn't tell you that, and you would never get the satisfaction of coming on his knee, this was a punishment after all.

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part Xl

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually) 

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,375

Note: Hey guys!! It’s been a year since I started this series and I was really excited to continue, I really was. But months flew by and my life began to take a different course, now, I can’t make promises that I’ll be uploading soon again, though I will try if I have time to spare and my imagination cooperates :) Hope you enjoy this chapter! And thank you all for your patience, it’ll be rewarded!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10

Months have flew by way too fast. And now you were feeling more confident around the northern lady and your family. You’d keep her from any harm they would try to inflict on her no matter the consequences, yet you were cautions cause Joffrey was still so damn annoying. Though since Margaery arrived to the capital she has been keeping him rather distracted.

“Because the truth is always either terrible or boring.”

“Am I boring?” You approached Sansa from behind, daintily kissing her cheek.

“Not at all.” She answered with a broad simper.

“You shouldn’t be too obvious in plain sight.” Shae subtly advised.

“You are right. We should be more careful.” You peered up to see if the guards were staring your way, when you confirmed they were not you stole a kiss on her silky lips. She giggled.

“Have a lovely day. I’ll meet you later. My grandfather requested my presence.” It was true... Tywin wanted to speak privately with you, and you sort of imagined why.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“My ladies.” You winked playfully at Sansa before walking away.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Shae asked Sansa well knowing the answer to her own question.

“She is perfect.” She let out a love sigh.

“You trust her?”

“The princess has always treated me with respect. I always dreamed with a handsome knight or a sweet prince, then I met her and she is far more better than any of that.” Sansa confessed.

“She seems to be a good girl.” Lord Baelish approached the two women.

“Lovely day for it. May I speak with lady Sansa alone for a moment?” Shae stood up and walked back to Ros.

“I saw your mother not long ago. She’s very eager to see you. And your sister.” He commented.

“Arya’s alive?”

“Oh yes. Indeed she is. But... I’ve noticed you’ve grown quite attached to princess Y/N.” He chose carefully his words.

“I have. She is and extraordinary friend.” Sansa added. “I’m very lucky to be her friend.”

“You are. I’m waiting for word on an assignment that will take me far away from the capital. When I set sail, I might be able to bring you with me. But you’d need to be ready to leave on a moment’s notice.” Sansa widen her eyes. She didn’t really want to leave now... did she? After all she knew she’ll never be truly free here.

“I... I’m not sure if that’s a wise idea, Lord Baelish.” She conflicted admitted.

“And why’s that? Other than the risks it involves of course.”

“Well, as I said before, King’s Landing is my home now. It has good things despite the corruption.” Only Y/N, she thought.

“All right then. The offer stands, my lady. Keep it in mind.” He turned around to leave Sansa wondering if she’d abandon you to return home or staying here by your side.

“You are glowing, granddaughter of mine.”

Tywin was jotting down something with a quill. “Is there a boy already?” It sounded more like a statement rather than a question. You tried not blush as Sansa’s picture coming to your mind.

“Mmm... no. There is not a... boy.” You concluded kinda nervous.

“If there is not then you should be looking for a suitable swain. I reckon you have many admirers waiting to receive your attention.” He said with a serious tone. Does he really mind? Of course he does. He wants to get a hold of another loyalty for House Lannister. “Many lords would give their whole lands to marry you. And we might need that.”

“But that’s not what I need.” You responded nonchalantly. It was true. All you truly needed and longed for was the love of someone who valued you. And you already found that in a northern lass. You knew he disapprove entirely your “reckless” choices, same as your mother. You’d fight back and won’t allow them to throw you into some random man’s arms.

You stepped inside Joffrey’s dining table. You always enjoyed to hang with the Tyrell siblings, but now that she’s engaged to your brother... you wonder how she’s been managing to handle him. After all, she’s one of the cleverest persons you know.

“Margaery does a great deal of work with the poor back in Hightgarden. I’ve heard Y/N do charity for the poor here as well.” Loras commented. You nodded. The soon to be queen smiled softly your way.

“The lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart.” You mirrored her act.

“An open heart is what you’ll get in Flee Bottom if you’re not careful, my dear. Not long ago, we were attached by a mob there. We had a full complement of guards that didn’t stop them. The king barely escaped his life.” You hid your smirk.

“My mother’s always had a penchant for drama. Facts become less and less important to her as she grows older. Our lives were never truly in danger.” You rolled your eyes at his lies.

“Oh but they were. You didn’t even care about sending the guards to get lady Sansa back to the Keep. A king is supposed to ensure the safety of all the ones that are in need. You seem to keep failing on that, big brother.” You sensed his furious glare upon you.

“Who cares about her anyway.” You clenched your jaw tightly. Loras and Margaery keep their eyes on their dinner.

There was an awkward pause as the main course was brought to the table. The rest of the evening was all about the same. Joffrey flaunting about his “bravery” and Cersei flattering him all along. Margaery showing off a wide smile at his non sense.

~~~~~~

You strolled to your room exhausted after training with the bow and horse-riding with little Tommen. Before that you decided to pay a visit to Sansa’s chambers. You knocked the door twice and she beamed with delight.

“I hope it isn’t too late to stop by.”

“No, I was about to get under the sheets. Perhaps you can join me?” She suggested with a gaily grin. You chuckled. Seeing Sansa being so... awfully bold was so nice and pure. Being around you made her forget about the fact she’s a prisoner. It didn’t matter as much when you were together.

“I’d love that.” You entered the room, holding her by the waist and leading both of you to the bed.

“How was your day then?” You smoothly asked. She tossed to be face to face with you.

“Actually, it was wonderful! Ser Loras escorted me to the gardens with Lady Margaery and Lady Olenna. They were very kind to me. We had lunch together and chatted for a while.”

“That sounds lovely, my lady. I’ve always consider Lady Olenna as the grandmother I never had. She knows me since I was a baby. Now that they are here I’ve been reminiscing about the good old days when we wouldn’t stop joshing Loras about me beating him on a single duel. We were so young back then... I’ll always hold dear those moments. He may be moody and brash at times, still, he is complete gentleman. Water’s sometimes thicker than blood. That’s for sure.” The Tyrells were your second family, they welcomed you with open arms and never once judge you. Unlike your own blood, with exceptions of course.

“Back in Winterfell I was so focused on learning how to properly be a lady and all that, that I missed many things... I should’ve been closer to Robb, Arya, even Jon. I was mean.” Sansa’s voice cracked.

“Don’t lose faith, Sansa. I know it’s too much to ask for but life takes unexpected turns.” You brushed one of her ginger locks with your right hand.

“I found a new home.” She whispered lightly. “Not Kings Landing. Not this castle. You.” She unhurriedly closed her crystal eyes. Your heart was at her mercy, that was a fact. You caressed gently her cheek and sealed the night with the most tender kiss anyone could dream of.

“You are my home too, my love.” You breathed against her lips.

[a-lil-perspective]

Amends

Crosshair learns how to apologize.

A/N: Crosshair x Reader lil drabble thingy with some hurt feelings and fluff (mostly fluff). That’s it.

You burn, from the very core of your being—you are that angry. Your tray clatters indecently onto the table as you settle abruptly on the bench, and the stark cold feels good against your hot, trembling flesh.

It’s not that you can’t take a few deprecating words spoken out of turn with a profound ignorance to boot—to excel in your profession, you have to build up a well-fortified skin to such attrition.

It merely crumbles when he’s the perpetrator.

And your patience with him has been wearing thin, additionally—the sniper of Clone Force 99 does a number on your otherwise long-suffering attire. His haughty whirlwind ghosts from every corner of the room, and to say you haven’t had it up to here with him is afflicting. He’s insufferable.

And he has the audacity to fire off such accusation to you?

You drive the utensil into your food.

And to your dismay, just to put a crimp in your day because that’s what Crosshair does, he takes up a seat across from you—no greeting or pacifism to wager, but there’s a distinct (and otherwise satisfying) discomfort in his stature as he sinks with rigidity onto the hard bench.

You pointedly ignore his blistering presence.

And you have so many choice words, all carrying a streak that’s distinctly argumentative, but you tamp down on your instability and allow this infuriating man in front of you to carve out his own approach.

To which you’re ready and eager to tear apart.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” you snap, and so it begins.

For reasons unknown to you, you just as quickly reel yourself in.

“Yes,” he hisses. “I am. I’m sorry.”

You feign obnoxious interest in the room around you. “For what?”

Crosshair gawks, then remembers all the things Hunter said; everything (about himself) he's been repulsed by that’s left a bitter taste in his mouth. Apologizing has never been easy for Crosshair. It insinuates he was wrong about something, missed his mark, somewhere... "I said things to you that were unkind."

He stares you down, trying to see if the apology stuck.

It does, because there’s a genuineness in his sharp eyes that is not lost on you. Your gaze returns to him and he stiffens, a micro-movement that is his entire configuration, and he loathes the fact that you know as much.

“Hmm,” you lean back in your seat. “Tempted to make you say it again.” You soften then as you answer his burning question. “It’s good, Ram’ser.”

His features relax, minutely, as yours absolve all his deeds.

The silence that stretches between you two is comfortable.

The mess table you share feels less hostile, less like a chasm; more connective. His cataclysmic makeup offers opportunity, comfort—and not only that, but the promise of monumental goodness. Your eyes search his and there’s so much potential there. Potential that maybe you weren’t interested in discovering before. A warmth blossoms in your chest to negate the calculus buildup of hard feelings. You hunch with your elbows over the table, and he mimics you.

He’s content with this—and you are too.

“Here,” you hand him half of your sandwich. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Becoming Hunter now, are you?” He takes it anyway, because he listens to you just a bit more than he does his brother.

Your cheeks flush, but Crosshair’s expression is kind. Tender.

“Somebody has to look out for you,” you murmur sheepishly.

It’s Crosshair who hums then, and then he chuckles, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. He pulls a toothpick from his pouch and hands it to you. “That makes two of us.”

You take it from him mid-chew, and the realization dawns on you. You gasp in horror and your hand flies up to your mouth.

[pasiveagressive]

The Last Summer Pt2

Harry swiped his card so he could change and leave for lunch with Y/N right behind him. They were both on the A shift this week and would be eating, and working, on the early schedule. Mitch was also on A shift but his fifteen-minute break had been right before the lunch hour so he had bounced early to beat the lines. So Harry got some quality alone time with Y/N where no one was making fun of him. A gift.

"Did you even apply it once?" He asked, looking at her burnt body. She had pulled on a pair of tiny shorts over her suit and was leaning into her locker. She couldn't see him so he took the small window of opportunity to stare unashamedly at her pert ass.

"Yes, I did." She looked over her shoulder with more attitude than he would have expected and he quickly diverted his eyes, hoping she could not see how he was practically salivating as he stared. "Several times in fact. Is it really that bad?"

He gave her the look right back, determined not to be out sassed. "Sunshine, your legs are solid red, I can't even tell that they're normally white."

She threw her head back before sighing and shutting her locker, frustrated and defeated. "I swear I did, this makes no sense."

"Well it's noon o'clock which means you were supposed to reapply a couple times, did you?"

"Harry," she whined, stopping both of them just outside of the lifeguard station as she grabbed his arms. "You don't understand! You're not super pale, you don't get it!"

"Get what?" He asked, laughing at how animated she was.

"You've got this bronzed skin that has never been burnt in its life, like what the fuck! I could reapply every twenty minutes and still end up looking like a lobster."

Harry was highly amused but also kind of worried.

He shook his head at her. "Y/N, I think you're getting delusional, we've got to get some water in you."

Thankfully the pool was not too far from the dining hall because Harry was genuinely concerned about Y/N, her freckles were nonexistent under her red skin.

"What are you in the mood for?" He asked as he opened the door to the facility for her.

"What did we have yesterday?" She asked, biting her bottom lip as she tried to remember.

"Pizza for lunch and then chicken tenders and french fries for dinner."

"You mean camp officially started yesterday and we haven't gone to the pasta place yet?" She asked sounding like she had offended herself. Up until the kids arrived they hadn't had a whole lot of options in the food choices they were given.

"We decided we didn't want to wear it out so fast, remember?"

"I'm weak, I'm ready." She said, leading the pair to the dwindling line. The hall had been open for at least ten minutes now and most of the rush was already sitting down with their food.

"I would argue with you if I didn't feel the same way."

She looked over her shoulder to smile brightly at him and his little regret dissipated completely.

"We feeling Alfredo or Marinara?" He asked, looking over her shoulder at the options for the day. Randomly they would throw in stuffed shells or ravioli just to mix things up. "Penne or fettuccine?"

"Obviously fettuccine alfredo, are you nuts?" She asked him, her sass full force once again.

"I didn't know if we were starting out with the best or not." He put his hands up in his defense. "I chalked you up for having more patience than this."

She ignored him and smiled at the lady behind the counter who was in charge of making sure the food containers stayed full.

"Hi, Shelly."

Harry hadn't known her name and when he looked around the place he found that he couldn't name a single person behind the counters that he hadn't known from when they were campers with him. He also couldn't imagine anyone else learning their names but Shelly seemed very happy to talk to Y/N, a girl who was kinder than about 97% of the people here, if not 100.

Shelly was an older lady who probably lived in the town over and commuted to work. They needed legitimate people to be head cooks and that definitely wasn't the kids they hired on to live here as kitchen staff.

Something Harry had never really thought about before.

"Harry, broccoli or no broccoli?" Y/N asked him in regards to her own bowl of pasta.

"Always broccoli," he answered immediately. She dumped a generous scoop on top of her pasta, content with his answer.

She took his plate to the table as he went to get their drinks. He got her a glass of water because he did not want her to get dehydrated on him.

"Damn, did you forget your sunscreen too?" Harry asked Mitch when he made it to the table. He looked as red as his sister which was rather odd because she burned far easier than him.

"No, I put it on." He shook his head, wincing as he moved his arms, the stiff skin splitting. "I feel like I got pranked, like someone switched out my sunscreen with lotion."

"Here, here," Y/N seconded, sounding a little better than her brother though Harry doubted that would last very long. When sunburnt skin got out of the sun is when it started to really kick in. Mitch had been inside much longer than Y/N so she had a slight advantage for the moment.

Harry would totally do that to Mitch, as would Alex, but he certainly wouldn't do it if there was even a chance that he would share his sunscreen with Y/N and he knew Alex wouldn't either so it wasn't them.

"Or maybe you just forgot how hot the sun could be," Sarah pointed out reasonably.

"Bitch, I live in Southern California," Y/N looked at her friend, "I've been in the sun since I left here."

Sarah was silent before she waved her fork at her friend. "You have a point, darling, forget I said anything."

"What SPF were you using?" Alex asked.

"35? 50?" Mitch shrugged. "They're all the same."

"And did you share bottles?" Harry asked.

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, I forgot my sunscreen in the cabin and Mitch let me use his."

"Fuck, who was it?" Mitch asked, sitting up straight in his chair and looking around like someone was just going to stand up and scream 'it was me'. "I'm going to kill a bitch."

"Relax." Alex pushed him back in his chair. "We already know who it is, we'll kill him later."

"Hold up," Y/N intervened before Mitch could get a word in. "What is going on? Who are we killing?"

"Wyatt." Harry filled in the missing blanks for her. "The bitch fucked his sunscreen up."

"But why?"

"Because he didn't know you were going to use it," Mitch said bitterly. "Because he still has that stupid crush on you and is afraid of us."

"We're going to kill him," Harry reassured Y/N. "We just have to wait for the right time."

"Normally I would warn against it but this is just fucked up." Y/N looked down at her red arms as she spoke. "Does he not know how painful being sunburnt is?"

"I'm sure he'll feel bad when he sees he also hurt you," Sarah supplied unhelpfully. "Because his already slim chances of ever getting in a bed with you just completely flew out the window."

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn't say anything. Sometimes there was just nothing you could say against the truth.

"So how do we get him back?" Alex asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Push him off the ledges blindfolded," Mitch suggested hopefully.

Y/N shook her head. "I don't think dad wants to get sued, it's got to be somewhat of an innocent prank that can't lead to us getting in too much trouble."

"Oh?" Harry raised a brow at her. "Are you joining us this time?"

"Look at my face." She leaned in close to him and he swallowed, a very risky move Y/L/N. "I hate being sunburned."

"Point made."

"It's literally the second day of camp," Sarah huffed, "why are you guys already messing with each other?"

They had no answer for her. The four of them all hated one another. Wyatt's dad was like the richest man in New York and he walked around the place like he was better than everyone. Last summer, sometime between the wooing of every female camper and Miranda, he had found the time to ask out their Y/N, who he had always had a thing for. Since Harry had also always had a thing for her, which everyone seemed to know except his darling girl-at least he hoped she didn't know because her knowing and not doing anything meant his feelings were not returned- Wyatt had always hated Harry. Some people thrived off competition, Wyatt hated it. Thus, he hated Harry and was a giant dick to the three boys.

Since the boys first shared a cabin during their second year of camp, they were always pranking one another. Things had escalated in their recent years and now Y/N had gotten caught in the crossfire.

"Put like dye in his shampoo or something and call it a day," Y/N suggested lightly through her mouthful of pasta.

"It's a start," Mitch agreed, on board with the suggestion.

Harry nodded, it was a start but it was by no means the end.

"And now I have to walk all the way back to my fucking cabin to get the actual sunscreen," Y/N realized, letting out a pitiful noise as she pouted.

"It's okay, I'll go with you," Harry offered.

She smiled gratefully at him, eating her last two bites of pasta before standing up with him. His plate was already long gone and he had had about twice as much as her plus a piece of garlic bread.

"See you at dinner," Y/N said to the three before they walked to the back of the hall to the dishwashing window where buckets went around and around to take their dishes to the back. It always smelled disgusting and Harry was glad that he did not work back there.

They stopped at the dessert counter on the way out to grab a cookie before exiting the air conditioned building back into the gross heat.

It took several minutes to get to her cabin, all of which was spent with the two walking directly next to each other, knocking into one another. It became like a game and Harry accidentally knocked her on her ass when he hip-checked her mid-stride. She was laughing as he bent down to haul her to feet, profusely apologSarahing to her.

"Harry, I'm fine," she said for the twentieth time, bumping her shoulder into the jammed door before walking inside the cabin.

Unlike the boys who were all in one giant cabin, the girls were all separated into four smaller cabins with about ten people in each. It was empty as she led him to the back wall where her bunk was.

"Do you have aloe?" Harry asked her, taking a seat on her cotton sheets.

"Yeah," she said as she shuffled through her organized suitcase, pulling out a bag from the bottom that held her cosmetics. Harry leaned back on his hands and was surprised when he his finger hit something hard under her pillow. He pulled out her sketchbook with a smile. It was different than the one she d had the last two summers which meant that she had completed yet another one.

When he had visited her a year and a half ago they had spent an entire day going through the art in her room while Jackie and Mitch were spending some time together. It was hard to keep art organized, as Harry realized after about five minutes into the process, so it had taken a full day and two trips to the container store to finish.

Y/N liked photography, painting, and sketching, so her room was full of dozens of full sketchbooks, blank, finished, and half-finished canvases, and at least a hundred printed and edited photos. They had sorted her things into three piles; keep, garbage and for Harry.

He had taken home an envelope full of photos she had taken of them while at camp and a rolled up painting she made when she was 12 after her first time visiting New York. It was of Central Park in the rain and she thought it was childish and crude, but that was why Harry loved it so much. His friends had found all the photos he kept in his closet one day in addition to the three he had framed on his bedroom wall of each of his friends, because he wanted to hang up a picture of Y/N but couldn't without looking like a creep, and the teasing hadn't stopped since. Those pictures and the painting were the only personal things he had in his room, something that did not escape his friends' notice either.

The sketchbook that he was holding now was obviously new as only the first few pages had anything on them. The first two pages were full of sketches of her friends back home and the next three or four were of camp and her friends here. Harry was drawn three times and it was insane how much she had improved over the years.

"You want to help me?" Y/N asked, pulling his thoughts and eyes away from her sketchbook. Her skin was shiny from the aloe she had spread everywhere but she couldn't reach her back.

He swallowed. "Yeah, sure."

She smiled at him as she turned around, showing him her back and handing him the blue bottle. Her skin was hot under his hands and he was careful about keeping his touch light because it was obviously sensitive.

"Jeez, Y/L/N," he said when he felt just how ridiculously hot the back of her neck was. "Do you have water in here?"

She nodded. "Why?"

"Because you're going to get dehydrated if you don't keep your fluids up," he said, capping the bottle of aloe and setting it down. "Are you sure you can go back to work, Luke would be so mad if he found out."

Luke Williams had known Y/N her whole life as he was the only person who Jackie kept in contact with from her life in New York. They had been best friends their whole lives, well before Jackie had met Micheal and long after. He had not been happy about the secrets he was forced to keep from Y/N but he only saw her three or four times a year for a week or two at a time so it wasn't something he had to do very often. Jackie has been dating the same guy, Sam, for about six years but Y/N has hope that one day Jackie might come to feel for Luke as he feels for her. It was oddly romantic, odd because Y/N didn't really do romantic.

That being said, Luke was fiercely protective of Y/N.

"I'm not looking to get you all in trouble," Y/N said, reaching under her bed to grab a half-finished water bottle that made Harry purse his lips at her.

"Let's go to my room," Harry said, reaching down to grab the bottle of sunscreen and close the lid of the suitcase before standing up and pushing the case under her bed with his foot. "I've got cold ones."

Y/N didn't put up a fight, instead she just threw the water bottle down on her bed and followed him to his cabin next door.

Unlike the girls, the boys had kept their fans running through the day and they both sighed in relief as they entered the makeshift room. Y/N slid to the floor in front of his fan because she didn't want to get aloe on his sheets. The fan was blowing directly on her and he slid down next to her before pulling a bottle of water out from under his bed.

The boys had stolen a bucket from a storage closet and always kept it full of ice. Right now, it was full of plastic water bottles but in the future, it would also keep their illegal alcohol cold.

"Thanks," Y/N said, taking the bottle and placing the cold plastic to her warm neck.

"You good?" He asked her stupidly. Y/N was never one to complain and he knew that she was fairing much worse than she pretended to be.

"Yeah," she breathed, leaning sideways so that her head was resting on his shoulder.

His watch read 11:43 so they still had seventeen minutes until they needed to be back at their posts to relieve the other guards.

Harry was so angry with Wyatt. Over the summers, the boys had all had their skin and egos bruised, embarrassing photos taken, or items ruined, but no one else had ever been caught in the crossfire. Especially Y/N Y/L/N. It sucked to see someone who was so good and so kind hurting at the expense of others. Mitch and him were going to have some serious words with Wyatt later.

"You sure you don't want to stay here?" Harry asked again, they had to get going if she wasn't going to stay. "Luke would understand."

Y/N shook her head before pushing herself to her feet. She offered him her small hands to pull him up after her. He took them, using his legs to push himself off the ground because there was no way someone that small would ever be able to lift him up, under any condition.

"Drink first," Harry told her, leaning on his bedpost as he waited. "You can grab another one then before we go."

Y/N complied, unscrewing the cap and chugging half of it in one go, spilling some of it around her mouth and down her neck. He watched the trail of water run down her throat and past her collar bone until it disappeared under her swimsuit. She was just so pretty.

Liam and Louis were walking into the cabin as they were leaving, obviously in a hurry but able to drop a quick hello to the both of them. Y/N liked Louis and Liam, and she had told him that one of her cabin mates, Kimmy, thought they were both hot.

"I want to punch him," Harry told Y/N when they spotted Wyatt. He was a lifeguard for the lake and he was sitting on a tall chair surrounded by several older camp girls. You could attend this camp until the summer after your senior year and start working at age 16. A lot of the people Harry had spend the last however many summers with were still campers but when Y/N said she needed a job and money last summer, they all decided to apply to be activity counselors. So far, he had no regrets.

"And how will that help?"

"It'd be an improvement to his face, for one."

"And how do you think the girls would react to one of the trifecta being disfigured?" She teased, lightly bumping him with her shoulder.

"There's only one girl whose opinion I care about and I know she wouldn't give a shit," Harry said, watching out of the corner of his eye as her red face tinged pink.

It brought a smile to his face.

She was just so pretty.

Y/N was panting with her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. She had joined them today on their run in nothing but a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra. Harry had to run ahead of her the whole time because he couldn't stop looking and he knew he really didn't have a right to.

"You did good, kid," Mitch told her, his hand messing up her already messy hair.

Her hair had practically fallen completely out of its ponytail and was sticking to her forehead and neck with sweat. Her face was flushed and sweat clung to her bare skin, which looked a lot less red today than it had yesterday. It was pathetic how good he thought she still looked, and it made Harry feel hot in a completely different way than the heat did.

"Don't call me kid. " She slapped her brother's hand away before resting her hands on hips as her chest rose up and down heavily.

"Why not, you're so young?" Mitch asked, teasing his younger sister of only twenty minutes.

"Then don't do it in such a patronSarahing way," Y/N snapped at him, not really mad.

"We're only like forty seconds behind our last time," Harry cut through the both of them, not wanting to be in the middle of an argument with the two, no matter how playful it started out. They were siblings, and sibling arguments always got out of hand. "That's impressive Y/L/N."

"Thanks," she smiled widely at his compliment, her brother forgotten. "I don't normally feel this winded when I've finished, though."

"You haven't run in a couple weeks," Harry reminded her, referring to the hecticness of the past few weeks for her as she tried to finalSarahe everything before coming to New York. "Cut yourself some slack. You lose it so much faster than you gain it."

"If this is you run after a break I hate to see what you normally push," Mitch cut in, starting to walk towards the cabins. They followed him, stepping out of the shade of the trees and into the sunlight. Both of their sunburns had healed quite a bit over the past two days due to the excessive use of aloe and Y/N's freckles were about ten times darker than before and that much harder to avoid looking at.

"Scared of a little competition, Mitchy," Y/N teased before jumping on his back.

Mitch almost fell over which was definitely Y/N's intention by the way she was pushing him down with her body.

Harry laughed as he walked beside the two. Mitch was pinching her legs and trying to throw her off as she squeezed his body with her legs and choked him with her arms. Harry always liked when they got to this point, when they were over the nine months of separation and back to being like normal brother and sister.

Their relationship was always better than most siblings, a combination of how cool the both of them were and the amount of time they had lost and still lost, but it was always nice to see them become familiar with one another again.

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit at breakfast," Y/N told the two as she slid off of Mitch and on her feet. They both watched her walk the distance between their cabin and hers before opening their own cabin door.

The blackout curtains Luke had gifted them did wonders to keep the light out and they struggled their way to their 'room' and then to the bathroom. Harry finished before Mitch, stepping out of his stall in a towel and heading back to the room, stopping to brush his teeth quickly at the sink. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before laying back down on his bed and fishing for his phone. He hadn't been able to check it the night before because he had been so exhausted when he got back from night shift.

The activity counselors were on a five-day shift where they had to work from after dinner until one in the morning when all of camp was required to have lights out. Quiet time started at midnight where campers had to head back to their cabins and wind down for bed, whether that included a shower or not. It mattered less for the counselors who was on their shift than who wasn't. If all of them were on different shifts they would never have nights all together. Thankfully Tessa had come through and got them all on two nights so they had three nights all together. Harry, Alex, and Y/N had been on duty last night and Sarah and Mitch were on tonight.

"Niall," Harry said, shaking his half-asleep friend by the shoulder after answering the text his father had sent him last night to make sure he wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere. "Breakfast in ten."

"Yeah," Mitch called unhelpfully from behind Harry. "Don't make us pull you off that bed."

Niall cursed the both of them before rolling over so that he couldn't see them, like that would make his problem go away. They did pull him from his bed, tackling him to the ground. Niall and Louis were already awake and rushed to jump in. They did this often enough, and it was the only good perk about waking up to run, he had never been woken up by tackle.

It was all fun in games until someone gut hurt and Alex had to step in. Yesterday Louis had accidentally elbowed him in the face and made his nose bleed. Alex hadn't been happy and neither had Y/N, who had been concerned when she saw the blood he had missed when wiping it up. She had babied him for a bit, which he had so not minded. It made Alex nervous because now he feared that Harry was going to purposefully get himself injured while wresting in order to get that treatment again.

This one ended with Liam tapping out on Harrys back before they all let go of one another. They had to run across camp to be on time for breakfast and Harry prayed that the girls had grabbed a close table because he was starving and he wanted first dibs.

All activity counselors and members of the maintenance crew were on Breakfast A with a few of the early riser campers who were old enough to go without their camp counselor, there were maybe ten of those weirdos.

Sarah and Y/N were seated at a large rectangle table with some girls Harry vaguely recognSarahed. The bell rang as the boys walked to them and they all hopped into the line a couple of people behind them.

When Harry made it to the table with two plates full of hashbrowns, a waffle, eggs, some bacon, and an egg and cheese bagel along with his orange juice he had no choice but to head to the other side of the table than Y/N. He was pleased to see that she was eating more than just her usual apple, having a waffle and some bacon also on her place. She looked up as he walked by and met his eyes, a smile spreading across her face like she couldn't even help it. It took him a moment to realSarahe that he was already smiling without telling himself too and he ducked his head.

He sat next to Mitch and some blonde girl he had never seen before.

"Hey," she smiled at him. She was pretty, looked to be in college, and was nothing at all like the redhead angel at the other end of the table.

"Hi." Harry nodded at her and the other girls around him.

"You're Harry, right?" The girl who said hi to him asked. Harry nodded. "I'm Betty."

"Hi, Betty," Harry didn't know what to do, he did not want to be rude but he also had no interest whatsoever in carrying on the conversation. "You room with Sarah and Y/N?"

"Yeah," Betty nodded. "You guys are all best friends, right?"

"Yep," Mitch said from next to him. "Though I think everyone knows Harry wants to be a little more than friends." He had the audacity to wink at the girl and Harry elbowed him hard in the side as he fought a blush and the urge to look down the table to see if she had heard and if she had, her reaction.

"Mitch, I've told you several times, it was just a one-time thing," Harry said, recovering his wits.

The girls laughed and this time Harry did glance down the table to see Y/N's reaction. He felt like a young school boy acting out for attention from the girl he liked. She was smiling at him, at his joke, and he smiled back before Mitch shoved him and caused their eye contact to break.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just eat your food."

Harry did as he was instructed and shoved his eggs down before they got too cold to stomach.

When breakfast was over Alex headed over to the boat dock, Sarah to the Snack Shack where she was scheduled for the day, and Harry, Mitch, and Y/N headed to the pool where they were all on duty. The day went by quick enough and was even slightly exciting because one kid was running on the deck and bit it. There had been a lot of tears and blood, both of which made Y/N sad, but it still sped up the time. After lunch, Harry took his turn in the small concession stand that really only sold drinks and popsicles.

Y/N had been on break for half of his shift and had sat next to him in the small air-conditioned room sucking on a red popsicle that made it even harder for him to resist staring at her lips as she talked.

Dinner came and their workday ended. Harry and Alex headed towards the courts for some pick-up games before it got too dark. They both had to stop when they got too sweaty and too hot.

Alex went off with some other people and Harry went out to find Y/N who was nowhere in sight. After at least twenty minutes of looking for her, he headed back to his cabin to grab his phone because, with any luck, she would be near enough to her phone for the Bluetooth on her watch to work.

"Harry!" He heard someone yell his name and he turned to see Y/N running up to him. "I've been looking for you forever."

That made him smile. "Same, I think I've walked around this entire camp."

"Want to steal a kayak?" She asked him, grinning mischievously.

He didn't have to think twice before nodding his head.

The two of them walked to their cabins to put their swimsuits on under their clothes before walking towards the lake. Thankfully it was almost dark and no one would be able to see them put the kayak in the water and paddle it away from the clearing.

Harry lifted a two-person kayak from the trailer and carried it to the water, making sure half of it was still on the sandy slope that led to the lake so it wouldn't float away from them while Y/N grabbed two life jackets. The good thing about doing this in secret was that they wouldn't have to actually put them on, though Harry was glad that they had them with them in case anything went wrong.

When he turned around from the canoe to head back up the small hill he saw her pulling her t-shirt over her head, her bare back and legs to him. Her bottoms were high waisted and her ass spilled from the back. Great. He hadn't even considered the idea that she was going to be wearing a lot less material than her already tempting lifeguard suit. When she turned around he took in the low cut of her top that cut her chest into a large triangle with ruffled sleeves. How was it possible to look so cute and hot at the same time?

She pulled her hair from her ponytail as she smiled at him, oblivious to the horny thoughts in his head. What he wouldn't give to kiss every last inch of skin.

"Ready?" She asked him when his own shirt was off, a paddle in each of their hands.

"Definitely." He helped her down the hill, more for an excuse to hold her hand than anything, Y/N was very capable of doing it on her own but she didn't make any comment about it.

She took the first seat and he climbed into the one behind her after pushing the boat into the water. They paddled towards the right so that the trees would shield them from the view of the camp, lest anyone looked in the direction of the lake.

"No, no," Y/N was laughing, batting away his paddle. "Harry, you're going to make us spin in circles."

They had both been campers for years and were both very aware that he knew what he was doing, but they were both laughing anyway.

"I swear to God I will tip this thing if you don't stop," Y/N threatened, turning around slightly to glare at him, though most glares didn't also involve a smile.

He leaned in towards her, smirking. "Bet."

Her eyes narrowed at the challenge and she was pushing herself up before he could do anything about it. When she put her weight towards one side he threw himself to the other in a poor attempt to counterbalance the two. Only he was like sixty pounds heavier than her and in his attempt to counterbalance, he just tipped the boat the opposite way and they both fell out.

He bobbed up before her and started splashing her the moment her head breached the water. She laughed as she put her hands up in a poor attempt to block the water he was splashing at her.

"Harry, stop," she laughed, not noticing how close he was getting to her.

His feet met rock and he realSarahed they were close enough to shore that he could touch on his toes. He moved a little further in so that he could stand there flat-footed.

"That's not fair," Y/N said, pouting. "You can touch but I can't."

"Come here then," Harry said, moving his arms through the water to reach her. Her hand found his arm and he guided her towards him.

"It's so pretty out here," she told him, her eyes locked on the sky above them.

"It is." He pointed at one of the constellations. "Do you remember everything I taught you?"

"Harry," she laughed and looked over at him, "everyone knows the Big Dipper."

"Sunshine." He shook his head at her, "that's the Little Dipper."

She looked back at the stars to see who was right but he kept his eyes on her. He knew his stars. Instead, he took in the curve of her lips and nose and tried to gather the nerve to do something about it. He wanted to stop looking and start touching.

"Damn," she muttered and looked back at him. "It is the Little Dipper."

"I really don't like you looking at me as you talk about a Little Dipper," he told her seriously as he pulled her in closer to him. "I much preferred the Big Dipper."

Her face was only a couple inches away from his as she laughed and he could not resist leaning forward to place a kiss to her lips. She gasped against him as he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her whole body against his while his other hand tangled into the hair at the base of her skull.

"Is this alright?" He whispered against her lips, forcing himself to pull back after only a few seconds of finally getting to taste her.

"Yes," she answered breathlessly before leaning back into him.

Her lips were soft as they moved against his. Her arm had wrapped around his shoulders and she was clinging to him just as tightly to him as he was clinging to her. Stars of his own were exploding behind his eyelids and his whole body was tingling.

His foot slipped from the rock he had been standing on and he broke apart from her to try and rebalance them. She was giggling softly in his ear and he could hardly think straight. Her eyes were as bright as he had ever seen them, the green so bright and deep that he felt like he was swimming in them instead of the lake.

"Was this your way of showing me you didn't have a Little Dipper?" She asked cheekily. "Because if so, I think it worked."

Harry barked out a laugh before leaning forward to place a brief kiss on one of the freckles on her neck. He had been wanting to kiss that particular one for far too long to not.

"I'm so mad about you, Y/N Y/L/N," he told her honestly, taking in the way her smile lit up her whole face and eyes. "I've been mad about you since I was like 12 and saw you and your little braids for the first time when you stepped out of your dad's car. I've wanted to tell you for over a year but I've been so scared. You mean so much to me Y/L/N, you always have."

She looked like she didn't know what to do for a second. He was slightly surprised when she wrapped her other arm around his shoulder and hugged him tightly, her head pressed against his own. He enveloped her in his own arms, hugging her as tightly as he dared.

"I don't think I've been mad about you for quite as long," she whispered but her mouth was so close to his ear he had no issue hearing every word. "But I'm so mad about you too Harry."

Harry was kind of glad that she couldn't see his face, he was smiling something silly.

"That's good," he whispered back as he peppered her shoulder with kisses. "Like, really really good."

Her skin felt fucking magical underneath his fingers and he was glad she didn't seem ready to push him away yet because he just wanted to hold her forever.

"You know," Harry said after a few moments of silence. "I'd be happy to show you I don't have a Little Dipper in a completely different way eventually."

Her head tipped back as she laughed loudly into the silent night. He smirked, placing a chaste kiss on her throat because he could before she dropped her chin to look at him.

"How bold of you to say, Styles," she teased him with a smile. "I only told you I liked you like two minutes ago and you're already trying to get in my pants."

He moved his hand back to the base of her skull so that he could bring her lips towards his own, kissing her softly. He was positive she knew that he was just making a joke but he figured it could never hurt to reassure like this anyway.

"I'm terrified that a water snake is going to jump out at us," she whispered against his lips.

Harry let out another loud laugh, amused with the way she whispered it, like a snake would hear her fears and come attack her. "It's okay, I'll protect you."

They kissed again because Harry was already an addict and it hadn't even been five minutes before they swam back to the kayak that had drifted away slightly. He helped her into it, which took way too fucking long because they both kept laughing, before climbing up into his own seat.

They paddled back to the camp, being as stealthy as possible as they took it out of the water and back up to the trailer.

"Want to find a hammock?" She asked him as they walked back into camp, hand in hand.

"You don't waste any time do you, Y/L/N?" He teased her, using their hands to tug her in the direction of the nearest one that came to mind.

"Shut up," she teased, slapping his arm lightly with her other hand even as she laughed.

There were several hammocks around the camp and the one they were heading to now was towards the edge of camp, and if it was open, they wouldn't have to be around anyone. He felt like he could cry in relief when they got near enough to see that it was indeed empty.

He climbed in the netting and waited as she pulled her shirt on before helping her climb in next to him. She tucked so perfectly in next to him as their legs intertwined and their hands rested over his heart, also connected.

"Am I dreaming?" He asked her quietly after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Would I still be dressed if you were dreaming?" She countered, sounding like she was mostly joking but also a little curious."

"Depends on the dream," he answered honestly, "and somehow I don't think having sex in this type of hammock would be all that enjoyable."

"A fair point," she reasoned with a smile in her voice, "I think you can conclude, then, that is not a dream."

"Well now all I'm thinking about is you being naked so I'm officially useless."

"You're the one lying here without a shirt on and your fucking eight pack on display," she laughed, "if I can do it so can you."

He bent his neck so that he could kiss her again. She made him so goddamn happy he didn't care that it was kind of an awkward angle. But she fixed that too by shifting over him so their lips were on the same plane.

"I get it now," Y/N said after a few minutes as she pulled away from him half an inch. A really far half an inch.

"Get what?" Harry asked her, moving his fingers up to touch the freckles splayed across her cheekbones.

"What Penny said about you kissing like a god."

"Shut up," he said, rolling his eyes before catching her chin in his fingers to pull her back down to him.

Y/N was sprawled almost on top of him now as she rested her head back against his chest. His arm curled all the way around him and he dropped one of his legs out of the hammock so that he could rock them back and forth a little.

"It's 12:47."

Harry blinked blearily above him. Someone was shining their phone flashlight in his eyes.

"Huh?" Harry asked, royally confused as he tried to move his hand up to block the light from his eyes only to feel a small body on top of him.

"Lights out in 13 minutes, you guys have to get back to your cabin."

Y/N Y/L/N was passed out on his chest, in a hammock, and suddenly the events of the nights flooded behind his eyelids. He had kissed her and she had kissed him back before he told her that he liked her, to which she had also said back. And then they had fallen asleep in a hammock together.

"Sorry, yeah," Harry managed to say, shifting around a little. "Thanks."

The person walked away and left the two in almost complete darkness.

"Sunshine," Harry said, shaking her shoulder lightly as he tried to rouse her awake. She groaned in her sleep and burrowed deeper in his arms. He smiled, she was so cute. "Y/L/N, we've got to head back to our cabins."

"No," she moaned against his chest, sending vibrations through him.

"Yes," he countered with a laugh. "Y/N, I will tip this hammock if you don't wake up."

She lifted her sleepy head off of his chest to glare at him and he ducked forward to kiss her softly because he could do that now. It was brief but it still caused his stomach to flutter happily and judging by the dopey smile that took over her face, she felt the same way.

"Come on," Harry said, shifting around slightly so that he could help her climb out. "We don't want to be caught out here."

Y/N clumsily clamored to her feet, stretching out her whole body as she yawned. He stood up behind her and yawn-stretched too, as it was contagious, before bending down to scoop up their stuff with one hand so that he could take her hand in his other one.

He felt extremely sad when their cabins came into view, he wasn't ready to say goodbye to her yet. They slowed to a stop right outside of her door and he handed her her stuff.

"Good night," she whispered sleepily, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Hmm, goodnight Y/L/N," he said back, smiling at the pretty sight in front of him that he could see because of the light above the cabin door.

She slipped in the cabin and he made his way to the cabin next door, grateful to see that their light was still on, unlike Y/N's cabin.

"Yo, where have you been?" Mitch asked him from under his blankets when Harry reached their room. "And why are you smiling like that?"

Harry hadn't even noticed he was smiling and he tried to tone it down but that was useless. "Just a good night, is all."

"A good night?" Mitch questioned, sitting up in his bed to look at him. "What does that even mean?"

Harry was trying to fight the urge to jump around in circles and pump his fist in the air and was only half succeeding.

"Oh my God," Alex gasped, also sitting up in his bed, wide awake now. "Did it finally happen?"

All five guys in the room were looking at him now as he nodded.

"Shut up," Niall said, shooting up in his bed. "Are you fucking serious?"

Harry was looking at Mitch as he nodded again. This was his sister after all and even though it had been talked about for the past several years, it was actually happening now.

"Err, what's going on?" Liam asked from where he was sitting on the floor in front of the fan.

"Loverboy over here finally got the girl," Niall said, slipping off of his bed to dap him up. "You beat the friend zone, you are all of our heroes."

"Oh, congrats dude," Louis said awkwardly. "Um, with Y/N?"

Harry laughed finally, because honestly, who else?

"Yeah." He nodded in Louis’ direction.

"Well, what happened?" Alex demanded.

"We went kayaking," Harry said, leaning on his bedpost. "And then we kissed."

"Just the once?" Alex asked.

"That was several hours ago," Harry said with a slight shrug. "Take a guess."

"Ahh, man," Alex practically yelled, jumping from the bed to pull him into a hug. "It finally happened, I can't believe it."

"But you guys actually talked, right?" Mitch asked quietly. "Like she knows this means a lot to you, right?"

Harry nodded. He knew Mitch was worried about what would happen if when Harry finally grew the courage to ask her out and she didn't feel the same way. "Yeah, Mitch, we talked, she knows."

"And feels the same way?" Mitch asked, looking for clarification and Harry couldn't say that he blamed him.

"Yeah, she does."

And then the room erupted into a celebration as Mitch sprang from his bed. Harry did end up jumping around like a middle school girl with his friends for about three minutes before the lights turned off and someone yelled at them to shut up.

"Hey," Mitch said quietly one last time. "I'm really happy for you both."

"Me too," Harry said, smiling as sincerely as he could ever remember.

"You may be my best friend," Mitch said seriously. "But I swear I will kick your ass if you ever hurt her."

"I would expect nothing less."

"Now go to bed, loverboy."

It was a little hard to navigate through the beds and to the bathroom by phone light to brush his teeth but he didn't think there was anything on planet earth that could dampen his mood right now.

His phone vibrated on the way back and somehow his mood lifted even higher.

Sarah woke up the whole cabin with her screams

i think i broke an eardrum

worth it tho, for a kiss from a god himself

Harry smiled to himself as he slid underneath his blanket.

if i wake up tomorrow and this was all a dream, do me a favor and make the first move this time.

Three dots popped up to indicate that she was typing.

how do you make me roll my eyes and smile at the same time?

just know that even if this was a dream, real-life me wouldn't mind if you just came and planted a kiss on me

Harry's cheeks were beginning to hurt at how wide he was smiling.

because its a kiss from a god?

no, because it's a kiss from you

It was a bit weird at first, this thing with Y/N and him. They had been friends for so long and there had been more than a few awkward moments over the last day and a half as they began to figure out how to be more. There had been a few times where one of them went to kiss the other person and ended up on their cheek or lips instead, which was a bit jarring. They bumped noses and their teeth clanked. Trying to navigate around Mitch, Sarah, and Alex was some work already, like how much touching was too much touching around your friends. Harry had kissed her, like a proper one, for the first time in front of Mitch this morning when they were stretching before their run and Mitch had slapped him over the head.

But Harry and Y/N had been best friends since they were 12 so it was easy to find the humor in their awkward moments. And both of them were just happy something was going on finally between them. As for their friends, they had had more than enough time to get used to the idea of them dating over the past few years so their expressions of annoyance were just a show. They were all happy for their friends. Especially Sarah.

When Sarah and him were alone at dinner yesterday, because Y/N had been pulled to the art room and a lot of the lifeguards' shifts had been changed because of it, she had hounded him the entire time about what exactly went down, what was going through his head at the moment, and what he thought was going to happen now.

He had been ready to kill her before Y/N had walked in for Dinner B and rescued him with her sunny deposition.

After their run this morning, Harry had convinced Y/N to come take a nap with him in his bed after some long, separate - of course- showers. They all had the day off and the only reason they had woken up before 3 was because of their stupid football coaches and Y/N's greatness to run with them even when they didn't have to. He was looking forward to the next weekend when they all had Sunday off, both with work and working out, thank you to Tessa yet again.

Until then, he had to make do with the day he was having now, which definitely was one of the best Saturdays he had ever had because of who he got to spend it with.

Y/N was still asleep next to him as their nap had turned into more of a second sleep. Their cabin lights were off and the fans were on. In their tiredness, it was easy to ignore the light peeking around their window shades and Harry was willing to bet that they had slept through lunch.

Mitch was sleeping on his own bunk, half of his body pretty much hanging off of it as he slumbered in oblivion. It had been a long and tiring week first week of camp, per usual, and they treasured their day off.

He fished around the floor for his phone, content to just lay there and respond to all of his forgotten text messages with one hand as he kept the other one wrapped around the sleeping angel next to him. That only lasted about ten minutes before she was opening her eyes and full body stretching, her cold toes touching his calf and making him smile.

"What time is it?" She mumbled, sounding drunk in her sleepy state.

"12:47." They hadn't missed lunch after all.

She sighed, lifting one of her hands to rub at her eyes. "I'm starving."

"Want to go to the Dining Hall?" Their only other option was the Snack Shack.

"In a minute," she mumbled, shifting slightly so that she was propped up on his chest with her arm folded underneath her chin. "I'm not ready to move yet."

He smiled, lifting up his hand that had been holding his now forgotten phone to push her hair over her shoulder so that he could see all of her pretty face. Her eyes were half lidded and she had a sleepy grin on her face as she looked at him.

"You're so pretty," he told her, running his finger down the adorable freckles on her nose. Her cheeks flushed a light pink and that made his heart want to explode a little.

She leaned forward to kiss him and his hand slipped past her delicate features to tangle in her hair. They were getting good at this. There were significantly fewer accidental nose bumps or teeth clankings. He was having completely different problems now that involved some major discomfort with his Big Dipper. She just sounded so fantastic and felt practically sinful against him, it was sensory overload.

Her eyes stayed closed even as she pulled away and he was so goddamn happy as he looked at her pretty face. He just felt so, so light.

"Okay," she said as she showed him her pretty green eyes. "I'm ready to move now."

Y/N climbed over him to get off the bed and stretch before walking over to her sleeping brother. Harry heard her wake him up and ask if he wanted to get lunch with them.

Harry slid out of his own bed and stretched. The rest of his roommates, Alex included, were gone though they had all been sleeping when he had laid down to nap earlier after their run, except for Niall who had a shift at the Rec Center. He could hear the two siblings talking behind him as he rifled through his suitcase, looking for a pair of socks.

The three of them walked to the Dining Hall together and waved at Alex when they spotted him sitting next to Liam and Louis and some other friends. There weren't any open seats so the three of them sat at the end of the table next to them, Mitch and Harry on the edge with Y/N sitting next to him.

"Oh shit," Y/N whispered and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter.

"What?" Harry asked, instantly alarmed. He searched around the room for what made her freak out and had the exact same reaction when he saw Wyatt sitting across the Hall with some friends.

With an insane hair job.

"Y/L/N, what the fuck did you do?" Harry asked her, turning his head away from that monstrosity to look at the gorgeous girl next to him but she was already on her feet and walking over to the dick, probably to tell him that she was sorry if the apologetic look on her face was to say anything. Mitch had caught on to their conversation, looked over at Wyatt, and was now biting his fist to keep his laughter from erupting.

The two of them watched, Mitch in extreme amusement and Harry with suspicion as Y/N put her hand on the bastard’s shoulder. Harry had seen Wyatt mad before and it wasn't something he wanted Y/N to get caught on the receiving end of.

Harry didn't know when the two girls had managed to do all this and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Wyatt’s once blonde hair was now unevenly streaked with red hair dye. It looked like someone had tried to clean up a red mess with a blonde mop, only the mop was someone's head and they actually had to walk around and look like that. His girl was brilliant, there was no denying that.

Y/N and Wyatt’s conversation was brief, there were several smiles from both ends during it, and a few high five from some of his friends, which relieved him greatly. Harry doubted very much that would have been the case if anyone else had gone up to him, Sarah included.

"Sister, you two did him dirty," Mitch told her through his laughter as she slid into her seat, not bothering to look away from her masterpiece and at the distraught look on her face.

"It's not that bad," Harry tried to cheer her up. "And it'll wash out soon, right?"

Mitch turned around in his chair to look at him in disbelief and was just in time to watch as Y/N buried her head in her arms, visibly upset with herself.

"He's right Y/N," Mitch said, instead of whatever else he had been planning on saying, "and that red is certainly better than the red he caused you."

That was true. Harry still wanted to kill him for that. She had spent the first night she had gotten burned overheating in her cabin from how hot she was and the next day in pain as her skin rebelled against the burn, not to mention the dehydration is had put her through. This hair dye was harmless compared to that.

She lifted her head off of her arms, looking at both of them with sad and disbelieving eyes. "It looks awful, I'm a terrible person."

Harry put his hand on her thigh, wanting to comfort her. "No you're not, Y/L/N, and it's really not that bad." The second line was a total lie. Not everyone could pull off red hair like his pretty red.

"He asked if this made you guys even," Y/N said, sounding like she was asking the question too.

"We'll see," Mitch said for Harry, sounding less amused now. "I don't think it's really an even trade."

"Yeah, but you prank each other all summer long, I'm sure you'll get him again, eventually."

Harry pursed his lips. That was true in some ways. The three of them and Wyatt, along with a few of his friends, always spent their time at camp at one another's throats, and not in a friendly way. Though no one had even been caught in the crossfires like this before, especially not someone like Y/N, who meant something to both sides. Harry was sure that even Wyatt felt somewhat bad for hurting her. She was just such a kind person.

"We'll see, Sunshine," he told her, smiling a little as she slipped her hand in his. "But in the meantime, I say we just enjoy the view."

It was her turn to smile, albeit hesitantly, as she looked over at her handiwork. It really was funny. "I mean, we did a good job."

"That you did, sis," Mitch said, smiling widely at his sister. "Like honestly, how did the two of you pull that off?"

"We snuck into your cabin while everyone was at dinner and figured out which kind of shampoo he used. Then we snuck out after lights out and headed to the Walmart in town to buy a bottle of that and some hair dye. We mixed the two bottles in the parking lot before sneaking back into camp and then into your cabin to swap the two bottles."

"You mean to tell us that the two of you walked through the woods that late in the night?" Mitch asked, impressed.

"More like sprinted, but yeah," Y/N confirmed, laughing a little.

"And you didn't wake anyone up in their room?" Harry asked, also impressed. She shook her head and took back her hand to hold her fork. "Damn, Y/L/N, you've got skills."

"Or, it's camp and everyone is exhausted." Y/N reasoned before perking up. "Oh, it's Sarah."

Harry turned to doorway to see Sarah walking in, her hair in a high ponytail and wearing a t-shirt and shorts, both unusual things for her.

"She must be beat," Mitch said, noticing the same things. "I think I've only seen her with her hair up three times."

"Don't be so dramatic," Y/N said, rolling her eyes. "She does this all the time."

Harry very much doubted that though he didn't do sleepovers with her regularly like Y/N. She jumped in line at the pasta place, just as Y/N and Harry had done, before walking over to their table.

"Hey guys," She greeted them tiredly, dropping into the seat across from Y/N.

"Turn around," Y/N said, skipping the typical morning greetings and tipping her head towards Wyatt.

Sarah turned around, caught sight of Wyatt, and spun back around, clapping her hand over her mouth as her whole face lit up in laughter.

"That is so much worse than I was expecting," Sarah said, taking her hand off her mouth to look at all of them in disbelief. "Has Alex seen it?"

Harry turned towards the table next to them that he had forgotten all about as they got swept up in Wyatt's ugly hair. Alex's back was turned and unless someone else had seen it, it was very unlikely that Alex had been graced with the opportunity to see Wyatt in all his glory.

"No, I don't think so," Harry told Sarah, turning back towards her, a grin overtaking his face. "Nor the rest of the table, I'm betting."

"Harry," Y/N whined, putting her hand on his arm. "Don't be mean."

"Everyone at camp is going to see it sooner or later," Harry reminded her, putting his hand on hers that was holding her fork.

"Y/N, girl, it's a harmless prank," Sarah said, rolling her eyes at her friend as she bit some pasta off her fork. "What did you expect to happen?"

"I don't know," Y/N said, "for him to look a bit better, I suppose."

Mitch snorted, and Harry bit back a grin. "Well, he must not have gotten that memo."

Sarah leaned across the table so that she could talk to the table of boys next to them. Besides Wyatt's few 'friends' and his temporary flings, there weren't a whole bunch of people who liked him at camp. It was no surprise when all of them started cackling and a few of them reached over to high five the girls. Sarah took hers proudly but Y/N did so hesitantly.

"You guys coming to the Ledges with us tonight?" Their friend and fellow lifeguard Liam asked when everyone was done laughing.

Harry looked around at his friends and they all shurgged in the 'sure' kind of way. "Yeah, after dark?"

"Course man," Liam said, "is there any other time to go?"

Such was true.

"See ya then," Mitch told them, reaching up to dap a few as they all stood up from their table. Alex joined them with his empty dishes and the five of them finished their lunches together or watched as the others did in Alex's case, before heading towards the field house.

The five of them found an empty room in the basement and some rackets. Over the years, they had picked up enough of the racquetball rules to play it casually. And then eventually it just turned into the boys whipping the balls at one another and off the walls while the girls sat in the corner and rotated between talking and fending off stray balls.

They had dinner in the dining hall before changing into the suits and heading to the deserted beach and chilling in the sand, waiting for the sunset. Y/N was taking some photos of them with her phone, including one of the two of them with the sunset behind them and his lips on her cheek.

He posted it on his Instagram story, a way of letting his friends back home that something was happening between the two of them that didn't involve extreme embarrassment. Mitch and him hung out all the time in Brooklyn. His friends were Harry's and Harry's friends were his. Sometimes, Harry would show up places and Mitch would already be there. He loved it. But, there were a few drawbacks. Mitch had no problem spilling things about Harry's obsession with Y/N and he knew that if he didn't say something, Mitch would, and it would be very embarrassing.

"Guys!" Liam's voice came from behind them and they turned around to see him and several other guys waiting for them. "Come on!"

The five of them grinned at one another before getting up and running after the group of guys.

They all dropped their clothes at the top of the highest rock and Harry couldn't stop the laughter as he looked at Y/N's 'tan' lines that were getting worse by the day.

"Harry," she whined, smiling despite herself as she looked at him.

"What?" He leaned in, smiling too, and kissing her softly.

"Oh, shit!" One of Liam's friends, Chandler said, his eyes going wide. "Since when have you two been a thing?"

"It's new," Mitch said for him, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders from behind. "Aren't they cute?"

"Shut up." Y/N pushed his face away.

They moved to the edge of the rock, Harry keeping a firm hold on Y/N as Mitch and her had a little shoving match.

"Dang, I forgot how high it is," Y/N mumbled as she looked over the edge and down at the water below. Luke had installed some lights on the path and it was bright enough to light up the water below. Campers weren't allowed to night jump but they still did it so he had figured he might as well prevent them from dying. Luke was smart like that.

"You'll be fine," Harry said, grabbing her hand. "You ready?"

She nodded.

A few people had already jumped since they arrived at the rock, Sarah included. They followed their lead.

He let go of her hand mid-jump, not wanting either of them to land weird. Harry surfaced first, wiping the water out of his face as Y/N emerged from the water.

"Oh my God," she half laughed, half cried as she tipped her head back. "Oh my God, my ass."

Harry laughed loudly, reaching out for her. "Come here."

She shook her head, shaking herself out a little as she looked up at the sky.

"What's up with her?" Mitch asked, swimming up to them.

"She didn't close her legs enough," Harry said, trying not to laugh for a second.

Mitch tried to turn his laugh into a cough and only half succeeded.

"You good, Y/N?"

"Yeah, just need a second." She sounded out of breath.

"Alright, you've got her, I'm sure."

Mitch swam away and Harry helped her swim towards a rock a little aways, just so she wouldn't end up getting jumped on by someone.

"You okay?" He asked her, touching her hip lightly.

"Umhmm," she said, looking at him finally. Her eyes were a little shiny and his stomach clenched painfully.

He lifted himself up on the rock and let her swim in between his legs, giving her the opportunity to cling to him if needed. Which she did. She folded her arms and kicked her legs back so that she was lowkey laying on the water.

Harry felt like he was living in a movie. It was the perfect temperature outside and he was with the perfect girl, in the perfect place, with his best friends.

"Hey Harry," Y/N said after a few minutes, looking up at him.

"Yeah?"

She pushed herself up so that her arms were fully extended and her face was inches from his. He wrapped his arm around her and leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Go on a date with me?" She asked. "After work tomorrow?"

He blinked in surprise before smiling blindly. "Where you taking me, Y/L/N?"

"Well, I don't have a car, so the only place I can take you is the Diner."

"So you're asking me to take you on a date?" He teased her.

"If that's what it takes, sure."

"Well, I'd be honored." He couldn't stop smiling. "Are you going to dress up for me?"

"Depends on where you're taking me."

He rested his head on her shoulder as he thought for a moment. There was nothing in this town other than a few family owned restaurants that stayed afloat purely by the fact that there was nowhere else to go. But he knew there was a bigger 'town' about twenty minutes ago with an Olive Garden. It was kind of cliche but they didn't have a whole lot of options here.

Y/N's arms were beginning to shake and when he lifted his head up, he helped her up into his lap, one of her legs on either side of his hips.

"Well, there's that Olive Garden like twenty minutes away," he told her, cueing her in on his thoughts.

She tilted her head to the side as she thought about it. "I mean, who can say no to those breadsticks."

"Oh," he said, as a thought came to him. "Isn't there a Cheesecake Factory out here somewhere, am I crazy? Didn't we go there once?"

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, it's in the other direction I think, in the city with the casino."

"Dang, you're right." The memory came back to him. "It's on the way home, Michael took us there once when he was driving the three of us back to Brooklyn."

"Just so we're on the same page, if I had a car I would be the one taking you out."

"Aye, aye, captain," he said, leaning in to kiss her. The rock he had led her to was away from the lights and he doubted that anyone could see them, he could barely see her.

Her small hands tangled in his hair and he sighed into her mouth. So much of her wet, bare skin was pressed up against his and his teenage brain was going haywire.

"Not scared of water snakes anymore?" He teased her, pulling away not even an inch.

"I've learned that the water can be just as scary."

"You good now?" Harry asked her, remembering the reason they were over here in the first place.

She nodded, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss didn't last long as both of them got soaked when Mitch splashed them for kissing where he could see them. Some things would never change