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steveseddie · 8 days

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go for it

steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 4,6k | tags: eddie and steve have a crush, they finally do something about it, the hellfire club is there whoops, first kiss, getting together

for my stficbingo: “This is a dictatorship and I’m in charge!”

click here to read on ao3

***

“You drag yourselves out of the tunnels and find what seems to be a friendly tavern in the woods,” Eddie narrates in a low voice, his eyes sweeping over everyone sitting at the Harrington dining table. They’re all at the edge of their seats, collectively holding their breath, looking suitably daunted yet excited as they brace themselves for some other twist in the story. “The innkeeper welcomes you with warm food and offers you a place to stay. She assures you that you’re safe.”

He pauses for dramatic effect. Watches as Henderson bites his knuckles, Wheeler squeezes his eyes shut, Jeff covers his face with his hands-

“Tonight you get to rest,” he finishes with a flourish of his hand and the party sighs in relief.

“Thank God!” Gareth says, slumping back on his chair and wiping his brow where beads of sweat started gathering during the final moments of the campaign. “I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“Holy shit, me too,” Sinclair agrees, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d been one bad die roll away from dying by the time they finally defeated the goblins that attacked them out of nowhere. “That was brutal!”

“It was fucking awesome!” Henderson says with a squeaky laugh and everyone around the table heartily agrees.

Eddie grins widely, resting his chin on one hand and doing a flourish with the other one in lieu of a bow. “Glad it pleased you, Master Nog.”

The kid flashes him a toothy smile and then he and the rest of the party start discussing tonight’s campaign- the best moments, the ones where they thought they would all die, their predictions for what will happen next week.

They’re so caught up in their conversation that they don’t notice when Eddie slips away from the table.

The Harrington house is easy to get lost in, bigger than any house Eddie has ever been to. Even after weeks of being friends with Steve and coming over for movie nights and pool parties, Eddie isn’t sure he’s seen all of it. He knows there’s a third garage somewhere and he’s only been to one of the three guest bedrooms and that was back on the first night he slept over.

(Since then, he and Steve realized that they sleep better when they have company and Eddie never saw the inside of that or any of the other guest rooms again, sharing Steve’s bed with him whenever he spends the night instead.)

Eddie has been to Harrington kitchen plenty of times though, so he makes his way there easily.

As he gets further away from his friends and their noise, Eddie’s ears pick up on the music coming from the Harrington kitchen, which further guides him in the right direction. He belatedly recognizes the song as part of the mixtape he made for Steve a couple of days ago in an attempt to improve his music taste. When he gave it to him, Steve eyed it warily (“It’s real music, Stevie, not a rabid animal, it won’t bite you!”) before shoving it into his car’s glove compartment. He didn’t bring it up since then and Eddie assumed he forgot about it. Knowing that Steve didn’t forget and he’s actually listening to it now fills Eddie’s stomach with butterflies.

Those butterflies flutter pathetically when he finally reaches the kitchen and finds Steve doing the dishes.

He’s standing in front of the sink, his hips moving with the music (not heavy metal but some soft rock that Eddie thought might be more Steve’s style while still being cool) and there’s a flowery apron tied around his waist which matches the rubber gloves he’s wearing. Both were a gag gift from the kids, Steve told Eddie the first time he saw him wearing them, one that actually turned out to be quite useful and now he wears them often.

For a moment, Eddie lingers at the kitchen doorway, giving himself a few seconds to stare at Steve, filing away how he looks for later when he’s daydreaming embarrassingly domestic fantasies of a life with Steve. Then he raps his knuckles twice on the door frame to get his attention.

(Eddie knows better than to sneak up on him now. The one time he did Steve had him pinned against a wall before Eddie could even realize what was happening. He thought it was hot more than anything, but Steve had been mortified. He spent the rest of the night apologizing and acting like a kicked puppy around him. He didn’t relax until Eddie reminded him that the first time they met, Eddie did the same thing, only he also held a broken bottle to Steve’s throat. So now they were more than even.)

Steve’s head whips around at the sound and his face lights up when he sees Eddie leaning against the door frame.

“Hey!” Steve says, grinning like he’s delighted to see Eddie. Like he missed him, like he didn’t see him less than forty minutes ago when they all took a break to have dinner. “You finished early tonight.”

Glancing at the clock on top of the fridge, Eddie realizes that Steve is right. “I figured they had enough for one night,” Eddie says, stepping into the kitchen and joining Steve by the sink. “Usually the brats would throw a fit, but I think they were actually glad this time.”

“That bad?” Steve asks with a snort.

“Wheeler rolled four nat ones in a row, Steve, four!” Eddie says, dancing in and out of Steve’s space until Steve hip-checks him out of the way with a chuckle.

“Four, huh?”

“Mhm, the odds weren’t in their favor tonight.”

“Well, it was nice of you to let them off the hook for once, Mr. Dungeon Master,” Steve says, crinkly eyes meeting Eddie’s momentarily before looking down at the sink and picking up another plate.

“I’m always nice, Stevie,” Eddie says, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

Steve gives him a bitchy face. “Dude, I’m pretty sure I heard you threaten to chop off Dougie’s hand.”

“That was the goblin, not me!” Eddie protests, wagging his finger in front of Steve’s face. “Who Jeff killed shortly after, so who’s the one that isn’t nice here?”

“Right,” Steve deadpans. He takes off the rubber gloves after rinsing the last plate and picks up a dish towel to start drying. “You can always get your revenge next week I guess.”

“Oh I will, Stevie. I will,” he says, grinning manically. Oh the things he has planned. Eddie hops on top of the counter, right next to where Steve stands as he dries plates and glasses and everything else he used to make the most delicious lasagna for the party. His feet dangle from the counter and he lightly nudges Steve with one. “Hey, thanks for letting us play here. And for dinner.”

“You know you don’t have to thank me every time, right Eds?” Steve says with an exaggerated sigh, but his annoyance is downplayed by his playful smile. The lopsided one that makes Eddie want to kiss him stupid.

After Spring Break, Principal Higgins was quick to shut down Hellfire once and for all, leaving the party with no place to hold their campaigns. Eddie wasn’t surprised but like everyone else, he was pretty fucking bummed about it. No one in their party had enough space at their house to host their campaigns, and the only two that did, Wheeler and Sinclair, failed to convince their parents to let them use their basement for their alleged satanic cult gatherings.

But just when they thought their club was done for, Steve swooped in like the knight in shining armor that he is and offered up his house, which is why for the last couple of weeks they’ve been gathering at the Harrington residence where Steve not only hosts their campaigns and puts up with the noise and the mess they leave behind, but he also cooks or buys them dinner every week and makes sure to stock up his fridge with each of their favorite drinks, even indulging in Gareth’s weird obsession with Bubble Up soda because he is unreal and the nicest fucking guy Eddie knows.

So Eddie can’t not thank him every time. Contrary to what people might believe, he has manners. He also likes the pretty pink flush that covers Steve’s cheeks whenever he does it.

“Hm, I think I do,” he says, nudging Steve’s leg again. “Hellfire would be over if it wasn’t for you, sweetheart.”

“And what a tragedy that would be,” Steve jokes but aha! There it is- that pretty pink blush.

“Hey! I know for a fact that you don’t hate it as much as you pretend to,” Eddie says, shaking his finger in a reproachful manner. “You sat through the whole session last time and didn’t even yawn once!”

Last week, Dustin begged and pleaded so that Steve would sit and watch their campaign instead of retreating to the kitchen or his bedroom. Steve held his ground admirably until Eddie joined in on Dustin’s pleas, batting his eyelashes and pouting exaggeratedly until he caved, sighing in defeat and sitting down next to Eddie. He didn’t expect Steve to make it through the whole thing, but he did and while he did look a little confused at times and complained that there was way too much math involved, he also seemed to actually enjoy himself.

Steve shifts from one foot to the other and bites his lip. “Yeah, I guess, but that’s because I was watching you the whole time,” he shyly says.

Eddie blinks. “Me?” He remembers Steve’s eyes on him while he led the campaign, but he didn’t think much of it then. But now Steve’s shy admission that he enjoyed himself because he was watching Eddie makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Flushing deeper, Steve keeps his eyes on the glass that he’s drying, not meeting Eddie’s gaze as he says, “Yeah, you, uh. You’re very good at doing those voices and you know, drawing people into your stories. It’s, um, fascinating.”

Fascinating. No one’s ever used that word to describe Eddie before. He can’t help the way his breath catches when Steve Harrington of all people calls him that.

“Oh. Well, thanks,” he stammers out, feeling his own cheeks match Steve’s flush. “And here I thought you were going to say I’m just pretty to look at,” he adds with a slightly shaky laugh.

And that’s what he expects Steve to do- laugh it off. Instead, he finally meets Eddie’s eyes and says, “Well, that too.”

Eddie’s jaw drops. Holy shit.

Steve does laugh then but not because it was a joke. He laughs at Eddie’s reaction which consists of him gaping like a fish because Steve Harrington just called him fascinating and pretty.

And it’s not that Steve hasn’t given him compliments before or hasn’t flirted with him before. He plays along most of the time- sometimes with a playful smirk and sometimes with that baffled puppy look that Eddie saw for the first time after calling him “big boy”.

The thing is he’s never flirted like this- shyly, without a hint of a joke. And it’s-

Well, it’s a lot.

But if Eddie learned anything after Spring Break is to roll with whatever the universe throws at him, which in this case isn’t an army of hell bats or an apocalypse, but Steve Harrington finally, maybe, possibly making a move. Something that Eddie has been waiting for after weeks of the two of them dancing around each other.

He couldn’t see it at first, or rather he refused to, afraid to get his hopes up only for his heart to break when he turned out to be wrong. But there are things that not even his cynical eyes can ignore. The way Steve gravitates towards Eddie in any group setting or the way Eddie catches him staring when he thinks he isn’t looking like last week when they went swimming at the quarry and Eddie took off his shirt or like two weeks ago when Eddie tied his hair up to keep it off his face while he played his guitar. Or the way Steve’s eyes seem to dart to Eddie’s lips constantly when he talks and the way he can’t go more than a day without seeing him before he’s knocking on Eddie’s door to spend time with him.

It would be slightly easier to ignore all of this if it wasn’t for the fact that Eddie acts the same way when it comes to Steve. And Eddie is halfway in love with the guy, so. It makes him wonder.

But despite all of this, Eddie still hasn’t made a move. Steve either. Until now maybe.

Eddie clears his throat, finally finding his words. “Well, as entertaining as it must’ve been to watch me.” He grins. “You’ll have more fun if you actually play with us. Maybe next time I can finally convince you to join.”

Hazel eyes narrow at him. “If I play, will you threaten to cut off my hand too?”

“Nah, I promise to go easy on you since it’s your first time.” He winks and Steve’s eyes widen, the blush from before making a wonderful return.

“I- I haven’t said yes-”

“Yet.”

Steve huffs. “What makes you so sure that you can convince me?” He asks with an arched eyebrow. “The kids have tried and failed and you know how relentless they are.”

“Yeah, but I can be very persuasive.” He gestures at himself with a hand flourish. “You know, as a cult leader and all.”

Steve hums. “Of course.” He leans his hip against the counter, only an inch away from Eddie’s thigh.

“There’s gotta be something I can do to convince you,” Eddie says, moving his thigh until it touches Steve’s hip. “Something I can give you in exchange. To make it worth your while.”

Steve’s eyes immediately dart down to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s stomach swoops. There it is.

“You’re right,” Steve says, and in one quick movement, he pushes himself away from the counter and moves to stand between Eddie’s legs. Holy fuck. “There’s one thing.”

Anticipation bubbles up in Eddie’s stomach. “Yeah? What- what is it?” He asks with a suddenly dry throat.

Steve ducks his head, glancing at Eddie through his eyelashes. “A kiss from the Dungeon Master?” He asks in a shy whisper.

Eddie stares at him for a second, lips parted in surprise because goddamn shitting fuck. Then-

“Not the goblin?” He asks in his stupid goblin voice. Like a fucking loser.

As soon as he blurts it out he slaps a hand against his face. “Fucking Christ, I can’t believe I just did that. That was so lame. I’m just fucking nervous, sorry.”

Steve wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, lowering his hand. His eyes are sparkling with fondness. “Don’t be, it’s cute,” he says with a soft chuckle.

A nearly hysterical giggle bubbles up in Eddie’s throat but it abruptly cuts off when Steve places his hands on Eddie’s thigh and leans in.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna give me that kiss or what?” Steve asks oh so sweetly.

And Eddie doesn’t waste a moment after that, he finally goes for it. He cups Steve’s cheeks and tugs his face closer, pressing their mouths together, feeling his chest explode with warmth as he thinks finally and pinch me and holy fucking shit.

The kiss is sweet and slow. It starts a little tentative, just lips slotting together, Steve’s bottom lip fitting perfectly between Eddie’s. But then something shifts- Steve’s hands settle on Eddie’s waist, his thumbs digging into his hip bones while Eddie’s fingers find their way to Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp, tangling with the soft strands, tugging on them. The last one makes Steve’s mouth fall open in a gasp, just enough for Eddie to press in, catching Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and biting down hard enough to earn himself a small whine. Then he lets it go, easing his tongue across Steve’s lip and licking into his mouth.

He loses track of anything else that happens when Steve’s own tongue licks into his mouth in return.

After a while the kiss softens again, turning into something slow and tender until it comes to a natural stop, once they can’t ignore the need to breathe anymore.

Steve pulls back but Eddie doesn’t let him go far, keeping a firm hold on the lapels of his dorky polo shirt. “Definitely worth my while but-”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “But?”

“But,” Steve says, his red, wet, well-kissed lips stretching into a wicked grin. “I think I’m gonna need more convincing.”

Eddie grins back. “Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

He tugs Steve closer again and he comes willingly, sighing happily when their lips slot together once more. God, Eddie is so fucked. They’ve kissed once and he’s already addicted to kissing Steve. He’s convinced that he could stay like this forever, lazily making out with him on his kitchen counter, tongues exploring, hands wandering.

And he probably would’ve- if a shrill voice didn’t make them jump apart.

“What the hell is going on here!” Dustin yells.

Steve whirls around so fast he almost faceplants on his kitchen floor and Eddie jumps back and hits his head against one of the upper cupboards.

He lets out a string of creative curses as he rubs the back of his head, seeing black spots when he opens his eyes. Despite those, he can still see the whole party standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at them with expressions ranging from utter shock (Sinclair and Henderson) to disgust (Wheeler) to smugness (Jeff, Gareth, Dougie, and weirdly enough, Erica).

“Uh,” Steve says dumbly as he tries to find his words, but there’s no lying their way out of this one and they both know it. They were just caught with their tongues down each other’s throats and Eddie’s hands on Steve’s ass.

“Well?” Dustin prompts in a bitchy tone.

“I was, uh, convincing Steve to join D&D next week,” Eddie says, which is, technically, the truth.

Gareth snorts, raising an eyebrow. “With your tongue?”

Eddie gives a gleeful laugh. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Eddie,” Steve hisses, flushing to the tips of his ears.

“That’s gross!” Wheeler cries, his face scrunching up which is rich coming from him, Eddie thinks, considering he saw him sucking face with El more times than he would’ve liked in the short time she was in Hawkins after everything. So he knows Wheeler has nothing against kissing and it makes him wonder if he might have something against Eddie kissing a boy, or boys kissing boys in general and Eddie loves the kid, he loves all of them but he will sit him down for some tough love if he happens to not be okay with-

There’s a slapping sound as Erica smacks him upside the head.

“Ouch!”

“Not cool, butthead,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Wheeler. “Boys can kiss boys too.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth tugs up in a smile. Just like that, she’s currently his favorite.

“What?” Wheeler asks, rubbing the back of his head. “I know that. I don’t care that Eddie wants to kiss guys, I care that he wants to kiss Steve!”

“Hey!” Steve protests with an affronted frown.

“Eddie is cool and Steve is so lame! And he’s my sister’s ex!” He says with extra snark.

Eddie can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Steve’s head snaps in his direction, his offended expression now directed at him. “Sorry, sorry,” he says between giggles. He clears his throat and gives Wheeler a stern face. It’s a much different scolding than the one he thought he would be giving him just a few moments ago and he’s grateful for that. “Steve isn’t lame. Yes, his music taste is shit and he owns more polo shirts than an 80-year-old-”

“Dude, are you defending me or helping Mike insult me?” Steve mumbles with a pout.

“But!” Eddie says, ignoring him. “He’s also badass and he’s saved your sorry asses multiple times and he’s nice enough to let you pipsqueaks eat his food and trash his house every week and he’s hot as fuck, so. Show some respect, Wheeler.”

Mike’s face scrunches up. “What does Steve being hot have to do with anything? Ew!”

But before Eddie can reply to that, Dustin takes a step forward, looking between the two. “So this is a thing now? Are you guys a thing?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at them.

Steve and Eddie exchange a look, both of them trying to communicate the same thing- do you want to be a thing? Steve gives him a sheepish smile and a nod, and in response, Eddie wraps his arms and legs around him, essentially hanging off of Steve’s back like a koala and trapping him against the counter. “Yes, Henderson. We are, as you so eloquently put it, a thing.”

Eddie expects more outrage, but Dustin nods solemnly. “Okay, cool. Just- no flirting at the D&D table. And no kissing!” There are nods and noises of agreement from the rest of the party.

Eddie lets out an indignant squeak. “Excuse me, this is a dictatorship and I’m in charge! And the Dungeon Master decides that there will be kissing, butthead,” he announces, and then to prove a point, he smacks a sloppy kiss against Steve’s cheek.

There’s a lot of groaning and whining and fake-gagging.

“Dude, it’s like watching my parents kiss,” Sinclair says and Henderson nods, rubbing at his eyes like it physically hurt him to see Eddie kiss Steve.

Eddie rolls his eyes- and they call him dramatic.

“Fine, fine, no kissing,” he says and sees Steve pout out of the corner of his eye. “But I won’t be deprived of the joy of flirting with one Sir Stephen.”

Steve leans back against Eddie’s chest, twisting his neck to arch an eyebrow at him. “Sir Stephen?”

“I’ve been working on your character sheet for weeks,” Eddie says with a grin. And it’s true, he had the feeling that he would be able to convince Steve to play and he wanted to be ready. If he’d known a kiss was all it took to do it, he would’ve done it much sooner.

“That’s presumptuous of you,” Steve mumbles, but there’s a smile teasing at his lips. Eddie shrugs, nuzzling his face against Steve’s shoulder.

“Fine!” Dustin groans, reminding Eddie that he and Steve aren’t alone. “As long as you stay in character.”

Eddie grins wickedly, already looking forward to flirting with Steve through all his characters, even the goblin.

“Anyway,” Jeff says, clapping his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. “We were on our way out. We would offer to take the kiddos home, but Dougie’s piece of shit car won’t fit them all.” Dougie protests with a “Hey!” that they all ignore.

Usually, Eddie doesn’t mind driving the kids around, but right now, a part of him does wish that he could stay a little longer with Steve. The other part can’t wait to get home so he can scream into a pillow.

“Nah, I got it. Gentleman, lady, grab your things, we’ll head out in a second,” he says, making shooing motions with his hands.

Sinclair rolls his eyes. “He just wants more time to make out with Steve,” he mutters as they all start to pile out of the kitchen.

“Correct, Sinclair!”

He and Wheeler make gagging noises, earning a shove from Erica as she follows them. Yeah, she’s definitely his favorite.

Henderson lingers on the doorway.

“Any other rules you wish to impose on us, Master Nog?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dustin shakes his head, curls bouncing. “No, I’m just- I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

Eddie blinks. “Oh,” he exhales softly, touched by the kid’s words.

“Thanks, Henderson,” Steve says, and he sounds touched too.

“Yeah, thanks, kid.”

“And I love you both, but if you get divorced, I will pick sides.” And with one final narrow-eyed look, he turns on his heels and leaves.

“Which side?” Eddie asks, but the little shit pretends he doesn’t hear him. “Henderson! Which side?” His shoulders slump. “Brat.”

“Too bad we’re never gonna find out,” Steve says, turning around to face Eddie without dislodging his arms or legs that are still wrapped around him.

Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest. “Never? That’s presumptuous of you,” he says, echoing his words from before.

Steve shrugs. “I just know I don’t plan to break up with you- or divorce you like the kid said.”

Oh yeah, Eddie definitely needs a pillow to scream into right about now. “Um, yeah, me neither, so I guess we’re stuck together.”

Steve nods with a dopey smile. “And we’ll never know who Dustin would’ve picked.”

There’s a short silence.��

Then, “He would’ve picked me,” they both say at the same time.

Steve squawks. “Me!”

“No, me!”

“I’ve known him longer!”

“He thinks I’m cooler!”

And so on until Eddie gets tired of arguing and shuts Steve up with a kiss. Before they can deepen it though, they’re once again interrupted by the kids.

“Eddie!” Dustin yells.

“Stop sucking face and let’s go!” Wheeler adds and Eddie can’t see him, but he knows his nose is scrunched up in disgust.

“We’re gonna be late!” Sinclair adds, urgently, and Erica mhm’s in agreement.

Eddie throws his head back with a groan. “Jesus H. Christ! They’re so annoying.”

“They are,” Steve chuckles, brushing their noses together. “Hey, you wanna come over tomorrow? We can work on that character thing together. Just you and me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, lips parted in awe. Steve and D&D? There must be hearts in his eyes right now or bursting out of him like he’s a cartoon. “You’re offering to do nerdy shit with me? God, you’re a dream, Jesus Christ!” He says, hands coming up to cup either side of Steve’s face and peppering kisses all over it- his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and finally, his lips.

Steve giggles. “So, that’s a yes?”

“I’ll be here,” Eddie says with a grin.

Steve wraps his arms around his neck. “And since the kids won’t be there I expect there to be kissing and flirting.”

Eddie inches closer, smirking. “Hm, you can count on it, sweetheart.”

This time they don’t even get to kiss before the kids are yelling again, this time in unison. “Eddie!”

Eddie lets go of Steve’s waist and slaps his hands against his face. “Motherfucker!” He groans. Then louder, “I’m coming!”

Steve shakes his head with a laugh as Eddie hops down from the counter.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eddie tells him.

Steve gives him another dopey smile- or rather the same one since it hasn’t left his face at all. “Can’t wait.”

Eddie sweeps in for a quick kiss, one that the kids can’t interrupt, marveling for a second at the fact that he can simply do that now. Then with a final tug to Steve’s flowery apron, he skips out of the kitchen, turning around at the doorway to look at Steve one last time. He’s leaning against the counter, smile firmly plastered on his face and looking at Eddie like-

Well, exactly like Eddie is looking at him. Lovestruck, he thinks comes close to describing it. And ain’t that something.

He gives Eddie one of those little finger waves, and in return, Eddie blows him a kiss. Steve’s cheeks turning pink is the last thing he sees before he leaves the kitchen and joins the kids in the living room.

“Okay, shitheads!” He says, clapping his hands together to get their attention. “Which one of you am I sending home walking?”

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stficbingo #yet another getting together fic because i love them clearly #this one featuring the hellfire club #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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01zfan · 1 month

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your birthday | s. es

boyfriend!eunseok x reader | 6.0k words

two posts in two days but this is a little treat for eunseok’s birthday and an instalment of the next series i have in mind! kinda based off a request i received about eunseok and the reader in an igaf war (LMFAO)…inspired by the feeling i get when i listen to in a week by hozier.

contains: having cake (and eating it too if you catch my drift)

when eunseok first became a teen, nothing changed.

he spent his prepubescent life yearning to become one of the big kids that seemed to have so much fun. he would kick rocks past the park when leaving school, stealing glances at the teenagers that passed around a brown paper bag by the skating ramps. eunseok would look at them through through the chainlink fence when they decided to hang out on eunseok’s path home from school. when he was feeling extra bold, eunseok let his body lean against the fence, fingers in the gaps of wire while he observed them.

eunseok memorized how they moved their bodies carelessly and walked with a relaxed nature, how they were oblivious to the world around them. eunseok didn’t know if their benevolence was by design, he was so acutely aware of everything he thought it was an innate part of being human. but here he stood, less than a yell away and they didn’t acknowledge his presence. but eunseok was still meek at that age, a small boy who had barely graduated from his velcro sneakers to laced shoes. the teenagers wore clothes that hung loosely on their bodies, dressed in fashion that would make anyone think they were delinquents. they may have been that very thing, what else do you call teenagers that skipped school to spend time at the park day drinking?

no matter what they were, it didn’t matter to eunseok. he thought they were cool and he was determined to become just like them. so when he stood underneath the sun on his sixteenth birthday instead of only staring at them through the fence he called out to them. eunseok was a different person now, he skipped class and retired the circle frame glasses he got called a nerd for wearing. the best part was that the group of kids drinking in the park changed each year and they had finally become his age. eunseok called out the name of a kid that shared class with him waving a pack of stolen cigarettes in the air like an offering. eunseok had stolen the pack from his parents a long time ago in preparation. he hated the smell and the way it made his throat burn, but he didn’t judge. he knew the delinquents loved to smoke, and they easily accepted eunseok into their group after he took a swig of hard liquor without grimacing.

when he turned eighteen, the first thing he did was buy a lottery ticket. he didn’t know how to decipher the icons on the scratch off, he had to ask a very uninterested worker to tell him if he won or not. he left the gas station with a pack of cigarettes, poorer than when he walked in. eighteen wasn’t too different for eunseok. he didn’t have to worry about skipping school anymore, he had graduated and could fully dedicate his time to hanging out all day doing nothing with his friends. his group had moved on from the adolescence of a kids playground to an abandoned pool. they would spend all day there and be the first ones when the rest of the towns delinquents arrived at night.

the night of his eighteenth birthday was when eunseok first saw you. eunseok was embarrassed to admit to his friends that knew you were not new to the scene. your older brother was one of the teenagers eunseok looked at when he was younger. your brother came and went, his mind was focused on things outside of drinking and breaking minor laws. he was one of the only ones that left the city quickly after graduation. he was shrouded in mystery and you were no different. when eunseok saw you walking towards the side of the pool his feet dangled off of he didn’t know what to do. eunseok had become so used to ignoring the world around him that when you came into it he was sheepish. he forgot how to form a bond with anyone outside of shared love for misbehaving and making bad decisions.

you were already so mature for your age, and you knew who you were. you spoke to eunseok about having a job and how excited you were for college to broaden your horizons. eunseok felt like he was that nerdy meek boy again standing on the other side of a chainlink fence—this time he was admiring you through the wired frame. eunseok wanted to be like you, he wanted to go after what he wanted in life like you did.

eunseok didn’t have to spend three years changing himself to be let inside. you welcomed him into your arms without stolen cigarettes and alcohol hidden in paper bags. he felt like he had found a new side of himself, and eunseok couldn’t stop telling people about it. no one could blame eunseok for his discovery; he didn’t know that life could be so sweet, or that love was something greater than partying all night.

eunseok took responsibility for not telling you early on that you had changed his life. talking about you to anyone that would listen wasn’t enough. the summer came to a close quicker than he expected. the season usually droned on when he spent his time hanging around abandoned places and playing video games in his friend’s basement. but it flew by, and spending every waking moment with you didn’t help the feeling of an impeding end subside. the final grains of sand went through the hourglass while there was a party at the abandoned pool house. it was one of the few nights of the summer where everyone was able to beat the sticky heat, and for the first time in eunseok’s teenage life, he wasn’t there.

he chose to get drunk off you instead, and inhale your perfume while you whispered in his ear. the two of you decided to make heat of your own, the type that had your bodies drenched in sweat underneath thin covers. your bodies molded together and glistened, reflecting the light of the illegal fireworks that exploded outside. eunseok gave you what little he had left to give you that night. he made a silent vow that he would be a better person when you held him tight and let out cries of euphoria into his neck.

eunseok turned twenty-one while you were still away. he went back to the same gas station that gave him the worthless scratch off lottery ticket to buy his first legal alcoholic beverage. eunseok waited until he settled into his apartment, leaning deep into his couch before reading the label and taking a quick sip. it tasted no different, maybe even worse than the drinks he had snuck and illegally tasted all these years. eunseok didn’t have too much of a taste for alcohol now, even less of a taste for the sickly sweet drinks you preferred. but he drank every drop for some reason, acting like you were the one that brought it for him.

eunseok was twenty-one when he rented his first car to come and see you. he took off work responsibly and drove through the night until he made it to your campus. he caught you just as you were leaving, planning a secret roadtrip back home to surprise her boyfriend who had just turned twenty-one. eunseok saw you nearly drop the bottle of the shitty vodka wrapped in a bow when you opened the door to him. he spent the night with you in your dorm and you two split the potable hand sanitizer with no chaser like you guys were teenagers again.

you two barely made it through half the bottle when eunseok felt you lean over and whisper into the rosy shell of his ear that your roommate very obviously wasn’t coming back. she had gone home for spring break, just like everyone else on your floor. eunseok still pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans, and stuck fingers in your mouth to stop you from crying out. he let out grunts into the crook of your neck, and both of you muttered strings of incoherent words while you kissed. eunseok spent the rest of the night making up for lost time through rushed touches fueled by alcohol and desperation.

the next morning eunseok was hungover for the first time in so long he forgot how to operate. he had to wear your cat-eye sunglasses while you walked around the area surrounding your campus. again, eunseok fell victim to terrible timing. but he couldn’t stop himself from saying he wants to move to the city, and he would get the two of you an apartment off campus with the money he had saved up. he quickly talked about a future on the sidewalk, not noticing that he was next to a park. he was only focused on you, the way you were still glowing even through the tint of his shades. eunseok was afraid that the ridiculous sunglasses on his face made his words seem unserious, but the way you leaped into his arms and screamed with joy told eunseok you were taking him serious.

eunseok was twenty-three now, and he was nothing like the person he was in his hometown. after leaving, eunseok realized the world was alot bigger and there were more places to be than playgrounds and underneath bridges. he also realized that proximity was the only thing that made his friends stick around. he missed all of his friends from back home, and he wished distance didn’t keep them apart. eunseok came home to the small apartment he shared with you to see a single trail of confetti lead him to the kitchen. eunseok set his things down, and hung up his coat on the rack next to the door. he blew warm air into his hands, he didn’t know why it was still so cold in the middle of march. eunseok looked for you on the couch, where you normally sat relaxed after your shift until eunseok got home.

when he didn’t see you, he tried holding back a smile as he slowly followed the trail. he turned three large steps to get to the kitchen into fifteen tiny ones.

“i thought we weren’t celebrating birthdays.” eunseok said loudly into the empty space of your apartment.

the walls were thin, and eunseok barely had to raise his voice for it to echo in every room of the tiny layout. but eunseok imagined the yelling and the tiny steps increased the anticipation and excitement for your big reveal. he would talk to you about the finances later, and how important it was to not waste money on meaningless celebrations.

when he finally rounds the corner eunseok is surprised to see seven familiar faces looking back at him. his jaw drops open when everyone immediately launches into singing him happy birthday. it still hangs when it’s time to blow out his candles. after it’s all said and done, everyone in his kitchen looks back at him waiting for eunseok to say something back. he is still shocked, and he sounds confused when he asks how did everyone fit in the tiny space of his kitchen laughter. booms in his apartment, but eunseok is still confused.

while eunseok caught up with his friends, he can’t help but be confused why they are all here. birthdays were never significant in his friend group, the closest thing they got to a celebration was first pick on what to buy with the pocket change everyone was able to scrounge up. but eunseok’s friends talked about how you got them together, how you planned everything while you stood in the kitchen shaking your head bashfully. eunseok made his friends thank you repeatedly, until you had to sneak into your shared bedroom to get away from the endless praise. eunseok didn’t let it end when you were out of the room. he spoke of you highly in between topics of his friends and how good his life was. his friends were congratulating him, and they spoke of their own lives. everyone from his friend group were going on to do things of their own, outside the limits they were almost fenced into.

eunseok could talk to his friends for hours and he was grateful that you let him have alone time with the people he hadn’t seen in so long. but he couldn’t stop himself from occasionally peaking towards the closed door of the bedroom. eunseok wanted nothing more than to thank you for the planning and the effort that went into celebrating his birthday. twenty-three such an insignificant age to turn, but you put in effort like it wasn’t just a normal day.

by the time he was done catching up and promising to visit soon, it was dark outside. he took the time to sincerely thank all of his friends, and to tell them how grateful he was to have them in his life. expressing gratitude came easily to eunseok now, and he knew it caught all of his friends off guard. they jokes about how sweet eunseok was now during the final hug. eunseok only shrugged his shoulders before telling them to get home safe.

no matter how soft he closed the door, the tired hinges still creaked. eunseok joked about all the flaws in your apartment, and you two both made it a game to find the positive in the defects. the squeaky hinges were your first line of security, letting you know that someone was walking into your home. the creaky floorboards made a precious melody, the loud cast iron radiator was white noise. eunseok realized the leak in your ceiling by the couch that counted time was gone. the metal bucket that sat directly underneath the leak was gone too.

eunseok goes underneath it, smiling at the slightly discolored blotch that covers the hole.

“crafty.” eunseok says underneath his breath.

“is everyone gone?” you say.

your voice is gentler than eunseok’s. he can make his boom throuhg your apartment, but yours almost gets lost behind walls and closed doors. eunseok hears you regardless, letting you know it’s just you and him in the sanctuary you two built together.

eunseok clears the space between the living room and the door quickly, turning the knob to see you.

“can you bring me a piece of cake?” you quickly ask, much quieter than your previous sentence.

“sure baby.” eunseok says into the open crack of the door.

eunseok immediately turns towards the kitchen, walking to the counter where his half eaten cake sits. eunseok cuts you a piece of the cake using the butter knife that’s caked in frosting. he watches as it slices through each meticulous layer, acknowledging the fact it probably took you forever to make it. eunseok imagines about you in your cheesy apron, rereading the instructions on your phone a million times while he puts the slice on a tiny paper plate. the blue frosting matches the trim on the edges of the paper dish, and eunseok smiles again.

he heads for his bedroom door again, sucking the frosting off of his thumb before opening the door gently. he has to keep an eye on the plate, careful to not let the slice tip over the edge

“you patched the leak in the kitchen?” eunseok asks.

when eunseok looks up from the slice, he sees lit candles on the bedside table. eunseok sees you read your book in the center of the bed, trying so hard to be nonchalant about the cami top lingerie set you wear. you made sure to wear his favorite color, but whatever you decided to wear would’ve been his favorite. he nearly drops the piece as you set your book down and sit up against the headboard of the bed. you two look at eachother through the candlelit dimness and the the quickly building tension.

eunseok walks to the side of the bed closest to him. he’s so fast that the slice of cake falls on it’s side. eunseok is only paying attention to it enough to catch a chunk that detaches from it before it hits the floor.

eunseok wonders what’s going on inside of your mind as your eyes float between the piece of cake and his eyes. he watches you get on your knees, and bend over as your slow hand brushes past his leg to grab the handle of the bedside table. both your chests rise in anticipation as you open the drawer. you let eunseok see the assortment of toys he’s never seen before and a pair of cuffs that reflect light before you grab a lone candle.

eunseok comes closer when you beckon to him after lighting the candle on the small burning fire. he holds the leaning piece of cake between your two bodies and you use your other hand to manipulate the piece to sit upright. you’re messy on purpose, getting the blue and gray frosting on your fingers. he watches you clean the mess you made, sucking the frosting off of your index and middle finger after getting some on your lips. you hold his eye contact while you do this, and eunseok can see your cheeks hollow before you pull your fingers from your mouth.

“make a wish.” you say.

your words confuse him, and eunseok has to be reminded by your pointed eyes. his mind is still blank when he closes his eyes and blows out the candle quickly. you only laugh as you crawl to the edge of the bed on your knees. he comes closer to you, so close that you have to tilt your head to see his face.

“what’d you wish for?” you ask innocently.

eunseok looks past the specks and smudges of blue frosting on your face, and how it matching your cami top. the silk cami is smooth on your body, absent of ruffles or wrinkles except where your erect nipples protrude outwards. its so subtle eunseok think he would miss it if the candlelight didn’t bounce off the shiny fabric.

“i forgot.” eunseok says absentmindedly.

“already?” you ask playfully.

eunseok nods his head obediently. something comes over him looking at you like this. the candlelight ignites your dewy skin, and catches on your glossy puckered lips. eunseok bends down to get closer to you mindlessly, like a moth to a flame.

eunseok lets you pull him in by the hands you have on his face. he feels your thumb that still had frosting paint his cheekbones. you bring him so close that he cant stop the edges of the cake from pressing to the bare skin of your chest. eunseok knows you can feel the cold frosting on your hot skin, but you pull away from him slowly before looking down. the perfect amount is smudged on your chest, directly above the valley of your breasts.

the view brings eunseok to his knees, and he carelessly puts the cake on the floor to free his hands. now it’s his turn to tilt his head up to look at you. you rest on your haunches and let your arms rest on eunseok’s shoulders. both of you stare at the smudge on your skin. when eunseok blows on the chilling frosting it causes goosebumps to erupt on your chest. you tilt your head to the side, and a hand reaches up to gently grab a handful of his hair.

“can you clean it up for me?” you ask.

your voice already sounds hoarse and eunseok is no better. he can only nod, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence. without wasting another second, eunseok brings his lips to your chest. his tongue comes out first, pressing it flat to your skin before licking up a majority of it. when you sigh and lean your head back it drives eunseok further. he turns his head to get a better angle and attaches his lips to your chest. he sucks harshly, even after the he no longer tastes the sweet frosting. his hands also creeped up your chest and kneads your breasts over the thin silk material of your camisole.

even when eunseok’s lips detach front your chest, his hands stay on your chest. he managed to move your top down just enough that the pigmented skin of your areola peaks out. eunseok looks up to you for permission, and when you nod your head, he attaches his lips to your exposed skin. he’s careful to not get spit or to stain your power blue camisole. your sighs are broken, and end with high-pitched whines. your grip on his hair tightens before you slightly tug. eunseok reluctantly lets go of your nipple, letting his tongue graze the skin before he’s out of reach.

eunseok is brought back to make eye contact with you. your eyes flicker quickly to his shirt, and eunseok sees that the slice of cake had smudged against his shirt. you pull your arms from his shoulder and walk backwards on the bed by your knees.

“take your shirt off.” you say once you make it to the center of the bed.

eunseok stands to take off his shirt, not caring if frosting gets in his hair from his haste. his shirt is followed by his pants and socks after your instructions. he’s left in his boxers while you stay in your lingerie. eunseok watches your hands rest on your thighs, how you rub your skin the same way he always does.

eunseok crawls on the bed until his nose touches yours. he doesn’t know why he’s waiting for you first, but he ignores it when your lips move forward.

he takes his time kissing you, situating himself on the bed while a hand on the small of your back brings you closer. you give in and eunseok smiles against your lips before slipping his tongue past your lips. he keeps leaning you forward and tilts his head while he guides your movements. when you moan into his moan eunseok’s dick jumps in his boxers. he can feel his tip press against the cotton fabric and how the fabric becomes cold when the air chills his precum.

before eunseok can lead you to lay your back on the bed, you exert physical and mental strength to break apart from him.

“lay down.” you say.

eunseok can’t stop his eyebrows from raising. the authority in your voice causes his dick to twitch in his pants. he’s hesitant at first, but lays back on the bed in the position he usually puts you in. you stay in your spot, letting your eyes rake down eunseok’s body. his muscles move underneath his skin, and his abs twitch each time the tent in his boxers move.

you quickly suck the remaining frosting off your thumb and eunseok has to manually blink. before he opens his eyes, he can feel three of your fingers trail down his body. it started on eunseok’s chest, the same spot where he left a forming bruise and ends at his waistline. he thinks for a moment you’ll pull down the waistband, but before he can lift his hips to help your eager hand reaches for him through his fly.

eunseok can’t stop himself from groaning and letting his jaw drop. he sees you looking down at him, and your hair frames your face perfectly as you smile smugly. eunseok has half the urge to play with the strands of your hair, but when you start slowly stroking him all thoughts leave his mind. he only knows your name and the short answers to your teasing questions.

“does it feel good?”

“want me to keep going?”

“want me to go faster?”

“can i take your boxers off?”

each answer to your question is a breathy yes with a head nod. eunseok looks down at the tent you two form together in his boxers. he pushes his waistband down, desperate to see the uncovered view.

when eunseok can see your fisted hand around his base, he lets expletives fall from his lips. he wasn’t usually this reckless. he prided himself in keeping his composure until the very end. but the view of you pleasing him always made him lose self-control a little faster. that compounded with how bossy you were being made eunseok already feel like he was close to cumming all over your hand and his abdomen.

eunseok is so desperate to feel you wrapped around him that he clutches at the thin strap of your top. but you are out of his reach as you trail down his body and slot yourself between his legs. eunseok props himself up on his elbows and runs his hand through his bangs to push it out of the way. he can feel the clumps of dried frosting comb through his fingers before he brings his hand back down.

“what are you doing?” he asks breathlessly.

he knows what you’re doing, or what you plan to do when he sees the determined glint in your eyes. you pull down his boxers without answering. neither of your say anything, only letting the sound of your heavy breaths and movement on the sheets fill the room. only a second passes between you throwing his boxers past the edge of the bed and you taking eunseok’s dick into his mouth. the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue causes eunseok to lift his hips off the bed and thrust into your mouth.

eunseok takes control when you gag on his length. he pulls himself out of your mouth by the base of his dick while you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“you surprised me baby,” eunseok wipes the spit from the corner of your lips “i’m sorry.” he apologizes.

you don’t listen to his apology, only placing your hand over his before guiding his dick back to your lips. you trace your bottom lip with the. eunseok shakes when he sees precum glisten on your lips, and how large his dick is in comparison to your face. he has to sigh and lean his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“you can be rough with me.” you say matter-of-factly.

eunseok looks away from the ceiling down to your eyes between his legs. he feels your hand hold the base of his dick, and when you have his attention eunseok feels you run your tongue along a vein. it takes you all the way up, where you place a sweet kiss on his tip. eunseok twitches in your hold and gasps quietly.

“you can fuck my face,” eunseok feels your warm lips kiss his tip again. “or pull my hair.” you say.

eunseok has to dig his nails in his hand to stop himself from thrusting up into your hand. it’s all so vulgar, the way you give him permission to wreck you so casually.

“don’t wanna.” eunseok says.

he did have nights where he fucked you into the mattress, not relenting until you were jelly in his hands and his thighs were shaking. sometimes something came over eunseok where he was admittedly mean to you in bed, spanking you until you were in tears and denying you orgasm after orgasm. but right now, he wanted nothing more than to lay you down and gently show you how grateful he was to have someone like you in his life.

eunseok wished you weren’t so giving, or so hard to look at in the eyes during times like this. when you audibly pout and drag a wet hand up his shaft eunseok lifts his back off the bed slightly.

“i can feel you getting harder the longer you think about it.” you deadpan.

eunseok has to shake his head to try and deny the facts

“‘cause i want to have sex with you,” eunseok hisses when you drag your hand back down to the base. “really nice and slow.” he sighs.

eunseok can feel your lips curl against the shaft of his dick to smile, and he can see your legs playfully kick in the air. eunseok wants to cover his eyes with his arm, maybe the pitch black would stop him from twitching in your hand so much and his face from getting so hot. but your other hand has a steady hold on his, and his other hand is too busy clenching a fist repeatedly.

“we have all night for that.” you blow cold air on his tip and eunseok hisses again. “we have all day tomorrow too, actually.” you say casually.

eunseok doesn’t know where this side of you came from. your sex life was very carefree. both of you agreed that assigning roles in bed was restrictive, and you were both so young that experimenting was a big part of intimacy. neither of you fell into roles, but more often than not eunseok ended up in charge, changing the positions to what he thought was most beneficial unless you requested something. but here you were slotted between his legs, calling all the shots and teasing him.

he let out another sigh, hoping you didn’t hear the shaking in his voice.

“can you put it back in your mouth?” eunseok asks pathetically.

you smile even bigger before kissing the tip again. you start slowly, beginning with his tip. you look up, seeing eunseok’s adam’s apple bob while his hands grip the sheets. eunseok has to look at you take him deeper and deeper in your mouth. his elbow slide from underneath him and his groans when he can feel your nose touch his stomach.

“you’re so good at this.” eunseok says.

you stay there for a moment, and hollow out your cheeks. eunseok bites his bottom lip when you come back up.

your eyes already start becoming red, and you have to sniffle to stop your nose from running. eunseok thinks you look beautiful. your determined look softened to something more needy, and eunseok was sure his eyes mirrored yours. he lets one hand tangle in your hair and slowly guides you back down to take all of him.

“you got it” he encourages when you take a brief pause.

you nod with your mouthful of eunseok and grab his other hand. he interlaces your fingers with his. the hand in your hair is just for show—the pace and how deep you take him is entirely in your control. you squeeze his hand when you gag, and eunseok coos you assurances and compliments.

“your mouth is so perfect baby.”

“making me feel so good.”

“keep going.”

“you’re so pretty.”

eunseok can feel the vibrato of your moans come from the back of your throat each time he compliments you. the vibration makes his dick twitch in your mouth. his hips occasionally jump up, and each time you look at him begging for more.

eventually it’s eunseok squeezing your hand, warning you that he can’t hold his hips back anymore. you nod and move his hand to the other side of your face. you place steady and firm hands on his thighs, ready to push back if it becomes too much.

“can i?” eunseok asks, nearly shaking.

you nod and say something that is blocked by eunseok’s heavy dick in your mouth. he takes what he can, a hand tighten in your hair and he places a guiding hand on your cheek. he tilts your head and eunseok lifts your head all the way off his dick, until a nearly invisble string of spit connects his tip to your flat tongue. eunseok massages your throat, enticing you to loosen it before he pushes your head back down his dick. when your halfway there, his hips meet you the rest of the way. eunseok can feel himself against the back of your neck, and how your lips stretch around the root of his dick.

eunseok grips you there, and shakes your head so he can snuggly fit inside your tiny mouth. when you gag he pulls out and repeats the motion, until his hand holds your head in place and his hips take him all the way. eunseok wipes the tears from the corner of your eyes and lets his moans bounce off the tiny walls in your room. he’s sure of a noise complaint, or at the very least evil looks when he runs to someone in the mailroom. but eunseok doesn’t care when he turns your head and pushes halfway in until he presses your cheek as far as he’s comfortable with.

when eunseok places his hand over your soft cheek and feels the bulge of his dick press against his hand, he goes into a frenzy. the steady rhythm he has is ruined instantly when you look up at him and whine. he becomes fixated on stuffing half of his dick into your small mouth and the pain of your nails digging into his thighs. you don’t push back, and when eunseok looks down at your body he sees you grinding your hips against a balled up blanket.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” eunseok lets one hand fall from your face to place it over your hand. “i’m close.” eunseok whimpers.

he’s rushing himself again, and he wishes he could slow down to enjoy the moment. but the burning in his thighs on pushes him quicker to the edge.

“where?” eunseok asks you quickly. when you control back, bobbing your head up and down at a fast pace eunseok sees stars “in your mouth?” he asks quickly.

all eunseok needed was a nod and murmur from you before he thrust his hips up one more time before stilling them. he can feel the sweet release, and how it drips down his length before your quick tongue swipes it up. he stays there, back slightly off the bed while he keeps giving you cum. your name and a million thank you’s and fuck’s slip past eunseok’s lips. when he thinks he’s down, you bring a gentle hand to massage his balls.

when eunseok is finally done and the last spurts go down your throat, he relaxes. it’s a full body relaxation, so much so that his lower back cracks in relief. he gives your every last drop, and you continue to bob your head up and down slowly even after there’s nothing left.

as fast as eunseok was cumming he is tender to the touch, instinctually laughing from the almost ticklish feeling of you continuing your ministrations. eunseok has to pull your head off his dick, but you start to pump his length slowly while you rest your head on his thigh to catch your breath. eunseok has to place a firm hand over yours and shake his head before you pull your tunnel vision from his dick to his pained expression.

“sorry.” you laugh and place one more kiss to his tip. “got carried away.” you say.

eunseok can only let out a light chuckle. the remaining last bit of his strength pulls you up from your spot between his legs to bring you in for a hug. you kiss him back with ease, like he wasn’t just using your mouth like his personal pocket pussy a few seconds ago. your tongue slips past his lips and you guide his hands to knead your breasts again. eunseok can’t let anything continue before he showers you with praise and appreciation for making his birthday so special. so he pulls away from you and distracts you by looking deep in your eyes softly. when he places a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose you close your eyes. eunseok makes quick work of you, by the time your eyes are opened it’s him on top.

your pout is incredibly cute. eunseok laughs and kisses the creased skin on your forehead as your fucked out eyes try to scowl at him.

“don’t laugh at me.” you try to be angry, but eunseok sees the smile on your lips.

“let me make it up to you,” when eunseok sees you open your mouth to protest, he kisses your complaints away.

“it is my birthday after all.” eunseok says before kissing you again.

#01zfan: eunseok #eunseok smut #riize smut

275 notes · View notes

neteyamyawne · 1 year

Note

I hade an idea for Jake x fem reader x Neytiri. Reader is Lo’ak and Tuk’s mother (Lo’ak still calls her mama) and gets shot instead of Neteyam trying to save spider because she cares for him like a son(she doesn’t die but she gets close to it and is going in and out of consciousness)And you know how Neytiri and Jake reacted to Neteyam getting shot they react the same with Neytiri going on a whole rampage and after they get the gurls back they rush to the rock to get to the reader and get them help.(Lo’ak blames himself and feels guilty because he feels like his mama is the only one that understands him) The reader is in a coma for a little bit but Neytiri never leaves the readers side and Jake only leaves to take care of the kids, until the reader wakes up like kiri did from her seizure crying and Jake and Neytiri are right there to comfort her and Lo’ak and tuk are attached to the reader like a leech when she gets better.

🪷 — Toxn'ong

୭ ˚. Pairing : Jake x fem!Navi!reader x neytiri

୭ ˚. Summary : request

୭ ˚. Warning : war, gunshots, getting hit, mention of blood, blacking out, angst, coma, lo'ak being sad, crying, fluff ending, let me know if more.

୭ ˚. Word count : 2.2k , kinda proof read.

୭ ˚. Note : "word" - dialogue, **word** - flashback

୭ ˚. Extras : finally I'm done with this request, this is my first polygamy fic so please if there are any mistakes let me know, enjoy 😄

୭ ˚. Glossary : [tawtute] - human, [eywa] - Navi deity.

The battle raged around you, Dodging the bullets flying towards your ikran, trying hard to escape the firearms by swiveling around the ship, soldiers swarmed around the waters, losing the ones behind you but now even more were standing in front of your face, quickly dropping down and shooting most of them out, you hide yourself behind a metal wall, you peaked, seeing them come forward you pounce at them, hitting them right on their faces with your bow, turning around and knocking the others out as well, you walked over to the other side of the deck cautiously to see tsireya, lo'ak and tuk strapped to the railing,your heart racing, running forward you pulled out your knife but stopped as someone shot up from the side of the ship, blocking the way between the three kids to protect them from the oncoming danger but sighed in relief at the sight of neteyam walking towards you.

You cut open lo'ak's handcuffs while neteyam undid tsireya's, the waves were crashing into the ship and sprayed over the deck, drenching you all, tuk was crying when you pulled her to your chest , she should not have been here, she should be at shore at Awa'atlu , far away from all this, shushing her down and kissing her forehead to stop her from crying, when lo'ak said "mama, we have to save spider, we can't leave him here" you looked at neteyam who was a bit hesitant but agreed, spider was like your own, even if neytiri disliked him, he was like your own son, you knew who his father is, the man who's trying to kill your mates right now for eywa's sake but that didn't mean his son would be same.

You got up, ushering tuk to go with tsireya, treading your way towards the hallway of the sinking ship, halting now and then when a guard passed around in your surroundings, after a lot of crawling around you finally got to the lab or work space or whatever those demons called it, dropping down you all knocked out each and every soldier within a few minutes, grabbing spider you ran towards the moon pool but blocked lo'ak's way as few soldiers ran into you, killing them off one by one, you ran out of arrows, bending down to draw one out of the dead tawtute, but gunfire rang through the air and you immediately pulled back against door to block your view, your eyes widen when you saw lo'ak with a gun, quickly pulling it out of his hands, you settled the boys behind you, gunshots where still raining down, looking out from the corner you fired up your gun as well, taking down as many demons as you could.

You yelled at the three of them to jump down in to the pool quickly, when all three of them dived in, you looked out once again, the shoot out stopping for a moment so you took your opportunity and ran towards the pool, hitting the water surface you sank down, gasping for air but only water surrounded you, a white hot searing pain shot through your shoulder, breaking the surface the air felt like needles in your lungs as you grunted in pain, agonizingly you rasped out "I'm shot" but soon you sank down again, lo'ak's face fell when he saw your state and pulled you up neteyam helping him, it was getting hard to breathe, your vision fogging but your heard some specks of words lo'ak said "mama…..eyes open…..keep" the world moved slow and you fought to keep my eyes open, you were being moved , alot faster than you expected, you groaned before you blacked out.

Lo'ak was screaming for everyone to move as he, neteyam and Jake lowered you gently on the rock "watch her head!" Jake's heart was beating a mile per second, his thoughts were jumping to worst possible conclusions, he fell to his knees beside your body, as gently as possible he picked up your side to look at your back to see any possible exist hole, he physically sighed in relief as he found no wound but as soon as he laid you back down, you woke up from your blacked out state screaming at the burning sensation, he pushed you down as you looked up at him gasping to catch up on the depleted air level in your lungs, he cupped your cheek forcing you to take deep breaths even if it burned like hell, neteyam was putting pressure onto the wound but it was no were near sealed from bleeding.

you reached for Jake and sputtered out "ma' ja- Jake, i see you-" but he cut short "No! Everything is fine, we are going to get you out of here, just hold on honey, do not close your eyes please" and you fought your hardest but everything felt week, like you were being lulled to sleep but you held on, a screech bellows through the air as neytiri landed, her eyes widened as the sight and she immediately fell to her knees " No, NO, NO , NO NOOOO! Please great mother, nooooo" she screamed pulling your head against her chest, you coughed out, blood spilling from your mouth, she put your head down as Jake helped to wipe the blood, your head rolled back eyes falling close, it was getting harder to stay awake, so you finally looked at neytiri, squeezing her hand you gasped out "tiri, i see you, Jake i-" but exhaustion took its toll, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you went slump in their arms, neytiri's cries turned to sobs , wrecking her body as she pulled you close, lo'ak stayed near his mother tears streaming down his face, neteyam sobbed for his mom as well , Jake looked around, gears kicking in, he placed a hand on neytiri's shoulder pulling her back, as she just looked at him with sunken eyes, whimpers escaping in agonizing cries, but he grounded her "neytiri, strong heart! Strong heart!" patting her chest , she looked one last time at you and got up aiming for her ikran, Jake saw as she flew up, face stone cold as her heart right now. He prayed for the men she killed to go to hell. Lo'ak got up too behind Jake as he tried to convince him to let him fight as well but he was stopped "you've done enough" with that, Jake walked away to rescue his girls that were stuck with that monster……

»»————-　✼　————-««

(Time skip cuz i don't remember the whole sequene😭)

»»————-　✼　————-««

Neytiri sat with your head in her lap, wiping your face with a wet rag slowly, Ronal sat in a corner working on her pastes and salves while keeping an eye on you, tsireya had called for help and you were immediately taken back to the healers mauri, when you're family came back, Jake quickly called for norm, the humans checked your body and vitals were low but still there ,so all of them got to work straight away, Ronal had to shoo them away as she worked on you, the bullet was extracted and the wound was stitched and bandaged but there was still no sign of you waking up, even after hours of waiting, no inkling of a move from you.

When Ronal was done with her rituals, norm scanned and took some readings for Jake's peace of mind, but when he saw the results he feared the reaction he would get when the news unfolds. Jake and neytiri were stunned with the outcome, her face crumbling but she held back. Due to the shock and extensive exhaustion your body went into lockdown, easily said you were in coma, with no way of knowing when you'll wake up.

The whole family was lament over your state but the ones most hit were lo'ak , tuk and neytiri, the three of them never left your side, lo'ak blamed himself for even requesting to save spider, if he wouldn't have said that then this would not have happened, he silently cried by your side at nights, Begging for you to wake up. Tuk was confused at why her mama wouldn't wake up even when she cried for you, neytiri was holding back tears almost every time she saw them by you, Jake was in a whole another state, his mind a total chaos, he sat by your side every minute he got the chance too but his work came in between, then too he tried, he was never a religious person but he prayed to eywa every single minute for you to wake up, to get up and embrace him , pull him close and tell him that everything was alright and you were fine but that didn't happen…yet.

After three days and three nights ,of both the metkayina family and your family who were taking rigorous care of you, sagged in relief when you finally opened your eyes, neytiri who never left your side instantly held you closer, but moments of the war flooded your mind as you choked back on your tears, your mate immediately pulled you in as you cried in her neck, every horrible death, the lives you took in matter of seconds, all came back in a huge wave, you crumbled in her arms as your whole body violently shook with sobs, two more pair of arms of your children wrapped around you as you cried, Jake , kiri and neteyam followed suit hugging you. All of you sat there in the middle of your mauri, huddled together, no one spoke a word, just comforted in the fact that you had woken up, and everything was going to be fine, everything was going to be okay.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Neytiri, even after you woke up, didn't leave your side while lo'ak and tuk didn't even get up from you body, lo'ak was at your right side hugging you close to him, he had told you everything what he felt.

** "I'm sorry mama, i shouldn't have asked to go save him, I'm really sorry, i didn't mean-" but you cut him off by pulling him close to you, rubbing his back you whispered "it's okay baby, it was not your fault, spider is our family too, and it was our job to save him, you do not have to apologize for this, it was my decision, sweetheart, to come with you, and if it wasn't for me , you or neteyam would have gotten hurt, i wouldn't want my babies to be hurt, would i?" You said laughing but he just cried harder in your neck. Kissing his forehead you pulled both of your kids tightly against you, they were your world and even the thought of them getting hurt made cold shivers run down your spine, your family was safe and that's all you needed even if it meant you had to go through all this you would without hesitation.**

Neytiri made you warm broth, blowing on to the hot liquid she brought the spoon to your lips for you to drink. Why was she feeding you? Obviously lo'ak and tuk haven't left your side plus to add to it, now Jake, kiri and neteyam were attached to you as well, the only time neytiri wasn't beside you was when she got up to make something for you to eat.

Lo'ak made it his life mission to help you with each and every task, even when neteyam and Jake tried to have some time with you, lo'ak was always in between. He was not gonna let his mama get hurt again and this time he will keep his promise at all cost even when you made it clear you can eat your lunch with your own two hands. At night neytiri and Jake fought with their kids on who will sleep besides you, tuk always won while everyone got one chance every night. Jake got a lot more protective but his two sons surpassed him in that as well, neteyam and lo'ak were becoming your two personal bodyguards.

Life was becoming normal again, your family was granted access to stay with the metkayina, you sat near the shore with your mates as you watched tuk search for pretty shells, your other children were swimming with the Olo'eyktan's kids, you sighed placing your head on Jake's shoulder and intertwined you fingers with neytiri, she scooted closer to you and kissed your forehead, you smiled at her touch, turning your head to look at her, her smile melted your heart even now, after years of being together your love for her never faltered, Jake just pulled you both closer, him just happy his life was finally at peace, both his mates happy and contented, all three of them sat on the shore, full to the brim with love for eachother, overlooking their children as the sun casted beautiful shades of pinks, oranges and reds throughout the sky.

A/n : i love Jake and neytiri with my life 🥹 they are my babies, if you wanna be tagged in my fics comment on my pinned post on my blog💚✨

Yawne : @fanboyluvr, @callmeoncette, @lu-the-ghost-reader, @brisbriskett, @saltedcoffeescotch, @ducks118, @itscheybaby, @jackiehollanderr, @zoetrope1997, @yeosxxx, @persefolli, @im-in-a-pansexual-panik.

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lvrcpid · 1 year

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imagine being neteyams twin and dying along with him.

includes: gn!reader. they/them pronouns. neteyams death..AGAIN! getting “shot”. blood. death. grief. the afterlife. neteyamxreader (platonic!) i totally pulled this concept from my ass so if it doesn’t make a lick of sense i am SO SORRY. ANGSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT mwah love y’all.

in na’vi culture it’s unusual to carry twins. the na’vi body isn’t really meant to carry two babies at one time. but somehow your mother did it. although the pregnancy was difficult, she powered through and gave birth to two babies. neteyam and (y/n). you had come out a little bit after neteyam, making him the oldest. watching the two newborns sleep cozily in their moms arms made jake well up with tears. his little family was starting.

another thing in na’vi culture which goes unsaid is when a twin dies. the other one dies as well. they feel and see eachothers pain too. one time when neteyam got cut, you also felt the pain of his cut, the gash leaving a scar on both of your bodies. in the same place.

the na’vi people don’t understand this predicament. it just happened. the one thing they couldn’t understand. while jake and neytiri were happy and felt blessed by this, they also worried.

if we lose one kid. we lose another.

your parents had informed you of this many times while growing up with your brother. sugar coating it seeing as though you two were still too young to understand the concept of death. all you knew was ‘if neteyam gets hurt. i get hurt too’ vise versa.

you both did a relatively good job keeping eachother safe until the sky people arrived and that fateful day struck your family, tarnishing their hearts forever.

—————————————————————————————

you felt a sharp pang in your chest, a feeling of dread and sluggishness consumed your body like the plague, brushing it off as something minor. but when you couldn’t shake the feeling. something hurt but you didn’t know what. you knew something was wrong.

“(y/n)! come quick it’s neteyam!” your youngest brother, lo’ak called to you frantically, he knew since neteyam was hit that you were as well. you stood up from your seat and immediately felt dizzy, feeling a substance trickle down your chest and down your back, sending chills down your spine. you were bleeding. there was a coin sized hole that wasn’t there before. that’s when it hit you.

neteyam had been shot.

neteyam was dying. and so were you.

panic sky rocketed through your body as you stumbled out to your family, your mother quickly scooping you and laying you next to your brother. your health declining rapidly as blood began to pool your mouth.

jake stared in horror. there was nothing he could do for his kids. he knew this would eventually happen. but he didn’t think it would happen this soon. the sight of you red at the mouth with a wound, ironically matching your twin, made him cringe. this was unfair. he couldn’t process one. now he’s being forced to process two upcoming losses just because it was the way of the na’vi people.

you leaned into your brother as everything was moving. so fast. just a few minutes ago you were making bracelets for everyone. now you’re on the rocks dying with your brother. you cursed eywa in your head, cursing how this was unfair to you and neteyam. you couldn’t even give proper goodbyes first.

neteyam turned his head over to you before letting out a weak smile “im sorry..”. you opened your mouth to speak but was quickly silenced by the spew of blood that erupted from your throat, neteyam feeling the warm metallic substance cloud his throat.

“mom im scared..” you turned to your mom while you faintly heard neteyam whisper something to your father about wanting to go home. then..

there was nothing.

—————————————————————————————

“(y/n)!” you shot up in a panic. it was white. everywhere. when your sight adjusted you saw your older brother in front of you. “neteyam..where..” he quickly shushed you and brought you to a glowing figure, her warm smile filling your body up with the warmth of a mothers embrace.

it was eywa.

you and neteyam quickly bowed before she let out a small hum of approval. “you both have strong hearts. one soul. but very strong and different hearts” her voice was smooth like honey against your ears.

one soul? you always knew you and your brother were attached at the hip but not like this. ‘one soul?’ you thought to yourself but the goddess in front of you was quick with her response. “yes. one soul. you both have one soul. soulfully connected. if one part of the soul leaves..” she looks over to neteyam “then the other has to go along with it.” she looked over to you.

oh.

after the conversation, you and neteyam walked hand in hand in the afterlife, admiring what eywa has to offer. “(y/n) im sorry.” neteyam spoke , breaking the comfortable silence. “it’s okay..it’s not your fault. let’s just spend the rest of eternity happy okay?” neteyam giving a small nod before pulling you towards a river, pushing you in.

life isn’t fair. you know this. but at least you have your brother.

how everyone reacted. (part 2 ish)

a.n // y’all probably hate me after this but OH WELL. i just wanna say thank you for all the love and support on my most recent stories. your comments and reblogs truly make my day 10x better. i plan on doing a lot more so thank you again - sae 🥹🫶🏾

#avatar #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #awotw #jake sully x reader #kiri x reader #loak x reader #neytiri x reader #sully family x reader

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fanfreakinfiction · 7 months

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My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 1: Don’t Cry

Ch. 2 | Masterlist 🖤

14K words // Din Djarin x Pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles to find certain words. The reader is pregnant!

Tags: SMUT virginity loss, con-non-con, made-up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, 18+ DNI.

Warnings: Child loss, Pregnancy, Birthing, Blood, Death?, explicit mention of child loss and grief, guys this is dark.

A/N: I got this idea as I was dying in the shower from period cramps & also from a bot I used to use on Janitor AI before it was privated (RIP Din Bot). For logistics, we will just pretend that the Razor Crest didn’t get absolutely obliterated. For timeline reference, this takes place after season 3. Im convinced Din & Grogu are gonna have fun son/dad bounty-hunting adventures as Din teaches Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. Slight flashback in the middle of how reader and Mando met. Grogu has been working on his force flips lmao. I imagine the reader having an accent kind of like Gal Gadot, idk just roll with it. Also, I am so sorry if you cry reading this, I know I did writing it.

His hands ghosted over the silky skin of her back as he watched himself disappear and reappear from her stretched cunt. Slick mixed with blood pooled at the base of his cock in a ring, and the sound of her whimpers reached his ears through the thick metal of his helmet. The feeling of her tightness was so inviting, so hypnotizing, he felt possessed. He didn’t even mean to finish inside of her, he’d have to pay extra for that.

From the incense heavy room he found himself standing at the edge of an enigmatic forest, encircled by black rock. An ethereal silence enveloped the scene, leaving him with an eerie sense of detachment.

His eyes shifted as he looked up on a pool of steaming water, obscured by the thick veil of steam, he saw her. The woman he’d been with on Tattooine so long ago. She struggled, her words lost in the hissing steam as her trembling hand gently grazed her belly. And there, in the midst of the dream's uncertainty, he witnessed the miracle of life itself—a whisper of cells coalescing into a fragile existence, pulsating with an otherworldly vitality.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The gentle whisper transformed into a nightmarish wail—a blood-curdling scream that tore through the tranquility of the woods. It was a scream of agony, of despair, and it emanated from her trembling lips. Her lips, soft and inviting, the same ones he'd yearned to kiss that night when he had ventured into the pleasure house.

The piercing screams grew louder, echoing through the dream, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with torment. As he watched her agony unfold, he was jolted awake, his head colliding with the unforgiving overhead storage. The sudden transition from the surreal to reality left him momentarily disoriented.

In the dimly lit living quarters of the Crest, Grogu, the young green child who had become an unexpected but cherished presence in his life, cried out from his sling, hanging above Din's bunk.

With a heavy sigh, the sound reverberating through the vocoder in his helmet, Din rose to his feet. The aging joints in his knees protested as he reached out to comfort the child, his gloved hands gently lifting Grogu from the nest of makeshift fabric.

"I know," Din murmured softly, his voice a quiet rumble as he cradled the child in his arms. "You saw it too, didn't you, kid?" Grogu, with his large, expressive eyes, gazed up at Din with a mournful look and reached out, tiny green fingers brushing against the Mandalorian's helmet.

After the tumultuous events that had reshaped his life, Din Djarin had never allowed your memory to occupy his thoughts. Amidst the whirlwind of reuniting with Grogu, aiding Boba Fett, and playing a pivotal role in the reclamation of Mandalore, you had become little more than a faint blip on his radar—a passing connection that had provided a brief interlude of solace in the midst of his relentless journey.

But now, as he cradled Grogu in his arms, looking into the innocent, sorrowful eyes of the young child, he couldn't deny the awakening of something deeper within him. It was a sensation that transcended the confines of his dreams, a connection he felt as profoundly as the vivid dreamscape that had woven itself into his consciousness.

The realization slowly dawned upon him: you were more than just a fleeting memory. You were an integral part of the enigmatic tapestry of his life, and the threads of fate had woven your presence into his destiny in a way he had never expected.

Breaking free from his reverie, Grogu's tiny green form squirmed wildly in Din's arms, his latent Force abilities propelling him away from the Mandalorian's grasp. With agile grace, he leaped and bounced his way through the ship's cramped quarters, a small but energetic whirlwind of curiosity. Din could barely react before Grogu vaulted into the cockpit.

Din's boots thudded on the ladder's metal rungs as he followed the young one up into the cockpit. A chorus of wild babbling reached his ears, punctuated by the frenzied pressing of buttons on the navicomputer.

"Don't touch that!" Din exclaimed, a hint of exasperation in his voice, his heart racing as Grogu's tiny hand hovered perilously close to the power reset button. He couldn't help but be wary of the mischief the child could unleash.

The young one looked up at Din with eager eyes, babbled something incomprehensible, and tentatively touched the screen. Din cocked his head, his tinted visor reflecting his curiosity. With a resigned sigh, he walked over to the console and entered a code to initialize the navigation system. "Is this what you want?" Din asked, studying Grogu.

In response, Grogu emitted a single, distinct "Patu" sound, his tiny fingers now reaching for the code panel. Hesitating only momentarily, Din bent down, lifting the child to eye level with the buttons. Grogu began to press a sequence of buttons, his small, green hands navigating the controls with surprising precision. Din's eyes widened slightly, his thoughts racing.

"You know where she is?" his voice came out raspy. Grogu completed the sequence, and his innocent gaze met Din's as the navicomputer diligently calculated the numerical sequence. After a few moments, a series of beeps indicated the successful completion of the calculations. Din turned to read the result, the Aurebesh characters on the screen spelling out "Kith."

"It's in the Baxel Sector of the Outer Rim," Din murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty, as he looked down at the child now resting contentedly in his lap. Grogu gazed up at him, then shifted his gaze to the navicomputer.

With a reluctant sigh, Din pressed a sequence of buttons to engage the hyperdrive. Whether he liked it or not, the path ahead was clear. He had to check on you. As the ship surged into hyperspace, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that this journey was far from ordinary.

—

The path up to the Mountain of Mothers was a grueling journey, especially with your feet swollen and aching. It wasn't just a hike; it was a trial, a test of endurance to prove the worthiness of those seeking parenthood. The heavy pack you carried pressed on your lower back, making each step a test of your will. Normally, the pack was shared by the "Irrit" or father, but "Illa-ishi" or lonely mothers like you were compelled to carry it alone. The remnants of those who hadn't made it to the Mountain of Mothers were marked by the skeletons you passed on the way up.

The lower pool of the mountain lay two days away, and the upper pool required an additional five days of journey. Yet, something in your heart told you that this child would be with you in two days. As you followed the ascending trail, you crossed paths with an "Illa" or mother, accompanied by her Irrit. He bore their pack with pride, walking just behind her. It was a sight that warmed your heart, a testament to the culture you held dear.

"Noona" or baby was the foundation of your beliefs, the embodiment of the life you and your "Manna" or partner created together. Reaching the Mountain of Mothers and returning with a child was the highest honor, a symbol of worthiness.

The Illa halted on her descent and, with an air of pride, revealed her noona, wrapped in the family cloth. "Noona asa illa-ini!" (it’s a girl) she declared with joy, unveiling a beautiful baby girl. You couldn't help but smile down at the tiny noona and the Illa who showed her off with such pride.

“Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit,” (baby is worthy of her mother and father) you responded with the customary blessing, bowing your head in reverence. The mother and father returned the bow, acknowledging the blessing. However, the mother's eyes soon drifted to your belly and the heavy pack that weighed you down.

“Asa Illa-ishi?” she asked softly, her face clouding with sadness. (Are you a lonely mother?)

Summoning all your strength, you fought back the tears that threatened to well up. With your head held high and a tender hand resting on your belly, you spoke resolutely, "A illa-ishi."

I am a lonely mother.

—

The journey through hyperspace had indeed stretched far longer than Din had anticipated. A full day had elapsed since that haunting dream, leaving him with the unsettling sensation of being trapped in some unseen, cosmic rotation of time. However, that ceaseless ticking eventually brought them to the end of their journey as the ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of a smaller, mysterious planet, its surface adorned with sprawling waters and lush forests. As he guided the ship into the planet's atmosphere, the Mandalorian noticed a stark absence of the usual signs of civilization—no traffic control, no spaceports, not even a refueling station. The setting felt eerily reminiscent of the world of Sorgan.

Din hovered uncertainly in the atmosphere, his mind racing. Grogu, seated in the co-pilot's chair, played with the mythasaur skull around his neck, seemingly unfazed by the situation. As Din stared at the green child, he let out a sigh and rested his head against the back of his chair.

"Now what…?" Din muttered to himself, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the details of the dream, seeking any hint or clue that could guide their search.

In his mind's eye, he saw you, your form shrouded in mist and glistening with sweat. The dress you wore clung to your figure, the fabric a soft white-grey that accentuated your curves as you breathed heavily. His brow furrowed in concentration. There was water, almost like a waterfall, surrounding you, with black jagged rocks supporting your form. Your feet were immersed in milky water, reminiscent of a hot spring.

Din's eyes snapped open. A hot spring. It wasn't much to go on, especially for a planet that could potentially be dotted with such natural wonders, but it was a lead worth pursuing. His hands sprung into action, deftly pressing a sequence of buttons that initiated a signal, a ping to any electronic communication device on the planet's surface.

Grogu's focus shifted from the mythasaur skull to the Mandalorian, the child's curious gaze following Din's swift movements. Din soon located the nearest signal on the planet's surface, and as he brought the Razor Crest lower, he was struck by the intensity of the landscape. Towering thick trees covered nearly every inch of land, a vast, unspoiled wilderness that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The planet's terrain was marked by colossal mountains that sliced through the canopy of green like serpents in water, their peaks jutting out in sporadic bursts.

It was a breathtaking and untamed landscape, like nothing Din had ever witnessed. His gaze scanned the vast expanse below, tracking the signal as he searched for a suitable place to land the Crest. Finally, he spotted it—an elevated landing pad erected above the treetops. It seemed to be a small station, but it was a potential refuge for refueling and gathering information, a step closer to finding you

"K1 to RC 4577, you are clear to land at dock 7," a thickly accented voice echoed through the Razor Crest's comms system, providing the coordinates for their landing.

"RC 4577 to K1, recieved," Din responded, his gaze shifting to meet Grogu's eyes. The Mandalorian leaned over to offer a piece of advice to the child, "Always be kind when you land; most landing bay employees often know the most information." Grogu looked at Din, his large eyes brimming with understanding, and he babbled something that Din accepted as an acknowledgment.

With precision, Din guided the Razor Crest toward its designated dock and gently brought the ship to the surface. As he withdrew his hand from the control lever, he noticed a subtle tremor in his own fingers. It had been a long time since he had felt such a physical manifestation of emotion, not since he had lost Grogu to Moff Gideon.

In response to the tremor, Grogu cooed softly and reached out for his protector. Din's gaze locked onto the child, his trembling hands cautiously reaching out to embrace him. Grogu instinctively placed his tiny hands on either side of Din's helmet, offering comfort and connection. A sense of relief washed over the Mandalorian, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The small hands on his helmet made a soft "plink" sound that resonated through his interior comms.

"Thanks, kid," Din murmured, his voice laden with gratitude, but his words unable to fully convey the depth of his feelings.

Exiting the ship, Din carried Grogu in his sling, the child's presence providing a grounding force amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead. A young mechanic in worn-overalls approached, his basic broken but comprehensible. "Need refuel?" he asked, to which Din nodded in acknowledgment. The mechanic, unfazed by the Mandalorian's helmet, started toward the fuel hose.

"Hot springs?" Din inquired, his voice barely audible above the wind that whipped violently across the landing pad. The mechanic turned, his eyes reflecting confusion, but Din simply nodded and reached for his credits, preparing to tip the young man for his services. Glancing around the landing pad, he spotted a few other ships—a transport vessel and two cargo ships.

The pad itself had clearly seen better days, and the gusts of wind whipped violently across its aged metal surface, causing a tumultuous symphony of sound. At the front of the landing pad stood a small rectangular building, featuring one set of large bay doors. It seemed to be the station's main structure. Adjusting Grogu in his sling, Din began to make his way toward it, his steps determined.

The small building served as a cover for various ships, a mix of those dusted and covered with the weight of time, and others gleaming with newness. Inside, a modest diner and café shop hummed with activity, a few patrons engaged in quiet conversations. At the front, an older man sat at a makeshift desk, engrossed in the workings of a peculiar-looking computer. As Din approached, the man stood abruptly, his enthusiasm palpable.

"Hello, traveler! Welcome to Kith!" he greeted with a giant smile. "I am Don Mai, the residing Mayor. We are humbled by the presence of a great warrior such as yourself!" With a reverence that bordered on adoration, the old man bowed deeply.

Din suppressed the urge to laugh, already forming an opinion of the enthusiastic mayor that he made a mental note to tell Bo Katan about later. Before Din could utter a word, Don Mai thrust a paper pamphlet into his hands, his speech transitioning into a rehearsed spiel about Kith's culture and history.

"Kith has a rich culture and even more intense history! Women from all over the galaxy come to experience the Mountain of Mothers and—"

“The Mountain of Mothers?" Din interjected, his tone cutting through the mayor's ramblings.

Don Mai's eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, the Mountain of Mothers has been around since the dawn of life on our humble planet, and its springs offer—"

"Hot springs?" Din interrupted again, his focus unwavering.

"Uh, well, yes, you see, the springs offer—" Don Mai began once more, but Din's impatience grew apparent.

"Where?" Din's voice was firm, demanding answers without the unnecessary embellishments.

Don Mai huffed, "The Mountain of Mothers is the largest mountain range on Kith. You should've seen it from your ship. If you take the elevator down to the planet’s surface, there is a speeder rental that can take you to the base of the range," the old man explained, his tone slightly deflated by Din's lack of interest in his detailed lecture.

Din places the paper pamphlet in a storage pocket on his bandolier as Grogu watches closely.

“And the elevator?” Din asks not looking away from the old man.

"To the left of the fuel pump on the landing pad. Just remember to pay your respects to the Gods as you visit the—"

The old man's voice dwindled into the background as Din walked away from the building and back onto the landing pad. He made his way to the fuel pump and, as instructed, looked to the left to find a rickety-looking elevator, seemingly manually operated. The metal showed signs of rust in various spots, and the wire pulley appeared to be in need of greasing. The flooring of the elevator was a grate that revealed the ground thousands of feet below. Grogu emitted a series of frightened squeaks and coos as Din hesitantly stepped onto the grating.

"I know, kid… let's just... get down there," Din muttered through gritted teeth, steeling himself for the precarious descent.

Din's hand gripped the elevator crank tightly, his patience stretched thin as he began the painstakingly slow descent. Halfway through, he had to switch arms, the anger at the archaic contraption bubbling beneath his calm exterior. It was unusual for him to get frustrated with inanimate objects, but this elevator was testing his resolve. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator reached the bottom of the landing pad. With a forceful yank, Din opened the rusted gate, stepping onto soil that felt surprisingly soft underfoot, reminiscent of the sands on Tatooine, albeit less yielding.

The area below was like a forgotten tourist hub, the shops standing silent and forlorn, each manned by a lone shopkeeper who stared into the emptiness, boredom etched across their faces. It was a desolate sight, a place trying to be lively without the visitors to make it so.

Walking further, Din noticed a row of rusted speeder bikes, the rentals. His heavy boots left imprints on the sponge-like earth as he approached. A few of the shopkeepers stirred from their boredom at the sight of the silver-clad Mandalorian passing by.

Reaching the speeder rental, Din was met by an old Aqualish man, the grey of the hair surrounding his face telling tales of years of service.

"How much?" Din asked, his voice reflecting his growing impatience.

"Fifty credits," the Aqualish garbled back.

"Thirty-five," Din countered, his tone firm as he shifted his weight to one side. Grogu cooed softly from his sling, his wide eyes observing the bartering process.

The Aqualish nodded in agreement and walked away to retrieve the speeder keys.

As Din adjusted Grogu in the sling to access his credits, he caught sight of a couple approaching from the earthen road. The man carried a hefty pack on his back, and the woman cradled a baby in her arms. The pride in the man's eyes was evident as he helped his wife walk toward the shops.

"Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit!" the shopkeeper, an elderly woman across the street, shouted at them. The couple bowed softly in acknowledgment as they continued walking. Every shop they passed echoed the same foreign phrase, and Din watched with curiosity. Upon reaching the elevator, the man removed his pack, fashioning a makeshift seat for his wife as he started cranking the elevator back up to the top of the landing pad.

The sound of a throat clearing broke Din's concentration. The Aqualish man stood, hand outstretched, waiting expectantly for the payment. Din sighed inwardly, realizing he had been lost in his thoughts. He paid the credits and received the keys to the rusted speeder. Adjusting Grogu in the sling, ensuring the child was safely nestled in his lap, Din ignited the speeder and set off down the only trail leading out of the market.

The only path to the Mountain of Mothers.

—

The pain in your swollen belly intensified as you stood at the base of the last incline leading to the lower pool. The journey had taken a heavy toll on your body, leaving you exhausted and in constant discomfort. Your feet were swollen, your hips ached, and everything hurt, but the cramping in your abdomen was what worried you most. The night before, you had barely managed to rest, opting to lie on the soft ground without bothering with your bedroll. Restlessness had plagued you throughout the night, and now the cramping made it clear that your time was approaching.

Today would be your last day on this arduous journey. The lower pool was just above you, but the pain in your body seemed unbearable. You knew it was all part of the gods' plan for you, but you never expected the pain to be this intense.

As you struggled up the final incline, a sharp pain ripped through you, and you stumbled. Your pack felt impossibly heavy, and your breaths came short. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as a wall of rock loomed ahead of you.

"Itta non a dashi," (I will not die here) you whispered defiantly, mustering the strength from the deepest part of your being. As your emotions surged, you felt the baby shift within you. With renewed determination, you regained your balance, placing a loving hand on your swollen belly.

The next incline lay ahead, one of the most challenging parts of the journey. You could see evidence of past mothers who had slipped or stopped, their bones scattered in the crevices of the rock. For Illa-ishi, like yourself, the task was solitary, without the help of an Irrit to assist with the ascent.

You stood at the base of the rocky cliff, gazing up at the tantalizing promise of the lower pool. The rhythmic thunder of the waterfall beyond the peak urged you forward, swirls of steam rose into the air, a tantalizing promise of the lower pool just a short climb away.

Thankfully, the rugged rock face bore shelves that made the treacherous climb more bearable. Growing up you heard tales of a time a century past when an Irrit, a kind-hearted soul whose manna, a young woman, could not walk. In a display of unwavering determination and love, he took chisel and hammer in hand, carving these sturdy, stone steps into existence. With these ledges, he could secure her safely to his back and ascend the daunting precipice so she could birth their child.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you surveyed the ascent before you. The harsh sun beat down, casting long shadows across the rocky surface. Determination burned in your eyes as you figured out the best plan of action. With a surge of resolve, you slipped the heavy pack from your sweat-covered body, feeling an immediate relief as the oppressive weight fell off you and onto the gritty dirt below.

With your pack discarded, you dragged it to the base of the wall where the first of the man-made shelves jutted out, a mere foot of space cut into the unforgiving rock face. Despite the fatigue gnawing at your muscles, you carefully planted your foot on the ledge, finding just enough space to stand. Bending down carefully you pulled the pack onto the ledge beside your feet. Your birthing gown, gauzy and light, provided a surprising ease of movement. Once you’d made sure the pack was secure you looked up and examined the next shelf. It was a little high of a stretch but you gripped the wall above to steady yourself, your gown billowing slightly with the effort.

Your hips protested with each movement, but the primal instinct to survive drowned out the pain. With staggering determination, you raised your leg, using the hold of the wall to leverage yourself onto the rock shelf to the left. Your arms, weary but unyielding, lifted your body until you were safely on the shelf.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you glanced back down at the last shelf, now below you. Gathering remnants of your strength, you reached down, hands trembling slightly, and lifted your pack with both arms onto the shelf beside you. Only one more shelf remained, higher up and to your right, a final obstacle before hauling yourself onto the top of the cliff.

After a short rest, you locked eyes with the next shelf, determination burning in your gaze. With a swift motion, you reached up for a gap in the wall to get a grip. Sliding your right hand into the sharp crevice, you pulled with all your might, grunting with effort as you lifted your right leg onto the shelf, which was higher than the last. But in that moment of triumph, a sudden jolt of pain radiated from your lower back all the way to your fingertips, and you lost your hold, a gasp ripping through you.

Stumbling backward, you were saved only by your pack, which you used for leverage to steady yourself. The contraction was fierce, so intense that it was only when you absentmindedly touched the dress covering your belly that you realized you'd sliced your palm on the unforgiving rock. Scarlet red stained your gown, creating an almost perfect handprint. Oddly, you felt no pain in your hand, your senses consumed by the tightening in your abdomen, which worsened with every passing moment.

“Issa non a tishi noona..” (its not time yet baby) you groaned out in pain, your voice strained and breathless. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to endure the relentless waves of agony.

You stood trembling on the shelf of the wall for a good minute or two before the contraction finally subsided, leaving you panting and exhausted. It was then that the sharp sting in your hand dominated your senses. You examined your hand, the crevice in the wall had sliced deep, and you could see the gash, making your stomach turn uneasily.

Reaching into your pack, you found the medipack, fingers trembling as you carefully opened it to retrieve the gauze and a bacta spray. With great care, you held your injured hand out in front of you and applied the bacta spray to the gash, wincing at the initial sting. Then, you gently wrapped the gauze around the wound, ensuring it was secure. The sharp pain began to dull as your trembling hand capped the spray, carefully returning it to the medipack.

With a sigh, you straightened up, taking a moment to regain your composure. The pain in your hand was no longer the foremost concern, and you couldn't let it distract you from the task at hand. You knew that each moment counted in this climb, and you needed to find the safest route to reach the next shelf.

Reassessing the situation, you examined the uneven rock wall before you, trying to identify the most secure handholds and footholds.

An idea crossed your mind and it could be great, or the worst idea ever and you could fall to your death but you were determined. You carefully maneuver around your pack and push it closer to the end of the shelf. You carefully placed a leg on the pack and then another, standing precariously on your pack which provided you almost a foot of extra height, you used the wall to steady yourself. You prayed to the Gods and reached with your right hand for the crevice that had so rudely marred your hand. Finding more traction with the gauze you confidently pulled yourself extending your right leg so your foot found purchase on the shelf. A victorious smile crossed your face as you then pushed off your pack with your left leg and hoisted yourself onto the shelf. A quiet laugh left your lips as you clung to the wall you were now facing.

Looking to your left, you bent down carefully to grab your pack. This shelf was a lot shorter, jutting from the wall maybe only eight inches. You had to precariously grab your heavy pack with one hand and quickly cram it under your left leg to prevent it from plummeting to the ground below.

You were so close now that you could feel the cool mist from the water above, and the deafening roar of the falls filled your ears. Perched roughly 15 feet above the ground, you took a moment to catch your breath. You dared not look down, fearing that it would disrupt your balance. Instead, you pressed your belly tightly against the rock wall in front of you, your heart pounding with both exertion and anticipation.

After a brief moment of rest, a surge of adrenaline coursed through you. This was it, the final leg of your treacherous journey. You had one more pull, one last push, and you would reach the lower pool, your goal within your grasp. But you also knew that a single mistake could lead to a disastrous fall, a fate you couldn't afford.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your arms above your head, your palms resting on the ridge above. With utmost care and precision, you hoisted yourself up, quickly placing both feet on your pack. The pack provided just enough height to get your elbows onto the smooth rock above. You pulled with every ounce of strength you had, feeling your belly scrape against the unyielding stone as you lifted.

Luck was on your side, as your feet managed to find a foothold through the worn leather of your boot. This newfound leverage allowed you to push yourself up, resembling a sea lion clambering onto a rocky outcrop. With sheer determination and the last vestiges of your strength, you quickly pulled your right leg under you and pushed yourself onto all fours on the smooth rock face. Your heart raced, your hands and knees trembling from the exertion, but you had made it. You had reached the final stretch of your perilous ascent, and the pool ahead awaited, a shimmering reward for your indomitable spirit.

A sob escaped your lips, a surge of emotion you hadn't anticipated as the reality of your accomplishment finally caught up with you. You had done it. You had managed to make it to the lower pool, and the inviting, milky-warm waters beckoned to soothe your weary body. Steam swirled around you, creating an ethereal atmosphere as you lay there, taking in the moment.

Rolling onto your back to face the sky, you watched as a giant silver ship soared high above the mountain. Your eyes followed it for a brief moment before it disappeared into the vast expanse of the blue sky. Tears welled up and trickled down your cheeks, their salty warmth mixing with the refreshing mist from the pool. You felt the gentle movements of the babe inside you and couldn't help but smile through your tears.

"Noona...we made it," you whispered in basic, your hand tenderly caressing your belly. The connection between you and the life within you was stronger than ever, a bond forged through this incredible journey.

After some time, you stirred, realizing that you needed to retrieve your pack. With some effort, the pack proved easier to handle than your own weight combined with the growing life inside you. You unzipped the pack and reached for your bedroll when another sensation, different from the earlier contractions, radiated through your core. This time, it felt like pressure, a clear sign that the moment you had been anticipating was drawing near.

After finding the bedroll, you took a moment to survey the area for a suitable spot to lay it down. The relatively flat rock surface encircling the spring was a dark black, a stark contrast to the frothy blue of the hot spring's waters. The ancient, tranquil pool was surrounded by old, tattered bedrolls, some empty, while others still held the silent remains of Illa-ishi who hadn't been as fortunate as you.

You sighed softly, the weight of the past and the solemnity of the place pressing down on you. You knew what lay beneath the surface of this hot spring – the resting places of those who had undertaken the same treacherous journey but hadn't emerged victorious. Out of respect for their memory, the people of Kith never dared to touch the remains. Instead, they left the bones where they lay, allowing them to become one with the planet's core, a final return to the world from which they had come.

Gently, you found a clear space amidst the bedrolls and laid down your own bedroll. It felt strange to rest among the remnants of those who had gone before you, but you also understood the significance of this place.

It was believed among your people that the Mountain of Mothers was the handiwork of the divine God of Kith, a deity whose love for his wife, Illa-ishi, was as vast as the universe itself.

Illa-ishi’s womb had cradled life for what seemed like an eternity and her body bore the weight of years, while her heart bore the burden of unbearable pain. Witnessing his beloved wife suffer, Kith, with his divine hands, crafted a pool at the mountain's base. Its waters held the promise of relief, a balm for Illa-ishi's agony.

While Kith labored tirelessly to raise the Mountain of Mothers, Illa-ishi, driven by a desperation born of unending torment, embarked on a solitary climb up its slopes. With each step, she ascended toward the heavens, seeking solace that seemed perpetually out of reach.

At the pinnacle of her journey, amidst the tranquil waters of the divine pool, Illa-ishi's child was born. Yet, there was no cry of life, no breath to fill the air. In a heart-wrenching moment, the lonely mother, overcome by despair, embraced the waters that had promised relief. She allowed herself to be consumed, seeking peace in the depths of the pool.

Kith, returning to find his wife and child lost to the pool’s embrace, was consumed by an anguish that eclipsed the stars. In his sorrow, he performed a deed both divine and sacrificial. In a resolute act, he harnessed the remnants of their life force, infusing it with the very essence of his divine being, and breathed life into the creation of the upper pool atop the Mountain of Mothers.

This upper pool, borne from his profound sacrifice, was destined to be a reward for those who completed the arduous journey together. It was a testament to the strength of unity, the enduring love that bound families and lovers, and the rewards that awaited those who surmounted the trials of life.

Yet, even in the splendor of his divine creation, Kith's sadness consumed him. He recognized the fundamental truth that Illa could not always survive, and that Noona may not always breathe. And so, the first pool, at the mountain's base, remained untouched, preserved as a sanctuary of rest and respect. A place where Illa-ishi, and Illa could find solace amidst the beauty of the Mountain of Mothers, where the waters whispered stories of love and sacrifice, and where their weary spirits could find respite beneath the endless expanse of the starlit sky.

In history there was only one illa-ishi who succeeded in birthing a breathing babe at the first pool, and she had birthed an evil so strong it was said to last generations.

You knew your heart, and you knew your babe. You had come here to rest.

—

The hike was hard. Din was breathing heavily under the weight of his armor and the burden of Grogu, who looked around the desolate landscape with a sad curiosity. How many skeletons had they passed? What kind of place was this? Why were you here? The guilt gnawed at him with each step he took. Why had he even gone to seek out pleasure from solitude in the first place? He thought back to that night…

The night was dark and heavy as Din sat alone in the dimly lit corner of the cantina in Mos Eisley, his thoughts consumed by a yearning for Grogu. The scorching sands of Tatooine outside were a harsh reminder of the precious time he had spent here with the child and Peli Motto. They had been moments of sanctuary, where the galaxy's chaos seemed miles away.

Nearly a year had passed since he'd entrusted Grogu to Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, a decision made with the best intentions. But that choice had left a void within him that he could hardly bear. Sleepless nights had become his constant companion, and the craving for both rest and peace had grown unbearable. And yet, he found himself agreeing to help Boba Fett in the midst of a brutal war, a commitment that seemed at odds with his desire for tranquility.

But in that cantina, he made a solemn decision. He had to seek out Grogu one last time, he had to give Grogu the chain mail that he had made for him. Just, as a way to protect him nothing more… He ran his fingers over its cool surface, a gesture that silently conveyed his unbreakable resolve before he pocketed the beskar.

As the night deepened and the alcohol flowed, he realized he had indulged in more Corellian Whiskey than he should have, knowing he needed a clear head for the journey that awaited him. But the whiskey's burn was a welcomed distraction, a temporary escape from the overwhelming pain of missing Grogu.

In the midst of his solitude, the cantina's atmosphere began to change. A group of scantily dressed women, draped in silks and adorned with gold, entered the establishment. They moved with grace and charisma, engaging patrons in conversation, flirting, and distributing holochips for a nearby pleasure house. Din snorted at the thought. When was the last time he even had time to fuck anything but his palm?

When was the last? He wondered trying to think back over the years since he’d acquired the responsibility of caring for Grogu.

Years. Actual, years.

In his inebriated state, Din found himself clutching the holochip, his steps unsteady as he navigated the narrow streets of Mos Eisley towards the establishment advertised on the chip. He had given in to a reckless impulse, fueled by a desire to escape the pain of missing Grogu, and a fleeting sense of excitement at the prospect of companionship, even if it was just for one night. The weight of the impending war, as Boba Fett had described it, loomed in his thoughts, and he couldn't help but wonder if this might be his last moment of solace.

Entering the dimly lit and shady establishment, he was met by a greasy, overweight man berating a young child. The sight of the child sent a wave of unease through him, casting a shadow over his already troubled conscience. What kind of place was this, where children were exposed to such depravity?

"Not for sale!" the greasy man barked at Din, as if reading some unsavory intent in the Mandalorian's eyes, he shielded the child, pushing her back behind a tattered curtain.

“I wasn’t…” Din’s words faltered, the very thought of such exploitation sickening him to his core.

But the foreman, undeterred, eyed Din up and down, his gaze lingering on the gleaming beskar armor. “You’ve got money, I’ve got girls,” the man said, his voice oozing with a repugnant confidence.

Din struggled to find the words, his thoughts a jumbled mess, still reeling from the shock of seeing a child in such a place. He stumbled, his voice faltering.

The foreman, undeterred, went on, "I have a girl who just became available. She's not been with anyone, you'd be lucky to find a deal like her on this side of Tatooine." He reached into a box of hologram pucks, selected one, and placed it on the desk. Activating the hologram, he presented it to Din.

Din's gaze fixated on the static image, his eyes locked on the visage.. Strangely, he felt a deep pull within him, as if your image was both familiar and enigmatic, stirring emotions he couldn't quite place.

"How much?" Din's voice, though filtered through his modulator, held a heaviness, a mix of curiosity and longing.

"Four thousand credits," the foreman stated, avarice evident in his words.

“Four?” Din repeated, incredulous, his disbelief met with a dismissive glance from the foreman. “How much does she get?” he demanded, his tone sharp and unwavering.

The foreman's look turned defensive, his response sharp, "Two thousand. My girls are lucky to get any at all."

Din's resolve hardened, and he leaned in, his voice taking on a threatening edge that he usually reserved for bounties. "I'll pay six thousand, and she gets four thousand."

The foreman's eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard, but a vile smirk soon crept across his face. "Deal. Right this way, sir," he beamed, all too eager to make the transaction.

The foreman led him through a maze of dimly lit hallways filled with disturbing moans and an overpowering, artificial perfume that hung heavily in the air. The cacophony of voices from behind the closed doors was a haunting reminder of the grim reality of this place, and the perfumed scent was a failed attempt at masking the despair that lurked within.

At the end of the corridor, the foreman unlocked a door and gestured for Din to enter. "I'll send her in," he grunted, closing the door behind Din.

Din stumbled into the room, the alcohol coursing through his veins, muddling his thoughts. He took in his surroundings, finding himself in a chamber that seemed a stark contrast to the rest of the establishment. A makeshift bed of luxurious pillows lay on the floor, richly woven tapestries hung from the ceiling, creating a semblance of privacy. Incense burned intensely, casting a hazy atmosphere, a chair rested by the door infront of a towering golden-framed mirror that rest to the right.

This must be a more expensive room, he thought, his mind reeling with the absurdity of it all. He couldn't help but question himself, wondering what he was truly doing here, and if this was the way he wanted to fill the void left by Grogu.

As the room's fakely lavish atmosphere weighed upon him, the door behind him swung open gently. He turned, his movements slow and heavy from his armor, to see you enter. Your form was meek, draped in a light blue silk garment that covered more of your body than the women he had seen in the cantina. Gold metal accents adorned your wrists, ankles, and neck, casting a subtle glow in the dim room.

Din's breath hitched as he observed you, his gaze tracing your figure from your feet to your face. Your flushed face and the nervous way you looked down at the floor beside him made it clear that you were unfamiliar with this line of work. He saw you absentmindedly running your index and middle finger along the material of your flowing skirt.

He couldn't explain it, but something about your vulnerability, the innocence you still carried despite the circumstances, touched him. For a moment, he entertained the thought that the foreman had lied about your experience, but as he watched you in silence, he knew that the greasy man's words were painfully accurate.

Din shifted slightly, causing your gaze to snap to him quickly. His visor concealed his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. He observed for another moment, considering his next move. Slowly, he began to remove his gloves. The process was deliberate, one finger at a time on the right hand of his glove, until he was able to pull it off, revealing his bare hand. His eyes never left yours as he started to work the other glove off, the tension in the room growing palpable.

Your gaze drifted from his visor to his hands, watching intently as the gloves came off. As soon as he removed the gloves, he walked to the chair by the door and set them down gently. Your gaze followed him as he approached, your hand never leaving the doorknob the entire time. It was as if you were waiting for him to make a move, to confirm the fear that had taken root in your heart.

Din stopped a few feet away from you, his gauntleted hand hanging by his side. There was something in his stance, a subtle softening in his normally rigid posture that made you feel he might not be the threat you initially perceived.

He straightened as he turned to face you, extending his tanned and calloused right hand as a peace offering. It hung there in the space between you, a bridge across the vast divide that had separated your worlds. The look you gave him that night pierced through his then-buzzed haze, and as your gaze moved from his visor to the palm of his outstretched hand, you ever so softly smiled.

Your hand moved slowly, with a slight tremble, as you placed it in his. Maker, it was so soft, so... loving. In a way, it reminded Din of his mother's hands. He remembered the feeling of her hands on his face when she would kiss him on the top of his head or brush his hair back. It was a memory buried deep, one he rarely let resurface in the harsh reality of his life.

He watched you, unknowingly holding his breath, as your eyes flitted from his hands back up to his visor.

That night was almost eight months ago, and in the span of those months, the galaxy had shifted beneath Din Djarin's feet. He had fought with Boba Fett, gotten Grogu back, found his covert and embarked on the perilous journey to reclaim Mandalore and his Mandalorian status. The weight of leadership, the responsibilities, and the relentless pursuit of his beliefs had clouded his thoughts, leaving little room for anything else.

As he walked through the dense forest, the guilt that had been gnawing at him grew ever more oppressive. He'd been so preoccupied with his own mission, his people's future, and the legacy of Mandalore that he hadn't even spared a thought in your direction. He had foolishly assumed that the foreman would handle any potential consequences of their night together, perhaps naively believing that you would choose to remain silent. However, what if you hadn't told the foreman? What if you carried something precious from that night, a part of him he was yet to know about? He had neither your name nor any means of contact, and that realization weighed him down like a camtono of beskar.

With every step, the burden of his guilt pressed down upon him, and he mentally berated himself for not knowing your name or sharing his. He deserved this guilt, for in his quest to rebuild his world, he had unintentionally left a piece of himself behind. If you were pregnant, how were you supposed to find him in the vastness of the galaxy? He couldn't shake the thought that he might be a father, and yet he had no way to reach out to you.

Lost in thought and oblivious to his surroundings, Din hadn't even realized that he'd strayed from the trail until a blood-curdling scream pierced through the forest's silence, shattering the walls of his introspection. His eyes darted ahead, and the only thing he saw beyond the thick undergrowth was a rocky precipice. Steam rose from somewhere below, and the scream, unmistakably human, sent a chill down his spine.

—

After doing your best to set up a makeshift camp amidst the unforgiving terrain, the contractions began to increase in intensity and frequency. Drenched in sweat, your body ached with fatigue, and desperation for the comfort of the hot spring surged within you. In your birthing gown, you summoned every ounce of strength to embark on the journey toward the soothing waters.

With slow, measured steps, you made your way to the spring, determined to find solace amidst the throes of labor. The contractions continued to grip you, and you fought to maintain your composure, focusing on deep breaths as you moved closer to the source of relief.

As you neared the milky waters, the soothing sound of the waterfall dumping cool water into the far end of the pool filled your ears. The natural geothermal heat emanated from the earth beneath the water, warming the fresh, chilly stream. You gingerly lowered yourself to the spring's edge, wincing through the persistent contraction that clawed at your strength.

With immense effort, you managed to sit on the edge of the pool, your feet dipping into the perfectly warm water. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the soothing waters enveloped your aching limbs. Slowly, you eased yourself into the warm embrace of the spring, its shallowness just deep enough for you to sit comfortably, your head above the waterline.

The warmth cocooned you, providing the much-needed respite your weary body craved. In the midst of your struggle, the hot spring became a sanctuary, a place where the pain of labor met the healing balm of nature, and for a fleeting moment, you found solace amidst the turmoil, embracing the precious gift of warmth and comfort in the midst of the wilderness.

You had lost track of how long you sat in the soothing water, your fingers pruning as the serene ambiance of the hot spring washed over you. Contented sighs intermittently left your lips as you found a momentary respite from the relentless contractions. The world around you seemed to blur as the hot spring cradled you in its gentle embrace.

But all too soon, your tranquility shattered like fragile glass. A pained cry tore through the rocky landscape. Your eyes shot open, searching for the source of the distress.

Your gaze darted towards the rugged ridge you had labored to climb mere hours earlier. Two voices reached your ears, one male and one female, carrying on the wind. Panic surged through you as you observed a hand ascending the top of the ridge. Your heart quickened, and you realized there were people approaching, their presence entirely unexpected.

With haste, you sprung up from your spot in the spring, water cascading off your birthing gown as you clambered to the edge of the pool.

A man, seemingly oblivious to your presence, ascended the ridge, a pack strapped to his back. He reached the flat rock and extended his hand below him. Your bare feet met the cold, rough surface of the gravely rock as you hurried over to the edge, your heart heavy with empathy for the woman in dire need. Down below, on the third rock shelf, you saw a woman, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her birthing gown stained with the evidence of her struggles.

“Isa a happis” (I will help!) you called out, your voice resolute, your determination evident. You easily crouched down next to the man, extending your hand to the one who was suffering. She gazed up at you, gratitude filling her eyes as she grasped your outstretched hand.

“Ona tice!” (On Three!) The man standing beside you declared, his voice strong and determined. You locked eyes with him, sharing the gravity of the situation, and both of you prepared to pull the distressed woman to safety. With a shared resolve, he began to count down, and on three, you pulled the woman up with surprising ease, your muscles working in harmony to lift her to safety.

Wide-eyed, she arrived at the top of the landing, blood staining her birthing gown, a visceral testament to the life that sought to enter the world. She cried out in agony, her body in the throes of birthing pains. Your attention shifted to the Illit, his face etched with desperation as he removed his pack, his hands trembling as he tried to assist his manna.

He grabbed her, his touch gentle yet urgent, realizing that there was no time to lose. Even as you watched, you could tell the baby was coming, the process inevitable now. The woman screamed, the sound echoing off the rocky walls, a symphony of pain and life in the midst of nature's raw beauty.

“Noona essa comesei ittina!” (the babe is coming now!) you urgently announce, your voice steady and commanding, as you motion for the father to cease his movements. He gazes at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and sadness, the emotions palpable in the misty air.

Your own contractions, once so overwhelming, are now distant memories as you shift your focus entirely to the woman and her impending delivery. You position yourself between the woman's legs, and she leans back on her husband for support, the bond of love and trust between them evident in the way they clung to each other during this moment.

With gentle but purposeful hands, you begin to move the gauze of her birthing dress out of the way, revealing the sacred space where the new life is making its entrance into the world. The sight fills you with a profound sense of awe and wonder, the beauty of life in its most raw and unadulterated form.

As you catch the first glimpse of the emerging baby, a smile naturally graces your lips, a radiant reflection of the profound beauty you are about to witness. You look up at the father, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding and connection as you prepare to assist in guiding their child into the world, an act of grace in the heart of nature's splendor.

“Noona essa comesei! Attari noona bassi?” (The baby is coming, the baby cloth?) you urgently conveyed to the father, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy in the air. He blinked, momentarily caught in the whirlwind of emotions before comprehending your words. With careful haste, he gently leaned his wife back, supporting her amidst the agonizing pains as he reached for his pack against the wall.

Desperation etched on his face, he hurriedly threw various items from the bag, scattering them around in his search for the baby cloth. Every passing second felt like an eternity as the mother cried out in pain, her body instinctively bringing forth the baby as your hand supported its head.

Finally, after emptying the entire bag, the Illit father's shoulders slumped in defeat. His frustration boiled over, and he struck the rock wall with his fist, a primal cry of helplessness escaping his lips.

In the midst of this despair, you remained calm, your instincts taking over.

“Asa Passi! Attara noona bassi!” (In my pack! I have the baby cloth!) you shouted at the father, your voice carrying the urgency of the moment. With a quick motion, you pointed to your own pack, signaling where the much-needed baby cloth could be found. Your other hand remained cradling the head of the newborn, offering support and comfort to the laboring mother.

You ran a soothing hand over her leg as she summoned her last ounce of strength, pushing with all her might, and then, in a powerful moment, the babe broke free into the world. The father, having located the cloth meant for your own child in your pack, rushed over, his eyes wide with anxiety. You accepted the plain cloth from him, wasting no time in wrapping the baby in it.

The newborn lay still and silent, not letting out the expected cries that heralded a new life. A sense of despair washed over you, and you shared a helpless glance with the father, both of you fearing the worst.

The mother's wails of agony resonated in the rugged landscape, echoing the heartbreak of a life not granted breath. The anguish in the air was suffocating as she reached for her still baby, her hands trembling. With a heavy heart, you gently transferred the infant to the mother's waiting arms.

She cradled her lifeless child, tears streaming down her face as she caressed the baby, whispering soft words of love and heartbreak. Her cries mingled with those of her husband as they shared the unbearable moment of loss.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tore yourself away from the heart-wrenching scene of the manna. You felt a surge of emotions, a profound sense of hopelessness, reminiscent of the day you had received the news of your own pregnancy.

—

The anguished screams pierced the rugged terrain, reverberating through the rocky expanse, and Din felt his heart plummet through the soles of his boots. Grogu, sensing the turmoil in the air, cooed softly from the safety of his sling, nestled beneath Din's protective hand.

Carefully and quietly, Din approached the edge of the rocky ridge, his heart pounding with trepidation. As he looked down into the precipitous drop-off, his eyes fell upon a scene that nearly froze his heart in his chest.

Down below, amidst the harsh and unforgiving black surface of the rocky cavern, he saw you kneeling, a stoic presence, between the legs of a pregnant woman who was hemorrhaging profusely. The woman's anguished cries filled the cavern, echoing against the unforgiving walls.

Din's eyes then shifted to a man, who appeared to be the woman's partner, desperately rummaging through a pack, panic etched across his face. You spoke urgently in a language Din didn't understand, the words punctuated by fear and sorrow. The man seemed to heed your words and swiftly abandoned his fruitless search, rushing over to another pack that lay nearby. The man retrieved a gray cloth from the second pack and hurriedly approached where you were crouched.

Din observed, his eyes transfixed, as you, kneeling on the rocky cavern floor, expertly assisted the pregnant woman. With a mix of awe and sadness, he saw you pull a beautiful, newborn baby from the crying mother, delicate and fragile in your hands.

His gaze lingered as you carefully, almost mournfully, opened the grey cloth. To his dismay, he recognized the symbol displayed on it – a mudhorn. It was the very same symbol etched onto his own pauldron, the only identifier that you could tie to him. He watched as you used the cloth meant for your child, his child, to wrap the now purple baby in the blanket with meticulous care.

Cries and sobs filled the air as he watched from his hidden spot on the high cliff above. His sounds were likely muffled by the nearby waterfall, but he felt Grogu pulling at him, desperate for attention. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to look away. He continued to watch, hidden in the shadows.

He observed as you struggled to stand, your belly full with his child, and as you respectfully walked away to what he could now confirm as your pack. He could see the pain etched on your face, the tears in your eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt deep within him. The weight of his past actions pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Din had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of; he'd walked a dark and treacherous path. He had hated himself when he handed Grogu over to the client for a camtono of beskar, but now, seeing you here, in this vulnerable moment, he hated himself more than he had ever thought possible.

The symbol on that blanket, the mudhorn, was a reminder of the choices he had made and the lives he had affected. As he watched you cry softly, he knew he couldn't change the past, but he could choose a different path now, one that might bring redemption and peace.

—

Hours passed by as the mother and her lifeless baby lay on the rocky outcrop. The father, now solemn and determined, prepared the pack for their descent. He spared you a thankful glance as he gently helped the mother stand, their shared grief connecting them. With cautious and uneasy steps, they began their descent down the cliffside.

The mother cradled her unbreathing babe, her heart heavy with loss, as she slowly made her way towards you. With some effort, you rose to your feet and met her halfway. Tears welled up in your eyes as she kissed your cheeks in gratitude.

“Illa-ishi, missa.” (Lonely mothers, sisters.) she said mournfully, her words heavy with the weight of shared sorrow. She placed a gentle hand on your belly, a silent acknowledgment of your pain. Overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment, you couldn't hold back a sob, and the two of you embraced tightly. In that moment, she became your sister in grief, and your shared loss bound you together in a way that words couldn't express.

As she and her husband began their descent, you watched them with a heavy heart. The blanket you had intended for your own child now wrapped around her lifeless baby, providing some small comfort in their time of mourning.

Left alone once more, you couldn't hold back your tears as you watched the husband carefully guide his grieving wife down the steep cliff and out of sight. As they disappeared from your view, a profound sense of isolation settled over you, and you wept softly, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Returning to the healing waters, you couldn't help but notice that your contractions had inexplicably ceased. Confused but hopeful, you gently felt around your belly and were met with a delicate, reassuring movement from within. A smile, albeit a tearful one, graced your face as you carefully lowered yourself back into the pool, ready to embrace whatever destiny the Gods had in store for you.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape. From your elevated position, you had a perfect view of the sky as it transformed into a breathtaking canvas of purple, pink, and orange ribbons. As you smiled to yourself, entranced by the beauty of nature, an unusual sound suddenly pierced the tranquility of the moment, snapping your attention to the cliff edge. Your heart raced as you strained to identify the source of this unexpected disturbance, a sense of both trepidation and curiosity gripping you.

As if by magic, a form suddenly flipped up onto the solid ground level with the pool. A small, green being emerged, making noises that were nearly drowned out by the roar of the waterfall. Yet, an overwhelming feeling of joy washed over you as you beheld the sight of this tiny creature toddling towards you.

Driven by curiosity and amazement, you pushed yourself up and out of the water. Your birthing gown clung to your body as you moved, but you paid it no mind. Stepping onto the rock, you slowly rounded the corner of the pool to greet the small being.

To your astonishment, you realized it was a baby, with wide, innocent eyes and a furious babble. The baby lifted its tiny hands towards you, and you couldn't help but crouch down as best you could, your heart filled with warmth. "Noona?" you asked the little creature with a soft, amused laugh. In response, the tiny being gave you a toothy grin, and it made you laugh even more.

Your attention, however, shifted from the small being to a pair of gloved hands gripping the side of the rocky cliff. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized those gloves, and heat rushed into your face. With wide eyes, you watched as a figure clad in silver beskar, a Mandalorian, lifted themselves effortlessly over the cliff face and stood there with an almost regal grace.

From your crouched position, you observed as the green baby waddled over to the Mandalorian and tugged on his shin armor. The Mandalorian, with his helmeted face turned towards the child, bent down to pick up the little one, and you couldn't hide the confusion that replaced your initial joy.

—

Din's eyes remained locked on your form as he swiftly pulled himself up onto the flat surface of the cliff. He saw you kneeling down, fingers outstretched towards Grogu, the shock etched across your face. But his gaze was drawn irresistibly to the wet dress that clung to your swollen belly, a stark reminder of your impending motherhood.

As he felt Grogu tugging at his shin armor, he silently bent down to pick up the child. Still, his eyes remained fixed on you, and he struggled to find the right words to explain this unexpected reunion.

“I... I had a dream,” he finally managed to say, his voice choked with emotion.

Your eyes softened, and he witnessed your composure crumbling before him. Your confused and shocked expression melted into a soft frown as tears welled up in your eyes. Before he fully registered it, his feet carried him closer, and he knelt down in front of you with Grogu still cradled in his arms. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, hoping to offer some form of reassurance.

"Please... don't cry," he implored softly, the tenderness in his voice evident. However, he watched as you recoiled from his touch, your reaction sharp and violent, like a wounded animal cornered in fear.

—

"Don't cry," his voice was a gentle whisper from behind as he reached out to sweep your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with his left hand. His thumb, soft and reassuring, brushed away a solitary tear that had collected in the corner of your eye, preventing it from descending down your cheek.

The cold, unyielding embrace of his armor pressed against your back, a constant reminder of his presence, as if he permeated every inch of the room. You lay face down on the makeshift bed within the opulent suite, placed there by him in silence. His helmet tucked against the back of your head as his right hand reached around the front of your body to work open your tight entrance. He smelled like musk, metal, and something floral.

You didn't know his name, and in truth, you knew very little about him. All you knew was that he had paid a considerable sum for your services and bore a mudhorn symbol on his pauldron. The hushed whispers from the other women in the establishment painted a picture of a bounty hunter, a formidable figure who held the favor of the new Daimyo. He was a source of fear and fascination, and the idea of him both terrified and intrigued you. But, above all, you craved freedom more than anything else, and this was a means to an end.

As the moments unfolded, you couldn't hold back the tears that escaped, mingling with a confusing mix of emotions. It wasn't bad; he wasn't unkind. In fact, you found him surprisingly polite. He had said nothing, just removed his gloves and led you to the makeshift bed, where he now pressed into your body from behind.

It felt fine, maybe even surprisingly good, but your stubbornness held strong. You were determined not to give the foreman the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed the path you had chosen to earn your freedom. The thought of succumbing to pleasure and surrendering to the moment felt like weakness, and you clung to your resolve with unwavering determination.

However, as his fingers moved softly, so softly, you couldn't help but feel your resistance slowly crumbling. Each touch was skillful, and the sensations they evoked were impossible to ignore.

You could feel a pleasure building within you as he continued his careful thrusting into your tightness. His thick fingers curled slightly as his thumb worked your clit. His left hand rests by your head as he made sure to move any hair out of your face. You had no idea if he was watching you through his visor, but you had assumed so because he wiped your tears and told you not to cry. The build up turned into a tightness that needed to be released, he could tell by how hot you’d gotten under him and how your walls fluttered on his fingers.

He felt a pride well up in him at the knowledge that he still had the ability to bring a woman pleasure but also that you’d finally relaxed enough to allow yourself to feel this. He closed his eyes for a moment just to focus on how your walls felt around his fingers, he willed himself to listen to your body. Upon each drawback of his fingers he worked to spread your tight cunt just slightly- three, four, five more thrusts of his fingers and he felt you tremble under him.

His eyes snapped open, and he observed you biting your hand to stifle any sounds. He felt the flutter of your walls on his fingers as he stilled in order to relish in the feel your softness. He watched you come back from wherever you had gone in your high, his hand moving gently to caress the hand you had bitten, the teeth marks already leaving a faint purplish hue. As his thumb brushed over the marked area, he felt the slight tremor in your body, your vulnerability laid bare, and saw the glistening tears welling up in your eyes once more.

“Don’t cry.” he said again before moving to sit back on his heels. He admired your form, the way the flame lit room made your skin look like silk. You were totally bare to him, he’d undressed you slowly and carefully placed your clothing next his gloves on the chair. He was still fully clothed save for the gloves he’d removed. He watched as your form began to stir, and he carefully placed a hand on your lower back to keep you down. You immediately complied. With a sigh he slowly ran his hand down your back to the curve of your ass and to the back of your thigh. He could see the slick from your arousal glimmering in the soft light.

He could see everything, every intimate part of you, and yet he didn’t allow you the joy of seeing him. He couldn’t.

You sat, staring at the wall ahead of you, the seconds feeling like hours, with him seated behind you. The situation was embarrassing, and you could only hope he wasn't disgusted. You had assumed he was finished with you after whatever had just happened, only to be gently pushed back onto the bed, not harshly but rather in a silent, pleading manner. After a moment, you heard him stir behind you, and you froze, your ears attuned to his every movement.

You heard a soft rustling of fabrics and buckles. He came to rest on you again, with his left hand resting by your left hand. His right hand gripped your waist as he shifted you back towards him. This position shifted you more so your backside was resting against his thighs while your chest was flush with the pillows beneath you. He was able to bend over you more like this so he comfortably rested on his left arm above you.

His right hand left your waist and you felt the warmth of his hand in between your legs. You could feel the soft head of his hard cock turn to velvet as he ran it through your slick folds. You clenched the pillow underneath you as you braced yourself for the pain the other women had told you about. You felt pressure against your entrance and instinctively you tried to move away only to feel his hand move like lightning from between your thighs to your waist as he anchored you in place.

He didn’t say anything just held you there as he slowly pushed the head of his cock deeper into your entrance. His grip once iron on your waist turned soft as his thumb brushed circles into the skin there. Slowly he sank deeper and that’s when you felt it, the sharp uncomfortable sting. You tensed under him at the pain and you felt him freeze above you. His left hand moved to grab your face beneath him, turning your cheek so he could see you. You looked over your left shoulder to peer up at him, his cold visor returning your gaze. You couldn't help the tear that fell as you clutched the pillows.

"Don't..." his voice was strained through the vocoder, and you knew he was holding back, for you.

—

"Do not say that to me!" Your pained and thickly accented voice ripped through the air as you swatted his arm away. The green child yelped softly at your sudden movement.

Din's eyes widened. It was the first thing you had said to him. You hadn't spoken a word that night. He recoiled from you in shame.

He watched as you cried, emotions swirling within him like a chaotic storm.

"You shouldn't be out here," he managed to say as he stood abruptly, his words tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration. He glanced around, finally taking in the grim surroundings. Blood still pooled on the rocky ground where the woman had given birth earlier. Even worse, the remains of skeletons lay strewn about, their shattered bones mixed with the gravel under his boots.

"This is a graveyard, not a place for a woman in your condition to give birth," he grumbled, regretting the harshness of his words. The eerie desolation of this place was overwhelming, and he couldn't make sense of anything. The grim reality of death and birth intertwined in this forsaken corner of the galaxy was too much for him to bear.

Your face, your soft, beautiful, and glowing face looked up at him then.

"This is where I am meant to be," your broken voice hit him right in the chest.

For a moment, Din just stood there, his helmeted gaze locked on you. Grogu stirred in his arms and he set the child down. His gaze shifted from Grogu to the pack leaning against the rocky wall, the very same pack he had seen a man carrying at the market, with his wife in tow. It was the same pack he had witnessed being carried by the man who was desperate, carrying his bleeding wife. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place in Din's mind.

"Did you... carry that alone?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked from you to the pack and back.

You huffed, annoyance coloring your features, and moved to stand. Din instinctively reached out to help you, but you swatted his hand away. You stood, resolute, and locked eyes with him through his visor.

"Yes. I am illa-ishi," you declared firmly, your words laden with meaning.

Din furrowed his brow, confused by the unfamiliar term. "Illa-ishi?" he repeated, the word alien to him.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized he didn't understand. "I am a lonely mother," you tried to find the right words that could translate to Basic.

He continued to stare, his helmet giving away nothing. You huffed in frustration and attempted again, simplifying your words. "I am alone." you finally settled on, hoping he would grasp the essence of your situation.

Din just stared at you, seemingly uncomprehending. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and the green child peered up at you, as if offering a sympathetic glance. Frustrated with the language barrier, you turned to walk towards your pack and bedroll.

As you began to walk away, Din's gloved hand gently gripped your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks. You shot an annoyed look back at him, silently demanding an explanation for his actions.

Din's gloved thumb moved soothingly circles on your arm, his gaze locked on you. He took a moment to search for the right words, his voice barely rising above a gravelly whisper.

"Is...is this mine?" he questioned, his words weighted with uncertainty, his voice low and husky.

Your eyes fixated on his hand caressing your arm, and tears welled up again, threatening to break free. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to hold them back, forcing yourself to look directly into the reflective visor of his helmet. You saw your own tear-streaked face in the cold, mirrored surface of the Mandalorian's armor, and it was a sight that turned your stomach.

"Yes. I've... never been with another. Only you," the confession tumbled from your lips, the words feeling strange and heavy in your mouth. Your body tensed, and you felt a sudden, sharp tightness envelop you, a contraction, your first since the bleeding mother had shown up. You gasp in agony as your knees buckle under you.

"Dank farrik!" Din's initial worry had given way to frustration as he cursed under his breath. He reached out and grabbed you, his gloved hands steadying you gently while Grogu made a sad noise from his perch on the ground.

"We have to get you out of here. Is there a medcenter near here?" His voice trembled with desperation as he crouched down to meet your gaze.

"What?!" You hissed exasperatedly through the pain, your frustration and agony making you bristle.

"Medcenter!" Din almost yelled, and his eyes widened when you shoved him away.

"Issa noona ibaniss a plantissia ata mountina as illa! As illa a ma a iss!" you shouted at him in anguish, your words foreign to his ears but laced with undeniable determination. (My baby will be born on this planet, at the Mountain of Mothers, like my mother and the one before her!)

Din stood there, still as stone, as your scream washed over him.

He looked at you, his gaze falling to your trembling hands, one of them wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself and regain control.

He was going about this the wrong way. You had climbed the treacherous cliff, your cloth bore the sigil of the Mudhorn, and your pack was identical to the ones the men had carried. You had a well-thought-out plan; he just hadn't been part of it.

With newfound determination, he approached you, taking careful, measured steps. Kneeling down beside you, he spoke softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"How do I help you?" he asked, his words breaking through the haze of pain that enveloped you.

You slowly looked up at him through your tears, your eyes locked onto his helmet. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, your mouth slightly ajar as you processed the situation. With a trembling hand, you pointed towards the spring nearby. "Take me there," you said softly, your voice heavy with the weight of your suffering.

In an instant, Din's strong hands found purchase under your knees and behind your back, and he lifted you with great care, not wanting to cause you any harm. You flushed with the ease of him carrying you, a thought flickering across your mind of how much simpler scaling the cliff might have been if he had been there. But you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, focusing on the immediate task at hand. You wrapped your left arm around the back of his neck and placed your right hand protectively over your belly, the hard surface of his armor uncomfortably pressing against your side as he carried you toward the inviting hot spring.

"I can go from here," you said in thick, broken Basic, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp.

Din regarded you, confusion clear in his eyes as he tried to understand. His gaze alternated between the steaming water and your face. "You want to go in the water?" he asked, as if seeking confirmation.

"Yes, I can go from here," you repeated, pushing against him with a touch of defiance. His grip tightened, surprising you with its strength, and you nearly yelped in response. Shooting him a displeased look, you tried to assert your independence.

"What, and let you slip?" he asked, gazing at you through his visor before looking ahead. "No." He had made up his mind, and there was no arguing with the Mandalorian's decision.

As you were lowered into the hot spring, the initial shock of the water's heat gave way to a soothing relief. Din was surprised by how inviting it felt, and he understood why pregnant women sought refuge in such places. The water enveloped his boots and rose just above his knees as he carried you into the pool. You held onto him with a newfound intensity as he descended, afraid that he might lose his footing. Your disbelief mixed with gratitude as you realized the extent of his support.

Finding solid ground beneath the water, Din gently released your knees, allowing your feet to dip into the warm embrace of the pool. His hand slid from your back to your waist, ensuring your stability, and he positioned himself behind you in the water. You stood just below his chin, and if he desired, he could easily rest his chin on your head. His right hand remained on your waist, his gloved fingers splayed out on your side, providing you with a reassuring and protective presence.

A powerful surge of emotion overcame Din as he felt the subtle movements of the life within you under his fingertips. He stood there, motionless and transfixed, as you faced away from him, both of you submerged in the comforting warmth of the spring. His eyes traced the contour of your back, the gentle rise and fall as you breathed, and then slowly, as if compelled by an invisible force, he found himself resting his forehead against the back of your head, his helmet touching your soft hair.

He grappled with where to place his left hand, uncertain of the right way to provide comfort. His gaze drifted downwards, fixating on the water where he saw your dress floating softly as it began to soak in the pool. Carefully, he moved his left hand to the small of your back, gripping the back of your waist with a gentle touch.

In the midst of his turmoil, a soft, barely audible sob escaped his lips, and tears welled up inside his helmet, tracing their way down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he uttered, his voice broken and full of guilt. It was a plea for forgiveness, an attempt to convey the overwhelming regret that consumed him. He clung to your form, feeling the life inside you, the life he had a part in creating and then abandoned.

His wallowing in self-recrimination was shattered by the sound of your voice and the tender touch of your hand as it caressed his right hand.

"Don't cry," your words were soft and filled with sincerity. In that moment, as the tears flowed within his helmet, you offered him understanding and forgiveness. He felt worthy of neither.

#din djarin x pregnant reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #mando x reader #star wars #star wars the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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the-travelling-bitch · 1 year

Note

Head empty, just Bachira with a breeding kink😔

Acting so sweet with the neighbors’ children until the baby fever’s kicking in

Free me from this cage😩

no because you’re so right <3

do i want children? hell no; do i still read every fic with breeding kink in it? fuck yes

[f!reader]

tw: breeding kink (duh), mentions of pregnancy, pet names, use of mommy (once), cream pie, implied multiple orgasms

Bachira loves playing with the neighbours’ children, chasing them around the yard at gatherings and making them laugh with stupid tricks and jokes

He teaches all of them how to play soccer for sure and is so supportive, encouraging them to practice more on their own too

The kids love him and the parents do too, finally catching a break to catch up with one another while their children are distracted

Bachira always thought they were cute and thought about what it would be like to have his own with you but baby fever didn’t kick in until he saw you bounce a little kid on your hip, smiling as the little thing grabbed your thumb with surprising strength

After that sight, he was a changed man; he started noticing happy families everywhere and couldn’t tear his eyes of the teeny tiny shoes in shop displays

And naturally, you notice that something is up; it’s unlike your husband to be so distracted, normally giving you 100% of his attention

While he’s usually already incredibly handsy, the way his palms cup your stomach more often than anywhere else and trace the skin there isn’t lost on you

So you confront him about it

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Bachira murmured into the heated skin of your neck, lavishing it in kisses and attention as his hips rocked into you, his thrusts slow and deliberate. “My gorgeous wife… you want me to give you a baby, hmm? Make you a mommy?”

By now, only half of what your husband said registered in your mind as you tried to keep up with him. His stamina already outlasted yours by a long shot on normal days but tonight Bachira showed no signs of ever wanting to stop whatsoever.

How many times had it been already? How often had he already stuffed you full since you admitted to wanting a child as well? You couldn’t recall but if the fullness you felt and the mess between your legs was anything to go by…

“Meguru—,” you panted, resisting the urge to close your eyes as you felt a familiar knot curl in your stomach. Instead you blinked up into bright pools of amber and found unmatched passion and determination staring back at you. The way his bangs were sticking to his forehead and single drops of sweat rolled of his chest had you gripping onto his hands intertwined with yours tighter.

“Shit, honey, you’re so good—,” Bachira cut himself off with a deep groan as you clenched around his cock when his pelvis grazed your puffy clit. “So good for me… Can‘t wait to see you all round with my child…”

You whined as his hands left yours but he sweetly shushed you with a kiss to your temple. Not that you had much time to think about it too hard with the way he pushed your legs towards your chest and his thrusts felt just so much deeper.

There was no way he could fit another load in there, not when he already sat so snugly against your walls. But you knew it wouldn’t stop your husband from trying either way. His weight pressing you down further into the sheets had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as his form towered over you.

“I— Meguru—“

Apparently your incoherent babbling made sense to him because he grinned down at you, finally slightly out of breath himself as he neared another orgasm. “Cum for me baby. Just let go, yeah? I got you.”

And with a sob you did, arms looping around Bachira’s neck to hold on to him. Your hips squirmed around to get away from the sinful pleasure but firm hands kept you in place as a familiar warmth filled you up once again, paired with a drawn-out groan into your neck.

After catching your breath, you tried rolling your husband off of you, his cock still nestled deep inside of you, but he wouldn’t budge. Instead you felt more kisses pressed against your shoulder. Even an airy call of his name only got you a distracted hum in response.

“Gotta… Gotta make sure it takes,” he mumbled. The deep tone of his voice in combination with the unwavering resolution of his words made your heart beat quicken again. That’s when you noticed how his cock twitched against your walls, still hard as it pressed against all the right spots.

“Now that I think about it,” Bachira purred right against your ear, “I should give you another one. Just to make sure…”

#˗ˏˋ– signed by holly #jshhsh nonnie #i think about this so much #i’m so *head in hands*#minors dni #blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bachira x reader #bachira smut #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bachira x you #blue lock bachira

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smaptain-smerica · 1 year

Text

Thank you for the suggestion!

abaker74 I always love when Jake or Bradley Meet then date a single mom. Being a single mom myself that's on brand for me 🤣🤣

Summary: Bradley introduces jake to his high school best friend and her child. Basically Jake likes Milfs. Fluffy content.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female!Reader (Single mother reader)

Masterlist

Roses and Thorns - Part I

(Previously called “Pool Table”)

It had been a long day of training for the pilots at Top Gun. Jake "Hangman" Seresin had given them a run for their money after becoming an instructor. He would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy making the pilots suffer.

He was now enjoying an ice cold tap beer with his fellow instructor and friend, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. The two of them shared notes over the pilots they were training. Bradley kept annoyingly texting on his phone the entire time, smiling every now and then.

Finally, he had gotten a phone call that he seemed to be anxious about getting and he ran out of the Hard Deck. Jake rolled his eyes at his friend, finally relieved to be free from his suffocating phone use.

Jake looked around the Hard Deck, listening to the sounds of classic rock playing on the jukebox mixed with the hum of different voices having different conversations.

Jake felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down at a little girl. Large doey eyes and h/c hair put up in two curly pigtails with pink bows wrapped around them. She had on a little sweater with strawberries on it. "Daddy?"

The question caught him off guard, nearly spitting out his drink. He felt his heart drop to his stomach and panic began to settle in. "I- um-"

Laughter came from a few feet away. He looked over in the direction of it and saw that Bradley was doubled over in laughter with his hand on a woman’s shoulder, who was also laughing. The two made their way over to the table and sat down. The small girl ran back to the woman and jumped in her lap, giggling like a maniac. I assumed now that this woman was her mother.

“Oh man your face was priceless.” Bradley said while wiping a tear from his eyes.

Jake grumbled, rolling his eyes and bringing his beer to his lips. His attention turned to the woman with the same colored hair as the little girl. He watched the way her face moved when she laughed, the lingering smile on her face made his heart skip a beat.

“Jake, this is my long time friend from high school, y/n.” Bradley introduced them. Y/n reached her hand over the table to shake, a kind smile on her face. “It’s nice to meet you.” She charmed.

Jake grabbed her hand and shook it. Her hands were soft and delicate but she had a strong grip.

“Jake Seresin.” He returned the introduction to her. He then pointed to the little girl in her lap. “Who’s the troublemaker?” He asked.

Y/n smiled and grabbed the little girls hands in her own. “This is my daughter, Rose.”

“Momma I want French fries!” Rose exclaimed excitedly upon seeing someone walk out of the nearby kitchen door with a basket of them.

Jake smiled at the way the small girls face lit up. He’d never admit it to anyone, but Jake loved kids. He had always imagined himself having as many boys as possibly. Someone he could roughhouse with and throw a football on the beach. Maybe they would even take after him and join the military. The thought of having girls scared him. Maybe it was because he didn’t know how to take care of one, or maybe because he wouldn’t know what to do if she brought a boy home. Boys would be easier, more low maintenance.

“I’ll get you some French fries baby.” Y/n said nonchalantly as she pet the little girls head.

Rose pounded her little fists on the table, making the liquid in our drinks vibrate slightly. “French fries! French fries! French fries!” She chanted like a battle cry. Jake chuckled and shook his head.

“Alright I’m going!” Y/n gave in, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Here, go to uncle Brad.” Y/n handed the child over to Bradley. She now sat in his lap and giggled menacingly.

“You are very right she’s a troublemaker.” Bradley commented and took a drink from his cup.

“So you and y/n were friends in high school?” Jake asked, attempting to learn more about this woman he never heard of before.

Bradley nodded. “Since freshman year. We had PE together. Beat the shit out of me with dodgeballs every day for four years. We’ve stayed close ever since.” Bradley reminisced on the memory of the past. I looked over at her as she leaned against the bar, talking with Penny. She was unbelievably sexy. Just her posture and the way she carried herself and talked in the conversation from afar. Who wouldn’t be attracted to that?

“Is it safe to assume that’s not your kid?” Jake asked, wanting to poke some fun at Bradley. Bradley laughed, shaking his head. “Oh no. I don’t know where Rosie’s father is at. Y/n doesn’t really talk about it.”

For some reason, knowing she was single heightened the attraction that he felt. He hated to say it, because it made him sound kind of misogynistic, but Jake loved seeing women with kids as much as he loved kids. There was nothing he loved more than watching someone play pretend and cater to someone’s needs. Jake watched her walk back over to the table with a cocktail in one hand and a basket of French fries in the other. Y/n slid them down onto the table and plopped down into her chair. “Boom! French fries.”

Rose used her little fingers to make a grabbing motion towards the basket of fries that Bradley grabbed and slid them closer to the little girl.

“So, Bradshaw tells me you’re a pilot as well.” Y/n began to strike up conversation with Jake, taking a French fry from the basket and popping it into her mouth. She looked at him with an innocent interest.

The three and a half people made pleasant conversation as the night went on. Rose had only eaten about 5 of the French fries that she had demanded she receive so the three adults finished them off. It was 9:30 now and Rose was passed out in y/n’s arms, her head resting on her chest with her mouth wide open.

“I better get going so I can put her to bed.” Y/n said as she slowly stood up from her chair. She struggled to reach down on the ground to grab one of her bags. Jake jumped up to grab it off the ground for her.

“I can get it.” He insisted. Y/n looked at him with a warm smile spreading across her face. “Thank you.”

Jake looked back at Bradley as y/n made her way to the door. Bradley winked and raised his glass to Jake. He had turned around and quickened his pace to catch up. He jogged to the car to get there first and he opened the door for y/n while she strapped Rose into her car seat.

Once she was in the seat she walked around to the driver side door and took her bag from Jakes hands. “Thank you for the help, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, any time.” Jake smiled, sticking his hands into his pockets. Y/n nodded to him, saying her goodbyes before driving off.

It was rounding 6 o’clock when Jake decided to take a run on the beach. He had run a couple miles when he came up on the beach that butted up with the back of the Hard Deck. He noticed an umbrella with two silhouettes sitting underneath it. The closer he got the clearer the two became. It was y/n and Rose.

He approached the two, stopping in front of them. Y/n looked up, blocking the sun from her eyes, even though she was wearing sunglasses, and then smiled. “Hey Jake.”

“Hi.” He smiled. Jake facepalmed himself. That was all he was able to choke out? Hi? How mortifying.

“What are you doing out here?” She asked. To the right of y/n, Rose was digging sand up from the beach and putting it into a bucket.

“Just out for a run.” He shrugged plainly.

“I see.” If she hadn’t been wearing sunglasses, Jake would have sworn that she looked him up and down, suddenly making him feel bashful. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way.

Jake felt a tug on his right hand. He looked down at Rose who was trying to pull him in the direction of the little mound of sand towers that she was building. “Come on.” She encouraged.

“Rosie sweetheart, Jake is busy he can’t play right now.” Y/n, took her daughters hand out of jakes. Of course, that was the one sentence a parent could say that could make even a child hating person feel guilty.

“He can’t play?” Rosie frowned, looking back and forth between the two adults.

“No no no, I can play.” Jake said quickly, afraid of upsetting the pouting girl. He sat down on the sand next to y/n under the umbrella.

“You don’t have to,” y/n reassured him, pulling her sunglasses up off her face and into her hair.

“I want to.” Jake smiled at her, holding eye contact for a little longer than normal.

Jake was drawn away from admiring the woman’s features as he was handed a small Pail and shovel. “Can you fill this with sand please?” Rose asked. How could anybody say no to those big blue eyes?

Eventually a small sand castle was built in front of where their set up was on the beach. Rose stepped back to admire her work. Her face then lit up with an idea. “I gotta get water for my Algators.”

Jake chuckled at her mispronunciation of the word alligator and watched as she took off running toward the water with her Pail in hand. “She’s adorable.” Jake hummed.

Y/n chuckled and nodded her hand. “She is the light in my life. Always keeps me on my toes.”

“I bet you guys always have your hands full.” Jake chuckled. He wanted to see if y/n would talk more about what Bradley said about her father being absent.

Y/n waved her hand dismissively and blew air through her mouth. “My hands are always full. Dead beat father didn’t want to stick around.”

Jake frowned. He already knew the answer to her question before he asked it, but hearing the venom dripping from her voice as she said it really stung his heart. “I’m so sorry.” He took the opportunity to place a hand on her shoulder. He felt her soft skin underneath his course hand and felt a fire ignite his chest. She looked over at him and gave him a gentle smile.

“Thank you. It really isn’t that big of a deal though, it was a long time ago.”

“What happened if you don’t mind me asking.” Jake asked.

Y/n sucked her teeth in thought before continuing on with her story. “We wanted different things. I wanted to have a baby and stay close to my mom, and he didn’t want a baby and to go to New York to peruse his acting career. So we compromised and I got full custody and he’s doing compression sock commercials.”

Jake couldn’t help but break out in laughter at the way she described it. It really did seem like a thing of the past to her. Or maybe, she covered up her pain with humor.

“How long ago was that?”

“Little over 5 years ago. it's just been me and her ever since."

Jake nodded in understanding of what she was saying. “Well, for what it’s worth you’ve done great.”

“It’s too heavy!” A small voice called from the distance. Jake looked off towards the ocean to see Rose struggling to carry the water filled bucket back to their spot on the beach.

“I’m coming!” Jake quickly got up from his spot on the sand and went up to rose. He took the bucket from her and grabbed her hand to help her walk back up the beach. Jake poured the water into the small hole she dug.

“There, a finished castle.”

Rose giggled and smiled. “I’ll be the princess and you be the knight.” She suggested. Jake chuckled and nodded to her.

“Yes your majesty.” He brought his hand up and saluted to her. Then Jake got an idea. He gave y/n a mischievous look that caused her face to turn up in confusion.

“If I’m a knight, that means I have to protect the princess from the evil queen.” Jake looked back over at y/n and gave her a wink. A wide smile spread on her face and she slowly shifted her weight around and crouched over on her feet.

“I’ll get you my pretty.” She twisted her voice to a creepy witch-like tone, causing Rose to giggle in anticipation.

“Go we have to go!” She encouraged Jake. Jake wrapped his arms around Rose and picked her up off the ground.

“I’ll save you princess!” He announced. Jake took off at a jog down the beach with y/n on his tail. Rose gripped onto jakes arms and let out many screaming giggles. The sound made Jake happy, the shrill of happy little kid screams made him want to do everything to keep this little girl happy.

He had looped around and made his way back around to the umbrella. He quickly set Rose down in the shade and then stood up to face y/n who was barreling towards him.

“I’ve got this, princess. Stop evil queen!” Jake commanded. Y/n showed no signs of stopping. In fact, she didn’t. She got right up to Jake and then ducked her shoulder down into his abdomen. Taken back by the sudden tackle and the strength at which she laid him out.

Jakes back hit the ground, y/n following shortly after and landing on top of him. In the tackle he had wrapped his arms around her to prevent her from rolling away. He felt the soft skin of her back against his hands as their skin was pressed together. He couldn’t help but feel the attraction simmering in his stomach as he looked up at her, a wide smile spread across her face as she laughed.

“Get off my knight!” Rose was near them now, pounding her little fists into y/n’s back in an attempt to get her mother off of Jake. Y/n rolled over and grabbed rose, wrapping her up tightly in her arms before plopping back down in the sand next to Jake.

“I’ve got her Jake! Tickle her!”

Jake laughed and reached his arms over and ticked her sides. Rose squealed and thrashed around, laughs erupting from within her. “Stop stop!” She said in between her laughs.

Jake brought his hands back and propped his head up on his hand. He looked over at the mother and daughter duo. Y/n had her arms wrapped around Rose, planting kisses on her cheek. Jake felt something warm in his heart. Admiration, affection, adoration, all the mushy feelings he had ever felt all at once. Rose changed his view on girls. He wanted to have 5 girls if they all turned out like this one. In turn, he wanted to know more about the spectacular woman in front of him. He knew he would do anything to protect them both.

“Forgive me if this is too forward-“ Jake began to talk before he was cut off by y/n.

“It’s too forward. I can’t forgive you now.” They both chuckled at her sarcastic response. Jakes face then fell to a more serious expression.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" Y/n's expression durned up in surprise. It took her a minute to think about an answer which caused Jakes heart to begin to race. It was too forward. He hadn't even asked her if she had a boyfriend, or anybody she was seeing.

"Yes, actually." At her response, Jake felt his heart return to it's chest. Relief flooded over him.

"Hard Deck at 7 tomorrow?" He asked.

"I'll be there."

“You met her two days ago and already asked her on a date?” Bradley exclaimed over the phone.

Jake smiled with the phone up to his ear. He was already at the Hard Deck when Bradley had called. Apparently y/n had asked Bradley to babysit for her while she went out with his friend.

“The heart wants what the heart wants Brad.”

“This is hardly your heart talking.” Bradley retorted sassily.

“I’ll have you know,” Jake jumped to his own defense. “I hung out with her and Rose on the beach yesterday-”

“And you fell in love with Rosie’s intoxicating giggle?” Bradley chuckled.

Jake felt the heat rise to his face. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was absolutely true. It was an addiction, something that Jake could listen to for the rest of his life. Which, is part of why he asked y/n out.

“Shut up, Bradshaw.” Jake growled, hanging up the phone before Bradley had a chance to clap back. As though it were scripted, Y/n walked through the door and glanced around. Jake stood up and walked to the door to meet her. Y/n saw him, smiling as they met halfway.

Y/n was wearing a deep blue dress that stopped in the middle of her shins. She had on a pair of white sandals and a golden chain around her ankle. Traveling back up to her face, spaghetti straps across her strong shoulders and a plunging v neck where a necklace with a pink pendant played across the top of her breasts. Leaving just enough to the imagination.

“Wow. You look beautiful.” Jake raved upon approaching her. Y/n smiled and held her arms out, embracing Jake. He reciprocated the hug, putting his hands gently on her lower back.

“Thank you! You don’t look so bad yourself.” Y/n took a moment to look Jake up and down. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a red shirt on top.

Jake directed them to the bar, opening the tab and buying them both drinks to start with. He then directed her attention a few tables away from the central bar.

“Now, since this is a bar I wasn’t able to reserve a table. But, I have reserved the pool table.” He spread his hands out wide in a presenting way as they approached the pool table. Y/n smiled and laughed.

“I think we can manage with that.” Y/n grabbed two sticks and then turned around, reaching one over to Jake. “Are you breaking or am I?” She asked.

For some odd reason, Jake had never been that attracted to someone.

“Ladies first, obviously.”

Y/n smirked slightly, placing the que ball down and bending over at the waist to line up her shot. The way that her necklace dangled in front of her now more exposed chest was next to impossible to ignore. His eyes wandered to there, hardly listening to the words that left her mouth.

“You know, I know exactly why you asked me on a date.” Her eyes wandered from looking up at Jake to at the pool table, drawing back her stick and breaking the stack. Unfortunately, no balls went into any pockets.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Jake asked, looking around the table for the easiest shot to start.

“You like hot moms.”

Jake was mid shot when y/n said that, causing him to completely miss the ball in front of him. He looked up at y/n who was propped against the pool stick, laughing at his misfortune.

“Now that’s not true-“

“You don’t think I’m hot?” Y/n interrupted him with a pout.

“No, you’re very hot.” Jake huffed with a shy giggle.

Y/n smirked a little, walking around the table to observe potential shots. She found one right beside where Jake stood, bending at the waist and took a shot, sinking a striped ball into a socket. “And I’m a mom. Therefore, you like hot moms.”

For the first time a woman had left Jake speechless. He rubbed the back of his neck and feeling the intense heat rise to his face. Y/n seemed to notice when she looked up at him. She put a hand on his strong chest, gently pushing him backwards slightly so she could slip between him and the pool table.

“Relax Seresin, I’m pulling your leg.”

Jake had felt a tingling sensation running over his whole body. Like fire ants were crawling in his veins. He watched her take another shot at a pool ball and missed.

“So, do you want kids?” Y/n asked, taking a step back to allow him room to move.

Jake chuckled and looked around the table for his next shot. “Straight to the deep questions, huh?”

“Well I’ve got a kid who’s not going anywhere. Just want to make sure you’re not some secret child hater.”

Jake chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, I want kids.”

“How many?”

Jake huffed out. “As many as my partner would let me.” He admitted.

Y/n nodded in understanding. “Let me guess, boys?”

Jake missed his third shot before standing up straight to look over at y/n. He smiled at her and nodded. “Yeah.”

“I figured as much.” Y/n hummed with a chuckle. “It’s the typical male answer.”

Jake put his hands up in defense. “Forgive me if girls are intimidating.”

“So you think my little Rosie is intimidating?”

“Well no-“

“Don’t worry. The more time you spend around her the more girls you want.”

Jake smirked a little, watching y/n take her next shot. “Will I be spending more time around her?” He asked hopefully.

Y/n looked up at him from her spot bent over lining up her pool shot. A small smile curled up on her perfectly plump lips. “There’s a good chance.”

Jake smiled. His heart warmed the more he talked to y/n about just the smallest things. He couldn’t remember the last time he talked to someone for this long about mundane things. He enjoyed every second of it.

Much to his distaste, the night eventually had to come to a close. Jake walked y/n out to her car, the two of them laughing about a joke that was told earlier.

“Thank you for tonight Jake, I had a great time.” Y/n leaned against the back seat of her car while Jake stood by the drivers door.

“I had a great time too.” Jake hummed. He held out his hand and gestured with his eyes for y/n to take it. Y/n smiled, placing her hand on top of Jakes. He brought it up to his lips and gave her a kiss on the knuckles while simultaneously opening the driver side door for her.

“So when is our second date?” He asked. Y/n stepped up into position to get into her car. The only thing between her and Jake was the car door. She stopped for a moment, seeming to think. Y/n shifted her weight to her toes, stretching up and placing a kiss on Jakes lips. She lingered there for a couple seconds. Before going back down on her flat feet.

“I’ll call you.” She said sweetly. Y/n got into her car and closed the door, rolling down the window. Jake was so caught up in the intoxicating kiss that he forgot one critical detail.

“I never gave you my number.”

Y/n put a pair of sunglasses on her head and poked her head out of her driver window. She smiled wildly up at him. “I know.”

Just like that, she drove off. Leaving Jake smiling like an idiot in the parking lot.

Next Part

#jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x female!reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #glen powell #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #hangman top gun #lieutenant jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fluff #hangman fluff

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 8 months

Text

That handsome boy from the sky pt 4 (caught with Neteyam AU)

Part four of the series in which Spider and and Teyam escape RDA, only to come to Awa’atlu and find out that, surprisingly, Spider is considered uniquely attractive by reef Na’vi standards. (All other parts in the pinned post)

“What in Eywa’s name do these idiots even see in him??” Aonung pouted, kicking a rock as he sat against a cliff protruding through the sand, waves occasionally enveloping his legs.

“Seriously? Weren’t you wagging your tail at him yesterday??” Roxy chimed in.

‘Nung blushed. “Weren’t you?”

“Yeah I was.” He smiled proudly. “Can you blame me? He’s so dreamy! And his natural hair~” He mused, kicking his feet and closing his eyes.

Aonung made a gagging sound. Sure, he had a weak moment yesterday, he liked what he saw, but he doesn’t like like that Spider kid!

“…Whatever. He’s just a human.”

“A very strong one! Kiri said that one time, when sky people came back and they were running away from, uh, iron viper-wolves? Socorro threw a bolder three times his size at them!”

Chief son’s eyes widened. Alright, out of all the things he heard about this demon, this feat was certainly an impressive one. How much does a bolder weight anyway? How much do I weight—

“What!?” The boy exclaimed when he heard Roxto giggling.

“I know what you’re thinking~!” He giggled again. “It’s okay you know. We gotta go hang out with them tonight anyway.”

“What??”

“They’ll be attending the anemone harvest festival.” Roxto stood. “The Sullies want to integrate their big bros properly, since they weren’t here for the last one! And, you know, Neteyam’s really sweet too.”

“Uh huh.” Aonung rolled his eyes. “He’s just as scrawny as the rest of them.”

“But his shoulders are broad!”

“Pfff, Spider’s are broader.”

“Oh so you DO like him??”

“W-N-NO!”

***

“Hang out with who now?” Neteyam didn’t even try to cover a grimace that made its way onto his face.

“Aonung and Tsireya?? Y’know, Olo’eyktan’s children?” Lo’ak reiterated. “They’ll get you accustomed to the traditions and the dancing.”

“Yeah, we got the Tsireya and the tradition part, they’re not the problem bro.” Spider’s bushy brows furrowed as he crushed herbes into a sea-shell mortar. “You want us to be buddy-buddy with Aonung? The "let me leave you to your death in the middle of nowhere" Aonung? The "let me bully a fourteen-year old for things she can’t control" Aonung?”

“Listen, we haven’t really forgiven him for it.” Kiri stepped in. “But he’s changed for the better! Roxto was a good influence on him.”

“Is the Roxto kid going to be there?”

“I heard he’s nice.”

“He is! And ‘Nung is a lot of fun when he’s not an asshole.”

Oldest Sullies exchanged a glance. The idea of being around a boy who directly hurt their siblings wasn’t a fun one, but if they were insisting so badly, and the festival was allegedly a lot of fun, they guessed they had no choice but to give it a chance.

“Okay then. We gotta prepare right? Where do we start?”

Kiri grinned.

***

“Alright, the nets have been fixed, the platform stands strong, and the flowers sit just right…” Tsireya thought out loud, surveying the beautiful, tightly woven platform that was raised in front of the beach and would function as a dance floor for the celebrations. The harvest was rich this season, and Metkayina were giddy with the idea of eating, dancing and drinking all night, dressed in beads, shells and most importantly; the many colourful pond flowers that grew in small pools deep within the village, as well as the caves all over Awa’atlu, in the depths of the island’s rainforest. She often liked wearing the pink variety, what they call ‘the berry tulip’, and would tonight braid more of them into her hair. She couldn’t wait!

“Reya!”

A high-pitched voice chirped and she knew instantly who it was.

“You think these would look good hanging over the fire-pit?” Fwasim showed her garlands of delicate, almost transparent quartz crystals. “I was thinking that the light from the fire would reflect off of them, and bring more colour to the festival!”

“They look incredible! Did your father collect them?“

“Nope! My handiwork!” She giggled at Tsireya’s wide eyes.

“Ah, it’s amazing, friend! Go hang them up right now!”

The girl wasted no time, approaching grown-ups who were securing the fire-pit structure, when she heard another familiar voice come from behind her.

“Hey Reya~” Lo’ak mused, smiling and yet already embarrassed at his own boldness.

“What do you want?” She smirked, arms crossed but no malice behind it.

“Y’know…since you dressed me, Kiri n’ Tuk so well last time I thought…maybe…you could—“

“Help braid your brothers’ hair?”

He nodded, his smirk turning into a guilty grin. “Mom and dad are busy right until the festives start so..”

“Do they have something to wear at least?” She chuckled.

“Oh yes, we solved that, it’s just the jewellery and the hair…would you help us, oh tsakarem?”

The girl pushed him. “Oh stop you!”

***

“I don’t know Tuk…do I really need this?”

“Of course! I’m telling you, all the prettiest boys will wear this stuff at the festival!”

“Uh huh…”

"Pretty" wasn’t something Spider thought he’d give another try to imitate. His body wasn’t delicate enough, like his siblings’. Being human, he gave up on trying to appear good-looking a long time ago, thinking that thanks to his species and ancestry, whatever chance at attention he could have had been thrown down the river. Well, until recently.

“You look sick, dude!” Lo’ak complemented, entering the marui with Tsireya who held a large basket and she gasped in wonder, seeing the big Sully brothers ready for the holiday. Neteyam looked as elegant as ever with the top that she helped weave, seashells the colour of sunrise being their centrepiece.

Spider, on the other hand, looked perfect in his own right.

“You really are a sun lily in twilight.” Tsireya smiled. “Who made the top?”

The top she spoke of was a piece of art. Carefully crafted strings shone in the dark of Socorro’s shadow, made from pressed sea plants, and over his chest lay a pattern of small, azure crystals. They glittered, reflecting streaks of light emitting from flames of the cook fire, and Spider made the loincloth match it by tying a similarly woven ornament over it. He looked horribly insecure under his family’s gazes.

“Tuk wanted to put the newest gift to good use.”

“A gift?”

“Was laying next to the entrance when we got back from foraging the anemones.” Neteyam smirked. “But I recognzie that crystal work from somewhere..”

“Must be Fwasim, she loves incorporating gems in her clothes.” Spider added, twirling. “I owe her a big one for this.”

Tsireya giggled. That must has been her exact plan all along. She knew the forest boy was too noble to remain in dept, and that girl definitely planned to use it to her advantage.

“You both look just great! It’s only hair that is left and me and Kiri will help you all braid them. I brought some flowers, pick which ones you want.

The boys and their littlest sister swarmed around the basket, picking out plants for their ornaments. Spider’s gaze was fixed on tsawksyul, the big sun lily resting between smaller buds, the very nickname Tsireya and previously the girls around Awa’atlu used for him. Its golden petals were ten times as beautiful as he could ever hope to be, and felt too eye-catching for him to wear. He’d look like a narcissist…

“You want the lily?”

“Wh-no no no! I-it’s too much for me.”

“Why not? I think you’ll look gorgeous!” Tuk asked.

“‘Gorgous’ isn’t my thing Tuk…” The blonde rubbed his neck.

“Bullshit! Bro, it’s a party, you’re supposed to look your best!”

“I’ll look like an idiot.”

“You’ll look like a boy who put effort into himself for once.” Neteyam remarked a bit sternly. “Looking festive at a festival won’t kill you.” He then gently picked the flower. “Tsireya, can you help me here?”

***

The first song had begun, grown Metkayina playing drums, flutes and string instruments to create upbeat melodies.

Neytiri, with a bright blue flower over her left ear, approached Ronal who rested on a palette, her queue connected to a soundly sleeping baby in her sling. Tsahik motioned ‘I see you’ to her as she sat next to. “Where are your children?“

“I let them go early to get ready. Could not do so myself however…” She looked to the gathering crowd of teenagers and young adults.

“It is alright. First half of the festives is mostly for the youth anyway.”

“You didn’t mind that when you danced the night away while four months into your pregnancy.”

Ronal smirked. “I had to have some fun before she arrived…” Then smiling down at the slumbering babygirl, who was completely unbothered by the loud music and chatter going on around her. “I realise I haven’t apologised..”

“For what?”

“For doubting your family when you came here. You have adapted well, so had your children, each of them unique in their skills, and your eldest is everything we thought he’d be.”

Neytiri didn’t know how to answer. When Spider returned to Awa’atlu with Neteyam after escaping the Sea Dragon, it felt strange to hear Metkayina refer to him as her oldest child, instead of the one she considered her biggest pride, but she didn’t have the heart to correct them with the amount of stories she heard from her son about their captivity.

“He kept me safe, mother.” “He was the only one who stood between me and the demons.” “If not for him, they’d force me to tell them where the clan hides!” “He stayed loyal to us.”

Spider Socorro kept her son safe, then chose to run with him when his own father was right there. She could not overlook that.

And after his return, things only became further complicated. Spider helped around as much as he could, tiring himself out for weeks to earn his keep, and always there to have the Sullies back, her back.

Neytiri was unsure of what exactly Spider was to her personally at the moment, but he was without a doubt part of the family. It felt embarrassing how long it took her to realise it.

Just then, the chatter in the crowd of teenagers died down and they stilled, looking down one of the paths leading to the platform.

It was Tsireya, Tsahik in training, accompanied by the Sullies, all dressed up for the festival. Among the new guests walked Neteyam, the ever elegant Na’vi, and an ideal of an Omatikaya, and after him…

“It’s Spider!”

And it was indeed him, following Neteyam and cautiously brushing dreads off his shoulders, hoping the lily Tsireya braided wouldn’t be damaged.

“You look breathtaking!” One of the girls fawned with stars in her eyes.

Could Spider argue that? Barely, he thought, for the first time since setting foot on these shores, smiling to himself. This time the compliments felt deserved, if only for the effort of his new friends.

“Come dance with us!”

“Ah ah ah!” Then Fwasim appeared seemingly out of the blue, beating other kids to it as she motioned a greeting to him. “You like the gift I made~?”

“ ‘Like’ is an understatement!” Spider grinned. “It’s amazing! Don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“You could start by giving me a dance.” She smirked, her tale wagging playfully.

Slightly blushing, Socorro took her hand. He couldn’t refuse a friend could he? And for such a generous gift…

Some of the teens huffed, jealous of Fwasim cleverly wrapping the boy around her finger, watching her as she showed Spider the proper dance moves and walked him through them.

“Relax your muscles, let the wind guide you like a current.”

Again, the blonde didn’t normally do gracefulness. He considered himself far too "feral", as the elder Omatikaya put it, to move in sync with the world around him, but festive garments gave him a kind of confidence he only ever felt in rare, measured doses.

And when Spider grows confident, his playful side comes out like never before.

The first dance was over and Fwasim excused herself to help with other decorations around the beach, so Spider cast a mischievous glance towards the crowd, approaching it. “Kiri, s’it okay if I have your shawl for a minute?”

“What for? Too cold?”

“Nah. You know, the clan has been so kind to us, showing their way of things.” He purposefully raised his voice so the teens could hear and immediately, they were all ears. “Just thought I’d show them some culture of our own~”

Taking the shawl, Socorro winked at her and Kiri gasped, covering her mouth and grinning, then looking at the kids. This was gonna be fun.

The dance Spider prepared to perform was a tad bit flirty, and she never saw her big brother be the one to try it, as he never felt brave enough to join the other older kids back home. Until tonight it seems.

The music started and moving in harmony with it, Spider pulled the shawl on, holding both of its ends and sliding towards the crowd with a devious smile. Youngsters watched him, giggling flusterdly and batting their eyelashes at him, until suddenly, Socorro fixed his eyes on the shyest of the group; the girl who had broken her ankle not long ago, and swiftly pulled the shawl over her head and behind her back, pulling her towards him and the dance floor.

The crowd exploded in whistles, squeals and laughs. The girl’s friends, happy to see her being noticed by a popular boy, gently nudged her towards him.

She was completely and utterly flustered to say the least, but that didn’t stop her from putting her hands in Spider’s and letting him guider her through the Omatikaya dance, thought she made no eye contact with him.

“Aww, am I not even worth a glance?” The blonde frowned.

“W-what? No! No of course not I—“

“Am I really that filthy?“

“No!” She exclaimed with wide eyes, grasping his shoulders. “You-y-you…look…incredible…”

For a moment Spider’s intense, dark eyes were locked on her and that poor girl’s heart skipped a beat, her ears fluttering like butterfly wings.

And then he got close to her face and smirked. “It’s okay, I know, was just messing with you.” Then chuckled, freeing her from the confines of his sister’s shawl. “Cheers for the anemone harvest festival. Have a good night~” And just like that, the boy was gone, leaving his dance partner surprised by the sudden disappearance, but a shy smile on her face nonetheless.

Aonung and Roxto arrived when Socorro began scouring the crowd again. “Eywa! They started without me!”

“The festives are for the whole village, skawng. No one’s gonna wait for your lazy ass.” Neteyam teased, appraising the simple jewellery he wore. *The boy didn’t even try.*

“Yeah, well, somebody had to help collect the remaining anemones! My and your fathers will be here any minute.”

And just as he said that, the two men appeared out the shadows, settling next to their wives.

“Hey baby. How’s the festives?”

“Our children have a lot more fun than last time.” She smiled, looking at the Sully kids dancing near the flames of the fire.

And among said kids was Spider, locking a reef boy in a dance with him by pulling a green, woven shawl over his head.

Immediately, Jake’s eyes widened to size that of a tulkun’s. “Who’s that?”

Ronal leaned towards him. “Ora. An excellent fisherman, one of the best warriors in our clan. Very responsible, a good choice, though the rest are no worse.”

“The rest???”

“Yes, Spider danced with a variety of partners, he has good taste.” Tonowari nodded in approval.

Sully barely held his jaw from hitting the floor. He left this kid on his own for one day and now the adults are thinking that he is choosing a future mate. The idea could chase away some unserious suitors but those who felt persistent enough would likely take this as a sign to start trying to court him.

Jake looked forward to grounding his stupid son for the next ten years when they got back home.

***

Giddy, Spider plopped down on the edge of a woven deck next to Kiri, who was munching a sweet snack. She offered her plate to him as he carefully wrapped the shawl around his sister’s shoulders.

“Having fun?”

“You bet!” He chirped, taking a deep breath and removing his mask to get a taste of the fried flower petals, covered in a syrup similar in taste to honey.

“Those poor children had no idea what to do with themselves!” She giggled again. “Where did you learn to be smooth like that?”

“Kiri, c’mon.” The boy spoke after putting his mask back on, mouth stuffed with sugary goods. “I always had it in me! No teacher needed.”

“I never saw that side of you back in the forest.”

“Well…” He shrugged. “There wasn’t really anyone to show it to…”

“…Do you like it here?”

“Huh?”

“Awa’atlu.”

“I mean…I won’t stop missing the forest. It’s our roots y’know, but..”

“But?”

“It’s beautiful. When I’m in the water I feel connected to the great mother like I never had before, the ilus are cute and Metkayina are…nice.” Socorro smiled, his cheeks reddening. “Not the same as the jungle, but I’ll be fine!”

“Okay, good…”

“Why the question?”

“I hoped you weren’t getting uncomfortable with the attention.”

“Uncomfortable?? Kiri I’m a celebrity!”

“Uh huh.” She rolled her eyes.

“Who wouldn’t like being handsome??”

“You were always handsome, dumbass.” The girl nudged him playfully, and Spider grinned…

Because for the first time in forever, he felt like agreeing.

Anyway, hope you liked my longest chapter of this fic! This fanfic is insanely fun to write! Let me know in the ask box if you have anything to say!

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bunnakit · 4 months

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last twilight e8 thoughts, feelings, and tears

ok i cried for like 10 minutes after the episode ended so forgive me if this isn't up to par of what i usually do. apparently i'm fragile today.

there was a lot i liked and didn't like about this scene. in the past we've seen Day cling to the idea that someday he'll see again, that this is all temporary. instead of reiterating that, instead of talking about the cornea transplant, he instead asks "what can i do?" it's such an insanely massive sign of his growth. i'm so fucking proud of him. it made me so fucking emotional because while he's still upset, he's still hurt, he's still angry, he realizes his reality and he's making steps to move forward with that.

what i didn't like about this scene was once again Day's mother acts like Day's life is ending. she's been the number one person to coddle Day and to reassure him of this surgery that may never happen. i know she means well but fuck. this has to stop.

i also fucking hated the doctor for this. Day isn't fucking dying, there's still so much he can do even once his sight is completely gone. sure, he'll have some limitations, i get that. i can't swim in the ocean or rivers anymore. that fucking sucked to learn right before going on my honeymoon to the beach. but you know what i could still do? walk across the beach to the little hidden tide pools, sit on the jagged rocks, and watch the crabs and fish and anemones and everything thrive in this tiny little ecosystem. it was still amazing and something i may not have done if not for my disease keeping me from going in the water.

we're limited by our disabilities but we aren't fucking dead - life goes on around us and we can either participate in it or wallow in our fate. i'll talk about this more later.

you can skip this next paragraph if you don't want to see me babble on another personal anecdote.

i will say i saw a lot of myself in this moment. something similar happened to me a few weeks ago. i learned my disability is no longer responding to the treatments and i'll have to have multiple surgeries next year to close some year old wounds and will probably need some skin grafts. my disease is no longer managed but once again getting worse. when the doctor told me i just nodded and discussed the game plan. meanwhile, my mom was heartbroken and kept asking if there was anything that could be done. (nothing that i'm not already doing.)

sometimes we just have to nod along and accept what's happening. we can cry about it and get pissed later if we have to.

ohhh there's so much i want to talk about here. Day's mom infuriates me, probably because she's the opposite of everything my mother ever was when faced with my disabilities. her constant refusal to address Day's blindness is so painful, as if it's somehow a reflection of him as a person or a stain. it's just a fact of life and her denial is doing so much more to hurt Day than to help him. as much as i hate it, though, it is realistic. it can be so hard for those close to us to acknowledge what's going on, especially when they can't experience it for themselves or they aren't around day to day.

which brings me to the part that frustrates me the most. i'm going to get REALLY personal here.

TW FOR SUICIDE AND MENTAL HEALTH ->

i'll put another message when this little anecdote is over so ya'll can skip to that.

i've been diagnosed with major depressive disorder since i was 15. when i was 16 i tried to kill myself. my mom didn't know until last year, but at the time she knew my depression was getting to a concerning level of bad. you know what she did? she quit her job. she made any sacrifice she could to stay home with me and make sure i was safe and felt heard and taken care of. granted, she wasn't a single mother at the time but we also weren't rolling in the money. my dad was a construction worker in the early 2000s when construction work was struggling HARD.

but that's what you do for your kids, that's what you do to take care of them and make them feel heard and loved and cared for unconditionally. my depression and desire to die wasn't a stain on who i was, it was my mind holding me hostage with no way out because they couldn't give me medication until i turned 18.

OKAY IT'S SAFE NOW ->

anyway, where i was going with that is that Day's mom, as a famous chef, clearly makes enough money to take time off work, to be there for her son, to stay home and make him feel loved and cared for. there's likely a lot going on on her end of being a single mother, of feeling like she needs to prove herself and show the world she can do this alone - but her son doesn't have to do it alone just because she wants to. he needs a support system and right now all he has is Mhok.

Day's anger is so real and so justified. he must feel abandoned by his mother, by the one person that should be there to comfort him and keep him safe. her love has become conditional on the state of his eyesight.

and then she tells him he can't go? he's not a fucking child. he's a full grown man and he was just told to do things while he still can see at least a little. i told my mom the exact part of the plot and her response was "well fuck her, he's gotta go." you're god damn right he does, mom.

everything Night does feels like repentance. i need know what the story is, i need to know what caused this massive fissure between them. i don't want to comment or speculate too much but at this point i can no longer condemn Night. he's trying, he's clearly trying so fucking hard, and he clearly has so much love for his brother.

and him giving Mhok money and letting him and Day escape because he knows Day will be happier? i really hope that is a step in the right direction of mending whatever was broken between them. there are only four episodes left and i hope bare minimum half of them deal with what is going on here.

The sea remains the sea. The sand remains the sand. The sky remains the sky. Though I can't see, everything remains the way it is.

and here we are. being diagnosed with a disability is a massive change in our lives, a huge hurdle we have to climb, but at the end of the day the world still turns, life still goes on, and we can either go with it or remain stagnant. this is the culmination of everything Mhok has shown Day. Mhok has constantly brought Day out to participate in life, to learn how to navigate the world that remains unchanged. while Day's world has changed it remains the same in so many ways. this is such a beautiful moment of acceptance and peace, of healing and moving past the hurt. once again, i am so proud of Day.

he's going to be okay.

i've seen others mention it but fuck this once again drove home how soft and caring Mhok is, something that's been so constant in this episode from his willingness to help Day, to the keychains, to the escape, and now this. this little act of asking for permission, of giving Day permission, of almost asking Day 'will you kiss me?' and then Day does. Day gives Mhok the first kiss initiated by him. until now it's always been Mhok but this time Day reaches out to Mhok in this gritty, sand filled kiss. (disgusting but still lovely)

and this really drove home how safe Day feels with Mhok. they're somewhere completely new and unpredictable but he suggests they drink and participate in the party - and i love that he doesn't ask for permission but rather says 'why not?' because Mhok has never made him feel like he needs to ask for things, not things he's fully capable of deciding for himself.

and they do! they act like the young adults they are and have an amazing night of just fun and laughter and love and i fucking love that for them. how many times have we seen Day get to act his age and be carefree? it's remarkably telling how free Day feels the further he gets from home, how free his love is when he isn't worried about his family. when he's away from home Day really becomes the sun.

(also i think i might make shirts like this with my husband as a fun activity because that's really cute.)

i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm fine. (i'm lying.) the amount of love they have from here on is almost palpable. the fact that Mhok takes the time to tell Day he looks good, that he's admiring him. fuck. it makes me think of just a bit before, where we see Day linger with his fingers against the mirror. Day hasn't seen his own reflection in over a year, he has no idea what he looks like anymore. he won't get to see the way age changes him, won't get to see the wrinkles and laugh lines form on his face.

but Mhok will be there to tell him, to say how handsome he is, and without fully seeing Mhok Day will know he is equally as handsome because he knows Mhok's voice, his character, and sure he knows what everyone has said about Mhok's appearance but who he is has always been more important.

and then for them to essentially say their own vows in the light of the setting sun? oh, my loves.

Day is starting a new chapter in the book of his life, a new chapter with Mhok and hope and confidence. he's taking back control and paving his own way and no matter what comes he'll face it head on.

i started crying here and didn't stop, P'Aof please i'm sending you bills not for my therapy but for all the water i have to buy to rehydrate myself from all my tears. once again, fucking hell i'm so proud of Day.

and he tells them to have a kid soon! so he can help raise it!! just like he'll probably help raise Porjai's kid. because he no longer sees himself as incapable, as someone unable to help. Mhok has shown him how capable he is, how much he can still do.

please allow me a moment to - AAAAAAAAA.

personally i cannot wait for all the gifsets we're going to see of this moment. they danced so perfectly together because they know each other. Mhok knows Day better than anyone else, they've gone through so much, and they move so intrinsically together. i'd say they know each other better than anyone else but there's still so much of Mhok left unexplored. there's so much Day still doesn't know, so much pain Mhok is still hiding.

i can't wait for them to truly know each other inside and out (not like that, but hey it looks like we're getting that next ep eeeyy)

i'm not really going to comment on the dad showing up at the end. i feel almost nothing about that, i'm just waiting to see how that turns out and reserving my opinions for now. (i had a shit dad, i'm a little bais.)

man, i'd hoped this would be brief with how raw i was feeling and how busy i am with work but GUESS NOT. thanks for reading as always tag loves: @nutcasewithaknife @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious

#bunn meta #last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #morkday #userjamiec

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stomach-bugg09 · 1 year

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HIIII ok so ive been loving all ur works, and i was just wondering if u could do a lo’ak x reader?? maybe like they’ve been fighting their feelings for each other but now as they’re learning the way of the water they just can’t resist each other anymore?? maybe like a late night talk by the beach??

summary: best friends, that's all they are. or, at least that’s what [y/n] keeps trying to convince herself.

lo’ak x fem!reader

a/n: thanks so so much for the request! it’s short and sweet, full of fluff. hopefully you enjoy. feedback, reblogs, and reqs are always appreciated.

warnings: major fluff, best friends to lovers, the result of mutual pining, cutie patooties

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir

kiss her, you fool !!

the beach was silent that night, the waves calm as they brushed against the shore in a consistent manner. it was rather peaceful, the soft sound of the ocean harmonizing with the breeze.

but, peace could only last for long. threaded into the sounds of the waves crashing came quiet laughter, muffled by hands clasped to each other’s mouths in order to shut each other up. if you were genuinely curious enough to track down the mysterious noises, you would not be shocked to find a pair of teenagers hidden together behind a rock next to the tide pools.

there sat [y/n] and lo’ak, their faces flushed from the laughter they attempted to keep down, although it was clearly a struggle based on their breathless voices.

“lo’ak,” she hissed, trying to push her grin off of her face. “quiet! you know your father will not react kindly to us being out here.”

he rolled his eyes, dropping his head backwards to stare up at the star-lit sky. “does it even matter at this point?” he wondered aloud. “i mean, i don’t think i can disappoint him any further than i already have.”

“nonsense!” she huffed, leaning towards him with a soft smile. “i’ve seen the capabilities of your stupidity, lo’ak, and there is far much more that you could do. trust me!”

he chuckled at that, causing her to feel a pang of pride for making him laugh. “well, aren’t you just a wonderful friend,” he teased with a shake of his head.

at that word, she wrinkled her nose, but quickly willed the expression off of her face. “you do need someone to keep you on your toes, boy.” [y/n] looked away and towards the dark horizon, silently cursing at herself. she needed to stop. stop thinking of him like that.

the girl’d been fighting her feelings since before they left the omaticaya clan, before they left their home. thanks to her history with the sully family and the lack of her own parents after their deaths during a raid, she had quite enough resources and evidence to use against neytiri and jake, eventually convincing the pair of protective parents to let her join.

growing up alongside the sully siblings, even before her parents’ death, led to a very close relationship with the youngest son. she couldn’t help it—he was charismatic, full of energy. it was captivating, really, even when they were just toddlers.

she just wished it hadn’t led to her teenage years being full of heartbreak because her best friend only saw her as.. well, a best friend.

by pulling herself away from the conversation, the two faded into an unfortunate and awkward silence. it was just too damn bad that boys at that age were far too scared of making any sort of move without being one-hundred percent confident that it wouldn’t end badly, and even so, they still hesitated!

so, as an attempt to reel her back in, the boy cleared his throat. damn it, he cursed himself silently when the girl continued to stare outwards at the beach. naturally, he did it again. because he’s stupid. still, no luck!

by the third time, [y/n] turned around towards her best friend, eyebrow muscles furrowed in concern, laughter becoming apparent on her facial features. “are you okay?” she questioned, a smile slowly crawling its way back onto her lips.

almost immediately, his face flushed. “oh, yeah. ‘m fine!” he swallowed, his voice far too high pitched. “just something in my throat.” at that, he coughed again as if to convince her, although this time it sounded extremely artificial.

“right,” she trailed teasingly. “because, if you need water…”

“[y/n], don’t even think about it,” he warned sternly, immediately pushing himself to his feet.

“too late!” she cried joyfully, her tail pulling up and flicking against his ankles. unfortunately for lo’ak, she was weirdly strong, and the rocks were weirdly slippery thanks to the high tide earlier in the evening.

laughter burst from her throat as she watched lo’ak land backwards in the water, barely avoiding the splash. when he resurfaced, he looked less than amused. “you should have seen your face!” she mocked, tears coming to her eyes as she couldn’t catch her breath.

“shut up, [y/n]!” he huffed, but even he couldn’t ignore the entertainment of the moment. “and now who’s being too loud, huh?”

“i’m sorry,” she panted, wiping tears from her eyes. “you just don’t understand! you looked so shocked even though you knew exactly what was coming—ah!” she shrieked, feeling her weight go unbalanced thanks to a tug at her leg.

soon enough, the floated in the water with lo’ak.

when she resurfaced, he held a laugh in his throat at her expression. “please don’t murder me.”

“too late!”

now, if you ignored the sounds of laughter earlier, you would most likely be pissed at the fact that they got even louder. and this time, if you were just too angry to stay in bed, you would definitely not be shocked at the two teenagers who tackled each other in the waves, practically water-boarding the other. but, the moment that you saw the amount of enjoyment in their eyes, only the most soulless creatures would continue to scold them for it.

“[y/n]!” the boy cried, hands going up in defense. “please, please! mercy!” he called, the salty water clouding his vision. immediately, he felt her strain release, only leaving the girl sitting on top of his chest, a prideful grin causing a deep sting at his defeat.

teasingly, the girl flexed her arms. “who’s the champion?” [y/n] joked, sticking her tongue out at him.

he could only stare at her silently, though. his breath was slowly increasing, composure finally restoring. and yet, he still couldn’t speak, words stuck in his throat at he stared at the girl sitting on his chest.

“lo’ak?” she questioned after he hadn’t reacted in any way, shape, or form. that was very much not like the lo’ak she knew. he was always a sore loser!

you only have one chance, a voice deep within his head whispered to him, his eyes flickering to his best friend’s lips. only got one chance… he took a breath in.

kiss her, you fool!

and so, he did, his arm reaching up and gently bracing her neck. he sat himself up with his other elbow, leaning against it to give him a bit more leverage. and so, their lips came together, greeting each other with a yearning they both had been fighting for years.

and it was the best moment of [y/n]’s entire life.

#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #loak sully #lo'ak sully #lo'ak #loak #loak x y/n #loak x you #loak x reader #lo'ak x y/n #lo'ak x you #lo'ak x reader #avatar 2 x reader

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katsu28 · 1 year

Text

even after all these years

pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

summary: based on the prompt “i take my little sibling to their school’s halloween carnival and you’re one of the volunteers/workers there and you’re super cute” but slightly different

warnings: light swearing, bats

a/n: is it even legal to finally be posting a halloween fic in december? let’s pretend it is and i’m not criminally late with it! but in my defense, i started writing this before halloween and then just never finished it </3

navigation + taglist

Eddie didn’t want to be here. Now don’t get him wrong, he liked Halloween just as much as the next person, but being around all these people that were ready to hunt him down and burn him at the stake just months ago, who were now pretending like it never happened, just didn’t tickle his fancy.

But Dustin and Steve were very adamant on him coming with them, and as much as he wanted to decline, he couldn’t.

So now here he was, shuffling behind his friends as they wandered around the Hawkins High parking lot that had been converted into a makeshift Halloween carnival, trying his best to ignore the stares and whispers aimed his way.

Eddie was no stranger to them, but these were different. He wasn’t just a freak, he was a so called “murderer”. Even though his name had been cleared a long time ago.

“Dude, you look like you’re about to piss yourself. Relax.” Steve’s voice drew him out of his thoughts, his eyes flicking to the brown haired boy currently raising a brow at him. “You’re fine, Munson.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Whatever.” Eddie muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket sulkily.

Dustin cast a glance back at him, frowning when he saw the older boy kicking a rock down the gravel path, much more interested in the toes of his dirty sneakers than anything else around him. He felt bad for dragging Eddie here when he obviously wasn’t having any fun, but it was good for him to get out more. He’d barely left Steve’s house at all the past seven months, only managing to drag himself to Hellfire meetings and to give Dustin an occasional ride home from school.

“Hey, you wanna come with me to get my face painted?” Dustin asked excitedly, making his way back to tug on Eddie’s sleeve with a grin. “I was thinking like a huge spiderweb, straight across my cheek. Pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” Eddie shrugged, instantly feeling guilt pool in his stomach when he saw Dustin’s shoulders slump. So he tried his best to remedy it by plastering a smile on his face, clapping him on the back and pulling him closer by the collar of his jacket. “That does sound real badass, Henderson. Lead the way.”

Dustin perked right back up, launching into a mindless ramble about some species of spider that Eddie wasn’t paying attention to all that much as they made their way through the crowds of kids and parents to the face painting table. Immediately plunking into a free chair across from one of the Hawkins High science teachers, Dustin started talking again, probably forgetting that Eddie had come with him.

Eddie, on the other hand, was about ready to ditch him, since he was getting a few weird looks as he just stood in the middle of the array of tables awkwardly.

“Hey, I know you. You’re—”

“Yeah, yeah, Eddie the freak, satanic worshipper, murderer, yada, yada,” He grumbled, deciding to slouch over into another flimsy plastic chair with his arms crossed over his chest to get out of people’s way, barely hastening you a glance before focusing his scowl on the worn out knees of his jeans.

“Uh…okay. That’s not what I was thinking of though.” You frowned. “Hawkins middle school debate team, sixth grade.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up, widening in horror at the sight of you. You, out of all the people he could’ve snapped at.

He remembered you, and he definitely remembered that year. The year he went to live with his uncle, which then turned into two, then three, then the rest of his life.

He’d been having trouble adjusting to being moved around so much, so he’d started acting out. Arguing with teachers, interrupting class randomly, cutting school, the whole nine yards. Apparently, he was so good at arguing with authority figures, they decided to stick him on the debate team as punishment. But honestly, it wasn’t so much of a punishment when he realized that you were also on the debate team.

Bright eyed and bushy tailed with the brightest of smiles, you were Eddie’s first crush. You were one of the only people who didn’t treat him like a total freak, sitting with him during debate practices and talking to him when no one else would, even going so far as to share your snacks with him. You never brushed him off or called him a weirdo, and you’d even kicked Tommy H in the nuts one time when he made a dig at Eddie’s clothes.

So when you moved out of Hawkins, he was pretty bummed. But now you were back, and he still felt the same butterflies in his stomach right now that he did back when he was twelve.

“What was that about being a murderer?” You tilted your head at him in confusion, to which he shook his head quickly.

“Nothing! I’m not—my name was cleared, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t murder anyone!” He tugged at the collar of his jacket awkwardly, half expecting you to shoot him a weird look.

But you just smiled, laughing a little bit. “That’s always good. Hi, Eddie.”

“Hi,” Eddie said sheepishly, holding up a ringed hand in greeting. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah, I’ve only been here for a couple weeks…” You trailed off, fiddling with your paintbrush. Hoping I’d magically run into you somehow, you wanted to add. But you didn’t. “I like your hair. Much better than the buzzcut.”

Eddie’s hand flew to his unruly curls, trying his best to smooth them down even the tiniest bit. You remembered what his hair looked like? More importantly, you remembered him?

“Oh, uh, thanks. I like your hair too.” His words came out in an awkward jumble that you just beamed even brighter at, eyes crinkling at the corners. I like your hair too? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You didn’t seem to think it was stupid. “You’re sweet. How’ve you been? What’ve you been up to?”

Eddie shifted in his seat uncomfortably. What had he accomplished since the last time he saw you?

He’d become a drug dealer, started a club that everyone thought promoted Satanic worship, been accused for multiple gruesome murders, almost died in Hawkins the horror dimension, came back, and was now even more of a loser freak than he’d already been.

“Uh, not much. Nothing too interesting.” He mumbled. “So…what, uh, what brings you back here?”

“My grandparents’ house was damaged in that earthquake back in March and they came to live with us right after, so we’re just here trying to…hopefully salvage some stuff, maybe see if we can fix it up.” You shrugged, waving your brush around aimlessly. “Honestly, I don’t think there’s too much we can do, that was a pretty intense quake.” Eddie didn’t mean to, but he flinched a bit at your mention of the quake, seeing as what really happened was so much worse than a natural disaster.

You noticed, instantly scrambling to rectify your statement with flaming cheeks. “I mean, obviously, you knew that, you lived through it. Sorry, that was really insensitive of me, I don’t—”

“It’s fine! Don’t worry about it.” Eddie shook his head quickly, brushing it off. “I’m—I’m okay.” I nearly got eaten alive by demon bats from hell, but I’m okay. Obviously he couldn’t tell you that. Not only would he sound absolutely insane, but it would definitely scare you off, which is something he really didn’t want.

“Right, well, anyways—” You started, but were cut off by a cleared throat from a quite severe looking woman with a clipboard standing a few feet away, who was aiming a very pointed looking glare in your direction. Leaning in a little closer, your nose wrinkled in distaste, voice hushed so as to not draw her attention even more. “That’s my supervisor. She thinks I talk too much, paint too little.”

“Supervisor? Aren’t you a volunteer?” Eddie whispered, brows furrowing.

You shrugged. “Apparently this whole carnival thing is super serious this year.”

“Uh huh, because painting pumpkins on kids’ faces is such a serious thing.”

“According to her, it’s pretty much the most serious thing in the whole history of serious things.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

You had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from bursting into laughter, such a simple act that still sent a shot of warmth through Eddie’s chest. It also garnered the attention from your supervisor, whose angry steps quickly spurred you back to business as usual.

“And what would you like painted on your face today, Eddie?”

His lips quirked into a miniscule smile at your sudden forced enthusiastic tone, which brought a flush to your cheeks.

“Sorry,” You apologized sheepishly. “Too teacher-y?”

“I’d say just enough teacher-y.” He observed, nodding thoughtfully. “Reminds me of Mrs. Paulson from middle school. Y’know, the old lady who always smelled like pepperoni.”

“Pepperoni Paulson, I remember her,” You nodded as well, then squinted at him suspiciously. “Wasn’t she arrested for public intoxication a few years ago?”

“Yeah. I stand by my point.”

You let out a noise of indignance, eyebrows creasing and nose wrinkling in such an adorable way that Eddie almost felt the need to turn tail and run.

“Okay, asshole, what do you want painted on you?” You huffed playfully, poking his arm with the pointy end of the brush in your hand.

Eddie scratched at his nose. “Eh, I dunno. Surprise me.”

“You sure you wanna give me free reign after that smug comment? Might just draw a dick on your face to be funny.”

He couldn’t help it. A snorting laugh fell from his lips at how utterly serious you looked as you dipped the brush into the colorful array of paint in front of you.

You were the first person outside his friends not to tiptoe around him like he was about to snap at any second. Maybe it was because you had no idea what had really happened in Hawkins, but he didn’t really care. He wasn’t used to it, but he liked it. He really liked it.

Both Steve and Dustin’s heads whipped around at the sound of Eddie’s laughter, regarding each other with identical wide eyed stares before gawking over at him. They hadn’t heard him laugh in months. They didn’t even know he still could laugh.

But there he was, sitting at the face painting booth across from you, head tipped back, shoulders shaking, looking…happy.

Eddie, on the other hand, felt like he was about to spontaneously combust at your close proximity—your fingers gripping his chin to keep him still, the delicate swipe of your brush across his cheek, your knees wedged between his own to get the right angle for steady strokes. How you radiated vanilla and cinnamon and the kind of warmth that spread through his own body with every carefully controlled breath he took.

To make matters worse, your tongue poked out from between your lips in pure concentration, something Eddie realized you had in common. Though he probably wasn’t as cute when he did it.

His gaze bounced around, focusing on anywhere else, anything else but you.

“You look kinda uncomfortable right now, Eddie,” You said softly, your breath a barely there puff of air across his skin that still had goosebumps raising on his arms. “Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?”

“No, I’m—I’m good! It’s just…cold out today.” He finished lamely, fingers fiddling with the rips in his pants.

“It is.” You concurred, smiling softly. “I gotta say, I definitely haven’t missed Hawkins in that area.”

Hawkins has definitely missed you, Eddie thought. Okay, maybe not Hawkins. Just me.

The paint on his cheek was cold too, but it did nothing to quell the flame of his cheeks to rosy red the more he realized that twelve year old Eddie would give anything to be where he was right now. Hell, even himself from a few months ago would’ve had an aneurysm if he knew that he actually had the chance to talk to you again.

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, jerking him back to reality. “Alright, take a look, tell me what you think.” You passed him a small mirror, leaning back in your seat. “You can tell me if you hate it. I’ll just go curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment.”

“I won’t hate it, I promise. I—” He glanced in the mirror, stopping mid-sentence when he saw what you’d created oh so carefully. A flurry of tiny bats scattered across his cheek, the black paint a stark contrast to his pale skin.

“Oh my god, you hate it!” You moaned, hiding your face behind your hands.

“I don’t!”

“You so do!”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t hate it. See, look,” He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket hastily to reveal a similar grouping of bats tattooed on his forearm. “More bats.”

The scars marring his torso and chest twinged, not out of pain, but as a reminder. Bats. Obviously, he couldn’t tell you the real reason why he wasn’t too fond of bats, but he’d sooner face the Upside Down again than tell you he hated what you’d done.

“Oh, okay. Good. Because I was afraid I just blew my chance at impressing you after all these years.”

“You—you wanted to impress me?” He asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowing.

“‘Course I did. Feels a little late to admit this, but I totally had a crush on you in middle school.”

“You did?”

“I did. I was even thinking about telling you before I left, but it just…didn’t feel right, y’know? Dropping such a big thing and then bailing?”

“Y/N, you moved away, that’s not bailing.” Eddie shook his head, then inhaled a sharp breath. “I—I actually liked you too. And I wanted to tell you back then, but then you…y’know, moved, and I thought I’d lost my chance.”

It suddenly felt a lot harder to breathe, but you managed to utter your next words despite it. “But now I’m back.”

“Now you’re back,” He repeated. “You’re back, and I get another one.” His hand came down on your knee, the warmth of his palm sending a different kind of warmth to your cheeks. “I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped. I actually think it got worse—no, not worse! Liking you was never a bad thing, it was a really good thing. It has been a really good thing, I just—I didn’t know if I was ever gonna see you again, and now that I have, I…am totally rambling, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—”

“Eddie—”

“—overload you with my feelings, I just felt like it was something I should tell you, since—”

“Eddie,” You repeated, your hand blanketing his on your jeans. “Stop talking.” His mouth snapped shut immediately, brown eyes wide. “I still like you too.”

“You…you do?” You nodded. “Even after all these years?” Another nod, this time accompanied by a soft smile.

“Even after all these years.” You echoed, tapping along the rings adorning his knuckles. His fingers twitched, aching to entwine with yours, but he was afraid that he might be hallucinating right now. There was no way in hell you felt the same way, now or ever. He wanted to pinch himself, but he felt it might be weird.

You could tell by the way his mouth dropped open the slightest bit that the cogs in his mind were working overdrive, so you decided to take matters into your own hands. “I’m gonna kiss you now, Eddie. Feel free to stop me.”

Eddie wasn’t going to stop you. He’d never even dream about it.

When your lips touched his, he could swear that he was dreaming—that any second now, he’d wake up in his own bed, back to the reality where this whole thing never happened. Where you were still god knows where, miles and miles away from Hawkins, probably not even paying him any mind at all.

This time, he really did pinch himself, and he was beyond pleased to realize that this was real, that you were in fact here, kissing him, right now. He leaned forward into you, one hand sliding around the back of your neck while the other cupped your cheek tenderly. Yours came up to grip at his biceps, fingers curling into the worn leather of his sleeves as if you were securing him place, making sure that he couldn’t slip away the way he did all those years ago.

And when his hands moved down to your chair to drag you a little bit closer, you took that chance to take his face in yours, tracing the curve of his jaw lightly as his mouth moved against yours eagerly.

Both of you seemed to realize that you were in a public place with lots of people around at the same time, pulling away from each other swollen lipped and a little breathless, but still with identical stupid grins on your faces.

“Oh no,” You pouted, holding up your hand for him to see the splotches of black paint smudging your fingertips. “I ruined my hard work.”

“Looks like you’re just gonna have to do them all over again.”

“Looks like it.”

“Can I make a request though?” You raised an eyebrow at his sheepish turned suspiciously giddy grin. “No more bats.”

“I knew you hated them, you asshole!”

“I said I didn’t hate them! They’re really good, but bats are just…not my thing.”

“Says the boy with the bat tattoo.”

Cocking his head to the side, Eddie ignored you, instead opting to lean in and kiss you again, and of all the ways he could’ve changed the subject, this was by far the best.

Eddie had never been so grateful for his friends’ constant pestering and dragging him everywhere he didn’t want to go, because it led him back to you, the one that got away. Twelve year old Eddie knew it was you, current day Eddie knew it was you, and now you knew it too.

He’d thank Steve and Dustin later when he had the time, but not now. Eddie was too busy planning out all the things he wanted to say to you and do with you before his luck turned and you were gone again. Though if he’s being honest, he doesn’t think you’re planning on leaving anytime soon.

Neither are you. No way in hell were you thinking about leaving when coming back to Hawkins got you paint smudged fingers, some closure, and finally Eddie Munson.

Even after all these years.

taglist!

@wittiestrain184 @milkiane @pastel-abyss-x @liltimmyst @lilygreennn @nia-um @pinkdaiisies @maciiiofficial @oliviah-25 @scoopsahoykeery @eddiesquinn @bubsonnobx @yearningforeddiemunson @sanzu-holic @cityofidek @strawberry-canyon

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #guess what bitch is writing fic instead of writing a paper #spoiler alert: it's me i'm the bitch #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic

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miwaqrsp · 11 months

Text

A hell of a ride (Ghost x AFAB!Reader)

A/N: I just read like moments ago a pregnancy fanfic abt König and now I wanna write one abt Ghost since I’m a Ghost girlie. So yea

Summary: Reader gives birth. That’s it thats the summary. Btw heavy on swearing and details so if ya don’t like that, go read the original creators post and follow ‘em <3

Warnings: heavy language, slight gore, pregnancy bs, childbirth, mentions of slight trauma

———

Simon was having a nightmare. A vision, to be exact. He had a dream where you were in labor. Screaming on top of your lungs begging for the child to come out already. He had a dream where you finally after so many agonizing hours gave him your first child. His first child. The doctors said that you were too exhausted. And there might be a 70-30 ratio of your survival since you exhausted yourself too much. He dreamt of you dying at childbirth. Leaving him alone, with his newborn child in arms.

When he woke up in a pool of sweat. He quickly turned around to check your side of the bed hoping you were there. You were. Except for you were sitting up on the edge of the bed. Softly grunting. “3:47am”you said softly. “W-what” your husband questioned. “Around 3:47am I think my water broke. You still got good timing. You’re not late” you said slightly turning around and softly smiling at your husband. Simon quickly turned over to pick up his watch to loom at it. Exactly 4am. FUCK. He scooted over to you and rubbed your back slowly while looking at you with a very worrisome look on his face. You gravitated along with the movement of Simons arm on your back. Rocking from left to right slowly. Gripping the side of the bed and grunting ever so slightly with slight sheet of sweat covering your face and body.

Simon knew, it was time. He bulleted out of bed and quickly got dressed. Helping you slowly with every step. Sooner of later he would get impatient seeing how with every step you would moan in agony and tremble a bit. He picked you up carefully and hurried his way to his truck. Placing you in it like as if you were made of porcelain.

On the way to the hospital he would glance at you to check on how you’re holding up. He saw how people lost their lives, arms, legs, limbs, organs even on battlefield. He saw and went through some of the worst things imaginable and yet, this is the moment where anxiety was eating him whole. The entire time he was thinking about his dream, about you and the kid, what would happen to you and the kid. Would you survive? Would the kid? What if both lives were put to a line? He would definitely choose you to survive since he’s known you longer and loved you way more. But at this moment. These questions were eating him whole. The grunts, moans of agony, hearing how you gripped the fabric of whatever your hands could latch onto, slight screams, huffing, seeing how much you sweated and in how much agony you were was killing him. He tried to take his mind off the situation at least a bit so that you two could get safely to the hospital. It somewhat did.

When you two, technically three, got there. The nurses refused to let you in saying you came “too late” and that “there isn’t anymore space left for another patient.” Simon had enough. He threatened them to take you in, begged them, whatever, just to let you give birth to his child safely. Eventually after what seemed like forever. They did. They hooked you up to the monitors and whatnot. Gave you an epidural and set you up for giving birth. The epidural somewhat made the pain loosen up a bit. But not much. At this point you were in tears from the pain. You were sore yet relaxed, tired but adrenaline was pumping through. You felt like you were on drugs. It was all but 29 agonizing hours in this state of fucked up euphoria that you were going through. Your baby was taking its sweet precious time with this birth. Your husband ignored any request from anyone apart from you. Staying constantly by your side, massaging your back and legs when you asked for, bringing you food and water every so often, helping you with whatever. Whilst his phone was going apeshit. You see. Today Simon was supposed to spend the entire week on base. Since the team was getting ready for a months worth long mission. He could honestly give less of a fuck about 141 and that mission when his wife was giving birth to his child. Who decided a month early to come home.

The nurses and doctors came in every so often to give you a bigger dose of pain medicine since the epidural was wearing off every so often. At this point you’re already going through a lot of bullshit. The pain from your baby kicking you and from your vagina ripping itself and now you started to feel immense pain in your lower back due to how much they were filling you up with that stupid epidural dosage. At some point you asked them to stop. Since you couldn’t take it anymore. After the 30th check up on you, the docs finally decided it was time you start pushing. They hooked you up again and started the procedure. With the breathing techniques and whatnot. You were clenching onto Simons biceps and hands that were hugging you. Squeezing them hard, whenever you felt like you needed to push. The pain was agonizing. It was killing you. You were screaming like a wounded animal, crying, begging for it to come out. At some point you started cussing. You didn’t knew what you were saying anymore. All you knew was that you wanted that thing, that child, that baby. Out. Of. You. Now. Every now and then Simon would wipe the sweat and tears off of your face and take all the hair away from your face. Silently and weakly nodding to assure that you’re thanking him for his kind gesture, you tried to look around. But you noticed your vision was blurry. Slowly rising your hand silently gesturing that you need a little break. The doctors brush it off. This went on until you snapped.

“For fucks sake! You’re not the one giving birth are you doc! Let me have a moment! Please”

You plead. The doctors calmed down a bit as the nurses came to your side to help you a bit. Bringing you to sit up right, wiping sweat, and overall trying to help. While that was happening, Simon was being told that he couldn’t be in the room anymore. Which was the exact thing he feared. He refused, ordering that he needed to stay by your side at all times. The security even intervened in order to calm him down, but they were of to no match for him. While he was outside fighting, literally fighting to get to be by your side. He was forced to hear your agonizing screams, pleads for the child to be taken out of your belly. He started to cry. Hearing his wife in such agony he couldn’t help but collapse, cry and wait for the inevitable and unfortunate reality to hit him yet again. Hearing your screams made him think about his past, when he was young, a little lad. Having to see and go through hell his dad was doing to him and his family. Then thinking about the time he met you at the old base. Thinking about the time he swore with his whole heart when his old team retrieved you back from captivity that he would sacrifice anyone in order to see you live again, even himself. He thought about the time when you were walking down the aisle in your beautiful wedding gown. Finding out you two were going to become parents. And now. Thinking about how he’s going to lose you.

•───⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

About two-ish hours later. He was sitting on the bench in the waiting room outside of the operating room. Waiting. With his palms pressed together and the side knuckle of his index fingers resting on his nose and the tips of his fingers on his forehead. Cheeks still red from a couple of punches and tears from before. He was anxiously waiting for the bad news.

Eventually the doctor walks out of the room. He proceeded to stand in the middle of the door frame and signal for him to get in. Simon was shocked. The doctor didn’t have his face facing down or looked at him with a disappointing face. Simon bulleted into the room, before being stopped by the same doctor who grabbed him by his forearm “Congratulations Sir.” That’s all that the doctor said before walking completely out and closing the door behind Simon.

Simon was standing in the corner of the room where the door was just looking at you, checking just in case if you were alive. You are. With your arm extended slightly forward with a babies tiny hand grabbing onto your index finger. Simon as silently as possible got closer to both of you. Sitting by the edge of your bed where he could see the left side of your face which was leaned in the babies direction. You were glistening with sweat, hair messy and eyes tired. You were quite exhausted. No wonder why you were asleep and the doc warned him to be quite. He looked over at the babies class crib. He guessed that it was a girl since the baby was wrapped in a pink blanket. Simon slowly got up but not before kissing your forehead and moving some more hair out of your face. When he got closer he carefully picked the babe up into his calloused arms. Holding it. He chuckled softly before kissing the babe on the forehead as well. His two angels soundly sleeping after a long long night.

He slowly sat down on a couch near your bed and was still holding the babe in his arms. He started to cry. He couldn’t believe it. His two little girls alive and well. He blamed his nightmare for the source of his worries. He kissed his newborn daughter on the forehead and just cried silently.

•───⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Simon was long gone asleep. Still holding his daughter in his arms. Both of them were sleeping. You and the nurse were looking at them with awe. She came to check up on you and bring you some food. While you were eating you talked with her a bit “How are you feeling love? I know the labor was not so great.” The nurse sat by your bed and looked at you with worry while you were eating “it was one of my worst experiences ever to be honest. Y’know its not that beautiful and dandy when your child is constantly kicking you and demanding to come out” you said slightly chuckled through your sentence while you looked over at your daughter who was sleeping in your husbands arms who was softly snoring and drooling “Hm little gremlin” you turned back to your delicious food as the nurse giggled a tad bit.

“I’m sure you will make an amazing mother” she said

“Hopefully.” You signed looking at your husband and daughter again “…I hope”

•───⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

A/N: if anyone wants me to make a part two I will <3333

I’ll definitely make a part two huehehehe

Btw here’s the original creator of the idea for this fanfic @lathalchiralium

Edit!!!

Here’s the link to that fanfic in question!! Please support the original creator! <333

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laracrofted · 1 year

Note

“i love it when you kiss my neck”

With Rhett cause that boy has such a markable neck 😈🤤

i said it once, and i will say it again. you're speaking my language with this request, anon. markable neck, are you kidding me? slut era is in now session 🤠

warnings: minors dni, mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content (fingering, handjobs), drunk and affectionate rhett, not proofread. rhett x fem!reader.

He might not look it, but Rhett is an affectionate drunk.

He loves to be close – physically close at all times, resting his chin on your shoulder at the pool table with an arm wrapped around your waist; sneaking a hand in the back pocket of your Levi's to give your ass a gentle squeeze, undetected.

Not that Rhett would even mind if the whole of the Handsome Gambler saw him. He's got a possessive streak a mile wide.

He is also a needy drunk, mumbling for you to come here and gimme a kiss, honey after the rodeo. It is never one kiss with him, but Rhett looks like a damn puppy, pouting in the blue dark, all moony-eyed and flushed.

"Drink your water, Rhett."

He swallows exactly one swallow and goes back to watching you, sweet and starry-eyed.

You don't have the strength to resist when Rhett repeats, more of a command this time, "I drank m' water. Gimme a kiss, honey."

He is wearing stiff denim that presses up against you in all the right places, catching against your damp underwear as Rhett shucks your jeans down to your ankles and pulls you down on him, knees spread wide on the mottling leather of the bench seat.

You kiss him on the mouth – more than once, of course, never just once – and work your way over the day-old scruff on his jaw, down to the strong length of his neck. You gently bite down, and Rhett moans against your shoulder.

"Keep – " Rhett almost pants, grinding against your underwear, holding your legs open, hard enough to bruise. He sounds winded, breathless, desperate. "Keep doing that. Love it s' much."

He has been a little mean tonight – putting a hand indecently high on your thigh in the booth earlier, drawling honey in that low and rasping way that Rhett knows will drive you wild.

You can be a little mean too. Tease him a little more.

"Love what, darlin'?"

You suck a bruise into the sensitive skin of Rhett's neck, hard enough to leave a mark, marking him like Rhett loves to mark you. He is hard as a rock against you.

"Love it," Rhett breathes, "when you kiss my neck. Please."

And who are you to deny him when Rhett asks so nicely, sounds so pretty underneath you?

You kiss him and mark him until Rhett comes all over your hand, covered in mottled marks, up and down the side of his neck. Until Rhett slumps against your shoulder and whimpers thank you honey thank you before sticking his hand in your soaked panties and making you come on his thigh.

#rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #laracrofted writes #birthday 🤠 drabbles #fic: rhett abbott

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foxymoxynoona · 1 year

Text

Over the Falls (Part 1: Ch 1)

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s… fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit, Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Masterlist | Chapter Two

“But you said it was fine for this year,” Grace sighed. Belatedly she remembered the sigh would send her husband. He hated when she sighed, even though it was unintentional. It was just… just breathing. She held so much tension in her shoulders and her lungs and periodically it had to ease out or she’d just die or something.

“Well I didn’t know the board meeting would get pulled up, did I?” Tim didn’t even bother looking at her as he draped his suit bag across the back of the couch and set his rollerboard behind it. “So now I have a week to close this deal before I have to stand in a room in front of the men paying our bills and tell them that I failed. I fucked up.”

“But you didn’t fuck up,” she argued. “You’ve been busting your ass to make this partnership happen–”

“After the last one got yanked out from under my feet. Only a fuckup loses a deal that close to closing.”

“That’s not true,” she said and stepped in front of him. She pressed her hands to his chest. He paused and looked at her for a moment, truly looked at her. She saw in his face the long hours, the hard work, the tight deadlines and high stakes. She saw the years of constant travel, of rushed pitches, of last minute victories that secured first one, then another, then another acquisition. Tim was good at what he did. He was building an empire –an empire for Bang Si-hyuk rather than himself, but being the right-hand man paid well. Very well.

Not that Tim had really needed the money. His father had been very good at this as well and built his own empire. Tim had wanted to make a point of not taking handouts from his father, but secretly Grace knew how much of their home and cars and lavish vacations had been her father-in-law’s gift until Tim got his feet under him. Their elaborate wedding had been her parents’ contribution, though. Nothing but the best for their angel daughter.

But in general her parents didn’t offer as much. Her family were investors and attorneys intermarried with prestige –old money, not the new, bubbly, flashy money that Tim and his parents needed to flaunt. They hadn’t offered her anything except a raised eyebrow when she’d decided to marry Timothy Birch. Was it necessary? Was she pregnant? Did she need money after all? Because if things were really bad–

It wasn’t any of those things. It was love. Grace had seen in Tim a fire, a desire to change the world, a strong moral center, and a safe, comfortable future. And love paid off! They’d been married for ten years now, paid off that first modest home Tim’s dad had co-signed for and traded it for a much bigger Colonial, and Grace worked her high-paying real estate job because she genuinely enjoyed it. No matter how many times Tim or her closest friends and most certainly her parents had suggested that maybe she’d be happier at home. You know. With kids.

But how were she and Tim supposed to start a family if he couldn’t even be home to celebrate this important date?

Tim stepped away and her hands were left hovering in the air as he sighed, “I’m sorry, Grace. But I can’t tell the board members I failed to close the deal because my wife needed me at home for a dinner.”

“Not just a dinner. Our anniversary dinner.”

“So we’ll eat our anniversary dinner next week,” he insisted. “The day isn’t important.”

“I know it’s not, we are. But you already had me cancel the week we were supposed to be in the Bahamas. You already had me cancel the luncheon I was going to throw–”

“That was stupid anyway.”

“Your mother demanded it! And I had to be the one to tell her we weren’t doing it –and I’d already put a lot of work into it! And now you won’t even be home to be with me.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“You’re gone too much,” she tried one more time, grabbing his arm.

“It’s my career, Grace. You know it’s important to me.”

“I know that but… but I thought it was supposed to slow down at this point. You said it would.”

“Do you know what happens to a fighter jet if its propellers slow down?”

She sighed. He glared. She nodded.

“It crashes,” she answered. She’d never forget the day he’d made that demonstration while they were up in his hobby plan. Two years ago? He’d finally earned his license and taken her out for a joy ride even though she hated that fucking plane. She’d made the mistake of asking if he’d be home more now, because between work and golf and flying, she saw more of him at dinner parties than at home.

His response had been to demonstrate a drop.

She hadn’t been back in the plane with him since.

Another of her mounting failures.

“Hey. I love you,” he said, suddenly taking her hand. “I’m really sorry I’m missing everything. I promise I’ll make it up to you, ok? The deal should only take me a couple days to close and then… it’ll be belated, but maybe you and I can take a long weekend somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Wherever you like.”

“Galapagos Islands,” she said, because she wanted to see the turtles. “Iceland,” for the Northern Lights. “Oh, what about that ship that takes people to Antarctica–”

“I was thinking more like Cabo,” he laughed. He patted her cheek and kissed her forehead. “I love that you still dream like a little girl. Don’t ever lose that, sweetheart. See you in a week, I hope!”

He grabbed his bags and headed out.

It hadn’t been a bad fight, all things considered. Neither of them had gone for the jugular because there wasn’t really a point, since he had a flight to catch and this trip was an immovable object. Grace was disappointed about it all but not even a little surprised, so she hadn’t wasted her energy getting worked up over something that she couldn’t change.

The house was quiet without Tim; even though he worked a lot, there was still a marked difference around the place when he was in town or out. She’d obviously done all the designing and decorating, but he had such particular taste about things, and the combination always just seemed so loud when he wasn’t here to balance out the echo of her voice. He had so many things to mark his presence here even though he spent half of each month traveling.

Movement in the backyard drew Grace’s attention and she leaned against the sliding door with a sigh. The pool boy was here again. He must have let himself in. Usually he knocked on the backdoor and waved to let her know he was there –a routine begun after once scaring the shit out of her when she’d come up from the gym to see a figure lurking in the backyard. Her scream had been mortifying, though he’d been kind and apologetic.

He hadn’t knocked today, but he might have picked up that she and Tim were fighting and steered clear. He seemed to have a knack for coming over when they were fighting, or maybe it was just because they fought so much. Every little thing seemed to blow up these days, from her not putting the laundry away quickly enough to him leaving whiskers around the bathroom sink after he shaved. Yes, they had housecleaners, but it was trashy to leave a mess for someone else to clean up. “New money,” Grace’s mother had mumbled when she’d complained about it, looking for sympathy or reassurance that men just are like that or something.

She was mortified if the pool boy had actually seen them fighting and felt that staunch Arison pride take over. If someone saw something that might look poorly on you –like fighting with your husband– you needed to immediately do damage control. Hired help talked. Rumors of domestic unrest were like blood in a swamp; nothing drew the gossiping mosquitos faster.

Grace didn’t know how long he’d been working but decided it didn’t matter. She always offered him a drink and a snack anyway. Pink Lemonade or Sprite, he preferred those to anything else. And he always accepted a bag of chips “for the road,” which had amused her the first time he’d said it. As if he just drove from pool to pool in that garishly painted company truck, tossing back kale chips or spooning tuna salad onto crackers. After a few weeks of her offering the foods she kept on hand, he’d once asked if she had any Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. It had taken all her etiquette training not to laugh –definitely not something they kept stocked! But he looked so sweetly sheepish about making a request, and the whole point of offering was to actually show gratitude to the other person. He kept their pool looking so nice! So she tried to keep a box of chips tucked in the back of the pantry where Tim didn’t go anywhere.

She carried a sweaty Sprite and a bag of chips out with her now. He looked up from spooning something out of the pool with his net at the sound of the sliding door.

“Good afternoon!” she called as she slid her feet into a pair of sandals.

“Hello, Mrs. Birch,” he called back. He had on a pair of dark sunglasses and a big floppy white bucket hat and a tank top with long arm holes that gave him a real beach bum vibe. She carried the tray over to the table beside the pool house where it could rest in the shade.

“I brought you a snack. I hope you aren’t too hot out here!”

“Ah, it’s pretty warm,” he said. She thought she might be annoying him because he turned his back to her and lifted the net out of the pool.

“Ok, well, I’ll leave you to–”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Birch. Wait a moment. Just a moment…” He shuffled along the side of the pool and emptied the net into a trashcan, before setting it on the side of the pool and coming to her. “I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s ok! I know you’re working. I don’t mean to slow you down.”

“I just didn’t want to bother you with that…”

“With… what?”

He swept his hat off and pushed his sunglasses up, revealing hair spiky with sweat along his hairline and a pressure mark on his tanned nose.

“Ah, um… a mouse,” he mumbled. She stared. “It’s ok. I took care of it.”

“There was a mouse in the pool?!”

“Well… a rat…”

“I’m so glad you told me! If we have rats I need to call pest control! I promise we don’t usually have rats–”

His face opened up in a laugh as he assured her, “No, Mrs. Birch. I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t a rat…”

Now she was absolutely confused and demanded, “JK, what was dead in my pool?”

He smiled like this was all very funny. He wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand and lifted the Sprite from the tray, opening it with a quick twist of his hand.

“I didn’t want to scare you, it was a squirrel.”

“I’m not scared of a squirrel…”

“A dead squirrel? Ok,” he shrugged and smiled again. “Sorry, Mrs. Birch. Sometimes the ladies are…” He gave her a sheepish look now. Her heart slowed down with the threat of a rat infestation gone. Why in the world had he not just said that from the beginning? It was kind if he’d been trying to spare her but honestly, she was made of sterner stuff than that!

“Well not this one,” she told him, “but thank you for trying to spare me. Is there sanitation that needs to be done in the–”

“Yes, I’ll definitely take care of it, Mrs. Birch.”

She gave him an apologetic smile, “I know you will, sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I doubted your professionalism. It’s just been a day…” She turned her head to the side but glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, testing to see if he’d seen or heard anything. Maybe he had knocked on the door and she just hadn’t heard it?

“Well it’s beautiful outside,” he said. “Nothing a little sun can’t solve, right? I’ll have your pool nice again in no time or you can just…” He gestured to the lounge chairs at the far end, then dropped his face to put his mouth around the lip of the Sprite bottle. He tossed his head back and took a big sip with a sigh at the end, eyes red and watering. He sniffled. “It’s good, thanks.”

Grace grinned. “I’m glad. You know, I honestly don’t remember the last time I laid out by the pool.”

“Don’t you like to?”

“Oh yeah, when we first bought this house, I was out here every day with a Bloody Mary and a good thriller. Take a dip to cool off afterwards and–” She broke off, realizing she was waxing poetic about the happy earlier days of her privileged marriage to the fucking pool guy. Not to mention the rudeness. She was never totally sure what sounded like bragging, but suspected Bloody Marys by the pool on a weekday morning were not a part of JK’s routine.

“Won’t bother me if you give it a go while I’m working,” he shrugged. He set the Sprite down. “I just mean, don’t miss the sun on my account. Supposed to rain tomorrow.”

As tempting as the thought was, she didn’t want to make JK uncomfortable while he was working. She knew plenty of women who leered at their pool boys, who were just young men trying to do an honest job. She didn’t know a great deal about JK, but she knew he worked as a pool boy and a lifeguard and taught swim lessons, surfed in his free time, and that his favorite place he’d ever traveled was a summer he spent in Costa Rica, although he’d also gotten really sick there. Bad diarrhea. He hadn’t said that but insinuated it heavily and then looked embarrassed and Grace had thought that was pretty endearing. He was a nice guy, and he worked hard and did a good job.

He was also rather good looking, so safe to assume he dealt with plenty of lecherous old women. Grace refused to be one of them! She was happily married and also not a predator, thanks!

“I appreciate the thought,” she thanked him now. “But I have some things I have to finish up inside and I need to–” Actually she no longer needed to pick up the dry cleaning with any sense of urgency, because she wouldn’t be wearing that blue dress that Tim liked so much to their anniversary dinner after all. “Finish some things up,” she clumsily finished. “So I’ll stay out of your way. If I’m gone when you finish just please be sure to lock up.”

“Yes, Mrs. Birch,” he nodded. “Thank you for the Sprite and chips.”

He was always so polite. She tried to treat all their household staff with kindness and respect but found it returned in various degrees. JK the pool boy was a good one though.

With nothing further to say or do, she bid him good day and returned inside. The conditioned air made her shiver at the contrast. It was going to be an incredibly hot summer if it was already like this in May. Global warming and all that. Thank god for the pool. She glanced over her shoulder one last time to see that JK was back to fishing things out of the pool, then went to cancel the dinner reservation with a sigh.

Mrs. Birch was not like the other women Jungkook cleaned pools for, that was the first thing he could tell you about her.

Agewise, he thought she was somewhere in the middle of the pack –those rich old dudes were always marrying women half their age, but sometimes they had old cutthroat wives who stuck around. He didn’t know how old Mrs. Birch was but he guessed somewhere in the middle of the range, maybe mid-30s or something? Late 30s? Could be 40s with a great surgeon or whatever, but usually you could tell when a white woman had a lot of work done trying to cling to her youth. Mrs. Birch had laugh lines and slight crinkles beside her eyes and a crease between her eyebrows but she had a youthful vibe and a girlish laugh, so fuck if he had any real clue about her age.

She was definitely younger than her husband, Mr. Birch, who sucked donkey balls. Dude deserved a juvenile nickname but what the fuck could you do with the name Timothy Birch? Dickothy? Jungkook was a professional and tried not to spy or anything but he’d seen Mr. Birch obviously being a dick to Mrs. Birch too many times. Even if he couldn’t hear their arguments, it was always easy to tell who was being a bag of shit and who was on the verge of tears, having done nothing wrong.

Who gave a fuck about Mr. Birch, that overbaked piece of toast?

Mrs. Birch was kinder than the women at any of the other mansions Jungkook cleaned pools for. Some of them came out to say hello. Some of them brought food or drinks. Lots of them asked questions about who he was or how old he was or if he had a girlfriend or if he worked out. It came with the territory, and he’d learned how to handle the bolder ones in a way that didn’t cost him his job and usually got him glowing reviews and an occasional awkward tip. They always guessed that he surfed and giggled when they were right. Sometimes they even guessed he played guitar in a band and there were more giggles at how neatly he fit into this fantasy they were brazenly concocting about him. He actually played the drums. Maybe they’d ask when he was playing or if he gave surf lessons and he’d dodge the questions because he didn’t want these women stepping into those corners of his life.

Mrs. Birch only asked the kind of questions he didn’t mind answering. She was the only one who, when he said he surfed, wanted to know what his favorite beach was. He’d gotten so flustered when she listened intently to his impulsive raving about the beaches in Costa Rica that he’d wound up telling her about getting the traveler runs. He’d left the job that day swearing he could never face her again.

But he had, and he didn’t regret it, because Mrs. Birch never made him feel weird or watched or like he was a piece of dog shit stuck to her designer heels. The ones who didn’t flirt often treated him like that. He’d been called Mexican too many times to count, which was racist in so many directions at once. There were ones who didn’t pay their bill and yelled at him when his boss told him to bring it up. There were ones who left disgusting shit –sometimes literally shit– in their pools for him to deal with. Or dangerous stuff; he’d sliced his foot open on broken glass once after someone’s rager, and when he’d calmly explained it was not his job to clean up the yard around the pool, they’d started chucking all the trash and broken glass into the pool. Thank fuck Jungkook’s boss had been happy to drop that client, but usually you had to just do whatever to get the job done.

Mrs. Birch would never do something shitty like that. Her husband was kind of intimidating, a real entitled rich asshole, but not Mrs. Birch. She never hovered but always said hello. She had told him before she sold houses and seemed really passionate about her job which was cool. She also clearly wasn’t from California, with her sweet little hint of Southern accent –he’d heard from some of the other guys she came from money too. Oil money in Tennessee or something. But she wasn’t a rich asshole at all, she was really nice, and remembered whatever stupid things he blurted out about himself whenever she asked.

Because ok, the other thing was that aside from being really nice, Mrs. Birch was fucking hot. Not in the skinny plastic tanned way most of the other women were. She wore makeup and dressed nice and all that, and she was thin and athletic, but there was a naturalness to her. She carried some weight in her thighs and hips that was sexy. She did dye her hair blonde and he kind of wished she’d just let it be whatever the regular brown color was, but it looked nice on her. She had a really bright, sweet smile even without the lip fillers that seemed so popular, and cute dimples, and she had a really nice ass, if he was going to list the things he liked to notice about her. When she opened the sliding door, she never pulled hard enough and had to bump it with her hip; he always looked over the second he heard the door slide so he could see the way she popped that hip out. Her calves were shapely and he was pretty sure her thighs were too, though she was always wearing too much clothing to really get a detailed view of her body. Tits looked real though, a nice size, not so big he suspected they were fake, and they matched her ass.

Well. Well there was one time he’d seen her wearing slightly less than her regular clothes. He’d only been working at their house a couple months –this was a couple years ago now– and she had clearly been working out in their home gym. The back of the house had tons of windows, windows everywhere, so he could see right into the living room and kitchen and dining room and even a bathroom that connected to the outside with an outdoor shower. So he’d seen her walk past all those windows just wearing a sports bra and tight little workout pants. He’d scared the shit out of her; the way she’d screamed had scared the shit out of him too! And sadly, he’d been so flustered by her rocking bod, he had failed to adequately commit her to memory, a regret he had to live with every day. But he had seen, he was certain he’d seen the dark blur of a tattoo on her lower back. He was sure of it! So that dark blur would also haunt him every day because Mrs. Birch was not someone you expected to have a lower back tattoo and he had questions…

Questions he would never get answers to. Because even if her husband was an asshole, he was just a run of the mill rich asshole, and women like Mrs. Birch never left their husbands. And while there were other women who might have not let that stop them –women who were eager to flirt and Jungkook didn’t know how far they’d take it if he didn’t sidestep their attentions– Mrs. Birch wasn’t one of them. He knew that and respected that a lot. Even if he did secretly wish she could hover a little bit.

Like why couldn’t she just get some sun on one of the lounge chairs while he cleaned the water? She could sit out with a bikini and a Bloody Mary and a book and he wouldn’t mind. It was against company rules to work shirtless, but if she enjoyed the view, he wouldn’t mind risking it for her. He could enjoy the view too, her in a bikini. Was she a black bikini woman? Or a flirty polka dot number? He hoped she wasn’t an animal print bikini person, it didn’t match her style at all, but he didn’t think she was. He could see her as a white bikini woman… damn, those always got a little see-through… Anyway, just looking wasn’t a crime…

But Mrs. Birch was one of those women who loved their husbands even when he didn’t deserve it. She had never shown even the slightest sexual interest in Jungkook. She only had eyes for her shitty, unappreciative, scumbag husband. Maybe Jungokok didn’t really know much about Mr. Birch or their relationship, but he definitely saw them unhappy way more than he ever saw them happy and that was enough for him to feel sure about it. He thought the way Mr. Birch kissed her on the forehead instead of the mouth when he said goodbye was stupid. Mrs. Birch seemed like a woman with untapped passion. She needed someone to really grab her and kiss her, not out of duty but out of need–

Maybe he was paying a little too much attention to Mrs. Birch. But nothing was happening, so he cared? He sure wasn’t going to start anything. Way too fucking shy and way too interested in keeping his job and again, Mrs. Birch wasn’t like that, even towards a pool boy. So it was all just in his head, and he didn’t let it go far in his head or anything. The fantasies. Maybe he thought about it sometimes, if she wasn’t home while he was working so there was no risk of getting caught red-faced and guilty-brained. Maybe he thought about her turning around and sliding her skirt down so he could see exactly what was going on with that maybe-tattoo… or sliding her skirt up so he could see what was going on with those thighs… but he hadn’t let it go further than that. The tease and denial was part of the fun after all.

It was just that seeing Mrs. Birch was one of the best parts of his job, and he just wished she’d ogle him a little bit… The other women thought he was hot but, sadly, Mrs. Birch wasn’t like the other women…

It was a bad day. Long. Annoying. He’d spent the morning fighting with the owners of his first pool who insisted that the pool had been over chlorinated even though he showed them the readout proving the chemicals were on the lower end of normal ranges. They wanted a saltwater pool now because someone else had a saltwater pool, and when he tried to walk them through what the changes would entail, they spoke to him like he was stupid. They couldn’t believe he knew anything about pools. “He just cleans them. I’ll call the manager and talk to him about the work involved to switch it over…”

Seething, Jungkook had left to find a missed call from his sister asking if he could babysit for her on Friday morning because she had a job interview. He understood that was more important than his morning surf time so of course he’d do it, and he loved his nephew, but it was still disappointing.

So he’d opened his messages to see if maybe– but no, he couldn’t make plans with Corri for Friday night to still have something to look forward to because she’d told him it was better if they just stayed friends. There were other girls he could try to message but he kind of didn’t see the point because they kept ghosting him. Did he really want to message Vic, who had once asked him how long he planned to keep cleaning pools? Or Deeda who said she didn’t think they had anything to talk about anymore just because she was in grad school now? Or Mara, who thought he spent too much time with his family and should “cut the umbilical cord already”? Teona disagreed, she thought Jungkook ought to spend more time thinking in the family way; time to grow up already because who still lived with their friends after college? Um, people without family inheritances funding their surfer influencer lifestyle maybe? At least Jungkook didn’t live at home anymore, right? That had certainly cost him a lot of dates before he moved out, like girls who didn’t even want to give him a chance just because he was an economic king? Fuck that! But he did move out, and now he still got shit about having roommates and his parents didn’t get the bonus rent he had paid whenever he could.

Dating sucked. Women his own age didn’t like him. Older women liked him too much. His friends had suggested he just go for it more than once. What’s wrong with a sugar mama? Jimin always asked, hitting his arm. Doesn’t that mean everyone’s happy?

Everyone except Jungkook! He wanted more than that in the grand scheme of things, so what? More than just to be some boytoy for ogling and flirting with when their husbands’ backs were turned… More than just a drunk fuck on the weekend, skin salty from a day on the waves… More than a hopeful second or even third date with a pretty woman he met on an app, only for her to suddenly decide it was going nowhere because he was going nowhere… Where was he supposed to go? He was happy! Except for the lack of girlfriend part.

He pulled into the Birch’s pool house driveway already cranky. At least this was the next house. He saw Mrs. Birch’s car in the open garage, though that didn’t guarantee she was home. If she’d bring him out the usual lemonade and chips, at least it would be one little bright spot on his otherwise miserable day.

Not knowing when she might come out or if she could see him, he tried to look less like an angry asshole than he felt as he dragged the things he needed out of his truck and from their pool house. The sun was bright today; his skin glistened with sweat before he even started. He pulled on his wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off his face and neck as he grabbed the net to start fishing out the leaves that had fallen in and evaded their filter. Mr. Birch refused to have one of the automatic pool cleaner robots because the cord annoyed him, but it meant weekly or sometimes twice-weekly visits from Jungkook so whatever, not his money.

He’d reached the deep end of the pool to scoop out a cluster of leaves huddled under the diving board as if they’d been seeking shade when he saw her. Mrs. Birch in the kitchen. Crying.

She leaned against the counter looking at something in her hand and clearly didn’t realize he had arrived. Only strange coincidence had them look at each other at the same time and he could tell by her expression she hadn’t expected him to be there. Because he hadn’t knocked like he usually did, fuck.

Quickly Jungkook dropped his gaze and concentrated as hard as he possibly could on the pool. Pool guys were definitely not supposed to be looking into the windows of a house; they were supposed to be unseen, unheard, unremarked upon staff. But Mrs. Birch had definitely just seen him looking into her kitchen, watching her cry against the counterlike a fucking creep.

Shit.

Shit, not so much because he’d been caught –while it wouldn’t have been the first time a nice-seeming client turned asshole the second something went wrong, or even the first time a woman turned on him because a vulnerability got exposed, he wanted to believe Mrs. Birch was better than that.

But shit because something had made Mrs. Birch cry. Obviously he had no actual idea what it was. Maybe her childhood dog had died. Maybe her favorite salad place had closed down. Maybe her favorite character had finally left whatever daytime soap was popular among older women right now. Maybe it was that time of month and a really emotional Coca Cola commercial had played –that always got his mom going.

Jungkook’s money though was on Mr. Birch being a dick. Once again. Mr. Birch was a rich asshole. Rude, impatient. Apparently he was a really talented businessman, which Jungkook assumed meant incapable of kindness, softness, or passion –all of which of course a nice woman like Mrs. Birch would need and deserve. Besides, Jungkook did know they fought sometimes, and he couldn’t imagine Mrs. Birch actually doing anything wrong. Mr. Birch was the obvious culprit. He’d put his money on it.

The fantasy came into his head without permission: Jungkook, striding through the sliding door into her house, opening his arms and calling, “Hey, pretty girl, what did that asshole do this time?” She’d fall into his arms sobbing but he’d hear her out and talk her down and ask if she wanted him to beat down the prick husband. Which he would and could, obviously. Something about calling an older woman “pretty girl” just seemed nice, like for a moment he could just erase the age difference with her or something and be the strong, mature caretaker. Mrs. Birch needing him not only sexually but emotionally too seemed pretty bitchin’. Obviously she’d need him sexually, but to look up to him and admire him and rely on him too? Yeah, sweet…

Aside from the obvious reality checks (Mrs. Birch was married and had never expressed any interest in him sexually or otherwise), he realized Mrs. Birch might find it hella offensive for Jungkook to call her “pretty girl.” That might not actually be something older women liked. Women his own age were divided on it, based on his personal research. And when it didn’t land well, it really didn’t land well.

He would have liked a raunchier fantasy to play out but none immediately came to call. Fuck his bad day, it was making his mind-dick limp too? He stabbed at the water and tried to dredge up filth but instead he thought of sitting down beside Mrs. Birch and laying his head in her lap and feeling those tits press against the side of his head as she leaned over to comfort him… ok, that was something, he could just turn his face a little, maybe catch a nipple with his teeth–

Fuck it.

He was having a shit day and could use some ogling. Mrs. Birch was having a bad day and deserved some eye candy. He was eye candy, other women clearly thought that! Maybe just this once Mrs. Birch would notice.

He doubled back to strip off his shirt. He tossed his hat aside too and took a moment to apply sunscreen –for safety, obviously, but also so his skin would have that shiny glow to it. He looked himself over, just to make sure everything was oiled and in place. Without the hem of his shirt to cover it, his boardshorts hung low, showing off the shallow cliff of his v-line and the ridges of his abs. He wished he was a bit taller and bulkier but his chest and shoulders and back were fire, so whatever. His muscles came from surfing more than pressing iron and he didn’t exactly have the time for body-building but he was fit and toned. Who the fuck could afford a personal trainer anyway?

Shit, why was he second guessing his own looks? No! Fuck it! Older women thought he was hot. They liked the combo of his baby face and washboard abs –their words, not his. Ah, too bad the board shorts hid his thighs, his thighs and ass got him compliments from those blessed enough to see him naked… He was hot! Women said so!

He reached into the pool to wet his hands and splashed water onto his hair so he could push it back. Maybe she’d be inspired by his shoulder tattoo to show off her own…

He’d never felt so naked at someone’s house before, but he did his best to look sexy as he worked. Actually the cool water looked sexier on this hot day than anything he could do. It was a nice big pool, rectangular and deep with lane-markers in the tile, so one of them must have been a swimmer. Wider than a lap pool though and there was a fountain on one side. If he had a pool like this, he’d be out in it every morning for a dip.

He kept trying to look in the window without it being obvious he was looking in the window. Having his shirt off… it didn’t look desperate, right? It was just a thing pool guy’s did. Yes it was against the rules but he knew plenty of guys did it anyway in the hopes of a bigger end of season tip or, even riskier, cougar bait.

He paused on the edge of the pool with the test strip. Was he… cougar baiting? But it wasn’t going to go anywhere. He wasn’t doing anything. There was nothing wrong with looking, if Mrs. Birch wanted to look at him. That’s why he’d taken his shirt off! Nothing was going to happen!

Unless… unless what if it did? What if this was a signal for action he hadn’t meant to send? What if Mrs. Birch had simply been polite but he’d now set a train rolling that wouldn’t be stopped… they were both in a weak place today. She might seek comfort and... And obviously he couldn’t go through with that, she was married for fuck’s sake, and he could lose his job, and honestly he didn’t put it past Mr. Birch to fucking shoot him or ruin his life or something… and there was the emotional part too that he didn’t really want to be the other guy, he wanted to be the guy for someone–

The door slid open behind him. He spun, definitely not looking as cool and casual as he had hoped.

“Hello,” Mrs. Birch greeted, carrying the tray of chips and a cold pitcher of lemonade over to the glass-top table. “The lemonade is fresh and I added extra ice. If it’s too miserable out here, you can turn those cabana fans on. It’s a real scorcher today, isn’t it?”

He walked over, trying not to overthink his saunter.

“Ah, yeah, it’s brutal today,” he agreed, reaching for the glass. She’d… she’d noticed he was shirtless, right? That’s why she was talking about how hot it was? Did she mean him? If not, she wasn’t reacting at all. “I’ll have your pool nice so you can enjoy it later; perfect day for it.”

“Thank you so much,” she smiled at him. “I have to run out to meet a client soon but I look forward to it later today. I really appreciate all your hard work keeping it nice out here.”

Not sure how to respond to her kindness when he’d been trying so hard to be ogled, he awkwardly pointed out, “That’s what you pay me for.” Wait, did that sound too dismissive or too flirty? Was he trying to flirt? Not really but… but if she wanted to flirt, he’d flirt! If it would cheer her up! She didn’t look like she was crying anymore so maybe it had worked? Quickly he added, “But I try to keep this pool particularly nice.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Well I appreciate your hard work and… thanks. Just please make sure to close the gate on your way out.”

“I always do.”

She didn’t say anything else, just gave him a watery smile and retreated back into the house. Usually they talked for at least a couple minutes, so that had been remarkably short. She had said she had errands to run, but she wound up not leaving the house for a long time yet. And he already knew she was having a bad day, but he saw her in the kitchen and she didn’t seem to cry again.

Or… had she been nervous talking to him when he didn’t have a shirt on? Could that be true, had he left her too flustered for smalltalk? Could Mrs. Birch be shy?

He whistled to himself as he left.

Why was the pool guy shirtless?! Was it really so hot out there? She felt bad if he was that miserable –they had fans with misters that could help! He knew that, didn’t he? But honestly it wasn’t that bad out there… but he was probably running around working by pools all day while she was inside her crisply air conditioned home, crying her eyes out because of that stupid argument with Tim–

Whatever. It wasn’t a good time for the pool guy to be shirtless. Did he have to look like that?! Sure, she already knew his arms and shoulders were toned, and likely the rest of his body as well from all the surfing. His shoulders and cheeks were always sunkissed. But she wasn’t in the business of objectifying people going about their day, so she’d noticed without noticing. He had such a charming smile, that’s what she had always let remain fixed in her mind, but now she couldn’t unknow. She knew too much! She had seen way too low down his happy trail, like his board shorts were going to slip off at any second and leave nothing left for the imagination.

Not that she was imagining! Just… noticing. Was it wrong to notice the muscular curve of his shoulders, and how toned his back was and how his chest actually pillowed as he dragged the net through the water? Probably! But she was married, not dead. How could she not notice? Jungkook was a hunk and he was probably only going to get even more handsome as he aged. Lucky woman who got to–

No, no, stupid line of thought. Just because she was cranky about her own marital troubles didn’t mean she should go down that salty path. The grass was always greener. Hopefully he did have a happy life going on outside of tending to rich peoples’ pools. And anyway, wasn’t she lucky to have Tim? Handsome, successful, enamored(ish) with her…

She took out snacks to try and be normal but found herself a bit tongue-tied talking to him. God, men like him had never paid her much attention when she was younger unless they were after her family money. Suddenly she was fourteen at summer camp again, enamored by the cool surfer boy lifeguard who only ever looked right through her… Except Jungkook didn’t look through her, he kept grinning like he knew he was fucking with her head. Were reviews coming up or something? Was he working shirtless this week, hoping everyone would put in a good word? She refused to be worked!

She fabricated a meeting with a client as an excuse to keep their chat short. The crooked grin and dimples beneath the dark shades were bad enough but then he slid his sunglasses up to rest in his mop of dark curls and arched his eyebrow –she wasn’t even sure what they were talking about, the weather?-- and she thought for sure he was about to quip my eyes are up here, Mrs. Birch. His skin looked warm, like molded sunlight, like summer vacation in the form of a man. Damn, he had the kind of natural glow and ageless beauty she knew plenty of people spent top dollar trying to emulate.

It was good she kept the conversation short. A bad day was not the right time to harass the poor pool guy just here to do his job! She fled quickly inside, but forgot to follow through on leaving for her non-existent errand at first, until she realized she needed to go by her office anyway. Maybe she dragged her feet… just looking wasn’t a crime, right? Maybe? If he didn’t want someone looking, why had he taken off his shirt?!

No. No no she didn’t want to be this kind of woman! This wasn’t who her parents had raised her to be. She shouldn’t be crude about a real person just because she was having a bad day and it didn’t make her feel better anyway, it made her feel worse. Was Tim right about her? One fight with her husband and she slid right into being a lecherous old cougar…

So she grabbed her purse and keys and fled her own house.

Mr. and Mrs. Birch weren’t always fighting when Jungkook came over.

In general it wasn’t unheard of to be working on a pool and accidentally notice things going on inside the house even when you really didn’t want to. To people with money, the staff was invisible until you fucked something up. And some people just had no shame about what the help saw. He’d gotten an unwanted eyeful plenty of times, or turned on music to drown out the fucking floating out of an open window. Lucky bastards, fucking in the middle of the day like that while some people had to work…

Such was the case when Jungkook came over to clean the pool one Wednesday afternoon.

Usually he came by at the same time each week so he could maximize the likelihood of running into Mrs. Birch and minimize the likelihood of running into Mr. Birch. That day when he pulled up though, he could see every spot in the garage filled with a car. Four cars. Mr. Birch had two old ones that were pretty fucking cool, the kind of cars old rich men bought to drive on the weekends up the coast. The kind of car his dad would have loved to drive but had never been anywhere close to. God, he would have loved to buy his dad a convertible for his fiftieth birthday a few years ago but that definitely wasn’t happening on a pool guy’s salary and neither of them knew the first thing about fixing up an old junker.

Jungkook was already brittle with jealousy about the cars as he began his work and then gradually realized that the distant sounds of sex were maybe not so distant. His face jerked towards the source, an upstairs window of the Birch’s house. Honestly, he’d never heard a man that loud during sex before, grunting like an old lawnmower that wouldn’t start. A repetitive lighter gasp, like an alarm no one was bothering to tend to, sat on top of the grunts, so consistent that he didn’t even register it first.

Jungkook’s ears went red. Shit.

Look, Jungkook had fucked around plenty. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been around other people fucking. For fuck’s sake, he lived with two other guys, so he’d had his morning cornflakes to the annoying sound of an early-risen roommate.

But the second he realized he was overhearing Mr. and Mrs. Birch fucking, mortification consumed him. Maybe it was because he had that funny kind of crush on Mrs. Birch. Maybe it was because he thought Mr. Birch was so vile. Maybe it was because the idea of that shriveled old guys’ raw dick being anywhere near the nice and pretty Mrs. Birch was just a bridge too far and now it was confirmed. Ok, sure, they were married, they’d probably had lots of sex in their lives together. Maybe? But he’d never seen or heard it before, and since he saw them fighting, he’d sort of assumed they didn’t do that. Obviously Mr. Birch couldn’t be good. He was selfish and way too old for Mrs. Birch. He looked all wrong next to her, there was no way he looked better on her.

This dose of reality was an unwelcome one: Mr. and Mrs. Birch were married and had sex and Jungkook’s happy fantasy that they were miserable and on the cusp of divorce and she’d turn to him for comfort was slapped in the face by reality. He didn’t actually know anything about them. For all he knew, they were wildly in love and he, as the pool boy, just wasn’t privy to the realities of their marriage. For all he knew, he just managed to always see them at the wrong time for the two and a half seasons he’d cleaned their pool. Or maybe he misunderstood the emotional charge in those moments; maybe something else was upsetting Mrs. Birch and Mr. Birch was her champion. Maybe Mr. Birch was somehow a great husband! She sure seemed to be, um, enjoying that… maybe? That wasn’t how he’d imagined she sounded when he sometimes– look, it wasn’t personal, but she was hot and his mind went to a desperate, embarrassing place when he was jacking off

At least they finished up quickly. He must have arrived at the very end of it, thank fuck. Or maybe Mr. Birch couldn’t last long. He was old, after all. But that didn’t put Jungkook in any better of a mood when Mr. Birch wandered into the kitchen not long after, pouring two glasses of ice water. Mrs. Birch wasn’t far behind, but while he had only a robe on, she had pulled on leggings and a t shirt, like she’d just been working out or watching TV or something casual…

But Jungkook knew what they had just been doing. Usually he didn’t give a shit but now he felt weird and unhappy to be here. It was confirmation of an obvious thing: Mr. Birch fucked Mrs. Birch. Wow, alert the media. A husband fucks his wife! So what that Jungkook didn’t like that? Now he knew they fucked in the middle of the day sometimes. Cool. He could have died happy without knowing that but ok.

He sulked as he cleaned the pool. He contemplated taking his shirt off again, because it was a hot day, and maybe in the hopes Mrs. Birch would notice and think about what Mr. Birch didn’t look like, could never look like… but he didn’t.

That was for the best, since when Mrs. Birch came out to bring Jungkook ice water and a bag of chips, Mr. Birch came with her. It was less than she usually offered, and Jungkook thought she looked apologetic about it, but maybe he just imagined that.

“We’re having people over this weekend,” Mr. Birch said, walking along the side of the pool with his hands in the pockets of his robe. He curled his toes in a weird way when he walked, and Jungkook wondered if the concrete was too hot on his little wealthy feet.

They weren’t little actually. They were big, ugly and wrinkly and Jungkook wondered if maybe Mr. Birch was actually an honest-to-god gremlin.

“Make sure the pool is perfect,” Mr. Birch said because he was still talking. “None of the leaves in the bottom like last time.”

Mrs. Birch looked uncomfortable as she said, “Those happened after he was here last week because the O’Connor’s cleaned their yard and blew all their leaves our direction–”

“Those fuckers need to fix that shitty fence or I’m going to start throwing shit right back,” Mr. Birch grumbled.

“Tim…” Mrs. Birch gave him a look that must have been fond. Jungkook could not for the life of him figure out how someone like Mrs. Birch could be fond of Mr. Birch. It ruined his brief high that Mrs. Birch had defended him.

Jungkook was still holding the net and trying not to look at Mr. Birch in the hopes he’d fuck off, but he didn’t miss the nod in his direction that Mrs. Birch gave her husband, like he was saying something he shouldn’t. Now Jungkook didn’t think she looked fond –she was embarrassed, he realized. Of course she was. Mrs. Birch was a saint and wouldn’t shit talk her neighbors like that, she’d just been stating a fact about the O’Connor’s and defending Jungkook’s work. He smiled at her before he could stop himself, then hurried to cover it with,

“Mr. Birch, if you’re concerned about debris in between cleanings, I could install a pool cleaner robot for–”

“No, that’s what we pay you for,” Mr. Birch interrupted. “You’re the pool boy. Don’t farm out your own job,” he scoffed. It took great self control from cleaning rich peoples’ pools for years to not snap back and point out that the robot wouldn’t remove dead squirrels or check the chemical levels, it would just slurp up the pine needles in between his thorough care.

“A pool technician manages many things to keep your pool nice,” he suggested evenly. “If you don’t want the robot, I could come out twice a week, or you could always call if you need a cleaning ahead of an event–”

Mr. Birch actually laughed and pointed, saying to Mrs. Birch, “Yep, there’s that upsell!” Jungkook felt hatred deep in his belly for this asshole. He was doing his job.

It was clear Mr. Birch sailed through life because he had a woman like Mrs. Birch to clean up the shit he stepped in and tracked everywhere.

“He’s a professional, of course he knows the answers,” she laughed gracefully. “I can run the net around if I need to before everyone comes over on Saturday, Tim,” she added. Jungkook wanted to box Tim’s ears that’s your job, fucker, don’t make her do it! At least let me do it! She continued, “Anything more than that, you’ve lost me. Chemistry was not my best subject in high school…”

Without missing a beat, Mr. Birch laughed, “Well you didn’t need chemistry after all anyway, huh? No science to selling houses.”

“Economic science,” Jungkook suggested, unable to help himself. He wasn’t even sure that was a thing but he blurted it out because it sounded like Mr. Birch was disparaging Mrs. Birch, who worked hard (probably) at her job even though she (probably) didn’t even need to and could just sit at home on her ass spending his money like a lot of the other wives (probably) did.

Unfortunately Mr. Birch just laughed.

Mrs. Birch smiled too, like she appreciated his effort, and suggested, “We’ll leave you to it but call if you need something, as always.” She gestured to the snacks on the table with one hand and nudged Mr. Birch back into the house with the other.

Jungkook waited until Mr. Birch had stepped inside ahead of her to call after, “Hey, if it’s bad before your party, the O’Connor’s clean their yard again or whatever, just call and I can come clean up as a one-off. S’not a problem.”

“Thank you, JK. I’m sure we’ll be fine though. Saturday is surf time, isn’t it?”

The fact she remembered that he liked to go surfing Saturday mornings flustered him into saying nothing in response. He just dropped his gaze and stared at the pool. Sure, that was a low fucking bar for people but still! How could a woman who so kindly remembered he spent his Saturday mornings surfing be married to that limp-dicked troll? She deserved so much better than that. Someone like him, right? Someone who thought her real estate work was cool and impressive and wanted to spend lazy evenings swimming together in this nice pool and who understood how to really take care of that body of hers. No way had Mr. Birch been good to her upstairs. She was faking it, he was sure of it. She’d never need to fake it with him, he’d fuck her so good–

Fuck, he wished Mr. Birch would just drown in this pool. He’d just do a full cleanse after and the pool would look great and Mrs. Birch’s problems would be solved.

Grace carried the two glasses of rosé to join Megan in the living room. Usually Megan was wandering along the gallery wall, admiring the art or peppering Grace with questions about the framed photographs of holidays and events tucked in among the paintings and prints Grace had collected over the years. She only ever bought small paintings because Tim thought big paintings were tacky and they cost too much to convince him otherwise, though she did have one large one her grandparents had gifted her currently hanging in the dining room. She wanted it in the bedroom but it wasn’t worth the fight.

Tim also didn’t like rosé –he considered it a bastardized wine– but Tim wasn’t here right now, so she took great delight in handing Megan the glass and lifting her own to her lip.

“Hey, does your pool guy always work shirtless?”

Grace swallowed some wine down the wrong pipe and had to pound on her chest to free it. Once able to breathe again, she could see that JK was in fact shirtless by the side of the pool, sunlight shiny on his tanned arms and shoulders and back.

Holy hell, not again.

“No, not usually,” she said, sounding cool and calm.

“Damn. My poolboy doesn’t look like that… what service are you using again?”

“Oh, I don’t know the name, I think it’s printed on his truck,” she lied, waving her hand. He’d crouched over to adjust something with the net and his board shorts hugged his frame tight, so low she suspected she might see ass if she looked closely. There was so little to his torso! Maybe she had noticed before how narrow his waist was compared to his shoulders, but from the side she was scandalized by the reminder that his pecs had actual volume to them and his stomach, in fact, did not.

“God, I’d be out there sunbathing if my poolboy looked like that,” Megan continued. “That’s a young man in his prime. Look at that tan, it’s real! And those muscles… I bet he’s insane in the sack…”

“Megan!”

“What! I’m lonely and horny. Adam’s been on site for a month now… Oh don’t look scandalized, I’m not actually banging the help. A girl can dream, can’t she? No harm in looking. I adore Adam… but he’s definitely not outperforming someone like that in bed.”

Grace sighed and insisted, “You can’t tell how someone performs in bed just by looking at them.”

“Maybe you can’t…”

“Stop,” she laughed. “Stop gawking at my pool technician. If he looks over and sees us– Megan!”

He had, in fact, looked over. He waved at them, so there was no hoping he hadn’t seen them peering out the window at him. Grace was good at smoothing over awkward situations but couldn’t see an easy way out of this one except to wave back and grab Megan’s arm and drag her away from the window. She’d already taken his snacks out earlier before Megan got here. He’d been wearing a shirt then…

“Does Tim know you have a hot stud like that around here every week?”

“Oh please,” Grace laughed. “Like he has anything to worry about.”

“I know, I’m just teasing. Good-girl Grace, definitely the last person anyone expects to fool around with the poolboy. Which means…” Megan wiggled her eyebrows.

Grace just rolled her eyes, “Yes, the last person. He’s very young and definitely not looking to be harassed by a couple of old married women while he’s just doing his job.”

“If he didn’t want us to admire him, he wouldn’t have his shirt off.”

“Meg! That’s crass victim blaming, even from you–”

“He’s not a victim, is what I’m saying! Poor boy is probably desperate for you to notice him every week. He’s rubbing one out every night wishing you’d march out there one day and mount him on the lounge chair–”

“MEGAN FERRERO!”

“Ugggh I’m reading too many romances lately,” Megan sighed. “I’m going to tell Adam he can’t ever leave me alone this long again. I can’t be trusted.”

Grace didn’t want her friend to see how flustered that little scenario had left her. Not because she was thinking about that sort of thing with JK. But just because it was suggested and– honestly, he was just a guy doing his job!

“That’s right, you can’t be trusted!” Grace teased to cover herself. “From now on I’ll have to schedule your visits when I have no staff around the house–”

“Oh god do you only hire really attractive people? See, this is why it helps to be friends with people who like art. You have an appreciation for beauty!”

“I do but that did not get utilized when choosing a pool cleaning service…”

“No wonder you wound up with a handsome man like Tim. You have a good eye.”

“Hm, I suppose so…” Grace smiled. Things with Tim seemed… off lately. Which wasn’t saying much because they’d always had their highs and lows, and this wasn’t even really low compared to previous lows. He just seemed strange lately, bouncing between standoffish and more ardent than she’d seen him in years. He was closing in on a big deal. He was traveling less but to more interesting places. He’d even suggested she could go on the trip to St. Bart with him next month, maybe they could make a longer stay of it. That would be nice, right at the end of the season, once the Europeans were done with their obscenely long summer holidays. Probably the place would be rife with people they knew, as close to the “trip to the sea” holidays that showed up so often in the old English novels Grace liked to read on a rainy day.

“Or more like Tim has a good eye,” Megan corrected, nudging her with her toe.

Quickly Grace slid decorum back into place and nodded with an arched eyebrow, “Yes, we both made quite the acquisition.” It made Megan laugh and Grace suppressed the sigh of relief. If there was anything her parents had taught her, it was never to show your belly, even to your friends. Especially to your friend who seemed to accumulate any bit of gossipy trivia about everyone. With any luck, the pool business JK worked for was going to see a surge in business soon, right at the end of the summer pool season, with probably particular requests for JK… But dear lord, how would Megan figure that out? Grace hadn’t said his name. How would Megan describe him– oh, she realized, probably as “the young man who cleans the Birch’s pools.” Probably the requests would be good for JK career-wise, though she hoped no one bothered him actually. Was it ok to ogle your handsome staff? Grace really didn’t think so. And so she didn’t!

“Now I didn’t bring you over here to prey on my pool guy, we’re supposed to be talking about what we want to pitch for the benefit to the committee–”

“Before those skanky hoes Trish and Nancy scoop us again,” Megan instantly sulked.

“Adam will be back before the vote, right? It’s ultimately the men on the board who decide–”

“Oh I’ll make sure he’s back, and you keep Tim here too. Just because we aren’t blowing the rest of them doesn’t mean we can’t find other ways to sabotage–”

“Or we could just have the best idea.”

“Oh Grace,” Megan laughed. “Sometimes I forget you’re so much younger than me. You’re not even forty yet! A fresh babe.”

“You’re only forty-three.”

“Yes, and so worldly. Trust me. This is important. This is about establishing ourselves! Those old bitches need to roll over and die, it’s our turn to take over, the younger generation. She doesn’t look a day over sixty but Nancy is definitely in her seventies. Might just take one good jump-scare…”

“You are incorrigible,” Grace laughed, shaking her head. Megan was new money, lavish, ostentatious, a gossip, overly blunt –literally everything Grace had been raised not to be. It was shocking! And yet, despite the dent it likely caused on her impeccable social card, Grace found herself seeking out Megan’s company time and time again. In a sea of masks, Megan let hers slip sometimes. Usually when she was throwing it off because someone had pissed her off…

“But you love it. Ok. So I’m thinking… exotic dancers–”

“Meg!”

“Sorry! Your poolboy inspired me! Fine, I forgot, that’s only what the men do on their own, we’re supposed to pretend not to know. What about… Old Hollywood?”

“Does it seem out of touch? It’s to benefit starving children…” Grace tactfully reminded her.

“All right, let’s refill our wine glasses to think, I need more rosé.”

Mr. Birch had complained to the pool company about his pool. He’d felt there were too many leaves in it within days of cleaning. Fortunately Jungkook’s boss Bob understood these kinds of complaints and had said all the right things and then carried forward zero of the reprimands. When asked if he wanted a different pool technician, Mr. Birch had said he “didn’t give a fuck, I just want it done right.”

But Mrs. Birch had also called, Bob explained further, to apologize for her husband and insist that Jungkook did a fantastic job taking care of their pool and there was no need to replace him unless he was uncomfortable working at their house, which she would understand. Mrs. Birch was a class act. His boss told him the calls happened close together, and Mrs. Birch’s voice sounded like she was upset, so he suspected there was a fight. Probably the pool wasn’t the important thing they were fighting about and Mr. Birch’s anger just got passed down the little guy, that’s how these things went.

Jungkook thought it was possible Bob told him all this to make sure he wasn’t getting into something he shouldn’t, because Bob stopped laughing and had that look on his face. Jungkook would not be the first guy to get fired for fucking someone’s wife on the side. Jungkook easily and honestly reassured him that was not an issue here. He was not involved with anything but cleaning the pool.

How could he be when Mr. and Mrs. Birch were suddenly so busy fucking like rabbits on the afternoons he came by? The sex noises were even louder this time and it was so fucking obnoxious he almost just turned around and left. Was Mr. Birch trying to prove a point or something? Fuck that guy. Mrs. Birch shouldn’t be married to that piece of shit and either it was a money thing or a magical tongue thing but Mr. Birch didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d eat pussy so probably it was a money thing. Well… Jungkook couldn’t offer anything when it came to money but his tongue was a different story and which really led to a happier life?

Ok honestly probably the money…

He decided to stay, in the hopes it would grate on Mr. Birch’s nerves to see him still working there after his complaint. At first it was fine, he just put his headphones on. But eventually the noise got too loud to be drowned out, and it was pissing him off to hear, “Oh Tim! Oh Tim!” chanted through music he loved.

He ripped the headphones out just as the woman gave an actual scream of pleasure. The mixture of anger and embarrassment that Mrs. Birch could sound like that froze him in place for a moment. That had apparently been the end of it because sudden silence followed. Thank fuck.

His blood was still boiling though, a nauseating mixture of horny and angry. What the fuck? He always came on Wednesdays. This didn’t have to happen on a Wednesday afternoon with the windows wide open. Didn’t they have any fucking decency for the neighborhood?!

Also what the fuck had Mr. Birch done to make Mrs. Birch cum so hard? Jungkook had found some comfort over time in convincing himself that sadly Mrs. Birch’s sexlife was a pleasureless one and he could be so much better for her. But he’d never made a woman scream like that… not that he didn’t work hard to satisfy anyone he landed in bed with but that scream was unreal. In fact, it had to be literally unreal, right? It had to be fake. It had to be! He thought he’d be able to tell as soon as Mrs. Birch came down and remembered he was here and brought him his usual snacks. Maybe she’d just been in a hurry to get Mr. Birch to stop poking at her with his skinny hot dog dick.

Nonetheless, his ego was threatened. It was the one area he’d felt superior. It was bullshit if this pimpled-asshole got to be rich, lazy, married to someone like Mrs. Birch and actually had good dick game. It wasn’t fucking fair. Assholes always got ahead in life and meanwhile decently-ok guys like Jungkook were stuck cleaning their pools and fantasizing about their wives bent over the side of the pool when they jacked off in the shower because another girl had ghosted after only a couple of dates. Not to mention living to paycheck to paycheck and arguing with the landlord about whether they were in their right to install a basketball hoop over the garage or not. Probably he wouldn’t have even noticed if it hadn’t ripped the gutter down the first time Jungkook hit the backboard…

He texted the loudest woman he’d ever fucked who he was also still on friendly terms with to see if she’d be willing to chill this weekend. Fine. Mrs. Birch wanted to get fucked so hard by her husband? He could fuck a woman even harder! One who wanted to be fucked by him! He didn’t care if he was being crazy right now!

But when he realized there was movement in the kitchen and that he was standing here on his phone, he nearly dropped it in his panic. Mr. Birch already wanted him fired, it wouldn’t help him if they saw him on the side of the pool on his phone. He hurried to shove it into his back pocket while also glancing at the window to make sure no one had seen him.

They had not. Because in fact they were fucking again. The woman was sitting on the kitchen counter wearing a silky robe spread open while Mr. Birch clearly tried to guide his dick into her, staring down as if he wasn’t sure how to work his own junk. He had a robe on too, thank fuck, but that wasn’t the important part.

The important part was that that was not Mrs. Birch.

Without even thinking about it, Jungkook raised his phone without moving any other muscle of his body, like they couldn’t see him if he didn’t move. He took several photos.

Illegal? Yes. Immoral? Probably. Likely to get him fired? Definitely. But he wasn’t thinking about that right now. His brain was too busy rocketing around his skull because A.) if Mr. Birch realized Jungkook was here, he was definitely going to get him unjustly fired and B.) Mrs. Birch deserved so so so much better than this fucking piece of shit limp dick who had his head so far up his own ass he’d have an affair while the pool guy was here.

Where was Mrs. Birch? She was usually here at this time! Why wasn’t she? Why was Mr. Birch here instead?

Jungkook ducked down beneath the window and ran as fast as he could out of the backyard, leaving supplies scattered. He’d go to the next house and come back later. Right now, everything in his gut told him not to be at this house a minute longer. He’d say there had been an emergency and he had needed to go, if Mr. Birch even noticed the half-done job outside. He didn’t seem interested at the moment in noticing anything except that woman who was not his wife with her lips wrapped around his dick.

Heart pounding, Jungkook peeled out of there like a bat out of hell.

Masterlist | Chapter Two

#jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x oc #over the falls #jeon jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook series #jungkook au #poolboy jk #jungkook domestic fluff #jungkook/oc

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