#my inbox is open if you wanna get a longer answer

[arkham-ayden]

I finally updated again.

I have the silly little gay people in my fic being angsty again. Check it out if you love gay people or are sad beyond mortal comprehension! I will say, I ended at a slightly weird note, but there is a reason, all to be revealed next chapter. Have I got yall interested yet?

Nah but for real, I'm actually going to try and be more consistent because I love this fandom and I'm proud of what I've created and what I'll continue to make. I'm not planning on giving up on this fic anytime soon, even if updates are sporadic right now.

In other news:

Let me know what you think! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! Just don't be mean about it; I'm sensitive, Audrey!

[froggibus]

hiiiiiii i just wanna say i love ur work so much. i was wondering if i could request a jason todd hurt/comfort fic. i recently had a really scary experience outside of a bar, and it has been taking a toll on me. maybe something like reader and jason fight over something silly, and then something like that happens to reader and he comforts them after and feels bad about the fight before? with a lot of fluff and reassurance. maybe he gives them a bath or something:) THANK YOUUUU

Never Let Me Go - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst -> fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: after an argument with Jason, you're left to fend for yourself outside of a bar

CW: attempted assault, attempted SA, chasing, slight violence, dissociation/shock (reader), arguing, alcohol, hurt/comfort, pet names (Jason calls reader baby/hun), bathing together, jason is snarky at first

sorry this took so long! really hope you're feeling better, but if you (or anyone else reading this) ever need to talk, my inbox is always open <3 i talk about my own struggles with ptsd on this blog, and i want everyone to be able to feel safe enough to talk about theirs, too

i tried to keep the assault scene short and brief, but i've also added cuts before and after in case anyone would like to skip it.

(title slightly based on this song)

“You know that stuff is pure sugar and no alcohol, right?” 

You roll your eyes when Jason gestures to your drink with a look of distaste, hiding his snark behind the rim of his glass. You’re tempted to remind him that the foamy beer he’s pounding back has even less alcohol than your Cosmo, but think the better of it. He’s in a bitchy mood, and there’s no point making it worse.

He’d gotten into a fight with Bruce the night before, and had practically gone on a rampage through Gotham’s underground. The anger radiated off of him still when he’d showed up at your apartment an hour earlier, even after he’d flashed you a tense smile and planted a tentative kiss to your lips.

You’d told him at least three times since then that he didn’t have to come with you—given the bar was around the corner from your home, and you could stumble home from it drunk, backwards and in your sleep—but Jason had insisted. As if you ever thought Jason would be able to relax knowing you’re out at a bar in the heart of Gotham, despite your assertions that you would only be having a couple drinks and maybe some chili fries.

You swish your glass around, watching the raspberry coloured booze slosh on the sides. “We can go home if you’re not feeling up to this,” you say gently. “I don’t mind.”

He gives his broad shoulders an irritating shrug. “You wanted to get out of the house, we’re out of the house.” 

Though he doesn’t say it, you can hear the unspoken words crackling through the air. What more do you want from me?

“But do you want to leave?”

Jason’s eyes narrow, black pupils forcing out imperial blue. “I go where you go.”

It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to resist tugging at your hair. Though it’s been years since he lived in Wayne Manor, and even longer since he studied under Bruce, the lessons he learned have never left him. Including this form of aggravating, diplomatic speech where his answers gave no answers at all.

“Whatever,” you sigh under your breath, crossing your legs and tilting your body back to your drink.

Jason scoffs, “whatever? Really?”

“Yes, really!” You’re grateful that the mix of conversations and the drone of 90s rock are loud enough to cover up your rising voice. “I just wanted to get out of the house for once and you’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean?” There’s a cruel smirk on his lips. “The only reason I’m here is because of you, so that you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I never asked for that.”

Your heart races painfully in your chest. You’ve never liked arguing, especially not in public when the both of you have been drinking and especially not when Jason is already chafing under the expectations of others. It’s a nightmarish combination that leaves electricity sizzling in the air and everyone in the room on edge.

He chugs the rest of his beer, not even bothering to wipe away the tiny bit of white foam that catches on the shadow above his upper lip. “Fine then,” he grumbles, and tosses a fifty onto the counter. “I’ll see you.”

He leaves no room for protest, already barreling his way through the tables. By the time you’ve even processed what just happened, he’s already at the door, back muscles tensing beneath brown leather as he yanks it open hard enough to shake the hinges.

You wait until you hear the familiar rev of his motorcycle before ordering another round.

It’s late by the time you decide to pay your tab and head home. Your phone has long since been dead weight in your pocket, but even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t have bothered to check it. There was a part of you that hoped Jason would come back, that he would apologize, but that part is about as dead as your phone is.

It’s brisk outside now, and cold rain sprinkles from above. The dark rain clouds block out the moon, dim flickering street lights the only light you can see. You take a long, deep breath that clouds the air as you release it, rubbing your freezing forearms. Home is just around the corner, but that’s still an eight minute walk. Minimum.

A groan slips past your lips as you lean against the outside of the building, peering into the dark streets for any sign of a cab. A rock skids across the ground to your left and you snap your head in the direction it came from.

A man saunters towards you, his body encased in shadows. “Need a ride?”

A shiver rises up your spine. You shuffle further to your right, trying to put more distance between you and the stranger. 

He doesn’t take the hint. He moves closer, purposefully slamming his boots harder into the ground to get your attention. “I said,” he repeats, “do you need a ride?”

“No,” you swallow hard, adding a quick, “thank you.”

You don’t know this man, but you despise him. You despise his imposition, the southern twang of his voice, the fact you’re instinctually polite to him so that you don’t risk pissing him off.

Despite your plea, he keeps coming towards you. “I reckon you do.”

The alarm bells in your head start to shriek. You shove off of the wall, stumbling only slightly before you regain your balance and take off down the sidewalk. It’s dark and though you can no longer see him when you glance over your shoulder, you can hear the pounding of his boots on the pavement behind you.

And then his cold, clammy hands lock around your wrist and tug you hard. You strain against his grasp, using your entire body weight to get away, to go anywhere but here.

He’s so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the warmth of his body. Not warm the way Jason is, but warm the way a fire you shouldn’t go near is. You cry out desperately. The bar is still within sight, someone has to come out, someone has to see.

“Why not just let me show you a good time?” He says, “I’m a really nice guy if you give me a chance.”

You drive your elbow into his arm and his grip loosens enough for you to tug away. You rip your wrist from his grasp, but as you do, you lose your balance and crash onto the dirty, wet Gotham pavement. With how cold you are and the adrenaline your heart is furiously pumping through your body, you barely feel the impact.

You can’t see the expression on his face as you drag yourself across the pavement, but you hear a low chuckle. You imagine it’s similar to that of a wolf zeroing in on its prey.

And then, a booming voice cuts through the darkness. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jason sounds pissed, but it's maybe the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. The most beautiful string of words in the English language.

The man spins on his heels away from you just in time to catch a harsh uppercut to the face. A loud crack reverberates through the buildings, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes on the concrete next to you.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at Jason through your lashes. “You’re—how?”

“Oh, baby. Baby, baby,” he sighs, dropping to his knees on the pavement next to you. His new jeans are probably ruined from touching the ground—as are yours—but that seems to be the least of his concerns right now.

He cradles your head in his lap, his hands trailing up your damp, aching skin for any sign of injury. You shiver, closing your eyes and letting Jason hold you. The adrenaline flooding your veins has not yet diluted, and the calloused warmth from Jason’s hands is the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“I didn’t leave, baby, would never leave you. I was waiting around back when I heard you and,” he sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

His words are faint, so faint, and more gentle than you’ve ever heard him speak. Though he clutches you tightly to him, the feeling registers as barely a whisper. And then you’re on your feet, propped up against his side as he helps you back to where he propped his bike.

Your mind is somewhere else now. You’d have completely forgotten about your own body if it weren’t for the frantic, rhythmic shove of Jason’s heart against his ribcage with every step you take.

You’re not sure how you got back to your apartment, but you’re sure it was through no small effort on Jason’s part. Your waist is warm from where his hand rests—he’s refused to let you go for even a moment since he saw you on that pavement. 

You shiver violently even after you return to the warmth of your home. Jason had wrapped you in his jacket but even that did little to stop the shaking. 

He cups your face, a soft intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

You barely react to his touch, or to his words. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re in shock—Jason’s seen it more than enough times in his lifetime to recognize it at a glance. 

The shivering, that faraway and glassy look in your eyes, the way your lips move as if they’ll form words but no sound comes out. Your pupils themselves have almost doubled in size from the adrenaline coursing through your system. 

He’d take the crowbar a thousand damn times if it meant he would never have to see you like this. He would give away all that he has, and all that he is, to never subject you to this kind of pain.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and starts towards the dark hallway leading to your bedroom and bathroom.

You let out a choked gasp—the most sound you’ve managed since earlier—and Jason whips around. Blue eyes snap to yours, looking more like broken glass through the tears catching on your own lashes. 

Don’t leave, you want to say. Not even for a minute, not even for a second. But your words fail you, and all you have to fall back on is a gasp of air and the tears in your eyes.

Jason understands, though. “Let’s go together, then.”

He grabs one of your hands in his, and holds your waist with the other. You walk like that down the hall, Jason holding you tight and guiding you to your bathroom. He helps you settle down on the toilet seat while he runs a hot bath.

Jason has you sit on the side of the bathtub, only your bare feet resting in the warm water. He sits with you, his legs on either side of your own and his arms around your waist. Already, the shaking has subsided and your eyes have started to clear. Relief floods his system, wiping away the guilt that’s been bubbling in his stomach.

He waits a few minutes, before saying, “let’s get you out of those clothes and into the bath.”

It’s posed more like a question, his fingers tracing inquisitive circles on your hip. He’s asking, you realize, if it would be okay for him to help you undress. If you’re comfortable being naked in front of him right now. The kindness of the gesture has your shoulders dropping from your ears.

“Y-yeah,” you manage.

Jason keeps his touch firm, steady, while he peels your dirty shirt over your head. He has you raise your feet above the water so he can help you with your pants and underwear, discarding your clothes in a pile on the tiled floor. 

He squeezes your shoulders reassuringly when he sees you hesitate at the side of the bathtub before finally stepping in and letting your aching body settle in the warm water. 

It’s an immediate relief. The chill your skin has taken on, the ice running through your blood, starts to defrost. 

Jason watches you relax into the warm porcelain, your impossibly tense muscles finally loosening. “Feeling any better?” He asks quietly.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble quietly.

He grabs a washcloth from the drawer beneath the counter. “Hey, none of that.”

“I just,” you take a deep, shaking breath, “if we had never gone out tonight, none of this would have happened and you wouldn’t have had to help me and—”

Jason splashes warm water over your head. “None of that,” he repeats. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

“But—”

“Nothing that happened tonight was any fault of yours.” He brushes the wet washcloth across your face, wiping away stray tears. “You did nothing wrong. I should never have left you, plain and simple.”

“It’s not your fault either, Jay.”

He strokes the washcloth over your forehead. “I’m supposed to protect you, hun. I didn’t do a very good job of it tonight.”

“Get in here with me?” You clutch his forearm.

He chuckles. It’s been a very, very long time since Jason Todd could comfortably fit in a normal sized bathtub, but for you, he’d do anything. He’s  gentle climbing in the bath behind you, propping his legs around the outside of yours so you can comfortably lay back on him.

It’s a cramped fit, it couldn’t possibly be comfortable for anyone—but Jason sucks it up for your sake. Despite the ways his knees ache from the angle he keeps his legs, it all feels worth it when you lay your head on his chest.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly.

He plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “For you? Anything.”

And you know he means it.

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[kennedybaby]

DO I WANNA KNOW ? ~ LEON S. KENNEDY.

Summary: Leon just had to take the chance.

Word count: 3.814k / Warnings: stepcest, dddne, mild dubcon at first.

Contents 18+: unprotected sex, missionary, he eats your pussy thru the damn panties, he got a big dick (canon), praising, clit-slap (?), creampie, risky sex.

Pairing: Stepbrother! Leon S. Kennedy X Fem! Reader.

Author note: writing got a little rusty.... but!!! i had fun writing this （＾ν＾）stepbro leon is 2 die 4. kudos to the anon who sent the idea of stepbro leon into my inbox. ilyyyyy 🩷

🖥️ MAIN MENU

🎬 MDNI. DARK CONTENT.

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY ANY OF MY WORKS. ©️ KENNEDYBABY

have you no idea that you’re in deep? i dreamt about you nearly every night this week. how many secrets can you keep?

You drive him insane. Literally. And it’s not even your fault, you were nothing but a sweetheart and Leon was nothing but a complete, degenerate mess when it comes to you.

You were the forbidden fruit that Leon desperately wanted to devour.

There’s a time when he’s left alone in his room after a long, exhausted day at work and all he could think about was you. It doesn’t help how he always had to come home late due to his late-night patrols around the city and all he can hear within the thin walls was your muffled moans and the sound of your fingers squelching and pushing into your cunt. You didn’t know about two things; One, Leon coming back home late because he always makes sure not to make too much noise when he’s downstairs. Two, Leon pressing his ear against the wall with his cock in his fist, furiously stroking up and down to the sound of your mewls. By the time you were done, all he can hear is the water running and splashing in the marbled sink of your bathroom as you washed your hands clean while he was reaching for tissues to wipe his semen off his sheets and abs.

It sort of become a daily routine for Leon. It’s wrong, he knows, you’re his stepsister and the thoughts he had for you in mind were nowhere near appropriate for someone who he should consider as his little sister. But he can’t just suppress the thoughts and feelings he had, the more he pushed aside, the more it grows and torments him, basically eating him alive. The fact that he lives under the same roof as you alone makes things harder for him, but he wasn’t complaining. Not one bit.

Leon gets to see you, a lot. He’d see you laying on your stomach with your shirt slightly ridden up on your back and your shorts hugging the curve of your ass, baby pink panties peeking thru its hem without you noticing it. And sometimes, his eyes would linger on you longer than he anticipated, his teeth biting the inside of his cheeks as his feet nervously tapped on the wooden flooring. You’d bend down in front of him to pick up the spoon on the floor and his breath would hitch seeing the outline of your pussy strained against your shorts. You were none the wiser, oblivious to the way his eyes flittered on your body and your lips but never directly on your eyes.

Because if Leon did look you in the eyes, he would feel guilty for thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fuck you stupid when you genuinely wanted to know how his day went at work.

“Leon?” You softly call out his voice, knuckles knocking on the door of his bedroom before Leon rushed to answer you. The sweat on his forehead was quickly wiped with the back of his hand, and his breathing ragged as he adjusted himself. “Yeah?” His voice was strained, exhausted from his work. “Can I come in?” Your fingers toyed with the steel doorknob, leaning your forehead lightly against his door. You heard the small ‘yeah’ before he opened it to you. Lips curling into a small smile, you looked up at him before you stepped inside his room. “Were you sleeping? I didn’t mean to bother.” You said to him, sitting on the edge of his bed before you crossed your legs. “No, no, I was just... Resting.” He replied, his eyes following your every move. Pushing the strands off your face, you tilt your head to the picture of you and him on his bedside.

“Aw, you still kept this?” You hold up the photo frame at him, your thumb glided on the glass surface gently as you gaze at it. “Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugged before he takes a sit next to you on his bed, purposely grazing his fingers against your thighs as he bite back the urge to let out a content sigh.

“I was so cute back then,” Your lips slightly puckered out, pouting at the sight of your younger version in the picture. A warm spread throughout your chest, it’s nice to know Leon keeps this photo of you and him— it makes you feel special. “You’re still so cute now.” His compliment brings heat to your cheeks, your elbow finding their way to playfully nudge his ribs before a soft chuckle left past your lips when he nudged you back. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” You rolled your eyes, placing back the picture frame on the table before you leaned back and lay on his bed with a small thud.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” He grinned at you, laying back next to you before he take a deep breath. He’d glanced at you, once, just one look on your face before he quickly avert his eyes away from you and glued them back on the ceiling. Leon knows he would end up staring at you, it’s a bad habit. He can’t help it, just the way your eyes drowsily looked up to the ceiling, your lips slightly parted as your fingers cling to his pillow. He wondered if your fingers would cling to the meat of his thighs if he was fucking your throat, filling every corner of your mouth with his cock until hot tears streamed down your wet cheeks— “They didn’t even tell me they were out of town.” The sound of your voice cutting thru the silence pause his thoughts before Leon tilts his head at you. “Why? You wanna go out or something? They’re just out attending my— our dad’s work party somewhere out of town in a hotel.” He stated.

‘Yeah, right, our dad. As if I wasn’t just thinking about fucking my stepsister.’ Leon thought to himself. God, he’s a sick, sick man.

“I know, I’m just really bored. That’s why I came here.” You said to him, completely oblivious to the fact that his eyes practically gleamed at your w. Leon sits up on his bed, his fingers pushing back the strands of hair on his face before he turned to look at you, a small smirk dawns on his lips. “So you come to me to have fun?” A small giggle left past your lips, the faint blush on your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. “Please, you make that sounds weird.” You shake your head, only to quickly shut down the fit of giggles you had when you feel his fingers brush against your thighs. Heat courses to your cheeks before a low hum emitted out of you, “Weird? I don’t know what you’re implying.” Leon does, he does. Fuck, this was probably the most he could do to you, just stroking your thighs as his fingers grow higher and higher as the warmth of your cunt radiates against his skin. He swallowed thickly, his fingers lightly squeezing the fat of your thighs before he leaned down to you. “Maybe you’re the weird one.”

Your eyes slightly widened, fingers quickly latching on his wrist before you stopped him from going further. “Leon,” You made a pathetic attempt to sound stern when you called his name when in reality, your voice sounded more like a whine as if you wanted him to keep going. “We can’t.” You didn’t say no, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t want this too. You lose count of how many nights you spent, staying up watching taboo porn under your blanket with your fingers desperately stuffing your cunt and trying to relieve the ache between your legs while having Leon at the back of your head. You lose count of how many times you muffled out his name into your pillow every time you climaxes around your fingers during the darkest hour. And now that, Leon’s hand is practically inches away from grazing against your pussy, all you could do is looked away from his piercing gaze as you clench your thighs around his wrist. “It’s wrong.”

But it doesn’t mean neither he nor you wanted it less. Leon probably wanted it the most, his mind practically going haywire from how close your body is pressed to his.

“I can stop if you want, just say the word.” His voice was soft and you can’t help but look back into his eyes, before you lay there, contemplating if you should just go for it. Either you do it now, where no one’s home or never do it with him and to be honest, you would pick the first option in a heartbeat. “Keep going,” As soon as you let those words out, Leon leaned in to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips as explored every inch of your mouth. His hand resting on your cheek while the other is rubbing your clit thru your shorts with his index and middle fingers until there’s a damp spot forming on the fabric. Pulling away from the kiss with a string of saliva connected on the tip of each other tongues. “You’re so wet already,” He grinned, his face diving between the crook of your neck before he gently nibs your skin and sucked the fresh hickey he gives you on your neck.

“You love getting your pussy played by big brother?” When did that innocent nickname you used to call him make you so flustered? The way it smoothly rolled off to the tip of his tongue and the way his voice slightly dropped an octave made it sound lewd. You hated how much it turns you on, your cunt dripping with your arousal just from his little teasing. “Leon, stop embarrassing me.” You huffed in slight annoyance at his teasing before you hide your heated face with his pillow which Leon was not too happy with. He quickly takes the pillow off your grasp and throws it behind him, “No hiding, princess. D’you know how long I waited to do this?” Leon whispered to you, his lips kissing your jawline. “Too damn long.” He grumbled, pulling away from you before he kneels on the floor. His hands easily dragged you to the edge of his bed before he parted your thighs. “All I can think about is fucking you stupid, do you know how much that tortures me knowing I can’t?” He groans, his fingers were quick to slip the shorts off your legs and let them fall to the carpeted floor.

Leon couldn’t be bothered to take off your panties, instantly latching his lips on your clit thru your panties as he vigorously sucks on it with sheer fervour. The suddenness illicit a sharp gasp past your lips, your elbows and heels digging into his mattress as you watched his mouth clung to the bundle of nerves like no tomorrow with your thighs clamping around his head. “Shit, Leon...” You curse under your breath, head thrown back as he slurped every drop of you thru the thin undergarment. A soft moan croaks out of you as Leon finally pushed aside your panties, his tongue flattened before he dragged a long line on your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” He can feel his cock straining in his pants, causing some discomfort but that was the last thing he care about, not when he was nose-deep into his stepsister’s sweet cunt. He could care less about anything when his mind is fixated on the way you rolled your hips and rides his tongue, smothering him before he pulled away for air.

“You’re so needy, baby.” Leon littered kisses on your inner thighs, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit causing your hips to jerk forward. His forearms push your hips down to the bed before he lightly slapped your clit and chuckles when you wince from the slight pain. “Don’t do that.” You whine, biting your lower lip back as you let yourself relish back into the pleasure when he kisses your clit, giving it a little suck and pulling away with a small pop. “I know, baby. Just wants you to stay still.” He said to you softly, his eyes shifting up to lock eyes with you. He loves the way your eyes tear up, your cheeks growing hot as your fingers cling to the bedsheets. He loves prodding his tongue into your warm hole while his thumb rubs your sensitive clit until you throw your head back into the pillow with your back arching into his tongue. “I’ll stay still,” It’s surprising how you can still talk properly despite being so high from the pleasure he’s giving you. A dribble of spit already starts dripping at the corner of your mouth, your eyes rolled to the back of your head each time Leon flattened his tongue and dragged it slowly on your dripping cunt until your body shuddered in pleasure.

Your fingers interlocked with his brown hair, tugging and pulling him closer as you slowly reached your climaxes. He didn’t mind, he like the feeling of your nails slightly digging into his scalp while you desperately chases your high. God, Leon probably won’t even mind if his head is bleeding from how hard you're tugging onto him if it meant having the chance to get a taste of your pussy and your soft thighs wrapped around his head. A strained scream sputtered out of your throat when you finally come undone in his mouth, your hips stuttering into his lips as Leon licks every drop of your juices and drank it down with a content grin. His hand reached down to his pants as he palmed his throbbing cock thru his pants, his fingers rubbing up and down on the outline of his shaft before he stands up from his knees. Leon pulled down his shorts until they slipped off his legs leaving him in his black boxer. The bed shifted as his knees digs into the cushion of his mattress.

“Want your cock,” Your words were slurred but you manage to whisper the words into his ears when he gets on top of you. You bring your fingers crawled up and cupped his face before you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, letting his teeth clashes against yours without a care in the world as his hands grip your waist. “Yeah? Beg for it.” He pulled away from the kiss, his blue eyes back into yours as you tucked your bottom lip under your teeth. It’s clear he won’t give you what you wanted until you actually say it to his face. A heavy sigh left your swollen lips, “Please, I need you inside of me. Fuck..." You paused, nuzzling your face to hide your warm cheeks into his neck before you continues, “Fuck your stepsister.” Leon grinned at your words, his lips leaving a small kiss on your collarbone before he pulled away to push down his boxer. “You got it, baby.”

Your eyes watered up as you mumbled a low curse when you feel the tip of his cock pushed into your cunt. It brings immediate weight to your chest as your breathing grows ragged, a part of you still refuses to believe this was happening— you’re fucking your stepbrother, allowing his fingers to gently pinch your hardened nipples while he buries his cock inch by inch. Your fingers quickly pressed against his chest, stopping him immediately as Leon shoot you a concerned look, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

“You okay?” He whispered to you when you let out a small wince, eyebrows knitted together before you looked down to where the two of you were connected. “It won’t fit, Leon.” You croak out a small cry, he’s stretching you apart and he’s not even all the way in. “It will, princess, just... I’ll take it slow, okay? It’s going to be okay.” Leon smiled after you weakly nodded your head to his assurance, your arms trails up to wrap around his neck before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. A low moan guttered out of his throat once he finally sheathed himself fully inside of your tight, sopping cunt. Cold sweats run down his forehead and body as he takes in every little noise you made underneath him.

He stayed in your arms for a few seconds before he retracts to prop up the back of your knee with his hand. Leon stared down at the way his cock formed a small bump on your pelvis before he moved his hips slowly, the pad of his thumb rubs your skin in a circular motion. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” Leon said to you in a hushed tone, his head slightly thrown back before he gulped down to the feeling of your inner walls pulsating around his cock. Leon averted his eyes from the ceiling back to your body, staring at the way your shirt pushed up over your chest, your fingers keeping your panties aside as he pushes himself in and out of your cunt at a slow, consistent pace. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He moaned eyes shutter tight before he exhaled a sharp breath. “God, you’re clinging to me,” Leon let out a soft chuckle, his lips finding their way to peck on your swollen ones. “Can’t help it... You’re too big. S’all your fault.” You mumbled, eyes dazedly looking up to him as drops of his sweat drips down to your body.

“I know, baby. It’s all my fault.” He cooed to you, his lips coming in contact with your forehead as he leaves a kiss. You didn’t even realise he had picked up his pace, his hips rocking back and forth faster than before as his balls slaps on your ass, filling the room with nothing but the sound of skin slapping and your wanton moans. “You’re taking it so well though, you love getting fucked by your big brother?” You hummed to his question, “Mhm, love gettin’ fucked by you.” You breathed out. Leon can feel his cock throb inside of you, the grip at the back of your knee tightening as his knuckles gradually whitened. The bedframe rocked back and forth, scratching the blue paint off his wall into straight, white lines as it squeaks under the weight of the two of you. You tried so hard not to glance at the picture of Leon and you on his bedside, almost staring back at the both of you with nothing but utter shame.

The two of you had crossed the line you knew you can’t back out from. Not that Leon cared, every logic in his head was thrown out of the window the second you told him to keep going.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the way you digs your nails into his shoulders made his breath stagger. The friction between both yours and his body sends your mind into a frenzy that you almost, almost, made you miss the sound of the front door being unlocked and the sound of your parents happily chatting downstairs. “Fuck,” That was all Leon had to say to put a small pause on what he was doing, his forehead leaned against your shoulder as he bit his bottom lips back. He stayed silent for a few seconds before he rocks his hips back, taking you by surprise, “Leon, we should—" You parted your lips to speak only for his hand to go over your mouth, “Just be quiet. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He says. You nodded, letting his hand press against your lips, your eyes shooting wide when his thrusts became more and more fervent as you wrapped your legs around his waist tightly.

Leaning your head back into his pillow, he took the advantage to leave marks all over your neck, nipping your soft skin until it turns into a slightly darker shade from your skin. Leon moves up to your face, giving you a small peck on the lips thru his hand before he let out a low chuckle. Removing his hand from the back of your knees to hold onto your waist while his other hand is over your lips, you can feel he’s getting faster and faster. Leon can feel it, he was getting so close and he can feel you were too with the way your inner walls tightened up around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper as the squelching sounds fills the room. “Can I cum in you, princess? Please, can I?” He begs, keeping his tone hushed as he whispered into your ear, sending the back of your hair stand up.

You frantically nodded, muffling out a small high-pitched ‘yeah’ to him before you glanced at the way his cock pushing in and out of you, glistening with your arousals under his bed lamp as Leon pushed his hips towards you, burying his cock deeper into a rougher pace. A choked scream left your lips when the orgasm comes washing over your body as you shut your eyes close, the grip around his shoulders tightening before your body falls limp under him. A sharp breath left his lips when he feels you finish around him before he quickly did the same, shooting his cum deep inside of you before he removed the hand over your mouth and pressed it against his bed to support himself. His muscles flexed as you watched his cock throb inside of you, spilling his warm seeds into your sensitive cunt before he pulls out from you with a groan. When he finally rides off his high, Leon looked down at the way your panties were scrunched up to the side as they pressed against your inner thigh— he was so eager to fuck you he didn’t even bother to take off your panties. Not that he’s complaining, it keeping his cum from spilling out of you.

“Fuck, baby..." Leon breathed out, a strained laugh falls past his lips before he leaned in to kiss you on the lips and pulled away afterwards. He stared back into your half-lidded stare, your chest heaved as you catches up with your breath. Your lips curled into a small smile when Leon brush the strand of hair off your face, “You should probably go back to your room, princess." He suggested, helping you sit up on his bed. His fingers played with the strap of your panties before he looked back at you, the corner of his lips curled into a playful smirk.

“Keep this on. I want you to go to bed with my cum inside of you. ”

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

Pinned FAQ

How do I request a card?

You can request up to 3 cards for free during openaskbox events! During those, the /ask inbox opens up for a few hours, during which I try to write as many as I can live on twitch and post them on tumblr.

After the event is over and I close that inbox, there are still a BUNCH of leftover requests. This is how I fill the daily content queue, I use those up til it's empty again and then run another openaskbox.

On Sundays at 3pm EST I write all 28 cards due to go up for the week from that pool of leftover asks live on twitch and then queue them to go up after stream

What if I don't wanna wait?

If you'd like to throw a bit of cash around instead of waiting, you can buy via the etsy listing or you can tune in to those^ Saturday livestreams, there's a variety of ways to donate to get cards written for you on the spot

How do I buy the card I've requested?

The etsy listing is available here! Please remember to include in the notes of the purchase which card(s) you want to buy. If you'd like me to bundle together all the cards you've requested over a period of a few years, dm me here on the blog and I can quote you on a cheaper bundle price

Why did you answer all those asks, it messed up my dash?

Sorry about that! So to keep all of that ^ organized, at the end of the month, I answer about 112-140 leftover asks in order to record them to a proper "to-write document"

It helps me keep organized, it allows me to easily search for spelling issues, and it gets a few eyeballs on the request in case someone tries to slip an obscure slur into their request that I'm not cool with writing (it has happened)

Lots of the regulars are used to this dash nonsense, but there are folks who want to avoid it entirely. If you're on mobile I'd just recommend unfollowing for a while, but if you're on desktop, you can blacklist the tag "added to notepad" and go to xkit to tick the "fully hide blocked tags" option so it clears up your dash

Wait I thought requests were closed, why can I still send things?

That's because requests use /ask, but /submit is always open because it's for YOUR calligraphy, pet photos, fanart of man... etc. Requests are NOT open when it's not openaskbox day but feel free to send me cool shit YOU made anytime

Wait you have a twitch, do you do anything other than calligraphy?

I try! my schedule at work (restaurant) varies week to week so I try my best to stream whenever I've got free time to, nothing's really planned out though

What are your regular writing tools and paper?

I mainly just use speedball nibs, specifically the c-series (c-0 through c-4) because they're angled flat nibs that let me do most blackletter hands I write. I have a supply of leonardt thin tips for detailing and illustrating

As for paper, the cards you see on the daily are on plain index cue cards I buy from staples. When commissioned/doing larger pieces, I work with a variety of paper, including a 32 lb xerox paper that has juuuust a perfect amount of lamination that avoids ink feathering, black paper that I bought a hundred sheets of in 2019 and I no longer remember the label, and a BOATLOAD of southworth's ivory parchment paper at both 32 and 64 lb weights.

[e-dubbc11]

you said you could be persuaded to write about dean sooooooooo what about retired dilf dean? 🤔

My dear sweet Selene, it’s very hard for me to say no to you. 🤣 I came up with a little something for DILF Dean Winchester. I hope you like it, thank you for challenging me, my lovely friend ♥️♥️♥️

Carrying On

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dad Dean Winchester x F! Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluff, mentions of readers father’s death, smooches, a little hunter violence

Word Count: 1.7K-ish

Summary: You just bought a house in a new state, trying to see if you can move on after your father’s untimely death. Your neighbor introduces himself and already you’re feeling more at home

A/N: So this is my first time writing for Dean, dear god I hope it doesn’t suck. I wanted to write more for this but I still have asks in my inbox for my sleepover I need to get to(I’m trying my hardest to answer them all, I thank you all for your patience.) I’d even be willing to do another part for this because I had fun writing this one! I hope you like it! ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The house was at the end of a nice quiet street. Your suitcases were piled high in the back seat, almost too high to see out the rear window but it wouldn’t be for much longer. It will be nice to finally stretch your legs after being in the car for such a long drive.

When you pulled into the driveway, you noticed that the “For Sale” sign had been removed from the front lawn. This was your home now and you were determined to live your life as normal as possible from now on.

After your father passed away, you left the flat lands of Oklahoma for the mountains of Colorado. There was just something about that cool mountain air. But you didn’t want to live IN the mountains, you didn’t want to be alone so moving into a neighborhood NEAR the mountains was a good compromise.

A man and, what you assumed to be, his young son were playing catch in the front yard. The boy tossed the baseball to his father but the man wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy looking at your car which happened everywhere you went.

You and your father had rebuilt that car and restored it to its former glory. It was your dream car…a 1967 Pontiac GTO in midnight blue. The way the paint reflected the light, the car almost looked purple. It was a gorgeous car.

The car in your neighbor’s driveway was impressive also. It was a 1967 Chevy Impala, black.

“DAD!! You missed!” The boy shouted.

“Hold on, son. You see that car? She must be our new neighbor. Let’s go say hello.” The man said.

Reaching for the sky, you stretched until some of the tightness in your shoulders went away. You then saw your new neighbor.

“Fuck me.” You whispered under your breath.

He was very handsome with medium brown hair, a well-groomed beard, and green eyes. As he came closer, you saw a splash of freckles across his nose and his young son was a carbon copy of his father.

You smiled warmly as they came closer.

“Hi there! I’m your new neighbor. I’m y/f/n y/l/n.”You extended your hand to shake his.

After you introduced yourself, the man had a slightly confused look on his face that quickly disappeared.

He extended his hand for you to shake. “I’m Dean and this is my son Charlie.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” You said.

Charlie interjected himself. “Dad missed the ball because he was staring at your car.”

“Charlie…” Said Dean through clenched teeth.

“Ah, well I do get that a lot. You wanna sit in it?” You asked.

Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Sure!”

You opened the car door so Charlie could sit on the driver’s side.

Dean pointed at the car. “That is a nice car. ’69?” He asked.

You bit down on your lower lip to keep from smiling. “It’s a ’67 actually, like your Impala.”

“Impressive…I don’t know a lot of women that would know that to look at it.” He said.

“Well, we do exist.” You said, a little sarcastically.

Dean smiled at you and said softly. “Yes, I guess you do.”

When he realized he was staring, he quickly snapped out of the trance he was in.

“Um, yeah so um, do you have furniture coming or anything? I’m happy to help.” He said.

“Oh the moving truck is coming tomorrow so I just have the bare essentials for tonight. Thank you for the offer, I may take you up on that.” You said.

“Well, we’ll let you get settled. Just knock when the truck comes…Charlie!! Come on, let’s let y/n settle in to her new house.” Said Dean.

As they walked away, you heard Charlie tell his dad, “Dad, you were staring at her.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “No I wasn’t…get the ball.”

“Yes you were, Dad. I saw you.” Said Charlie.

You shook your head back and forth then smiled. They both seemed really sweet.

Three Months Later

You had settled nicely into your new home. The final box had been unpacked and you were adjusting to your new surroundings and your new neighbors. Although there was something that bothered you about Dean’s house.

Every so often, not a lot but every now and again, you noticed that the basement light would flicker. It wasn’t all the time but when it did, it was always at the same time, which you thought was strange.

Everything else seemed to be fine so you didn’t look too closely at it.

You really did like Dean and you adored Charlie. They were your friends, so you contemplated, at least telling Dean about your past, how your father really died, and why you left your home state.

One Saturday morning, all of the windows were open and you could hear music coming from their house. It sounded like…Asia – Heat of the Moment.

You giggled a little bit and thought to yourself, “Really Dean, Asia?”

Dean had a deep booming voice.

“Rise and shine, Charlie!!” He said, loudly but playfully.

After doing some housework, you heard a knock on your door. Walking down the hall from the bedroom into the kitchen, you saw Dean standing at the side door through the screen. He was leaning against the door frame.

“Hey there. What can I do for ya?” You asked, opening the screen door.

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner tonight? I thought maybe we could tell Charlie, um…well, about us.” He said, shyly.

Charlie didn’t know that about a month after you moved in, you and Dean started to hang out with each other after he went to sleep.

He’d come over for a drink, sometimes a movie, or a lot of the time, the two of you would just talk, and the relationship just sort of happened.

Charlie’s mom had passed away three years ago and it had just been the two of them since then. Obviously you weren’t trying to get in the way of their relationship and you DEFINITELY weren’t trying to replace his mom but you really did like the both of them and Charlie deserved to know the truth…they both did.

You snaked your arms around Dean’s neck, let your fingers run through his soft brown hair, and leaned in to kiss him. The bristles of his beard tickled your chin and you smiled in between his kisses. You really were smitten with him.

“I’d love to…I’ll bring you guys a special dessert.” You said.

A shy smile extended across Dean’s face. “Awesome…oh and I’m not much of a cook so I hope you’re ok with burgers. Alright? Ok, good talk.” He said, as he smacked you on the ass and turned around to walk back home.

You were going to come clean tonight.

Walking over to Dean’s, you remembered the first time you saw the last name on the mailbox…Winchester. Dean Winchester. All hunters knew that name, that family, his brother Sam, their father John, and their mother Mary.

They were famous in the world of hunting. Your family name stayed under the radar. Sure, you and your dad had some pretty big hunts and cases but nothing compared to the Winchesters.

Charlie answered when you knocked.

“Y/n!!!” He said, excitedly.

“Hey buddy!” You replied.

Charlie saw you holding the pie in your hands.

“Oh you brought Dad’s favorite.” He said.

“I did? Well I hope you guys like it, I made it from scratch.” You said.

“Dad’s always eating pie…he’s out back, come on!” He said, tugging on your t-shirt.

The three of you had a nice dinner together filled with a lot of laughs and you breathed a sigh of relief when Charlie said he was ok that you were his dad’s girlfriend.

The child like smile Dean had on his face as he was about to taste the pie made you smile. Before he could take his first bite, the lights flickered.

He looked up at the kitchen light as it continued to flicker. “Son of a bitch.” He boomed.

“Dad, language!” Shouted Charlie.

“Not now, Charlie.” He growled.

You stood up and backed away from the kitchen table. “Where’s the salt, Dean?” You asked.

“What? How do you--?” He started to say.

“The salt, Dean…NOW!!!” You shouted.

Dean got the bag of salt from underneath the kitchen sink and you had Charlie stand in an open area in the dining room, while his dad drew a salt circle around him. Then he pulled out two shotguns from underneath the couch in the living room filled with rock salt.

“Charlie…buddy, don’t move from this spot, do you understand?” You asked him, looking into his scared eyes.

He nodded.

Standing back to back, holding the shotguns, Dean asked, “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

As fast as you could, you explained yourself. “Ok, so I come from a family of hunters too, nothing like yours of course but I left Oklahoma after my father died saving me from a nest of vampires. It was just me and him, my whole life and when he died, I felt like I couldn’t hunt without him.” You said.

Low moans and hisses were emanating through the walls as the lights continued to turn on and off.

“I can’t believe you’re a hunter. That’s why when you introduced yourself, your name sounded familiar to me!” Shouted Dean.

Charlie stood petrified inside the salt circle. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“It’s alright, buddy. We’re gonna be alright.” Said Dean.

Two apparitions came through the wall and headed straight for you when you blasted them with rock salt.

“Are y-you m-mad?” You asked, while trying to catch your breath.

“Mad? I’m only mad that I didn’t get to eat my pie! As far as you being a hunter, well…I gotta say I’m a little turned on.” He said.

In the middle of a life or death situation, Dean managed to make you blush.

“What does that mean, Dad?” Asked Charlie.

In unison, you and Dean yelled, “Not now, Charlie!”

“When we’re done with this, we’re gonna have a talk.” Dean pointed his finger at you.

“But you’re not mad?” You asked with a slight smile.

Dean smiled at you, his bright green eyes looked like fresh blades of grass as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“Nah, I’m not mad sweetheart. Now let’s kill these things so I can eat my pie.”

Tagging: @munsonownsmyass @gijos

[aniharas]

𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

pairing: anakin skywalker x padawan!fem!reader

summary: a flirtatious training session left anakin and his new student frazzled. but he knew that if she called, he'd drop everything and answer.

warnings: master/padawan relationship, sexual content, exhibitionism (if you squint)

wc: 7k+ oneshot

a/n: took some lyrics from agora hills and really ran with it. inbox is open for any suggestions! enjoy!

Their intentions were pure. She had caught Anakin on his way to his dormitory, begging him to train with her secretly. She and her master were being sent on their first mission together, and she insisted that she would meet her end if Anakin didn’t take her under his wing. “Please, Master Skywalker,” she had pleaded.

And how could he refuse? The poor girl was on her knees, tears pooling and threatening to stream down her innocent face. He agreed, only admitting that her master was indeed an atrocious teacher and that his own Padawan already knew everything he knew.

When their training started, she immediately realized that Anakin was an upgrade. He chose different approaches, not by the book. He pushed her harder, trained longer, and didn’t let her retire to her dormitory until her technique seemed flawless. Which is why on one particular day, Anakin had nearly torn out his hair in frustration. The moon was already high in the sky, seeming to taunt them as it loomed over the Temple’s garden. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why this simple lesson was driving them up the wall. To him, it was simple: to transition from lightsaber combat to parrying blaster shots. But to teach her was like teaching a womp rat to tango.

It didn’t help that they both grew irritable with each passing minute, and it was inevitable with how stubborn they both seemed to be. A subtle roll of the eyes or a scoff would set each other off. Their patience waned, evident through the hits they traded with their practice lightsabers becoming more personal, ending with both on dust-ridden ground, beat-up and breathless.

“Okay, okay, let’s just…relax,” Anakin instructed with a stressed exhale, his face twisted from exasperation. Wordlessly, he motioned for her to do the same, to which she reluctantly followed.

“Don’t act like you didn’t start it,” she hissed, wiping sweat from her forehead for what seemed like the twentieth time. “I don’t get it. It all happens too fast, I basically have to react before it even happens. It’s not fair,” she whined, almost childishly.

“That’s precisely it,” Anakin cut in as he dusted off his pants, rising to his feet. “You wanna stay alive out there? Feel it before it happens,” he repeated, holding his hand out for her to take.

When she was back on her feet, Anakin quickly took her practice saber from her hands. “Hey, what are you-” “Close your eyes,” he said, his voice low and soft, much different from the annoyed tone he had moments before.

It was humiliating how quickly she obeyed him, her attempts to ignore the heat that seemed to ignite her skin. The courtyard was eerily quiet, or at least as quiet as Coruscant could get, only adding to the growing awkwardness between them. It was only when she was about to complain once more that she felt an unmistakable energy emanating from a certain direction behind her. “Do you feel it?” he questioned, his voice low to not break her concentration.

A beat passed before she answered him. “Yes,” she breathed, anticipation seeming to tingle in her voice.

“Feel my presence,” Anakin urged, his voice gentle yet commanding. “Sense where I am without seeing.” He began to circle her silently, holding his breath so he wouldn’t compromise his position physically. 

At first, she tried to sense him with mere sounds, a vibration from the ground, but it proved futile. The wind that chilled her to her bones helped to camouflage any breath or sound that would betray him, and she knew that he always seemed to carry himself as if he weighed like a feather. How could someone so tall and broad move like a lothcat? When she actually began to try, the air seemed to carry faint whispers, brief waltzes of energy that danced around in her mind that just so slightly guided her senses. “You’re there,” she said unsurely, pointing in his general direction. A barely audible sound of approval resonated in Anakin’s throat, a low grunt, confirming her guess. “Good. Take it a step further,” he suggested. “Focus on how it takes shape in your head. Feel my intention,” he instructed under his breath. His whispers somehow seemed to echo off the walls of the temple. “Tell me where my focus lies.”

Initially, it was a bit hard to center her thoughts. None of this was anything like what her master taught her. It was oddly…intimate. But there wasn’t a chance she would let nerves stop her now, she had already gone all this way. With each (notably loud) heartbeat,  she sought out the rhythm of his focus. She tried to envision it like a beacon in the darkness behind her eyelids, beckoning her, calling her like a distant star. Something began to flutter around in her mind–a fiery sensation that seemed to extend its grasp from the darkness towards her. A tingling feeling began to nip at her right hand. That was it.

“My hand. You’re looking at my right hand,” she said with certainty.

“Close, but not quite. Be more accurate.”

Really? Will it really come down to knowing what finger my enemy is looking at? After taking a moment to think, she answered him again. “My pointer finger.” Unbeknownst to her, Anakin’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Good. Keep ‘em closed, let’s do it again. And put it together.”

She continued to list off different parts of her body where she could feel his focus linger from where he was. Her right shoulder, to her right. Her left knee, behind her. All reasonable places to strike in combat. He then trained her to sense where his gaze would relocate to. From her shins to her midsection. From her wrists to her foot. Perfect for sensing how quick an enemy can strike. It was becoming easy. From her neck to her chest.

She froze as the words left her lips, her heart quickening. Her chest, he was looking at her chest. Why was he looking at her chest? As if nature was asking her to relax, a gust of wind rattled the branches of the Great Tree that loomed over them, its yellow leaves seeming to shiver with her. The cold contrasted with the feeling in her cheeks as if urging her to think more rationally. Of course, how could she get ahead of herself? It wasn’t exactly the chest, it was the heart. It was a common place to attack in the heat of a battle, especially when aiming to kill. The Jedi try their best to not strike the chest, but many foes do attempt to go for theirs. It was crucial to sense, and Anakin was only helping her, right?

Anakin’s abrupt cough sliced through the silence culminating between them, causing her to wince at the abrasive sound. “Sorry– ahem, it’s just the cold. Making the air pretty dry,” he muttered in between the grunts that cleared his throat. He tossed her makeshift saber back to her, hiding the fact that the sound of blood rushing in his ears was deafening. “That was good. I think you’re good to take a break for now.” The sigh of relief that escaped her mouth as she caught the stick was nearly involuntary with how tense she felt. She could only hope that he saw it as relief from relentless training instead of relief from how nervous she felt under his gaze. 

Despite this, she felt saddened as she watched him trudge off to the opposite end of the space. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him as he began to twirl the stick that was his makeshift saber around him in what looked like a flashy dance, something that she just knew he did regularly from how natural the movement was.

Unknown to her, Anakin’s thoughts were growing rather reckless. Physically, he was always in control of himself. Not one misstep, not one mistake. He could give the galaxy a thousand reasons, if not more, to respect him. But him controlling his mind? Anyone close to him knew this was one of his shortcomings. One of his only responses was to grow stronger, to grow more powerful to make up for that failure. Another was lightsaber training. He seemed to find solace in the hypnotic spin of the stick, the very image cutting through the stillness of Coruscant’s night. His face, usually one would describe as a representative of determination, was now etched with a more lost expression. 

And she was amazed, how could she not be? To do such a complicated maneuver while his mind was elsewhere was something she could never hope to replicate. But that didn’t stop the urge to take it as a challenge, to attempt to mimic his fluid motions. She attempted the intricate moves, stumbling and dropping her weapon every so often, but that didn’t stop her either. It didn’t seem like anything could.

It was then that she felt it – that prickly, warm feeling, expanding over the dip of her waist. It slowly inched its way down and over the curve of her hips.

Anakin truly hadn’t meant for his attention to slip so carelessly. But how could he deny the way that she so adorably tried to replicate his signature move? The pleasure that was the curves of her silhouette against the city lights? Had he been so incredibly naive? Of course, she could sense his intention; Obi-Wan had told him that anyone from Coruscant to Tattooine could. A growing hunger for the silly girl stumbling over herself across the courtyard.

She quickly shifted her stance so he couldn’t see the petrified look that adorned her face, pretending to be too absorbed in securing her hair with a spare ribbon to notice. She felt winded from the mere thought of him looking at her; why did that bother her so greatly? Once again, she tried to rationalize this feeling. Maybe he was just observing her technique. Maybe he was testing her. Maybe it was someone else. But that it was so distinctly Anakin, so spine-shudderingly Anakin, she felt it down to her bones. And even if he was just observing, he wouldn’t need to be looking there. The sensation was also different; it was slightly more passionate. If his focus before could be compared to a poke, this feeling was more of a gentle caress. It seemed to pulse with more and more of that passion the longer it lingered in an area for too long. So if he was testing her, what was he looking for? So maybe, she wasn’t overthinking his gaze on her chest earlier. She definitely knew she wasn’t overthinking as she felt the sultry, unwavering feeling rake over her chest. The subtle warmth that filled her cheeks earlier was now raging, slowly inching its way down her body, like she had set her own skin on fire.

“Well!” She sputtered out, her Padawan braid almost smacking her in the face with how fast she whipped her head around. “I– uh, think we should start again. Maybe sparring?” she suggested, too hurriedly for her liking. She swiped a few strands of stray hair from her forehead in a desperate attempt to look nonchalant. The feeling was too much to bear, and she feared that if it didn’t stop, her thoughts would descend to something less appropriate.

Her sudden exclamation seemed to startle Anakin, ceasing his movements. His breath hitched as his eyes refocused to meet hers. The pensive expression was wiped immediately, replaced with the friendly smile and the crinkle of his eyes that she had grown accustomed to. “Of course,” he obliged, motioning for her to come close. “Let’s get your stances down first.”

She thought that by continuing with sparring, she could distract herself from that forbidden feeling. There was nothing more relieving than whacking down the very man that made evoking a physical response from her seem so simple. However, Anakin only continued to tantalize her. Get your stances down first, he said. You’re not doing it right, he said. It almost seemed like it was an excuse to close the distance between them, and she questioned if there truly was a smirk on his face as she froze up once more.

His cold, cybernetic hand made contact with her arm, just above her elbow, raising it delicately. “Could you keep it right there for me?”

“Yeah,” she answered breathlessly, holding her arm as steady as she could, trying to ignore what it would feel like if his hands were anywhere else.

“Could you focus while you’re at it?” Anakin chastised as he placed his hands on her midsection and the small of her back, straightening her out. She could’ve sworn his tone was challenging her, teasing her.

True to her hard-headed nature, she quickly slouched over again, undoing his previous work. “Could you be nicer?”

The curve of his lips was unmistakable now, his head tilting as he stared down at her in what seemed an endearing manner. “You seem to be fond of pushing my buttons tonight,” he remarked, though without a single hint of malice in his voice. His hand roughly pushed at her lower back once more, forcing a perfect posture from her. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster to stop herself from prodding further. And what if I pushed some more? She knew she would’ve had him. It was a dangerous game to be playing, but she knew that as well.

Even though she had bit her tongue, the mischievous glint in her eyes told Anakin nearly everything. Was it his turn to be tested? He could feel himself teetering on the edge of that forbidden, yet savory feeling that he had been trying his hardest to keep in check. But how could he as he was touching her like this, angling her body exactly how he wanted it to be? He began to adjust her upper body, yet his hands lingered, fingertips gently tracing down her shoulder blades. The heat was starting to creep back into her body. Yet, it was different this time, and it was an unusual feeling. She anticipated the rush to her cheeks, but this time, it seemed to travel much farther down. Though she hated to admit it, she couldn’t help but feel like it would be nice to succumb to it as a pleasant shiver slithered down her spine. At that moment, she would’ve given anything to know what he was feeling. “Can you sense where I’m looking?” Anakin asked in a low voice. It always seemed like he could read her mind. But if he were to continue, all he would see was a frenzied, jumbled mess as she tried to recollect herself. “N-no?” she murmured truthfully, keeping her voice as level as she could. Bur it wasn’t hard to tell where he was looking. His gaze was like a warm fire, so intense that it seemed to envelop her whole body. Anakin laughed softly, reveling in the way that she was reacting so strongly to him. As to when this happened, he wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t one to complain either. He moved slowly to position himself behind her, then leaned in to delicately whisper in her ear. “Can I show you?” “Yes,” she said in a voice that barely escaped her lips, almost involuntarily. It wasn’t just the enigma of his movements, a mere dance of shadows that still captivated her. Nor was it just the velvety nature of his whisper, so tender yet so affirming that it seemed to electrify her nerves. Regardless, she could feel herself melting away. To her, it was as if the very air she was breathing was thickening, transforming the tingling feeling in her chest into a desperate, all-compassing ache. Her resolve was reduced to a mere candle in the wind. Despite this, she was determined to get even with him. An intense desire grew within her, a desire to make him crack and crumble, to turn his limbs into Andorian jelly, to have him begging for her the way she desperately wanted to beg for him. She would knock that arrogant, yet pretty smirk off his face. But he had rendered her so helpless under his teasing ministrations, it wasn’t fair to her. He overwhelmed her. Just when the weight of the tension between them seemed at its heaviest, she abruptly pulled away, ignoring the immediate embarrassment that chilled her bones. Avoiding what she knew would be his intense eyes, she began to mumble, her speech slightly jumbled from how frazzled she felt. “Uh- I was asked to report to my master early tomorrow morning,” she stammered, hastily smoothing out her robes. She hated how easily her voice seemed to betray her lie, so she turned and hurried away without waiting for a response. Her steps began to echo as she ran inside, ominously leaving the famed Jedi alone in the courtyard. As she disappeared into the shadows of the Temple, Anakin barely had the chance to utter a single word, watching with a troubled expression as an uncomfortable silence fell over the courtyard. Every moment that led up to then began to swirl in his mind; all the subtle contact and the teasing words began to replay in his mind at once. The thought of himself crossing the line with her gripped his very heart, aching the longer he stared after her. It had seemed like every time he allowed himself to indulge in the impulsive nature of his passion, he ended up pushing everyone he held dear away. Is that what it is he considered her to be? “Dear”? Whether that was true or not, Anakin couldn’t deny the sense of loss that had begun to gnaw at him the longer he was without her.

But who was he kidding? He would be lying to himself if he said that was a first-time occurrence. For the past few meetings, he found himself dreading the end of their secret training sessions more and more. His desperation to keep her in his presence was under the guise of excuses. “You’re not leaving until you get this down”, or “Meditate with me until you feel one with the Force”. All things that a perfect Jedi master would say, all by the Code. The teachings of the Code that had been drilled into Anakin's mind seemed to taunt him about his feelings, remembering Obi-Wan’s and Yoda’s cautioning against attachments, and yet, the Force seemed to unpredictably guide him to this very moment, yet remained elusive in offering guidance once he got there. Teaching a girl the ways of the Jedi had made him long for her; a sad smirk played on his lips as he pondered the irony of that sentiment. He sighed, the weight of the situation beginning to settle on his shoulders. His gaze fixed on the floor beneath him, inscribing lines and meaningless shapes in the dirt with his stick as he pondered over what to do. Maybe he could explain himself to her, tell her the truth. Was there still a chance to fix things? Would she feel the same way? Then, as if the Force finally answered somehow, a chilly breeze rushed past Anakin, scattering the drawings that he had been working on. He scoffed, almost having a mind to curse out at the wind. But he relented, admitting defeat silently. Perhaps it was best to leave her alone. He had gone too far.

–

She had tried her hardest to focus on her upcoming mission, but her blooming emotions seemed to overshadow all else. She craved answers, using her alone time to plan out her words, words she needed to breach the unspoken feelings between them. The alone time would include pacing around in her room, attempting to gossip with Ahsoka, or using her pillow as a stand-in for Anakin as she recited her speech. With all this effort she had put in, it only added to the sting of disappointment as she noticed Anakin’s evasiveness. A palpable tension hung in the air when their paths inevitably crossed in the hallowed hallways, and when his eyes always seemed to land anywhere but on her, her heart panged. His excuses to leave every time she entered the refectory felt infinitely worse. Of course, she knew things would have been awkward after she had left so abruptly, but she didn’t anticipate it would escalate that far. Had he taken offense to it? It was common knowledge that Anakin was extremely volatile with his emotions, and even more widely known that he lacked the discipline to control them. Fear of facing her again clashed with the guilt of abandoning their training, and it wore him down each time he saw her walk by. His chest would grow tight, his jaw would tense. It would be the easy way out to continue to keep his distance, to tell himself that he was living the Jedi way. But once the day of her mission finally arrived, he couldn’t help but think that the Jedi way was bullshit.

As the dawn of her expedition arrived, she stepped into a craft hangar of organized chaos. The hum of the ships, the mechanical voices of equipment, and the stampede of footsteps only added to the dizziness from all the nerves that she had built up inside of her. She stationed herself at the entrance to her transport ship as she awaited departure, her fingers tightly gripping the hilt of her lightsaber in an attempt to quell the nervous flutters in her stomach.

But it was no use as the doubts began to fester in her mind. What if she wasn’t quick enough with her parries? What if she couldn’t sense an enemy attack before it was too late? Her own master hadn’t even told her anything about where they were going, explaining that it was a “good learning experience to face the unknown”. She swore if she could ditch her master, she would in a heartbeat. On top of everything, the unspoken tension between her and Anakin was what seemed to distract her the most. Even if she did leave abruptly, she definitely did not deserve the silent treatment from him.

She was about to escape the distracting noise of the hangar, trudging up the ramp to her ship until a strong grip on her shoulder nearly made her stumble backward. She jerked her head around to see the idiot who had nearly ailed her.

“What the-"

Anakin stood there breathlessly, panting as a sheen of sweat decorated his skin. “Shut up. Take this,” he said as he extended a small device towards her. A personal comlink, with an extra modem attached. When he was met with a hard, confused look, he huffed in annoyance before speaking up again.

“It links to me,” he explained, gesturing to his own comlink that was securely attached to his belt. “I’ve rigged it so you can contact me as long as you’re near a Republic satellite.”

She eyed the device warily. “Why now, Master Skywalker? You’ve been gone,” she whispered, a mix of frustration and suspicion in her voice as she replied.

Anakin sighed in disappointment at his own actions, nodding once to agree with her. “Which is why I’m giving this to you,” he elaborated, his brow furrowing. He then took her hand and closed her fingers over the metal, tube-like device. “Please,” he begged as he held her hand in both of his, the tone becoming more desperate as he finally met her gaze for the first time in a while. “Just…use it. Whenever you need me, swear to me you’ll use it. I’ll help you.”

As much as she wanted to fight it, the sincerity in his words was unmistakable, and it slowly began to chip away at her defense once again. With all the questions she wanted to ask on the tip of her tongue, she nodded once, allowing Anakin to attach the commlink to her belt. It was noticeable how they both seemed to hold their breaths in anticipation, at the proximity of their bodies. 

Once he had pulled back, he found himself desperately missing the warmth of her body. And with what was at stake, he couldn’t afford to miss another opportunity to act on this feeling. Wordlessly, he roughly yanked her towards him, the urgency of the action contrasting deeply with the tender touch that followed. He held her close, his body pressed tightly against hers and his embrace firm, almost as if she would disappear if his grip faltered for just a moment.

Despite initially stiffening up, she didn’t want to dissect the swirl of emotions that surrounded them as the hangar’s intercom announced the departure of her ship. She glanced up at Anakin, her eyes blown wide and afraid. “What if I-”

“No what if’s, okay?” he quickly interjected, giving her a reaffirming squeeze before pulling back to see her more clearly. She looked natural in a Jedi mission uniform, she looked pretty. He caught his eyes wandering towards her lips, refocusing shortly after. 

“You’ve got this. I trust you, just trust yourself now.” Reluctantly, he gave her a gentle push up the ramp, gesturing for her to continue. 

Her eyes lingered on his face anxiously before making her way up the ramp. Once she was inside, she idly stood at the ship’s opening once the ramp began to eerily close, obscuring her view of him little by little. It was only then that she realized that she had to say goodbye. She could only muster a small, shy wave as the engine hummed to life, ignoring the calls of her master to accompany her as a co-pilot from the front of the ship.

"Make it back in one piece,” Anakin called out in response, giving a reassuring smile. “May the Force be with you.”

As the ramp fully closed and the ship began to ascend, she pressed her palms against the ramp door, almost wishing she could push it back open and he would still be there. Soon enough, the atmosphere of Coruscant began to slowly fade into a symphony of stars through the ship’s windows. She stared down at the comlink attached securely to her belt. Anakin’s lifeline to her. It shed a bit of light on how he felt, but now she was determined to make it back home, so she could uncover the whole truth.

–

The mission had been a success, unfolding with an outstanding performance from the Jedi girl. She anticipated every attack, adapted to the battle and terrain, and even helped devise strategies with the commanding clone of her unit. It left her master astonished, wondering as to when she had improved so much.

However, it didn’t go without casualties. She tried to warn her master about the disturbances she felt ripple behind her, hinting at danger. The warnings fell on deaf ears. As expected, the ambush of bounty hunters emerged from behind their ranks, resulting in a few clone deaths and an injured master. Luckily, she and her Clone unit helped escort him to safety.

She was more than overjoyed to return home from a mission success, unfortunately slightly marred by the recklessness of her mentor. She took pride in the fact that she was able to achieve the feat on her own, without having to cry for help. It made her itch for another mission, the nerves have turned into an addictive thrill. Upon their return to Coruscant, her master was promptly confined to strict bed rest, in turn, leaving her with nothing to do other than train and retire to her quarters, much to her dismay. The soft embrace of her duvet was enough to keep her captive in her dormitory for a while, a definitive upgrade from the stiff cushions of their transport ship. The drone of city life outside the Temple was slowly winding down to a hush, the occasional whir of a speeder zooming by. Staring up at her sky window, she glared at the stars in frustration. It’s not like she wanted to lie down doing nothing, but there was nothing she could do to help it. Yet another reason to despise her insipid mentor.

Besides, she found a better one.

Anakin. Anakin had crossed her mind for the first time since the mission, and she was unable to suppress the heat that flooded her cheeks upon the mere thought of him. He made her feel sane in the unhinged antics that came with their duties. The heat seemed to travel elsewhere when she remembered where their relationship had gotten to. She so desperately wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything that she experienced and more, but she didn’t have a clue as to where to find him.

It was then that she remembered something very important. The comlink. Her eyes darted to her laundry basket in the corner of her dormitory. She flung the blanket off of her body, scrambling out of bed and towards her laundry basket. She was glad no one was there to witness her digging like a feral animal for her Jedi uniform that she had discarded for nightwear. Eventually, she unclasped the metal device from the belt, cradling it in her hand.

Rushing back to the edge of her bed, she sat eagerly and fidgeted with the power switch. Then, a soft hum emanated from the comlink, and a sudden wave of nervousness washed over her body. Uncertainty colored her expression as she brought the mic up to her lips, contemplating the words she wanted to say. 

Once again, she couldn’t convey much. “Anakin?” she began in a hush, glancing around nervously as if she was afraid about getting caught. She held her breath, wondering if he had even heard her. Her gaze was fixed on the comlink, unblinking. Impatient and as stubborn as she was, she began to grow tired of simply sitting there and waiting. With a frustrated huff, she began to put the comlink down until a static-like crackle sounded from it. Hurriedly bringing it back in front of her again, her heartbeat accelerating with each second that passed.

“I was wondering when you would decide to say anything,” his voice rang out, a subtle tone of amusement lingering. The moment she heard his voice, the air in the room seemed to shift, filling the space with relief and exhilaration simultaneously. She didn’t even notice her wide grin and a rose-like color filling the apples of her cheeks as she eagerly listened for him. “Congrats on your mission, by the way,” he continued, shifting to a more formal note, yet his pride for her was evident in his words. “Handled it even better than…well, that’s not the point, is it?”

The small jab at her master was enough to make a giggle escape her lips, covering her mouth in an attempt to hide it. After she composed herself, she brought the comlink to her lips again. “Thank you. I hope I didn’t worry you,” she hummed as she swung her feet off the edge of her bed.

She heard a scoff from his end. “Had me a bit worried since you didn’t reach out. An ‘I’m alive” would’ve been nice,” he playfully scolded, though she could recognize that the sentiment was very much real. “Well, is that all you wanted to tell me?” She hesitated, the words choked up in her throat. Truthfully, she had wanted to tell him everything – the rush of the battling droids, the ambush from the bounty hunters. She so desperately wanted a normal conversation where he was just her mentor. It was never as simple as that. He never was just her new mentor. The only thought that came to the forefront of her mind was the persistent heat that she felt whenever he talked to her. But how could she put that into words without sounding like an idiot? Suddenly, his words from before popped into her head. “You said- uh, to use this if I needed you, right?” she said daringly, though her voice barely audible to her ears. An unbearably long second passed until his voice returned. “Of course. You’ve got the floor,” he replied kindly, though his tone was a bit wary. 

Taking a deep breath with her heart pounding in her ears, she decided to go for all the marbles.

“Anakin, it’s so lonely here,” she whined breathlessly, nearly regretting the words as soon as they left her lips.

“Lonely where?” he immediately interjected, an obvious strain in the way he spoke. “In my room.” She was immediately met with a long bout of silence, and it mortified her. Then, the brief sound of static followed by his voice once again. “Hold on,” Anakin said, sounding strangely distant. The line went dead, and she felt her heart fall to the pit of her stomach. She had ruined everything hadn’t she? Of course, Anakin was too nice to straight up reject her, but she would’ve rather him do that than leave her in such a panic. As she paced her room, chewing on her nails nervously, a tidal wave of overthinking crashed over her. Had she gone too far? Had he already gotten over her while she was gone? Was she too forward? Anxiety from potentially ruining what she had with Anakin clawed at her, each passing moment with the silent comlink gripped in her hand amplifying the feeling tenfold. Minutes later, a rapid series of knocks reverberated throughout her dorm. Startled, she nearly dropped the device from her hand as her eyes darted towards the door. The knocks grew in frequency and volume the longer she took to answer. They were urgent, almost frantic.

Scurrying over to the door, she was met with the sight of the man that she was tearing herself down over moments before. Her worry-ridden thoughts were quickly replaced with ones of concern. Anakin stood in front of her in his Jedi robes, panting like a madman, skin slightly sweaty with his hair disheveled. He had to take a moment to place his hands on his knees, using himself for support he attempted to rest himself. To say she was surprised was an understatement. She had asked him to come to her, and he did, evidently as fast as he could. “Anakin, you didn’t have to do that.” Anakin struggled to catch his breath as he took a step inside and shut the door behind him, yet his eyes shined with something that told a different story from the rest of his body. “Couldn’t …couldn’t stay on the comlink,” he admitted between breaths, his eyes unabashedly landing on her lips once again. “Not when you sounded like that.” Any doubt she had about his feelings immediately dissipated. She blinked slowly at him, her eyes blown wide, unsure of what to do. Maybe it was the way that her eyes resembled a lothcat’s or the way her lashes fluttered that seemed to spur Anakin into motion. Before she could even register it, her face was being desperately cradled in his hands, the contrast of the warm, calloused skin with the cold metal sending her mind into a frenzy.

In that instant, she was dragged into a heated kiss, the passion oddly feeling tender. The movement of his arms coming up to wrap around his neck only seemed natural as she returned his kiss, the whine that had been sitting in her throat finally escaping. She felt his teeth graze against her lips, nipping at them playfully. When on earth did a Jedi Knight learn to kiss like that? Was he smiling? And why was she suddenly being hoisted up into the air?

Her legs instinctively around Anakin’s waist to prevent herself from falling, relocating and tightening her grasp atop his broad shoulders. Turning them around, he pressed her back against her front door, the very action resulting in a small “thud”. The sound should’ve concerned both of them, but neither seemed to care in the slightest. His lips gravitated to her neck, the tender skin serving as the perfect way to mask his pent-up grunts that were now leaving his throat. It rippled vibrations across her sensitive skin, eliciting little sounds from her that rang like bells in his ears. Once he had learned that each kiss to her neck brought about a different sound, each one progressively grew more sloppy, more languid, more carnal.

Though she never had been kissed in such a manner before, she knew that no one else could rival Anakin. He was patient, testing and prodding at different parts of the skin on her neck to see what she would react to the most. She was already writhing at the mere feeling of his swollen lips dragging across her skin, his teeth coming in to decorate her fragile skin with a bruise or two. 

She had a mind to stop him from leaving marks, to tell him that they would be caught otherwise. However, the thought of a bruise, born out of passion, displayed on her skin for the whole world seemed appealing. The thought of people knowing that he left it there seemed to rub her in all the right ways.

Her reverie was interrupted by the feeling of being dropped gently onto the floor. She looked up at him with a frustrated look. “Why’d you stop?” “Turn around,” Anakin grunted, shrugging the useless garments that were his Jedi uniform off his body. She followed suit and heeded his word almost immediately, but to him, it wasn't fast enough. His hands, large in comparison to her body, grasped her frame and twirled her around, her backside exposed to him. He admired the view in front of him, accompanied by the sight of her hands pressed up against her own front door.

"Anakin?" she called out softly, her head turned just enough just to catch sight of him.

"Hm?" Anakin asked in an equally gentle manner, differing from the low grunts that had just escaped his lips prior. He leaned forward, hovering over her to whisper back to her. "What is it, pretty girl?"

Shuddering at the sickly sweet nickname he had donned her with, her eyes locked with his. "Won't everyone hear if we're right here?" she asked. Yet the way she asked that very question didn't seem like it concerned her very much; it much rather seemed like a courtesy, if anything.

A dry laugh left Anakin's lips, his hands moving to adjust her body to his liking, a feeling that he knew she wasn't unfamiliar with. But now, all it took was for her to bend over ever so slightly, her legs parted just enough. "They can watch if they'd like."

It was all too much to register all at once. He was on top of her, all over her, inside of her. He gripped at her even tighter in a desperate attempt to bring her even closer than they already were before he even thought to start moving. Again, his lips traveled to wherever they could across her bare skin. Her skin was slick, glazing her skin in such an appealing way that made him eager to welcome the salty fluid onto his tongue. Not too long after he eventually started moving, she cried out as he seemed to repeatedly brush against a sensitive spot, and so he upped his pace. 

He was certain if anybody had been walking in the Billet's hallway at that moment, they would've heard her. Judging from the look in her pleasure-ridden, tear-filled eyes, she seemed to understand this as well, and she only grew louder from that point forward.

It didn't take too long until the harmony of their groans and whines began to stagger, Anakin unfortunately growing aware of his approaching limit. His movements faltering, his body hunched over her, his grip growing so tight that he was certain he'd leave more bruises than just her neck. But he was determined, so determined to hold out for her, to give her precisely what she needed. Tangling his hand into her hair, he yanked her head backward so it lay against his shoulder.

"Tell me what you need," he hissed, this voice barely audible over all the obscene noises that their bodies were creating, noises he knew were easily escaping through the door. When met with no response, he yanked at her hair harder, resulting in a deliciously overwhelmed yelp. "Please, pleaseplease-" Countless begs escaped her plumped lips, her body beginning to shake as her hands helplessly clawed at the cold, hard surface of the door she was pressed against. That alone was nearly enough to send him over the edge, his breath held and his chest tightening in anticipation of it.

She turned to face him again, her head pulled back enough to display his artwork of red-purple bruises surrounding her jugular. "Please, 'nakin," she begged, her eyes nearly rolling back into her head. "Keep going-"

He suddenly felt a hot, squeezing feeling around him accompanied by a cry out for his name. She was undone, and he shortly followed, retracting himself in time for their mess to spill all over the floor below them.

The intoxicating feeling that consumed their bodies shortly afterward sent them into a daze. One moment, she turned around to pull him into a wet, messy kiss, the next, their limbs were tangled with each other in the velvety embrace of her blankets. She knew that eventually, they would face repercussions for the sounds that they had subjected everyone to in the dead of night, but those repercussions seemed distant, inconsequential to the way she had begun to feel about the Chosen One.

And she was certain, from the way he stroked her hair to the slow and soft kiss that was pressed to her lips, that she wasn't alone in feeling that way.

a/n: originally posted on ao3! first ani fic on this site and more to come. likes n reblogs are appreciated and inbox is open for suggestions or prompts!

[atinylittlepain]

Apothecary - Chapter Four

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

questions are answered and truths are revealed. and they both cross lines they won't be coming back from.

warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst, canon-typical descriptions of gore, smut (shhhh don't tell anyone) annnd spooky times, of course

a/n | y'all fucking rock for loving and supporting this series so much <3 my inbox is always open and i love to hear your thoughts about it. also i should mention this chapter is just a little bit longer, so get comfy before reading :)

..................................

The sun is only just rising when she sees him out of her house. Joel finds himself squinting in the faint morning light as he steps out on her porch, his eyes bleary from a night without sleep. 

“We’ll talk more later, right?” She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as she asks him. He can see the worry lining her furrowed expression and he impulsively ducks his head to press a quick kiss to her lips, wanting to smooth out any uncertainty in her.

“Tonight, after my shift. Can I come by then?” Her expression eases into a smile and she nods, untucking her hand from where it was crossed under her arm to offer him a small tin– of what, he isn’t sure. 

“Salve made with comfrey root. For pain and swelling in those knuckles of yours.” Joel is starting to accept that knowing her is being constantly surprised by her, so he just nods and mumbles a soft thank you, taking the tin from her with his hand that isn’t all bandaged up.

“I’ll see you tonight, Joel.” 

“I’ll be here, darlin.” He’s still getting used to it, being able to reach for her and her reaching back, so his motions are a bit disjointed when he shuffles closer in search of another kiss. She makes it easier, though, bringing a hand to his jaw, a steady guide drawing him in. His nose barely brushes against hers when he jerks away in a flash, biting back a yelp as something brushes up against his ankles. He can tell that she’s holding back a laugh as she smoothly scoops Stevie up in her arms, the feline nuzzling up against her chin immediately.

“I think someone might be a little jealous.” Joel finds himself mirroring her easy smile, shaking his head before leaning in to steal that kiss he had been set on. It’s a quick little thing, Stevie letting out an indignant meow between them as he pulls away.

“You better go before Tommy comes looking for you.” One more look, one more smile, it feels like pulling away from a magnet as he leaves. He moves through town not fully there, his mind swirling with everything she told him last night. But the haze he finds himself walking through quickly clears when he makes it to the gate, finding his brother talking to Mason, who is clearly wound up judging by the way he’s in Tommy’s face. As Joel gets closer, Tommy’s eyes dart over Mason’s shoulder to him, prompting the man to turn around, revealing a clearly broken nose. Mason scoffs, looking once between Tommy and Joel before storming past them.

“Got something you wanna tell me, brother?” Tommy cocks an eyebrow at him, eyes glancing down to Joel’s bandaged hand before settling back on his face. 

“He got what he deserved.” Tommy snorts at that, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Oh, I know. It’s the talk of the town. Joel Miller went where no man has gone before– the witch’s lair.” He knows his brother is joking by the way he can barely get the words out behind a laugh, but Joel is having a hard time finding it amusing, huffing as he shoulders past Tommy, heading toward the stables to mount up and head out.

He and Tommy work well together, always have, and today is no different as they ride out for patrol, but what is normally a comforting quiet only gives Joel more time to stew over her dizzying story.

As far back as we could trace it– we’ve always been like this.

It’s energetic, really. Where others are closed, we’re open wide. 

I see the world in threads. Everything is tied together. What I do– what people call magic– is pulling on those threads.

He knows that he still doesn’t fully understand, but he reckons that she doesn’t fully understand either. What she could tell him, she did. 

She told him about growing up in Wyoming with her mother, how she first told her about these abilities when she caught her talking to a bird, and it seemed to be talking back. 

She told him how her mother was both revered and repelled in their small town, much the same way she is in Jackson. 

She told him that her mother had a vision the summer before everything fell apart, and took her out of her senior year of high school and up into the mountains to hide away while the world crumbled. 

She told him how they lived well like that for many years, until her mother had another one of her visions behind now milky eyes. A vision that it was time to go. 

She told him about the night before they were planning to leave, raiders coming in the dark and a stray bullet finding a home between her mother’s ribs. She wandered on her own for weeks, willing death to rejoin her with her family, but was instead found by Maria and one of the Jackson patrol groups. 

She told him about her time in Jackson. The people she helped. The lives she got tangled up with. And the men whom she always kept at a distance, beacons of grief and reminders of what people really thought of her.

She spoke as if in a trance, her eyes and voice unwavering save for the shuddering breaths she took between words. And when she finished, Joel had risen from his seat and coaxed her up with him, pressing her close in his arms until the shake in her shoulders steadied. 

He’s gotten the truth now, and he spins it over and over in his mind, his thoughts flitting up into the thin mountain air.

…

She’s being followed. Has been since she set out on her rounds this morning, paying house visits to folks in Jackson that need her care. Stevie lets out a sour hiss from her place tucked in her satchel, and she chances a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, the black dog is following behind her at a close but respectable distance. If it hadn’t been going on since she left her house this morning, she probably wouldn’t even notice. But it had been sitting right next to her mailbox, head tilted at her as she stepped down from her porch, and she knew then that this wasn’t just a random visitor. It was an omen.

“Go on, get!” She waves her arm behind her, uselessly trying to shoo the dog away, who only looks at her with that same head tilt. 

Four other times this had happened. 

The first time, it had been an inky black crow, squawking and hopping along from house to house, trailing behind her. They brought him back that night, slung over the back of one of the horses, a smear of bullet wounds in his back.

The second time, it had been a rat that skittered along fence posts and wove between people’s feet. He didn’t even make it out of the gates that morning, trampled to death by a newly-trained horse. 

The third time, it had been a beetle, a creature certainly not indigenous to Wyoming. She kept picking it up in a glass jar and taking it outside, but everytime, it found its way back into her shop. A freak accident, people said, for someone so young to have a heart attack so suddenly. 

The fourth time, it had been a black dog, the same black dog following her today, though it’s now much grayer in the face. They didn’t even bring his body back that time, not after he was infected.

Finishing her last house call, she jerkily makes her way toward her shop, trying to ignore the icy prickle shivering up her spine at the sound of paws padding behind her. She’s trying not to look like a freak, but judging by the glances people are giving her as she walks through town, she isn’t doing a very good job of hiding her mounting panic. 

“I said go away.”

“Woah, I thought you told me you needed my help today, but I can go I guess.” She whips around from where she had been scolding the mutt at the sound of Ellie’s voice, finding her waiting in front of the store.

“I’m sorry, Ellie. I wasn’t talking to you, I was– well, I was–” She motions vaguely behind her to the dog that has now sat on its haunches, panting lightly and looking at them. Ellie, however, is entirely unbothered by the animal, walking right over to it and crouching down to pat its scruffy head. The sight makes her feel a bit sick, knowing exactly what the presence of this animal means.

“C-c’mon, that thing probably has fleas. Let’s go inside and get to work, alright?” Ellie smiles up at her, nodding with a sigh as she walks over to where she is unlocking the door to the shop. She keeps her eye on the dog over Ellie’s shoulder, even as she opens the door and motions for the girl to go inside. 

“You’re acting– weird.” She mutters something about not sleeping well, and although Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that, she shuffles inside. Before she follows after Ellie, she sets her satchel down just inside the door, Stevie stepping out and running to the back of the shop in search of the girl. She turns around to face the dog who has now inched closer to her, and does the only thing she can think to do.

The people of Jackson got quite the show that afternoon as she chased the scruffy mutt, her arms waving and muttered curses loosing from her lips, as far away from her shop as she could. 

“You stay. Do you hear me? He’s coming back– h-he is.” With a final huff, she turns on her heel, stomping a direct path back to the shop and slamming the door behind her, Stevie’s and Ellie’s heads whipping up at her blustery entrance. She just huffs at their wide-eyed stares, her shoulders slumping when she glances back through the shop door window and sees that damn dog sitting on the stoop, head eternally tilted.

…

It’s been a slow day of patrol. They rode up around the dam, relieved to not find any raiders, a seemingly perpetual nuisance. It must be late in the afternoon when they decide to start heading back through the thickening woods.

“So, you two are really making a go of it, huh?” Joel glances over at Tommy, grunting at his brother’s prying question.

“Suppose we are.” Tommy chuckles.

“You never did take any of my advice. Good luck, brother. But please, try not to make a habit out of busting people’s faces for her.” It’s meant in jest, but Joel shoots him a hard look from atop his horse.

“You would’ve done the same if you had seen what he did to her.” When Tommy’s brow furrows, Joel lets out a bitter laugh.

“What? Did Mason leave out that detail? I watched that fucker slam her head against a wall, Tommy. If I hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve done much worse.” Tommy mutters a low jesus christ under his breath, shaking his head at Joel’s words.

“Fuck, Joel– I’ll talk to Maria about this–”

“Don’t. Asshole like that– best to just let it go. I think I made my point. But if he tries anything again, I won’t hesitate, Tommy. I just won’t.” Tommy offers him a faint nod, both of them settling back into silence as they continue riding. 

It happens in a flash. Someone– or something– comes bounding out of the trees, spooking Joel’s horse enough that he gets thrown right off. He groans, scrambling to get to his feet as Tommy wheels around, but before Joel can get his bearings, he’s tackled back down to the ground. 

Snapping teeth and garbled shrieks, a disorienting mix as he struggles to push the clicker off of him. He can’t hear anything else, no clue if Tommy is alright, if they have any shot of making it out of this alive. All he can do is flail on the ground with this snarling creature, his bare hands doing little to repel its staggering force.

A cool fear starts to trickle in. A fear that this might be the time he doesn’t make it back.

…

She’s watching the clock, face scrunched into a permanent scowl of worry. The beds of her nails had all been picked raw several hours ago, and she had only stopped when they started to bleed. In her spiraling state, she had sent Ellie off early, not wanting to draw any more attention to her obvious anxiety. Stevie sits in the storefront window, hissing and clawing at the dog who has now laid down in front of the store.

It isn’t her fault. She tells herself this, over and over. She knows that it isn’t her fault. That it hadn’t ever been her fault, not now and not before. Deep down, she knows this, but the nagging voices of Jackson, and what people believe contrarily, seeps in around the edges of her mind, a sour poison that settles thick in her thoughts. And she braces herself for the worst, a full body tensing, waiting for the news to come.

Five o’clock. He should’ve been back an hour ago. But just as the clock rolls over into the new hour, Stevie stops hissing altogether. She gets up from her stool behind the old checkout counter, craning her neck to look out the window, but finds no sign of the dog that had been following her all day. 

She moves before she thinks, leaving the door to the shop ajar as she stumbles out and starts walking briskly toward the town’s gate. When she rounds the corner and the gate comes into her line of sight, the slow creaking of its opening resounding in her bones, her feet kick up into a stilted jog. It barely registers to her that she’s crying, the cool slip of it running down her cheeks. When she only sees Tommy riding in, she stops in her tracks, heart stuttering still in her chest. But she breaks into a sprint when Joel comes into sight, riding in just behind his brother. 

She lets out a yelp of his name, his head jerking up at the sound. A sob breaks in her ribs when his eyes meet hers, and he’s quick to slip down off his horse, taking a few tentative steps forward before she’s crashing right into him. 

A hard breath is pushed out of him as he stumbles back a few paces, his arms wrapping firm around her as she presses her face into his chest, her hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt. When she finally pulls away, she brings her hands to his jaw, holding his face still as her eyes search his.

“Are you– are you ok?” He nods, clearly caught off guard by her frenzied greeting.

“I am, but– how did you– I mean, I’m fine. Just a little bruised. But I’ll live.” His words make a laugh bubble up in her throat, and when she lets it loose he really does look at her like she’s gone crazy.

“The dog was wrong–” She lets out another bright laugh.

“The dog was wrong!” His brow creases in even greater confusion.

“What dog? What’re you talk–” She cuts him off with a hard kiss, a smooch really, the kind that would make a cartoon character’s head explode in a shower of confetti hearts. But Joel’s blush when she pulls away with a sweet smack accomplishes much the same effect.

“I am so glad you’re back.” 

…

“Damn, is this soup magic? Because it’s way better than anything Joel cooks.” 

“Kid.” Ellie looks up at him from where she’s all but face-planted into her bowl of soup, shrugging at his scolding. She takes it in stride, though, laughing at Ellie’s exclamation.

“Not magic– but I’m glad you like it.” It’s a strange sight, her sitting at his kitchen table. It had been even stranger watching her flit around his kitchen, cooking for him and Ellie like she had done it hundreds of times before. But she had insisted after he told her what happened on patrol, not letting him get another word in edgewise as she led him first to her shop to pick up Stevie and that satchel of hers, and then to his house where she had immediately gotten to work with whatever odds and ends she could find in his fridge. Joel would never protest at the promise of a hot meal that he didn’t have to make, and he has to admit that the kid is right, the soup is really fucking good.

The rest of their meal passes quietly, the continuous purrs of Stevie sitting in Ellie’s lap being interrupted only when Ellie finishes her bowl with a contented groan.

“That was so fucking good, seriously. Can you come over more often? Because Joel’s idea of cooking is opening a can of really old chef boyardee beef–”

“Kid.” Joel is entirely mortified, but once again, Ellie just huffs, coaxing Stevie off her lap and standing up to take her bowl to the sink, glancing at them over her shoulder.

“What? It’s true. Anyways, I gotta run– Dina and I are going to movie night together.” Ellie wiggles her eyebrows as she leans back against the sink, but before Joel can even tell her to be safe, she’s already bounding through the house and out the front door with a loud “don’t wait up!” All he can do is slump back in his chair with a huff.

“That nudge you gave Ellie is going to send me to an early grave.” She snorts at that, sitting back in her own chair across from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think it’s sweet– a little young love could do this world some good.” With that, she gets up, grabbing her own bowl as well as his and heading over to the sink. He goes to get up, protesting at her cleaning up after them, but finds himself sitting back down with a wince that catches her attention.

“You feeling alright?”

“I mean– no. Feel like I got thrown off a horse, probably because I did.” She offers him a small smile, tilting her head.

“Let me get this cleaned up, huh? I think I can help with that.”

Just a little while later, when she has him lead her up into his bathroom, Joel reckons that her idea of helping may give him a heart attack.

“Do you like the water really really hot, or just warm?” He has to clear his throat and pull his eyes away from the soft curve of her jeans where she’s bent over the tub, fiddling with the faucet, before he can answer.

“Um, I don’t– I don’t know. I guess I’ve never actually used this thing.” She whips around at that, brow furrowed.

“You’re kidding, right? You have this super nice tub, and you’ve never used it?” When all he does is shrug, she sighs.

“Well, I’ll just have to show you what you’re missing out on then. Can you go grab my bag? I left it right next to the stairs.” He pads out into the hallway, finding her satchel slung over the top of the railing of the stairs just as Stevie comes slinking up the steps. 

“She asked me to get her bag for– Jesus christ, I’m talking to a cat.” He swipes a palm down his face, letting out a long sigh, only slightly shocked when Stevie lets out an inquisitive mrrp that sounds a whole lot like a response. 

“You stay, alright? Go– be creepy somewhere else.” At that, Stevie lets out an indignant mroowww, tilting her head at him. It’s certainly a first for him, having a staredown with a cat, but he assumes he wins when Stevie turns away with another little mrrp, padding silently back down the steps. 

When he reenters the bathroom, a haze of steam has filled up the room, and she’s sitting on the edge of the tub, checking the temperature of the water with her hand.

“There you are, thanks for grabbing that. You didn’t happen to see Stevie out there, did you?”

“Hmm? Oh, um, no, I didn’t. “ Luckily, she buys his answer, shaking her head with a light laugh as she takes her bag from him.

“Probably slinked off to find some trouble for the night. Anyways, let me finish getting this ready for you.” She pulls out a cloth sack from her satchel, digging her hand in and sprinkling what looks like salt over the bath. Before he can even ask, she explains it to him with a smile.

“Epsom salt. There’s a lake up in the mountains that dries out every summer and there’s always tons of this stuff on the lakebed. Mixed with a little lavender and chamomile to calm down inflammation.” He speaks before he can really think about it, feeling like a fool the instant the words leave his mouth.

“You’re amazing, d’you know that?” She laughs, keeping her eyes turned down as she swirls the water a few times with her hand before standing up to look at him.

“It should be all set. I recommend staying in there for at least a half hour, but really, if you can soak for more like an hour that’d be best.” She’s moving and talking so fast, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading for the door, that Joel can barely stutter out his response, the flush creeping up his neck only burning brighter when he does.

“Wait– I thought you– um, I thought– would you– stay?” Fucking hell, just bury me now, why don’t you? Her eyes widen first, but then soften as a grin crooks across her lips.

“Joel Miller, are you asking me to join you?” 

“Only if you’d say yes.” Her grin broadens, beautiful and blinding. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

…

She realizes a bit too late that she’s nervous, her fingers trembling at the button of her jeans as they both silently undress. Her ears prick to the sound of a belt buckle clinking, the clean sweep of leather being pulled out of belt loops, followed by the quick thrum of a zipper. But she doesn’t look at him, not yet, to save what little nerve she still has worked up.

And then, when they’re both standing in a puddle of clothes, she wills her eyes to peel away from the tiled floor. She sees him in fragments, darting glances over sun-faded skin and soft strength, a thatch of dark curls that she tries not to stare at for too long. She finally looks at his face, and sees that he’s doing much the same, darkened eyes collecting her. She lets him.

“We should, um, we should get in– before the water gets cold.” She mentally kicks herself for the wobble in her voice, but Joel doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, he doesn’t seem to notice at all, his eyes still roaming over her. She says his name, and his focus snaps back to attention.

“Um, right– I’ll just–” There’s nothing graceful about Joel Miller getting into a bathtub, and that’s how she knows she’s really taken with him, because somehow she still finds it endearing. And she just about swoons when he holds a hand out to her over the lip of the tub. 

She doesn’t let herself think too hard about it, sinking into the warm water, her back facing him as she sits down between his legs. A careful hand slips over her hip, causing her to peer over her shoulder at him.

“This ok?” She hums her affirmation, letting him guide her back until she’s pressed up against the warmth of his chest. His palm skates over the top of her thigh, arcing out of the water to rest on top of her bent knee. 

“Just relax, darlin.” “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s supposed to be relaxing.” She feels the vibration of his hummed response running up her spine, and it coaxes her to slump further against him, her head resting back on his shoulder.

“Oh, I am, believe me.” She laughs at that, though it fizzles out when his hand dips back down under the water, fingers curling at the crux of her thigh.

“Can I ask you something?” She’s a little too distracted by the way his thumb is rubbing circles into the soft inside of her thigh to be embarrassed by the breathy uh-huh she responds with.

“Heard a rumor about you from some of the women in town.” That makes her stiffen in his hold, only melting a little when he presses a sweet kiss to the side of her neck.

“I bet you heard a lot of rumors from them.” He hums again, low and gravelly.

“I did– but I really wanna know if this one is true.” She tilts her chin up, neck crooking to look at him and the faint smirk he’s sporting.

“They said they’ve seen you out in the middle of the night, dancing naked in your backyard.” Water splashes up against the sides of the tub as she laughs, squawks really, at his words, quickly turning in his hold and tangling her hands behind his neck. She can feel him, warm and hard, resting along her thigh as she straddles him, and she revels in the pretty flush that spreads across his cheeks. She’s got Joel Miller flustered, and she likes it. Taking him for all he’s worth, she leans in, letting her lips trace the shell of his ear as she speaks.

“Only on Halloween, baby.” His fingers grip a little tighter along the plush of her hips, and she has to giggle at the spluttering exhale he lets out.

“Jesus christ– are you serious?” She sighs, tilting her head at him as she tugs lightly at the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, huh?” He swallows her laugh, lips finally slotting with hers, his palm trailing up her spine to press her closer, and it’s right then that she realizes how badly she had been jonesing for a kiss from him. This one is different than any they’ve shared before. It’s a kiss that takes its time, a slow exploration punctuated by murmuring sighs and wandering hands. She finds that he’s a stubborn kisser, always trying to get the upper hand, his tongue swiping across her lip before licking into her mouth. But she doesn’t let him have it for long, her teeth grazing his bottom lip, reveling in the little groan he lets out and using it to her advantage as she presses closer to him, the peaked slopes of her nipples dragging across his chest. 

He shifts his hips down and away from the back of the tub, giving her space to wrap her legs around his waist, ankles grazing his low back and she thinks briefly that his bathroom is going to be a mess, water sloshing out over the sides of the tub with their increasingly frantic movements. Though she doesn’t have much time to worry about it when he ducks his head down, pressing a sweet kiss to her sternum that is starkly contrasted by the subsequent drag of his lips over one of her breasts, teeth grazing over her nipple before he laves his tongue over the bud. She lets out a gasp of his name when he sucks the delicate skin into his mouth, no longer trying to hold back the grind of her hips into the coarse hair covering his pelvis, his cock brushing up against her ass with the movement. Seemingly satisfied with his ministrations, he pulls away with a sweet little pop, his eyes impossibly darker as he looks at her.

“Want you, darlin, so bad. Can I– fuck– can I have you?” Afraid of what her voice might sound like, her response to him is another bruising kiss, tugging just a tad unkindly on his hair as she shifts her hips back, both of them groaning when her cunt grazes the underside of his cock. 

“Want you too, Joel, please.” She doesn’t care that it comes out like a whine, too preoccupied with chasing the pleasure of his cock rutting against where she wants him most. But she stills when Joel places a firm hand to her hip, her brow furrowing at him.

“We’re not doing this in a fucking bathtub, not the first time.” She splutters out a laugh at his very serious expression, but she realizes he’s not kidding when he gently untangles her legs from around him, tugging her up along with him, water going everywhere as they step out of the tub in a slipping tangle of limbs. She’s finding that she can’t get enough of him, stealing whatever kisses she can get as he pulls her into the bedroom, her lips dragging down the column of his throat and over the top of his chest. And then a quick blur and breathy oof from Joel has them tumbling back onto his bed, her palms splaying out over his chest as she straddles his hips. They don’t stay like that for long though, Joel squeezing her ass and rolling them over in a surprisingly smooth move, slotting himself between her spread thighs. 

All of a sudden, things start to move slower, thicker, as he drags a palm down her torso, flipping his wrist around when he reaches her pelvis and cupping her heat in a flat press. She cants her hips into his hold, sighing at the firm grind of the heel of his palm over her clit. And while it feels good, it isn’t what she really wants.

“Joel– don’t tease. I just, fuck– just want you.” He grins, the bastard, shifting his hand to dip two of his fingers against her entrance, the stretch sweet and stinging when he pushes in. 

“Not gonna tease you, darlin. Just wanna get you ready f’me. Fuck– you’re driving me crazy.” She knows that he’s not just being arrogant, having gotten a good look, and feel, of his cock, but the steady rhythm of his fingers pumping inside of her is only making her want him more.

“Please, please– I’m ready, I swear. Just, fucking–” He shushes her with a quick kiss, and by giving her what she wants, moving his hand away and hovering over her, the heavy heat of his cock resting against the apex of her thighs. 

It’s all quiet communication. He draws one palm along the outside of her thigh, coaxing her leg up, her knee resting against his waist as she opens up even more for him. She drags her hands down his chest, the soft pudge of his belly, before hooking them under and around to press into the shuddering muscles of his back. It’s a languid motion, her hips tilting up to meet his rolling forward, both of them letting out broken sighs as he fills her completely. 

“Fucking– s’perfect- you’re perfect– I can’t– I– christ.” He breathes out a hard exhale, resting his forehead against her sternum, hips still flush with hers. She presses a smattering of kisses to his hairline, coaxing him to look up at her.

“Don’t think christ has anything to do with it, baby.” His chuckle at her smug words turns into a low groan when she flutters around him, both of them going a little sick with the pleasure of it all.

“Can I move, darlin? Shit– I’m not gonna last like this– feels too fucking good.” All he needs is her jerky nod for him to arc his hips away before snapping back, deep and slow, finding a push and pull that has them both sighing with each thrust. It feels like he’s everywhere, his mouth open and hot across her chest, his damp hair tickling the skin over her collarbone, his murmuring groans mixing with each of her sighs, and his throbbing length, every inch of him spreading her open again and again and again. She has half a mind to be embarrassed by how quickly she’s tipping over the edge of pleasure, but she doesn’t care, not when Joel is coaxing her into it with low drawling praises.

“That’s it, honey– so good like this– so beautiful– shit– come for me, please– need to– need to feel you–” He brings a trembling hand down over her pelvis, deft fingers drawing circles over her clit and it becomes too much all at once, his name leaving her lips in a quiet cry as she falls apart around him. He fucks her through it, his pace slowing into more of a deep grind that jostles them further up the bed with each stroke. All she can do is hold on, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, her hitched heel pressing into his low back as he chases after his own high. She pieces herself together enough to drag her hand through his hair, pulling his face down so she can murmur in his ear.

“Want it so bad, Joel– please, baby– wanna see you come for me– let me see you– let me have it.” He groans out her name, sounding more like pain than pleasure as he pulls away, leaning back on his haunches to sloppily stroke his glistening cock. She moves in a haze of desire, scrambling onto her hands and knees, her face coming level with his flushed length as she drops her jaw and sticks her tongue out, spit pooling from want as she looks up at him through her lashes. 

She watches him closely as he comes with a slur of curses, breathless as the salt of his spend spurts onto her tongue, smudging across her lips and dripping down her chin. His shoulders slump, chest heaving as he runs a trembling hand through his hair, eyes not leaving hers as she sits back and swipes up the stray come on her skin, sucking her fingers into her mouth with a low hum. She’d never call that taste appealing, but the fact that it came from him, a sign of his pleasure which she had been sovereign over, sends a shiver up her spine as she swirls her tongue over her fingers. 

…

She’s trying to kill him, she has to be, with her little smile and the lewd pop of her fingers leaving her mouth.

“You’re fucking unreal, goddamn.” She laughs at his exclamation and he swallows the sound, pulling her in for a kiss, his mind going fuzzy at the taste of what he assumes is himself on her lips. Even though he feels like he just ran a marathon, he can’t help but deepen the kiss, their mouths molding and moving as they lay down in a close tangle. 

When they do pull away from each other, it’s with a shared sigh, and she rests her cheek on his chest, right where he knows she can hear his racing heart. She presses a kiss to that spot before tilting her chin up to look at him.

“I’m really glad you came back today, Joel.” His brow furrows, thinking back to earlier and the strange things she had said, her frantic greeting, and the relief that had been clear in her eyes. Another piece of her that he doesn’t quite understand. But he’s ok with that, with not knowing everything about her, at least not yet. She’s already unfurled so much of her life for him, and he’s prepared to wait patiently for whatever else she’ll offer him. As long as he gets to have her like this, warm and soft, keening into his touch, eyes hooded with a shared pleasure. 

No other words are needed, not right now. He coaxes her chin up with a gentle press of his fingers, stealing one more kiss before they both settle down in each other’s arms. 

................................

taglist (i added some folks i thought would like to be, let me know if you want added or dropped lmao) : @boofy1998 @misspascaliverse @jasminedragoon @beskarandblasters @daddy-din @subconsciouscollapse @avidreader73 @pedgeitopascal @littlelou22 @wannab-urs @hannahlupinblack @whoiscaroline @leeeesahhh

[coff-in]

YES! I SEE YOU’RE DOING AND TAKING REQS AGAIN!!!

Reader who is constantly zoning out 25/8 head cannons. Doesn’t matter if they’re eating, drinking, bathing, walking or working; they’re always daydreaming in their head. Constantly running into things or tripping because they’re too preoccupied in their head. They daydream a lot to where sometimes they reenact their thoughts or speak to nobody in particular. Their S/O always has to bring them back or navigate them so they don’t accidentally hurt themselves.

Reader can be G/N, or female if it’s necessary for a gender. I’d like Andrew to be the S/O, but you can throw Ashley in the mix too (separately or together) if you want. I won’t throw shade.

TYYYYY!!!!

notes from coff-in: i've been meaning to answer the asks in my inbox for weeks now, but every time i tell myself 'i should answer asks' i suddenly find myself not doing it. like the more i think about doing something the longer it takes for me to do it. eventually i just sort of stop thinking about it and get focused on other work and then open my inbox and go 'yeah i'll answer these now :)' like i haven't been gone for a month or so. is this normal? the same thing happens when i think about soaking my mushroom log or taking my pills or even when i was younger and had to wear my retainer, i think 'i'll do it later' and then i never do it. i'll think 'i should do it sometime today' and then i never do it. why do i do that? sorry about that, in other news: i have started playing roblox and i like sebastian solace from pressure. big fish :3

[gender neutral] reader-insert

[reader] is so me fr fr. 'maladaptive daydreaming' you mean... uh normal behavior... gottem. i appreciate that you said 's/o' because i've been meaning to write for julia for a while (hussies unite or smth).

andrew would find [reader]'s daydreaming endearing, but would see it as a hassle to deal with often. he's constantly nudging you and gently shaking you to get your attention. he'd also tease you about running into objects and scold you for not paying attention. protective instincts kinda kick in for him :') he does wish you paid more attention to your surroundings and school ("i'm not going to be able to help you with your homework forever," he tells you while doing your homework)

ashley would definitely be annoyed. you should be paying attention to her! she's YOUR girlfriend, asshole! you would need to repeatedly (hourly, even) tell her that you do love her, you are trying to pay attention to her, etc etc. i don't think a maladaptive daydreamer would pair all too well with ashley. maybe.... she would feel comforted that you sorta act the same with others, spaced out and unfocused, but there's always that worry in her that someone else will snap you out of your haze and take your attention away. hang out with ashley, she's just a girl who's fun and whimsical, give her all your attention. do it. DO IT-- (she will laugh at you if you trip on something)

julia :3 i think julia wouldn't mind [reader] constantly zoning out. julia is (as far as we've seen, mind you!!) such a sweet and gentle girl, i honestly think you and her would work out very well. she's gemtly holding your arm or hand and swerving you away from poles and potholes. she taps you so you can focus on your work and if you wanna veg out next to her, she doesn't mind that. love that emo girl

----

coff-in

is it a certified coff-in post if i don't rant/vent in the opening notes? anyways please ask me about my opinions on pressure, it's infecting my brain :3

[fatuismooches]

HIII ITS ME.. I'VE RISEN FROM MY GRAVE :3 I'm here to spam your inbox some more /j

AHAGSH8DH88HDIHIDHOHD I would love to bathe with dottore or the segments... so cute 😭 I wanna snuggle with him in warm water and wash his crusty hair that he probably only washes once a week 💀

I like my water very warm so im just imagining dottore/segment recoiling when they first touch the water LMFAO like they can handle it probably but they just weren't expecting it to be so hot 💀

onto cleaning dottores hair :33 I like to imagine Dottore just staring at the wall as you scratch his scalp (like the iconic webttore panel) he's just going 👁_👁 (quick off topic but I think about that panel a lot he looks so silly 😭😭 I've even started unconsciously making the face when i space out)

AAUAUUUUFHG78GG8H8DHHHHD7GD7IHEHIS I need to give him so many kisses 😭 why can't he be real... I want my kitten whiskers...

Anyway I hope you've been doing good :D

- 🐓

I LOVE THE IDEA OF BATHING WITH DOTTORE... it just seems so intimate and gentle, which is normally the opposite of any activities you really do with the scientist. Helping each other get clean after a long day (what stains are on his clothing? you already know the answer!) Most of the time you like to lean back into his chest as he holds you, you often use this position to force Dottore to stay in the bath longer, no you will not get off him! Or when you're washing his hair, the positions are reversed. He won't admit it but he likes the feeling of you washing him, hands running all over his body. His eyes would be closed, and if you dare to stop for a few moments, he'll open them and you'll get scared from the blood-red eyes peering at you. If you're going to start something, you better keep it up until the very end. I like to think if you're bathing with more than one segment they start trying to bicker in the bath... you have to shush them up because this is a relaxing peaceful time! Also a very good feeling in general, I mean, you have two Dottores all over you. Don't splash water at them though, it'll be 2v1.

I ALSO LIKE MY WATER VERY WARM... my mom yells at me because it's bad for my skin... he and the segments could definitely handle the heat but they would be more worried for you... like surely this isn't healthy for you...? Are you okay? If you burn yourself, come to them immediately.

I LOVE THAT WEBTTORE PANEL TOO!! All his panels are iconic tbh 🙏 I have a post saved with every panel of him, I look at it when I'm feeling insane. Honestly, he would probably have a blank look on his face in the beginning because he can't really believe this is happening, and he's being so vulnerable, and on top of that he's enjoying it all! Dottore's face would look blank but inside his mind is racing with many thoughts. He's wondering if he could get you to do this again tomorrow without seeming like he's being needy.

[wheeboo]

Rania !! Who do you think is the "my gf is mad at me I wanna die" kind of bf in svt and why do I already see mingyu and dokyeom in it ಠ⁠◡⁠ಠ (tbh I kinda see hoshi and dino do that also)

PLS I LOVE THIS QUESTION !! also lovely anon pls lmk if u want to have an emoji or something i love seeing u pop up in my inbox <3 is it funny i can tell who u are from the cute emoticons 😭😭 at least i think its coming from the same person oops... anyways i hope i do answer this question right i feel like i didn't lmao

i think my top contenders for this is def dokyeom, mingyu, and hoshi. dino is a candidate but i think it depends on the situation or his mood tbh, and he can be that way if he rlly wants to ykyk

dokyeom is an overthinker (same w me tbh), and this poor boy immediately thinks worst case scenarios if you were mad or upset at him with something either big or small, joke or not. and he's pretty sensitive so it doesn't rlly help his case yk. you can probably be on your period or something and he doesn't know but he would still be like "why is she so upset with me?? i didn't do anything wrong, did i?" "are we breaking up?? if we're breaking up then something should have happened right?" he'd want to go on his knees to apologise for whatever but he's a bit Too scared. is literally melting into his own body n fidgeting just o v e r t h i n k i n g. someone save him pls

mingyu does it for pity points i swear. if it's something small and not serious he would literally be like "yah are you trying to kill me? I was two seconds away from having a heart attack!" but if it's something more serious and let's say mingyu had done something (like idk, hog the blankets all night kinda deal) and you're mad and ignoring him, he is literally going to be All up in your business. he's going to try and pry open your crossed arms, swing his legs over you so he could cuddle you to make you feel better, ANYTHING. "baby,, you're killing me here from you just ignoring me" :( his heart is aching and literally in pain when you're mad at him. it doesn't help that he devotes his entire being and soul to you and is very whipped. so anytime you're mad it feels like a gunshot to his heart

hoshi is kinda like a combo of the two, but unlike dokyeom he goes to lengths to figure out why you're mad yet DIRECTLY avoid asking you because he's a bit (very) ... intimidated. he can be asking his own members or searching freakin google to find his answers. he would google something like: "my s/o is mad at me and i have no idea what to do" and he would find answers on reddit or quora help. and he might get a lil frustrated and atp accept his fate. the longer you're mad and ignoring him literally feels like him getting shot with an arrow for every hour that passes. gives you a pouty face so you can see what he feels like and hopefully feel bad for ignoring him :((

[mypoisonedvine]

I hate hate hate having to talk about this stuff because I know 98% of y'all are not the problem, and the remaining 2% are probably not going to care in the slightest. but I need to set some boundaries and explain why I'm getting frustrated before any more resentment builds.

I've been writing for cillian murphy characters since july 26 when I posted 'thoughtless', since then I've released well over one hundred thousand words of content for him. I'm not exaggerating, I counted. it's been five and a half weeks and I've posted 14 full-length one shots which means I'm posting more than twice a week. that's not even including drabbles/requests.

I'm getting concerned that this has set a precedent that people are holding me to and I'm getting annoyed by the entitlement in some of my asks and comments.

first things first, and I know nobody means anything bad by this but it's pissing me off: stop using the phrase "full smut" in your requests, it's driving me crazy. this started abruptly after I posted a bunch of drabbles in one sitting based on y'all's ideas and requests. I did that as a way to try out new ideas and appease people who hadn't had their concepts written about yet. instead of people being happy with what I wrote for them, people got frustrated that the drabbles were drabble-length and not thousands of words long like my full fics (which take me several days to write, rather than an hour or less which is the point of short requests). ever since, people won't stop coming into my inbox talking about making a "full smut" for a certain character or idea as if they're terrified that I'll only post something short. I usually don't post short things. I feel now like those drabbles were a colossal waste of time because all they did was make people afraid I wouldn't write longer stuff; I wanted to open requests again because I had fun, but now I feel like it's a bad idea because it'll just leave people frustrated when they see it's not whatever a "full smut" is and then tell me it's incomplete and I need to write more. a short drabble can very well be a complete story. stop asking for "full smut" PLEASE. just tell me what you're interested in reading and trust that, as the author, I will tell the story in the correct length of time.

secondly, the way people are asking for stories about new characters is getting out of control. I think you guys don't realize that I only post less than half of the asks I get, because they are so repetitive and constant. I have literally over 2000 unanswered asks currently. if I answered all the asks I received, I would lose followers because it clogs the dash and half of them are the same questions.

and I'm just gonna say this one explicitly: please stop asking me to write for cillian's character in the movie 'anna'. I'm not saying that I won't or that I don't want to. but I need you to understand that I get easily 3-5 asks a DAY about this character and I am exhausted. I'm not particularly interested in watching the movie. not only does it look like it's probably just not that good, but on a very personal note, I am in recovery for an eating disorder (and relapsed recently) and I just... don't wanna watch a movie with a runway model in the leading role right now. I'm sorry if that feels like body shaming or something but I've been waiting until I feel like I can watch it without feeling sick or enraged. it should come as a surprise to no one who is familiar with my work that I'm not a particularly mentally healthy person. but that's only part of it; I answered asks about this character for a while saying I wanted to write for him eventually, but I had to stop because people just asked about him every day anyways without reading my very recent posts with the same question. I'm still not ruling it out. I'm just warning you guys that it will be a while.

people are now commenting requests for new characters ON MY CURRENT FICS FOR UNRELATED CHARACTERS. how entitled and dense do you have to be to do that? I can't believe this has to be said, but comments on my fics should be... related to the content of the fic you're commenting on.

to be clear, I'm not mad at anyone for doing this stuff (except that last one, that's unforgivably ridiculous) because I think the intentions are pure. but now that I've explained why this stuff bothers me, I'm asking you to put a little more thought into how you phrase your questions and comments. to be clear: for the most part I feel incredibly supported and appreciated here and I've been very impressed by this fandom's ability to not be morality police and manage their own content consumption. a lot of you have reached out with concern about the speed at which I was producing and I totally understand and value that. I honestly think I can keep up that pace for a little while longer... I just wanted to explain why I'm getting a little irritated and hopefully decrease the amount of asks I get repeating the same two or three things.

so, tl;dr -- I've been having a lot of fun writing and I plan to keep doing it as much as I can. some people are spoiling the fun for everyone by being (usually unintentionally) entitled and impatient. I don't mind you guys showing enthusiasm for things you'd like to see from me, in fact it's helpful because it tells me what might get a good reception. but please be thoughtful in how you make these requests and please support what I've already written if you want to see more. I think non-writers have a hard time understanding how inspiration works (hell, even writers don't really understand it in ourselves lol) and so it kinda just seems like if I can write about one thing I can write about any thing. but I only write so much and so fast because I write what speaks to me and not other people's ideas. again, thank you so much for all the love and support this past month!!

p.s. I also get asks multiple times a day asking when I will post a fic, especially if I've announced it. I always post fics between 4 and 5 PM central US time. I would recommend calculating when that is for you and I promise you'll find me posting very reliably at this time on days I have fics announced. hopefully this saves us all some trouble in the future lmao

[ifidiedinadream]

If no one did it yet, take this as a request for Joel/Olli/Reader. 👀

(I don’t wanna seem greedy since I just got my request, so please please take your time! The idea of a threesome with them was just too hot to not send something in 🥵)

Maybe Joel needs some "comfort" after a stressful day and the reader and Olli decide to take care of him.

Somehow pictured Olli riding him and the reader sitting on his face, but feel free to do whatever you want with it. 😌

the parentheses make me laugh cause this is a request ive had in my inbox since 2022, so i did in fact take my time 😂😂

hope you enjoy 🩷

also on ao3

When you get home, it’s suspiciously quiet.

There’s no one in the living room and no one in the kitchen, although Joel must’ve come back by now.

Curious, you head over to the bedroom. The lights are off and the sky is pallid and gray. There’s someone sitting on the bed, but it isn’t Joel.

Joel is lying on Olli’s lap. Olli is whispering things to him, words so quiet you can’t hear them; his fingers rack Joel’s hair above and behind his ear.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet as the atmosphere feels all but solemn. “Is everything okay?”

Olli flashes you a smile, the weak light coming from the window making his eyes glow. “Yeah.” He looks down at Joel tenderly. Joel doesn’t move. “He’s just had a long day.”

On the calendar in the kitchen, today’s date was marked in black with various scribbled words – appointments you never even tried to read. Last Sunday, Joel told you this week would’ve been hectic, and when you woke up this morning to go to work, Joel had already left.

You crouch down by the edge of the bed so you can be on eye-level with Joel. His eyes are tired, opening slowly whenever they close.

“What can we do for you?” you ask, stroking his arm.

Joel doesn’t answer. He moves his head on Olli’s thighs to get closer to you. He’s asking for a kiss, and you give it to him with a smile. Olli’s hand is still caressing his hair.

“What about we try to cheer you up?” Olli asks. Joel sits up slowly, like he just woke up. His hair is a mess.

“Okay,” he says softly. You turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and it casts a warm hue on the left side of Joel and Olli. They look beautiful - Olli’s suggestion suddenly sounds like the best idea ever.  

“Lie down, then.”

Joel does. He watches with large eyes as you lie down next to him, your hands wandering his body, pressing since you just can’t get enough of touching him. Joel’s lips search yours again, and you kiss him, your hand finally settling on his lower belly.

“I want – I need both of you.” Joel looks up at Olli, doe eyes large and blue. You move his hair away and mouth at his neck. Olli undoes his belt and pants.

You’re quick to find Joel’s soft cock once it’s exposed. You take it in your hand and toy with it, your touch light and slow. Olli comes to lie on the other side of Joel, hand in his own jeans.

“Relax, baby,” you say, “we’re here for you.”

Olli captures Joel’s lips in his own. Joel’s cock is hardening under your touch, his hand on Olli’s jaw, your mouth behind his ear.

Every tiny piece of Joel’s body (except his cock) softens as the tension accumulated throughout the day abandons him; his muscles are no longer contracted, he’s not hard under his skin anymore, and when you move to observe his face, his forehead is smooth, his eyebrows separated.

At some point, Olli’s hand joins yours around Joel’s cock. He claims the base, whereas you’re still working the tip, playing around with his foreskin and precum. Joel lets out a moan.

“Want me to ride you?” Olli asks against his lips, and it’s so quiet you barely hear it. You feel the vibrations of Joel’s purr of assent against the skin of his neck. Olli loses his jeans and climbs on top of Joel’s legs.

Joel sits up and your lips are no longer touching him. You hand Olli the lube you keep inside a drawer, and as he gets ready, you undress yourself, unable to take your mind off how pink and plump Joel’s lips have been looking.

Joel was enraptured by sight of Olli using the lube and making sure he was loose enough, but now he’s eyeing you, his gaze touching your whole body like a caress. You lick your lips.

“Wanna taste you,” Joel says, the low, yet soft tone making your guts twist in pleasure. “Wanna be good for you.”

Before you can voice your appreciation, Joel closes his eyes and lets out a rich sigh through his parted lips. His eyes roll back, and he turns to Olli when he can open them again. Olli is sitting on Joel’s dick, expression a little out of it, and they both look so pretty your hand goes to touch between your legs on its own accord.

You choose to take advantage of Joel’s wish.

Olli starts rolling his hips, moaning low, very low, making Joel’s face contract in pleasure. When he finds a stable rhythm, you go in between them, interrupting the languid gazes they’re exchanging, the dark, intense stare Olli is beholding Joel with. Joel doesn’t seem to mind.

He grabs your hips, grip firm, so he can place you right in front of him the way he prefers. You hold on to the headboard, leaning over so that the angle is perfect. Joel’s breath comes out in labored huffs against your skin. One of his hands leaves your hips and the thumb comes to tug at your skin, exposing your clit from its hood. His tongue is on it a second later and it’s incredibly intense from the start.

Your grip on the headboard tightens, knuckles white. From where you are, when you look down, all you can see is Joel’s lashes and nose. Joel is licking you like you’re his last meal, his tongue only sometimes faltering because a moan gets stuck in his throat, with Olli bouncing on his dick just right, his low grunts coming again and again from behind you.

Joel comes before you, even if his tongue working like that made you think you could be the first. Joel presses his face to your cunt, muffling a long moan in your skin, his hands first tightening their grip on you and then relaxing at once. You sense Olli move behind you. Joel pulls away to breathe, but it’s just a moment, for he’s working your clit again immediately, only this time he’s putting his entire soul into it.

You groan, one hand leaving the headboard to hold his head close. His tongue works in circles, and when it stops it’s only so he can wrap his mouth around your clit and suck. You pull his hair, cursing under your breath. A finger comes to probe at your hole, and, finding it wet enough, enters without hesitation.

It’s Olli’s finger, fucking you lazily as Joel eats you out. It pushes you over the edge like nothing – you become a moaning, writhing, convulsing mess on Joel’s face, his strong hands keeping you as still as possible as he keeps licking you until the orgasm is over.

Your legs give in afterwards, and you sit down on Joel’s abdomen, still panting. He looks flushed, out of breath, but he has a dumb little smile on his face that you can’t help but kiss.

From behind, Olli’s arms come to wrap around you. You tilt your head where he’s come to press his body against your back.

“Your turn now.”

[bellysoupset]

Heyyy,

Not sure if you're taking mini-fic requests rn but I'd love love love to see Vince and Luke meet for the first time. Like their impressions of each other etc. I might be wrong as I've been reading your fics for a while, but I think you said they were roommates? Maybe something to do with them meeting there (if thats where they even met), or meeting at football and realising they are roommates etc. Just thought this would be super cool to read.

(Maybe one day you could even do a longer fic when they were sick with each other for the first time eg in dorms if I'm correct about that, flashbacks... - just wishful thinking on my part teehee I love your writing and OC's so much, I check back on your page pretty much every day, even as a UK girlie!)

Hi nonny, how are you!! Kissies from not-UK 💕💕

So, I'm gonna separate this answer in two pieces! I am still taking mini-fic requests (probably gonna be all week, because I'm working late nights all week and I use those as my incentive to stay awake). I do ask though, that people be mindful of where the timeline is at.

I got two different amazing requests (from @writing-whump and @lisupandowntown) involving Jonah and Leo in the same location, but they're a whole ocean away right now, so I won't be tackling those at the moment. Sorry!

About Luke and Vince, they weren't roommates! Vince lived in a mid-price range dorms near college, sharing his room with some random dude named Matt, that he never befriended. Luke had his own apartment from the get go, because he's a trust fund baby.

What they did do was share a motel/hotel room every time they traveled with the team. They met at football practice and hit it off almost immediately, there was never any "awkward" moment. Luke is the type of a person who genuinely believes in love at first sight, however type of love, and with Vin it was no different from how he met Bells. Saw them, decided he wanted them in his life, never let go. It's my favorite quality about him!

So my inbox is open if you wanna request something else 😉

[transitranger327]

Chapter 3: Settling In.

Sabine and Shin start to figure out married life. Later, Sabine properly meets the Dins.

Notes: The adult Omega prologue to this chapter will make sense after next chapter. Also it takes place shortly after the Battle of Yavin. Props to whoever gets the in-joke about the N-1. Mando’a glossary can be found in the end notes.

Nine Years before the Ignition

A small shuttle flew low over the tallgrass prairies of Lothal. As it neared the Ghost, it turned around and rapidly slowed for a landing. Hera smiled, remembering back to her childhood when a group of rogue clones saved her family. The landing ramp lowered, and a signature Kaminoan accent shouted “Rex! I got your message!” A tall woman with blonde hair and a red headband dashed across the gap between the two ships and embraced an old man. Her brother returned the hug, “It’s good to see you Omega.” He then began to introduce the two women, “Omega, this is the head of our starfighter corps, H—” Omega cut him off, “Hera Syndulla, long time no see!” As Hera embraced her old acquaintance, Rex asked, “You two…know each other?” Hera always kept her past secret, “Oh, I didn’t tell you? Omega and her older brothers helped my family out years ago, back when we were both young girls.” Omega laughed, “Hera, I hate to break it to you, but all my brothers are younger than me.” “Right, right, clone aging. So Rex tells me you’re a pilot?” “Mostly shuttles these days, but I can fly anything.” She gestured to the craft she arrived in, “Oh-Too here is a Sigma-class. Modified, of course.” She looked exceptionally proud of it. Hera was just glad to find a pilot with Koensayr experience, “Good, we just received an anonymous donation of Y-wings. You up for flying with Gold Squadron?”

One Year after the Ignition

Sabine slowly emerged from sleep as her bedroom lights gently brightened. “Good morning love,” cooed her girlfriend—no, wife. Shin had always been more of a morning person than her. A slurred “morning baby” was all she could muster while attempting to sit up. But she was too tired from the previous night, and gave up halfway, electing instead to rest her head on Shin’s bare stomach. She could feel her beloved wolf tucking her yellow hair behind her ear and leaning in for a kiss. “So you managed to survive last night?” Shin asked, barely above a whisper. A quick nod. “Would you like more?” Sabine thought for a moment then answered, “In a bit, I wanna snuggle a bit more first.” And so the two Mandalorian Jedi lingered a bit longer in the space between wakefulness and sleep.

—

Sabine sat on the bed, currently without sheets. They had been thoroughly soaked, and Shin had helpfully stashed them in a corner while Sabine was using the refresher. She should probably message Bo-Katan and ask where the laundry facilities were. She opened up her datapad and saw a calendar populated with a variety of meetings. She scowled, then opened an inbox full of answered messaged. She shouted towards the refresher

“Shin?” “Yes darling?” “Why is there a full calendar on my datapad?” “That’s the Clan Wren calendar, Bo-Katan gave me the key to it during the party. She gave you one too.” “Why is it full tho?” “I filled it out this morning while you were asleep.” “Without telling me? You know I can handle all this myself, right?”

Shin could hear the hurt in Sabine’s voice. She turned off the water and emerged from the refresher. After grabbing a towel, she walked up to a Sabine on the brink of tears. “I just wanted to make your job easier, love. You don’t have to carry all this responsibility.”

After hearing her wife’s words, Sabine started to break down. She grabbed Shin’s still-wet body and managed to eke out, “I’m just tired of not being in control of my own life.” Even tho she loved being married to Shin, living together on Mandalore, the fact that she was forced onto this path still hurt. Shin’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. “I’m sorry, Sabine,” she said, ignoring the tears and snot running down her shoulder, “I won’t do any more Clan Wren business without talking to you first.” Sabine’s cries slowed. Never before had someone apologized so quickly for taking away her agency. “Thank you, I think that would be good. I’m sorry for overreacting and getting my snot all over you.” 

“No darling, I’ve seen you overreact and this isn’t it. A little snot is nothing compared to the explosives you usually use. Some more time in the refresher is better than a bacta tank.” Shin broke the hug and grabbed the box of tissues Shysa Mereel had given them as part of his housewarming gift. Wiping away some of Sabine’s tears, she said, “I’ll be right back. I love you, Sabine.” After a few kisses on Sabine’s forehead and cheeks, she returned to the refresher.

—

Bo-Katan was still wearing her helmet. She tended to not wear her helmet most days, a habit from an earlier era, when simply wearing armor was the political statement. But today, she was hungover, and the helmet could both dim and quiet the world around her. And thankfully, nobody expected her to be the “proper” ruler her sister was, so her odd posture (well, more odd than usual) wasn’t unexpected. As the third meeting of the day wrapped up, she left the throne room to join her beloved armorer in their apartment.

As the door slid open, Bo-Katan was greeted by a hug. “Stars, these arms are wonderful,” she thought. “Cyar, are you burdened?” Her beloved Armorer had always known the right questions to ask. “Arms, you know I always am.” Together they took a seat on the couch, Bo-Katan resting her head on the Armorer’s chest, beskar on beskar. They breathed for a bit. Bo-Katan was the first to break the comfortable silence. “Do you think we were right to push the Wrens into marriage?” The Armorer thought for a moment. “Why do you worry? They obviously love each other.” “Yes but…it feels like we arranged their marriage. And I never liked when my father tried arranging relationships.” Bo-Katan thought back to the various men and women that had been “selected” for her, most of them boring, high-ranking clan members. “Bo, that was a necessary decision as Manda’lor. If they found it too harsh, there are other neutral systems to seek sanctuary in.” 

“Do you think we should be married?” Bo-Katan’s silence-breaking question was not unexpected given their previous conversation. “I have considered it. But we have no rush. Perhaps, in time, we will.” The Armorer could feel her lover’s smile from inside her helmet. “I think I’d like that.”

—

Sabine watched the Naboo fighter touch down next to the Wolf. As the canopy opened, she called out to its pilot. 

“Din Djarin, right? Sweet ride.”  “Yes, thanks. It’s what I first explored Mandalore with.” “Really? Not much of a bounty hunting ship.” “Oh, I’ve been out of the bounty hunting business for a while. I do security on Nevarro these days.” “Nevarro? That’s on the other end of the Galaxy. The Hydian way is fast, but how did you extend the N-1’s range?” “I guess my mechanic on Tatooine extended the range when we rebuilt it.”

By this point Sabine had begun a thorough inspection. While starfighters weren’t exactly her hobby, she could appreciate a vintage craft when she saw one.

“‘Rebuilding’ is definitely the right word. Replacing the vapor manifold with a turbonic venturi power assimilator must give the sunlight engines a huge kick.” “Yeah, on my test flight I was accosted by some X-wings, and when I flipped the Kineso-switch, I think they thought I jumped to lightspeed.” “Spooky. Good job removing the tail. Heard they were a nightmare to store with them. But what the kriff did you do to the paint job?” “I like the bare metal look.” “Yeah but the raw durasteel completely clashes with the hand-polished chrome! These pathetic stripes aren’t doing you any favors either.” “Right, like you could do better?”

Djarin realized how stupid that question was about one second after he asked it. Sabine’s armor was clearly a testament to her skill as an artist, being able to make it look completely normal and completely outlandish at the same time. “Come on, At least let me paint your clan signet.” He thought for a moment, the responded, “let me think about it.” Sabine’s look was somewhere in between complacency and resignation. She gestured at the bubble in the droid socket, “I assume that’s for the little guy?” “Yes. Want to properly meet him? I think his lessons are almost done.” 

—

“Hi there little buddy.” Sabine was trying to understand how this small person was 51 years old. He looked like what Ezra and Ahsoka had described Master Yoda as. But like, as a child. And then she felt his presence in the Force. “I see, Din Grogu. I’m Sabine Wren. I’ve been waiting to actually meet you for a while.” Grogu turned his head, slightly confused. “Well not a while a while, but ever since I first heard of you.”

“So you can understand him?” Djarin still could not hear his son. “It’s…complicated. He has thoughts and feelings, but processes the world in a way that is somewhat different to us. Ori’aale, Kih’miite.” Sabine certainly talked in ways that sounded like a Jedi, but somehow her Mando’a was better than his. “When he’s ready to speak, he will. But until then, just keep teaching him, he wants to learn.” Djarin thought for a moment. “Are you interested in teaching him? Every Jedi I’ve met has a strong opinion about that.” 

Sabine sensed more hesitation from Djarin. “That’s not the only reason you ask.” Her matter-of-fact tone seemed to catch him off-guard. “Well, ever since he chose to leave his Jedi training to be with me, I’ve been feeling a little guilty. I’ve always comforted myself by saying ‘you can’t walk both ways.’ But then…” “But then you met me.” Sabine felt the hidden maelstrom of emotions inside him, a father trying to do right by his son. “I don’t know if I can take him on as an apprentice. Certainly not as a traditional Jedi would, I started my training as an Adult. But I think you two aren’t interested in what a traditional Jedi would do.” She knelt down next to Grogu. “So, what do you think? How about some Jedi lessons with Ba’jur Wren?” She hoped her emphasis on lessons rather than training would soothe Grogu’s misgivings about his past Jedi experiences. His smile was worth a thousand words.

—

As Sabine returned from her visit with the Dins, Jacen opened the door to Clan Wren’s new home. “Ezra! Aunt Sabine is back!” She took in the aromas of the apartment. “What’s that wonderful smell?” Ezra smiled from the kitchen, “I’m making Leftover Chop, Lothal-style.” Sabine made her way over to her wife, wrapping her arms around Shin’s chest from behind, and exchanging some small kisses. A lightsaber sat partially disassembled on the table. “Shin was showing me how her lightsaber works,” Jacen explained with enthusiasm. “Ezra said I can make one too, once I connect to the Force enough.” Ezra brought over a skillet filled with the remnants of the wedding afterparty, fried with some steamed grain. “Yeah, it’s definitely because I philosophically believe you should have experience with the Force first, and not because my saber skills are extremely rusty.” Sabine sat down in between her brother and her lover. “Well Jacen, did Ezra tell you that I learned how to use a lightsaber before I became a Jedi?” “What? No. That’s so cool!” “It’s because I’m Mandalorian.” Sabine was grinning as she filled her plate. “Mmmm yeah that’s why,” Shin added to the conversation with some light ribbing, “It’s not because it took a long time for you to connect to the Force.” Ezra came to her sister’s defence, “No actually, that is why. Kanan and I had to teach her how to use the Darksaber so she could lead Mandalore.” Shin raised an eyebrow, “Is this the story you promised telling me about shortly being Manda’lor?” Sabine rolled her eyes, “Fine, I’ll tell you now. It all started when Ezra…” 

—

Notes: Yes I named the ship after Tech (Nine-Nine-Oh-Too). Since it’s not a recognizable ship class in the last scene, I’m declaring it to be the Legends Koensayr Sigma-class shuttle, the same company as the Y-Wing

Mando’a Glossary:

Cyar: love, pronounced “shar” (or the first syllable of “Charlene”)

Manda’lor: the ruler of Mandalore

Ori’aale: lit. “big thoughts”

Kih’miite: lit. “small words”

Ba’jur: teacher

[ask-dinopants]

Check 1 Check 2... Is this thing on?

Hello! Zuko Mod here! Or I guess I should properly introduce myself, huh? Seeing as I'm no longer an anonymous mod!

If you're not caught up, allow me to explain! This ask blog is run by one @pass1onepr1ncess! (That's me!) I'm a 21-year-old genderqueer lesbian! That's pretty much all I'm gonna say about me on here, but if you wanna know more feel free to follow my main! And if you're interested in another ask blog I run, check out @askphf!

Anyway, onto the rules!

Mature asks are allowed! However, keep in mind that I will not be responding to any asks or submissions that cross the line. You can be silly about it, but don't be gross. Any asks that go too far will simply go unanswered and will likely be deleted. And if anyone decides to be particularly annoying with it, I will not hesitate to put you on blast and tell you off in front of the entire blog.

Most of the other ask blogs I've seen use screenshots of the characters with each response, but I will not be doing that here! I made this blog to have fun, and I feel like if I have to go searching online for an image everytime I answer an ask it'll just end up sucking the fun out of it and feel too much like work. (But I've been considering doing little doodles for certain asks!)

You can ask me (the mod) questions, but I will not be answering anything too personal or invasive. Also, don't get too off-topic. If you have something you really want to ask me, my inbox is also open on my main!

You can ask about other characters, but just know that they won't be answering asks! I might do events here and there where I'll bring in other characters for a short time, but for the most part this is an ask Dinopants blog! Meaning Diego and/or Hot Pants will be the ones answering asks!

As the askphf followers will know, I like to create stories with my ask blogs that follow linear progression! So there will likely be character development, story events, etc etc. Here at the start, though, keep in mind that these two are NOT in a relationship yet! Keyword: yet. I get being shippy and such, but don't be pushy about the shipping stuff, alright? Be patient and just have fun watching everything unfold!

For the sake of a heads up, just know that Diego is going to be a bitch and HP will likely talk about religion from time to time! Thought I'd put that here, just so you're aware of this going into things.

Asks will be tagged with [#asks], but I do reblog art pieces and non-inbox related text posts from time to time! Those will be tagged with [#not an ask] as well as the content in them! For example, if the reblogged post is general fanart for SBR, I'll tag it as [#not dinopants] and [#art reblog]!

With that said, welcome to Ask Dinopants! Inbox is open!

[worthyheir]

Are you open to interacting with duplicates?

The short answer is yes.

The longer answer (I’m at work and typing this on my phone so excuse any typos or erractic chaos which really happens when I’m not mobile ig) is that I have insane anxiety and will never reach out to a solo Jace blog first. Even being in the rpc for like a thousand years has not killed this for me. Even multis, I aggressively scroll past their Jace responses because I don’t want it to look like I’m copying them or their headcanons or verses. I know we’re all gonna have similar-ish stuff (especially people who actually understand their characters) but I know I for sure put way too much of my stupid time into this specific blog to want it to be seen as a copy of someone else’s, if that makes sense?

Like reaching out to me privately, before or after following (I know my dms are set to following only) via inbox or even commenting on my ooc posts is the best way to get me to be like “oh cool they are here for fun and wanna have fun together we can do that” but otherwise, I’m gonna immediately think the worst because I am the worst (it’s never personal).

TL;DR? If duplicates wanna interact, in serious plotted threads or even just joke-ass crack posts, I’m down for it but I’d like to cultivate something ooc first, even if it’s just an introduction.