#n was still being shunned and forced to live all by himself (I know that iruka was small at the time of n’s birth so that doesn’t count)

[tariah23]

Can I be honest and say that even tho I don’t mind Iruka, I feel like He could’ve been there more for Naruto tbh like, if he cared sm 😭… Like I know that N canonically views him as father figure and all, and maybe this is a hot take, but I just… I mean, he’s there, he was nice to N, he gave him a sense of structure and paid attention to him, and it was okay, but I never fully saw what other fans were seeing if I’m being honest ajajakaka.

[little-diable]

Love's twisted embrace - Tommy Shelby

Y'all voted on this pairing, so I hope y'all like this! I adore writing historic fics (says the historian), I think it worked quite well with Tommy. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader's family is at war, fighting against Tommy's father. But while both are expected to hate one another, to strengthen their families, the two cherish their forbidden love.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, mentions war (nothing explicit), angsty because of the surrounding topics, set in the middle ages

Pairing: Historic!Tommy Shelby x historic!fem!reader (2.7k words)

Dearest Tommy,

Forgive me for the audacity of my quill as it dares to convey the tumultuous emotions that have become the very essence of my existence. In the darkest recesses of my heart, where secrets and desires intertwine, I find myself entangled in a web of affection, with tendrils as delicate as moonlight, yet as binding as a fateful spell. It is with the utmost trepidation that I dare to commit these thoughts to vellum, knowing full well the consequences that may befall our forbidden love.

As the ink bleeds onto this pristine canvas, I confess, my heart weeps with a sorrow so profound that it resembles the dirge of a soul trapped in purgatory. For you, my dear, have become the cursed temptation that consumes my every waking moment, as I tread the thin line between virtue and forbidden excitement. The mere thought of your visage, graced by the soft glow of candlelight, beckons my spirit towards a realm where darkness and desire entwine.

(Y/n)’s hands were trembling, rushing the words she wanted to perpetuate on the vellum. Her heart was pounding, ears focusing on the noises she could pick up on, the voices echoing through her parent’s home. She was filled with fear, scared that somebody would find her like this, writing a love letter to the man she had been in love with for months, years even. 

Their love was anything but enviable, a secret love, a love they couldn’t tell a living soul about. With their families at war, fighting against one another, (y/n) and Tommy were expected to strengthen their families, not to go behind their backs, to betray them. A foolish act of love Tommy and (y/n) could be killed for. 

Tears welled up in her eyes whenever she thought of Tommy, knowing that she’d leave her home this very evening, riding with her sisters and maids towards her father’s camp, the ruling lord that wanted to get rid of Tommy’s family, wanted to get his hands on their wealth, on their land, on their servants. A greedy man that only cared about himself, about all the riches this very life could offer him. 

In the hallowed halls of my mind, I find solace in the stolen glances and clandestine whispers we exchange, like a nocturnal symphony that resounds in the depths of my very being. Yet, beneath this enchanting facade, there lies a tempest of uncertainty, raging like a stormy sea that threatens to engulf my fragile heart. Does the echo of my affections find its way to your soul, or am I but a specter of fleeting infatuation, doomed to haunt the corridors of your thoughts?

It is the burden of these unspoken desires that weighs heavily upon my conscience, like the damning weight of secrets buried beneath a withering rose garden. In the grand tapestry of society, our love is a blemish, an aberration to be shunned and suppressed. But can the heart truly be tamed by the laws of decorum and propriety? Can it be so easily silenced, like a siren's song, when its melody resonates with the very essence of our souls?

The memory of the day where she had crossed paths with Tommy for the first time was still fresh in her mind, a day as clear as the night sky in winter nights. He had sparked a fire within her burning soul, had forced her to surrender, without having to speak one single word. It had been pathetic, a foolish woman offering her everything to the man she was supposed to hate. A man she had only felt love towards, not daring to move away from him.

He had robbed her of her honour within the first few days of knowing one another, she had begged him to touch her, to leave his marks on her trembling body. Sins the good Lord would make them pay for, souls burning in the fires of purgatory, of the eternal realm they wouldn’t be able to escape from. But she’d rather endure the pain of her sins than having to let go of the man she loved.

“(Y/n)? We leave soon, you need to come out of your chambers.” Her sister’s voice echoed through the hallway, forcing (y/n) to tense, eyes rereading the last sentence she had scribbled down. She felt her heart in her throat, choking on the words she still needed to write, finding solace in the thought of trusting one of her maids with the letter, knowing that she’d be the one to give it to Tommy. 

Alas, my dearest, the love that burns within me, with its ethereal flames and forbidden allure, knows no bounds. It devours my every thought, ravaging my spirit with a relentless hunger. Like a fading star, I find myself yearning for your presence, your touch, your whispered words of passion that echo within my fevered dreams. But I fear that these desires shall remain naught but echoes, mere phantoms of longing that torment my sleepless nights.

I beseech you, dear recipient of my heart's deepest affections, to consider the weight of my words, and to heed the echoes of a love forbidden yet irrepressible. In this world of shadows and secrets, where the flickering candlelight casts eerie silhouettes upon our shared desires, I dare to hope that you too harbour a flame that burns as brightly as mine.

Forever yours, in love's twisted embrace,

(Y/n)

……

Exhaustion clung to her body as (y/n) arrived at her father’s camp. The smell of mud, blood, and ale hung in the air, crawling up her nostrils without a warning, making the young woman choke on every breath she inhaled into her aching lungs. They had been on the road for hours, riding through the pain begging them for a break, needing to feel the ground beneath their feet. A silent plea they hadn’t been able to give into, knowing that it was too dangerous for so many women and only a few guards around to travel through this part of the country. 

“Come, I’m sure father wants to see us.” (Y/n) was dragged through the camp by her sister, clumsily following her with quivering limbs. She struggled to keep up, feet about to sink into the muddy ground, wondering how these warriors managed to survive in these conditions. Her eyes found her father’s from afar, taking in his dark eyes, the towering frame she had always feared, very well aware of the anger thumping through his veins. 

“There you are, just in time! Tomorrow we will win, we will kill Arthur and his foolish sons.” (Y/n)’s breath hitched in her chest, tears threatening to well up in her eyes at the mere thought of losing Tommy. No longer could she concentrate on her father’s taunting words, on the promises he spoke to them and to the Lord listening in on their every conversation. (Y/n) wouldn’t be able to survive without Tommy close, without the body she found in moments of weakness, the fingers stroking up her limbs, the lips speaking wordless promises she clung to. 

“Tonight we will pray. Tonight we will feast. And tomorrow we will kill. Kill in the name of our benevolent God, in the name of our honour, in the name of our family. We will own riches our eyes haven’t yet been able to admire. We will own lands far away from home, protecting our family from those that dare to move closer. And we will find suitable husbands for you to strengthen the name of our family.” Her father’s booming words cut through her skin like blades set to kill her, leaving marks on the body only Tommy was allowed to touch. Her throat tightened up, unable to reply, unable to mimic the joy filling her sister’s features, the excitement the young woman felt. 

“Excuse me, I am in need of some rest.” She spoke the words with a trembling voice, not waiting for her father’s reply, pushing past her sister. The cold air nibbled on her skin, embracing the woman that had to hold back her tears. She’d rather die than lay with a man who wasn’t Tommy, would rather disappear from earth’s ground than give into a loveless marriage. (Y/n) found no excitement in the future laying ahead of her, found no excitement in the thought of entering the bond of matrimony, at least not with a man who wasn’t Tommy. 

(Y/n) found her way to her tent, guided by one of the maids following her. The two women didn’t dare share any words, allowing (y/n) to sort through her racing thoughts. Should she run? Disappear with the night's shadow guiding her, allowing her to blend in with the darkness? Would she make it across the field, finding Tommy before the rising sun could drench the horizon in a colour as bright as the blood pouring out of wounds of fallen knights? 

“My lady,” her maid’s voice ripped (y/n) out of her trance. Her eyes flickered up to take in the features of her most trustworthy friend, the one that had been trusted to find Tommy, to give her letter to him. A small “Leave us” was whispered to the other maids, watching them hurry out of the tent, allowing the two women to exchange their secrets. “I gave him your letter, he misses you dearly. He promised that he’d fight for you, that he’d stay alive for you.” 

Tears rolled down (y/n)’s cold cheeks, hand darting out to grasp her maid’s hand. She wept in silence, clinging to every heavy breath leaving her, speaking silent promises only the howling wind could pick up on.

One prayer after another rolled off her tongue, he couldn’t die, he couldn’t. 

……

“(Y/n)?” She woke from her sleep with a gasp, eyes finding a pair of icy blue ones. A gasp left her, arms finding their way around his neck, pulling Tommy closer. His raspy chuckles echoed in her ears, hands finding her lower back, pulling her even closer.

“What are you doing here? Did anybody see you?” Her whispers were swallowed by the kiss he pressed against her lips, successfully shutting her up. (Y/n) felt her heart picking up its beat, roaring in her chest, hoping that he’d pick up on its call. 

“I had to see you, I won’t be able to fight for my life without knowing you still want me, without touching you one last time.” (Y/n) could only shake her head, murmuring a soft “It won’t be the last time” against his lips. She kissed him again, slowly laying back down on the fur covering the cold ground, pulling Tommy with her. He parted from her to unsheathe his sword, placing the weapon down on the ground. 

Her thin nightgown was pulled from her frame, naked body exposed to his darkening eyes, allowing Tommy to study the forbidden fruit, the body he shouldn’t touch and yet couldn’t stop dreaming of. It was a dangerous game they were playing, and yet neither Tommy nor (y/n) dared to stop. His cold lips kissed their way down her throat, leaving marks on her naked chest, on the breasts he kneaded with skilled fingers. 

“Oh please, promise that you’ll never stop touching me.” Her words were laced with desperation, forcing a few chuckles out of Tommy. It took him a few moments to reply, not daring to let go of her just yet, trying to prolong their hours together. 

“I promise that I’ll fight for you till God calls me from this life. I promise to defend your honour if I have to.” She couldn’t reply, weighed down by the severity of his words, of the promises he spoke before he undressed, showing his naked body to her eyes. (Y/n) had traced his scars numerous times before, listening to the stories they told, the stories filled with pain, anger, and confusion. A deadly mixture that left her heart clenching in her chest. But today her eyes couldn’t help but focus on the new scars gracing his body, the dark purple bruises covering his ribs, and the wounds that were tightly wrapped up. 

An unfamiliar kind of anger flushed through (y/n), anger directed at her father, at her brother, and the men fighting for the two. Tommy’s fingers found her chin, redirecting her gaze to stare into his eyes, getting lost in the bright blue that reminded her of places the bards sang about, places that knew no anger, no pain, no war. 

“I promise to love you till you no longer want me to. I promise to wed you, shall I survive the upcoming battle.” A sob wrecked through (y/n), lips finding his to silently communicate the gratefulness she felt. His skilled fingers disappeared between her thighs, finding her aching cunt, the arousal dripping from her. 

(Y/n) had to bite down on her lower lip, keeping herself from giving into the pleasure driven sounds wanting to escape from her flesh cage. He didn’t give her much time to adjust to his touches, the fingers she hadn’t felt pressed against her skin in weeks, needing to feel her wrapped around his cock. One of his hands found hers, fingers interlaced as he pushed into her, groaning into the crook of her neck. 

His thrusts were driven by their need for one another, by the pleasure filling their every vein, bodies trembling whenever they met. No words left the two, not daring to part their lips in fear they’d be too loud, catching the attention of those sleeping in tents close by. Their eyes spoke to one another, of the fear to part ways, not knowing what was laying ahead of them, of the fear to let go, not knowing if they’d ever be fortunate enough to share their bed again. 

Sweat was pearling on their foreheads, forming beads reminiscent of rosaries, praying to the God that listened to their every thought, to their every demand. Both wouldn’t last long, needing to give into the heat filling them, letting go with pleasure drunken features and trembling bodies. 

(Y/n)’s teary eyes didn’t dare flutter close, not wanting to miss the moments rushing by, the adoration swimming in Tommy’s pupils. A smile tugged on his lips as he met her gaze, staring down on (y/n) as he felt her walls flutter around his cock. He let go of her fingers to sneak his hand between their bodies, circling her clit, pushing her closer and closer to her high. 

“Let go for me, love.” His whispers gave her the final push, letting go with her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth drawing blood from her lower lip. His hips kept snapping against hers, driving his cock deeper into her tightness, set on chasing his own release. Tommy pulled out of her before he could let go, painting her thighs white with his cum, marking her in the most sinful way. 

The two were heavily breathing, eyes searching one another, slowly but surely realising that their time together was now coming to an end. No words were spoken as he cleaned her, no words were spoken as he redressed, tightly clinging to his sword. 

“I will see you again, either tomorrow when we’ve won the battle, or when your time on this earth comes to an end, we will be heaven bound.” One last kiss was shared between the lovers before (y/n) watched Tommy disappear, making her wonder if he had truly had just visited her or if it had been a dream, and nothing more.

[murderbirds]

To claim my rightful place pt1

A pale boy with brown hair and broken glasses made his way inside the house. He opened the door slowly and as silently as he could. Unfortunately, the actual stepping in ended up being the problem as his limping leg made a lot more noise than he would have liked.

"EDWARD!"

The boy froze at the sound of his father's voice. "Y-yeah?"

For once the man decided to check on his son, bottle still in hand. The kid tried to hide his notebook behind his back.

The adult looked him up and down, scowling. "You got your ass kicked again, didn't you?"

"N-no, I just- I fell-"

He grabbed the child by the hair and forced him to look up, fully revealing his black hair. "You know what I think about liars, boy." Ed swallowed and nodded, "was it about your stupid drawings again?"

He wanted to defend himself, to argue that they weren't stupid. He looked at the man's tightened fist around the bottle. The boy was smart enough to know that wouldn't end well though. If his father caught him lying again, he would do a lot worse than the bigger boys of the village. "Y-yes."

"Of course it was, you stupid little- just hand it over." Edward felt his blood run cold and his hesitancy was undoubtedly perceived. "NOW!"

Edward offered his notebook with shaking hands and the adult snatched it, flicking through the pages, "I honestly don't know what is worse, the fact that you still hold on to these fantasies of becoming a pokemon trainer despite being almost thirteen years old or the fact that you are so stupid you want the evil ogre to be your partner."

"It is not evil!" Edward was as surprised as his father by his own shouting. He didn't stop there, "the story is wrong! The old couple up the hill told me! Ogerpon was only trying to rescue its master from the loyal three! They were the ones who attacked- ah!" His father slammed the bottle against his cheek, causing the boy to fall to his knees, dazed.

"Stupid, stupid kid. This is exactly why your mother left us, because she couldn't endure such a failure of a son." He raised the notebook and let the bottle fall to grab his lighter from his pocket. "Maybe this will finally teach you to live in reality." He began burning the notebook.

"N-no." Ed's voice came weak as he still tried to focus. It was the smell of smoke and the bright flames dancing over his dreams that had him focus. "NO!" A spurt of adrenaline caused Ed to get up and grab the still burning notebook before running out of the house. He went as fast as his damaged legs would carry him, tears still in his eyes. He went past the village, past the river and deeper and deeper into the mountain. He was so focused on running away, he didn't notice the pages falling nor the new footsteps that began following him from the bushes. The preteen only stopped when he was forced to stop by a loose root, causing him to fall while cradling his now charred book.

He laid there, head on his arm for a moment as he cried. It wasn't fair. It was not fair! Every other kid in the village had a pokemon, even if it was a starly, all but him because his father couldn't be bothered wasting money and resources to take care of another creature. He barely did it to his own son. So Ed was forced to live in a world of fantasy, where he could actually be the pokemon master he dreamed of with the only pokemon he truly related to, the one deemed a monster by everyone else, shunned and despised despite doing nothing wrong. The boy really saw himself in Ogerpon's tale, even if no one believed it but him.

He was pulled from his thoughts and tears by the sound of rustling from the bushes. Only then did he realize the mess he had made, from the notes spread all over the grass to the pokeballs he kept with him, not to actually catch anything, but so he could pretend. He had a collection of them, one of which except a masterball and gs ball. The boy backed away towards a tree as his attacker revealed itself.

And then it did.

Jumping from the trees was a creature about the size of a child wearing what appeared to be a green cloak.

"Oger!" The pokemon hopped in place, holding one of drawings of a creature that looked a lot like it and Ed.

"It's- It's you," he whispered.

Ogerpon ran towards him and Ed yelped, cowering against the tree in fear. She blinked a few times before offering the charred piece of paper.

"Ogerpon!"

Ed looked at it, "t-that's my drawing."

"Ogerpon! Ogerpon!" She pointed at Ed's drawing next to her. He wore a jacket covered in question marks.

"Y-yeah, that's- that's me. I'm next to you cuz- cuz we travel together and-and help people as true heroes and pokemon masters!"

The pokemon hopped around in place excitedly before showing another drawing.

"H-here we are defeating an evil team. They are, like, groups of evil people that terrorize a region and champions and pokemon masters defeat them. A-and this," he opened his notebook to show her, "this is our rival. He is the son of the evil team leader, but he isn't actually evil! He is just- just flawed! And he wants to make the region a better place, and we eventually start traveling the region together and we end up falling in love and- and-" Ed spent the next hours telling Ogerpon of their journeys together and everything they would do. Suddenly, his leg didn't hurt as much and the blood in his forehead felt like it didn't exist at all. Hours went by of the boy rambling about his fantasies and the pokemon listening and paying attention.

Time passed and soon, night started to fall. Edward noticed how hard it was getting to actually see, and only then realized that it was evening. "Oh crap! Dad is going to kill me! I-I'm sorry but I gotta go!" He began collecting the different pages and pokeball until only his friendball remained on the grass.

Ogerpon was actually the one to pick the green sphere.

"Can you hand that over?" Ed asked.

The pokemon looked between the boy and the pokeball and then back to the ball before pressing it to her head.

"Ogerpon!" Ed shouted as a blue light covered the creature before the ball fell to the ground with no sign of the pokemon. It shook once before stars appeared around it, indicating the target had been caught.

The pre-teen's jaw had dropped by then as he picked the pokeball to look at it. He didn't have the time to process what had happened, however. It was getting late and he didn't want his home life to get any worse.

1 (you are here)- 2- 3- 4- 5- 6- 7-8

Complete story

[yanyanderes]

Hi this is based on the Halloween ask about Yandere rise brothers x the reader with the death trap maze.You mentioned, something about if one of the brothers gets really badly hurt or doesn’t even make it out alive. I was wondering if you want to, What would happen if the brothers did get badly hurt or one didn’t make it out live ,what if the reader got hurt or didn’t make it out alive? How would the brothers react? If you don’t wanna answer this no worries , hope your doing ok 🀄️

i think this is the longest post i’ve made, this is the first time i’m using the “keep reading” thing i’m so sorry lol

also i haven’t proofread this because it’s so long and i’m tired so i hope you enjoy. if you saw any mistakes, no you didn’t ✨✨

OK THIS JUST GAVE ME AN IDEA

if (y/n) gets really badly injured, the guys are gonna amp up their overprotectiveness by a million and will 100% kidnap them and lock them up in the sewers, that much is obvious.

and if one of the brothers were seriously hurt or died… (y/n) would definitely be conflicted.

assuming (y/n) found out they were being creepy, they would definitely want distance… but leaving them alone, after such a tragedy, after such a scarring event… it simply doesn’t feel right.

this also amps up the other brothers’ crazy meters. they’re gonna lock up (y/n), give more restrictions to them than usual, more locks and cameras, less likely to be persuaded…

they need (y/n) to understand. they’ve already lost a member of their family. they can’t lose another loved one.

and that scenario where (y/n) dies, i just-

so the turtles fought as hard as they could, shielding (y/n) from danger and trying to keep them from knowing the truth. maybe they tell them to close their eyes to stop them from seeing the truth, and because of that, they don’t see the danger coming for them and die.

at first, they’re all in denial. raph goes into a blind rage and charges head first into danger. he’s not scared of getting hurt, he just wants this maze to feel pain.

mikey’s holding (y/n), telling them that they’ll be okay, they’re all gonna make it home safe, and they’re never gonna leave each other’s side again.

donnie, in all his delusions, refuses to believe it’s too late for them. they’re still alive, he can patch them up, he can fix this.

leo’s the most lucid of them all. deep down, he knows that (y/n) is gone. he knows there’s nothing they can do about it. but it’s a truth he doesn’t want to believe, so he shuns out those thought and let’s himself believe the lies. (y/n) is still alive. they’ll make sure they come back to the lair safely.

it’s only when they finally make it out of the maze that they’re forced to confront the fact that (y/n) isn’t alive anymore. no matter how many cuts they stitch, medicine they give, (y/n) won’t wake up.

they gone for good.

they all deal with the loss differently. raph isn’t the same anymore. he practically has to be dragged out of bed and into the kitchen so he can eat. his eagerness to fight is gone, and the fire in his eyes is dead.

leo tries to push away his grief with anger. he goes out every night and takes out all his negative emotions on some poor criminals. but no matter how many thieves or bandits he beats up, he can never rid himself of the heavy weight on his chest, and he always ends up curled up in a ball, crying on a rooftop by the time the sun rises.

mikey is the only one of his brothers who still refuses to accept the truth. he still wears a smile, still has that sing-songy tone in his voice, still acts like (y/n) is alive. he always picks out (y/n)’s favorite movies to watch, always cooks an extra plate of food for them, always texts them at the usual time… (y/n) isn’t gone! they love the guys too much to leave them!

donnie, as most might predict, buried himself in his work. his doors are locked 24/7, they have to be practically broken down if anyone wants to get in. yet, even when he makes the most groundbreaking inventions, it isn’t the same without (y/n) praising his machinery and listening to him ramble about how it works. he wonders if it’s even worth it to continue his science if it isn’t for them…

wait. that’s it!

raph is still moping in his room, leo is on the surface beating a group of criminals half to death, and mikey is playing video games with “(y/n),” so no one notices when donnie leaves his lab in what feels like the first time in forever. his figure stalks through the sewers, until he finally finds what he’s been looking for.

the one thing that can get raph out of his room without being forced out.

the one thing that would provide leo with comfort after any rough night.

the one thing mikey refuses to visit because it’s the one thing that could disprove his blissful lies.

(y/n)’s grave.

the boys couldn’t bare the thought of (y/n) truly leaving them for good. so instead of letting their friends and family know of their death, they kept their grave in the sewers, where they could have them all to themselves. sure, it was selfish, but at this point… they simply stopped caring.

but tonight, that will all change.

leo will barge into the lair, frantic, distressed, and enraged. he’ll drag raph out of his room and practically throw him onto the couch where mikey is resting.

“someone dug up (y/n)’s grave!”

raph’s mood will change in a heartbeat. he’ll go from not caring at all what leo has to say, to practically fuming. mikey, on the other hand, will simply pout.

“i told you guys! (y/n) gets upset when you say that they’re dead! you’re taking this prank way too far!”

“mikey, this is serious!”

“i know! you made (y/n) mad, so they tore up that stupid grave you keep saying you buried them in!”

“we have to find their body!”

“they aren’t dead!”

for a moment, it will look like the fight is about to get physical. that is, until the lights suddenly shut off. donnie’s lab door will fly open, with the lights flickering within. whatever experiment donnie will do, it will have short-circuited everything else in the lair.

amidst the flickering lights, the trio will see donnie hunched over a table, diligently checking over whatever he had done.

“donnie! what’s the big deal?!”

leo’s irritated words will fall on deaf ears. all donnie will do is grin as he mutters under his breath, his tone uncharacteristically chipper.

leo will groan as he walks into the lab, his brothers following not too far behind.

“whatever, that’s not important. someone took (y/n)’s body out of their grave, and it’s our job to-!”

leo will stop mid sentence when donnie steps out of the way. raph and leo will stare wide eyed at the experiment donnie had pulled.

“…(y/n)?”

it’ll be hard to believe, but it’ll be true. there, on the lab table, (y/n) will sit. they’ll look like they’ve been starving for weeks, some of their limbs might even be falling off…

but that bright light in their eyes will say it all.

donnie will explain everything; how he dug their body from their grave, how he double, triple, and quadruple checked everything to make sure this process wouldn’t go downhill, how he used all the power in the lair to power his invention so he could bring (y/n) back to life-

“i told you i could fix this!”

mikey will be the first to act. he’ll run up to (y/n) and embrace their fragile form. donnie will warn him to be gentle with them, they’ve just come back from the dead, and their body is still weak. mikey will respond with a pout, saying that (y/n) was never dead to begin with.

“i told you, they’ve been alive all this time! isn’t that right, (y/n)?”

leo will take a step forward… and laugh. laugh as if this is a joke. this is surely a joke, right? reviving someone from the dead is impossible. this is just a robot donnie built to hurt their feelings as some twisted prank, and soon the rug will be pulled from under their feet, right? right? but then, his hand will cup their cheek. they’ll lean into his touch… and he’ll know it’s the real (y/n). he’ll break down on the spot. he’ll laugh and cry and pull them close, stuttering and sputtering as he chokes on his words, before trailing off and simply letting himself relish in their embrace.

“(y/n), you- you-” *hic* “- you were- how did- i… i…”

all the while, raph will stare at the group in disbelief. he won’t say anything, and for a good while, he won’t even move. even when donnie tries to snap him out of his daze, he’ll simply stand there. it’ll be as if time had stopped. and then (y/n) will make eye contact with him, and his body will move on his own. tears will stream down his face as he wraps his arms around the three of them. he had felt so empty holed up in his room, but when he’s holding onto them, he’ll feel whole again…

he’ll smile.

of course, things can’t just go back to the way things were. the boys are so traumatized after what happened, and what will (y/n)’s friends and family think if they see them in such a state?

i imagine that after donnie’s experiment, (y/n) is like a zombie. they don’t want to eat brains or anything, but their body is kinda decomposing, their limbs sometimes fall off and have to be stitched back on, and their brain, well…

i think they’d have memory loss. they can’t remember their death all that clearly, they’ve forgotten events that have happened more than a few days ago, and they regularly forget where they are, what they’re doing, and have to be constantly helped by the turtles. not that they turtles mind, of course.

this definitely works in the guys’ favor. they’ve forgotten the maze, so even if they saw all the terrible things the turtles have done for them, they won’t remember. they barely remember their life outside the turtles, so they don’t have to worry about competition. even if they somehow come across a memory of a family member or friend, the turtles can divert their attention to something else, and they’ll forget the person soon enough.

sure, this isn’t the right thing to do. sure, it’s selfish.

but with all they’ve gone through for (y/n), don’t they deserve this?

tried to stay in the halloween theme since the original post was a holiday special, hope ya like it

[milgramimaginesblog]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Haruka Sakurai (Pre Trial and First Trial) Relationship HCs!

Synopsis: General relationship HCs and mini scenarios of Haruka Sakurai. Pre Trial is platonic, First Trial is platonic/romantic(? , can be seen as either). Word Count: 1702 Genre: Hurt/Comfort Reader: GN (no pronouns mentioned), Prisoner in MILGRAM Spoilers/Warnings?: Implied of Haruka's victim's death in Pre trial part but was never directly stated on how victim died, Haruka's 1st voice drama spoilers in 1st Trial part where he is slapped by Es.

a/n: I accidentally might've made it a bit too ooc in the Pre Trial part?? Only because we still don't know much about Haruka's life before MILGRAM ⎯ aside from his mother, how he was treated by her, and his victim. So hopefully that isn't an issue....?? Also the ending in the Trial part was a bit rushed cos I wanted to get this over with ngl😭 .... But anyways, enjoy!!

ೃ⁀➷ PRE TRIAL

It was hard trying to get along with Haruka at first, not because he was unpleasant to be around, but because you don't get to see him out often.

The first time you met him was when you were both kids attending the same daycare.

You noticed how secluded he was from the other kids, and tended to stay by himself all the time ⎯ until his mum had came to pick him up at least. Which.. Honestly, as a kid, made you weirded out by him at first.

But after being paired up with him for an activity (action or just talking to each other) you got to know him a little better. Just a little bit though, since he looked wary of you still and looked as if he didn't wanna be here, or with you right now.

But just from that one interaction made him come back to you still. The first few times he approached you, he was hesitant, and stuttered a lot whenever he tried talking to you about something (the topic being smth he's interested in or tried to ask about your interest.) Though that quickly changed when he got accustomed to your presence.

Not a lot has changed, but he looked fairly more relaxed than before, maybe a bit louder too perhaps? Over all enjoying the time he spends with you, to the point where he doesn't even notice when others are watching, or talking about you two ⎯ as you were currently his sole focus as of now.

If you and Haruka were partnered a lot after your first interaction with each other, I think he'd be thrilled to stay closer to you! Staying glued to your side as you helped instruct him on what to do, or even trying to bring him with you to your other friends.

However.. The happiest moments don't always tend to stay the same for long. As you were sudden told by your mum to stay away from him, and how you noticed afterwards, Haruka was being shunned even more by the other kids.

Not long after, Haruka eventually stopped attending the daycare.

You thought that maybe you'd see him again when you started High School, but that doesn't seem to be the case. As no one knew where he or his family had gone off to ⎯ not even your old friends remember who Haruka was.

This makes you wonder... Was Haruka just a figment of your imagination, or was he actually a real, living, breathing person you met in your childhood?

ೃ⁀➷ FIRST TRIAL

Suddenly waking up in a random facility with other people, who were in the same position just like you, was already nerve wracking.. But finding out the reason behind it? And seeing your old friend since childhood be here too?? You were far beyond just 'nerve wracking' now.

It took a while to settle in this...'place', but you forced yourself to get used to the environment.

And for the sake of your own sanity, you needed someone to talk to here, and well... the closest person you knew happens to be here as well so, might as well give it a shot, right?

With a few steps forward, you found yourself standing in front of his supposed cell ⎯ where seeing him all huddled up in the corner of the room, reminded you of the old times where you were both just kids. How he'd be all alone.. in his own world, waiting for his mum to come pick him up. But as of right now, she won't be coming. No, no one would be coming anytime soon to get you all out of this prison, especially considering you were all 'murderers' here.

"Uhm...Haruka?"

Just the sound of your voice made him flinch. He looks petrified, his fingernails were digging deep into his sleeves as his form began to tremble ⎯ was he crying? or was he just anxious by being in a room with total strangers? You being one of those strangers, after not seeing him for quite some time... But surely he'd recognise you, right?

"It's...It's me (Y/N), remember? We grew up together and went to the same daycare?" Hearing nothing but silence in response, you take a moment to really come up with an idea on what to talk about ⎯ saying the most randomise things that came to mind. But after talking for quite some time and seeing nothing had really changed since walking in, you decided to leave things as is. Thinking it'd be best to try again later, tomorrow, or maybe even the day after.

But as soon as you turned to leave, Haruka takes a brief peek at your retreating form through his bangs. A lingering feeling plaguing his chest as he thinks back on your words and what you could've meant, or what he should've remembered.

With a trembling sigh, he buries his head deeper into his arms, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could ⎯ as he continues to think back on a lot of things that you mentioned ⎯ trying his best to remember all the littlest details so you'd come back and he can finally respond to your queries.

If he doesn't... you'd leave him all alone too, and with that wretched feeling in his chest ⎯ he knew he didn't want that to happen.

It was a surprise to Haruka when you returned to his cell later on, calling him to come eat with the others and you for 'Lunch.'

When he did, you insisted he sit right beside you and Yuno.

Making small talk with him on the first day wasn't easy, as he was just as reclusive as he was when he was a kid. But did that stop you? Not really, since you've seen that side of him before ⎯ and knew how it'd take a while for him to get out of his shell. So no biggie!

Or at least that's what you'd thought it'd be like.

MILGRAM .. With its environment and all, it's hard to trust others so easily. How everyone residing in the room were killers, in their own way ⎯ or 'MILGRAMs' way.

You aren't sure what Haruka's murder was exactly, not that he'd tell you anyways, it still ... kept you on edge trying to think about it.

But surely it wasn't that bad, right?

Well, seeing as he came out of the interrogation room not too long after with a slap print on his cheek, makes you doubt what you initially thought. Somewhat, at least.

But whether it was god awful or not, you still needed to check up on him ⎯ Since he is your friend after all.

"Haruka?"

Again in his cell, curled up into a little ball, was Haruka. Ashamed? Scared? All he looked to you right now, wasn't a killer, but a pitiful Haruka unsure of how to cope right now.

Unsure of his emotions, unsure of everything. It felt suffocating ⎯ almost like he was drowning in an endless tank filled with water, unable to swim back up and get fresh air into his lungs. He was so sure he was gonna die here, right in this cell.

However, you weren't planning on just letting that happen.

With the squeak of his mattress dipping itself, he sensed you were the one in the room with him right now ⎯ even as he was mind was blurred with unpleasant thoughts, he just knew it had to be you sitting right beside him.

"Haru, I need you to look at me," he shakes his head in response, a whine following suit to his refusal. But with the gentle touch of your hand meeting his shoulder, he hesitantly glances up ⎯ just a bit to see your hand and look at it.

"... I'm not sure what went on during the interrogation, but getting slapped is too much ⎯ even for you, or any of us to receive. Whether we did something to deserve it or not... It just.. It just isn't right, okay? And I want you to know that too, so you don't blame yourself because of it."

Again, silence was his response. You didn't want to push him into talking either, so you had planned on leaving right after saying what you wanted to say ⎯ but just as you were about to pull your hand away, his hand quickly snatches it back in place.

It was then that you finally got a good look at his face, tears brimming at the corner his eyes, his lip jutted out with clear bite marks on it ⎯ and most importantly, the now semi-faded hand print on his cheek.

"I-I .. I.. I'm not sure about what you meant. Frankly, I don't.. really mind it, being treated this way, I mean-" "But you should mind it, you got hurt! Badly hurt." He recoiled at the sudden loudness in your voice, eyes darting to everywhere but you to steady his nerves ⎯ and even so, despite your outburst towards him ⎯ with a gentle squeeze of your hand in his, you silently ask him to continue with what he was saying.

"...B-But if it bothers you then I-I..!! I'll try my best.. not to make Es angry with me anymore, I-I'll also try my best to uhm uh... to uhm.. to not... blame myself too... I guess.." Although he muttered the last part as softly as he could, you caught a bit of it to smile ⎯ enough to really catch Haruka off guard from his loathing towards himself.

"Then it's a promise, okay? No more taking the blame, and no more trying to put others above yourself."

"W..What if I break the promise, n-not that I would but...!!"

"Then... I guess I'll have to come teach you about what to avoid and what to do in certain situations." "Eh...? But, why would you⎯" "Because we're friends! and that's what friends are for, right?" With another smile and another squeeze from your hand in his, Haruka felt the weight on his shoulders being lifted off ⎯ that it makes him also return a smile back towards you.

[thestralluvr]

Daylight

CHAPTER I

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Tellin’ myself I won’t go there, oh, but I know that I won’t care.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Neville Longbottom knew it was wrong, so incredibly wrong, he told himself exactly that almost every moment. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart would flutter and his face would flush whenever he caught their eye, he couldn’t help but to love Y/N Lestrange.

As for Lestrange, they shared the same shameful feelings of wanting the other. It goes without saying that they’ve tried so many times to show they’re a genuinely good person in so many different ways yet, no matter what they’ve always been shunned by their house, fellow students, practically the whole school! And truthfully, they didn’t blame them at all, they were a child of a Death Eater of course.

It’s assumed by now that they’d usually be seen in the crowd with their cousin Draco Malfoy surrounded by the other children of those who serve The Dark Lord, right? Wrong. Y/N Lestrange was nothing at all like their mother and they liked it that way thank you very much!

They were kind and compassionate, always lending a helping hand to those in need, despite them bolting off as soon as they noticed who it was. Their features differed from their mother’s, their expression always the opposite of the gaunt and haunting one of hers. Y/N always had remained true to themself, choosing to take after their cousins Andromeda, Sirius and their great uncle Alphard, choosing to be another blood traitor or black sheep of the family.

For Merlin’s sake they were even sorted into Gryffindor! The only thing they shared was the same surname! But, despite all this not a single person cared. They were still the same old Lestrange.

They had been raised by Narcissa and Lucius in the Malfoy family alongside Draco per Bellatrix’s stern orders, that is until they were sorted into Gryffindor, Merlin knows Lucius didn’t want a blood traitor AND a Gryffindor representing his family, so before they knew it they were forced to raise themself beside the ever so cantankerous Kreacher in the lone cobweb ridden Grimmauld Place.

That all changed of course when Sirius was freed of his charges and could live alongside them, he’d tried to get his godson and his friends to see what type of person Y/N truly was but they were having absolutely none of it and Y/N didn’t blame them, their mother drove one of their best mates’ parents to pure insanity.

So, Y/N was left with nobody at Hogwarts, besides Onyx, the ebony coated maine-coon Andromeda and Ted had lovingly adopted for them to help with the loneliness that came from living in Grimmauld Place, as well as the many magical creatures they resorted to for comfort, or so they thought.

Little did they know the boy who was supposed to have the most hatred for them had the total opposite.

If only Neville was able to actually get a moment alone with them without his friends trying to protect and defend him or any other nearby student cussing the young Lestrange out for even being remotely near him.

If only then he could see the real Y/N. If only then he could have a chance to hear them out, to genuinely understand them. If only things weren’t the way they were.

If only they could feel this way without shame.

Yet, this was the way it had to be.

This wasn’t the longest chapter i’m sorry !!

I hope you stick around for more updates, you can read Daylight as well as other upcoming works on Ao3, Tumblr, and Wattpad on @thestralluvr :)

[tired-teacher-blog]

Hi! ❤️ If it isnt too much to ask, could I request the Scarlet Witch s/o idea you wrote before, but with Dabi, Shinso, and Aizawa? If not, that's ok! I hope you're doing well and take care of yourself C:

It's not too much to ask sweetie, your guys'requests give me happiness (even though I'm terribly slow) so I'm really grateful you sent this, and so sorry to have kept you waiting. I hope you're doing wonderful and please watch out for yourself babe.

Title : Mha boys with a Scarlet Witch S/O

Characters : Dabi/ Shinsou/ Aizawa/ Gender neutral reader

Genre : mostly fluffy/ a little angsty/ headcanons

Y/n's Quirk : Warping, teleportation, telekinesis, flight

Weakness : using your powers for extended periods of time without rest affects your mental status.

Note : Please keep in mind that Scarlet Witch is from a different universe which means that in order for y/n to possess similar powers, some changes need to be done to keep things as natural as possible. This is why I picked some of the original Witch's powers which can go together harmoniously without seeming like you have more than one quirk, and at the same time to reserve the originality of your character.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

First part I did a few months ago with the Origin Trio

Dabi :

Growing up, you tried your hardest to make friends but were always shunned because of your unique quirk. No one accepted you or even bothered to check on you, but as time went on, you grew to recognize the reality you were pushed into.

Your friends in the league were the only ones who acknowledged and treated you like a normal human being. That being said, you wished you didn't have to join their side since all you ever wanted was to live a peaceful life. However, and same as most of the members, your quirk gave you no chance at a normal existence.

Even though you felt safe with them, you were still reserved and detached from everyone except during missions when you were 'forced' to communicate.

Touya was the sole exception, and for some reason you found yourself drawn to him.

Same as you, he was quiet most of the time, kept to himself and never intervened in the others' shenanigans.

You were the one who approached him first, you wanted a little closeness, a little intimacy, and so did he.

He admires your quirk and makes sure to remind you of your value everytime you start doubting yourself since he knows first hand what it means to be pushed to the side and deemed unworthy.

And it's vice versa, as you've always pulled him out of the pit when he was consumed with rage.

Things haven't changed much when you two became a couple, except for his -now-too-obvious-worry about your well being. He knows you're strong and capable of watching over yourself, but he can't help being overprotective of the person he loves, especially during missions when the unchecked use of your quirk triggers your emotional instability.

During such times, and no matter the station he's assigned to, he would leave everything behind and come for you.

He's never been good with words, so what he does is remove you from the scene and to a quieter one where he pulls you close to his chest until you feel better.

Being with Touya has taught you to finally be grateful for your quirk, not only because he's helped you see how amazing it is, but also because thanks to your power, you're able to perceive and diminish his constant distress, even if he's too stubborn to ask for help. When something like that occurs, you wordlessly invite him between your arms before whispering reassuring words and kissing everywhere your lips can reach until he finally relaxes in your hold, but even then, you don't let go and neither does he.

He is to you what you are to him; family, best friend, and true love. Neither one of you will ever need more than that.

Shinsou :

You and Hitoshi share more than you thought you did. Both of you are introverted, misunderstood, and possess a magnificent quirk that makes life unbearable sometimes.

You've known each other for a really long time before one had finally exchanged words with the other, and even when that happened it was during a mission you two were assigned to work on.

However, that short conversation meant the difference between unfamiliarity and friendship as you two started spending more time together.

You quickly opened up to each other and shared the reasons for your distress. You learned that he too was almost pushed to join the wrong side as everyone joked about him possessing a villainous quirk with no regard for his feelings.

Gradually, and with help from one another, you started seeing your strengths and values until fully accepting your quirks at last.

You were each other's best friend and biggest supporter, and soon enough, you realized that your sentiments for one another grew to something greater.

You were aware of your mutual feelings thanks to your quirk, but never possessed the courage to confess first. Which is why you were thankful when he finally did.

If he wasn't exceedingly protective of you before, then he certainly is now. He never allows you out of his sight during missions, and constantly checks on you in case you overuse your quirk.

You never complain when he does though, since it's his way of showing love and you enjoy it. You're even the same way with him, in that you watch over him and promptly interfere if you see him struggling.

There were times when he was forced to use his quirk on you to make you take a step back or leave the fight all together.

Such conduct undeniably leads to necessary explanations most of the times, but essentially to Hitoshi apologizing profusely for his behavior. He hates manipulating and forcing you to act a certain way, even more so when he sees the look of shock and confusion upon your features after he releases his quirk. Having to use it on the person he loves reminds him of the reason people dubbed him as a potential villain.

At times like these, it's up to you to soothe and pull him back to you, offering him reassuring smiles and gentle kisses: "Hitoshi, I trust you with my life so I'm never worried when you use your quirk on me, you did what you did to save me, and for that I am grateful." is what you whisper as you hold him close and allow him to hide his face in the crook of your neck for as long as he needs. You two are soulmates, and will forever walk side by side and hand in hand.

Aizawa :

Shōta has always been supportive of you, ever since you've met all those years ago. But at first he was only trying to help you through tough times, just the way he learned to do from his late best friend Shirakumo.

You were grateful regardless, even if you meant nothing more than a "charity case" to him, at the end of the day, he still checked on you and that was enough.

Nevertheless, you kept following him around like a shadow and trying to be near him every chance you had. He was the closest thing you had to a friend after all, and even if he didn't think of you as such, it was fine.

Him on the other hand, found you a bit overwhelming. He's a private person who likes to have his space and to him, you were similar to a lost kitten.

But he came to learn soon enough that the lively and frisky side of you only existed thanks to him, as you were never that way with anyone else. Therefore, what he once thought of as an uncontrollable side of you, became a comforting reminder that you were doing well.

Your feelings for Shōta started to grow and develop as soon as you learned that you were no longer a person he needed to help, but rather, an important part of his life.

It all happened one day after long tedious hours of work chasing one particular powerful villain. It was a solo mission that you successfully accomplished but at the expense of your peace of mind.

Shōta knew— even without you saying a word, that you were experiencing one of your quirk's downsides, and him showing up on your doorstep unannounced was enough proof.

"You disappeared right after handing over your mission report, today's assignment must've been hard on you." his words might seem like nothing to rave about to an onlooker, but to you it was the little nudge you needed to finally realize and admit your true feelings.

Thanks to your quirk, you weren't surprised to learn that he felt the same way about you. However, his reaction to your confession was a different story. The cool, stoic, composed man latched onto your body as soon as you finished talking, wrapping his arms around you with no intention to let go, "yeah, I love you too." That night you two shared your first kiss.

His way of treating you remained the same when in public, as he has always been protective of you anyway— and using his quirk on you when things get intense is one way of doing it, but once you two are alone, he shows you a softer side that only you have the right to witness.

Now that you're a couple, you're also able to see him at his worst, and get to take care of him just the way he does you. His once messy sleeping schedule and constant nightmares of the past are now alleviated thanks to you.

Being in each other's presence, entangled in sweet rare moments of peace is all you could ask for.

[yns-world]

Yandere Elliot Alderson Headcanons

a/n: i just started watching Mr. Robot and elliot is my favorite delusional girl 🫶🫶🫶

It doesn’t matter where he met you, it doesn’t matter how much or how little information you give him, he’ll still find you.

You gave him a brief smile at the grocery store? He’ll frequent the location and eventually find out where you live. 

You start using AllSafe? Oh dear, you set yourself up with that one.

Regardless of how you met him, he felt the instinctual urge to protect you.

Everything he does, everything that he is-- it’s all for you. 

You were the driving force for him to start his little revolution because he saw just how much this society was killing you. 

He saw it through the live feed from your computer and phone cameras.

And no matter how gentle you may be, he’ll never approach you.

He thinks too lowly of himself to ever be around you and he doesn’t want to scare you off, so he’s become content with just watching from the side lines.

Elliot was also quick to notice your strange taste in love interests.

He’s noticed the pattern of betrayal and heartbreak that follows each potential suitor and an all-consuming rage fills him. 

He’ll do whatever is necessary to get rid of any and all competition. This list includes, but is not limited to: blackmailing, sabotaging (on both yours and the suitor’s account), lying, and of course, hacking.

He justifies it by telling himself that he’s doing you a favor.

But this brings a new problem-- the lack of matches and thwarting of all the lovers in your life takes a toll on you and you start to believe that you’re unlovable.

There had to be something wrong with you in order for you to be shunned by society? What was the issue?

You had locked yourself inside the house and paced in circles as you turned these questions inside out, trying to find a satisfying answer.

It was pathetic, you thought, at how lonely you’ve become. The loneliness got so bad that it eventually warped into paranoia. You started to believe that someone was watching you.

If no one bothered speaking to you, why would they spend their time watching you for hours on end?

That’s what you would try to tell yourself to help you sleep at night, but it didn’t do an ounce to help. You used to sleep facing the window so you could gaze at the stars but now your back faces the window.

You’re terrified of waking up in the middle of the night and seeing a face stare back at you.

Elliot is smarter than to be within your line of sight, but he does fantasize of being caught. 

Just the idea of seeing your reaction sends his blood rushing. 

He doesn’t know which he wants more: to be caught and scolded for being such a creep, or to finally grow some balls and bring you home; his home.

It’s only a matter of time before something gives. Elliot knows your sanity is wearing thin, and he knows just how vulnerable a broken mind is. 

Today, you see him as a creep. Tomorrow, you’ll see him as your savior. 

i hope y’all enjoyed this <3 if you did, please consider reblogging since it greatly helps my account :)

as always, check my pinned post for request rules <3 

i hope y’all have a great day and i’ll catch y’all in the next post ;)

[rkived]

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader 

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD

↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG

↳ WORD COUNT: 4k 

↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.

↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)

01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)

Minji thinks you’re starting to get better. 

Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between. 

Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.

‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’ 

Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed. 

‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’

‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’ 

You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.

‘‘How did you─?’’ 

Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’

Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship. 

‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’ 

You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.

How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you? 

You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms. 

Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him. 

Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done. 

‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’

A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in. 

Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly. 

Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.

You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out. 

Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good. 

Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?

You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so. 

You want to be mad at him right now.

Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there. 

And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party. 

That’s life for you. 

You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going. 

The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left. 

The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do. 

Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband. 

Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night. 

‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks. 

He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her. 

‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her. 

Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead. 

Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.

And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either. 

‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance. 

Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation. 

Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely. 

He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly. 

He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list. 

‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.

That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while. 

Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids. 

He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.

‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine. 

It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.

‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake. 

Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake. 

Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ‘‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.

The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.  

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’ 

For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently. 

His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list. 

Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out. 

‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer. 

Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’ 

Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now. 

Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too. 

You to come back. 

The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up. 

Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning. 

Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.

And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.

The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before. 

‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.

Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop. 

Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back. 

Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest. 

He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak. 

It’s his fault after all. 

Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings. 

With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.

He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep. 

Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.

The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift. 

‘‘To: Sunhi ♡

From: Auntie Y/N’’

His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you. 

How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted? 

Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday. 

With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house. 

The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips. 

A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college. 

‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much, 

-Auntie Y/N’’

Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness. 

A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door. 

He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood. 

As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless. 

He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart. 

As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back. 

He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.

This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach. 

He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.

[bugsyfics]

Hey! Can I please request prompt#38 with undertaker, prompt #4 with Sebastian,and prompt #47 for ciel please?Thank you!!

A/N: Hii! Thank you for the lovely requests <3

Tw: mention of overdose/suicide

Undertaker

Prompt: #38

It was of pretense your true love would be yours forever. In fact, whenever that shimmer in your eye faded after every ‘I love you,’ he spoke against your apprehension.

“Stay with me,” Undertaker would mumble into the crook of your neck.

Though your heart skipped a beat every single time he uttered those words, you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken.

It was loss. It made you afraid and vulnerable; it broke your trust in those who cherished you down to each vessel within their beating heart. But one thing you couldn’t decipher was whether you were more weary of loss or of love. Love always seemed to betray you with those untimely tragedies, so the words that your partner spoke never failed to tear you to pieces.

You knew of the consequences of your actions. Simply you would leave in ignominy and be shunned by your bitch of a mother. Though you still remained uncertain how your lover would take it all. Sure he was happy-go-lucky, but that was all a facade. Underneath, there lied a fragile soul, easily crushed by the barbarity of this world. The world he claimed to have failed himself and his dearest friends, then you.

Perhaps, it was the chemist to blame or Undertaker's lack of warning, but the lazy smile that lingered on your ashen face made it clear you were fond of your choice.

As the glass prescription bottle clattered to the floor out of your weak hand, you watched Undertaker catch you. His mouth hung open a bit, grabbing at your pale face.

Your body went limp in Undertaker’s arms.

Free. You felt closer to yourself than you had all those years of living. Closer to your self. And though you knew this feeling wouldn’t last, you realized you weren’t afraid anymore of the suffocating darkness “love” had sucked out of your essence. You finally found the beauty of it —your longing grew stronger for your heart’s desire.

Just as you were enveloped in ear-splitting silence, an ethereal bliss washed over you. You came to your senses.

Your eyes opened, only your darling in sight.

Undertaker shook his head with a shallow laugh, brushing wisps of hair away from your face.

“God, you’re so annoying,” he exhaled, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

“But I can stay with you forever.”

Now the color of chartreuse, your eyes danced over Undertaker’s, bright with a similar glow.

Sebastian Michaelis

Prompt: #4

Silky black fur and oh so perfect paws, you have!

Sebastian couldn’t help but admire such a beautiful creature. He was fascinated with how the feline’s limber body took each step without a care. Those pleasant, soft purrs against his chest nearly melted the man. Poor Y/N, she watched as her partner gave more attention to the old cat rather than herself. Jesus, she was jealous over nothing, but that didn’t stop her from spying on the strange interaction.

“I love you far more than anything in this world,” Sebastian cooed softly atop the cat’s head.

You scoffed. He is beyond smitten of that thing over me!

Creeping back behind the bushes, it was best for you to leave before you were caught.

“Darling?”

Oh no, of course he could sense you there. Popping your head past the hedge, you were summoned to him.

With a little attitude, your lip jutted out and arms crossed.

“You love it more than me, huh?”

“Yes,” Sebastian smiled, “cats are simply more superior beings than humans after all.”

“Seb! You’re so mean,” you whined, stamping your foot like a child. A faint smile tugged at your lips.

Quickly, he stood sitting the cat down, and embraced you with a soft hum. “It was a joke, dear. I swear.”

Surprising Sebastian, you giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Oh, I know!”

In amusement, Sebastian stroked his chin. “You know, I’ll never understand how you can switch emotions with such ease. You’re an interesting one, my love.”

Ciel Phantomhive

Prompt: #47

“I didn’t mean to... Ciel, you know that.”

The earl exhaled, a shallow laugh fell from his parted lips. The Darjeeling tea in his cup, sat for a while during your heated argument, so when he finally took a sip he cringed at the coolness of it. He couldn’t complain too much, he needed that quick drink to suppress his distaste.

The earl spoke, “I can’t take you seriously —you disappoint me. How did you think I would accept something like that? You think telling my adversaries where my ships are docked is the proper way to get ‘even?’”

Too upset to continue, Ciel shook his head and pushed his teacup aside. He mumbled to himself and grabbed for a pen and paper to take a few notes. You couldn’t read what he wrote from where you sat, but you knew it wasn’t good. Finally, he set the pen down and glared back up at you.

“Y/N—”

“Shut your mouth! You must be a fool to not realize that what I did was imperative. My God, Ciel! You forced me to choose between you and my dreams,” you scoffed.

“And, and, what was I supposed to tell those men, knowing that you pissed me off?” you hissed.

Ciel slammed his cup of tea, rattling the chinaware, and pointed a finger at you. “Would you for once, stop being a bitch?!”

You froze, unable to believe that he would call you such a name. Ciel realized what he said and how terrible he sounded, talking to a woman he was courting that way, and covered his open mouth. His eyes wide.

Standing, you threw your kerchief to the ground.

“I will stay at the townhouse for a while… Until you get your act together and learn how to speak to a lady, there won’t be any further communication. It’s up to you to fix this mess.”

You motioned to the butler, ordering him to pack your belongings. That afternoon you left for London.

— bugs

Taglist: @second-weeb-chick @master-of-schadenfreude

[emptyacnt]

Made for love (Sanemi x F! Reader) NSFW

Minors DNI!

The battle was over. His brother was dead. Sanemi now had no one, he had no family, he didn't even have a reason to be a swordsman anymore. He wanted to retire comfortably, but how could he when fighting was the only thing he could ever do right. He moved. Away from where demon slayer headquarters had once been to a small home several days walk away. In the mornings he would sit on his porch and watch the sun rise, and allow himself to cry. It seemed no matter how many mornings this happened, he always had more tears. Tears he had been holding in his entire life.

One day as he did this, he heard a strange rustling noise and instinctively his hand went to the sword at his hip. He couldn't bring himself to stop carrying it for the comfort it brought him. He was surprised to see a large yellow and white dog bound towards him, it's mouth open and tongue lolling out, tail wagging furiously.

"A.. dog?" He said, reaching out his hand as the dog approached him, barking a friendly hello as he nuzzled against Sanemi's hands.

"Are you lost?" He asked. Around the dog's neck was a red collar with a bell and a name tag.

"Hacchan, that you?" He asked. Hacchan barked in response.

"Hacchan! Hacchan!!" A distinctly female voice cried as you came running up the path, chasing Hacchan who had broken away from you to chase an interesting scent. That scent had been Sanemi.

"I'm so sorry sir!" You apologized, bowing deeply.

"It's alright. I like dogs." Sanemi replied, scratching behind Hacchan's fuzzy ears.

"Did you just move here?" He asked, furiously wiping his face to make sure you didn't notice a single tear.

"Yes, we did! Just down the road. Hacchan was friends with all my neighbors back then, I guess he's lonely now with just me.." You said sadly.

"Why'd you move?" Sanemi asked. You hesitated to reply.

"You don't gotta tell me if you don't wanna." He said, shrugging.

"I had been engaged. My fiance imagined I was cheating on him, I wasn't, but he told everyone I did. I was shunned and we had to move." You confessed. Hacchan, sensing your sadness, came to press himself against your side.

"He sounds like a cunt." Sanemi said simply.

You were shocked by his vulgarity.

"What about you? Why did you move out here?" You asked.

"I was a swordsman. But now I guess. I'm just a man." Sanemi said. The sorrow in his voice was so heavy it made you want to cry.

From that day forward Hacchan insisted on visiting Sanemi every morning on your walks, and you began bringing him gifts. When you made dinner in the evening you always brought him a portion the next time you saw him. If you bought tea, you bought enough to share. While Sanemi didn't seem to react one way or the other to this, it certainly didn't go unnoticed. And finally one morning when you were about to turn to continue your walk with Hacchan, he reached out and grabbed your hand.

"Marry me." He said. It wasn't a question, more of a demand. He felt ready to begin the next chapter of his life, to take a wife, to start a family.

You and Hacchan moved in with him shortly after. Though even after living with him for three months, he would never say he loved you and you still hadn't slept together. Finally you got fed up with this, wondering why he asked you to move in with him if he didn't intend to act like a couple with you. He was sitting on your shared futon reading and you settled yourself onto his lap. He looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Sanemi, do you love me?" You asked.

Sanemi didn't reply. He seemed to be thinking for a long time.

"I don't know. I want to love you. I can't tell. The only people I have ever truly loved are dead. Perhaps if I let myself love you, you will die too. Or maybe, I am simply not built to love." He said, an edge of anger in his voice. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing his head against your soft chest.

"Of course you are built for love, everyone is!" You said. Sanemi made a strange almost growl as he pushed himself away from you, tearing open your yukata. He ripped the fabric off of your shoulders, exposing your breasts and completely tearing your obi in half. You had never experienced strength like that, and you sat there stunned on his lap, almost completely exposed to him.

"How can you say that? My hands are trained to kill demons and that's it, I'm not good at anything else, I don't know how to make them do anything else, I only know how to destroy." He said, his voice cracking under the weight of tears that wouldn't come.

"You are made for love. You can do more than destroy." You said, quietly but sternly nonetheless. You took his hands, so much larger and rougher than yours, pressing them against your breasts. Your nipples, already hard, pressed against the palms of his hands and he groaned as he felt his cock beginning to harden.

"You can be gentle." You said, leaning forward to kiss him as you moved his hands in slow circles on your breasts. Sanemi stared at your chest when you broke the kiss, flexing his fingers as he groped and kneaded you, pinching and twisting your nipples.

"A-ah! Gentle!" You said.

Sanemi grunted in reply and leaned down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, he bit it, but before you could scold him he was suckling and licking it with perfect gentleness. His hands slid the remains of your yukata off and then snaked up and down your body, rubbing your back, your arms, your hips and ass. He finally released your breast and looked up at you.

"You're so damn soft. Squishy, warm.." He mused, hugging you so he could feel your breasts press up against his scarred chest.

“Wanna know what you feel like in here..” he said, brushing two of his calloused fingers against your cunt. He pushed your panties aside, swirling his fingertips around your entrance.

“Already wet, huh?” he said, smirking at you.

“Well I.. Love you a lot Nemi.. I’ve wanted to be with you for a while..” you confessed.

Sanemi looked up at you, placing a rough hand on your cheek.

"I love you." He said. It hurt him to say it. The only people he had ever said that to were dead. You noticed how he seemed to become lost in thought, or dragged away from this moment by some painful distant memory.

“Stay here, with me.” you said gently as you kissed him.

Sanemi tangled his fingers into your hair, kissing you deeply while he shoved two fingers into you, curling them against your g-spot roughly. You gasped and arched your back, and Sanemi held you close, pressing you to him.

"Tell me how it feels." he growled against your neck, reaching his free hand down to untie his hakama, reaching into them to stroke himself.

"Feels good.." you managed between soft moans.

"Your fingers are rough b-but, it feels good.."

Sanemi deftly flipped you over, pressing your legs to your chest as he kissed you gently. His body was so warm and strong, your eyes fluttered shut as you enjoyed the comfort of being so close to him, until he shoved himself into you in one hard thrust. You gasped as your eyes flew open. Sanemi fucked you slowly, painfully slowly. Dragging his cock out slow and pushing it back in all the way to your cervix.

"N-Nemi, faster please!" you begged, holding onto his biceps tightly.

"Faster? I thought you wanted me to be gentle." he said, his tone teasing and sarcastic.

"Sanemi please, you feel so good-" you gasped as he picked up his pace immediately, ruthlessly pounding you into the futon.

"You feel so fucking good baby.." he growled.

"Tight, so warm.." he said, he grunted with practically every thrust, his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on the feeling of your slick walls around him.

"I should've done this a long time ago.." he said, licking your neck before biting it hard. Any wish you had for him to be gentle with you was gone.

"I-I wanted you to!" you managed, words becoming more and more difficult as your climax approached.

"Yeah? Did you want me to just force you down and dominate this little cunt?" he asked you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as the lewdness of his words pushed you over the edge. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to open your mouth.

"Lemme hear you, you're gonna make me cum.." he said as he fucked you even harder, a punishing pace as you gushed around him. You were nearly screaming by now, unable to even continue holding onto his arms as your body trembled. The sight of you so completely destroyed because of him, and only him, made him finally climax. You could feel his release, his hot cum filling you up as he let out a feral growl. He stayed inside of you for a while after he finished, panting against your neck.

"I love you." he said breathlessly, kissing your cheek gently.

"I love you too, Nemi." you said, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly.

[balillee]

fic idea:

future fic where most, if not everyone has gone missing from the smp and all of the kids have grown up. michael is older, probably in his teens or even early twenties and is living alone in snowchester and decides to go and find his parents who left when he was young and haven't been seen since - with him he takes shroud, tommy's shapeshifting spider friend, and tommy's old robot sam nook as they traverse the world to find the portal that takes them to the end where ranboo and tubbo were going.

in terms of characters we follow now:

wheelchair tommy. after years of wars n shit, tommy's been bound to a wheelchair after a loss in a fight and can't help michael himself, and instead sends off two of the people he trusts the most to help him find his best friends. still living in his dirt hole :]

dream's probably died by this point, or at least moved far, far away. george, sapnap and karl probably live in kinoko kingdom, kind of secluded from everywhere else.

jack moved on from his spite and now lives in the nether, far away from where his old triggers would come to turn him back into the worst version of himself again.

techno, niki and phil left after being unable to convince the server of anarchy following the destruction of las nevadas in a second doomsday - they were shunned and forced out of the dream smp. niki likely goes to the bsmp, while techno and phil travel elsewhere.

wilbur may be around, but he's an old fuck, so who knows. probably the one that killed dream if he's dead. probably living with or near tommy

quackity probably died in the second doomsday along with las nevadas.

the badlands gets restored into the most prominent faction against the dream smp. the two have amicable relations, and they have no plans to start conflict. eret is still the king and rules freely and fairly, with puffy, hbomb and fundy in the royal court. the badlands has grown, and now they have good control over pandora's vault with bbh at the helm of the badlands following the final destruction of the egg.

ex-las nevadas citizens get scattered across the dream smp and the badlands, and a few go to snowchester - which michael becomes the defacto leader of.

l'manberg's crater gets filled with water following a flood, and becomes l'manberg lake, a monument to the country that was once there and it's people. it's a tribute to a peace that was denied from a people, and to those who loved, and continue to love it. tommy visits frequently and teaches the newer, younger people of the server why l'manberg was loved in the first place, and what it stood for.

it turns out that ranboo and tubbo left to find the end dimension and find out more about ranboo - his upbringing/parents, his memory issues, his enderwalk. they get trapped inside the dimension by the ruler of the end, unable to escape without someone breaking them out.

michael isn't necessarily extroverted, but he is a strong, hardened leader and has a good head on his shoulders and can make decisions for himself. he's more the brains of the group, and spends a lot of time studying the world around him to find out more about it.

shroud is the brawns of the group - he's a little poisony spider boy, he's a little shy but we love him. knows how to fight well. him and michael are very, very good childhood friends, and they'd do everything for each other.

sam nook is still sam nook. he's a little scrappy, but after a few fixes from the real sam, he's ready to go. he'll protect shroud and michael with everything he's got, and he'll assist them in any way he can. we lub he >:]

if anyone wants to steal this idea please do and let me know bc i wanna see it

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (Part 2): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Imperial life sounds nice on paper... but will it ever live up to reality? (the answer is always no).

wc: 2.2k

tw: none (again, backstory. I’m SORRY! The lemon-y stuff will begin in the next part)

masterlist

“There was this patch of mud I was sure we’d be able to get through...” 

You’re sitting across from the Imperial Warrior and watching him scarf down your mother’s cooking, noting his ravenous appetite and the way he waves his hands around as he details how his horse is trapped in the mud from the storm that followed him here, and how he longed for death until he happened to find himself at your door, blah, blah, blah…

Your father and mother entertain him eagerly, nodding their heads and humming at his story, but you’re not having any of it. You just want to know what’s in the letter with the Imperial Seal on it so he can go and you can return to your mourning in peace. The letter is sitting with your father, untouched and forgotten while the man drones on and on. 

There’s something about how he’s going on about his horse that’s stuck in the mud that bothers you; there are too many intricate details and he’s--

“I’m sorry, I don't think we caught your name,” you interrupt, and the white haired man stops mid-sentence, a long silence echoing in the room. 

“Gojo,” he announces, holding his hand to his chest. “You can call me Gojo.” 

“And Gojo, you say your horse is stuck outside? We should help you go and retrieve it.” 

“Oh, no need, I was about to say that the lovely townsfolk helped me out with my situation. It’s in a stable as we speak.” 

You eye the confident man with some skepticism, then look over to the letter with intent. “And the letter?” 

“Ah! I almost forgot.” He motions for your father to open the letter, and when your father breaks the seal and slides out the paper, you angle your head to read the words scripted across the paper. You and your father read at the same pace, because your faces drop at the same time. 

“The Imperial Matchmaker?” The image of the wizened young woman dances before your eyes, and you blink twice, dismissing the improbability that her visit to your village just six months ago had anything to do with you or your family. She hadn’t even spoken to you, let alone laid eyes on you. How in the world--

“My story was to conclude with why she was not picked this time. I regret that I was not on time to come and retrieve you, my lady.” When Gojo holds a hand to his chest again, you feel some sort of sincerity from him. “You see, there are three princes of--”

“But aren’t there more illustrious ladies of the Court that might suit their needs?” you ask, squinting your eyes. There’s absolutely no way you were destined to wed a Prince of the Imperial Court. 

“What the Matchmaker has ordered will go as planned,” your mother announces, shooting up from her seat and hurrying from the table toward your room. Your father follows her, letter still in hand, leaving you alone with the white-haired warrior. You look over at him in disbelief, raising a brow in challenge to speak. 

“I assume you had an eventful day,” he begins, picking at the rest of his food thoughtfully. “You should go and rest. We leave at first light.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Your mother, fussing over you as always, is crying as you wait for the horse and carriage to be brought from the town’s stables. Your father had neglected to come out of the house to see you off, even though you knew he loved you just as much as your mother. Perhaps seeing his last daughter off was even more painful than the other three had been. 

You can’t help but feel somewhat uneasy at the thought of being thrust into marriage to someone who ranked so much higher than you. Would you even get accustomed to court life in time? Would you feel at ease among the nobility of the land? Or would you be a wife who was shunned and set aside, only to be pulled out and bred occasionally? The thought isn’t even complete when the horse and carriage parade through the gates, the white haired man reappearing. 

“Oh...” Your mother breaks into a fresh set of tears, knowing wherever that carriage goes, she can’t follow you. “Oh, y/n, you’ll have to write as much as you can. Please let us know how you adjust. We’ll be here if you ever need to come home. We’ll be there for the wedding, too, don’t worry…” As she drones on and adjusts your clothing, you realize she’s saying all the things she needs to hear in order to feel comforted. You, on the other hand, feel nothing as they load your items into the back of the carriage and finally, place you in the modest-sized thing. 

When you pull away, you watch your waving mother fade into the distance, waving back until you could see her no longer. The open-air hits your face, and as you leave the only town you’ve ever known, you wonder if you’d ever be back. 

The letter - your future - is resting in your lap, and you finger the thing, flipping the edges of the letter around and around while scenery drifts by you.

Before long, you’re out of the town’s limits, and steering toward a path you’ve never seen before. Your nerves leap to extreme heights, and you release the clasp on the curtains that will shield you from sight. What did it matter that you were in unfamiliar territory? Wasn’t that just a metaphor for the rest of your life? 

The steady rocking of the carriage and sounds of nature lulls you into a rhythm and then, slowly, into sleep. There was no point in staying awake the entire time; you might as well get some rest before you met your future husband. 

_______________________________________________________________________

You don’t realize the carriage has stopped until you awake, your left hand knocking against the side of the carriage as you slide out of sleep. 

“Gojo?” When there is no response, you peel the curtain aside, and notice you’re in the middle of greenery. When you look down, there are faint signs of a path, but it seems to be grown over by grass and moss. “Gojo?” 

You have two options: you can get out of the carriage, risk staining your dress, and find the white-haired bastard, or you could stay put and wait for him to return. At first, the second option seems fair, but the longer you wait, the more you worry about him. 

Finally, you gather up the courage to exit the carriage, planting your feet firmly on the ground beneath you and walking to the front of the carriage. The horse is still there, eyeing you as you walk around it, untethered to anything but remaining dreadfully still. You reason that if something were to have gone wrong, the horse would have taken off, and you with it. But there’s no sign of a struggle, and you’re alone. 

Well, almost. 

You hear a couple of voices getting closer, and one is unmistakably Gojo’s. But the other voice you don’t know. “Perhaps we should just go now and avoid riding straight into the camp.” 

“No,” Gojo grunts. “It’s part of the show. We have to show her off before he gets her.” 

Camp? 

“Is she really as beautiful as Yuko said?” Yuko? What did he have to do with-

“I would say even more so.” The voices are getting even closer, and you have to make a choice , and fast: either get back in the carriage or confront the two on their words. “But we have to make her believe she’s still going to the Imperial Palace even though--” You’re out of time before you know it, and you’re stuck standing on the other side of the horse, facing Gojo and a shorter, black haired man with wide eyes, who is most certainly not an Imperial Warrior. His eyes widen even more when he sees you, but Gojo just moves to scratch the back of his head. 

“I’m assuming you heard most of that conversation, y/n.” 

Instead of responding, you take off into the opposite line of trees, weaving your way through the brush and grass with as much maneuvering as you can manage. Quick footfalls are crashing behind you, but you bob and weave through the branches, hoping one might catch the person off guard and buy you more time. You have no idea where the village is in regards to your current location, but perhaps if you could find the closest town, you could get ho--

You fall face first into the forest floor, a body landing on your back with enough force to knock the wind out of you. Fallen debris is scratching at your face and exposed hands, the dress covering most of your skin and protecting you.

“Y/n… you’re fast, I’ll give you that. But not as fast as me.” You’re hoisted up by your arms, and not-Gojo throws you over his shoulder and carries you back to the carriage, defeated. 

“She’s dirty! Ugh, he’s going to kill me.” Gojo whines when you return, and the man sets you in the carriage with a thump, exhaling deeply. 

“If she didn’t run, we wouldn’t have this issue.” The man breaks the handle off the inside of the door and shuts it, effectively trapping you inside. “And if you had done what I told you to do, she wouldn’t have gotten out in the first place.” You scramble to the far side of the carriage when he tosses you a dirty look, then disappears around the front. “Ride on, dumbass. And if you think you don’t have a true runner on your hands, you’re absolutely wrong. Keep an eye on her at all times, Satoru, and don’t stop for anything.” 

Satoru. 

You store that piece of information in your brain, the name registering somewhere deep in the annals of your memory as the carriage lurches forward again. 

_______________________________________________________________________

You can’t sleep, even though it’s night. 

Your captor is being guided by the moonlight, and when you hear the sounds and smells of crackling fires and shouts of acknowledgement, you know you’ve arrived somewhere that isn’t the Imperial Palace. 

You tried to find out why Gojo had tricked you and your family, why you were being taken somewhere that wasn’t the palace, and why the letter even existed if you were simply being taken hostage. But every shout had only been met with silence. 

You dared not to open the curtains now. Even when the carriage stops, you clutch yourself and attempt to squeeze your body as far away from the door as you can manage. Silence falls over the ruckus outside, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. It feels like an eternity before the carriage is flooded with moonlight and someone grabs you roughly, yanking you out into the open. 

Your first reflex is to struggle to remain in the carriage, but when that fails, you rely on letting your hand loose and your fist fly into the face of your assailant. The sound of crunching bones as your fist makes contact with their nose is unmistakable, but your victory is short lived. Another pair of rough hands grab your arms, twisting them behind your back uncomfortably. 

“Unhand me!” you shout into the night, but the person does not do as you ask. It’s only then you can observe your surroundings with clarity. As you pant into the chilly night, you see scores of eyes - male eyes - observing the scene with a mix of disbelief and amusement. You yank against the hands that are restraining you, but when Gojo appears in your line of sight, he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. 

“You broke Haibara’s nose,” He looks over at the man clutching his face, blood running down his fingers. “That’s not very ladylike.”

“No, it’s not,” a deeper voice replies behind him, and a hand lands on his shoulder. Your eyes drag from Gojo’s face to the man now beside him, and you wonder for a moment if you’re dreaming an awful nightmare. Standing beside Gojo is a man of similar height; his long, black hair cascading around his shoulders and onyx eyes raking over your appearance lustily. 

Before you is General Geto Suguru, one of your country’s most feared enemies. His presence makes your knees weak - and not because of his good looks. No, it wasn’t even his looks that preceded him. His name was known among your people to be synonymous with “curse eater”, which made him even more fearsome than just a bedtime story told to keep children in line. Because if a man was able to eat curses… could he not eat children just as easily? 

“You’ll need to apologize to Haibara, little one.” 

But for some reason, instead of finding your voice, you spit at his feet in a show of bravery. The men in the gathered crowd reel back, inhaling in shock. But Geto and Gojo just raise their brows, looking at the spit gathered on Geto’s shoe. Geto cocks his head to the side a little, eyeing you curiously. “Haibara, follow me. Oh, and Nanami, bring her as well. I can see she’ll need some discipline before she’s wed to me.” 

[babylooneytoonz]

The Black Hand

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood and gore || Angst with a happy ending ||

[My Masterlist]

Just like a hundred odd marriages that had managed to break apart, yours was one of them but it was a long time ago— two years to be exact. Although it did hurt a lot the first few months, when you went over it countless times as to where had you gone wrong, what had you done for Tommy to fall out of love with you, or maybe it was the other way round, although you were sure it wasn't. It wasn't easy especially when the two of you shared something beautiful together— your three year old daughter, Avery. But like someone's rightly said, time does heal all wounds. And just like that, in the blink of an eye, or you would rather say, a whole year, you did finally get over it, get over him and move on.

You and Avery moved to London city after your divorce with Tommy, for you wanted the best for the little girl, and Tommy agreed, that Birmingham wasn't the best place for you to raise the girl alone, although Tommy was still in your life, and hers. But it wasn't just the same post the divorce, he would only be able to find the time to come visit her once every two weeks or so, although he did make sure that he was sending you money, although you could very well make your own living.

"Why can't you fucking stay at home and be with her? I'm sending you enough for the two of you, ay." You once remembered him saying, almost two months post the two of you had separated.

That night had been yet another night when you had found yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, not that he didn't yell back at you. It was as if he was giving you his own fire in retaliation to yours, "Why? Why do I stop living my life just because you fucking decided you don't want to fucking be a part of this family anymore?" You screeched, jabbing him in the heart with your hate filled eyes.

He shook his head, annoyed as he moved away from you, in a desperate attempt to shield him from your lethal gaze. "Not this again, [Y/N]. I'm not fucking going to go over this again with you."

"Really? The last time I remember, and the time before that, you never really told me why you wanted to call out, did you Thomas?" Tommy flinched every time you called him from his first name, it felt ruthless and hateful but he knew he deserved it. He swallowed thickly, and looked away, his fingers instinctively pulling out a box of cigarettes as he began to steer you away from this discussion again, "Well since you so clearly don't want to fucking do what I ask you to do, you might as well move to London, with Ada. At least I can stop worrying about her that way—" He turned towards Avery's room, glancing at the shut door as though he could see her through the wood inside and then turned back to you.

You weren't so opposed to that idea to be honest and did end up moving to London, moving into the apartment just next to Ada, because you didn't want to invade into her privacy, and let her invade into your own. She had a son, and she didn't need her nesting the two of you on top of it. You began working for a kind old man who sold paintings for a living. He was too old now, so he chose not to sit in the shop anymore, having hired you to do it.

Business had been running low for a while, and the fact that London city was all wet and in puddles, and the rains won't stop was another contributing factor to it. You sat idly in the shop, staring at the rain smeared windows, the heavy sound of rain the only source of noise in the otherwise calm shop.

It was as though it took you a second to make your mind, you stood up, the chair croaking as it was pushed back and you stretched your arms in the air. There was no point in staying at the shop anymore, and you wanted nothing more than to sit by the fireplace at your home, your daughter perched on your lap playing with her doll, while you drank a warm, soothing cup of tea. Pulling your coat on, you took your umbrella, using it to shield you from the merciless lashes out on the street as you locked the shop and began walking home.

You reached the front door, and climbing the front steps, you closed the dripping umbrella, letting it rest by the doorstep so it wouldn't leak into your new carpet. You shuffled through your purse, looking for your keys when your eyes fell on your door, and you realized it wasn't locked. You frowned, your eyebrows creasing into a thin line as you opened the door and stepped inside, a sudden pit of horror inkling through your blood. You were never as careless as to not lock the door, although you always left Avery with Ada and Karl so the worry didn't revolve around her, it was more around your own recklessness.

You were about to start striding towards the parlour when you heard the footsteps approach you, only to finally be able to see your ex husband, your daughter trotting behind him, her hand securely held into his own, his eyes scanning yours. You parted your lips, confused when Tommy began speaking, "I came over at Ada's. Found her there." He then turned towards Avery and almost bent so he was face level with her, her tiny blue eyes staring into her father's, "Why don't you go into your room, love? Once I'm done speaking to your mum, I'll be back with you."

She nodded, giving you a tiny smile that you returned and she ran off, her tiny feet thudding against the wooden flooring of your apartment. The two of you waited until she had run up the flight of stairs and then he pulled up a card, raising it in the air for you to see, "Do you ever fucking bother going through your mail?"

Your eyes flew to the card he was holding, and you tilted your neck, shaking your head in confusion, when Tommy sighed, clearly annoyed and walked up to you, placing the card in your palm for you to see.

"It's a fucking black hand, came for all of us. I assumed they would have sent one to you too, and I was right. They bloody did." Tommy's hand flew to his head, his fingers entangling through his hair as he pulled onto them for a brief second, his exasperation obvious. You had lived with Tommy, had been married to him long enough to know what a Black Hand meant. Your hand flew to your chest as panic arose inside of you and you instantly forced yourself to the wall, afraid your legs would betray you and you would fall.

Tommy grunted, and then his eyes softened a bit as he took a step closer, looking at you as he sighed, taking a drag of his cigarette, "They won't touch you, or Avery. I won't let them."

"How the fuck did they find us?" You gasped, still in shock, and a bit of denial.

"Just like they found Ada, which is why the two of you come back home with me—"

"But this is my fucking home, Tommy. Not Birmingham, because I clearly remember you being the one shunning me out and suggesting London," You snapped, cutting him off.

You felt him stiffen, and your eyes darted down to where his hands were, clutched to his sides, clenched into tight fists, his white knuckles peeking out, making you aware of his growing temper.

"I don't— You don't and will not let it go? Yes I fucking walked out of your life and sent you to London because I thought this was the only fucking way to keep you two safe, for fucks sake—"

You paused, taking in his words that had managed to flow out of his lips that instant. He saw the look on your face and he immediately stopped speaking, moving away until he fixed himself by your window and began staring at the rain, trying to avoid the questions that were growing now in your mind.

"Is that why you decided to end this—"

Your voice was reduced to a mere whisper, and it was suddenly so quiet, you were scared that even Tommy will be able to hear the sound of your heart cracking into two. Your lips trembled, your eyes suddenly cloudy as you waited for a few seconds for Tommy to say something. Anything. One. Two. Three. Four seconds. Nothing.

"Tommy, why? I need to know. I fucking deserve to know." Your voice beseeched him, breaking his own heart once again.

"It was a long time back," he mumbled.

"It wasn't, two years isn't long enough," you retorted.

You watched as he turned towards you slowly, but instead of looking at you, his gaze fell on a photograph on by the fireplace, a photograph of when Avery was a baby. He walked up to it, slowly grabbing it and lifting it into his hand as he began staring at the smiling baby, his expressions not betraying how broken he really felt.

"Father Hughes had said something years back, that he knows a way to get back at me, he knows my fucking weakness and he was going to bloody act on it —" His palm swiped over his daughter's face, a low smile breaking out against his lips as he imagined, just for a brief second, the first cries of his daughter and how happy he had felt in that moment when he had first held her in his arms, promising to himself that he was going to protect her with his life if it required. "I couldn't let him get his hands on you. Avery wasn't born yet that time, and that made you even worse of a target— my pregnant wife."

"You waited for her to be born, so you could.. send us away. To keep us safe. That's what you thought? That's what you thought would keep us safe?"

Tommy looked up finally, his irises meeting yours, and you could see the hurt hidden in those eyes, an art he was so well versed with, hiding his emotions— pretending that he had none. He was about to reply when Avery walked into the room, her palm rubbing over her eyelids, her doll clutched tightly in her other hand.

"Daddy, you promised you'll read me a bedtime story."

You hurriedly brought your palm up to your face and turned away, using the temporary distraction to wipe your tears away and walked up to Avery, kneeling down in front of her before you quickly planted a kiss to her forehead. You then straightened up again and nodded at Tommy, who lifted Avery up in his arms. Avery clung on to him, and his arm was wrapped around her waist, having held her propped up against his hip but his eyes didn't leave yours until you were forced to be the one to leave the parlour first and lock yourself on your room again.

It felt surreal to be back in Birmingham again. This was the city where you were born, where you grew up and where you fell in love, with both, Thomas Shelby and the daughter you shared with him. And now, you were back at the Arrowe House once more.

The smile on Avery's face was heartwarming— you couldn't deny how her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when she sat on her father's lap in the evenings after Tommy came back from work while you busied yourself with Ada, and Karl, who was almost two years older than her, ran around with his toys, trying to get Avery's attention.

Today was just another day that had turned into a normal routine for you. Ada sat on the dining table, reading an old journal of some sorts while you stood by the stove, boiling some water for some tea. Just next to the breezy kitchen was Tommy's study, and you could practically hear your daughter's mindless babbles from here.

"But daddy, mummy says that if I eat more chotolate, all my teeth are going to fall off, and..and never grow back."

"Well, love. Mummies are always right, no matter what your mum says, my girl will always do it. Yeah?" Tommy's voice reached your ears making your lips curve into a weak smile that Ada happened to catch.

"[Y/N] —" Ada began, but you cut her off.

"Ada, I think I have a hunch about what you will say. Please don't. I'm not ready for it."

She sighed, while you poured the tea into two cups and walked up to her, placing one in front of her. Karl walked into the kitchen, grabbing a biscuit, shooting the two of you a warm smile before he rushed off to play.

"I'm not going to defend my brother, love. He is a fucking grown man and he did some bloody stupid things. But I still think that the two of you should talk. I mean, atleast for Avery."

You nodded and pulled out a chair for yourself, bringing the tea cup up to your lips so you could blow on it and take a sip, intentionally deciding not to reply to Ada because you didn't want to talk about this, or about Tommy. You were about to pull out a box of cigarettes from the pocket in your dress, when you heard a loud crash somewhere outside.

Your eyes widened at the sound and your head snapped towards Ada as the two of you rushed to the window, trying to peek out of it— but in the dark of the night, neither of you could see anything. You turned to Ada, giving her a confused look when the door kicked open behind you, causing the two of you to jump in a scare, only to find Tommy standing there, holding both Karl and Avery by either of their hands.

Upon seeing their mothers, the two children ran up to them, Avery now clinging to your leg as Tommy walked up to the two of you, his eyes tensed and his face showing worry.

"What's going on, Tommy?" Ada asked, Karl now hoisted up against her waist.

"Listen—" Tommy looked back towards the door, swiping his palm over his face. You could sense that something wasn't right, by the way your ex husband's body was tense and rigid, his eyes hollow and void as he looked from Ada to you and his eyes finally grew dark with rage, "Keep the children in and don't leave the parlour until I come and get you."

"Tommy, tell us what's—" you began.

"They are outside. The Italians," His gaze fell on Avery, and you swear you saw a glaze in Tommy's eyes before he turned towards the both of you, " Stay away from the fucking windows , draw the curtains shut and don't step out of the parlour no matter what you hear. Ey? There are guns in the topmost drawer of the cabinet, here's the key—" You watched in horror and numbness as Tommy slid you a key. Without uttering a word, you tightened your grip around the key and swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

"Come on, Avery, [Y/N]," Ada's voice pulled you out of your daze and the four of you began running towards the parlour. Upon reaching the parlour door, Tommy instead of following you turned into another hallway and your breathing hitched on the realization that he wasn't following you anymore, and your heart sank in despair, racing in worry. Hot chunks of tears started falling off your eyes, making you pull Avery to your chest, holding her tight as you sat down on an armchair, your legs trembling and your knees wobbling, your daughter held securely in your arms.

"Will he come back Ada?" You whispered, slowly lifting your gaze until you had fixed it on her and she gave you a sad look and turned away.

You don't remember why the time stood still after that. The two of you sat huddled in the parlour for hours perhaps or were they just minutes that kept stretching on, you weren't sure. The sounds of the bullets and the guns had finally died down, but Tommy wasn't back yet. You looked down at Avery, who had fallen asleep in your arms and then you looked at Ada, and Karl, giving them a weak smile.

Gently, you stood up, scooping her in your arms and not wanting to wake her up before you placed her into the chair.

"What are you doing, [Y/N]?" Ada asked weakly.

Before you could find yourself replying to her, you found yourself striding towards the door of the parlour that you had locked from the inside.

"[Y/N]! For fucks sake don't. Tommy asked us not to leave—" Ada began but you cut her off and unlocked the door, hurriedly stepping out.

"Ada, please watch Avery, I'll be back I promise."

"[Y/N]!!"

Her cries fell on deaf ears after that for you were already running down the hall of the Arrowe House, ignoring her pleas to not go out. You held the gun securely in your hand, just in case as you ran out of the front door and were immediately greeted by a harrowing scene. Bodies littered the front garden, blood seeping through the grass and having turned it red. Men in Blinder caps walked about here and there, and the air smelled of death and gunpowder. Some of them were clearing the mess they had made, while other roamed aimlessly , perhaps waiting for an instruction from Tommy.

Tommy—

Panic was suddenly drilling into your ears as your eyes began darting around, looking for him. You grabbed one of the Peaky boys using the fabric of their coat and he turned towards you, frowning, "Mrs. Shelby, you are not supposed to be here, please get back inside —"

"Where is he? Take me to Tommy. Now." You were hyperventilating, practically gasping for air.

"Mrs. Shelby we can't—" Words got caught in his mouth and his eyes widened when you drew out the gun and cocked it, aiming it right to his face. You didn't know what you were doing and delirium had taken over you completely.

"I don't care what orders he might have given you. You are going to fucking take me to Thomas and you are going to do it now, lad," you growled.

"It's okay lad, get the fuck off and clear the fucking bodies—" Arthur suddenly stepped next to you and he admonished the young lad, watching him scamper off, his head in his tail. Arthur then turned towards you.

"Put the fucking gun down, [Y/N] because that is not a fucking toy," he threw out his hand towards you and you glanced down at it, your body still burning from worry mixed with rage. Reluctantly, you placed the gun into his hand that he swiftly pocketed.

"Where's Tommy, Arthur?"

"Yeah, alright, I'll take you to him, but you won't like the bloody sight—"

"Take me to him, I won't have it any other way." You mumbled.

Arthur and you walked side by side towards the stables, and all through that thirty second walk, you couldn't stop your heart from racing with nervousness. The minute you stepped into the stables, all colour drained from your face at the sight before you.

Tommy was laid back on a makeshift bedding by propping up the sacks of hay together. His shirt was off, crumpled to the floor, red and stained with his own blood. A massive bullet wound spurted out blood from his gut and his eyes were weak, his face sweaty. He lifted his eyes just when you entered, and even in his condition, a frown managed to cake its way over his otherwise pained features.

"I fucking asked you—" he breathed in a punctured way, his lower lip trembling from the blood loss, while one of the men hunched over him, pulling out the bullet from his torso, "— Not to step out of the fucking house unless I get to you."

You gave him a cold, ghostly stare, your lips pressing into a firm line as you ignored him and walked up to the man that was now beginning to patch him up. You patted him twice on his shoulder and he looked up at you, and then down to your hand that was stretched out facing the ceiling, "I'll take it from here. All of you, just fucking get out. Leave us alone."

The men looked at Tommy, who pressed his lips into a thin line, and then at Arthur who nodded and motioned for them to move out. The man placed the needle in your hand and you blinked, watching the men leave until you were alone with Tommy.

All the while, you hunched over him, working over his wound to patch him up, he kept glaring at you, his breathing heavy. Finally, when you were done, you tossed the needle away, looking down at your blood coated hands before glaring at him, your nostrils flared, "You fucking bastard, you fucking piece of shit, you could have fucking died and I wouldn't have had the chance to fucking say goodbye."

"[Y/N]—"

"No Tommy, I'm done. You could have died, leaving Avery behind, and that child doesn't deserve going through the fucking pain, you bloody don't get it do you? You like to fucking play with fire, it's like you have a death wish or something—" You fired, holding on to Tommy's thigh to keep yourself steady, as your vision had clouded and tears had managed to seep down your cheeks, staining the neck of your dress.

"You think I don't fucking know that? Fucks sake—" he sat up, wincing and his palm flying to his wound as you smacked his hand roughly and he hissed, his eyes glaring at you with fury. You grabbed the bandage and tied it securely around his wound, your eyes finally softening when you saw the colour slowly begin to return to his cheeks, "I told you to bloody stay in for a reason, so you two could be safe, but you don't ever fucking listen to me."

"Forgive me Tommy if I can't bear the fucking thought of losing you to death, because you're not a fucking God and you can't cheat death. Forgive me for being scared for our daughter, thinking and worrying everyday as to what will become of her when you're fucking gone—" you threw your hands exasperatedly into the air before you took a step away from him, and another, and another until you were met by the wooden walls of the barn and there was no place left for you to step towards. You brought your fisted palm up to your mouth, pressing it hard against it to muffle the sobs that were beginning to rack through your body as you looked at him with menacing, accusing eyes, "Forgive me if I can't get myself to fucking stop loving you, even though loving you is like death to me, and I die every single time this happens, forgive me."

"Fuck," Tommy cursed under his breath when he looked at you, almost shaking his head as he weakly lifted his hand and threw it out towards you, motioning to you to come back to him, "Come here, love." He finally sat to his side, wincing slightly, his feet now resting against the ground, making space for you to sit down next to him. You blinked, wiping your tears away with your blood coated hands, smudging your face with it, but not bothering as you, with slow steps, walked to where Tommy was and sat down next to him, staring at your hands. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his fingers clasping around yours, but didn't speak. The two of you sat there in silence for the next few minutes, just listening to each other breathe, both of you tormented by your own set of thoughts, until he finally broke the silence.

"I never stopped loving you, not then, and not now. You think it was easy for me watching you leave? The fucking shovels were back again when you left, and I was bloody left to fight them alone."

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, not daring to look into his eyes for you were afraid of breaking down again. So you just kept listening as he spoke, finally after all those months of keeping you in the dark.

"There were nights I was dying to come back to you, and to Avery, but I fucking stopped myself, love because I didn't want this to happen, for you and her to be caught in this mess, because of me—"

"Tommy, my love, this is where you went wrong," you cut him off, pulling your hands away from his, curling them against the fabric of your now bloody dress, "I married you knowing what I was getting myself into. And we were supposed to get through this together. What good came out of you leaving us just to keep us safe? We still got that bloody Black Hand."

He smiled humourlessly, turning away from you and began staring into the thin air, before you took his hand again, holding it tight so he couldn't pull out.

"You know—" Tommy mumbled, in a voice low, but loud enough for you to make out his words, "two fucking years and I haven't been with a woman."

You parted your lips, turning to him and blinked, before giving him a weak, teasing smile, "Tommy Shelby turned into a hermit, well that's just not believable."

"Neither did I kiss one."

"Is that your way of asking me if you can kiss me, Mr. Shelby?" You smiled and turned towards him, staring at his form, letting your tongue trail over your lower lip as you arched your body closer towards him, so you were close to his lips, feeling his breath over you.

"What would you do if I said yes?" He breathed.

"I would fucking do this," you leaned in, fluttering your lashes until you pressed your lips against his plump ones, kissing him.

Permanent Tommy Shelby Taglist:

@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @baumarvel @captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyfooky @buckyxreader99 @theflamecrystal @milea

Want to be added to any of Taglist? Please drop in a message, an ask or comment and I will add you.

[joel-millerr]

What’s Your Favorite Color?

Chapter Seven of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Summary: reader is stuck on the Crest with Mando and the kid. what should be an uneventful trip turns into something that changes everyone on board.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, praise kink(?), aftercare, depictions of death, mentions of mental illness (even though the reader doesn’t explicitly say it--it’s more implied), slight spit play?

A/N: ok so this might be the dirtiest thing I've written but I'm just so proud of where this story is going and I hope you guys enjoy. also, the entire chapter takes place on the crest, and it’s one day :)

also big shoutout to @eznova​ who helped me with this chapter. LOVE U

--

I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.

That eerie reminder echoes over and over in your mind as you wake up from one of the best nights of your life. It’s hard to control the stupid, shit-eating grin plastered on your face as you lie in Mando’s cot. You’re alone, but his scent—a delicious mix of soap and musk, fill your nostrils and if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can imagine him laying right next to you, wrapping strong, tree trunk sizes arms around you and placing chaste kisses all over your skin.

You couldn’t have planned falling for Mando so deeply and so quickly as you have, mainly considering that you haven’t known each other for very long, but you know damn well that if given the opportunity, you’d do everything over again.

Stars, you don’t even know what his name is.

What is his first name?

Should you ask him? You don’t want to come off imposing, and there’s a part of you that wants to wait until he chooses to share that information with you, rather than try to wrestle it out of him, but he’s shrouded in mystery, and that just reels you in even more. You really want to pick his brain, figure out what makes him him, but you don’t know if you’ll ever get that chance. There’s the possibility though, that after last night, he’ll be more vulnerable around you. Maybe you’ll both be more vulnerable and inclined to share each other’s pasts. After all, you’ve been pretty intimate with each other.

When you finally decide it’s probably time for you to get out of bed and face the potential awkwardness that could happen between you and Mando, the door to the cubby hole hisses open, with neither the kid nor Mando in sight. Your feet touch down on the cold ship’s floor, and you slip into your boots. Once on your feet, you feel an ache at the apex of your thighs. It stings and you have to basically have to walk with your thighs spread apart in order to ease some of the uncomfortableness between your legs. Every move you make is a reminder of the night before. You can even feel him inside you, stretching your walls to hug him perfectly. Kriff, you’re already wet and you only just woke up.

Hoping a sanisteam will wipe away the crude thoughts from your barely conscious mind, you take to the fresher and wake yourself up with a brisk rinse. Once you’re out and throw on yesterday clothes—you make a mental note to wash your only other garments, you’re about to head up to the cockpit when you hear Mando’s voice. Stopping at the ladder, you listen in on what he’s saying.

“…but you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand?” His’s voice goes quiet for a moment. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too…powerful. Don’t you want to learn more of that Jedi stuff?”

It’s a damn shame how last night you had heard his true voice for the first time, unmodulated but still as deep and rough as it sounds with the distortion of his helmet, and probably won’t be privy to it for a while. You wish you could hear him, like really hear him, naked and untapped again but even if you don’t, it’ll just make last night even more significant.

You hear the Child coo in response before hearing Mando’s cadence again. “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do.” There’s a brief pause. “You understand that, right?”

For the first time, you detect some sadness in Mando’s tone. Like he’s trying to reassure not only the kid but also himself that he needs to go through with this, that even though there might be a part of him that doesn’t want to let the Child go, in the end he has no choice in the matter. It tugs at your heartstrings. The Mandalorian, a seasoned warrior, a survivor, a bounty hunter—at war with himself and his own feelings.

You can’t help but feel guilty as well. Ahsoka had warned you that one day, you too would have to make a choice but after last night… It’s no longer as clear-cut as you initially thought it would be. Had this come to you even just six months ago, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. You’d make the choice of being a Jedi, and forgo all attachments and dedicate your life to the Order. It wouldn’t be hard for you to set all your feelings aside—you’ve had many years of practice on that subject, but now things are completely upside down. It’s territory you’ve never been in before and Maker, that terrifies you. The longer you journey with the Mandalorian, the more you become weaved together like vines wrapping themselves around a duracrete structure. Similar to the ancient temples on Naboo, tightening and gripping in every nook and cranny until it’s impossible to separate one without destroying the other.

When you reach the floor of the cockpit, you watch Mando sit ever still in the pilot’s chair, with Grogu seated to his right. Your boots hitting the ground as you walk alerts the Child, his ears twitching in your direction and he giggles excitedly, holding that little durasteel ball in his hands.

“Morning,” you announce as you plop down in the seat to Mando’s left. Grogu peers at you with big eyes and makes grabby hands at you, so lean over and bring him into your lap.

“How long until we reach Coruscant?”

“A day or two,” he answers curtly, keeping his visor glued to the blues of hyperspace through the transparisteel.

“Oh, okay. Looks like we’ll have time to kill then.”

Mando rises from his seat, turns his body to you for just a moment before announcing his leave. “Does your blaster need cleaning?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He offers you a quick dip of the helmet before leaving the cockpit in one swift movement and heading down the ladder. Your eyebrows pull together as you stare at the empty doorway to the little room you and the Child are still seated in. Looking down at him, you whisper, “Why do I get the feeling he’s avoiding me?”

Grogu bats his eyes at you before gently sucking on the ball still firmly gripped in his claws. It’ll always amaze you how attached he is to that sphere. You might never know why it’s so important to him but then again, you suppose that it’s a secret between him and his caregiver.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that mind of his,” you confess—not necessarily to Grogu, but since he’s the only one around, you feel almost compelled to spew your concerns and confusions about everything that’s happened.

“What do we do, little guy? I suppose since you’ve had training, you’ll probably want to be found by a Jedi, right?”

Grogu mumbles something at you and for just a second, you think he might understand you.

“And you’re okay with leaving him?”

He coos almost sadly, and you can hear your heart shattering. This little creature has grown such an attachment to Mando. It’s exactly what Ahsoka said—Mando’s basically his father and truthfully, if your parents were still alive, you couldn’t imagine leaving them to join a group that shuns on attachments. It would take a strength that you couldn’t muster to pull yourself away from them, not after knowing the kind of pain of having to live without them.

“I’m scared, Grogu. Truthfully, I have no idea what to think about all this.”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. He’s not even really paying attention, too busy staring at the little ball in his hands. It’s okay, though. It’s enough just for you to express your concerns aloud. Your mind can get cluttered if you think about everything all at once. The moments you convey your thoughts verbally, it forces you to focus on what you’re actually saying, rather than all the hypotheticals that bounce around in your head.

“Should I go down there?”

Again, Grogu says nothing, he doesn’t even look up at you. Eyeing where Mando sat just minutes ago, you feel like a teenager. You’re both adults, you can’t just tiptoe around each other, it’s not like there are many places to hide on the Crest, anyway. If he won’t come to you, you’ll just have to go to him.

Holding Grogu close to your chest, you take to the ladder and head down, being mindful not to accidentally hit his head on the rungs. Just as you reach the hull, you notice Mando facing one of the crates, his blaster completely taken apart, wiping the coil with a dirty rag. Placing Grogu in the bunk to your left, you lean on another crate and watch Mando dissect his weapon and clean every little bit of residue off his gun.

“How’s your shoulder?” Mando asks, back still turned to you.

“It’s fine, kinda aches a bit but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answer, transfixed at the way Mando meticulously cleans his weapons. He’s nothing if not thorough.

“Mmm,” he hums low in his throat. The sound reminds you of the mind-altering grunts he made the night before when he was balls deep inside you, causing you to rub your thighs together at the memory. That sanisteam was supposed to get of these filthy thoughts.

It becomes suddenly very awkward in the hull and you get the feeling that you might be lingering. He clears his throat a few times but says nothing. There may not come another time where you could try to learn more about Mando, so now seems like right time. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you muster up the strength to finally ask him, “You were born on Mandalore?” Keeping your eyes down, staring at your feet because you just don’t have the nerve to look at him.

“No, Aq Vetina.”

“Oh… I thought—”

“I was a foundling.”

“Like Grogu.”

“Yes,” he answers deep in his throat.

It suddenly makes sense why Mando saved him from the Empire, and why Grogu’s still in his care. He sees himself in the Child. He sees the vulnerability, the childlike innocence and he understands that he is responsible for this little baby, at least until you find a Jedi that is.

“Do all Mandalorians hide their faces?” You ask curiously.

There’s not much that you know about Mandalorians. The few things you do know about them is that they’re almost impossible to find due to the Empire nearly wiping them all out, and that they’re some of the best—if not the best warriors in the galaxy. Given the fact that Mando hasn’t removed his helmet once since you’ve been around (until last night), you can assume he take his Creed very seriously, and can’t help but wonder if the Child has been fortunate to catching a glimpse of his face.

“No,” he answers methodically.

Already feeling like you’re pushing the limits of how many questions you can ask before he finally decides to shut you down and stops being so forthcoming, the genuine curiosity is sadly too strong for you to pull back. It’s not like you’ve ever had this much time around someone so secretive and mysterious as Mando, and there’s just too many pieces to this puzzle that you want to so desperately put together.

“So, why do you do it?”

“This is the—” he begins, but a chuff of air slips through your lips before he can finish speaking. “What?” He asks annoyingly, turning his body around to face you.

“I don’t know…” Your hands motion around you in an effort to find the right words. “I mean you did take off your helmet in front of me last night.”

“I did.” The words come out through gritted teeth.

“So, is the rule that you can’t take off the helmet or that you can’t show your face? Because there is a difference between the two.”

This must catch him off guard because Mando stays silent for a ridiculously long time. The two possibilities are that he’s considering what you’re saying—which you’re beginning to doubt, or he thinks you’re totally out of line and is choosing to ignore you. You have this bad habit of being pretty blunt and somewhat insensitive with the way you express yourself and that’s caused you some issues with others in the past, but it’s always gotten the results you wanted. Honestly, someone like Mando will probably have tough skin, so you’re pretty sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.

“When did this become an interrogation about what I choose and choose not to do?” He grumbles, resting his hands on his utility belt.

“Doesn’t really seem like you’re choosing…” you mumble under your breath, kicking the ground and keeping your eyes to the floor.

“What did you say?” He asks defensively, squaring his shoulders and then taking a step forward. Out of habit, you lean back further against the crate.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” you clarify, using the bottom of your foot to kick off the crate, and straightening your back. “I’m just trying to understand—”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re kinda stuck with each other for who knows how long, so we should take this time to get to know each other, don’t you think?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you rest your hands on your hips, waiting for him to either deflect or finally let his guard down and talk like two normal adults.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Your jaw literally drops, completely dumbfounded. It during moments like this that you so desperately wish you could see what his facial expression is. Why does he continuously try to keep a distance between himself and every living thing in the galaxy? Is he scared of being vulnerable around someone else? That his reputation as a hardened Mandalorian warrior would be compromised if he so much as shared a tiny bit of information with you? Does he think a Mandalorian would come and strike him down for having his own opinion about his Creed? That questioning the only thing he knew since he was a child would be considered sacrilegious?

It’s pretty silly how worked up you’re getting right now, but the way Mando dismisses you, it stirs up that anger inside you that is so hard to control. He’s always pushing your buttons, just as you push his—only this time, you simply wanted to know a little more about him. Is that too much to ask for?

Do you continue to press him?

Do you let it go?

Announcing your defeat by drawling out a sigh, your hands drop to your sides, looking down at the ground because you can’t be bothered to look at him in the visor anymore. “All right, well I’m going to head up to the cockpit and um…” You try to come up with a quick excuse to leave the room as it’s becoming more and more awkward with each passing second, but unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. You result to turning on your heel and climbing up the ladder without another word, not bothering to wait and see if Mando comes up with something to say before you disappear.

Once you reach the doorway, the blues of hyperspace nearly blind you, and your hand comes up to give shade to your eyes as they adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You’ll need to find something to keep your mind occupied until you enter Coruscant airspace, because you’ll quite frankly drive yourself insane not doing anything, so you walk over to the control panel in front of Mando’s chair and begin running some diagnostics to see at what capacity the hyperdrive is operating at, see if there’s any leakage that you could fix inside the ship and any little thing that might need some maintenance. After running a few tests, you realize that unfortunately, Peli had fixed pretty much every little issue with the ship, so there really is nothing to fix in order to keep yourself busy.

Fuck.

Feeling defeated, you fall back onto your bum and sit on the cold floor, back leaning against one of the walls, resting your right arm on one of the passenger seats. You’ve always hated silence. With nothing to distract yourself with, your mind always ends up wandering, overanalyzing every little minute detail of your life, meticulously going over each moment in time and thinking of all the ways you could have done something different, how the choices you made were wrong, how things would be better off if you did x instead of y. It gnaws at you, until the only thing you feel like you can do to stop the voices inside your mind is to scream and lash out, causing pain to yourself and everyone around you.

Is this the work of the Dark Side or is it just your unstable mind?

Is it both—working together and tearing you apart from the inside out? Slowly picking your brain apart, section by section, nerve ending by nerve ending until all that’s left of you is the worthlessness of your existence, a make-up of atoms and tissue that can’t be controlled or understood?

Stars, you’re doing it again.

You can feel your mind retreating deeper and deeper into itself, wanting to disappear from all of this. Making yourself as small as you can, you pull your knees close to your chest, head dropping down between them while your palms rub the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and clenching so hard you think you might end up ripping some right out of your head.

The harder you pull, the more anxious you become. Heartrate picking up steadily and the lump in your throat growing in size, it’s as if the space around you is screaming, that everything is spinning, which could explain all this anxiety you suddenly feel when in reality, it’s all just in your head. The cockpit is dead silent, there isn’t even the slightest sound coming from down in the hull. Everything is deafeningly still and yet you feel it’s all too loud, and you just want to scream. Scream until you feel your vocal cords explode or until there’s no air left in your lungs. Your body no longer feels like it’s yours, and instead it’s as if you’re just living inside of it, watching everything happen around you but not having any actual control over it.

Fuck fuck fuc kfuck fuck fuck

Being so wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t even hear Mando coming up the ladder. You don’t hear his heavy boots clanking against durasteel. You don’t even hear him speaking to you. All you feel is a presence and when you finally lull your head back and peek through heavy lids, you see Mando—on his fucking knees, trying to comfort you. One of his hands hovering over your figure like he’s not sure whether to touch you or not.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks as softly as he possibly can. It comes out smooth like honey but still sitting at a low register through his helmet.

“I’m fine,” you answer curtly, no longer feeling particularly chatty.

He sighs deep in his throat, and you can tell he wants to ask you again, maybe hoping he’ll get the truth this time, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a step back and sits down on the chair opposite the one you’re closest to and stays as silent as a statue. While normally you appreciate the company, right now you want to be left alone, but you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave. So, you stay where you are, both acting like the other isn’t there.

As time ebbs on, your breathing has slows down. Mando being there—despite not saying anything, has you distracted. Your mind’s starting to settle on what’s going on at the present time, rather than all the thoughts that clawed at you just minutes ago. Without even realizing it, he’s helped you significantly.

“How old are you?”

Taken aback by his sudden engagement in conversation, you lean into the wall behind you and feel your shoulders touch the cold durasteel.

“Sorry?” you ask, pulling your eyebrows closely together. This might be the first time he’s ever asked you something personal. When Mando asks a question, it’s usually because he’s searching for clarification, not because he’s genuinely curious.

“How old are you?” He repeats.

You tell him your age and he hums in his throat.

“What about you?”

Something like a chuckle emits from his helmet before answering. “Older than you.”

That’s as close to an actual answer as you’ll get from him.

Okay, since you’re back to asking trivial questions about each other, “Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

“Fun?” He echoes.

“Yeah. Like, what do you do for enjoyment?”

He stays silent for much longer than you expected. Maker, does he not know how to have fun? Maybe it’s the way you worded the question?

“What brings you pleasure?”

His head turns to you and cocks ever so slowly to the side. It’s impossible to hide the annoyance on your face. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest, a chuff of air releases from your nostrils.

“Forget it.”

“I…don’t know,” he answers somewhat defeatedly. The idea that Mando doesn’t know what having fun is comes as quite a shock to you. Even though you didn’t have much knowledge on Mandalorians, you didn’t expect that they were unable to have fun.

“Okay, forget that question. What’s your favorite color?”

“Who has a favorite color?”

“People, Mando. People have favorite colors.”

“I don’t.” Letting out a gentle laugh, you use the palms of your hands to push against the floor and rise off the ground, slipping into the chair you were leaning on previously. Turning your body in the direction of the Mandalorian sitting across from you, you sit cross legged.

“There isn’t a color that you gravitate towards? One you look at and think, ‘I like that’?”

“I suppose I never thought of it.”

He’s been missing out on so much. How he’s been going through life without having these mundane preferences or opinions on things is…almost unfathomable. Every person you’ve ever met has had these frivolous details that made them different, giving you an insight into their personalities but Mando has no preference on anything. He just…exists.

“I’m assuming you have one?” he asks through the modulator.

“Yellow,” you begin to say. “But not a flashy kind of yellow, more like a dusty, pale yellow.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is that your favorite color?”

“I don’t know, Mando,” you answer with a smile on your face. “I just like how it looks. It’s warm and inviting.”

“Hmmm.”

“I guess… It reminds me of the sun. Back home, the sun would shine so bright, and it was so big. I used to stare at it even though my mother warned me not do that.”

He doesn’t say anything more but given that this might be the longest casual conversation you two have ever had, it’s quite the improvement from just saying a couple words to each other.

“Why do you always wear your armor?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We’re in hyperspace right now and you’re geared up for battle. Doesn’t it get uncomfortable always wearing your armor? Isn’t it heavy?”

“It is heavy.”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together, your lips press into a thin line, unamused by Mando dancing around your question.

“Are… Are you not even allowed to at least take off your armor in front of another person?”

“I never thought about it. I’m usually alone so it makes sense to keep it on; in case.”

“In case what? We’re not going to get attacked in hyperspace.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Seriously, Mando. You need to loosen up a bit.”

“I do not need to ‘loosen up’. I’m fine,” he says, a hint of derision in his voice.

“Says the guy in full body armor all the time.”

“It’s practical.”

“Oh, it’s practical,” you mock, a grin creeping up on your lips.

“Yes.”

“Even when you’re fucking someone?” You remark, eyebrow raised.

The visor burns into you. He’s definitely caught off guard by your brass question. Your lips curl into a sly smile, your tongue darting across your bottom lip.

“No one’s complained about it.”

Oh.

It’s kind of silly how angry that statement makes you. Okay, not necessarily angry but it definitely stirs something deep inside you. It’s clear by the way he fucked you last night that you weren’t his first—he’s obviously experienced in that area. However, you can’t help the way your jaw clenches at the thought of someone else crying out his name while he fucks them senseless.

You’re mine.

Thighs rubbing together as you remember Mando’s confession from last night, it’s quickly replaced by the thought of him saying that to someone else. Has he said that to anyone else? Are you reading into this too much? What if the only reason he said it was because it was in the heat of the moment? People say things during intimacy that they don’t necessarily mean… You’re definitely overthinking things, right?

“What are you thinking?” He beckons, voice hitting that part inside of you that nearly has you fucking moaning on the spot. How can a voice be so intoxicating? It’s not even his true voice, it’s distorted and cuts up like static but it has you nearly soaked in your seat.

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on.

He doesn’t.

“You’re quiet and from what I can tell, your heat signature’s gone up.”

Your what? “My heat sig—? No, your helmet must be malfunctioning.”

“Oh,” he rises from his seat slowly, squaring his shoulders as he does but doesn’t take a step towards you. He stays painstaking still, visor never once breaking away from you. “Is that right?”

Stars. Your heartbeat is picking up, palms starting to sweat, and your throat is beginning to close up. Your eyes maintain their gaze, trying to regain some kind of control over the situation. It’s childish, really—always attempting to have even the slightest amount of authority over whatever situation you’re put in with Mando because you never actually have any control. He may fool you into thinking you do, but at the end of the day, Mando is always the one in control.

“Your heat signature is burning up, pretty girl,” he taunts.

Kriff, this is not going the way you want it to go. You can’t be the only one looking foolish right now. If he wants to play the game, you can play it too, and you’ll make damn sure you play it better.

Looking him up and down trying to pinpoint any indication that he may not be as calm and collected as he’s playing off, your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants. As your vision pierces into him, you notice him shift his weight slightly, his hands balled tightly into fists by his sides.

“Why so tense, Mando?”

“I’m not—”

“Oh,” you echo his words from just minutes ago. Slowly slipping out of the chair, you stand to face him, squaring your shoulders. Pleasure heats up deep in your stomach, travelling down to the apex of your thighs, reminding you of how sore you actually are. “Is that right?”

“Stop that,” he warns. You got him.

“Not doing anything,” your voice sounding as innocent as you can while your eyes convey the opposite. You want him to know that you won’t give in so easily.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Do—” he starts but quickly composes himself. Craning his neck, his next words drip out of him slowly. “Drive me crazy.”

“Any of your other friends ever drive you crazy?”

Okay, that was a low blow, but you can’t shake the thought from your mind. For Maker’s sake, you’re an adult. Obviously he’s had lovers before, why is this so hard for you to accept? It’s not like you guys are together, you’re simply stuck with each other for the time being. Not only that, but you’ve had your fair share of men. He doesn’t seem to be jealous about that.

I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you.

“Mmm, are you… jealous?”

“Maker, no.” Lie.

“Then why are your cheeks red?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkfuck

Why does your face always have to give you away? You can play sabacc with the best deadpan expression in the galaxy, but right now you can’t even hide your resentment. How is Mando able to get under your skin and expose your every emotion, every thought? He pulls it out of you and basically presents it to you on a fucking platter.

“Because you annoy the shit out of me.”

“Your body is telling me otherwise.”

“Stop cheating! I can’t read your body heat, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to play fair.”

All right, if this is how he wants to play, you’ll just have to be bolder. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through parted lips, your left foot moves forward, taking one big stride towards Mando, stopping just inches from his breastplate. You can practically feel his own heat vibrating off of him. His fists tighten even more, and you swear you can hear his breathing quicken, cutting up in the helmet.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Mando.”

He makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Stars, the air is getting thick, you’re all but drunk on this feeling. Your undergarments are stuck to your pussy, drenched with slick, waiting for someone to make the first move. The blood is pounding in your ears, but you try to maintain the best stony stare you can muster. This is a fight you’re not willing to lose. You bite down on your bottom lip, staring into the ‘T’ of his helmet through hooded lids. His chest pushes out slightly and his head angles to the side, just enough for you to see the underneath of his jaw. There’s some stubble poking out from the bottom of his helmet, and you lick your lips at the sight. Wanting to put your lips to his jawline and trail wet kisses along it, gently sucking at his skin. Maker, you might end up losing this if you don’t compose yourself.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice hoarse and low.

“For you to lose,” your answer is honest. You want him to break down and give in, just to give you the slightest bit of power.

Mando lets out this sound, a joyful sound you’ve only heard once or twice before but it nearly throws you for a loop. Hearing him laugh, even if it’s quick and low, fills you up with the greatest amount of delight. To see someone who’s always stoic and serious let out a sound of pure pleasure, it makes up for all the times he purposely chooses to get under your skin. All the moments he infuriates you, it all goes away with the sound of his laugh.

At this moment, you’re grateful that his face is covered because you definitely would have crushed your lips together by now. His helmet actually works to your advantage, holding you back from doing the one thing you would have otherwise done by now.

“I’m not touching you,” he whispers. It sounds less like a statement to you and more like a reminder to himself. He’s fighting his urges just as much as you are, but you will continue to fight this until he breaks, he has to break.

“Then don’t.”

All of sudden, you both hear a disturbance coming from the hull. The kid must be getting into trouble down there.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell him, choosing not to wait for Mando to say anything in return before making your way to the ladder of the cockpit. Fighting the urge to take one last look at him before disappearing down the rungs, you head down to the hull and see Grogu rummaging through the various crates placed around the Crest. Once he sees you, he shows you a big toothy grin and runs straight for you, arms stretched out. You bend down and pick him up, holding him close to your chest.

“Hey, kiddo. What trouble are you getting yourself into down here?”

Grogu babbles something at you and you smile in return. A small grumble, something like an animal growling, comes from the baby’s stomach and his ears droop down.

“Hungry, little guy? Let’s see what we got for you.”

Walking down the hull with the kid in your arms, you stop at the small closest Mando keeps his ration packs. There aren’t many packs left, just enough to hold all three of you down until you land on Coruscant. After that, you’ll need to buy some more packs. Grabbing one of the packages and a bowl from one of the shelves, you prop the kid on one of the smaller crates and begin emptying the contents of the pack in the durasteel dish.

It’s a dark green looking blob. Quite frankly, you hate ration packs. They always look like food that’s been mashed together into a jelly bar and even despite the fact that once you add water to it so that it actually looks like food, just the sight of it in its raw form is enough to ruin your appetite. The kid doesn’t care about all that though; he’d eat anything you give him. Back on Sorgan, you had seen him eat a frog whole—just swallowed it without even a second thought. It was impressive and yet totally gross at the same time.

Leaving him on the box momentarily, you walk over to the sink in the privy and let a few droplets of water touch the blob in the bowl. Within seconds, the bar transforms into a small bread roll. It’ll hopefully be enough to tie him down for a few hours.

Passing by the ladder, you call out to Mando. “Hey, I’m about to feed the kid. Do you want to come down for a meal?”

“Not hungry. Thank you,” you hear him answer. He never eats with you two. Given that he needs to take off his helmet in order to feed himself, he chooses to wait until you’re both asleep or nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t stop you from asking each time. Part of it is so that he feels included but mostly you hope that one day he’ll choose to sit with you both. One day, you think to yourself.

When you hand the bowl over to Grogu gently, he takes it with both hands and begins eating the bread like it’s the first meal he’s ever had. Your brows pull tightly together as you watch him devour his food. For such a small creature, he sure eats like a bantha. He could probably eat for a whole day without stopping to catch his breath.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how strong this little guy is. He’s so tiny and somehow, he possesses a power stronger than you could ever really understand. This is the same kid that saved Mando’s life from a mudhorn. This is the kid that swallowed a whole frog that was half his size. A child this small is somehow a Jedi.

Once he’s done eating, he peers up at you with big, black eyes and coos at you.

“Nah, I’m not hungry right now, kid,” you answer as if you understand what he’s saying to you. Then again…maybe you can understand him.

Ahsoka said she and Grogu could feel each other’s thoughts. You should be able to do the same, right? Granted you have no training in the matter, but you were able to communicate with him once, surely you could do it again.

Your hand reaches out to him and you hook a finger around his hand. He grips around your index and squeezes you tenderly. Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what he could be thinking, what he might be trying to tell you. At first, you don’t hear or see anything—just darkness. A part of you wants to give up, nothing that it was worth a shot anyway, but you choose to press on. Focusing hard on Grogu, you relax the tension in your shoulders and take a deep breath, exhaling through your lips.

By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind…

A woman’s voice fills your mind, but you can’t make out any of her features. Focus, you tell yourself.

You are as its father.

A Mandalorian. She looks different than Mando. Her helmet looks to be made of gold, with horns erecting from the very top. Her armor appeared to be different as well. Unlike Mando’s shiny, chrome beskar, her cuirass is a reddish brown and instead of a cape, she wears a fur coat on her back. Immediately, you got the impression she’s a warrior of her own nature, just as cunning as Mando, but in a swifter, more agile way, unlike Mando’s brash style of battle.

Just as the moment appeared, it vanished, filling your mind with images of sand dunes. Suddenly, you’re back in Mos Eisley. Only this time, you’re much younger, playing on the outskirts of the city with Tye.

--

“Tye, I’m tired,” you whine out to him. He’s running around the sand, punting a ball at you and then taking it away when you opt not to kick it back to him.

“Oh come on, we have to head back soon anyway. Just a little bit longer.”

It’s hard to hide your disappointment. Really, you just want to be inside. Today is such a blazingly hot day, and water is at its peak in scarcity. Most folks will be inside all day, avoiding the scorching heat. Less time outdoors means less water consumed, but Tye never listens to what he’s told. He does whatever he wants and drags you along with him and unfortunately, you have a hard time saying no to him, so you’re almost always roped into his shenanigans.

“Tyyyyyyye,” you drawl out. “I want to go inside! It’s too hot!”

Just as you say that a giant spacecraft enters the atmosphere, covering the entire surrounding area in shadows. You look up at the giant structure in awe. You’ve never seen a spacecraft so grand before, jaw dropping as you watch two smaller vessels appear from the hovering fortress above your heads. They drop down a little less than a click away. By now, Tye is at your side, both of you watching men in white uniforms exit the ships, charging towards your direction. An immediate fear washes over you, grabbing Tye’s wrist and running to hide behind a nearby moisture vaporator. Your heart is racing, and you feel Tye’s own panic coursing through your veins.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He whispers, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I don’t know…”

The men pass you by, not even taking a second to look around them. Their heads stay glued to what’s in front of them, hands gripping onto giant guns you’ve never seen before. Just as fast as they came, they disappear into the city. Screams and shrieks suddenly break out. People scatter, running out of the city walls in mass hysteria. Your legs itch to run, to find your parents, but Tye senses your urgency and grabs your forearm.

“We have to stay.”

“But—”

He whispers your name. “We don’t know who those people are. We’re safer here.”

Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the screams of the villagers echo through the city walls, causing you to wince. Tye wraps his arms around you, and you embrace each other, weeping silently in each other’s arms, praying to the Maker that these soldiers leave. The sound of Tye repeating, “It’s okay. We’re okay,” echoing in your mind.

It’s only when the sun begins to set that the town becomes quiet. The spacecrafts are gone, leaving no trace that they were even here. Your eyes are swollen from the tears, and you feel overwhelmingly exhausted. Body still shaking, burning off adrenaline and fear. Standing up is difficult, your knees are buckling but the need to see your parents is stronger than the quaking of your legs. You wake Tye up by shaking his shoulder gently.

“They’re gone. We have to head back.”

He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms. At first it doesn’t seem like he fully understands you, but when he looks up and doesn’t see the ship from before, he all but jumps up, dusting the sand off his clothes and charging right into the city.

“Tye! Wait up!” You shout after him, but he doesn’t relent. Taking large strides, you attempt to catch up with him, running past weeping elders, hysterical children, and what appears to be dead bodies all around you. Your mind doesn’t allow you to process what you’re seeing, you’re just too focused on catching up with Tye and then finding your parents.

His name being called in the distance stops him dead in his tracks.

“Mama! Papa!” He cries out, pivoting around in hopes to see someone he knows. When you finally manage to catch up to him, his mother appears from the shadows, tears streaming down her face. From the faint streetlights, her cheeks are dark red, and her eyes are just as swollen as you assume yours are.

“Sweetheart!” She shouts as she races to you both, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you until the air is all but knocked out of your lungs. It hurts, but you hold on to her anyway, feeling her warm, motherly touch.

“Where’s Papa?” He asks in the crook of his mother’s neck. Tye’s voice is hoarse from crying and yelling, and she attempts to soothe him by gently shushing him.

“It’s okay, son. We’re okay.”

“I have to get home,” you say, pulling away from her grip.

“Honey…”

The look on her face… you’ll never forget it. Tears welling up in her eyes, her jaw slacking because she wants to say something but not knowing how to say it. The pain you see in her green eyes, it’s like she’s just watched a loved one die right in front of her. Fear and anguish hit you in waves, crashing down on you more aggressively with every second that goes by.

“No…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Taking a step away from her, her arm reaches out to you.

“Sweetie…” she tries again.

Shaking your head in panic, you turn on your heel in one swift movement and disappear down one of the quieter streets and make for your home. As you race in the direction of your dwelling, your heart bangs against your ribcage, tears flying down your cheeks. You can’t even see where you’re going due to the water in your eyes, but you keep trekking on. Nothing’s going to stop you. Throat unbearably tight, you can barely let in little breaths as you turn the corner to where you live.

When you reach the street, you stop so suddenly that you almost tumble down on the ground, somehow managing to catch yourself at the last moment, your breathing ridiculously erratic. There’s a horde of adults crowding the front door to where you live. Your feet carry you to them at a painstakingly slow pace. Blood pounding in your ears, you can barely make out what anyone is saying. When someone finally catches sight of you, they rush towards you, dropping down to their knees to meet your eye level.

“Sweetie, we can’t let you go in there.”

“But t-t-that’s my h-ho-me,” you manage to say through shaky breaths.

“I know, but we ca—”

You push passed them before they can finish speaking and dart passed several other people trying to stop you until you squeeze through the half-open door into your house, pressing a button on the control panel by the doorway. The door hisses shut.

There’s only a bit of light offered inside. To your left, you see the table you’d sit at with your parents for supper. The chairs are tucked neatly under the table. You’re not sure if the banging you hear is from someone outside trying to get in, or if it’s your heart thumping against your chest but it doesn’t deter you from searching for your parents.

As you continue to scan the area, there’s a couple of cups lying around on the counter, but other than that, nothing is out of place. Relief begins to settle in but is rapidly replaced by sheer terror when you finally shift your head to the right. Then, you see them.

Your parents lying face down on the floor.

“No!” You cry out, running to them and dropping to your knees to hover over their bodies.

There’s a blaster sized hole in your father’s back, heat still steaming off his wound. Your screams could be heard from the other end of the city, clutching onto their lifeless bodies as you beg for them to wake up.

“Please, wake up. Mama, Papa. P-please!”

Someone pulls you off of them, wrapping their arms around your torso. Your arms flail around, clawing and scratching at whoever’s holding onto you. “Let me go! My parents! Let me go!” Your voice is shrill and hoarse, becoming more hysterical, but they never let go. Your parents become smaller and smaller as you’re carried away from them. The last thing you remember is seeing the door to your home whoosh shut…

Your body jolts, and you’re not on Tatooine, anymore. You’re on the Razor Crest. Grogu sits just a foot away from you, peering up at your shivering body. Somehow, you exposed a memory you had sworn to never remember. After that day, you locked that memory up in a part of your brain and shut it off, choosing never to think about it again. The pain was too much for you to handle. Instead of facing your pain, you always chose to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist. Once again, compartmentalizing your trauma and locking it away for good.

Grogu fusses and when you look down to him, his eyes begin to flutter. Poor thing gets so sleepy whenever he messes with the Force. You pick him up and hold him close to your chest, making your way to Mando’s bunk. As you pass the ladder, the kid fusses and makes grabby hands for the ladder.

“You want Mando?” You ask him, and Grogu babbles in response.

Climbing the ladder with him in your arms is a bit difficult, but you’re able to get to the top without too much of a struggle.

“He wants to be with you,” you tell him.

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. Extending his arms out to you, you hand Grogu over to him and your hands briefly touch. The brushing of your hands suddenly reminds you of the game you were in the middle of playing just before the kid decided to explore the cargo hold.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Turning on your heel, you head down the ladder quickly. How is it that over the course of just a few hours, you could go through so much emotional turmoil? Honestly, you haven’t even been awake for that long, but you’re already wanting to take a nap.

Fuck it, there’s nothing else to go in this hunk of metal, and Mando’s probably busy with the kid, so you decide to let your body rest. Crawling into the little cubby hole and shutting the door closed, you close your eyes and hope your body will allow you some peace of mind.

--

You’re reminded of why you hate naps so much when you wake up. Instead of feeling refreshed, you always end up feeling much worse. First off, you always wake up in a cold sweat and feeling super groggy. Quite frankly, it does the exact opposite of what you hoped a nap would do. Secondly? Mando’s cot is unbearably hard. It shouldn’t be considered a bed; it resembles more like duracrete than anything else. As much as you like finally being able to sleep not sitting up in that kriffing passenger chair, this is another struggle of its own.

Pushing the button on the control panel by the door, it opens with a swift motion. The first thing you clock is that the Crest’s lights are almost all out, making it damn near impossible for you to even see your hand in front of your face. How in the hell is Mando able to walk around here not being able to see a single thing? The second thing you notice is the sound of running water. He must be taking a sanisteam.

To think that just on the other side of that wall, he’s naked and wet? If it were anybody else, you’d strip out of your clothes and join them, but things aren’t that simple with Mando. There are boundaries you wouldn’t dare cross unless he gives you his consent. Rather than frustrate you, it entices you even more. It keeps you wanting more and more, especially because he can’t just give you everything you want, whenever you want. No, you have to work for it.

Realizing that now you’re basically just standing outside the fresher like a creep, you head up to the cockpit in search of the kid. Just like you suspected, he’s sound asleep in one of the passengers’ chairs, wrapped up in what looks to be Mando’s cape. The thought of Mando taking off his cape to wrap Grogu up makes you stupidly giddy.

Treading carefully as to not make any noise to wake him up, you tiptoe back to the ladder and shut the cockpit door, your feet barely touching the rungs as you descend back down to the hull.

Something in your stomach growls, and you’re suddenly reminded that you haven’t eaten since… yesterday? Kriff, has it really been that long since your last meal? You head over to the pantry where the packs are kept, extending your arms out in front of you so you don’t bang into anything on your way there, and grab the first pack your hand touches, not having a preference as to what you’ll be eating today—tonight? You don’t even know what time of the day it is. Time in hyperspace can be difficult to keep track of. The only way you’d know what time it is is if you checked the control panel back up in the cockpit and right now, it’s just not worth the trip.

The pack itself feels sloshy in your hands; it’s probably some kind soup. Reaching into the closet again, your hand searches for a bowl to put your meal in.

Mando will be out of the fresher at any moment now, given that the water’s been turned off for a minute or two. The door to the fresher wooshes open and out of reflex, you shut your eyes but are quickly reminded that the hull is so faintly lit that even with your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see him, but just to be safe, you announce your presence.

“I heard you,” is all you hear back.

“Can you turn the lights on a little bit more? I can barely see a thing and I really don’t feel like dropping my soup all over your ship.”

He doesn’t answer but within seconds the Crest transforms from a dark abyss to a twinkling, starry night. Not unlike the ones you’d spend hours staring at with Tye in the sand dunes during your teenage years.

Your head spins to your left, selfishly hoping to catch a sight of Mando, and Maker do your eyes latch onto him.

He’s not wearing a shirt, first of all. This is the most of his skin that you’ve ever seen before. The warm lights flickering off his back accentuates the curves of his muscles, concaving in certain areas and then protruding in others, outlining every bit of toned tissue. You can vaguely make out a few water droplets trailing down his golden skin, and it’s seriously taking all the self-control you have not to close the gap between you both and lick them off his back. An ache begins to build in the apex of your thighs, and you start to rub your legs together in an effort to alleviate some of the heat stirring inside you. Still wearing the kriffing helmet, though.

The second thing you notice is the vast amount of scarring on his skin. Each scar representing a different battle. You could probably lay him flat on his stomach, and his back would appear like a visual biography of his life, each mark giving you an understanding into his past, and the tests and trials he’s had to overcome over the years.

What were you trying to do, again?

Food.

You need food.

“Do you—” you squeak. Pull yourself together. Clearing your throat in hopes your tone will go back down to its normal octave, you repeat yourself. “Do you want any soup?”

“No t—” he begins to say but you cut him off before he can finish. You knew he’d say he wasn’t hungry.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes stay glued to the bowl in front of you. You’re certain that if you so much as looked at him again, you’d forget about the damned soup and pounce on him like loth cat.

“No.”

“Then you’re eating.”

Taking a second bowl from the shelf, you divide the soup evenly between both cups and begin making your way over to Mando, keeping your head down in the off chance he’s still not wearing a shirt, you don’t want to seem like you’re gawking at him.

“You can look,” he clarifies, noting the way you refuse to look up from ground.

When your eyes finally shift from the ground to look at him, he’s now wearing a black long-sleeved tunic that hugs his figure in ways that should be illegal. Your jaw is practically hanging and swallowing the lump in your throat causes a sound somewhere close to a moan to expel from your mouth, but you’re quick enough to stifle it with a cough.

As you hand him the bowl of soup, you’re feeling incredibly shy for some reason, your hand extending out and trembling as he takes it from you.

“I’ll eat in the cockpit to give you some privacy,” you tell him as you put your hand on the railing.

“No,” he says immediately, grabbing your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay.”

Lips curling upwards into a smile, you end up biting down on your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing and growing as you replay that in your mind.

Stay.

Moving away from the ladder, Mando pulls out one of the smaller crates and seats himself down on it. As you begin to look around for another box you could sit on yourself, he watches you closely.

“You can sit here, if you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

Once you’re seated, you begin to take small sips of your soup. Mando reaches over to where his vambrace is—scattered somewhere on another crate and presses a button on it. The Crest’s lights fade even more, leaving you both in almost complete darkness.

A muffled hiss fills the air, and you hear beskar touch the durasteel ground. You eat in silence for a few minutes, hearing only each other’s sips as you continue to fill your bellies with food. It’s incredibly domestic. A Mandalorian and a…well you’re not really sure what you should label yourself as, but you’ll stick with smuggler for now; the two of you eating together like an actual couple—even if that’s far from what your relationship actually is.

“No amour?” You decide to ask, trying to make a bit of small talk in the pitch-black abyss.

“Someone told me I had to ‘loosen up’,” he jests, knocking his elbow against your arm. Maker, you’ll never get tired of hearing that unmodulated voice of his. Something as simple of a voice shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. For a man who kills for a living, he speaks with such a gentle intonation.

It’s such a juxtaposition, really. In full body armor, Mando is definitely one of the most feared hunters in the galaxy. He’ll kill if something threatens his life or the kid’s life. Impossible to read, impossible to predict. But right now? He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. No helmet, no amour. His guard is as down as you’ve ever seen and is willing himself to be naked with you, even if he’s still fully clothed. How you were able to find yourself in this situation is something you might never be able to fully understand, but it is truly the greatest gift you could have ever been given.

“I’m sorry about before,” you whispers, feeling guilty about how you approached the question about his helmet. “I didn’t mean to pressure you about your Creed.”

It’s not fair for you to come down so hard on him. You might not understand why he chooses to live his life with such restrictions, but it really isn’t any of your business.

“It’s fine.”

You still feel angry with yourself for acting the way you did, but if Mando says it’s fine, the last thing you’ll do is continue your self-loathing and make him feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Taking the last sip of soup and feeling satisfied with your meal, you push yourself to your feet. “Are you finished?” you ask him.

“Yes, thank you.”

You search aimlessly in the dark for a moment in search of his dish and accidentally knock the bowl right out of his hand, hearing it tumble on the ground.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse, dropping to your knees in search for it. While frantically searching for the dish, you feel his hand caress the small of your back, sending shivers through your spine.

You’re starting to feel pretty flustered, the fact that you’re both in the darkness doesn’t help. There’s no way of anticipating what could happen and that’s exhilarating and unnerving. Of course, you eventually find the bowl and Mando’s hand disappears from your back once you get back on your feet.

Walking over to the pantry where the ration packs are, you place the bowls on the shelf, making a mental reminder to wash them later. Just as you’re about to turn around and head back to where you think Mando is, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Two hands grip onto either side of your hips and he presses his body against yours, pushing you right up against the little closet. A moan escapes your lips without even realizing it, and you can feel his hot breath tickle the crook of your neck.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all fucking day,” he growls in your ear.

Holy Maker, the heat in your stomach is somehow already becoming too much. You’re basically panting, the blood in your ears is almost deafening.

“I’ve been watching the way you’re walking. Did I hurt you? Do you still feel me?”

“Stars,” you breathe out.

Mando presses his lips to your skin, sending shockwaves through your entire core. You can feel his stubble prick your neck and it’s everything you didn’t know you craved. It feels deliciously rough.

Your hands brace themselves against the door, it’s the only way you can keep yourself upright. Knees already buckling, feeling the heat pooling from your cunt and drenching your underwear with slick. One of his hands begin to trail away from your hip and trace the waistband to your trousers. Instead of teasing you though, his hand wastes no time pushing passed your pants and panties, finding his way down to your cunt and cupping it with such force you jerk forwards, groaning as his hand finds your clit.

“Already so wet for me.”

Fingers leaving your bud, he slides them between your folds, gathering your slick on his calloused fingertips and then he’s shoving a thick finger deep inside you. His free hand flies to your throat, applying slight pressure with his thumb and index on that sweet spot underneath your jawline.

“Fuck,” you cry out brokenly. It doesn’t fill you up nearly as much as his cock does, but the way he moves inside of you, hitting that spot inside you no one has ever touched, marking it as his, causes you to see fucking stars.

Mando nips at your neck, alternating between sloppy kisses and bites hard enough to cause bruises, you can already feel an orgasm stirring inside you. You clench around his digit, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

“Are you already close?” He mutters in between kisses and nibbles.

“Shit, fuck I-I think so.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of his soft, damp locks and pulling hard, causing Mando to groan in your ear and buck his hips into yours. You can feel the outline of his rock-hard rock against your ass, and you grind into him, feeling his length burrow between your cheeks. You’re so close to your climax already.

Without missing a beat, he pulls out of you and his hand disappears from between your thighs.

“W-why?”

Grabbing your hips, he flips you around to face him.

“Up,” he instructs.

You linger there for a moment, unsure of what he’s asking you to do. When you don’t move, his hands grab onto your waist and lift you off the ground without so much of a groan. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms cross around the back of his neck, your head leaning on his shoulder. He walks over to the little bunk in the corner of the hull and lowers you onto the mattress gently, being mindful not to hit your head on the small doorway.

Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, the thrill of not being able to see him at all and not having a clue as to what he’ll do next, it’s incredibly sensual. Your legs unwrap themselves from his waist and dangle off the edge of the cot. His hands trail up to the waistband of your pants and tugs them down off your ass. Lifting your hips up to help him, he takes them—along with your underwear, off and you hear them thump to the floor.

Hands returning to your skin, he hooks thems under your calves and lifts them up so your bent at the knees, feet resting on the edge of the bunk.

The anticipation is getting to you. He continues to take his agonizingly sweet time running the tips of fingers on your naked skin, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to form on your skin. Lifting one of your legs and placing it over his shoulders, he peppers kisses from your ankle all the way to your inner thigh and repeats the same taunt with the other leg. Both of them now resting on his shoulders, he drops to his knees in front of you. Suddenly feeling nervous, you try to close your legs and end up squeezing his head by accident.

“Shit, sorry,” you whisper, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Shhh,” he hushes, placing a large hand on your sternum and pushing you back down on the cot gingerly, and then his lips are on your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites all over your inner thighs, slowly getting closer to your throbbing pussy but never getting close enough to relieve the pressure building.

“Mando, please,” you whimper.

“Do I have to gag you?”

Shit… How is he able to make that sound so fucking hot?

“I’m going to take care of you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?” His voice is gentle but commanding.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good girl.”

His tongue glides over your clit and there’s no controlling the moan that rips through you. Pulling away immediately, Mando stands up and presses his body into yours, his mouth merely inches away from yours, his large hand cupping just underneath your jaw.

“What did I say, pretty girl?”

You can feel his hot breath on your lips. If you just moved even the littlest bit forward, your lips would meet his. Licking your lips, you wrench your eyes shut to keep you from closing the gap.

“To be quiet,” you manage to say through ragged breaths.

“So be quiet,” he hisses, feeling his teeth sink into your bottom lip for just a second and then his weight is off you, returning to your thighs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned over his shoulders. Now, he wastes no time lapping you up, flicking your clit with his tongue with such a mind-blowing rhythm you have to throw your arm over your mouth and bite down on your skin to keep from making any noise. Mando never relents, developing the perfect torture. He plays with your bud then practically shoves his entire fucking face in your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you as far as it can go. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to bubble up to the surface, threatening to burst. It’s all too much, your body starts to shake from the sensations.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close. Dropping your arm to your side, your voice hoarse from stifling all your cries, you’re somehow able to find the strength to say, “I’m gonna come.”

“No,” is all he answers.

No?

“W-w-what?”

“Hold it,” he says hastily, then continues his assault on your pussy.

How in kriffing hell are you supposed to hold it? You’re basically already there and he’s denying you it. You can’t hold on; you can’t stop it.

“I c-can’t,” you confess.

And then he stops. His tongue leaves you, his hands leave your skin, and you’re left there on the bed, legs hanging off the cot, chest heaving from being so fucking close and then being denied at the very last second.

“What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly, a hint of anger but mostly disappointment in your tone.

You hear him make a noise and then something wet trickles down your clit down to your entrance. It’s…sticky and warm. Did he just spit on you?

Lifting your legs back up and letting your feet balance on the very edge of the bunk, his cock rubs against you, angling the tip of himself to slide between your folds, mixing your slick, his spit and precome all over his length and you. Mando continues to tease you, lining himself up with your entrance but never sheathing himself inside you. It’s driving you fucking insane, even angling your hips whenever he does, hoping he’ll lose his self-control and plunge into you, but it only spurs him on. He knows how much it’s annoying you and he’s fucking thriving on it.

“If you don’t start fucking me soon…” you warn.

Mando actually laughs at you, like this is all a big joke to him. Anger begins to mix with your arousal, this is maddening. Why won’t he just fuck you already?

All of a sudden, he slams into you with so much power, you actually slide up the cot, and you wail feeling so fucking full and tight, your cry filling the small space you’re in. You’re still sore from the night before and feeling him stretch your walls again is almost unbearable, but it feels too fucking good. You’ll take every fucking inch of him without a single complaint. Then, just as your pussy begins to acclimate to him, he pulls out, hiking your shirt up just enough for him to grab onto your naked waist and pulling you back down closer to him.

“Mando!”

He leans over you once again, a hand cradles the back of your head while his thumb rubs your cheek tenderly. “If this gets to be too much, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you nod.

“Words.”

“I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Good.”

Thrusting his hips against you, his cock continues to grind along your slit, making you dizzy from both the lack of touch and the taunting of his cock against you.

“Maker, you’re so fucking wet. You sure you didn’t come?”

Words aren’t something you’re capable of forming so you’re stuck resorting to answering him with broken sobs. Practically writhing from all the overstimulation and lack of, from him toying with you, the pressure in your cunt actually fucking hurts, you’re nearly begging for some release. Adding onto the fact that you can’t see a fucking thing, it heightens all your other senses. They compensate for your lack of vision; everything feels so much more intense than you ever could have imagined.

No one could ever drive you to the brink of madness and pull you back in at the last second. No one could possibly make you feel so satisfied yet deprived. You’re convinced you’ve traveled the galaxy in search of him, that your soul was missing a piece so small, you didn’t even know it was missing until Mando filled that void. He’s etched into your skin, your bones, your veins. Every nerve ending tissue has been electrified by this enigma of a man. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill those who’d try to come between him and his clan.

Kriff, you’re drained already. He hasn’t even begun to fuck you, but waves of exhaustion are coming over you. Mando’s still fucking teasing you, only ever prodding the tip of himself inside you and then pulling away before he can truly fill you up.

He said if this became too much for you to handle, all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop. You’re starting to consider it; you don’t think you can handle much more of the slow torture he’s inflicting.

Just as your jaw slackens, he slams into you in a sift motion, fully immersing himself inside your swollen walls.

“Fuck!” You pant out, wrenching your eyes shut and feeling tears trinkle down your cheeks. Mando doesn’t move one bit, just sits inside you like he’s waiting for you to adjust yourself to the size of him.

“Shit, you’re tight. Gonna train that pretty cunt of yours to mold to my cock,” he grits out. Big hands hold you down by the waist, and he ever so slooooowly eases out of you only to ram into you again, all the way to the hilt. You’re seeing stars, every move, every thrust bringing you closer to euphoria. The only thing your mind can process is how fucking amazing it feels to be clenched around his cock. It’s mind bending, it’s intoxicating, you’ll never get used to the way he fucking tortures you.

He develops a downright brutal pace, pulling out just enough for his tip to pierce your walls and then pounding into you, growling every time he touches your cervix. Once he’s fully immersed inside you, he bucks his hips and practically jackhammers his cock inside you. A sheen of sweat covering both your bodies causes the sound of skin slapping against skin to sound so wet and fucking obscene. Still pounding into you, Mando’s hands leave your waist to grab under your thighs, lifting them up to hang off his shoulders. Pushing down on the backs of your thighs, he practically bends you in half at the knees, an arm on either side of your head, and then begins a pace so fast and brutal, you’re sure you’ll be sore for weeks. The spot he’s hitting right now is one you didn’t think was even possible. It knocks all the air out of your lungs, you can’t even make a goddamn sound. Your throat is bone dry, and whatever pathetic sounds that escape you are barely audible and breathless.

“Stars, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters in your ear, and then he’s sucking at your neck, bruising the skin.

Mouth agape, you’re so fucking close to coming, a part of you doesn’t even want to tell him how close you are in case he stops. You don’t think you could physically handle it if he denied you again.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how much fucking noise your little cunt is making?”

On a normal day, Mando says as little as possible, giving you a quick sentence in response or even a one-word answer, but when he’s balls deep inside you, he can’t seem to shut up. He turns into a blabbering mess, offering you praise after praise like it’s a fucking prayer. Mando makes a note of everything. He comments on your gushing pussy, how your walls clench around him as you get closer and closer to your orgasm, how no one will ever touch you again.

How you’re his.

And you? You can barely throw two words together. You’re on the brink of losing your goddamn mind. Is this what being on spice is like? Feeling a sense of euphoria that hits you wave after wave, each one stronger and more intense than the last, teetering the line between sanity and insanity.

“…mine,” you hear him snarl. Reality doesn’t even feel real anymore, you can barely make out what he’s saying to you.

Something like a whimper slips through your parted lips.

“Now, come for me.”

He barely finishes speaking before your orgasm tears right through you. It begins deep inside you and is quickly shattering the earth around you. Crying out so loud Mando has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds expelling from your lips. He continues to pound into your pussy, riding out the ripples of your climax, not relenting even for one moment. There isn’t any fucking air in your lungs—Mando’s weight is still pressing you into the cot and your climax is so strong, your chest is way passed heaving now.

You’ll be chasing this high for the rest of your life, the feeling of Mando unleashing his feral instincts on you, and you just helplessly letting him take control of you—it’s unlike anything you ever could have imagined.

“Good girl,” he praises. When you don’t immediately answer, still in a haze from the mind-shattering orgasm that just expelled out of you, Mando stills, cupping your face with his hand and murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Your lips part, and your brain desperately tries to find any word that might help him understand that you’re okay and also anything but okay. Only being able to breathe in quick, sharp breaths, Mando places a kiss on your jaw and repeats in the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard him speak, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking your head frantically, you attempt to moisten your throat by swallowing, and it gives you enough to answer, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He reiterates.

“No,” you croak.

“Are you sure?” Stars, how can he be so relentless in the way he fucks you and switch into a nurturer so quickly?

“Mmm. Please f-fuck me,” you mewl against him.

His cock twitches at your plea, and he obliges. In an effort to help you climb down from the overstimulation, he eases in and out of you at a deliciously hard, but slow pace, and then he does something you couldn’t have been prepared for. Your lips are slightly parted, letting in little bursts of air to help calm your breathing, and suddenly, you feel wet, soft lips clash onto yours. Instinctively, you yelp into his mouth from the unexpected touch, but you quickly acclimate to it, feeling your lips move on his. It’s a little awkward at first, you get the impression Mando hasn’t kissed many people in his life, because your teeth end up clashing together a few times. He fucking giggles into your mouth and you all but melt into the cot. His tongue slips passed your lips and meets yours and you can taste yourself and broth on his tongue. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, pressing your lips even deeper on his. Mando moans low in his throat and you can feel the vibrations ripple in your own mouth.

He makes to pull away, but you keep his lips locked on yours, using your hands to keep him where you want him. He gives in without hesitation, letting you take control of the kiss as he continues to ram into you. The dreams you’ve had of this moment, the moment you’d feel his mouth on yours doesn’t even come close to the feeling of it happening to you right now. It all makes sense now. Every kiss you’ve had previously was just practice for this. It was all just preparing you for this defining moment, the moment you’d finally be able to break through Mando’s heavily guarded walls. Every smack of your lips, every flick your tongues, every broken moan in each other’s throats, they’re all just feats breaking down the duracrete barrier that he’s forced himself to build over the years.

Bodies intertwined, every part of yourselves wrapped up in the other, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, and you suppose that’s how this is was always supposed to be. Each of you were missing the same piece— the inability to be perceived as anything but a person of strong will. Believing that vulnerability was a weakness, instead of something that should be treasured, and without knowing it, your paths crossed and challenged every part of your identity.

Foundling, Mandalorian, bounty hunter, father.

Orphan, mechanic, smuggler, Jedi.

Those shouldn’t mix together as perfectly as they do, but stars, does it feel like everything finally makes sense.

A second orgasm begins to brew in your stomach, but you don’t dare pull away from Mando’s lips. You’ll never pull away until he forces himself off of you.

He leaves your lips for just a moment, panting and his own chest heaving against yours. “Maker, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Shhh,” Tugging desperately at his hair, you close the small gap between you and slosh your mouths together. You both whimper brokenly on each other’s lips, and Mando slams into you three more times before his hips still, feeling his cock pump his seed into your soaking pussy. Just as he begins to come, your second climax reaches its peak and crashes into you. His hands are back on your waist, digging his fingernails into your skin. Whatever moans you both cry out are muffled by each other’s’ mouths, catching the sound and swallowing it, burying it deep inside one another.

When you come start to come down from your climaxes, Mando drops his head to the crook of your neck, burying his face into your skin and pressing sloppy, chaste kisses right where your jaw meets your neck.

“I—” You attempt to speak, but your vocal cords are so raw, it hurts even just making a sound. You’re still practically bent in half, and your legs are burning up. Resorting to stir around hoping he’ll get the message, Mando pulls off of you, using both his hands to very gently bring them down his shoulders, one by one, once again giving each of your inner thighs some tender pecks. Pulling out of you, his come seeps out of your completely worn out slit. He peppers a few kisses along your waist, and then you hear his footsteps retreat.

“Where—” You begin to say, making to slowly prop yourself on your elbows.

“I’m still here,” he assures you.

You can hear him moving things around, and you seriously wish there was some kind of light allowing you to see what he’s doing but given that your eyes have gotten used to being in complete darkness, you’re sure you’d be blinded by even the smallest amount of light right now.

A few minutes go by and then you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you down the cot. Once he feels like your head won’t hit the top of the bunk, he lifts you off your feet, wrapping his arms around your back, and in turn you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you for a couple steps and then brings you down onto what you expect will be the cold ground. Instead, you feel cotton on your back as he lowers you down.

“Where did you—?”

“I have a couple of extra capes in case one gets too battered,” he says, answering your question before you can finish asking it.

As soon as your head touches the ground, you feel your eyelids shut, exhaustion overpowering you. Turning over on your side and hiking up one of your legs up so that your knee lines up with your chest, you don’t even care that your own slick and his seed is practically dripping down your legs. You don’t care that you’re still naked from the waist down. The only thing you care about is falling asleep, preferably in Mando’s arms.

“Don’t sleep yet. Need to clean you up,”

“Mmm,” you protest. “Later.”

Mando chuckles lightly and then he’s wiping the slick off your legs and entrance with what feels like… a pair of trousers.

“Are you using my pants to clean that up?”

“It’s the first thing I grabbed. I’ll wash it.”

“Mmm, you better,” you mumble into your arm.

Now, you’re starting to slip in and out of consciousness, fatigue taking you over. Mando rummages around the hull for a bit longer, and then joins you on the floor, throwing what you assume is another cape, over your half naked body. You don’t even have the energy to move your body over towards his, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re both still close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other’s skin.

“Hey, Mando?”

“Yes?”

“I won.”

Things are quiet for a few minutes after that, and you’re on the verge of falling asleep when his velvety smooth voice breaks through the silence of the Crest.

“Blue,” his voice is low and barely audible.

“Mmm?” You mumble, desperately trying to stay awake.

“I…like the color blue.”

Okay, now that puts a stupid, hazy smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular shade of blue? Bright… dark?” You may be barely conscious, but you hang onto every word he says.

“I guess… dark.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Why do you like that color?”

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s about to confess something to you that he hasn’t told anyone else. As if in this very moment, he’s about to give himself to you completely. “The Mandalorians that saved me from that battle droid in my village. Their armor was blue.”

Mando doesn’t elaborate any further, but he doesn’t have to. Feeling your heart tighten in your chest, you imagine what a young Mando must have been feeling when that droid pointed its guns at him. How he must have been utterly terrified and convinced that he was about to die. And then to be saved at the last moment. Seeing these warriors in blue armor coming to rescue him, to save his village from an even worse massacre. They were his saviors, it only makes sense that after all these years, that color would bring him solace and comfort.

It’s quite ironic, actually. Blues have the reputation of representing sadness or pain and you too have been accustomed to associating blue with your own trauma, and then here comes Mando.

The color symbolizes the exact opposite of what its known for. To him, it brings relief and reminds him of being saved; representing the beginning of a new life that he’s exemplified through and through. It’s a beautiful confession, and you’ll forever be searching for him in all the shades of blue that the galaxy has to offer.

Two opposites.

Yellow and blue.

One representing happiness and light. The other representing sadness and melancholy. Blend those two together and you create the fiercest of combinations. A beautiful balance of both extremes.

And when you think about it, what color does blue and yellow make?

[dracosathenaeum]

The Story of Us

Summary: You and Draco are both death eaters, so you make a plan to escape the life you’ve been dealt

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Azkaban

Word Count: 1,353

#A/N: Requested by @trouxa2x, I hope you like it! I used a different writing style with this one, so I hope it’s okay! I feel like I could've turned this into a series, but this one shot will do for now, enjoy!

It was only natural that you both had grown up together, you had come from families of the sacred 28 after all. You were raised together as you were so close in age, sharing practically all your childhood memories. Draco remembered seeing you for the first time, in your little red dress clutching onto the leg of your father as you started timidly at him. You could say he fell in love with you then and there, he just hadn’t known it.

You had spent a couple years being as close as siblings, spending almost every day together; you had no burdens back then, just children of prominent families. The world was practically handed to the two of you on a silver platter.

Hogwarts changed the both of you though. He had found his place with other prominent Slytherins, believing that he was above others for the value his name held and the ‘purity’ of his blood. Whereas you had simply decided to enjoy your time there, you knew eventually you would have to marry a pure blood, but that didn’t mean you saw yourself as above everyone else as the others had. The two of you had grown apart quite quickly, almost naturally, but there was never any bad blood between the two of you. You still met at family functions and pretended to be close in front of your families when in reality you barely spoke a word to each other through the school year. You had simply grown out of each other.

It wasn’t until sixth year that the two of you had gotten as close as you once were, closer in fact. Your eyes had met from across the room as you stood around the table with the other death eaters, the burning of your left forearm matching Draco’s. Neither of you had to say anything, the both of you having an unspoken conversation as you realised what you had just become.

The two of you had gone around, celebrating with the other adults, but as soon as you found an opening, the two of you slipped away. Though, there really was no slipping away from the dark lord, the whole room watched the two practically run up the stairs to Draco’s room. They all celebrated, thinking it was another union of purebloods. That was why you could cast a silencing spell as soon as the door to Draco’s room clicked shut, knowing no one would question why.

The both of you had fallen apart in each other’s arms, sobbing into one another’s necks, hands gripping onto whatever they could hold to anchor them onto reality, not sure who needed who more. You hadn’t been this close in years but that no longer mattered, it was as if you had never been apart. His grip on your waist was painful but nothing compared to the pain in your heart on what you had just been forced to take on. Neither of you had spoken a word that night, you just held each other, knowing that was what you needed.

From then on, the two of you worked together to build the vanishing closet, neither of you speaking about what you knew was to happen. You had found yourselves breaking down together over the life you were forced into, neither of you were particularly open with your emotions but this unspoken relationship was all you had.

Your friends had known you used to be close so didn’t ask too many questions on why exactly it was that you two were suddenly spending so much time together. This itself was a relief as you wouldn’t know how to explain what it was that the two of you had.

Which is why when it happened, it was almost natural. On one of the nights when you were just holding each other, your lips found each other, and you found other ways to relieve stress and to feel again. Neither of you spoke about whether it was love or if it was because you two were forced together because of what your families and Voldemort put you through, both of you know it’s more though, it had to be. Something in your lives had to be real to counteract the utter shit you’d been forced to do.

It was the night of Dumbledore’s death that had you both wanting more. More than this life could offer you at present. You had both been haunted by the looks on everyone’s faces when they found out it was Snape who had killed Dumbledore and not the two of you. The both of you had been shunned to Draco’s room, Voldemort sending the two of you away so that the ‘adults’ could talk.

You come up with a plan in Draco’s room. A plan that at the final stand-off, when Voldemort would give Hogwarts a chance to join his side, the both of you would slip away. You knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but it was the only opportunity that would allow you both to escape under the cover of being Hogwarts students and not the heirs to noble families.

The both of you would pack beforehand, you would withdraw just enough money that your parents wouldn’t be suspicious but enough for a fresh start. So, you had fought with Hogwarts, stood your ground when Slytherin’s were asked to go to the dungeons and instead be there for the final stand-off. Your parents had to see you first, had to know it was your own decisions to leave, that you weren’t kidnapped by Dumbledore’s army.

You stood there, hand in hand, as you watched Voldemort proclaim Harry Potter as dead. This was it; this was the only time you would have to leave; you squeezed each other’s hands as you back away, ready to start over.

“Draco.” You both freeze, hearts beating out of your ears. Why now, you only needed a second more, you were both supposed to be able to leave. You were hidden behind some taller 7th years, but Draco? His platinum hair and tall build was hard to hide.

You had tighten your grip on his hand as all eyes turned to Draco. Everyone on Hogwarts’ side could see you, could see the panic in your eyes as Draco let go of your hand.

He had to act quick; the other side hadn’t seen you yet and he wasn’t about to throw you both under the train. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes as he pushes his signet ring into your hand before heeding his mother’s call and ripping his hand from yours, turning to join the other side.

You want to scream and cry and run to join him, but Draco had sacrificed himself for you, so you turn, and you run, and you don’t look back.

That was the last time he had seen you; both the wizarding and muggle authorities alongside all the old families had looked for you, looked for your body as they thought you had died; but only Draco knew the truth. Well he hoped it was the truth, that you had left and started a better life.

That’s what he tells himself at least, as he sits in dark cell in Azkaban. No one had defended him at the trial, they had all seen him willingly join Voldemort, they had seen him stay and fight his own classmates instead of run with his parents as it meant it’d give you more time to run before your parents had noticed you weren’t there.

He made sure he never killed though, just stunning and disarming spells until Harry could defeat Voldemort.

And now he’s paying the price for your freedom.

But it’s worth it he thinks.

So, he sits and stares at stone walls all day, reliving his days with you in his head, wondering when it had all gone wrong. You were enough to keep him sane in the place he knew he was to die in, but he tells himself it was worth it, that he’d do it all over again, for you.

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