#the full set of these edits is finally complete

[artbyfuji]

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

Boyfriend is to Husband

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader

summary: How would Miguel react if you did the “calling my bf my husband” trend? 🤔

content warning: It gets a little suggestive, but other than that, it’s fluff fluff fluff. There are short mentions of food, but nothing too crazy. The Miguel in here is also not Spiderman. Just a little guy.

credit for art and dividers: Me! and @kimjiho1 (plus another person for the gif divider, if this is yours, lmk!)

a/n: This will be apart of a series called The Trendy Couple! This is the first installment ☝🏾😌. I’m not sure how long the series will be, but right now it’s just based off of cute couple's trends. My fyp has suffered trying to do research for this…

word count: 2.2k

I use the word "buggy" in here. Buggy = shopping cart or trolley. I'm southern so buggy just rolls off the tongue. ❤︎ Plus, it sounds cute!

You and Miguel have been out since 8 am running errands and grabbing supplies to fill up the new apartment. 

After a year of your dresser being full of his sweatpants and hoodies and his furniture hosting several of your blankets, his fridge being stocked of your favorite fruits and your shower caddy holding his body care, you both decided it was best to live together. 

Towel sets, bed sheets, comforters, silverware, curtains. This was only the tip of what you and Miguel had managed to stuff inside the car.

After hitting five shops just that morning, you opted to stay in the car while Miguel went and handled a pickup order from the hardware store. It was getting closer to lunchtime and you didn’t want to become irritable because of the long lines. 

To pass the time, you decided to scroll on TikTok, watching video after video, reacting to each accordingly. 

First, it was chatty kitties begging for food. Then, it was edits of hot wrestlers. Next, it was ramen recipes to cook at 2am. There were even a couple of NPC lives even though the trend was nearly dying at this point. 

Finally, you scrolled to a video hosting a girl and her boyfriend huddled together in a car over the console.

She’s leaned up against him, her smile beaming, “Today I’m going to be guessing my husband’s favorite things!”

“I’m not your husband,” are the words that shoot from her boyfriend’s mouth, fast as lightning. Cold. Unkind. Callous. 

You watch as the girl’s smile drops and the video cuts, her laughing out of shock beforehand, evidence of her trying to stamp out her embarrassment. 

You watch more as his grin widens and she gives him this awkward glance. 

“Not yet,” he adds, seeing how quiet she was. 

The video ends with her jumping at him playfully, trying to play the situation of. 

“Jesus,” you sigh, mouth turned sideways as you pause the video and open up the comments. Thousands of people were telling her to dump him, others questioning why he would say what he said in the way that he did. 

Your heart went out to the girl who clearly wanted to do a harmless joke that completely backfired. 

You liked a comment about this being a possible red flag. Although he could have responded that way because he wasn’t ready for marriage, his response was so quick and distant that it was like he was disgusted at the possibility of being with her that long. 

After working yourself up by scrolling through the comments, you decide to go even further by pressing the “calling my boyfriend ‘husband’” search at the top. 

There were so many stitches to the original video with people giving their own thoughts about the situation. Some people were proclaimed dating coaches, others psychologists, and a few influencers. 

You even see a follow up video from the original couple with the guy giving a shitty excuse as to why he was so quick in his response. 

“Yeah right,” you mumble, watching the girl snicker at her boyfriend’s pouts. You agree with the comments that his response makes the original video even worse. 

Still scrolling down, you find another video featuring a new couple. 

They’re at a table eating donut holes out of a hat, and when the girl calls her boyfriend “husband”, the guy’s entire body lights up. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy, and can’t stop staring back at his girlfriend. 

From there, you were able to see countless other couples with cute videos, all of the guys radiating at the word “husband.”

Biting your lip, you wondered how Miguel would react if you called him your husband. 

You loved him with all of your heart and you were sure that he loved you. You guys are literally moving into an apartment together. But the thought of him being unsettled by you calling him your husband weighed on you. 

Just as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock near the trunk of the car startling you. Looking up in the rearview mirror, you see Miguel standing with a few bags and wood planks in his hands. You reach over and press a button to pop open the trunk. 

“Got everything?” you ask, turning to watch as he drops items in the back. 

“Yeah, I think so. Although there was almost a brawl over some potted plants,” he said. “Some older lady just came up to this guy and snatched his monsteras.” 

“What?” you respond, watching as he closed the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. “Out of his hands or the buggy?”

Miguel laughed, both recalling the scene and finding your terms adorable. “She just came up and snatched it out of the cart while he was waiting at the end of the line. She swore that she saw it first.”

You listened to him retell the story, hand under your chin as you leaned closer. He was cute, lilt in his voice to make an impression of the plant thief. Thinking to yourself that you liked this little moment of playfulness, you take your phone out to record. 

Placing your phone in a case attached to the dashboard, you smile at the camera while Miguel’s still going. 

“‘You youngins think the world owes you everything, and that’s just not the case!’ And the poor guy is standing there going ‘ma’am, I just want my plant back.’ He looked so distressed.”

“I would be too! A random lady just shopped from my buggy. It’s like, why are you this close to me to see what I’m trying to buy?”

Miguel turns the car on and buckles up. “It started to escalate when the lady’s friend came over. Then there were two shrill voices fussing at this guy.”

He started to back the car out of the parking spot, hand behind your seat and head turned towards the back window. 

You slowly glanced at his arm, eyes tracing a vein up his shirt. 

Too bad you were in a car right now or else you’d let his arm wrap around you elsewhere. 

You tune back into his words, silently scolding yourself for letting something so simple get you to fold. 

“Luckily, I was able to calm them both down. All it took was me showing them some dasheen leaves,” he said, driving the car closer to the exit of the parking lot. 

You came to a conclusion. There was no better time than the present. 

“Aw, look at my husband. Saving the day with his genius,” you say, hand reaching out to pat his chest. 

Then you feel your body jerk to the right. The seat belt tightens as the car jerkingly swerves in between two parking spaces. 

You stare in a panic at Miguel who puts the car in park and turns his entire body towards you. 

“What did you just call me?” he asks, eyes searching yours, a little startled but mostly hopeful. 

You decide to keep the charades going, “I was just praising my husband for stopping the creation of another Karen video. Why did you turn the car like that?” You’re still looking at him as if he has two heads. 

“You just-!” Miguel takes your hands into his and places his forehead on his fists. “Baby, you know what you just said.” 

You laugh, a little giddy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Miguel leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, reaching down to take his seatbelt off. His eyebrows scrunch up as he brings your hand to his chest, “Feel my heartbeat.”

Your mouth drops as you feel his heart rattling against his chest. He really wasn’t being dramatic. 

“Baby look at me,” you grab his hands and hold them tight. “You did a good job today.”

His breath stopped, as he looked at you. His face was tinted from the whole fiasco. 

“Husband.”

Miguel’s entire body slumped as he grinned wide. He nearly jumped over the console to sag his body onto yours. 

His shoulders were shaking and you heard his laugh muffled by your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and make a face at the camera. 

“What’s up, Mig?” you say, trying to get him to talk. 

He mumbled into your clothes, shoulders still shaking. 

“I can’t hear you, you gotta sit up.”

He sits up and sniffles, turning his head toward the backseat. 

Looking at his profile you can see a few streaks down his face. 

“Are you crying?” you ask, turning his face towards yours. 

Miguel swipes his wrist across his cheeks, “Stop, this is extremely embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not! I promise it’s not,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his ear. “Talk to me.”

He chuckled, eyes looking down, “It just feels really good to know that you think of me that way. We don’t have to ever cross that line, but one day, if you would like, we can make that title true.”

“Is this a pre-proposal?” you ask, heartbeat in your ears. You went out on a limb to follow a trend, not knowing how it would end. Now you’re staring at Miguel’s flushed face with his heart pouring out into your lap. 

“Maybe,” he whispered, grabbing your hands. “Possibly a promise for what could be.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin, “Can I know what could be right now?”

“And expose my plans? Not a chance,” Miguel smirked. “Besides, a husband knows what’s best for his partner, right?”

“He does,” you quip, rubbing your hand in a circle on his chest. “He also apparently forgets that SUVs can flip very easily.”

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he says, looking sheepishly at the placement of the car. “Did I startle you?”

You just giggle at his concern and give him a quick peck on the mouth. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction.”

“How would you react if I casually called you forever mine? While driving!”

“Go 90 in a 70,” you joke. “Maybe pull over and do a little more than make out.” You rub your hand down his chest, and squeeze playfully at his pec. 

Miguel stared back at you, body instantly reacting to the shift in conversation. “We can actually do that right now.”

He leaned forward and brought your lips to his. You could taste the mint from the gum he had earlier, humming when he pushed further into your mouth. 

He started to reach for your hips, ready to pull you over onto his lap. 

Your stomach let out a loud grumble, making you jump. 

“Ok, let’s try this again after we get you some food,” Miguel says, plastering kisses on your face. 

The day moves on smoothly with Miguel not letting you out of his sight, hands itching to hold you in some way. 

He also never lets the husband thing go. 

As you’re ordering lunch, “One lemonade for my baby. And a water with lemon for me, the husband.”

As you stop in a clothing store at the mall for a small break, “These say boyfriend jeans. Do they have any husband jeans?”

As you’re trying to reach the top shelf to grab the last of your favorite detergent, “No, cariño. Let your husband get it for you.”

As you’re looking for throw pillows and towel sets for the apartment, “You think they have a couple’s set? I want something that says ‘Mr.’ on it.”

As you stop at a gift store, looking for something extra to give to the movers, “Look, this shirt says it’s made of ‘hubby material.’ Should I get it?”

This feeling is only amplified when you post his initial reaction online. The comments were full of people yearning to be in your predicament. 

“If my boyfriend doesn’t crash the car when I call him husband, THROW HIM AWAY. 😒”

“Does he have a brother….asking for a friend”

“I needed this after the “I’m not your husband” he in LOVE”

“If your bf doesn’t cry at the thought of you, what are you doing”

“He was blushing HARRRRD 😭😭😭”

“So when’s the wedding? 🤨”

“He was literally cheesing and crying omg”

“Get you a man that stops the car to declare his love”

“What if I did a five mile marathon on i-55”

“He’s so in love with you that it’s palpable”

“He was ready do a lot more than make out 😭”

Miguel saw most things, a little embarrassed but mostly happy that so many people found him to be genuine. 

You laid on his shoulder as he checked the comments, liking the funny ones as they passed by.

“Do you want to make a response video?” you say, liking a comment going ‘he’s a good man, Savannah.’

“No, I think this is enough,” he replies, handing the phone back to you. “Let me keep a little mystery. At least until I actually propose, of course.”

You looked at him with stars in your eyes.

“A mysterious husband. I kind of like the sound of that,” you say, wrapping your body around his side. “Maybe I can be nosy, find out his secrets.”

“I bet you would, cariño,” he voiced, nuzzling his chin on top of your head. “After, everything is planned and done.”

You laughed and snuggled closer, happy to be with him.

Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading! ❣️

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

I'm excited for the future of this series and I hope you guys are too. When I finish the series masterlist, I'll link it here. If you guys have any trends that you want me to include, then just let me know and I'll see what I can do!

- Lauro ♡

[microscotch]

WISTERIA SKIN + PUPA EYES: A COMPLETE SET OF GENETICS

BOI that was an undertaking! but finally, and with lots of assistance from the wonderful @kestrelteens, this skin is completed. and it turned into an entire set of cohesive genetics, too! more info under the cut ⤵

essentially this is a mix of woohoo on the beach (aka ios those darn skins slightly edited) and various other components taken from @obscurus-sims, @lamatisse and @buglaur, (such as collarbones and ears), and some moles/freckles for the elder bodies i snuck from @episims, and @sixfootsims tongue + teeth texture. lips are a nod to maxis and a blend of so much stuff that i dont even remember it.😅 also tried to eliminate the smeared lipstick texture under the feet, and p much blended every seam i could find.

here's a swatch of the full range, which is more undertone rather than gradient based:

yay, first time doing supernaturals! 🌙 it was a lot of fun doing eye textures for them, here's the swatch:

NOTE: the zombie and vampire default come with an overlay mod! and the werewolf skins are correlated! please check out the hyperlinked instructions given by the respective creator ‼

also, i highly recommend downloading shasta's genie hair fix!

the eyes - squeas pupa eyes to be exact! come in 17 colors.

SO here are the downloads:

pupa eyes 👁 - custom / gen&town / defaults

wisteria skin 💗 - custom / gen&town / defaults / supernaturals / pngs for recolors + add ons :)

NOTE: these eyes are meant to go with the alien skin. 👽

dec 3rd update: EM chubby morph for shadowrealm has been fixed, feel free to redownload the non default version you're using!

for the database:

credit 🥰: serabiet, squea, obscurus, buglaur, themeasureofasim, sixfootsims, epi the phenomenal mod maker (and correlated werewolf skin maker!), withlovefromsimstown (plantsim textures), deedee(vamp cracks), platinumaspiration for more vamp cracks, veronavillequiltingbee (vamp overlay base), magical-girl-sandbox(bigfoot base), tvickiesims, lordcrumps, lamare & teaaddictyt for playtesting & feedback 💗

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~updates~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dec 3rd-- EM chubby morph for shadowrealm has been fixed, feel free to redownload the non default version you're using!

january 13th-- i noticed that the s3 range for females is a little too highlighted in the chest area, to the point that clothing where the skin texture mapping is just off the *tiniest* bit makes it clip with the neck, which also applies to a lot of ea meshes. i have toned down the shine and blended the neck down further for this range so that it looks better with differently mapped clothes :)

please redownload the natural defaults and/or non defaults. make sure to keep a backup of the previous version in case you end up not liking the changes ive made to this range!

[cyclesprefectpress]

[image description: photos of The Disco Elysium Tarot, printed letterpress in an edition of one from handset lead type and linoleum blocks. It is a complete 78-card tarot deck printed primarily with white text and illustrations on medium grey cardstock, in a custom dark grey hardcase box with a hand-marbled orange and yellow endsheet. The backs of the deck are decorated with an illustration of a sprig of may bells, and a quote from Smallest Church in Saint-Saëns: "None of this matters at all." The interpretive meaning of each card is expressed on its face with a small excerpt of the game's text. The Minor Arcana are divided into four suits of Harry's Attributes—Motorics, Psyche, Physique, Intellect—and each card in that suit is a quote from a skill under that Attribute. The Major Arcana are assigned quotes from other sources like NPC dialogue or Thought Cabinet problems & solutions. Pips for the Minors are counted with diamonds like the game's skill points; each actor or title is printed with their in-game color, but made shiny & metallic with bronzing powder.

each piece of text was set in handset lead type, assembled from individual pieces for each letter and space, and printed relief on a chandler & price clamshell press. end description.]

🎊🎊 Desert Bus for Hope starts for 2023 on nov. 11th and i have made an item this year for the craftalong that will be up for giveaway between 6am-12pm on Monday the 13th! 🎊🎊 It is a full tarot deck based on Disco Elysium and it has several pieces of my heart & soul in it but NOT my blood because i put a bandaid right on that :) donations for this and any other auctions & giveaways for Desert Bus go to Child's Play Charity.

notes: i did not make a whole new interpretive model for this deck, apologies, that was outside of my scope. it's generally compatible with a Rider-Waite model, with Motorics for Wands, Psyche for Cups, Physique for Swords, and Intellect for Disks. (full distribution of text listed by card, linked below. any spelling or transcription errors you find there, i promise i fixed them in print—that's copied from my digital mockup which was copied hastily from screenshots.)

i also do not track hours on these kinds of projects because that way lies madness, but i will say: i knew how much time it would take to print it. it was a lot but i was not worried about it, i know how to print. i was very worried about how much time it would take to absorb the sheer amount of text, and distribute it across the cards, and really get an array i believe in. i was right to worry, and i have absolutely had a few anxious nightmares about discovering the Perfect excerpt that should've gone in and i missed it, and the suit of Intellect made me want to lay on the floor a few times, but still! i believe there's many versions of a deck you could make from this game and this one is a good one.

i think the Minors fit really well with the double-edged sword of Harry's skills, their advice, their priorities. the circular way the Fool-World assignment works out makes me smile every time. The colors on The Star came out so nice. i think Justice fulfills some of my favorite things about Kim's character & purpose in the story. i worried sometimes that editing to such short clips would lose too much of the politics of the game, but of course you can't really take them out and they're especially present in the Majors—the Devil and the Hierophant, The Star and The Sun. i've wanted to design a tarot deck for years and i love this game deeply and i let this idea percolate for a few months and it never stopped making me laugh so here it is, & given a beautiful purpose :)

i also literally could not have done this without xyrilin's Disco Reader and the FAYDE On-Air Playback Experiment to navigate the dialogue and skill checks. Really couldn’t have tied the whole concept & colophon in its final bow without the Disco Reader :)) thank thank thank, they're so fun to investigate that it was honestly very difficult to focus on my task instead of veering off and exploring every branch in an extremely disorganized way.

actual printing went well honestly, very few problems! i think that means i'm getting pretty good at planning one of these monstrosities, although perhaps it also means i'm not challenging myself enough. hmm. no that's silly there's 78 ding dang cards in this thing. anyway the drop & replace formes worked well, no registration issues. mum convinced me to overprint another half a deck's worth of cards when I was printing backs & borders and of course she was right :/ there were a handful of cards that actually had better line breaks and fewer lines total in true type than in the digital mockup, so i needed all the spares I had to put those new short quotes into the appropriate border breakage. next time i will not question her.

handset in Garamond, Eden Bold, and secret Neuland.

WIP : full text card assignments

bonus photo of the kind of trash notes i always take to plan things like how many borders were printed with space for short excerpts vs long excerpts, and how many of those are majors vs. minors, because they have a slightly different frame at the bottom edge, etc.

[image description: they are truly garbage notes, i tell you. half of it is written at angles to the other half, many numbers in the math problems are not labeled, mistakes are scribbled over. it gets me there but it doesn't look pretty. end description.]

[hollowdeath]

tied down (hjp)

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU

summary: you and harry potter, the biggest flirt at hogwarts, have been secretly hooking up for weeks after playing hard to get. harry's been dragging his feet when it comes to making things official, so when his flirty tendencies get him in trouble, you decide to play him at his own game and win.

content warning: mentions of hooking up, toxic harry, alcohol, jealousy, angst. briefly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: trying to write shorter blurbs between my longer requests, so please let me know if you like this! i also think it's my first sfw blurb, but trust that i'll be back w the smut in no time <3

harry was known to be a player around hogwarts. he definitely wasn't afraid to go after what he wanted, as he wasn't often rejected. girls seemed to fall for him before he even got the chance to flirt with them. however, that seemed to change when you came to hogwarts.

harry had immediately tried to hit on you, of course. but he knew there was something different about you right away. not only were you the prettiest girl he'd ever talked to, you were also the hardest to get.

you didn't fall for harry's tricks right away and saw through his act. at first you were a bit put off by his player attitude, but you thought he was cute, so you decided to keep him around to see how far he'd actually go for you. you weren't one to be charmed and dropped within a week. if harry really liked you, he'd have no problem working for you.

so, that's what he did. harry focused his attention on you, made time outside of his friends to be with you, and was actually starting to feel real feelings for you. with other girls there was just this instant attraction, which would then fizzle out after harry got what he wanted. with you, however, the feelings only got stronger the longer you kept him guessing. he found himself intrigued by your clever personality and completely enamored with your humor.

after a while of pining for you, you finally gave in to him a bit. it was hard to hold yourself back from something you also wanted, but it was worth making him fight for it.

harry had asked you to help him 'study', which of course meant you were actually working on your assignments while harry was drooling over you the entire time. you didn't mind for the most part, he can be pretty cute when he gets caught staring, but you weren't about to be the only one working.

"can't you focus on anything for more than 2 seconds?" you had asked harry with a laugh, turning to meet his gaze on you. you were sitting in the library in a secluded section, a dim light above your heads as the sun began setting outside of the windows next to you.

"you. all day." harry smirks, looking you up and down. you rolled your eyes, but harry saw the blush on your cheeks. "and you can't even do that without getting distracted." you tease him, smirking in return as you close your textbook.

"a guy runs into a pillar one time…" harry mumbles, annoyed. you're laughing at the memory, your hand covering your face. "it wasn't funny!" harry insists, but your laugh is making him crack a smile.

you look at him again, and he's enamored with the sight of you. giggling, blushing, the lighting so beautiful around you he swears he believes in angels now. you shake your head at him, still smirking and chuckling. "it was pretty funny." you told him, leaning towards him from laughing so hard in your seat.

"you're pretty." harry deadpans, his eyes searching you over and over. you really were pretty, prettier than harry could ever put into words.

you would normally roll your eyes or scoff at harry's attempt to flirt with you, but he wasn't flirting. he was being genuine. his eyes were honest and full of admiration for you in that moment.

so, you just leaned in and kissed him.

it was simple, sweet, and opened the gates to so much more over time. harry took it as an invite to start kissing you at random, intimate moments as well. nothing more than a kiss for a while, until you were the one to actually push it further by making out, giving harry love bites, touching over clothes, which then lead to touching under clothes…

within a few months you two were hooking up in secret nearly every week. harry had flings here and there before but never anything exclusive and extended like things have been with you. and while you found the secret hook ups to be exciting and fun at first, you didn't want to just be another girl on harry's roster. you were really starting to like him, and didn't want to see yourself get played.

whenever you tried to joke about becoming official, harry would laugh you off or ignore it completely. he knew it was starting to frustrate you, but he'd never been in a relationship before and he was afraid it wasn't what he really wanted. of course harry had feelings for you, feelings he's never felt for someone before, but he's always wanted to keep his options open. besides, he liked your casual hookups. was that so wrong of him?

he liked moments like right now, sitting across from you in the gryffindor common room, hanging out with a few friends and giving each other knowing looks between conversations. while everyone around you knew you two were definitely flirty towards one another, nobody really knew how much time you spent together. not just hooking up, but all the times the other has stayed the night talking for hours until the morning, or all the private study dates alone in the back of the library. you guys were definitely more than friends with benefits, but harry never acted like it when other people were around. he could tell you were starting to find it annoying rather than flattering.

your friends had been talking about a party someone was throwing that weekend when a couple girls walked through the room on their way out to leave. "guess i should start asking around for a date then, huh? what about you, you seem fun." harry's friend called towards one of the girls. they both turned to him, looked at each other, and laughed, making you laugh to yourself.

"what? i clean up nice!" he tried to redeem himself. the girls scoffed at him. "yeah, right," one of them said sarcastically. "yeah," the other said, still giggling as she looked towards harry. "besides, i'd rather go with your friend." she says in a flirtatious voice.

a few of your friends give you a side eye, but you just smirk and look at harry, waiting for his response. he glanced at you before looking at the girl and laughing nervously. his friend laughed heartily. "i don't think he's available that night..." he said, turning his head towards you.

harry throws his hands up defensively, a smirk on his face as he looks the girl up and down. "hey, you never know. i could be." he says with a chuckle. more eyes are drawn to you as you look at him with a curious expression.

"call me then." the girl says with a wink before leaving with her friend, giggling the entire way out the door.

there's a silence in the air as everyone looks between you and harry. he sees everyone's concerned eyes and becomes confused. "what?" he asks with a laugh.

you scoff at him, amused at his confusion. "what was that?" you asked, your tone still playful as you gesture to where the girls were. "what? it was a joke!" harry says, his hands raised in defense again. you click your tongue and roll your eyes, an evil smirk growing on your face. "oh, come on, [y/n]," harry says with an exasperated voice, leaning back in his seat.

"i don't know, harry, that was cold." harry's friend says with a nervous laugh. "yeah, [y/n]'s sitting right here." one of your friends reminds him.

you look back at harry, who's now rolling his eyes. "i was kidding. besides, we never said we were going together," he argues, pointing in your direction. all eyes fall back on you as a few "ooh"s are let out under breaths. you cross your arms, still giving harry that same evil smirk.

he looks at you again, his eyes softening at your expression. "stop, i'm not–""no, you're right. we never said that," you interrupt him with a sarcastic, knowing tone in your voice.

harry gave you a look, knowing what you were doing. "you never know, i could still find a date," you tell your friends, who start laughing with you. harry's friend looks towards him nervously, but his eyes were narrowed in on you. "right, harry?" you ask him innocently.

harry's tongue runs across his teeth, feeling his blood pressure rise just from thinking about you with another guy. however, he's not about to let you have the upper hand in front of everyone just like that. "yeah, sure. i could too." he says coldly.

still smirking, you nod your head and stand from your seat on the couch. "perfect, guess we gotta go find me a dress, yeah?" you ask your friends who eagerly jump up to join you on a shopping trip. on your way out, you wave a casual goodbye towards harry without another word.

harry's friend hits his shoulder, laughing at him. "you fucked up," he tells him. harry shrugs him off. "whatever, we're not even dating. besides, she won't actually bring another guy." harry tries to convince himself, still staring at the door. "if you're not dating then why would you care, mate?" harry's friend's still laughing at his misery when harry gets up to go to his room.

harry doesn't hear from you the rest of the week, and gets incredibly anxious the night of the party thinking you actually might show up with a date. by the time he's on his way with a few friends, all he wants is a drink to calm his nerves. because, well, so what if you showed up with a guy? you weren't his girlfriend, and that's how harry wanted it, right?

"nervous about something, harry?" one of them asked, snickering with the others. "shut the fuck up." harry snaps, only making them laugh harder at him. "lighten up, mate. just shag someone else tonight and get over it." another teased him. harry just stayed quiet and ignored their taunts.

harry's already finished with his first drink before he notices you entering the room. you looked fucking incredible. the dress, the hair, the makeup, everything was perfect. any other time he would've been thrilled to see you so dolled up, but he knew you only did this tonight to spite him. you knew exactly what you were doing and you were doing it well.

you were laughing with a few friends and getting your first drink when you spotted harry, already staring you down. you instantly smirked and gave him a look from head to toe before turning away and following your friends to the other room to dance.

harry followed as well, his friends joining behind him to find girls to dance with. the music was too loud to think, but harry's mind was racing watching you sway your hips to the song as you joined the crowd of dancing students. he tried to keep an eye on you but you disappeared into the sea of faces.

"just have fun, mate." one of harry's friends yelled to him over the music, patting him on the shoulder. harry gave him a half smile, nodding in his direction. he was right. if you were going to be like that, harry could play along too. he was the player first, anyway.

scanning the rest of the room, harry finds a decently pretty girl on the edge of the crowd and begins talking her up. he's only half-interested in the conversation with the clearly tipsy girl, his eyes still searching the room to find you again.

he's about to give up and go looking for you when you suddenly come into his view, only a few feet away. you were dancing in front of some guy, he looked like a kid in harry's eyes. you were chatting with him, your hands messing with the bottle in your hand as your hips continued to sway. you weren't even close to him or seemed to be flirting with him at all, but just seeing you with another guy looking as good as you did made harry's fists clench. 

you glanced in his direction and he immediately turned to the girl in front of him and began laughing, nodding his head to the music, pretending he never saw you. once harry felt your gaze drift away, he looked back, and you were gone.

sighing, harry says his goodbyes to the drunk girl and gets another drink for himself, chugging half of it before coming back up for air. he stands by the table for a minute trying to let his heart rate slow before hearing your laugh entering into the room.

harry turns and sees you saying your goodbyes to a different guy than the one from before, some tall kid with terrible posture that harry could easily take on. as he leaves the room, it's just you and harry next to the drinks. you turn and see him, a surprised smile on your face. "hi," you say politely, stepping around him to grab another drink.

"how long were you planning on torturing me, exactly?" harry asked you, sounding angrier than he meant to. you just chuckled to yourself, a confused look on your face as you removed the cap from your next bottle. "what do you mean?" you asked innocently.

harry let out an angry huff, staring at you with his jaw set. "you know exactly what you're doing." harry deadpans. you look at him knowingly, taking a swig of your drink before shrugging. "i'm just having fun." you told him with a smirk. "yeah, i can see that." harry spits out. you're clearly reveling in his jealousy which is only frustrating him further.

he looks you up and down once more and can hardly contain himself. your skin looks so soft, and you smell even better than you look. he's never seen you in such a short dress and it's driving him insane knowing it's not just for him. don't these losers staring at you know harry's the only one that's seen what's under this dress? that he knows all your favorite spots to be kissed, your weaknesses, your fantasies? that he's been fucking pining over you for months to get your attention?

speaking of losers, another one comes into the room and walks straight up to you, ignoring harry like he was never there. "hello, beautiful," he said in a voice that made harry aggressively roll his eyes, turning his head to look away, his hands balling into fists again.

"saw you on the dancefloor and figured i'd ask for a song," he invites you, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. "you've got every eye on you tonight, yeah?" the loser says, causing harry to lick his teeth and turn his angry stare back to you.

you were smiling at the guy politely, too politely for harry's taste, before turning him down gently. "no problem, maybe i'll win you over later." he says with a wink before leaving, never acknowledging harry once.

you looked back at harry with a smug smile. "really? i'm right here." he says incredulously, throwing his hands up. you can't help but laugh. "doesn't feel good, does it? at least i rejected him." you make your point with raised eyebrows, taking another drink.

harry sighs, the anger subsiding as he sets his drink down. "look, it was a bad joke, okay? i wanted to come with you this whole time, and i think you know that." he says with a pout. you just continue smirking. "i know." you say simply.

"then why? why are you doing this to me?" harry begs, a hint of anger still present behind his guilt. you laugh again, and it only makes harry more confused and upset. "just enjoy yourself, harry." you tell him, patting his shoulder like his friend did earlier as you left behind him.

harry downs the rest of his drink and half of his third before returning to the room with the music, seeing a few of his friends dancing with some random girls. as harry walks through the crowd, a girl grabs him by the shoulders and begins dancing with him to the beat of the music. harry looks at her, looks around, and sees you to his right.

dancing with yet another guy.

this time he was holding your hand as you swayed your hips to the music, watching you with a hunger in his eye. harry's rage immediately returned. he looked down at the girl who grabbed him and pulled her closer to him, moving his hips to the beat with her. after a moment he looked back at you and caught your eyes for just a second before you returned to dancing.

harry continued to move with the girl half heartedly in an attempt to get your attention for a few minutes before he saw you heading for the front door with your friends. just as harry broke away from the dancing girl to follow, a completely different guy cut him off to chase you out of the room.

harry could physically feel himself succumbing to his anger as he stomped towards the door. he entered the hallway and saw you standing just a few feet away, your back turned as your friends were dying laughing beside you.

as harry approaches, he sees the guy that just followed you out now in front of you, clearly drunk, asking you repeatedly if you'll give him your number. you're saying, "no, i'm sorry, no, thank you, though," with an uncomfortable laugh, trying to turn him down gently.

the guy literally drops to his knees in front of you, his hands in yours, begging for your number. "please, please, just gimme a chance, you're so–" he gets interrupted by a burp. "so pretty," he chokes out.

your friends are giggling amongst themselves before harry walks up to the guy, stunning them into silence. "she said no, fucking tosser," harry's voice bellows, picking the guy up by his collar from his knees. "now leave my girlfriend alone, yeah?" harry growls into his face before throwing him towards the door. the guy flips harry off before stumbling back into the party.

your friends gasp and laugh to themselves again, telling you they're gonna go before running off down the hall together giggling the entire way.

harry's breathing heavily, his fists still clenched staring at the door. "girlfriend?" your curious voice perks up behind him.

he turns to you, smiling at your shocked expression. his hands relaxed, as well as his mind. "yes, my girlfriend." he says matter-of-factly, taking a step towards you to put a hand on your waist. "i don't want any other guy looking at you the way they did tonight ever again. okay? you win. you're mine." harry says possessively, his hands gripping you closer to him.

you sighed. "i wasn't trying to make you mad tonight, i just wanted you to see that you're not the only one with options." you tell him smugly, your arms wrapping around his neck. "i want to be taken seriously, harry. that's all i ever wanted from you." you say genuinely, your eyes searching his.

harry looks down at you and smiles, admiring you for a moment. "you're all i've wanted since the moment i saw you," he admits, resting his forehead against yours. "i love you, [y/n]."

you smile, leaning in to kiss him softly. "i love you too, harry."

[duckweave]

Another Gale Romance headcanon: Wedding Edition

How would Gale be at wedding planning?

I feel as though he would get so excited that he’d have full involvement on everything, but whenever Tav expresses their wants, he’d break down into his “So long as it’s with you, I’d be fine without such ceremony.”

Which makes Tav melt but also it frustrates the hell out of them because once he’s given the chance he will take over planning again.

Because it’s Gale. And he quite literally planned out your first night together, as well as your future date night in his tower, so gods know the kind of man he’d be during his wedding.

More elaborate headcanons below….

Gale wedding planning banter:

G: “Tara, you must wear this robe and flower crown if you’re going to take part in this wedding. I insist!”

T: “Mr. Dekarios, I look absolutely ridiculous. Look how much it covers my ears! How am I going to be able to hear for pigeons with this thing in the way?”

AND

Gale [writing his vows and reading them out loud]: “My dearest love, I promise to love and cherish you to the outer planes and beyond. By Mystra’s will, I-“ *realizes what he just wrote and frantically erases it*

BUT ALSO

Gale: “Tav, you are everything. You complete me in every possible way. I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

Tav: “If you loved me, you’d let me pick at least one song to be played for us to dance to.”

Gale *awkwardly*: “Right, yes. Forgive me.”

ONE MORE

G: “Lae’zel cannot bring her dragon. Waterdeep could never handle such a beast. She will have to find another way here.”

T: “She has no other way to travel to our dimension, Gale.”

On the day of, he keeps trying to check in on Tav. He sent a simulacrum to look after Tav but also to make sure Tav arrived and is on time (his anxiety was telling him all night that Tav would get cold feet.)

He’s also frantically running around to make sure everything is running smoothly and all is in order. He’s dressed to the nines, as you’d expect from him, and the venue is extravagant and lavish. And purple. Everything is purple.

He uses the weave to set a stunning backdrop behind them as the ceremony takes place. Most likely an Aurora or a galaxy.

Tav and Gale fought over who should officiate (he wanted Elminster but Tav said no), however they settle on Withers.

Everything goes beautifully, it is a night to remember and their friends didn’t embarrass them too much.

Astarion attempted to make a speech, but he was a little drunk so Gale told him to sit down and behave.

Karlach’s dance moves were so fire that the bard playing the music literally caught fire. It was frightening until Gale conjured a gush of water over the bard to extinguish.

Gale finally relaxes at the end of the night, hand in hand with his beloved. Watching the party dwindle down, he remembers the orb, the tadpole, the Absolute, and every hardship he endured in life that led him to this point - and he cries from how lucky he really is.

Ok maybe I need to make a fic of this lol.

[mask131]

A guide for reading The Sandman: Part 2

So... You have read the full Sandman series. You went from issue 1 to issue 75. From beginning to end. You had all the ten volumes. Congrats!

But I am sorry to tell you, you don’t actually have the full Sandman story. You see, Neil Gaiman wrote and created much more than just the numbered issues. He created a lot of side-stories, side volumes and “specials” whose presence are either exciting and thrilling additions to the Sandman mythos, or key elements needed to understand the plots and happenings of the main story. Don’t get me wrong, if you just read the numbered issues you’ll get the full story without problem. But you’ll still be missing the second part of the complete Sandman world. The “specials”. In French we have a clever word for that: the “hors-séries” (literally means “outside of the series”, it is still part of the world but not inside the numbered series).

Given there is a lot of those specials, I’ll classify them by “publishing order”. You’ll get what I mean. 

    I) The Sandman library

After being released as a series of numbered issues, The Sandman was collected in the ten volumes I described previously. Out of these volumes, one included actually more than just the numbered issues: volume 6, “Fables and Reflections”, added two Sandman specials.

# “Fear of Falling” was originally a story published as its own for a one-shot issue called “Vertigo Preview” whose function, as the name indicates, was to serve as a big preview for most of the Vertigo titles. As a result, the issue contains previews and half-stories for most of the Vertigo titles: Hellblazer, Doom Patrol, Swamp Thing, Shade the Changing Man... It also includes previews for two specials I will talk about later, Death: The High Cost of Living, and Sandman Mystery Theater. But these are all just previews. There is only one full, complete story, which is precisely “Fear of Falling”, conceived originally as a way to give a taste of Sandman to newcomers.

# The Song of Orpheus. Originally it was published as its own as “The Sandman Special”, but it was included into this first collection of Sandman issues due to how important the story is : for you see, it gives the complete backstory of Orpheus, who is an important character in The Sandman. And while just a retelling of the myth, it is still very precious to understand the full impact of the character. 

   II) The 30th anniversary edition

After publishing those ten volumes, DC celebrated the 30th birthday of The Sandman by reprinting them... WITH FOUR BONUS VOLUMES!!!

# The first added Volume, Volume 11, is called “Endless Nights”. This specific volume was originally published as its own under the name “The Sandman: Endless Nights”. Published in 2003, so long after the end of The Sandman, it is a set of seven stories, each centered around a different Endless sibling, and their whole purpose is just to further expand the world of The Sandman, and flesh out more the other Endlesses by showing stories from THEIR perspectives. It is technically an “anthology volume / expansion volume” that is not needed to understand the full story, but makes a nice addition to better understand the scope of the world and the working of the Endless. It does however contains spoilers for “Brief Lives” and further, so... it is at its right place as “Volume 11″. 

# The second added Volume is NOT called Volume 12 as you would expect. It is rather called... Volume ∞. Of its full name: The Sandman: Overture. This volume was originally a six-part limited series created by Neil Gaiman in 2013 (so LONG after the end of The Sandman, and well after Endless Nights). This is the latest and final work by Neil Gaiman in The Sandman world so far, and it was designed as a sort of “grand finale”. Some people will tell you “It is the first work in chronological order so you should begin here”. DO NOT DARE! THESE PEOPLE ARE LYING TO YOU! Beginning here is the WORST idea you can have. If you want to begin The Sandman, you begin at issue 1, like Neil Gaiman himself. 

For you see, “Overture” is a dual story, two series of events tied together that happen, one after the end of The Sandman (so after issue 75) and the other before the beginning of the Sandman (so before issue 1). Overture is both the prologue to The Sandman AND its epilogue. Beginning and end, alpha and omega... Hence the  ∞ symbol. It is without a doubt the best way to end the series.

# The two other volumes are both unumbered and called “The Sandman: The Dream Hunters”. And they both tell the same story. So why are there two volumes? Because one is an illustrated novel, and the other is a full comic book issue.

Originally, Neil Gaiman published “The Dream Hunters” as a novel/novella in 1999 (so three years after the end of The Sandman, but before the publication of Endless Nights). It was a fictional story he invented, based upon and inspired by Japanese folklore and Japanese fairytales. Illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano, it takes place in The Sandman world, though it is not part of the main plot and you can actually read the story with no prior knowledge of The Sandman. It became so popular that for the 20th anniversary of The Sandman, in 2008-2009, the novel was adapted into a comic book, a four part mini-series that became its own Sandman volume. 

Fun fact: when Neil Gaiman published the story, he wrote in it a fake “origin” claiming he was just adaptating a part of Ozaki’s famous “Old Japanese Fairy Tales”. It was a lie, as Neil Gaiman had entirely invented the story, but it fooled a lot of people who sincerely believed it was some sort of secret or missing story from Ozaki’s book. (He notably had to clear up the matter in “Endless Nights”). 

    III) The Absolute Sandman

Now you probably think: wow... this is a lot. But I got everything, right? NO YOU FOOL! DC, seeing the enormous success of The Sandman, decided to reprint a new edition of the compilation: The Absolute Sandman, even bigger than the 30th Anniversary edition. Not ten or twelve volumes, but rather six (five numbered volumes plus Overture), containing everything I talked about above (The Sandman Special, Endless Nights, Overture, The Dream Hunters...). Plus more specials not yet included in compilations! Resulting in five volumes + The Absolute Sandman: Overture + one special volume called “The Absolute Death”. 

# The Vertigo: Winter’s Edge comics. Vertigo’s Winter Edge was a limited series published from 1998 to 2000 celebrating, every winter, the different lines and series of the Vertigo imprint with special stories. It ran for three issues, and each of them has one story created by Neil Gaiman tied with or part of The Sandman universe. One will maybe ring familiar to the viewers of the show: “A Winter’s Tale”, published in the second issue (1999). This story is actually a description of Death’s backstory, answering many questions about her “life” before the events of The Sandman (and also revealing answers to some questions raised in “Endless Nights”, even though it was published AFTER this story). Parts of it were adapted in the first season of The Sandman tv show. 

The other two stories of Winter’s Edge are “The Flowers of Romance”, from Winter Edge 1998 and “How They Met Themselves” from Winter Edge 2000. These stories are fascinating because they actually depict Desire as the protagonist and “hero”. You see, as Gaiman points out, Desire plays an antagonistic role in The Sandman merely because Dream is the protagonist. But here he decided, why not show the reverse, the world where Desire is the protagonist, the “nice” side of Desire: the result are those two stories. 

[ The Vertigo: Winter’s Edge issues also contain stories belonging to “The Dreaming”, a spin-off of The Sandman, but given Neil Gaiman was not involved in those I’ll keep it for a later post]

# “The Castle”. This story was originally published in “Vertigo Jam”, which is basically quite similar to “Vertigo Preview” and “Vertigo: Winter Edge”, just a one-shot issue that was an anthology of various stories, each taking place in a different series of the Vertigo imprint. 

# The Death mini-series. In 1993, the same year as The Dream Hunters, Neil Gaiman wrote a mini-series with Death as the main protagonist. It was called “Death: The High Cost of Living”. This Death-centered story had three years later a “twin mini-series”: “Death: The Time of Your Life” in 1996 (coupled with the return of Hazel and Foxglove from “A Game of You”). These two were then gathered here as a duo in a special volume of The Absolute Sandman called “The Absolute Death” and centered around, you guessed it, lot of Death material. 

# The “educational” Sandman. This “Absolute Death” volume also contains two “PSA material” or “Very Special Episode” issues. One is a story centered around Destruction and called “The Wheel”, which was originally part of a very special DC volume: 9-11: The world’s finest comic book writers and artists tell stories to remember. You can safely guess what the story is about. The second story is not actually a story, but a Death-centered AIDs pamphlet called “Death Talks About Life”. It had been originally coupled with several other issues of DC comics: it was found in the issue 32 of “Shade the Changing Man” (the 1990 series) ; it was also found in the 62nd issue of Hellblazer, and finally in the 46th issue of The Sandman. But it also existed as its own, unique pamphlet distributed in schools to raise awareness of HIV and AIDS. 

# Sandman Midnight Theater. The last of the specials created by Neil Gaiman, and one of the last pieces to The Sandman puzzle. Long story short... There were several “Sandman” super-heroes in the DC Universe. In fact, Neil Gaiman began “The Sandman” as his own personal take on the several Sandmen super-heroes of the DC world. The very first of those Sandmen was Wesley Dodds, a Batman-like vigilante of the 30s that was part of the Golden Age of comics. In fact, Wesley Dodds himself appears in the first issue of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, and is part of The Sandman universe. After the end of Neil Gaiman’s series, the popularity of Wesley Dodds increased again and so in 1993 was launched a “reboot” of the original adventures of the Sandman, a new series around Dodds called “Sandman Mystery Theater”. 

Sandman Midnight Theater is precisely a crossover issue between Sandman Mystery Theater and Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman. 

# “The Last Sandman Story”. This is actually not a comic book story. It was a prose story, semi-autobiographical, written by Neil Gaiman for “Dustcovers: The Collected Sandman Covers”, which as the name says compiled all of the covers of Dave McKean (plus I think he also illustrated this specific story?). It a sort of confession story, a text by Neil Gaiman about real-life and his relationship with The Sandman series and the character of Dream. And, as the name says, it was written to be released at the conclusion of the main series, post-issue 75. 

  There you go! These are all the specials created by Neil Gaiman and that are part of the canon and official Sandman series. Of course there is more bonus to talk about: Neil Gaiman gave a lot of interviews about The Sandman in which he reveals all sorts of details and secrets, and they can be found across various books - the Sandman Companion, the Absolute Sandman editions, the Omnibus Sandman editions, there’s plenty of places to look at. 

So... is it done? Is it over?

Yes and no. With this, you have covered everything in The Sandman world made by Neil Gaiman. So this is basically all the “canon”. 

But The Sandman created a lot of spin-offs and side-stories that were not created or that are not linked to Neil Gaiman... as with many comic book worlds, it expanded beyond its original creator. So maybe I will cover all the non-Neil Gaiman Sandman stories in a third part. Maybe. If I have time.

[madddays]

camera shy

pairing: yoongi x reader (f) summary: after his last Oakland show, you carve out a little alone time with your husband, away from the stage lights and the cameras and the million people who always seem to be around rating/genre: explicit // fluff + smut + slice of life-ish (it’s a tour fic!) + an attempt at humour warnings: smut -- oral + fingering (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex (they’re married it’s fine), terribly thought-out plot note: hello!!! i haven’t written anything in this format in a long time (poetry is my medium of choice) so pls be gentle!! also this is set in what is the “current timeline” but is of course fictional and i took every creative liberty i could :) also there was supposed to be a little bit at the end that i cut out bc reader was getting a little too cuckoo but that’s where the title came from and i couldn’t think of another. okay. anyway. 

Being on tour is exhausting.

You’re not sure you have the right to complain – you’re not the one performing high-energy shows in sold out arenas every night. But you are lifting your share of your husband’s emotional weight as he does his solo tour. His first solo tour, as is stressed to you. 

And you’re dodging cameras left and right. While it was impossible for you to stay out of the picture completely — the team at HYBE had convinced you that there was no need to hide your presence — being an idol’s wife didn’t really make you the most… sympathetic character. 

So you try to keep the complaining to a minimum. 

“If I have to duck out of one more cameraman’s way today…” you grumble under your breath. Sejin laughs. 

“There’s only so long they can spend in your room,” he placates. “And tomorrow you’ll have use of the business centre again.”

You harrumph. Fucking businesspeople using the business centre for their business shit. Hunkering down over your laptop again, you attempt once more to read over the article you needed to finish editing tonight. You’re finally making a little headway, getting into the groove, and then —

“That’s it!” you snap in English, frantically trying to catch the open water bottle that almost spilled all over your computer. The culprit, a man looking through the lens of his giant stupid camera on his giant stupid tripod, glances at you with a bored expression. 

“Whoops,” he says lightly, wheeling the contraption slightly to the left of where he’d bumped the desk. “Should probably keep that closed.”

You see red. Just as you’re about to toss this man and his equipment out the 50th story window, your husband appears. 

“Jagiya,” Yoongi murmurs to you, placing a grounding hand at the side of your face. You instantly relax about fifty percent. “I’m sorry, just the rest of the afternoon.”

You look up at him, at his soft pleading face. He’s turned away from the filming crew, hiding both his expression and yours. You relax the rest of the way, resting in his palm, a little guilt creeping in. 

It’s not his fault. Obviously, everything was going to be filmed — a BTS member’s first solo tour. There was going to be a documentary, and like it or not, you were going to be in it. As marginally as possible, everyone had insisted, but you couldn’t afford to look bad. Unfortunate that the filming crew was full of a bunch of dicks who didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t the star. “No,” you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this as much as I do, probably more. I’ll try to be good.”

At this, Yoongi smiles, shoulders jerking with a laugh. “I’m not asking for a miracle,” he teases. “Just a little patience.” You roll your eyes. You can behave. 

Just then, the same nimrod shoots a look at you, almost goading, as Sejin picks up your laptop and its accessories so the Christopher Nolan wannabe can put some more douchebag equipment where it just was. You look Yoongi straight in the eyes, dead serious. “If that man crosses me one more time, I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to film it with his stupid fucking camera.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

Most people expect you to be ecstatic about the proximity to free tickets that being married to Yoongi brings. And you love watching him perform. Up on the stage, in his element. He’s never more radiant than when he’s singing and rapping, leaning in close to the edge of the stage so he can look into the fans’ eyes — gloss, a fitting name for the shining star you see giving his all. 

And the confidence is incredibly sexy. So you have a competency kink, sue you. 

But god is it tiring being there. Even in the nosebleeds, or in the VIP box. You can’t exactly abandon Yoongi afterwards, so you have to make your way discreetly backstage with the security team, and then you wait through the undressing and the debriefing and the security checks and the filming. Sometimes the media circus. Only then can you sneak into a car with him and head back to the hotel. 

So you stay behind tonight. It’s the last day of the American leg, and you’ve already seen a few spectacular shows. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. Which includes deadlines. 

You were able to come with Yoongi for this leg of the tour because you’d promised your boss an exclusive — first dibs on Agust D’s experience touring in the U.S. While you wouldn’t be allowed to take part in the spread (a very clear conflict of interest, no bueno) you’re excited for it. The potential of the photoshoot alone is making your head spin. 

But part of the deal was also to keep working. The list of articles your Senior Editor ass has to go over is slowly dwindling, this feature on Korea’s impact on global fashion getting to the finish line. 

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the now blessedly empty hotel room. Email with the finished article sent, you roll your chair to look straight into the little camera that’s trained on the desk Yoongi’s claimed and flip it the bird. 

Job done and borderline invasive filming (it’s only on when Yoongi decides to get some working shots for them, but still) disrespected, there’s not much left to do but wait. 

When the third time cycling through all your social media apps doesn’t provide any groundbreaking entertainment, you decide to call down to reception for some reading material. It’s not technically work if you’re just reading a dozen trashy ‘Who Wore It Best?’ segments. “Anne Hathaway, hwaiting!” you mutter to yourself.

--------------- xxx ---------------

A couple hours later, you’re still thoroughly immersed in your magazines and your music, completely missing the cacophony in the hallway. The knock on your door startles you so thoroughly you hit your head against the headboard. 

“Unnie, are you okay?” asks Ari, one of the stylists. “I was coming to call you to eat!”

“Oh, you’re all back! One sec!” You scramble off the bed, excited to see the aftermath of the show. You barely remember to put on a pair of pants before rushing out the door, Ari’s surprised face greeting you. “Thanks, Ari-yah,” you grin, locking arms with her. “How was the show?”

“It was great! Oppa is always good, but tonight he was especially energetic.” Her face screws up a little. “He ripped another one of the jackets, though.”

An inconvenience to her, but you don’t share the irritation. Yoongi’s broad shoulders busting his clothes, yum. “Oh,” you say anyway, your sympathy unconvincing, “that’s annoying.” Ari snorts.

“Sure. At least it’s new costumes for the next leg. We’ll refit them.”

You practically vibrate with excitement at that. “I haven’t seen them yet! I’m sure you all did an awesome job!” 

She blushes. “I think it’ll be good! They’re not totally finalized yet, but I’ll send you a ton of pictures.” Her eye drops in a wink, making you giggle delightedly. 

Dinner is a buffet in one of the conference rooms of your beloved business centre. One of the security team members escorts you down with a group of the staff, but most people had gone down earlier, apparently very hungry. Yoongi among them. As you approach the doors, you hear someone complaining to him that they should’ve done this at a restaurant and where is his sense of celebration.

“Come on,” you hear him grumble. “It’s not like the entire tour is over. We can all go out tomorrow.”

You snort. “And then tomorrow you’ll say ‘tomorrow never comes’.” If it were happening to someone else, you’d never let them live down how quickly their husband’s head snapped towards them, but you make an exception because yours is so cute. 

Despite his enthusiastic surprise, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Great, now I have to come up with a new excuse. Thanks for that,” he rolls his eyes, but immediately swaps the empty plate you grab with the one he was filling up for himself, no room to argue. Your giddy mood sours a little when you catch sight of the filming crew again. 

Yoongi holds your hand over his bouncing knee and the two of you sneak food off and onto each other’s plates. The mood is bright and light, despite everyone’s obvious exhaustion (at least three people by your count are in danger of falling asleep into their food). You expect to see an extended shot of the staff and crew laughing and eating, a flushed Yoongi being plied with praise and encouragement, under some sort of pensive voiceover. 

And you’re right, because right after he’s done eating they whisk Yoongi away to do what is sure to be a thorough recount of his adventure in the States. You’re a little jealous that they get to hear all about it before you do. Fuckers. 

As the room starts to clear out, you bid everyone a good night and trudge back up to your room, planning to crawl into bed and wait for your husband. 

But when you open the door, he’s already there. Your immediate thought is that the air conditioning is up too high for him to leave his hair damp like that. Your second thought is how pretty he looks — sharp eyes focused on his legal pad, sinful hand flying across the page trying to get down whatever lyrics are thundering through his brain, cheeks flushed and pouty mouth puckered. He must’ve gone straight from the shower to his desk.

After a few moments he must sense your eyes on him, because his writing falters and he turns to you, a soft smile breaking out across his face. Your heart flutters. 

“Hey!” he says happily, pulling out his earbuds. “I was waiting for you.”

“Clearly,” you laugh, moving to perch on the table in front of him. He pulls your feet into his lap, putting his papers aside. You resist the urge to sneak a peek, instead asking “did I interrupt something?”

“No,” he assures you. “I got everything important down. You were right on time.” His fingers are drumming on your thigh like there’s still something on his mind, but you’re feeling greedy tonight, so you let it slide.

“Apparently, I was late.” His hair is cold when you ruffle it. “Let me dry your hair. You still have schedules to make it to, can’t get sick.”

Under the gentle whirr of the expensive hair dryer and your hands in his soft locks, you coax out some of the details of the night from him. Stuff those production company jerks would never get to hear, wouldn’t think to ask about. How he was so glad to never have to wear one of his costumes ever again. The way he didn’t even feel the heat of the stage lights, the thing that drenched him in sweat (aside from the jumping and running around) was nerves. You laugh when he tells you about the girl in the pit who danced so hard the veil of her wedding dress outfit ended up on one of the lights. Your heart swells, swells, swells.

There’s still a restlessness about him when you’re done. You suggest he goes back to his desk but he shakes his head. “Let’s go to bed.” The first time in ages you can do so without the weight of anticipation and stress over him – hopefully it will settle whatever is making him twitchy.

There’s a spark of arousal in your belly when you feel his eyes on your backside as you change into your pyjamas. A breath stutters out of your mouth when you meet his sleepy gaze, getting a soft smirk in response. “Come here,” he says softly. “I missed you.”

In your eagerness to get to him, you collide with the bed a little too fast. “Oof,” you huff, making him laugh. He sits up to haul you into his side, another surprised noise leaving your mouth.

“Dummy,” he teases. “Not even safe in a cushy hotel room.” You kick at his shin.

“Quit giving me bedroom eyes then.” You see his eyes sparkle and mouth start to open and smack a hand over it. “Yes, we are in a bedroom, ha ha, you are very funny.”

He moves your hand away, unimpressed. “It is a funny joke,” he grumbles. Truly funny thing is, if he’d said it, you would’ve laughed. You’re down horrendously and he knows it, although you do your best to keep his ego in check at least some of the time.

Giggling anyway, you let him press you closer to his chest. You especially love him like this, warm and soft and silly and all to yourself. 

Yoongi turns over onto his good shoulder to face you, tipping your chin up. His gaze flits across your face, tender and deep, like he can see everything you’re thinking. You hope he can. You think he does. “I love you,” he murmurs, and he kisses you.

Your eyes flutter closed, relishing in this closeness. The way his mouth moves over yours, slow and deliberate. 

This isn’t a kiss just because, or goodnight or I’ll be right back, this is a kiss because I want to be touching you. I want to breathe you in. I want to forget everything but you.

You let out a sigh. Yoongi hums against you, a rumble you feel in his chest, and slides his tongue to meet yours. He shifts some more so he’s over you, braced on his forearm. It’s urgent now, but the way he licks into your mouth is languid, a creeping heat. 

He knows just how you like it, just how to drive you wild. Where you push and pull and grasp at him, he slows you, pins you down, makes you feel every second like it’s an hour.

When he pulls away, panting slightly, you realize – it’s been a long time. The last time the two of you had had a chance to get horizontal (or otherwise) had been the week you left Korea. More than a month ago. No wonder you’re so desperate for him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back in, feeling his smug little grin against your mouth. 

He grabs at your hip with his other hand, and just that contact, his hand deliberate against the bare skin between your shirt and pyjama shorts, is enough to have you gasping.

He pulls away again with a low chuckle. “I’ve been neglecting you, my love,” he noses against your jaw. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver.

“You’ve been such a good wife,” he continues, sitting back on his heels, raking his gaze over you. His tone is soft but his eyes are so, so hungry. You reach for him, desperate to be back under his body, but he just smiles, closed mouth and innocent. “Shh, let your husband take care of you.”

He climbs back over you, settles his weight on you like he knows you like and hovers an inch from your face. His hair, longer again, hangs in his eyes, but you can see the mischievous shine in them. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Yoongi,” you whine. His smile grows even bigger, but before you can crush your lips to his he leans down and kisses you, slow and searing again. 

“I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, mouthing down your neck. You know he’s going to leave marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s been so long since you’ve felt properly like his. “Smell so sweet,” he sighs, opening the top button of your sleep shirt and burying his face between your tits. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You moan, sensitive from his touch. “You’re –” he nips at you, drawing more breathy noises from your mouth. “You’re unusually talkative tonight.”

He smiles up at you. “You like it,” he says simply. And you do. You want him to keep telling you how you look and feel to him, what he’s going to do to you.

You start to fall apart under his mouth, his hands, his words. Soon your shirt is gone, tits shiny with his saliva. “Your fucking tongue,” you grab his hair, hold him in place, and his groan against your skin makes your sensitive nipples shoot fireworks into your brain. He presses your tits together tighter, sucking them noisily in turn as you grind up against his hardening cock.

“Taste fucking perfect,” his voice is so deep. Your pussy is already clenching, desperate for him. 

Yoongi helps you out of your pyjama shorts, wanting you completely bare to him. “Need to see you, jagi.” He settles between your legs, settled over his shoulders. His warm mouth over your cunt has you spreading them wider, eager.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbles approvingly, expecting the ensuing flood from your pussy. He uses two of his long, callused fingers to spread it all over, sliding almost coincidentally over your clit. Your hips cant towards his hand, wanting more than anything to have them inside you – fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Yoongi, please,” you choke. It’s getting nearly unbearable, this desperation. You’re so wet, so sensitive, your entrance clenching around nothing.

“Pretty, pretty,” he says in a soft rasp, talking to himself. He gets comfortable between your legs and you can see his sharp, dark eyes zero in on your cunt, tongue wetting his lips like someone’s set a meal in front of him. You suppose you have.

“Ahhh-hhhh,” you moan, the first broad sweep of his tongue over your folds like electricity. Like he’d just set a firecracker off inside of you – buzzing and sparking from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Eyes squeezed shut, a broken noise comes out of your mouth. 

He keeps going, lapping at your pussy in an even rhythm and making low sounds of appreciation. It’s so, so wet you’re sure he must be drooling, and the thought is enough to have you clenching your legs together. “Careful, baby,” he says against your skin, but the vibrations of his voice are just fuel to the fire. “Watch me.”

You lean up shakily on your elbows, and the sight of him is nearly enough to knock you back down again. The mop of dark hair between your legs, working away as though you’re barely there, like he’s just using this to get himself off – except his eyes, watching you under the harsh slant of his eyebrows – shit shit it’s almost too much already.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you plead breathily, not even sure what you’re asking for. He’s already giving you everything you want. The close of his pouted lips around your clit has you jerking, the fiery crackle in your nerves making everything hazy except the places he’s touching you – big hands clamped around your thighs, face buried in your cunt, fingers pressed into the meat of your ass. He’d taken off the rest of his rings, but you can feel his wedding band pinching your skin slightly. Your matching one catches the light as you twist your hand into the sheets. “I need – I nee –” you break off, keening when he rubs a finger over your hole.

“Don’t worry, love,” he slides a digit in, feeling the way you clench around it desperately. “I know what my girl needs.” On the next stroke, he slides in a second finger, groaning when you clamp down on him. You collapse back onto the pillows, hips kicking up despite the way he’s pressing you into the mattress

You’d teased him mercilessly, way back when the two of you had started dating. “Tongue technology, huh? Do you have any songs where you’re not bragging about how good you eat pussy?” He’d only smiled, smug and amused, like he knew something you didn’t. 

Boy, did you find out. Again, and again, and again. The way he flicks his tongue over your clit, a fast, even tempo that has you curling your toes. Combined with how fast he’s pumping those long fingers in you, the squelching sounds absolutely obscene. 

“Another?” he asks, voice almost disinterested, betrayed only by how hoarse and low it’s become. You nod frantically, knowing you’re close. 

When he adds his ring finger, you know you’re done for. There’s a searing heat all down your body — your belly’s tight, your feet digging into Yoongi’s back with how tightly you have them tensed. Your face is flushed and sweaty and you can barely hear your own breathy whining through the rushing in your ears. It’s building, the wet slick of his tongue joining his fingers as your legs start to tremble around him, threatening to squeeze his neck, your hands finding their way into his hair to bring him with you when your back arches off the bed, and when he sucks your clit back between his lips —

“That’s it, fuck, baby,” he growls against you. He pumps you through your orgasm, almost struggling to get deep because of the way you’re gripped tight around them. Lets the gush of come slick his tongue further, shaking his head side to side as you ride out your aftershocks. You grind against his face, stuttering as the oversensitivity kicks in, whining when it becomes too much.

“N’more,” you slur, gasping when Yoongi eases out of you. He sits back on his heels again, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny from the way you’ve drenched him. 

He seems content to let it sit as he meets your eyes, popping his used fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back and groaning at the taste. “Pussy monster,” you sigh deliriously.

He laughs, having sucked his fingers clean. Pushing yourself up to lean back against the headboard, you try to get your bearings. Your legs are shaking a little and between them is still sensitive, but away from Yoongi the cold air of the hotel room makes your nipples tighten and you want more. 

Your husband focuses his attention back on you. Your legs, open just enough so he can see the mess he’s made of you, and the way your skin is flushed, from your face all the way down to your chest. You shiver. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks in a low growl. He pulls his shirt off and wipes his face with it, giving you an uninterrupted moment to ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and toned stomach. The tattoo on his pec. The dusting of hair leading from his belly button down, down, down…

“Warm me up,” you say coquettishly, spreading your legs further. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent. Even after all these years, you have the exact same effect on him as the first time. It’s evident in the bulge in his pyjama pants that you eye hungrily. He wraps a hand around each of your ankles, pushing them up to bend your knees, crawling up so he can settle against you and lock your legs around his waist. 

You let out a pathetic little sound at the feeling of him against your cunt. You’re still leaking, juices sticking to the insides of your thighs and probably leaving a patch on his pants. “Baby,” you whine. He leans down to kiss you and the grind of his cock against you has you gasping. “Need it,” you whisper into his mouth. “How do you want me?”

Yoongi kisses you one more time, chaste, and shakes his head. “How does my sweet girl want it?”

You flush even warmer. “Like this,” you say shyly. Yoongi smiles at you, fucked out and endeared.

Your hands find their way to his sweaty skin like magnets. Shaky fingertips tracing from his hips up over the flat of his stomach, hard muscles twitching as he sighs under your touch. When you reach his chest, you look up at him from under your lashes – he’s already looking back at you, pretty mouth agape. “The abs are new. I like them.” Then you scratch your blunt nails down them, feeling the muscles jump under your hands. 

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning into you. You gasp at the twitch of his cock, the head rubbing your clit. “You’re in for it now.”

“Then fucking give it to me.”

He kisses you again, and he’s just so predictable. Despite his big talk and the way he’s pinning your hips down hard, he takes his time, opening you up to him. Your husband kisses like he drinks – slow and savoury, loves the taste of you, the way you make him feel dazed and light. Letting out little satisfied noises in response to the way you kiss him back, the way you let him have his way with you. If it were up to him, he’d work you up like this for hours. Drinking you in. 

Unfortunately for him, you’re worked up enough. He’s grinding into you in tiny movements but the sensitivity from your prior orgasm, the insistent press of his cock between your lips, and the knowledge that you haven’t had him inside you in probably the longest stretch of time since you’d met is driving you insane.

“Take off your fucking pants, Yoongi,” you snap against his mouth, pulling at his waistband. He just laughs. “If you don’t fuck me right now –”

He keeps laughing, breathless and fond, but tips away from you enough to get his pyjama bottoms off and kicked away and hell yeah.

He runs his fingers through your folds and you gasp. Your hips cant up towards his hand but it’s gone immediately, and the sight of him jacking his cock with your wetness makes you whimper.

“So wet,” he murmurs, guiding the head to your pussy. The previous teasing mirth has vanished and there’s only the dark, focused look as he presses forward and – “Fuck.”

“Yoongi!” you cry out. His fingers hadn’t done nearly a good enough job of stretching you. The burn of him as he pushes into you makes your eyes roll back as you feel him pepper kisses over your cheek, down your neck to your collarbone. “Oh –”

“I must be out of my fucking mind,” he grunts, bottoming out. You choke on a sob. His big hand kneads your tit and it feels so fucking good you think you’re going to lose your mind. “How did I go without this for so long?”

He pulls out almost all the way then thrusts back in hard. “Y-Yoon – “ you whine breathily, barely able to make a sound at this point. 

“My gorgeous wife, in this bed every night, so needy. This perfect pussy — shit.” He sucks the other nipple into his mouth, buried in you so deep you can’t think of anything but the way he’s filling you so good. The way you hadn’t realized you’d needed. 

You’re blubbering at this point, beyond words, as Yoongi chases his orgasm inside you. Kissing every part of you he can reach as the sound of his skin against yours fills the room, playing with your tits the way that drives you wild. You come again with a shout, tears streaming down your face. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing the tears away. He’s still going, deeper now instead of fast. “Can you give me one more, love?”

You’re dizzy with pleasure and overstimulation, but he loves to come with your pussy squeezing him. “Yeah,” you pant. A kiss, slow and deep, as he pushes back in. 

Your legs are wrapped so tightly around his waist he can barely pull all the way back out. All you can do is hold on as he takes what he wants from you. 

“Shit, shit,” Yoongi groans, hips stuttering. He’s close. “Love you, pretty girl, so fucking good to me,” his voice low and raspy and warm right next to your ear. “Do I make you feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to get out and you can feel his cock throb inside you, rubbing your g-spot and it’s enough. Your vision goes white and you see stars as your entire body tenses up and you tremble all over when it suddenly releases. “Yoongi!”

“Fuuuck,” he grunts. “Squeeze me just like that,” and he’s coming too. 

You lay there, panting under Yoongi as he softens inside you. The sweat makes you stick together where you’re touching, and anywhere outside your bed it would make you push him away. But you’re content to lie under him, soft, laboured breaths puffing next to your ear. 

“Should’ve used a condom,” you say hoarsely. There’s going to be a mess when he pulls out, you can already feel it. 

“Fucking raw used to be so hot,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. “Now it’s a chore.”

Your snort turns into a gasp as he pulls out. Reaching for his discarded shirt, he cleans up as much of his come as he can. You watch him, eyes zeroed in on the mess, licking his lips. 

“Reel it in.” You boop his nose and he scrunches it. “I really cannot go another round. You’re gonna have to drag me to the bathroom.” 

--------------- xxx ---------------

And he kind of does. On a good day, he could definitely carry you. But after three weeks of touring and a semi-vigorous round of sex, he hitches you onto his back in some semblance of a piggyback. You actually could probably walk, but you know the mood Yoongi’s in. 

He lets you pee, then comes to clean you up the rest of the way. Both of you wrapped in fluffy robes, he washes the sweat and tears off your face gently, brushes through your hair with his fingers. Puts up with your halfhearted whining about expensive skincare as he pats it carefully back onto your face. 

By the time you’ve dragged yourselves back to bed, the California King large enough that you don’t worry about the mess you’ve made on the other side, all the tension has drained from his body. The frantic energy of performing in a foreign country alone for the first time, melted away. 

He’s soft and sleepy when he hitches your leg over his hip, pulls your head onto his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles. You don’t have to ask him what he means. 

You laugh softly. “Silly,” you say, drifting off.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: March 2024

Happy March. We bumped into the one and only Maggie Service at an event earlier this month, and here she is with some enamel friends of ours:

It turns out, her words, not ours, that they’re not only good for the aesthetic, but handy for covering accidental food stains. Here she is showing off the gorgeous Aziraphale and Crowley pins to the crowd.

Anyway, we have a bumper one for you this month, and an important update on timings. Let’s get to it.

PledgeManager

First of all, we were due to launch the PledgeManager with this month’s update, but there’s a few last minute hurdles we need to get through and so we’re pushing it back a few final weeks just to ensure all the is are dotted, and ts are crossed. We’ll now be launching this on Thursday 18th of April, in the late afternoon UK-time, to ensure that all team hands are on deck for the move into this next phase. 

We’ve got a bunch of FAQs ready for the launch, and we’ll have a PledgeManager-specific update to coincide with it going live where we’ll lay out everything as clearly as possible. We appreciate your patience on this.

Rather than hold back the PledgeManager-adjacent information to the new launch date, however, we’ll still share with you some of the new things that will be available!

In terms of new additions: you wanted more  ̶d̶u̶c̶k̶s̶ items? You’ve got them! We’ve got two new notebooks: one featuring lots of ineffable artwork from the graphic novel, and one featuring the much-loved ducks.

We’ve also got two new mugs: one for Tadfield visitors, and another for… duck lovers.

We’ve got a big sticker set bringing together lots of the art from this campaign. And, we’ve got a new enamel pin pair: these gorgeous Crowley and Aziraphale wings that together make a little love heart. You can either wear them both, or split them with your own best angel.

These will be available to purchase like the Aziraphale and Crowley pin pairs - not tied to the mystery packs.  

Tier updates

While some elements of the campaign are facing delays, other elements are hurtling forward at full velocity. Fans of the very cute, brace yourselves: here is Sarah Graley’s print for the loot box:

We’ve got some more map previews from Julien Labit, capturing Tadfield, heaven, hell, and many, many places in between:

And, we’re excited to unveil Alice Oseman’s Crowley illustrations for Loot Box #1, completing the pair alongside her Aziraphale sketches from when she watched Good Omens years ago:

On the add on front, here’s our Good Omens slipcase that can be added to pledges, to keep your graphic novels nice and  ̶a̶c̶c̶u̶r̶a̶t̶e̶ cosy:

We are quite into pins, you may have noticed. Here’s some more that will be available in the mystery packs:

Moving up to the Obsidian levels, here are some of the sample art pieces from William the Antichrist, illustrated by fantasy artist Mike Nash featuring Crawleigh, and the Citroen 2CV. We’re excited to see these new editions come to life:

Evolution of Eden

We thought it would be interesting to show the evolution of the graphic novel itself. We’ve found it glorious watching Colleen’s artwork arrive in each new stage, and so here’s a sample of the stages of Colleen’s first image, in the Garden of Eden, from pencil sketch, through ink, to the finished page:

And another, from its initial concept sketch, through to this celestial delight:

Lots happening, the lay of the year changing a little, but still full to the brim with Good Omens.

Until next time.

[rebelwrites]

IM HERE FOR THE FLASH FIC!!

I’ve been craving some Jax Teller. I need something tender and sweet, but in character. Something to make me feel safe and wanted, but not simply desired. Idc what you write or how you do it because I know it’s going to be 👌

You Aren’t Meant To Be Back Until Christmas Eve

Jax Teller x Reader

This is a flash fic so it hasn’t been edited. It’s also good to be back writing again 🥺

It was the week leading up to Christmas and to say you were rushed off your feet was a complete understatement. This was your favorite time of year, even though your stress levels were through the roof, you practically lived off coffee and energy drinks and hardly saw your boyfriend Jax. You knew he understood why you were so absent in the run up to the festive season, the small bakery had queues running down the street from mid October.

Leaning against the stainless steel counter, you took a deep breath looking at the stack of cookie trays that were cooling waiting to be iced ready for the morning rush. Your body ached to where all you wanted to do was sink into a scalding hot bath, not moving until the hot water eased your aching muscles.

The sound of your phone echoing around the industrial supplied kitchen pulled you from any thoughts, you knew it would be Jax, it always was this time of night. No matter what time you were working he would always drop you a call to see how you were getting on, even when he was on runs with the club he would always make a point of calling you. Brushing the flour on the front of your jeans you grabbed your phone, quickly answering the call before pressing the device against your ear.

“Is it a late one again Darlin’?” Your boyfriend hummed, you could hear the tiredness hanging from his words, this last run for the club must have taken more of a toll on him this time.

“I think I’m still gonna be here come opening,” you sighed, letting your gaze fall to the countertop. “Don’t get me wrong I love Christmas and the bakery but I just want to spend time with you.”

“The money is nice as well,” he chuckled, causing the corners of your lips to tug into a small smile. You knew how much the bakery meant to not only Jax but the club too. This was one of the first legitimate businesses that was set up, Jax surprised you one day by showing the vacant lot and the new sign he had designed, from that day the “From Anarchy, With Love” bakery was born.

“How was the run?” You asked, pulling the phone away from you ear, putting in on speaker so you could be free to move around the kitchen.

“Long as fuck,” he groaned, you knew he would be running he hand across his face as he spoke. “I am so fuckin’ done with the muling, it is just getting more risky with each run,” he mumbled, with each word he spoke you could hear the pain in his voice.

Before he could carry on the sound of someone pounding at the front door gained my full attention. “Hold on baby, I swear someone is trying to put their fist through the front door of the bakery,” you huffed in annoyance. It was probably one customer trying their luck to see if they could get their order early. But that didn’t stop you from reaching into the cupboard by the doorway of the kitchen, grabbing my hand gun, flicking the safety off before tucking it into the bank of my jeans. One thing was for sure when it came to being Teller’s old lady, you was never without protection, whether this was in the form of a 9mm, a member of the club or Jax.

As you moved through the building, the knocking got louder and more persistent. “Bloody hell, don’t punch my door in, it never hurt you,” you scoffed, fishing the keys out of the pocket of Jax’s hoodie.

You felt myself fumbling with all the locks, once again thanks to Jax being over protective, soon enough the door was finally unlocked and the moment you pulled the heavy wooden door you dropped the set of keys on the floor as you saw your boyfriend leaving against the brick entrance.

“Hey Darlin’,” he hummed, quickly closing the gap between the two of you, engulfing you into his arms. The feeling of his muscular arms wrapping around your body caused all the stress to dissolve. “Fuck, I missed you,” he whispered against your hair, guiding you further into the shop before kicking the door closed with his foot.

“You aren’t meant to be back until Christmas eve,” you breathed, pulling back slightly so you could take in the look of your tired man. Somehow you freed one of your arms, allowing you to reach up brushing your fingers against his cheek. “Not that I am complaining nevertheless, what happened Jaxy?”

The fact you were greeted with a moment of silence told you everything, you knew things were rocky with Clay, no one knew the toll that everything was taking on the blond nuzzling his face into your shoulder. He wouldn’t let the outside world see him like this, but with you he felt he could let the walls come crumbling down, allowing him to process all the emotions he was feeling, and he knew his feelings would be taken seriously.

“Clay is going off on one again, his hands are getting worse and he has gone behind all of our back and the club is now in a deep hole with the cartel,” he had a wobble in his tone as he spoke, he was angry about the whole situation and I couldn’t blame him, I would be to. “I just needed my girl.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, to the world he was the vice president of a violent club but behind closed doors he was just a puppy wanting love.

“I know you need to work so I can’t take you to the Christmas market I know you want to go to but I have brought take out,” he hummed, holding up the plastic carrier bag you had completely missed when he first came into the bakery, “and I thought we could spend the night icing them amazing cookie, like we did when we were getting this place ready for the opening.”

Tears threatened to spill over your lash line, you had never been with someone who would abandon everything just because they wanted to spend time with you, even if that meant that they would be working till the sun came up.

“You know I want the cookies to be edible and sellable right?” You smirked, cocking your brow at him.

“Shut up and get your ass in that kitchen, Darlin’”

@chibsytelford @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @withmyteeth @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @princess76179 @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @princess76179 @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @lmao-liz @babypink224221 @daddysgirl2857 @bravo-four-seal-team @garbinge @pedrohoe04 @littlekittymeow @nichia88-blog @zozebo

[gyulovly]

WALL SEX WITH YEONJUN?!?!?

drunken desires;

pairing: non established rs!yeonjun x f!reader

genre: smut w/ lil to no plot (a gyulovly speciality;;)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied consent, fingering, oral (f!rec), creampie, wall sex in a public bathroom at a club ଘ(*ˊᵕˋ)੭ ♡‧₊˚

notes: ANON LOVE TYY FOR UR WONDERFUL PATIENCE now please enjoy this lil drabble as i work on final edits for jjunies fic ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

feedback is very much appreciated ><

yeonjuns impatient lips are on yours the second the door locks. an intoxicating taste of hennessy lingers in a lustful kiss, savouring your sweet whimpers nipping at your bottom lip in an inclosed stall. music outside barely registers with his body pressed against yours pinning you to the wall, hands clinging to his shoulders.

skirt hiked around your waist, one hand eagerly works up your thighs the other wrap around your waist. slipping his knee between your legs he pries them apart applying pressure against your clothed cunt. you whine at the touch breaking the kiss, arousal pooling at your core. yeonjun groans, pushing your panties to the side easily slipping two fingers past your sleek folds.

“fuck you’re so wet.”

yeonjuns lustful gaze meets yours wanting nothing more than to burry his entire length inside your cunt. he watches intently the way your face scrunches up in pleasure as he curls his fingers upward, fucking his digits into your hole quickly adding a third stretching you out.

whining at the intrusion, you immediately clench around his deft fingers.

“you like the way my fingers stretch you out?” he rasps, sinking them further only to pull out and roughly fuck them back in at an unfathomable pace.

his words hardly register, legs barely holding you up, body falling limp against the wall his other arm keeping you in place. yeonjun knows youre close from the way your hips meet his brutal pace.

a string of incoherent babbles follows your high as you cum hard around his fingers. drunk on lust yeonjun puts them in his mouth moaning at your taste. you whine at the sight, watching him lick his digits clean.

yeonjuns gaze never leaves yours as he drops between your thighs, burying his face in your cunny. you muffle a long cry gripping on nothing for support, he eagerly laps at your folds up to your sensitive nub. he moans against your clit, shooting vibrations throughout your body, you buck at the feeling, slowly fucking yourself against his face.

“that’s so hot” he mumbles, meeting your pace fucking you with his tongue, intoxicated by the way you roll your hips against his face using his nose to apply pressure on your clit.

“jjunie…” you cry unable to stand any longer, legs beginning to close around his head. yeonjuns quick to keep your thighs apart, propping one leg above his shoulders. you’re close again, and he knows it. yeonjun laps relentless at your folds until you come for a second time. kissing your cunny gently he pulls away slowly standing at his full height.

barely able to keep it together, you buckle attempting to stand on your own. yeonjun has a firm grasp on your waist. he turns you around, chest now flush against the wall and undoes his belt pulling his hard length out from pants.

yeonjun groans at the sight of you, aligning his thick cock at your entrance quickly sinking himself into you inch by inch. you whine at the burning stretch of his length splitting you apart until he bottoms out completely. he curses under his breath before pulling out half way and roughly slamming into you over and over again, setting a brutal pace chasing his high.

blaring music outside is sure to mask the string of lewd moans and sounds of slapping skin that quickly fill the bathroom. you sob as yeonjun pulls your hips harshly against his, one final thrust and he’s emptying himself inside you. you clench around his length milking him of his release.

yeonjun pulls out, slowly registering whose cunny is on full display for him. hole gapping at nothing, he watches as his cum spills out of your cunt. you whimper at the feeling of his seeds slipping down your thighs coating the tiled floor in his essence.

“yeonjun…” you mewl for your best friend unable to stand any longer.

what the fuck did he just do.

© gyulovly 2023 do not copy, modify, repost or translate.

[annabelle--cane]

Hey so I'm not good at subtext and I saw you posting about ep 200 of TMA being awesome. I've listened to it a few times and I'm mostly...confused? I don't understand what happened

(I mean, I get what Martin did to Jon, but nothing other than that)

Would you mind explaining why it's impactful to you?

honestly the main standout thing that makes it really shine to me is the soundscaping and vocal editing, and I've seen people take that as an indirect snide comment about the writing before but it really isn't, the entire scene in the panopticon just sounds gorgeous. the distortion and static on jon's voice, the underscoring of the statement, the way jon and martin's dialogue pops out from the sounds of the crumbling tower, it's just. aaaaaaaaaa. I find it really pleasant to listen to, if you've only listened through speakers then I'd 100% recommend trying it with headphones, it is simply very pretty and well made.

from the story side, it's beat after beat of ultimate catharsis for threads and arcs that have been set up for the whole show.

jon going ham and just really brutally killing jonah with his own hands, no supernatural influence, finally fulling snapping and, it sounds like, gutting him like a fish. it's just about the most lively and impassioned we've heard him all season, and, as far as anyone could deserve to do such a thing, he really is the person who deserved to get to do it.

jon and martin both betraying each other and making the choices that the whole story has been leading them to. jon has spent years fighting against his internalized idea that he can't trust anyone and he's the only person who's powerful/expendable/knowledgeable enough to make decisions and solve problems, and at last he submits to it and takes matters into his own hands. martin has spent years operating under the assumption that he's unimportant and incapable, and now just as he finally accepts that his choices have meaning, he sets the plan in motion that ends up getting them both killed. and jon has tried so hard to be transparent and show him trust that he underestimates just how willing jon is to go behind his back and disregard the plan completely.

and the fuckign. web lighter. I have a longstanding obsession with the mechanics of fate in tragedy narratives, and this lighter. hhh. so, fate (the web) was guiding jon & co to release the fears, but to jon's knowledge, killing jonah and becoming the pupil should have been his winning move to keep them contained. as far as he was capable of comprehending, he made all the right choices, but fate (the web) (the oppressive forces that govern all of our lives) doesn't play fair, it planned for this and cheated him. because he couldn't remember the lighter. he couldn't remember that he already gave georgie the catalyst for the explosion.

this tells me a few things: the ultimate end of releasing the fears was always going to happen, there was nothing jon could have done, but, technically, he could have adhered to the plan and lived to spend what was left of his life with martin and the rest of his nearest and dearest. but that was never really an option, was it? jon archivist sims would never have made that decision, that's why martin tried and failed to plan around it, that's why the web tried and succeeded to plan around it, it would never have happened differently. jon made his choice, it made no difference except to doom himself and the one he loves, he didn't have to do it, and it was inevitable.

and after all of that, after the web cheated him, he could still have won. he could have survived the tower collapse and kept the fears. but one of his biggest stated motives, over and over, is that he can't stand to lose anyone else, and martin is not immune to burning buildings the way he is. in an inverse to gertrude, at the last moment, he chose the barest chance for martin to survive over his own life and principles and big picture goals. he could cope with being responsible for killing the world in the abstract, but when it came to watching the person he loves most die right before his eyes, he caved and came around to martin's perspective. the other worlds can cope, he wants to save the man he loves.

[thisismeracing]

Literature lovers | CS55 (patreon exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: Professor!Sainz x TA!reader (she/her) ― Warning: implied age gap (reader is in her mid-twenties, Carlos in his mid-thirties); mentions of food and alcohol; graphic description of sex (p in v, oral –fem receiving, dirty talk); Use of Cassio Sanchez instead of Carlos Sainz for known reasons. (5.1k words) ― Summary: One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”, deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you. Of course, it was dangerous grounds, but things clicked, and as he said so himself, destiny guided you together.

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Growing up, you always heard about how you had to be the best, had to run twice as fast as others, train more, and still hear how lucky you were. It was something that tired you once college came around. Yet,  it was almost like second nature to you, doing things as close to perfection as possible. That’s how you ended up getting into your master's right after graduating, that’s how you turned out being a teacher’s assistant to one of the most famous professors on campus, and coming to think about it, you guess that’s how he ended up recommending you to everyone.

That’s the reason he recommended you to Carlos Sainz, the Spanish Literature professor.

Your professor, English literature specialist, George Russell, was a posh Englishman who would occasionally forget some of his materials and schedules, always having a book on his nose and talking about it. You and he hit it off quickly. You were his favorite student, and when you became his assistant, he was even happier because you were just so organized, and punctual.

When George told you he was “lending” your teacher’s assistant’s services to another professor, because he was off, and his colleague had a few conferences that month, besides taking over his classes, you accepted. George knew you loved Spanish language literature, and he knew you and Carlos would work well together. At least that’s what he told you before sending you Carlos' work e-mail and handing you a copy of the uncensored version of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a book you had been trying to get for months but hadn’t been able to find that particular edition.

While setting some of your things for the first day with Carlos, you stared at his e-mail for the hundredth time. You didn’t know him. Your Spanish Literature classes were all completed during an exchange in Colombia, and the University was big enough for you not to know every professor by name or face.

Still, you took a deep breath and wrote an e-mail to Professor Sainz about some of your ideas for the upcoming semester, well aware that you had accepted the role and you would make it work. You liked to think that you could have denied George's request and could have told him about a personal project you’ve been working on, but you said yes.

One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”. Deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you.

***

He keeps his eyes on your face, and you smile after swallowing a bite and finally opening yours.

“I take it, you liked the dish?” His amused, yet provocative tone made you shiver the slightest.

“It’s perfect, Carlos. Now I’m feeling bad I bought a cake from a bakery, instead of making our dessert myself,” you complained, taking another bite. Carlos caught the joke in your tone and smirked, eyes finally wandering down your body, or what the table lets his big brown orbs see.

The V-neck dress was not scandalous per se, it has sleeves that go to your wrists, and it’s not form-fitting, but rather loose around your body. It showed the right amount of skin. And Carlos couldn’t have loved your choice more.

His eyes found yours after a few seconds, it’s almost like he’s making sure you’re comfortable with his gaze, and the way you lean slightly on the table giving him the perfect view is answer enough.

“Don’t worry about dessert, you know we have it covered.”

“Do we?” You add to the tension, and Carlos chuckles.

“Oh, we sure do,” he nods, taking a sip of his wine. “In fact, how do you feel about skipping the whole meal and going straight to dessert?”

“It sure sounds tempting.”

“Do you want it?”

He was still sitting and hadn’t made any move indicating he was about to go your way. You knew this game you were playing and knew that the way he was throwing the questions your way was Carlos studying you, making sure you were comfortable with the outcome. He wanted you to be comfortable. He always wants it, and you can tell from the small details.

No pressure.

Never pressure.

He wanted you to want him.

And oh, how you do!

“I want it.”

He smirked. You heard the scrape of the chair against the wooden floor and watched as he walked barefoot to you. The first few buttons of his white button-up were undone showing you his tan skin where a few dark strands of hair peek out on what you can tell was a remarkably toned body.

Carlos pushed your chair back, turning it to him. He parted your thighs the best he could with your dress and kneeled between your legs. From this angle, he looked even hotter.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this sneak peek! This piece has been on Patreon since last month, but I forgot to add the sneak peek here hihi <3 I wanted to write for Professor!Sainz for a while now, and finally found the inspo to finish this piece, and the time to finish editing the last details. A huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon) and Dee (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading this, and to K (@dancininseptember) for suggesting the TA!reader when I posted about writing this (Ily, guys!).

If you liked this sneak peek and want access to the exclusive content, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification @formulaal @benstormy

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[pers-books]

The Ninth Doctor meets River Song! 

Christopher Eccleston is joined by Alex Kingston in Star-Crossed, a brand-new box set of full-cast audio dramas from Big Finish Productions, due for release in May 2024. 

For the final release in the current series of The Ninth Doctor Adventures, the Time Lord with a war-torn past meets a very important woman from his future. 

Alex Kingston first played Professor River Song in Steven Moffat’s 2008 Doctor Who TV episode Silence in the Library, and since then the assassin-turned-archaeologist has met many incarnations of the Doctor – though not in the right order. 

It’s finally time for her to say “Hello, sweetie” to her husband’s ninth incarnation, as the two of them embark on three adventures together. They visit a planet in thrall to a dating app, an intergalactic bank with a catastrophic glitch, and a raging maelstrom. Fantastic! 

Doctor Who – The Ninth Doctor Adventures: Star-Crossed is now available to pre-order for just £29.99 (collector’s edition CD box set + download) or £22.99 (download only), exclusively here. 

The three thrilling stories are: 

Swipe Right by John Dorney  Face of the Apocalypse by Lizzie Hopley  Archipelago by Tim Foley 

Christopher Eccleston said: "Returning to the world of the Doctor has been a great experience precisely because it has allowed me to re-explore my interpretation of the character and how he interacts with the many extraordinary beings he encounters along the way. Alex’s River was one such character and this was an interesting, challenging and enjoyable encounter for the Doctor too.” 

Alex Kingston said: “This is the first time that I’ve had an opportunity to work with Chris's Doctor. It’s a challenge for River to step into his interpretation and navigate it. He’s got a different energy to any of the other Doctors – she has to work harder to engage him, to get through to him, which is great fun.” 

Big Finish listeners can purchase Doctor Who – The Ninth Doctor Adventures: Star-Crossed as part of a as part of a complete four-volume series bundle for just £108 (on collector’s edition CD box set + download) or £88 (download only). 

All the above prices include the special pre-order discount and are subject to change after general release. 

Series 1-2 of The Ninth Doctor Adventures are still available to purchase as triple LP vinyl bundles – limited to a pressing of 1,000 per volume – for £140 per series. Collector's edition (CD box set + download) bundles are also available at £110 per series, as are digital download bundles, for just £96 per series.  

Please note: the vinyl editions do not include any behind-the-scenes extras. However, listeners purchasing vinyl LP editions will receive a download of the story automatically and be given access to the CD edits as a bonus download. Episodes will be edited specifically for the vinyl format, presented as 2 episodes, one on each side, each with opening and closing music. In addition, all pre-orders of the vinyls will also receive the behind the extras as a bonus download.

Please note that Big Finish is currently operating a digital-first release schedule. The mail-out of collector’s edition CDs may be delayed due to factors beyond our control, but all purchases of this release unlock a digital copy that can be immediately downloaded or played on the Big Finish app from the release date.

-- What an announcement - and on Alex's birthday, too!!! 💙😍💙

[https-yeonjun]

honeymoon avenue (k.th)

wc. 2812

genre. angst

tags. established relationship, mention of food, mentions of infidelity, insecurities, toxic relationship, a little aged up but ages are not specified, pet names (baby), taehyun is just really an asshole in this idk

a/n. this is kind of a repost but i finally edited this!! happy taehyun day!!!!!! part two will be up hopefully soon but it's a stand alone fic. this is based on honeymoon avenue by ariana grande, the song of my life <3333

more of my work

“thank you so much for having us.” you greet taehyun’s mother at the door about to leave their house. you’re holding a tupperware full of leftovers that she insisted you take with you. “taehyun doesn’t look like he eats much at home, so why don’t you guys take this with you?” you tried to laugh off her comment, but she pushed the bowl into your hand.

“are you sure you guys can’t spend the night?” she turned to her son, “they said the rain was going to get worse.”

“we didn’t bring anything to stay the night with.” you interjected.

one of taehyun’s best traits, in your opinion, was how much he cared about his family. simultaneously, his worst trait was his inability to say no to his mother.

“yeah, i don’t have to tell you how she gets when she doesn’t do her nighttime routine,” he joked. they both laughed while you stood in silence, looking back at the car, wishing more than anything that you could disappear from this place and erase this entire night from your memory.

“will you guys come to the house tomorrow before you leave?”

“prob—” taehyun began, but you cut him off.

“we don’t think so,” you feigned an apologetic tone. “we have to get out really early.”

“yeah, but we’ll try.” he finished.

you gave his mother a tight lipped smile and allowed her to say goodbye to her son for what felt like the fifteenth time that evening.

you walked to the car together silently.

you sat in the car together silently.

you watched as his mother entered the house and closed the front door.

he started the car, set up the gps, and turned on the radio, without saying so much as a word to you. you scoffed and he quickly turned the volume down.

“what?” he asked with genuine confusion, but there was an undercurrent of frustration beneath the surface.

“seriously?” you countered.

“what?” a hint of defensiveness crept into his voice.

“i can’t believe you said that.”

“what did i say?”

“you completely threw me under the bus with your mom. you know how she gets. please tell me how i get.” your words were sharp, biting with accusation, and taehyun rolled his eyes at your comment, annoyance flickering across his face.

“i’m really tired. i don’t want to do this right now.”

you watched him as he pulled out of the driveway and made his way out of the neighborhood, feeling the tension simmering between the two of you.

it was another rainy day and you were driving into your hometown to surprise your parents. it was hour six of your drive when your phone died and you noticed you were almost out of gas. you stopped at a nearby diner and asked around for a charger. taehyun was sitting by the window, focused on his computer, with papers sprawled on the table in front of him, a half drunk cup of coffee beside him. for the first time in thirty minutes, he looked up when he heard your voice and laid his eyes on quite literally the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life. or so he tells everyone whenever he recounts this story.

“hey,” he called out to you. “i have a charger you can use.”

you sat opposite him in the booth, and he took this as an invitation to introduce himself to you. “hey, i’m taehyun by the way.”

“and i’m forever grateful to you taehyun.”

“your parents named you “forever grateful”?” he laughed at his joke and you joined him.

“yeah, it was my great grandmother’s name.” you joked as well. “actually, my name is y/n.”

against your protest, he ordered food for you and you sat with him for hours, completely forgetting that you were supposed to be surprising your parents that evening. when the rain cleared up, you took your phone from him, but not before asking for his phone number.

and now you’re both sitting in a rental car, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. the air is thick with anticipation of the impending thunderstorm. you noticed the tension etched in your boyfriend’s features. frustration creased his eyebrows, his jaw clenched with each passing moment of immobility. his fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel as his impatience grew with each second you spent at the traffic light.

“what’s wrong?” your gaze turned towards him, searching his face for answers.

“nothing,” he responded tersely as he made an abrupt u-turn.

“tae, what are you doing?” a furrow formed between your brows as you watched his erratic behavior.

“nothing, baby,” he sighed. his eyes remained fixed on the road.

“why are you turning around?”

“too much traffic. this way is faster.” a hint of annoyance crept into his words, but that didn’t stop you from persisting.

“the gps just said you should turn around again.”

“i know where we’re going, baby, this way is faster.” though his voice was firm, there was a note of uncertainty in his eyes that betrayed his facade of confidence.

“tae, are you sure?”

“i don’t need you fucking second guessing me, y/n?” he snapped. you flinched at the tone of his voice, the sting of his anger hitting you like a physical blow. so you quickly muttered apologies to try and ease the weight of his irritation that was pressing down on you like a burden.

“fuck, baby.” he softened. “i’m sorry, i’m just really tired and i want to go to bed,” his hand reached out for yours in a gesture of reconciliation, but you gently pushed him away. 

“it’s fine, let’s just get home.”

“you further shrunk in your seat. things weren’t always this tense between you and taehyun, obviously. at first and for the longest time, he was so perfect – your relationship was so perfect. he was so thoughtful and sweet. there was never a morning where you woke up without seeing a text message from him. even when he was busy, he always made time for you – he always made you a priority.

but a year and a half into your relationship, you noticed him pulling away from you. it started out as him arriving late to dinners to him not even bothering to show up sometimes. you noticed him sneaking away to take work calls right before bed. you could go days without seeing or speaking to each other. some days he was out of the house before you woke up and you could hear him sliding into the shower in the early hours of the morning.

he wasn’t as involved as he was before and nothing hurt more than feeling like you were in a relationship with yourself.

and you did try to bring it up to him, on multiple occasions. but he would always shut it down with every excuse under the sun.

“i already said i was sorry, baby.” he groaned at you when you asked where he was. you got home from the restaurant he was supposed to meet you an hour ago to find taehyun on the couch in front of the tv. “i just wish you told me before i wasted an hour waiting for you.” you tried to push the tears back, but it was no use. “you know i’m up for that promotion. i was at work and it just slipped my mind.” he continued. he turned off the tv and walked out of the room, leaving you alone on the couch, tears staining your new dress.

sometimes you felt like maybe you were the problem. maybe you were the one who wasn’t working hard enough to keep him interested. you weren’t doing enough to make him stay.

and that brings you to tonight. you planned this trip to his hometown to visit his parents because he hadn’t seen them in months. honestly, you never really got on great with his mother, but you always told yourself that because she’s important to him, you wanted – you needed – to get on her good side for him.

you did everything for him.

everything was going to be perfect at this dinner. you were going to wow his parents – his mother in particular. you and him were going to get back on the right lane. everything was going to be perfect.

to your surprise, when you walked into the dining room, you saw an extra place setting. “i thought it was a family dinner, are we expecting someone else?” you asked your boyfriend, who just shrugged in response. he gave his mom the bottle of wine that you picked out, and you tried to ignore the idea that something bad was going to happen.

everything was going well. you were in the kitchen with his mom talking about the renovations that they had done on the house last month, while taehyun and his dad were in the living room. the doorbell rang and you stupidly and naively volunteered to get it.

and that was when you saw her, holding the tupperware you were currently nursing in your lap, with a big smile on her face. you turned around to see your boyfriend and his mother rush to the door. his mom squealed, “oh honey, i’m so glad you could make it.”

taehyun, on the other hand, looked like he just saw a ghost.

after ten minutes of tense silence, taehyun finally broke it. “you know, you could have been a lot nicer.”

“i could have been a lot nicer?” your tone was incredulous, eyebrows raised in disbelief at his audacity.

“yeah, you could have been a lot nicer to my mom. she’s really trying, you know.”

you wanted to laugh at him for insinuating that if his mother had any interest in being nice to you, tonight was the night she decided to make an effort. “she hates me,” you sighed, the weariness evident in your voice.

“she does not hate you.”

“she invited your ex-girlfriend to dinner.”

“she’s a family friend.”

“she tried to undermine me,” you began, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“you’re being ridiculous,” he said under his breath.

“and you do nothing to defend me every time she makes a snide comment about me.” the lump in your throat growing with each word.

he chuckled, the sound lace with bitterness. “okay, what did she say?”

“you want me to recount all the times your mother has verbally abused me since we started dating?”

“verbally abused,” he repeated, mockingly. “that’s definitely a phrase.”

“don’t do this to me,” you pleaded, feeling the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “taehyun, i sat for three hours while your mother broke down everything she hates about me and compared me to your ex-girlfriend that she invited to the dinner that i planned for you. so please don’t try to negate the way i feel.”

his silence only fueled your anger, the frustration boiling over inside you. “god, i don’t even know why i’m doing this.”

“doing what?”

“trying to make sure that this thing works.”

“this thing?”

“our relationship–” you exhaled, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “being in this relationship makes me so unhappy. and i– i keep trying to make this work. i keep trying to make you happy and you don’t give me anything in return.”

his scoff cut through the air like a knife, but he remained silent, refusing to engage with you. 

“can you please say something?” you begged him.

“i don’t give you anything in return?”

“no tae, you don’t.”

“i didn’t realize this relationship was a fucking business transaction.”

god, why do you always do this?” you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“what am i doing?” he scoffed again.

“every time i try to talk to you, you always try to make me feel like shit.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just not seeing the problems that –” his excuses grated on your nerves, pushing you to your breaking point.

“are you cheating on me?” you asked quietly, the words hanging heavy in the air between you.

“what?” his voice carried a note of surprise, but his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.

“are you cheating on me?” you repeated, turmoil brewing inside you. you studied his face intently, searching for any hint of deceit.

“you’re fucking ridiculous, i’m not having this conversation right now.” his response was curt, his tone was laced with irritation as he refused to meet your gaze.

“why? because you’re fucking your ex? why can’t you answer my question?” your voice rose, desperation creeping into your voice as you implored him to give you a straight answer.

“no, i’m not fucking my ex.”

“but you are cheating on me?” you tried to calm yourself down, your voice returning to its regular volume.

“no, i’m not cheating on you.” he briefly turns to look at you. “i’m not fucking cheating on you.” he made another abrupt turn, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“where the fuck are we going?”

“i told you, i’m trying to fucking go home.” he hit the gas, the car lurching forward. you could tell that you pissed him off.

“then why aren’t you following the gps?”

“because i know the fastest way to get home, just fucking trust me.”

“stop the car.” you demanded.

“what?”

“you heard me. stop the car. right now.” you told him again, you heart pounding in your chest as you steeled yourself for what comes next. he slowed down and brought the car to a halt, pulling over at the side of the road. without a word, you got out of the car.

“can you get back into the car?”

“no, i’m going to find my way home.”

“y/n, please stop being ridiculous and just get in the fucking car.”

“can you please stop calling me ridiculous?”

“well, if you stopped acting ridiculous, i wouldn’t have to call you that.” he countered. “can you please just get in the car? let’s go home.”

you turned to face the side of you. the rain was beating down on you, helping you mask the tears streaming down your face. “i can’t keep doing this. i don’t want to do this anymore,” you repeated to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. you don’t really know if you’re talking to him or to yourself but the words were heavy with finality.

he unbuckled his seatbelt and met you on the side of the road. he wrapped his arms around you. “you don’t want to do what? go home?”

“i don’t want to be in this relationship anymore.” you turn around to face him

“come one, don’t say that. please just get in the car. we can talk about this when we get home.” he pleaded with you. the threat of actually losing you sobered him up quickly.

“get home? tae, we don’t even know where the fuck we’re going.” you screamed in his face, but he didn’t even flinch. he just wrapped his arms around you and you fell into his shoulder at his embrace.

“you’re gonna get sick, baby. please let’s just talk about this in the car.” you nodded and complied with him, getting back into the car.

you both sat in silence in the parked car at the side of the road.

“i’m sorry,” he finally broke the silence.

“you can’t keep saying that after you hurt me.”

“i know, i know, but i don’t want to lose you,” he confessed.

“i’m sor–” he started but shut up when he saw you wiping the tears from your face.

“did you know?” you looked up at him. “did you know that she was going to be at the dinner?” he looked back at you blinking. you took his silence as an answer.

“my mom told me a few days before we got here, but i didn’t think she would actually invite her or that she would actually show up.” it was your turn now to not give him an answer. “i never cheated on you. you have to believe me.”

“i don’t know, tae.” you sniffed. “i don’t know what to believe. i just know that i’ve never felt this sad ever in my life and i don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“i don’t want to lose you.” you could see the tears build up in his eyes, even though he looked away from you quickly.

“we’re both miserable in this relationship. this isn’t working for either of us anymore. we should just get out while we don’t completely hate each other. take a break from each other.”

“okay,” he softly conceded.

and with that he put the car back in drive, and followed the route back to the hotel. the only sound in the car is the pitter patter of the rain on the window.

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[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty two : it's you that i lie with

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 11.3k

summary : in the wake of the mandalorians rash decisions he and the princess must await judgement day.

warnings, etc. : language, angst, mentions of alcohol, more smut then a person could ever possibly need, p in v sex, din "consent king" djarin, vaginal fingering, oral f!recieving, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, hate sex (hate not included,) sex as a means to distract your spouse from being angry with you, thigh fucking, clit stim, L bombs all over, edging, accidental exhibitionism, i probably missed a few tags sorry!!

a/n : hey lovelies it's my bed time now! this chapter is super long and i'm sleepy so pls lmk if there's any big mistakes cause the edit on this took over an hour so i might have missed something &lt;3

Naboo has several trading ports. 

You could get him on a cargo ship. That would be the most inconspicuous form of transport. It would help if he was willing to ditch his armor. 

He’s too noticeable like this. He’ll need to stash it somewhere and wear clothes that will help him blend into crowds. 

And you can’t go with him. 

You know that. 

You won’t be able to keep up. You’d only slow him down, and of course, the target on his back increases tenfold if he has you with him. 

So he’ll have to go alone. 

He has plenty of credits but you can give him some of your jewelry to pawn for extra, just in case. 

Is Kodo smart enough to realize that this was an act of possession and not treason? If he is then your personal security will be increased to the point that Din shouldn’t come back for you. 

Fuck. 

Okay. That’s fine. You can live with that. 

As long as he’s safe. 

He sounds mad. 

You aren’t looking at him currently. Just staring at Kodo. limp on the ground, blood pooling from his nose onto the stones. 

You aren’t even saying anything why does it sound like he’s arguing with you? You finally turn around to look at him and Elaine is standing next to him, a hardened look on her face. 

You can’t focus on a word they’re saying. The ringing in your ears refuses to let up. 

They just keep arguing. 

It sounds like he’s trying to reason with her, desperately. 

You can’t focus on them because you’re too worried. Every part of you is worried. 

Kodo won’t just kill him for this. He’ll make an example out of him. Especially if he realizes Din’s motive. Just as you start to imagine all the different things they could do to him Elaine wraps her arms around your shoulders. 

“My lady, I know you’re in a bit of shock right now but we need to act and we need to act fast.” Her voice is urgent but it’s clear she’s still trying to be gentle. She turns around to glare at Din. “Go rinse the blood off your gloves, now.”

He silently makes his way to the fresher as Elaine pulls you away from your unconscious husband, letting you lean against the wall. 

“We need to get him off planet.” You whisper, finally meeting Elaine’s gaze. 

“I know, princess, I already tried. But he won’t go.” That manages to completely snap you out of your haze.

“What?”

“I told him he needed to leave. He won’t. Not without you, and we both know how unwise that would be.” She straightens your dress a bit, almost as if out of habit as you gawk at her. 

“Elaine, he has to go.” You’re still whispering. Unable to make yourself speak louder. 

Her eyes are full of pity. 

“I know he does, my lady, but he won’t. And we don’t have time to convince him otherwise.” She’s right. If he’s already set in his decision there’s no changing his mind and you need to act fast. “We have a different plan, princess. We don’t have a lot of options now so I need you to pull it together, okay?” She gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze as the Mandalorian returns. Gloves washed and dried. 

Clean. 

“You have to go.” You immediately step in front of him, as if by some act of the gods you can get him to see reason but all he does is shake his head no. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this. I’m staying. What do I need to do?” He stares at Elaine who’s scowling at him as she takes a step back, sighing.

“You need to stay out of my way while I figure this out. You’ve caused enough problems.” She looks beyond angry with him.

For good reason.

This has to be the stupidest thing he’s ever done. 

“Obviously, the safest bet would be for your Mandalorian to get as far away from here as possible.” She shoots him another glare. “Since he won’t, we need to go with the next safest bet. Which is going to rely on a whole lot of luck.”

Considering the fact that his life is on the line, you don’t love the idea of relying on chance. 

“Kodo’s been on a bender since you didn’t show up for dinner, he hasn’t been sober in days, so we need to hope- to pray, that he doesn’t remember this.”

But what if he does?

“We all know what’s going to happen if he does.” She immediately answers your worried thoughts but it doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest. “We just need to make up a story.”

Elaine seems to be trying to piece her plan together as she paces the hall, Din takes the opportunity to check on you, finally. His hands cup your face. 

“Are you okay?” He sounds like he knows the answer. 

No. You aren’t okay. 

You aren’t okay with what almost just happened and you aren’t okay with what happened instead.

But everything is bad right now. 

Very bad.

And you can’t break down. So instead you hug him. Briefly. Like you aren’t absolutely furious with him.

“I’m okay.” And for now you’re both okay with it being a lie. Your moment of comfort in his arms is short as Elaine pulls you away.

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened.” She’s stern with you. Like an adult talking to a child, normally you’d be offended but someone needed to take charge of the situation and you’re just glad it isn’t you. 

“We were on a walk, D- Mando and I. When we came back to my room Kodo was waiting for me.” She nods slowly as you speak, urging you to carry on. “He started rambling and then he grabbed my dress and then Mando…” You don’t need to finish your sentence, it’s clear what happened next. 

“Okay. I can work with that.” She says mostly to herself before looking you in the eyes once more. “I need you to do exactly as I say, can you do that?” You nod and she turns to Din, frowning before he nods as well. “Okay, here’s the thing princess, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re important.” 

Your confusion is certainly apparent on your face.

“The people in the city adore you. It’s the first time the citizens have so much as tolerated a Naboo royal in decades. And it’s not just the people that love you, it’s the staff here.” She takes your hands in hers, a comforting gesture as she continues to nod at you as if it helps convey her words better. 

“How can the staff love me? I don’t even know the staff?” You wonder out loud as she gives your hands a squeeze.

“Exactly, my lady, you have an endless supply of servants at your disposal and yet you remain independent. You only ask for help when you need it, you’re kind and you’re respectful. But most importantly, you look at us, you don’t stare right through us like we aren’t even here, you see us.” You’d never thought of it that way, you just didn’t want to bother anyone if you didn’t have to, you always just did what felt natural. 

“That’s very kind of you to say, but I don’t see how that helps us.” You tilt your head to the side as you try to decipher her words. 

“We are going to rely on that adoration, princess. What I am going to do is what the servants in this castle do best, I am going to gossip.” 

“What exactly are you going to tell them?” 

“The truth.” She grins at you like some sort of mastermind but you’re getting more and more concerned.

“You can’t, he’ll be tried for treason.” You glance towards Din who remains unmoving behind Elaine. 

“Except he won’t because we’re going to leave out certain details when we recount tonight's events. I am going to tell them that we were on a walk, and when you  returned Kodo tried to hurt you, in his drunken state he fell, and broke his nose on the floor.”

It’s ridiculous.

But she might just be a genius. It’s all true. You won’t have to remember any false details. 

“I still don’t understand why you have to spread the story around though, why don’t we just tell the guards that’s what happened?” Din finally speaks up.

“Because once people know, Kodo won’t be able to avoid it. He’ll realize people know, especially when people in the city get restless. At your next dinner with him, which you will be attending, you remind him of the fact that he can’t hurt you unless he wants a full on uprising in the streets.” She claps her hands together like it’s the perfect plan but there’s so many ways this could go wrong. “You don’t have to worry about your Mandalorian and you guarantee yourself future protection from your husband.”

She’s staring at you, waiting for a response but honestly you don’t even know where to start.

“I will go get guards, we’ll tell them the abridged version of what happened, once that’s done I’ll get to work on spreading the word.” 

“And then?” You stare at Elaine. Eyes wide with concern, you can’t seem to stop whispering, like you’ve lost your voice. 

“And then, we pray. We pray that when he wakes, he doesn’t remember what really happened. Because that’s the only way this works.” She’s looking around the hallway anxiously now. “We don’t have any time to argue on this.” She gives you one last glance and after a moment of thought you nod. She’s right, you don’t have time to come up with a better plan. She doesn’t waste another second and rushes off to alert a guard. 

Leaving you standing alone with Din. 

You want to scream at him. Shove him. Something. For doing this, how could he be so stupid?

But you can’t. 

Because if he hadn’t, Maker only knows what you’d be doing right now. 

So instead, you just stare at your shoes. Refusing to look at him. He knows exactly how you feel about his choices these last couple of minutes so he makes the smart choice to not push you. 

It isn’t long before Elaine is returning with half a dozen guards. 

You let Elaine do all the talking. Explaining that she took you on a walk when you couldn’t sleep. She’s a good actress. 

You play your part well as well, you don’t even have to act, you really are shaken up as you lean against the wall. Nodding to corroborate Elaine’s story. 

Din stands defensively next to you the entire time. As if the guards might find a hole in your story and seize you. 

But that never happens. 

The guards all give you sympathetic looks.

They all know Kodo. They know that this story is more than believable. A couple of the men carry him off towards the infirmary. Only one guard stays, you assume she’s of a higher station based on her medals, and her uniform being a different color.

“Would it help your nerves if we increased your security, princess? On behalf of the royal family we apologize for this freak accident.” Her voice is low, professional. 

Freak accident. 

She’s already doing damage control. 

Word can’t get out that the future king of Naboo frightened his beloved wife like this, this needs to be presented as something that couldn’t possibly happen, even though they all believed it was possible, without question.

“No thank you, I have my Mandalorian.” You’re still whispering. Unable to find the strength to speak up. “I will just have him stay close.”

She raises an eyebrow

“Are you sure?” She hesitates for a moment. “It isn’t my place to question you, your highness, but he was unable to stop this attack, how will he prevent further accidents?” 

Sure, you’re mad at Din but something about the way this woman questions his abilities to protect you makes you furious. At the end of the day, Kodo really had tried to hurt you, and Din had stopped it. 

“You’re right.” You find your voice, finally speaking above a whisper. “It isn’t your place.” You stare at the woman until she finally bows. 

“My apologies, your highness. I’m just stating a fact, you clearly weren’t protected enough. Extra guards may help.” She mumbles. 

You don’t care for this woman’s tone.

“What exactly was he supposed to do? Attack the future monarch? Commit an act of treason?” There’s a lot of anger in your tone considering that’s exactly what happened. 

But you’re mad at Din, and you can’t yell at him right now so you might as well direct it somewhere in defense of him. 

“No extra guards.” You say one more time, just to be clear. “Afterall, this was a freak accident, it isn’t likely to happen again.” 

She nods one last time before making a hasty exit, leaving you alone with Din and Elaine.

When you turn to face them they’re both staring at you, looking a little surprised, you decide to break the silence, looking at Elaine.

“Now what?” 

“Now we wait.” 

“How long?” 

“We’ll know if he remembers in four days.” She crosses her arms and you look between her and Din for answers but he seems as confused as you are. “You have dinner with him in four days. Which I cannot stress enough, you will be attending. If you aren’t swarmed by guards in the next few days, you know you’re in the clear.” She finally says once it’s clear you aren’t getting it. “Until then I want both of you to stay here.” She opens up the door to your chambers. 

“For four straight days?” You try not to sound too irritated but you’re wildly angry with him right now and the idea of being stuck in your room for four uninterrupted days (an idea that you would usually kill for the opportunity to have.) makes your stomach churn. 

“For four straight days.” She’s already pushing the two of you in. Clearly eager to be rid of this entire situation. “No if’s, ands, or buts. You need to stay here, “healing” from the stress of tonight's events. I will have servants bring you your meals, Lysa and I will not disturb your rest but you can ring us if you require anything.”

Din is staring at Elaine, you can see the tension in his posture. He knows that you’re livid. And he knows that now that everything’s settled you couldn’t be more unhappy with him. 

The last thing he wants right now is to be trapped in a room with you and your wrath. 

Elaine clocks his hesitancy immediately. 

“You need to stay, you insisted on staying, she needs someone with her, and she needs protection. Just in case. Isn't that the whole reason you refused to leave in the first place?” She begins shutting the door, both of you starting to protest. “Four days, we will know if he knows in four days.” She whisper-yells before closing the door. 

Now it’s just you and Din. 

For four days. 

You want to fight. You want to scream at him now that you’re alone. How could he be so stupid? To not only hit Kodo, but to refuse to leave?

But you’re so tired. And afraid. You can be angry at him later.

Unless there isn’t a later.

No.

No thinking like that. 

Distract yourself.

“Let me see your hand.” You take his hand in yours with no resistance, removing his glove to inspect his knuckle. He knows better than to argue with you right now, especially since you haven’t blown up on him yet. 

He’s split two of his knuckles but he isn't actively bleeding anymore, you still need to clean it. You walk him to the bed, ushering him to sit down. Once he does, you go to the dresser, you grab a couple nightgowns, and the pitcher of water on the vanity before returning to him. 

He makes no attempt to protest as you dip one of the gowns into the pitcher before wiping the blood from his knuckles. 

He doesn’t protest when you tear the other gown with your teeth and wrap his hand. Or when you turn around, silently asking him to undo your dress, which he does as you slip out of it, standing there in your undergarments. 

He doesn’t fight you when you take his uninjured hand and walk him to the closet. 

He doesn’t when you carefully remove each piece of armor. Turning the lamp off and removing his helmet.  

Or when you say “We’ll talk in the morning.” and rest your head on his chest. 

“What if tonight is our last night?” He whispers into the darkness of the closet. 

You don’t want to think about that right now.

You’ll have tomorrow. 

Hopefully.

“It isn’t.” Is all you have to say. He still doesn’t argue. 

You fall asleep like that.

★

Day one isn’t going to be easy. 

You both know it. 

It’s fine as you both wake up, mostly because neither one of you speaks. 

He knows what’s coming. You can tell by the way his shoulders never relax, that he knows at some point today you’re going to snap. So he doesn’t speak, not wanting to accidentally cause your inevitable explosion.

And you don’t speak either, mostly because you know that when you do you’re going to get rather upset. So you just lay there. Every so often you feel him place a kiss on your temple. 

You wait as long as possible, until you hear a faint knocking from the main door and you know it's either Kodo, here to sentence your Mandalorian to death, or it’s breakfast.

Thankfully when you answer the door it’s breakfast. 

An older woman you don’t recognize hands you two plates of eggs, bread, and fruit. You give her a smile and a thanks. 

She gives you a curious look, like she’s trying to gauge your mood. Elaine must have already started spreading her rumors. You leave her with a nod of dismissal, locking the door once more. 

You carefully bring the plates to the closet, handing one to Din, still not saying a word as you turn to face away from him, flipping the light switch back on.

The two of you eat in silence. 

Once the helmet is back on you take the plates out to the main room, opening the door to leave them in the hall. 

When you turn around he’s standing in the closet doorway and you know you can’t put this off any longer.

“You can still leave.” When the words finally leave your lips they’re significantly less angry than you thought they’d be.

“You know I can’t.” Once he says that though you manage to find your anger relatively fast.

“You can and you know it.”

He doesn’t respond. He just stands, staring at you. 

“You have to go. It’s stupid to stay, if he remembers when he wakes up you need to be gone.”

“And if he doesn’t remember? Then you’d be here, unprotected, and alone.” There’s no heat behind his voice. He isn’t fighting, he’s just stating a fact. 

It doesn’t change your mind. 

“That doesn’t matter, no when there’s a chance that he does remember.” You take an angry step towards him but he doesn’t so much as flinch. 

“No.” Clearly you aren’t changing his mind either. 

You want to throw something at him. 

“You can’t stay here. You know what happens if you stay here. You need to leave, you can always come back for me.” You leave out the fact that that would be extremely difficult to do. “You need to go, hop on a ship and get out of here.” You’re getting angrier and angrier as you stare into the unforgiving steel of his helmet.

“I’m not leaving you.” There’s still no fight, he’s simply stating the truth.

“You are, you will. You need to. I will not just sit here and wait for you to be taken and slaughtered.” Your voice cracks on the last word, you’re starting to get to the level of anger where you’re at risk of crying, you’re desperately trying to keep yourself in control of your emotions as he holds his arms open for you.

It doesn’t matter if you’re in a rage, you can’t help yourself. 

You step into his embrace, still visibly fuming.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, lifting you up, his hands rest on your ass to support you and you have to wrap your legs around his waist to keep your balance, he walks you into the closet.

“But you’re not, Din, and that’s the problem.” You aren’t done, you’ve barely gotten started but he seems to have found a rather effective way of dissolving your anger as he kicks the closet door shut with his foot. 

“I’m sorry that I’m not sorry then.” He sets you down into the blankets and wastes no time flicking the lamp off. You don’t even hear the airlock, his mouth is just immediately on you, silencing any further protest you might have with his lips. “Just let me know when you want to stop so we can start fighting again.” He whispers against your bottom lip before his mouth quickly moves downward, leaving a trail of bites and kisses, his finger unbuttoning the front of your nightie as he does so.

“This- this isn’t fair, I’ve barely started.” You gasp as his mouth latches onto your nipple, he pulls away just long enough to respond.

“Then tell me to stop.” 

You don’t. 

Afterall you’re only human, and he’s being very persuasive right now. 

You’ll yell at him after.

Except there isn’t an after. 

He’s dangerously attentive for the next several hours. 

It’s like he’s been waiting to unleash this level of his undivided attention onto you, like he knew to save it for when you got truly angry with him. 

His fingers dip past the band of your underwear, dipping into your cunt just enough to make his fingertips slick as he drags them back up to your clit. Rubbing slow, methodic shapes into your bundle of nerves. 

He keeps his mouth on your chest for the most part. 

Except for when you get restless. Every so often you’ll remember your objective. Or you’ll feel a flicker of your rage spark up and you’ll mumble something angry at him halfheartedly, usually with your head tilted back, and your hands tangled in either the sheets or his hair. When that happens his mouth drifts down, he throws your legs over his shoulders and he wraps his lips around your clit until you forget all about whatever it was you were saying. 

He manages to keep you distracted until there’s another knock at the door that tells you it’s already lunch time. 

You struggle to button yourself back up as he fumbles for the lamp. 

You glare at him once the lights, and his helmet are back on. 

He quickly buttons your gown back up for you. He never even took his armor off. 

You rush to the door, greeting a woman younger than the one from before. Her eyes immediately dart to your expression.

Elaine was right, gossip does move fast here.

It’s a good thing you still look pissed off, and upset mostly with yourself for being so easily seduced. You can tell she takes note of your frown.  

She hands you two wrapped sandwiches and a pitcher of juice before scurrying off. You yell a half hearted thank you after her before locking up once more. 

When you return to Din you’re still frowning, tossing him the sandwich, turning around, and eating in silence. When you’re finished he takes your wrapper and stands, walking into the main room to discard them. 

When you join him he hands you a glass of juice. Nodding, you take it from him, gulping most of it down before setting the glass aside. 

“You know what?” It isn’t hard to find that fire in you immediately when you think about how truly stupid he’s still being right now. 

“What?” You close your eyes as he lifts his helmet to drink, opening them when you hear the airlock, poking a finger into his chest. 

“You should have left when Elaine told you to, and we shouldn’t even be having this argument because you should be somewhere far far away right now.” 

“This isn’t really an argument, it’s mostly just you yelling and me nodding.” 

Smartass. 

“You just made this an argument by contradicting me.” You’re starting to sound petulant but you really are still upset as you shove him, unable to bring yourself to put much effort into it but he takes a deliberate step back and you cry out in frustration. “You’re an idiot. You are a stupid, stupid man.”

It’s starting to bother you that he won’t fight back. Like he knows you’re right, he just doesn’t care.

You shove him again. This time he doesn’t move in the slightest. 

“You never should have hit him in the first place Din! Are you insane? Do you have a death wish?” You’re nearly screaming at this point.

Yet he says nothing.

So you keep going.

“You say that you have to stay here to protect me, but why didn’t you think about that before you knocked my husband flat on his ass?” That finally gets a reaction from him. His helmet tilts the tiniest bit to the side, almost like he’s flexing his jaw.

“Don’t call him that.” He sounds mad for the first time today.. 

“What? My husband? I’m sorry Din but that’s what he is, it’s nothing more than a title, you know th-“

“No. Don’t call him yours. He isn’t yours, he isn’t your anything, For Makers sake just call him Kodo.” He’s practically snarling as he says it but it only feeds your flames.

“That’s what you’re upset about? Really? Your life's on the line here, and that’s what makes you upset?” You’re close enough to him now that you can see your own rage being reflected back at you on his helmet. 

“If you're so convinced that these are my last hours alive then why are we spending them fighting?” He’s already getting less angry. 

“Because they don’t have to be your last hours!” You’re getting more frustrated by the second, your voice getting higher and higher. “You could leave like anyone with a brain in this situation would.” 

“I’m not leaving you.” 

That’s all he has to say for himself. 

He doesn’t care. 

“Fine.” Your scowl never falters.

“Fine?” He sounds shocked that you’re already giving up.

“Fine.” You shoot him a furious look before you grab the front of his cowl and drag him back into the closet, slamming the door shut behind the both of you because you are sick and tired of him not caring that his life is in extreme danger and if he’s not going to argue with you then he might as well fuck you. 

“Why can’t you just be angry?” You yell as you start unbuttoning your nightgown all over again while he begins removing his armor. 

“Because you’re right.” He mumbles, struggling to keep up with your speed as you let the nightie fall to the floor, leaving you in only your panties. 

“You’re insufferable.” You snarl, laying down in the blankets, watching him toss his cowl aside.

“And you’re insatiable.” He slides the last of his armor off before kneeling in front of you in just his flight suit and helmet. “How many times did I make you cum today before noon? And you still want more.” He doesn’t even sound like he’s trying to get a rise out of you, he sounds like he did when he said he was going to stay, like he was just stating a fact. 

“I don’t want to look at you right now. I’m still mad at you.” You grumble, he wastes no time wrapping his arms around your torso, flipping you onto your stomach.

“This better?” He sounds unbothered. It makes you angrier that he refuses to justify his actions beyond simply wanting to stay.  

“Perfect.” You mumble. 

“You’re being a brat.” 

“And you’re being an idiot.” 

“I thought we weren’t going to fight, why did you bring us in here to just fight more?” He tugs down your panties with one hand, you turn to see him palming himself with the other. 

“Let’s just- let's not talk.” You grumble sitting up on your knees, his hand slides up your spine to the nape of your neck, pushing your face into a pillow while simultaneously forcing your ass into the air.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You hear the release of his helmet and a thunk of metal as he tosses it aside.

He doesn’t bother turning the lamp off.

You hear the familiar sound of his zipper, he doesn’t waste any time as you feel the head of his cock push into you. You bite into the pillow swallowing your moan. 

Are you still mad?

Yes. Very much so.

Is this better than fighting? 

Yes. (Very much so.)

He leans down, groaning as his chest is flush with your back, his length sinking deeper into your heat. 

“Reach back and push me away if you want me to stop.” He brushes your hair behind your ear as he says it, you only nod in response as he leans back again, rocking his hips forward until his pelvis is flush with your ass. 

He’s never fucked you from this angle.

Your slightly lower than he is, it’s like he’s fucking down into you, deeper than he has previously.

He takes a second to let you breath before he snaps his hips back, dragging his cock nearly completely out of you before slamming himself back in entirely. 

You yelp as he presses up against your cervix. 

He waits again, like he’s waiting to see if you’re okay but you make no effort to stop him so after another second he repeats the motion, letting out a low groan as he does.

He squeezes your hips almost reassuringly as he starts to find his rhythm. Feeling him sink into you, every thrust almost painfully deep.

It’s nice.

Of course you won’t tell him that, not now when you’re still seething.

But it’s like he’s doing it on purpose. Like he’s trying to prove a point. That no matter how mad you are, he can still unravel you, with ease.

His hands slide up your back, he takes hold of your shoulders, experimentally using his grip to leverage you back against him in time with his thrusts. 

It’s (tragically) divine. 

You pull your face from the pillow, turning your head to the side. 

“When- kriff, when you’re done we’re finishing our, ah, our conversation.” You manage to stutter out, his pace never so much as skipping a beat.

“I thought… we were… done… with that.” He says through grit teeth in between thrusts, pulling you back against him with every movement forcing himself deeper into you than you even thought possible.

“We aren’t.” 

He only grunts in acknowledgement as you feel him lean down to place a kiss against your spine. 

You shouldn’t have told him that once he finished you were going to fight again because he doesn't stop until they knock for dinner.

The bastard actually manages to last the entire time, everytime you think he’s finally going to lose his resolve he buries himself in you, unmoving, letting his hands roam your body aimlessly until he’s able to continue. When he hears the knocking his pace quickens the tiniest bit and that’s all he needs to tumble over the edge. Pulling out and finishing on your lower back. 

You’d be more upset if you weren’t so impressed. 

You make yourself as presentable as possible before rushing to the door for what is hopefully the last time today.

It’s the same routine.

Greet them, they stare at you, you take the food, they leave. 

Once you’re locked up for the night you hand him his bowl of stew. 

It continues to be the same routine. Eating in silence as he waits for the inevitable. 

Except it doesn’t come.

You finish eating, turning around once he’s done as well. He takes the bowls, setting them aside. 

And you open your mouth to yell at him. But all that comes out is a yawn, once he sees that he scoops you up into his arms, already carrying you back to the closet. You let your head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m still mad.” You mumble. 

“You should be.” He says it so quietly the modulator doesn’t even pick it up, you hear the words muffled and unfiltered through his helmet. 

You don’t like that he’s seemingly mad at himself. He doesn’t get to do that, no one gets to be mad at him right now but you. 

He lays you down in the sheets, kneeling next to you he removes his helmet as you close your eyes he turns the lights out, laying down beside you. 

“No more sex. I’m too tired.” All you’ve done today is yell, have sex and eat, the combination has you dozing off already. You roll over so you’re partially on top of him as you rest the side of your face on his chest which you feel shake a bit as he lets out a single laugh.

“Okay, sarad.” 

How did you lose an entire day to him? You had wanted to scream and throw things. To show him and to tell him that what he was doing wasn’t okay. Instead he’d spent the entire day distracting you and it worked. 

You take in the silence of the room, listening only to his breathing for a moment. 

He’s okay. You suppose that’s what matters. He’s still here, and maybe for right now that’s okay. You clearly aren’t going to get anywhere as far as yelling at him goes because he agrees with you. He just doesn’t care. And for the time being you’re just going to have to live with that.

“I don’t want you to go to sleep angry.” He says into the darkness of the room, startling you a little. 

“Why does that matter?” You wish you could sound more stern but you’re tired, and clearly he is too.

“If this is our last night I don’t want you to be upset with me.” 

Oh, Din.

“It isn’t. So it doesn’t matter.” You try to say it with a finality that will hopefully end the conversation.

“It might be.”

“Good night Din.”

★

The start of your second day is considerably different than your first day. 

You feel a little less stressed now that a day has passed with no word but he seems to be getting more nervous. And you feel less cross today. It’s hard to stay angry when you wake up in his arms. He’s spooning you when you wake, and how can you be mad at that?

“I love you, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore.” He murmurs into your hair before leaning down to kiss your neck. It takes you by surprise, you're still waking up but he already seems shockingly coherent. 

He says it like he’s worried it’s the last conversation you’ll ever have with him.

It makes your anger fizzle out, replaced with sympathy for him.

“Then I’m not mad anymore.” He breathes out a sigh of relief when you say it, his arms tighten around you. 

If this really is your last day with him you don’t want to spend it mad. 

You wish you hadn’t spent yesterday mad at him in hindsight, you have no way of knowing if this is the end or not. 

“I love you.” He whispers into the crook of your neck, he kisses your throat. “I love you.” He keeps breathing those words against your skin between kisses as you arch your back against him in an attempt to get more.

You don’t say it back. 

Your love for each other is what got you into this stupid mess to begin with. 

That doesn’t stop him though. 

He repeats it, over and over and over, slowly and sleepily. Like a prayer. 

“Let’s just do this today, okay? No fighting.” He’s got one hand resting on your stomach, the other gently cups your breast. He shifts himself so he can slide his leg between yours. 

Can’t argue with that. 

“We did this yesterday.” You breathe out, it feels good to smile.

“Yes, but you were angry, today there will be no fighting.” He bites your neck lightly enough that there won’t be a mark but hard enough to earn a small squeak from you. 

“No fighting.” You echo his words as he pulls you flush against him. 

When it’s dark like this it feels like he’s the only thing in the universe. The only thing keeping you grounded. 

The hand on your stomach moves downwards and you feel his hot breath on your neck.

“Please?” he mumbles before nipping at your shoulder.

“Of course.” The moment he has your permission he guides his hand to your center, lifting your thigh and sliding his cock up against your folds in one fluid motion. Once he’s situated he brings his hand up to your mouth, two fingers tapping on your bottom lip as you instinctually open your mouth for him he rocks his hips forwards with a grunt, you feel him sliding through your folds as his fingers swipe across your tongue. 

He hums softly, his lips stay on your shoulder, alternating between sucking and biting as he slow fucks the space between your thighs. 

Once he’s satisfied with the wetness of his fingers he withdrawals them from your mouth, bringing them back between your legs. 

“I’m sorry, sarad, for everything.” He says under his breath. 

“No more apologizing.” You lean back to whisper it in his ear.

“What?” He sounds a little lost in his actions.

“I know you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it anymore. No more apologizing.”

“No more apologizing.” This time he echos you. He slowly and carefully starts rubbing his slick fingers against your clit while simultaneously sliding himself in and out of the space between your thighs. You experimentally squeeze your thighs together around his cock and he immediately bites down on your shoulder, stifling a moan. 

It’s so wildly intimate, an unspoken agreement that you both suddenly have to try and make the other person feel as good as possible.

He ruts between your soaked thighs, when he draws back you press your thighs together slightly to tighten around him. His free hand cups your breast again, leisurely pinching your nipple as the one between your legs manages to do exactly what it needs to do.

He knows you so well at this point it’s actually a little jarring when he’s able to drive you towards that release so quickly. 

“Cum with me?” He mumbles through his labored breaths as you nod frantically. 

He keeps you on the edge for a few more minutes as he rocks his hips back and forth until both his thrusts and his fingers move faster, you let your head fall back against his shoulder as you feel the wire snap within you, he turns his face to press his forehead into your temple as he snarls, you feel the spurt of warmth between your thighs as he cums. 

You both lay there briefly, gasping for air, just as you finally get your bearings you hear a knock.

“Shit.” You mumble, wiping yourself off on the sheets and readjusting your nightgown as you sit up. 

You stumble to your feet, rushing to the door to get what you assume is breakfast, you’re surprised to see Elaine standing there holding a basket of bread, rushing into the room before you can even greet her. 

“Good news and bad news.” She immediately hands you the basket and you set it down. Din steps out of the closet, already fully dressed, a sharp juxtaposition to how you must look, disheveled in your nightie you haven’t changed in several days. 

“Good news first.” You say quickly.

“Good news is that word has spread as quickly as I anticipated. From what I can tell, the people in the city are already aware of what happened.”

“That fast?” You’re in disbelief at the idea that people already know. 

“I told you it would.” She’s grinning ear to ear, clearly proud of herself. 

“What’s the bad news?” Din Djarin, well known optimist, finally speaks up.

“Kodo’s awake as of an hour ago.” Her grin is gone in an instant.

As far as bad news goes, that's about as bad as it gets. 

Neither you, nor Din speaks. 

So Elaine does.

“I haven’t heard anything yet but if he remembered we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Or he’s waiting.” Still being optimistic, aren’t you, Din?

“He wouldn’t wait, he doesn’t have the patience.” You look to Elaine for confirmation and she nods, relief washes over you.

“Or he wants to make a spectacle out of it.” You’re getting sick of his attitude towards this already.

“No fighting today.” You snap at him and he immediately goes quiet so you turn back to Elaine. “Is that all?”

“Yes, I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.” She begins to make a hasty exit but you call her name again.

“Wait, could you please draw me a bath?” That seems like the logical next step considering you probably reek of sex at this point. 

“Of course, my lady.” She closes the door behind her and you turn to Din.

“No fighting, we agreed.” You say one more time, to be sure he knows you’re serious about this. 

He nods and you leave him standing there, going to the dresser to find a robe.

★

“I’ll be standing outside to make sure no one disturbs you, princess.” Elaine raises her eyebrows as she says it, closing the door behind you as you turn to stare at the Mandalorian across from you in the fresher.

If you and Din aren’t imprisoned in the next couple of days you’re going to make sure Elaine gets a pay raise. 

You slip your robe off as Din slides a table in front of the door for extra security, and you step into the warmth of the water, staring up at him as he walks over to the pool.

“I had a dream like this once.” He says as he carefully takes his armor off. 

That’s the last thing you could have imagined him saying right now. You chew on your lip, giddy as you fight the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Do you have a lot of dreams about me?” You hold back your laughter as he takes the last piece of metal that isn’t his helmet off. Fascinated as he starts to tug at his flight suit.

You’ve never actually seen him like this. 

Sure you’ve seen his hands, and his cock, but never as much bare skin as he’s about to reveal. He peels the fabric away from his body as he steps out of it.

Maybe yesterday was your last day. 

You aren’t totally convinced that you didn’t die yesterday and are currently in heaven. 

He steps into water, only in his helmet and you try not to gawk but it’s hard because he’s just so… pretty. 

You finally tear your eyes away when you see a tint of red flare up around his neck.

He’s embarrassed. 

He shouldn’t be.

He’s an adonis. 

Tan skin littered with little pink and white marks.

You want to kiss every single one. 

He makes his way across the water, sitting on one of the ledges so everything below his chest is submerged. You try not to make your way over to him too eagerly but you can’t help yourself as you hastily pull yourself into his lap. 

“Aren’t you worried about rust?” You tilt your head to the side, laughing a little. 

“Beskar doesn’t rust but you’re very cute.” His hands squeeze your thighs under the water. 

“Ha ha.” You roll your eyes and lean forward to rest your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t answer my question by the way, about your dreams.” 

His hands slide under your thighs, dragging you closer to him.

“What do you want to know about my dreams?” 

“I want you to tell me about your dream that reminded you of this.” You run your pinky across a small pink crescent shaped scar on his chest. 

“That might take a while, why don’t I just show you.” You can practically hear his grin.

For a brief moment you’re almost able to forget the situation you’re currently in. 

Almost. 

★

“You knew I was out there, you could have at least tried to be quiet.” Elaine grumbles as you open the door.

Whoops. 

“Sorry.” You both mutter in sync, your face is getting hot as you give her an apologetic grin.

She’s definitely getting a raise. 

“I’ll get over it.” She walks you back to your chambers holding the door open for the both of you. “Someone will bring you lunch and dinner later, I’ll see you both soon.” 

“Thank you.” You call out after her as she’s inching her way out of the room.

“You're welcome.” She shoots you one last smile before stepping out completely. 

Once the door is closed behind you you rush over to it, clicking the locks before dropping the robe, when you turn around he’s already setting his armor aside. 

You leave him to that briefly as you walk yourself to the closet, returning to him with a scarf, all of his armor aside from his helmet is already off, he’s currently unzipping his flight suit. 

You do exactly what you said you would.

No fighting. No apologies. 

He helps you tie the scarf around your eyes and from that point on it’s a hazy, lascivious daydream. You’d be understating it if you said he fucked you on every surface in your room. It’s a desperate love that he makes to you now, and you know better than anyone that it’s his fear creeping back up, that this time will be the last time. 

Floor, bed, wall, table, dresser. If it is a flat surface, at some point during the day he presses you up against it, alternating between burying his tongue and his cock in your weeping cunt. 

You’re so fucked out of your mind that when they knock for meals you just ignore it. Biting down on a pillow or his shoulder to silence the noises he forces out of you. 

You don’t really remember when he brought you back to the closet. It’s been such a whirlwind. 

You do remember him kissing you. And saying he loved you before you fell asleep.

You try to forget when he whispered a prayer that he would have more days with you. 

★

And you make it to day three. 

Every hour there isn’t a battalion of guards outside your door makes you relax more and more. 

Din seems to be the exact opposite of you based on the first thing he says when you wake. 

“I want you to look today.”

“At what?”

“You know what.”

Oh. 

You sit up. Staring at where he would be in the darkness. 

“I’m not doing that.”

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t our last day, and you need to stop acting like it is.” 

If Kodo remembered he wouldn’t wait, he isn’t a patient man. You don’t want to spend today worrying, and you don’t want him to either. 

So today you’ll talk. You’ll talk until he forgets all about it. 

You lay back down, pulling his head into the crook of your neck.

“Tell me a secret.” 

“What kind of secret?” He laughs a little. Good. You don’t want today to be sad.

“Something nobody knows about you.”

“I don’t have secrets from you. I tell you everything.” 

That’s actually quite sweet. 

“That’s just not true. You keep tons of secrets.” You scoff.

“Not anymore. If you asked me anything, I’d tell you.” He says it earnestly.

That can’t possibly be true. 

“There’s plenty of stuff you don’t tell me.” You twist a lock of his hair gently between your fingers.

“You never ask.”

This entire time you’d been trying not to push him, he’d just assumed you didn’t care. 

“Are you okay with me asking?” You never meant to make him feel neglected.

“I’d love if you asked.”

You don’t even know where to start. You want to know everything. 

So you start at the beginning. 

“Do you have any family?”

“I lost my mother and my father when I was very young.” He draws small distinct stars into your skin with his fingers as he talks. “I was taken in by the Mandalorians as a foundling.” He sounds detached as he says it, like he came to terms with it a long time ago, so you don’t linger on his tragedy, opting to point out a phrase you’re unfamiliar with instead.

“A foundling?”

“It means they raised me as their own, taught me the creed.” 

You picture a little Din Djarin running around with a dozen adoptive parents. 

“They all did?”

He laughs, giving your side a small pinch. 

“No, typically the Mandalorian who finds an abandoned child will claim them but the Mandalorian who found me already had two foundlings.” 

“That’s terrible, what did they do with you?” You feel yourself being pulled into his story, like he’s telling you a tale you don’t know the ending to. As if he isn’t here right now, a full fledged Mandalorian who things clearly worked out for. 

“There was a Mandalorian at the covert who had never had a foundling. She made their armor for them so she didn’t leave as often as the rest. She took me in.” 

“So she became your mother?”

“More like a big sister, she’s only a few years older than I am.”

“Did she make your armor?”

“She did, yes.”

You sit in silence briefly, taking in his story, something he said a while ago resurfaces in your mind. 

You had asked him about his boy's mother. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know who his father is either. Is that all you wanted to ask?” 

You sit up a little, pulling him closer. 

“Your boy is your foundling.” You don’t say it like a question, you’re sure of it. 

“Was, my foundling.” 

Your natural instinct is to not pry, but he wants you to ask, and you feel an anxious curiosity as he uses past tense to refer to his child. 

“Din, you don’t have to talk about it, but if you’re okay with it I’d love to know more about him.”

He doesn’t respond and you’re glad you gave him the option to opt out. 

“I haven’t talked about him since I lost him.” You lean down a little to kiss his forehead, he sounds so small, the smallest he’s ever sounded.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You feel him curl his legs up a bit, tangling them between yours as he sighs. 

“Then I’ll listen.” 

“His name’s Grogu.” You let out a silent sigh of relief as he uses present tense to refer to the boy. 

“That’s a funny name.”

“He’s a funny kid.” There’s an adoration in his voice that he typically reserves just for you. It makes you long to meet this child that softens your Mandalorians demeanor. “He was only a baby when I found him, I knew right then and there that he was mine.”

“What’s he like?” You feel the corners of his mouth twitch up when you ask that. 

“Happy. He’s always happy, and smart, he’s so smart, just like you, too smart for his own good.” He absentmindedly brings his fingers up to play with your hair. “He’s a lot like you actually. Happy, smart, brave, funny.” He tugs your hair softly, teasingly. “You both love to irritate me.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious, you're very similar, I’d say you could be his mother but you look nothing alike.” He laughs at a joke you don’t seem to get. 

There’s one question you haven’t asked, the one you’ve been avoiding.

“What happened to him?”

“I let him go, to be with his people.” You have no idea what he means by that. 

“Sounds to me like you’re his people.” 

“I’m starting to believe that, the longer I spend away from him the more I wonder if I made the right choice.” He traces his fingers down the curve of your jaw.

“Why don’t you visit him?” 

He goes silent, bringing his hand back down to your waist, you feel his fingers tapping against your skin softly, almost like a nervous tick. 

“It’s a stupid reason.” He whispers. 

You run your hand across the length of his shoulder in a soothing manner. 

“Tell me.”

“I’m worried he’s  happy there. Happier than he was with me.”

Oh. Din.

You wish there was a way to tell him that he’s worthy of love. He just doesn’t seem to believe it’s possible.

Well, there is one obvious way to.

“I don’t think that’ll happen. And if he is happy there it just means you did your job. You took care of him.” Once you say that you feel a weight lifted off of your torso as he sits up. 

For a moment nothing happens. 

In the darkness you aren’t even sure where he is, at least until his hands cradle your face ever so gently.

“You’re perfect.”

He’s perfect. 

“I love you.” It slips past your lips in a soft whisper before you can stop yourself. 

“Hmm?” He hums gently. Leaning forward to give you a chaste kiss before pulling back. “What did you say?”

“Very funny. I’m not saying it again.” 

“I’m serious. I didn’t hear you.”

Strange.

He isn’t lying. You can tell.

And this isn’t the first time this has happened. 

“You can’t hear well can you?” You reach up to put a hand on his face, you can feel his mouth turned up in a grin. 

“Smart girl.” He turns his head to kiss your palm.

You won’t repeat yourself. You’ll save it for another time.

“How long?”

“Decades. One of my first bounties. I was listening in from a distance, had the audio on my helmet all the way up, I didn’t realize one of his friends was flanking me until the grenade landed at my feet.”

“Maker.” You gasp. 

“It isn’t really a big deal, I can hear perfectly fine with my helmet and the only person I ever talk to without my helmet on is you.”

Fair point. 

“Aren’t you worried it might happen again?”

“No, I have sensors now that will silence any sound that might be damaging. My turn to ask a question.” He stays sitting across from you, your legs still tangled together as he quickly changes the subject.. “I’ve been dying to ask, why do you sleep in the closet?” 

There’s no hesitation in your answer.

“My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh.

And that’s how you spend the third day.

Laughing and talking. 

And when you go to sleep that night, he doesn’t bring up the fact that it could be your last night together. 

But you know you’re both thinking it.

★

Today there is nothing. 

You can’t comfort him anymore because last night very well could have been your last night together. If Kodo knows, you won’t spend tonight with Din.

You won’t ever spend another night with Din.

There’s no way he knows though. (Unless he does.)

You both seem to realize that, in the comfortable silence you find yourselves in. He’s awake as well but neither of you speaks. 

Today you don’t fight, or fuck, or talk. Today you just exist together. He lays with his head on your chest and you absentmindedly play with his hair.

You both ignore the knocking.

If it's guards, they’ll come in anyways, if it’s breakfast, they’ll leave it outside the door. Based on the lack of guards over the course of the next few minutes, you discern that it’s breakfast. You do the same when they knock for lunch. 

You don’t get up until his stomach grumbles. You rush out quickly before returning to find him in the same position in the darkness as you crawl to him, handing him his plate. You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to him eat and opening your mouth when he offers you some. 

And you don’t speak. 

You don’t say a word. 

A few hours before dinner the girls come to dress you, you bring a blue dress out of the closet when they arrive. 

You’re pretty sure Lysa is aware of the entire situation you find yourself in as she avoids the closet like the plague. Dressing you faster than ever before, in complete silence. When they’re done Lysa rushes out, Elaine lingering as she gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“You can do this. After tonight, you’re in the clear.” As she speaks you put your hand over hers, nodding and smiling at her in the reflection of the mirror. 

You can do this. 

She gives your shoulder one last pat before darting out of the room. Once she’s gone, like clockwork, Din steps into the main room. He quickly makes his way over to you, pulling you into an embrace.

And still neither of you says so much as a word. 

He walks next to you as you make your way to the dining room, letting the back of his hand brush against yours. 

When you approach the doors, as usual the hall is devoid of guards, he faces you.

“I love you.” 

You only nod in response, standing on your tiptoes you lean up and press a kiss into the steel cheek of his helmet before opening the doors to the dining hall. 

He’s waiting for you. He doesn’t usually look when you walk in but tonight he does. 

“Wife, I’m honored that you’re joining me tonight.” You never thought you’d miss the high pitched, nasally way he called out to you until you heard him speaking in a soft and grave tone. 

“Good evening, husband.” You bow before you sit, your Mandalorian standing no more than a foot behind you the entire time. 

It’s a deadly quiet dinner. 

That can’t possibly be a good sign, Kodo loves the sound of his own voice and you’re rarely in a room with him where you don’t hear it. Especially not a room this quiet. 

It’s nothing but the sounds of scraping forks against plates and glasses being set down. 

You aren’t entirely sure what his plan is until they take dinner away and you’re left with nothing but your wine glass in front of you.

Kodo’s is full of water. 

You flinch when he clears his throat before speaking. 

“I was told something odd when I woke up after my accident.”

This is it. 

You’re dead.

Din’s dead. 

You should have just risked it and left with him days ago. 

“People believe that I tried to hurt you, that I was injured when I drunkenly slipped.” His voice is full of a dangerous, malice as he traces the rim of his glass with his finger. 

You should tell Din that you love him before they drag him away. He deserves to hear it. 

Or would that make things worse for him?

Would they hurt him more if they knew?

Dank farrik, you should have repeated yourself when you said it. Now he might never know how you feel. 

“I don’t know why anyone would possibly think that.” He tilts his glass to the side, watching the water shift back and forth. “Because that isn’t what happened, right, wife?” 

Din was right. 

At least you spent your last night happy. If you’re executed you’ll think of his laughter before you go. 

“Right? Wife?” He says it much louder now, his fist comes down to meet the table and you jump a bit in your chair. 

There’s no escape. Not if he remembers. There isn’t anything anymore. Just you and just Din. 

There’s a lump in your throat as you give him a single small nod. Out of the corner of your eye you see Din take the smallest step towards you but he doesn’t do anything drastic as Kodo leans back in his chair. 

“Good. Then you shall tell the common folk you visit what really happened, that a bored servant made that story up, it never happened and you are more than happy here.” He takes a sip of his water and you stare at him, baffled. 

Maker. 

He doesn’t remember. 

He. Doesn’t. Remember.

He believes the story.

He just wants you to tell people it didn’t happen because it affects his image. 

You’re so relieved you could cry, as you nod, holding back a smile. 

“Of course.” Your voice cracks but you can’t find it in you to care. “Of course, dear husband, I will tell them that it was just a misunderstanding, that the entire story is a lie.” Your knee bounces under the table as you resist the urge to look at Din.

Kodo nods towards the door.

“Then it’s settled. You’re dismissed.”

That’s it?

Holy shit, that’s it.

You have to stop yourself from sprinting out the door as you bow before taking slow steps out. 

In the hallway you glance at Din, staring into the visor with wide eyes before heading towards your chambers.

You don’t dare say a word on the walk back to your room, neither does he. 

You did it. 

You’re worried you're dreaming but you know for certain that you aren’t.

You actually fucking did it.

Din is fine, and he’s going to remain fine. 

It feels too good to be true and you just want to pull him into a hug and squeal like a kid on christmas. 

The walk feels like it takes ages as you make your way through the halls until finally you’re there. He opens the door for you as you step inside he shuts it behind you both. You turn towards him ready to just about scream with glee but he beats you to it, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around. 

When he sets you down he doesn’t even think about it as you feel the cool rush of air against your face, he lifts his helmet off nearly all the way with one hand, the other hand wraps around your waist he pulls you close, kissing your forehead before dragging his nose down your face like he’s using it to guide his way before pressing his lips to yours. You manage to shut your eyes before he pulls it off completely. 

He laughs, leaning in to kiss you again.

“You’re the only person I’ve met who wouldn’t look, you know that right?” He mumbles into the kiss before pulling back.

“That’s why I can’t look,” You open your eyes as you hear the airlock once more. “You make exceptions for me and I don’t want you to regret it.”

“I won’t regret it.”

“You might. So we’ll wait.” You play with the band that goes across the chest as he holds you close with his arm around your waist. 

“How long?” He sounds downright excited. 

“When I know you won’t regret it.”

“How exactly are you going to measure that? I’ve already decided I’m ready.” 

You know exactly when you’d be willing to look.

You would look if you were married to him.

But you won’t tell him that, solely because you don’t want him to want to marry you just so you’ll look, you want him to want it. And you haven’t even talked about marriage with him, besides your “jokes,” which definietly don’t count.

“I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

You just stare at each other, you’re grinning at him and you’re certain he’s grinning right back at you. 

“We really did it. We’re okay.” You whisper as he nods. 

“You did it, I caused it.” 

“No more fighting. This is a happy night.” 

“Fine, if tonight's happy night then I have a surprise for you.” He makes his way to the closet as he says it, disappearing for a second before returning with a pair of pants and a cotton tunic, handing them to you. “Put these on.” 

“How could you possibly have a surprise, we’ve been in this room for days and up until a few minutes ago we didn’t know if you were going to be imprisoned for treason.” You take the clothes, turning around so he can unlace your gown, which he swiftly does. 

“I planned this surprise ages ago, I was just saving it for a special occasion.” He pulls each ribbon free and you let the dress slide off of you, stepping into the pants. 

“So what kind of surprise are we dealing with here?” You turn back towards him as you pull the shirt over your head. 

“The kind I know you’re going to love.”

“How can you be sure?” 

“Because you’ve been waiting for it.” 

He gets down on his knee in front of you, you inhale so sharply you nearly stumble backwards as he stares up at you.

This can’t be happening. There’s no way, you haven’t talked this over enough yet.

You should start considering the fact that he might be a genuine mind reader.

“Sarad’ika…” His helmet is tilted up at you, your heart is racing. 

Yes. 

You’re going to say yes.

You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to continue.

But he doesn’t.

Instead he reaches under your bed and pulls out a bundle of black fabric that you furrow your brows at. He stands and hands it to you, you hear him stifle a laugh.  

“Why are you looking at me like that, sarad, I was just getting this for you.” You shove him as he says it, your face getting hot.

“You’re an idiot.” You grumble, unfolding the fabric you see it’s a half cloak, there’s a veil over the hood that will completely conceal your face. 

“Oh, did you think I was going to- oh wow, princess.” He puts on an act of shock as you pull the cloak on, thankful that he can’t see the embarrassment on your face. 

“That wasn't funny.” 

“So you’re the only one allowed to make jokes?”

“If all your jokes are going to be like that then yes.” 

In all honesty, you aren’t upset in the slightest.

Because he’s alive and unharmed and capable of making jokes.

You couldn’t possibly ask for more right now.

“I’m sorry, maybe the surprise will make you forgive me. And make sure you thank Elaine at some point for that, she made it for you.” He chuckles, pointing at the cloak. “Come on, let’s go, we’ll have to stop at the cabin before we head into the city.” He takes your hand.

You forget all about his little stunt when you hear that, and your face lights up with excitement as you realize there’s only one place he could possibly be taking you if you’re going into the city past sundown.

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