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So glad Toby scrapped that Spade battle theme from Ch 1 he didn’t deserve it
#deltarune#y’all thought I was finished dunking#but I heard it for the first time in a bit just now and I wept it’s glorious#i am somehow immensely nostalgic for the SNES sound font despite never owning an SNES in my life#it’s the kind of composition you give a fellow with a decent point but bungled execution to the effect of tragedy#not the mfer who only got off his ass when he ran out of flamin hot Cheetos#‘last stand’ my ass mfer never stood up until the 3rd act to take a shit or something and realized too late he had company#anyways it’s 30 seconds long but it means everything to me
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Supply Run - Exchange (part three)
AO3
Part Two
Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader
Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.
Word Count: 19.1k (HAHAHAHAHAAA)
Chapter Summary: Previous feelings for each other are revealed, and then those feelings are explored. An exchange, if you will.
Content Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, nervous!reader, soft!!!!!!mando, reader loves facial hair, fluff fluff fluff, helmet comes off, cuddling, SMUT: making out, grinding, PRAISE kink, lowkey size kink, big dick mando, consent king mando (consent king mando is the hottest mando, it is law), m and f masturbation, dirty thoughts of reader and of mando, piv, unprotected and protected piv, fingering f receiving, ass grabbing, a lil nipple play, half naked and naked mando, lovey dovey sex hehehehehe, physical descriptions of reader are as neutral as possible but reader has a vagina
A/N: I cannot thank you all enough for your responses on the first two parts. I also cannot thank you all enough for your patience for part three. It is longer than part one and two combined (y’all voted for me to post in one long part, ya get what ya ask for!), so I think it was worth the wait. Also I didn’t proofread this because I was too excited to post it. Will read over it later though! ENJOY!!
THREE MONTHS PRIOR
A thudding sound was produced by Mando’s footsteps up the Crest’s ramp. Looking up from the article you were reading on your Holopad, your eyes were trained on the lowering ramp. You nestled a bit further into your reading nook–a pile of blankets and some pillows stacked against the wall–as you anticipated the outside air hitting you.
Mando entered the Crest covered in mud. His footprints left a trail up the metal of the ramp. That’s another thing to add to the list of chores, you thought. The planet’s surface was half-swamp, so of course he would come back looking like he just rolled in bantha shit. A struggling bounty that Mando was dragging by the cuffs snapped around their wrists only made the mess worse.
With a grunt and a push, the quarry was frozen in the carbonite cell before Mando could finish the harsh grit of his, “Dank farrick.” His muddy, gloved hand left a mark on his vambrace when he touched it to close the ramp.
Silence.
A modulated exhale.
He stood with his expansive shoulders slumped and helmet turned downwards a bit. An apologetic tone crackled through the helmet, “I’m really sorry about the mess,” he slowly said as he used his hands to gesture around him.
Yeah, it wasn’t the most fun chore in the galaxy, but the alternative would be sitting and reading an article on your Holopad. Or sitting next to Mando in the cockpit, the streams of light gleaming off of his armor as you two have a sleepy conversation. They do sound like better alternatives, but you wanted to maximize your time with Mando.
You knew that Mando would help you clean up the mess. More time with Mando greatly sweetened the task of scrubbing the hull.
“I’m going to uh,” he glanced down at the muddy ensemble that covered his body, “go rinse off real quick.” He began his path towards the fresher door and stood still in front of the door. The helmet turned towards his right shoulder, like he was lost in thought. You could tell he concluded his reasoning as the helmet turned back to face the fresher door and he reached up to unlatch his armor.
First the chest plate was placed on the floor.
Tung.
Then the thigh guards.
Tang. Tang.
Vambraces.
Ting. Ting.
Pauldrons.
Dunk. Dunk.
It wasn’t unusual for Mando to remove his armor outside of the thresher. Occasionally the planet he needed to hunt on was sweltering hot, and removing the armor helped him cool down. Other times it was the inverse, the armor was too cold and he needed to heat up. It made sense to you this time as well. His armor was dirty so removing it before stepping into the fresher helped him clean up easier.
You didn’t realize he would apply the same logic to his mud-soaked flight suit.
Reaching up, his gloved fingers fiddled with the buttons at the top of his shirt. Eventually he was successful in undoing them and brought his hands behind his neck. He gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled it up and over the helmet. Off of his torso and onto the floor.
Plap.
The saturated long sleeve clung to his upper body like a surgical exam glove. Every muscle. Every ripple with his movement. They shined in the light of the Crest and displayed every lean curve of the Mandalorian’s body. Once more he reached up, this time undoing the buttons on his long sleeve.
Oh kriff.
Hands gripping the back collar of the shirt, the removal of the wet, black fabric revealed golden tan skin. Scars littered the expanse of his back from the years of combat he’d endured. The muscles that previously rippled underneath black fabric now gleamed under tan skin, coated with a layer of sweat.
Plap.
Oh kriff.
You were behind the nearly beskar-less man. Knowing he couldn’t see you, your jaw dropped.
Mando stepped out of his shoes, which revealed clean black socks. Hopefully his boots were equipped with mechanisms to keep his feet dry. Lastly, he slid off his gloves.
Plap. Plap.
Veiny, golden hands–matching his torso–were ungloved. His fingers were thick with well kept nails. You supposed that longer nails would make hand-to-hand combat difficult. As he opened the fresher door you watched his hand flex around the handle. His biceps bulged in the process of pulling the metal door open.
Once he was inside the fresher, you heard shuffling. After a minute or two, the door opened slightly. A large hand and toned forearm reached out and discarded his pants and underwear on the floor.
Plap.
The water began to run in the fresher and the pattering of liquid hitting the fresher floor filled the Crest. Occasional variations in the pattering occurred when Mando moved his body underneath the stream of water.
Then the pattering stopped. Mando must have been drying himself off, the slight shuffling sounds made their way to your ears. Those sounds ceased as well.
The Mandalorian cleared his throat and called out your name, “Um. Hey.”
Blinking a few times, you snapped out of your daydream-like state, “Yeah?” You called in response.
A pause. “Would you mind getting me some pants, please?” His voice was tight–possibly in embarrassment.
Your eyes widened and body sat still, “Uh, yeah sure! Where do you keep clean pairs?” You asked.
“Right side of my bunk. First cabinet on the left.” He raised his voice in order to enunciate his words.
Before you knew it, you were leaning into Mando’s bunk. Your gaze floated around the space in a quick glance. It was clean and organized. After witnessing his wide and tall frame the bed looked almost too small. Or maybe he just looked that large.
Your hand opened the first cabinet on the left and the other hand selected a clean pair of pants off the top of the stack. They were soft, fleece-like. Realizing they were sweatpants you extended your arm to put them back, but then hesitated as your hand hovered over the pile. Mando just came back from a hunt. A swampy, muddy hunt at that. He should get to be comfortable now.
The sweatpants remained in your hand and your footsteps took you to the fresher door. “I got you a pair,” you shyly announced.
A squeak came from the fresher door’s hinges as the crack in the door allowed Mando’s hand to stick out of the space. His palm was open, waiting for the pants to meet his touch. Your arm reached forward and placed the soft pants into the grasp of his thick fingers.
“Thank you.” The smooth bass of his voice entered your ears and went south. Air moving through his vocal chords produced warm, honey-like vibrations and they made you melt. “I’ll get the rest,” he concluded, and shut the fresher door.
You stood and studied your bleary reflection on the fresher door in awe at what you’ve experienced. Mando’s actual voice–without the helmet.
Shuffling began and ended abruptly. Lost in the awe, you didn’t realize the Mandalorian opened the door and took a step out. In consequence, his chest collided with your torso and sent you tumbling backwards. Backwards into a small puddle of swamp water and peaty mud.
“Di’kutla,” Mando let out a now modulated grunt.
Useless, worthless in Mando’a. Your heart stung a bit at the word. It’s not like you wanted to be covered in swamp gunk.
“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to make more of a mess,” you stuttered, nervous at the potential of him being mad at you.
Without a word, he reached down and hauled you to your feet, large hands grasped you at your waist. You became off balance and placed your hands on his chest for leverage. A slight gasp escaped your throat at the sudden movement–and at touching Mando’s bare chest.
His skin was soft, but rough. Thin black hairs littered his sternum and the surrounding skin. A light trail made its way down his soft, yet toned, stomach and disappeared past the waist of his sweatpants. Once you realized where your gaze settled–the soft bulge displayed behind the black fabric–your eyes snapped back up to his visor and your hands returned to your sides. Mando’s hands brushed the insides of your forearms. The skin on his hands was rough and warm, just like the skin on his chest.
The T shape tilted and then shook from side to side, “I’m di’kutla, not you. I’m the one that pushed you over.”
His head peered downwards and noticed the placement of his hands, he quickly jerked them back to his sides and nodded, “Let’s get cleaning.”
–
The Mandalorian quickly pulled an outfit together, which lacked his usual beskar–the same black sweatpants, a black t-shirt, and a pair of black socks–and you mirrored his actions. Thankfully, he only caused your clothes to get dirty and not the rest of you. Your clean outfit was more revealing, which allowed you to bend and twist to scrub the mud off of the Crest’s interior.
While scrubbing, you would catch Mando out of the corner of your eye as he stole glances at you. An eyebrow of yours raised at his glances. You shot him a quick, “Don’t worry Mando, I’m getting it all,” in a teasing manner.
Looking back at the beskar-less man, he shook his helmet and chuckled, “I’m not worried about you getting it all. You keep the Crest sparkling clean. Was just…seeing if you needed help over there.” His visor returned to focus on the task of removing the mud from the floor of the hull.
–
The cleaning finished after an hour and a half. You were shocked at the efficiency, but you supposed two people cleaning aided in achieving the cleanliness of the Crest. Scrubbing the silver floors and walls tired you out, and Mando certainly felt the same after his hunt and scrubbing.
Sleep permeated throughout the air of the Crest and nestled itself into yours and Mando’s bodies. Fluid motions weaved your bodies past each other throughout the hull. Mando went back to change in his bunk while you used the fresher for your nightly routine. Once you were finished, you closed all the cabinets in the small space, signaling the return of your nightly products to their original places.
Which usually signaled Mando to stand outside of the fresher door.
His footsteps became louder as he strode to his usual spot across from the metal door of the fresher. You weren’t surprised to see Mando leaning against the wall of the hull.
But you were surprised at the bare chest staring back at you. The dark hairs on his chest littered your vision once more. The Mandalorian’s arms were crossed, which displayed every finely tuned muscle in the dim light of the hull.
You wanted to jump his bones. Climb him like a tree. Feel the expanse of his trunk-like arms under your palms.
“Are you all done there?” His modulated bass crackled through your thoughts. Straightening up and snapping out of your daydreams, you stepped to the side and nodded. Mando’s frame became larger as he approached you. Once your bodies were about to pass each other, an ungloved hand settled on your hip and gave you a slight squeeze.
“Thank you,” he said. His visor met your eyes before he closed the door to the fresher.
You got comfy in your makeshift bed–a nice pillow, a thick sleeping pad, and a cozy blanket–and waited for Mando to finish his nightly routine. You always tried to stay up and say good night to Mando before you drifted off to sleep.
Facing the side of the Crest the fresher was on, your head hit the cushion of your pillow and your thoughts wandered.
Mando looked so fucking good. Deliciously good.
You’ve had thoughts about him before. Perverse thoughts. But they were never this strong. But you’ve also never seen him this bare this many times.
His strong arms could wrap around you and flood your body with his warmth. Broad hands would travel up and down your back, soothing any negative thoughts away. Warm skin against yours could act like a salve for your worries.
You could think of everything vividly. His arms. Hands. Chest. Even his legs.
But the feel and morphology of his lips was blurry in your mind's eye.
Yet, you wanted his lips so bad–wanted him so bad–that you didn’t mind the unfocused image in your brain.
You wanted his lips to chase after yours like they were a bounty with the highest reward he’s seen. You needed to feel the slick of his saliva mixing with yours. The dancing of your two tongues in a battle of lust. Not only did you pine after his kiss, but you sought everything that would accompany it as well.
Mando’s ungloved hands would run up and down the planes of your body. Squeezing and palming your features as he pleased, expressing his want for you. The comfortable weight of him on top of you as your mouths molded together. His shifting muscles underneath your palms as you copied his wandering hands. You’d trail your fingertips over the never-ending expanse of his firm back. The pressure of his hard shaft would grind against your mound.
And the sounds.
The sounds.
You’ve heard him grunt before, in pain, effort, exertion, while he handled his bounties.
But you wanted to cause the sounds instead.
His lips could slide against yours and vibrate as he lets out a soft groan of pleasure. The bare chest on top of yours would rumble, sending shivers of delight up and down your spine. Your fingers would dig into his back in response, which would only increase the intensity of his groans. His breath would hitch as the head of his cock rubbed against the point in your walls that had you reeling.
And finally his voice.
Modulated or not, you hoped he would reciprocate the want you had for him. Your thighs pressed together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them.
“Maker, you feel so good.”
“Need you right now.”
“You like that, baby? Yeah? Good.”
“Fuucckkk, always so good for m-.”
You were cut off by the squeaky hinges of the fresher door, accompanied by Mando’s footsteps. Still shirtless, he came into one side of your vision and slowly walked to the other side. Your face heated up at his presence and the thoughts you just had about him. He stopped in front of his bunk and looked at you.
The T of his visor became diagonal, “You okay?” He questioned you.
Realizing he caught on, your face heated up even more as you produced a response, “Y-yeah! Yeah. Just…thinking.”
Nice save.
His helmet returned to its natural positioning. “What’re you thinking about?” He questioned once again. His large hands clasped in front of him just below his waist. Maker, he was huge. Mando put the width of the doorframe to shame as he continued to stare at you.
“Just…” You quickly tried to remedy the one sided awkwardness. “Just thinking about a book I’m reading. The plot is getting more complex.” Your shoulders rose and fell in a shrug to make your answer seem nonchalant.
“What book? Is it the cowboy one?” Mando replied. He leaned against the doorframe to get comfortable.
Your heart throbbed at his thoughtfulness. The cowboy-related book was one you brought up to him a couple weeks ago, when he asked what you were reading. Not wanting to lie to him, you shook your head and told the truth, “No, I finished that one a couple days ago. This one is about,” you trailed off, and then lied, “This is a romance book.” Your face became hot once again. At least you weren’t completely lying.
“Romance?” Mando asked, “What’s this book called?” His helmet tilted in interest. You could pick up a teasing tone if you listened closely enough.
“Oh, I don’t think you’d like it,” you returned. He usually asked for book titles when he was interested in reading them as well.
His bare shoulders shrugged, causing his chest to flex for a moment. “Was just curious what you were reading.” He sounded a bit disappointed. The door frame appeared to widen as he turned to enter his bunk.
Not wanting to leave him hanging, you made up a book title, “Hunter and Prey.” Your eyes widened at the sheer explicitness of the three words that left your lips. Hunter and Prey? Really? It would have been easier just to tell him what you were daydreaming about him railing you.
Mando’s broad frame filled the entrance to his bunk once again. “Hunter and Prey?” He said in a teasing tone, one much more decipherable.
You throw his tone right back at him, “Oh c’mon. The book has romance and adventure. Two birds with one stone.” You’ve told him how much you like adventure books, so hopefully your lie stuck.
The beskar helmet slanted in thought. “I guess so,” he settled his playful response and paused. A playful tone arose from his modulator once more,
“Don’t get too interested in bounty hunters. I think getting caught is only fun in the books.” His chest, dark hairs splaying across the surface, vibrated as he chuckled.
A slight smile spread across your face at his joke, “You never know, some bounty hunters don’t take their job as seriously as you do,” you stuck your tongue out at him in jest.
Mando shook his head, probably biting back a chuckle, and faced his torso towards you for the final time that night, “Good night.”
Still smiling, you responded, “Good night.”
The bunk door shut and only a dim light in the hull remained as a light source. Shadows from different cargo boxes cast themselves across the silver wall. It would take too much work to decipher which reflections on the walls belonged to which items. Warm light from a lamp near your living space casted a blanket of relaxation over the area. You couldn’t escape the feeling, and your body slumped into the material of the sleeping pad.
Once you closed your eyes, you realized your body was the only thing that the warm light seemed to calm down. In your mind, one thought took center stage.
Mando.
The way he leaned against the door frame. A broad expanse of dark hair covered his chest and traveled down past his waist, the horizontal and vertical lines of hair mimicking the T of his visor. Crossed arms were decorated with a smooth topography of muscles. His voice, laced with relaxation and ease. How attentiveness was like second nature to him.
How far did that attentiveness extend?
You thought about how carefully he listened and remembered details from your conversations. Picking up on things you’ve needed without you even realizing they’re necessary. Like the sleeping pad you’re laying on. The warm, cozy blanket he came back with one day.
Would he do the same in bed?
Your hand traveled down to your mound. Dipping under your waistband, your fingertips found your clit. Slow motions started to stimulate the bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. It wasn’t the first time you masturbated on the Crest, you were human after all. But it was the first time you masturbated without assistance–from a book, video, or picture–and were spurred on by thoughts alone.
He’d probably listen to your breath hitch as his thick, veiny fingers hooked into a spot on your inner walls just right. And he’d continue, hitting that exact spot over and over. With trained precision. Like it was nothing.
Upper teeth bite down on your lower lip as you thought about his fingers inside of you. How thick they are. How skilled he would be with them. Wet seeped from your slit onto your bottoms. The fingertips from your clit reached down to collect your wetness, and you resumed rubbing your clit at a faster pace.
He’d make you cum like it was his duty, as if it was part of his Creed. With confidence. Pride. Mando’s fingers would be soaked, so soaked that he’d raise them to meet your mouth. “Open.” He’d demand.
You knew you’d get that wet for him because you were already that wet for him. One of your hands continued rubbing your bundle while the other dipped into your entrance. A singular finger eased its way into your hole, but you wanted to feel the stretch. The stretch you knew his fingers would easily provide. Bringing another finger against the original one, you prodded at your entrance once more. You pushed into your wetness with two fingers.
That’s it.
Your eyes closed. Jaw dropped.
Your thoughts wandered to his fingers once more, syncing your thoughts with the way your body felt.
You’d take his fingers into your mouth and suck your slick from them. Right before they would retract, you coated the two digits in a layer of saliva. He observed his own fingers and understood your silent plea. “You want more, baby?” You nodded. His fingers returned to your wet hole and filled you once again.
Your own two fingers weren’t as thick as Mando’s, so you got used to the feeling of two. You needed more. The circling at your clit kept a constant pace as a third finger joined your other two. Your thoughts jumped to something that wasn’t his fingers.
His cock.
The soft bulge underneath the black fabric of his sweatpants. It was sizable, even when he was soft–you assumed he was soft–so how big would he be when he’s turned on? If his genetics maintained their pattern, he would be big.
He’d lean over you and line his hips up with yours. Each of your legs rested on one of his sides. A large hand would grip your hip to steady you, as he pushed the thick head of his cock into you. Mando would remain attentive. You knew he’d watch your face and listen to your breaths, your moans. His heavy cock found the same spot inside of you that his fingers did.
Your inner walls clenched around your three fingers. The strokes you took were slow and drawn out, savoring the fullness of your warmth.
Once he saw that you were comfortable, he’d pick up his pace. Your moaning increased, littered with, “please,” and, “Mando,” over and over. He’d groan at his name, fucking into you with more strength. Mando put the weight of his body behind his thrusts. Your body shifted up the mattress from the effort he put in.
A small, wet sound began to echo across the hull, but you were too close to care. The hand at your clit fell into a perfect rhythm with the thrusts of the fingers entering and leaving your soaking hole. You bit your lip as you quieted a moan that threatened to leak from your mouth.
Mando’s broad palm and thick fingers would lace between yours, holding your conjoined hands above your head while he fucked into you. The head of his cock perfectly brushed against a spot deep within your walls. A place that you couldn’t reach by yourself. The Mandalorian’s hot breath fanned across your neck, he panted and groaned from his exertion.
Another brush against your walls and you squeezed around him. “Fuucckkk,” he’d moan into your neck. He continued his pace and littered your neck in sloppy kisses. “That’s a good fucking girl.”
Both of your hands worked faster. Three fingers fucked into your hole, curled to try and hit the spot deep inside of you. Your other hand increased the pace of the study rub over your throbbing clit. The bottoms you wore felt soaked against your lower hand, yet you couldn’t care less.
Mando’s thrusts would be relentless. Hard. Fast. The weight of his heavy balls slapped against the tighter hole beneath the one he was fucking.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
Each thrust would be so final. Conclusive. He fucked you like he knew exactly how this would end. His visor hovered over your face. Your jaw was dropped and your eyebrows were furrowed. The horizontal line of his visor filled your vision. His voice was merely a growl, as he demanded, “Cum for me.”
Your body went stiff as euphoria washed over you in waves. Each wave took you apart and brought you back together. The wetness of your hole only became wetter, the sound echoed a bit louder than before. Despite your attention to staying quiet, your orgasm raged on. Every reassembly from each wave of pleasure calmed your being, and your stiff form slumped into your sleeping pad. Your hands kept moving, but at a slower pace. Another wave followed every thrust of your fingers. You savored the warmth your orgasm brought you. Halting your hands, your mind came-to.
That was the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had.
–
That hunt kriffing sucked, Mando thought.
Cold water ran down Mando’s body as he rinsed himself off in the fresher. Drops of liquid pattered onto the metal floor, pooling at his feet. Everything in his body felt limp, a result of his exhaustion from the hunt.
The only thing that wasn’t limp was his dick.
Mando was already on the edge of his perverse thoughts. Seeing you, comfortable and cozy, made his heart swell–and his cock. Providing for you was like breathing. After every hunt he looked forward to meeting your gaze and a soft smile spreading across your face.
Not only did he get to see you comfortable, but he saw you displaying your attraction to him. A display that included dropping your jaw when he took his shirt off.
He caught you gawking at him in the reflection of his chest plate. Your jaw dropped when he removed his final layers, and Maker, it only made his situation worse. Not only was his body dirty, his thoughts were dirty too.
Before his brain started to spiral, he quickly completed his rinse-off and turned off the shower in the fresher. Stepping out, he realized he didn’t bring any fresh clothes in with him.
Shit.
You were in the hull and would probably bring him something if he asked for it. But what does he ask for? A full outfit? He at least needed bottoms. He thought of how complicated it would be to explain where multiple things are in his bunk through the metal door of the fresher, so he opted to just ask for one thing–pants.
“Um. Hey. Would you mind getting me some pants, please?” Mando asked. He was a tad embarrassed. He plans hunts meticulously to save the most amount of time, he’s attentive to every detail in combat, and he forgot to bring pants into the fresher with him.
You brought him the pair and the Mandalorian quickly changed. Pausing before he touched the door handle, Mando became nervous. What if your jaw-dropping was one of disgust and not of attraction?
Only one way to find out.
–
Mando laid on the mattress in his bunk and finally let his thoughts wander. They wandered like a desperate quarry. So desperate to find a discreet place to live, but showing themselves at some point in the end.
He thought of the book you were allegedly reading: Hunter and Prey. You were reading a romance novel. About bounty hunters.
His hardened cock only made his sweatpants tighter. Hips shifting upwards, he sought relief in adjusting his position. The only thing adjusting did was rub the head of his cock against the fabric of his pants. Black fabric created a heart-stopping friction against his tip.
Dank farrick.
Finally giving in to his perverse thoughts, he let them wander. Just like how he would let an easy bounty wander around town. At any minute, he could capture them and complete his hunt, but sometimes he enjoyed “playing with his food” first.
His imagination put you on center stage. Your hair. Your eyes. The shape of your body and the planes of it he sought to run his hands over. Warm skin would glide underneath his palms and act like a sedative. Calmness washed over his mind. Then he thought of your lips. So delicately crafted. Your lips framed your gorgeous smile, like they were housing an ancient masterpiece in an art gallery.
The smile you gave him whenever he returned from a hunt made his heart melt. You’d be snuggled up reading, bent over the small stove cooking, or hunched over a mechanical issue. No matter the situation, you would look up and find his gaze behind his visor. Something anyone else could rarely accomplish. He finally felt like he had a purpose hunting, besides survival.
You.
You’d meet him halfway and wrap your arms around his torso. His arms would snake around your torso and hold you in a tight hug. “I missed you,” he’d say. “I missed you too,” your response would vibrate against his chest. His hands would run up and down your back, relishing the feel of your body in his capable arms.
He groaned at the thought. In frustration of not being able to have you. The simple image of a hug had him reeling, desperate to meld his being with yours. You were so perfect and lived in his damn ship. You spoke with him as if he were just Din, and not Mando. Images of domesticity juxtaposed images of his bounty hunting profession. It was a blessing and a curse.
The pair of you would retreat to his bunk and turn off the lights. Your bodies would press together as the two of you shared the space of the mattress. He would press his helmet into your hair, smelling the faint scent of you through the metal–and the shampoo you recently bought at a market. He’d use his broad hands and thick arms to bring you closer to him, nearly crushing you via cuddling.
Mando’s face heated up at the thought. Feeling the heat of your body against his was something he would be willing to get on his knees and beg for.
Hands would begin to drift and adventure in a bold manner. His palms would glide up and down your body, stopping occasionally to grasp and rub different areas. He thought of the way your ass would feel in his palms. Soft. A cushion. A spectacle he almost didn’t feel deserving of. His hands would wander north and his fingers would tease your nipples through your shirt. You’d gasp in response and squirm against him.
Maker. He almost forgot. The sounds you would make. The Mandalorian groaned and reached down to palm his cock through his sweatpants. Relief flooded his body like how precum flooded from the head of his cock. Rough palms glided up and down the silky skin of his shaft. Once the friction became too much, he reached into a side compartment and produced a small bottle. Squeezing the plastic sides of the bottle, a small dollop of lube was squirted onto his fingers. He quickly returned to his thoughts and his actions. The lube allowed his large grip to seamlessly run along the length of his shaft.
Shit. Would you be this wet?
After exploring the feel of your body, Mando would pull you to sit in his lap. You’d be in between his legs with your back facing him, your legs resting out in front of you. He’d grip the insides of your knees and encourage you to let your legs fall to either side. Once he was pleased with the positioning he asked, “Is it okay if I take these off?” Rough fingertips pinched at the waistband of your pants and underwear. Getting an enthusiastic nod and a small, raspy ‘yes’ in response, the Mandalorian pulled both articles of clothing off of your lower half.
He focused his strokes near the tip of his cock. The nerves in the head of his shaft sent electric currents through his body. Normally his self-pleasure sessions weren’t this intense, but you did something to him. You were special. Better than any brothel service. Any piece of pornography. You were gorgeous. Beautiful. Mesh’la.
He thought of dipping his fingers into your slit. Hopefully, that would pull another gasp from you. Every breathy exhale and pleasured sound only increased his need to hear them more frequently. Starting with one finger, his fingertip would push into your entrance. He’d go slow at first, pumping in and out of your wet sex knuckle by knuckle. Mando would give you some time to adjust to the feeling, and then increase his pace. Moans and gasps fell from your lips much more frequently than before. Your pussy was soaked from just a few fast strokes from his thick finger. If you were comfortable with it, he’d slip another finger alongside the singular one. His pace slowly increased to resume the speed that had your back and shaking legs pressed against his.
“Ohhh, Ma- Mando-o,” would quietly cry from your throat.
“Fucckkk,” Mando said under his helmet.
Wet sounds emanated from the action of stroking his rough grip up and down his thick shaft. Underneath the helmet, he bit his lip in frustration. He already imagined you could feel heavenly around his fingers, but he needed to feel your slick walls around his cock.
First he would make you cum with his fingers. The orgasm would send you reeling back into his hold. You’d be a shaking and stuttering mess, reaching for one of his broad hands and lacing your fingers between his. An effective way to ground yourself.
“Good girl,” he’d praise.
After you came down from your high, his strong arms would bring you to lay down long ways on the mattress. Parting your legs once more, Mando’s broad hips settled between yours. Glistening folds were presented to him at the center of his vision. You looked delicious. He wished to taste you, but his need to fuck you overtook the pleads from his tastebuds.
His thumb rubbed slow circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. Your sparkling eyes would meet the gaze behind his visor and your brows would furrow in desperation. He’d do anything you wanted. Anything to please you.
“What do you want, mesh’la?” His gravelly voice echoed throughout the small bunk.
You’d bite your lip, shyness creeping over your face, but you overcame the feeling. He loved it when you were confident in asking for something from him. “I want you to fuck me,” you requested.
Mando let out a strangled groan at his thought of the words. He loved knowing that you wanted him. He loved when you voiced your desires, sexual or not. Your comfort in his presence was the most potent aphrodisiac Mando could consume. The tip of his cock throbbed at the thought, and his thumb reached up to attempt to sooth the sensation. Bare hips bucked into the air at the touch.
He would line his hips up with yours and prod the wide head of his shaft against your wet entrance. Before pushing in, he reached towards a cabinet to produce his bottle of lube. Mando quickly spread a generous amount over the veiny surface of his cock. As much as he wanted to fuck you, your comfort was his upmost priority. Giving himself a few strokes with his large grip–your eyes trained on his hands–he lowered his hips once more. The T of his helmet stared into your face as he slowly pushed into you.
Your jaw would drop, just like it did in the reflection on his chest plate. The slick walls of your pussy hugged his thick cock, making his jaw drop in unison.
His wide hand tightened around his hardness. Each stroke had him fucking himself into his grip. Mando’s jaw clenched in concentration, the combination of his hand and thoughts of you were furthering him closer and closer to the edge.
The Mandalorian nearly collapsed on top of you, but he caught himself on his elbows, caging you in his hold. Silver beskar making up his helmet hovered over your face, his eyes trained on yours. A whimper escaped from your throat when the head of his cock brushed against a particular spot. He honed into the point and hit it repeatedly, with precision.
Your fingers dug into his bare back, most likely leaving crescent marks in their wake. He dropped his helmet into the crook of your neck. The action allowed him to hear every sound you made. Sometimes simple breathy moans, interrupted by his slow, yet strong thrusts. Other times, you’d attempt sentences:
“Ma- Mando. Maker, you feel so good.”
“K-kriff you’re b-big.”
“Mm-mm-mm, don’t, stop.”
A knot coiled in the pit of Mando’s stomach. He threw his head back into a plush pillow and focused his grip towards the tip of his cock. Quiet, slick sounds filled the space of the metal-lined bunk. His breath quickened as his imagination delved deeper.
Mando’s thrusts slowed to a near halt as he raised an arm and propped an elbow to hit a switch on the wall. The space went dark. Everything went silent.
Hiss.
Tunk.
In a hurry, he muttered, “can I kiss you, baby?”
Instead of replying in words, you craned your neck to meld your plush lips with his. Delightful needles ran up and down Mando’s body in pleasure. In disbelief. Feeling your lips on his was something he’s only dreamt of, knowing that completing the action would be a risk to his Creed.
But at this moment, Creed be damned, he craved the motions of your mouth against his. Fighting and expressing a bond that he longed for, slick lips slid against each other in a battle of lust-influenced emotions. Mando pushed his tongue into your mouth, and in the same motion, pushed his cock further into your wet heat.
His mouth swallowed your moans as he rutted the head of his cock against the particularly sensitive spot within your walls. The grip you had on his broad back became stronger. Skin against his hips brushed against the skin of your inner thighs, and your legs captured his body closer to yours. Lips tightened against his, shifting into a portrayal of pleasure, leaving you unable to kiss him properly. In response, the Mandalorian buried his head into the crook of your neck and placed sloppy kisses along your skin.
Almost there. Jaw clenched and teeth gritting, Mando fucked into his fist at a brutal pace. Soft pants accompanied the slick sounds in filling the space of his bunk. Maker, he hoped you were asleep. He didn’t know how much louder he’d get, and more importantly, how much control he had over his volume.
Unable to maintain a steady grip on his back any longer, your grasp traveled to the soft, wavy locks of his hair. The Mandalorian groaned. He didn’t realize how much he craved that simple contact, one many took for granted. Your fingertips massaged his scalp, and it was as if you massaged all of his worrisome, negative thoughts away.
“Oh, kriff Mando, keep going. F-fuck, you make me feel s-so good.”
A few more firm, yet gentle thrusts of his cock made you squeeze your soaking walls around his shaft. His balls felt heavy against your ass. He knew he was close.
“Mando, oh, oh, Mando, I’m gonna cum,” you whined out, the sound filled his ears as he continued his pace and his languid kisses against your neck.
Mando squeezed his eyes shut. Teeth dug into the thin skin of his lower lip, the hairs of his mustache tickled the skin directly below his lip. Large hands maintained the quick pace along the silky skin of his cock. Just a few more strokes and he was done for.
A knot twisted and turned in the pit of his stomach, and he fucked into your glistening seam with more vigor. Your moans became strangled whines. Each escaping gasp climbed octaves until you finally snapped and clamp your pussy around his cock.
“I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh, Din!”
The Mandalorian snarled as thick streams of cum erupted from the head of his cock. Translucent, white liquid covered his stomach and chest. His head spun as the waves of pleasure washed over him. The sensations dug themselves deep into his bones and he felt like he was floating. A cloud of ecstasy trapped him and he didn’t want to leave. Seeking to draw his orgasm out longer, he continued fucking his hand until the sensations became too much. Mando’s chest dramatically rose and fell in the aftermath. Panting, he looked down at the mess he made on himself.
That was the strongest orgasm he’d ever had.
Reaching towards a different cabinet, he grabbed a soft towel and began wiping up his mess. Thoughts rushed throughout his mind, in contrast from his usual mindset after masturbating. In the chorus of wandering thoughts that still occupied his mind, one made itself bold and prominent.
Maker, he needs to ask you on a date.
–
Mando stood a meter or two in front of you. His hands hung uselessly by his sides. Posture slightly askew, you could sense he was doubting himself. Thick fingers played with the strings on the bracelet while he waited for your response.
Your jaw went slack, eyes widened. So you weren’t crazy. Everything added up. He made caf for you every morning. The small ‘good nights’ he gave you every night. The even smaller ones with an added word in Mando’a, one he never said around you. The things he told you, about his son, about his feelings, that he never said to anyone else. How he was careful around you, trying not to look intimidating. He tried to make you comfortable at all times.
He cared just like you cared.
You placed one foot in front of the other, giving Mando time to back up if he wanted. He remained in place as he waited for your approach. The armored man stood like a statue in the hull. The beskar and the metal of the Crest became one. If you didn’t focus on him too much, he almost looked like a statue erected in the middle of the hull. As the toes of your boots met the toes of his, you snaked your arms around his waist and pressed your head to his chestplate.
Mando instantly wrapped you up in his solid arms. His helmet was buried into the crook of your neck, the cold metal delightfully stung your skin, and he squeezed you. The Mandalorian’s large hands ran up and down your back as his hold refused to let you go.
You didn’t want to let him go either. Your body sought fusion with his warmth, with his being. All of the comfort he provided. All of the safety that he gave you. It seeped through his body to yours. A sense of peace washed over you.
Mando’s helmet shifted towards your head more, the modulator crackling near your ear, “Is it safe to say we feel the same?” His broad hand continued to rub along your back. The warmth from his palm created the most soothing sensation you’ve experienced. Bringing yourself out of the state of bliss to recognize the question he was asking, your brows furrowed. He almost sounded uncertain of himself, voice tinged with hope.
You leaned backwards to look into his visor. A Mandalorian. The Mandalorian. Sworn to a creed of combat and honor. Mando didn’t have a problem taking down a dozen people at a time, but confessing his feelings to you made him nervous. A small chuckle escaped from your chest at the realization.
The corners of your eyes crinkled from your laughter. His helmet tilted in confusion. “Yes, Mando, we feel the same.” You raised a hand to hold the crook of his neck, rubbing your thumb along the fabric of his cowl.
He pulled you into another hug, this one with more space between the two of you, so he could look down and into your eyes. Your hands rested on his chest plate, and his rested on your waist. A rumbling feeling against your hands made your head tilt in confusion this time. Mando continued to clear his throat. His breaths got slightly quicker.
“I feel like I need to explain th-,” the Mandalorian cleared his throat once again, “I need to explain the condoms.”
Your eyes widened. He doesn’t have to explain himself, but if he wasn’t going to the brothel, why did he need them? Mando only expressed interest in you, as far as you know.
Oh.
Oh.
The beskar-clad man’s chest rose and fell with a deep inhale and exhale, preparing himself for explaining the condoms on the receipt from the market.
“I was going to ask you out on a date. Just something simple,” he shrugged and brought his covered eyes to meet yours, “I bought your favorite snacks, got us some takeout, and I was going to give you the bracelet then. I just wanted to be prepared in case anything…escalated.”
Cheeks burning, you took Mando’s hands into yours. You smirked and gave him a light chuckle. “You would try to fuck me on the first date, Mando?”
He looked down at the floor of the hull and shook his head. “I’d only do what you’re comfortable with,” he said, giving your hands a squeeze.
“You also don’t even know if I would have said yes to a date,” you teased him.
A low rumble resonated from his chest, he hooked a finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer. “I think I might have made a fair assumption.”
Hands glided up Mando’s chest, and you clasped them behind his neck. “You’ll never know unless you ask…” Another rumble came from his chest. A hand snaked its way from your waist to your chin. Mando’s index finger and thumb grabbed your chin and made you look at him face-to-face.
“Well, would you like to go on a date with me?” The beskar helmet tilted and gleamed in the faint lights of the Crest’s hull.
“Yes, Mando, of course I do.” Your eyes took after Mando’s helmet and they gleamed with joy. The dull silver of the hull starkly contrasted your excitement. Warmth between the two of you radiated and exploded throughout the space. Your energies seeped into the metal of the Crest just as your feelings seeped into each other's consciousness.
Mando’s large hand returned to rub long lines up and down your back. “I got your favorite snacks, some takeout…” He reminded you as his speech trailed off.
“How soon can we go on the date?” You asked eagerly in response. Snacks, takeout, and Mando sounded like the perfect combination. A perfect way to turn around the anxious thoughts that clouded your mind not even an hour ago.
“We can do it now…?” Mando suggested slowly.
“Yes! Yes please!” You bounced in place and threw your arms around the Mandalorian. He reciprocated your hug with an even tighter squeeze and pulled away from you.
“Let me find a good place to park the Crest,” Mando walked away and climbed the ladder to the cockpit. You went to follow him, but he turned and stopped you at the base of the ladder. “You stay down here, it’s going to be a surprise.” Before you could respond he bounded up the ladder and began takeoff.
–
Mando pressed his vambrace and the ramp slowly revealed the market in the distance. Lights flashed and others were lit in different colors. Rolling hills were lit up by the faint glow. The sun was fully set, which allowed the sky to display an array of stars.
“This is beautiful, Mando.” You turned towards the man in silver and he wasn't looking at the sky. Not looking at the gorgeous colors streaking out from the center of the market, onto the landscape. Not even the different lights and colors that lit the small town.
His gaze was focused on you.
“I was hoping you’d like it.” He took a few steps closer to you with the market bag, a blanket, and two pillows in hand. Stepping in front of you, he laid out the blanket where the hull’s floor meets the ramp. Reaching into the market bag, he took out an assortment of snacks and a takeout meal for each of you.
“Mando, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you chuckled in amazement.
“I didn’t have to, yes. But I wanted to,” he bends down to sit on the blanket and he offers a hand to help you down. You took it and plopped down next to him, your thigh brushed his as you reached for different food items. Mando leaned on his arms placed behind him, watching in amusement as you enjoyed yourself.
The assortment he managed to purchase amazed you. Each item was something you’ve mentioned to him before. A shiny bag of one particular food, a box filled with something else, and a steaming takeout container of another dish. Relishing the diversity of it all, thoughts of Mando’s enjoyment prodded your mind.
You turn to him, “Aren’t you going to eat?”
His helmet turned towards you and he waited a second. The helmet. No kriff, he can’t eat with you.
“I’m sorry, I for-.” Mando stopped you.
“You know I don’t mind when you eat in front of me,” he started.
He was right. You felt bad in the mornings when you sipped on your caf and indulged in your breakfast. He was probably hungry after a night’s rest. The Mandalorian told you at the time, “I’m used to it. Mandalorians never bonded over food or eating.”
Expecting the same reasoning to leave his mouth and filter through the helmet, you were shocked when he chose a different path.
“I’ve been planning this for a while, mesh’la,” he paused and adjusted his positioning on the ground, “I’ve been thinking of ways to eat with you…” He explained, and then trailed off.
He’s been thinking of ways to eat with you. To eat. With you. Something he’s never done with you before. In the past, you’ve tried to get him to, even saying you’d wear a blindfold, but he never wanted to take that step.
And what does mesh’la mean?
“You don’t have to, I understand if-.” You began to tell him.
“I think I found a way that I would be comfortable with,” Mando said.
“What is–. Oh, Maker!” You squealed as Mando scooped you up and placed you in his lap. Your back to him and your legs tangled with his. As soon as you settled, the Mandalorian took his takeout container and brought it between your back and his stomach.
“There’s one rule,” his modulator crackles in your ear as he rests the temple of his helmet against your actual temple, “you can’t turn around.”
“I won’t,” you squeaked, heart beating out of your chest, “I swear to you.”
The cold feeling of the beskar disappeared from the side of your head. What you didn’t expect was the hiss of the helmet breaking its seal around Mando’s head, even though it was implied. What you definitely didn’t expect was for Mando to place the helmet just enough forward that you could see it in your peripheral as you ate.
You forgot Mando was a human. He had a head and a face. And his face was not the one that peaked at you from the corner of your eye. His face is the one directly behind your head.
The popping sounds of the food container being opened snapped you out of your thoughts. Mando’s utensils clinked against the sides of the container as he gathered food to put into his mouth.
“Mmmm,” he grunts out, his mouth probably full of food. A few more seconds went by, “that’s really good.”
His voice.
His unmodulated voice.
It was like honey dripped over your body. Soaked through your skin and traveled through your veins. Soothed you. The warmth between you two increased yet again. Not just physical warmth, but the warmth you felt when you discovered new things about each other. When you discover new ways to care and new things to remember.
“What’s on your mind?” His large, calloused hand found the crook of your knee and gave it a light squeeze. His other hand set his empty food container to the side. That was fast, you thought. But you suppose he eats for business, not for pleasure.
“What does mesh’la mean?” You asked him as you marveled at the sight of the market again. His knees pressed into yours and the hand not on your knee snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer to him.
He tucked his face into the crook of your neck. His breath fanned over your ear and he tightened his arm around you as he spoke, “Mesh’la is Mando’a,” he hummed as he pecked a quick kiss onto your neck, “Mesh’la means beautiful.”
You smiled, face heating up, and hummed another question, “and what does cyar’ika mean?”
Mando buried his face into the back of your hair and left another quick peck on your head. He pulled away to mutter near your ear, “Cyar’ika roughly translates to sweetheart.”
Your torso vibrated against his, that’s really sweet, you thought, but you wanted to tease him a bit, “First date and you’re already calling me beautiful, huh? And you’ve been calling me cyar’ika for a while now.” A smirk splayed across your face.
The Mandalorian went stiff and asked, “For a while?” Confusion radiated from him and his beskar.
Your smirk morphed into a small smile. “Sometimes I wait up for you when you go on hunts, or I happen to be awake when you come back,” your heartbeat picks up at your confession, but you continued, “I like hearing you say good night to me. It’s…comforting. But then you started tacking ‘cyar’ika’ onto the end of it.” You shrugged like it was nothing.
Mando shifted underneath you, realizing he’d been caught red handed. Then he countered with, “One year of being crew partners and you’re already planning matching bracelets, huh?”
He got you there.
Softly giggling, you reach an arm backwards and bat a hand at his chest, playfully tapping him. A chuckle comes from behind your head. His hold around your waist fastens and he brings his wrist donning the bracelet out in front of you. He wraps his large hand around yours, the one with your bracelet on your wrist. You peer down and admire the identical weavings of thread.
Mando’s throat clears behind you and he speaks softly next to your ear, “I think you have good taste. It matches my armor,” his knee comes up to nudge yours. A moment of silence followed, “The green is for my son, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” meekly comes from your throat. The broad grasp covering your own gave your hand a squeeze. Mando rested his chin on your shoulder and faced the crook of your neck. Soft breaths fanned over your exposed skin.
“Did I get his color right?” You questioned. He previously said Grogu was a light green color, and you hoped the color on the bracelets mimicked his color.
The Mandalorian brought your joined hands up to focus on the color of the light green thread weaving from between the silver and brown. When he spoke, his tone sounded strained, “Yeah, yeah that’s probably it.”
When Mando last spoke to you about his son, he said it’s been a year or so since he gave them to the Jedi. A year without his little one, the bundle of joy that Mando cherished. Then the reason for his uncertain answer and strained voice washed over you.
“You,” an exhale steadied your soft speech, “You can’t remember his color that well, can you?”
A shaking breath made the man’s torso shudder against yours, “No, I can’t,” he admitted in a tight voice. His face pressed deeper into the crook of your neck and he held you close to his chest. You rubbed circles along the back of his hand in comfort. Hesitantly, you brought your other hand behind you and ran your fingers through his hair.
The texture of it made your heart melt. It was longer than you thought it’d be, you assumed he would keep it short so it didn’t bother him within the confines of his helmet. Soft waves brushed through your fingers. Your fingertips lightly scratched at the roots of his hair on his scalp.
You thought your heart melted, but Mando melted exponentially more. The large frame that was his body nearly crushed yours with the tension he released. A soft groan left his throat and vibrated against your neck. Mando’s body loosely wrapped around yours in a protective shell.
“I was hoping that the green on the bracelet would make you think of him. It could make you remember,” you explained to him, continuing the scratches against his scalp.
Then it was silent. Sounds of your exhales and the small rustling sounds of your fingers through his waves of hair were the only ones that traveled to your ear drums. The Mandalorian was heavy against you, boneless, acting as a beskar-weighted blanket. His warmth permeated from his body to yours. It was comforting. He was comforting.
Then a sharp inhale from Mando, “I have to thank you,” he began.
You nearly snapped around to respond, but you kept your gaze trained on the twinkling lights of the market. “For what?” You asked.
“For everything,” he added.
Was Mando really giving you a job review right now? On your first date? “Mando,” you chuckled and shook your head, “I’m just doing my job.”
“I’m not talking about the job, cyar’ika.”
Your eyes widened. Oh. No words exited your mouth.
Mando continued, “I need to thank you for making me feel safe. You’re, you ju–,” he sighed in annoyance with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m not too good at this.” His strong arms gave your waist a squeeze.
Before you could reply, he resumed his train of thought. “You make me feel emotionally safe. I know I can tell you anything. Share whatever is on my mind. And you’ll be there for me,” a deep inhale interrupted his speech, “and I haven’t had that since I had Grogu.”
His tone was strained once again and he shook his head while it was nestled near your neck. Gaining composure, he explained, “People look at me and see this bloodthirsty Mandalorian. They’re scared of me. Kriff, I’m sure some have mistaken me for some emotionless droid,” his speech snarled at the word.
You smirked at his distaste for the metal beings, but you didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts with a snide remark.
“But you see me as human. As a man with emotions and thoughts. You talk to me like I’m just a guy that happens to be covered in beskar.”
That was where you butted in, “Because that’s what you are Mando. And you’re not just some guy. You’re a Mandalorian, an actual one, the ones that no one seems to recognize today. Mandalorians are bound to a Creed of honor. Mandalorians stick to their word. They rescue. They protect. They care,” you paused to grasp the hand laying on top of yours, “You’ve told me enough about your Creed for me to realize that very little of it is truly about being solely physically and mentally intelligent. It’s about the combination of those strengths with emotional intelligence. Because what is using your head if you aren’t using your heart too?”
Mando was silent behind you. His body was stiff, no longer relaxed. Shit, did you offend him? You weren’t Mandalorian, should you have been interpreting the Creed?
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be analyzing your Creed like that. I’m not Ma-”
“No,” he stopped your speech, and resumed his, the baritone of his voice being small within his throat, “You got it all right.” Strong arms squeezed you. Mando held onto you as if someone threatened to take you from him. His face returned to its spot by your neck and he whispered, “Maker, you’re perfect.”
The words sent chills down your spine. Before you could fully relish in the implications of his phrase, small kisses were being planted up and down the curve of your neck. Eyelids closed, you bit your lip at the brushes of his lips against your skin. No longer distracted by the visuals of the market lights, your attention focused on the feeling of his face on your neck. Soft lips meticulously placed pecks up your neck. His face slid against your warm skin, leaving a prickling sensation in its wake.
Prickling…your eyes widened and you straightened up, just slightly.
Mando froze in his tracks, voice laced with concern, “you okay?”
You cleared your throat and let out a small chuckle, “Yeah, yeah, I just,” your body vibrated against his as you chuckled again, “I just realized you have facial hair,” you explained as your face heated up. Half in embarrassment of not realizing earlier, and half in excitement. You loved facial hair.
“Oh. Yeah,” he hesitated, “do you not like it? I can shave if you-.”
You stopped him before he could finish, “No! No, I mean. I like facial hair,” you explained sheepishly.
A smirk grew on Mando’s face, and you didn’t even have to see him to know it was there. Stubble prickled on the skin of your neck once again. This time, the man rubbed his face across the slope in front of him in an attempt to tickle you.
A giggle bubbled out of your chest and you twisted in his hold. The fanning of his breath over your neck created a delicious warmth on your skin. Warmth that soothed the pin pricks from the man’s stubble. Mando’s trunk-like arms caged you in and kept you tight in his grasp. He stopped after only a few seconds, placing soft kisses on the skin that he just scratched.
The kisses down your neck became more intense. Mando would graze his teeth against your skin and tighten his hold around you. The small marks trailed further down your neckline. Receiving the trail of small marks felt like a dream. Each mark gave you a slight pinch, sending your hips rocking backwards to grind against him.
A soft moan left Mando’s lips and vibrated against the skin of your neck. His grip tightened near your waist and brought your hips closer to his groin. Soft lips returned to your neck, the other side this time, and began placing small hickeys down your skin. One place in particular, where your jawbone meets your neck beneath your ear, sent your ass grinding down into his lap.
Then you feel him.
And you kind of freak out.
He’s big.
Were you ready for this? Of course you’ve dreamt about it, you kriffing came to the thought of it, but the opportunity overwhelmed you. Your mind raced. You felt like you didn’t consider all of the factors that went into this.
Sure, you’ve had sex before, but what if you weren’t good enough for Mando? You’re still clothed and he already has you hot and bothered. You haven’t done anything to him yet. You had to do something or else you’re going to be a dead fish in bed. Were you ready to actually do something with him?
Your hips stilled, and of course Mando noticed.
His actions also paused, “You okay, cyar’ika?” He asks softly. Mando’s words make their home in your heart and you melt. You are okay. You’re with him. But being with him made you anxious. Mando didn’t deserve to put up with shitty sex.
“I just,” you paused and shifted in Mando’s lap, “I think I need to lie down,” you lied to him. He quickly reached for his helmet and sealed it back around his head. The pair of you organized the garbage and the remaining snacks, quickly getting ready for bed.
–
You were almost there. You could’ve done it. You dreamt about it for months and yet you chickened out. His hands were right there, and you got up and went to bed. Dank farrick.
Mulling over your thoughts, you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling of the Crest’s hull. You could masturbate to the thought of him again, sure, but it just wouldn’t compare. The thoughts of Mando’s hands, his broad chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his legs wrapped around yours haunted your consciousness and refused to allow you to fall asleep.
It was only amplified by the thought Mando put into the date.
“I’ve been planning this for a while.” He said.
How long? He happened to get your favorite snacks, your favorite takeout, he went back to get the bracelets, and he parked the Crest to get an amazing view of the light-filled market. Mando put all this thought into the date and he made some moves on you.
Your heart and clit were beating at the same loud pace.
In an attempt to focus on something other than the ghost of Mando’s hard-on on your lower back, you opened a side door and exited the Crest. The door opened and closed quietly with your careful treatment of the doorknob.
The market is still it up beautifully, projecting the colored waves of light onto the surrounding hills. You sat just a few feet away from the Crest, knees tucked up towards your chest, your chin resting on your kneecaps. After a couple minutes of sitting outside, you found that the best way to distract yourself was trying to count all of the different vendors you could see. The lights made it difficult to distinguish one stall from another, and it didn’t help that the market was sizable.
Forty four, forty five, forty six…
“Do you mind if I join you?” The voice came from the exact man you were trying not to think about. But he was also the exact man you wanted.
You looked back towards him and patted the ground beside you. He accepted your silent invitation and plopped his body down next to yours. A breeze swept through the night landscape and left you covered in goosebumps, slightly shivering. Mando must have noticed, since he draped his long, black cape over your shivering frame. His arm followed the embrace of the cape and pulled you closer towards his heat-radiating body. The other arm snaked under your legs and he barely lifted you, so you settled into the shape of his body. Just like Mando’s cape, silence fell over the both of you. His grip around you remained tight while he did his best to warm you up.
“Why are you sitting out here?” He whispered to you. The helmet crinkled his voice, resulting in the crackling of the syllables. Delicacy laced the syllables that flowed into your ears, despite their choppiness.
Your shoulders rose and fell and you followed it with a sigh, “I was just thinking too much. Couldn’t fall asleep.”
The shoulder leaning against Mando vibrated when he hummed in understanding.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered.
Your head fell to his shoulder to rest. The pair of you talked about a good majority of things. Whatever ended up on your or Mando’s mind. You found it to be a great stress reliever and knew that the Mandalorian did as well. If you didn’t get it out, by talking to Mando, the regretful feeling would just ruminate in your brain forever. At this point you highly doubted that this was a conversation topic that could cause Mando’s feelings about you to change.
“I just feel dumb.” You deadpanned.
“Dumb? Why’s that?” He responded immediately.
You paused and considered your choice of words. Being blunt was probably the best course of action. It was Mando after all.
“You wanted to do more with me and I rejected you,” you sighed and pressed your face into his shoulder.
Another quick response followed, “That’s completely okay. You don’t have to do something just because I want to do it. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable earlier. I meant what I said. We’re only going to do what you–.”
Your head left his shoulder and faced his helmet to look into the depths of the thin black line running horizontally across the beskar. His speech stopped at your action.
“I wanted to do it. I wanted you to do it,” you admit.
Mando’s bones turned to jelly beneath you–you didn’t realize how tense he had gotten–and yet his helmet tilted in confusion.
Before he could ask the question, you answered, “I was nervous. I haven’t done anything like that in a while. Maybe I wasn’t going to be good in bed.” Your face returned to his shoulder to nestle itself into the crook of his neck.
His embrace tightens around you once more. The T shaped gaze dropped to meet yours and he shook his head from side-to-side.
“Cyar’ika,” his chest jumps from a chuckle, “all you have to do to be good in bed is lay on the mattress,” he slowly grits out. His voice is so smooth you’re surprised his speech is still modulated. Still in doubt, the corner of your mouth pinched upward and your brows bunched together.
He noticed the uncertainty of your expression and slowly added, “I also haven’t done anything like this in awhile,” a pause was accompanied by the shaking of his head and a harsh exhale, “and I’m kriffing nervous too.”
A small smile spread across your face at the confession. It did make you feel better. He was going through the same emotions you were. The somersaults of butterflies that wound your stomach into knots. Lightheadedness that flooded through your bodies at the sight of the other. Your emotions were so strong, these physical responses accompanied them.
The Mandalorian’s actions put you in a state of awe for the trillionth time. He does things that would make you freeze, panic, scream for help, for his help. Physical conflict was like breathing to him. It was involuntary. Completed without thought.
So many nerves bubbled within him. All because of you. All he had to do was confess his feelings to you and his composure shattered into a million pieces.
A million pieces you would pick up and put back together. You would reassemble the puzzle that was Mando over and over again. If it meant spending time with him, you would do it for eternity. Each time finding a new piece, a new feature to treasure and combine with the rest.
Mando continued to hold your body and your gaze. The combination of him and his cape have warmed you up considerably, and you find yourself being languidly pulled closer into his torso. Your butt settled between his two thick thighs. Both of your thighs settled on top of one of his. The warmth and physical contact was appreciated, and you rested your head on the Mandalorian’s shoulder once more.
You’re quite literally being cradled by him. One of his toned arms finds its way behind your back to keep your torso against his. The other arm found its way to your knees, holding you closer to him as much as possible. A gloved hand runs up and down your thigh once he’s satisfied with the method of cuddling.
The friction his leather hand creates on your thigh is delicious. Every bit of heat from the contact is being transported throughout your body. You felt heavy and relaxed. But the heat from his hand turned into a burning need. The strokes up and down your thigh got riskier. His hand made its way farther up your thigh. Thick fingers splayed across your clothed limb, the wide spread covered more surface area, which drove the heat from his touch right to your clit. On some strokes, his thumb would graze the inside of your thigh. Almost there, but not close enough.
Bathing in the warmth of his touch, you didn’t realize your eye contact with Mando was maintained. He must have noticed your expressions morph into ones that you make when deep in thought. His thumb grazed the inside of your thigh once more, and you bit your lip at the tingly sensation on your bundle of nerves.
That’s all he needed to see what was on your mind. Still maintaining eye contact, his hand stopped on your upper thigh. Mando’s grip gently tightened as he spoke. The modulated voice sailed across a smooth sea of honey as he laid out his words.
“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. Anything, mesh’la.”
You got your do-over. There’s no way you’d reject him now.
The bone of your teeth grazed your lip. Eyes closed, you took a deep breath and gained some composure. Mando’s helmet filled your vision once you opened your eyes. His chest rose and fell in anticipation.
A small smile made its way onto your face. “Can you pick up where we left off?” You suggested.
Rumbling emanated from his chest, his grips on your back and your thigh tightened in delight. He pulled you closer to him in a hug and buried his modulator near your ear.
“Here or in the Crest?”
“Crest.”
The beskar man helped you onto your feet and led you back inside of the Crest. Once the door was shut and locked, and once Mando triple-checked the security systems, he sauntered over to you. His hands found their way to your waist as he pushed you back in the direction of his bunk.
His bunk.
Before you could fully process it, you were lying on the long bed watching Mando as he stood, removing his armor from his body piece by piece. Just his flight suit remained on his large frame. He hardly gave you time to admire him before he sat beside you and pulled you into his lap once more. The Mandalorian’s hands–now bare–settled back into their previous positions.
Feeling more confident than you were before, you leaned into his neck and placed light kisses along the curve. A deep groan rumbled from his chest and his hands ran up and down your body. You playfully bit the skin of his neck and sucked, bringing a hand up to rest on his neck to keep it in place. Your hickey-like kisses trailed upwards towards his jaw. Once you met the juncture where his neck met his jawbone, you sucked on his skin harder and left a light mark.
He loved that. The grip on your thighs and waist became impossibly tight as he growled. Every noise that escaped from his helmet went straight to your clit. Your hips ground downwards onto his thigh, but to no avail. A look of desire painted your face but a sound of frustration–desperation–left your mouth.
Mando hummed in agreement. The low tone through the modulator questioned you, “Where do you want me to touch you first, mesh’la?”
You turned into a puddle. A horny, wet, puddle.
“I’ll do anything.” He said conclusively.
Biting your lip, your brows furrowed in delight at the sensation of his grip. The hand on your thigh was higher up your thigh than any time before. Warmth from his palm traveled from the neurons in your quads to the nerves in your clit.
“Rub my clit? Please?” you asked. Desperation leaked from your mouth at the request. If Mando didn’t put his hands down your bottoms in the next thirty seconds, you were sure you were going to explode.
Mando’s chest vibrated as he chuckled, “Mmmm. I like it when you ask nicely. Good girl.”
Oh. Fuck.
You were molten beskar in his hands, at his forge. You trusted him. His skill. His knowledge of you. His perceived obligation to you. And you were ready to be shaped. Molded. Created into something new. With his support.
His stare remained on your face as his fingertips found your clothed clit. You tensed at the contact and his motions slowed.
“That alright?” He asked, concern melded to the grit of the voice that left the modulator.
A confirming hum vibrated from your throat. Your nod accompanied the sound.
“Have to hear you say it.” He responded. At first you thought he was teasing you, but the tone he used and the intense stare that was glued to your face said otherwise.
“I need to and I want to make sure you’re alright every step of the way, yeah?”
You nodded up at him.
“Good,” he reacted to your body language, “then be a good girl and tell me if this is okay. Tell me how it feels.” His voice dropped incredibly low with his demand. It was gentle, but firm.
A shaky exhale escaped from your mouth as you whispered your reply, “I-I want you to keep going. It feels so good.” Wide eyes looked up at Mando and he continued his motions.
The friction of his fingers on your clothed clit was delicious. Each movement sent sparks up and down your limbs. Your head fell to rest on Mando’s shoulder as he maintained his pace. His gaze remained glued to yours.
Then you realized he was wearing too many clothes. The friction against your clit was amazing, but you wanted as little friction as possible between your bodies. Reaching down, your fingers tugged on the edge of Mando’s shirt.
“Can I take this off?” You asked.
“Of course,” he replied. Thick fingers deftly undid the buttons at the top of his shirt and you aided him in pulling it over his head. The tight long sleeved layer was removed in the same fashion. Mando’s chest, littered with dark hairs, filled your vision. Broad plains of skin rose and fell, making his pecs stand out on his chest. Strong shoulders that framed his chest only made his body look wider.
While you were gawking at him, Mando slid his hands partially under your shirt and around your waist. His fingertips pinched at the hem of your shirt.
“Can I take this off?” He echoed your previous question.
You nodded and muttered, “yes,” in response, helping him pull the fabric over your head.
His fingers became more confident and he applied more pressure, quickening the strokes of his fingertips over your clothed bundle. Your jaw dropped in response. As you returned Mando’s stare, your eyelids drifted downwards over your eyes, but not all the way. Your breaths were more audible, bordering on being moans.
Mando seemed to love your reactions, the hand you placed on his neck rumbled as he let out a guttural moan. He picked up his pace in response. The clothing between your bundle of nerves and his fingers created the perfect friction. Wetness pooled in your underwear with the increasing speed of the Mandalorian’s thick fingers.
Then his digits left your clit.
You let out a slight whine, disappointed at the loss of his touch. Before you could question him, his fingers dipped just below your waistband. Not enough to really feel anything. Just enough to make a point.
Making eye contact with Mando, his visor tilted in questioning.
“Can I pull these down?” He asked gruffly.
You nod at him, knowing your gaze is burning into his from behind his beskar.
“Do it,” you half demand, half plead, “it feels so good when you touch me.”
His helmet drops next to your temple in reaction to your words. A crackle escapes the modulator with his harsh exhale. Without hesitation, his hand slid down past your waistband and brought your bottoms with it. Mando threw them to the side and slipped his hand down your underwear. His fingers easily found the pressure point of pleasure past your mound.
You thought the feeling over your clothes was delicious. The feeling of his bare hands on your bare clit was divine. Nothing could replicate the feeling. Nothing came close to the sensations he willed your body to produce. The sensations he produced with just his fingertips.
Mando resumed the slow pace he set previously. He was testing the waters, seeing if the feeling was just as good before. Your hips bucked up into his hand and another exhale left his helmet, this one quicker.
“Mmmm, okay, okay,” the modulator let out a soft understanding.
His fingers sped up to reach the fast pace he had set over your clothed clit. This time, the feeling was a thousand times more potent. The fibers facilitated most of your pleasure before, but now it was all Mando. Rough skin on his fingertips, created by years of pulling triggers and colliding fists, produced amazing friction. A feeling so electrifying you swore you could feel every ridge and valley of his fingerprints.
Your cunt squeezed around nothing and you mewled in desperation. Mando’s helmet still stung your temple with the cool temperature of the metal. His breathing was heavy, arm stiff, making sure your pleasure was maintained.
One circle around your bundle. Then another. And another. The pleasure was phenomenal, which caused your wetness to leak from your hole.
Mando looked down and groaned at the sight.
“Ffuucckk. So wet for me.” He gritted out, continuing the pace of his fingertips around your nub.
Your hips attempted to follow his motions to make more friction, but to no avail. Mando’s fingers were amazing, but his digits just on your clit weren't how you wanted to cum.
The sentence flowed through your brain: “Have to hear you say it.”
Before when you were sitting in Mando’s lap, his fingers inching towards your waistband, you didn’t know if you were ready. You didn’t know if you would be enough. Hesitation blocked your desire and you worried about taking too much and giving too little.
But now you wanted it all.
Everything you thought about before. His hands. His fingers. His lips. His unmodulated voice. His cock.
You needed it.
It was as if Mando had a switch to turn you off and on. The motions of his fingers wavered your switch off and on, and your confidence flickered on. No more shyness. You had to be direct, and then you would get what you were desperate for.
“Mando…mmmm…M-Mando,” you attempted your request.
His fingers slowed, his attention divided between your speech and your clit. “Yes, cyar’ika?” His grip on your back tightened, indicating that he was listening.
You bit your lip in nervousness, but mustered up the confidence to finally say what you needed, “I want you to f-finger me,” you said between waves of pleasure.
Mando stopped altogether and dipped his fingers lower, edging his reach towards your hole. One finger prodded at your entrance and that feeling alone made you squirm.
More liquid seeped from your seams and your thoughts returned to the ones you had earlier today. You wanted to kiss him. So badly.
Biting your lip at the thought, you accidentally stuttered out, “I-I w-want.” You realized your request was ridiculous and buried your face in his shoulder, acting as though nothing ever left your lips.
His fingers trailed upwards along your wetness and then back down, hesitating before he began your request. Confused, you brought your head up to look at him.
“What do you want, baby?”
Baby.
Kriff.
You shook your head, “It’s nothing.”
His helmet tilted in a, “I know you’re lying,” type of way. “It isn’t nothing, and we both know it,” he gently reasoned. A large hand ran up and down your back, the other rested on your sex.
Shaking your head once again, your eyes widened and the corner of your mouth turned up in matter-of-factness, you whispered, “You wouldn’t do it.”
Immediately, “Try me,” he calmly demanded.
Kriff it. The most he would do is reject you.
“I want you to kiss me.” You confessed.
The T of his visor stared at you blankly. In contrast to the steady gaze of his helmet, his chest heaved and lowered at a faster rhythm.
Then you were on the mattress, Mando was standing up in his bunk, going for the door. Dread hit you like a brick wall.
“Mando, Mando I’m sorry. I knew it was ridiculous! I-I shouldn’t have even asked,” you pleaded to him.
Then it was dark. And a large pair of hands were on your waist.
Hissss.
Your brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes remained wide in a pleading expression.
“Relax.”
The word dripped from Mando’s lips and traveled to your ears. His tone was like thick, warm honey. A soothing bass resonated throughout the room and into your bones. Once the tone reached the marrow within them, they turned to jelly. Your body slumped into Mando’s broad hands.
A dip in the mattress alerted you to his positioning within the bunk. He sat beside you, hands remained around your waist, and he gave you a slight tug as a request to move closer to him. Once you were close enough, Mando slid you into his lap to resume your previous entanglement.
Your head relaxed on his shoulder and he pulled your torso closer to his with the tree-trunks he had for arms. Instead of his hand slithering down to find the band of your underwear, it traveled up your arm and towards the crook of your neck. The Mandalorian’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on your jaw, just in front of your ear. He shifted a bit, and then you felt warm air fanning over your face.
His helmet was off. The room was dark. Yet you knew that you were looking him right in the eyes. You knew his face was centimeters away from yours. The series of events amazed you. If the lights were on, his Creed would be broken. You didn’t know if the Creed had a clause about being helmetless in the dark, but you knew this situation was risky.
And yet Mando was willing to put his Creed at risk. Just to kiss you.
As if he was reading your mind, his thumb halted its motions. The air that fanned over your face did so with a higher intensity.
The honied voice washed over you again, “I’m going to kiss you now, mesh’la.”
In shock, you could merely nod and whisper, “Please, Mando.”
You daydreamed–and actually dreamed–about this moment for months. Months. Different visions clouded your mind. Soft, supple kisses could be placed on your lips. Feather lip and hesitant in how they approached. Or the kisses could be rough and demanding. Muscles and embouchures would battle in combat motivated by lust.
In reality, Mando was a mix of both. His lips were soft, yet firm. Intention laced the way he moved his mouth against yours. Saliva soon wet both pairs of lips in your entanglement. Your mouths fell into a synchronized rhythms of pecks, tongues, soft bites, and sloppy kisses.
You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t notice the calloused hand making its way down your underwear. His fingers rubbed your clit once more and your hips bucked into his hand. Teeth clashed together as Mando smiled into your kisses.
He placed shorter, close mouthed kisses on your lips and pulled away to speak. Tension from the waistband of your underwear alerted you to Mando’s gesture.
His warm breath fanned over your face, “Can I take these off, baby?”
You nodded vigorously, realizing he couldn’t see you, you stuttered out, “Y-yes, please.”
In haste, the underwear was peeled from your legs and thrown into the darkness of the man’s bunk. Warm, wet lips crashed onto yours once more. You reached up and tangled your fingers into his hair. Soft waves traveled through your hands as they ran through his locks.
The Mandalorian let out a low groan at the presence of your fingers in his hair. Firm and demanding lips met your mouth, and small bites pinched your lower lip from time to time. You supposed that this was one of the first times someone carded their fingers through his hair.
Then you felt a rough finger at your soaking entrance. You clenched your walls around nothing in response. His fingers needed to be inside you. Fantasies have filled your mind’s eye about them for months. They’re thick, and you know the digits would stretch your wet hole. Thoughts of the tasty feeling manifested into words.
“Kriff, plea-please Mando. I want your fingers in my pussy,” you pleaded.
He stopped kissing you, but his breath remained close. The motion that was in his lips translated to his finger. One thick, large digit sunk into your wet heat.
From between the clouds of pleasure that fogged your head, you heard Mando’s syrupy voice in your ear, “You’re going to cum like this.”
Your body melted into his. Reaching up, you grabbed where you thought his face was. After a second of wandering in the darkness, your hand cupped his jaw and kept his face in front of yours.
Soft moans and gentle groans emanated from your chest. Each individual knuckle of his finger rubbed along your walls and left its own unique feeling. Mando pumped his middle finger into you slowly. After you were used to the feeling, it was as if his finger was the one pulling moans from your throat.
Mando picked up his pace and you began to pant, moans mingling between your loud exhales. Gripping his jaw and his neck, you anchored yourself to him. His large arms were easily holding you against him, and his torso was solid, but the deft finger in your wet pussy made you feel like you were levitating off of him.
“Maker, baby. I knew your pussy would get fucking soaked,” he gritted into your ear.
Wet sounds of his finger pushing in and out of your heat filled the darkness of his bunk. Your legs were spread wide in his lap, allowing Mando room to curve his wrist to push his finger along the tight walls of your sex. His fingertip traveled and searched, like a hunter after a bounty, and it finally found its reward.
Your hips jumped into his hand at the euphoric feeling. Awe swept over you. You thought Mando was going to be attentive, but attentive was too light of a word for his focus.
Groaning, he remarked, “Mmmm. That’s it, huh? That’s my girl.”
The Mandalorian was obsessed. His obsession led him to hit the pressure point on your soaking walls over and over again. Mando’s chest rumbled when your pussy clenched around his fingers. Resistance against his fingers only spurred his actions further.
The grasps of your hands tightened around his face and neck. Every muscle in your body clenched. Your face was screwed together from pleasure. Not only was your body taught, your moans were too.
“Nnnghh, oh fuck. M-Mando, yes.”
All because of one of Mando’s fingers.
Your grasp on his jaw shifted when he inquired, “You want another finger, mesh’la?”
Without thought, you moaned in response, “Yes! Oh Maker, please Mando!”
An empty feeling in your pussy almost made its way to your brain, but then you felt the stretch. Two of his fingers made you see stars, and the delicious stretch created by his thick digits went right to your clit.
His chest vibrated against your shoulder as he let out a deep, rumble, “That’s my good girl.”
A whimper escaped from your throat and your hips ground onto his fingers.
“I- mmf, I thought about this so many times,” you admitted.
Mando growled, “Fuck. Yeah? Tell me what else you thought about.”
His fingers picked up their pace, hitting that soft spot on your walls repeatedly. The Mandalorian made you a whimpering mess in his arms. More wetness weeped from your seams, dripping out past his thick fingers.
“I-, oh, fuck, I th-thought about y-your cock,” you confessed another fantasy that plagued your thoughts.
“Mmmm. What about my cock, cyar’ika?”
The sounds of your wet pussy and both of your moans filled the small space of Mando’s bunk.
Shhlkt. Shhlkt. Shhlkt.
“H-how you’d st-stretch my pussy w-with it,” you managed between whimpers and shaky exhales.
Fingers fucked into your messy hole faster and faster. “Is that what you want, mesh’la? Need me to stretch your pretty pussy out?”
“Yes, yes. Oh-oh fu-fuck, please,” you begged him. The hand on his jaw brought his lips down to meet yours. Mando’s tongue immediately dove between your lips, wrestling with yours in vigor. Rough, scarred skin was grounding in your hands. Each pump of his fingers tightened your muscles, curling your figure into his strong hold.
“You want my cock next, baby? Hm?” He cooed at you, never faltering the rhythm of his fingers.
Your mouth fell away from his when your jaw dropped. “Mh-mmm-mhm. Yes, please!” You squealed in reaction.
His face leaned down to hover in front of yours, “Then cum on my fingers, pretty baby,” he growled to you.
Shhlkt. Shhlkt. Shhlkt.
A few more pumps and your wet walls clamped down on Mando’s thick fingers. Broken gasps left your mouth as your body stiffened in his strong arms. Your legs shook and you left crescent marks on the man’s back.
Despite your body-shaking orgasm, the man continued his motions until you placed a hand over his to push it away. Your limp body slumped into his, the waves of pleasure left a warm sensation glowing in your skin.
No amount of dreaming could have predicted the feeling of Mando beckoning an orgasm from you like he swore to do it. The situation you were in wasn’t exactly what you dreamt of, but the reality was so much better.
A strong hand grazed your back, leaving a trail of heat from its up and down motions. Another hand pulled you in closer to him, and the warm air from his breath made its presence known on your face.
The tone he used starkly contrasted the growls from earlier, “How was that? Are you feeling okay, cyar’ika?” A deep tone, covered in honey, was laced with a small amount of concern.
“Mando…holy shit,” you said breathily.
Silently chuckling at the state you were in, the Mandalorian peppered light, slow kisses on top of your head and over your face. You relished in the feeling. His lips mimicked the sentiments of the kisses he placed on your wrist earlier in the night.
“This means everything to me.”
The phrase echoed in your mind. Of course Mando let you know before that. He didn’t have to say it, but it showed in his actions. Every cup of caf. Every conversation. Every inquisitive response he would give after you told a story. Every small intention behind each action built up within you, and you guided Mando’s lips to meet yours.
Your lips moved in sync and in slow motion. Ridges and valleys imprinted on your lips and in your memory. If Mando was dedicated to his Creed, you would be dedicated to the set of lips pressing against yours. The set of lips that made you laugh. The lips that reassured you. The lips you looked forward to hearing produce words everyday.
You didn’t even know what they looked like.
And you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. They were his lips. Mando’s lips. That’s all that mattered.
After a long stint of sloppy kisses and crescendoing moans, Mando removed his lips from yours. He was panting and en route to placing the same sloppy kisses onto your neck. His plump lips traveled down, leaving saliva marks in their wake, and then they trailed back up, settling next to your ear.
The thin skin of his lips tickled the shell of your ear as he spoke, “Still want me to fuck you, baby?”
Baby.
He’s said it before, but the word still made you squirm a small amount in his arms. Your teeth imprinted on your lips before you let out a meek, “Yes, please.” If the lights were on, Mando would see your wide eyes and your scrunched together brows. As if you had to beg him for it.
Kisses between the two of you resume as the Mandalorian shifted both of your positions on the mattress. His strong arms still clutched your figure as he slowly leaned downwards, until the pair of you were lying on the bed. Both of your hands reached up and weaved your fingers into the soft waves on his head. Mando’s thick hands traversed the planes of your body, randomly grabbing onto you and giving you a slight squeeze where his hands were.
“Uhhhgg, fu-fuck,” left his chest and escaped from his throat when you gave his hair a small tug. One of his firm, capable hands reached down and encouraged you to spread your legs. In the same motion, he shifted upwards to settle between them.
Your locked mouths never broke. Mando’s lips remained on yours as if he were tethered to them, like they were the only thing keeping him in this universe. His groin pressed against yours and your hips bucked upwards at the feeling. Your mouth watered, like it was somehow conditioned to, after sensing the large curve of his cock covered by black fabric.
One of your hands reached downwards and palmed his shaft through the clothing. Mando’s hips ground down into yours in response, and he let out a low growl.
Your fingertips found the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and tugged on it in suggestion. Before you could even ask the question, the Mandalorian sat up, leaving your upper body to feel the cold air of the bunk.
Shuffling came from in front of you. Then a soft, muted, plop.
The man was back onto you like it pained him to be away. Moans and rumbling exuded from his chest as he kissed you. Firm muscle of his tongue lapped against yours, challenging you to lustful combat. You accepted and the volume of your pleasure joined his. A couple kisses felt like forever, but it was the best eternity that you could be stuck in.
Mando’s body shifted lower to grind his hips against you once more. His thick shaft slid through your folds. A whimper came from your mouth as the head of his cock grazed your clit. Moans from the man only became more gravely, animalistic. The grit of the vibrations could have convinced you that he put the helmet back on–if his mouth wasn’t sealed to yours.
Swollen lips broke the seal from yours and Mando’s head fell into the space between your head and your neck. Heavy breathing flooded the audio in your brain. Rough hands ran up and down your inner thighs, intermittently squeezing the flesh there.
A chaste kiss met the side of your head, above your ear You could feel the slick on his lips against your ear as he gently demanded, “Tell me what you want.”
Without hesitation you replied in a whining whisper, “Please put your cock in my pussy.”
The side of your head vibrated when he let out a blissful groan into your hair. His broad chest left yours as he sat up and pulled some items from a nearby drawer. Your face heated in anticipation.
Sounds were the only thing available to you to figure out what he retrieved. A crinkling and then a tear echoed through the bunk.
The condom.
Rubber noises made their way to your ears as Mando rolled the condom onto his shaft. Maker, you wish you could see him. Those large hands forming a strong grip. The thick head of his cock leaking before he puts the contraceptive on.
You thought you’d feel him shift back towards you, but then a short pop echoed through the bunk. Like he just opened a bottle of shampoo.
Silence.
Then the slick sounds of his large grip stroking his shaft filled the air.
Your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were definitely wet enough, but the consideration for your comfort made liquid seep from your pussy.
The mattress shifted around you as he lowered his torso towards yours. One side dipped much more and the slick head of his cock teased your entrance. A small moan left your throat at the contact.
Mando paused when he was lined up with your wet hole. A wet kiss was placed on your forehead before he asked, voice strained, “Are you ready for me, my cyare?”
“Yes,” breathy and quick, passed through your swollen lips.
Maker. His cock was thick. The feeling of him pushing into you was fucking amazing.
The walls of your pussy wrapped around him. A delightful stretch pricked at your soaking entrance and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Mando was slow and careful as he pressed his wide shaft into you. Movement ceased once his balls laid flat against the flesh of your ass.
You were so lost in the new sensations that Mando’s heavy breaths suddenly made their way into the foreground of your mind. Warm air fanned against your face and his strangled moans vibrated against your chest. Head heavy, his face found its way to the crook of your neck.
“Oh, f-fuckkk. Kriff, cyar’ika, you put my dreams to shame.”
Your arms weaved around his torso and your fingers ran down his back. His face only pressed further into you, and your walls were straining against the thickness of his cock.
“Mmm-Mando. Please. Fuck me, please.”
Another rumble from his chest vibrated against you. His hips shifted backwards, and the thick head of his cock dragged against your walls. The pair of you moaned in unison, amazed by the feel of the other.
His torso rose up and slipped from your hold and you involuntarily whined. A small, gravely chuckle left Mando’s lips, “You want me back down there, baby?”
Your hands reached into the darkness and collided with the man’s chest. Hairs brushed against your fingers as you attempted a grip to pull him back down. Before you could adjust your hands to pull his shoulders down instead, he lowered himself once more and nestled his head in the space above your shoulder.
“I-I-, nngghhh,” you tried to justify your desire, but the ridges of his cock grazed against the warmth of your pussy just right. But then you tried again. “M-makes me f-feel safe,” you let out a whimper.
“Aghhh, fuck baby.” The speed of his thrusts picked up, but his strokes were still long and languid. “Want you to feel safe with me,” he grunted as his breath fanned over your neck.
You always felt safe with him. Without question. In populated cities with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. Out in the wilderness, the forest canopy darkening the forest floor. At a run down market with nasty glares being sent your way.
“I always have,” you manage to clearly respond.
Another deep groan resonated in your ear drums. A large, calloused hand found your arm and dragged its grip towards your hand. Thick digits intertwined with yours, and the pace of his hips picked up once more.
The hair above his shaft created mind-numbing friction on your clit. Each stroke sent a shockwave of bliss through your body. The bliss made its way back down to your pussy. Wetness dripped out from around his thick cock. Soft, wet sounds filled the space of Mando’s bunk.
“Kriff, cyar’ika. Maker, you’re fucking soaked for me,” he gritted out into your ear. His mouth found yours and weak, distracted kisses were placed on your lips.
Fingertips dug into the skin on his back. You reeled into his touch. His thick cock still left a tinge of stretching throughout your walls. Each thrust of his hips soothed and invigorated the sensation in your pussy. You thought back to your fantasies and masturbation sessions. Squeezing three fingers into your soaking hole just to get a taste of how he’d feel. Now you have the real thing. And it’s so much better than your fingers buried deep in your cunt.
“What’re you thinking about, mesh’la?” The smooth baritone filled the air around you.
You bit your lip. How the hell did he know you were thinking? Small gasps left your lips, releasing the skin from the hold of your teeth. You knew he wanted you to say it, but your cheeks became hot in embarrassment.
You probably waited too long, because Mando grunted out, “I can tell you what I’ve been thinking, baby,” a soft grumble came from his chest, “been thinking abou- fuck. About how much of a good girl you are for me.”
Mewling left your throat and you tightened your wet pussy around his hard length. Mando growled and quickened his pace in response. A combination of moans and exhales from your chest were punctuated from each of his thrusts. Thick fingers splayed across the underside of your thigh and shifted your hips slightly upwards.
He found the spot. The same one his fingers came familiar with.
Brows furrowed and eyes scrunched, you moaned out a whiny, “O-oh-oh, Maker. Mando!”
“Tell me what you’re thinking about, my cyar’ika,” Mando repeated.
“Y-your cock, oh k-kriff, your cock, Mando,” you let out a shaky breath to conclude, “I’ve been thinking about your cock.”
A low hum came from the man, “What about it, mesh’la?”
You let out a keening noise when Mando reached down and grazed your clit with his thumb, drawing circles on your sensitive nub. Strong fingers splayed across your lower stomach as he rested them there. He listened to your moans and shaky breaths and concentrated on a technique. The Mandalorian figured out your body and had it down to a science. Every movement and sound that resonated from your body was a signal to him. Sound waves from you were like signals, and he replied to your every call.
His hips remained flush against yours as he gave your cunt shallow thrusts, repeatedly brushing the firm head of his cock over the most sensitive point deep within you. The combination of stimulations made your pussy clench around his shaft. A guttural moan emanated from Mando in response.
Your fingertips dug into the broad expanse of his back when you confessed with a whine, “Th-thinking…fuck…you’re so-o bi-ig.”
The thumb rubbing your clit sped up, and Mando’s other hand tightened its grip around yours. You let out a breathy sigh, your cunt only became tighter around him. The Mandalorian’s bunk was filled with the sound of your combined moans, heavy breaths, and light plaps of skin against skin.
Visions of what he looked like fucking you flashed through your mind. His huge shoulders, strong arms, veiny forearms, thick fingers. The delectable tree-thunk thighs accenting his toned waist.
You pictured a man with dark hair, probably brown eyes, with the softest lips your pair have ever met, framed by dark stubble. The man would be focused, brow furrowing in concentration. His eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw fell open when you tightened around him. Just like Mando, he’d growl in response to your wet heat, and bring his jaw back up to tighten it while he focused on you.
His hands. His cock. His voice. His lips. Kriff even the feel of his hair and skin. Each component came together to melt you into a puddle of pleasure. Moans escaped from your throat in higher and higher octaves. Sentences didn’t exist anymore, as you could barely form them.
“Think, oh shit, Ma-Mando. Think I-I’m gonna cum,” your voice sounded desperate as you alerted him.
Harsh breaths blew onto your face from Mando’s focused exertion. Your lip was captured under your teeth for the umpteenth time. Only tight whines left your throat. Pussy squeezing around Mando, your body followed suit. Thighs wrapped around his waist and the embrace of your arms held him close.
The Mandalorian left lazy kisses across your face and muttered endless praises.
“Such a good girl.”
“You’re so perfect, mesh’la.”
“Not going to last long after you, my pretty baby.”
Then his kisses paused from being placed on your face. “Hey,” Mando said to get your attention, “listen to me, cyar’ika.”
You whimpered in acknowledgement, but Mando wasn’t having it, “Have to say yes for me,” he let out between strokes.
“Yes-yes I’m listening,” you quickly blurted.
Almost lost in your pleasure, you realized you had to actually listen to him. To comprehend and process his words. Not that you weren’t listening to him, but the motions he pressed into you made your mind blur together. Your mind snapped to attention at his words.
Mando spoke in a gentle, yet commanding, tone. The grip sealing your conjoined hands together tightened.
“My name is Din.”
Din.
It was simple and to the point, just like how Mando was. No wasting any time. No frills. No banthashit. Just Din.
Then the tight knot in the pit of your stomach snapped. Sounds that once poured from your body ceased as your figure curled into his. The pleasure was something you couldn’t have fathomed before this. Every cell in your body ignited in a passion filled radiance.
“Din! Din, oh fuckkkk, Diiiin!”
Your wet heat clamped onto Mando’s thick cock, sending him into a frenzy of growls and grunts. His calloused thumb remained on your clit until the spasms of your orgasm fizzled out. Then you were left empty handed, but your body lifted up slightly off of the mattress. The Mandalorian snaked his arms behind your shoulders, his hands under the pillow cushioning your head.
Sloppy kisses met your mouth. Tongues pushed into mouths to wrestle with their counterparts. It was like Mando wanted to memorize every ridge of your lips and tongue. To add them to his Creed. Worship them forever.
His head dropped next to yours and your ears were filled with breathy grunts.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
Softly bounced around the metal walls of the bunk.
“Wanted this for so long, baby.”
“Always thought about you, fuck, I think about you all the time.”
The intensity of his grunts increased and you could feel his cock swelling inside you. Soft lips brushed against the shell of your ear, hastily whispering out, “Where do you want me?”
Digging your fingers into the waves of his soft hair, you eagerly responded, “In the condom, Din.”
“Fuucckkk,” he groaned.
His cock started to twitch within your warm walls. The speed and depth of his thrusts no longer followed a formula. Your head raised slightly when large fists balled the bedsheets into his hands. One of your hands drifted up and down his back, soothing him through his release. He was shaking with every excess thrust he gave your wet heat.
Then his heavy body slumped against yours. Mando’s breath was still heaving, sending strong winds across your neck. Open mouthed kisses were gently placed onto the skin there. Your fingers massaged his scalp and he let out a satisfied sigh. Silence filled the space of the bunk.
What if he regretted this? Was this just a one time thing?
“Mand-,” he cut you off with both his voice and the motions he put the pair of you through.
Suddenly you were on top of him. Your head found the plush meat of his relaxed pecs and you laid your head on them. A firm grip from Mando came to wrap around you. His strong arms held you against him like someone threatened to take you away. Mando’s fingertips traced languid shapes across your back. The tip of his nose dug into your scalp as he pressed a couple soft kisses in your hair.
“Din. Call me Din, cyar’ika.”
Your cheeks rose in temperature at his insistence. Fighting your nerves, you asked, “Is this a one time thing?”
The Mandalorian stiffened underneath you. Here it goes. You’ll have to crawl off his body and resort to the sleeping pad in the hull.
“No. Mesh’la, of course not,” a low baritone soothed your worries. Your head slumped onto his chest even more. Feeling nervous, yet confident–even though you literally just fucked him–you brought a hand up to feel his face.
His hand resumed its drawings of small shapes on your back. Humming came from beneath you when your hand made contact with his stubble. Your thumb grazed the short hairs and your fingers followed the curve of his jaw.
His lips felt as soft as they did when they were on yours. Your fingertips reached upwards a bit more. Longer hairs tickled at your digits and you let out a small giggle.
“Mmf, what, pretty girl?” His tone was laced with sleep and curiosity.
You smiled at him in the dark, “You have a mustache,” you told him in a whisper, as if he didn’t already know. A smile from him creeped up under your touch.
“Mmm. Yes, I do,” he replied matter-of-factly.
In a teasing tone, you inquired, “Who’s that for?”
A low chuckle from Din’s chest made your head rumble. The hand on your back ceased its movements. His nose dipped down to find yours, aiding him in lining up his mouth to kiss you. A gentle kiss was placed onto your lips, and you were acutely aware of the hairs that made up his mustache.
He sighed in content and murmured, “At first it was for me. I don’t know. I just liked it,” his shoulders went up and down in a shrug, he continued with a hum, “but you like it. So now it’s for you.”
Your face became hot at his words. Slightly embarrassed, you nestled your face into his chest. The thin hairs there wisped at your face.
Sleep quickly caught up to you and your whole body relaxed against Din’s. His large frame made for a comfortable bed. Muscles, none of them tense, gave you a plush surface to melt into.
Din’s strong arms wrapped around you. He continued to press soft kisses into your hair. Right before you slipped out of consciousness he whispered to you.
“I meant what I said,” he paused to wait for a response. You didn’t register him speaking until it was too late, but he continued his sentence nonetheless.
“I’ll do anything for you.”
Supply Run - Review (part four) (Coming soon)
#the mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian fic#mando fic#mando smut#mando x reader#mando fanfic#din djarin smut#din djarin fluff#din djarin fanfic#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x reader#din djarin x f!reader#mando fluff#din djarin x you#thepascalofus fic#thepascalofus#supply run#supply run fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal edit#mando
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y’all… im breaking my silence…. dbf!abby fic in the works.
but since idk when im gonna start writing i made a hc list so i can remember what i wanna write about
im so excited omg doing this for the nasty raunchy gworlies i love yall
wc;cw mad short like 400, descriptions of sex MDNI!!!!, dassit omg im so excited 2 write this
meeting ur dads new coworkers was… not what u expected
ur father was very outgoing
loves meeting new ppl and making friends :D
so when he relocated for work three years ago he had no struggles connecting with the new ppl he was surrounded by
everyone loves him! n so do you!
but u knew he would be absolutely disgusted by u and his closest work friend if he saw u with ur face in the pillows as she drilled u into ur mattress :/
ur dad got called into a business meeting early that morning and ur mom was at work
meaning u were left by yourself
>:)
u didn’t hesitate to text abby and tell her ab how desperate u were for shut eye
please come take care of me? im really tired and i need to sleep :(
and she didn’t even bother to reply
u just heard a knock on the front door 20 mins later
and got ate out against it
u never would’ve expected u n abby’s relationship would end up like this
esp after the first time u met her…
ur parents had no issue with u being at home while u finished grad school
so when u came home and found the cutest woman you’d ever seen drinking a glass of wine with ur parents u were stunned
and horny
her gaze was electric the minute she looked at u standing by the front door
u were exhausted and ur eyes were burning from all the notes u just reread for the 4th time
but u perked up instantly when she subtly looked u up n down… twice!!
she got up n introduced herself so sweetly to u
soft handshake gentle voice flushed cheeks and she smelled like fresh flowers and wine
ur heart was pounding in ur ears and ur body felt like it was dunked in a scorching pot of oil
she was so sweet to u. ur touched starved ass was not used to this type physical closeness!!
who would’ve thought such a kind woman would be so nasty in bed :,)
she’s so sensual and attentive!! u wake up and think about how good she split u open the night b4 n how talked u through ur nut
how good she tastes
how loud she is when she cums
she’s so pussydrunk 4 u <3
who knew good sex could improve focus!!!
u got ur notes done in a nic of time the next day!!
#dbf!abby#abby anderson smut#abby anderson#abby anderson hcs#abby tlou#abby the last of us#abby anderson x you
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On the eve of Lonetrail ending, I have some sad thoughts about preservation of media in this game.
The event is amazing. The effort and love put in to this story and all the little details is beyond me. I’m really glad that it’s gonna go straight into the Intermezzi so that anyone who picks up this game or missed the event gets to experience it.
But a big part of this event is going to be missing. The lobby, for one thing, is a huge part of the story’s lingering emotional power. The narrative touched my heart. It made me cry.
But what made me break down, what destroyed me, was finishing that final story segment and seeing this
Turn into this:
And just sitting there, full of pain and wonder and real, actual grief, reflecting on what had just happened as I sat there in the dark with my headphones on, totally immersed in the lonely and hopeful and Ad Astra, reframed by this new context into something that was also terribly and beautifully sad.
It didn’t fully comfort me. But it gave me the refuge to feel the things I needed to feel, drifting and alone.
Throughout the rest of the week, the little missions from the Investigation section helped me return to and slowly process my feelings, with little bits of additional story and context.
And each time I opened the event, that devastating splash of Kristen dunked me back into my emotions, to give them another go.
This is the only piece of art I’ve consumed that comes with its own aftercare and damn if I didn’t appreciate it.
I probably don’t need to explain this whole experience to you in detail, because y’all reading this have (hopefully) already played the event and experienced that for yourselves.
But people in the future playing this event are not gonna experience that aspect of this multimedia piece of art, because these parts of an event do not show up in the archive.
They won’t experience the guy saying “*A new age is upon us!*” getting replaced by the empty billows of space as Kristen’s pod drifts outside terra’s starpod.
You can probably find it, in recordings. But searching down something on the Internet to see what used to show up does not hit the same as getting greeted by the new intro and splash whenever you return to the event. You’ll be like “oh yeah I bet that was cool” and not “Oh, I’m not okay.” Or whatever your reaction to that piece of the art in its proper place would be.
I don’t really have much else to say on the matter.
I just think that’s sad.
#also the columbia guy talking when you finish an investigation!#whatever it is he’s saying lol#i got the second two recorded but not the first two#so if you have those hmu#arknights#lone trail#arknights meta
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Pillar
Jason Todd x Reader
A/N: Finally doing another Jason Todd fic! I really love him ok he’s like one of the few I got into when I started to learn about comics. Hope you enjoy! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated.
Genre: PG-13
Warnings: Self-doubt, cursing, trauma.
(Gif may be unrelated but I love this style y’all so just let it slide)
***
Jason closes the door carefully, removing the necktie that was restricting him for the past five hours. He hated parties. He was the type to lounge around in his boxers, eating takeout food and watching serial dramas after a hard day’s work.
But under Alfred’s gaze, he could no longer squirm out again of Bruce’s many galas. So of he went, forcing a smile on his face as he pretended to be interested in how much they donated to his adoptive father’s charity or worse - being swarmed by air headed women who thought that he would be engaged in the conversation of their daily manicure sessions.
‘Hey Jay, saved some for you.’ Jason sees you in your pajamas, slurping on fried noodles and his heart feels like it’s about to burst with affection. For a guy like him that was trying to run from his complicated past, you provided a sense of clarity for him. Jason was a lucky bastard. He flops onto the sofa, adding a dumpling into the opened box of noodles.
‘You’re a lifesaver babe.’
‘Hard day at the manor?’ Your eyes were still on the screen, watching your favorite drama.
‘You have no idea. I wanted to choke Dickhead at one point.’ He tosses another dumpling into his mouth, like a basketball player making his dunk shot. Groaning in satisfaction, Jason thinks about how the rich people back at the manor were missing out the true joys in life - Greasy noodles with superb meat dumplings.
He didn’t know where the tiny portion of caviar or escargot could be parked in his stomach, probably because it had vanished as it went down his throat.
As the male lead was finally reunited with his lover, Jason notices that it was a bit too quiet, minus the slurping of your noodles and the noise from the television. He knew he had a hard time, but defending an onslaught of insensitive and rude rich people was an easy task for him. Now, Jason wants to focus on you.
‘How’s your day?’
‘It’s fine.’ As he suspected, the answer came back curtly. Jason waits patiently for a few seconds before asking again.
‘That’s good. Anything you wanna share? You’re wrapped like a burrito and holding your favorite mushroom plush toy whenever you’re feeling something. And your watching this drama for the eighth time.’ Jason rattles of his observations, figuring that if you blew up at him, he would improvise on the spot. But as he predicted, you didn’t.
‘You counted?’
‘That’s not the point here (y/n).’ Jason brings you back to the conversation. ‘You know you can always tell me anything.’
The truth? Your parents had called you yesterday as you finished your last assignment before semester break. A huge fight had broke out between your mother and older sister who had been acting strange lately. Somewhere along the lines where your sister felt that your parents were constantly breathing down her throat and accused them of being “helicopter parents” at the age of 24.
‘You’ve seen my parents Jay. Sure, they ask questions but never crossed the line. They gave us everything we could have but they made us work for it.’ Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. If you could unscrew your sibling’s head and find what was going on in her brain, you would.
Jason nods, having met your parents during the yearly Chinese New Year gatherings. Your father had taken on the role of a concerned parent to make sure some boy wasn’t screwing with his baby girl for fun. As a tennis coach, he commanded respect despite Jason packing a couple more pounds compared to his lean figure.
Your mother on the other hand, gave him the maternal love and warmth he never had. Hell, he could never forget the taste of her prawn noodles - you had to drag Jason out to not intrude any longer. Overall, they were easy going and the fact that they had raised a wonderful daughter despite their humble backgrounds made him admire them even more.
Your sister was a different story…
‘She wasn’t like this. Not until she went to university and decided that family was uncool for her.’ Rolling your eyes, you stabbed the remaining dumpling. You were never one to talk bad about a person even if they were really a jerk by Jason’s standards. You even managed to tolerate the demon brat when you visited the manor for dinner.
So how did a relationship that used to be so loving turn so sour?
Jason was the perfect listener. He never interrupted, nodded at the right time and spoke at the right moment. However, there were times that he had to cut in. Smoothly of course.
‘…my parents are devastated. She had always been stubborn but that fight… she was literally screaming her head off, not letting anyone get a word in. I know she broke up with her ex and they had a lot of memories and with the pandemic she’s restricted at home while working but it doesn’t give her any right to treat my parents as a punching bag!’ You had let out everything at one shot, taking a deep breath afterwards to regain your breath before continuing again.
‘The thing is, she’s attributing part of her stress because she sees me attending online school and “chilling” everyday.’ You quoted with your two fingers. ‘I don’t wish to be mean but she can’t see people being happy.’ The sound from the television could no longer be heard as Jason switches it off.
‘Doesn’t she know how hard I worked my ass to get into the school I wanted? Or how about when she was respected by our middle school teammates and I was treated like trash and she didn’t do anything about it? She didn’t even want anything to do with me!’ You scoffed. The memories had started to resurface, making you more emotional.
‘Jason I know I’m supposed to be her sister but I hate it that I’m selfishly thinking that she deserved all these. I mean we had good times as well but lately I feel like I don’t know her anymore.’ You blow into a tissue loudly, throwing it into the empty container as you took a new one.
Jason hated to see you crying. He expected himself to be emotional as your sibling issues had reminded him of a familiar little boy, craving to get the recognition from his adoptive father. So it came as a surprise as he approached this calmly and not guns blazing.
‘I know you want to be close to your sister again. But we all grow up one day. Maybe she has different ideals from you that you can’t agree with and that’s ok. Take it from me. Although lashing out at your parents was pretty low.’ Jason sees a reaction from you and decides to continue.
‘It’s nice to hope that one day she’ll be the same big sister who defended you from playground bullies and made sure to get you your favorite ice cream again, but if she doesn’t… at least you’ll have these memories to hold on to.’
Jason thanks the gods that he didn’t go for patrol today and wasn’t as sweaty as usual. He lifts your blanket, joining you under the man made burrito.
What country did you save in your previous life to deserve this man?
Calming down from your raging emotions, you wrapped your arms around Jason, leaning against his chest. ‘Thanks Jay, I wouldn’t know what I would have done without you.’
‘Hey, you support me and I support you. We’re in this together.’ And Jason had meant every single word. He was afraid that he was taking too much in the relationship, constantly unloading his problems onto you - nightmares as Robin, clashing with Bruce’s ideology… and countless more of troubles he could count forever.
But not once did you complained. In fact, you took it with stride, encouraging him to share more.
‘Feel better?’ You ask one day after a patrol went wrong in trying to track down Black Mask.
‘Much. I mean it won’t change anything but at least I don’t feel like killing my brothers as much now.’ Jason grins, squishing you into a hug.
It was rare that you were deeply affected by the problems you faced. You were a go getter, taking each day with grit and strength. So Jason knew that it was his time to be your pillar of support, just like how you were always there for him.
‘I really wish I could be there with my parents but the situation isn’t exactly ideal for me to travel. My parents don’t want me to risk contracting the illness while being 18 hours up in the air with a bunch of other strangers.’ You frowned, twiddling with the end of the blanket. ‘I haven’t seen them for two years and this just had to happen thanks to my emotionally volatile sister.’
The two of you fall into silence. Jason gently pries himself away from you, excusing himself for a few minutes. You hear a few muffles coming from your shared room with Jason exiting shortly after, looking very satisfied with himself.
‘Called in a few favors. Got Bruce’s private jet for the whole week. Time to give ourselves a break babe.’
You blink, trying to register what he was telling you. ‘But Jay, don’t you have patrol? And-’
‘Eh,’ he shrugs nonchalantly. ‘Dick agreed to cover for me. Otherwise I would tell Bruce who was the one who crashed his car. Yup, I have a lot of leverage against him,’ Jason chuckles. ‘I’m just being smart about using it.’
‘I should be flattered huh? That you’re using one of these leverages for me.’ You laughed.
‘If it’s for you, I would do anything in a heartbeat.’ Jason kisses the side of your cheek. ‘Besides, I need could try out that mean Chicken Rice you were always telling me about.’
You punched Jason in his beefy shoulders, barely making a dent. ‘Thanks Jay, for everything. I really mean it.’ You couldn’t help but to feel envious of Jason’s relationship with his brothers. Although they had their moments, but they looked out for each other, without expecting anything back.
The same couldn’t be said for you. Honestly, you felt that you had a huge mountain to climb when you got back home. Jason brings you back from your thoughts, hand in yours. He was your anchor, your pillar.
‘I’ll be there for you, every step of the way.’
***
Note: This is really just a comfort fic especially what’s going on in my life. I would think that although Jason has a lot of angst but he would have a lot of insight among the batboys? Lastly, I just want to say that although we’re living in very strange times, I hope by reading this, you realize that you’re never alone.
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Wanda Maximoff x AvengerReader
Word 9, Location 11, situation 11, sentences 1,5,6 *
oof a lot of fun stuff being written tonight! sorry all these are taking so long, my mum is using my laptop 98% of the time and I have nothing else to write on. anyways ENJOY
Prompts: Movie, Carnival, a Little Too Drunk, “Babygirl, you know how I feel about that”, “Babe, no,” and “Babe, yes”
Wanda Maximoff x Reader, (18+ and I MEAN IT y’all-)
Just Like the Movies
‘It’s just like a movie!’ Wanda shouted, quickly turning between stalls at the carnival, eyes wide at the flashing lights and strange carnival folk surrounding you.
The smile she wore was one you would cherish forever, the delight in her voice the most pure thing you’d ever heard. You would spend every cent you had at one stall if it got her something she only just glanced at. So far, you’d gone through half the stalls, and she’d refused to let you stop.
Sokovia often had similar events, but they were usually a guise or ruse to sneak money from the customers, a hiding place for criminals and the most wanted of people. She and her brother had never attended, sometimes seeing them from far away and smelling the popcorn and cotton candy, wishing it wasn’t anything more than a childish dream. But now she could have it all, and anything else she wanted.
Wanda dragged you from stall to stall in excitement, wanting to see it all, but keep you from spending all your cash on trivial things. You assured her it was just one night, just for fun, and that the memories meant more than the things you attached them to. She finally agreed, letting you drag her to the talent booths.
Ring tosses, knock-em-overs, dunking games- everything lined the “Try Your Luck” alley at the centre of the carnival. Wanda hadn’t agreed to not use magic, not that you were complaining. It would even out how rigged the games were, many of the toys they offered as prizes covered in cobwebs after how long they’d been there.
‘Y/N, I want to try that one,’ Wanda said, gesturing to a row of clown heads that spun. Young children shovelled balls into their mouths, shrieking in delight as pings and alarms sounded.
‘Babygirl, you know how I feel about… that,’ you screwed up your face, gesturing to the clowns. She ignored you and dragged you over anyways, nothing was going to get in her way.
Arms full of your winnings, you and Wanda waddled over to the booth and you fumbled a note from your pocket, winking at the guy you handed it to. He handed Wanda a small bag with ping pong balls, and the game begun as each competitor readied their hands.
‘Three, two, one, go!’ he shouted.
Wanda hadn’t wanted to play any of the other ridiculous games you had insisted on, but this, she thought, was mindless fun. You cheered her on, the points racking higher, until all her balls were gone.
‘Highest point total goes to the little lady on the left! Congratulations, missy, you get our top prize.’
Wanda smiled at the little girl who won, crinkling up her nose with a cheeky grin as the man handed her a small toy. ‘Thank you!’
She hugged it tight, showing it off to you. ‘I didn’t even use my powers and I got one!’
‘You did amazing, Wanda,’ you answered, kissing her quick on the cheek, ‘he’s the cutest one out of all of them!’
Sheepishly, Wanda’s cheeks grew hot and she held it out to you. ‘I won him for you.’
Tucking the small red bear into your shirt, you grinned and kissed her again.
‘Hey, I have an idea.’
Having now explored the whole carnival, only one thing remained. ‘Babe, no,’ Wanda started, interrupted by your charming eyes and the hundreds of plushy ones from the giant netted bag you stole to carry them in.
‘Babe, yes,’ you replied, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the dodgem cars. ‘I’ll drive.’
Your at first dangerous idea quickly turned to one of fun, the screeching laughter from you and Wanda as you slammed into other cars being the highlight of your night, adding it to the list of all the other wonderful things about her. She let go a little, the usually reserved Wanda letting you distract her from all the harsh things she’d suffered, at least for one night.
The ride began to slow, and you leaned over to kiss her properly. She grabbed your cheeks and pulled you close, the squeak from the bear in your shirt making you both jump and start laughing.
‘Just like a movie,’ you grinned, taking her hand and guiding her out of the car.
No idea how you made it home, all of your prizes in tow, the taxi dropped the pair of you outside your apartment. Wanda’s hand wrapped around yours, you tugged her towards the front door.
‘You wanna come in?’
She nodded, lowering her arms around your neck. ‘I’d like that.’
You waved the taxi off, fumbling your key into the lock and pulling Wanda inside. Toys discarded, you crashed into the wall, a little drunk from the competitions you’d stumbled into, the cries of Wanda egging you on only hyping you up more. Maybe you were a little too drunk, but Wanda wasn’t far behind you.
Her lips were sweet, flecked with cotton candy, and the salt from the popcorn you’d shared only made her taste sweeter. You fell back onto the sofa, pulling Wanda on top of you and having her straddle your waist. She sat up, lips parting from yours only for a moment, eyes locked on yours as she removed her clothes, then moved to take off yours.
You sat up a little and pulled her lips down to kiss you, long and slow. Hands running down her sides, both now only in your underwear. ‘Are you okay with this?’ you mumbled, fingers twirling through her hair.
‘More than,’ she replied, leaning down to deepen the kiss.
Your hands moved down her back, one over her ass, circling it with your fingers. Her hips bucked into yours, one of her hands squeezing your boobs in response. Pulling her body closer, you sat up and brought her with you, kissing her chest. You grabbed her hips and moved her body so she sat over your thigh, her knee pressed against your core.
Wanda started to move, grinding against your leg, as your hips bucked against her thigh. She moaned into the air with her head tossed back, moving faster to get more friction, chasing a high.
She felt so good against you, riding your thigh like there was no tomorrow. Growing louder with each thrust of her hips, you could feel her getting more wet by the second. Your hand on her back moved to trace a line down her chest, fingers hooking on the edge of her underwear and gently pulling at the elastic.
Her breath caught in her throat, now hurried to have you touch her even more. Your other hand gripped her ass tight as your fingers dipped inside her panties, Wanda only slowing her pace enough so your hand could catch up. Your fingers were soaked by the time they reached her clit, circling it a few times and feeling Wanda become more desperate.
Your hand moved deeper beneath her, fingers curling up and gently slipping inside her. Her clit slid over your palm over and over, riding you harder as she grew close. ‘Holy shit-’
Silence fell over your apartment, her moans and delighted cries muted by your mouth over hers, taking the last of her breath away. With a final few thrusts, she sighed heavily and slowed, almost collapsing on your chest. The friction you’d gotten back from her wasn’t enough, but she could finish you later. This was about Wanda, and she’d had the night of her life.
‘Just like the movies, right?’
‘I’d like to know what kind of movies you watch, Y/N,’ she replied, breathing heavily as you let her take a breather on your chest.
taglist: @marvelfansince08love @mymarvelwomen @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @monihaswritersblock @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#scarlet witch#marvel#asks#anon#answered#fanfiction#request#request complete#uhhhh#whoops?
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splash! (kuroo tetsurou)
synopsis: in which kuroo tetsurou shows you how annoying he really is. it’s a relief that you’re so ardently in love with him.
pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader
warnings: none :)
genre: fluff, established relationship
a/n: cross posted to ao3! it’s the beach episode y’all!! yes i came up with this when i returned home from the beach a few days ago.
Your thoughts on the beach are conflicting. The cool of the ocean feels sublime under the summer sun and the silky sand cradles your feet like velvet. It’s sensory therapy, you think. But despite the beauty of the land meeting the sea, you hate the sweltering heat that your body loves to absorb and you hate the clumps of wet sand that stick to your toes after a waddle in the water.
All you can say is that the beach is most certainly a place.
So why are you here, lying on white sand with the sun beating down on your face? You can blame your boyfriend Kuroo for that one.
“The volleyball guys are having a beach day, wanna come?” he enquired one lazy afternoon. You wanted to say no, tell him your aversion to the sandy shores but who could refuse his puppy dog eyes? Definitely not you, apparently.
You lay on a beach towel underneath an umbrella that Fukunaga brought with him alongside Kenma, who is curled up with a Switch in his hands. You two are practically birds of a feather, two lazy birds who want nothing more than to just exist on the beach for the sake of your friends.
You love the Nekoma boys, you really do. The first years are a sweet bunch, the second years mesh so well despite their differences, and the third years are the pillars that hold everyone together. They are uniquely wonderful but sometimes, their combined forces makes you want to slam your head into a wall. Kuroo, Fukunaga and Yamamoto approach the umbrella with impish grins and you realise that now is one of those times.
“What are you two doing here? You can’t come to the beach just to lie down!” Kuroo squats to meet both of your eye lines. You scrunch your nose up at him and roll your eyes. The wet of the ocean weighs his hair down and you curse him for looking so good with damp beach hair.
“The water feels refreshing today.” Fukunaga adds, crouching next to Kuroo. Kenma simply replies with a “no thanks,” you offer the same sentiment.
“Come on Kenma, you’ve got to be more gutsy!” Yamamoto shouts at the blonde, hands flying to his shoulders. He’s shaking him around like a bottle of pancake mix.
“How does the beach have anything to do with guts?” is Kenma’s sharp retort. You instantly sense that Kenma’s started something he won’t be able to finish. Yamamoto’s grip on Kenma tightens and your instincts are proven right. There’s more shaking, yelling and a weirdly frequent mention of willpower or something like that.
You’re too focused on the second years bickering that you fail to notice the shadow looming over you. Kuroo’s hands are outstretched, as if he’s trying to encourage a baby to approach him. You become the unfortunate baby as he sweeps you from your beach towel in one quick motion.
“Kuroo Tetsurou, put me down!” you holler, repeatedly slapping his chest in a futile attempt to escape his grasp. Emphasis on futile. Kuroo just shakes his head and chuckles, the thump of your hands just feels like someone playing bongos on his chest.
“Not until every centimetre of you has touched the ocean.” he retorts. Seeing as hitting your stupid boyfriend isn’t helping, you try wiggling in his arms instead. To your dismay, this humours him even more. You really want to wipe the smug grin off of his face, no matter how attractive he looks with it on.
Somehow, you’ll give him a taste of his own medicine, you think. you always do.
Kuroo starts running towards the horizon of sapphire blue and all you can do is hold on for dear life. The lapping waves look to be miles away so at least you have time to soak in the view. To your right, the deep cobalt of the sea sparkles in the afternoon light. To your left, the soft tan floor holds up the tents, bags and feet of many. You spot a certain blonde getting pulled by the shirt collar across the sandy expanse.
The smell of salt, sand and heat fills your nose, the familiar concoction of scent pleasing the child in you. You wonder why you’re so indifferent about the beach rather than head over heels for its visual charm.
The memory of sticky sand and heatwaves hits you while your body slams into the biting cold of the sea.
A yelp escapes your throat as you clumsily fall into the arms of the ocean. Kenma’s blood curdling scream soon follows your shriek. Once you pull your head to the surface, your eyes scan to find the offenders. Kuroo’s standing over you, head thrown back in a fit of playful laughter. Yamamoto and Fukunaga are a distance away from you, cackling at Kenma’s misfortune. Poor Kenma.
While wiping the salty blue from your eyes, Fukunaga’s words from earlier flash in your mind.
The water feels refreshing today.
Oh it’s refreshing alright, refreshingly frigid. Yes, you feel a little more rejuvenated but your everything is drenched. You don’t like this part of the beach too, emerging from the water looking like the seaweed planted in its depths. The clothes clinging to your from is not a look.
“Aw, baby. You look like a wet cat.” Kuroo coos, hunching over to meet your eyes once more. He cards a gentle hand through your damp hair.
“Shut up.” you bite back. With your head titled down, you glare up at him. His expression softens for a moment before returning back to his provocative grin.
“I know you still love me.” he cheekily replies.
It’s a shame that he’s right.
As he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead and flashes you another devilish smirk, you figure that you’d let him dunk you underwater over and over just to see his silly little face beaming at you.
Not before you lovingly splash his face with a spray of the waves first.
#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu one shot#haikyuu one shots#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu drabble#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu x reader#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo imagine#kuroo tetsurou imagine#kuroo tetsurou#haikyuu fluff#nekoma#this doesn't feel completely kuroo centric but oh well#hikari's writing!!#art.os
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Divining Rod
spencer reid x reader
Best years part ten | part nine | part eight | part seven | part six | part five | part four | part three |part two |part one
Summary: The death of a serial killer rises another and the team must stop it.
warnings: normal criminal minds things,
A/N: based on season 7 episode 21
“A row house in Demount Circle wow,” Penelope said, astonished at the news Emily just gave.
“I can’t believe I’m doing it.” Emily shook her head in disbelief at the news also. “I mean, it’s probably not gonna work out anyway, right?”
“That’s what I said before I found out I got my apartment so, you probably will,” Y/N said, laughing at the end of her sentence.
“Well, there are five other sealed bids, and I offered way below what the owners are asking,” Emily spoke, standing up from her chair and began walking. JJ, Y/N, Penelope, and Spencer stood up and followed her.
“Uh-huh, sounds to me like someone’s hoping they don’t get it.” JJ’s voice was filled with sass as she side-eyed Emily.
“Orthophobia, fear of owning personal property,” Spencer said from in front of the four women. He was intently looking over the case file in his hands as they walked to the round table room.
“No- I don’t have a fear of owning stuff, turn me loose in a shoe store, I’ll prove that,” Emily defended herself. “My fear is owning personal property that weighs three hundred tons.”
“Actually, depending on materials used, square footage, and horizontal versus vertical construction, the average house only weighs sixty tons,” Spencer retorted, spewing off his knowledge without even a second thought.
“Well, thanks for that Reid, I feel light as a bird,” Emily said sarcastically.
“It’s okay Em, it took me months before I could even settle into my apartment because I couldn’t feel at home, it just takes time.” Truly Y/N felt uncomfortable because the last place she lived in by herself all her friends were tormented in, but Emily didn’t need to know or worry about that.
“What‘ve we got, baby girl?” Derek asked, breaking up the conversation to bring it to the case at hand.
“We have a killing in Enid, Oklahoma, and not the capital punishment one you are thinking of right now.” Penelope walked over to her chair and took a seat before she continued. “I’m talking about a woman named Cara Smith, who was murdered in her apartment minutes after the execution of Rodney Garret.”
“Neighbors saw her front door open and discovered the body,” Hotch added.
“Look Familiar?” Rossi asked directing everyone’s attention to the victim on the screen. Her appearance is the same as all of Garret’s victims.
“Young, pretty, short blonde hair,” JJ said, examining the photo.
“And stabbed directly through the heart.” Y/N brought her pen up in the air, showing that she realized what Rossi was saying.
“That’s exactly the way Garret killed his victims,” Spencer said as he remembered back to the Garret murders.
“So are we looking at a copycat?” Derek asked looking at those around the table.
“Or someone creating doubt the right person was executed,” JJ countered, looking at Derek next to her.
“In Garret’s case there was no doubt,” Rossi corrected. “His guilt was the slam dunk of all slam dunks. Prints, DNA, a confession…”
“He even led the police to where he buried two of his victims,” Spencer added to the list Rossi was creating.
“Garret killed 25 women before he was caught. If this new unsub is a copycat, the body count’s just getting started,” Emily said.
“Which is why we can’t waste time, wheels up in thirty.”
----------
“Firing squad? That’s new,” Y/N said after hearing Garret’s choice of execution.
“It’s definitely not something you see every day,” JJ agreed.
“Well, Garret had the option of lethal injection, but he chose this instead,” Derek responded.
“Flair for the dramatic,” Rossi stated.
“No kidding.” Y/N let out a breathy laugh with her words.
“Initial reports indicate no forensic evidence at the crime scene,” Hotch said looking at the file in his hand.
“What about the ice pick?” JJ asked.
“It was generic, no serial number or unique metallurgy,” Derek answered looking at the paper that gave more detail on the pick.
“Well, now, it says here-” Emily pointed to a page in her file- “that there were water droplets and a half-filled flower vase on top of the chest drawers, but no flowers. Not in the vase, not in the garbage, nowhere.”
“Maybe the unsub took them,” Y/N posed, looking up from her folder.
A pinging sound came from the laptop as Penelope popped up on the screen.
“Hey, say it like you mean it, baby,” Derek greeted her.
“You know I’m gonna,” she replied before giving what she found. “So if you look in the dictionary, the word ‘normal’-” she held her hands up to show quotation marks- “you will see Cara Smith. College student, well-liked, straight A’s, English lit major- oh speaking of which I just got a transcript of Rodney Garret’s last words, hot off the press and a gold star to the first person who can identify the source of this: ‘She comes like fullest moon on a happy night, taper of waist-”
“‘With shape of magic might,’ it’s from the Thousand and One Nights, not the exact translation I would have used, but it’s got its own merits,” Spencer finished the last of the poem.
“And in a shocking non-upset, we have a winner,” Emily said, hopefully stopping Spencer before he would go on a spew of insight of the story.
“Garret was a sixth-grade dropout, an unlikely guy to be quoting from a Harvard classic,” Rossi said.
“The choice of material does make sense though,” Spencer began. “The book is all about how a Scheherazade forestalled her own death at the hands of the king by regaling him night after night with stories.���
“In the end, he won him over right?” JJ asked.
“Yes, the king found a love for her and decided not to execute her,” Y/N answered, looking at JJ. “Although I wouldn’t say that would be a strategy that would work with the Oklahoma Department of corrections.”
“Another body’s been found half a mile from the first victim, same M.O.” Hotch had stepped away to answer the phone and was now relaying the information he was just given to the team.
“That's six hours later, this guy’s not wasting a lot of time,” Derek said.
“We land in twenty minutes, Reid, you and Y/N go to the latest crime scene, Rossi, you JJ and Prentiss go talk to Garret’s widow. Morgan and I will go to the prison.” Y/N saluted Hotch at his order. “If Garret’s got a disciple, we need to find out who he is and fast.”
----------------
“Such a beautiful day for such a terrible thing to happen.” Y/N’s eyes looked up to the sky, observing the blue of it and the bright sun. She wasn’t really thinking about the case until she walked up the steps, always trying to fit the last of the good in before she saw the bad.
“I don’t think serial killers stop because of the weather, sweets,” Spencer said, raising an eyebrow at the thought.
“Hey, what did I say about nicknames at crime scenes,” Y/N said turning to Spencer who was slightly behind her.
He laughed lightly. “Not to use them, because you’re afraid they’ll be ruined,” he answered her remark.
“Exactly.” She pulled her credentials out of her back pocket to show the officer at the door. Walking into the house, a tall man turned around to greet the two.
“Hey, I’m detective Childers,” the tall man said walking up to Y/N to shake her hand. “You must be with the FBI.”
“Yes, I’m Agent Y/L/N, and this is Dr.Reid.” Y/N pointed to her right to the lanky brunette.
“Hi,” Childers said, holding his hand out for Spencer to shake. Spencer offered the man a small wave, as usual, opting out of the handshake.
Y/N offered a smile to the detective in hopes of trying to make the awkward moment go away. “How about you show us the scene.” Y/N changed the subject.
“Yeah, why don’t y’all follow me back here,” Childers said as he led the two over to the bedroom. “It’s unbelievable this is happening all over again.”
“Who is she?” Spencer asked as they entered the bedroom.
“Jodie Armstrong, single, works a cosmetic counter at a department store downtown,” Childers answered.
The body laid in the exact position it was found. Duct tape still on the mouth and wrists, and the ice pick stabbed into her heart.
“Young, pretty, short blond hair,” Y/N said as she looked at the victim’s appearance. “That’s the same victimology as the others.” She turned her head to look at Spencer, who’s eyes had been wandering the room around them.
“Who discovered the body?” Spencer asked.
“Apartment manager. A neighbor called to complain that a teapot in the kitchen kept on whistling,” Childers explained.
“So he surprised her.” Y/N said, turning as she watched the struggle play out around her. She pictured the unsub pushing her down and tying her onto the bed.
The three separated as Childers went to go handle something out front and Spencer and Y/N stayed to look around the scene more. Y/N gloved her hands and squatted down next to the bed, looking closely at the victim’s head. Pushing her head to the side, she moved her hair to and fro as she examined the hair cut. She noticed it’s unevenness and well, basically, it was a shitty hair cut for such a pretty young girl to have.
“Hey, Spence, come look at this.” Spencer looked over at Y/N who was across the room from him.
“What is it?” He asked, setting down the CD he had been looking at to walk over.
“This girl is young and she obviously cares about her appearance, she’s fit, her nails are done,” she said, laying one finger on top of the other as the listed off the things she’s noticed. “But her hair, look at it, it’s uneven.” She picked up the phone that had headphones plugged into the jack and turned it on.
“Could it maybe be a fashion statement, you know, look bad on purpose?” Spencer asked looking next to him at Y/N.
She shook her head, looking through the phone in her hand. She began to look through some things in her photos before she found a selfie of Jodie and some of her friends. “Look at this,” she leaned over to show Spencer the photo.
With two of her fingers on the screen, she zoomed in on Jodie, who in the photo had very long blonde hair. “It was taken last night,” she said after pointing to the timestamp at the bottom corner of the photo. “The unsub cut her hair.”
--------------
In the station, the mood was serious. Two bulletin boards stood side by side with large maps placed on the. Spencer, Hotch, Y/N, and Derek sat in swivel chairs from desks in the area they were in. Behind them sat JJ, Emily, and Rossi, who were looking through letters that were sent to Rodney Garret’s home.
“This new guy’s hunting in a different neighborhood,” Childer’s spoke after looking at the map.
“He must be comfortable in the area, he knew the victims’ routines,” Derek stated.
“His method of ingress and egress is quiet and unnoticeable,” JJ said, leaning back in her chair.
“Get a load of this one,” Emily began as she turned in her chair with a letter. “Dear Mr. Garret: It took a lot of courage to do what you did. Most people are cowards and don’t do what they feel inside them. You are an inspiration, and I applaud you.”
When Emily had finished the letter, Y/N barked out a laugh. “I’m sorry for laughing but ‘I applaud you’?” She just shook her head, the letter being very funny to her in a weird way.
“These are supposed to be the non-wacko letters,” Rossi said.
Everyone raised their brows in question. A computer beeping signaling the arrival of Penelope’s on a screen got everyone’s attention.
“Hey guess what, Y/N’s genius has struck again,” Penelope began as she popped up on the screen. “The hunch about the hair was right, I’m sending you an ATM image of Cara Smith. She’s the first victim, this was taken ten hours before her murder check it out.”
At that, everyone’s attention was brought to a screen. The video showing Cara walking up to the machine with very long hair compared to what was left on her body.
“The unsub cut her hair too,” Childers said as he looked at the video.
“You know, there could be a sexual element involved. Trichophilia is a fetish where one becomes aroused by the removal of hair,” Spencer said.
“Yeah, but, either way, this is starting to look less like a copycat,” Y/N said looking next to her at Spencer.
“The unsub’s deviating too much from Garret’s M.O., Garret never took trophies,” Derek said in agreement.
“He’s also choosing low-risk victims, Garret’s stayed with high-risk target- prostitutes, runaways--” Spencer said but was cut off by JJ.
“Garret also got sloppy and left clues that eventually nailed him, this guy’s careful and meticulous,” JJ said.
“He’s not that careful,” Childers corrected. “He leaves doors open, teapots boiling.”
“I think it’s intentional. He wants the bodies found so we know when and where he’s killing,” Hotch said.
The room fell silent again, everyone getting back to their work. Little conversation was made, Emily or Rossi reading off an obscure letter or Y/N saying something about the geographical profile to Spencer. All conversation halted due to Childers getting a call that there was another body.
“Reid and Y/N, come with me to the scene.” Hotch stood up, Y/N and Spencer following his request out of the room and to the scene.
Walking into the house, Y/N took note of how it was kept and lived in by the victim. She did so in hopes of gathering something for victimology. After noticing she fell behind Hotch and Spencer, she quickly caught up to them as they entered the bedroom.
The blonde woman laid on her back, her arms duct-taped to the foot of the bed. Her eyes were closed, and she almost looked peaceful, but the ice pick in her heart told them otherwise.
Hotch squatted down to the bedside and examined the side of her head that was exposed.
“He shaved her head,” Hotch commented. Y/N and Spencer stood on either side of him, looking over the body from behind their unit chief.
“That’s even more humiliation and disrespect,” Y/N said. She turned her head sideways as she looked at the poor and almost frantic shaved spot.
“He didn’t do it to the other victims.” Hotch stood up as he spoke, looking at Childers who was on the other side of the bed.
“Detective when was the body discovered?” Y/N asked.
“Half hour ago, the killer left the front and back doors open,” Childers responded. “And there’s no indication of any contact on the wine glasses swabbed for DNA.” He gestured to the CSI unit that was brushing the wine glass behind him.
“Not even the victims?” Spencer asked. His face doing its normal twist as he thought.
“The unsub probably wiped it clean,” Y/N said. The upper half of her body turned to her left to look at Hotch and Spencer.
“Has anyone found an open or empty wine bottle in the house?” Hotch asked, turning back to the detective after looking at Y/N.
“We haven’t found one yet.” Childers shook his head.
“He probably took it with him, like the flowers of his first victim,” Spencer commented.
“He’s killed at six A.M., noon, and now six P.M.,” Hotch said, looking between Y/N and Spencer.
“That’s not a long cooling-off period.” Y/N spook with a sigh as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not feeling so good about the stroke of midnight.” Spencer’s eyes bounced between the three in front of him. All of them nodding their heads in agreement at the comment.
-------------
“We believe we’re looking for a white male between the ages of thirty and forty who is strong enough to subdue physically fit young women with minimum resistance,” Hotch said. The team stood in front of a crowd of local officers as they told the profile. Rossi and Emily had found out that the same man that wrote the letter Emily had read to them were some of Garret’s favorites. Taking that, they presumed that the man who wrote the letters was more than likely the unsub.
“He’s forensically sophisticated and evidence-conscious,” Derek added.
“He targets his victims in advance and leaves no trail.” Y/N stepped forward as she spoke, coming into line with Derek.
“This person is also confident.” Emily paused, then continued. “He’s been taunting us by revealing his crime scene quickly.”
“Because of his ability to plan and flawlessly execute his crimes, we’re looking for someone capable of holding down a job. Even though it’s probably menial and unfulfilling,” Rossi said. His hands stuffed into his pockets as his shoulder shrugged when he spoke.
“The victims have all been young, blonde, and pretty. As such, they reflect a certain societal standard of perfection that may actually represent the type of women that are unattainable to this unsub,” Spencer explained.
“He cuts his victims’ hair, and then he takes it with him, this could be another way for him to possess a part of them,” Y/N said, bouncing off of Spencer’s statement.
“Or to degrade these unattainable women, make them uglier,” JJ added on to Y/N’s words.
“The killer has been murdering in six-hour increments. He is, in effect, time-stamping his victims, there’s no reason to believe he will deviate from that now,” Rossi said.
“Which means the next kill will be at midnight.” Y/N emphasized her words as she spoke.
“The public needs to be alerted to stay off the streets for all non-essential activities,” JJ said. “Single women should not be in their homes alone,” she continued, her warning to the people relaying its importance.
“Every available officer will be out in full force tonight, we need to blanket this city,” Emily commanded. The officer’s around the room nodding that they understood.
“We do have one advantage,” Hotch began. “A killer who uses this kind of precise timing and specificity is easy to disrupt. We can use his own M.O. against him,” he explained. The officer’s around the room were then dismissed and went to get ready for the night out.
As the sunset fell over the city of Enid, the officers suited up and began to canvas the town. Emily and Derek joined them while the others stayed back and helped run point. While they waited, they had Penelope do some more digging into Garret to find out who the unsub might be.
“What you got, Garcia?” JJ asked as she answered the call from Penelope.
“I have found a thing of interest regarding these shanking attempts made on Garret in prison,” Penelope began.
“What is it?” Hotch asked, curious as to what she found.
“The timing, see, the first time Garret was attacked was May 25, 2008, the day before that, May 24, for those of you keeping score, Garret’s imminent execution date was postponed, right?” Penelope’s question was rhetorical so everyone stayed quiet as she continued.
“So then if you flash forward to the second shanking attempt of stabby-ness, that would be November 15, 2010. The day before that, his next execution date, also postponed.” When Penelope had finished her explanation everyone was basically one the same page of what was happening.
“Okay, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say someone decided to take matters into their own hands,” Y/N said. She crossed her arms across her chest and popped her hip to the side, the resting position she stood in when she thought.
“Thanks, Garcia,” JJ said, her finger hovering over the hang-up button on the computer.
“Ever welcome, my comrades.” JJ hung up the call and turned back to those behind her.
“Well, that sounds like what you would think of somebody on the outside wanting a little revenge,” Childers said, his head turning to Rossi and Hotch beside him.
“They wouldn’t wait five years, give it two tires, and then toss in the towel,” Rossi stated, his head shaking as he didn’t believe that theory.
“It sounds to me like someone just needed Rod Garret out of the way,” JJ said, adding in her own theory.
“But Garret was on death row, confined to his cell 23 hours a day. How was he in anybody’s way?” Hotch questioned, both theories not making sense now.
“Since we’re on the subject of things that don’t make sense, the unsub left the doors open after the murders,” Y/N said, bringing in a new topic in hopes of coming up with something new.
“Okay, that’s directed at law enforcement-- catch me if you can,” Rossi responded to Y/N’s thought.
“But the cutting of the hair,” Y/N said her voice trailing off in question.
“That’s for Garret,” Hotch finished, knowing what Y/N was thinking now.
Rossi nodded agreeing with Y/N.
“Well, what makes you think that?” Childers asked her.
“Well, Garret chose victims who were easy prey-- drug addicts and prostitutes. But this unsub has chosen more difficult targets but gone to the trouble of making them look like Garret’s victims,” Hotch answered, turning to Childers.
“That’s his way of telling Garret, ‘I can do better than you’,” Rossi elaborated.
“Okay, but why wait until after the execution to start killing? If the unsub really wanted to thumb his nose at Garret, wouldn’t he want him to be alive to see it?” JJ asked, not fully understanding this theory.
“Exactly, that’s the part that doesn’t make sense.” Y/N pointed as she spoke.
“Them we’re missing something,” Hotch said.
-------------
When the sun rose, the team had been at the station all night. In the early morning hours, another victim was found with a different M.O., stab wounds. Since the unsub could not kill his victim properly, this led them to believe that the killer could go on a spree. The unsub also removed her scalp this time, taking away most of her hair.
The clock on the table flipped to 9:44 A.M., and Y/N’s eyes were heavy. She laid on a bench, her head resting on Spencer’s thigh. His hand rested on his arm that was propped on the railing of the bench. The two sat peacefully, Y/N was not totally asleep, but her mind was in and out of full consciousness from the long night. She wasn’t totally sure if Spencer was asleep either, his body not moving which she was grateful for. His warmth was what kept her so at peace, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay like that for long.
“I never could do that,” Rossi stated as he looked at Y/N and Spencer who had their eyes closed.
“Do what?” Emily asked, her eyes following Rossi’s over to the sleepy couple. She let out a small ‘awe’ as she noticed the two.
“Take a nap, it never felt natural,” Rossi answered, not appreciating the cute moment.
“I’m actually wide awake,” Spencer said, sitting up from his position. His movement stirred Y/N as she moved to get comfortable again, but never opening her eyes.
“But for future reference, polyphasic sleep is completely natural. Quite common in the animal world, and highly beneficial.” His eyes panned to Y/N who was still, he believed, asleep on his lap. “However, I believe Y/N is very much taking a real nap.”
“Shhhh.” Y/N reached one of her hands to her lips sleepily, placing her index finger on her lips. She sighed after a second and sat up, realizing she was now fully awake and there was no going back to whatever state of sleep she was in before. “Okay, I give I’m awake.”
“All right, six o’clock’s way come and gone, if our guys killed again, he’s not leaving the front door open,” JJ said after looking at the clock.
“Or he could just be taking a breather,” Derek posed the counter. “I mean, even the unsub has to realize he can’t keep up this pace indefinitely.”
“Maybe the last murder completed some sort of cycle,” Rossi said, saying his thoughts aloud.
“What do you mean?” Y/N asked, leaning her forearms on her thighs.
“A day and a night have passed, the sun rises for the first time in a world without Rod Garret,” Rossi answered, his hands moving as he spoke.
“There could also be a more mundane reason, our guys got a job, and yesterday was his day off,” Emily said.
“He killed his first three victims in their homes-” Hotch pointed to the markers on the map where the homes were- “But the last victims, Emily Sisk, he tried to but he couldn’t. SO he abducted her, took her somewhere else, and then brought her all the way back to dump her body in front of her apartment building.” Hotch’s voice got slightly aggressive as he spoke, irritated as to why he didn’t know how that happened.
“That’s incredibly risky considering all the increased police presence,” Y/N said, agreeing with Hotch.
“There’s gotta be a geographic component to the unsub’s design,” Hotch said turning back to the map on the board.
“Let’s connect the dots, literally.” Spencer stood up from his seat next to Y/N and walked to the board. He pulled a red marker out of his pocket and drew lines to connect all four homes.
The lines formed an upside-down arrow almost.
“A tip of a spear,” Emily guessed, turning this into a game of Pictionary.
Y/N walked up to the board to get a closer look at the design. Her head cocked to the side as she thought.
“Maybe it’s an arrow pointing south? Could he be steering us to his next victim?” Derek asked as he pointed to the bottom of the arrow.
“It’s a quadrilateral, but there’s nothing particularly symbolic about a four-sided concave polygon,” Spencer said, pointing out the math of the shape.
“Spence, can I?” Y/N said reaching for the marker in his hand. Spencer nodded, handing her the red marker. “Look what happens when you curve the lines.” She drew curves over the lines the Spencer drew, forming something in the shape of a heart.
“A heart,” Emily said, eyes trained on the drawing.
“Well, Garret and the unsub both killed their victims using stab wounds through the heart,” Derek said.
“And Garret was executed by a shot through the heart,” Rossi continued the theory.
Hotch then moved the clear map of all the roads and homes over the heart drawing on the board. In the center of the heart sat the home of Rod Garret’s wife, Helen Garret.
“Helen Garret,” Emily realized as Hotch put the map on top of the other.
“It’s all about her,” Hotch said, confirming the speculation Emily made.
-------------
After JJ, Rossi, and Hotch established that Helen was probably at the prison since she was not home, the rest of the team made their way there. When the others met up with them, all of them in their kevlar’s ready to take action, they met outside the gates of the prison to talk.
“So nobody saw what happened, but Helen’s car is still in the parking lot,” JJ said walking up to the group with Rossi and the warden.
“He’s got her,” Hotch said.
“The driver’s name is Dylan Kohler, he lives at 4488 Harmony Court,” the Warden said identifying the unsub.
“Did he work yesterday, Warden?” Y/N asked.
“No, he arranged for someone else to take his shift,” the Warden answered.
“I’ll have Garcia check into Kohler, but now that he’s tipped his hand, I doubt if he’s going back home,” Rossi stated, pulling out his phone to call Penelope.
“All right, Morgan, take Reid, Y/N, and Prentiss to the house of Kohler, see if they’re there just in case.” Derek nodded, then gestured for the three to follow him to a car to go to the home.
When they arrived at the home of Dylan Kohler, there was no sign of him or Helen. They headed out of the house to go back to the prison.
“Yeah, Hotch, they’re not here,” Derek said to Hotch when he answered the phone.
“Where the hell could they be?” Y/N asked looking to Spencer next to her as she holstered her gun. He shrugged his shoulders, opening the door for Y/N. She climbed in hoping to the seat on the left and Spencer sitting on the one on the right.
------------
After finding Garret’s secret hideout, the team wrapped up the case, saving Helen Garret and were now on their way home. Y/N sat in the seat across from Spencer, eyes glancing at him every once and a while as he read. His finger trailing down the page, his steady breathing, and the curve of his nose entranced her as she looked at him.
She was sleepy, there was no doubt about it. Yet, her eyes couldn’t close as she looked at him, too caught up in his domestic feel to let it be intruded on by sleep that she desperately needed.
Tell him, the voice in her head whispered. Tell him how much you love him.
She couldn’t, at least not yet. Not until she knew that Caroline was out of sight, or if he said it first. But something in her told her that he knew she loved him. Simple acts like saying you need sleep or hold my hand was ways she was able to say she loved and cared for him without having to voice it.
Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted though by the beeping of a computer from behind her in.
“Oh, hey, guys, hey,” Penelope said with a sleepy voice. Y/N turned in her chair to listen to the conversation. “I just wanted to see what was going on.”
“This better be important, Garcia,” Emily said irritated as she was woken from her slumber.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Penelope was playing it off, the excitement in her voice giving it away. “It’s just that a messenger came by the office today with some papers from Escrow!” Her voice was sing-song at the end.
Emily’s face became very surprised. “No!” She said, astonished and not believing the blonde on the screen.
“Oh, yes, the house in Dupont Circle-- you got it! Whoo!” Penelope was throwing confetti at the screen in excitement.
“Oh my God, Em, that’s so exciting!” Y/N said happily as she sat on her knees in her chair to face Emily.
“Congratulations,” Hotch said with a smile.
Then, Emily’s face fell and she looked like she was going to be sick. Y/N and Spencer stood up to sit on the couch so they could be closer to the conversation.
“Six seconds, fastest case of buyers remorse ever,” Rossi said, looking down at his watch then at Emily.
“Well, I say the moment we land, we all head over to Ziggy’s and clear out the champaign inventory,” Derek said sitting next to JJ.
“And talk Prentiss down off the ledge,” JJ chuckled as she looked at Emily’s horrified face.
“Oh, my stomach doesn’t feel so hot.” Emily clutched her stomach.
They all let out a small laugh at Emily’s reaction.
“I was in the middle of the best dream,” JJ said changing the topic. “I dreamt that I was at this exclusive salon getting my hair done.”
The toll from the event of the last two days pressing themselves on her dreams. The thought of having a wig made of human scalp and hair placed on her head made Y/N shudder at the thought when she was told.
“Ah, the psychotherapeutic benefits of dreams-- purging unpleasant images and replacing them with good ones,” Spencer said, giving insight on to why we dream things like that.
“Yeah, ‘unpleasant’ is putting it mildly, bub,” Y/N said looking at Spencer next to her.
“If someone put a bloody wig on my head, I would have ripped that thing off and kept it off.” JJ thought back to how Helen let the wig sit on her head when they found her.
“Well, you’d think instinct would take over,” Derek said agreeing with JJ.
“Oh, hey, Rossi, I meant to ask you, what did Helen mean at the end when she said ‘daddy was right’?” JJ asked turning to look at Rossi across from her.
Rossi let out an annoyed sigh. “He once told her that she was a divining rod for the evil in men. That she could sniff it out when nobody else could.”
“There was definitely something a little strange about her,” Emily said as she recalled the time she and Rossi had to speak with her.
“It’s curious, one woman at the center of two serial killers.” Hotch’s voice was low as he voiced his thought.
“Yeah, what are the odds of that?” Y/N said, her question being rhetorical but she knew Spencer would answer.
“Astronomical.”
Ah, there’s the answer, Y/N thought.
“Removing from the calculations serial killer groupies--” Spencer was cut off by Hotch lightly hitting her arm to have him stop.
“Y/N, why’d you ask?” JJ laughed. Y/N just shrugged, knowing she’d get the answer she kinda wanted to hear later.
“You know, whether she knew it or not, maybe Helen Garret did give Dylan something,” Derek said as he thought more into it. “I mean someone once said that every seed, even malignant ones, they won’t grow unless they get water from someplace.”
-------------
That night, after going out to celebrate Emily’s new house, Y/N walked into her home. Stumbling as her lips were connected to Spencer's. The impromptu makeout session starting at the door when Spencer started to say goodnight, but Y/N had a little too much champaign and really wanted a good ‘ole fashion junior-high makeout session.
She pushed him back to her couch, the two giggling like thirteen-year-olds as they kissed. She straddled his lap as they continued to kiss. It was childish and full of smiles and teeth as they giggled. Still, the kiss was full of love and tenderness as Spencer would caress the side of her face with his large hands. Or when she would grab the front of his sweater to pull him closer to her.
“I really need to go home,” Spencer said. His lips brushing against Y/N’s as he spoke.
She didn’t listen and kept placing pecks on his lips before she let their lips mold together in bliss.
“No,” she protested quietly as she pulled away, then went back to his lips.
He chuckled, trying to pull back again to speak, but her lips chased his. “I’m not taking advantage of you, sweets,” he said gentlemanly.
She sighed, knowing that she was slightly drunk and he wasn’t going to keep going since she was. “Fine, but you owe me.” She poked his chest with every word. “Always a gentleman, even when I’m horny, but it’s fine.” Her words were a slur of mutters under her breath, but he heard her and laughed.
“Always.” He pecked her lips one more time as she stood up and led him to the door.
Once Spencer had given her one more kiss goodnight, promising her a coffee in the morning at work, she closed the door and turned to the inside of her apartment. A sigh of relief leaving her as she stepped further into her safe environment. She took her boots off and placed them by the door and moved her keys she dropped on the floor in the bowl on the table. She began to walk to her kitchen but stopped when her eyes caught glimpse of a letter.
She hastily pulled the wax seal back to open it, but became confused as she looked at the note.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
She laughed, it was a pathetic line to spook her that wouldn’t work. She put the note back in the envelope and placed it with others.
She thought nothing of it. She didn’t think she would need too, but everything Caroline did had meaning. This too would show it’s meaning soon.
Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):
@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @justine-en @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore @peterparkersdestiny @bandsandjill @mbowles23-blog @sarcasm-n-insomnia @citrussirus @nerual222 @april-14-blog @reidloversisforever @heavenlyholland
#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid series#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds meme#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#derek morgan#derek morgan imagine#Matthew Gray Gubler#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal mids fic#Penelope Garcia#emily prentiss#jj#jennifer jareau
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quack (henry cavill x reader)
its chick day at the farmers market
my love for ducks and chickens bled into this, not sorry 😌🦆
all the fluff & soft!henry
——————
when you stopped at the gas station on your way home from work, you over heard the clerk and a customer talking about chick day over at the local famers market. it made you perk up from your phone, hearing that they’re setting up for the next couple of weekends.
that made you excited, you had a soft spot in your heart for any type of farm animal. once the conversation was over you walked up and paid for your gas and gum and high tailed it out of the store.
when you parked in the garage, you quickly shut off the car and speed walked to the door. you opened it quickly, seeing kal run to you in excitement.
“babe!” you yelled, while petting kal, when you didn’t hear a response, you put down your purse on the table, “babe!” you yelled again.
henry ran from the bedroom as quick as possible, not wanting to slip down the stairs in his socks. “what is it?” he worried, “what happened?” he said louder.
you met him at the bottom of the stairs, gleaming with excitement. he frowned his eyebrows, very confused, he thought something bad happened, but by your facial expression, showed something different.
“the farmers market!” you squealed, “they’ve got baby ducks and chicks!” eyes bright, you bounced on the balls of your feet.
“okay..?” henry leaned to the side, slowly getting in front of you, “what about it?”
“we have to see them, they’ll be here tomorrow!” you smiled wide, waiting for him to catch up to your excitement.
“you wanna go see them?” he asked, trying to hide his smile, he hasn’t seen you this excited since he told you that he had a dog.
“yeah!” you waved your arms out, henry finally catching on.
——
saturday couldn’t have came fast enough, you both got at the farmers market around late morning, not wanting to be there too late because then all the babies will probably be gone. hand in hand you walked with henry, more like dragged him, to the first little stand with black little chickens, hearing their little peeps.
“oh the little babies!” you squeaked in a baby voice, squatting down to see them better.
henry laughed as he saw you peeping back at them, not wanting to miss this moment, he pulled out his phone and took a quick five second video of you peeping at the chicks.
you both walked around, henry wanting to also see what was available. but when you heard the baby quacks you searched them out, coming up to a tub. the ducklings had heated lamps, some of them crowded into the corners of where it was at, and in another corner they had their feeders.
henry leaned over and chatted with you on how cute they where, he already had a bag full of fresh vegetables and fruits. he decided that he definitely needed to come back next season.
“awh, y’all are so cute” you wanted to cry, they where so fluffy and adorable!
the lady at the stand got your attention, “there’s a little pool over here, if you want to pick a duckling and put him in it.” she suggested with a shrug, and you definitely took that and ran with it.
you grabbed the lonely little duck you’ve been cooing over, gently picking him up and trying hard to sooth him. “come on baby, come with me.”
henry was gushing over how cute you where with the animal, hes trying really hard to convince himself that when you ask to keep it, to say no. but he’s even having a hard time saying no to himself.
you sat on the ground as you let the little baby swim and dunk himself in kitty pool, you noticed he had an open cut on his flipper and bald spots on his back, “are you getting picked on baby?” you pouted.
henry stood beside you and tilted his head to the side, “what do you mean bug?” he questioned.
“some times the other ducks will pick on the the one they see as the weak one,” yeah answered henry, looking back at the little duck, “but you’re not weak are you baby boy?”
henry nodded and hummed in response, frowning. now he really wanted to get the duck, he contemplated, weighing his options. he was just worried of what kal would think or more in less, do if he got one moment alone with the duck. i mean, they had room, inside and outside and he could always train kal to leave it alone.
henry made up his mind and quickly looked on his phone of what you two will need to get to take care of it, he wasn’t going to go into this blind.
when he read up on what to get and how to care for it, he walked over to the lady that spoke earlier and paid for the duck, all while you where preoccupied on the duckling. she handed henry a box to put the duckling in, he whispered a thank you to the lady and smiled as he approached you. he’ll definitely get the best boyfriend award.
“come on bug, time to go,” he said, cheesing hard.
you pouted, picking up the baby duck from the pool to give it a kiss goodbye. “okay, bye baby,” you said to the duck.
henry shook his head, “no you weirdo,” he said, putting the box in your reach, “we’re taking him home.”
you gasped, surprised, you didn’t even have to ask for this one. “really?” you looked between henry and the duckling in your hand, smiling so much were it hurt your face.
“yes,” he smiled, “we need to go to the store to get what we need to take care of him.” he finished as he tucked the now collapsed box under his arm and grabbed your free hand and started walking to the car.
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i just want to see fat harry being loved by louis😎 maybe some stuffing, cuddles and belly rubbs that's all
Anonymous said: fully kink centered feedee harry fic sounds like a dream
Anonymous said: could you give us lots LOOOTS of louis teasing harry about his weight gain?
Anonymous said: i just want some stuffing that's all😭
Fulfilling MANY prompts with this one! Around 2k of feedee Harry getting stuffed, I hope y’all enjoy (also...this is kink-centered so if you’re not into that, I apologize, I’ll post more fluffy content soon)
--
Louis’s favorite part of any day was always when he got to feed his boyfriend.
His day to day was rather dull; waking up earlier, going to work to teach music to young kids, and then trying not to fall asleep on the train home before he went and made dinner.
But making dinner always brought him a bit of peace, as he picked out the perfect meal, chopped up each ingredient, formulated it perfectly so it would be ready when Harry eventually got home from work. He always made the best meals for Harry; always more than one course, the richest flavors, always good enough to make Harry ask for seconds.
When he thought about it, it was probably no wonder Harry had gained about 150 pounds in the two years Louis had known him.
It wasn’t intentional, at first. Harry was a little chubby when Louis had met him; mostly just a round belly on an otherwise skinny frame, something he had blamed on starting a new desk job that gave him no time to work out, and a lot of time to sit around and stress-eat. He and Louis went on all the usual food-centric dates a new couple would go on; movie dates with popcorn and soda, Mexican and Italian restaurants, ice cream to end the night. Louis remembered putting on a little weight during that time too, but he quickly realized just how much Harry loved to eat whenever they went out. He would order extra-large popcorns and cherry Cokes for himself, three scoops of ice cream to Louis’s one, two main courses and a dessert when they went to dinner.
“You really love food,” Louis remembered commenting once at dinner, and Harry just laughed and patted his belly.
“It’s no wonder this thing is getting bigger, then,” Harry had said.
They had also had sex for the first time that night, although at first Louis tried to tell himself the two were not related. Not even if Harry pushing his bloated stomach against Louis’s own flat belly finally made him cum later.
A few Google searches and awkward discussions later, the two of them figured out what they both wanted: Harry to gain more weight, and Louis to get him there.
Now, Louis flitted around the kitchen, humming to himself as he got out some plates. It was a Friday, so Louis had taken a break from his usual cooking and had taken the route of ordering in instead, getting some food from Harry’s favorite fried chicken restaurant. He had already stripped down to just his briefs, and hummed happily to himself as he heard Harry’s keys in their apartment door as he plated some of the take out.
“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice called, immediately followed by, “Damn, that smells good.”
“You hungry?” Louis returned, already smiling to himself as he laid out Harry’s beloved chicken tenders in a pleasing layout on the plate.
“You know it,” Harry called back. Louis heard him tossing his keys in the bowl by their door, and then blushed as Harry’s heavy footsteps came down the hall.
Harry came in a moment later, smiling as he came up behind Louis, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing behind his ear. He was dressed in his usual work attire, a white button down and a now-loosen tie, although as usual, his buttons had started gaping over his undershirt, pushed out by a day of battling Harry’s round, heavy belly.
“God, this looks so good,” Harry sighed. “Where are we eating tonight?”
“Where do we always eat on Friday?” Louis countered, twisting around to kiss Harry’s cheek.
“Oh, is it a bedroom kind of night?” Harry chuckled, kissing Louis back.
“Uh huh,” Louis smiled. “Get comfy, baby, I’ll be right in, okay?”
“Alright, honey,” Harry agreed. He kissed him one last time, and Louis just smiled as he cut down the hall, on the way to their room.
Louis put the finishing touches on the plate he had made; a dozen chicken strips, some home fries, several tubs of dipping sauce, all laid out neatly. He had also gotten two giant bottles of Harry’s much-loved cherry Coke, and he had bought some fresh ice cream, which he left in the freezer. He balanced one bottle of Coke under one arm as he carried the plate to the bedroom, pushing it open with his hip. Harry had made quick work of getting undressed, and was currently just in his boxers, propped up against a pile of pillows behind him. His belly sat round and heavy, covered half his thick thighs, which he had generously spread out. Most of the tattoos he had had when he and Louis met were faded and stretched out over his thick arms, chest, and stomach, and Louis always loved to see them, how they stood out against his pale skin and were obscured by all his curves.
“You look so good, god,” Louis gushed as he set the plate of food and soda down on the bed, “One second.”
He opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a pair of black silk ties, and Harry smirked and lifted up his arms, letting his wrists against the metal bars of their headboard.
“I always know you mean business when you bring those out,” he said, and Louis just grinned and leaned over, tying one of Harry’s wrists to the headboard.
“I sure do, big boy,” Louis said, giving Harry a quick peck before he went to the other side of the bed to secure his other wrist. When he was done, he finally crawled onto the bed and settled himself in Harry’s lap, his legs on either side of his boyfriend’s thighs. He didn’t waste any time as he picked up a cup of ranch and a chicken tender, dunking it in the sauce a few times before he offered it to the other man. Harry ate happily, taking a big bite and moaning as he chewed, and then happily finished the rest of the tender.
“How was work today?” Louis asked as he reached for a thick fry, dipping it in ketchup as he lifted it to Harry’s mouth.
“Fine,” Harry said in between chews, “I helped an old lady with her taxes. How about you?”
“A kid spilled an entire Capri Sun on my piano, I almost had an aneurysm.”
“Well,” Harry chuckled. “That explains why I’m having a dozen chicken fingers for dinner tonight.”
“Uh huh,” Louis agreed, grabbing another piece of chicken. “All my stress goes right in this belly.”
He gave Harry’s stomach a firm smack, and then went back to feeding him more chicken.
Louis gave him three more chicken tenders and several more potatoes before Harry started complaining he was thirsty, and then Louis twisted off the top of his Coke and held the heavy bottle with practiced hands, setting it against Harry’s lips and tilting it back. He always drank it fast, and Louis always liked how it made his stomach swell quickly.
When Harry was done with his soda, Louis took it away, and then quickly went back to feeding him. He always got lost in watching Harry eat; how eager he was, his big bites, how his face began turning red the more he ate. Three more chicken tenders, and Harry started squirming a big more, his breathing more swallow. Louis knew he was getting full, probably was dying to rub his own belly, but his hands were still tied to the headboard.
“You want more, baby?” Louis giggled. He grabbed another chicken tender, dipping it in the thick ranch, and then brought it to Harry’s waiting lips. He smiled at Harry chewed contentedly, letting out a long sigh as he finished, only for Louis to shove the rest of the chicken finger into his mouth.
“You look bigger lately,” Louis said, palming the curve of Harry’s belly. “I must be picking the right foods.”
“You have,” Harry agreed with a long exhale. “That and I can’t say no to you.”
“Harry, I mean, seriously,” Louis continued. He rubbed both hands along Harry’s bloated belly, pushing down a bit at the plushness. “Just a few months ago, you were so cute and chubby, and now you look fucking huge.”
Harry groaned at that, closing his eyes as his cheeks turned red.
“And look at this,” Louis pointed out, jabbing his finger into Harry’s underbelly. “I can see where your pants dug into you, you’ve needed a new size for weeks, and you wear 44s.”
He delicately picked up another chicken tender and dunked it in the ranch as he kept rubbing Harry’s belly with one hand, pushing it roughly against Harry’s lips.
“I mean, honestly, it’s so much weight,” Louis continued, shoving the rest of the chicken into Harry’s mouth, “Didn’t you play baseball or something in high school?”
Harry grunted and let out a long sigh as Louis grabbed more fries.
“You know damn well it was track and field,” Harry said. “And I was team captain.”
“Well, forgive me for forgetting,” Louis rolled his eyes. He dipped down, kissing and licking the curve of Harry’s belly, and then grabbed one of the last two chicken tenders left.
“You know I never would’ve gotten this big if I hadn’t met you,” Harry said, and Louis grinned.
“Oh, baby, I know. I know,” he smiled, and then pushed the chicken tender into his mouth. He watched Harry chew, slow and labored, and then reached around him, grabbing his thick love handles and giving them a shake.
“And for the record, I think you could afford to put on a few more pounds,” Louis said, reaching for the soda again. “Come on, open up for me.”
Louis held the bottle steadily as Harry swallowed down the soda, and then he made steady work of dipping the last few fries in dipping sauce and feeding them, bit by bit, into Harry’s exhausted, open mouth. He was beet red now and groaning as he chewed, but Louis kept fondling and rubbing his bloated belly, feeling the heft and heat of it. Finally, there was just one more chicken finger, and Louis poured the last of the ranch onto it and then broke it, folding it in half so he could shove the whole thing in Harry’s mouth in one go.
The other man took his time chewing, and when he finished, and let out a loud groan, struggling to catch his breath as he tried to collect himself. Louis set the now-empty plate and bottle of soda on the bedside table and then lowered himself down, kissing all over the impressive curve of Harry’s belly, then up to his soft, wide chest, his big, sensitive nipples, over to the fleshy, stretch-marked under parts of his arms. Then, finally, he was up to Harry’s face, with his round cheeks and his thick double chin and his sauce-covered mouth, and Louis kissed his fiercely, holding his fat cheeks in between his hands and he did so.
“Christ, I’m lucky, aren’t I,” Louis sighed. “Grew myself the perfect boyfriend.”
Harry just let out a labored laugh, and then winced as the mere action made his stuffed belly shake.
“Don’t worry, you’re going to get a blow job out of this,” Louis said. “And your cock in my ass after that. Whatever you want for being so fucking perfect.”
Harry sighed, tossing his head back and weakly flailing his tied hands.
“Can you – oof – untie me first? My arms hurt.”
“Oh, baby, of course,” Louis cooed, quickly moving to remove the ties. “Anything you want.”
He untied one restraint, and then moved to the other, although he paused when Harry spoke.
“Lou?”
Louis glanced over, looking at his big, pink-cheeked boyfriend.
“Yeah, baby?”
Harry’s eyes sparked, a smile coming over his swollen, red lips.
“You’re gonna get me dessert later, right?”
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The Hidden (5)
Chapter 5: Not Alone
The Mandalorian x Reader
Author’s Note: Y’all this one is a DOOZY. I think is the longest thing I have ever posted on this blog. so yay me! Also, I should 100% be studying for my finals but this freaking man, and this story has been on my mind all day and I could not focus. So, let’s hope I don’t fail these finals and if I do then I can totally blame the Mandalorian right? Right? Anyway, let me know what y’all think, feedback is encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you all for all the support this far! <3
Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: brief mentions of nudity, violence, and death.
Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five (Here), Six, Seven, Eight
//
You woke with a start, the images that plagued your sleep dissipating as you awoke, leaving you with nothing but a thin sheet of sweat covering your body and an ache between your thighs.
You tried to steady your erratic breathing and calm your flushed face. The images from the dream still danced across your mind in flashes of tanned skin, warm hands and whispery breaths. You let out a shaky sigh as you swung your legs over the side of the hammock and sat up, hyper aware of the thin tank top sticking to your still damp skin.
“Sleep well?”
You startled at the modulated voice and whip your head to face the sound. You are met with none other than the very man that plagued your sleep as he fiddled with the armor on his arms, head tilted in a curious manner. You felt a blush creep up your neck and fill your cheeks. Had he heard you? You silently prayed to the maker that you weren’t obvious in your unconscious state.
You inhaled deeply, running a hand through your sweat damp hair, “I-uhm, yeah I slept good. You?”
There was a slight pause before he spoke, “Surprisingly yes,” you sighed in silent relief. He hadn’t heard you.
“Until your restlessness woke me up.” He stated, a teasing hint in his voice.
Well shit.
If your face wasn’t on fire before it certainly was now. You stood quickly and stumbled slightly as you grabbed your cloak from the floor along with a small towel. “I’m sorry- I uhm,” you stuttered as you walked towards the exit desperate to distance yourself from the awkward situation, “I’m going to go get some air really quick.” You mutter, pushing past the curtain and out the door.
Dyn watched you leave, a smirk sliding onto his face under the helmet at your embarrassed state. He had heard. Of course, he had, you were only five feet apart from one another and his bounty hunter days made him a light sleeper. And surprisingly, he wasn’t upset by what had happened, or embarrassed. As confusing as it was to him, he felt himself growing attached to you, and the fact that you had obviously dreamed about him (if your nickname for him being called several times didn’t give it away), had him yearning for more.
More what? He asked himself.
Besides the obvious physical aspect, he didn’t know yet. He had only known you for a week at most, and still he felt this indescribable pull towards you, a force, if you will. He felt the need to be near you, talk to you, protect you, even though he knew you didn’t need his protection, he was baffled by these new developments. He let out a low sigh and looked around the small hut, quickly spotting the child waddling from the back room gurgling lightly. As he moved towards the kid and picked him up, he felt the bandages around his torso shift slightly and hissed. He lifted up the bottom of his shirt and saw a small amount of blood peaking through the white gauze. He dropped his shirt and held the kid up in front of his face gently.
“I think some washing up is in order, what do you think?” he asked rhetorically.
The kid just giggled and reached out tiny hands to grasp for the Mandalorian.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.”
He tucked the child in the crook of his arm and left the building to inquire about a bathing area.
//
You lightly smacked yourself in the forehead as you approached a small river nearby the village.
“stupid, stupid, stupid,” you chastised, “He probably hates me and never wants to talk to me again,” you say to yourself as you drop your items on a nearby patch of grass.
You sit down and start to take off your shoes followed by the rest of your clothing and set them neatly in a pile a few feet from the bank. You grabbed the soap you managed to snatch before you sped out of your house and waded into the river, sighing as the cool water encased you. After the skirmish with the beasts and the consequent cleanup, you felt absolutely disgusting, so you felt a refresh was in order. You gently started to scrub the dirt and grime from your body as your mind wandered back to this morning and last nights events.
It was now clearly obvious the feelings you harbored for your armored guest, but you were still unsure of exactly why you felt these things. At first you wanted to brush them off as simple and natural feelings stemming from not being with anyone in that way for a long time. But you knew it was deeper than that. You dunked your head under the water to get your hair wet before emerging and scrubbing at your hair angrily with the soap. You were frustrated. Frustrated that you were feeling these things. Frustrated that you couldn’t control them. And frustrated at that stupid helmet and that stupid bounty hunter never seemed to leave your thoughts. Yet the connection you felt for him was stronger than any frustration you felt. You could feel a yearning tugging at your heart when you saw him interact with the child, a warmth when he spoke to you and an ineffable feeling to want to see him – to know him, the real him. Not the mask you are so used to. Who was he beneath the helmet?
You let out a sigh at the still unanswered question that tormented your mind. You dunked your head underwater to rinse out the suds, the sound of rushing water covering up the sound of an approaching intruder.
Dyn had not intended on following you or sneaking up on you for that matter. He just followed the directions that one of the villagers gave him to the local bathing spot and was not prepared to for what he saw. The neat pile of familiar clothing should have keyed him into the situation but, before he realized who’s clothing it was, he was already at the rivers clearing and frozen by the sight before him. You had risen from the water, thankfully (or not so thankfully), facing the other direction as you wrung out your soaked hair. Dyn couldn’t help himself as he studied your form, eyes trailing over every dip and curve, admiring in silence your beautiful yet powerful build. he could practically feel the suppleness of your skin under his fingertips despite never having touched you before. As his eyes continued to roam your body, he took note of the large jagged scar that traveled from your left hip up to your right shoulder blade and felt a small tug of rage at whomever had caused it. However, his thoughts were cut short as you turned around slowly, leaving nothing to his imagination anymore, to exit the river and your eyes landed on his figure at the edge of the clearing.
On instinct you dropped into the water, covering whatever dignity you had left, and gasped loudly.
“Mando! What the kriff are you doing?” you screech.
“I-uhm-“ he quickly whipped around to face the other direction and reluctantly removed his gaze from you, “I was just following directions from another villager, I didn’t know-“ he stopped to steady his breathing slightly, “I had no idea you were here.”
You could hear the earnestness in his voice, but still your face flushed for what felt like the millionth time this morning.
“Well stay turned around, I would like to keep some of my dignity and I really don’t need the kid seeing all I have to offer either.” You tease.
You climb out of the water and shove down the thought of ‘if he didn’t have the kid, I would have invited him in’ as you approach your clothing. You quickly and haphazardly dry off and throw your clothes on before brushing past the Mandalorian tossing the soap bar in his direction.
“You might need this,” he fumbles to catch the slippery bar with one hand but manages to do so and watches your figure retreat back to the village.
“Stop staring Mando!” you call out over your shoulder.
He quickly averts his eyes and turns to face the river and repeat the process you just finished. He sets the kid down on the ground and finds small round nut on the ground and hands it to the child before ushering him behind a near by tree. The kid is instantly entranced by the small object and begins playing with it as Mando walks down to the river and begins removing his armor. The vision of your unclothed form and question of the origin of the scar plaguing his mind.
//
When you return to the village all you want to do is crawl into a hole and die, mortified at the seemingly endless chain of humiliating events this morning. By the time you reach your home, change into clean clothes and tidy up, it’s around early afternoon.
“Hey (Y/N)!” your friend Ariah excitedly greets you as you exit the building.
“Hey! What’s got you so excited?” you ask amusedly, not used to seeing the woman so hyped up.
She grasps your shoulders and bounces on the balls of her feet, “We’re having a party! To celebrate our victory the other night. We haven’t had a party in ages.”
You raise your eyebrows at the news, “A party? I can’t even remember the last time we had one of those that wasn’t for the local solstice.”
Every year your village and the other tribes around the area held a large celebration to celebrate the summer solstice. It came with bonfires, eating, drinking, and a lot of dancing. Something that while rare, you looked forward too.
Ariah nods excitedly, “Right? It’s going to be so fun, and we can actually just relax now that we don’t have to worry about those beasts.” You see her glance over your shoulder, “All thanks to you and him.”
You follow her gaze to see Mando had returned and was watching from a distance as the children played with the child, rolling a small ball to and fro. He seemed to sense your gaze and looked over to you, well you assumed he was looking at you. You quickly looked away as he started to walk towards you, leaving the kid with the other children.
Ariah gives you a knowing look before squeezing your hands gently, “I’ll see you tonight (Y/N)! you too Mando!” she calls over her shoulder as she retreats.
“What was that?” you hear his modulated voice ask.
You shrug and turn to walk back into your house, the Mandalorian following you, “We’re having a celebration tonight,” you walk over and sit on your hammock, swinging slightly, “To celebrate the defeat of the Chroigs. And you.”
“Me?” you could hear the disbelief in his voice.
You smiled and chuckled, “Yes, you. Without you and your idea those animals would still be out there.”
“You all did most of the work,” he defended.
You rolled your eyes, “Just take the compliment Mando, and enjoy the party tonight.”
He didn’t respond to you and a comfortable silence filled the air as you rocked in your hammock and Mando gazed out the nearby window at the playing children.
“How did you get that scar?”
The question startled you, and for a moment you were confused. Until you saw him looking directly at you and realized that he was referring to the scar he no doubt saw this morning. You didn’t answer right away, not sure if you wanted to dredge up the past you so desperately tried to keep hidden. But you sighed and stood, moving to the very window he was looking out of, and watched the children play gently with the small green child.
“I was about their age,” you started gently, “My parents and I were out at the market on my home plant, shopping for my birthday actually,” You had barely started and yet you felt a lump forming in the back of your throat, “When out of nowhere the streets were flooded with storm troopers and empire soldiers.”
You heard the Mandalorian come to join you at the window, his cool beskar armor brushing your arm slightly, a small comfort to you in that moment. You continued.
“Blasters start firing and my parents are screaming, my mother picked me up and ran through the chaos to try and get me to safety. I saw my dad running after us but then the next thing I know a red bolt of light hit him in the back and he was gone,” I feel a tear slip from my eyes and wipe it away quickly, “I didn’t know it in that moment, but they were there for me. A man in all black with, what I now know to be a light saber, followed my mother and I. She turned to fight, to save me, but she couldn’t win, not against him. So, I ran. But I couldn’t outrun him either.” At this I pulled up my shirt slightly revealing my scar once more, “He slashed me across the back, and I fell, he must have assumed I was dead because next thing I know I’m waking up in the destroyed market. Alone.”
I finish my story and wipe at my eyes once more, trying to wipe the wet signs emotion from my face.
“Sorry it’s not some heroic battle story,” I let out a dry chuckle, trying to lighten the mood and also forget once more.
But Mando wasn’t done.
“Why did the empire want you? You were just a child.” His voice was full of malice, and what sounded like a sense of understanding.
“I can do things,” you say, still not sure if you want to reveal this secret, a secret only you have known for the majority of your life.
Mando turns to face you, “What kinds of things? What could possibly make the empire hunt you down?”
“I can use the force,” you finally spit out, the secret finally out in the open.
You’re ready for judgement, or fear, the same fear that was in your parent’s eyes when they saw you lift a ball without touching it. The fear of the unknown.
But you’re only met with a head tilt of confusion from the bounty hunter, clearly not understanding what you were on about. You can understand, you didn’t know what it was either until you came across story books in your travels, one’s of people known as the Jedi able to move things with their minds and even control others. Over the years you had learned to hone your abilities but every time you used them the memory of that horrible day filled your mind, and the fear of being found once more scared you into hiding. So, you stopped. You quit using your powers, kept them secret from anyone but yourself. So, to be telling this to the man in front of you, a bounty hunter no less, was terrifying. You explained, as simply as you could, what the force was to the Mandalorian and paused once you were done, looking up at him worriedly.
“You see why I don’t tell anyone? I sound crazy, and stupid, and- “you are cut short as he strides out of your home, cape fluttering behind him.
Your heart drops into your stomach, a sense of dread weighing heavy on your limbs. He was going to tell someone. He was going to tell the whole village and you were going to be forced to leave. Or he was going to leave and tell someone about your whereabouts. All of these thoughts were flying through your mind that you had spaced out and gasped when the Mandalorian burst into your home once more this time holding the child. He set the child down on the counter carefully before picking up a stray bowl and held it out to you.
“Can you do it to this? In front of the kid?” he asked hurriedly.
You looked at him quizzically, “Of course I can do it with a bowl. Mando what is this about?” His actions were very out of character.
“Will you do it? Please?” he almost begged.
You hesitated, not having used your powers in front if anyone since you were a child but reached your hand out slightly. You felt the force latch onto the bowl and Mando withdrew his hand leaving the bowl suspended in midair, the only thing keeping it in place was you. You watched as the child’s wide eyes looked from you to the bowl in front of him, seemingly mesmerized by the action. You looked over to Mando, about to speak up, confused about the point of this all when you felt it. A connection. You looked back to the child and saw his little hand extended towards the bowl, eyes squinted in concentration. Realization dawned on you; this little child was like you. You released the bowl from your force grip and brought your hands to your mouth, a shocked sound slipping past your lips as it stayed suspended. However, the bowl soon fell to the ground and shattered as the kid slumped back in exhaustion. With your hands still over your mouth, you look from the small child then over to Mando who was stood stock still.
You dropped your hands from your mouth and let out an excited gasp, “Oh my stars!” you turned to Mando, who still hadn’t moved and instinctively threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“I thought I was alone!” you admitted, “This whole time. But he’s here! And –“ you realized you were still clinging to the bounty hunter and stepped away slightly, another realization dawning on you, “That’s why you’re here. Someone is after him.” You look back to the brown bundle who seemed to be sleeping peacefully on the countertop, exhausted.
All Mando could do was nod, he couldn’t make his mouth form words. All of this information was too much for him. The kid, you, the fact that you both could do these things, posessed these powers. Then his mind went back to your story and he felt his heart constrict. You didn’t deserve this.
“I’m sorry.” He eventually whispered.
You furrowed your brows in confusion, what was he sorry about?
“What you went through,” he clarified, “and asking. I had no right.”
You shook your head and stepped forward eyes not meeting his and placed a gentle hand on his arm, “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t want to. Plus- “you looked up to him, “It felt…nice to finally open up. Tell someone about everything,” you admitted.
“My parents were killed too,” be confessed, catching you by surprise, “I was a child, like you, when droids attacked my village. My parents hid me in a hatch in the ground, but they didn’t make it,” you can hear his voice shake slightly and your eyes soften, you squeeze his arm comfortingly and he continues, “The Mandalorians found me, raised me, and that’s how I ended up doing what I did, how I ended up here.”
You smile sadly and bring the tall man into a hug; he hesitates shortly before wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. You sigh contentedly as you rest your cheek against his chest plate, the cool metal a comfort to your warm skin.
You weren’t alone after all.
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to all the girls i've loved before ][ p. parker
a tatbilb au
Paring(s): LJ!tom holland x PK!reader
Inspo: TATBILB cause Peter is a total soft boi and also I'm a slut for rom-coms
Word Count: 1500+
Warning(s): cursing and Peter being an awkward bean
Part: prologue | part 1 | part ??
A/N: andddd we back what’s popping y’all
You sat outside the Parker residence, well the apartment building he lived in, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel of your car. Butterflies filled your stomach as you made your game plan. You were definitely going to confront him that was for sure, but you weren’t sure how. Pull a usual [Y/n] and practically yell at the poor kid or try to be as calm as he usually was? The entire situation freaked you out. Especially how much you... actually liked the kiss?
Taking a large obnoxious breath, you stepped out of the Jeep and made your way into the building. The elevator ride up was filled with more nerves than you thought possible. Once reaching his floor, hoping your memory of his apartment was correct, you found his door.
You ringed your knuckles against the door, almost gasping when it opened immediately.
“[Y/n]?” Instead of finding the strange boy you expected, there stood May.
“Hi!” You have an awkward wave only to be pulled into a surprisingly strong embrace.
“Oh my gosh! Little [Y/n]! I haven’t seen you since you moved. Look at how pretty you got. And tall!” The brunette gushed and pulled away from you with a large smile.
You blushed at her compliments, bashfully shrugging as she quickly ushered you inside.
“What brings you here? Want me to make you a chocolate milk or something? I don’t have the farm-made you used to like, but I have Nesquik!” May excitedly babbled on while you took a look at the interior of the place you once knew like the back of your hand.
It felt a lot... emptier. Sure, Peter had lost his parents when he was young, but there was always May and Ben. Now there was just May. You remembered Ben’s funeral, how hard it must have been for Peter. He couldn’t look anyone in the eyes that day, he could barely even get through his eulogy. You wished that the two of you hadn’t grown so far apart that day so you could comfort him. But life had different plans.
“I uh actually need Peter, is he home?” She stopped rifling through her cabinets at your question.
“Oh? In that case he is at Gugino’s, down the block. Can I ask why? Sorry I’m just nosy and excited, you have to come back for dinner soon!” You paused at May’s question, knowing the truth would be way too embarrassing for Peter.
“We’re working on an independent chem project for extra credit. I didn't see him at all in school today, so I just want to get it started.” Double lie, good job [Y/n].
“Then I will stop holding you here! Have fun on your little study date!” May ushered you out of the apartment in the same frantic nature she possessed since you were little.
Though hearing the word ‘date’ made your eyes go wide.
“It’s not a-... date.” She closed the door before you could even finish your sentence.
Peter would definitely be hearing back about this.
You couldn’t dwell on May though, you had a mission. Confront Parker’s scrawny ass. The letter? One thing. Looked like he wrote it in the eighth grade, weird but whatever. Him jumping you in the middle of gym?? Totally different story.
Stubbornness took over and you didn’t even have the time to think about how soft his lips were and how chills went down your spine when his hand touched your waist. Nope none of it. Absolutely not.
The drive to Gugino’s was indeed just down the block and you are thankful to see Peter inside from your car window. As well as his bike barely locked into the bike stand out front. You shook your head, that shit was bound to get stolen.
Gugino’s was a small Italian diner which primarily focused on pizzas and deli sandwiches, the smell that greeted you on the inside was pure nostalgia. Though you didn’t have time to bask in old memories, you had questions which needed major answers.
You took it upon yourself to join the boy at his lone table, not so gracefully making yourself a seat with a “Sup Parker.”
He gasped while taking a sip of his soda, nearly making him choke. “O- oh! Hi [Y/n].” He meekly replied, and you could feel just how much he was already panicking.
Even when he looked like he wanted to run away from you he was cute. How did you never realize this? You shook your head to dispel the thought line before it could get any further. There was a time and place for deciding on how adorkable he is and it is not right now.
A waiter stopped by the table and patted Peter on the shoulder. He was an older Italian man, grays occupying what was left of his balding head. He had a warm face though.
“Oh.. and anything for your lady friend, Peter?” He smirked while Peter put his head in his hands.
“She’s not with-“
“I’ll take mozzarella sticks and do you have cherry coke?” You interrupted the boy with a smirk.
The man smiled, “coming right up, Sweetheart.”
The two of you sat in awkward silence for the next few seconds, yourself actually choosing to wait for him because you knew he would make it even more uncomfortable. Well, make himself uncomfortable, you felt fine.
“So... uh what brings you here?” You nearly giggle at his question, but pull yourself together to put on that nonchalant attitude he apparently doesn’t like about you.
“Who? Me? I’m just here for some fried cheese sticks. Though I guess while you’re around I’ll ask... what the hell was that today?? See normally when a girl rejects a guy over a love letter he wrote when he was 14, said guy takes the hint. No instead, you made out with me in front of the student body and ran away!” Peter’s face turns more and more pink as you ramble, and you hate how cute you find it.
“[Y/n] [Y/l/n]. I am not trying to date you, I’m so sorry about today.” He says and you two both pause when the waiter brings over your mozzarella sticks and soda.
“Okay well, here’s the thing. Your mouth is saying something... but your mouth was also saying something today? So forgive me if I’m a little confused.” You dunked a stick in marinara sauce with a cheeky grin.
He shook his head, “I only kissed you because I wanted to make someone else think I wasn’t in love with them.”
Well way to make a girl not feel special, Parker. Then again, at least it confirmed that he wasn’t obsessed with you. Still weird, though.
“Oh.. who?” Your confused frustration quickly disappeared, changing instead to a devious curiosity.
He shakes his head, lips pursing as if to say he wouldn’t be answering that question.
“You know... I could just tell the whole school that you wrote me-“
“Fine! It’s MJ. And you’re not the only one that got a letter okay, so get off your high horse.” This time you did actually giggle at his frustration, finding the boy to be very entertaining.
“Damn player. Isn’t she like one of your best friends, why don’t you just ask her out?” His jaw dropped and Peter rapidly shook his head.
“She was never supposed to read that letter! None of you were. I can’t- me and MJ are so close, I don’t want to scare her away by saying I’m in love with her. Though I guess I already crossed that bridge.” To be honest, you felt for the guy.
Sure the letter thing was a bit strange, but it was clearly something personal for him. Maybe a diary type medium, and it really seemed like he didn’t want anyone to read them. Even as a kid he had been that sweet, emotional type. Which was welcome in the small friend group the two of you used to occupy.
Flash was an ass. MJ was aloof, mysterious, and not even there half the time. Peter was quiet. You were wild. Ned was a dork. And Harry was somehow the playboy who always butted heads with you for the leadership position. Though that changed almost immediately after he transferred to his fancy rich boy school. And then you moved out to the nearby suburbs, with Flash as your boyfriend.
MJ and you felt out of touch too easily. And Peter and Ned became just a ‘hi’ in the hallway. Though, that was just the way time managed.
By the time he finished ranting, you had already finished your mozzarella sticks and soda.
“That’s rough, Parker. I’m sorry these got out, just from mine... seemed really personal. I’m sure you and MJ will be okay though.” You comforted him, placing a hand on his shoulder before standing up to take your trash out.
“Want me to give you a ride home? Least I can do after ambushing you.” You add and he has a small smile on his face before he nods.
The ride home is silent for the most part. Both of your minds are too occupied to speak. Yours fills with thoughts of the day after that kiss. All your friends mentioned how word got to Flash and just how pissed he got. You hoped he wouldn’t lash out on Peter, but part of you was happy that he was jealous. Not that he had any right to be considering he was the one that fucked it all up.
Then, it was as if you had been struck with a stroke of genius.
“What if we just let everyone think we’re dating?”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
taglist(s):
tatgilb -
@radtwinkie @dolan-mendes @whormotional @pluckypete @princessleah129 @banjosanjo @astrobub @mktravelbuggie @iamaunicorn4704 @used-avocado
permanent -
@ultrunning @jesseswartzwelder
#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#marvel imagine#tatbilb imagine#tatbilb au#spiderman homecoming#spiderman imagine
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Onsra- Chapter 18: Home, Sweet Home.
Pairing: vampire!jungkook x female reader
Genre: drama, horror, angst, romance
Warnings for this chapter: nothing^^
Word count: 4.3k ( a bit longer as requested lol)
Onsra: ML, Previous
Tag list: @ditttiii @fekitza @jjungkook99 @rubinora
The ONLY thing that kept me alive long enough to finish this d*mn chapter was the entire Lord of the Rings soundtrack. y’all better like this mofo T-T sweet goodness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Jungkook wait, I’m scared.”
You try to pull your ankle back before he can try any funny business, but Jungkook keeps a hold on you. “Y/n, stop moving.” He sighs and looks into your eyes, his reflecting irritation and exasperation. Honestly, this whole thing is just embarrassing. Your ankle is throbbing with pain, so you’re scared for him to touch it, let alone take a dang stick out of it heck no.
Not to mention the fact that you’re still barefoot, since you never grabbed your shoes during the fire last night. Your feet are covered in dirt and dried blood, a couple bruises on the sides of them. They look awfully pathetic when he has them sitting in his lap as he examines your ankle.
Yeah, this is humiliating.
Jungkook doesn’t pay your anxiety and embarrassment any mind, he just continues to scrutinize the damage. Then, you see him reach behind himself and put a little stone bowl full of water next to him on the ground. You furrow your brows in confusion and point at it.
“Where the heck did you get that thing?”
“I found it.” He states simply.
“You just found it? Like, randomly in a forest?”
“Stop stalling, y/n. Just stay still.”
“I’m not stalling! I’m just wondering where the heck you found water and a bowl in this gosh forsaken forest!” You defend yourself quickly.
Jungkook doesn’t look up from your ankle, “It’s not even a bowl. It’s a rock with a dent in it, idiot. I found a small stream and got some water from it. Happy?” He doesn’t wait for your response before looking up at you and holding his hand out, “Give me a piece of your shirt. Don’t look at me like that. Your shirt is already torn and I’m not about to ruin mine.” You sigh and tear a small part of your t-shirt, where you had torn it last night to use as a rag to cover your mouth during the fire. Jungkook snatches it from you, ignoring your eye roll and immediately dunks it into the tiny ‘bowl’ of water. Once he’s satisfied with how wet it is, Jungkook brings it to the gash on your ankle and wipes around it. He only stops when you hiss in pain and try to pull your ankle back.
“It hurts!”
“Would you rather let it get worse and lose your whole foot?” Jungkook snaps back in annoyance.
You bite your lip but nod in consent for him to continue. Another minute passes of Jungkook being less than gentle with your foot and you spitting out random curses at him from time to time. You feel like he’s smirking at your pain, but you can’t be too sure, seeing as your eyes are blurred with tears.
It feels like a thousand years later when Jungkook finally pulls the now red cloth from your wound and announces he’s done. “Good.” You say firmly and make a move to stand before you stop when Jungkook gives you one of those looks you’ve come to know all too well, ‘you better stay still or I’m really going to kill you’, yeah one of those.
“I told you, I need to get the stick out. Stupid.”
“Stop calling me names.”
“Why should I? They’re all true.”
You give him your best glare and he just stares right back, an eyebrow cocked in amusement. “If you don’t stay still it’s going to hurt more. So, stop moving and let me get this over with.”
“Then why don’t you stop blabbing and do it already...stupid.” You mutter under your breath.
That earns you a small smile; you’re taken aback by how normal he looks when he isn’t scowling. The moment is short-lived though, because the next second your screaming in pain and pulling your ankle back, “Ouch! What are you trying to do?! Shove it in more??” The tears are back full force as your ankle throbs with a heartbeat of intense pain. Jungkook grits his teeth and yanks your ankle back into position, hooking his arm around your leg and turning so his back faces you. All you can see is the top half of your leg and his back. Your ankle is captured on the other side and you frantically try to pull it back.
“No! Stop! Stop! It hurts, don’t touch it! Let me gooo!” You keep hollering and blubbering away while Jungkook just shakes his head and sighs at your shameless tantrum.
“Y/n! Stop!” You freeze at the tone of his voice, your chest rapidly rising and falling as you whimper again, “Please don’t. It hurts.”
Jungkook turns and looks at you again, the look on your face causing something to stir in him. You look like a lost puppy that’s been starved and beaten and thinks he’s about to kick you too, your eyes wide with anxiety and glistening with tears. He knows if he lessens his grip you’ll bolt as fast as you can away from him. How annoying.
It confuses him that he’s still here, dealing with your sorry butt. He’d like nothing better than to walk away and leave you on this rock, letting you deal with your predicament yourself. He’d finally be free of you.
No.
Seokjin would kill him for sure. Skin him alive.
That’s the only reason he won’t leave this instant.
Yeah.
Yeah that’s why.
Then, an idea flits through Jungkook’s mind and he tries not to smirk.
Jungkook takes you by complete and utter surprise when he smiles at you gently. You flinch back as if he’s a lion lunging for its prey. You search his eyes for any sign of aggressiveness and only calm your breathing when you see none.
“It’s okay y/n, just take some deep breaths and it’ll be over in a second. I promise.”
Um…what?
Who in the hecking heck is this now?
You raise your eyebrows and look him up and down. “Why are you suddenly being nice to me?”
“You’re hurt. I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Gee thanks, just shut up and stay still. Come on and man up, y/n.”
“Man up? I don’t think so-“
“Well, woman up then! Fricking seriously.” You laugh quietly at being able to rile him up so easily. Jungkook twitches his nose; irked.
“I’m going to do it now. I really am.”
“Ok-” You cringe before you even feel the first pull. Once Jungkook takes the stick out, you need to hold onto the rock you’re sitting on for dear life. You’re sure you almost blacked out just now. Laying your head down on the rock, you close your eyes and try to think of happy and warm thoughts. Sunsets and romance books, chocolates and kittens. Anything but the throbbing pain in your ankle and not wrapping your hands around his throat and squeezing as hard as you damn well please.
“You good?” You open your eyes to see Jungkook leaning over you, his eyes squinting as he scrutinizes your face. You nod and take a shuddering breath, so much for chocolates and kittens. “I’m fine. I just want to get out of this place and never see another tree as long as I live.” Sitting up, you try not to think about how dizzy you still are.
“Well, I can’t guarantee you that’ll be very long, but…” A smirk paints his expression and you roll your eyes.
So, he can make a joke.
Jungkook takes your hand and pulls you to a standing position. Once you’re steady on your feet you look down at your ankle; a black cloth wrapped around the wound there. A quick glance at Jungkook’s torn shirt confirms that he did, in fact, ruin his shirt to help you.
…but why?
“We have to get out of here. The bleeding is stopped for now, but the infection already started.” You fidget anxiously at his words.
“How are we supposed to get out? We’re lost and I’m useless. I can’t walk.”
Jungkook kicks the makeshift bowl of water to the side and turns around, crouching slightly.
“Ok, hop on.”
Your cheeks burst into flames at his suggestion. Never in your life have you gotten a piggyback ride from a boy before, not counting your father when you were a small child.
“Uh…are you sure…?” You say hesitantly, eyeing the vampire that turns to face you, a look of exasperation dancing across his features. Jungkook clicks his tongue and turns around once more, crouching even farther to make it easier for you to get on his back.
“Just do what I say. You want to get out of here, right?”
You nod, then realize he can’t see you with his back turned, so you say shyly, “Y-Yes.”
“Well, get on then.” You take a deep breath and lean over him, wrapping your arms tentatively around his shoulders, laying your stomach over his back awkwardly. A yelp escapes your lips when he bumps you up on his back, wrapping his hands around the backs of your thighs. Jungkook pats your knee, a sign to wrap your legs around his waist, which you do slowly, the heat creeping up your neck at the position you never thought you’d find yourself in.
Jungkook sets off into the forest once again, you wrapped around his middle like a koala and red as a tomato.
~
“So, why were you apologizing to me?”
“Hm?” You start at his sudden question, not expecting him to try making small talk. You long since gave up on talking to him.
“A couple hours ago. Before you had your meltdown, you kept apologizing to me, remember?”
Oh yes, you definitely remember.
You just have no desire to discuss this with him right now. Or ever, for that matter.
You know you have a problem with being abandoned. It was drilled into you growing up that you were always the problem, even if you didn’t start the fight. If you talked back at all and upset the other person, everything was your fault. You always ruined everything.
You felt like you had to apologize to Jungkook, because if you didn’t, he would leave you to die in this hellish forest. Suck it up, and you won’t get hurt.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But this punk doesn’t need to know any of that.
Jungkook shakes his head and sighs, “Fine, don’t tell me.”
“I won’t.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Whatever.” Jungkook mumbles grumpily, hiking you up a little to get you further up on his back. You stare at the back of his head, his black hair bouncing every time he takes a step. You can’t help but wonder why his attitude has suddenly changed, a couple hours ago he would have gladly left you for dead in the middle of the forest, the night before he would’ve killed you with his own bare hands. So, why is he carrying you on his back through the forest now?
Is he playing some sort of game?
You hate that you’re being this skeptical towards him when he’s literally trying to help you. But you can’t help it, seeing as just yesterday he yanked you around and hurt you, calling you names and bringing you down. How can someone change so quickly? Didn’t Seokjin say Jungkook wasn’t himself anymore?
That thought halts your breathing, making your chest tighten with anxiety.
Is he trying to make me feel safe, just to turn around and murder me at the last second?
No.
Stop it, y/n.
Stop psyching yourself up over nothing. He probably just feels bad for treating you so horribly before.
Even you don’t believe that...so what’s his game?
You shake your head to clear it, regretting it almost instantly when it makes the dizziness come back full force. You resist the temptation to lay your head on Jungkook’s shoulder, distracting yourself by asking him a question of your own.
“I still don’t understand something.”
“Mm, and what’s that?” Jungkook mutters as he continues to trudge along.
“Last night, those two vampires. You didn’t seem scared of them at all.”
“That’s because I wasn’t.”
“Why? Why did you bother running if they were going to catch up with us and you weren’t afraid of them anyway?”
Jungkook adjusts you on his back again and cocks his head to the side before answering, “Well first of all, those guys were idiots. They weren’t the ones we were running from. They didn’t set the trap.” You furrow your brows in confusion, and Jungkook must sense it from your silence, so he continues.
“Of course, I didn’t know that until I saw them. I stopped because if I didn’t, they would’ve found you.”
Your heart does some weird flippity jumpy thing at his words and you unconsciously tighten your arms around his shoulders. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice as he goes on, “I was just lucky they happened to be the ones to find us. See, those guys are harmless, to me at least. They just wander around and look for lost humans to suck blood from. They aren’t smart enough to set traps, they just heard us running and came after us.”
You nod at his explanation. Those guys seemed pretty intimidating to you, but you decide not to voice that, seeing as Jungkook would probably use it to hold over your head and mock you for being such a scaredy-cat.
You two continue along in silence for a while until your stomach starts to get nauseous on you to the point that you can no longer ignore its warnings and you tap Jungkook’s shoulder frantically.
“Jungkook. Jungkook I’m gonna puke.”
The vampire freezes at your alarming comment, “What? Get off, get off, get off.” He practically throws you on the floor of the woods. The whole time Jungkook was walking with you on his back, your dizziness never subsided, and the rocking back and forth only made it worse. You two hadn’t even been walking for more than an hour when your empty stomach decided it needed to empty itself even further.
You whine at the harsh contact your butt makes with the hard ground, sending a glare up at him before turning and dry heaving into a patch of crinkled leaves.
“I think I’m dying.” You choke out after a minute of your stomach trying its best to leave your body through your throat and ultimately failing. Your head is spinning like crazy, there’s no way you can move, not even to get on his back again. You groan and swat at the hands trying to pull you up. “I can’t Jungkook. I seriously can’t.”
You hear a heavy sigh leave his mouth but can’t bring yourself to care. You just lay your head on the ground and close your eyes. This is how you’ll go. Nothing spectacular. Accepting your fate, you ignore whatever words are coming out of Jungkook’s mouth now. His words aren’t making any sense anyway, just a bunch of muffled sounds.
No, no just leave me alone. Just let me die. I can’t do it.
The blurry image of green leaves spins in your vision and you close your eyes again, noting that the sensation that your twirling around stops and everything goes silent.
“Y/n? Can you hear me? Wake up.”
Leave me alone. Just let me sleep.
“Y/n? Open your eyes.”
No, get away from me.
You hear a sigh and feel something cold touch your face, making your eyes twitch. Then drops of water wet your chapped lips and you try to force your eyes open.
Water? Is that water?
Two blurry Jungkooks come into view when you open your eyes, they wobble before joining and making one as he stares at you, his brows close together.
“Y/n?” You think you see relief in his eyes, but before you can catch it the relief dissipates and turns into annoyance. “Finally, idiot.”
“What-“
“Shh, don’t talk.” Jungkook squeezes a wet black cloth over your lips, letting the water dribble down your mouth and chin, then he sets the cool rag onto your forehead.
What is going on? Did you make it back to the house?
“You passed out.” Jungkook answers your unspoken question.
So, you’re still in the forest?
Oh hell.
You whine and blink, trying to get your focus back.
“I can’t be in this forest another second, I’m gonna freak out.” You mumble almost incoherently. Jungkook chuckles and helps you sit up slowly, “Well, lucky for you I know where we are.”
“Wait, really??”
“Yeah, to be honest I have no clue how we ended up so far from the house last night. I’d say we’re only about an hour from there now.” You look at him in surprise and start laughing hysterically.
“Well, what are we waiting for?!” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “Uh, maybe for you to wake up?”
Oh…yeah…right.
You stop laughing and nod, “Ok, I’m fine. Let’s go.” Jungkook shakes his head at you reaching out to him to pick you up. Then he bends down and lets you climb onto his back, “You owe me big time, ya know.”
“Of course. What would you like in return?” You say playfully and roll your eyes.
“For lugging your lazy butt around the forest for hours? Let me think on it.”
~
You’ve never been so happy to see the blue sky past a break in the trees a few feet ahead of you and Jungkook. The end of this blasted forest at last! You squeal in excitement as Jungkook steps out of the tree line, you still clinging to his back like a baby bear.
Then the excitement is gone, replaced by dread almost instantaneously. You hear Jungkook suck in a sharp breath and your face pales at the sight in front of you. The old mansion is still standing, a miracle in itself; but the whole roof and nearly half of one side of the house is completely gone. Just ashes and rubble sit where the living room and library used to be.
You move to slide off Jungkook’s back, but realize he’s tightened his grip on you. You stay where you are and try to see if you can spot anyone by the house. After a second, Jungkook continues walking slowly toward the house.
“Jungkook? Y/n?” You both jump at the sound of Hoseok’s voice. He’s just coming around from the back of the house, carrying an ax and a small bag. He drops the things he’s holding and runs to the two of you.
“You guys are okay! You had us worried sick! Where on earth were you? Are you hurt?” Hoseok is frantically searching Jungkook for any injuries, much to the irritation of the younger vampire. Jungkook pulls away roughly, ignoring Hoseok’s pout.
“I had to go off after this idiot when she ran into the woods last night. Where’s Seokjin? Is everyone alright?”
Hoseok looks at you, brows creased in confusion, then he nods at Jungkook’s question.
“Yes, everyone is okay. Seokjin went out looking for you two at daybreak when we realized you still hadn’t come back.” Your stomach turns, it must be close to sunset already, so where is Seokjin?
Hoseok smiles warmly at your concerned face, “Don’t worry, y/n. Seokjin will be back by nightfall if he isn’t back before then. We have a rule not to- y/n!” The vampire interrupts himself when he sees your bare feet, one of them wrapped in a piece of cloth from Jungkook’s shirt. “What happened? And why is he carrying you?” He steps away to take in the full picture as if just now noticing that you’re clinging to Jungkook’s back.
“I tripped and hurt my foot.” You say sheepishly.
Hoseok frowns and puts a hand on your forehead, “You don’t look so good, y/n. You’re burning up.” You blink and try to clear your head; it keeps fogging up and you have a pounding headache.
“My head is killing me.” You groan and give in to lying your head on Jungkook’s shoulder with a soft thump. You want to ask Hoseok where Ga-In and Yuri are, but you can’t seem to get the words out. The nausea is coming back too, and you groan again when Jungkook shifts you slightly.
“Jungkook, get her inside now. The rooms are still okay. Quick, go.” Hoseok pushes Jungkook lightly and he takes off across the little field to the mansion, trying to walk as carefully as he can.
All you can comprehend is a pair of arms laying you down on a soft bed, a few frantic words floating around above your head. You can’t grasp the meaning of them though, or who’s saying them. You think you hear a girl’s voice saying something, but you don’t recognize it. All you can see is blackness, as you’ve opted for keeping your eyes closed instead of watching the world spin around you in a nauseating circle.
Then everything goes dead silent.
~
Your body jerks awake at the pain in your ankle, and you sit up with a jolt. You cry out and make to grab for your hurt foot, but a pair of strong hands wrap around your wrists, stopping you. The world slowly starts coming into focus as you blink and see Seokjin sitting in a chair next to your bed, smiling softly at you. A little lamp is on, the only light in the otherwise dark room.
“Hey, y/n. You’re alive.”
“Seokjin? What happened?” You rub at your eyes and wince at the pain in your ankle again while sitting up and scooting back on your bed to rest your head against the wall.
“You were sick.”
“Why?”
“Well, first of all you were dehydrated and exhausted. You hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon and the infection in your ankle started a fever. After walking all night and day, I guess your body couldn’t take any more.” You nod and rub your eyes again.
“Where’s Jungkook?”
Seokjin smiles knowingly at your question and you look away from his gaze, hating the feeling that he knows your deepest secrets. Jin just laughs quietly and leans down to grab something off the floor.
“Jungkook is okay. I think he’s helping the boys outside.”
You hum nonchalantly and graciously accept the bowl of soup he hands you, “What about Ga-In and Yuri? Do they know I’m back?” The vampire nods again, “Yeah, they’re in the kitchen finishing the soup for everyone.” You look down and see your foot bandaged in white cloths, wrapping around your ankle and heel.
“Thank you. For helping me.”
“Of course. I mean it did need a few stitches, but you’ll be okay.” You nod, deciding not to ask how in blazes he managed to stitch it while you were knocked out.
The door opens then and you look up to see Ga-In and Yuri rush to your side. You laugh at their frantic faces scanning you.
“Gosh, y/n! You scared us half to death!” Ga-In cries and pulls you into her chest, almost spilling the soup while crushing your head into her bosom. You laugh and pull away, feeling Yuri give your leg a gentle squeeze.
“You guys are so dramatic, I was just a bit tired is all.”
“A bit tired? Y/n, when Jungkook brought you into the house you looked like a lifeless doll, all colorless and limp. Don’t ever do that again. What on earth made you run last night?” Yuri speaks up worriedly.
You recount everything that happened with them, the fear and shock on their faces making you regret acting out so rashly.
“Well, thank goodness Jungkook had enough sense to go after you.” Ga-In clicks her tongue, not noticing the look of offense crossing your face.
Right, Seokjin never told them about Jungkook and being too far gone.
“Well, you need to get some real sleep y/n. I’ll let you girls settle in for the night. Sleep well.” Seokjin stands and stretches his limbs before heading to the door, closing it on his way out.
You finish your soup at the urging of the other two girls, then let them get you settled into bed. You're out like a light before your head even hits the pillow.
That night, you dream of Jungkook.
He’s walking in the forest you two were lost in, smiling when he turns and sees you following him. Then he reaches out his hand, entwining his fingers in yours when you give him your hand. You stumble when Jungkook pulls you closer, tripping on the branches littering the ground. He catches you and you place your hands on his chest, smiling up at him.
“You okay?” He whispers softly and you blush. “I have something for you.” He says, and you give him a questioning look. Then, Jungkook pulls away and hands you a tiny white flower, the same one you were looking at just the other day. You look up to thank him, then notice in a panic that he’s leaning in closer, and closer. And then.
“Y/n? Wake up, I’m starving.”
What?
“Y/n, come on~ I’m hungry and I think Jin is making pancakes again.”
No no no no noooooooo.
Your eyes fly open to see Ga-In leaning over you, a smile spreads on her face when she sees you awake. You panic for a second, thinking she knows what you just dreamt about.
Dreamt.
Dream.
A dream?
Dangflabbit and all.
“Come on y/n. Get up! You need to rebuild your energy.” You nod but you’re not really paying attention to her. Because you just had a dream about Jungkook. And you liked it.
You’re so screwed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a/n: I still have 15 mins until midnight haHA I kept my Friday promise bitzes. ok good night.
#bts#bts army#bts smut#bts v#bts taehyung#bts jungkook#bts namjoon#bts seokjin#bts jimin#bts yoongi#bts suga#bts hoseok#bts fluff#bts angst#bts vampire au#vampire jungkook#jungkook fluff#jeon jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#gaha#no#jungkook reactions#bts fluff scenario#bts fluff reactions#bts fluff imagines#jungkook imagines#jungkook scenarios#onsra
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Back When Diner | Connor Brashier
A/n: I based this off a small place in my town and I thought it would be cute.
Summary: you take the boys to one of your favorite places and it soon becomes your and Connor’s place.
Warnings: fluff
Word count: 2.8k
***
“So, y/n, where are you taking us?” Brian asks, slipping in the backseat next to Shawn.
“To this diner I’ve been going to since I was little.”
He nods, putting his seatbelt on and then tugging on it.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, slipping on my sunglasses.
“Just making sure I’m strapped in. I’ve never been in the car with you driving before. I don’t know how you drive. Gotta take the extra precautions.”
Connor snorts next to me and I hit his arm. “Connor, tell him, I’m a good driver.”
“I’m gonna let him make up his own mind about this one.”
I scoff, “I should brake check all of you for being asses.”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything!” Shawn protests. “I trust you to get us from point A to point B safely.”
“Thank you, Shawn. At least somebody trusts me.” I check my rearview mirror and start to back out of the parking spot (which I’ll be honest, backing out is probably the thing I’m worst at when it comes to driving).
“And if we almost die, I’ll just drive us back,” he says under his breath. I hit the brakes, causing all three boys to lurch forward.
“Fuck!”
“Oops,” I stifle my laughter and put the car in drive. “Sorry.” They don’t talk about my driving the rest of the way there, but Brian does keep holding tightly to his seatbelt – even though, if you ask me, there was no need for that because sorry, but I am a great driver.
“Back When Diner,” Shawn says when he gets out of the car. “This is the cutest place I’ve ever seen.”
I smile as Connor wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Just wait until you guys see inside. Come on,” I lead them to the door that has the smallest, yet somehow loudest bell above it.
“Okay, yeah, this is the cutest place I’ve ever seen,” Brian said, looking around at the mostly full diner, but there’s a few tables open.
“You guys cool with a booth?” I ask, turning to look at the boys behind me who are taking in the posters that cover the walls. Connor is looking at the small rack near the register that holds all of these Little Golden Books for the kids. “Those have been here since before I was born. And if memory serves me right, my name should be written on the first page of the Beauty and the Beast one.”
He raises a brow at me and spins the rack until he finds it. It’s falling apart and that’s partially because of me. It was the only book I would read while I was here and I would come weekly, sometimes twice. He smiles and lets out a small laugh at my scribbly writing.
“Don’t laugh! I was six!” I say into his shoulder, but I’m laughing too.
“It’s cute,” he says and takes his phone from his pocket to snap a picture of my god awful handwriting. “So,” he said as he put the book back. “Where are we sitting.”
“Well that’s what I was asking. Are you guys okay with a booth?”
“Booth is great,” he says and takes my hand. “Lead the way. Come on, guys.” Shawn and Brian follow behind us. We end up in the farthest booth from the door, which conveniently has always been my favorite spot to sit when I wasn’t at the counter. We’re barely settling in when our waitress comes to the table with menus. “Well I’ll be damned. This can’t be our beautiful y/n, she’s too grown!”
I laugh and push myself out of the seat to give her a big hug. “It’s me, Velma. How’ve you been?”
She doesn’t let me out of her grasp for a minute, just pulls away enough for her to grab my face. “I’ve been just fine, honeybunch. I’m glad you’re back. How’s that darling momma of yours?”
“Busy with the grandkids.”
“Yours?!”
“No!” I shake my head quickly. “Come on, Velma. You know me better than that! I’m finishing up college. I have no time to be popping out kids right now.”
She points a stern finger at me, “You better not be. Now, who are these lovely gentlemen you have with you?” she turns her attention to the boys who look oddly amused by the interaction they just witnessed.
“Velma,” I say with a smile. “This are my friends, Brian and Shawn.” They both slide out of the booth to greet her with a proper handshake. “Shawn is a musician and Brian is his long time best friend and he helps when Shawn’s on tour.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Velma,” Shawn says with that signature smile that could charm anyone.
“Well the pleasure is all mine, handsome.”
I can’t help but blush. Velma is only forty-three. She’s been working here since she was nineteen years old. And even though she isn’t old, she talks like she’s in her seventies. She blames it on all the old folks that come in here daily. They’ve rubbed off on her, but honestly? I think it’s just her soul. She’s always been older than she really is. She grew up too fast, but she’s happy with her three kids – which I babysat when I needed the extra money in middle and high school – and her husband, Henry, who she met here one night when she was working a late shift and he came stumbling in with a few of his friends from a night of partying.
“And who, Miss y/n, is this handsome man behind you?”
I look down at my feet. “Connor, ma’am,” he reaches around me and shakes Velma’s hand. “I’m y/n’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” She asks, the look on her face can only be read as shocked.
“Is it that hard to believe?” I ask with a wince. “Wow, thank you for that, Vel. I feel so loved.”
“Oh no!” She pats my arm. “You’ve just – you’ve never brought anyone here before.”
I groan, “Please, don’t make a big deal out of this,” I beg.
“Of course not. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Now you sit, and what can I get you all to drink?”
---
“So, how often did you come here?” Brian asks, running his finger over the condensation of his glass.
“This was basically a second home. I would work the afternoon shift for a couple summers. It’s pretty good tips.”
Connor takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, “What’s your favorite thing about this place?”
I don’t have to even think about it to answer. “You see that fountain area?” I motion toward the counter where they had the fountain drinks and ice cream machines. “I used to sit on that middle stool with a milkshake bigger than my head and I told Velma that when I grew up, I was gonna have something just like that in my house. I wanted the whole thing. The drinks, the ice cream machine, the counter with the stools. Everything. I wanted it. Why I wanted it in my house? I don’t know, but I liked the idea. I thought it was cool.”
“You still want it?” He asks, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“We’re gonna make it happen,” he whispers in my ear.
“No, Con, don’t worry about it. I don’t need it.”
“But you want it. If you don’t want it in the kitchen, we can put it in the back with the pool.”
“Oh, we’re gonna have a pool?”
“We can have whatever you want. You want a pool? You want it on the beach? You want it in the countryside? You tell me what you want and you’ve got it.”
“That’s a lot of promises you’re making there, Brashier.”
“You’re worth it.”
“Hot stuff coming in, sweet peas.”
“Velma, don’t you dare say you’re not talking about the food.”
“Hey!” she protests, setting down our plates. “That’s my bit. It’s always a crowd pleaser. You think I’m gonna steal that pretty boyfriend of yours?” She jokes.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” I say with an eyeroll.
She hums, looking from me to Connor and then she smiles wide, “I don’t think he’s going anywhere, honey. Y’all enjoy your food. Give me a holler if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Vel.”
I don’t know how long we’re there just talking and having a good time. The guys keep asking questions about what it was like growing up here, and when Velma is on break, she comes and sits with us for a minute before her husband comes to eat with her. It’s sweet seeing them together, I feel like I’m a huge part of their love story. I watched them fall in love in this very place and I was there as the youngest bridesmaid in their wedding. I babysat each of their kids. They’re like my second parents and I love them dearly.
“Is that gonna be you two one day?” Shawn nudges mine and Connor’s hands which are clasped on the table.
I look down, embarrassed that he caught me staring.
“Yeah it is,” Connor says, and when I look at him, he’s already looking at me.
“Hey babes, before you leave Gus asked if I could take a picture of you guys. He wants to put it on the wall.” Velma says, placing her hand on my shoulder when she comes back after her break.
“Wait, Gus is here?” I ask.
“Mmhmm… in the bag being a pain in Joe’s you know what.”
I laugh, “And he doesn’t want to come say hi to me?”
“I think I can manage to get him out here. But what do you say to a picture?”
“Guys?” I look back to them. “Is that okay?”
“I’m cool with it,” Shawn nods. And I’m grateful because he’s really the one I was asking. With him getting his picture taken all the time, I want to make sure it’s still okay.
“We’ll take one if Gus comes out.”
Velma laughs, “You drive a hard bargain, y/n. We’ll be back.”
“What wall are they gonna put it on?” Brian asks.
I point behind them to the register. “They’ve been adding to it for years. I’m surprised you didn’t see it when you walked in.”
“Are there any other pictures of you up there?”
“A few. There’s one from Velma’s wedding. And another one from my eighth birthday party. I have ice cream all over my face from where Henry dunked my head in my ice cream cake.”
Connor chuckles, “You’ll have to show me on our way out, yeah?”
I nod, “Of course.”
---
FIVE YEARS LATER
The bell dings above the door and I take in the almost overwhelming smell of burgers. “You want the booth?” Connor asks, taking my hand in his.
“Booth is good,” I smile at him and let him lead me to the back of the diner.
“Y/n! Connor!” Velma exclaims before we can even sit down. She envelops us both in a big hug. “Oh, let me look at you!” She takes my face in her hands. “Yep, still as beautiful as ever. Looking a little glowy.”
“Yeah, I hear that’s what happens when you’re having a baby,” I say nonchalantly.
She gasps. “You’re not!”
“We are,” Connor stands behind me and places his hands on my stomach which is just barely starting to show.
“Oh my gosh! I think I’m gonna cry. How far along are you? Do you know what you’re having?”
I shake my head, “Just hit four months. Our appointment’s next week. We just came down to give the news to everyone.”
“Oh, your parents must be so excited!” She placed her hand over her heart. “A new grandbaby.”
I laugh and slide into the booth, Connor sits in front of me. “They’re definitely excited. Shocked too considering how many times I told them I was never having kids when I was a teenager.”
“Oh, they knew. It’s always the ones that say they won’t have them. I told my parents the same thing and look at me now. Three kids and just as many grandbabies.”
I hum, “Well we’ll see how one works out for us first before we discuss having anymore.”
She nods, “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
“But we didn’t order.”
“You think I don’t already know your order by heart?” She sasses me and then turns on her heels to get our drinks.
“How are you feeling?” Connor asks once she’s gone. His hand is palm up on the table, ready for mine to lock with it. I don’t take his hand, but I run my finger gently over his wedding ring as I talk.
“I’m okay, bub.”
“You’re not feeling sick or anything, right?”
“Not right now. But I’ll let you know.”
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “Have I told you yet today how beautiful you are?”
“Only twelve times since we left the hotel,” I tease.
“Well I just need to make sure you know.” He’s been telling me that more and more since we found out about the baby. I don’t know what it is that this baby is doing to his mind, but it’s cute. He’s so attentive, so caring, so loving. Not that he wasn’t before, but it’s more now and while some part of me adores this side of him, the other part wants him to calm a little before he stops taking care of himself because he’s busy taking care of me.
When we’re finished and paid, I stay at the cash register for a minute, looking at all the pictures on the wall. “What are you looking for love?”
“The picture of us from the last time.”
He glances over the wall too. “it’s right here,” he slides from behind me and points to the photo just below the one of Gus and his wife outside the building when they bought the place.
My smile widens when I see it. Shawn, Brian and I are all smiling, laughing at something stupid Brian said before the shutter went off. But Connor, he’s looking at me. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen his smile so genuine before. Even from here, you can see the love radiating from his gaze.
“You know, that was the day I told the guys for sure that I was gonna marry you. You were up here talking to Gus and I just blurted it out. I said the second we touch down in LA we were going to look for rings. I knew then, baby. And I’m so lucky you said yes.”
I lean back and press a soft kiss to his cheek, “I told Velma that day too. She asked me about you. How long we’d been together. If I thought you were the one. I told her that I couldn’t see myself being with anyone else ever.”
“Well isn’t life funny.” He presses a kiss to the side of my neck. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too, bub.”
---
THREE YEARS LATER
“You see that picture right there, Reid?”
“Uncle Shawn and Uncle Brian!” he says excitedly.
“Yeah,” Connor holds our three-year-old on his hip. “This was the day that daddy knew he wanted to marry your momma.”
Reid giggles. “More!”
“Well you see this one?” I point to one just a little farther down the wall.
“That’s you,” he exclaims.
“Yeah it is, baby. And it’s you too. See that little bump that momma has? That’s you. Right before we found out that you were a boy.”
“And when we come back again in a few years, we’ll see one of all of us. And little baby P in momma’s stomach,” Connor says with a smile, placing his free hand on my protruding stomach.
“And then there will be more?” he asks, looking between me and his father. “Maybe so, buddy. You gonna want to come back here again?”
“Yeah! Can we come – come tomorrow?”
Con nods, “Yeah we can. Maybe we can bring Grandma and Grandpa? How’s that sound?”
“Good!”
We’re in the car, Reid’s asleep in his car seat. The radio is low. Connor and I are holding hands over the console. “You know, I think the Back When Diner is my favorite place to go.” He says softly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Because there’s no other place that I’ve been that gives you that homey feeling. But it does there. And I like going and seeing all the things you did when you were little and making all these memories with you there. I like having a home away from home. And I’m glad the kids are gonna have that too.”
I bring his hand up to my lips. “I love you, Connor Brashier.”
He smiles widely, glancing at me only for a second before he stares back at the road. “I love you too, y/n Brashier.”
***
I hope you enjoyed! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!
Tag: @loveat2am @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson @lifeoftheparty74 @shawnssongs @luvluvxx @foreveralone19588 @shawnandconnor @5-seconds-of-mendes @emma-manuhpe @nedthegay @shawnsblue @curiouslycryptic @adelaidestreets @vinylmendes
Connor Tag: @shawnm521 @divinginfearlessly @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @bettroff @myyohmyuohmyy @madison-malfoy @shawnieeboyy @mutuallynotmutual @tinycertain @rockstarshawnmendes @lostinmendess @sunrisebrashx @alinaxxshawn @heart-struck @ilsolee @daisyangei
#connor brashier#connor brashier imagines#connor brashier x y/n#connor brashier x reader#connor brashier imagine#connor brashier fanfiction#connor brashier blurb
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Since Unus Annus is ending today, I’ll just give a list of my favourites videos and a short explanation on why:
Cooking with sex toys: Started so serious with the first video and this just threw a curve ball at us, I love it. Also hilarious.
Purging our sins with a Neti Pot: “Mom no”
Baby hands operation: Waterboarding a fucking table top game and the butterfly flying off the body because Ethan hit it. Hilarious.
2 truths 1 lie- waxing edition: “How do you feel about Korea?”
Helium therapy: Abigail.
Drawing memes from memory: Ethan tried but only made for excellent comedic drawings.
An AI predicts how we’re going to die: It was really funny. Don’t know what else to tell you.
Mark and Ethan attempt an escape room: It was just these two trying to be as logical as possible and being idiots at the same time.
Ethan gives Mark a Viking funeral: I still perfectly remember Mark sliding down the stairs at tremendous speed and getting stuck in the cardboard coffin.
The great meat mistake: Ethan struggles to speak.
We made nude paintings of each other: Any frame looked like was straight up p0rn.
Ethan’s relaxing and totally normal nail salon: Mark has an existential crisis.
Hiding our sins from Amy’s holy peepers: “agh my wound” and “this is for a bit but how long is this gonna stay there”.
Who can make themselves taller: Mark has an existential crisis: I could’ve been an engineer edition.
We took an IQ test: I…how do you get a 3?
Mark and Ethan go casket shopping: just two pals shopping for a coffin that best suit them.
We take a lie detector to uncover our darkest sins: it was just fun to see the spikes.
Learning to breath underwater: Grade A material for memes.
2 absolute beginners experience the dancing glory that is salsa: super fun, another great grade A meme material.
Mark and Ethan learn about the human body: genitalia.
DIY cheese: it’s the dance of Italy OooOoH
Looking at long lost memes: it was just the two of them looking at memes.
Literally eating fire: ‘twas interesting! Also the face.
Nutball: the most dangerous game: Fun, don’t do it tho.
Our perfect (and last) valentine’s day: BENJAMIN KETCHUP and tiny will smith.
Being attacked by a fully trained body guard dog: I couldn’t understand the man because of the heavy russian accent but still loved the video.
The ultimate trolley problem: Just really fucking fun, really made me laugh.
Real ghost hunting at an abandoned zoo: kinda scary, but Mark and Ethan were great comedic relief.
DIY chiropractor: *stabs a soda can* *chugs the whole thing from the incision* *in an accent* “You ready?”
What does astrology say about our friendship: *thrusts* “sorry”
Amazon shopping for the apocalypse: it was just them buying supplies and it was fun to watch.
Ultimate youtuber boxing showdown: It was really funny how they imagined their dramatic entrances to the boxing ring.
We made every youtuber battle in the hunger games: Beware of Zoella.
The creepiest videos on youtube: I just like scary stuff and two idiots bringing comfort with their presence.
What the hell is a pink trombone?: This is not a fleshlight.
We played strip poker: Beginner’s luck is amazing.
Mark cooks blindfolded while Ethan guides him through facetime: This is just Ethan getting stressed out while Mark did whatever he wanted.
Reacting to your hilarious green screen memes: y’all are amazing.
Mark teaches Ethan to read with hooked on phonics: E E F
Mark and Ethan become United States citizens: it’s just them roasting the us government.
Finding the most cursed image on the internet: it’s them either laughing our cringing.
Creating Mark FISHbach: Ethan likes to swim and is a graceful merman, Mark not so much.
Dummy THICC for dummies – a tale of two butts – Pushing our butts even further beyond: “Oh what’s that? A tier 3 sub?”
Dunking oreos I literally anything but milk: Soy sauce is always higher than what you’d think.
Preparing a 5-star meal for our youtube famous dogs: it’s adorable, also you can smell chaos in that video.
Mark teaches Ethan how to play the trumpet: Ethan struggles and makes Mark upset.
Momiplier teaches self-defense: she’s SO funny.
Mark’s outdoor escape room: AVADA KEDABRA
Mark teaches Ethan how to march in a marching band: His form was like an S, literally.
2 adults take a 4th grade math class: Ethan’s reaction to “welcome to math class” hit deep.
We accidentally made an SCP while Amy was away: “I FORGOT ABOUT THE DEMONS INSIDE”
Learning to use the force: think thiiink THIIIIINK
This is for fun and not a fetish: this was my birthday video J
Mark conquers his fear of night swimming: THE GONGOOZLER
We bought every Grinch costume on Ebay: It was great.
Pressure washing our sins away: Ethan was really excited about the pressure washer and I liked it because I get really excited about vacuums so it felt relatable for me.
The Unus Annus Annual Costume Contest: You know.
Ethan kidnapped Mark: Ethan doesn’t remember his own puzzles but Marks plays along anyway because he doesn’t want him to feel bad.
The Unus Annus last supper: Amy popped off with the foods.
Being brutally honest with eachother: made me cry, but from inspiration and a pinch of sadness.
Recreating every single Unus Annus video: “Siri, call us daddy” “I don’t see a father in your contacts”
All our video ideas that never happened: really fun to imagine the videos, and lowkey would’ve loved to see the Youtuber Graduation that Ethan thought of for the youtubers that never went or finished college. And Fuckmachine Thanksgiving
Everything’s legal If you’re dead: Mark’s lawyer struggles because Mark is trying to commit fraud and in the meantime Ethan makes breakfast with a fuckmachine .
I loved all the videos but this are just my personal favourites. As of posting this, in 44 minutes the last video will be up. And it’ll all end.
I won’t be able to re watch the magic but I can still remember. Thank you everyone, and of course, please don’t harass anyone that posts anything related to Unus Annus once the channel is deleted. Mark and Ethan expressed that they don’t want archive channels but it’s still their desition. I’m sure that those who made channel explicitly mmaking edits or those that made blogs centered in Unus Annus are those who have commited to the idea of the channel.
Let people make edits, memes and art, don’t be mean.
Memento Mori.
Unus Annus.
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★ 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓊𝓈𝓉 || 𝒞𝒽𝑜𝒾 𝒮𝒶𝓃 ★
youtube
★ 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: ballet dancer!san x female!reader, side barista!mingi & barista!mark
★ 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮: romance, angst, some shitty comedy
★ 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: mild panic attack, emotional turbulence, absolutely shit comedy by the author, a lot of emotions y’all
★ 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 2.2k
★ 𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓪 𝓫𝔂: @starsforten
★ 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮 ★
Your university is in the opposite direction of your workplace but for some reason you still make the hour drive out to Incheon every morning before classes just to see your coworkers and pretend to study while you’re actually watching Youtube videos. Maybe it’s the sense of family or the Dunkin’ pride, but on the rare days that you can’t make it out there, your entire day starts off with sad boi energy. But today is normal—it’s a good day, and even with the bustling ambiance of people moving to and fro on Terminal 1’s walkway around you, you have no trouble zeroing in on the dorky-looking boy standing behind the POS system at Dunkin’ Coffee House.
It’s Mark in his stupid Dunkin’ visor and he looks half-dead as he swipes the credit card of a short old man. You draw closer, readjusting your book bag strap over your shoulder with a smirk tugging your mouth in one direction. suddenly, Mingi pops up from under the espresso machine with a yelp. His back is turned to you and Mark and the aforementioned turns around to say something to him. As you approach them, you peer over the counter to see that Mingi has dropped the entire 50 lb pail of Cafiza and it looks like a billion dollars of cocaine has fallen expensively to the ground. The old man narrows his eyes at the two men who are now panicking and no longer paying attention to the front. He shakes his head and turns around to leave. You notice that there are only two other customers immersed in their work at tables a few feet away from the counter.
You snake over to the cash register to take the old man’s place, watching Mark and Mingi argue for a moment. Mingi places his gigantic hands over the visor on his head, almost completely covering the top of it. His eyes, wide and afraid, keep darting from the chemical to the cameras installed above them, spouting about how the bosses are going to fire him while Mark tells him to vacuum it up, but, “나 진공 청소기 못 해, 임마! 이거는 진공청소기로 길을 잃을 거야!” I can’t vacuum it, dude! It’ll get lost with the rest of the vacuum dirt!
“그럼 진공 청소부터 해, 멍청아!” Then clean out the vacuum first, dumbass!
“나한테 소리 지르지 마!!!” dON’T YELL AT ME!
“Welcome to Dunkin’!” You say, causing them both to turn their attention to you. “Where we dunk on our haters and have emotional breakdowns over coke.”
Mingi is the first one to shout, “아아아!” AHHHH! And you know that that’s his way of saying, “thank God you’re here!” because he’s book smart but common sense is not his forte. In your three years working with Mingi, you’ve watched him improve very slightly. Yet here he is. Still kickin’ it at Dunkin’.
Mark laughs nervously before responding, “Welcome to Dunkin’, are you ready to get dunked, ma’am?”
Taking a step or two to the side so you can lean over the pick-up counter, you gesture to the fallen Cafiza pail and calmly say, “쓸어버려, 새끼들.” Sweep it up, dipshits.
“넌 너무 시적이야,” You’re so poetic, Mingi mutters before sulking over to the broom like he’s upset that he didn’t think of that first.
While he does that, Mark sighs all the way over to you where he pretends to type something in on the POS screen. “The usual?”
“Yes indeedy, sweety.” You hand him an invisible credit card and he pretends to swipe it before turning his miserably tired eyes on you and telling you it’ll be right out. So you reach over the counter to pat his shoulder and say, “SoundCloud isn’t worth the dark circles, Mork.”
Mark’s voice crescendos into a yell as you walk away to find a table. “Yes, iT IS.”
There’s a small square wooden table right up against the divider bookshelf separating Dunkin’ from the Hooters next door. With a small laugh, you remember how upset everyone was when your old coworker Wendy quit to go work next door. Mark had deemed her and the entire Hooter’s establishment as “an enemy of the Dunkin’ brand”. But you’ve seen him peeking around the large bookcase to peep the Hooter’s waitresses. At the end of the day, sexual frustration wins over loyalty—at least for Mark. You don’t really care that Wendy went to Hooters, but you definitely enjoy saying, “Pleasant Hooter’s!” every time she leaves after you two meet up.
After setting up your laptop and making sure that it’s plugged in, you take a seat, but you don’t open up the sleek electronic device you dropped your entire first paycheck on three years ago. Instead, you look out at the terminal floor and watch people say goodbye or greet each other. A little boy runs into his father’s arms, screaming with joy as his father embraces him and picks him up. A young man you’ve never seen before holding a bouquet of red roses stands unsure a few feet away, looking around with a worried expression. You’re suddenly very aware of the thump of your heart against your rib cage because you remember. You stare at the bouquet and you remember.
You can suddenly smell the songpyeon your mother was making in preparation for Chuseok. You can see the metal door in front of you and feel the weight of the trash bag you had carried all those years ago. You yelled over your shoulder to your mother in the kitchen that you were taking the trash out before stepping outside and almost tripping over a pair of Doc Martens. He was sitting there in the stairwell, back against the wall, eyes gently closed, dry lips parted, chest rising and falling slowly—a bouquet of red roses lying limp in his hands. His bangs were in his eyes and you wanted to move them away like you always did, but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch him. You looked him over with pathetic tears welling behind your eyes. You turned away. You went downstairs to take out the trash.
“오빠!” BABY! A piercing shriek pulls you from your memory and you focus your eyes again to see a girl running toward the young man and throwing herself onto him. He barely catches her, dropping the bouquet, and she wraps her legs around his waist as she hugs him.
Your drink is set down in front of you and you look up to see Mingi staring down at you with one eyebrow raised. “친구야 왜 슬퍼?” Why do you look sad? He then turns his body back toward the counter momentarily to point to where Mark is now scrubbing the outside of the espresso machine. “우리가 화학 약품을 치웠으니까 걱정하지 마.” We cleaned the chemicals up, so don’t worry. You smile. Mingi has always vibrated such an innocence that you enjoy. You’re the same age, but you view him as a little brother. Well, a little huge brother.
After assuring him that you’re okay, he turns to go back to work and you mutter under your breath as he takes big clunky steps, “Fee-fi-fo-fum…” He towers over Mark, who hands him the sponge and directs him to finish up. Mingi just nods and begins the task given to him. “I am a giant but I am not dumb.”
You continue watching your friends, leaving your drink neglected on the table before you. Mark suddenly looks toward the front with wide-eyes, spouting apologies to the customer that walked up while you were all distracted. Mingi stands by, ready to make the drink or retrieve the donut that will be ordered. But he’s squinting at the customer like he knows him—and you have to admit the customer looks a bit familiar from behind. You think hard for a moment. Not super tall, a bit taller than Mark, dark hair, long trench coat that you know is to combat the heavy snow falling outside the windows that are blocked by a divider. You can’t really see his build because of that, but you squint now too to try and notice anything from the back of his head. You think you notice freckles, but you’re not sure. Just the thought is enough to send you into another stomach-flipping memory.
Now you can smell the fresh rain on the pavement again. You can feel the colorful dragonflies beating the shit out of your insides—the once pleasant friends that gently let you know when you were nervous were now betraying you. You can feel his warm skin under your fingertips and the wetness on your cheeks. You can hear his low voice cracking, saying, “제발 울지마—사랑한다.” I love you—please don’t cry. You can see his comforting eyes, red and wild. You lowered your lips to his neck, gently kissing the freckles you admired but never spoke of. He broke out into a sob and pulled you closer to him.
“아!” Ah! Mingi says loudly and you’re pulled from the memory again—and it’s a good thing, too, because you can feel your tear ducts throbbing, desperate for release. He points at the customer with a wide smile. “최산!” Choi San!
The walls close in on you from every direction. The seafood restaurant across the walkway, the Hooter’s to the left, the bar sitting in the middle of it all. Everything begins to shake and collapse and your lungs are punctured with each breath and they give out one-by-one and you can’t breathe and you can’t breathe and San is standing at the cash register and Mingi gestures toward you and San looks over and his eyes are still comforting but you can’t look at him so you stare down at your lap and everything is still shaking so you close your eyes because you can’t cry and you can’t think about Choi San’s freckles and Choi San’s bouquet of roses and you can’t breathe and the first time Choi San kissed you and you can’t breathe and you can’t breathe and you can’t—
“Are you okay?” You suddenly feel a cold hand on the fabric of your black dress shirt. It’s Mark because he has the coldest hands in the world and you’d know them anywhere. But it’s strangely comforting to open your eyes to Mark standing over you with on hand on your back and Mingi crouching beside you with his eyebrows drawn in. He places an apprehensive hand on your knee. He knows. You’ve never mentioned San’s name, but Mingi is smart. You know he’s figured it out.
You just now realize that you’re heaving and Mark rushes away, talking about getting water. A guilty frown spreads over Mingi’s face and he mumbles, “미안해—나는 네가 서로 아는 줄 알았는데 네가 말한 그 사람이 아닌 것 같았어.” I’m sorry—I thought you knew each other but I didn’t think he was the guy you told us about. You just focus on Mingi, afraid of what you’ll see if you look up again. And then Mark returns with the water and you gulp it down. Your breathing begins to normalize but your pulse is still rapid and the blood begins to roar in your ears because you know what you’re about to do.
Mingi stands up and says he’ll tell him to leave, but you stand in return and say, shaking, “아니. 나는 그와 얘기하고 싶다.” No. I want to talk to him.
“근데…” But…
Ignoring them both, you gently push them aside and stare straight at Choi San, who’s still standing there. He’s returning your gaze and there’s something so sullen about it. It’s raining stars in his irises. It’s been three years, so naturally, you’d freak out upon seeing him—especially considering the way things ended and the way things started. You notice a piece of luggage he’s parked next to the counter. You wonder in passing if he’s visiting or staying. Then, like doves in the fall, your thoughts flock to the void of your mind and you’re left empty and full as you approach him. Your heart is on fire and the ashes accumulate in the pit of your stomach, providing a warmth that spreads all over your body. Even after all this time, Choi San…
You know he’s worried by the way he’s looking at you. But all you can do is bite back the urge to touch his face and say, “오랜만에.” It’s been a while.
And a sad smile dances across his lips as he looks down at you the same way he did at the beginning.
“구십삼퍼센트 스타더스트.” Ninety-three percent stardust, he said as you two gazed out at the twinkling night lights of Seoul. His arm was pressed up against yours; he tilted his head up to turn his attention to the sky. “불꽃으로 만들어진 영혼들 함께, 우리는 ��두 사람들의 이름을 가진 별 뿐이다.” With souls made of flames, we’re all just stars that have people names.
#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#ateez au#ateez san#choi san#ateez drabbles#ateez timestamp#에이티즈 최산#x reader#x-reader#kpop fanfiction#nct fanfic#nct mark#mark lee#nct mark lee#Song mingi#ateez mingi#barista au#ateez dance#ateez angst#angst#ateez romance#ateez college au#ateez comedy#comedy#kpop community#ateez astrology#ateez imagines#atzinc
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