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pupkashi · 9 months

Text

azul

when it comes to love, you picture it as the color blue

a/n: hi friends !! i wrote this inspired by this song :] i had so much fun writing this and i hope you guys enjoy it <3 please let me know what u guys think !! this is my longest fic on here so I’m nervous LOL

wordcount: 6,414

masterlist

maybe if you weren’t already 10 minutes late to lecture you would’ve seen the tall man straight ahead of you, prominent snowy hair blowing in the wind as he sips on his large sugary coffee.

but you were 10 minutes late, and you were texting your friend asking them to fill you in on what you were missing. in the second that you looked up from your phone the only thing you saw was a dark purple uniform.

there wasn’t enough time for you to stop or move away, bumping full force into a firm body, spilling the drink in his hand all over him. your phone slipped out of your hand as you stumbled backwards.

“oh my god I’m so sorry!” you shriek, scrambling to check your bag for napkins, pulling some out and frantically handing them to the man. “I’m so sorry i should’ve watched where i was going” you apologize, face flushed as you picked up your phone from the ground.

“it’s okay! i wasn’t paying much attention either” he laughs, “is your phone alright?” his voice is sweet, and you almost regret looking up at him and meeting his gaze.

you’re greeted by the two most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen in your life, the round sunglasses that rested on the tip of his nose barely covering them. the gust of wind that passes by the two of you pushes back his white hair, making you struggle to not gulp.

he’s so attractive.

“uhm- oh yeah” you chuckle, tearing your eyes away from him and swallowing hard, “yeah it’s fine, are you okay?” you ask, finding the courage to look up at the much taller man.

“I’m more than okay” he smiles, dabbing the napkins against his now coffee soaked uniform. “i know my students are gonna get a kick out of this though” the words make you feel even worse, and it seems like this stranger picked up on it, quickly speaking up, “it’s good though, those kids could use a good laugh” his eyes crinkling a bit as he gives you a genuine smile.

“you’re a teacher?” you ask, the two of you moving out of the middle of the busy sidewalk.

“yeah something like that” he nods, throwing the used napkins and now empty coffee cup away.

your eyes follow his movements, noticing the way the large cup looks small in his hands. “I’m really sorry about your clothes though” you frown, the man only waved his hands in front of him.

“no really don’t worry about it! that’s what washing machines are for right?” the genuine smile on his face makes you feel a bit better, a similar one making its way onto your lips as you nod.

“can i at least replace your coffee? it was practically full” you reason. you were almost certain the handsome man in front of you would say no, then two of you would part ways and never see each other again.

almost.

“or you could repay me by going out to dinner with me? or lunch?” and for the first time since you’d bumped into him, his cheeks were red. he was blushing. even though his cheeks were rosy, he had the cockiest grin on his face. you couldn’t even enjoy the sight because you were blushing too.

“that would be-” the loud ringing of your phone causes you to jump a bit, eyes widening as you see your friend's contact name flash on your screen. “I’m so sorry” you mumble, answering and turning away from the man.

“hey” you whisper, the color draining from your face when you realize how long you’d been talking to this guy.

“what do you mean ‘hey’! prof is giving out an extra credit opportunity at the end of lecture” they rush out, “you’re lucky he stepped out right now so i could call you, hurry your ass over here!”

you hear the dial tone before you can reply, holding in a groann of frustration before taking a deep breath and turning around.

“sorry” you smile, “i really have to get to lecture, i'm already super late but I’d love to get dinner sometime!” the words are tumbling from your mouth as you take a pen and piece of paper out of your bag, scribbling your number and handing it to him.

“my car’s right there if you want a ride” and as tempted as you were, you decided to not completely give up on what you’d been taught regarding stranger danger.

“I’ll be fine, thank you though” you smile, watching as the man takes the paper from you. “what was your name?” he’s looking up at your words, his smile shifting to a softer one.

“satoru” he replies, “satoru gojo.”

“it’s nice to meet you satoru” a wide smile on your face as you start to gather your things, “I’m y/n,” checking the time once more with wide eyes, “I’m also gonna fail this class if i don’t leave right now, bye!” you call out, waving as you walk past him and to the bus stop.

gojo would be lying if he said he didn’t turn his infinity off the second he saw how pretty you were in the seconds before collision. could he have avoided being an hour late to a meeting with the higher ups by moving out of the way? yes!

but that means he wouldn’t have been texting you now, sending you a ‘hi it’s satoru :)’ before walking into the meeting, a fresh cup of sugary coffee in hand.

it’s only after the meeting that he meets up with the first years, smiling at them widely and grabbing megumi for a big hug.

“what is wrong with you?” the younger boy huffs, pushing satoru away and fixing his now ruffled hair. “why do you smell like coffee?” he asks, nose scrunched up.

“did you bring us coffee sensei?” nobara’s eyes are practically gleaming as she searches the classroom, hoping to find the drinks.

“did you get us pastries too?” yuji’s excitement is evident on his face as he joins nobara in her search.

“I’ll give you guys money for them later” gojo smiles, his two rowdier students sitting down happily, “someone bumped into me and made me spill coffee on myself” the grin on his face is a contrast to his students' confused faces.

“why are you smiling about that” megumi scoffs.

“it’s so romantic isn’t it? they bumped into me! i think it’s destiny” he sighs dreamily, megumi only rolls his eyes as yuji and nobara stare at each other.

satoru is sitting in his office when his phone vibrates, immediately checking it and grinning when he sees your name on the screen.

‘hii sorry i was super busy after lecture :P’

he’s setting his phone down, giggling to himself as he thinks of what to reply, trying to not seem too eager. one minute is long enough, right?

‘no worries :)’ he sends. immediately overthinking when he doesn’t see the three dots pop up. did he just kill the conversation? should he double text? is that too lame?

satoru was sure you were at home completely unphased by his texts, much more calm about the interaction than he was.

you were clinging to your roommate as you showed them the text, “what does this mean? how do i reply? when do i bring up the dinner?” you groaned, panicked as you paced the room.

“calm down!” they laughed, taking the phone from your hand and opening the message for you, “how about asking how his day was?” their voice was calm and it brought you to a complete stop, your face returning to an easy smile.

“you’re a genius” you mumble, grabbing your phone and typing back quickly.

‘how was ur day ? hope your students didn’t make fun of you too harshly hehe’

“how’s this? too much? maybe I’ll delete this part” you say, chewing on your bottom lip as your roommate smacks the back of your head. “ouch! what was that for” you pout.

“send the message as it is! you want him to like you don’t you? not some weird filtered version” you know they’re right and you can’t help but hate them for it.

“yeah yeah whatever” you snicker, “ouch!” you laugh as they pinch your arm a bit.

‘they made fun of me so much </3 the only way i can think of feeling better is seeing you soon’

“oh he’s one smooth talker” your friend smiles, peering over your shoulder, “i get why you took so long getting to lect- oh my god you’re blushing!” you’re quick to try and deny it, giving up as you burst into giggles rereading the text.

“what the fuck do i say? I don’t fucking know how to flirt” you cry out, thumbs dancing over the screen as you think of what to say.

‘just talked to a nurse and she said your condition is only gonna worsen if we don’t get dinner tomorrow at 7 :O’

‘guess I’ll just have to send you the details tomorrow huh?’

gojo satoru was never one to giggle and swing his feet from a mere text message. but as soon as he read your text he 100% was.

the next day came quickly and although you were in completely different places, the realization struck the both of you like a slap in the face.

“what am i gonna wear?” you shrieked, turning to your roommate in a panic.

“what am i gonna wear?” satoru asked nanami, nervousness etched in his every feature.

it takes you two hours and a messy room to finally pick your outfit out, smiling in the mirror as your roommate cheers you on.

“that man’s gonna get swept off his feet by you” they smile, watching as you giggle to yourself.

“he’s like six foot something so that’s unlikely” you tease, laughing as they roll their eyes at you. “but hopefully! finger crossed” you smile, setting the outfit aside as you get ready to hop in the shower, the butterflies in your stomach only growing in number as the time comes closer.

“satoru you’ve tried that shirt like six times already” nanami groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looks at the older man.

“but not with these shoes!” satoru isn’t sure how much longer he has until kento walks out on him, leaving him to his own defenses, so he narrows down his options quickly, finally content with his reflection in the mirror as he walks out, a giant grin painted on his face.

“you look nice” nanami says, taking a drink of water, “where are you going again?” he asks, nearly choking on his water when satoru answers him.

“a date”

“a date?”

satoru replies with a light hum, fixing his hair a bit before turning to the blonde man. “met them the other day actually, i think you’d like them!”

“they’re not even a sorcerer? do they know-” nanami begins to reason but satoru isn’t having any of it.

“no need to rain on my parade! thank you for your help I’ll call you and let you know how it goes!” he calls out, waving goodbye as nanami swipes a croissant on his way out.

“please don’t call me,” he replies, shutting the door and leaving satoru alone.

he’s quick to rush to the restroom, fluffing his hair a bit and running his fingers through it, glancing at his reflection and smiling. he doesn’t remember the last time he had felt so giddy, maybe when he, suguru and shoko had pranked yaga years ago.

but this was different, his stomach felt fuzzy and he was constantly checking his phone, willing for 6:30 to arrive so he could go pick you up.

satoru ended up leaving his house at 6, stopping by a local flower shop and getting a bouquet for you, placing it gently in the passenger seat before driving to the address you’d sent.

it’s 6:30 on the dot when you hear a knock on your door, your roommate shooting you a smile and a thumbs up as you walk out of their room and to the front door.

“hi” you smile, eyes landing on his blue ones, barely covered by the sunglasses he’s wearing.

“hi” he replies back, “oh um, these are for you” he extends his arms out, the floral smell makes your smile even bigger, face flushing as you thank him.

“you can come in! I’ll just put these in water real fast” you grin, motioning for him to come in.

he’s looking around your apartment, noticing how decorated and warm it feels, so homey. his eyes land on the framed pictures on the wall, spotting you easily among the group of people he assumes are your friends.

“oh those are so embarrassing” you chuckle, placing the vase on the dining table before turning to look at satoru, “i look so silly in like half of these” you say, gesturing to the collage of photos on the wall.

“you look great” he assures, giving you a charming smile that has your ears burning. “you ready?” you only nod, the two of you walking out as you close the door behind you, locking it quickly.

“where are we going?” you ask, satoru only smiling at you as he opens the car door for you, closing it gently and heading to the driver's seat.

“are you competitive?” the question makes your head cock to the side a bit.

“sometimes i guess, why?” you’re studying his features, taking in just how pretty he really was.

“you like arcades?” he turns to you with a smile, watching as your lips turn upwards as you smile at him.

the drive there doesn’t take too long, easy conversation flowing between the two of you as you get to know each other a bit better.

“wait, what’s your favorite color?” he asks you, walking into the colorful arcade.

“I don’t think i have one actually, ill get back to you on that” you reply, your lips forming a small pout as you think for a bit. “do you have one?” his attention is on you now.

“the color of your eyes” he flirts, loving the way your breathing hitches in your throat as you look away for a moment.

“okay I’ll admit that was smooth” you laugh, composing yourself as you look at him and bump shoulders, “don’t go getting cocky on me though, I’ll spill coffee all over you.” satoru is all smiles at your words, laughing along with you as you reach the kiosk.

the date goes amazingly, the two of you laughing as you both fail miserably at the claw games available, cheering when you finally get the small cat plush he said he thought was cute.

satoru spends a good twenty minutes trying to get the puppy plush you wanted, finally getting it after the nth time of it just barely missing the hole.

it’s during the arcade games that the two of you get more serious, resorting to cheating by pushing satoru when he passes you in the racing game you were playing, groaning when you still managed to end up in 5th and him in 1st.

it’s 10 pm when the two of you walk out of the arcade, all smiles and laughter when you get in the car.

“you have to admit i handed your ass to you in air hockey” you smiled, the puppy plushy in your hold as you watched satoru put his seatbelt on, his arm resting on the back of your seat as he reversed out.

you’re trying to calm yourself down as you notice how perfect his jawline looks and how soft the hair at the nape of his neck looks, swallowing a bit hard as you look forward.

“okay I’ll admit that one,” he chuckles, turning to face you for a second before focusing on the road again. “do you like ice cream?”

“i love ice cream” you reply, watching as his features light up at your words.

“d’you wanna go get some? we could always get some another time” he assures you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“you’re very bold to assume there’ll be another time” you quip, trying to fight the smile threatening to appear on your lips.

“is that a yes?” he grins, watching the way you bite your bottom lip and look out the window before focusing your gaze on him.

“it’s not a no” your words make his body buzz, ears flushing as he pulls into the ice cream parlor. he’s sure the ice cream wouldn’t be as sweet as you were.

you’re reaching your front door only a couple minutes shy of midnight, taking your keys out of your bag before looking at satoru.

“i had a great time tonight” you smile, something you found yourself doing anytime you’d been around the white haired man.

“i did too” he’s towering over you, fingers itching to pull you closer to him. you’re staring up at him, eyes bright as he stares down at you.

satoru prays to any and every higher force as he leans down, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek, his face beet red as he meets your eyes.

“sleep well,” he smiles, ready to turn around when you stop him. your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you pull him towards you, a chaste kiss being placed on his cheek.

“let me know when you get home safe” you say, heartbeat in your ears as you walk into your apartment, giving him a small wave as he begins to walk away.

it’s only seconds later that you’re giggling and shrieking like a schoolgirl, a blush and smile on your face that you can’t seem to get rid of.

satoru texts you minutes later, letting you know he was home safe and he had a great time. you’re quick to reply, telling him you had so much fun and looked forward to next time.

the two of you ended up texting back and forth practically all night, only stopping when you’d fallen asleep between texts, waking up the next morning and apologizing for leaving him on read.

the two of you continued to go out on dates almost every week, texting back and forth and having late FaceTime calls when you were too exhausted to text.

“this prof is so- ugh!” you groan, your head resting on your crossed arms over your desk, only the top of your head being visible to gojo.

“what do you have left to do?” he asks through your phone, his upper body visible, a black sweatshirt on as he plays some game on his switch. he had wanted to give you company while you finished your last assignment, cheering you on.

as you explained your assignment, satoru listened intently, pausing his game and reading a notification he’d gotten. his lips formed a small frown, and as he replied you noticed his brows were furrowed.

“y/n im sorry i have to go take care of this work thing” he sighs.

“it’s like 2 am though?” you say, suddenly not exhausted at all as you look at him through your screen. “what do you have to do at school at 2 in the morning?”

nanami’s words ring in his ears as he tries to come up with something. he had to tell you eventually if he really wanted to make this serious.

“one of my students needs help with something,” he explains, “they live on campus.”

you nod, apologizing for sounding so accusatory and blaming the exhaustion, saying goodbye before you hang up.

satoru is groaning, pulling his uniform on before teleporting to campus, Ijichi ready to take him to where the curse had been spotted. he’s distracted the entire time, the only thought on his mind being how he was going to tell you.

would you even want to be with him after that?

satoru bites the bullet two dates later, the two of you sitting on a blanket when he faces you, playful looks gone and replaced by a more serious, nervous one.

“i need to tell you something,” he says, and you can feel your heart falling as the smile fades from your face.

it’s a lot to take in. you’re listening to satoru talk about the Jujutsu world, explaining everything as best he could but not wanting to overwhelm you.

“that’s why you always wear sunglasses?”

satoru is shocked that that’s the question you ask him first. he nods his head nonetheless.

“i understand if you don’t wanna deal with all this, i just- i wanted to tell you before we made it more serious” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly, admitting he wanted to make things official.

satoru gave you time and space to decide on your own, not pushing you towards any decision. he did however call nanami later that day, in shambles as he explained to him he might’ve just fumbled the best opportunity of love he’d ever get in his life.

it’s days later when yuji is running up to satoru with his phone in hand, “sensei! it’s y/n they’re calling you!” he shouts, tossing the phone to gojo before smiling up at him brightly as he answers.

“hello?” he asks, biting his bottom lip nervously. yuji can’t make out exactly what you’re saying, but as he sees a smile form on gojo’s face and a giggle leave his lips, he knows it’s something good.

“I’ll be there in a minute” he smiles, hanging up before looking at yuji with a wide smile. “we are so back!” he cheers, yuji high fiving him before he sees him teleporting away.

satoru is at your front door quite literally one minute later, knocking gently. you open the door with a smile, not realizing how much you missed seeing him the past two weeks.

“hi” you breathe out, did he get buffer? we’re his shoulders always that broad?

“hi” he smiles, “where’s the bug?” he asks, following you into your apartment as you point at the corner of your living room, watching in fright as satoru takes the cup from your hands and easily reaches up to capture it.

he’s letting the little guy outside, setting him in between the shrubs and handing you your cup back with a smile. “if that’s all you needed I’ll get going” he says, looking at you with a small smile.

you’re hesitant for a second, but as he takes another step closer to the door you find yourself moving on your own.

“wait don’t go” it’s rushed out and your voice isn’t as confident as you want it to be. but satoru is turning around, his face bright as he turns to face you, eyes gleaming. “i- i thought about it” you say, picking at your fingers and shifting your weight onto your other foot.

satoru is quiet, a soft string of ‘please’ echoing through his head as he waits for you to continue. he’s looking at you intently and you finally speak up after what feels like forever.

“i really like you” you breathe out, eyes flickering between your hands and satoru’s face, “i haven’t felt this way about someone maybe ever and god that’s embarrassing to say out loud” you laugh, satoru’s smile only grows wider as you continue.

“i don’t know anything about your magic world or whatever it’s called, but I’d love to give this a try” you say, out of breath as you look up at him, “if you still wanna,” your brain finally catching up with your mouth and you wonder if you just embarrassed yourself in front of the most perfect man in the world.

“I’d want nothing more in the world” he grins, stepping a bit closer to you, his fingers just barely grazing the skin of your cheek before he’s pulling away.

you’re so close to each other, you can smell his minty breath, you can see just how glossy his lips are and you can make out the faintest shapes of his dimples.

“that’s good, or that would’ve been embarrassing” you mumble, satoru smiles at your words, neither one of you moving an inch.

“no yeah i get it, cause of everything and, yeah” his words don’t make sense, yet you somehow are nodding along in understanding. your eyes flicking down to his lips.

“for sure” you whisper, looking up to meet his eyes before leaning in just a bit more, voice trailing off.

he doesn’t wanna rush you into this, but he’s certain his hearts gonna give out any second if you don’t close the distance between the two of you.

“can i kiss you?” he voice is airy and light, and you don’t have enough confidence in your voice as you nod your head, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips meet yours.

he tastes like mint and honey lip balm, and you can’t help but want more, more and more as your lips move against one another. you can feel your body growing hotter by the second, your hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging on it.

your mind is blank as you kiss him, the only fleeting thought in your mind is him. his blue eyes, his bad jokes, the way he knew exactly when to text you, how he really listened to what you were saying. you could only think of him.

satoru can feel his body buzzing, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him, face flushing as you both pull away, trying to catch your breath.

you’re both smiling at each other, sheepish giggles filling the living room as you pull away from each other. satoru’s face is flushed red, his lips still tingling from the moments prior. you’re the first to break the silence, the two of you still standing.

“you gonna ask me out or are we keeping this moment ambiguous?” your voice is light as you speak, the giddiness behind your voice is obvious as you smile up at him.

“you just can’t live without me” he sighs, laughing when you smack his chest. he’s quick to follow you to the couch, sitting next to you and grabbing your hand.

“will you do me the honor of being mine?” the golden rays of the setting sun hit him perfectly, blue eyes practically glowing as they look back at you. his dimples are prominent now as he smiles.

“I’d want nothing more” you reply, giggling as he peppers your face with feathery kisses.

time seems to fly once the two of you begin dating, one second you’re shyly holding hands on a walk and the next he’s stealing fries off your plate like it’s instinct.

it’s three months since that day, and you were beyond grateful that a spider had appeared in your apartment, even more so that satoru wasn’t scared of bugs like you were.

satoru is knocking on your door, drenched to the bone and holding a bouquet of blue flowers, smiling at you through his dripping wet bangs, “missed you so much” he pouts as you let him in.

“satoru i saw you two days ago” you giggle, “don’t you have infinity? why are you soaking wet?” he’s sporting a grin that you’ve come to learn means trouble.

“don’t you wanna cuddle me and make sure i don’t catch a cold?” his smile turning into a pout, his pleading eyes tugging on your heartstrings as you roll your eyes.

“you’re so annoying” you scoff, “take your wet clothes off” you instruct, taking the flowers from his hand and placing them in a vase on the dining table.

satoru is quick to peel the wet clothes from his body, goosebumps rising on his skin as the air hits him. “if i had known flowers got you in the mood i would’ve bought you ‘em everyday” he teases, walking over to you as drops of water roll down his abs.

it takes all your willpower to not check him out, looking at him with furrowed brows and a shocked expression, “so you wouldn’t buy me flowers everyday just cause you care about me?” an accusatory tone to your words that has satoru’s life flashing before his eyes.

“wow, all men are the same,” you sigh, shaking your head as you walk to grab a towel from your restroom.

your path is quickly blocked by the sorcerer, eyes wide as he begins to apologize, “i didn’t mean it like that sweets im-”

your laughter cuts him off, “just messing with ya angel boy” pressing a kiss to his cheek before patting his shoulder as you walk around him. the pet name causing his cheeks to flush and his dimples to peak out.

“now seriously go take a warm shower and I’ll make us some hot cocoa” satoru is saluting you as you hand him some clothes to change into, noting that the shirt you gave him is one he’d been searching for weeks for.

it’s when you’re laying on the couch together, cuddled in his arms watching reality tv and complaining about the drama that you get a fuzzy feeling in your stomach and in your chest.

it’s when he’s resting his head on your stomach, the two of you in the countryside gazing up at the stars, hushed giggles as you make up your own constellations.

it’s in the little moments the two of you share that you realize you love him.

the realization dawns on you when satoru points at the stars ‘that can be our star!’ he smiles, and you’re choking on your hot chocolate as the thought crosses your mind.

“oh my god what’s wrong with you?” satoru gasps, patting your back and staring at you with wide eyes as he sits up.

your face is flushed as you finally stop coughing, drinking some water and staring at your boyfriend. his hair is a bit messy from the back, the navy sweatshirt hanging loosely off his body, you can smell his cologne on your shirt.

what if he wasn’t ready? what if he didn’t want to commit or what if-

“are you gonna throw up on me?” his brows furrowed with concern as he studied your face, “cause then you’d owe me two shirts.”

you only manage to scoff at him, rolling your eyes at him, “you’re so annoying” the grin on your face giving away your true feelings.

“yeah but you love me” the words leave his mouth before he can even process what he’s saying. the color leaving his face when his brain does catch up, trying to take his words back.

“i mean what- what i meant to say was that you really like me” his face is red as he stutters his words out, too flustered to even look at you.

“but what if I did?” you whisper, eyes frantically searching his face.

there’s a beat of silence and you’re afraid you’ve ruined it all. maybe you were gonna throw up on him after all.

“I really hope this isn’t one of your hypothetical questions,” his confidence wavering as he continues, “because I’d tell you I felt the same way.” his heart is racing and he thinks maybe he’s gonna owe you a shirt for throwing up on you.

“i love you,” the words are quiet, as if it’s a secret meant to be kept between him and the stars.

“I love you,” you whisper back, the moonlight kissing your flushed cheeks before your lover does. satoru doesn’t mind, taking a second to admire you before he’s placing his palms on your cheeks and bringing you in for a kiss.

the dark blue expanse of the night sky looks plain in comparison to the love filled, blue of satoru’s eyes. you’re sure you can see stars of his own gleaming in his eyes.

your love for satoru grew into something that you could imagine would resemble an sky: immeasurable.

satoru’s love for you grew into something he could imagine resembling the ocean: seemingly endless.

he thought it was some miracle he bumped into you that fated morning. constantly thanking his past self for finally checking out the cafe on that street. he wonders what would’ve happened if he’d gone his usual way, if he hadn’t spent an extra minute cooing at the cafe cat after he’d gotten his order.

he can feel fate watching over the two of you and smiling as you place the last box on the floor of his house. not just his anymore, yours too now.

“i can't believe you finally agreed to move in with me” he smiles, easily grabbing your waist and pressing his lips to yours, the same taste of mint and honey filling your senses. “finally gonna feel like home here” he mumbles, his lips still softly pressed against yours.

“I’m only moving in because-” you begin, satoru pressing his lips against yours to shut you up.

“ ‘cause your roommate is moving out yeah yeah” he groans, placing a kiss on your nose before letting you go, “you know it’s okay to admit you’d been wanting to move in after you came over the first time” a small pout on his glossy lips as you stare at him.

“with a place like this and a roommate like you who wouldn’t wanna live here” you hum, walking towards the couch and letting yourself flop down, breathing out a deep sigh and smiling.

satoru is quick to join you, scooping you up and wiggling himself next to you, placing half of your body on his before letting out a happy sigh.

home.

“what should we have for dinner in our new home?” you can feel the vibrations of his words on his chest, moving a bit to get a bit more comfortable.

“you mean my new home? you’ve lived here for years already” you laugh, craning your neck to stare up at your lover.

“it didn’t feel like home,” the words come easily to him, “not without you here” he says, cheeks rosy as he speaks. and while it wasn’t uncommon for him to voice his affections, it was rare for the words to come out with no teasing lilt to them, but instead laced with genuine emotion.

our home.

somehow the couch manages to fit the two of you, a mess of limbs and blankets as the rain continues to pour outside, the hot chocolate on the coffee table is cold and the marshmallows long gone. the credits are rolling on the movie you’d put on, and the only thing waking the two of you is the clap of thunder shaking your windows.

satoru grips you a bit tighter as he jolts awake, looking at you before he’s fully awake and looking around.

“did we fall asleep?” his voice is raspy, rubbing his eyes a bit and laying his head back on the pillow when you hum in response. he’s frowning when he feels you crawl off of him, staring at you as you turn the tv off and stand up.

“let’s go to bed” you mumble, holding your hand out and grabbing his, tugging slightly. “your neck is gonna hurt in the morning if you sleep like that and I’ll be the one hearing your complaints.”

there’s no real irritation behind your words, and the look on your face gives that away.

“yeah but you’d still baby me all day if it did” he yawned, smiling when you roll your eyes at him, walking away from the couch. satoru whines a bit, getting up quickly and sweeping you off your feet to carry you to bed.

he places you down gently, mumbling something about how comfortable he was, only smiling when you’re both under the covers and wrapped in each other's arms.

you let the soft patter of the rain against the windows lull the two of you sleep, whispers of sweet nothings and ‘i love you’s’ lost between claps of thunder and flashes of lightning.

your love was as comforting and calm as the blue rain easing his mind to sleep, every stroke of his hair making his eyelids heavier and heavier.

the blue and white flowers look beautiful, you think, taking a deep breath before staring down the aisle.

“ready?” your friend asks you, the same who helped you type texts out and save you from missing extra credit. you only nod, the butterflies in your stomach growing exponentially with every step you take.

despite the array of pastels and the people smiling at you, all you see is blue.

the blue sky shining down on you, smiling widely at satoru whose eyes are landing on you immediately. his blue eyes watering a bit, he’s wondering how he managed to get so lucky.

your love for satoru is blue, in the same way the blue sky is boundless and the rain is comforting and calming.

satoru’s love for you was blue, in the same way the ocean was endless and unpredictable.

and as you’re staring into his pretty blue eyes, you smile at him, giggling a bit.

“what’s so funny? you planning on objecting?” he whispers, a smile on his face as you shake your head.

“blue” you whisper back, smiling as his face turns into one of confusion, “my favorite colors blue.”

the reality of it all hits satoru at once, and he’s swept back to years ago, with you bumping into him one fated morning, a whirlwind of events following and leading the two of you here.

“and mine is still the color of your eyes” he mumbles, instinctively leaning in for a kiss, being brought to reality when you elbow him lightly.

“can’t you wait a couple more minutes? we’re about to get married” you giggle, trying to not take away attention from the current speaker.

“I'll wait forever if it means I have you” he whispers, “and i'll let you spill coffee on all my shirts,” he smiles, watching the way your face flushes as the two of you stand.

“you're so annoying” you grin, taking out your vows as you look at him, a soft smile on his face as the paper in his hands shake lightly.

what relief i also found my favorite color in your eyes, you think, smiling as the ceremony continues on.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @anarosextodo @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

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vampirzina · 3 months

Note

Could you do MK11 Fujin and MK1 Syzoth with a reader who has piercings on her tongue and eyebrow?

tw: she/her (but mostly you) pronouns, mdni, sfw (intended), established relationship, hcs, piercings and the like

notes: i didn’t put a header for this just in case. i also had been racking my brain for fujin content after seeing an edit of him w the caption asking for fic content. i’ll think of more ideas later i swear but for now happy happy happy

masterlist : divider credit

Fujin isn’t a stranger to piercings, at all. He’s seen plenty of them in his time, in all kinds of places—so not the one to judge if she has one either. Fujin finds the piercing on your eyebrow rather cool, having noticed that first about you but doesn’t ask anything about it. But when you stick your tongue playfully out at him once, he can’t help but ask about both of your piercings.

When kisses with Fujin get deep, he tries not to make it obvious that he’s fiddling with your tongue piercing. Not only is it fun, but he loves your reaction when you finally realize. His face is already flushed from the act, but the cheeky smirk he gives you in return makes you playfully huff at him.

Naturally, thoughts wander through Fujin. Though they are mostly innocent, none of them really see the light (carried into the wind rather), out of respect for her, to spare her from the littlest bits of selfishness, and the tiny tiny part of him that fears her response to him—even if it’s not a bad one at all. He rather not play russian roulette with words.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Fujin, tangled in the sheets of your shared bed and awaiting you there, watches you at the vanity as you undid your look. You rub the tip of your index over the slightly sore spot of your undone eyebrow piercing, hissing lowly.

Your eyes hurt from today’s work, and all you wanted to do now was just… Rest. You couldn’t not address the white eyes boring into your face, however.

“Before you ask, I’m fine,” you retort, clasping the piercing together. You set it with the rest of your collection. “Just tired.”

“I’d believe you even if you told me that your skin was as colorful as a rainbow, when it is clearly not,” he jested lightly, and you missed the way his eyes flit to your lips. “I was not going to speak. I just wanted to… Look.”

“The right word is stare, I think, but if that’s what you’re doing to me I’ll take it,” you stood, strutting over to the bedside. Before you got in, “You look like you have a question.”

He hummed a bit. Then, “None.”

“You sure?” you lift the very same brow he’d been staring at, getting comfortable beside him, but suddenly your gaze hardens. “Wait, don’t tell me. If we’re getting married, don’t you dare propose right now.”

Fujin gives the heartiest laugh you’ve heard from him yet, leaning down to barrage you with kisses as he gets comfortable with you.

───

Fujin needs to kiss you at least once a day.

Syzoth doesn’t think anything of it until he really sees it. He notices it when he’s close to her, cuddling into warmth to duck from the cold night. Maybe it’s his wandering mind as he gets tired, but to say he’s intrigued in it in its entirety is a bit of an understatement from him. If anything, he finds that he likes it on her. Of course he asks about it when you wake, and he feels a bit stupid for not asking earlier. Syzoth asks why and how bad it hurt, and that’s about it. If you’re human, he learns something new when you tell him about the commonality of it between humans.

Kissing Syzoth is an experience you couldn’t get over. Unlike Fujin, he doesn’t toy with your tongue piercing on purpose, but he’s going to brush over it a couple times if the kiss gets all that heated. He’s conscious of himself and many things after that, but surprisingly enough, your piercing there makes him feel a little less conscious of his tongue when he kisses you.

Syzoth offers you jewelry for your piercings. He’s sure somewhere in Outworld and beyond there’s those who sell such things, sometimes he even confuses earrings for them. But once he finds the right stuff, it’s nearly impossible for him to not buy up the entire store. He loves to collect the shiniest and prettiest ones he thinks you’ll like, and occasionally the ones he thinks you would look good with. Syzoth comes home with at least a pair of either or once every few weeks.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

He finds you where he left her—under a tree in the shade from the sun. She sipped the cool drink as she admired the scenery of the place around her.

You’d been wandering with Syzoth through the markets of Outworld for your morning and the better half of your afternoon. Your feet ached, you complained, and being the gentleman Syzoth is carried you here. He said that you’d both go home soon… However, he wasn’t going until he snuffed out the urge by just giving into it.

“About time. I was starting to think you were halfway across the realm. Where’d you run off to?” you squinted in the soft breeze, lips pursing a bit as you watch him fumble with the bag he was trying to give you.

…You look inside.

“I didn’t buy the whole store this time,” Syzoth pouted from her months-old tease. “With the way they were presented to me, they practically begged me to buy them. Not only that, but they were so you-esque. How could you want me to resist?”

“Because I’d like to think you’d want to buy food to eat, Sy,” you joked, holding them in a hand to inspect them. You can see the way he pouts further, if you somehow couldn’t hear him mutter.

“‘M kidding. Do you think that I’m so ungrateful when I was lucky enough to find you?” you immediately follow up to put him at ease. “They’re absolutely gorgeous, Syzoth. Thank you. I’ll try them on when we get home, okay?”

Syzoth, a bit hot in the face now from her flirt, nodded fervently at her. Whether or not she wanted to be carried wasn’t up for debate.

───

Syzoth scours beaches and caves for beautiful material someone can craft into jewelry for you.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info board

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #fujin x you #fujin hcs #fujin x reader #syzoth x you #syzoth x reader #syzoth hcs #vampirzina #mk1 x reader

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snapscube · 2 months

Note

i am curious, with infinite wealth, do you think some of the more emotional things with kiryu had a different effect than if you'd been more familiar with his games? asking because i saw some people say IW is a great introduction to him as a character, but i've played all of them up to that point.

oh almost certainly!!! i will say, basically the entire first half of the game is almost purely focused on ichiban in a way i found extremely comforting as a newcomer. so knowledge of kiryu's full journey is not at ALL required for a very large portion of playtime, HOWEVER there is a threshold point where suddenly they start to really give his history the spotlight and at that point i could tell that there was a lot that would Hit Different if i had played games prior. HOWEVER, in defense of playing this game without that context and with credit where it's due, RGG does a really consistently good job not only filling in necessary exposition when required JUST enough to get you over the finish line if you don't have everything committed to memory or you're just new... but ALSO a lot of the emotional beats were just kinda universally recognizable for me? there's a lot i was able to put together either through bits and pieces of pre-7 titles i HAD seen, or even just through context clues based on the dialogue i was presently hearing/reading and general familiarity with character archetypes. i can NOT say that i experience Infinite Wealth with the FULL WEIGHT that it can potentially have, but i CAN say that i don't feel like my experience was COMPROMISED. i still cried like 6 times in the whole second half of its runtime haha, it's really emotionally powerful and a lot of its themes stand alone just fine.

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httpsdana · 10 months

Note

Alejandro Balde 130 🙏🙏 he’s so underrated

Clingy~Alejandro Balde

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

Another Ale request cause why not 😙

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers I write for

130-"Are you planned to stay glued to my side the whole day?"

y/n's job at the club of Barcelona was pretty simple but tiring at the same time. She was Xavi's assist. Always following him around in the training sessions and in the locker rooms and around the stadium

But the best thing she loves about her job was the fact that she met Alejandro through it. They had a few disagreements when they first met, but after they hit it off, they realized that they felt attracted to each other. Soon enough they started dated, of course without Xavi knowing. Pedri, Gavi, Ansu and Ferran were a few of the only people that knew about them.

They didn't mind Xavi knowing, but they didn't want him to scold them about how unprofessional what they did was.

The season was coming to an end as the team has a few more games only.

y/n was gathering some papers from her desk, taking them to Xavi so he can sign them, when Ale appeared through the door.

"holaaa mi amorr" he sang, his hands behind his back as he slowly walked into the room. He stood behind her, while she still didn't look at him focusing on the papers in her hands, he put his arms around her waist, placing his face in the crook of her neck, with small kisses ob her neck

y/n gently pushed him away when she finished organizing the papers for Xavi. Alejandro whined, when she didn't spare him a single glance

"Ale I have to give those to Xavi to sign, then I'm supposed to be planning the next team meeting. and aren't you supposed to be in training?" she started walking, knowing he's gonna follow her either way

"well coach gave us a 15 minutes break so I thought I'd come and see you, but clearly the feeling isn't mutual" he said in an annoyed voice, while y/n chuckled

"I told you we're not supposed to see each other a lot. The staff won't hesitate to tell Xavi if they sensed something between us" she was speed walking now, afraid she won't find Xavi

" who cares? Its not like he cares if we're dating" he said, making y/n stop dead in her tracks

"I care Alejandro. I live from the money I make from this job, so please stop with the reckless behavior or else I might get fired" she started walking again, Alejandro still walking behind her too

"you know I wouldn't let that happen" he said, waving at the people who greeted him while passing by

"yes I know but you also can't do anything about it if it happened" she waved at Xavi to get his attention as he appeared in her sight

She ran to him with the papers in her hands, Alejandro too running behind her

"you've got to sign those, and then read this at home and give us your opinion. its about everything related to the new and future signings" she said

Xavi signed the papers quickly before he noticed Alejandro behind y/n

"the 15 minutes are over. Go back to the feild Balde" he said, nodding his head towards the team

"um actually I'm feeling a bit nauseous and I was wondering if I could leave early today?" he asked, making y/n look at him suspiciously as he was doing just fine a few minutes ago

"yeah yeah whatever. get a good sleep and take a visit to the doctor. we're winning the league tomorrow" Xavi said before walking away

y/n looked at Ale with an annoyed look, while he gave her a cheeky grin. She started walking back to her office and Ale was trailing behind her like a puppy

"Are you planned to stay glued to my side the whole day?" she asked as she noticed his presence behind her

They entered the room, y/n sitting down on the small couch she had while Alejandro locked the door

"yeah. I missed you all day and all you did was ignore me" he pouted, a desperate tone evident in his voice

y/n looked up from her laptop at his pouty face. She closed the laptop and smiled at him, as his face lit up.

She patted her lap, Alejandro lying down and placing his head on her lap, while she ran her fingers through his curls

"I missed you too love. but you know how much my job means to me and how afraid am I to lose it. how about making it up for you by dinner at mine tonight?" she suggested causing Ale to grin widely

"I'd love that thank you honey. now gimme a kiss" he puckered his lips at her. She smiled and leaned down towards him, pecking his lips a few times before settling them on each other for a while

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afriendlyblackhottie · 1 year

Note

get chris into a room with jiggling butts and its GAME OVER💀

Request: Sorry but I was just wondering if you could do a C Evans or S Stan fan fic about a famous black reader because I haven’t seen you do one in a while . I don’t mind if you don’t I’m just asking. 😁

Need to Know

Summary: as soon as you laid eyes on chris you knew you needed to have him

Pairings: Chris Evans x famous!black!reader

Warnings: smut, minors dni, daddy kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex

(A/N: idk wanted to put something out for Halloween. Obviously title credited to Doja Cat. Unedited (sorry). Please like, follow, and reblog with a comment 💜 ✌🏾)

——————————————————-

Chris felt almost overwhelmed as he walked into the room. Not even knowing where to start.

This isn’t how he planned to spend his Halloween, but if anything it felt pretty appropriate. He wasn’t exactly sure what the theme for the video was, but he couldn’t wait to see after you got out of hair and makeup.

He was used to living life as a player but this was something else. When you invited him to be apart of your video shoot he’d looked up what to expect but damn. This was something else.

What had started out as a little joke on the timeline with you asking what his number, sign, and how he liked his eggs had turned into this.

While the two of you joked around on Twitter at first, things had quickly escalated to him actually giving you his number. Fans geeking out because how fucking unexpected. But apparently you’d watched Infinity War for the first time and had to know.

Leading you to post.

Daaaaamn what’s your name, what’s your sign, how do you like your eggs in the morning? Can I get that number booo daaaamn he fine

Obviously the internet practically exploded.

Especially when he responded.

Chris. Gemini. Scrambled.

Normally he didn’t do shit like that but fuuuuuuck he saw that ass. And those tits. How he wanted to put his lips on your brown skin and feel how soft you were.

And honestly the more he talked to you, the more he liked you. But meeting hadn’t been possible with your schedules. That’s why he was trying so hard to keep his eyes to himself.

Not that it was really that hard. You looked… you were the star for a reason. But shit he was still a man.

Maybe this was a test.

You had to know he was into you and clearly you were into him. Maybe you were making sure he could keep his hands to himself and… shiiiiit he didn’t even know they made asses like that.

“Cah-ris,” you said in a sing song voice as you came up to him. “What do you think?”

He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from a girl walking by him. You giggled as you looked at him. Giving him a little twirl.

Chris couldn’t help it as he let out a laugh at your costume. Not that you didn’t look good, but he just surprised.

Your skin had been painted green, antennae’s coming out of either side of your temple. Still half naked but honestly he was kind of appreciating the whole alien aesthetic. You were even wearing a shirt that had the nasa logo with your name in it. Obviously that was some merch he’d need to cop.

“You look-,” he laughed more. “Beautiful. You look beautiful. I like your antennas.”

Not like he was lying. By now he’d done a pretty fair amount of ‘research’ on you. Had practically studied your Wikipedia as curiosity had killed the cat and he needed to know more. From there it went to watching a few videos and fuck you really liked to be half naked. And you looked cute as hell right now.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t done the same. Had gone on a googling spree when you saw him fine as hell in that movie.

Then you had the nerve to get along over text which lead to a phone call which lead to face time. Talking at all hours of the night. Staying up late despite the time differences.

Sure he knew he swore off dating celebrities, but he had a soft spot for you. It was the same for you too. Had promised yourself no more men like Chris. They never deserved what you had, but there was something telling you that he would be the exception.

“Thank you,” you said with a grin. “You need to get ready, though. You’ll be on soon.”

Your voice had come out like a purr. A natural sex appeal that just seemed almost unfair. He had a hard time finding someone to match his energy and shit you definitely gave him a run for his money.

If anything it scared him a little. That you could switch over so quickly. Going from hot as hell to his sweet girl mumbling into the phone because you wanted to wait up for him and say goodnight. It was quite the mix. Probably why he was so fucking obsessed.

The way you hugged him when you first saw him, letting him pretty much mold into you. Wanting to feel his whole body swell against yours. Had been dying for one of his hugs even though you’d never tell him that as you tried to keep up this persona for the day.

You’d caught him staring at that girl’s ass. He’d been so cute trying to be all sneaky. It was okay you didn’t mind. Besides you hired girls like her for a reason.

At least it had been fun for him to watch you do your thing as you filmed. Next time you’d have to come see him on set. Of course there wouldn’t be any half naked men around you that aren’t him, but he kind of appreciated that you didn’t seem to care in the reverse.

As he was almost done getting his own makeup on, you popped your head in. Still in your NASA shirt, but with your makeup a little more dramatic. Fuck you were hot.

“I don’t know if I told you, but thanks a lot for coming through. Definitely an upgrade from some male model,” you said, leaning against the vanity as the makeup artist finished with him.

“You know I’m always a phone call away, Babe.”

He was just so sexy when he said shit like that. Fuck he looked so hot. Was making you consider changing your thong because he looked so yummy he was making your pussy all drippy.

“Ya know I’ll hold you to that.”

He smirked. “I was hoping you would.” You were still in your heels and Chris noticed the way you were shuffling to get comfortable. “You wanna sit?” He asked.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to get up for me.”

That’s when he rolled his eyes because that’s not what he was asking as he reached up to tug on your hand. Obviously pulling you into his lap.

“Chris!” You squealed.

All he did was chuckle as he helped you get situated. Besides the two of you were alone for the first time ever. Of course he was gonna get your ass on his lap. “Comfortable?” Was all he asked.

“Mhm,” you replied. Fuck he smelled so good. And these tiny little shorts you were wearing. It really was not a good idea that he’d done this.

But you looked fucking hot perched on his lap. Even as an alien.

“How much time do we have?” He asked.

“A few minutes,” you replied.

“Yeah?” He asked. He didn’t mean for his eyes to drift down to your tits but that’s exactly where they went. Fuck they looked so good. Shit he needed to stop before he-

“Wait, are you?” You giggled. “Oh my god! Chris!” Then you gasped as you felt it through his pants. Oh shit. Damn. That was a thick ass-

“Shit. Sorry.” He blushed. Really didn’t mean to get like this. What were you a telekinetic.

“It’s okay,” you purred again as you trailed your fingers on his arm.

“Yeah?” He asked, licking his lips. “You don’t mind?”

You shook your head, looking up at him through your lashes. “No.” You let out another little gasp as he pushed it against you.

Fuck he liked that noise. “What about now?” He asked moving you over it. Fuuuuck he was thick you could tell. No wonder you were obsessed with him when you first saw him. Could tell he had good dick.

Once again you shook your head, biting your lip. If anything leaning into him a little more. “No. It feels good.”

Not like you hadn’t been fantasizing about him for weeks. The real thing just might beat the him you’d created in your head.

“You’re trying to get me into trouble, huh?” He asked into your ear.

You giggled again. “Maybe.”

“Fuck you’re cute,” he said ready to lean in and then end it. Didn’t seem fair that they’d be sharing their first kiss on screen when he had you like this already.

“Mr. Evans, you’re on in five,” someone said through the door before he the the chance.

He groaned. “Okay,” he replied.

You pouted before standing up. Dammit. “I should go get changed.”

Chris nodded before standing up with you. “I’ll go with you.”

“You’re just trying to see me naked.”

Fuck yeah he was.

————

When it was his time to go on and you made eyes at him from across the bar, he could feel himself getting hard again. Which was not what he wanted with the camera on him like this.

At least as you felt yourself getting wet in your thong, no one would be able to tell. He couldn’t stand there with his dick hard as hell. Only made worse when it was time for you to start shaking your ass against him.

“You know what the fuck you’re doing,” he whispered in your ear when it was time for him to hit on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered back into his. As if what happened in his dressing room didn’t just happen.

Fuck it felt so good to have him this close to you. Tits pressed to his chest. You hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet as you grabbed his hand to lead him to the dance floor.

Grabbing his tie as he put his hands around your waist. Fuck you could feel him against your ass. He was thick.

Of course you’d went asking around about him. Hollywood was a small town and you didn’t want to waste your time. But it was kind of why you were so down bad because one of your friend’s friends had said that his dick was a ten out of ten and now that it was right there you really wanted to check for yourself.

Only made worse when the two of you had to finally kiss on the couch. He was used to having to do shit like this for roles but this was the first time he wished he’d gotten it out of the way first. Wish he could keep you straddling him without prying eyes.

Damn he couldn’t get you alone fast enough. You had to know what he was going to do to you when you were alone. Know you weren’t doing it on purpose but he could feel his breathing getting all labored and he could really do without having a panic attack with you on top of him.

“What are you doing after this?” He asked in your ear as the music played on.

“We were supposed to go to a party. Why?”

“Wanted to know if you wanted to hang out. Maybe watch some scary movies?”

“Um, not unless you plan on spending the whole night holding me,” you giggled.

That could definitely be arranged.

————

“Ready to go?” Chris asked. Poking his head into where you were getting changed. Back in his grey sweats and t-shirt. His NASA cap covering his hair.

“Yeah,” you replied, yawning as you stood up in your shirts to gather your bag. Kind of happy you weren’t going to that party anymore. Would much, much rather hang out with Chris.

He put his hand on the small of your back as he lead you to his rental car. Couldn’t wait to get you back to his hotel room.

His hand was on your knee the whole time as the two of you chatted. Glad that how easy it was to talk to you over text and the phone had translated well in real life. As bad as he wanted to rip your clothes off he was also pretty sure he could talk to you for hours.

“You hungry?” He asked.

“I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

You giggled. “I don’t think you really want me to answer that.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “I dunno know. Maybe I do.”

“Oh please. You know what I want.”

“I don’t know unless you tell me, Babe,” he replied, hand going up to finally make its way to your inner thigh.

Your mind just couldn’t help but wander to all of the things you’d been thinking about. Where the hell would you even start. You were definitely in the mood for a few things he could give you.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you said, opening your legs a little bit more.

Fuck you were trying to kill him. Chris was sure of that. He also didn’t wanna push his luck, but fuck you were right here giving him every sign that you wanted him to.

Surprisingly the two of you hadn’t explicitly crossed these lines over the phone. Had waited until you were face to face and yet it was like you’d been like this since forever.

He took the hint. Fingers getting really close to the edge of your shorts. Happy that you’d decided on something he’d be able to easily get passed.

“I dunno, Baby. If you really want something, you’ll have to tell me what it is. I don’t play games.”

Your pussy felt like it throbbed at that. Fuck he was so… ugh. You knew you wanted him worse than you can say.

“I want you to touch me,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” He asked smoothing his thumb right over the center. Hips jutting out as you gasped. “Is that where you want me to touch you?” He asked.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“That’s okay,” he said. Pulling up outside of the hotel so valet could park the car. You’d be fine. Could wait until you got inside.

You were all pouty and he took note to teach you some manners. Didn’t say please. Had the nerve to have an attitude as if you weren’t about to get what you want.

Chris grabbed your hand, had went through the back so nosy ass paparazzi wouldn’t have shit.

As he got you closer to his room, he leaned down to squeeze your ass. Making you squeak but you made no move like you wanted him to stop. Took it as a sign to grope you even harder.

Could barely hold on as he went to scan his keycard. Feeling yourself dripping all in your shorts. Not like he was any better off. Fuck you had him harder than he’d ever been.

As soon as the door closed, he picked you up. You wrapping your legs around his waist. Hands all in his hair as his settled on your ass.

Not wanting to waste anytime in pushing your lips together. Fisting his t-shirt in your hands as he finally kissed you. Fuck it was as good as you thought it would be. Knew he’d be a good kisser.

Didn’t even wanna make it to the bedroom as he sat down with you in his lap on the couch. Rocking your hips as soon as you could. Wanting to feel that fat dick.

“That’s so good,” you whined.

“What feels good?” He asked in your ear. “Gotta talk to me, Baby.”

“Your dick. It’s so good.” You whined.

“You haven’t even had it,” he said.

That’s when you climbed off of him because fuck it you were gonna get a taste at least. Getting on your knees to see his length pushed against the fabric of his sweats. Looking all nice and thick. Fuck your mouth was watering just thinking about it.

“Can I taste it?” You asked him.

Chris groaned as he looked down at that pretty face. Eyes begging for him. “Yeah, Baby,” he replied, licking his lips as you finally went to pull his pants down.

You gasped as his dick popped out. Jaw dropping as it finally came into view. Shit. Fuck. It was- ugh. She was so right this- fuck he had a pretty dick.

Biting your lip, you gulped getting closer to it so you could put your fingertips against it. “You’re so big,” you whimpered.

“Think so?” He asked, hissing because fuck your touch felt good already. You nodded before leaning up so you could place a kiss on the underside. Why the hell were you teasing him so bad.

Just prepping him with kisses like you were assessing the situation. Honestly unsure if you could handle this. Sure you felt him through his pants but now that you were face to face with it, your mind wasn’t letting you make up your mind.

Fuck can’t believe you wasted your makeup artists time in having her touch you up after you took all the green off. What a waste. Eyes were watering as soon as you tried to take him down your throat.

“Ah fuck,” he groaned, tossing his head back as you finally did it. “There it- fuck you’re such a good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Fuck it really was everything you’d built up in your head. Just too much and yummy.

Had you so wet as you slurped him up. Putting his hand on the back of your throat as you tried to deep throat him. “Right there, Baby,” he groaned. “Doing so good.”

You pulled off if him so you could kiss his balls. Wanting to show them attention too. Getting them all nice and covered with slobber.

Chris couldn’t believe how pretty you looked. Even with your makeup running down your face. Grabbing either side of your cheeks so you’d have to lean up. Wanting to kiss you again.

Not stopping himself so he ended up pulling you up. Making you get back in his lap.

This time he didn’t waste any time in touching you. First grabbing at one of your tits. Pinching your nipple between his fingers making you moan into his mouth. Putting his hands under your shirt so he could take it off of you.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispered. Chris laid you down so he could kiss up your stomach. Getting to your tits so he could suck on your nipples.

“Ah!” You cried. Fuck his mouth felt so good. “Ugh right there,” you moaned.

He needed you so bad especially as he went to pull your panties off. Needing to finally touch you.

“No panties?” He asked when he finally pulled your shorts from you. Met with the sight of the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen.

“I had to take it off. You got me too wet,” you whined.

“That’s okay, Baby. I’m gonna take care of you. Gonna take care of you so good. Gonna make you cum so much.”

“Please?” You preened.

And who was he to deny you.

You tasted so damn good when he finally got the chance. Everything he’d been thinking about for the last few weeks didn’t even fucking top it.

“Fuck you’re such a- ugh- you’re such a daddy,” you managed to finally get out as he bent your legs back further.

“That’s it, Baby. I’m Daddy. Don’t fucking forget that.” He pulled away to say. “C’mere,” he said, snatching you up so he could finally take you to bed. While he planned spending his entire visit fucking you across every inch of this room, he wanted the first time to be on the bed where he could really fuck you right.

Well he did go back to his feast first. Not ready to stop eating you out. Better than any candy he could have eaten tonight. Couldn’t get enough.

“D-daddy,” you whimpered. “Oh! Ugh! You’re gonna make me cum. Please.”

That only made him eager to keep going until you let out a yelp, sitting up a little to grab the back of his head.

You cried out. “I’m- ugh- I’m cumming. Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me!” You sobbed.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Everything had told him to grab a condom but he just couldn’t wait anymore. He was so glad he didn’t because even as he pushed the tip in he couldn’t believe how wet you were.

Chris leaned down to kiss you as his thick dick seared into you. Pulling away when he bottomed out as you threw your head back. Eyes rolling to the back of your head. Already scratching this itch inside of you.

You knew the dick was gonna be bomb. Just knew it when he grabbed that fucking scepter looking handsome as hell. All broad shouldered and sexy.

Fuck you were so tight. So wet. Took a minute when he was fully inside of you to just take in the feeling of you wrapped around him so snug. Pushing your legs back with his biceps wrapped around them so he could hit the perfect angle inside of you. The both of you letting out grunts as he went as deep as he could. Nudging against your cervix.

“You’re- ah!” You cried out.

“I know, Baby. I know,” he said getting in your ear again.

Chris got on his knees, yanking you closer so he could start thrusting in and out of you. Rolling his hips in such a way that would have been mesmerizing if you could keep your eyes open.

“Nuh uh,” he said. “You better look at me when I fuck you.” You let out another grunt digging your nails into his arm. “Or I’ll stop,” he threatened when you didn’t do as told.

“No,” you whined opening your eyes, but fuck it wasn’t easy he was just going so deep what did he want from you. “Fuck. Please. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Baby. I just gotta teach you good manners, huh?” He asked. “That’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

“I know,” you whimpered. “Fuck I’m gonna cum again.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna keep cumming on my dick, huh?”

You nodded brow furrowed as you could barely hang on. Sobbing when it hit you. That clench in your lower stomach snapping as your pussy tightened enough to push him out.

Chris chuckled, climbing on top of you so he could kiss you. Giving you a minute. What can he say, he felt a little cocky that he was getting you so good. “C’mere, Baby,” he cooed pulling you into his arms. Laying down with you. Kissing you. “Maybe we should take a break. Get something to eat. Watch a movie.”

You nodded, not able to respond and just letting out a hiccup. Chris chuckled kissing your nose this time.

“Look cute as hell when you’re cumming on my dick. It’s okay. We got time. I’m not done with you yet.”

————

Obviously this break didn’t last long. Chris hadn’t gotten off yet and there was something in his eyes that definitely told you he wanted you to ride him.

Especially as you climbed into his arms when any scary parts came on. Hiding in his arm when anything happened. Of course the two of you were going to end up making out. You climbing on top of him so you could finally ride that dick.

Chris held onto your hips, forcing you down onto him and holding you there so you had to feel him as deep as he could go. “Ah fuck, Babe,” Chris groaned, eyes squeezing shut.

“Nuh uh, look at me when I fuck you,” you mocked him.

Chris smacked your ass at that. “Little fucking smart ass.” Keeping his grip on it after.

“Uh huh,” you breathed out, making you yell as he sat up. Grabbing your hair so he could smash his lips into yours. Making you move just right.

You started kissing on his neck. Not able to help yourself. Wanting to get him off like he’d done for you.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.

As if that’s not your goal.

“Fuck, Babe, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum in you if you- shit, Baby.” You kind of loved how desperate he sounded. Only made you wanna work harder.

“Do it,” you breathed into his ear. “Cum in me, Daddy. I want you to.”

That’s when Chris slammed down down so he could fill you up. The feeling of him loading inside of you only made you do the same letting out little whines before smashing his lips into yours again.

After a few minutes, Chris laid down on his back, taking you with him. Dick softening inside of you. Neither of you making any moves to pull him out.

Oh yeah you couldn’t wait to spend all night finding out how nasty he could be. Honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend Halloween.

#fics by afbh #chris evans smut #chris evans x black women #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x famous reader #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x woc!reader #chris evans x black female reader

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court-jobi · 1 year

Text

Trustfall

(gif from Pinterest)

Pairing: Din Djarin x biker!Reader

Words: 8,865

Rating: Teen & Up, (mature themes, but not graphic)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, chase scene action, catcalling, skeevey sleemos, brief descrip of injuries/roadburn, consensual touching, injury care, FEELINGS, fluff to intimacy, first kiss #thehelmetcomesoff ((fem reader, mild descriptions of features, hair etc.))

Summary: Most jobs' occupational hazards may include some warnings for heavy machinery: not 3rd degree roadburn and blaster shots to the face. Just your luck, that's what happens in your line of work.... While your partner-in-not-quite-crime Din Djarin has quite a bit of on-the-job experience with patching himself up after his skirmishes, tending to yourself after a shitshow like this is new territory. Some things are just too tender to see from behind the helmet-- and need the naked eye.

Sounds like he really needs to trust you if he's going to give you help with this one...

"I'm not going without you- -and you're not going alone" -P!nk, 2023

AN: thank you from the bottom of my heart, internet strangers, for the love for my little stories... this is a long one! here's to the countdown to season 3 finale, and a dose of feminine rage, badassery, and fluff to soften the landing~

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

Anywhere in the galaxy you turn, there's a place you can navigate like the back of your hand: simply find where the drinks are flowing. Every watering hole may have its tricky language and even trickier problems, but the money's always good, and no questions are asked of you.

At a cantina, you rely on this. Here, you know you can easily fall back to old habits in an instant. Safety first, of course.

The rundown: where's the doors, where's the bouncers, where’s the barkeep and where's the biggest guy in the room. You've trained yourself to look for gaps, low traffic areas where you could make a quick dash out if things are looking sideways. Do all those things as fast as you can, too, because everything can change in a second. Tables can flip over like a credit chip– tempers, all the more quick to the draw. Oh, and don't be suspicious. Give a little smile if you can chance it– unassuming glances always make folks feel better.

But it's a bit different now. You don't bother to look up when you cross the threshold of a new place. You don't dissect all these fine details. After all, you've got a green baby that's twisting in his sling across your hips that has your attention split, and he comes first.

That's a full time job on its own… and whenever he comes along for the day, you don't forget the best part of the arrangement you find yourself in.

You've got a bounty hunter in stride. Worry is the furthest thing from your mind. He’s got you.

Upon first entry, the Mandalorian you've been hyperspace hopping with comes in like he'd likely done hundreds of times before. He's no stranger to reading a room, either. Though this time, with you and the little one tucked away in your crossbody, the company he keeps is completely different. This dynamic is far from your norm, but there’s so many things you love about it– and as it turns out, the feeling is mutual. He tells you so, that you don’t have to worry when he’s with you.

You buckled in the kiddo yourself– a break for Mando's still-tender shoulder. The scuffle you'd just come from not twelve hours ago was still fresh in both your minds– not that your sabacc face showed it. He appreciated your offering to keep tabs and hold him today. Still gotta fix his pod after the 'swimming incident' last week… after this payday, maybe you two could swing it after your winnings arrive.

Heading towards his unofficial corner of this planet's best underground lounge, Mando picked up through his peripherals the bits of chatter– no… -hunger- coming from some of the smaller pods of wranglers. Their attention wasn't due to the shinier beskar plates he wore. No, it was all aimed at his newfound companion.

They're all looking at you… not that you notice.

One in particular caught Mando’s honed attention as you neared, passing him to the bartop while he waited. The man wasn't the biggest in size, but Mando knew this type; that smarmy smile told him he’s thinking himself roguishly handsome, but made of complete slime and bantha-shit.

“Bike’s out back~” you paused by the bar to pick up the drink you’d nodded for, and made a convincing-looking fake sip while sticking close to his side. “-unregistered. Pokka dropped it off this morning for a nearby delivery run. It’s not the prettiest thing, but it’ll do in a pinch for a two-seater.”

Just after that line left your lips, something in the schmuck’s eye and his low murmur to his buddy. A near growl about the ‘not the only thing I'd pinch– pretty thing, coming right up’ made your partner turn with micro-precision in the direction of the smugglers–

–and catch your hand with a fierceness. Right in front of their table.

You're surprised by the sudden gesture.

When he did let go around the back of the row of booths, the Mandalorian more or less guided you by the small of your back instead. If anyone were invested enough past their drink's contents to be watching, they’d find you in a half embrace. This move allowed Mando the space to tuck you into his side with a corralling arm. You'd honestly not registered what he’d witnessed until he fell back to your pace with a gentle ‘this way’. A pod of spacers were gawking– at the shiny guy loaded to the gils with blasters, you thought.

Now closer, you had less room, but still managed enough to swing the munchkin to your front. The ‘bag’ made a little noise- an indignant question at your description of the ride you’d secured.

“Sorry, excuuuse me- three seater! Two and a half more like, with your size...”

Situating yourself with some disappointed looks your way, you took the near end of the bench Mando directed you to. Didn’t take much to know not to keep eye contact too long with any of these unsavory characters around you, so you kept to yourself. Once Mando slid in from the opposite side, you asked him,

"Quite the crowd huh?--oof–"-

Rather than allow the space for the little guy in between you, Mando slid in right beside you: an arm behind you and a small thud of his heavy fist on the table. The tracer clacked as it landed in front of him.

Someone's got him acting testy. You eyed your hunter as he brooded; a small twinkle flitted behind your eyes,

“See someone you know?" you asked.

"No." the Mandalorian spat out, curtly.

"Then what's wrong?"

His helmet turned to you, then ahead again.

"I didn't like how they were looking at you."

You bristled, really checking the room for the first time, managing the kid in your lap with a little glance. From the moment you took stock of the table nearest you, their quick darts in your direction told you just how rusty you were. They’re all locked onto you.

The whole point of your taking the kiddo for Mando was to seem less out of place, not a target.

“You don’t– think folks all the way out here are gonna go after him?” Nervousness flared in your voice, though for the sake of appearances, you didn't dare let it show on your face, “Who even reads the Imp notices anymore? This whole town’s a glorified farming dustball-”

Mando corrected you, “Not him.”

He murmured that into your shoulder like it was obvious.

A stunted breath tripped up your budding confusion.

"Well, if it's not the sight of a baby in a bar making them creep, what then?”

“You.”

Not for the first time, you checked the look of yourself. It’s what you faced from the reflection of the beskar cheek looking back at you when you addressed him– never his face, but yours. Then, to the room. Sure, you weren’t so rough-and-tough looking from the outside, but–

"..Hold on." Flatly, you turned towards him; a quarter turn from your cozy spot. "You're saying I'm the distraction here."

All you got in response was a little quirk of the helmet.

You bristled, “I’m not the only-”

“I know you’re not,” he hushed you again, still scanning his sights across the venue like a sentry camera, “but these bantha-breaths are all the same when it comes to- distractions.”

Your eyes fluttered in a muted roll. “And you think that’s new?”

“New to me.”

“Cmon. All this? You’ve gotten plenty of looks before.”

“Not the way they were watching you. The kid had nothing to do with it.”

You never take having such protective company for granted, but Mando's insinuation that you're bringing unwanted attention was surprising– and irritating.

“Please. You flatter me, I hardly think I’m the biggest draw in the room, hon.” you settled in. Harmless, but indignant, “You want me to really up the appeal? Then we should have planned ahead, and set up a rotation for me in the dance schedule.”

His gloves crackled at the creases– their grip unmistakable, “That’s an invitation for trouble.”

“No, messing with you is an invitation for trouble. I’m not trouble.”

“May not mean to, but you might cause us some.”

In truth, this observation wasn't unfounded; of the scarred, sweaty hunters and mechanics that filled this bar, you'd likely look out of place somewhere half this packed… and there’s no mistaking with the way you’re dressed that you are no fair-eyed performer like the real beauties in here. Sure your face under the visor shield might tell a different story when you appear more intimidating on the road, but here on this world, you passed over the need for even a

This was your job, and not your first time in this line of work. You wore the kit, you didn't strut or flaunt your stuff around, and you certainly never drank on the job either. Just looked and played the part you needed to. If he didn’t want you to come meet the contact, then why ask you to join him? The whole point of this plan was to be seen very publicly as a united front, so you wouldn't be suspected of funny business; even if that was going to be your specialty after you start phase two: divide and conquer, as you always do.

Plans change, sure– but only when things turn sideways… not when he’s got some alpha male jealous streak going on behind that bucket of his. That hand grab earlier proved it.

Mando just took centering deep breaths while you ran out of accommodating alternatives.

“Well, then, what do you want me to do?” the short candor that came out of your mouth wasn’t in your nature– but this was getting annoying, how short he’s acting. He’s not normally this snippy with you… “What, ‘wait by the tram’ till you come out, so I don't tinge that reputation of yours?”

The helm regarded you, then shook off– like he was redacting on the spot.

“I- didn't mean-”

And the backpedaling,

“-Fine.”

No use fighting for a place you shouldn't be in the first place, because it would only make his job more difficult. Feelings or not, you weren’t out to throw a wrench in the operation just for the sake of your involvement.

And even if your reason hadn’t won out, you sure weren't up for a soapbox moment either– despite its occupancy in your chest.

You unstrapped the kid from yourself and placed him in your spot,

“See ya in a bit, bud,” you laced a kindness into your voice- a sweetness just for him, “Maybe your dad will get his job done better without 'arm candy' throwing off his mojo."

Beelining it to the backdoor, you carried on steaming. You didn't bother looking back, which also meant you missed the Mandalorian’s lock on you the whole way across the rounded bar. Not that you had any doubts that he would be watching you; in fact, you counted on it. But you knew with even more certainty that he wouldn’t stop you. Not when there’s a job to do. You’re just going to set out on yours early.

Though you may not always see alike, there’s yet to be a final say that makes you not trust him so far. You’ll change the plan, call ‘plot twist’ and go right along with him.

Maybe one of these days he’ll begin to trust you at your word… do Mandalorians even do that with folks who aren’t their kind?

It's a job. A job you can do damn well. So, back to old habits it is. Keep the bike warm and ready for go-time.

In your retreat, you caught a comm from him. Just a blip and slight vibration that caught your attention on your wrist:

/be careful/

– and just like that, all the temper heating your neck and chest: shocked by a bucket of cold, graciously vigilant water.

Your Mandalorian couldn't resist.. and you really couldn't fault him for it.

You stopped at the door, slowing as the two words staring back at you made you come to a standstill. Checking back and finding that the man's brilliantly shiny helmet had indeed stayed tracked on you the whole time sent that pang in you alive and burning. A little breath huffed from your nose, but you didn't scowl at him.

It's just in his nature, he can't turn that off.

You looked back and nodded.

'I will'.

“Fancy seeing a livin' breathin' angel who knows her way around a rig~”

Outside, the smarmy man you'd missed noticing before made good on his interest in you and racked up his courage to act on it. He swaggered over to you by the open air skybike model you’d secured.

As aloof as he could seem, with that peacocking chest on full display…. He’d even set one of his holsters off to the side, a clear invitation for you to notice another package. Ugh.

“Vision a’ beauty in a dark, little corner like this, too…" he layered on the sugar,"Must be my lucky day, I tell ya!”

You weren’t having this pathetic attempt.

“Does this actually work on women…” You leveled your face.

Felt good, giving him a stare down before going back to your solid watch of the back door.

“C’mon now, pretty thing,” more swaggered steps towards you had your insides cringing– and had you moving ‘round the speeder to the mount side, “Couldn’t keep my eyes off’a ya in there– yer a stunner!”

And you don’t take a hint. “Not interested– I’m working.” Kept talking, too, like your words had just been a sneeze.

“Thought you was that bounty hunter’s girl, but ah-” he comically searched the perimeter of the garage, “--don't see ‘im nowhere.”

You scrolled through your wristcom, “If you did, I’d be sweating if I were you.”

“Got the hots for him, do ya? ‘R are you just friendly is all?”

It took every ounce within you not to react. Don’t give him fodder, just watch the door and keep a level head. Like he does.

You cursed yourself. Mando really did have the eyes of a hawk-bat inside. Meanwhile, you were getting rusty– or just far too comfortable.

Still, this moron was clearly set on poking the still-tender temper inside of you.

“Thinkin,” he made every move to sidle up to you, “I don’t have yer name, sweet’art- whaddthey call ya?”

“Look– I’m not here for my health. Buzz off.” You won’t be getting it.

And another step, to come lean on the front dash- “Right then– I get to guess. Sweetie, it is~”

Some sanity passed through your head, and you figured… the more you talk to this joker, the more he’ll try his luck. A hand on the palmbar, you revved the bike to full power; making your ‘Leech’ jump back, immediately floundering–

“Hey, hey, hey!!” and his sights roved over you, and in an instant, you equally revved his engines, “Ah, bit of fire in ya, huh? Like that in a bitch… Sure you know how to ride this beauty? or I can show you the ropes~”

You finally let your disgust show.

-and thank the Maker for the comm beep to save you. Your partner’s speech-to-text came through on your wrist tab,

//Making an exit//

//Which bay did you clear//

All too grateful, you typed back the number plastered on the overhead air systems installed above you.

It took a bite of your tongue to keep from writing back a fuller response:

/Listen to the sound of this skug-bag’s jaw hitting the floor- that’s where I’ll be/

but instead you mounted after a quick couple letter keys.

“Well, it’s been a not-so-lovely chat here,” you upturned your own helmet with a flourish, “But after the loss of these braincells I can never get back, I gotta run and make my pickup now.”

The man made a last attempt to lean in over your from the front handlebars,

“Nah, c’mon, gorgeous, I’ll make it worth your time real good. What’s the hurry? Sure there’s no harm in a bit a’ hooky?”

You laughed high in the back of your throat, giving gushy-sweetness back, with a side of ice–

“Not on your life, sleemo. Door to Hell is open, I hear.”

Then with the pop of your helmet on, you floored a fast reverse and drove off to leave him in the dust.

It almost occurred to you when you paused again to see what became of him, but you were shocked that he was in fact coming after you– with a gang of about four other men. Not that you could make out clearly what they were joshing about in the metallic hangar, but the slang they used about what features were hidden by your clothes was obvious…

The door you parked by remained silent when you rolled up; meaning you’d probably met Mando too soon. He likely wasn’t ‘a few moments away’ after all. And the gang who’s laughing so boisterous was nearing the exit ramp that would take them straight to you.

You tapped the wrist comm again, speaking directly.

“Got company out here too, Mando,” you firmed up, “Bit of nasty company if that makes a difference!”

In a blink’s time, the audio came back, blaster fire sparkling through the speaker,

“Same shits from the bar?”

You chortled, then answered clearly,

“Yup. Bold guys, up close.”

“I’ve got their buddies inside too.”

“Well kriffin’– do you need backup in there then?” Your slow reverse and frantic scooting along the floor looking for someplace inconspicuous -and quick- to hide your ride flew through your mind as you came up with plan ‘B’. “I’ll stash this, and lay lower inside.”

“No time– Take a lap– don’t stay where you are–” the Mandalorian blurted out.

You heard the rev of the gang’s engines as they idled around the exit ramp, “Or could you just put a rush on it? I’m already right here–”

“I’ll find you,” he stressed. “DO NOT engage them–”

But before you could snap back with–

“Guess you’re in need of a new boyfriend after all, Sweetie Pie!”

The crass voices appeared from above. While you’d slowed and chatted, they’d hopped the roof and made to bear down on you. The newcomers to the group, a couple Trandoshans and another Kel Door with a new retrofitted mask roved over you like you were a batch of Quarren hot-pot.

Oh, that blaster at your side was tempting… but you revved into top gear, and changed the route again.

Keep away it is. Just ‘till the boys show up.

In the end, you lose your seedy admirers after your third pass around. Touch and go driving proved in your favor, messing with their sloppy sense of acceleration with each lap around the back parking area. That was perhaps your saving grace– letting their inebriated states affect their pursuit instead of performing on the offensive– but it was short lived.

Your first chatty Leech gets a corner up on you and forces your trek on the inner wall, where the backdoors line the complex. At this stretch of buildings, there weren’t any more service ladders like where Mando was going to meet you.

Coincidentally, there were garbage units separating where that former landing zone was to where you are now. So when you skidded to a perfect stop, Leech rammed into the back and managed to jam his front end into the back of your second-seat attachment. Lovely. A flare of alarm chilled your back– feeling him far too close for comfort.

The blaster you carry is holsted between you- he’d see if you turned to grab it. You’ll have to slip down for your vibroblade if he tries to grab you.

And of course now is when he comes out of the far backdoor–

The Mandalorian burst from the firefight in the back door and -0ki whipped around the railing looking for you. The munchkin spots you first, and with your visor’s magnification, you see his smile- and subsequent squeal- which drags the Mandalorian’s attention to you.

From clear across the divide, his blaster raised and you leveled down with your handlebars: like he showed you.

“Hey now, friend! I was just returnin’ yer lovely thing to you!” the man’s voice flipped up several octaves in defense.

The maglock between your bikes activated, and he dragged you in reverse ever so slowly,

“Been runnin’ me and my crew like wild around the place. Been a fun chase- yeh must have yer hands full of this girl-”

Mando shot the man’s acceleration chamber till it hissed– stopping him in his tracks.

“You stay.”

You bashed the man’s face with a harsh elbow while his sights are down.

“YOU CRA-”, he recoiled with a bear swipe while you dismounted to try and fling him off– “--AH!”

But another shot grazed the man’s foot, making him slump onto his speeder.

He’s buying you time.

Running through your mental catalog, you risked the man’s pain-induced split focus to detach your bikes from his panel’s shortcuts– but didn’t miss the Mandalorian’s next shout,

“Touch her and you lose your head next.”

You smirked under your visor. He’s gonna take him out anyway, you just know it. Swinging your ride back around to where you can remount never felt so good.

Now, you really did try to avoid close calls like this as much as you can manage. But if nothing else, this run-in proved you could always learn a bit more, should spare reading up on grav separation, and maybe outrig yours a bit better when you get the chance…

A spared nod to the Mandalorian while you backed up– and his nod back– gave you the confirmation from the high ground that you needed.

From your angle down low, your helm didn’t have the scope for it. But Mando’s does; you’re cleared to run the gap.

Against the exasperated Leech’s expectations, you jumped it. Sure enough, when you landed, no more jeers followed. Only yells of surprise from the guy’s crew, who were screaming around his form laid flat on the ground, some to call for a extinguisher droid for the speeder fire, another calling out for a medic…

Under the railing where Mando stands, blaster shots chink off his backplate again, signaling him to get out of there. A perfect land later, Mando mounted behind you and wedged his foundling between the both of you.

“I take it you got it?” you asked, your modulated voice still perking up the Child’s ears.

He answered with arm wrapped tight your waist, “Got it. Drive.”

With the Mandalorian and the kid’s padded sling strapped tight to him, the three of you dipped off the ledge of the garage, leaving the bad vibes- and big paycheck -secured.

–However, there's a gap in the antigrav you don’t account for. Turning sharp back to the main road, you slip off a level, and wipe out. Happens so fast, you don’t even breathe– just feel a punch to the gut where the front end of the bike lurches back against you when you curl forward around it as it spins against the momentum.

The acceleration drones when it falls off kilter, the compressors go creepily silent, the metal plates grind against your eardrums, scrapes and crashes, and so do you.

The Child’s fine; if just a little dizzy when Mando curls away from his landed position behind you. Made of straight beskar steel everywhere it counts, he’s perfectly fine too.

You? Not so lucky… You can count on one hand the amount of times over the age of fifteen where you’ve had a messy landing– and this makes the top ten.

Crashing feking hurts. But you can still feel your legs; that’s good.

You rolled onto your back at Mando’s yell for you. He’s calling for you by name– louder and longer each time it leaves his vocoder– before you can reorganize your rattled brains enough to make any noise. A test of tilting your head proved you had range of motion. An adrenaline-high hand simply gave a thumbs up to him, even though your cheek burned.

White hot sting radiated across your face even when you chucked your helmet off with gasps of breath, as fiery steam and dribbles of blood were dangerously seeping close to your eyeline. From your good eye squinting to the side, you caught the remnants of your smoking, stolen ride spun out amongst some employee’s stash of speeders. So much for returning that poor two-and-a-half speeder back in one piece…

The Mandalorian led you out of the hangar with a steady hand on your back- for support, this time.

Even through the leather, you felt the pressure he gave as a buffer between you and any lingering watchers. Out in the bustle of a crowd should have provided a comforting white noise to be moving along in, fading into their routine existence through the foot traffic. But not this time; not with your ear still ringing and ears popping every time you swallow. Instead you were still shaking off the chills that creep sent when he was starting to block you in.

That hand on your back slid onto your waist, tucking you closer to him as you walked and merged with the crowd. Then, while your attentions moved to the booths, he slowed a bit and moved up to your arm.

"Are you alright?"

You lifted up, that soft tone a sharp contrast to what you’d just witnessed: as he made his threats and his kills like the hunter he was. It hadn't bothered you, in fact the protective nature of him made you feel slightly good.

You smiled and fell into his side. You didn't realized how tightly you'd crossed your arms over your fractured helmet. His touch alone- brief as it was- encouraged you to release the tension.

"Yeah... Thanks for that." You sunk a bit. With every breath, the adrenaline ebbed more and more from you, and your cheek stung.

You both could bicker about how you had it covered another time. When there was some distance between this incident, maybe, but thanks was due here. There was no game of ‘I told you so’ between you; it was unspoken- but the care won out over any personal beef.

Your ego is plenty bruised over having a wipeout in front of him. And yet, even as he'd brought you to your helmet, the first comment he made wasn't about how reckless you'd rounded that corner, or how you got yourself into a chase scene picking a petty fight…

Mando was by your side the instant your hand fell limp after your cheery hand signal, and said something about how this helmet saved your life. In the moment, you were just sad its visor shattered.

"Spent a lot of credits on the tint job…" you groaned.

"You're bleeding. From the head."

"Fine, fine," you waved him off, "I'll spring for substance and not style next time."

"Thank Ashla her humor's intact," Mando bemoaned to the Child. "C'mon, let's get you up and out of here."

"Ow, shit– that's gonna bruise… all down here, too.."

"I've got you."

He looked ahead and motioned with a little nod to the corner of the side street. Once under a pavilion cover he loosened his hold on completely in favor of facing you.

"I'm.. I'm sorry that happened."

"Yeah," you sighed back, "Wasn't the finest show of my skills. Even stellar have bad days too, see?"

"N-. Not that," he shook his head a little, "When I found you, out back."

You stood confused. "What, that a creep wanted to get in my pants? It's not the first time, and probably not the last."

What started as a quip in your voice turned more genuine as you admitted the truth,

"You uh… had that part right at the bar. How they're all the same, y'know."

He bristled, the turn of his helmet evident.

"That's happened to you before?"

You shrugged it off, a little surprised that he hadn't been privvy to that kind of scene.

"Just read the stats. It happens more often than folks care to admit, honey,” that sick feeling returned, the one that made even your toes lurch.The sourness of your memories made your broken helmet decidedly more interesting to look at, “Dregs say whatever they want in these parts, really anywhere from Mid-Rim out. Don't like being told 'no' for the most part either… It just depends on how far they'll go to try and ‘convince you’."

He really must be all business in establishments like that to never see those locales from another's perspective… But you grin back up at him while he stared speechless.

"...I haven't ever had someone come to my rescue before.." you admitted. "That was– welcome. Appreciated."

As expressionless as the helmet made him, the slight tip of the head spoke wonders for you. Mando's hand rose to catch your top wrist and rubbed his thumb against it– solidifying those feelings he didn't dare speak in public. Without any facial features to go on, you relied on these touches and read into every little thing: chipping up your chin is an encouragement, a pat on the shoulder is a quick ‘atta girl’ or ‘stay put’ depending on the situation. And this little hold on your wrist spoke equal wonders, a hidden language of care:

I’d do it again in a heartbeat, cyar’ika. Simply say the word, and it’s done.

Your pause was a quick one, and with no more words shared, he simply took claim of your hand, adjusted your fingers to work together, and led you back to the shipyard.

The Child would peek his head out now that the action was over. He’d crane and lean up at you both as much as his sling could afford him– though he was most interested in what sight was in front of him: your hands now fitting together like they belonged.

His buir was currently holding your hand, like he’s reached out to hold his own three fingered claw when they first met. He hoped this meant you'd stay, too. With his green-skinned hand, he could almost reach yours and add it to the pile.

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

The Mandalorian was quiet that night. The quiet itself was not unusual, no not that– setting a course and spending his time in the cockpit making the adjustments he wanted was a completely normal task for him. He always knew where to go, which route to plug into the navicomputer to coast comfortably in this hyperspace lane for the next few hours so he didn’t have to stay up there and babysit it. You left him to it; this brand of silence was nothing really out of the ordinary for him.

You thanked his strictly-taught discipline tonight. While he stayed busy, you were able to clean yourself up without an audience.

After an indulgent sonic shower by his insistence, you fiddled around in the small kitchenette. The domesticity, the residential feel you’d fostered on the ship piece by piece was a sharp contrast to how the bar made you feel. The security of this place; you fall back into the feeling of ‘home’ here everytime you come up the ramp. So far tonight, that’s meant heating up a few bean rolls, monitoring the data cells you’d comped from your intel, and watching the kiddo roll around that little knob he was always sneaking off with. The minute after you’d realize the twist top of the gearshift throttle in the cockpit was missing, you’d smile. What thievery, at such a young age… at least your pilot didn’t have need of it yet.

You shook your head and laughed when the Mandalorian sighed behind you– clearly finding it, too.

"What am I gonna do with you, pal..." He wrestled with himself more than anything- begging the odd baby for reason, and picked him off the floor.

After setting him on the crate, the Mandalorian came up to the side of the sink. You didn't move much from what you were doing, but looked up when he just stood there quietly for too long.

"--What's up?"

“Really need to clean that.”

At the nod, you knew what he meant– the split brow and cheekbone.

Your instincts flared- hedge away.

You fanned your face, “I was just getting him settled first. It’s clean, I was just letting it cool down a minute.”

Your name left his lips. Firm as steady morning rain, and in a similar hush. You didn't need to see what color they were to know they were set on you and only you.

“Look, it’s only this much, see?--AH! Oof, nevermind..”

At your cheek’s lift, the fire came back. The move brought a tear to sting your eye.

In a second, the Mandalorian came to your aid, a bracing hand on your waist as his hand cupped your chin to see the damage himself. He asked you to take another step towards the light, so you did. It seemed like he was tilting about a bit, even as he tested the touch around the roadburn. You winced at it each time- from both the poking and the bulb of the overhead glaring into your eyes.

“It’s pretty bad, huh.” you mumbled out.

Guilt came through the sigh as a little exhale. You barely caught it, but it struck you in the stomach. The night, its quiet, and the privacy of hyperspace allowed you to bring your favorite secret to your lips–

“How bad is it –Din?”

“I can’t see it too well.” Mando -by his true name- told you, a skosh gentler. “My scanner doesn’t always allow me to see the debris from the clotting clearly. Hard to tell,” he weakly let go of your chin.

“Damn,” you sniffed and looked about for the tabletop lantern back by the kiddo, “Do I need to get the handheld?”

Then, with a little look back to the hull where he sat occupying himself sleepily by the towel pile, your Mandalorian took maybe his largest risk ever:

“-I need you to close your eyes for me.”

“Huh?”

“I need to see it better. Need– you to close your eyes for me to do that.”

Realization punched you again. Made your ears prick– and gooseflesh chill you.

You can't let him do this... You know he would.

“We can get a medscanner, Din. It's not too late to stop somew-.”

“No,” he caught you again, “I can do it; need to do it. I just– I need to trust that you’re hearing me.”

It's less of an order and more of a curated ask, one that begged for assurance. This man would always do his best to help you– but you never imagined he'd go this far… what he's willing to do for you.

It's the most vulnerable request he'd ever made of you; a Mandalorian's trustfall.

Now? You took back every doubt you had in the bar about him. You looked him straight in the visor –while you still could.

“...I hear you, hon.”

It nodded back to you; just one, solemn motion.

“Okay. Come sit here.”

You obeyed and locked onto the sight of the child while the Mandalorian fell to a knee in front of you, then propped himself up on both to match. With prepped gauze and tools to extract the pebbley shards, you winced at the canister of bacta being shaken up in his palm. A gloved palm came to caress your thigh. It’s meant to soothe.

“It’s ok. Gonna get you taken care of.”

“Yeah,” you feigned a brave face.

But every nerve ending fluttered at its tips when you felt it: his now bare hand brushing your good cheek,

“Do not open them, please.” you heard him whisper in the helmet.

The already low-lit vision of the cabin fell dark at your will. And you nodded– any reaction of his, unseen.

With the latch release and depressurization, you knew the helmet was off. And without meaning to, your ears prickled at every breath, every swallow, every ounce of sound that man was making – now naked to the hallway of this ship.

“Okay,” a gentle baritone spoke in the air between you. It’s new, like a stranger. “Hm– looks like we’re out of the stim solution, I don’t have any numbing cartridges. But I have the wipe kind. Gonna do that first.”

You hummed your agreement, then immediately whimpered at the first dab.

The Mandalorian froze and detached.

“It’s just a wipe…”

“Tell my face that.” You cringed. “Sorry, juss' stings.”

“I know,” he soothed, “T’sgonna be alright. I’ll make it as quick as I can. There. Gonna get these pieces out now.”

He did work pretty quickly now that he’s out from the helmet. You barely felt the edge of his tweezers as they scooped the wedges of asphalt from that high point of your cheek where the visor of your headgear had shattered. Before you could hedge away from one particularly deep poke, you heard him speak again,

"I've been thinking about what you said earlier,” Mando peeped up from his quiet, “About... men who've said those things to you before."

You softened. Was he still thinking about it? That was hours ago.

"And.. I know I've said things like that. I just wanted you to know, I can't stomach the thought of you feeling that way. And I apologize if I have ever done so, even if you'd never said a word about it. If you want me to stop, I will."

Kriff, this man. You’d sooner lay across an electrode-fencing rig than ever make him stop. You sighed, and not simply from relief as you heard him switch tools.

He’s a man of few words, but not meaningless ones. The first compliment he ever paid you was about your fire- your heart, your will, and how strong you were and how you believed. Later when you had to doll up for that ridiculous undercover function, he finally spoke his mind in the moment and said you looked ‘stunning’. He calls you 'pretty thing' often; mostly when he's giving you a hard time. Truthfully he'd called you all sorts of things, both in Basic and not– which likely gave him this pang of guilt all the more.

But those endearments were just that: things that gave you joy, a peace and comfort with him. A sweet word here or there? It's born out of familiarity- the ease of tongue that comes with living in close quarters. The draw between you two is perfectly synchronous– it is an unexpected bond through bizarre shared experiences in an infinite galaxy that inevitably brought two rough-and-ready folks together and practically conjoined at the hip. To

Your Mandalorian is not a man without faults, but he'd never once made you feel filthy.

"Oh stars above, you sweet man.." you chuckled a little, wrenching your palms from your shirt hem and blindly batted up in the air to find his arm. "You've never made me feel like that. It's different when it comes from you. You know that, right?"

He huffed out of his nose. Relieved, if his trigger fingers were any indication as they tilted your cheek again,

"I didn't want to assume. You're always so collected. Talented, confident.. But you're– painfully polite."

You giggled at that. All of his touches that root you to the spot when you least expect them are anything but unwanted. Of course you were polite when he jumps the gun on grabbing you while out in traffic, or whipping a hand in front of you at a hard stop– but you've never once taken offense to that.

With a tentative reach, his fingers brushed the line of fine little curls by your ear, relishing in your smile at the touch.

"I don't just want you in safe places. I can’t always promise our adventures will grant us ideal jobs," In the dark, you envisioned his solid, pitch black visor giving a barely there shake… "But I want you to feel safe when you're with me."

You turned your head and kissed the palm of it.

"I do feel safe with you. You'd be the first to know if I wasn’t–NNGH!"

"Be still."

"Shit… m'working on it… this whole thing's new to me, y'know?" Your mouth wandered like your frantic mind, blitzed with stinging pain. "My visor's never shattered like that before," You clenched your fists against the picks made at your browline, "I just fill in the scuffs with some epoxy usually, but it's never broken like that. Frikkin’ hurt."

Mando hummed in sympathy and merely added, "Gotta fit you with some beskar one of these days."

"Oh, sure, for half my year's portion of – nehNGH!"

“Shh, I know. Last bit’s over. Just gonna clean it up before the spray.”

With a water’s dip and wrench out, Mando made a little cleansing exhale before dabbing over the whole area. Didn’t hurt as much of your face other than the center of the wound because of the sedative, but it certainly made your eyes squeeze shut. No worries of opening your eyes for a peek when it stung so badly.

Your gentle angel in beskar whispered a quiet ‘m’sorry’ for the repeated flare of pain. His nervousness was palpable, regardless of how confident he was at this job. A jostle of your leg at calf-height told you he was checking around for dry gauze.

“Almost done,” he cooed, “You want a break?”

You hummed and gave your pitiful nod to agree. The barest turn of your head caused little pops in it from craning so much. The pressure would take a while to dissipate and you know that when you open your eyes, they’ll be bloodshot. But the pain would be over soon.

Pleased enough to give you a minute, Mando released your chin in favor of brushing another bit of hair back. Due to taking your own helmet on and off so much, the wisps of curls were bouncier than normal like this, with just enough length to give you some fun bangs. You smirked with a tight-lipped smile, as you did not want to bother and pull your cheeks too much.

It’s kinda beautiful, this. Having this closeness, sharing in a horrible task but in the best of conditions imaginable– being cared for by the one you adored most. Who wouldn’t crave that when it’s what the heart screams for?

And with this new secret shared between you, this loophole in Din Djarin’s creed… this isn’t a moment you took lightly at all.

With a little shaky exhale of your own, you searched for his hand again in your bubble of darkness. Now, it met you fully–and linked your fingers together.

And then, what shocked you the most: steady fingers supported your jaw again, and a slight breeze to cool down your enflamed cheek rushed across your face.

Din is here. Kneeling before you and blowing on it– just for your comfort.

You welcomed the cooling flow; your brows showed it. Every ounce of tension left you while dragging heartache into its warm spot. Emotion flooded every corner of the body. It nearly hurt: how it compressed your chest into submission and brought loving tears behind your eyelids.

You didn’t deserve him.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart. Finish line,” he squeezed your hand before lifting it to his lips. He spoke gently to the fingers, "Keep those eyes closed for me."

"Promise." You squeezed them again, bracing yourself for the final burn.

And there it was– freezing and sealing all at once. A white, blinding sensation like what you’d feel from a lightsource turning on overhead, but all over your skin. Each pore was touched by the bacta’s strange magic without warning- and perhaps it was better that way to get it over with. Your breathing raced in that short time until the spray set, but you made sure to mute any noise with angry focus. Fighting the aftertaste, only a small moan eeked from you while the medicine reacted after your nurse had done his job covering the area. Darling thing, he even shielded the mist from getting directly into your eyes.

Mando's hands left you only to set its things down. This, only in favor, of cupping your face evenly to hold you still when they returned. They warmed what once felt so cold. His forehead met yours in a tender touch as your tears spilled over from the edge of your eyes. Not to worry, for his thumb wiped them up straight away.

Hair caught in every which way brushed along your slightly damp brow- his. Matched yours, in a way.

"All done.” his words danced just over your nose, “You can smack me away now, if you want."

You gave a wet little laugh as you settled into him. Slapping him is unthinkable to you. “Never.”

No, this was a perfect feeling that you’d never wish an end to. His caresses surpassed that of strict medicinal care and turned intimate, rendering your insides limp and on their way to healing already..

The urge to finally cry hit when you parted… when you felt his lips meet your unharmed cheek in a plush, hot kiss.

You whispered in reverence: Din. Desperation for ‘more, please Starborn, more’, an equal measure of shock had you squeezing his wrist, pinning him to you,

"Should– heh- sh-should you be doing that?"

He kissed you again. Again. Like he’s addicted to the touch, like it’s his favorite vice to pass the time; soft, loose, sighing up to your temple. You know he must be taking in this sight of you now, before the analytics of heat sensors block him from vivid color and dynamic shadows once the helmet returns.

"Probably not,” he admitted without true remorse– his voice turned soft and delicious, "But I've always wanted to. And right now, I can–" he pulled away at your forehead, "--Should I stop?"

"Oh, please don't stop–"

Your urgency, his delight. Mando chuckled, and kissed your forehead next: with such love from him, you could never doubt it. Enjoy this, honey. Take it all in.

The moment could have lasted forever. You'd about blindfold yourself for the rest of your life, for all you cared. If he just kept kissing you; lower, lower, lower–

–your lips fit against his, and you burst like a case of firewhiskey spirits poured on a flame. It engulfed you both, and he latched on– to burn right there with you.

Your hands flew to keep him close, fingers finding a hold through the whisps of his hair he kept short that curled in choppy, sweat-licked parts. He sighed so heavenly when you touched him skin to skin. And easy to please, it seems, since he matched you move for move– threading through your feather-soft waves like it was second nature for him to hold you so close.

Oxygen and a too-full heart demanded you part for a breath, your pulse going rapid fire in your throat.

“Thank you.”

“Thank me? Thank– I should be thanking you,” For caring, for the space to exist at his side, to have his loyalty in your back pocket and in your very soul, “For… everything today.”

“Nothing special about that. You thanked me already.” he said so with such frankness. “We have each other’s backs. We’re on each other’s sides. No, this–”

His shield dropped from your browline, replaced by his whisper over the lid of your eye–

“–this means everything, mesh’la.”

The honesty of this man wrecked you.

You found yourself pressing your forehead into the space by his neck to hide. Your Mando petted through your hair like a lovestruck man- desperate and wanting and content with every intention to keep you there for the rest of Time. By how this killer matched your breathy giggles, you had a clue that he wouldn't mind that idea.

"So," you broke the quiet with a small question, "is that what I can expect every time I get a punch to the face?"

Din huffed.

"You start poking around for trouble, we're going to have an entirely different problem on our hands,” he mumbled back hoarsely, “Don't you dare get any ideas."

“Even if they get me kisses?”

“Nothing’s worth you getting hurt, cyar’ika,” those indulgent lips pressed to your hairline before he reached down- to get his helmet.

At the lean, you panicked a second, and flung back again with a rush for him to wait.

At your word, he stilled for you to speak your peace. Happy lines greeted your fingertips as you caught the edge of his smile with a blind-man’s reach.

You fought through your elated headspace and begged, "One more?"

Praying to every heaven out there, you were blessed when Din graced your mouth again without any teasing. Kiss after kiss, you melted into each other in this place where nothing hurt– though who did the falling first, you genuinely didn't know.

Must have been a hell of a numbing wipe.

After breathless kisses later, stolen tokens as they were, you both felt and heard the Mandalorian shudder and he moan back,

"Gotta stop.." he flipped up the helm with expert precision. It found its home again with only another blip of static when the seal reanimated. "You can open your eyes now."

"Stop…" you managed your beating heart and blinked open your gaze, straight up to the reflected 'T'-shaped gap of his visor. The pupils that looked back at you were straight dilated. You asked out of the haze of your bliss, "Why ‘stop’?"

Still ungloved and with sleeves rolled up, the Mandalorian’s head lolled in a little shake.

"If I didn't stop right then," Mando caressed your good cheek, "Don't know if I ever would…"

"Would that be the worst?" You hoped for the chance again.

Mando sweetly answered,

"No.."

It was the kind answer he knew you wanted, to wish for more kisses from you. But he wasn't completely convinced. Not with that lilt in his voice that left a question to be answered.

He slipped a hand around your waist,

"No, I think.. if I never saw your eyes again, that would be the loss I'd suffer the most.”

Lucidity came back by the moment, your sense of confusion officially returned.

“See me? But you just did, for the first time, right?”

“Couldn’t see those pretty eyes though.”

“Well, tough.” you sassed, “Now you know how I feel.”

You tried to make it sound bossy, but the dig left your mouth too sleepily for him to take it. Behind the metal, his rough rush of static resounded his chuckle.

To further prove the point, you mimic the motion you do for your eye contact removal with a bright, goofy smile,

"It's just retinas, you know,” you shrugged, “Mine don't even work."

"Your loss is my gain, all the same." Mando fell back to only one knee again, to get comfortable at your level. "I'm almost glad we didn’t pass a med droid in town, or else…” he curled an arm around you again, “--this might not have happened any other way. I count your poor excuse for headgear as my blessing this time."

You glanced at what was left of your helmet, but fell into good humor with his warmth bringing you close again.

“You’ll be all too glad to see me walking around a beskar cyclehelm, won’t you? Gonna take a while to find that much to make one, if you’re serious.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” the helmet nodded, chipping your chin for a moment, “But we’ll manage until we source it. Always do.”

You’re still reeling over this; over what this means, him offering you the most prized form of protection. To give you comfort by shedding down to his most vulnerable state. The complete faith he has in you by doing so... It gave your nervous anxieties ballasts on all sides.

You’d keep your wits about you better next go round, so this doesn’t happen again… but you knew the word ‘partnership’ had a different meaning between you, from this night onward.

Din continued past your mind’s lovely spiral,

“You won’t need to worry about finding a better replacement before we head to Bespin with this package; we'll just let you heal. No sense pushing it.”

"Probably for the best, yeah," you nuzzled back, "I clearly have issues keeping a helmet on my head as it is."

The helmet giving you a kiss of its own shook side to side. That gesture all but begged ‘what am I going to do with you’.

"So we stick in our lanes for now?” you whispered your hope, “...Try my luck and steal chances whenever I can?"

Instead of a quick nod, the man who’d just kissed you senseless gave you a promise again,

"We can work something out."

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #this is self indulgent #din djarin is a sweetheart and a badass and i'll take no questions #it's a trustfall baby #close your eyes and leave it all behind #go where love is on our side #mando #mando x reader

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theoakleafpancake · 22 days

Text

After the celebration had finally ended, Halt decided he’d had enough of formalities and appearances. A grand homecoming to Araluen was not what he’d wanted. Now that he had Will back, all that was left to do was to return to the little cabin in Redmont and sleep for a week straight. If it weren’t for the assembly the King called for, he’d be able to do just that.

Someone knocked on the door. He gave a final tug on the straps of his pack before heading over, heaving in a silent sigh. But when the door swung open, he was met with an unexpected face.

Well, not entirely unexpected. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He’d rather it would have been later, but alas, Fate seemed to be enjoying her time with him.

“Crowley.” He stepped aside, allowing the Ranger Commandant in the room. “I thought you’d have left by now.”

“Really?” The sandy-haired man turned to look at him. “Eleven months, and that’s the first thing you have to say.”

“Eleven and one week,” he said quietly. “And I seem to recall giving you a full report earlier. So no, that is not the first thing I have said to you.”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair. “And one week.” A breathy chuckled escaped the other man. “Do you think I haven’t been counting each day?”

He raised an eyebrow. “A Ranger Commandant has more important things to do than wait for the prodigal son to return.”

“I’m sorry.” The older Ranger reached a hand towards his arm and then faltered, those light eyes desperately seeking his. “If I could go back in time, I would change everything. I would have broken you out of prison. I would have covered it all up. No one would have ever known.”

“Having everyone know was a part of the plan.”

“But why, Halt?” His voice broke. “Why would you put us through that?”

Halt raised his eyes to the ceiling. After all this time, his friend still had the nerve to ask the same question. “I don’t give you as much credit as I should. You’re not stupid, Crowley. You know the answer.”

It was the boy. Will. He would have burned the world for his apprentice if necessity demanded it of him. He had given up his life for some cheeky, over-talkative child that had somehow become an integral part of his life. Losing Will had been like losing an arm. He could have said all this and more, but he wasn’t sure if the other Ranger would ever truly understand.

“Crowley.” He laid a land on his friend’s shoulder. “You have your loyalties and I have mine. Surely you didn’t think I’d change over the years?”

“No. I never would have expected that.” The older Ranger turned away. “You always were a stubborn one.”

“And I don’t intend on changing that. I became a Ranger to help you. Not to pledge my full allegiance to a King.”

“That’s exactly what being a Ranger is.” The silver Oakleaf felt heavy around his neck. Halt knew what the Oakleaf meant. Running away from Clonmel, he was given a second chance, and that chance had been Araluen and its Rangers. He liked Duncan a great deal more than he cared to admit—certainly the Araluan was a far better King than either him or Ferris. But against all odds, that’s just what Duncan was.

A King.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Crowley said quietly. “But it seems to me you’re doing fine in that sense.”

Halt let go of the man’s shoulder. “You thought too highly of me. That’s your mistake.”

“I think just enough of you.” The redhead sighed. “My only mistake was turning you away. I’m sorry, Halt.”

He met his friend’s eyes, and saw the pain inside them, pain he was responsible for. “I am, too.”

#rangers apprentice #john flanagan #halt o’carrick #crowley meratyn #cralt #?#i think #fanfic #fanfiction #ra fanfic #I’m not really sure what this is tbh #i just got bored and wanted to do a little interaction between them #because surely they weren’t all just buddy-buddy with each other once he returned right?#halt always has his separate loyalties and if he’s forced to choose between his promises and a king?#well that’s not really a choice cause he already knows #halt was raised to be a king #crowley was raised to follow a king

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pastself · 3 months

Text

Want for Nothing: Deleted Scene (Joint Accounts - 1.3k)

So, part of the problem with being a discovery writer is that I have a good 20k of deleted scenes for Want for Nothing. Most of them are nothing special, but some I can’t quite let go of, even though they don’t work anymore — this is one of them.

It’s set in Chapter 3 (4 by ao3 logic) “Tabloid Junkie” and basically has Tony/Peter confronting their new financial dynamic head-on. It got cut because 1/ Peter was going through enough in that chapter, 2/ they were both just… not in the right place to talk about it without it devolving into an argument. It’s unfinished in that respect, because I was just not up to writing whatever new hell they were going to invent.

—

The bed was cold when Peter woke the next morning.

Cold, but not empty.

A pile of bank documents lay on top of Tony’s pillow. No note attached – unless several post-its with the words "sign here" counted.

Peter read over the documents alone in his multi-million dollar apartment with the blinds down. Signing would make him a co-owner of Tony's accounts. The balance wasn't listed, but behind the ownership documents were sign-offs for new unlimited lines of credit in Peter's name.

Peter hadn't even known there was such a thing as unlimited credit.

He called Tony.

"Hear me out," Tony said as soon as the call connected. "This is just like May’s medical bills."

"How?"

"Your Aunt's old boss screwed her out of what she'd worked for, so I fixed the damage. This is me doing the same for you."

"But I’m fine. I’m–"

“NYU is pulling your scholarship.”

The words hit Peter like a punch to the gut. His vision blurred and he felt the blood run from his brain. He sat down, hard, on a kitchen stool. Tony was still talking to him, but the words were indistinguishable. Completely obscured by the white noise of panic running through him.

His scholarship.

The one he’d spent years fighting for, pulling weeks of all-nighters to ensure he stayed in the city’s top percentile. Padding his resume with debate team and volunteer work, on top of his jobs and Spider-Man. His scholarship. The one he and May had cried over, together, when it had come through. The one that had been set to get him through college, miraculously, with ‘only’ 20 grand of student debt.

Gone.

“–but you told me to tell you before I pull shit. So I put the foundation on hold, and figured we could just pay this all out of pocket. Out of your pocket, if you’ll let me–”

“Wait, what?”

Tony was silent for a beat. “You missed everything I said, huh?”

“I… what?”

Tony let out a sad sigh, and Peter desperately wished they were having this conversation in person.

“The scholarship is gone, babe.”

“But why… how can they do this?”

“It’s the apartment. It’s legally in your name, and when they… found out about your change of address, they decided to re-evaluate your financial status. You don’t qualify for aid anymore.”

Oh.

“But an apartment doesn’t pay for, like, tuition. Or food. Or just… anything else. I quit my jobs. Just because I’m living here–”

“They don’t see it that way. So, either we fight them, which I’m happy to do, or we just give them money. In this case, I think paying them off is the better option.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. He knew Tony was just trying to help but, fuck, if didn’t feel like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him.

“You said something about a foundation?” he said, trying to piece together Tony’s earlier rant.

“I uh-” Tony started, before clearing his throat awkwardly. Peter heard him fidget with something on his desk. “My first thought was to set up a foundation under SI that could just give you a new scholarship.”

“Are you kidding me–”

“But, I remembered you told me to just ask you before I did shit. So, I shelved the scholarship idea and instead I’m asking. This is me asking, okay? Let me do this for you. Let me fix this.”

Peter looked down at the bank documents Tony had provided. It was too much. He couldn’t imagine having total access to Tony’s money; he didn’t want the responsibility that came with that.

“Can’t you just… pay my tuition? And give me something for expenses?”

Tony made no reply for a long moment. Long enough for Peter to feel antsy. Because really, what kind of person said no to a fortune?

“Those documents would give you more security,” Tony said, eventually. “I wouldn’t be able to take away your access without your consent. So if… if things don’t work out, you’ll be able to look out for yourself.”

If things don’t work out?

“Are you breaking up with me?” Peter said instinctively, irrationally.

“Jesus, Peter, no. People don’t hand over billions of dollars as a parting gift. No. Definitely not breaking up with you.”

“Billions?” Peter let out a croak of a laugh. “Right, yeah, of course, right. Sorry.”

“I just– you should have the freedom.”

Peter understood Tony’s motivation, in theory – but he hated it. Because Tony was family, now, and Peter couldn’t imagine a world in which he wouldn’t be. Couldn’t imagine a world in which he’d choose to stop taking Tony’s support. Or in which Tony would stop giving it, even if they stopped dating.

But maybe Tony needed that reassurance. Maybe this wasn’t just about Peter. Maybe this was one of those points of compromise MJ kept talking about.

“Is that… is that ‘freedom’ important for you?”

“Yes,” Tony answered immediately.

Okay. Compromise it is, then.

“Alright, alright,” Peter tried to bring his mind into focus. Tried to think of a way this would work for both of them. “Could you set it up in a way that… I dunno, lets me have access up to a certain limit? And a set time-frame? That way you’ll know I’ll be able to cover tuition and expenses for… well, however long you think.”

“So no limits and forever?”

“Tony–”

“What?" Tony said stubbornly. "That’s what you deserve.”

Peter sighed. “I’m not saying no, Tony. But the idea of being responsible for, like, an infinite amount of money freaks me out. I don’t want to be on the Forbes list or–”

“Those lists are bullshit PR–”

“Well, whatever. You get my point. I get that you want me to have that extra cushion, but I– I’m trying to compromise here. I already trust you to support me — I don’t see why we need to do all this, especially since it will inevitably end up in the Bugle.”

Tony was silent, but for a pen tapping contemplatively.

“Is this a kink thing?” he said

Peter definitely hadn’t seen the conversation going this direction.

“What? A- a what?”

“You know,” Tony said, voice oddly detached and casual. “‘Pay for me, own me, control me.’ Are you trying to tell me you have an ownership kink? That you’re into the whole codependent, power transfer thing?”

“That’s a thing?”

Tony let out a gust of air, and Peter heard more rustling in the background. Peter genuinely has no idea how to continue this conversation.

“Yes. It’s a thing,” Tony said, at last. “Is it your thing?”

“Is it yours?” Peter volleyed back.

“Not necessarily.”

“Okay, well…” Peter still didn’t know what to say. “Ditto?”

Tony was quiet for another long minute. Peter started counting his breaths to keep himself from speaking.

“So,” Tony said eventually. “You want me to control your finances, but not in a kinky way. Honestly, that may be worse.”

Peter sighed. “No,” he said, emphatically. “I don’t want you to control anything. What I want is the scholarship I dedicated years of my life to getting. But, given that’s not an option, I am happy to accept your support – which doesn’t have to mean access to all your money. I love May, and I’d help her with anything, but we still have separate bank accounts. See where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah — you want a daddy.” Tony’s voice was hard. Angry.

Peter genuinely wanted to throw his phone out the window. Actually, he could hear it crack slightly under his hand, so he put it down and just let himself breathe.

And breathe.

“Peter?” came Tony’s voice.

Peter finally picked up his phone. “If you were anyone else I would have hung up.”

—

Edit with my tags (lol making me change my tumblr ways): fwiw Peter still doesn’t know if the money thing is a sex thing for him, bc it is just so intertwined with the way Peter feels Tony’s love for him. Obvs that impacts the sex but not — directly?

#my writing #want for nothing #Peter still doesn’t know if the money thing is a sex thing for him fwiw #it’s just so intertwined with the way Peter feels Tony’s love for him #which obvs impacts the sex but not — directly?

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natsmagi · 3 months

Note

Hiii original anon here

So um. I was kinda in a bad mood when I sent you that ask because you're like the main femstars artist I see and was complaining privately to people about how much I hate how a lot of femstars artists draw the characters because every time I've seen femstars art the character is guaranteed to have big boobs ONLY IF they're skinny. I just think it's frustrating to see and why I hate femstars in the first place. I also just think from experience I've never actually met people with that big a cup size who are that skinny so it all just feels unrealistic and just sexualised. You don't "owe me" anything, that's true, I just suppose I'm mad that most femstars artists all draw similar body types.

hiii thank you for responding!! and i mean. thats fair enough. i can understand your frustrations. but at the same time i feel its misguided. your experience is your experience of course, but just because you havent seen XYZ doesnt mean it doesnt exist, and its rude to then label it "unrealistic" and "sexualized," not to mention then go out of your way to shame people for portraying it. i have family members with this body type. its a perfectly normal body that people can have and they obviously should not be shamed for it or sexualized just because of how they look. pushing for more body diversity doesnt mean we should eradicate other body types, it just means we should acknowledge their existences in unison

it is also unfair to get mad at us artists for drawing characters skinny when the canonical cast is skinny. there are many facets to this topic, its not something black and white, but getting angry at the body type rather than the misogyny that makes being TMA with curves a living hell? the misogyny that reduces us to our bodies and appearance? the misogyny that doesnt view us as people, but rather objects? thats just wrong. people with this body type do not deserve to be shamed for who they are or how they look. and people who portray this body type do not deserve the shame either

i do think your heart is in the right place, as we're all aware of how gross people can be over bodies like that, but again; that is not the fault of the person WITH the body. nor are artists at fault for simply drawing it. the issue is misogyny, and if youre not careful you'll only end up perpetuating the harm that got us here in the first place. so please think critically and do research before repeating the same talking points you hear from the people around you

AND THATS FINE TOO! honestly people shittalk me all the time, at least you had the nerve to say it to my face so ill give you credit there

#ask #and again........ if you really want to see a change in femstars portrayals you are more than welcome to draw it yourself #there are many people out there who view tsumugi similarly to you #im sure they would love to see your stuff!#art isnt exactly the easiest thing in the world but if we want something done right we unfortunately have to do it ourselves #im gonna keep doing what i love and sincerely i hope you do too #i dont want you to be angry and bitter over things like this #because i do think you have good intentions #but this really isnt the way to go about it. who does body-shaming help?#theres far better ways go to about this

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thedreamlessnights · 2 years

Note

For the writing prompts,

I’d love to see 128 with Viktor!! I could see either him or reader saying it and both have so much potential haha

Thank you and @glitteriztical for requesting... the exact same prompt! Prompt 128: "You're pretty." - "You're drunk."

I've drunk the wine of ages || Viktor x Fem!Reader || 6.4k || SFW

Warnings: angst related to rejected affection (with a happy ending), mentions of alcohol and drinking, some self-deprecation related to loneliness and bad decisions.

You’ve had one too many drinks tonight.

In your defense, this night has been hell, and the honeyed wine has been a salve for all your suffering. A balm that soothes the ache that’s sat in your chest all night - one that had throbbed against your ribs even before this event started.

Yearning. A familiar feeling, but especially strong tonight. Especially painful.

Peace has been nonexistent since you met Viktor. You’d deemed it infatuation at first, but it’s something more simplistic than that, beyond even admiration, or devotion.

You truly care about him. More than you’d like to admit. No matter how hard you try to shove your feelings behind the guise of professionalism… it just won’t go away.

Earlier tonight, though it feels like years ago - when Jayce had been teasing you and Viktor had quietly been straightening his tie in the mirror - that familiar pain had bloomed its way into your chest. Strangled you, like that of a weed. Fisted its ravenous roots around your lungs.

Even in the mirror, above the deep blue of his blazer, the gold of Viktor’s eyes glittered - matching the delicate embroidery on his suit. A simple framing of gold fabric against cobalt, with layers of embellishments - gilded buttons, aureate thread.

I need a drink, you’d thought, when he’d turned around. Handsome, in all his glory, hair combed neatly but still fluffed out around his ears. He met your eyes with a smile - though, he always hated things like this, and you knew him well enough to see his annoyance written under the soft turn of his lips.

At the time, you’d thought that would be the end of your pain for the night.

A foolish thing to think, considering, but the thought had been genuine. In fact, you’d actually been grateful when you’d first gotten to the event, thinking that the amount of people there would give you some relief from your aching. That you might be free of Viktor’s presence on your mind for a night, and enjoy yourself.

Instead, you watch as piles and piles of people flit around him the whole evening, eyeing him the way you wish you could. Unabashedly, with want written behind their gaze. The higher, light voices carry over to you. Laughter that’s too strong. An unnecessary touch on the arm. A man leaning into his ear to deliver a witty quip. A woman, eyes focused only on his lips.

That’s all you can take before you pour yourself a drink. It turns into two more.

Then you lose count.

You’re a bit of a lightweight, but this wine is not meant for drunkenness. With a couple drinks, it only delivers a light buzz, if anything. And, to your credit, you can barely keep your eyes off Viktor, so it’s not exactly like you’re keeping track.

It’s not that many, really. You’re not drunk. Yet.

But your thoughts are disturbed by Jayce’s presence at your side. He calls your name, gripping your shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asks softly. “Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”

“I’m fine, Jayce,” you hiss. But it’s too late. It seems like everyone in the room has heard Jayce’s words, and they all seem to look at you with the same expression. Ridicule. Pity. Condescension written behind their eyes.

When you realize that even Viktor has taken notice of you, embarrassment floods you whole, hot and prickling at your neck. He gives you a questioning look, but you just shake your head, grip tightening on your glass.

“I can handle myself,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else, and you ignore Jayce’s protests as you make your way across the room.

Alright, maybe it was two drinks too many. Your feet feel unstable. The room rocks itself around you, and you have to fight to keep yourself upright. Still, you make it to the balcony safely, and dump the rest of your wine into the bushes below you.

It’s probably not good for the plants - but then again, it’s fermented grapes and honey. How bad can it be?

Emotion hits you suddenly, and you find that you can't breathe. The fresh, cool air isn’t even helping. All you want is to be with Viktor, for him to want you the way you want him, and for everyone else to know. Is it so hard for someone to want you? Are you so unlovable, that no one should ever look your way, and want you in the way you want them?

You want to be home. You’re sick of this party. Why had you even come, anyway? What were you expecting?

From behind comes the sound of your name, and its softness makes the aching flame up again. Viktor. Your emotions have become fiery, boiling into your blood, raging through you uncontrolled. You wish you hadn’t dumped your wine.

“Are you alright?” Viktor asks. “Jayce is worried about you.”

You almost say something you regret. Something harsh and cruel, and admittedly unwarranted. You only just manage to reel yourself in.

“Thank you, but I’m alright,” you say. You just barely have the aftersight to be proud of yourself.

You can hear him hesitate - the shifting of his weight before he sighs.

“Are you?”

Your grip on the fencing of the balcony tightens. Does he have to be so persistent?

“Yes.” You take in a breath, trying to cool your mind. “Thank you for checking on me, but you should get back to the party.”

There’s a beat before he answers.

“Normally, I would,” he starts, “but it doesn’t seem as if you’re really as alright as you want me to believe.” He pauses for a moment. “May I stay with you for a moment?”

Tears sting at your eyes as he settles in next to you, and they refuse to be blinked away.

“Viktor, you don’t understand,” you say, voice cracking - more humiliation, seeping down your spine. And he really doesn’t understand, can’t, in fact. He can’t know the way it hurts you that you can’t have him - or, how the millions of signs that he doesn’t want you have ripped you to shreds over the years. Even just looking at him hurts.

“Perhaps not,” Viktor replies. “But I can listen.”

The tears are streaming their way down your cheek by now. Viktor reaches out to wipe them away, but you flinch out of his reach. You don’t know what you’d do if he touched you right now, but it wouldn’t be good.

“What don’t I understand?” Viktor presses, his tone gentle. It should be soothing - sweet. Instead, it cuts through you. Bares you away, piece by piece. You can’t find it in you to respond.

“Let me walk you home,” Viktor tries, and this time you nod.

You want to be home, tucked away safe under your blankets. You want it to stop hurting. You want Viktor to be far away from you, to give you space to suffer as you please.

When you wipe your cheek, you find mascara smeared along your hand - and, presumably your face. On the menu tonight, death by a thousand cuts of humiliation seems to be your main entree.

Viktor, meanwhile, has retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket, and approaches you again.

“May I?” he asks.

Which is worse? Viktor touching you, or the whole floor of people seeing that you got drunk at a party then cried?

You’ll take the touch. You nod.

His touch on you is gentle, the brush of the fabric tender against your cheek. It almost makes you cry again, but you’re thankfully spared on that account. Then, Viktor gives you a smile - eyes crinkling at the corners - and tucks the cloth back into his pocket.

“There,” he says. “Now, let’s get you home.”

You almost make it home without embarrassing yourself. You get all the way to your door in complete silence, but Viktor hasn’t seemed to let up on his stubbornness yet.

“I know there are some things I don’t understand,” he starts, voice soft as velvet. “But I am here. For anything.”

Those words make your chest ache all over again. How could you ever explain?

“Viktor, I…” Your words trail off for a moment. “You just don’t have any idea. What you do to people.”

Well, that came out wrong.

His eyes widen, and you’re immediately trying to correct yourself.

“I don’t - I mean, not in a bad way. I just… I mean…” You have to stop for a moment, trying so desperately to think of how to redeem what you’d just said. “It’s not your fault, I just…”

There’s a terrible, helpless moment as you try to find words but none come.

“I think we’d better call it for the night,” Viktor says, and his tone has taken on a certain tightness.

“That’s not what I meant, Viktor, I just - I mean that you’re… distracting. You’re really smart, and nice, and… you look nice, too. You’re… pretty.”

“And you,” Viktor says softly, “are drunk.” He gives an exhale, shaking his head. “It’s best not to continue when you’ll regret all of this in the morning.”

“Viktor- ”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “Tomorrow, I’ll act like nothing’s happened, and you won’t remember any of this. Good night.”

You watch him walk away. ─────────────────────

The next morning when you wake, a fuzz of nausea and a pounding headache, you find that he was wrong. You remember everything in excruciating detail.

The party. Getting drunk. What you’d said to Viktor.

You’re spared on no account. It won’t stop playing in your mind, over and over again, as though you might be able to reach a hand into your memory, grasp the words you hated so much, and shift the outcome. To stop yourself.

Will he hate you now?

It’s bad enough not having Viktor when you want him. It’s so much worse to lose him completely. It’s not like you can kid yourself that you’re somehow not the weakest link of Hextech - without you, they’d be fine. They’d built up this company from nothing but an idea and some loose experiments, and you were a convenient addition. They could probably find someone else for the job today, and you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

You’d embarrassed them. Both of them, at a Hextech event.

Oh, Janna.

Please don’t let them fire me.

You’re already late for the work day, and you know that you must look like a complete mess right now. You’d collapsed into bed with your dress and makeup still on, and you’re pretty sure you look like a zombie.

You might as well take a little longer and at least look somewhat presentable.

Sitting up brings a round of dizziness, but you ignore it in favor of your determination to make things right. You swallow down some medication for your headache, drink ridiculous amounts of water, shower and dress in something professional, and make yourself some breakfast.

At the end of it all, you almost feel like a person again.

Now comes your redemption. Somehow.

When you’ve arrived, you push open the door of the lab and find that it’s completely empty.

Of all the scenarios you’d prepared yourself for, this is not one of them.

“Jayce?” you call. “...Viktor?”

There’s no response.

You release your bag onto your desk with a distinctive clunk, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the room around you. The silence is thick in the air. It even seems to eat at your lungs.

The harshness of your breathing is jagged against the void of nothingness, but it’s better than the silence.

Smoothing down your clothes, you take a seat and open your notebook.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. They just went out for coffee. They’ll be back soon.

Five minutes tick away into ten, then into twenty. You can’t stop tapping your pencil against your paper. Every time you write, your notebook rips.

“Okay,” you say, eyeing the glittering gemstone a few feet in front of you. “They’re not coming back.” You let it sit for a moment, then go on. “If they were even here.”

Pushing your chair away from the desk with a screech, you gather up your things, sling your bag over your shoulder, and leave.

At least, you mean to.

Then you see Viktor, leaning against the wall in the hallway. The white button down he’s wearing is slightly wrinkled and rolled up to his elbows, a hint of his clavicle peeking out from underneath the maroon of his vest. He’s holding a cup of coffee, a bag of pastries draped over his elbow, and his other hand placed on his cane. His attention is fixed toward the kitchen - where you can hear Jayce excitedly rambling about something.

You do what you know best.

Panic.

Unfortunately, that panic means that your legs start moving toward him, despite all your logic telling you to move away. There’s a moment where he sees you and his face falls, and you really think that might kill you.

“Good morning,” he says. “Or… afternoon, rather.”

“Made it out of bed?” Jayce asks, grinning at you from the doorway of the kitchen. “I know I almost didn’t.”

“Yes,” Viktor states dryly, “Jayce is nursing a… tender hangover today.”

As much as you want to, you can’t talk to him here. Not in front of Jayce. How the hell are you going to get him alone? You need to properly apologize, or you’ll never forgive yourself.

“I have some medication in my bag,” you offer Jayce, but he just shakes his head.

“You look like you need it more than me,” he says.

You wince.

“Besides, that’s what coffee is for, right?” he continues.

“Right.” You laugh awkwardly, then go quiet.

The moment turns sour as more silence settles in. None of you seem to know what to say.

Viktor looks pointedly at the wall. Jayce pours himself more coffee. You reach for your bag, pulling at it to relieve the strain on your shoulder.

“Do you guys know if you’ll be coming back to the lab soon?” you ask.

“Definitely,” Jayce replies. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but any progress is better than none. Maybe just… more coffee first.”

Both of you look to Viktor.

“Yes,” he says. “I’d better… head in now.”

You leap at the opportunity, trying not to seem desperate.

“Do you mind if I come with you?” you ask.

“You don’t have to ask.” He meets your eyes briefly, then looks down to adjust the bag of pastries.

“See you two in there,” Jayce says, tilting his mug instead of waving. Then he draws a hand over his face, grimacing - perhaps at the harshness of the lights.

That’s the last you see of him before you’re rushing after Viktor, watching the repetitive motion of his cane clicking over the floor.

“I’m sorry I was late,” you say breathlessly, pulling the bag further up your shoulder. It’s really beginning to ache now, but that can be ignored.

“You don’t have to be sorry about that,” Viktor replies. “Jayce was late as well.”

“Yes, well, there are a lot of things I’m sorry for.”

He halts for a moment, seeming to know what you’re saying, then shakes his head.

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says. His tone softens. “I was… very rude to you. I’m sorry.”

“I was the rude one,” you protest. Viktor opens the door of the lab for you, and you hurry in, dropping your bag on your desk before turning back to him. “I know I was drunk, but it… it came out wrong. That’s not what I meant.”

Viktor gazes at you a moment, brows pinching together. Then he carefully sets down the pastries and his coffee at his desk and gives a sigh.

“May I ask what you meant to say, then?”

Your lips part, intent on answering him, but a sound behind you halts your actions. The door swings open and both of you freeze.

“Alright,” Jayce says, rubbing his hands together. “Time for progress.”

Two hours bleed by, each second wearing you thin. You feel like a shell of yourself by the time Jayce groans, plopping his head on the desk.

“I’m not even making progress,” he says. “I’ve been rereading the same sentence for the last two hours.”

“Go home, Jayce,” Viktor prompts, voice gentle. “Rest.”

Jayce doesn’t need to be told twice. He rises, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling, grabs his things, and waves.

“See you guys tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, hands beginning to clam up. “See you then.”

The door closes after him, and it leaves the two of you in an ear-piercing silence, pinning you to your chair. It must last maybe ten, fifteen seconds before Viktor speaks.

“You were saying?”

“Right.”

You clear your throat, fear fluttering in your stomach, your grip tightening on the desk. Can’t get any worse than last night, right?

“What I meant to say is that - that…” And your voice hitches, and your heart feels like it’s breaking your ribs, and you can’t, for the life of you, meet his gaze. “I like you, Viktor. A lot. So, when I said that you - do things to people, I meant that they… want you. Like me.”

“You… want me?” Viktor repeats softly.

You can only nod, finally meeting his gaze.

“I - I…”

He hesitates, and the wait eats you alive. Please, you manage to think. Don’t hate me.

Viktor takes in a deep, methodical breath, drumming his fingers against the desk as if deciding what to say. “I am flattered,” he decides on, “but I… feel that… our… relationship should remain - strictly professional.”

The way your stomach sinks is unlike any other. Unprecedented. You’ve heard those words before, conjured up in the back of your imagination, words you’d give anything to unhear. You’d known this was a possibility, but it’s so much worse in the flesh.

So much worse having to respond. Knowing that this is your reality - that any dwindling hope you might have had is washed away, swirling out of you, carried in the foamy waters of Viktor’s words.

“Of course,” you manage, words shaky. “Of course.” And you immediately take to burying yourself in your notes, tears burning at the rims of your eyes. It takes every ounce of your being not to cry - to invest your mind into your work, instead of what Viktor said.

You know that the moment you’re alone, it’ll hit you like a brick, but he’s already seen you cry once. You’d rather not repeat that experience - not when the touch of his handkerchief had burned you like a poker, searing against your cheek.

When it finally gets late enough for you to leave, you pack up your things, hands still shaking, a lump knotted into your throat, pulled tight, like a ribbon. As soon as you undo it, you know it’ll tear you apart.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you breathe, pushing your hair out of your face.

Viktor gives you a nod, barely looking at you before returning to his notes.

Shit.

The tears are flowing even as you walk down the hallway, trying to compose yourself but failing miserably. Thank Janna no one sees you on your way out. The halls are deserted at this hour.

Returning home like this is somehow even worse than last night. You could kick yourself for getting drunk like that. And now, telling him you’d wanted him. Why hadn’t you just… said that you admire him? How could you be so stupid?

He’s never going to talk to you again. You wouldn’t even be surprised if this was the final straw into you losing your job.

You’d give anything for this not to be real, but the pinching of your arm brings a very real, very sharp pain that you can’t deny. This is happening, no matter how much of a nightmare it seems.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the unbearable amounts of grief you’re experiencing, you find yourself scouring through job listings, tears streaming down your cheeks, puffing up your face.

Somewhere far away from here, you think. Where Jayce’s face isn’t plastered over every building. Where you won’t be reminded of the way Viktor barely looked at you every time the Hex Gates get used.

A few listings catch your eye. A dock worker for Bilgewater. A secretarial position in Noxus. A librarian for Piltover. Not ideal, but, well… better than Hextech. You send in your applications, grab a bottle of wine, and cry instead of drinking it.

You don’t ever want to be drunk again. You know that you’d only feel worse, and the way you’re feeling is bad enough. His words keep playing back to you, over and over again, relentless even as you clasp your hands over your ears.

A useless shield from your own thoughts.

He doesn’t want you. He hates you. You ruined everything.

And you have no defense from yourself. His expression had been so… shut off when you’d left. You’ve never seen him like that. Even when you’d been drunk, when he’d thought you hated him, he hadn’t been so closed off.

So you cry. And cry. And cry.

Your eyes swell, and your head aches like it’s been cracked open, and your nose won’t stop running - deeming the need for tissue after tissue, tossed into the trash. And even after all of that, it doesn’t soothe the deep ache in your chest, the hurt that seems to bleed out of you.

You just can’t stop.

Eventually, you change into the comfiest pair of clothes you own, tuck yourself into the blankets, and cry yourself to sleep.

─────────────────────

The next few weeks are hell.

You don’t get fired, but you don’t need to. Viktor barely speaks to you - not unless he has to. That lump in your throat remains permanent, and most nights you go home, you end up crying yourself to sleep.

Unreciprocated feelings, you could deal with. But this? Acting as if you’re strangers, or worse? Knowing that Viktor must despise you?

It makes you want to carve your emotions out of yourself with a butter knife and set them down neatly on a plate, never to feel again. Numbness cannot be worse than this. You’re absolutely sure of that.

Another formal Hextech event passes. This time you don’t get drunk, but it hardly matters. Viktor stays on the other side of the room, people fawning over him all night.

And that’s the final straw. You can’t stay here any longer, not when it’s like this.

But how the hell do you just… quit? What are you going to tell Jayce? Where will you go?

And two more days pass, the words choking in your throat, not wanting to escape your lips.

And then, one day, a letter comes for you. A thick letter, with the shining gold symbol of Noxus imprinted in it.

You’re opening it right away, eyes flitting over the words without any mind to where you are. It’s about your application for the secretary position, but it contains something even better. An offer to work among the Noxian scientists. They’d seen your experience with Hextech, and they’d pay you well.

Very well. More than you make now.

And not here, with Viktor’s silence tormenting you every day.

You must reread it a dozen times, hands shaking as you process the fact that you’ll have to leave. To likely never see Jayce or Viktor again.

“A letter from Noxus?” Viktor asks. You look up to find his gaze fixed on you, golden and deep. He’d been observing you the one time you hadn’t wanted him to.

“Is it about Hextech?” he adds.

Jayce has turned his interest toward you as well, gazing keenly from you to the letter you’re holding.

You quickly set it down.

“I- It’s a job offer,” you say softly. “They’re… offering me a position in the Noxian labs.”

Viktor’s expression doesn’t imperceptibly change, but there’s something that shifts in him as you say that, something you can’t really explain.

He gazes at you for a moment, then inhales deeply and gives a brief nod of his head.

“Ah. I see.”

There’s a silence as he returns to his notes.

“Are you going to take the job?” Jayce asks.

The disappointment in his expression makes you feel incredibly, awfully guilty. You don’t even know how to answer. You can’t pretend it isn’t tempting you. But is it really worth it?

Yes, your mind sings. No more pain.

At your silence, Jayce clears his throat. “I couldn’t blame you if you did,” he says. “There are a lot of opportunities at Noxus. And… Well, I know they must pay more. So. If you wanted to leave, we’d understand.”

You turn your gaze to Viktor, whose grip has tightened on his pencil. He continues to write vigorously, the harshness of it tearing through his paper. Then the pencil snaps.

You all flinch, including Viktor, whose cheeks have flushed, soft pink against porcelain.

“I…” Viktor says, but he doesn’t finish. He just shuts his eyes, pinching his brow, still holding half of his pencil.

“Vik?” Jayce asks, concern pressing into his brow. “You okay?”

Viktor just shakes his head, taking in a shaky breath. “Excuse me,” he finally says, reaching for his cane. “I have… pressing business to attend to.”

He’s leaving before you can even reply to what he’d said.

You don’t see him for the rest of the day. Wherever he’s gone off to, he doesn’t appear to be coming back.

His absence drives you insane - an itch deep under your skin that you can’t scratch. Is he upset with you for leaving? What else are you supposed to do - tolerate his coldness? Pretend like it isn’t ripping you apart every time you see him, a new dagger of ice in your ribs every day?

No. You can’t. Not like this. Not when he treats you as if you aren’t there most days. Not when you both know how you feel. Even Jayce had said that he’d understand if you left.

Hope flutters under your ribs for a moment. Could Viktor be upset because -? but you shove it down.

No. He’d given you his answer.

When it gets late, you pack up your things, bid Jayce goodnight, and head home, tucking the letter under your arm.

It takes you two hours to decide that you’ll do it. You’ll quit, and take the position at Noxus. Two hours of remembering how these past few weeks have been - how cold, how awful, how dejected.

You write your acceptance letter to Noxus, packing it into a neat envelope before sending it out. Then you pen your resignation letter for Hextech.

You try not to think of how crestfallen Jayce had looked, or the way Viktor’s pencil had snapped. You try not to think of the flush on Viktor’s cheeks, or the undeniable bitterness behind his words before he’d left, or how much you still want him, even after everything.

You’re so tired of crying.

You put up a shield instead, masking your feelings behind logic. You’re allowed to take this job. It pays more, Jayce had said so himself. You’re not an awful person for leaving. You’re only doing what’s best for yourself.

That logical mask remains until the next day, when you find Viktor alone in the lab, looking unkempt and exhausted. Dark circles rim his under eyes, his hair sticking up in all directions. You look away briefly, then gather the strength to meet his eyes. You’d hoped that you’d be handing this to Jayce, but since he’s not here, you have to work with what you have.

“I… wanted to hand in my resignation,” you say. “I’ve decided to take the position at Noxus.”

Viktor gently takes the paper from you, eyes flitting over the words before he sets it down. His shoulders seem to slump, but you pretend not to notice, a lump growing in your throat.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” you manage to choke out, the rehearsed words spilling from you. “I can’t tell you how helpful it was.”

Viktor just nods, his gaze still fixed toward your letter.

“You’ve always… stood out,” he says. “Your talent. Noxus is right to see it.”

He doesn’t sound bitter, like he had the day before. Instead, he sounds… exhausted. Worn down. Like he’s lost all the fight in him.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I appreciate that.”

You hesitate, wanting to say more, but not knowing what to say.

“Viktor…”

“Good luck at Noxus,” he says. “I don’t doubt you will excel.” ─────────────────────

You might resist the urge to cry when you pack up your things from the lab and hug Jayce goodbye - he’d found you in the hallway as you were leaving - but by the time you’re home, you’re sobbing again.

“Oh, for Janna’s sake,” you mutter. “Haven’t I cried enough?”

But this feels different. This feels utterly permanent. Sharp pain, not dull or throbbing. You can barely hold yourself together, and for some reason, despite all the logic you’d had last night and this morning, it feels like you’ve made the wrong decision.

Still, you can’t exactly go crawling back to Hextech. You’d accepted the job at Noxus, and you’re leaving, for better or worse.

You work your way into the night - packing up boxes, throwing things away, trying not to cry at the sight of memories. A picture of you and Viktor - one that Jayce had taken when you’d first started. He looks so different than how he’d looked today. For one, he’s smiling, eyes bright. You’re smiling too. You’d been so excited to get the position - it had been your dream.

You’d worked so hard. Been so nervous in the interview that you’d spilled coffee all over yourself, leaving a sepia stain on your skirt.

But the two of them had been so friendly. Viktor had grabbed you some napkins to help clean up. Jayce had dabbed up the coffee that’d gone on the floor. You’d all laughed it off, and spent the night talking about research until Jayce finally told you you’d gotten the job.

How had it come to this? Sitting alone on your floor sniffling, packing up to leave, never to see Jayce or Viktor again? How had you been reduced to a nobody with a crush on Viktor that hurt you so badly that you couldn’t even focus on your work?

Maybe Noxus will be a good thing. Maybe there, you’ll have a fresh start, and you won’t have to worry about anything else. Maybe.

That thought is the only thing that keeps you packing.

It starts pouring rain outside - heavy, pounding down against the pavement. It’s so rare that it rains here. Eventually, it lightens a little, but it’s still coming down. You can hear the patter of it against your windows.

What if this isn’t the right choice? What if you’re making a horrible mistake?

And, as if on cue, a knock sounds at your door.

You start, getting to your feet before moving to open it. Is it Jayce, maybe? Had you forgotten something at the lab?

But when you pull it open, you find Viktor. He’s soaking wet from the rain - completely drenched, his white button-down plastered to his chest and see-through, strands of dark hair clinging to his forehead. He’s tossing his cane back and forth in his hands - a nervous habit of his that you’ve seen too many times to count.

“Viktor?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

You’re too shocked to say anything else. Instead you stay frozen at the door, looking at him.

He gazes at you desperately, but only says your name.

He’s shivering.

“I… wait, what am I doing?” you ask, stirring from your trance. “Come in out of the rain! I’ll get you a towel.”

You leave the door open behind you, and Viktor follows you in, dripping water onto your floor.

You’re immediately rushing to find a towel among the half-packed boxes, pulling out a clean, fluffy one for him to use.

“Here,” you prompt, handing it over to him. His hand lingers on yours as he takes it, tucking it under his arm but not using it.

“Thank you,” he says. He goes back to fidgeting with his cane.

You’ve never seen him like this. It’s scaring you.

“Are you alright?” you ask. “Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor? Should I call someone?”

Viktor just shakes his head.

You hesitate, then take a seat on the couch, watching him.

“Can I… ask what this is about?”

Viktor takes in a deep, shuddering breath, closing his eyes and pinching his nose, just like he had yesterday.

“I…” he starts, the word hesitant. Then he shakes his head again, steadying his cane on the floor, opening his eyes and looking directly at you.

“I’ve been trying for these past few months to shut my feelings away, but I can’t. These past few days, especially. I - I know the offer at Noxus is very, very good. I should want you to take it. But I don’t.”

He breathes in, hand shaking on top of his cane, voice going soft as he continues.

“What you said to me those weeks ago… I've never been able to get it out of my mind. I've felt the same, always. Since you started. But I never had the courage to... pursue those feelings. Now you're leaving, and I can't help but feel that I've made a horrible mistake.

“I cannot tell you how sorry I am. How much I regret the way I’ve behaved. I cannot make up for it enough. Please. Allow me to tell you how fervently I admire you.”

His chest rises and falls again - another inhale.

“I love you,” he says. “I can’t pretend I don’t anymore. I do. I don’t care if - if I’m not being professional. If there's any part of you that still wants to stay, I must be selfish and ask you to remain at Hextech. Stay."

Your shock is beyond words.

It pins you to your seat. Freezes time. Turns you to ice, then the consistency of syrup, then roaring flame. All you can do is stare at him, feeling like you’re melting into your couch. This can’t be real.

But it is.

His eyes are wide as he waits for you to answer, still trembling, face white as a ghost. You know that feeling. You’ve been there before. Everything he’d just said - every single word - it’s what you’d been wanting then.

He wants you.

Loves you. He’d told you he loves you.

Janna. Is this real?

You pinch yourself again. There comes the pain. The sharp pain, but this time it’s not a nightmare turned real - it’s a lovely dream.

Viktor huffs as he watches you, a dry, disbelieving chuckle, but remains where he is.

Real.

And so you finally manage to get to your feet, albeit unsteadily. Daring to approach him as he breathes in, still out of breath. The want in his gaze is unmistakable.

You don’t have words for him. Those aren’t coming to you quite yet. So you give him what you can.

Cautiously, you place a hand on his chest, still soaked to the bone. Then you lean in a little closer, nose brushing against his.

Viktor gets the message. He kisses you.

How does it feel like to kiss someone who’s soaking wet? Someone who survives on coffee, and probably hasn’t slept in a good twenty-four hours?

It feels wonderful.

You don’t care that he’s wet - you don’t care that you’ve started crying, tears streaming down your cheeks. All you care about is the way he reaches for you, entangling you in his arms, cane clattering to the floor.

Despite everything, he’s warm - warm lips pressed to yours, warm skin under your palm. Your hands tangle in the mop of his hair, and you pull away to laugh, nudging your nose against his cheek.

“You’re really good at making me cry, you know that?” you ask, brushing tears from your cheek.

Viktor frowns, but you pull him in for another kiss before he can start apologizing again.

Then another.

Beneath the coffee, you taste alcohol on his tongue - just a hint, but unmistakable.

“Are you drunk?” you pull away to ask, slightly out of breath.

“No,” he says, scowling. “One glass of wine. For courage.”

“It must have warmed you up,” you tease, reaching down for the towel that’d fallen out of his grasp. You take it in your hands and towel his hair until it’s some semblance of dry. It fluffs up, looking wild until you manage to tame it into its usual disarray - sticking up by the ears.

Viktor leans into your touch, keeping his eyes closed until you’re done.

“I don’t think that rain is stopping any time soon,” you tell him. “Why don’t you stay the night, and tomorrow I’ll write to Noxus to let them know that I won’t be taking that position?”

“Yes,” Viktor agrees, giving you a soft smile. “I like that plan.”

He entwines his hand with yours, grip warm and firm against your palm. Then he hesitates.

“That night - when you were drunk. You said I was… pretty. Do you really think that about me?”

You laugh, cradling his cheek with your free hand.

“Of course,” you say. “I’ve always thought that.”

“You… you were drunk,” Viktor says, and his cheeks have flushed a deep pink. “I wasn’t sure if I’d even heard it right, much less if you meant it.”

“I definitely meant it. I love you, too, you know.”

All the tension releases from Viktor’s shoulders.

“I am very glad to hear that,” he says.

And he pulls you in for another kiss.

─────────────────────

Two weeks later, things have gone back to a relative state of normal.

Jayce had accepted your re-application to Hextech with a bone-crushing hug and a huge smile.

Noxus, on the other hand, had expressed their deep disappointment at your refusal, extending an open-ended invitation to come back if you ever wanted, though you doubt you’ll ever take them up on that.

As for you and Viktor, well, the two of you have spent the last two weeks with hardly a moment apart.

It’s a little strange to confess your love before a first date, but you wouldn’t have it any other way as you wait on the corner, bouncing on your heels with excitement.

Coffee. Of course he’d invited you out for coffee.

He looks tired as he approaches, but he lights up when he sees you, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

“Ready, my love?” he asks.

“Always.”

And the two of you head into the coffee shop, notes from the lab tucked under your arm, ready for another day of Hextech.

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor x reader arcane #arcane viktor #viktor #mywriting #viktor arcane

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