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buckybarnesowl · 2 years

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Start Over - Part II

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky and you wasted no time getting close after you return. But your new relationship is tested when Steve sends you both back to the same Hydra base to retrieve the hard drive you didn’t get the first time. The hard drive that contains a piece of Bucky's past.

Word count: 4.6k (that’s like five drabbles combined, right?)

Warnings: violence, blood and injuries, depression, worthlessness, trauma processing, consensual loving smut (at the end)

A/n: This is my final requested “drabble” and it’s a combination of five asks that were so similar I couldn’t separate them. So thank you to @dandelionsforbucky @babebr @darknessandsnapdragons + two anons for requesting this—y’all gave me the inspiration to write a second part to the favourite fic of this celebration: Start Over. (read part 1 first if you haven't already).

My sincere gratitude to everyone that sent in asks, read and shared these one-shots, and accepted that I couldn’t write a drabble to save my life. Speaking of which, to you writers that manage to encompass so much depth and emotion in less than 1k words, I hold so much admiration and appreciation in my heart for you. Lastly, somehow in this short time I surpassed 500 followers so my thanks to each and every one of you for following along and reading and sharing my fics. It means the most.

The order:

Entrée (appetizer): “And when were you planning on sharing that piece of information with me?”; “How could you possibly think that about me?”; “Don’t look at me like that.”; “Don’t even think about it.”; “Please tell me you know what you’re doing.”

Plat Principal (main course): “Les Heros” - MCU canon-ish

Garniture (sides): Caretaking (pain/sick/injury)

Déssert (dessert): “Sucré/Piquante/Salé” - Hurt/comfort + fluff + Angst with happy ending

Part I | My Masterlist

The infection got worse before it got better. As soon as the quinjet landed Bucky carried you to the medbay himself. The emergency team dressed in scrubs, waiting on the tarmac with a gurney and IV equipment, weren’t too happy about it. Dr. Cho made sure you were stable before finally giving in to Bucky’s persistence of moving you to your own room.

Your fever broke after the third day. Your eyes adjusted to the light of your room as you took stock of the IV and vitals monitor attached to your arm. The machine had been silenced, thank the gods. You looked up to see if any other equipment had been brought into your room when your eyes settled on Bucky. His soft snores brought a smile to your face, and you couldn’t help but giggle. The sound woke him and he was immediately at the side of your bed, his vibranium hand palming your cheeks and forehead to check for fever despite the number showing on the screen beside you.

“You’re awake.”

“I am. Didn’t mean to wake you, though.”

Bucky shook his head in an attempt to brush off your comment. “I’ve been waiting,” he said with an emotion you couldn’t place. He replaced his cooling hand with a cloth to dry the sweat from your brow and neck. Then he reached for the cup next to you, lining the straw up with your lips. You gratefully drank.

“How long have I been out?” you asked after he had set the cup back down on your nightstand. You stretched your legs and wiggled your toes, suddenly feeling the stiffness throughout your body.

“Two and half days. Basically since Stevie picked us up.”

You groaned, closing your eyes as your memories came flooding back. Bucky had woken you the morning after your misunderstanding was finally corrected. You thought you were well enough to walk the few kilometres to the pick up point. Bucky ended up sweeping you into his arms when you collapsed after barely making it 500 metres. The rest was fuzzy. A mix of feverish voices and faces and words. Bucky always in the background somehow.

“Thanks for, uh, carrying me.”

“Which time?” he grinned.

“Which—ugh, I’m so sorry about all of this,” you waved your hand with the wires attached.

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. It got us here, didn’t it?” Bucky took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

“I s’pose it did,” you sighed, content to revel in whatever was igniting between you two. “Okay, well I think it’s about time these came out and I took a walk to stretch my legs.”

Your reached to unclip the monitor from your finger, then remove the IV but Bucky swatted it away before you even fully connect with your other hand.

“Don’t even think about it, doll. Your temp is still at 100.1, I ain’t letting you out of that bed until you hit at least 99.5.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Barnes,” you groaned.

“Oh, so we’re back to ‘Barnes’ now, are we?” he huffed.

“Yeah, we are. What? Don’t look at me like that,” you pouted, realizing that he was right and that you still didn’t feel one hundred percent.

Bucky chuckled to himself. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

“Gods, I sure hope not,” you shot back with a grin.

“Get some more rest, doll.”

“Only if you come keep me company. I’m sweaty, but I’m a pretty good cuddler.”

“Yeah, I know.” His gravelly voice carried his reply, low and soft. Shimmying out of his jogging pants, he walked around the bed and climbed in next to you. “You comfy?” he asked as you nestled into him, resting your arm with the IV and monitor on top of his chest.

“Very,” you said with an exhale.

“Good. Rest up, doll.”

Your breathing evened out in no time. Bucky followed close behind.

—

Two months later Steve was sending you and Bucky back to the same base to retrieve the hard drive you were supposed to obtain the first time. Under normal circumstances, the mission would have been closed and filed as unsuccessful. However you never even made it to the west wing of the base like you had been instructed, so the chances of Hydra knowing what you were after were so low it was worth the risk of sending you back. Heck, you didn’t even know what you were after.

Steve had put an ops team on surveillance as soon as you two had returned. Hydra cleared out the base slowly, but had left a skeleton team behind that you and Bucky were more than capable of handling. It meant there was likely something there still worth guarding. It was possible they had already cleared out the archive in the west wing that you were supposed to access the first time around. But Bucky and Steve were willing to take that chance. That archive was long forgotten by most. Though not by the two super soldiers. They knew what was housed in that base, stored behind what the found blueprints revealed would be trick doors leading down two stories to an underground room no bigger than a janitor’s closet.

Decades of footage all transferred onto a single hard drive. Conditioning. Torture. Screams. Memories surfacing only to be erased by enough voltage to kill a man. Unless that man had some underground Nazi faction knock-off serum running through his veins.

Bucky wanted the footage out of Hydra’s hands. Needed it out of their hands. He didn’t know what he’d do with it once he had it, he just couldn’t stand knowing Hydra still had pieces of him locked away. And Steve wanted this for his friend. It’s why he was covering for you both to give you another chance at completing the mission. The mission you realized wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D.-ordered mission, but a plan between two friends. A dangerous one.

“And when were you planning on sharing that piece of information with me?” you grilled the two of them after Steve briefed you on the second run of the classified mission, revealing what was actually housed on the hard drive he was assigning you to retrieve. Your heart raced as your mind began to comprehend what had been at stake this whole time.

“Well, we were planning on never—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I mean, I get it. Trust me, I do,” you placated in Bucky’s direction. “It’s just…” you sighed, the complexity of it all bearing down on your chest. “I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, Bucky. It’s just, this might have helped me understand what was really going on the first time.”

A sudden knot formed in your stomach as you thought sheepishly about that night at the safehouse when you went off about his “vendetta” against Hydra.

“Look, doll, I know. And I’m sorry.”

You could see the shame flooding his face, his brow pinching together. “Buck, you don’t owe me an apology.”

“She’s right,” Steve chimed in, shooting his friend his signature don’t argue with me look. “Now let's get back to work.”

You spent the next few hours going and re-going over the plan. It was simple. Enter from the southeast door undetected, blow up the north wing to draw any guards from the west and south. Then while Bucky holds off what remains of the guards, you double back and enter the secret tunnel at the southeast wing that connects to the west tunnel and ends at the secret door.

Bucky swore on all of his family’s gravestones that he would follow the plan this time. You knew that he would. It was your own plan you were worried about.

Steve hugged Bucky with an intimacy you could tell they had never shown in public before. A closeness from decades past, left in the past though not fully forgotten. Their nearly silent words meant for their ears alone made you look away to give them privacy, despite your lack of super soldier hearing.

Suddenly Steve’s arms were around you. You’d always been close with him, being one of the first agents to work on his adjustment after he was pulled from the ice. But ever since he found out about you and Bucky finally realizing what the rest of the team had figured out ages ago, he started treating you as if you were truly family. It was nice. Which is why you chuckled when you felt him tuck something into your hidden pocket on your sleeve.

“Keep an eye out for him, Y/n,” Steve smiled, releasing his embrace.

“Always do.”

You heard Bucky scoff. “You both know I’m the only reason you’re still standing here.”

“He’s probably right,” Steve admitted with a chuckle.

“Probably,” you patted him on the arm in the exact spot he’d left something for you to find when Bucky wasn’t looking, your way of letting him know you got it.

A quick nod and a few more goodbyes and be safes and you were off.

—

You landed the jet in the same pickup location Bucky had carried you to last time. According to the ops team, the cover was still solid and there had been no action within a ten kilometre radius of the landing site or the safehouse. Bucky started to unload your gear to stash at the safehouse while you prepped the cloaking shield on the jet. When you were certain he was out of sight you reached into the hidden pocket to pull out the tiny folded piece of paper Steve had left you.

Don’t come back with that drive.

You knew what he meant. You already planned on destroying it the second you found it, along with anything else that might contain footage of Bucky’s years of torture. He didn’t need help re-living it. You knew he already was, more nights than not.

He had opened up to you about the nightmares, what he saw in his dreams. What he knew were actually memories, no matter how distant they felt. He admitted that sleeping next to you was the first time he had felt like he had found peace.

Bucky saying you brought his mind peace did things to your heart that you didn’t know were possible. Aside from Clint, you had always assumed working as a field agent for S.H.I.E.L.D meant a life of solitude. You had accepted it. It didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun once in a while. But the idea of maintaining a long-term relationship when your day job was taking down an underground Nazi faction that just wouldn’t die? Well, it didn’t seem like having a life partner was in the cards for you.

And then James Buchanan Barnes pressed a damp cloth to your forehead and suddenly love wasn’t something that only existed for civilians or in fanfiction. It was infiltrating the quiet moments of your day. Making your breath catch when he snuck up behind you to wrap his contrasting arms around your waist. Sending a surge of warmth to your core when his lips touched your neck as he breathed sweet words into your ear.

“Smell good, doll.”

“Can’t believe I could’ve been doin’ this the whole time.”

“How’d I get so lucky?”

You devoured every word. Savouring the sweetness, the spice, the warmth that dripped down your throat and pooled between your thighs. You knew each other well enough from being teammates over the past two years. It made falling head first into the intimacy you found at the safe house as easy as breathing.

Which is why you lost all of your oxygen when you made your way into the tiny room the size of a broom closet and rolled the footage contained on the first of five drives you found. You had to be sure, you told yourself.

You couldn’t control the sick that lurched out of your throat the second you saw him in that chair. Dripping with sweat. Bruising and broken skin visible from behind the contact pads pressed into his forehead. Chest heaving as he obediently bit down on the mouth guard.

You saw the fury in his eyes. But there was also resignation. He couldn’t fight it. You watched as that resignation morphed into pure terror. The knowing. He knew what he was about to lose. You knew what he was about to lose.

Your heart was a pile of broken shards. Thank the gods there was no audio hooked up.

“Y/n? Y-you copy?” Bucky’s voice came in ragged over your shared comms, snapping you away from the horrendous footage.

“Y-yeah. I copy. I’ve got what we came for. Meet you at the rendezvous point in—” you glanced at your watch, “—less than four.”

“Make it three.”

“Copy that.”

He sounded out of breath. Like he was struggling. More guards must’ve shown up, you thought to yourself.

You quickly checked all five drives. Four out of five were all from the Winter Soldier project. You didn’t watch more than a few seconds this time. You pocketed the fifth that appeared to contain footage of other genetic projects before you smashed the others into unrecognizable piles of wire and metal. Then you poured the fuel capsules out over the wreckage, pressed the automatic button for the door and launched the mini-grenade into the room just as the door was closing shut. The explosion blew the door right off and you saw with your own eyes there was no way anyone could salvage those drives.

You ran back down the tunnel the way you had come, jumping over the trail of bodies you had left on your way in.

When you popped out of the tunnel fifty metres from the southwest wing entrance, your heart nearly stopped. Bucky was on the ground, back against the concrete wall next to a metal door that was barely hanging onto its frame. It wasn’t the pile of bodies in front of him that caught your breath. It wasn’t the gun he had aimed at you, likely startled by your movement. It wasn’t the blood covering his face, making him blink uncontrollably and streaking his chestnut waves. It was his sporadic breathing. His chest heaving as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you screamed out, running towards him.

A shot rang out and your ears were ringing. You turned around as the last guard dropped to the ground, not five feet behind you.

“Got ‘im,” Bucky choked out.

“Yeah, you did, Buck,” you confirmed through your tears. “You hurt? Look at me, please. Tell me where you’re hurt.”

Bucky’s eyes were soft as you held his head between both of your hands. “I—” he coughed hard into your chest. “Ugh, sorry doll. I’m, I’m ok. Maybe a few cracked ribs, but I’ll be fine.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky, you looked like you were dying.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you. Just a lot more guards than we expected.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you agreed, fully registering the number of bodies piled up in front of Bucky.

“You got the drives?”

“Yeah, I got ‘em.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

He let out a shaky breath, eyes closing as he leaned his head back into the wall of the base.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping yet, Sarge. Let’s get you up and out of here.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, opening his eyes to meet your worried gaze. “I’m okay, doll. I swear.”

You sighed with a bit of relief at his assurance. Then helping him up, you let him put his weight on you as you made it back to the safehouse.

—

“Please tell me you know what you’re doing,” he whined as you readied yourself to stitch up a nasty cut on his forehead.

“I’ll have you know I passed my emergency medic course top of the class,” you huffed with a pointed look.

“‘Lotta good that did you last time we were here,” he muttered in jest.

“That infection was not my fault, and you know it. That base is older than you are, who knows what kind of grimy bacteria they had lurking in there. Not all of us have super soldier immune systems, you know.”

“I know, sweetheart. Just teasin’ ya. Ow! Fuck,” he hissed as you made your way across the wound with your needle and thread.

“Oh, quit being a baby. I’m almost done already,” you muttered. “Just one more… aaaand, there.” You tied off the stitches, nodding in approval at your handiwork.

Bucky checked it out in the mirror before pressing a kiss into your forehead. “Not bad, doll. Better than I could have done myself.”

You preened at his compliment.

After a dinner of canned soup from the pantry, you lit a fire in the wood stove and the two of you curled up on sofa in the tiny living space. Your were pressed against the back of the couch, holding Bucky between your legs. Both of his arms held one of yours while you used the other to trace your fingers through his hair.

You were lost in your thoughts, attempting to compartmentalize what you had seen on the drives. His eyes. Those were his eyes. Everything else was the soldier. But the anguish. The terror. That was him. Your Bucky. This man between your arms who deserved the world.

You sniffed, not fully registering that you had started to tear up.

Bucky groaned as he straightened himself so he could face you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I just… it’s nothing. This mission just felt… long. Guess it might be time for a break,” you chuckled, wiping your eyes in attempts at lightening the mood.

“Nuh-uh. You’re not getting off that easy. We go on plenty of missions. Never seen you cry after one. Please, Y/n.” His eyes flooded with worry.

You couldn’t lie to him.

“Shit,” you whispered, closing your eyes and taking a breath before coming clean.

You had rang Steve as soon as you returned to the safehouse while Bucky showered. The plan was for him to break the news about the destroyed drives to Bucky when you landed tomorrow. That way Bucky could be mad at Steve for taking the choice away from him. It took some convincing, but no one could say no to Steve Rogers so in the end you obliged.

So much for the plan.

“I destroyed them,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

“You… what?”

“The hard drives. There was only one that didn’t have yo— the Winter Soldier on it,” you corrected.

“I…. multiple drives?… Those weren’t… that wasn’t the plan, Y/n,” Bucky said sternly. His hands were balled into fists and you could see he was trying to calm his breathing.

“It was Steve’s and my plan. But I would have done the same thing a million times over, with or without his directive. You didn’t need to see what was on those tapes. Not again.” Your voice chilled as the footage you had seen flashed before your eyes.

Bucky took a long, steady breath. Then suddenly something washed over him and his eyes were wide when he turned to look at you.

“You, you saw?”

You nodded as tears started streaming down your face. “Not all of it. Enough.”

Bucky’s hand started trembling. Suddenly he pushed himself off the couch. “I’m going to bed. I, uh, goodnight Y/n.”

“Bucky, wait!”

He stopped, though he didn’t turn around.

“Please don’t shut me out. You never asked for any of this. You shouldn’t have to carry it alone. Let me help you.”

“You can’t help me!” he erupted as he turned to face you again. “Why can’t you or Steve understand that?! Nothing you or Steve or I do now will ever undo the horrors I caused.” His gaze had left you, now focused on his hands that he slowly turned over, as if he was watching something dripping through his fingers and onto the hardwood floor beneath him.

“Don’t you see, Buck? It wasn’t you. It was never you. You were trapped inside and they wouldn’t let you out. I could see it. They tried to erase you, but they didn’t win. They never got you, Buck.” Your voice had hushed to a near whisper. “It wasn’t you. None of it was you.”

Bucky scoffed. “You and Stevie are like peas in a goddamn pod. I’m not some fucking charity case for you to fix. Does it make yourselves feel like you’re doing some good in this shithole of a world? Tryin’ to save me?”

“How could you think that? About me? About Steve?” The tears were flowing steadily now. You stood up and made your way to where he was standing at the edge of the hallway. “God, Bucky, we love you. Don’t you see that? We both fucking love you and would do anything for you.” You pressed a hand to his cheek, testing the waters. He flinched, but didn’t pull away. “You deserve to be loved. I just wish you could see that.” You let your hand drop, brushing past him to the room you had taken the first night you had slept here.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you sighed, closing the door behind you.

You didn’t bother muffling your sobs as you pressed your face into the pillow. You knew he could hear you no matter what. You expected him to be upset about the hard drives, but you never thought he would shut you out completely. Then again, you couldn’t even imagine the depth of emotions he was wading through. You took some deep breaths, calming the phantom sobs as the tears seemed to dry for the time being.

Not a minute later you heard the creaking of the floor outside your door.

“You can come in,” you sniffed.

You heard the door open and shut. Then footsteps, barely audible, padding across the floor. The bed sank and then suddenly Bucky’s arms were around you. The tears started up again.

“I’m so sorry we took that choice away from you. We should have let you decide. It wasn’t right. I’m so fucking sorry,” you sobbed into his chest.

“Shhhh it’s ok. I know why you did it. And I’m grateful.”

Your breath hitched and you managed to shut off the seemingly endless supply of water flooding your eyes this evening. “Y-you are?” you asked, putting enough distance between you so you could look at him.

“I am. I… you’re right. I was mad that you decided for me. But I was even more mad that you had to see it. I never wanted anyone to come within a mile of that. It’s why I wanted to destroy the tapes myself. But I realized I probably would have watched them and that wouldn’t have done me any good. So I’m grateful you took that temptation away.”

You pressed a hand to his chest, fiddling with his dog tags for a moment, letting his words settle around you both.

“So, you love me, huh?”

Your eyes shot up from his neck to the smirk now plastered on his face. Heat rushed to your cheeks. And your core. “I uh, yeah. I do,” you confirmed, finding your confidence as you spoke.

“Good, ‘cause I love you too.” He smiled down at you before leaning in to press his lips to yours. The heat travelled through you like an electrical surge. Suddenly you couldn’t get enough of his lips. His skin. His hands weren’t on you enough. His chest not close enough.

“Doll, my ribs,” he chuckled out.

“Oh, fuck! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just… might need to take it easy tonight,” he groaned softly.

“Let me take care of you this time,” you whispered in his ear.

You felt him shudder at your words.

“Is that a yes?” You pushed up from the bed, already preparing yourself.

“Yeah, doll,” he muttered low and soft, eyes fluttering before he sucked in a breath when you removed his t-shirt you had borrowed. “Fuck, you’re a goddess.”

“Hate to break it to you, Sarge, but I’m mortal.” You removed your panties, then his boxers, before straddling his left thigh.

“God, you’re so wet already,” he said, feeling your slick on his leg. He pressed two metal fingers into your clit and started rubbing slowly, with intention. Your eyes fluttered shut, losing yourself for an instant. A moan escaped your lips and your eyes shot open again to find his free hand. You brought his fingers up to your mouth and sucked on them one by one, never breaking your gaze on the chiseled man lying beneath you.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, the profanities falling out of him faster than he could register.

You could already feel your core tighten. You weren’t ready yet.

You lifted yourself off of his thigh, slowly dragging yourself up his chest, careful not to snag the tape around his ribs. You were on all fours, hovering over him, pressing your lips into every inch of skin you saw. His breathing stopped when your mouth traipsed over the scarring on his shoulder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you whispered into his skin. “Every scar. Every muscle. Every limb. I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

He chuckled, as if you were joking. “You’re crazy, doll.”

“Only for you,” you replied without a thought. Then you kissed him, your mouths barely making contact. A mix of hot breath and anticipation as you traced his lips, his nose, his cheeks. Another shudder wracked through his body as you trailed across his chin, behind his ear, and down his neck to his shoulder. Shifting yourself slightly, you leaned back and settled your other leg on the outside of his right thigh. Then lifting your hips, you lowered yourself slowly, taking time to adjust to his size.

You had never been on top before. Not that it was a flat out rule, it was more of a silent understanding. Bucky felt like he needed to take care of you, like he needed to control the pace. Just in case. For the first time, he was enjoying this new view. Words evaded him as he gazed up at your bare form, glowing above him with the moonlight flooding through the small window of the safe house in the woods. In that moment, your silhouette at his hips, a glint in your eyes shining down on him, he let go. He gave in to you.

No more words were said. Only breathy moans filled the room as your hands clasped, pressing into the mattress while you both rocked each other into a shared ecstasy.

After cleaning yourselves off, you were back in bed, his arms finding their way back around you as you carefully rested your hands on his upper chest so as to avoid his ribs.

“I fucking love you, doll. So much,” he breathed into your forehead as he pressed a kiss to your hairline.

“I love you too,” you assured sweetly.

“Thank you. For loving me. For letting me love you back.”

You sighed at his admission. His softness. At him. The Bucky that Hydra never got to, no matter how hard they tried. The Bucky that found cracks in his mind to hide in, biding his time until he knew the coast was clear. The Bucky that you got a glimpse of two months ago and never wanted to lose again.

He was here. He was yours. And you’d spend the rest of your days making sure he knew he was loved. That he deserved love. That he was free.

la fin

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sunshineistyping · 2 years

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The Dandy Saga/Various Headcannons

Did I link these for my own enjoyment and extra insight into my Human Sun Stories? Yes. Am I going to keep updating it with any new questions I get about the Dandy Saga/Human!Sun or Moon storyline? Also yes.

———————————————————————

The Great Dandy Saga

First Thoughts

The Beggining

I raise you one more

So many names for one single Sunny man

Moon, You can’t escape the Dandy Saga.

Moonie Is SOFT

Moon and Gregory Interacting

Pretty last name perhaps?

Soft Moon Content

Gregory says no to feelings

Copying the Space Man

They’re 100% multilingual

Gregory hates feelings 🤢

Sun’s Tattoo

Sun’s S/O Doodles In Game Sun

Suns Outfit but add Spice

Hugging Human!Moon and Human!Sun

Sun is a very stressed man

Snickerdoodle The Snake

Mythology Lover Sun

Don’t Cry my Dandelion

FEEDING MY CHILDREN MOON CONTENT

Sun + Spicy Joke

FOR THE CULTURE

Moon + Stripper = Stripper AU

Moon rock

DIVORCE.

Daddy

Lectures out of love

Moons Tattoos

Human Moons Voice

Defense Mode (Normal Au)

Simps

Paddles and Whips

Other Shit I post

Roxannes Problems with Head Pats

You have other accounts 😦

Monster Fucker Content?????

You CHECKED?

Roxy Chooses You

Cute Monty content ft. ROXY

Night Guard is Tired and A Teen lol

How the Glamrocks know each other

Soft Gator Boy

Monty Thirst

M-Marriage?

Roxy’s Tattoos

Teen Vanessa is Tired ft. G. Freddy

Writer is soft for her followers

Where everyone works

My writing process

Favorite character to write for???

Would it freak them out? Idk actually

New phone, who dis? Ft. Material Gworl!

Just Canon tinGz

Gregory, who is your father?

How is everyone connected?

🐱 anon, you are so nice, thank you

☕️ anon, my beloved Lol

/Plat is a given!

I LOVE this Family your honor

IDK but they’re mixed

Monty do you like cats or dogs?

My Pronouns!

Security Breach Gang play DND

Writing tips

Freddy has a Mustache?

Their Music Tastes

Can they dance?

Chica Would Propose First

DJ MM

DJ MM’s Puppy + Connections to the gang

DJ MM is a bit of a bully

Ice Ice Baby

Random Moon and DJ MM HC’s

DJ MM VOICE CLAAAAIM

DJ SIMPS COME GET Y’ALL JUICE

DJ MM Spice

ROYAL AU

S/O Proposes to The Gang

S/O proposes to DJ MM

Dangerous S/O

S/O proposes to Burntrap

Weed Smokin

Burntrap HC’s

More Burntrap

Glamrock Bonnie

You Lied to Me but make it mean

You Lied to Me but make it Mean 2

The Gulls

Lord Farquaad

SHUT

Size kink with DJ MM

Monty + Heated Makeout

Mini/Random Fics

MUSIC MAN: Eyes

——————

#fnaf x reader #security breach x reader #fnaf au #human au #monster lover #idk what to tag this as #more random stuff #random Headcannons #random headcanon #story stuff

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jangofctts · 4 years

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Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster.

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.

Whatever.

Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.

Maybe.

-=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

-=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show.

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.

Eh.

Could be worse.

At least you aren’t dead.

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.

Damn it.

-=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.

“Leave.”

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”

You wince.

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”

You frown. “Poor guy…”

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.”

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“She isn’t made of glass.”

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.

Here you are—asphyxiating.

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk?

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.”

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.

“Paz—“

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?”

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.

Din’s kiss is devouring—

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”

“Neither will your arrogance.”

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”

Din.

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.

You shrug it off.

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.

“You love her, don't you?”

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak

or’dinni--dumbass idiot

vod--brother/comrade

tag list:

@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector

#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

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inyourfantasyfanfics · 3 years

Note

Hello I am back :) Could you do headcanons on a camping trip with the Crusader group? (technically they do camp a lot already, just in a desert and with no supplies haha)

Platonic! Crusaders x Gn Readers

so I made this platonic and gn like your last request because I wasn't too sure I hope you like this! also I would LOVE to go camping with them.

All canon goes out the window except for the characters for this one, lets say y’all are going camping in the forest ( i live in the forest)

First things first, it’d be extremely hard to get all of them together for a camping trip if I’m honest with you

Joseph and Avdol would be the most receptive to going camping with you the others would take some work to get.

First, bribe iggy if you want him to go and he probably would!

Polnareff doesn’t really like the lack of civilization and pleasantries but he would go if you even slightly pouted and gave him puppy eyes if you are younger than him he’d probably see you as a younger sibling and would do almost anything you say.

Next is Kakyoin he’s probably more interested in studying, and games to actually want to go into the forest for a weekend or more. But with the promise of beautiful nature that he could draw he reluctantly agrees

The hardest would be Jotaro. He doesn’t want to be around anyone for that length of time. He’s also probably the second most wrapped around your finger next to Polnareff which is surprising. You’re honestly convinced that he won’t go, even though you gave him puppy eyes and even bribed him… and he was planning on not going till he saw every one

It was like a couple of hours before you guys were leaving as you were packing everything into a car Jotatro out of nowhere just loads his own things into it and helps with the other supplies. You almost wanted to say something but you decided to save him the embarrassment. Polnareff wasn’t as kind.

The gang drove for a good while before you stopped at a gas station and got snacks while the old man filled the tank, you, kak, and Jotaro were in one aisle arguing about what snacks would suffice for everyone till Gigi finally came in and reminded you all to get anything… the dudes has a shit ton of money he can get you all a good amount of snacks-

Kakyoin in a car sleeper, he’ll be awake for maybe 30 min before he passes out give or take so if you choose to sit next to him you are a pillow.

On the other hand, Jotaro never sleeps in the car even if his eyes are closed, he has too much anxiety.

Polnareff gets carsick i feel it.

OKAY, you finally get to a campsite!

Let’s go with tent camping!

You and Kakyoin get the job of clearing any rocks or sticks in the sight and securing your food and perishables in the car.

Polnareff and Avdol are paired and Joot and Gigi are paired to get the tent(s) set up they are fighting and bickering at each other the whole time it’s free reality t.v.

I think yall would get one of those big ass tents that have connecting rooms because grandpa is loaded

No one packed fire starters because of Magician’s Red. Easy. plus that fire would burn on nothing and go out fully with Avdols comment so not bad.

Smores for sure I don’t know if other countries know about smores but if not Gigi is 100% explaining it if your American you should be passionate about this subject too.

When it comes time to sleep … pick your poison I personally would sleep with Jotaro and Kakyoin because they seem quiet but are night owls.

Iggy good luck he farts in his sleep

Gigi probably snores really loud… the same as Pol but Pol also tosses and turns a lot. He has to pee at least 15 times during the night as well.

Avdol would be very warm but probably quiet and eerily still, he’s an early morning person too.

The next few days are you all enjoying hikes and swimming in maybe a lake or river if there is one, once again you’d probably have to force Jotaro into the water if you wanted him to swing but Gigi would throw him in.

Joseph does feel like the dad type to casually push his kids in bodies of water so lookout

If you can swim… learn you’ll have to if you’re afraid of water well…. Good luck.

You could even have the option to meditate with Avdol

Kakyoin would offer to draw you.

Polnareff would give piggyback rides if your tired from hikes no matter your size so if you plus size like me Polpol got you no problem.

It would be a fun trip, but now you all have to go home

Star Platinum now knowing how tents work could probably take it down and put it away with frightening accuracy, but a real time saver!

The car ride back would probably be less loud than the ride to the location due to everyone being tired.

They would probably do this again even Jotaro enjoyed himself a lot though he’d never admit it… Star Plat does tho he looked so happy whenever Jotaro summoned him.

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

Note

OOH I GOT A GOOD REQUEST,,,, How about Jonathan’s reaction to each of the jojos, and their jobros?

*Jonathan looking down at his absolutely fucked family tree, a single tear running down his cheek*

Listen...I always say that *insert literally any character* is the best parental figure but it's Jonathan hours which legally means I can call Jonathan best dad in this post regardless of anything I’ve said in the past about any other best dads.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lemme just implement my soft Jonathan headcanons first:

-Soft man. The king of manly tears. Tears down toxic masculinity like a fucking bulldozer

-Knits AND crochets. He never had a mother growing up so when Erina came in with all these lovely, traditionally feminine skills, he wanted to learn ALL OF IT

-Arguably gives the best hugs out of every Jojo (Josuke is a pretty close second, though)

-Since this post is just an impossible dimensional pocket where anything can happen, him and Erina live in one of those old grandma cottage-houses with a comfy, old couch and tacky curtains and a really cute little garden

-Again, if this is a pocket dimension he’s definitely hosting the Joestar family reunion there

-Just one of those houses where everyone feels comfortable

-Is impossible to piss off (except if you do anything to the people he loves)

-Always speaks in a very soft, understanding voice even when he’s mad/disappointed

-The father figure all the Jojos wish they had

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Part 2:

-You know that face you make when you watch someone you love do something insanely stupid but you’re still trying to keep positive because you know from experience that trying to stop them is futile?

-Just this constant, wincing smile?

-Yeah. That pretty much sums up Jonathan’s expression within any vicinity of Joseph Joestar

-He loves the man. He really does. But oh my god is he a dumbass

-Jonathan is the type of man to like,,,make bread and talk about his feelings but Joseph wants none of that shit and that’s ok,,,Jonathan can and will find another way to bond

-Regardless, he loves his Himbo grandson and the two of them end up talking about Erina and Speedwagon and a lil bit of Hamon too :3

-CAESAR on the other hand—Jonathan is so fucking happy to see a descendant of the Zeppeli’s continuing the whole Hamon thing and managing to be friends with Joseph

-Although Joseph never wants to talk about it outside of fighting, Jonathan and Caesar both share this tender love for the healing aspect of it :’)

-He teaches Caesar how to do stuff like grow/heal plants and flowers and Caesar ends up growing his own sunflowers in Jonathan’s backyard :)

-Smokey reminds him of Poco and he literally just wants to protect him with his whole heart hhhhhhhh

-Suzi Q also reminds him of Erina, but he still has no idea how she puts up with Joseph’s bullshit (and whenever she can’t decide what to wear, he always helps)

-He penalizes Lisa Lisa for being a fucking Hamon coach and also smoking cause like-

Part 3:

-Hgggghnn HEAR ME OUT but between him and Joseph, Jotaro arguably has more qualities of Jonathan including this wonderfully secret, sweet, sensitive side

-Jonathan grows flowers using Hamon and braids them into Star Plat’s hair (he has practice when doing it with Erina) :))))

-Joot claims to hate the bread that Jonathan bakes but if he DOES make it y’all know you’ll find him sitting there, eating it, and talking about his feelings like a good man should (but only if no one else is around)

-Arguably the only responsible father figure in his life and the only one who would scold him for literally going to jail

-Also apologizes profusely for not killing DIO the first time ;(

-Kakyoin is the kind of person you could just sit in silence with for hours doing shit like reading or painting or something and Father Jojo is loving the vibe

-YES JONATHAN WOULD HAVE A HOME GARDEN and every year he grows cherries for Kak >:)

-Pol is a bit extreme for him, but if he can handle Joseph then he can handle this man

-As rich, Victorian boys often did, he definitely studied french as a kid and can surprisingly hold a pretty good conversation

-Him and Avdol!!!! Feed his chickens together!! And engage in lovely, civil conversation :)))))

-Holy definitely inherited Jonathan and Erina’s sweet nature and she’s always down to compare knitting techniques with him :)

Part 4:

-Is it....is it safe to say that Jonathan just adopts all of Morioh?

-Ok but Josuke gets along with everybody (Rohan doesn’t count hgfjgh) so you already know he’d be up for some nice familial bonding (though he wouldn’t show it initially)

-I feel like he’d be hesitant at first because him and Joseph are already on weird terms and he doesn't wanna “intrude” on the Joestar family or anything like that

-But our man Jonathan is here to reassure him that he’s still a part of the family and his cute little grandma house door is always open for him when he needs it

-Jonathan would bake that bread and Josuke would be sittin’ on that couch pouring his heart out before that shit even comes out of the oven

-Josuke’s the biggest out of his friends so getting completely engulfed in a nice, warm, loving Jonathan hug is the best shit

-Like instant serotonin :)

-Crazy Diamond doesn’t have any hair so no stand braiding :( BuT Josuke will let his hair down sometimes and you already know master weaver Jonathan Joestar is braiding in some purple flowers and shit :)

-Okuyasu isn’t that smart academically, but our man has a big heart and that’s all Jonathan cares about

-Jonathan always makes soup for him whenever he’s down because Oku’s mama used to make him soup when he was sad too ;-;

-The two bond over losing a mother at a young age and never being close with their father and feeling unwanted growing up and its the sweetest shit

-Koichi would just,,,,stare in awe because between Jonathan, Joseph, and Jotaro he feels like a fucking ant (and is honestly kinda scared)

-The first time they meet, Jonathan tries to ruffle his hair and accidentally PUSHES THE BOY INTO THE CONCRETE and he feels so bad after, that he spends all night knitting him a new sweater

-He gives it to Koichi with apologetic tears in his eyes and Koichi fucking LOVES IT with all his heart

-Rohan is extremely intrigued by all of this shit and they two of them spend hours talking about Jonathan’s life

-Rohan ends up giving him a painting of Erina and now Jonathan sends him his favourite cookies on his birthday every year

-Also him and Tonio are real good buds and Tonio never yells at Jonathan for “eating impolitely” like George used to because he knows its just a sign that he loves his food :)

Part 5:

-What can I say? Both Jonathan and Giorno got a love for flowers and life, and that’s literally all they do together

-Like,,,their happiness is in one giant, contagious loop because when Jojo’s really happy, his Hamon will just make shit bloom everywhere and when Giogio is happy, his stand will go fucking bonkers and change shit into plants

-Ok but what if,,,they braided flowers into each other’s hair? :D

-Jonathan would bake the bread. Giorno would sit hesitantly on the couch. The moment this kid takes a bite with that GOOD jam he’s like “HAHA there goes my stoic front whoops-”

-Jonathan thought Giorno would get cold in the winter so he crocheted a heart the size of his tiddy window and gave it to him for Christmas

-As I said previously, him and Bruno would go fucking hard on tea parties and all that shit -Both are the obvious mom friend, it’s impossible for them not to get along

-Abba’s a little,,,iffy about him, but eventually grows on him the more Abbacchio actually starts warming up to Giorno (for whatever reason)

-Jonathan’s never really had to deal with teenagers that much (aside from when he was one himself,) so he really has no idea what the hell to do around Narancia and Mista because they’re so young and he feels like a fucking grandma around them

-But they’re always really sweet to him and ask if he wants to play COD but Jonathan has no idea why they could wanna play with a fish so he just smiles and laughs and hopes its a joke :’)

-When Trish wants her nails done, best jonadad is here to do it. She wants her hair done? Jonathan’s got that special brush that doesn’t hurt when you’re doing tangles. Hugs? Infinite hug supplier, babey. He’s really out here doing whatever it takes to keep best girl happy

-Fugo is,,,quiet,,,but he always comes over and eats the strawberries in his garden when they’re ready for harvest

-He even helps make them into jam :)

-He also teaches Fugo Hamon breathing techniques when he caught wind of his anger and it actually helps him a lot

-He considers everyone in that house his family too, and always invites them over for social events at his pocket dimension grandma house

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Jonathan Joestar lives in my head rent free...

If you’ve got a head canon idea, my ask box is always open!! <3

#jjba #jojos's bizarre adventure #jjba headcanons #headcanons #jonathan joestar #joseph joestar #jotaro kujo #josuke higashikata #giorno giovanna #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #diamond is unbreakable #battle tendency #ask-c-c-cherry #phantom blood #cw: smoking

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transmascnaotoshirogane · 2 years

Note

i love that y’all talk a lot!!!!/gen. i love having multi hour dm conversations with y’all about one of our many thanzag aus, i love getting to my phone after a long day and being able to know what y’all did and how y’all are feeling bc of y’all’s posts, i love hearing about a new hades thing in the server bc it makes me even more excited to keep playing the game, i love y’all/gen /plat.

oh 🥺 I,,, didn't expect that. we thought we were being annoying in our own server bc we've basically taken the gaming channel hostage haha ^^'

im glad you don't think our inability to shut up is annoying/genuine

#the rainbow twinks #rainbow ask box #puddles but its the (platonic) fiance #howl <3 #thanatos + blue

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years

Text

Perfectly Confused Angel- Epilogue

A/N: Wow, I can’t believe we have come to the end of PCA! I began writing this after a conversation with a friend and it turned into one of my favorite stories! Thank you so much for reading this and enjoying it; y’all are amazing! I felt like after 15x18 of Supernatural (if you haven’t seen it, I won’t say what happened) I owed him this kind of happiness. And what better GIF to end this series than with the one that started this series? I love Misha and Castiel will always have a home in my heart

So even though it’s not mentioned until later on, I envision this epilogue to take place six months after the wedding.

You can read the entire series here and find more fandoms I write for here.

Tag lists requests are open for all fandoms but they are CLOSED for this series.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, Cas being a naughty boi! Mentions of sex but very slightly, Dean eating tons of shit (that’s a warning) cliffhanger!

Word Count: 2,350

Reader’s POV

Being married took some getting used to but honestly, we both had wanted this more than anything in the world, so we were ready and we were quick to adjust. After our honeymoon, which Castiel took a great interest in because we got to take a trip for two weeks and go somewhere exotic. We chose to go to Italy and we explored the more popular cities; Rome, Sicily, Venice, and Milan. The entire Italian culture was new and exciting, especially for Cas because he was so used to America and the customs they have, that seeing the way of life for Italians was completely different. When you came home, you had decided to move out of the Bunker and into your own place. Sure, Sam and Dean offered for you to stay there, but since Cas and you had plans to have children at some point, you thought it would be better to have your own space and give the Winchesters their own space. Both brothers helped you pick your place and assisted in the moving, until you were settled. The first night in your new place didn’t quite go too well. Being so used to the Bunker, every little creak in the doors or the sound of the wind blowing against the windows, made both of you rather paranoid.

“Don’t worry, Honeybee, it’s all just noise,” Cas whispered to you as you moved as close as possible to him in your shared bed. “We locked every door and window in the house.”

“Will you still protect me?” You ask, in a small, timid voice.

“Of course, I will. I will always protect you, (Y/N). That’s my job as your husband, isn’t it?” He said, as more of a question than a statement. He was still adjusting to the role of a husband and was afraid he wasn’t going to “do a good job.”

“Yes Cas, we will protect each other. You have your angel blade close by, right? Just in case?” You ask.

He chuckled before sitting up and grabbing his pillow from behind him. “It’s right here, just in case,” he said, showing you the blade that laid waiting to be used.

When sleep eventually came and took over, it felt different and you felt more rested in the morning, because he was there beside you, holding you close as you slept. As the sun rose the next morning, it shined through the blinds over the window and right into your eyes. Groaning and turning your head away from the light, you feel Cas chuckle at your childlike complaint.

“Good morning, Honeybee,” he said, kissing your temple, causing another groan to push past your lips.

“If it was a good morning, I’d still be asleep,” you say, your voice muttered by Castiel's shirt.

He laughs again before trying another approach to wake you. He leaned down to kiss along your forehead, trailing down the bridge of your nose, to your cheek that wasn’t hiding in the pillows, before ending on your lips. At first, you tried to fight him, not really wanting to wake up, no matter how much he kissed you, but when you felt his hand in a rather sensitive area, you immediately woke up and kissed him back.

“So, I guess someone’s up now,” he smirked as he pulled away to look down at you.

“Well if you’re going to do this kind of stuff, I wouldn’t mind waking up every morning,” you say, before bringing him back to your lips.

It was nice to just take your time and not have to worry about being anywhere anytime soon. Walking out to the kitchen, you took out the ingredients and a frying pan for pancakes; one of Castiel’s favorites. You thought to add chocolate chips in the batter because Cas had a bit of a sweet tooth and you knew he wouldn’t oppose the melted chocolatey goodness. Grabbing the mix, you measure out enough for the two of you, adding some water to help with the consistency. Mixing it all together, you add a half a bag of chips to the thickening batter, before finding the perfect consistency. When the pan was heated up, you took a ladle and poured batter in four separate places, making little circles as the mix bubbled up just a bit. As time passed, you examined the bottom part of the cake to see if it was turning into a brownish color, before you flip over to cook the other side. When the cakes were cooked thoroughly on both sides, you scooped them up and flipped them down on a plate and placed a small pad of butter on each one. As you started your process over again, you felt arms wrap around your waist and the tickle of someone's breath on your neck.

“Looks good darlin’,” Cas said in your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“Thank you, should be ready in a few minutes. You can grab a plate and get started if you want,” you say, twisting to look up at your husband.

“Now why would I do that?” He asks.

“Cause you’re hungry?” You answer, confusion obvious in your tone.

“Yes, but I would rather wait until you can sit and eat with me,”

“That, that right there, is why I married you. Well, it’s one of the many reasons why I married you, but your level of sweetness should be illegal,” you say, smiling at the blush that formed on your husband’s face.

“Well, you deserve that kind of sweetness,” he admitted, before coming back to your side and kissing your cheek.

“Breakfast is served!” You said proudly, when your last pancake was platted and buttered.

“Wonderful! I made us some coffee too,” Cas said, placing a mug in front of where you were going to sit at the table and his across from you. Just as you sat down and were about to cut your first piece of pancake, there was a knock at the door. You sighed, putting your fork down, before moving to stand from the table.

“I’ll get it,” Cas said, putting his hand out as a gesture for you to stay put.

“Thanks Cas,” you say, stabbing the cake on your fork once again.

“Sam, Dean, what are you doing here?” You hear Cas question, before the two brothers walked up to the table you were sitting at.

“Oh, it’s breakfast time!” Dean said, grabbing a pancake with his hand and not using a plate.

“Um, no, it’s not. It’s our time for breakfast, not yours,” you say, annoyed by Dean inviting himself to your food. Sam looked at you with an apologetic expression before you gestured for him to help himself too.

“Might as well help yourself Sam, since someone decided we were okay with him eating our food,” Cas said, reading your facial expression.

“You didn’t want me to eat with you?” Dean asked, mouth full of cake.

“No, we didn’t but since you already started eating, please, help yourselves,” you say, not losing the frustrating tone of your voice.

“Sorry, (y/n),” said Dean, before he swallowed his food. “I thought since we needed Cas for a case, we could all eat together.”

“Well I guess that would’ve been okay but you should’ve asked!” You said, still frustrated at the eldest Winchester.

“I know and I will, next time this happens. That is, if we interrupt another one of your meals,” Dean promised.

“Knowing you Dean, yeah, you’ll interrupt a meal again,” you say, half as a joke and half as a dig.

“So, what’s this case you said you needed my help with?” Cas asked, changing the subject and seeing you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him for saving the day from more embarrassment.

“Something about a series of people disappearing from a walking trail in broad daylight,” Dean explains, this time without anything in his mouth.

“Doesn’t sound like your kind of thing,” you say, not fully grasping the significance of the events.

“Yeah but so get this,” Sam said his usual catch phrase to transition into a deeper explanation. “When they find the bodies days later, there is no evidence of any blood left over in the body.

“No blood? You thinking vamps?” You suggest.

“Seems like it, but there also are no bite marks, at least not visible to the human eye,” Sam continues explaining his research he’s already conducted on this case.

“So, what then? The only real monsters that drink blood are vampires but if there are no bite marks on the vics, then how do they get the blood?” Your interest is peaked as you dive deeper into the investigating side of hunts.

“Well, this might sound rather, off, but I’m wondering if whoever is after these people, are extracting blood in a nontraditional way,” Sam says.

“How? Syringes? Like doctors?” You question.

“Maybe, but I think that would take too long, considering syringes run rather small,” Sam answers, making both of you fall silent, before Dean whines, saying he needs a beer.

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning!” You say, surprised his drinking is already happening at this hour of the day.

“Well I need to relax a bit here, kid, okay? Dean asks, bending down to look in the fridge, only finding there were not drinks with any amount of alcohol.

“You guys don’t have any beer?” He asks, lifting back up to his normal positioning, and eyeing you.

“No, we don’t. I don’t drink and Cas only really drinks when he’s with you two, so we agreed not to keep any in the house on a regular basis. However,” you trail off, walking over to a small coat closet by the front door, Dean watching your ever move curiously. “We figured you’d be visiting at some point, so we grabbed a small pack for you and Sam,” you grin when the green eyes of the man standing before you, falls to your hands.

“Aw, I knew there was a reason why we liked you, sweetheart,” Dean says, taking the case from your hands and throwing a can to Sam.

“Oh yeah, just because I keep you stocked with beer and uh,” you say, shuffling over to the pantry in the kitchen and pulling out a cherry pie, passing it over to the easily excited Winchester.

“Oh yes, that’s my girl,” Dean says, grinning wide at you.

“Technically, she is my girl Dean, but I will share her goodness with you,” Cas defends your relationship.

“Thanks bud,” he says, grabbing his fork from the pancakes from earlier and diving right in.

You laugh, shaking your head as you watched him happily pick at the dessert that sat before him.

“Oh man, (y/n) this is some good pie,” he says, speaking with his mouth full again.

“I’m glad you like it Dean, but please, don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s hard to understand you and we’re getting quite a nasty view of chewed-up pie,” you scold the hunter.

He waited until he cleared the food away in his mouth before speaking again. “Sorry kid.”

“Alright, I think we better get going if we want to get a handle on this and before anyone else gets killed,” Sam says, taking the attention of the vacuum cleaner that was his older brother.

“I’ll go grab my angel blade,” Cas says, leaving to go to your room.

“So, how’s married life treating you?” Sam said, knowing how much you used to talk about your wedding day, even before getting engaged.

“Well, it’s only been six months but I really love it. Getting to be around Cas all the time, seeing him every morning before starting my day, it means a lot. I’m really happy, Sam,” you say, smiling wide at the thought of life with Castiel.

“I’m happy for you, (y/n). If anyone deserved this lifestyle, it’s you and Cas,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you, Sam.”

When the boys are all packed up and ready to leave on their hunt, you tidy up Castiel’s jacket, smoothing out any wrinkles left over, and straightening his tie. You refused to make eye contact with him, even as you felt his sapphire eyes bore down on you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up into them.

“Okay, do you guys have everything you need?” You ask, stepping away from the angel.

“Yeah, I think we’re all good.” Dean says, looking around the living room of the apartment. “Cas? Have everything?”

He looks to you before asking, “come with us?” Your heart skipped a beat, knowing Cas wanted you with him, but you shook your head.

“I’m good. Someone needs to hold this place together while you’re gone,” you say, quickly casting your eyes back to the floor.

“Honeybee?” Cas said and you were surprised to hear how close he was to you, which caused you to look up at him. You stayed silent as tears softly began falling from your eyes; you always hated goodbyes.

“I promise to be home as soon as possible,” he says, bringing your lips to his in a loving kiss.

“Well good, because I’m not the only one who will be waiting for you to come home,” you say as the three men turn to you.

“What?” Dean spoke first.

“You still want those kids, right, Cas?” You ask, making sure he was still on the same page as you.

“Yes, of course. More than anything,” he reassures you.

“Well good, because I’m pregnant,”

The room remained quiet and no one dared to make a move, until Castiel’s mind registered your news and he was by your side, gently picking you up and kissing you once again.

“I’m going to be a Father?” He asks as he sets you back down and you nod your response.

“Guys, I’m going to be a Dad!” Castiel beams to his friends as they hugged and congratulated you two. What better way to motivate Cas to come home safely other than knowing a little one was on their way soon?

Tags: @tloveswriting @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @markofdean79 @simpleboox @hobby27 @thinkinghardhardlythinking @spnjediavenger @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2

#castiel #castiel angel of the lord #cas fanfic #castiel fluff #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #Misha Collins

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captainextremis · 3 years

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I finished the Tempestarii quest yesterday. It was a real fun time!

But at the end of the day, It’s not all that impressive. Spoilers under the cut

It was two missions long, one where you get ambushed by some Corpus bitch, then you run away when some moldy old ship appears and you crack some vaults to learn about it. in the second mission, you make nice with spoopy ghost ship and board it, only for Corpus-bitch to ambush you again and then you do the shonen “this-isn’t-even-my-final-form” routine and hit her ship with a “fuck you and everything close to you” missile and banish them to the shadow realm. Then it’s over after a cliffhanger cutscene where Corpus-bitch gets offered help by Granddad Granum.

I love WF, which is why I’m (more than) a little disappointed. This is the second-shortest quest in the game as far as I know. Shortest is Apostasy Prologue, but I bet you could make Tempestarii even shorter if you speedrun it, and that’s what pisses me off. Apostasy is barely even a quest, it’s an interactive cutscene that was supposed to build up to the New War which as been fed to us in bits and pieces and half-baked events (coughcoughScarletSpearcough). Do y’all remember Vox Solaris? The Sacrifice? The War Within? Hell, even Jordas Precept. every single one of those quests had at least one Holy Shit Moment™, like in The War Within when you realize Teshin sold you out to the Queens because “muh honur,” then another one when you realize the old Queen wants to steal your body for the rite of Continuity, then another where you beat her control and jump out of the pool under her throne. The Sacrifice was one entire Holy Shit Moment™.

This isn’t even a good Warframe acquisition quest. The Limbo Theorem, Mask of the Revenant, Chains of Harrow (objectively the best WF acquisition quest), Sand of Inaros, and all the others took way more time than this, and they used that time to expounded on some aspect of Warframe’s world, like Baro Ki’Teer, the Void, the forests of Earth, or just the frames they were focused on, and they gave them a backstory like in the case of Limbo and Mirage.

What did we get for Sevagoth? “Uh, he got lost in the Void. And his shadow’s piloting the ship. We didn’t just copy Chroma’s design one bit, lol.” And our Holy Shit Moment™? An all-out brawl in the shadow realm with a space-shanty in the background? I mean, shit, credit where credit’s due, it slaps harder than an abusive father, but it lasts all of like...three minutes and then the quest just says, “Alright, that’s it. We couldn’t think of any more certified DE Holy Shit Moments™, but we’re still awesome. Buy platinum.”

I’m only bitter because I know DE can do better. I’m starting to think their success is getting to their heads and they think they can just rest on their laurels in hopes their playerbase (the more zealous, anyway) just keep buying plat and playing the game. First the shitty Kuva Lich update, then Railjack 1.0, now Duviri Paradox’s been delayed, more nerfs are coming...I feel like DE’s just coasting, and it worries me.

#warframe #DE critical #the captain speaks #long post

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the-weeping-author · 4 years

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Secrets are forbidden Ch. 3

A/N: so before I start this authors note let me say some of y’all will not like how I wrote hopper so please don’t @ me lol. But finally done with chapter 3 I’m so happy.

Tag list: @ahoy-stevieboy @thehair-ington @linkispink1995 @harringtown @violet-dahlia @gardeniasandwhiskey @lxvesickreality @bluebellbrooke @thenameishayley248 @pappydaddy @simplesammyx @didyouputyournameinthegob @lenassaviorsblog @wolphielautz

Warnings: cussing, parent issues.

Wordcount: 2,592

Parings: Oc hopper x Steve Harrington.

Please enjoy 🙂

I woke up to the sound of the A/C kicking on, I threw my covers off of me. I rubbed the sleep from my face, I got undressed walking into my bathroom. I turned on the cold water, went to find clothes to wear for the first day back at school. I grabbed a pair of my black overalls, I grabbed a white t-shirt walking over to my dresser and I grabbed a bra, underwear. I walked back into the bathroom, turned the hot water all the way up, turned the cold down about halfway.

After my shower I put my clothes on, I grabbed my car keys walking out into the kitchen. I saw my father, I walked to the cabinet, grabbed a coffee mug. I poured myself a cup of coffee, I sat at the kitchen table drinking it while my father sat across from me. It was awkward, I didn’t know what to say. I knew my father didn’t hate me, but he didn’t care to talk to me either. I never knew my father’s issue with me, but I think it had to do with the fact that Sara and I didn’t share the same mother.

I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but I didn’t have time to sit and ponder on the thought. If I were to bring it up it might make matters worse between us, I didn’t want it to get worse. That’s why I was getting a job, it was sad. Not because I had to work, but because I’d rather have all my time taken up by work, school than spend more than an hour with my father. It was too late to try and get to know me. It was 17 years too late, I didn’t care if he wanted me in his life or not anymore.

After I finished my coffee I put my mug into the sink, I walked out the front door. I got into my car, drove to school. When I got there I got out of my car, walked into the school. Eyes were on me as soon as I opened the main doors, as soon as I entered the building I left the stress of my home life at the front doors. My grades weren’t going to be affected by my crush on Steve, my father, but definitely not by the upside down. I walked to my locker, I twisted my combination perfectly because as soon as I finished the last number it popped off.

Now my lock has a love hate relationship with me, it can wait in line just like the rest of the lovely people who love but hate me. I grabbed a few textbooks out of my locker, out the corner of my eye I saw a dude. Now I knew everyone, but I didn’t know this dude. I could tell just from looking at him he was troubled from the brown boots on his feet to his curly blond hair. I knew just from looking at him once I Wasn’t going to like him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to get to know the guy.

All it took was for us to lock eyes, he was on his way over to me. I quickly shut my locker, nearly ran into the guy. When he got closer the more I could smell his aftershave, just the aroma made me nauseous. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as he approached, I leaned up against my lockers as he halted to a stop right in front of me.

“So you’re the queen of Hawkins huh?”

I looked up at him, confidently nodded my head at him.

“Yep that’s me, and how may I help you?”

He smirked slightly, ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“Names Billy Hargrove, you’re going to give me a tour of Hawkins high.”

I let out a slight amused laugh, I looked right into his eyes.

“In your dreams Blondie.”

I smiled, walked away from him. There was one thing on my mind, that was to find Steve. I mean I was sure since Billy approached me he would approach harrington. If he hadn’t already done it. He’s intentions were clear, that was to put everyone on guard here. Everyone had a target on Steve's back, but I had a feeling Billy was going to knock a few of those guys out of his way. I mean after all this was high school, guys cared about their reputation. Girls were Way different, we didn’t care who was popular. It's why I loved Robin.

Robin didn’t care that I was popular, but she didn’t like crowds so that’s why she only hung out with me at lunch. I always sat with her, only because my “friends” bothered her the whole time. So I decided that we’d only hang out at lunch and after school. It was a regular lunch day, I was sitting in my usual spot. Next thing I knew that Billy guy was sitting next to me, Robin immediately stopped talking. I turned my head a little bit to look at him, smiled.

“Hey There Bobby how can I help you this time?”

He looked at me, the corner of his mouth twitched.

“My name is Billy, But I didn’t have anyone to sit with so I thought I’d sit with you.”

I looked behind Billy, then looked back at him.

“Well according to the group of people looking over here you found somewhere to sit.”

“Huh? I don’t know what your-.”

I put my hand up, he stopped talking immediately.

“Look Benny, why don’t you just save yourself the time. I wasn’t Interested earlier and I’m not now. So save yourself the embarrassment.”

He stood up, grabbed his lunch. I could tell he was seething but It didn’t phase me, I didn’t care he definitely needed to back off. He turned his head as he walked away, stopping not too far from us.

“The name is Billy by the way.”

I turned to Robin, she smirked slightly at the conversation that just happened. She drank some of her milk, the bell rang. I walked to my locker to get some of the things that I needed for the rest of the day.

I grabbed my last book when I turned, numbed right into Steve Harrington.

“Hey Steve.”

He smiled at me, nudged me with his shoulder.

“Hey hopper how are you?”

I shut my locker, looked at him.

“Well besides some guy named Baxter Hargrove coming up to me today I’m good. How about you?”

Steve's eyebrows furrowed, he cracked a smile at me.

“You mean Billy?”

I gasped dramatically, I put my finger on my Chin.

“Oh is that his name I was wondering why he kept popping up every time I turned around?”

Steve let out a laugh, shook his head at me then he looked down at me his smile dropping some at my last statement.

“He came up to you? What did he say?”

I shook my head, let out a laugh.

“He was basically trying to get me to give him a tour of Hawkins, but it definitely wasn’t happening. He probably just wanted to get alone with me so he could lie about some false sexual encounter.”

I barely saw steves faces drop, but I could tell just by mentioning Billy probably lying about something stupid made him upset. Which was weird cause we weren’t a thing, but I guess he was just being protective. For some odd reason, trust me it wasn’t like Steve to be protective Steve and I never had the best anything really. I mean we were always making fun of each other even in elementary school.

I shrugged it off though, I continued with the rest of my day. The last period of school went by like a blink of an eye, it was time for me to return to my Castle in the woods. I walked to my car, I saw Steve standing near my car. I guess Nancy was somewhere else at the time because they were always together, I walked to my car opening my door.

“What’s up Harrington?”

Steve smiled, moved off the side of my car.

“Nothing just wanted to come see if the queen of Hawkins high was going to Tina’s party.”

I let out a laugh, looked at him.

“Steve you know just as well as anyone else I’m going.”

He smiled then looked at me, nodded his head. I looked through my purse for my keys, When I finally found them he responded.

“Alright cool I guess I’ll see you then?”

I threw my purse in my car, looked at him.

“Okay Harrington what’s your damage?”

He cocked a brow at me, shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

I shook my head at him, let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You know exactly what I mean Steve. We totally aren’t friends, now all of a sudden you’re being nice to me and making sure I’m going to a party so like what’s your damage?”

Steve looked at me, put his hands up in defense.

“Jenna I was just trying to be nice, maybe I want us to actually have a friendship instead of being at each other's throats.”

I nodded my head, looked at him.

“Okay Steve but we need to hang out more if I’m going to consider you a friend.. so here’s my number. You can call when you want to hang out. I have to go.”

I smiled at him while I grabbed a bubble gum wrapper along with a pen, I jot down my number. I handed him the wrapper, got into my car, buckled up then drove away from the parking lot.

After I pulled into my driveway I stepped out of my car, over the fishing line that was totally invisible. I sighed when I finally got inside the house, called out.

“El I’m home.”

She came out of her room with a smile on her face, she looked at me.

“How was school?”

I laughed at her, ruffled her hair.

“Well we have some new guy at school named Billy but he’s a dick, but don’t tell Hopper I said that.”

She smiled, crossed her heart then held out her pinky which I gladly accepted. I wrapped my pinky around hers, She told me about her day at the house and I told her about my day. I started dinner, after it was done my dad finally came home. I sat his plate in front of him, I sat Eli’s in front of her then I sat down.

“Hey dad, how was work?”

He poked his food with his fork, then shrugged.

“Eh.”

I looked at him then smiled.

“Anything exciting happen today?”

He shrugged again, took a bite.

“Nope.”

I looked at him, smiled.

“School was good, we got a new guy but he’s totally bogus.”

This time he didn’t reply. I knew he just got in from work, but he could at least indulge in the conversation. I sighed, quickly ate my food then stood up from the table.

“Alright El come see me before you go to bed I have something for you.”

She nodded, continued to eat. After I washed my plate, fork off I walked into my room. I sat on my bed, stared doing homework. About thirty minutes later the phone rang, I heard my dad pick it up, a few minutes later he knocked on my door.

“Jenna telephone.”

I cocked my eyebrow, I closed my folder, and got off my bed. I walked to the phone, I put it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Jenna it’s me Steve.”

I smiled slightly, I walked into a more secluded area of the cabin.

“Hey Steve what’s up?”

I heard him take in a breath then exhale.

“Nothing just wanted to hang out so I thought I’d call and see if you wanted to hang out.”

I furrowed my brows together, looked at my clock.

“Steve it’s ten thirty. There’s no way my dad’s going to let me go out.”

Steve went silent for a minute then he decided to speak again.

“You can’t sneak out?”

I sighed, put my palm against my forehead.

“Yeah I’ll get my shoes on, where should I go?”

“Come to my house duh.”

“Okay Steve see you in about fifteen minutes bye.”

After hanging up with Steve I slid on my shoes, grabbed my car keys. I walked out into the living room, my dad was watching tv so I decided to ask him just to let him know where I would be.

“Dad Steve wants me to go over to his house is that okay?”

He didn’t even look away from the tv, I barely heard him answer me.

“Mhm yeah have fun.”

I sighed, shook my head. Most kids my age would kill to have a parent who let them do whatever, but honestly it wasn’t everything expected it to be. He didn’t just let me do whatever I wanted, but he didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

After I got to my car safely I put the key in the ignition, turned it. After it started up I pulled out of the woods, headed to the Harrington house hold. The sky was beautifully lit, the moon was full. It was a beautiful night to be out, but I assume Steve wasn’t one for stargazing. I mean come on he could barely hold a conversation.

The drive to Steve's house was quick, when I got there his porch light was on. I knocked on the door, he opened it smiling at me.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

I nodded my head at him, he opened the door.

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?”

He looked at me, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well uh I honestly didn’t know.”

I smiled, looked at him.

“Are your parents home?”

He quickly shook his head no, let out a scoff.

“No they aren’t, they’re never here.”

I looked at him, looked around.

“Yeah I can definitely relate to that.”

His brows furrowed, he looked at me walking over to the couch sitting on it.

“What do you mean, isn’t your dad home like all the time?”

I let out a soft sigh, then sat beside him pushing my hair behind my ear.

“He is but he doesn’t really pay me any kind it’s a total drag.”

He pressed his lips together for a quick moment, then he rubbed his hands on his jeans. Since when did Steve Harrington get nervous?

“I’m sorry to hear that Jenna, would you like a beer?”

I probably should have said no, but I decided against that thought.

“Sure Steve I’d love one.”

He stood off the couch, walked towards the kitchen.

“Okay I’ll be right back, oh and Jenna.”

I looked up at him, arched my eyebrow at him.

“Yes Steve?”

“You can always talk to me if you need to.”

I smiled at him, nodded my head at him.

“Same here harrington.”

The rest of the evening was spent laughing, talking about everything really. School, parents, his relationship, and we even went for a swim which quickly escalated into a playful splash fight. I don’t know what changed between Steve and I but something did, I saw myself developing a crush on Steve, but I didn’t know how or when it happened.

A/N: thank you guys and gals so much for reading chapter 3 I hope y’all liked it. Sorry hopper fans but his attitude isn’t gonna change for a few chapters.

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x imagine #steve harrington #stranger thinge x oc #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #Jenna hopper x Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington series

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