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pucksandpower · 8 months

Note

Grid Kids: y/n pregnency!!

Grid Kids: Bun in the Oven

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: moments with the grid kids during your pregnancy

Series Masterlist

Kicking Up a Storm

“Did the little one just ...” Charles’ eyes widen as he pulls back his hand abruptly from where it had been resting on your stomach.

Lando, lounging on the other side of the room with a video game controller in hand, smirks, “Did what? Tried to escape? Can’t blame it, considering the rest of its siblings."

You swat playfully at Lando as Max and George, engrossed in assembling a nursery chair, look up in anticipation. “Come on, let us feel!” Max pleads, abandoning the chair pieces on the floor.

As everyone gathers around, taking turns to gently place their hands on your baby bump, you feel a flutter, a gentle kick responding to their touch. The room fills with gasps of wonder and joy.

“Feels like a future driver if you ask me,” George grins, looking at Sebastian, who chuckles, already imagining another Vettel on the tracks.

Lance, feeling a tad left out, decides to jump in. “Can it hear us? Hello in there, it’s your brother Lance! Remember to pick me as the fun brother, okay?”

Mick, who has been reading every pregnancy book he could get his hands on, chimes in, “You do realize the baby can’t differentiate voices yet, right?”

Lance waves him off, “Details, details.”

Cravings Are No Joke

“Pickles and chocolate? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, holding up the two seemingly mismatched items as he stands in the middle of a grocery store aisle.

Lance, pushing the cart, shrugs. “Don’t question the cravings, just go with it.”

Charles, scrolling through the list on his phone, adds, “Oh and don’t forget the spicy ramen, blueberry pie, and ... pineapple pizza?”

George groans, “Pineapple pizza? Come on! Anything but that. I’m not even Italian and I’m still offended.”

Lando, with an impish grin, quips, “Remember when she wanted the mango gelato at 3 am? That was a fun drive.”

Mick chuckles, “Or the time we went to five different bakeries just to find that particular lemon cake she couldn’t live without.”

Lance pauses, looking thoughtful, “And wasn’t there a phase where she only wanted foods that were purple?”

George nods, “Yep, aubergines, purple potatoes, grapes ... I still can’t look at a plum without laughing.”

As the grid kids continue shopping, picking out items based on the rather diverse list you gave them, they share more anecdotes of the past months. The store’s other patrons watch in amusement as the young men navigate the aisles, often debating the merits of various brands or flavors, all to ensure they get it just right for you.

Later, back home, your grid kids proudly present their haul. You and Sebastian look on with affection as they lay out the eclectic mix of food.

“Did you guys get everything?” You ask, trying to hide your laughter.

Max feigns offense at being questioned, “Of course, we’re professionals.”

Sebastian leans in to whisper in your ear, “I’m just glad they didn’t try cooking this time. Remember the schnitzel incident?”

You giggle, recalling the disastrous attempt. “Of course I do. I was cleaning flour off the cabinets and ceiling for weeks. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.”

It’s a …

The preparations for your gender reveal are in full swing at the local park and your grid kids are at the heart of it. They’ve split into two factions: Team Girl, led by Charles and Lance, and Team Boy, spearheaded by Max and Lando.

Charles and Lance have laid out a series of pink challenges, including a three-legged race where participants wear pink tutus. “It’s going to be a girl, no doubt about it!” Lance proclaims confidently.

Max and Lando, on the other hand, have a blue-themed obstacle course, complete with a mini kart race. Lando, wearing a blue bandana, shouts over the ruckus, “I have no idea what you’re talking about because it’s definitely a boy.”

George has taken on the role of referee. Dressed in a striped shirt, whistle in hand, he’s ensuring that the competition remains friendly. “Remember, it’s all in good fun!” he reminds everyone, though his “Team Girl” badge suggests where his loyalties lie.

Mick, though undecided, has tie-dye patches of both blue and pink on his shirt. “I just want a healthy sibling for all of us,” he says with a gentle smile, standing back and enjoying the antics.

Sebastian, watching the chaos unfold, leans over and whispers in your ear, “Did we really think letting them plan this was a good idea?”

You laugh, “It’s a bit crazy but look at them. They’re having the time of their lives!”

The moment everyone’s been waiting for finally arrives. At the center of the park, a large, sealed box waits. As you and Sebastian approach, the grid kids form a circle around it, their playful banter coming to a halt.

With a shared look of excitement, you both pull on the ribbon. The box flaps open, releasing a cloud of ... green smoke?

The park erupts in a mixture of laughter and confusion.

Max looks baffled, “Green?”

Charles chuckles, “Guess neither team wins today!”

Lando, trying to waft away the smoke, jokes, “Alien? Oh my god, you’re having an alien!”

Mick wraps an arm around you, “Like I said, as long as it’s healthy.”

You smile, nestling into Sebastian’s side, “We thought we’d keep everyone guessing for a little longer.”

False Alarm

“Sebastian! The baby! I think it’s happening!” You exclaim, feeling a sudden tightening in your abdomen.

Sebastian, who was in the middle of mediating a lively debate with Max and Charles over who will be the baby’s favorite brother, nearly trips over the rug in his rush to get to you. “Okay, okay, okay. Deep breaths, in and out.”

Lance, eyes wide as saucers, frantically begins googling “how to deliver a baby” on his phone while George starts making a list of things needed for the hospital. “Towels! We need towels, right?”

Lando is somewhere on another planet, muttering to himself, “This isn’t happening. I am not ready to see a baby being born. Nope, nope, nope.”

Mick tries to restore some order. “Calm down everyone. Y/N, are you sure it’s really labor?"

Before you can respond, Charles bursts through the door, holding a bucket of ice. “I read somewhere you might need ice. Here!”

You laugh through the discomfort, appreciating the chaos ensuing because of your grid kids’ concern. "Actually guys, I think it’s just Braxton Hicks. False alarm.”

A collective sigh of relief sweeps the room. Sebastian, still slightly pale, pulls you into a hug, “You sure know how to keep things exciting.”

Lance looks up from his phone, “What’s Braxton Hicks?”

“It’s like a rehearsal for the real thing,” George explains, folding up his hastily made list.

Max, trying to regain his cool, smirks, “Well, if that was a rehearsal, the main event is going to be epic.”

You chuckle, patting your belly, “Guess the little one just wanted to see how quickly you all could jump into action.”

Putting the “Student” in “Student Drivers”

As you and Sebastian sit on the couch, going over your prenatal class schedule, a curious George peeks over. “What’s that? Are those the birthing classes?”

You nod, “Yep! We’re starting next week. It’ll help us prepare for the big day.”

Suddenly, Charles pops up beside George, eyes widening in interest. “Can we come?”

“That sounds cool! I’ve always wondered what those classes are like.” Lando chimes in from where he’s keeping an ear out in the kitchen.

Sebastian looks a bit overwhelmed, “I thought it was just going to be the two of us.”

Lance joins the group, scrolling through a magazine article about celebrity dads attending birthing classes. “Look at this! It’s a thing now. We could all go and support you both.”

Max adds, “Besides, we’re family. We’ve been there through everything else. Why not this?”

“Do they even allow so many people to join?” Mick ponders.

You can’t help but laugh at the eager faces in front of you. “I never thought I’d have to bring an entourage to a birthing class.”

Sebastian rubs his temples. “Okay, how about this? We’ll ask the instructor if it’s okay. If they allow it, you guys can join on one condition.”

Lando bounces on his toes, “What’s that?”

“No teasing or making jokes during the class. We’re there to learn and be supportive.”

Charles nudges Max, “That’s mainly directed at you.”

Max fakes innocence. “Me? I would never!”

You shake your head, “Alright, I’ll call tomorrow and see if our little ... or rather large group can attend.”

Your grid kids cheer, excited about the new adventure. As they scatter, already planning and discussing among themselves, Sebastian leans over to whisper in your ear, “This baby is already turning our world upside down and they’re not even here yet.”

You smile and squeeze his hand, “With this family, every moment is an adventure.”

***

The birthing center’s usual tranquil ambiance is slightly offset by the excited chatter of the grid kids as you all enter. The instructor, a calm and composed woman named Clara, raises an eyebrow at the large group but doesn’t comment. After all, it’s not every day that half of the Formula 1 grid walks into her class.

The session starts with everyone introducing themselves. Most couples share sweet stories of their relationship journey. When it's your turn, Sebastian starts, “I’m Sebastian, this is my wife, Y/N,” he pauses, motioning to the group, “and these are ... our sons.”

The room erupts in chuckles. One of the expectant mothers quips, “That’s a lot of kids! You two have been busy!”

Clara moves on with the class, demonstrating breathing techniques. Everyone’s earnest attempt to follow along results in a mix of deep breathing, snorts, and a few stifled laughs. At one point, Max, struggling to get the rhythm right, looks over at Lando and mutters, “I feel like I’m preparing to go underwater.”

When it comes time for practicing labor positions, the grid kids enthusiastically volunteer. George and Charles end up demonstrating a position, with George playing the supporting partner and Charles the laboring mom-to-be. The sight of Charles leaning into George, pretending to be in labor, has the room laughing, especially when Charles exaggerates with dramatic moans.

Lance and Mick take a turn next and when Lance offers words of encouragement to “pregnant” Mick, saying, “You’re doing great, sweetie,” you almost fall off your chair laughing.

Towards the end of the class, Clara demonstrates the use of a birthing ball. Lando decides to take a leap onto one only to bounce off, crashing into Max and sending both of them tumbling to the ground. The room is in stitches.

Despite their hilarious antics, your grid kids genuinely try to grasp the concepts, asking thoughtful questions and engaging in the exercises.

As the class wraps up, Clara approaches you with a smile. “I must say, this has been the most ... lively class I’ve ever taught.”

You grin, “That’s one way to put it.”

She chuckles, “But it’s clear they all care deeply for you and want to support you both in any way they can.”

Sebastian nods, wrapping an arm around you, “We’re very lucky to have them.”

For Real This Time

Lando and Charles are in the middle of a heated argument over the best way to make a sandwich (complete with props and charts) when you suddenly feel a warm sensation. Looking down, your eyes widen. “Uh, guys?”

“What is it?” Sebastian jumps up right away.

You swallow, “I think my water just broke.”

For a moment, there’s stunned silence. Then … mayhem.

Max yells, “To the car! Now!” while Lance scrambles to grab the pre-packed hospital bag.

George accidentally knocks over a vase in his attempt to find your phone. “Sorry! We can clean that up later, right?”

Mick tries to maintain calm, “Everyone, deep breaths, remember the class?”

Lando, eyes wide, mutters, “This is nothing like the class.”

Upon arriving at the hospital, the reception area becomes a scene of organized chaos. As Sebastian wheels you in, the grid kids follow in a flustered procession.

A nurse at the reception desk blinks in surprise. “Is there a convention in town?”

Mick, panting slightly, replies, “No, just family.”

Lando adds, “The biggest family you’ve ever seen.”

Another nurse, recognizing some of the faces, chuckles, “Formula 1 drivers in the maternity ward? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Inside, as the medical team preps you, the grid kids stand outside, pacing and nervously waiting. They take turns peeking through the small window, offering waves and thumbs-up.

Sebastian holds your hand and doesn’t complain once as you grab back hard enough to break every bone in it, “You know, I’ve faced pressure on the track but this ... this is on another level.”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand, “Just remember, I’m doing the hard part.”

Soon enough, after what feels like both a minute and a lifetime, the beautiful cry of your newborn fills the room. Your grid kids, hearing the sound, cheer loudly, causing several nurses to hush them.

Charles, tears in his eyes, says, “We’re big brothers now. Like, for real.”

“Wait,” Lando interjects, “aren’t you already a big brother?”

“Shush mate, let me have this moment.”

Max rolls his eyes but smiles, “Welcome to the family, little one. We’re a bit crazy but we already love you so much.”

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sinsandsweetness · 10 months

Note

Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?

now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)

been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)

I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗

PICK YOUR POISON

(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count

You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.

“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.

Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”

You ignore his attitude.

“Mom needs you.”

“For what?”

“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”

He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.

“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.

“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.

“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.

“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.

They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.

You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.

They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.

The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.

But they are.

They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.

You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.

When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.

But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.

Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.

“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.

“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.

“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.

“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.

“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.

He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.

Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.

“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.

“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.

“Right.”

Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.

But you didn’t.

“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.

“Which one?”

“Bud’s fine.”

You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.

To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.

“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”

You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.

Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.

“You gonna share?” You ask.

Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.

“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.

“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.

“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.

“Not a chance.” You smile.

He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.

“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.

“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.

“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.

“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”

You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.

“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.

“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.

You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.

To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.

“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.

part 2

(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)

taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh smut #shane walsh fanfiction #smut #rickyl smut #rickyl x reader #dbf!rick #dbf!daryl #dbf!shane #dads best friend trope #pick your poison

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beskarandblasters · 3 months

Text

Was it all a dream? - Series Masterlist

Din Djarin x F!Reader Series Playlist | Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist Art by Roger Mattos | AO3 Link

Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. -Or- Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, set somewhere between the Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut (starts at chapter 4!), line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Chapter One: Eyes without a face

Chapter Two: One more bad dream could bring a fall

Chapter Three: But it’s not real and you don’t exist

Chapter Four: Lovely to be rained on with you

Chapter Five: You and me, we got our own sense of time

Chapter Six: I’m gonna sleep because you live in my daydreams

Chapter Seven: Somewhere I go when I need to remember your face

Chapter Eight: It isn’t the same but it is enough

Completed on 3/13/24

Bonus:

WIAD!Din edit by @pedgito

WIAD!Din gifs by @pedgito

Moodboard by @janaispunk

#wiad #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin series #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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captain-hawks · 6 months

Text

STRESS RELIEF

♡ — atsumu miya x f!reader

Atsumu may be a legendary setter, but he’s also an incredibly sore loser. And all other forms of post-game slump stress relief pale in comparison to a particular one he shares with you.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.4k

prompt — lactation kink

additional content — established relationship, fingering, squirting, coming in pants, coming untouched, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, cockwarming, questionable refractory periods, multiple orgasms, cum eating, insatiable Atsumu, Miya twin bickering, timeskip!Atsumu

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“Is there a reason ya always call me to babysit after losin’ a game?”

Atsumu can hear the exasperation in his brother’s voice on the other end of the line, dulled slightly by the hum of customers chattering away in the background. He ignores Osamu’s question, shifting slightly from where he’s seated on the bench in the locker room as he tugs at his sweat-soaked MSBY jersey, pulling the material free from its damp grip on his chest.

“Some godfather you are,” he snarks back, offering Bokuto a wave as he slaps him on the back while walking past him on his way to the showers. “And how’d ya know we lost anyway, ain’t ya at work?”

Osamu snorts, “Had the game on in the office while I was working on the books. You played like shit.”

“Bite me,” Atsumu huffs, running a hand through his haphazard blonde locks.

“I’m leavin’ the restaurant in about an hour.”

“I’m droppin’ her off in forty-five.”

“Take a goddamn shower first, ya pig. I can smell you from here.”

“Fuck you, Samu.”

He can practically hear the middle finger that his brother proffers to the phone as Osamu laughs, hanging up on him. Atsumu trudges to the showers to wash away the grime from the court—and hopefully some of his sour mood in the process.

—

In the years that you’ve been together, Atsumu has always been a sore loser when it comes to his favorite sport, even more so once he went pro. He cycles through different ways of working through his disappointment with himself after tough games, ranging from forcing himself to run miles on end until he’s nearly throwing up when he regretfully calls you to come and pick him up halfway across town, to dragging Osamu out for impromptu boxing sessions (“Ya tryin’ to make yer face even more ugly?!”), to binge eating ice cream on the couch (until he’s then also throwing up).

Sex, of course, is also one of his favorite (and least self-destructive) options, though his frustration-fuelled stamina is enough to leave you both fucked out beyond belief.

However, following the birth of your daughter just over a year ago, Atsumu found…a new form of stress relief.

One where he’d prefer to have no interruptions.

Hence the recruitment of Uncle Osamu, who probably just thinks his pouty, needy brother forces him into babysitting duties to have loud, raunchy sex with his wife all night.

Not quite.

—

“You’re worse than our daughter,” you fondly groan at Atsumu when he immediately starts tugging off your jacket the moment you step in your front door after swinging by Osamu’s house, his impatient energy coming off of him in waves.

Atsumu’s sound of protest dies in his throat when he spins back around from hanging it up to watch you slip off your shoes, his pupils expanding from eager to lust-blown the moment his gaze falls on the two wet spots already soaking through the thin material of your sundress.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his lips slotting tenderly against yours as he pushes you up against the wall, one hand coming up to cup your tender breasts.

His tongue dances along the seam of your lips, and you part them, sighing into your husband’s mouth as he deepens the kiss. You card your fingers through his still-damp hair, keening at the feeling of his thumb teasing your peaked nipples through the fabric. The arousal simmering in your gut sparks, pleasure seeping through your nerves with each deft sweep of his hands along your skin as he effortlessly unhooks your bra, tosses it to the ground, and pulls down the straps of your dress.

“Can’t even wait till we get to the bedroom?” You ask teasingly.

“Nope,” he replies, though the sound is muffled from where his mouth is now latched on to one of your engorged, leaking tits.

Atsumu has never been one for patience.

You haven’t pumped all day, and the soothing feeling of Atsumu needily lapping at your tender nipples, milk flowing into his mouth, has you whimpering in relief. Knees going weak with a flush of arousal, you start to slide to the floor, and Atsumu follows suit, his warm body slotted between your spread legs as he continues to drink from you.

The house is quiet save for the wet, sucking sounds of Atsumu’s mouth slurping at your swollen tits, punctuated at intervals by his groans—the vibration of which makes you shiver—and the breathy, keening noises falling from your own lips.

You reach down, carding your fingers through his hair, running them from his messy, blonde strands to the soft, dark brown undercut beneath. He sucks harder, letting his teeth graze a pert nipple in the way he knows makes your toes curl, and you gasp, arching into his touch as you give his hair a rough tug in return.

Atsumu moans, and you do it again, tipping his head back enough to take in the dazed look in his eyes, milk coating his lips and dripping down his chin. Suddenly, you become very aware of the way your arousal-soaked panties are clinging wetly to your folds, sticky and plastered against your eager, aching cunt.

A knowing smirk teases its way across his full lips, and Atsumu snakes a hand up the skirt of your dress, running a finger down your slit. Separated from his deft touch by both your stockings and underwear, he teases you by pushing his fingertip firmly against the nylon and cotton where your fluttering entrance is. The material gives just enough, breaching your hole and scraping wetly against the tight walls of your cunt, and you whine, bucking into his touch as you plead for more.

You can feel another spurt of milk dribbling from one of your tits, and Atsumu dips his head back down to catch it, tongue tracing a broad stroke from your belly to your nipple as he laps it all up. And just when he latches back on to milk you further, you hear a ripping sound as he tears a hole in your stockings, one large enough to slip his hand into. He then uses his thumb to pull your panties aside, swiftly plunging two fingers right into your damp pussy knuckle deep.

“Atsumu,” you pant out, bucking up into him, the slick squelch of him finger fucking you warring with the sounds of his wet mouth fervently sucking on your breasts.

He groans your name, drinking deeply from one tit as he massages and squeezes the other, pulling away for a moment to let milk squirt and spray against his lips. The feeling building inside of you burns its way down your throat and into the pit of your abdomen, your tightly coiled composure beginning to unfurl amid a slick, exhilarating thrum of pleasure.

Feeling the way the muscles in your thighs have clenched, he swipes his thumb over your clit, stroking circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves as he firmly curls his fingers inside of you. The tidal wave of pleasure bursts, clear liquid spraying from your cunt as you come hard.

Atsumu’s own steady sucking grows sloppy as he moans loudly when he feels you squirt all over him, smearing spit and milk across the swell of your tits. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he pauses in his ministrations for a moment to suck off the creamy results of your orgasm before returning to the streams of milk leaking down your chest.

“Haaaaaah, oh f-fuck,” he groans as his entire body tenses and then goes entirely limp, arms wrapped loosely around your waist as he presses his forehead against your breasts, breathing hard.

“Did you come in your pants again?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

He nods, voice slightly muffled against your skin, “Ya know what you squirting does ta me.”

Playing with his hair, you smile, “Good thing we have all night.”

And Atsumu makes the most of it, both of you stumbling into the bedroom in your post-orgasmic bliss and collapsing against the mattress, slowly taking turns peeling off one another’s clothes until you’re both naked, his cum-soaked boxers left forgotten on the floor.

The thrum of anxiety and frustration from the game still lingers, and you know Atsumu hasn’t had his fill yet.

If this didn’t turn the both of you on so much, you know he’d otherwise latch on for hours on end without stopping once for air, suckling every last drop of milk from your swollen tits till the sun begins peeking over the horizon. And it’s not that you don’t spend hours with him lapping up your milk on nights like this, it’s just also always littered with copious amounts of orgasms, his normal refractory period taking a backseat to whatever milk-fuelled stamina keeps cum pumping from his cock far more times than either of you could ever hope to count.

An hour later, you’re on your back, legs spread as Atsumu drags his tongue up your slit, lapping up a glob of his cum that’s leaking out of you. He leans in to kiss you, his filthy mouth slotting against yours tenderly, and you can feel as more cum from his last two climaxes drips out of you and onto the sheets below.

He’s left your tits untouched for a bit, mouth otherwise occupied swallowing down your moans as he fucked you deep and slow. Milk dribbles down your body, and you arch your body up into his where he hovers over you, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it through the wet, sticky mess.

“Here I thought I was the needy one,” he quips, a boyish grin on his face.

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t act like you’re done.”

“Not even close.”

This time, when his hot lips latch onto your tits, there’s nothing slow or gentle about it. He’s greedy in the way he sucks and slurps, palming at your breasts and groping your ass and squeezing your thighs. Need courses through you as you wrap your legs around his waist, both of you moaning in unison as his thick cock sinks into your cunt again.

The sound of him fucking his cum back inside of you is filthy, and you revel in it, nails digging into his shoulders and the heel of your foot pressing into his lower back as you urge him to go deeper.

He bites and sucks at the sensitive skin of your breasts, the mattress creaking loudly beneath you as he begins to roughly fuck you into it, cum leaking onto his balls and dripping down your ass. Your chest heaves as pleasure snaps through you like a whip, drunk on the combined feeling of the downright feral way Atsumu’s drinking your milk and the relentless way he’s pounding into your tight cunt.

When you come this time, it’s with a shout, vision going white as your pussy clenches down on his shaft. His orgasm follows in kind, Atsumu sucking on your nipple like his life depends on it while his cock pulses within the grip of your slick walls, once again filling you to the brim with another load of hot cum.

Atsumu collapses on top of you afterward, both of your bodies limp with exhaustion, though not enough to stop him from keeping his mouth latched to one of your tits, idly sucking away.

—

You don’t realize that the two of you fell asleep, not until you rouse to the soft morning light coming through your bedroom window and a round of knocks coming from your front door. When you go to shift, you find Atsumu’s head pillowed on chest, still unconsciously sucking on one of your nipples, even in his sleep. You roll your eyes fondly, stroking his hair.

Atsumu hums, stirring slightly. Softened cock still lodged inside of you, he rolls his hips, and you moan softly at the combined pleasure from the feeling of him sliding through the copious amounts of cum he filled you with and the hypersensitivity of being touched when you’re still half asleep. His eyes open slightly, and he gives you a tired little smile as he groans, mouth falling open as he rocks into you again.

His cock is quick to react, the feeling of his thick shaft hardening inside of the tight squeeze of your cunt leaving you breathless.

There’s another series of knocks at the front door, followed by the buzz of a text message on his phone.

Atsumu presses a kiss to your nipple before dragging his lips up the column of your throat, mouth capturing yours.

Another knock.

He pulls out and thrusts back into you deeply, languidly, cock dragging against your cum-soaked walls with ease.

Your phone buzzes.

Lazy, gentle kisses follow.

His phone begins to ring.

Atsumu reaches out in the direction of the nightstand, shoving his phone to the floor and ignoring everything but the way you keen and writhe beneath him as he fucks you through one more wet, tired, blissful orgasm.

—

Osamu, fully dressed in his Onigiri Miya uniform, looks like he’s weighing the pros and cons of fratricide when Atsumu finally opens the front door in a robe, his hands and a brush no match for what an all-night marathon of sex and sucking on your tits has done to his hair.

“I have a staff meetin’ in an hour, ya horny bastard,” he growls when he walks in, the malice a direct contrast to the way he then proceeds to coo over his sleeping niece when he sets her down in her carrier.

“We slept in,” Atsumu says casually, though his air of nonchalance is thrown off by the way Osamu unceremoniously shoves the diaper bag into his arms.

“Yer a shit liar.”

Exiting the bathroom looking far more put together than your husband, you place a finger to your lips as you gesture to your child, who’s somehow conked out despite their raised voices.

Osamu offers you an apologetic look, though he shoots his brother another glare when you make your way into the kitchen.

“Thanks again, Samu. Want something for breakfast before you head to work?” you ask him.

Atsumu pours himself a glass of orange juice in the meantime.

“Toast would be great.”

“Thought ya were in a rush,” Atsumu snarks before rolling his eyes and taking a large sip from his cup.

Rifling through the fridge, you brandish a hand in the direction of the myriad of beverages on the shelf. “Drink?”

“Milk’s fine.”

Atsumu chokes.

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu smut #dee writes

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lovebugism · 10 months

Note

Congrats on 6k!! 🎉 You deserve it and plenty more! ❤️

This one is slightly different but mutual pining office romance with modern Steve? Some inspo like “I got a coffee and muffin for you because I noticed you haven’t left your desk all morning”, teasing jokes, tension in the elevator, the a/c in the office doesn’t work and it’s the middle of summer 👀

18+ (ish)

It was Casual Friday on a Tuesday.

The air conditioning went bust building-wide, and the stuffy businessmen on the fiftieth floor decided to be lenient about the dress code for the time being. Of course, that still meant everyone had to work in ninety-degree temperatures with little to no relief, but at least Steve could see you waltz around in a pretty little tank top and pencil skirt.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a policy against showing your shoulders, sweetheart,” Steve jokes to announce his arrival as he walks into your office.

Jolted from your stupor at the printer, your head whips over your shoulder. You find the boy in his usual white button-up, unclasped to reveal his ribbed undershirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Sweaty honey hair pushed back over his forehead, the underside of his glasses slightly fogged.

He sits a white paper bag and a cup of iced coffee on your desk.

You smile, warmed by his presence in a way that’s far more tolerable than the heat wave.

“I’m pretty sure that’s because Mr. Harrington knew his son wouldn’t be able to keep it in his pants otherwise,” you squint at him, still grinning.

“Well, I must say, you are far sexier than balance sheets.”

You giggle like a schoolgirl when his broad arms wrap around you from behind. His lips sprinkle chaste kisses to the sticky skin of your bare shoulder. You can feel him smiling against you.

When you turn around to return the favor, you notice that the blinds of your office are still open — leaving the both of you on display to the entire rest of the floor you manage. They’re all too busy with their own work and too plagued by the heat to notice, but you pull away from Steve and his kisses anyway.

“You didn’t shut the blinds, you dork!” you scold, pushing your hand against his chest as you step back like he’s burned you.

Steve laughs. “C’mon. Nobody’s looking. I can kiss you.”

You’re not swayed by the wide palms he slides on your hips.

“Not until you shut the blinds and lock the door,” you scowl sternly, using your uncowed, badass businesswoman voice that always makes his knees buckle.

And even though he thinks twisting the slatted curtains closed is far more suspicious, he listens to you anyway. It’s the least he can do to make his girl feel comfortable — to make her less tense and more receptive to his touches.

Your concerns aren’t totally unfounded. You’ve told him a million times why you don’t want to make your relationship public. “I’d be dating my boss’s kid, Steven,” you’d gripe. “All my accomplishments stop meaning something after that.”

You started out on the second floor in the mail room, spent a year slaving over the books in the dim eerie hall of the seventh, and then got promoted to floor twenty-five after a particularly lucrative sale. You worked your ass off and it left you much more concerned about your position in the firm than most people tend to be.

You were halfway to the top. The very first woman to run this whole floor.

And you loved Steve, just not enough to throw all that away.

“Happy now?” he singsongs as he locks the door with a low click.

With your bottom lip between your teeth, you nod.

Now you can ogle him without fear of someone noticing, touch him all over without someone reporting it to H.R.

He looks far too sexy than what should be allowed — in his loose slacks, glasses perched on the bridge of his strong nose, chest hair poking out from the collar of his tank top.

Screw the shoulders, Steve’s body should be a company-wide violation.

Propped up on your desk, the boy settles between your thighs — spreading them slightly with his hips and making your skirt ride up. His wide palms settle on the outsides of your bare knees. Your hands rise to cradle his scruffy jaw, pulling him down for a much needed kiss.

His lips on yours are as all-consuming as the humidity surrounding you.

Your mouths click wetly when they part.

You smile at each other like two lovesick idiots.

“What’s in the bag?” you wonder, nodding your head to the paper sack beside you and the iced coffee already melting next to it.

“A blueberry muffin and one of those bagels you like,” Steve answers, big hands squeezing your thighs. “‘Cause I know you haven’t eaten all morning.”

“I’ve eaten!” you protest half-heartedly.

“Yeah?” he challenges. “What.”

“…An apple slice from the platter we had in the meeting room.”

A laugh rumbles in his chest. “That so does not count. You gotta eat better, babe. Alright? Especially in this heat. Can’t have you passing out at the copier or something.”

“Well, that’s why I have you, right?” you retort, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. This heat wave’s no match for the fire that sparks between the two of you every time you touch. “So you can bring me breakfast and feed it to me when you know I’m too busy to eat.”

“Why would I feed it to you?” he chuckles in a scoff.

You shrug. “‘Cause you love me.”

“…Touché.”

“What about you, Stevie?” you lilt, almost teasingly. “Have you eaten today?”

“I bought me something when I stopped at the café for you, but… I could always go for another bite.”

You grin wide like a mischievous cat. It would be alarming how quickly the air between you can turn from innocent to sinful if you weren’t already so turned on. You’ll just blame it on the heat for now.

“I bet you worked up a real appetite in this heat, huh?” you ask him, feigning sympathy, as the tip of your nose brushes his own. His breath fans against your mouth. You can already taste the coffee on him.

“Yeah,” he huffs lowly. “Definitely.”

“Maybe I should give you something else to eat…”

Your eyes flutter shut when his hand trails between your thighs to cup your pussy over your cotton underwear. Your neck becomes free real estate for his mouth when your head tips back. His thumb rubs your clothed clit. He can feel a damp patch already starting to form.

“Let me clear off your desk, baby,” he slurs into your pulse, smearing his spit there. “Need you to ride my face…”

“Shit, Steve—”

A knock at the door pierces the silence made velvet by sweet nothings and heavy breaths. Both of you freeze in shock, still clutching onto each other, like if you stay still enough whoever’s behind the door will leave.

“Who is that?” Steve murmurs to you, his eyes trained on the shined shoes behind the sliver of space beneath the door.

“I don’t know…”

“Steve? Are you in there?” Mr. Harrington’s voice comes muffled as the door handle jiggles. “When I told you to be fast. I meant fast. I need you for another errand.”

“Oh, shit,” you swear, breath caught in your throat. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit—”

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers sharply back to you. He inches toward the locked door.“Just… Just be cool.”

“Steve Harrington—”

“It’s fine.”

“—Don’t you dare open that door.”

He swings it open anyway. His father stands before him, looking just like his son but a few decades older and not nearly as pretty. He scowls. “Care to tell me what the door was locked?” he deadpans.

You’re glad he’s not looking at you for an answer. You wouldn’t have been able to lie like Steve does. It comes rather effortlessly to him because he’s done it all his life.

“I was bringing her breakfast, remember? Like I told you. And then we just started talking, you know? I can be a real blabbermouth sometimes.”

“Don’t I know it,” Mr. Harrington monotones. By the time he pokes his head around the doorway to your desk, you’ve already rid yourself of any evidence that you might’ve been kissing his son. His stern expression never wavers. “Both of you. Come with me.”

You nod like you’re happy to do it, swallowing down the inkling that you’re about to get fired that rises like bile in the back of your throat.

Like cows to the slaughter, you and Steve trail behind his father as he leads you through the twenty-fifth floor and to the elevators. Steve tries to grab your hand in a feeble attempt to comfort you. You jerk away from him, not wanting to be caught being so unprofessional a second time.

The elevator is quiet and stiff with sweltering heat. Mr. Harrington presses the button for the fiftieth floor.

“Um… Can I ask where we’re going?” Steve answers when the doors shut.

“I’ve got a big client coming in and want you two to sit in on the meeting. I think it could be very beneficial for you both,” he answers, still monotone, but obviously not angry.

Your chest deflates with a sigh of relief.

The man’s hands are tucked neatly behind his back. His eyes stay locked on the digital inclining numbers below the ceiling — 28, 29, 30…

“I want you to clean up in the bathroom before you go in, too. You’ve both got lipstick smeared on your chin.”

Your heart sinks all over again.

Mr. Harrington turns to his son, still as stern as ever but with a foreign glint in his eye. It borders on playful. “And if you run off my best accountant, Steven, I’m booting you back down to the mail floor.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #st drabbles #stevie drabble #office!steve

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cvrnelians · 11 months

Text

smile like you mean it - chapter five

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.

chapters 1-3 // chapter four

music

chapter five

10 ways to get someone to like you: A foolproof guide

If you want to be liked, be likable.

Roman scowled and slammed his laptop shut, carelessly tossing it to the end of the bed.

“What a stupid fucking article.”

He got up and stretched, his limbs still rigid from a heavy sleep. If there was anything positive to come out of the complete and utter shitshow that was the day before, a good night’s sleep took the cake. Rest was something Roman didn’t get a whole lot of lately, but when he did sleep, he slept hard.

Prior to becoming COO of Waystar Royco, he had always been a heavy sleeper. It wasn’t unusual for him to get eight hours of shuteye even after napping all day. He had a copious amount of (not-so-fond) childhood memories in which Connor, Kendall, and Shiv jumped on his bed in order to wake him up. They often had to hit him with pillows and shake him to the point of nausea to get him to finally open his eyes.

Well, they didn’t really have to.

There were a small handful of differences between now and then.

Although he would never admit it, his job was a big source of stress for him. The most pathetic thing about it? Most days he didn’t accomplish even twenty five percent of what his colleagues did. And what he was able to do completely exhausted him. It was a lot to live up to, being the inheritor—and now a figurehead—of a monster he hadn’t created; a monster he wasn’t even sure he wanted to keep feeding.

Another major difference between now and then was that Kendall no longer needed to shake him from a dead sleep in order to make him feel nauseous. All it really took was watching him walk into your room in the middle of the night, casual as could be, to put Roman into a not-so-ideal headspace.

“Acting like he was reuniting with an old friend or some shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He got into the shower, his mind going a million miles a minute as he continued talking to himself. “I’m Kendall,” he mocked. “I’m better than everyone now, didn’t you know? I went to rehab. I drink green juice. I’ve read The Secret. I don’t have stress anymore because I never see my own children. Look how stable I am now.”

This was the one downside of being so well-rested. His brain actually lived up to its potential. His mind simply refused to slow down. No matter how hard he willed himself not to think of you, he only thought about you that much more. Not that this was all that different from any other day. Roman thought about you all the time, sleep deprived or not.

He liked you. Okay? Even with your cheap clothes and your shitty attitude and your refusal to sit next to him in the car, he had some…feelings when it came to you.

Ew.

He hated it when you were upset with him, and he hated it even more when you weren’t around.

From the first time he saw you, he liked you. A lot, actually.

Roman liked you a lot.

He had gone to your room the night before to say he was sorry discuss how hypersensitive you were being in response to the hilarious things he said, but he stopped short in the doorway.

As it turned out, you were busy. So as any gentleman would, Roman said fuck that noise and booked it back to his room. That was the second time you made him run that day, you little jerk.

He wondered if he should take bearing witness to that stomach-turning embrace between you and Kendall as a sign. Perhaps he should never apologize to anyone, for any reason, ever again. Not even to those who deserved an apology. Not even to you. If that was what he got for trying to be the bigger person, having to watch his stormcloud of an older brother get what he wanted without even having to try, well…what was the point?

“Likable. Likable? What does that even mean?” he asked himself.

Why would the author of that article automatically assume the people reading it were the unlikable ones? What kind of introduction was that? Why should he have to shoulder the responsibility of someone not liking him? Why should he have to do all this work to win you over? Why was he even worried about it? You should be the one trying to get into his good graces. You should be the one typing stupid questions into Google at seven o’ clock in the morning, not him. It didn’t matter that he called you a run-of-the-mill, ladder climbing, H&M wearing plebeian (or a coffee gopher). It didn’t matter that he had driven you to the brink of a full blown mental breakdown under his tenure. It didn’t matter that knowing he was the one that made you cry felt like a punch to the gut.

...which didn't even turn him on, by the way.

None of it mattered. He shouldn’t have to apologize for a thing. You were obviously sleeping with Kendall. Kendall! Even if you weren’t working for him, sleeping with Kendall would still put you in the wrong in any context. You were trying so desperately to make Roman believe he was the problem, just as everyone else did. You little gaslighter.

You weren’t seriously going to leave over a couple of little insults, right?

Right?

He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he somehow managed to get a concerning amount of shampoo in his eyes.

“Ow, FUCK!”

Following five stressful minutes of washing his eyes out (or trying to, anyway), he slumped over and held his hands over his face, allowing the water to run directly over his head. He could still picture you crying on the plane, which he had been doing on a loop for the past several hours. He could concede that he came off a little unpleasant at times, but it was more of a defense mechanism than anything. Deep down, Roman knew he didn’t take anyone seriously simply because no one else took him seriously. But you had wanted to be taken seriously, and did everything to earn that.

You were having some relatively fun banter prior to the moment he turned on you like a feral dog. When he was finished with his cutting little monologue, you looked like you had been slapped. Seeing you so upset and proceeding to mock you for it…

Ugh.

This was not uncharacteristic of Roman, but it wasn't necessarily his proudest moment, either. It made him sick to his stomach, as a matter of fact.

A lot of things about the past few days made him sick to his stomach.

He could remember having a similar feeling from when he was growing up. Everything would be fine and dandy until he would say or do one little thing to set Logan off, and then bam:

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule.

“Oh, you’re crying now? You’re crying? Why don’t you just go tell Kendall about it? I’m sure he’d love nothing more.”

Roman cringed at his own words.

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule.

And then he was alone.

If you want to be liked, be likable.

He would never say it to you directly, but if he could, he would.

"I’m sorry I made you so sad."

☽

“You have no idea how things will turn out, and it’s very juvenile. It’s fucking dumb. You’re being dumb!”

You cringed as Kendall’s words bounced around in your head.

Last night had been very interesting, to say the least.

For several hours now, you lay flat on your back, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. When you did become lucid, you simply stared up at the impossibly tall vaulted ceiling. It was painted and preserved beautifully, gold borders encasing rich shades of red and blue. You reached your arm up, pretending to trace and retrace the intricate patterns with your fingers. Exhausted yet unable to sleep, you needed something mindless and soothing to wind yourself down.

Sadly, your efforts were to no avail. Your mind was still racing, hyper focused on what transpired the night before. It was jarring to think that just a simple “so, how have you been?” from Kendall would open a Pandora's box you had no clue even existed. You didn’t have much time to concentrate on it, though. At that moment, two things happened at once.

You felt a stab of panic as you received a notification that your flight was now boarding. You couldn’t believe it. You had missed your flight. You had dissociated to the point of having missed your flight. And before you could even sit up, you were startled by a loud banging noise against your door. It sounded like someone was ramming something into it full force. You weren't even sure who you were hoping not to see at this point.

Not since Kendall went absolutely ballistic on you.

“Knock, knock!” a familiar voice yelled. He didn’t bother actually knocking, nor did he wait for you to respond. He probably thought the unpleasant crash was sufficient enough.

You were almost relieved.

Enter one Roman Roy.

But he wasn’t alone. In front of him was the culprit, the battering ram that nearly gave you a heart attack, in the form of a large metal breakfast cart. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, he was dressed in athletic wear. He looked out of place in such a grandiose room, like you were playing a beginner’s version of “I Spy.”

I spy with my little eye something reprehensible.

“Here comes the breakfast fairy,” he said in an awkward, singsong voice. He slowly rolled the unsteady cart towards you. “Here to um…y’know. Bring you breakfast. Breakfast just for you.”

A wheel broke off as he made his way over, making coffee spill onto the tray. He cursed as he shakily lifted the tray up off the cart and reached over to hand it to you. You gawked at him. “Okay, that’s what I get for saying that. That was fucking stupid. I didn’t say that. You don’t remember me saying that.”

“You brought me breakfast?”

“It would appear so,” he said cheerfully. “Like a good boy.”

“I missed my flight,” you blurted out awkwardly.

He paused for a second, taking a deep breath before reverting back to his typically rude delivery. “Yeah, not my problem. Can you please just take the tray? It’s really heavy.”

“I missed my flight,” you repeated.

He ignored you and slowly set the tray on your lap. He lifted the lid to reveal a pretty solid breakfast as far as you were concerned: a single poptart and two comically large cups of coffee. One was black, the other a latte with a poorly drawn happy face carved into the foam. You would have laughed if you weren’t so stressed out. All of this buildup for a lone pastry and an alarming amount of coffee.

“Where’s the second poptart?”

“I ate it. Obviously. Don’t be ungrateful,” he snapped. “You like wildberry, right? You seem like you would like wildberry. A little fun, a little different. Spice up your life, or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, breaking the poptart into several pieces before taking a bite. “You could have the most elaborate breakfast in the world, and yet you’d prefer to have this?”

“What? I may be rich but that doesn’t mean I like exclusively rich people things. Have you seen rich people food? I mean, probably not but…”

You tentatively picked up the latte. “Did you poison this? Did you spit in this?”

“Hah, you wish.”

“I wish?”

“I mean, I can if you’d like,” he said, leaning towards you.

“No!” you yelled, making him wince. You lowered your voice. “Sorry, no. I think I’m alright.”

He reached down to pick up the other mug. “This one's for meee.”

“Of course it is.”

He gasped, cradling the side of his face with his palm in mock excitement. “Uh oh. I have an idea. Do you want to spit in mine?”

“I hate this conversation," you sighed. "You’d probably be into that, so I’m gonna say no.”

“Well, how do you know for sure that the cool one is yours?”

You shrugged. “Because I’m cool.”

“You sure about that?”

“And I know you like your coffee black.”

“Touché,” he said, leaning against the wall across from your bed. You both drank your coffee in silence for a few moments.

“Did you bring this from home?” you asked, pointing to the poptart.

“No. I made that lanky muppet go buy me a box.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wh...Wait, are you talking about Greg?”

“Yeah, I figured I would send Gumby on a little errand since I apparently can’t do that with you anymore. Since you’re—” he made air quotes with his fingers—“quitting.”

“Wait, does he even know how to drive in the UK? How did he even get to a store? We’re miles from—”

“I told him I would make him sleep outside if he didn’t figure out a way to score me some. I have no clue how he got all the way out into the city so fast. Can you believe that? Being tall does have its perks, I guess. His strides had him moving at the speed of light, apparently.”

You gawked at him again, horrified.

Poor, poor Greg.

You dropped the remaining pieces of the poptart on your plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Oh come on, it’s funny. Don’t let his efforts be in vain.” He took a big gulp of coffee. “Anyway. I was thinking...”

“Why are you dressed like that?” you asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a fitness influencer.”

“I was getting to that. Don’t interrupt me.”

You leaned your head back and groaned.

“Okay, drama. Calm down. We’re all supposed to go golfing this morning, but I hate golf. I'm pretty sure you do, too. You told me once. So I thought maybe we could, like. I don’t know. Pretend to go for a run like we usually do? Talk? Only if it’s not going to cut into your busy schedule, of course. Ms. Newly Unemployed.”

“Roman, what could you possibly want to talk about? If you’re going to try and convince me to stay, don’t waste your time.”

“I was thinking we could get to know each other, at least a little bit. That way, I would know what to put in your reference letter when you blow this popsicle stand.”

“Yeah. Like you would write the letter yourself,” you mused. "Like you even could. You can't even reply to an email in a timely manner."

“Hey!”

“Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Like I said, I missed my flight and am feeling like a total idiot. Bet you’re really getting off on that one.”

He stared at you for a few seconds, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next.

“What?” you asked.

He sighed. “I’m not getting off on it as much as you might think.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“I don’t know how you perceive me exactly, but I have a general idea. And I know this might come as a shock, but like I said, I’m really not that bad. I mean, okay. I am. I am. But not in every situation, not always. I’ll have you know, I do have my moments.”

“Yeah? When?”

“Right now, maybe? Look, I brough—”

“Brought me breakfast. Yeah. I can see that.”

“Which I still haven’t gotten a proper thank you for, by the way.”

“I’ll give you a proper thank you when you give me a proper apology.”

“Fine. Okay, I’m sorry I was a little unreasonable with you yesterday. I’m sorry I, uh…manhandled you when we were getting into the car. Or tried to. Like, really, really tried.You’re pretty strong, you know that?”

“Is that all?” you asked, cocking your head to one side.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about you and Kendall. And calling you names. I didn’t mean it. That about covers it, right?”

“And?”

“...being a dick?”

You considered not even bringing it up, but since you decided to quit your job, you simply did not care anymore.

“Aren’t you sorry that you lied to me?”

“Wait, what?” he asked, on the verge of laughter. “I didn’t lie to you. Lie to you about what?”

Your conversation with Kendall rang loud and clear in your ears.

“It’s so good to see you. I wish you could’ve been on the flight with us, but I know you got held up. Work comes first.”

Work comes first? What did that have to do with there not being enough seats on the jet?

“Got held up?”

“Yeah, Roman told us you guys were swamped.”

“I…I mean, yeah. I’m always busy, but we flew separately because Roman told me there wasn’t enough room on the plane for us.”

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

“Yeah, he said there were some issues with the seats. A few of them needed to be repaired, so there wasn’t enough space for everyone.”

“Are you…oh my god,” Kendall scoffed. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Ken, I don’t—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Roman, why did we fly here separate from everybody else?”

Roman choked on his coffee, making him stop to clear his throat. “I already told you, there wasn’t enough space for our sparkling personalities on Dad's favorite plane.”

“Not enough space?”

“Yep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Look, no matter what evocative bullshit you send my way this morning, you can’t change my mind. I’ve already decided. I want to make things up to you. So, if you’re upset that I maybe told a little white lie, I’m sorry.”

“So you did lie, then?”

He eyed you sheepishly.

“Sort of. How did you figure it out?"

“I don’t get it. Of all things, why would you lie about that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with me not wanting to hang out with my family in a torture chamber for hours? What if we crashed? You think I wanna die surrounded by a bunch of scorpions?”

“They’re your family!”

“Unfortunately."

“If the two of us crashed together, you’d have died alongside someone that doesn’t even like you. How is that more appealing?”

"Oh, how you wound me," he said flatly. “That may be so, but you don’t annoy me. Not to mention, you only sting me if I sting you first. It’s refreshing.”

You didn’t have the mental bandwidth to analyze that one this morning.

“Alright, fine. But your apology tour isn’t quite over yet.”

“You do know I don’t have to apologize to you at all, don’t you? You’re leaving. You’re basically nothing to me.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“What can I say? I’m just such a nice guy.”

You both stared at each other for a second before launching into hysterics.

Roman sighed as you both attempted to stop cackling. “You know this is the most you’ve smiled at me in…like, ever? Is that poptart really that good?”

“I just feel relieved is all.”

“And why is that?”

“Why do you think?” you asked. "I'm finally freeing myself from your reign of tyranny."

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, setting down his mug. “We have fun sometimes, don't we? I mean, we got into a blowout argument yesterday and now we're totally fine. Even when we argue, I still don't feel like we're enemies. And believe me, I have a lot of those. Are you sure you want to leave?”

The way he was looking at you was truthfully making you a little sad. But as per usual, he wasn't thinking logically. You were practically attached at the hip every day. Of course there was some level of familiarity between the two of you, even amidst all the chaos. It was easy to mistake for friendship, given how often you were in communication, given how much you did for him. But that was your job.

You had to stop yourself from smiling.

Not anymore, it wasn't.

“Roman, the way we communicate is super dysfunctional. You’ve made me cry multiple times. Yes, I’m sure I want to leave.”

“Ugh," he groaned. "Okay. Look, as far as I'm concerned, you're king shit of fuck mountain right now."

"Excuse me, what?" you laughed.

"What you say goes. Pick a number, I'll increase your salary. Lay out some ground rules. I'm not the most ethically sound person in the world, but I do know how to compromise when it comes to doing what's best for business. And you're probably the only person who can tolerate me, so."

"Roman, I don't think I can come back from yesterday. That was way, way too much. But it's not just you. Last nigh—"

"I was wrong," he interrupted you. "I usually am. Shocker. But here's the thing: you're kind of like...invaluable, to me?" It came out as more of a reluctant question than a statement. His voice was shaky and small as he continued on. "You've, um...helped me a lot. In more ways than one. And I don't want you quitting and just going to work for Kendall again, because I don't really trust him."

"Roman, I can assure you that is not something you will ever have to worry about. Last nigh—"

"Just don't go, please."

You would've been more annoyed with him constantly interrupting you if his voice didn't sound so pitiful, if he didn't look so pitiful. You were caught off guard by the groveling. Not necessarily put off by it, but certainly surprised. This was possibly the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. And the whole breakfast thing; since when did Roman go out of his way to do something deliberately nice for you? It was very obviously to serve his own purposes. He didn't want you to quit, but it didn't seem to come from a bad place.

You had observed him for a second too long, it seemed. He cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure. Just like his kindness, Roman's willingness to be vulnerable also had a very short shelf life.

"If you expect another apology, you can fuck off. And I know you do expect one. But don't actually fuck off, you know what I mean? Out of everybody here, I want you to fuck off the least."

"Wow," you said flatly. "That's amazing."

"I know. I can't believe it, either."

☽

kendall 👀👀

@pearlstiare // @ay0nha // @theladyalicnt // @littleladdty @spacebaby1

#roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession

743 notes · View notes

bloatedandalone04 · 6 months

Text

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.3

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which both you and anakin begin packing, but for two different reasons, and in an attempt to reassure you, he comes home with something that will surely get his point across.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | HAPPY HALLOWEEN

“This is so fucking sad,” Anakin mutters as he shoves the few shirts he took out of his bag back into it. “We didn’t even get to unpack our clothes yet.”

You nod as you drop your sweatpants into your suitcase that was open on the bed. “I know,” you agreed. “I feel like we’re moving out again, even though we’ll only be gone for a few months. This place already feels like home, I’m going to miss it.”

Anakin nods and drops his bag onto the floor before moving to stand behind you. “It feels like home because it is our home, pretty girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck as you begin to fold a pair of jeans. “And it’ll still be here in three months. The lease doesn’t expire until we want to move again.”

“I don’t want to move again,” you tell him, placing your hand on his arm when he wraps it around your middle. “At least not for a while. I need a sense of normalcy after all this is over.”

He hums, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose. “I get that, believe me,” he says. “Just last year I was uploading our first single onto my old Youtube account, now I’m being asked to extend our first tour. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to take it all in yet.”

You smile at him, zipping up your suitcase before turning around in his arms. “You’ve got the rest of your life to do that,” you tease, leaning up to kiss him quickly. “Try to live in the moment, Ani. The rest of the world will catch up to you eventually.”

Anakin gives you a grateful look, his lips turning upwards in a grin that takes you back to yours and his high school days. He looks so at peace right now, so young and carefree, it makes you miss the way things used to be, if only for a split second. You wouldn’t change a thing about the last five years. “What am I going to do without you? I know it’s not forever, it’s not even for half a year, but three months is too long without you.”

You wrap your arms around his middle. “I know,” you mumble. “But I’m going to come visit you. I refuse to miss all of your shows, I need to see at least a few.”

Anakin groaned quietly, leaning down to press a hard kiss to your lips. “How is it possible that I already miss you? You’re in my arms yet I still miss you,”

You shrug, tracing your finger over his sleeve of tattoos and pausing on your initial. “Maybe your body is already preparing itself,” you offer. “I hope you get some good sleep on this tour. I know you had a hard time doing it last time.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, moving around you so he can sit down on the bed next to your suitcase. His hands pull on your waist and you stand in between his thighs, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’ll be sleeping alone this time around while you’re off doing London things. I’ll be lucky to get more than four hours of sleep throughout the next three months.”

You roll your eyes and kiss him again, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. “You’ll just have to learn how to live without me,”

Anakin glared at you, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. “Like fuck I will,”

Laughing, you quickly kiss his cheek before pulling away from him. Anakin reluctantly lets you go, his arms falling back to his sides as you begin to sort through what books you wanted to take with you.

Anakin watches you with a weary look on his face. It was clear that you were nervous about going to London on your own, and he knew you were worried about your relationship. While you are both fully aware that you two were it for each other, this was still a big step.

Nearly five years in and you hadn’t spent more than a week away from one another, so to spend multiple was a big change. It was obvious that you were feeling anxious about it all, and Anakin wanted to assure you that everything will be fine. He wanted to ensure you were aware that you will be the one constant on his mind during the whole time he is away from you.

A half an hour goes by and Anakin is once again asked to come to the studio. He is sitting at the desk beside Vinny as Theo goes over a new beat he made up on his bass in the soundbooth. “Hey,” he asked his friend and drummer, leaning over so he didn’t have to talk very loud. “You free for a few hours after this?”

Vinny leans over as well, glancing at Helena before meeting Anakin’s eyes. “Yeah, I should be,” he answers. “What’s up?”

“Y/n’s stressing out about leaving for her program, though she won’t admit it,” Anakin says. “I want to assure her somehow. Are you down to sit through a tattoo session with me?”

“Always, man,” Vinny reaches over and bumps Anakin’s fist with his own. “Count me in.”

Anakin gives his friend a grateful smile before turning back to watch Theo.

After successfully recording the beat for a possible future song, Helena sits the three guys down and excitedly announces that she’s come up with a way to get some good promo out to the fans. “We’re going to hire a tour photographer,” she informs them, a big grin on her glossy lips. “We need some HD pictures of you all in action, and this is a great way to get you guys out there.”

Vinny sits up in his chair, glancing over at Anakin and Theo. “That’s actually not a bad idea,”

Anakin nods in agreement, as does Theo.

“Great, I knew you’d all agree,” Helena says and hands them each a piece of paper. “I want you to go through potential options together. Look them up on their social media, get a feel for how they portray their artists, then pick which one you think would capture you the best.”

“Sounds like homework,” Theo mumbled as he read the long list of names. Anakin and Vinny laugh as they, too, go over the list.

“No, your homework is to put out another hit single,” Helena says and the three straighten up pretty quickly after that. “Aha, not so funny when it’s your asses on the line, is it?”

“Sorry,” Anakin says for him and his bandmates. “Thanks, Helena.”

“Uh huh,” she smiles. “Get to work, boys.”

“So, what will it be this time, superstar?” Brock, Anakin’s long time tattoo artist asks when he saw him and Vinny enter the shop. “You finally gonna let me tattoo a snake on you?”

“No,” Anakin shakes his head with a grin, holding out a birthday card you had given him last year. “I was thinking something more tame.”

Brock nods as Anakin pointed at the writing on the bottom of the card. “Ah,” he hums. “I like it. Have a seat.”

A few minutes later, the tattoo is printed out and the trace is pressed against Anakin’s skin. Vinny stands off to the side as Brock begins poking Anakin’s left wrist with the tattoo gun, his eyes narrowing at how calm he is when he is literally being poked with a multitude of needles. “You sure have a lot of those,” he gestures to his sleeve. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“No,” Anakin answers, leaning back in the chair. “Almost feels like a massage.”

“Yeah, right,” Vinny rolled his eyes, looking at the wall of possible tattoo options. “You’re full of it.”

Anakin laughs as he looks down to watch Brock work on the neat handwriting. “You’re lucky your girl doesn’t have shitty writing, man,” Brock pointed out as he continued working.

“I don’t think she ever did. I remember her taking notes in high school and she had good handwriting back then, too. It’s only gotten better,” he mumbles. Even if you had the worst handwriting in the world, Anakin still would’ve gotten it tattooed on him, like he is now. “A lot better than mine, anyway.”

“Fuck, mine too,” Brock muttered, wiping at Anakin’s wrist before going back in with the needle. “Chicks just have nicer writing, I guess.”

“Don’t think that’s true,” Vinny adds as he flips through a tattoo book. “Clara’s got the worst handwriting I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Anakin laughs again as he looks up at his friend. “How is she doing, anyway? Upset you’re going on tour again so soon?”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” Vinny says as he sets the book down and leans against the shelf. “I already talked to Theo about it, now I want to run it by you.”

“Sure, man,” Anakin refrains from sitting up straight and possibly making Brock mess up the tattoo. “What’s up?”

“I know it was your bed last time, and I really am sad to hear that Y/n can’t come with us again, but I was thinking of bringing Clara with us? And she and I can get the big bed?” Vinny asked with a hint of nervousness lacing his usual cool tone.

Anakin hadn’t even thought about that. There was no point in him needing the double bed this time around since he wouldn’t be sharing it with you, and now he was almost positive that he would not be getting very good sleep at all this time around, especially since he would be sleeping without you next to him.

Something about sleeping in the bunk under Theo’s or the one above his was not appealing at all, but he supposed he would deal with it. “Yeah, of course,” Anakin answered. “All yours, dude.”

Vinny grinned at him and bumped his fist against Anakin’s. “Thanks, man,” he says. “How are you doing with the whole ‘moving to London’ thing? You and Y/n are practically attached at the hip.”

Anakin looked away and shrugged, eyeing the way Brody traced your pretty writing. “It’ll be hard,” he replied, trying to come off as unbothered, but he knew he would be missing you like crazy in a week. “But we’ll be fine. It’ll be five years together in a few weeks, we can go a few months without seeing each other every day.”

He hoped he sounded convincing, because even he wasn’t entirely assured. “Yeah, of course,” Vinny agreed, going back to flipping the pages of the tattoo book. “If anyone can do this it’s you two. I was talking to Helena earlier, and guess where our first location is?”

“Where?” Anakin asked as he looked at Vinny’s back.

Vinny turned around and smirked. “London,”

“Y/n?” Anakin called out as soon as he got back from the tattoo shop. He had phoned Helena on the way home and confirmed that London indeed is their first tour stop, and that you could possibly go with him. “Baby?”

Your sweet voice called back, “In the kitchen, Ani,” and he was making his way down the hall without a second thought.

When he entered the kitchen, he found you with your elbows pressed against the top of the island counter as your fingers picked at a muffin. He grinned at you before he pressed a kiss to your crumb coated lips, making you smile into it and pull away after a few seconds.

“Good day?” You ask as your eyes trace over every inch of his face and your lips match his small smile.

“Great day,” he corrected as he moved to stand behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle.

You lean back against him and lift the muffin up to his mouth, not caring about the hundreds of crumbs that fell into your shirt when he bit into it. “That’s good to hear,” you leaned in and kissed his jaw as he chewed. “What happened that made it a great day?”

Anakin ran his nose along your cheekbone and pulled you a bit tighter against him. “I woke up next to you,” he answered and smirked when you just rolled your eyes as you set the half eaten muffin onto the counter. “And I got a new tattoo.”

You perk up at that and turn around in his arms, your eyes raking over his sleeve in search of the new ink. “Where? Of what?”

Anakin laughed and placed his hands on your hips, hiding the clear bandage on his wrist for the time being. “Before I show you, I want you to know that this,” he gestured between the two of you. “Is all I could ever want. You’re everything I could ever want, forever.”

You narrow your eyes as you nod, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. “You’re all I want, too, Ani,”

He leaned forward and kissed you deeply, his left hand coming up to grip the side of your face. “I just wanted to make sure you’re aware of that,” he murmurs as he pulls back and moves to stand next to you. He wraps his right arm around your waist and raises his left, his tattoo on full display now.

Your eyes widen as your hand shoots out to grip his and angle his wrist in an awkward angle. “Ani,” you gasped quietly as you observed the new ink that is now permanently on his skin.

In your neat handwriting were the words, ‘Forever Your Princess,’ etched onto the smooth skin of his wrist. You remembered writing that on a card for his twenty-first birthday, and your heart swelled at the fact that he actually kept the card.

You look up at him with a swarm of emotions evident in your eyes. “Anakin,” you whisper and gently run the tip of your index finger over his slightly swollen wrist.

He has your initial tattooed on his bicep, and now he had your writing placed perfectly on the part of his arm that was less crowded with various other tattoos. It had its own spot, whereas your initial was surrounded by random things.

Both had your heart beating rapidly as you moved to stand in front of him and lean up to kiss him. “You got another tattoo for me?”

Anakin wasn’t able to respond before you were kissing him again, this time much more deeply than before. When your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, he groans against your mouth as he presses your body against the island. “I’m yours for the rest of my life, princess,” he mumbled against your slightly wet lips. “If it wasn’t obvious enough before.”

Your eyes nearly rolled back at his words and how effortlessly he was able to turn you on. “God, you’re perfect,”

He shook his head, his nosing brushing against yours as he did so. “And there’s something else,”

Your hands slide back down to grip the worn fabric of his vintage tee. “Tell me,”

His fingers tease the skin of your hips when his hands push up your top a bit. “The first stop of the tour is in London,” he says and your lips turn upwards. “As long as you don’t mind sleeping in a bunk with me for a night, you can come with us.”

Your eyes cloud over with something he’s seen thousands of times now before you were kissing him again and gripping his shoulders tightly. His hands grab onto the backs of your thighs as he lifts your body up and sets you down on the island. “You are so fucking perfect,” you say again and kiss all over his face. “The absolute love of my entire life.”

Anakin laughed under his breath as you began to kiss his neck. “So, that’s a yes on coming with us for the first night?”

You pull back and raise your brow at him as if that was the dumbest question ever, and you let him know it was, too, “Are you serious? Of course I’m coming with you,”

And that was all Anakin needed to hear before he was kissing you again and moving to stand in between your legs.

It was cliché as fuck to say, but the two of you really did fit so unbelievably well together. While Anakin had been a pretty scrawny kid growing up, he had filled out in all the right places by the time he was in tenth grade. He also took PE during the four years he was in high school, so his shape had only gotten better since then.

You were a hell of a lot smaller than him, and your height difference was laughable at times. Your body was covered entirely by his whenever he stood in front of you and you looked even smaller whenever he tucked you under his arm.

And yet you fit perfectly together.

Anakin pulls your body close to his, and you were barely on the counter as he gave a slow roll of his hips against yours.

This is where he belonged, with you. He could get through a few months away from you if it meant you got to chase your dream after watching him achieve his. You had been so supportive of him since the very start, he couldn’t not do the same for you.

He was so fucking proud of you. You are by far the smartest person in his life and he knew you would excel in this program.

Three months will be nothing, right? It would be nothing when you both know that you’re in it for the long run.

When your quiet moan reached his ears, he quickly felt himself grow hard. Though, really, it didn’t take much. You turned him on constantly, and most of the time you aren’t even trying to.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you say in between kisses. “I miss you already.”

When your fingers begin to work on the button of his jeans, Anakin moves to place kisses all along your neck. “I’m right here, baby,” he swore, pressing kiss after kiss to the smooth skin of your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere without coming back to you.”

You whine quietly and the sound goes straight to his dick because he simply has no control over that part of himself, and you were so effortlessly hot. “Ani,” you beg and unzip his jeans, your small hand beginning to palm him through his tight boxer briefs.

“I know, princess,” he mutters, his fingers teasing the waistline of your sweats. “Where do you want it?”

“Here,” you answer in a breathy tone, your freehand coming up to tug on his hair a bit. He had let it grow out a few centimeters, just to try it out, and was receiving no complaints on your end, so he assumed you must like it. Even if he didn’t like it, he probably would keep his hair at whatever length you liked the best, all because you were his girl and he would do pretty much anything to please you. “Right here.”

Anakin smirks against your skin, his hands pulling down your sweats and dropping them to the floor. “This reminds me of our place on campus,” he mumbles as he reaches down to run his index and middle fingers through your folds, finding you already wet for him. “Remember that first night we couldn’t even make it through dinner before you were begging me to fuck you? I took you right there on the counter.”

“We were nineteen, Anakin,” you try to excuse your past actions, but clearly were no better than the way you were two years ago as you were in damn near the same exact predicament. “And we just moved in, I didn’t get the chance to make the bed yet.”

He hummed as he sunk his digits into your welcoming heat. “I’m not complaining, baby,” he smirked, pulling your body closer to the edge of the counter so he could grind his still clothed front against your bare one. “Just goes to show how much we need each other, huh?”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him right up against you, your legs closing around his waist. “I’m always going to need you, Ani,” you say against his mouth. “Please, touch me.”

Anakin barely had enough room to be able to push down his boxers and thrust into your core, but he managed to do it in one swift movement. He groaned against your wet lips as he began to fuck you while still being fully clothed, his fingers bunching up the fabric of your shirt as he gripped your waist.

“Ani,” you whimper, tugging on the hair at the back of his neck with tight fists.

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, kissing along your jawline as his hips rocked into yours. “You’re so good for me, so tight.”

Your eyes roll a bit and you reach one hand down, placing it flat on the counter behind you as you try to steady yourself, despite already being relatively stable. “You feel so good, Anakin,” you praised, tilting your head back when he started to place open mouthed kisses to your throat. “So deep.”

He grunted loudly, sucking a mark onto your neck before pulling away and smirking at the love bite. “Easy,” he warned in a half serious tone. “Keep talking like that and I won’t last long at all.”

You shake your head and kiss him deeply. “I don’t need you to last long, Ani,” you mumbled. “Just need you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he rasped, slowing down the harsh thrusts of his hips as he processed your dirty words. Almost five years with you and he still isn’t used to how filthy you can be when alone with him, then become innocent again after he’s done with you. “Jesus Christ, baby.”

You laughed and the sound faded into a low moan as he slowly fucked into you. The sweet and sexy sound makes him feel a bit crazy and he goes blind for a brief second from the pleasure you always gave him.

The cool countertop did nothing to soothe your heated skin as your body burned with desire for the man who has only ever been yours.

The same man who is rutting into you and saying all the right things in your ear as he did so. “You’re so beautiful, princess,” he murmured. “My pretty girl. You’re so fucking sweet.”

You gasp when he trails a hand down and rubs soft circles onto your clit with the pad of his finger. “Anakin, fuck,” you hum and tug him closer. “Please, please.”

“What?” He asked, his tone mock free as he kissed along the curve of your jaw. “What do you want, baby? What do you need?”

“Hard,” you weakly answer, twisting his shirt in your hands. “I need it hard, Ani.”

He growled deeply and the sound went straight to your core, where you tighten around him. As he obeyed your request, Anakin found himself lost in the overall feeling of you. The way your body fit against his own, the sound of your soft moans next to his ear, how your hands couldn’t stay still on just one part of him.

He is so in love with you, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

The question weighed heavily on his tongue, and it wasn’t the first time he had to stop himself from asking you right in that moment.

He just couldn’t help it. He wanted you with him all the time, but you were still young, and have both made it clear that you wanted each other forever. There was no rush.

“Ani,” your breathless voice called him back to you. “Don’t stop, please.”

Anakin huffed out a grunt, resuming his harsh circles on your clit. “I’m not stopping, pretty girl,” he promised. “Not until I get you off so good.”

“You always do,” you moan, wrapping both arms tightly around his shoulders as your heels dig into his back to bring him even closer to you. “I’m gonna come.”

He kissed you deep and hard, his hips hitting yours at a bruising pace. “Do it,” he says in a daring voice. “Come for me.”

You moan loudly, your hands holding his hair in a death grip.

He couldn’t lie, moving into a new apartment with thick walls had to be one of the best decisions of his life, as you and he could be as loud as you want, and it was no secret that he loved getting you to be as noisy as possible.

He loved how vocal you got in the bedroom, or in this case, on the kitchen island.

It wasn’t just because it was a great ego boost and ensured him that he was keeping you satisfied in bed, but because he couldn’t get enough of the sounds you have only ever made for him.

That was obvious enough, seeing as he literally used an old video you sent him years ago in a song, just so he could share with the world how hot you truly are, even if you are very introverted yourself.

“Anakin,” you warn in a whisper, brushing your lips against his. “Oh, God.”

Another loud moan leaves your mouth as he feels your walls flood around him, and you whimper with every thrust of his hips as he rides you through your high. “Good girl,” he praised against your lips.

And he wasn’t too far off, either, as it was only a few more seconds later when he, too, reached his high.

You keep your legs locked around his waist and pull him right up against you when he stills, embracing him sweetly in the afterglow. Your hands run softly through his hair while his fingers trace circles on the skin of your hips, the silence between you comfortable yet a bit tense.

You both knew what was coming after this, and you both weren’t ready for it, but found comfort in one another as your time was now limited.

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atlas-plugged · 1 year

Note

I haven’t read Atlas since 2005, so I’m stoked to passively ingest snarky commentary.

It always seemed to me that the people around me who were most in love with this book often particularly love the idea that other people should love them regardless of how they treat other people. Like, being a dick, or just not having very good social skills, shouldn’t tarnish the adulation due to Smart People TM, (my super cringe teenage self included) who should run the world.

I’m super curious if this matches your observations.

So I'll tell you about the two people who I most vividly remember loved Atlas Shrugged when I was working at the coffee shop and they saw me reading it.

One person was a young latina woman who had worked her way through college and law school and who had passed the bar a year before and was working overwhelming hours at a law firm where she was getting significant raises on a regular basis. The job was difficult, and she always seemed on the verge of burnout, but she was very firmly entrenched in the idea that hard work paid off and liked the book because it was about people who were brilliant and rich and worked hard anyway and they came out on top in the end.

The other person who loved it was a middle-aged man who worked taking bets at the racetrack and who was a literal, actual VOCAL member of the John Birch Society. He was notable for two habits: he never tipped, and while he never bought his own pack of cigarettes he would also never, ever allow you to *give* him cigarettes, so he would 'bum' smokes from me and pay me a quarter each (this was when a pack cost about five dollars, so that was just about what a cigarette cost). He liked the book because he thought the world was full of moochers (he's the only person I've ever spoken to who would regularly refer to people that way in conversation) and the book was a story where the moochers got what was coming to them for once.

These were VERY different people who took pretty different messages from the book for very different reasons.

I think the central fantasy of Atlas Shrugged is that it is full of characters who are loved and valued for the thing that they most value about themselves. It is a book that is not just about a meritocracy, it is about a Meritopia. It is about people who get the things they want because they are the best at what they do. This is CENTRAL to the story.

The reason I used the term "Matryoshka of Cuckoldry" to describe the relationships is because of this meritocratic point of view. Eddie loves Dagny but is not jealous of the fact that she wants Francisco because Francisco is a better man than Eddie. Francisco wants Dagny, but understands her passion for Hank because Hank is a good man who is currently part of her world in a way that Francisco can't be. Hank *sends her a letter* letting her know that he's okay with her leaving him for Galt because he meets Galt and understands why Dagny can't love Hank anymore once she has met the pinnacle of humanity. Then both of her exes help her rescue her current lover because he is a better man than them.

The Fountainhead has a much more literal cucking thing going on with Dominique marrying and fucking two men who she thinks are much worse than Roark, sullying herself with their lust until Roark chooses to stop sullying himself by operating in a world that doesn't value him the way that she does.

What is the same in both of these novels, and what I think you are pointing at in your ask, is that the horrible characters are loved for the things that they love about themselves, and all of their unloveable traits don't matter.

That is the fantasy that people are getting from Atlas Shrugged, and that's why you might find some real assholes out there "Looking for their Dagny/Galt" (a literal phrase I have seen on Libertarian dating sites!).

And you know what, I can be sympathetic to that.

I was raised to value intellect over everything else. Academic achievement, high test scores, acceptance to a good college, and being smarter and more knowledgeable than all my peers was what I was taught was more important than being kind, or being polite, or making friends, or taking care of my mental health.

That meant that I really, really, really wanted people to love me for how smart I was.

And, well. The thing about that is, I ended up loving and being loved by people who didn't care if I was cruel or selfish, and who didn't mind being cruel or selfish to me.

I'm still kind of an asshole. And since I started dating my spouse within three months of when I first read Atlas Shrugged, it's not a surprise that he doesn't care much if I'm nice to people and is, himself, kind of an asshole (though, notably, he is not an asshole with me and part of me getting better has been both of us learning to draw boundaries on how we are willing to be treated by one another).

But oh my god, I'm never an asshole like I am when I'm around my dad. I'm never as much of a snob as I am when he brings it out in me. I'm never as mean as I am when I'm talking to him. And I've never stopped hearing from my dad that I'm too smart to be doing the job that I'm doing, that I'm too smart to be going back to school for a different degree, that I should be getting a PhD and focusing on one field because that's what I'm best at and the rest of the world should recognize it. I know that's what my dad loves about me more than anything else he loves about me. He thinks I'm smarter than him, and he thinks that's awesome, and he thinks that everything I do that is not about harnessing raw intelligence into an academic career is a waste of my mind and time.

So there is a part of me that deeply identifies with these characters whose best trait is their efficiency, who never bother to be nice because it would slow them down in the process of being perfect. I desperately understand the fantasy of someone saying "you are the best in the world at this one specific thing and I find that so sexy that I don't care about your lack of work/life balance, offputting personality, and total lack of skills unrelated to your area of interest."

(Of note: another part of this fantasy in the novel is that skill in one area translates to skill in others. There's a philosopher who is also an incredible short order cook; there's a banker who is also a brilliant tobacco grower; there's a railroad executive who is also an expert maid because Ayn Rand is so fucking kinky she doesn't know what to do with herself)

That's just, you know, a shitty way to live and means you treat people like crap and sometimes that takes a little while to understand that and figure out how to be less of an asshole.

Also: part of the fantasy is that you actually ARE good enough at any one thing that that's what someone will love you for. Most of us aren't! And that's a good thing actually, because people should love you for more than one aspect of yourself!

I've said it before and I'll say it again: one of the most important things that I've ever come across for my mental health is this image:

[ETA: the image is a print by Nicole Manganelli of Radical Emprints and you can get one here.]

I saw it on Tumblr some time in 2013 or thereabouts and instantly recoiled from it. I was angry about it. It was *WRONG.* At that point, in my mind, ALL that you are were worth was your productivity. That was literally all that you had to offer to the world, and literally all that people could love you for.

That's the Atlas Shrugged mindset. That's what the people who are fans of the book are carrying around in their heads. That's why they think it doesn't matter if they're an asshole, so long as they're rich enough, or work hard enough, or are the best at enough things, or have enough to make up for the fact that they aren't anything outside of their productivity.

But the picture wasn't wrong, I was wrong.

Anyway, I've done a lot of therapy about it and that's the best answer I've come up with.

#matryoshka of cuckoldry #image description in alt

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astronicht · 17 days

Text

Replying to a comment on this ask reply about evil in the North in LOTR (but it was too long to actually put in a comment ,)

@warrioreowynofrohan I'm so glad evil is in the north in The Silmarillion!! I have also been promised that the story of the creation of the world is also in there, since Frodo fell asleep during Tom Bombadil’s early medieval cosmology lesson. I really, really want to know what happens in Elf Creation, because Tolkien did not write a book about it academically but CLEARLY had at least a few opinions about early medieval ideas of where the world came from, which he possibly just put in Middle Earth, if he had them fleshed out enough. This makes me nuts bc CS Lewis, meanwhile, wrote a whole-ass book called The Discarded Image about his idea* of the medieval vision of the cosmos (like where is outer space, where are the planets, where’s heaven, etc, including How It All Got Made) and also per the word of a thesis supervisor back in the day who was super into this stuff, worked symbolism of the planets in the medieval cosmos into one of his fictional works.

*bc the rest is under cut: if you want a more accurate read for medieval and Renaissance cosmology, the textbook is Planets, Stars, and Orbs by Edward Grant. I would not recommend TDI for historical accuracy

Lewis brushes over early medieval ideas only briefly (early medieval anything is actually not usually included in medieval academia on a theme; it’s sort of a weird zone from ca. 600-1100 AD, and Grant doesn't cover it either). But while the book is interesting on some points, it's pretty misleading, and CS Lewis's one solid error was presenting all of medieval cosmology as a Single Idea, which it also very much was not. People did not magically stop arguing about how the world got made and what it looked like for one thousand years, and modern scholarship has looked at that. But he was reading all the same texts as Tolkien, and this weird oversight that has bothered me for years, and for YEARS i have been wondering if Tolkien thought something else. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t! WHY did he put the seven stars (the five visible planets plus the sun and moon) on Aragorn’s sword PLUS the sun and moon, throwing off the count entirely?? Maybe he did not actually give a shit). I look forward to finding out, and probably suffering for it.

RE: Gollum! Your actual question! Honestly at the moment (aka at the end of Fellowship), Gollum seems like such a thoroughly Grendel figure that I almost get worried I’m being lured into a 1:1 comparison, when Tolkien seems to enjoy making a bunch of different references within each character. Strider is King Arthur, Strider is that guy in that saga nicknamed Strider, Strider is another guy with a sword situation in another saga(??) (I have not read enough Norse sagas). Gollum, though, is associated with the underground and with water; he has his dark low pool; Grendel lives in a low dark pool (with his mum). Even being cast out by a matriarch maaaaybe suggests something of Grendel’s Mother, who is just as much a main character, or perhaps more so; she’s the final boss of the Grendel bit of Beowulf, after all. So in conclusion: yeah I see your point! I'd be curious to figure out what else is being folded in. However, assuming the Grendel similarities are on purpose, congrats to Tolkien for the only good Beowulf adaptation ever.

#astro lotr #i was trying to find the passage i was referencing in cs lewis but im sorry i read that in 2019 in a pizza parlor and i am late for work #always think critically of your sources especially if they are me!! etc etc

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raya-hunter01 · 2 months

Text

Cruising Love Pt. 2.1

Two Shot Request

Jey Uso x Black Female OC! (Kayla)

Jimmy Uso x Trin

Roman x Black Female OC! (Robin)

Sefa x Black Female OC! (Cameron)

Montez Ford x Bianca Belair

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut,

Thank you for the request and for trusting me once again @royalkay23

Jey has planned a five-day cruise to the Bahamas and Puerto Rico for his girlfriend Kayla’s birthday. Jey is determined to make sure the trip goes smoothly as he’s enlisted his family and friends to help him plan the perfect wedding proposal.

His plans are in danger of going up in smoke as his toxic ex is also on the cruise and is desperate to rekindle their toxic burning flame.

Will Jey give in, or will he stand strong in his love and devotion to Kayla and leave the past in the past?

Regen Seven Seas Cruise

Nassau, Bahamas

Middle Deck

Jey’s POV

“I don’t know what the fuck happened, I swear,” I said looking into the cold eyes of Joe as we ate lunch. “Kayla cried almost all night and that I have a problem with that. She didn’t deserve that,” he said, each word stabbing me in the chest.

“I know she didn’t, but I deserved everything I damn got last night,” I said as Jimmy laughed out loud.

“Damn right you deserved to get your shit rocked. What I can’t figure out is why you did it purposely,” Jimmy said as I frowned at him.

“What the hell you talking about? Are you still drunk from last night?” I asked as he chuckled.

“Oh, I’m sober and now that you are, when are you gon’ admit your ass was drunk and them demons was talking to your ass,” he said as it was my turn to chuckle.

“I ain’t got no demons twin, I’m good,” I said as Sefa raised his eyebrow at me. “I beg to differ; I think Jimmy on to something. Now spill it or we won’t help you fix this fuckin shit show',” Sefa said as I sighed dropping my fork.

“It ain’t nothing to tell. One minute she was actin’ nice and the next minute, it was the old Danielle trying to reel my ass back in. I just thought if I danced with her, I could get her off my back,” I said as Jimmy frowned at me.

“Yo ass shoulda’ walked away the minute she approached you. That’s why you in this mess now, always too afraid to hurt folks’ feelings even when they’ve treated you like shit,” he hissed as I felt my frustration building as he looked at me.

Judging me for being human and trying to give people the benefit of the doubt.

“Stop looking at me like that, I knew it was wrong and I stopped it. I told her I loved Kay, and I couldn’t do that to her and wouldn’t. I just don’t can’t imagine how it looked to ya’ll though,” I said to Sefa as he seemed in deep thought.

“It looked real bad bro; I saw you before the girls did and I couldn’t believe you would put yourself out there like that.”

“So, ain’t no old feelings hiding inside you for Danielle?” Joe asked as I growled at the thought.

“Stop playin’ with me Joe, you know I love Kayla,” I said as he sipped on his beer almost questioning if I was lying or not.

“Your subconsciously insecure,” Jimmy blurted out as I looked at him like he was crazy.

“Subconsciously insecure...What the hell you talkin' bout?" I hissed as Sefa pointed at Jimmy and nodded. “That’s the word I was thinking too,” he said as I felt attacked.

“Ok, since ya’ll got a therapist degree? What am I insecure about what?” I asked as Joe looked at the three of us confused.

“Yourself and whether you feel someone will love you for you or have a motive,” Jimmy said sending chills down my spine.

He called me out on it and I couldn’t say anything as he read me like a book.

“Jey, you seem to forget Sefa stayed wit ya’ll before he bought his house. He’s seen a lot of shit, we all have,” Jimmy said as Sefa sighed putting his head down, avoiding my gaze as the table got quiet and my thoughts began to drift.

Man, that was a crazy time when Sefa moved in with me. Danielle and I were at the height of our craziness, and it was a month before I found out about the money she had stolen.

The fighting was almost nonstop at that point every word out of her mouth was something to try to rile me up. Then when I would explode, she would throw on the tears and I would give in because I loved her.

Yea, definitely toxic shit…..

------

One Month before breakup.

“Look, my brother is upstairs can you keep it down,” I hissed as Danielle whined. “Ugh, why did you tell him he could move in. He could have gone to your parents, he is their kid,” Danielle said as I chuckled.

“Because I said he could, but I see what this is about. Your pissed because I didn’t buy that diamond bracelet you wanted so now you trying to get me worked up and start an argument,” I said onto the bullshit.

“You should count your blessings that I am even here. No woman wants a man who’s gone all the time, you should be kissing me feet. I’m still here and you should have no problem giving me anything I want. No woman will ever want you, your life is too fuckin’ complicated, Jey.” Danielle said sipping out of her wine glass.

“Well, you can leave anytime you like because I ain’t buying that bracelet. You just spent three grand yesterday on clothes and shoes. Hell, I don’t want another you, I’ll stay single and die first. You gettin’ more shit than me and it’s my money,” I countered as she scoffed pouring herself another glass of wine.

“Fine, I guess I can cut back on shopping a little. I need to remember you’re not going to go far with this wrestling thing. You need to save your little coins for when the glory ride is over.”

“Are you really sayin’ this shit to me because I wouldn’t buy you a fuckin bracelet or is this how you really feel,” I hissed in anger.

“I mean ya’ll a good tag team, but I don’t see ya’ll splitting up and taking the world by storm as single competitors. The crowd will never rock with you like that,” she said laughing.

“Danielle, you can be such a bitch,” I whispered sipping on my glass of brandy. “What? I’m just letting you know the real deal; you know that right?” she said casually as I put my glass down and went upstairs.

“Aww, did that hurt your feelings! I’m sorry baby,” she said laughing walking behind me. “Leave me alone Danielle, I ain’t doin’ this shit tonight,” I whispered slamming the door in her face as she began pounding on it.

“Come on, I’m just preparing you because I love you.” she said as I began packing her a bag.

“Tired of this shit, it’s like begging for punishment. This toxic shit ain’t normal,” I muttered slanging the bag over my shoulder, storming out of my room.

“What are you doing?” Danielle asked in shock, seeming to sober up as I walked down the stairs. “Getting you out of my house since its very obvious you don’t want to be here,” I said opening the door and throwing her bag outside.

“Josh, don’t do this baby, I’m so sorry,” she cried going outside to get her bag as I slammed the door.

“Don’t do this to me! You know I love you, don’t do this,” Danielle cried beating her hands against the door as I fought the angel and devil inside me as to let her back in or not.

I couldn’t stand to see her cry, not even after the hurtful shit she had just said. I loved her and she knew it.

“Don’t give up on us baby, you know nobody will ever love you like me. Open the door so we can talk, I love you,” she sobbed as I hit the door in frustration, wiping my tears. Damn, why couldn’t we just be normal!

I looked up and saw Sefa at the top of the stairs frozen. “Do I need to call the cops.”

“Nah, everything is alright, Uce. I’m sorry we woke you up with this shit,” I whispered as he frowned.

“Don’t let her keep doing this to you, Jey. She is using you and you need to open your eyes,” he said before going back to his room.

“Jey, please open the door!” Danielle cried as I unlocked the door and let her back in. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me,” Danielle whimpered, running into my arms.

After all the shit she said to me I’m comforting her, WTF is wrong with me.

“I’m sorry Jey, I just feel like sometimes I don’t belong, and I don’t want to lose you. So, I just say things I don’t mean,” she cried as I held her close.

“You ain’t gon’ lose me Dani, I love you. If it will make you feel better, we can go get the bracelet tomorrow,” I said as she nodded.

“Thank you, baby, you’re the best,” she sniffed as I cringed. Damn, the tears sure stopped really quick. She had got me again….

Sitting in the midst of the silence and remembering the chaotic shit that I had pushed out of my brain was making me see things even clearer.

“I feel fucking sick,” I mumbled as Joe’s eyes softened.

“Let’s lay off ya’ll, he doesn’t look so good,” Joe said as I felt my stomach churning even more.

“I am subconsciously insecure, they right. Sometimes I don’t think I’m not worthy of Kayla," I said actually relieved that I finally admitted it to myself.

“I saw firsthand some of the shit you went through. So, I get it, we all get it,” Sefa said as Jimmy nodded in agreement.

“How much does Kayla know about Danielle?” he asked as I sighed.

“Only that we broke up about her stealing the money, I could tell she knew it was more to the story, but she never pushed me,” I said as Joe rubbed his beard.

“Uce, you need to tell her everything and I mean everything. She deserves to know,” Sefa said as I nodded in agreement.

I’mma tell her, I just hope she listens when I do tell her.”

“You know we got ya’ back and gonna help anyway we can,” Jimmy said as we got quiet seeing Montez heading our way.

“Sorry I missed ya’ll text, Bianca had to check on some stuff and needed my help.”

“Nah, you good, Uce, it gave us a chance to have a lil family chat,” I said wondering what Kayla was doing.

Top deck

Kayla’s POV

After a good cry I dusted myself off and got ready for the day. This evening was supposed to be my first pre-birthday dinner and I was miserable sitting at the table with my girls.

“Passengers enjoy your time here in the Bahamas. Enjoy your island experience and be safe. Announcements and corresponding messages will be sent out as we grow closer to our departure time,” the announcer said as I sighed playing over my food.

“I’mma need you to snap out of this, we in the damn Bahamas,” Trin said as I took a deep breath.

“I’m pissed and I can’t help it. I mean why would he ever go near her? Does he still love her?” I asked truly trying to figure out how the hell did she even end in his arms.”

“Look, I know you’re mad but don’t let this spoil your trip. Tonight is your first birthday dinner and we all helped Jey plan it,” Cameron said as I cracked a small smile.

“Ya’ll always helping us out. What would we do without ya’ll?” I asked as Robin shrugged her shoulders and snickered.

“Catch some cases because I just knew you were gon’ throw that girl overboard last night,” she said as the rest of the girls laughed.

“It’s not funny ya’ll,” I said trying to avoid looking at them, hiding my own smile.

She better stay outta my way, I can tell you that. I always believe that you check your man, but I wanted to beat her ass so bad I could taste it.”

“She ain’t crazy, I heard when you mushed dat big ass forehead she got the hell on,” Bianca said as I laughed in spite of how I was feeling on the inside.

“She was doing all that big talk and hauled ass too quick,” Trin said as I played with my bracelet on my wrist trying to not think about beating Danielle’s ass.

“Look, go get a nap and get yourself together because we gon’ party tonight,” Robin said sensing my discomfort.

“Ok, I’ll try,” I said getting up giving them each a hug before I took that long lonely walk back to our suite.

Meliza Restaurant

Jey’s POV

“You think you slick putting that up under my girl post,” Bianca said looking at Kayla’s Instagram post and liking it.

“Look, I told no lies, she is mine,” I whispered as Kayla and Cameron walked ahead of us.

“You lucky she didn’t cuss yo’ ass out,” Sefa said as I smirked.

“She done told yo’ ass she is the visuals. You better get it together,” Montez said as we walked into the restaurant.

“I am, ya’ll just stick to the plan to get us to sit by each other,” I said as Bianca snickered. “She gon’ cuss ya’ll asses out and I can’t wait,” she said walking away and shaking her head as I fixed my tie.

“Relax man, Joe is on it, that’s why he’s walking up there with Jimmy. They plannin’ to make sure ya’ll end up beside each other,” he said as I silently prayed that she’ll love the dinner and after this maybe we could talk.

Kayla’s POV

Reservation for Fatu,” Jey said as the host smiled. “We just got everything done Mr. Fatu, and we hope it’s to your satisfaction,” he said leading us to our table.

“Oh, this is nice,” Robin whispered as I looked at Jey in disbelief everything was beautiful. No matter what was going on at the moment I was thankful.

“Thank you, everything is really beautiful,” I whispered as he smiled at me making my heart race.

“You never have to thank me baby, I love you,” he said kissing my hand as I felt some of my anger resolving but not for long as I saw everyone rushing to a seat leaving only the two chairs in the middle.

“Come on sit by me Kayla,” Cameron said as I scoffed. “Ya’ll ain’t slick, I’m not sitting by Jey tonight. Somebody gotta move,” I said as Jey sucked on his teeth.

“Your being childish,” he said as I rolled my eyes. “And you were acting single last night so I decided it’s only right to oblige you,” I said as he growled.

“I can move Kayla, come on,” Joe said waving me over as Robin slyly slid over and Jey took her seat previous seat.

“Sit down Kayla,” Jey whispered as I stood looking at him like he was crazy.

“Can I sit by you Cameron?” I asked as she got up and switched seats with me. Hearing the snickers at the table I knew Jey wasn’t giving up.

“Sefa, can we switch?” Jey asked as I raised an eyebrow at his antics.

“Fine, we can sit in the middle together. I don’t feel like playin’ musical chairs wit yo’ ass all night, but don’t talk to me Fatu,” I said going back to my original seat, wanting to knock the smile off his face.

“See how easy it is when you just cooperate,” Jey said sitting down beside me as I looked over at Bianca who silently told me to take a deep breath.

Yea, this was going to be a long ass night.

The food was excellent, and the girls did a good job in keeping me preoccupied on the dance floor. I ignored Jey but it didn’t seem to faze him. “We need to talk babe,” he whispered as I nodded knowing he was right, but I didn’t feel like it tonight.

“So, what is the plan for tomorrow?” Joe asked as I shrugged. “Maybe check out the shops and the beach,” I said Jey cleared his throat as I looked at him. “Maybe we could grab dinner on the beach and get some alone time.”

“Aww, I thought after last night you would be asking Danielle,” I said without missing a beat as he sighed. “Damn, that’s cold,” Jimmy whispered as Trin hit him on the shoulder.

“Stop making it worse,” she hissed at him as rubbed his shoulder.

Jey’s POV

“Look, we are talking after this dinner, and I mean it,” I hissed as Kayla sipped on her glass of wine with a frown. I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, I’m just frustrated as hell.

Out the corner of my eye I see the waiter approaching us carrying a glass of wine and sitting it in front of Kayla who seems perplexed.

“Uh, nobody here ordered another glass of wine,” I said as the waiter smiled.

“Compliments of the gentleman at the bar,” the waiter said pointing to a man sitting at the bar with his glass raised towards Kayla.

“Who the fuck is that and why is he sending you drinks?” I asked, pulling the glass of wine in front of me wanting to get some answers.

“I don’t know who he is, but give me back my shit,” Kayla said reaching over and taking the glass back.

“Kayla who is that?” I asked trying to keep my cool. “I don’t know but it was a nice gesture,” she said lifting her glass into the air towards the stranger before taking a sip.

“Ah, shit,” I heard Joe whisper as I shot him a look before looking back at Kayla.

“So, some random motherfucka just wants to buy you a glass of wine, huh?” I asked as she shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess so,” she said casually sipping her wine enjoying my discomfort.

“Hey, that’s the cutie from the club last night that bought us that round of shots,” Cameron whispered to Bianca and Robin as I sneered.

I didn’t have time to let my thoughts run away for long as he stood up and began walking towards us.

“Aye, keep your cool, ain’t nobody trying to go to jail. We ain’t in the states,” Jimmy whispered as this motherfucker stood boldly in front of Kayla and me.

He literally is eying her up and down like she’s dessert.

“I heard it was your birthday, so I ordered you a glass of wine,” he said reaching down, taking Kayla’s hand in his and placing a kiss on her hand.

“What the fuck?” I hissed as Kayla seemed confused but smiled. “Uh, well, it’s not my birthday yet, but thank you for the kind gesture,” she said as I rolled my eyes. “You are very welcome, my name is Colton,” he said as I growled.

“Ok, you can move on now Colton, this is a family dinner and you ain’t invited,” I said as Sefa touched my shoulder. “Aye, just breathe man,” Joe whispered as unclenched my fist.

Who the fuck does he think he is? Kayla is my woman, how dare he even fucking look at her.

“Could I trouble you for a dance.”

“Nah, she’s good, move on,” I said as Kayla sipped on her wine. “Sure, I would love to Colton,” she said standing up.

“So, you just gon’ act like I ain’t sitting right here, Kayla?” I asked as she looked back at me.

“Yep, just like how you acted like I wasn’t on the ship last night when you were dancing with Danielle,” she whispered as Robin and Joe cringed.

I flinched at her words but didn’t say anything, instead I watched them like a hawk as she followed him onto the dance floor.

“Uce, you need to breathe,” Jimmy said as I ignored him and looked over at Joe who seemed like he was just waiting for me to say the word.

“Go get her Joe, before I kill this mothafucka,” I hissed as Joe got up without hesitation and went over to get Kayla.

“You trippin ‘Jey,” Robin said as I growled seeing Joe coming back over without her.

“Aye, you gon’ have to handle that, Uce,” he said sitting down clearing his throat.

“What did she say?” Bianca asked as Joe sighed. “She told me she loved me, but to take my ass back to my seat. Yea, and to tell you to fuck off,” he said pointing at me.

“How bout you take your ass over there and get your own woman,” Trin said as I sucked on my teeth.

“Jimmy and Sefa go get her,” I said my eyes focused on this clown’s hands resting on her lower back as they danced.

“I don’t see why she can’t dance with him? What they doin’ is a simple two step, barely even touching. What you had going on last night was a ho bumping and grindin’ up on you and trying to kiss you,” Robin said as Joe leaned over and whispered in her ear as she rolled her eyes at me.

“I agree, it ain’t the same,” Trin said as Jimmy looked at me and I gave him the signal tuning the girls out.

“A’ight let’s go Sefa, but I ain’t trying to get cussed out,” Jimmy said as Trin shook her head. “I hope she do cuss yo’ ass out because he needs to be takin’ his ass over there and not ya’ll,” Trin said as Bianca shook her head and looked over at Montez who he held his hands up.

“I ain’t goin’ over there so don’t look at me like dat. I do got some sense,” he said as she seemed pleased with her answer.

Kayla’s POV

I want him to feel how I felt last night. If you feel how I felt last night, maybe you will think before you put yourself in these stupid positions.

“Ya’ man seemed very upset, I didn’t mean any harm,” Colton said as I nodded. “He’s really mad about something else, it has nothing to do with you. Plus, it’s just a harmless dance and I’m Kayla by the way,” I said as he smiled.

“Yes, it is, and I meant no disrespect. It’s just you looked like you could use a break and it’s nice to meet you Kayla,” he said as I smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I said as he looked over my shoulder.

“Here comes some more of your friends,” he whispered as I rolled my eyes. I knew it was Sefa and Jimmy

“Uh, sis, Jey wants to holla at you right quick,” Jimmy said gently touching my shoulder as Colton cleared his throat and stepped back.

“I don’t give a damn what he wants Jimmy.”

“Let’s get some air sis, tensions are high, and we just need to cool off. Uce, is feeling some type of way-” Sefa started as I interrupted him.

“Tell your brother I’m a grown ass woman and I don’t give a damn how he’s feeling. He can kiss my ass for all I care, now relay that message,” I whispered to him so Colton nor Jimmy could hear me.

Sefa nodded, rubbing his hand over his beard before walking back towards our table with Jimmy in tow.

The anger that flashed across Jey’s face as Sefa relayed the message didn’t frighten me at all as he stood up and began walking towards us.

“Look, Imma head out, my friends are back,” Colton said pointing at two guys standing by the entrance as they smiled and waved.

“I think it’s best,” I said waving back at them as Colton nodded.

“Have a good rest of your trip, and Happy Birthday Kayla.”

“Thank you and the same to you,” I said as Jey casually tapped him on the shoulder before we could go our separate ways.

“Sorry to cut in, but it’s my turn,” Jey said grabbing my hand, pulling me to him before Colton could even respond.

Reading the room, Colton held his hands up in surrender. “She’s all yours big guy, I was just about to leave anyway,” he said as Jey smirked at him.

“I’m glad you realize that, now take yo’ ass on,” Jey said as I shook my head. “Bye Colton and thanks,” I said as he smiled and waved before walking back over to his friends as Jey wore a deep frown.

“That was rude,” I said as he scoffed. “Yea, it was rude and I don’t give a fuck. You really think I was gon’ let that shit ride, another man trying to push up on you, fuck you thought was gon’ happen.”

“Jey, I’m a grown ass woman,” I hissed as he licked his lips caressing my hips.

“Yea, you are and I’m a grown ass man. So, I don’t mind coming to get my woman,” Jey said as I smiled.

“Oh, really, because I wasn’t aware I was your woman because you damn sure seemed to have a lapse of memory last night,” I said as he pulled me closer.

“Look, I get it, Kay. I hurt you, but when are you going to actually listen to me and let me explain,” he said as I pushed him away.

“When you actually understand how that shit made me feel and want to have a real conversation about why you even put yourself in that kind of position to begin with, especially with her, and speak of the devil, there she is.”

“What are you talking about?” he whispered as I pointed to the entrance and there stood Danielle with a smirk.

“Let’s just go Kayla, it ain’t worth it.”

“No, I ain’t going nowhere, this is my night. That bitch can leave,” I said as Danielle, and I stared each other down from across the room.

Sefa’ POV

“I know this isn’t happening,” I whispered seeing Danielle and hearing Cameron’s sharp intake of breath.

“I’mma beat this bitch ass,” Bianca said as Montez shushed her.

“Don’t shush me….I’m just sayin’ she got one time and she mine,” Bianca said as he tried to calm her down.

“All the places on this fuckin’ island and she’s here,” Robin said as Joe seemed speechless. “It’s the audacity for me,” Trin said as Jimmy nodded.

“Damn, she really just thinks she can do what she wants,” Jimmy said as Kayla and Jey came and sat back down.

“Boo, you ready to go?” Robin asked as Kayla laughed.

“Nah, I’m about to beat her ass and then we can leave.”

“Excuse me, what?” Jey asked as Kayla took off her earrings.

“You heard me, I’m bout to beat her motherfuckin’ ass, and then we can leave,” Kayla said louder as Bianca smirked.

“That’s my girl, whoop dat bitch ass. She been playin’ in your face like she ain’t got no sense.”

“Maybe we should just leave,” Joe said as Danielle walked in front of Jey and Kayla.

“Joe, I love you for trying to be the voice of reason, but she got this one coming,” Trin whispered as I saw Kayla shift in her seat wearing a smile.

Danielle had just walked into the lion’s den and didn’t even know it.

Kayla’s POV

“Aww, Jey you still going all out for special occasions I see,” Danielle said picking up a glass from off the table as I smirked at her, as Jey was livid.

“Leave Danielle-” Jey hissed as I interrupted him.

“Jey, don’t say another word, I got it. Danielle, let me holla at you on the terrace,” I said standing up with my glass a wine as everyone looked on almost scared to move.

“Oou, you in danger girl, and don’t even know it,” Trin whispered as I smiled, playing it cool.

“Sure, I see no reason as to why we can’t have a conversation like grown women,” she said heading towards the terrace as Jey stood up.

“Kayla, baby, I can-”

“Your not needed for this conversation,” I said as his eyes pleaded with me to not do anything crazy.

“I’m fine….It’s cool,” I said giving his hand a comforting squeeze before following her onto the terrace and closing the door behind me.

The waves crashing upon the shore represented my own anger that was raging inside me as we were finally standing face to face.

Her smugness pissing me off, but I couldn’t let it show. I needed answers first, and after that….. Oh, I’mma beat dat ass for the 9-9- and the 2000’s.

“I’m glad we could talk after last night,” Danielle said as I nodded.

“After last night, I was so crazy angry. I was wondering what I’d do if I saw you again. I mean would I just lose control and beat yo’ ass on site.” I said as Danielle backed up slightly holding her hands up.

“Now, you said we were going to talk,” Danielle said as I smiled.

“You know I even dreamed about throwing your ass overboard last night,” I said casually taking a sip of my wine as she seemed nervous.

“So, are we going to talk, or are you going to keep threatening me.”

“We are talking Danielle, but let’s be real…..I don’t know you, but let me make it crystal clear. Stay away from Jey, or we’re gonna have a problem,” I said as she smirked.

“Oh, so you speak for him now. Man, where did he find you, Ms. Perfect?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, but it’s none of your business. Danielle, why did you show up here?” I asked truly curious.

“Well, you are the longest relationship he’s been in since we broke up four years ago. I’m trying to figure out what makes you so damn special,” she said as I shook my head, this bitch was asking for it.

“I speak life into him and I’m actually there for him. Something, you didn’t do, apparently,” I said as she rolled her eyes.

“Look, Jey knew he couldn’t do better than me, so he was ok with it. Normally he realizes the error of his ways and then we fall right back into our routine within a month. It’s just takin’ us a little longer this time,” Danielle said as I looked at her like she was crazy.

“It’s been four years!” I shouted as she sneered at me. “Like you are delusional as fuck. Baby, it’s been over between you and Jey. It was over a year before I even came in the picture.”

“I’m not delusional, I’m speaking facts.”

The more she rambled, the more things started to make sense. She was a toxic ass narcissist, emotionally abusive, and God knows what else and in that moment of realization, I saw red.

“You made his life a living hell, didn’t you?” I whispered as she smiled.

Yea, I’m done talking now. Without hesitation, I flicked my glass of wine in her face as she gasped in shock.

“That was for showing your fuckin’ face here,” I said as she tried to wipe her face off with her hands. “You fuckin’ bitch,” she said whispered through gritted teeth.

“Yea, that’s me, and don’t you forget it.” Rearing back, I punched her in the face, as she collapsed to the ground holding her jaw.

“That one was for Jey,” I said as she used the railing for support to pull herself up. “I’m going to kill you,” she whispered as I tackled her, our momentum causing us both to go over the railing, and onto the sand.

The force of our landing knocking the wind knocked out of both. “Shit!” I hissed, rubbing the back of my head momentarily, but regained my senses seeing Danielle trying to run away.

Shaking the cobwebs loose, I kicked off my heels and grabbed her by the leg “Nah, you been talkin’ all dat shit, what’s good!” I yelled slanging her back down onto the sand.

“Ah! Your crazy!” Danielle screamed as I climbed on top of her punching anywhere I could as she tried to block my fists with her arms.

“Bitch you gon’ learn today, this ain’t what you want!”

Jey’s POV

The loud crash was enough for us all to run onto the terrace to see what the hell was going on.

There was Kayla on top of Danielle in the sand unloading on her ass as Danielle was screaming trying to cover herself up.

“Uce, get her ass before they call the damn cops,” Sefa hissed as we both jumped over the rail running to separate the girls.

“Kay, come on that’s enough,” I said pulling her off of Danielle as she kept a tight grip on her hair.

“Let go! Let go!” Danielle screamed as Sefa pried Kayla’s hands out of her hair, but not before Kayla broke her other arm free from my grasp and punched Danielle a couple times on the back of the head.

“Damn! You can’t get her, Jey!” Joe yelled as Jimmy was helping him get ahold of Danielle.

“I got her! Ya’ll just get her ass outta here!” I yelled as Kayla tried to break free.

“You bitch! This ain’t over!” Danielle screamed as Jimmy and Joe were dragging her away.

“You damn right it ain’t, cause’ every time I see you, it’s on-site bitch!” Kayla yelled struggling against me as the girls came over to help calm her down.

“Calm down, Kayla, you got her, and it’s done,” Trin said as Kayla finally stopped fighting against me.

“I got you, just calm down baby. It’s over, alright,” I whispered as Kayla turned and looked at me with tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the girls surrounded her, pushing me away in the process before I could respond.

“Ya’ll take her and get her cleaned up,” Sefa said as Montez picked up Kayla’s shoes up the ground and handed them to Cameron.

“I’ll go check on Joe and Jimmy,” Montez said as I nodded feeling a migraine coming on. All this was my fault….

“I’ll go pay so we can head back to the ship,” I said just feeling defeated watching the girls comforting Kayla when it should have been me.

Yep, night two official had gone to shit.

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

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andvys · 2 years

Text

Love will tear us apart // part five

Warnings: angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers, anxiety, ptsd

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader // mentions of Steve Harrington x fem!reader

series masterlist

You slammed your palm against the door as you pushed it open, stepping out into the dark, you inhaled the fresh air in hopes that it would make you feel better but to no avail. The door slammed shut behind you, you wiped away your tears in anger as you stumbled into the driveway.

You didn't want to think about him right now or the words he threw at you but your mind was replaying it all over and over again as you stumbled further into the darkened streets. Your heart was thumbing wildly against your chest, you were starting to get breathless; feeling as though you ran a whole marathon.

You put your hands on your knees and bend over in exhaustion. Your throat was closing in on you, your vision was getting blurry, drowning out the music from the party, the loud chatter and laughter of the people inside.

“Breathe, y/n, just breathe.” you whisper to yourself as you try to claw at your chest.

‘Hey, it’s okay, just breathe with me.’

A sob leaves your lips, his stupid voice, his stupid touch, his stupid big brown eyes; he was haunting you.

You try to take a deep breath but it doesn't work. You close your eyes “everything is okay, I'm okay, just breathe.” you murmur.

The cold air pierced your skin, the wind blew through your hair. Distant thunder rumbled in the sky, startling you. Suddenly the air got colder, the loud music was replaced eery silence, the chatter and laughter was gone.

You furrow your brows as you push yourself up. Opening your eyes, you blink as you look around “no... no” you whisper, a cold shudder rushes through your body.

You are no longer outside in the driveway, you are in your bedroom. Looking around in confusion, you eye the many books on your nightstand, the record player that you have thrown away months ago after it broke. You notice all the colorful pillows on your bed that you have already replaced with darker ones. Your room is exactly like you left it three years ago before- “no, no, no.” you repeat over and over again “this isn't real.”

You can feel your heart racing faster and faster, your vision blurs with tears as you stand there in the middle of the room, you look down at yourself, you are still wearing the same clothes as before, not the ones you wore when you were taken, you know this isn't real but you know what’s about to happen next as the lights start flickering, the wall in front of you looks less and less like a wall.

You close your eyes, shaking your head, tears escape your eyes, your body is shaking “this isn't real, y/n.” you whisper to yourself. Your body is trembling with fear. You should run, you really should but you know it won't change anything, you can’t escape this, this is not real.

It happened before, the mindflayer tried to get you before it got Will- but you freed yourself from it’s curse before it could even get into your mind and your body. Will wasn’t aware that all just happened in his head, you were.

Something about it feels different this time.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up.” you whisper over and over again as you hold your hands over your ears, shaking your head “wake up, this isn't real, wake up.”

You felt it before you heard it. The claws dug into your skin before you could react. Your eyes shot open as you fell to the ground “no!” you screamed as you kicked it, the demogorgon, trying to fight it’s grip on your thigh. You watched in panic as it stood tall in front of you. Just like you did back then, you tried to crawl back, away from the monster. The lights were flickering like crazy, your heart was about to explode as you stared at it with wide eyes, before you could crawl back any further, it screeched loudly, reaching for your leg, it dug it’s claws into your thigh and dragged you towards the portal that was in your wall.

Your nails screeched against the hardwood floor as you tried to stop it from pulling you in, back into the upside down.

Your hands shot out trying to take ahold of your walls as your body was already dragged in halfway, you screamed in agonizing pain as the demogorgon pierced it’s claws into your thigh. The pain made you loose your grip on the walls, you let go and allowed it to pull you in.

Your body was dragged across the asphalt, scraping the skin off your body. You screamed in both pain and fear as you tried to fight it off. You were never much of a fighter until this, until you were pulled into another dimension and you were forced to fight for both yourself and a little boy that you would have died for.

Just like then, you managed to fight your way out of it’s grip, you kicked the demogorgon as hard you could, ignoring the loud and scary screeching sound from the monster as you kicked him again and again until his grip on you loosened and you managed to crawl back and away. Jumping to your feet. You ran as fast as you could, ignoring the burning in your lungs, your racing heart, the open wound in your thigh, the blood that was running down your leg. The loud screeching of the monster, you ignored it all and you just ran and ran, reliving the gruesome moment once again.

It didn't get you last time, it wouldn't get you this time either.

It was a cat and mouse game.

You hid at every corner, holding your bloody hand in front of your mouth, trying to keep your breathing quiet as you heard the monster looking for you. It felt as though you were running and hiding for hours. Your body was exhausted, the wound in your thigh was burning, you were tired but you kept going, you kept going until you finally managed to get away from the monster just like you did back then. He chased you until you were at the trailer park.

Relief flooded through you when you realized that he was no longer around. You ran towards the first trailer you could find, you didn't stop running until you were inside, you closed the door as quietly as you could, the red lights from the outside illuminate the dark room.

You step back as you eye the door for what feels like forever just to make sure that no one and nothing comes in. You tear your eyes away from the door, only now registering how cold it is but you are finally able to breathe. You turn around, eyeing the many mugs and caps on the wall as you did when you hid here back in the cold winter night.

“This isn't real.” you whisper again as you close your eyes, a helpless feeling was taking over you “wake up, y/n.” you whisper, a tear slipping down your cheek. You don’t know what to do, you don’t know how to get out of here, you feel trapped. At least then, it was real but this- this is not real, it’s a cruel imagination, your mind is playing tricks on you. Fear and panic was taking over again, you open your eyes and shut them again as you see the walls closing in on you. The ground starts to rumble, the mugs on the wall fall down, crashing against the floor. This never happened, no, this isn't what happened back then.

“Wake up, y/n!” you scream as you raise your hands up, putting them on your ears to block out all the loud noises in the back “wake up!”

You keep screaming at yourself to wake up, to snap out of it. The room was getting darker the noises were getting louder. The pain in your leg was getting worse, your heart was racing and you were shivering uncontrollably.

The pain was never-ending, your body was freezing until a sudden warmth enveloped you, a gentle touch on your skin, arms wrapped around you pulling you tightly into a warm chest and you let yourself fall. The ground stops shaking, the loud crashing noises and the thunder disappear, the pain in your leg slowly fades away the cold is gone, you only feel the warmth of another body pressed against your own but it’s not enough, you need to feel more.

You feel the tears running down your face, your hear a gentle voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear, arms holding you tightly and you stay that way for a moment, too scared to open your eyes and realize that it’s just another trick by your own mind.

“Fuck, you scared me, y/n.”

Eddie.

You eyes shot open, ears perking up at the sound of his voice. He is the one who is holding you, he is the one who brought you back, who saved you, once again.

You sniffle as you hold onto him for another moment, not ready to let go just yet.

His hand rubs your back softly, you feel his lips on the top of your head, he is so gentle, so sweet and it only brings more tears to your eyes as you slowly come back to yourself.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

You nod against him, you want to let go, you have to let go. Too much has happened in one night and you don't know what has you more shaken up. The fact that you were just pulled back into a memory you so desperately tried to forget or the fact that Eddie threw all these cruel words at you and was now holding you, speaking to you so gently as if he cares.

‘I don’t want to touch you.’ His voice echoes in your mind, the words putting a deep aching feeling into your chest, again. You slowly let go of him, letting your arms fall by your sides as you pull away from him, you take a step back when he suddenly cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up so he can look at your face.

Your eyes meet his and he sighs in relief, the fear in his eyes subsides but the worry stays. His thumbs linger on your cheeks as he slowly wipes the fallen tears away, his touch is so soft, his eyes are filled with warmth and something you can’t quite read.

It hurts. It hurts to see him look at you this way after what happened before.

“W-What just hap-”

“S-Stop, Eddie.” you whisper weakly, you turn your head and take another step back. His hands fall from your face and he looks at you with pain in his eyes.

“Please, just stop.”

You turn back and you see him looking at you with this hurt expression on his eyes, his brown eyes big as he stares at you like some goddamn puppy who has been kicked to the curb, so different from the look in his eyes just mere minutes ago as he treated you like you are nothing.

“Y/n.” he starts, you can hear the regret in his voice, the pain.

You shake your head at him, your bottom lip starts trembling, more tears escape your eyes the longer you stare at him.

Eddie feels so helpless, he feels a deep ache in his chest as he looks at the heartbroken expression on your face, you tears continue to fall like a damn waterfall and you look at him with so much pain and grief in your eyes and he hates himself so much in this moment, he knows you are crying because of him, not because of whatever just happened. He just wants to grab you and pull you into his arms again, he wants to hold you and tell you how sorry he is, how he didn't mean any of the things he said to you.

“I’m sorry.” he speaks softly.

He expects you to get angry, to tell him to fuck off or to leave you alone like you probably should have, he wouldn't blame you, especially after everything that has been said but instead you give him one of your saddest smiles as you whisper “it’s okay, Eddie.”

He furrows his brows at your words, shaking his head “n-no it’s not-”

“It’s okay.” you repeat “I’m sorry too.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for thinking that I could have a chance with you, I was a fool. I’ll stay out of your way from now on.”

No. No. No.

Eddie’s eyes widen in fear, his heart drops to his stomach at your words, he doesn't want you to stay away, he was lying.

“No, y/n-” he whispers, shaking his head wildly as he takes a step forward, he takes your hands in his and you let him as you watch him with an unreadable expression on your face “I didn't mean it, I didn't- I was lying-”

“Y/n? There you are- I was looking everywhere for you.”

Steve couldn’t have chosen a worse time to show up. This was perhaps the only chance for Eddie to fix everything he has said and done but of course he had to ruin it all.

Steve walks towards you, his brows furrow in confusion as he eyes the two of you. Eddie is still holding your hands, standing close to you as you both turn to look at Steve.

“What’s uh- what’s going on here?” he asks, glaring at Eddie.

He looks at your joined hands and then he eyes the look on your face, the tears that are streaming down your face. Anger flashes in his eyes as his eyes dart back to Eddie “get away from her.” he warns.

“Steve-” you start but he gives you a pointed look, holding his palm up.

Eddie’s own eyes flash with anger as he looks at Steve, he slowly let’s go of your hands as he turns his full body towards him.

Where was he this whole time? Where was he when you were getting drunk in the kitchen, throwing back one drink after the other, where was he when you were standing out here all alone?

Eddie scoffs at Steve’s words “why?”

“You were hurting her right now weren't you?” Steve asks, gesturing to you as he walks towards Eddie, slowly.

Eddie raises his brows “what?” he scoffs, he would never hurt you.

“Steve he didn't do anything.” you say nervously, you look between the two of them, you could feel the angry tension from a mile away. Steve was glaring daggers into Eddie, hands balled into fists and Eddie, he looked just as mad, if not worse.

“Really?” Steve scoffs as he glances at you before he looks back at Eddie “cause to me it looked like you did.” in his defense, he saw how Eddie grabbed your hands, tugging you forward, you slightly stumbled into him and tears were streaming down your face, so yeah, to Steve it did look bad.

“That's fucking bullshit, man. I would never hurt her.”

Yeah. Eddie would never hurt you, at least not physically.

“Yeah? Then why is she crying?”

Eddie clenches his jaw in anger, he takes another step towards Steve but before he can say or do anything, you step in between them and turn towards Steve, you put your hands on his chest and push him back slightly “he didn't do anything, it’s okay.” you mumble as you look up at your friend. His eyes soften as he looks down at you “let’s just go.”

“Y/n-”

“No, please. I just want to go home.” you whisper, pleading with your eyes.

Steve sighs, he looks at Eddie behind you, glaring at him.

“Please.” you repeat.

You were tired, exhausted and hurt. Everything that happened in the past hour was just too much for you, you just needed to get away from here and from him.

Steve sighs “okay, let’s go.” he takes your hand in his and pulls you further away from Eddie.

You turn around one more time, eyes meeting Eddie’s, he looks like he wants to say something. Regret and guilt was written all over his face. He watches as Steve pulls you further and further away from him.

You look at him one last time before you turn around and walk away from him.

“Wait, we gotta get Robin.” you mumble.

“I’ll get her, I’m just gonna open the car for you.”

A frown makes it’s way back on your face as you look up at him, the anger is still visible in his eyes.

“Leave Eddie alone, please.” you whisper as you both stop by his car “I swear he didn't do anything.”

Steve sighs once again, he rolls his eyes before he looks down at you “you were crying, you only cry when something really bad happens. ” he points out “I was looking everywhere for you, fuck y/n, I was worried that something bad happened!” he exclaims.

You look away, feeling guilty for worrying him.

“And then I find you outside with Eddie Munson of all people! That guy has been treating you like shit for ages and then I find you like this, with him!” he points towards Eddie in anger, who's still standing in the driveway watching your interaction with Steve.

You huff in annoyance as you turn back towards Steve “I'm sorry for worrying you, I- I just, I drank too much and then I went outside a-and- just, Eddie didn't do anything okay?” you sniffle, tears blur your vision again. God, you feel so stupid, you are defending him after the things he said to you. You feel so pathetic.

“I just want to go home, Steve.” you whisper.

“Okay.” he sighs, you know he doesn't believe you but you also know that he won't push you to talk if you don't want to.

He opens the door for you, you give him a small smile as you get in, crossing your arms over your chest, you lean back into the seat.

“I’ll go get Robin.” he mumbles before closing the door.

Steve turns around and walks back towards the house, Eddie is still standing in the driveway, glaring at Steve.

“What did you do to her, Munson? And don’t bullshit me right now.”

Eddie snorts at his words “I didn't do anything to her.”

“Right.” Steve nods, scoffing at Eddie’s words “so, she was just crying for no reason?”

Eddie balls his hands into fists, he feels angry, so fucking angry “your girlfriend was having a fucking panic attack or some shit and it’s not the first time it happened.”

Eddie wasn't sure about your relationship with Steve, he assumed that you are dating considering you were always around each other and you didn't deny anything when he called Steve your boyfriend.

“What?”

“Yeah, where were you when it happened huh? Where were you when she was getting drunk? Anything could’ve happened to her.”

The anger was raging through Eddie the longer he looked at Steve and his dumbfound expression.

“Where were you, Steve?” Eddie asks, walking towards him slowly, eying him slowly. The guilt is clear in his eyes.

Steve shakes his head, letting out a huff as he looks away from Eddie’s intense glare.

“That's none of your business.”

“Did you ditch your girl for some quick fuck?”

Steve scoffs, eyes meeting Eddie’s, they both glare at each other. Steve didn't deny it, he just stared at him with anger in his eyes and a clenched jaw.

Eddie chuckles darkly, shaking his head at Steve. He never liked him, he always thought that he is an arrogant asshole who thinks he can have anything he wants.

Steve’s silence speaks volume, Eddie’s got the answer he wants. He only scoffs before he walks past him, bumping into his shoulder on purpose. Eddie glances your way for a second.

“Eddie.”

Eddie halts in his track, turning around, he looks at Steve with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Stay away from her.”

He squints his eyes as he sizes Steve up, chuckling to himself. Who was he to tell him what to do?

Steve glances towards you, making sure that you aren't listening in on their conversation.

“She’s mine.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, laughing in amusement, he looks down at the ground, a smirk tugging at his lips as he walks towards Steve again, who watches him in curiosity, he gulps as Eddie steps closer “is that so?”

Steve straightens his back, putting on a confident look on his face “yeah.” he nods.

Eddie licks his lips, eyes darting towards you for a second “yeah? then why did she ask me if I want to fuck her?”

Steve lips part in surprise, eyes flickering with anger and jealousy, he turns his head, looking at you for a moment.

Eddie eyes the expression on his face, feeling satisfied with himself, he takes a step back about to turn back around to walk away but his next words stop him again.

“Ever heard of a pity fuck?” Steve asks.

The smirk on Eddie’s face falls and he looks at him in disbelief.

Steve only chuckles at the way Eddie’s face contorted so quickly “she pities you dude, do you really think she would actually want touch you?” Steve asks as he eyes him up and down with judgement in his eyes. For a moment he feels bad, the side of him that he buried years ago was reappearing again and he hated it, especially when he saw Eddie’s eyes flicker with hurt but he wanted him to stay away from you “a girl like her with a useless lowlife like you?” he scoffs “I don’t think so man.”

Eddie is taken aback by his words, he always thought of him as an asshole and he never liked Steve but he didn't think that he would be just as cruel as all the other assholes that treated him like shit.

A breathless chuckle leaves his lips and he turns away before Steve can see the tears in his eyes. He walks away without another word. Eddie never felt like he was good enough to be around someone like you and the insecurities always got the best of him, so many questions swirled in his mind over the years, ‘were you dared to approach him?’ ‘were you trying to be his friend only to hurt him and humiliate him in the end?’ ‘were you trying to be his friend so you could use him to piss off your rich and stuck up parents?’ or maybe, just maybe, you actually wanted to be his friend and he was misjudging and mistreating you this whole time and by the hurt expression on your face earlier, he knew it was the latter but Steve’s words have washed a new wave of insecurities over him.

That night, Eddie came home with anger and tears in his eyes. He was angry at himself for the way he treated you, for the things he said, he was angry at himself for being so insecure and misjudging of you, he was angry at Steve for the things he said to him, he was angry because he has you.

“Fuck!”

He slams the door shut and throws his jacket down in anger. He pulls at his hair as he sits down on his bed, tears of frustration run down his face, just like a few days back, his eyes fall on your notebook but this time, he doesn't touch it, he grabs it and throws it on his table.

That heartbroken look on your face, the disbelief and the sadness in your eyes was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. The moment you have pushed yourself out of his arms and you had looked at him with your teary eyes, he knew, he knew he broke your heart before there was ever anything between the two of you.

And then Steve’s words kept playing on repeat.

A sob escapes his lips and he cries for the first time in a while. He would be lying to himself if he said he never thought about the two of you together. Especially after he got a taste of knowing what it’s like to hold you in his arms, to feel your body pressed against his, your head on his chest and your arms wrapped around him, he had once- twice. And he will never have it again, he fucked up and there’s no coming back from what he has done.

And even if there was a way to fix it, to apologize and beg for your forgiveness, there would always be Steve’s words in the back of his mind.

‘A girl like her with a useless lowlife like you?’

Eddie cries until there’s no tears left in him. The sadness and the feeling of insecurities that he has bottled up for too long finally exploded and left him with a miserable feeling inside of him.

The weekend started off horribly for him and he kept feeling worse and worse. He dragged himself into the shower Saturday morning, he had the worst headache ever, his eyes were puffy from all the crying, he felt exhausted and just, depressed. He hoped that the shower would help him feel better but it did nothing to cheer him up.

“You okay, son?” Wayne asks from the small kitchen table as Eddie walks out of the bathroom.

Eddie grumbles out a small yes as he pours himself a cup of coffee before he sits down on the chair, opposite of his uncle.

Wayne eyes him slowly, putting the newspaper down, he leans back in his seat as he grabs his mug, staring at his nephew.

“What?” Eddie mumbles as he notices the look on Wayne’s face.

“Did something happen?”

Eddie hesitates, he knows he can talk to him, maybe even ask for advice but he is scared to disappoint Wayne when he tells him how badly he treated you.

“No.”

“Stop lying to me, Eddie. Usually you run out of your room like some little kid on Christmas Day and now you’re sitting here all grumpy with a cup of black coffee in your hand?” he asks, a confused expression on his face.

“What’s wrong with black coffee?” Eddie asks.

“You don’t drink black coffee.”

Eddie presses his lips in a tight line as he looks down at the beverage in his mug “yes I do.” he lies, raising the mug to his lips, he looks at Wayne as he takes a sip only to scrunch up his face in disgust at the bitter taste.

“That’s disgusting!”

Wayne chuckles in amusement.

Eddie puts the mug down and reaches for the little sugar container on the table, scooping up some sugar, he pours it into his coffee in hopes that it will taste better.

“I-I uh, I messed up.” he mumbles “I hurt someone.” he adds before getting up, he fiddles with the sleeves of his flannel nervously as he grabs a spoon out of the drawers before he walks back to the table.

“How so?” Wayne asks, watching Eddie intently.

“Uh, I said some things I didn't mean and I- I think I broke her heart.”

“Ah.” Wayne nods “I should've known it’s about a girl.”

Eddie looks at him nervously, not knowing what to say.

“Listen, I don’t know what you said to her and I’m sure you don't want to tell me but if she cares about you, the way you care about her- and judging by that heartbroken look in your eyes, I know you care a lot, she’s going to forgive you. Just give her some time and show her that you care.”

“I-how?” Eddie asks.

“Don’t be in asshole, kid.”

Eddie snorts at his words, raising his brows at his uncle, who sighs as he looks down for a moment before he looks back up at him.

“Eddie, you have a big heart and you care about the people around you but I know there’s a part of you that believes that you don't deserve all this, all this love so you try to push it away from you by hurting someone who loves you-” Wayne pauses, he takes a deep breath “don’t to it son, your dad did the same thing and it only led him to become this miserable asshole who did nothing but make everyone else around him just as miserable, all because he couldn’t accept the love that people like your mom were ready to give him.”

Eddie gulps, he looks down at the mug in his hand, he didn't like to think about his parents and he didn't like to think about having anything in common with his deadbeat father.

“You are not like him and you will never be but please, just accept the love that people want to give you, Eddie, you deserve it.”

Tears blur his vision and he feels like laying down and crying again but he needed to hear those words.

“Thank you, Wayne.” he whispers, giving his uncle a sad smile.

Wayne reaches out, he squeezes Eddie’s hand “you can fix it, nothing is ever too late, son.”

Eddie nods, he was right. It wasn't too late to fix it.

“What do you say- we pick out a movie and order pizza?”

“Sounds good.” Eddie says, a grateful smile on his face.

Family video was the last place that Eddie wanted to walk into, especially after his conversation with Steve last night but he promised Wayne that he would get the movies.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he sees Steve's car in front of the store, he lets out a loud sigh as he jumps out of his van.

He walks into the store, eyes going wide, his shoulders slumped at the sight in front of him. You are right there, sitting on the counter, you skip through a magazine as Steve stands right in front of you, smiling as he talks to you.

He tears his eyes away from you and walks further into the store before you can see him. He wants nothing more than to run out again but he didn't want to come home empty handed. He grabbed a couple of horror movies, holding them in his hand, he walks through the aisles, eying the covers of the other tapes.

“Here, this one’s good.”

He jumps back, catching the tape just in time as he finds Robin staring at him with a smirk on her face.

“What-”

“You look like shit, Eddie.” Robin mumbles as she eyes him.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, looking briefly at the girl before he eyes the movie cover she threw at him “Legend, really?”

“Yeah, you look like the type who would love that movie.” she chuckles as she leans against the shelf.

He raises his brows as he reads the description “A young man must stop the Lord of Darkness from destroying daylight and marrying the woman he loves.” he reads dramatically.

“I’ll take it.” Eddie shrugs.

Robin chuckles but her face gets serious the longer she looks at Eddie. He looks sad, there are dark circles under his eyes, he’s not wearing his leather jacket or his vest, which almost seems weird to Robin. He’s wearing a flannel and his hair looks messier than usual.

“Thanks, Robin.” Eddie mumbles, holding up the movies, he smiles at her before he walks away.

He feels nervous, his heart starts racing the closer he gets to the counter, the thought of having to face you after yesterday, makes him anxious.

He throws the tapes on the counter, startling you and Steve.

His eyes meet yours and he watches your face contort in surprise. You stare at him, taking in the sight of him, your eyes move down to flannel he’s wearing, recognition flashes in your eyes.

“Munson.” Steve sighs as he steps forward, he gives Eddie a brief nod. Eddie only looks at him for a moment before he looks back at you.

Your eyes are slightly red, glassy, sadness flashes in them the longer you look at Eddie.

His lips are set in a frown as he looks at you, you can see the regret and the guilt as he watches you.

“Here.” Steve mumbles before he turns away from Eddie.

You and Eddie stare at each other for another moment before you finally tear your gaze away from him.

He sighs, grabbing the tapes, he rushes out of the store as fast as he can. He takes a deep breath as he walks outside, the same sadness he has felt before settles in his chest once again.

“Hey Eddie!”

He turns around abruptly at the sound of Robin’s voice.

“You forgot your receipt.”

“Oh, thanks.” he mumbles.

“What’s your problem, Eddie?”

He gives her a questioning look, cocking his head.

“Are you mad that Steve has the balls to flirt with her unlike you?” Robin asks “you know she doesn't like him like that.”

“What?” he asks in surprise “w-what do you mean?”

Robin rolls her eyes and looks back before she turns around again “she’s not into Steve, he’s her best friend, that's all.”

Eddie has never felt more confused in his life “I-I thought they are dating.”

Robin let’s out a loud laugh “oh my god! You thought they are dating?”

“Uh yeah, I thought they are together.” he mumbles, he scratches the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“Is that why you have been acting like a complete dick to her? Because you thought they are dating and you are jealous?”

“I- I’m not jealous!” he scoffs, growing red.

“Yes you are, holy shit.” she chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief “you are the biggest idiot I know, no wonder you haven't graduated yet-”

“Hey! not cool..”

Robin snorts “listen, she doesn't like him like that but she likes...you.” she says quietly.

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise before he starts shaking his head “no- she hates me.”

“Seriously dude?” she sighs, running her fingers through her hair “look, if she ever acted rude towards you then it’s only because you were acting like a complete douchebag. She never hated you, Eddie.”

“R-Really?” he asks, looking at her with hope in his eyes.

“Yeah.” she says, rolling her eyes at his cluelessness, she turns around and walks away but she stops, she feels bad for him, she can see how much he’s struggling. Sighing, she turns back around “look- all I'm gonna say is, you have a chance, so don’t fuck it up.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction

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beskarandblasters · 2 months

Text

Was it all a dream?

Chapter Five: You and me, we got our own sense of time

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, takes place somewhere between the end of season two/Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut, line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: Din realizes his true feelings for you and you both notice the strange passing of time in this particular dream. In the real world, you start to form an exit plan.

Word count: 3.2k

Chapter warnings: fluff, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling (Din’s), Din working through his feelings, very needy and passionate sex

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Din

Beige walls. Beige floors. Beige furniture. It’s all the same. Din’s never been to a place like this before. It’s too… domestic. He never finds himself in places like this – in a house. This has to be a dream. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

In his dreams, he never starts inside. Every place he’s found you has been outside. Except for that cantina on Coruscant. Even then, his dream started on the street and he just wandered inside.

But here? He meanders up and down the never-ending hallways, searching for you like before.

This is a dream, right?

He looks down at his clothes– all black attire, no armor. Yep, this is a dream.

Of all the places he’s dreamed of lately, this is his least favorite. It’s dull. It’s lifeless. It’s never ending.

He turns a corner and finally finds you. And suddenly, all the beige, all the monotonous surroundings make sense. Because there’s you in screaming color.

He immediately glues himself to you, arms embracing you as if he didn’t just see you the night before.

“I’m sick of this,” he says, clutching you once again as if you’re going to slip out of his reach.

“Sick of what?”

“Starting without you. I just have this fear I’ll wake up before I can find you,” he says, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“It hasn’t happened yet, Din. Try not to worry about it now,” you say, bringing a hand to his face and stroking his cheek. He closes his eyes at your touch and realizes that he was wrong before.

It’s not enough to only have you in his dreams. The dream realm is uncertain. Reality always cuts in at the wrong time, waking him up before he’s ready to let go. At least if he had you in real life, nothing would be left uncertain. He could always be there to protect you, to make sure nothing happens to you. It’s ironic how he went from someone who wanted no emotional or physical attachments to someone who longs for you in his day-to-day life. He supposes Grogu helped him open up more than he realized.

“You’re right, ner vercopa,” he says, opening his eyes and meeting yours once again.

“How have you been since the last time we saw each other?”

“Same as it always is. Lonely.”

“I get it. All I do is work and go home.”

“You don’t have friends where you are?”

“Not really. There’s not many humans and I just feel like an outcast.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

“…No, I am. Seriously there are like less than a hundred humans or so where I am.”

“Oh.”

“And most of them are rude. Probably because we live in such a terrible place.”

“But why is it so terrible? If you can remember,” he asks, trying to get more details about where you live so he can make his search for you easier.

“…I can’t,” you admit, feeling defeated.

“Hey, it’s okay. Forget about the real world. We’re here together and that’s all that matters.

You close the gap between you two again, holding each other silently while he rubs your back. All he wants to do is get you out of wherever you are. You don’t deserve to live in a place so terrible. You don’t deserve to feel like an outcast. If you were by side he’d do all he could to make you feel special, like you matter to him and that your presence makes a difference in his life.

“I don’t know if I like the location this time,” he says absentmindedly.

“Why not?” you ask, pulling back and tilting your head to the side and smirking like you know something he doesn’t.

“It’s… ominous… Do you like it?”

“Look behind you.”

He turns to look at what’s behind him and finds a bed.

He faces you again, matching the same smirk you’re wearing, picking up on what you’re suggesting.

“Dirty girl you are, vercopa,” he teases.

“What?” you say, putting on a faux defense. “It sure beats a wet field.”

“You’re right about that,” he says, his hand cupping the outline of your breast.

“Not so fast. Sit on the bed,” you say, pushing him back slightly.

“You’re gonna make me wait?” he says, sighing semi-dramatically.

“Who knows when we’ll have a bed again? I’m taking my time.”

He complies with your request, sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you with hooded eyes. You slowly remove each layer of clothing you’re wearing, making sure to tease him and build the suspense. He’s slack-jawed once you’re completely naked, his hand grazing his facial hair.

“Maker, you’re…”

“What?” you laugh.

“You’re perfect, ner vercopa,” he says, his bulge straining hard against the material of his pants.

You walk over to him, his arms finding their home around your waist as he looks up at you with adoring eyes. As he admires you, a feeling swells up in his chest that he’s never felt before. It’s overwhelming, almost too much because it’s uncharted territory. But at the same time, it means that this strange connection you share makes sense. He understands it for once. He loves you, even just the idea of you, regardless of whether you’re real. He can’t admit it to you yet – this is still so new, so tender. But he can’t deny how he feels, even if he has to keep it to himself for now.

You sink to the floor, kneeling before him and palming the bulge in his pants. His hands rest at his sides, gripping the sheets underneath him as you move your hand painstakingly slowly.

“Let’s get these off,” you say, running a finger along his belt.

He stands, unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pants before sitting on the bed, cock standing in front of your face. Your mouth falls open as you stare at it with wide eyes. He feels self-conscious for a moment before he remembers that you didn’t get a good look at it in the field. Regardless, he hopes your silent reaction is one of admiration.

You start by running your hand down his inner thigh, inching closer to his groin. The movement of your touch sets his skin aflame, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You’re so meticulous, so slow in the way you touch him, touching him like you want to do this. Like you want to show him how much you care about him through pleasuring him.

You press a kiss to his groin, soft lips against a patch of his hair, slowly moving to the base of his shaft. The hand on his thigh moves to his balls, cupping them as you finally take him into your mouth. It’s soft. It’s tender. It’s caring. He’s gotten head before, but never like this; never by someone who looks at him the way you do.

Your tongue slips in between the head of his cock and his foreskin, teasing him ever so slowly as your other hand wraps around his base. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, beading up before running down his shaft in a mixture with your saliva. You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while your hand moves up and down, following the movement of your mouth. You’re so focused on the task at hand that you haven’t even looked up to see his reaction yet. When you finally do, he feels like he could bust right there and then. He tries to maintain his composure, not wanting this moment to end, but it’s hard when you’re doing such a good job, looking at him with wide eyes as you take his cock further in your mouth.

He just can’t hold on anymore. He cums down your throat, orgasm intensified by the feeling of you swallowing his release. He has to fight the urge to close his eyes, to throw his head back in pleasure, not wanting to miss the beautiful sight before him.

Once he goes soft, you take him out of your mouth, resting on your heels and looking up at his post-orgasm glow. He leans forward, cupping your face in his hands, and kisses you, a needy, passionate kiss that tells you he wants you now.

You stand to give him space to shed the remaining clothes he has on, kicking off his pants and pulling his shirt over his head. This is the first time he’s been completely naked in front of anyone but himself. The idea should make him nervous given his creed, but if he’s going to do this with anyone, of course it has to be with you.

Your hands are glued to his body instantly, hands running along every scar, every freckle, every stretch mark, every tattoo— all things he’s never shown anyone before. It makes him feel vulnerable but in a good way, letting him know that he’s comfortable being his raw self around you.

“You’re beautiful, Din,” you say, caressing his cheeks.

That’s the first time someone’s told him that, and he doesn’t want to believe you. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him, but he just can’t picture someone actually feeling that way about him when they gaze upon his face.

“I mean it,” you add, as if you could read his mind.

He wraps his hands around your wrists, gently squeezing them and closing his eyes.

“Sit on the bed for me,” you softly command, wanting to show him how much you desire him. He opens his eyes and removes his hands from yours, sitting back down on the bed and watching as you move to straddle him. You rest your hands on his shoulders, your cunt hovering over the tip of his cock. He reaches in between your legs, rubbing his cock along your folds, teasing you until you finally sink onto him, taking his length inside you.

His hands slide up your thighs and rest on your waist, eyes looking deeply into yours. You’re as close as two people could be, your hips rocking against him, slowly burying his cock deeper inside you.

“I like this,” he says, grunting as you move your hips again.

“Me too,” you say, one hand trailing up to his hair, wanting to make him melt like he did in the field. He moans, biting his lip and cursing under his breath. You just know all the ways to melt him down into nothing but a puddle on the floor, under the mercy of your touch. He leans forward and sinks his teeth into your collarbone, pulling a sharp gasp from you as you grip his hair tighter. He moans into your neck, a moan that says ‘do that again, show me I’m yours’.

He nips at your neck, dragging his tongue along the sensitive spots he’d just discovered. You grind your hips into him, fingers tangled in his hair as your bodies fall slack against each other. Your eyes flutter closed and it’s hard to tell where you each begin and end, limbs intertwined with one another, mouths glued to skin. Your mouth happens to fall by his ear, a perfect speaker for him to hear the way you come undone, crying against the shell of his ear. He feels like he could bust right there and then, your warm cunt enveloping his cock, hands in his hair, and melodic sounds that are like a song sung just for him.

You come undone, walls clenching and releasing his cock. You continue to grind your hips through your release and it causes him to follow suit. He bites down on your neck hard, humming into your skin as he paints your walls with his cum. The movement of your hips eventually slows and you finally come to a rest against him, staying still and enjoying each other's presence.

“You’re everything to me, ner vercopa,” he says softly, rubbing your back.

You exhale as if you don’t believe him and his arms tighten around you.

“I mean it,” he says, kissing the side of your face.

The urge to tell you he loves you consumes him once again. The words are on the tip of his tongue, threatening to break loose but he refrains, keeping his secret to himself.

Instead he asks, “Do you think there’s a reason we started appearing in each other’s dreams?”

“Do you need a reason?”

He wants to know why the galaxy bestowed you upon him but he gets the sense that you don’t, that you’re content with not knowing the truth.

“I guess not… Do you?”

“No,” you say simply, “Being here with you is enough. There’s no need to question a good thing… But if you need a reason, maybe the galaxy knew we were both lonely. Maybe there’s something we can learn from each other.”

He thinks about the last dream in the field and how you made him slow down and enjoy the rain. He thinks about your life compared to his, how you’re stuck in one place and how he has the freedom to roam the whole galaxy if he so pleases. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you can learn something from each other.

Eventually, he goes soft and starts to slip out of you. The two of you don’t really know what to do next. Usually, the dream would end by now. As he holds you and absentmindedly stares off, he notices something he didn’t before – a window.

It’s nighttime. Was there light outside when he found you? He can’t remember. He wasn’t focused on the time of day. He was focused on finding you. But something about the ominous dark window is unsettling to him. He just can’t figure out why.

As if you feel him go stiff, you ask, “Is everything alright?”

“I didn’t notice the window before,” he says, staring straight at it.

You pull yourself off of him, much to his dismay, and sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder and staring at the window.

“You were here before me,” he says, “Was it always dark out?”

“No,” you say, a wave of realization hitting you. “It wasn’t.”

“Weird,” he says.

You get up from the bed and walk towards the window. Din follows, slipping his arm around your waist. Just as you’re both finally comfortable with the night sky, it starts to change. Within seconds, the sun rises, casting the rolling field in a bath of warm light. You look at each other, noticing how his brown eyes are lit up by the sun.

“That’s strange… Right?”

“Right,” he affirms.

“We haven’t been asleep that long, have we?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hm,” you respond, turning and facing the window again.

The sun slowly inches up from the horizon line, hanging high up in the sky. The blades of grass are swaying in the wind, thriving under the sun. Everything is golden, bright, full of life.

He turns to look at you, the sun lighting up your face from the side. Everything about you is a first for him. He’s had sex before but never as loving and tender as it is with you. In fact, it was never loving or tender at all. It was always hard and fast, typically at a brothel in a town he was passing through for a bounty. It was just fucking, never sex with actual feelings attached.

And yet, deep in the back of his mind, part of him wonders if you’re real. Or if aspects of you are just figments of his imagination, the desires of his subconscious running wild. But another part of him knows that isn’t true. Part of him knows you’re real, somewhere in the galaxy yearning for his touch like he is with yours. That part of him is louder than the other.

It’s another moment like before where he wants to tell you he loves you. He wants to say it out loud because he’s proud; proud to have you as the person he loves. But he can’t. At least not yet.

Once again, just as you’re getting used to the brilliant daylight, the sun changes positions in the sky, sinking lower and starting to set.

“How strange,” you say, glancing out the window, “Time must work differently here.”

Just as you say that, a radio sitting on the bedside table starts playing music. It’s a song you don’t recognize but it makes you feel comforted; a song slow enough to sway to.

And that’s exactly what you do. He grabs your waist and pulls you in closer to him. You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, softly moving back and forth, watching the sunset. It’s silent between you two but you don’t need to talk. He just wants to enjoy your company.

So the two of you stay there, slow dancing and watching the days fly by, from night to sunrise, to sunset, and back to night again. Time feels so slow but so fast at the same time. For once, your dream doesn’t end right after you have sex. You can finally enjoy each other’s company for once. But even then, when the dream finally ends, it’ll still feel too short, like you were robbed of time you could’ve spent together.

As the sunset begins to shift back into a dark night, the world starts to fade around you.

Din starts to shout, “Ni kar’tayl-” but he stops when you disappear from his view. It’s unclear if you heard him or not. And once again, he’s met with the same cold, uninviting bunk in the Razor Crest, wishing he was still holding you by the window.

You

Waking up from that one probably hurt the most. You roll over in bed and glance at your clock. Your shift started fifteen minutes ago. Great.

You’ve developed an unfortunate habit of being late to work. Whether it's because you’re at the library, reading about all the places you see in your dreams, or just sleeping, your dreams are causing you to be late.

You hastily scribble the details of your dream in your journal before begrudgingly getting ready for work. You’re anxious about what your supervisor will say to you. This is the third day in a row you’ve been late and the last shuttle for the day shift is leaving soon, so you need to haul your ass there.

Dashing to the shuttle, you just barely make it there in time for the last one, feeling like it’s moving slower than normal. Once it finally arrives at the factory, you’re sprinting to scan in and get to your post already. The elevator stops at your floor and once the doors open, you’re greeted by one of the SoroSuub droids.

“Employee 5526, you’re tardy again for the third shift in a row,” the droid says in its terrible robotic voice.

“Yes, I know. It won’t happen again, I swear-”

“If you reach five tardies, your employment will be terminated. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

“To your post,” the droid says, stepping out of the way.

Your coworkers stare at you as you walk to your station. Whether it’s the embarrassment or the soul-sucking job you have, you decide that you’re getting out of here.

And so your plan begins. One way or another, you’re getting off this planet and searching for the man who lives in your dreams.

Gifs of Din from this chapter

Banners + dividers by @saradika-graphics

Art by Roger Mattos

WIAD Tag list: @wannab-urs @hyzer34 @milly-louise @hellfire-state-of-mind @dugiioh @handspunyarns @fckyeapedrothots99 @leithatnight @corazondebeskar @burntheedges @imherefordeanandbones @pamasaur @dameron-grant-spector @competitivedust @survivingandenduring @the-color-is-black @perennialdoll247 @littlegrungegirlaf @lupietra @bluebeary-jay @angstyvirgin001 @missladym1981 @alltheotps @lahooozaherr @that1nerd-20 @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @djarins-cyare @kirsteng42 @dins-riduur-anthe @pigeonmama

#wiad #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin series

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lxstfathier · 1 month

Text

old jedi texts

Master! Luke Skywalker x reader

Minific

Summary: you’re horny and needy, but luke is busy, so you de decide to have fun on your own… but he didn’t expected you to ride his arm.

Warnings: arm riding, slight degradation, dom! luke (obviously), outdoors activities.

A/N: i still don’t know how, but you guys won the poll!! so here it is, as i promised, the arm riding fic! personally i’m not sure if i like it, it’s probably not my best work lmao, but i hope that at least all of my luke girlies enjoy this! 💗

“Not now, i’m busy” that’s what Luke told you, nearly five hours ago.

It’s a free day at the jedi academy. Most of his padawans are meditating or doing chores, with an exception of the younglings, they usually just watch the holo movies that r2d2 projects all evening. You are laying down on a blanket, in the middle of a bamboo forest, enjoying the last rays of sunshine, and of course, Luke is laying by your side too.

But he’s been reading the old jedi texts all day. Without a single break. And you haven’t been able to distract him, not when you told him to eat some fruit with you, and not even when you insinuated that you could have some fun together while finally alone.

And it’s not that he neglects you, no, most of the time he’s an amazing lover, but today you just can’t get him to stop. He’s stubborn on finishing at least two of those thick books. It doesn’t matter how much you try, if you kiss his neck or if you slightly run your hand over the crotch of his black sweatpants, nothing will change his mind.

Maybe it would be easier if he wasn’t so tempting. How are you supposed to not feel needy if he’s right there, wearing nothing but those sweatpants, with his bare bare torso showing all his toned muscles, while teasing the pages of the books with the tips of his fingers. It’s too much.

The tingle reappears between your legs, and you can already feel the wetness pooling down there. So you decide to try one last time. Maybe it results on him scolding you, or maybe he finally pounds you right there until the blanket ends up drenched in sweat and cum. And there’s only one way to find out.

Getting closer to him, you run a finger through his lips, and then make your way down his chest, drawing circles on the soft skin.

“Please fuck me” you plead, using your most seductive voice, the one that you know makes him melt.

“I’ll fuck you at night” he says, slightly annoyed but at least taking his blue eyes off the book to look at you for a few seconds. “Now, if you’re so horny, you can hump my thigh.”

Your lips form a pout immediately. You’ve humped his thigh countless times before, and even though you enjoy it, you want something different… and that’s when a certain idea comes straight to your mind.

Moving your hand, your finger makes its way to his left arm, tracing his bulky bicep and the vein that runs through it. So masculine, so strong, and so damn hot. You can’t recall how many times you have stared at his arms more than you should, clenching your thighs together at the sight of those muscles.

So you sit up, gently moving his hand away from the book, just to make his arm lay on the blanket.

And for a moment Luke thinks that maybe you want him to finger you, but once he reads your thoughts, he knows exactly what do you want, and how kinky you’re about to get.

“You can keep reading” you say as you lift up your skirt and straddle his arm, pressing your clothed pussy against his bicep. “I don’t want to distract you”.

Well, of course he is distracted now, and he can already feel the blood rushing to his cock. But he won’t fall for it, no, after all these years he is an expert at self-control, so he just lets you do your thing while he pretends to concentrate on his book again.

Moving your panties to the side, you start to slowly rock your hips back and forth, while your hands rest on his shoulder and your eyes close shut. Just concentrating on how good it feels to be riding his arm.

Soft moans escape from your lips, and it’s not long until you find the perfect rhythm, grinding your clit and sticky folds against him at a pace that has you seeing stars.

“Such a needy slut” Luke growls, his book now long forgotten, way too distracted with your lustful actions to be able to read. “Look at you, humping my arm like a hound in heat”.

“Sorry” you whine. “Couldn’t help it”.

You won’t last long, not after you’ve been so pent-up all day, finally getting your much needed relief. And he knows it, so he decides to help you a little bit, using the force to send intense vibrations straight to you clit.

“Ah!- Luke!”.

A cocky smile appears on his lips when he hears you moan his name like that, so pornographic, while you can’t help but move your hips faster and dig your nails on his tanned skin.

He would be lying if he said that it didn’t boost his ego to see you lose yourself in such a pathetic way. Just with his arm.

“Cum for me pretty girl” Luke commands, that stern tone in his voice only sending you over the edge.

The burning fire on your lower belly gets stronger with each movement of your hips, now riding his bicep desperately fast, trying to enjoy the feeling just a bit more, until you can’t control any of it.

Suddenly, your orgasm snaps and you come undone, whimpering as the pleasure consumes every part of your body. So intense that it’s almost too much. Not even noticing that you created a huge mess all over his arm, making it glisten under the evening sun with your sweet juices.

“Yeah, that’s it” he praises you while you ride out your high, running his gloved hand over your thigh. “Are you happy now?”.

“Mhm” is all you can answer.

“Good, cause i still need to finish reading this”.

Luke doesn’t sound annoyed anymore. Actually, he enjoyed the show, it was quite… interesting. But as much as he would love to give you more attention and fuck your brains out immediately, he can’t, he is a busy man and must get back to his jedi studies.

So, with trembling legs, you get off his arm and lay down again, cuddling up by his side. It wasn’t too tiring, but maybe you’re more relaxed now that you got some release, causing you to feel sleepy once the high is over.

“You can take a nap if you want” Luke says, sensing your exhaustion as he runs a hand through your hair. “I gotta study a few more chapters”.

You don’t even answer, you just close your eyes and rest for a while, hearing the beating of his heart and the soothing quietness in the middle of the bamboo forest.

And he keeps reading. Or at least tries to. His mind is still thinking about you, occupied by the image of your pretty pussy rubbing against his bicep, and the cute noises you made while doing it. So now you’re going to pay a high price for that distraction.

Actually… he’s already planning all the things he’ll do to you at night.

#luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker smut #star wars smut

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virginburial · 9 months

Note

hi! could i request something with ethan x fem!reader (or gn, whichever makes you the most comfortable :)) where reader is this really like, wealthy kid at blackmore who’s part of the core four (but since she’s in it… maybe fab five? idk 😭 i suck at this) and she’s dating ethan and just loves to spoil him? i’m assuming he’s like a broke college student, and the whole group kinda jokes that’s she’s his sugar mommy lmao. if you’re not up for it, feel free to ignore this request! i love your work <3 can’t wait to read more of your writing, thank you so so much for sharing it with us!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I so clearly saw Gossip Girl in my head I'm dead x-x but let me break down why this would absolutely work on Ethan

Ethan Landry CD mix! .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

especially since I'm getting an old money-great Gatsby feel out of it, your family probably owns a company that's been around for generations, one of those Rockefeller/Vanderbilt types. the kind of family HBO writes hit dramas about. You weren't snobby about it but still carried yourself differently than all your peers (you knew you were hot shit). So when regular-schmegular middle-class suburban boy next door Ethan catches your eye, it is a shock to everyone, especially him.

Ethan barely had a job and was living off of loans, like everyone else. you noticed this when he nervously asked you out to Olive Garden and ate nothing but the free breadsticks and some soda. you felt bad; you could tell he wanted to impress you.

so you started bringing him coffee every time you walk to class together; "I can't hold your books and the coffee y/n-" "-just take the fucking latte, Ethan!" he was too humble to take your offerings, but soon, as your romantic relationship with him evolved, so did his acceptingness and gratitude. You two would go to the mall and whatever Ethan stared at for more than five seconds would be coming home with you. other times, you'd door-dash him food whenever he studied for hours on end, because you knew Ethan had the habit of focusing too much on his studies and forgetting to eat.

"dude! she's totally your sugar mommy." Chad would tease, or Mindy and Anika would comment about asking you for permission before he does anything; "Don't you need your momma's blessing before you do that?" It's a little annoying, but Ethan knows the truth; you loved to spoil him, and he loved being spoiled by you. you loved seeing how excited he gets over a pair of sneakers or some dinner, and he loved knowing that the person he loves thinks about him and what he liked. you're abundant, and you felt it was important to share that abundance with the ones you loved. speaking of, your relationship with Ethan reached a point where he was offered an internship within your family's business; which lead to the both of you heading back to the mall, helping Ethan pick which suit he should wear to the interview.

and, of course, Ethan is on his knees, eating you out in the dressing room because he is just so grateful. getting stains all over his button-up as your juices drip down his chin and run down his neck. whatever, you were going to buy it for him anyways.

.·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა

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nc-vb · 10 months

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

I just wanted to write something so we could touch his lil hip windows, ok... just once...

pairing -> sampo x gn!reader

warnings -> sfw, no pronouns or names used (reader is called "chief" by the kids), description of frostbite (skin type-inclusive), non-sexual intimacy & non-sexual nudity.

notes -> love me a big n beefy dummy with hip windows. also if anyone’s familiar with salvatore ferragamo’s cologne collection, yeah, this is how i imagine Sampo smells. soooo good. also, frostbite really sucks, so pls always dress according to the weather! (advice i give in the middle of Canadian summer…) -> for most skin types, frostbite will make it turn purplish, so i’ve left things ambiguous as best as i can ;-;

wc -> 4.6k

There’s only so much time in a day you’d ever allot towards thumb-twiddling and pooch-screwing. With all your responsibilities pulling each of your limbs in all different directions at all times of the day, you’d already overextended yourself far past what the definition of “comfortability” supplied— taking breaks? Out of the question. You’d been lucky enough to fit in even five minutes to eat a proper meal or two each day, leaving you little else room to be able to drop the ball.

Life in Belobog already made sure for you that being comfortable was the last item on your daily itinerary to address. Being reliable, being helpful, and supplying for those either less fortunate or less able than yourself, is what has always mattered. And doing so on a timely basis has always been important to you. Natasha’s patients, nor the miners you’d been a ward for, couldn’t afford to wait. And since taking up the mantle, you’d always managed to make good on any promises made, making this the very first time you’d ever been tardy. Five minutes is acceptable. Even a half an hour. But two hours late for your delivery? It certainly isn’t your fault. And anyone who knows you well enough would find only concern for such a change in character.

“… g-gatekeeping c-c-conman… d-damn it.” You dip your chin further into your scarf and blow, the hot air warming your chest for but a moment. “C-Could’ve taken me with him this time, but n-no… Gotta play b-both sides… m-make me wait in the c-cold like this…”

You tell yourself you should’ve known better at least every other time you’re left waiting for him out front your shack of a home— somehow, it’s even colder on the inside, like being incapsulated by one of the ice needles decorating the outskirts of Belobog, and so, you wait for him on your stoop, clad in the thickest clothing within your possession and blowing temporary heat into your bare palms.

It isn’t like Sampo Koski to not show up late to a party, or a meeting, or a goods exchange, probably even to use the bathroom— really, expecting anything different of him so late in your acquaintanceship is no more unintelligent than believing he’d go cold turkey and abandon his usual backhanded underhandedness for tactics a little more honest. Then again, the man still owes you nearly three thousand Shield from almost a month ago, and has almost every excuse in the book prepared in order to stall in paying it back…

He’s always late. He’s never not been late. But he’s never been this late.

Beneath your chilled bones and deep within your chest, something pulses with worry. Worry? I’m worried?

Maybe. Maybe because, with all his usual fooling around done up in the Overworld, he’d finally gotten caught by those Silvermane Guards— a great cause for your concern considering this would mean losing your intermediary between Belobog’s attic and its basement; having Sampo take care of your shipments lifted a massive weight off your back while you managed your other responsibilities, and in exchange, his debts owed to you slowly knocked themselves away. This would be bad news for sure, losing such a valuable partner. But somewhere along the line, things blurred, and eventually, it was no longer just business that you spoke of with him.

A funny joke or two he’d heard while up in the Overworld that he couldn’t not share with you. An incident he’d missed that was too entertaining not to share with him. A new treat you’d made for the kids of Hook’s adventure squad that’d been devoured in seconds, and the fact that you’d managed to save a couple for him to try.

Despite how easily insufferable he could be, he’d become a friend, one you found yourself silently fretting over, even after his return. And losing your friend is not the business agreement you’d made with him.

Or is it more than friendship…

The longer you sit in the cold, the more glaringly obvious the possibility of this actually having happened, is. He’s usually quite cautious, a grand coward if you’d ever known one; protecting his own hide has always been priority number one. So, you know he can run away just fine; you know those regular old Silvermane Guards wouldn’t be able to get him on their own, so was it Gepard? Or that Bronya woman? Sure, Sampo’s strong, himself, but against either of those two?

Your stomach clenches at the thought.

What if the half-hearted promise of being careful was the last thing you’d heard from him, after all? What if you’d never get a chance to have his infectious enthusiasm rub off on you, or never again hear about a business venture gone hilariously wrong? No more little bags of your favourite Overworld bonbons brought back as a souvenir, the ones the two of you would share together before the fire, and fight over when it came time for who got to have the last of the best kind?

“Sampo…” You pull your knees a little tighter into your chest, lips tucked into them and trembling into a frown.

Inhaling deeply, you release the breath just as fast, appearing as a white cloud before your lips. The frost that normally seeps through the border between Belobog’s two worlds is bitter enough, but on either end, all its people suffered from the unavoidably devastating chill contained within its atmosphere during the more wintery months. It says a lot considering it’s practically winter all the time, only less so in certain regions. But no one would be spared by it, and no amount of extra layering could possibly quell it— this, you learned quite quickly as a child.

Before Belobog’s Supreme Guardian made the decision to split apart the world into two hemispheres, your family had been prominent figures of Belobog society, known of in equal regard by those in the Overworld and those in the Underworld. Even after the Fragmentum managed to take the lives of those in your family —sparing you, for no easily explainable reason — you swore to honour them and the people of Belobog through provisional access.

When an entrance was found not too long after the segregation process began, additional supply trading reopened past what the Overworld provided— unliveable quantities of food and medical supplies that had innocents suffering. Despite your, at the time, young age, you’d realized that if you hadn’t survived the Fragmentum attack, this trade opportunity might not have been possible. “There’s power in a name,” Sampo once told you. “That’s why I’ve never lied when asked about mine!”

Now, you huff out a laugh at the memory of you asking if he’d been sure it wasn’t actually his ego, and pause upon recognizing how off-course your thoughts had gotten. Your point is, back when life was more comfortable and of less ache and agony, you could afford to fuel your fireplace, and there was no shortage of warmth. The arms of your family that would hold you were hot to the touch from having stood only a couple of feet from flickering flames; blankets were whole and left unpatched and thereby let no cold in— things are different now. With the last of your available firewood, your makeshift campfire stopped burning about an hour ago, and your last blanket, barely left in one piece, absorbed too much chill in the air and barely served well enough as a cushion beneath your frozen rear, you’ve been sitting for far too long, waiting for someone who might not even be coming back…

“… tired,” you mumble to yourself. You can feel yourself slipping, not just along the blanket, but into what your brain manages to suspect is hypothermia. “Sampo…”

Before your body completely gives out on you and your eyes shut all the way, you hear fast-moving scuffling coming from behind you — footsteps — that reaches you in time to catch you by your shoulders.

You jolt, from the contact, and from the pain the contact brings— like you’d been pricked by a handful of Natasha’s syringes, or like being electrocuted, all in one concentrated area. A sound no less like a yowl of a cat escapes you, and your glossed-over eyes widen as far as your face’s frozen muscles allow.

“I’m… really late this time… aren’t I,” a familiar voice realizes, tone unquestioning of his words. He doesn’t have to be in your vision to know whose voice it is, but he graces you anyway, leaning over and around your shoulder so that him and his head of violet hair take up almost ninety percent of it.

You’re stiff. If not for the cold freezing your frown in place, you don’t think you could muster a glare for him otherwise. Stare lidded and eyebrows furrowed; cold-paled, downturned, chapped lips spread thin into a line so taut, a split of red forms down the middle of them. His own lips part, his grimace deepening.

“Bit,” you answer, and the blanket wrapped around your shoulders falls away, your fingers finally too burnt to hold it up any longer. Beneath it, you’d been wearing a thick, woollen sweater, with two other layers under it, and two pairs of pants. Your scarf hadn’t nearly been as thick as your sweater, nor did it really do its job of keeping your neck warm, and your winter socks had been worn out from use for almost two seasons now. You suppose that’s what happens when you become your last priority.

Sampo winces when his gaze falls on the fingers poking out from the sleeves of your sweater. Purpling, ashy skin, particularly on the backs of your hands— he watches you struggle to unclench them, to try to straighten them out, only for your skin to pale from a lack of blood flow. Instantly, Sampo is down on a knee, his own chilled hands coming up to stop you from making yours worse.

“Easy there, pal,” he says, a nervous chuckle slipping past cheshired lips. “I think you have frostbite.”

“Prob’ly,” you murmur. “Hurts to move.”

His swallowing is harsh, eyes filling quickly with guilt the longer he stares down at you. Several times, he has to shake himself from his stupor after deciding to tend to you. It startles him to be able to feel the chill through both his gloves and your sweater, and both absentmindedly and instinctively begins rubbing from the tops of your shoulder and down to your elbows.

You bite out a gasp, one of pain when it finally sinks in that maybe, you’ve been outside for even longer than you should’ve been, and raise your hands to grab his, but even this sends a pain rippling from the tips of your fingers and into your wrists—

“Ouch, S-Sampo… Hurts.”

“Huh? It hurts? What hurts?” And he rubs your one arm once more. “This?”

“M-Mhm,” and you knock his touch away with your shoulder. He sighs, sounding almost nervous or aggravated, and drags his fingers through his bangs.

“If I stand you up, do you think you’ll have the energy to stay on your feet?”

You hum, but it isn’t a positive noise.

“Then are you okay with me carrying you? It’s probably gonna hurt again. Not like we’ve got much of a choice here, though…”

“Carry me,” you say. “Carry me to Nat’s. Don’t worry… about the pain.”

“You got it.”

Somehow you thought you’d be more frustrated. You definitely are frustrated, but for now, you find yourself blaming your lack of an explosive response on the fact that you’re numb nearly from head to toe. If you still have any ears, you wouldn’t know it since you can’t feel them. You aren’t even able to smell your favourite of Sampo’s cologne he always wears, even with him being as close to him as you are after being rewrapped in your blanket and swept up into his arms. Even your hearing is slightly dulled; you swear you can hear humming, as faint as it is, and you can’t pinpoint where it comes from— with no one else around, you easily suspect Sampo as the artist. You shouldn’t have such drastic symptoms for your senses.

“What time is it?” you finally remember to ask, albeit in a croak, your throat suddenly dried out.

“Ah, well, it was around two when I got back, and that was a half an hour ago, so… a little after two-thirty?”

You manage to sigh without making a sound.

“Thought I was outside for two hours,” you start. “I think it’s… been four hours.”

Being mostly numb, you can only tell Sampo holds you a little tighter, a little closer to him as he walks because the skin on your back prickles.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Looking up, you see his own eyes cast forward down the cobbled road— avoidance. More guilt? “I’m not trying to make an excuse, but something did happen to make me late. It wasn’t just me this time, haha…”

Another of the blurred lines. A long while ago, Sampo stopped lying to you. A funny little declaration from “business partner to business partner” until “no longer lying” turned into secret-sharing and line-crossing honest— you’d wish he’d dial it back sometimes with how honest he could be. Even now, as he tells you it wasn’t entirely his fault why he’d left you waiting out in the cold, in spite of your pain and frustration, you give him the benefit of the little doubt you held onto.

“… tell me about it later,” you say, voice only just slightly higher than a whisper. “… ‘m so cold.”

Sampo is warm. Well, warmer than you. You don’t recall there ever being a time before now that the two of you have been so close, but he radiates heat like hot coals. There’s no doubt that he’s feeling cold, himself, wearing his half-sleeved jacket and a shirt that exposes his sides so easily to the elements. But he feels warm to you; you can feel it through even your blanket as you shiver.

“Don’t you worry; Sampo’s gonna get you warm and toasty in no time.”

The rest of the walk to Natasha’s clinic is completed in silence. With you living so far away from the displaced residents of the Underworld to maintain the safety of your supplies, it’s a walk that makes avoiding curious eyes impossible, and especially those of the children who recognize you upon reaching your destination in Boulder Town.

“Ah, h-hey, kiddos!” Sampo’s greeting is shaky, and for the briefest of moments, so is he. “What’s goin’ on?”

Wary of him from your past warnings from when you and he had just been acquainted a couple of years back, they regard him with the same disdain you once did— with little Julian at the helm, they stand before the steps to Natasha’s clinic with their arms crossed and eyebrows downturned, barring his path.

“Where are you taking the chief!?” Julian demands, craning his neck to glare up at Sampo, who only blinks back.

“The… chief?”

“Chief of sweets,” you answer. “I make them sweets a lot.”

“Gotcha… Well, I’m bringing the chief to see the good doctor! We’re feeling a little under the weather, see?”

“Look how much the chief is shaking!” one of the other children exclaim. Sampo nods quickly, and attempts to shuffle up the stairs.

“That’s right! Waiting out in the cold for a long time will do that! So will you let me through?”

Julian huffs at him. “Fine! But I’m telling Boss Hook about this, and she won’t be happy about it.” Without another word or a moment of hesitation, Julian runs off, his friends in tow toward the Great Mine.

Sampo sighs, carting you up the rest of the steps in his arms before pausing.

“I gotta set you down for a sec, okay?” You nod, your body jittering in his firm hold when your feet finally touch the ground. Still cradled by his one arm and balancing you against his hip, he shoves open the door to the clinic and helps you inside by lifting you past the threshold and into his arms once more.

It’s already even warmer now, your muddled brain manages to conjure; you can’t help yourself when you snuggle back into his chest. Sampo looks to you, lips pursed, and pale cheeks reddened, before shouting away from you for Natasha. Off to the side, the door to the second floor infirmary opens, and Natasha appears, slightly breathless.

“Sampo?” she says, glancing between the two of you. “What’s with all the shouting?”

“Sorry, Nat— bit of an emergency,” he says, nodding down at you, the “emergency” in question. A single-toned note escapes you in greeting; you’d been winded after the sudden moving around you’d just done. “You got a bed?”

“I-I do, right upstairs; first to the right—” He’s quick to pass her, and even faster in climbing the staircase. Over his arm, you see Natasha following after him, her skirt hiked up half-past her calves in an attempt to keep up.

But really, you’ve never seen Sampo Koski move this fast unless he’d been running away.

You’re jostled once more, and in feeling your body separating from Sampo’s, you brace yourself for the pain that eventually comes from being lowered onto one of the clinic’s cots. Like falling dominoes, the blanket on the cot rubs into yours, which rubs into your sweater and other under layers and into your skin.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

Sampo’s muttering doesn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. For as long as she’s known him, she can’t recall a time that he’s ever behaved so… docile? In the stress of the moment, she’s not quite sure if that’s the right word to use for him, so it would have to do for now.

“So, would either of you care to tell me what’s happened, then?” she says, and pulls on a pair of dark gloves.

“I’m pretty sure it’s frostbite,” Sampo says, awhile helping to unravel your blanket off of you for her. “You were out in the cold for hours…”

Natasha gasps. “In this weather? At this temperature?”

“They’d been waiting for me, but then that happened!” he spits out, panicked. “It wasn’t my fault!” In her flurry of grabbing clean towelettes, she manages to shoot him a look of frustration.

“You did a good thing by saving those kids, Sampo, but you can’t forget your other priorities.”

“I… I didn’t!” he tries swearing. “They helped me out, so I couldn’t just leave them like that! Ahh, I’m so sorry…”

Natasha sighs, placing the collected cloths next to you on the bed. “Apologizing isn’t going to help us here, so while I get these clothes off, can you go heat up a basin of water?” He nods, almost too enthusiastically.

“A hot basin of water, got it!”

“A warm basin.”

“A warm basin of water, r-right—“

He toddles off, rounding the bed from your right and crossing the clinic with a flat bucket in hand. A deep sigh from you has Natasha glancing back at you.

“I’d apologize for him, but I’m sure you already know just how aggressive he’ll be in making it up to you once you’re better.”

Your nodding shifts the pillow beneath your head.

“He… wouldn’t have been late for no reason,” you reason. “I should’ve just come here when I realized… he wouldn’t be on time.”

“Yes, you should have.”

You clear your throat a little. “Respectfully… I don’t need a lecture about it, Nat.”

“Good.” She turns around completely and begins helping to remove your three upper layers. “You’ve lived here long enough to know the consequences of being outside in this weather— if not because of Sampo, it would be because of someone else.”

“O-Old habits die hard,” you grumble, hissing as she decides to be quick in sliding off the lower two pieces of clothing, leaving your chest exposed.

“… it definitely looks like the beginning of stage three frostbite,” Natasha says, agreeing with Sampo’s earlier prognosis. “Any longer waiting out there, you might’ve needed surgery.”

“Surgery,” you repeat. “Sounds painful.”

“It is. Especially since we’re out of the usual anesthetic.”

You neglect to tell her that you likely have hypothermia, but without announcing it, she’s already assumed this just by just your symptoms— shivering, drowsiness, the pure exhaustion reflected in your lidded gaze; in the stress of the moment, she still manages to find amusement in the way your eyelids struggle to raise when Sampo returns with the basin.

“Is this good?” Sampo asks, head inclined toward Natasha. “Is it too warm?”

“It’s good,” Nat nods, having stuck a finger in to test it. She gestures at an empty tabletop. “Go ahead and put it there.”

“Sure, okay—” Sampo pauses, eyes wide with his gaze focused to the corners, at you. Slowly does his head twist toward you, lips parting until his jaw drops, and, like earlier when he’d been running around in the cold with you, his cheeks burn with rouge. Oh, right. My clothes are gone.

Natasha’s own eyes widen in realization. She’s quick to drop your clothes to the side and step towards Sampo, and even quicker to begin shoving him out of your presence.

“H-Hey, Nat! Hold — hold on a second!”

“You can wait outside, okay?” she tells him, her voice sickeningly sweet with the tone she only ever uses when needing to be firm.

“Hey, okay, okay! I won’t look! Just—” you hear him sigh from the other side of the partition. “Just let me wait here, on the other side, alright? Please?”

“… ’t’s fine, Nat,” you pant out, your once calm heart now startled into a steady rhythm. At any rate, apparently having Sampo see you half nude on a medical cot works as a warming tool. “H-He can wait there…”

Nat relents with a sigh, with Sampo groaning in relief from the other side of the partition. You take a breath of your own, unheard over the sound of something metal dragging across the floor of the clinic— another partition.

“Just in case,” she adds.

Besides any general noises you’d often heard from within the clinic before, and the gentle of sloshing of the towelettes being rung out after being dipped into the water in the basin, there’s silence between the three of you. Natasha’s brow is is slightly furled when she carefully lays the cloths along your cold-burnt skin— like your fingers, purpling had started stretching out across it, and in more exposed areas, you’d even begun to blister. Bringing your surface temperature back up safely and slowly is the goal, she’d told you. Upon covering your chest, she clears her throat. “Sampo.”

There’s a slight squeak from the other side of the wall. “I-I wasn’t looking?!”

“Whether you were or weren’t, I need you to now. Come back in here, please.”

“Huh? W-Why?”

“I need you to handle the rest of this for me while I go look for some medicine.” She looks to you with a frown. “You aren’t feeling it now because your body is in shock, but you’ll be in a lot of pain when your temperature returns to normal. You’ll want to be asleep when it finally does.”

“Oh… okay.” The partition creaks, and Sampo slips between the two, careful not to let any other prying eyes see you. You peer down past your feet at him. “Hi.”

“… h-hi.”

Gently still, Natasha pats an unaffected part of your arm. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Take your time,” you say. “’s’not like I’m going anywhere.”

Her smile is soft; you watch her go, listening to the click of her heels until they disappear through the same doorway as earlier.

Surprisingly, Sampo is already to work— his regular gloves pulled off and shoved haphazardly into one of his pockets, he dons a pair of the clinic’s medical ones that, despite being an average size, manages to squeeze his hands almost uncomfortably so.

“You… don’t have to wear those,” you tell him. “Just Nat’s habit. You’re only putting towels on me.”

He looks down at his hands, lips pursed and his cheeks still pink. You manage a dry laugh at his expense.

“Or are you suddenly feeling self-conscious,” you muse, thinking back to earlier. “Not like anyone saw you half-naked.”

Sampo huffs at you. “J-Jeez…”

This time, you smile at him. “Is it nerves? Or guilt? Don’t feel guilty. You… you saved some kids?”

“… yeah,” he mumbles, and tears off the ill-fitting gloves to throw in the trash. “Had to help them out after they saved me. You know me,” he sings half-heartedly. “I never leave a debt unpaid…”

“Sampo, I-I’m not mad at you,” you swear. You watch him avert his gaze and pick up a towel. “Sampo. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

His eyes widen before he turns back to you. “Huh?”

“That whole time… I was worried you were hurt… or caught. Four hours is… a long time. But I was happy when you finally showed up. I was so cold that… I couldn’t tell you this… And now, I’m so sleepy that I… I just hope that what I’m saying makes sense.”

Those blurred lines… are really getting a lot clearer now, you sluggishly realize, the longer you stare up at him. His own concern for you… the way he looks at you when he does… It can’t be strictly because of his “never leave a debt unpaid” policy he just reminded you of. He’s never looked at Natasha like this, nor any of his other customers or clients.

You suddenly chuckle to yourself. “I’m not drugged up on Nat’s medicine yet, so before I take it… let me say this.” He swallows. “Your debt to me… is clear,” and his eyes widen, “as long as you stop being so reckless… and as long as we can keep helping each other… and if you can… stay with me more. Even if you’re late… I always want to see you. Always… okay?”

The towel slips from his hands. You watch him inhale, his chest seemingly puffing up with the trapped air, and drop the towel.

“W-Was… Is th-that a…? Was that…?”

“Mm… a confession,” you finish. “Yeah. It was. Been simmering on it for a while now, I think. Is that okay?”

Hand on his hip, he finally exhales, flossing through his bangs with his fingers again.

“I-I mean… yeah!” You hold in another laugh at how high his voice had broken to. “Totally fine.” He grabs another towel and throws it in the slightly steaming basin.

Sliding it from the bed, you reach out your hand for him.

“Sampo,” you call, urging him to take it. When he doesn’t, and returns his attention to the water, you reach out a little further, and instead reach for his exposed skin beneath his coat. A small yelp of surprise escapes him the second you trail your finger along his hip, and instinctively, he goes to grab your wrist to stop you until spotting how dark the flesh of your fingers has become from the cold.

“H-Hey!” he hisses lowly, face quick to become splotched with rose.

“… you’re still cold, too.”

“Sampo…”

The man jumps at Natasha’s return, careful to turn on the spot when your hand had still been resting on his one hip, even minutes later and at your insistence at warming him up.

“I at least did one, it’s not my fault!!”

#ik it's not romancy REALLY but ;-;#i love him so much.#sampo #sampo koski #sampo x reader #sampo x yn #sampo x y/n #sampo koski x reader #sampo koski x yn #sampo koski x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail

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