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softichill · 8 months

Text

The Sounds of Nightmares unofficial transcript

Chapter 3 - The Theater of the Mind

(Once again made with @queen0fm0nsterz!!!)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

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[Click]

[Otto sighs, shifting]

OTTO: Noone vanished last night.

[Another sigh]

OTTO: As she slept, I was monitoring her ultradian sleep cycle. There was no REM/NREM oscillation; instead, involuntary spasms grew progressively worse. [shift] As I was about to wake Noone, her… body… evanesced. For a split instant- then returned, calm as can be.

OTTO: [deep breath, loud exhale] Lacking sleep, I can’t be sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Yet the image of her sheets deflating… is imprinted upon my mind. [Sigh] After yesterday’s session, no less, when she claimed to hear this:

[Click, tape plays]

Recording of NOONE: “The faraway drifts near. Tread long, then, sink deep. Two flows from one, and here, is whole again.”

[Click, tape stops]

OTTO: A coincidence? [light clinking of ceramic/glass] Or, synchronicity? …(Scoff) Is that that bloody moth again?!

[Loud smack, Otto sits back down]

OTTO: Riddle piles upon riddle, and answers continue to elude. [Tape rewinding] I’ll sift through every word if I must.

[Intro plays]

[Click]

[Loud clicking and clacking, electric humming, Otto screwing something in]

OTTO: [Humming drops, returns] It’s clear. Noone’s symptoms go beyond parasomnias. [Continuing to build] Her retellings are too detailed, vocabulary too advanced, as if derived from the oneiric itself.

[Humming raises in pitch, clicking]

OTTO: However, what I find impossible to believe is that Noone’s seen who you saw, Cici. [Chair creaks, clattering] If two people, without any contact, shared the exact same observation, is it proof of transpersonal dreaming?

[Otto’s building continues]

OTTO: But such implies concurrence! And these dreams are years apart! Then… no. [buzzing picks up] I cannot be taken to metaphysical backwaters. Sounding like my old professor. [building] I’ve remained balanced over the years by clinging to the notion that my recollection of what happened years ago was wrong. [click, humming gets loud again] But now, those memories are coming home to roost.

[Clicks, electronic humming, building stops]

OTTO: [Shift] Before I began at the CPI I promised to finish this apparatus. I let it fall away, convinced that attempting it was fool’s work. Now struggling to put myself in her shoes, well. Fool me twice.

[Humming gets louder, buzzes out completely as it shocks Otto and he lets out an “Oh!”]

[A small pained noise from Otto before he starts to put the apparatus away]

[Door opens]

OTTO: (Gasp) Noone! [Scoff, he walks away from the recorder] You’re meant to wait outside.

NOONE: (Far away) What are you working on?-

[Audio cuts]

[Click, blank noise]

[Audio starts again]

OTTO: We’ve come to know each other better over the past weeks, haven’t we?

NOONE: Because we’re friends! That’s why. And, friends tell each other things.

OTTO: Friends. That’s right. One of the absolutes I’ve come to realize is that, the more time you spend with someone, the harder it becomes to hide who you really are. The only exception to this rule is with the company of oneself- we willfully hide what we’d rather not face. Like, the Candleman you mentioned seeing, under hypnosis.

NOONE: I don’t like that.

OTTO: What?

NOONE: Hiding things from myself.

OTTO: Nobody likes it. That’s why it’s important to reveal your inner face. “Depth analysis”, we call it. And so, I’d like you to think of this session as a dialogue with your unconscious mind- you are asking the questions, not me.

NOONE: …Asking myself questions?

OTTO: I’ll help! But, as you go, I’d like you to try. So! This… Candleman. Did you see him again?

NOONE: I-I did.

OTTO: And what was this meeting like?

NOONE: …He was much clearer. Not just him, everything about it. My nightmare.

OTTO: Elaborate, please. Was it worse? More vivid?

NOONE: What’s it like- Uhm… as if I’m watching a film, that I’m also the star of. And when I woke… it was here, in the Coppy, that felt more like the dream.

OTTO: Hm, more palpable. The Candleman-

NOONE: I can’t talk about him without the rest. …If this is an interview with myself, might I begin where I want?

OTTO: Of course! Let your imagination run. But don’t be afraid to interact with the dream. This is an important step in our process- the dialogue. Bring together the divided parts of yourself.

NOONE: …The mirror.

OTTO: Pardon?

NOONE: The one off your shelf. If I’m meant to speak to myself, well…

OTTO: [Pause] …Patients aren’t meant to have mirrors, but, here you are, my bright girl.

[Otto gives her the mirror]

OTTO: Begin as you please.

[Pause]

NOONE, Narrating: …In the dark… a hand let go of mine.

[Slip noise, Dream!Noone gasps. Dream ambience begins.]

NOONE: Opening my eyes, I lay on hot concrete, staring up at a sky with- no sun. And… before me was, endless grey, broken by- yellow lines of paint, all the way to the horizon!

NOONE: Standing, in that carpark, I heard a silence. So silent, my own heartbeat was a marching drum in comparison. …It was followed by… a loneliness, so lonely, I could hardly bear it. I had to turn away.

[Dream!Noone walking on gravel]

NOONE: Behind me, I was glad to see a building! A shopping mall, so large I- I felt half my normal size. Its doors opened, [sliding gravel] and I ran to them.

[running footsteps, transition from gravel to tile. Doors close behind Dream!Noone.]

NOONE: Inside the promenade, [lights click on] the lights flicked on, one by one, greeting me as the PA speakers came alive with music.

[Tinny, slightly off-sounding mall music]

NOONE: It had been ages since I’d visited a shopping center. I didn’t know where to start!

OTTO: You saw no need to find an exit right away?

NOONE: I felt like I was in good hands. But many shops were closed, though. There were no doors, and… no displays in the windows. Or, there must have been a private entrance, because- I could see shadows beyond the glass.

NOONE: …A-after passing by several shops this way, I grew disappointed, but that’s when… a cowboy’s voice came over the speaker.

COWBOY, slightly overlapped with Noone: “Sale at Jujube’s Toys! Dolls, games, puzzles, and more! Ground floor by the fountain!”

NOONE: I could see that fountain in front of me! And on the other side, was… a bright green storefront, with bubbles floating out the entrance.

[Dream!Noone walking over, doors hiss as they open. Different tinny music.]

NOONE: Shelves and- shelves of wonders lined the shop! The toys on the first shelf were very old, but… deeper shelves held the same toys I had back home, and deeper ones held exactly those I’d wish for, even Little Lotty Potty! But… these Lotties had black eyes, not blue. And their skin was… yellow, like autumn leaves.

NOONE: The shop owner wasn’t present, so… I grabbed one and began playing on the carpet.

[Dream!Noone humming Six’s Theme. Doll makes automated noises.]

NOONE: But, it didn’t take long for me to grow… bored. That was the first time I… I felt too old for dolls.

OTTO: (distant-sounding) Maturity is natural as you approach adolescence. The brain loses interest in things once held dear.

NOONE: The idea of growing up made me sad. And as if reacting… Lotty’s dress became wet. The doll was doing as its name said, but… [doll chattering] the liquid was- dark and thick. I put her down to find something else. But the choices were almost too many! Towering shelves extending deep in- the gloom of the impossibly long shop!

NOONE: I settled on the games section, but, most were meant for two. Suddenly, a staticky whisper said,

Voice, overlapping with NOONE: “I’ll play with you.”

NOONE: I-I thought it was the shopkeeper, but… nobody was around. My eyes fell upon a jewelry-making kit, with a red necklace on the cover. I took the box back to where I left Lotty, only… she was gone. The shelf above, where the other dolls had been, was completely empty too. I wanted to make the jewelry, I really did, but… I felt weird, so… I put it down. Then, the PA crackled, a woman’s voice this time:

Voice, ov. NOONE: “Jujube’s Toys is now closing.”

NOONE: [Lights clicking off] The lights shut off, bubbles stopped… and, the last thing I saw before exiting… [toy train noises] was the train set crashing to a stop. [quiet fake bell ringing, toy engine stops]

[Dream!Noone walking out of the store]

NOONE: The promenade was empty, still. Each step [steps become echoey] echoed across the walls and floors, which were- pearl white, and had patterns like… veins.

[steps and music continues]

NOONE: I came to three sets of stairs, side-by-side, leading to the next floor. I chose one, and, reaching to the top, I saw another open shop. Mademoiselle’s… (saying it wrong) bijottery.

OTTO: (still distant) Bijouterie. But, regardless- you could read this?

NOONE: Yes. The letters were quite big.

OTTO: …Have you been able to read in your dreams before?

NOONE: I’m not sure. That’s not a question I would ask myself, though, Otto.

OTTO: Apologies.

NOONE, Narrating: The glass case in the center of the room… pulled me in. Full of… gold, and silver necklaces. Hanging in the middle, was… an enchanting red pendant. And before you ask, yes, it was just like on the box at the toy store. T-The PA came on again,

Voice, ov. with NOONE: “A free gift to all little girls 10 and under!”

NOONE: Without asking, I put the necklace on, glowing, like a ruby teardrop. With my gift, I set to leave, but… someone must’ve left the speaker on because… I heard arguing.

NOONE: (overlapping) “Don’t overdo it!” Said a first voice, followed by a second, (overlapping) “One more prize can’t hurt!”

[something being set down, wheels across tile, whoosh]

NOONE: From the back room, a rack of dresses rolled out. All, exactly my size.

[Dream!Noone looking through the dresses]

NOONE: It’d been ages since I’d been allowed to pick out my own dress. The telly people chose them for me. These ones were very pretty, with lace and, and bows and stitching but, one… it… it was the plaid dress I wore the day I arrived at the Coppy. How could my dress be here? [lowering pitch of voice, asking questions to herself] Your real life doesn’t have to mix into your dreams Noone, why now?

OTTO, interrupting narration: (astonished) Pardon?

NOONE: (giggling) I’m asking myself questions. Well, the only explanation is that they could see inside my head.

OTTO: I’m not sure that’s logical.

NOONE: Let me finish! Please. You’ll see.

NOONE, narrating: Back out on the promenade, the shop gates began to slam shut. [Gates slamming] I was worried the mall was closing, but on the floor above, a set of spinning bright lights came on [Lights turn on]. The music stopped and, the PA crackled with a sing-songy voice,

Voice, ov. with NOONE: [music] “Showtime’s patrons! Our daily motion picture will begin shortly. Hot popcorn’s popping and the seats await in the playhouse!”

NOONE: [Lights shutting off] The rest of the mall went dark, making the lights more enticing to follow.

[Dream!Noone walks across the mall]

NOONE: The lobby was- red from floor to ceiling. Buckets of popcorn overflowed on the concession stand. I grabbed one, and hurried to push open the huge golden doors leading into the theater.

[Running steps, doors creak. Slightly off organ music plays.]

NOONE: The velvet seats went for rows and rows, full of people. A spotlight hit the stage, illuminating an organ, but… there was no organ player. Only tall curtains swaying in some breeze. I tiptoed down the aisle, and sat centered with the screen. The chair seemed to hug me, and the room fell dark [crunching] as the first buttery bit hit my tongue.

[Music stops playing, sounds of projector booting up]

NOONE: Without adverts or introduction, the film began. Images of… trees on fire and… white hooves galloping. I recognized the picture instantly because I’ve seen it a hundred times. “The Healing Horn”. [Movie plays] Only the scenes were out of order, and the unicorn… her horn was misshapen, like… a rotten tree branch. The evil prince’s face, too, was… was wrong.

NOONE: Feeling out of place I – I looked around. The audience, I… I realized, was not people but… mannequins.

NOONE: All of a sudden, a familiar scent entered the dream. Ocean. I was no longer alone. The dusty projector light made it difficult to suss, but a few seats over… was the Candleman. His eyes and mouth were… deep black pits inside a mess like a wet gunny sack, sagging down the floor. Without turning, he spoke.

[Growing noise stops]

OTTO, interrupting abruptly: He – what?! [Shifting] What did he say?

NOONE: [Sighing] It was like a – a voice underwater. The words could hardly escape the folds of skin. He repeated them to me.

NOONE as the FERRYMAN, glitching: “The faraway drifts near. Tread long, then sink deep. Two flows from one, and here, is whole again.”

OTTO: And then? [shifting in the chair] What else?

NOONE, as the FERRYMAN: “Here. Here. Here.”

NOONE: He just repeated over and over.

OTTO: There must be more! Try, try! Interact with the dream!

NOONE: There was no more!

OTTO: (raising his voice) Ask who he is, ask what he wants!

NOONE: (raising her voice) It doesn’t work that way!

OTTO: You were right there! Don’t tell me you did nothing?! Not a damn thing!

NOONE: Stop!

OTTO: [farther away] I’m beginning to doubt you’ve seen this Candleman! [Noone struggling] Perhaps you’ve invented the whole story!

NOONE: Please, stop- my head!

[Otto hisses (gets hit?), sounds of something being knocked over, Noone runs out of the room.]

[Otto huffs and stops the tape]

[Click. Blank noise. Another click]

[Various shifting noises. Silence. Door opens and someone walks, then closes it]

OTTO: [far away, stern] What are you doing? With the mirror. [Steps] You’re up to something, but we’ll let it slide. I know girls like you.

[Shifting]

OTTO: You’re upset with me, aren’t you? [plastic clacking] Here. A pill for your headache. (Sigh) Earlier, that was… awfully…[Otto sits] that- that was not how friends act. Sleep has evaded me too. I’ve grown worried, trying to… please, forgive me. I’d very much like to hear the rest. I won’t interrupt, you have my word.

[Silence.]

NOONE: … Fine.

OTTO: So… you were in this theater with him.

NOONE, narrating: … All kinds of pictured* flashed on the screen, and then he was gone, leaving me alone again. Or so I thought. The projector flickered in the booth. I dashed up, and found the door ajar. A new voice came over the PA, angry. “No patrons in the projection room!” The door was stuck, but I pushed and pushed. The PA boomed,

VOICE, ov. with NOONE: “You must not enter!”

[Crashing, door opens]

NOONE: The projector I saw first was shaped like… a deformed eye. Then, my attention fell to… the mass on the floor. [Slimy sound] A brain? A heart? …No. It’s muscles pumped and pumped, and its tubes ran into the walls. The voice came, both from inside the room and over the PA:

VOICE, ov. with NOONE: “Happy day, No One.”

NOONE: It… it knew my real nickname. The ones kids at school scribbled all over my books. How? Because it was in my head. …I asked, “You’re the one who’s been talking? All those voices?”. Then, I saw countless film cans around the room, and understood. It was so alone, it took to imitating. Then it said,

VOICE, ov. with NOONE: “Are you going to leave? Like all the others?”

NOONE: I managed a… “Yes”. The thing began pulsing and, upset, it sort of cried out.

VOICE, ov. with NOONE: “So many, they take what they want and go, or get snatched away or worse!”

NOONE: It paused, then went on,

VOICE, ov. with NOONE: “Whatever you desire, it’s yours.”

NOONE: … But I didn’t want anything from it. The PA belted,

VOICE, ov. with NOONE: “The pendant! You wanted that!”

NOONE: The pulsing worsened until another voice came within the first,

VOICE 2, ov. with NOONE: “You’ve driven another away!” [Not overlapping, repeating: “You’ve driven another away!]

NOONE: I felt bad for it. Or them… this place had been warped by pain, and wanted so badly to keep me. Even the walls began throbbing. What could I do?!

[Noise intensifies, Dream!Noone breathes heavily]

NOONE: I – I ran. Down the stairs, out of the theater.

[Dream!Noone runs away]

NOONE: On the promenade, the lights were flashing so as to be dizzying. The PA screeched,

VOICE, ov. with NOONE: “Everyone needs someone! Don’t leave me alone!”

NOONE: The walls began to cry that dark thick liquid, pooling around me, I looked up. From the floor above, the Candleman stared, pointing at my chest. At the pendant. I flung it down into the liquid, then he reached a hand toward me and –

[All noise stops]

NOONE: And all faded, as the PA sobbed,

VOICE, ov. with NOONE: “Don’t take her! Not this one, too…”

[Narration stops. Silence. Shifting]

OTTO: T-There was um… uh, e-excuse me, a curious phrase. “Warped by pain”. Is that how you feel, sometimes?

[Silence]

OTTO: Noone? Are you still angry with me? Or… distracted by the mirror?

NOONE: Behind my ear… there’s… a sore.

OTTO: Is that why you wanted the mirror all along?

NOONE: [Hum] It’s like the ones I used to get. I need to see it.

[Shifting]

OTTO: Nothing’s there. It’s red because you’ve been picking at it.

NOONE: …I have one more question for myself. Why do I have these dreams? Water sickness, that’s my answer.

OTTO: Noone. It’s wiped out of your system. There have been no known reinfections. It’s in your mind.

NOONE: (with increasing distress) What if the cure is the cause? I never had nightmares or headaches before all of this, before going on telly, before – before this! –

OTTO, interrupting: (whispering) No, no, come, come, come, come here, my girl. [Shifting, Otto hugs Noone] You’re not sick. You’re perfectly fine. You’re a perfectly wonderful little girl. This time I will protect you.

[The mirror falls on the ground and breaks]

NOONE: I’m sorry! I’m sorry, uh, you were squeezing so tight and… it slipped.

[The mirror shards are picked up. Otto throws them away]

OTTO: You asked why you dream. The truth? Nobody knows. My studies always assumed they were more than the brain’s way of filtering unconscious thoughts. But I had no answer either. An old professor of mine thought he did. He believed dreams come from an ever shifting plane, a quiddity of consciousness.

NOONE: Quidd-i-ty…

OTTO: Quiddity. The essence of a thing. In this case, a semiatangible plane outside the mind.

NOONE: Is it the same as mutual dreams? I don’t understand.

OTTO: My colleagues didn’t either. I’ve flip-flopped over the years, but I figured it was impossible to prove.

NOONE: Will I ever get rid of them, then? Will I ever leave the Coppy?

OTTO: You must understand, you are a unique case. I want to let you go, as soon as –

NOONE, interrupting: I’m better?

OTTO: (sighing) Yes. As soon as you’re better. [Otto stands, picks something up] Now –

NOONE: I know, I know. (Lower pitch, mimicking Otto) “Sweets for my sweet”. …Do I have to go back to my room?

[Sounds of plates]

OTTO: I’ve- got to tidy, [wrappers] and, you reminded me there’s something I need to find. On you go. I’ll come by later.

[Shift, audio cuts]

[Audio starts]

[Otto looks through papers, and sighs]

OTTO: Ah, I found it. The paper that stained my professor’s career. Kept it all these years, hoping and dreading there was truth in these words…

OTTO, reading: “We know now that there is no center to the universe. Previously we thought it was the Sun, before that we thought it was the Earth. Our species always insists that ours is the quintessence of experience. Yet scientific observation proves our folly ad nauseum. If geocentrism took centuries to disprove, the question is not if but when the same will happen to reality itself. That which we are equipped to perceive may not be the only world. Let alone the predominant one.”

[Click]

[Outro plays]

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*This is what she actually says. I have no idea why.

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bitchin-beskar · 1 year

Text

Interrupted

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Whoo boy there’s a few. SMUT. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say that, but this is basically ALL smut. Free use agreement, and talk relating to that. [BC THIS IS FREE USE, EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS BETWEEN PAZ AND READER IS CONSENSUAL. THERE IS NO NON-CON HERE]. Choking, biting, dirty talk, fingering, some rather rough fucking, creampie, slight dumbification (affectionate) (ex: being fucked stupid), mostly clothed sex, reader is called “good girl”, praise kink, aftercare, post-sex cuddles. Mixture of fluff and smut, but some parts of this got kinda yearning/angsty, so I do apologize. Semi-bittersweet/yearning ending. Idk if I got it all, but that’s the gist.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: So this started as a tiny idea that grew and grew and grew until it proceeded to consume my every waking thought for the past week. (This is all thanks to @maybege, @tailorvizsla, @catsnkooks, and literally anyone else who reblogged/voted/sent in ideas or thots. This is all their fault.)

Mainly, this is a modern day AU in which Paz is a college athlete and your best friend/roommate who you enter into a free use agreement with. (FUN SIDE NOTE: IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT FREE USE MEANS YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS. GO AWAY.)

This was originally intended to be a oneshot. I am now currently plotting a series, so this idea will not be going away any time soon. Please feel free to come yell at me in my dm’s or inbox about this! I welcome the thots!

I hope you enjoy! Please lemme know what you think, I’d really appreciate it!

Paz had to fight back a groan at the sight of you, standing there in the kitchen as you worked on finishing the dishes from making dinner that night. You’d prepared some kind of casserole, which was currently baking in the oven, and you stood at the sink with the water running as you washed the pots you’d used to prepare the ingredients.

The whole apartment smelt incredible, but that wasn’t the only thing making Paz’s mouth water. You were dressed in what had to be one of his old training shirts, considering how it hung on your frame. The neckline was slipping off one shoulder, the sleeves came almost to your elbows, and the hem of the shirt brushed against your thighs, hiding the swell of your ass. He couldn’t tell if you were wearing shorts underneath the shirt or not.

Fuck, he hoped you weren’t.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, but that was about to change. He didn’t bother waiting for you to finish, he didn’t have the patience for that. He’d dropped his hockey bag and gear in the foyer and toed off his shoes and socks, so it was on bare feet that he padded silently across the tile floor of the kitchen to press the length of his body against your back, his large hands coming up to grip your waist and pull you back against him.

You started violently, dropping the pan you’d been washing back into the soapy water with a shriek, and he couldn’t help but lean down to bury his chuckle into the curve of your neck. Your hands reached out to shut off the water and you hmph’d loudly, even as you sank back into his embrace.

“Gods, Paz, you couldn’t give me some warning?” You bemoaned, your tone one of tired exasperation, likely from the fact that this was an argument you had almost every day–sometimes even multiple times a day. “Bells. I’m gonna put bells on you, I swear.”

Paz smirked, baring his teeth, and nipping playfully at the sensitive skin on your neck as his hands began to roam, enjoying the way you squirmed in his grasp. It was damn near impossible for you to stay mad at him, and he took advantage all the time, like the asshole he was.

“Where’s the fun in that, bunny?”

You sighed in a way that told Paz you were rolling your eyes, although your sigh kicked up in pitch as one of his hands snuck under the fabric of his shirt to cup your tits, revealing that you were indeed not wearing shorts. His other hand splayed across your belly, palm huge and warm as he pressed your hips roughly back against his. He watched over your shoulder as your soapy, wet fingers curled around the edges of the sink, clearly trying to ground yourself in some way.

His fingers began to pinch at your nipples, switching back and forth so neither was left unattended, the soft breathy sounds escaping you were like a symphony to his ears. You always vocalized so beautifully when he played with the sensitive parts of your body. It had almost become a game to him, to see how many different sounds he could wring from you in one go.

“Paz–” you said, warning clear in your voice, even as he rolled your nipple between two huge fingers. “Paz, we don’t have time–” your voice cut off with a squeak as he nipped harshly at your neck in remonstration.

“What’s the rule, bunny?”

Paz’s voice was a deep rumble in his chest, and you felt it vibrate through your body as well, and you closed your eyes, perhaps in an attempt to block him out. But you and he both knew just how impossible that was. All you could sense was Paz.

And he knew it. Bastard.

“C’mon, bunny rabbit. What’s our rule? I know you know what it is.”

The hand on your belly had begun to creep downwards, and his fingers were now toying with the elastic on the waistband of your panties. He was absolutely right, as usual. You knew damn well what the rule was, as it was something the two of you had agreed on shortly after beginning your stint as roommates. The whole situation was convoluted as hell, but in the end, it had come down to you not having a way to pay rent in a traditional manner, and Paz’s joking offer had turned to something more serious.

“Paz,” you whined, not sure what exactly you were asking him for. You knew you should be asking him to stop teasing you when dinner was about to be ready, but your body wanted what Paz was promising.

Paz’s hand finally stopped torturing your breast, only to pull out completely from under the shirt and come up to wrap around your throat, his hand so large his fingers easily reached the sides of your neck. He forced your head back, his grip tightening just enough to restrict airflow, but not enough to hurt you, only to prevent you from taking in a full breath. It made your legs go weak. He pressed his lips against your ear, whispering his next words.

“The rule, bunny. Now.”

Your own hands came up to grasp his wrist and forearm, although you made no moves to remove his hand from around your throat. It took you multiple tries to get the words out, but eventually you managed.

“Th-That I let you do whatever you want, when-whenever you want.”

You could feel his lips curling into a wicked smirk against your ear as his fingers tightened just a little bit more and his other hand finally crept past the fabric of your panties to cup your pussy, his middle finger easily slipping between your folds.

“Good girl.”

You keen loudly as he strokes through your folds, the rough calluses on his hands providing a delicious friction. You were gasping for air as he held you, even as you did your best to try and grind down on his hand between your legs. He kept his tight grip on your neck until you started to see black spots at the edges of your vision, when he abruptly let go. Then, two things happened simultaneously.

First, you sucked in a deep breath, the feeling of your lungs filling with air after being restricted to only shallow breaths euphoric and almost orgasmic in of itself.

Second, you realized his grip on your neck had also been partially holding you up, and without that safety net, you slumped against him, which only pressed your cunt harder against his fingers, sending sparks of sensation shooting up your spine and causing you to cry out in shock and arousal.

Paz lazily slid two of his fingers into your cunt, slowly pumping them in and out as he ground the heel of his hand against your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and your hands flew to the counter to scrabble for something to ground you, fingers tightening almost painfully on the edges of the sink basin once more. It never mattered how much the two of you did this, it always felt like the first time.

“Are you gonna keep being a good girl for me, bunny? Gonna let me fuck this pretty ‘lil pussy?”

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, worrying the flesh as you tried to hold back a moan. Paz had discovered how much you loved dirty talk–specifically his dirty talk, and who could blame you, the man had a voice made of sin–and you hadn’t had a moment’s peace since.

Paz nipped at your ear, mostly to bring your focus back to him. “What happened, bunny? Aren’t there any words inside that pretty head of yours? Or am I just being too distracting?” As his voice dropped lower, Paz cupped your tits again, this time over his shirt which added an extra level of friction as he tugged at your nipples. The air whooshed out of your lungs, and you gasped desperately for more as you tried to form a reply that wasn’t just begging him to get on with it and fuck you already.

“Hmm, I guess I don’t really need your permission, do I?” His hand withdrew from your panties, making you let out an involuntary whimper at the loss, your pussy clenching around nothing. You hated the feeling of emptiness now, especially when you knew what it felt like to have him inside you. “After all, you’ll let me do whatever I want, whenever I want. Isn’t that right, bunny?”

Gods, you really should answer him, but you couldn’t seem to make your mouth work. Luckily, Paz wasn’t waiting for an answer, or permission. He stepped back a half step, just enough for him to have enough room to pull his cock free from his pants. He didn’t bother undressing either of you, clearly not patient enough to wait. He simply yanked the fabric of the shirt you were wearing up over your ass and jerked your panties part way down your thighs. With one hand on his cock, he placed the other in the center of your back and bent you over the kitchen sink, groaning as he watched you subconsciously present for him, spreading your legs slightly.

You gasp softly as you feel the head of his cock nudge gently against your slit, swallowing harshly as you feel Paz just stroke your folds with his cock, coating the head in the slick wetness that had begun to pool there. He teased you by slowly beginning to press against your opening, only to back away at the last second.

It felt so good, but it also wasn’t enough. You knew it, and he knew it. Finally, he notched the head of his cock at your entrance, and with just a little bit of pressure, the head of his cock popped in your cunt, and he began to sink into the waiting warmth.

Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out as he began to stretch you with his dick. Paz wasn’t a small man by any estimation, a fact which applied to all of him, as you’d learned when you started this little agreement. No matter how much he used your body, how much he fucked you, it was still a stretch to take him every time. You were always so tight around him, something he loved to praise you for.

“Shit, bunny.” You shuddered at the wrecked sound of his voice. “Shit, shit, shit, you always take me so fucking good.” His hand left the small of your back to grasp at your hip, helping to rock you back so he could sink further into you. His fingers spread wide over your hips and gripped tight, easily controlling the pace as he forced you to take inch after inch. You could feel your legs beginning shake and you were suddenly grateful for the extra support of the kitchen sink, because without it you’d surely be collapsing into a puddle on the tile floor.

After what felt like forever, you finally felt Paz’s hips press flush against your ass as he bottomed out inside your cunt. He held himself still for a moment, his thumb idly brushing against your side as you once more adjusted to the feeling of being stretched and filled. You’d never tell him, but a part of you always ached whenever he wasn’t stuffed as deep inside you as he could get. He’d only tease you, and you’d much rather he spent the time fucking you, especially since you knew one day, you’d have to let this agreement go.

Just as you were becoming adjusted to the sensation of being filled to the brim, and your fingers were starting to uncurl from their death grip on the sink, Paz decided that was the perfect time to move. He pulled his hips back, not enough to leave the warmth of your pussy, but enough that when he thrust back in, his hips slammed against your ass, pushing you up on your tiptoes as he shoved you further into the counter with the force of his thrust. The action punched a choked gasp out of your throat, which only seemed to spur him on as he began to fuck you in earnest.

He never pulled all the way out, preferring to only withdraw part way before burying himself back in your cunt, and the effect of the short, sharp thrusts was devastating. It felt like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs, every new breath punched out of you by the force of his hips colliding with your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the kitchen, and you felt tears begin to well up in the corner of your eyes as he fucked you like he’d never get the chance again.

He felt so big from this angle, impossibly so. It felt like he was in your throat he filled you so good. It made sense that his favorite position was bending you over random pieces of furniture or planting you on your hands and knees on the bed.

“That’s it,” he grunted, his voice deep and gruff and sending shivers down your spine. “Just take it, bunny. Take it.” You wanted to respond, whether with some smartass comment or a plea for more you weren’t sure since your brain had begun to melt, but you didn’t have enough air in your lungs to form anything other than whimpers and moans.

Those whimpers and moans just about turned to screams when Paz seemingly decided that the leverage he already had wasn’t quite enough, and released your hip with one of his hands, only to reach out and grasp your shoulder, using his new grip on your body to pull you back even harder onto his cock with every thrust of his hips. With this new leverage and the slight change in angle, he began to pummel upon that spot deep inside you that made you see stars, and your eyes began to roll back in your head.

Suddenly, a loud beeping filled the kitchen, and it took you longer than it should to realize the timer was finished on the oven, and that it was time to take the casserole out. It took even longer for your tongue to try and form the words to tell him.

“P-P-Paz,” you stuttered, voice breaking in time with his thrusts. “T-T-The f-f-food!”

His dark chuckle seemed to fill the room, and he somehow, impossibly, picked up the pace, punching little “uh, uh, uh’s” out of your throat with rough thrusts. You were honestly worried about the kitchen sink breaking underneath your grasp.

“I don’t think so, bunny. I’m not finished yet, and neither are you for that matter.” You let out a weak little moan at his words, not quite processing exactly what he was saying, but knowing somehow that he was going to explain it anyways. “Tell you what. If you can tell me the name of the dish you made, I’ll stop and let you take it out of the oven. What do you think bunny? Does that sound fair?” His voice had taken on a kind of condescending tone, and had you had your wits about you, you probably would’ve smacked him for it. As it was, you could barely register the tone, much less the words.

“Well? Do you have an answer, bunny?”

He suddenly stopped thrusting, letting go of your shoulder in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you upright so that your back was pressed tight against his chest. His nose brushed against the side of your head as he whispered in your ear.

“What’s the name, bunny? Just gotta answer me, that’s all you’ve gotta do.”

Fuck, you had no idea what he was asking you. While he’d stopped thrusting, he was instead choosing to grind his hips into yours, ensuring that you felt every ridge and vein of his cock brushing up against your walls, making your muscles clench and your thighs tremble. There was only one name that was in your mind and making its way past your lips with the state you were in.

“P-Paz?” You muttered, voice quiet and more than a little dazed. He smiled, you could feel it against your neck where he’d begun to place kisses, but it wasn’t a cocky smile like you’d seen him give to fangirls on campus or the news reporters who came to comment on his games and interview the players. No, this was his smile that was just for you, the smile that you saw when he stumbled out of bed in the mornings sore from practice the previous day to see that you’d made him breakfast, or when he came home in a snit, and you didn’t do anything except open your arms to offer a hug. It made a fire burn low in your belly, made you feel as though you’d done something right, something to be proud of, that maybe you were worthy of love and praise.

“That’s it, bunny. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” As he began to thrust again, although at a more sedate pace than before, his free hand left your hip to creep down to your pussy, feeling the way you stretched obscenely around him, his fingers brushing along your sensitive folds, before playing with your swollen clit. “That’s my good girl.”

You preened at his words, and you finally let go of the sink with one hand, to reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair as he continued to lavish kisses on your neck. You desperately wanted to pull his lips to yours, to remind yourself of what he tasted like, but the small part of your brain that wasn’t hazy with pleasure cruelly reminded you that kisses weren’t part of the agreement. Paz was free to do whatever he liked to your body, but kissing wasn’t on the table. It had been your choice, your decision, to try and prevent your heart from fracturing more than it already had. Of course, it probably didn’t matter in the end. You were already in far too deep. You could only hope that when he inevitably found out, he’d throw you a life raft instead of leaving you to drown.

Your attention was quickly brought back to the here and the now as Paz began to circle your clit roughly with his fingers, his hips snapping against yours a little more urgently than before. You realized with a start just how close you were, the way your muscles were beginning to tense up, the way your belly began to tighten, and your thighs began to shake even harder. Paz was clearly close too if his accelerated breathing was any indicator.

“Are you gonna let me come in this pretty ‘lil pussy, bunny?” He breathed in your ear, the cockiness in his voice just barely covering up the begging in his words. “Gonna let me fill you up like a good girl? Like you deserve?”

Oh, that sounded so good. It was something you and Paz had talked rather seriously about at the start of all this. He’d never made it a secret that he didn’t really enjoy condoms, but he also said they were non-negotiable in all of his relationships, until this whole agreement with you. He’d said it was a mix of trying to prevent pregnancy and avoid STDs, but when the two of you had actually sat down to discuss what all your little roommate agreement would entail, and you’d offered to go on birth control so he could forgo the condoms, he’d been struck dumb for a good minute. You both had gotten tested and had decided to regularly get tested even though you weren’t planning on sleeping with other people at the moment, and the new implant on the market boasted a 100% pregnancy prevention rate since its debut a few years earlier. So, condoms had been nonexistent during your agreement, which had led to the discovery of Paz’s… fixation.

He loved coming inside you. You were pretty sure it was his favorite part of the whole agreement. You knew he wanted kids one day, and you figured the idea of him coming inside you fed into that desire of his. It wasn’t hurting anything, so you’d never discouraged it. In fact, you also enjoyed it a surprising amount, far more than you’d ever expected. With your ex, Parjai, the idea of him fucking you without a condom had always made you squirm, but never with Paz.

You weren’t examining why that was too closely. Nope. Not at all.

A particularly harsh snap of Paz’s hips brought you out of your head and back into the moment. You realized he was waiting for you to answer him, and you nodded your head, not trusting your voice not to break if you tried to answer him verbally.

Paz moaned deeply at your answer, his thrusts picking up the pace as he worked your clit, attempting to get you to come before he did. “Gods, my bunny ‘s so good to me,” he slurred, sounding suspiciously punch-drunk. “Gonna let me fill ‘er up, gonna let me come inside. Gonna lemme fill ‘er so full everyone knows she’s mine.”

You weren’t sure if it was just good timing, or if his words actually pushed you over the edge, but as he growled the word ‘mine,’ the coil snapped and your whole body stiffened up as you came, and you came hard.

Clenching uncontrollably on his cock, you began to tremble even harder in his hold, your legs practically useless. You surely would’ve collapsed if not for Paz. Luckily, his arm was a band of beskar around your waist, and he kept you pressed tight against him as your whole body shook with your orgasm. You figure it was the sensation of your release that triggered his own, and with an almighty growl, he came too, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm as he fulfilled his promise and filled you up.

Every rough, unsteady, uneven jerk of his hips pushed you closer and closer to overstimulation. You were often closer to being overstimulated rather than under-stimulated with the frequency that Paz indulged in your body, and sessions like this only made it worse. Paz seemed to love how shaky you got when you were overstimulated, how much your legs trembled, how broken your breathing sounded. There was a reason he’d made sure you picked a safe word, because when he got in the mood, he wouldn’t stop for anything short of the world being set on fire.

Finally, he stilled inside of you, his fingers stopping their torturous assault on your abused clit. You sagged against him, eyes shut as you felt your heart rate begin to slow and your breathing even out. Paz simply held you tighter, his arms wrapping more securely around your stomach and pulling you back against his chest. He always became a cuddle-bug after sex, something you’d secretly been thrilled to discover.

The sound of your name falling from his lips drew you out of the haze you’d settled into, and you hummed softly to signal that you were now paying attention or attempting to at least.

“Thank you, bunny,” Paz said, his voice soft and low, a true sign of how relaxed he was. “I really needed that today.”

You made a face, your nose scrunching up slightly as your brain sluggishly thought over his words. “Y’don’ need t’ th’nk me, Paz,” you slurred, your tongue feeling far too heavy in your mouth. “‘m here, y’know. F’r you.”

He chuckled, the sound surprisingly self-deprecating. He could get maudlin sometimes, after your little sessions. It seemed like today was one of those times, and had you been more coherent, you would’ve pressed. But you weren’t, so you didn’t.

When he spoke, the traces of self-deprecation were gone, and back in place was the cocksure attitude you’d grown used to from your best friend-turned-roommate/fuckbuddy.

“Did I fuck all the thoughts outta your pretty head, bunny rabbit?” You frowned, or tried to, at least. “Awe, that’s ok,” he crooned. “Just lemme take care of you, now. You take such good care of me, it’s only fair I return the favor.”

He slowly pulled away, managing to keep you upright while he rearranged his and your clothes in an effort to look like he hadn’t just fucked you stupid. Just as you were beginning to sway dangerously, your legs feeling far too much like Jell-O, he picked you up bridal style, and began to carry you out to the couch.

You should’ve been content to just stay cradled in his arms, but something was nagging at you, something important, if only your brain was capable of forming coherent thought. Like usual, however, Paz seemed to know your mind better than you knew it yourself. He placed you gently on the couch, pressing his lips briefly to your forehead before pulling back. Your eyes slowly opened, and you whined quietly at the loss of his heat. He only smiled down at you.

“It’s alright, lemme just go and take the food outta the oven, bunny. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Ah.

Right.

The food.

You’d honestly forgotten.

You felt like you should be mad at him for distracting you, and likely burning dinner, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to express anything other than exhausted satisfaction. You sank down into the couch cushions, eyes falling shut again as Paz left to go take care of the food. Your body ached pleasantly, and you honestly could’ve fallen asleep then and there if it weren’t for the promise of Paz coming back to cuddle with you.

It felt like no time at all–although your current perception of the passage of time was unreliable at best–that you felt your body being carefully lifted again as the warm, muscled form of your best friend slid onto the couch behind you. He was always so gentle, unbearably so sometimes, and this was no exception. He settled into a reclined position, with you lying mostly on top of him, your face able to easily nestle into the crook of his neck. He slung an arm across your waist to better hold you, and the last bits of tension drained from both of your bodies near simultaneously.

Now that you were fully settled, you felt yourself beginning to drift off to sleep. As you teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, you whispered quietly into heated skin.

“Love you, Paz.”

As the blanket of sleep fully settled over you, you missed his equally soft, and strangely melancholic response.

“I know, bunny. Love you too.”

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sentientcave · 13 days

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IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEE - Have some Sparrow! I've been working on this one since December and I'm finally dipping into the last stretch of it. Been working on other things lately but still hoping to get this one finished before summer hits proper. I don't think I've shared much of this one anywhere yet.

Bob and his wife, Wendy, had pulled up chairs so they could sit and talk to the four soldiers. Or three, rather. Ghost had moved one table over to eat, his mask pulled up above his mouth so he could shovel food into his mouth, hunched over his plate like he was afraid someone was going to try and take it. He glanced up at Morgan as she walked in, scraped the final bite of food off his plate, and washed it down with the last of his tea before pulling the mask back down. It was almost fascinating to watch his throat work to swallow before disappearing behind the knit material.

“You fellas all set?” Morgan asked, bumping her hip up against the side of the booth next to Price. “I’d like to get home before this storm gets worse. Laika doesn’t like thunder, the big baby.”

"Just about, I'd say," Price said, tilting his head back to look at her. "We just had the pleasure of hearing all sorts of wild tales about you. How many of them are true?"

"None, like as not. I'm as well-behaved as they come, and it's always been that way."

Wendy stifled a laugh behind her hand. "Of course, Morgan."

Bob covered a cough with his arm that sounded suspiciously like bullshit.

Wendy had been a teacher at Morgan's high school. As far as she knew Morgan had been skipping classes to get up to trouble, but it had usually just been work. Pick ups and drop offs— rarely the same kind of dangerous situations that had caught her mother flat footed out on the tundra, but there had been a handful of fire fights here and there, and many more desperate struggles with fists or a knife. She had probably seemed like a lot of trouble from Wendy's perspective, since she'd come to school in rough shape many times, her excuses ranging from fist fights to tree climbing incidents to sports injuries. It was a surprise that she had gotten away with it without someone getting worried, but she'd always had a talent for lying her ass off.

"Alright, maybe I was a bit of a wild card when I was young. But I grew up. It all feels pretty silly looking back now." She shrugged lightly, flashing a sheepish smile at the soldiers, like she was embarrassed by her seemingly rowdy past. “I was an army brat without a whole lot of supervision. I’m just impressed I managed to graduate.”

"Too bad." Ghost muttered behind her. "You were just startin’ to sound fun."

There wasn’t much point in dignifying that with a response. Ghost seemed keen on getting under her skin, just to see what would happen. She wasn’t about to let him get a rise out of her. And if he wanted to play games, he was about to find himself outmatched.

She took her jacket off while she waited for the others to finish eating and knelt on the bench that Ghost was sitting on, bracing her arms on the back of the booth. He shifted beside her, putting his back against the window and bringing his knee up onto the seat so that his leg pressed against hers. He tapped the top of his boot against the bottom of her sensible white running shoes. She ignored him. “So, what really brings you boys to town?” she asked, even though they would have to lie, if not in front of her, certainly in front of Bob and Wendy. “Fishing trip?”

“Oh aye,” Soap said, grinning. "We love fishin'."

Gaz smirked, glancing up at her. “We’re after a big catch.”

Danny wouldn’t be a big catch. Likely it was one of his nasty friends, as Nikolai had put it, that the SAS agents were after. No one that Danny had known when he and Morgan were married. It had mostly been gangs looking for guns back then, or the occasional mob contact looking to pick up something heavier for a specific job. SAS was special forces and counter terrorism, which meant that Danny had gotten himself involved in something particularly out of his depth.

#IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEE #Cave Writing #Sparrow #Some of the early bits like this need some structural edits #I've also got better defined voices for them all now #So definitely some work to be done #cod mw fanfiction #OC: Morgan

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flutishly · 10 months

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LBD rewatch, part 4

It wasn’t easy getting back into the swing of Lydia’s final arc. It was hard to watch live, it was hard to rewatch not long afterward, and it remains hard to rewatch. Part of this has to do with the dread leading up to the reveal. Part of this has to do with the fact that even a decade later, I am somewhat disappointed by some of the acting/directing choices in “An Understanding”, particularly on Lydia’s end. I know that I’m usually quite in the minority on the latter end, but still. I grimace every time; there’s something deeply theatrical in how Lydia presents herself there and it comes in sharp contrast with the much more natively portrayed Lizzie. There are things that I still love about it, of course. I cannot make it through the whole video without crying, even today. The lines “I love you! [...] I love you!” break me every single time. Even just rewatching a few seconds of those lines in order to write this post have me crying. But I can also never quite shake off the feeling that the video is still very much a product of being an extended scene, with moments that could easily have been replaced by better takes left intact when they shouldn’t have been.

And then the pressure eases, just slightly. The tension changes. The viewer who knows what happens in Pride and Prejudice waits for the second shoe to drop. But in the meantime, the plot ticks along in plain view. Gigi’s Domino videos hit differently nowadays than in 2013 in large part because of how... not weird the app is? Like at the time, there was a sense of “yeah, sure, whatever, as if”, but then today there are literally apps that are all about video presentation for the sake of more drama (........), which granted don’t seem to have the same sort of AI on display, but let’s be real, how far off can it be? (grimace grimace grimace)

There are other irritating aspects of the Gigi subplot. I find myself even more impatient over how infantilizing Darcy and Fitz are, in their treatment of Gigi as someone entirely under their care. While it is sweet and admirable to want to support your sister/friend in the context of some pretty fresh trauma, it’s not cute to do so against her express wishes or the place she’s asking to be. Gigi is an adult in this adaptation. A younger adult, sure, but she’s not a teen like Maria and she has a lot more agency over her story. It kind of sucks to watch Darcy and Fitz shut her out the way that they do, even if it all ends up well (sort of). More than that, it’s never properly addressed why Gigi continues to make these calls on the company’s demo, which is hugely inappropriate in terms of violating Lydia’s privacy. (On top of how Lizzie is already violating a whole lot of people’s privacy.)

And then there’s Bing’s return. It... mostly doesn’t work. I love how Jane plays it, honestly, and I love that Jane refuses to back down against her own position (and point out that, bro, you haven’t earned my trust back), but there’s a sense of disconnect. Maybe part of the problem is how the show initially portrays Bing and Jane’s relationship, as something so quaintly sweet and pure and abstract. Maybe part of the problem is that the way Bing breaks it off with Jane is so much worse in modern times. (Personally, if Jane was my friend, I’d probably be the one going “he’s not worth it, what a jerk, don’t you dare get back together with him, have you forgotten how I had to hug you on the bathroom floor while you sobbed over feeling inadequate? He’s the inadequate one, you’re worth so much more than him!” The fact that Lizzie doesn’t do that remains stunning in my mind.) Whatever it is, despite the rather valiant attempts at rehabilitating Bing, I couldn’t help grimace at how neatly they wrapped up this thread. The “I’ve been trying to figure myself out” thing is cute, sure! But it isn’t quite earned. There’s not enough of either Jane and Bing really being in love (and I don’t mean onscreen, I just mean in love and not the very idealized relationship Lizzie paints in early episodes) and then there certainly isn’t enough of them actually getting to re-know each other before Jane leaves. I understand why/how it happened as it did, but I almost wonder if it shouldn’t have happened offscreen. I don’t know.

Next: Darcy. Darcy is, as I mentioned, a not-too-appealing part of Gigi’s videos. They do give good insight into his behavior and the way that he handles himself (he’s definitely a very loving older brother, if too overprotective!), but they’re glimpses. I’m actually fine with that, I think. The reveal is also... okay? I don’t know. It’s very in-line with how LBD generally portrays “news that should not be public”, though I’ll admit that by this point in the series, it feels a whole lot less believable that these things would make it online. Even the way that Lizzie explicitly asks Lydia... feels a little strange. But not as strange as it should, disturbingly. Ah well.

Finally: Lizzie. It’s this little portion of story where Lizzie’s growth becomes apparent. She’s hesitant over a lot of things. She is smacked in the face - repeatedly - with the consequences of her own actions and words. She’s stunned into silence upon realizing how wrong she’s been in so many places. Watching Lizzie break down is, as I mentioned, the thing that gets to me every time. As much as the show does a brilliant job of showing us Lizzie’s faults, it does a better job of really making us love her. And so I can’t help but love how this arc plays out for her, even though the focus isn’t really on her.

Well, onto the last batch of episodes! Caroline’s about to return... that’s got to be the biggest drama ahead, no?

#lizzie bennet diaries #rewatching projects #The Great Webseries Rewatch #LBD #Longer thoughts #webseries

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the-fiction-witch · 2 months

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Book Worm

Media Lewis

Character Adam Douglas

Couple Adam X Reader

Rating Sweet af

"God this is dull..." Adam sighed as he leaned back on the blanket laid against the grass outside the dorm being used for the trial, picking the grass up with his hand. Dressed in his usual red button-down and black jeans the trial had been going on for three days now and another four more to go. Adam looks to the rest of the trial participants who all sit listening to the doctor running the trial recite poetry and rolls his eyes at how they hang on to his basic poetry explanation, and he glances to the side to the only other of the participants who are not drooling over the doctor, Y/n sits in the grass with her book barely listening to the doctor she wears her little Mary Jane shoes, her black tights, a white long sleeve shirt and a black pinafore dress her hair in pigtails with purple dip-dyed ends, she briefly peers over her black glasses as she heard adam sighing,

He turned towards her. "What are you reading?" He asked quietly,

"ummm? Ohh the witchfinders" She blushed surprised he was talking to her,

He smiled almost amused, "So I take it you read a lot?"

"I guess so..." She admits,

Adam smiled again. He could tell this girl was a bit nerdy. He really liked that. “You go here then?”

“I am yeah, do you?”

“Yeah, I do, it's strange we’ve never come across one another before now,”

“I know, still it is nice to be here with you,”

“Yeah, it's nice having another Uni kid doing this too…” He smiled, "What do you study?" He asked,

"ohh, ancient mythology, digital media analytics and literature" she blushed "I was doing poetry last year too but I dropped it"

"So are you a bookworm then?" He asked jokingly.

"I guess so, what are you studying?"

"I study classics," Adam says.

"ohh don't you need Latin for classics?"

"Not just Latin," Adam laughs. "Greek, Roman, Egyptian, you know, the whole lot." he explained mostly trying to show off to this girl as it was obvious she making her way into his heart. She was smart, nerdy, quiet, reserved, and attractive.

"that's very impressive, I take if you don't have much time with classics to do any electives?"

"Not really," Adam says, "Classics is a rather intense course. And I'm going for first class honours, so I have to keep my grades at a high standard.”

"I hope so wouldn't want you working yourself too hard." She smiled "You really think you'll be able to get first-class honours for classics? I thought you needed like to never drop below a C for that"

Adam laughs, "I've never worked this hard to get good grades before, but I'm certainly confident I can do it. And yeah, first-class honours requires you to basically never drop below a C grade. I need to do the same for my other subjects as well." he smirked, "But I'll definitely succeed. I'm one of the smartest people at Oxford."

"you sound like it. Well, I believe in you" she smiled,

"Thank you," he says quietly, "You know, you should come by and see my room once we've moved into the dorms and once we've started lessons. Maybe we can read some books together?”

she blushed hard "ohh uhh yeah that could be nice, do you know what dorm you're moving into?"

"Dormitory 6," he said confidently. "I'm actually in the process of packing some of my things. If you're free, you should come by the dorm once everything is sorted. And my room is number 316. Just pop your head over and I'll show you my Classics books."

she giggled clutching her book to her chest “I’d like that,”

Adam couldn't believe how easy she was making this. She was accepting this without question. This meant she certainly liked him. He felt himself relax a little bit, and his heart beat quickened when she giggled. He couldn't wait to keep on winning her affection. He looked forward to when he could finally be alone with her in his room. “What about you?”

"I uhhh... I'm in dormitory six this year too..."

Adam's heart skipped a beat. It seemed as if the stars aligned in more ways than one. They were both in dormitory 6. It was meant to be. His heart beat quickened even more when he realised this. Maybe he could really take this girl on a date. This is going so well.

He looked over at her. He could see the light of joy in her eyes. He smiled, and began to plot a way to officially ask this girl out. He had to make it clear he was interested.

"Really? So we're going to be neighbours," he laughs, "that's really funny." he decides to take a chance. "You know, it'd be a real shame if you only got to read my books in the dorm. How about I take you for coffee sometime after lessons start? Maybe we could find a quiet café somewhere and we could just spend the whole afternoon talking."

“I think that would be really nice, Adam right?”

“Yeah Adam. Adam Douglas,” He smiled offering his hand,

“Y/n Y/l/n,” she smiled giving his hand a shake, he smiled and gave her hand a little kiss,

“I have a feeling we’re gonna spent alot of time together once the trail is over,”

“Yeah…. I have that feeling too.”

#tbs smut #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #adamdouglas #adam douglas #lewis

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ask-serendipity-sky · 9 months

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Just be fr for a second. If this whole situation was the other way around and Like Crazy got “everything “ that Seven did not would you all be kicking off like this ? 🫠 would you be dropping jimin like a hot potato and saying he’s changed, sold out, etc.

… no ya’ll would not and that speaks volumes. all jkkrs are pjms.

As for the situation, there is just so much misinformation, lies and jealousy being spread, exaggeration about the amount of versions and etc. In jungkook’s live, he said official promotions are over so he only got 7 days of promo (ironic lol).

The rush to get everyone enlisted quickly is annoying because it feels like people aren’t really able to have their own “eras.” From a western perspective I was thinking solo debut wow that SHOULD be months long of promo right? But what we’re getting is rushed. Ofc yoongi went on tour but that was a personal decision and I don’t think I’d a sign of privilege- he has a lot of solo songs.

Anyways I agree that the company didn’t react well to the rule change for Like Crazy and allowed it to free fall embarrassingly. I also heard it was sent to radio but didn’t get many spins.

Ultimately I just wish everyone would not get hysterical and just wait to hear more from the boys themselves. We don’t know everything. And please if so many of you are questioning jungkooks integrity and character so much then please.. just leave him alone. So he’s more confident? So what? I remember when he was a shrivelling mess with the lockdown scandal, now he’s over it. Both Jimin and Jungkook seem in such a good place mentally.

I can only make an accurate judgement after some time. Because if Jimin gets what Jungkook got in his next cb then are y’all gonna use the word Payola to the same extent?

It’s sad that it’s so toxic on here and twitter but I will just listen to what Jimin and Jungkook say directly.

Hello,

No, I wouldn't be celebrating because I'm not a double face person. Anyone who reads me and knows me can vouch for that. I couldn't celebrate Jimin being treated nicely while Jungkook got scraps because I care about about of them. Yes, I love Jimin the most but I care about both.

I haven't dropped Jk. I'm not judging him for the choices he's making. Go and read my posts. I question things because I want them to make sense but I also know, and have stated, that I would probably do the same as him if I was in his shoes.

There is no exaggeration of what has been said. It's just that the truth hurts and people would rather avoid it. It's not ironic that Jk got 7 days promo...sigh.. that was the whole point -_-

And yeah, if Jimin gets payola we can talk about it too.

I don't get it when people say that we need to wait for the boys to clear things up lol They are not going to!

And as fans who spend our money and time supporting our artists, we have the right to question things on the music side. Like why weren't we informed that sales on week 2 for FACE were not going to count if the company knew of the rule change? Or what's the point of supporting an artist when payola kicks in and everything has been in vain?

But I guess you can keep waiting for Jimin and Jungkook to say stuff...but you will be waiting forever.

Thanks for stopping by.

#skyasks

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middleearthpixie · 1 year

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Seven Days ~ Chapter Five

Seven Days - Modern Tolkien AU

Firefighter Frerin Durin died in a fire set deliberately. But after he helps his brother, Thorin find happiness, Frerin is offered a second chance. He has to prove himself worthy by righting the one major wrong in his life. Otherwise, history will repeat and he will die for good this time. The catch? He has seven days in which to do this and isn’t even certain what his major wrong is.

At least, he doesn’t know for long.

Syd Prescott has known Frerin since high school. She spent one night with him and then he vanished from her life. Now, he claims he wants to make it up to her, to right was he realizes was his major wrong. But can she trust him? And can he prove to her that she can before it’s too late?

A/N - This story is the sequel to Miss Fortune, but is a stand alone story.

Summary: The rest of the night doesn’t go quite as planned…

Pairing: Modern!Frerin x OFC Syd Prescott

Characters: Syd Prescott, Gram Prescott, Frerin, Tori, Charlie, Lisa

Warnings: Some fooling around

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,366

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

When they were nestled in his Jeep, Frerin turned over the engine and eased into reverse to back out of their space. He shifted into first, rolling to the parking lot entrance and then looked over at her. “I think maybe I should take you home instead, Syd. We don’t have to rush anything.”

Disappointment flashed through her. He didn't sound annoyed, or put out, or even disappointed himself, but just very matter of fact. “You don’t have to. Really. I’m okay with going back to your place.”

He lifted his hand from the gearshift knob to bring it down atop hers, which rested on her thigh. “I know, but I don’t want to rush you and I feel like maybe I’m doing just that. Besides, I’m not going anywhere, so I’ll wait. It won’t kill me.”

Heat sank into her hand from his, deepening as his fingers tightened over her. “Frerin, what is this about?”

“It’s about my not rushing you into something you might not really be sure you want to do. Look,” he lifted his hand to shift into second gear, then brought it back to hers, “I know probably don’t trust me and I can’t blame you for that. So, I’d rather wait to sleep with you when I know you won’t be just waiting for the other shoe to drop. When you won’t spend the whole time thinking about me disappearing again. I’m pretty selfish in that I’d much rather you be thinking about just how good I’m making you feel and how much you’re liking what we’re doing than you wondering if I’m going to call you the next day.”

She looked over at him. His left hand rested at the bottom of the steering wheel, a black Apple watch on that thick wrist that lit up each time he moved. His hands were huge, with long, thick fingers and she bit back a sigh, remembering how those hands felt on her, both tonight and the last time they were together. He knew just how to touch her to make her melt, and the fact that there was no melting in her near future weighed heavily.

“I get that,” she began slowly, hedging her words, “but it kind of feels like maybe you’ve had second thoughts.”

“About sex with you?” He looked over at her and her stomach did a flip at his slow grin. “Do I look insane, Syd? I remember what it was like with you and trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to do it with you, it’s more about the timing. We don’t have to rush. Like I said, we got time, more or less.”

She narrowed her eyes. His slight hesitation at the end of that sentence once more stirred the feeling there was something he wasn't telling her. But, she knew if she pressed, he’d only deny it again. So, she forced a smile and nodded. “I know, but… I was kind of looking forward to it.”

His fingers tightened about hers. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Traffic was fairly light and it was only a few minutes later that he was pulling up in front of her house. Lights blazed bright both upstairs and down, and both Gram and Charlie’s cars were in the driveway.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Sure.” He killed the engine, tugged the keys from the ignition, and pushed open his door as she climbed out on her side.

He came around the front of the Jeep. “Do you think they’re still watching Die Hard?”

“It’s possible. If so, we can join them, and if not, we can find something else to watch. I’m just glad Gram’s still here. If she wasn’t at this time of night? Means only one thing. The police have called her out for something.”

“Yeah, Thorin’s told me they work pretty closely with your grandmother from time to time.”

“And Teddy. Can’t forget Teddy. She’s everyone’s favorite.”

He smiled as he reached for her hand. “She’s not my favorite, you know.”

She just stared up at him, shaking her head. “There isn’t a man alive who doesn’t think she is hot.”

“She’s cute,” he conceded as they made their way up the front walk, “but she’s not my favorite Prescott. I prefer redheads.”

“Frerin, you prefer anything with boobs.”

“That is not true. I mean, yes, once upon a time it was, but I’ve had some time to do some serious thinking about that. And I think I’m going to stick with the little redhead who rolls her eyes at the stupid shit that comes out of my mouth and who thinks I’m actually crazy enough to not want to see her naked. She is my favorite Prescott and I’m going to prove it to her if it kills me in the process. And I am not joking.” He tugged on her arm to draw her in and as he loomed over her in the halo of light from the overhead, he added, “And I promise not to say I told you so, when I do, either.”

“Frerin, you’re nuts. Has anyone ever told you that?”

A devilish grin lifted his lips and he bent her back slightly. “Plenty of people have, yes. But I promise just the same.”

His eyes glittered in the low light and without thinking, she wound her arms about his neck to pull him down to meet her kiss. Which he did without hesitation, tightening the arm about her waist as his lips moved slowly against hers. Slowly. Teasingly. Enough to make her head spin and leave her breathless when he pulled away and straightened up.

“We should go inside,” she managed to whisper. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I won’t argue that.”

She smiled, diving into her purse to dig out her keys and after a quick wrestle with the lock, the door swung open and a blast of heat greeted them. Syd was more than happy to leave the cold and breeze outside as she closed the door behind them and flipped the deadbolt out of habit.

“Hey, you two,” Charlie called from the sofa. “You’re home early.”

“What’re you watching?” Syd asked as she slipped out of her jacket.

“Just finishing up Die Hard, actually. Gram made me pause it because she got a phone call and was on the phone forever.”

“Why? What happened?”

Charlie shrugged. “She didn't say, and she might still be on with whoever it is. Hey, Frerin.”

“Hi, Charlie.” Frerin shrugged out of his jacket to drape it over the arm of the chair just inside the door. “What’re you watching next?”

“Nothing.” She tossed the remote onto the cushion next to her. “It’s all yours. I’m going up to do my nails.”

She rose from the sofa and smiled. “You want me to tell Gram the parlor is off-limits?”

“You do and this is just where she’ll plant herself,” Syd replied with a grin. “You know that as well as I do.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell her you’re alone. She won’t bother then. Especially if you put on a movie with a lot of blood and guts and sex. She’ll stay far away in that case.” Charlie moved toward the staircase. “Anyway, goodnight, guys.”

Syd draped her jacket atop Frerin’s and gestured to the sofa. “So, want to see what’s on?”

“Sure.” He sank onto the sofa and picked up the remote to flip through stations, pausing when he came to what looked like one of the John Wick movies. She fought the urge to grimace, as she didn't care for all the violence, even if John was completely justified.

She sat beside him, and he smiled as he lifted his arm and said, “I promise I won’t bite you, Syd.”

She chuckled, curling up against him and tucked her head against his chest when his arm settled about her. “I didn't want to assume anything.”

They sat there for a few minutes in comfortable silence. From the kitchen, Gram’s voice was a low buzz and Syd knew from experience that whatever she discussed, it most likely was not a good thing. She was often called in to work with various police departments through the northeast when it came to missing persons. And more often than not, each call ended with her coming to find Teddy to travel to whatever town in whatever state in order to help out. She took her gifts very seriously and made sure that Syd and her sisters did as well. Only Alex was usually left out of that loop, as she seemed to be the only one born without the Prescott gifts of foresight and such.

Then it grew quiet and Gram came out of the kitchen saying, “Charlie? Oh—” She stopped herself and smiled. “Hi, Frerin. I didn't realize you were home. Did Charlie go upstairs?”

“Yeah. Her movie was over. Why? Who was on the phone?”

“The Andover police department. A toddler’s gone missing.”

Syd sighed. “Do you need me or just Charlie or are you waiting for Teddy?”

Gram sighed. “I need Teddy. I left her a voicemail, but haven’t heard back. I’ll need you and Charlie to run things here until Alex comes home.”

“No problem, Gram. You know that.”

“I know.” Despite her worried look, Gram managed to smile. “Anyway, I didn't mean to interrupt your movie. I’ll go let Charlie know and hopefully Teddy will have called me back by then.”

With that, she made her way to the stairs and disappeared above, and Syd smiled at Frerin. “Sorry we kind of talked over John Wick.”

“It’s no problem. I pretty much know this movie line for line.” He looked over at her. “Does she ever take you on these trips?”

“From time to time, but what I can do doesn’t really help all that much in a missing persons case, unfortunately. Teddy can pretty much do everything, so watch what you think around her. She’ll bust you in a heartbeat.”

“I’m not really all that worried. I mean, unless she’s real protective of you, then she might feel the need to chase me away from you with a broom.”

“Frerin.”

“What?” A mischievous smile played at his lips. “She should only know that I’m thinking right now.”

His voice, which was normally on the deeper side, grew deeper still, heavy with what sounded very much like sin and promise and she wished he hadn’t changed his mind about taking her home. Sin and promise sounded like a great way to spend the night.

Not to mention, he wasn't the only one who could flirt. She wasn’t particularly good at flirting, but that didn't stop her from meeting his gaze and murmured, “What are you thinking about, then?”

His eyes danced with a devilish light and without a word, he just bent toward her and kissed her. It started out as a simple, light, almost playful kiss, but then she slid her arm about his neck, her lips parting at the gentle pressure of his tongue against them.

A low sigh rose to her lips as he shifted to ease her onto her back and carefully worked his hips between her legs. His kiss deepened, grew fiery and sensual, his tongue teasing hers, tangling with hers, drawing hers back into his mouth, as he’d done at Darcy’s. Although she was very much aware of the creaking of the floorboards over her head and half-listening for feet on the stairs, Syd returned his kiss with all the enthusiasm she could muster, which took very little effort as desire for him already hummed just below the surface of her skin.

John Wick faded into the background as Frerin eased a hand beneath her sweater, his palm warm and slightly rough against her skin as he slid it over her ribs, as his fingers gently curved about her left breast. They tightened, kneading that breast with a slow, steady rhythm that set her insides to a slow melt.

Her back bowed of its own as the sensations sharpened and spilled through her. Little by little, the room grew warmer, the urge to tug her sweater over her head grew stronger as he carefully eased her breast from its satiny bra cup and swirled his thumb about her nipple.

As he did, he offered up a slow thrust into the tight ache between her thighs. The firm ridge of his erection ground up into her, sent heat bolting through her. She rocked to meet him, to sweeten the sensations coursing through her. Her body responded in kind, the tension morphing into a wet heat that pooled between her thighs.

His thumb slid about her nipple, which tightened into a hard, very sensitive bead and when he ever so gently pinched and rolled it, she couldn't hold back her breathless moan of approval. He thrust against her again, then carefully eased her sweater up to bare her breast and a moment later, his lips closed about her nipple, his tongue hot and rough has it scraped a slow circle about it.

Fire shot through her. The dampness between her legs grew wetter still and she rocked her hips to meet that solid ridge, to grind up against it in a desperate attempt at relief from the sensual tension winding through her.

He shifted just enough to trail his fingers along her belly, down to the snap of her jeans. He eased the button through the hole, slid the zipper down, and a moment later, slid his fingers beneath denim and cotton lace and into the heat he’d created.

Syd gasped, fighting to remain as quiet as possible, which was no easy feat as his fingers slipped easily through her aroused flesh. Her hips rolled toward him, her fingers curling in his henley to tug it from the waist of his jeans. His skin was hot and smooth and as she slid a hand over his chest, he sighed against her already-overheated skin.

She found his nipple, nestled in soft hair that she knew was as dark as the hair on his head, and as she slid about it, he shivered against her and gave a sharp thrust. She let her fingernails rake along his chest, his belly, down to the button on his Levi’s. He pulled away just enough to offer her the space she needed to slide the rivet through its hole and then she slipped her hand into his jeans, brushing the rough waistband of his briefs.

A moment’s hesitation, and then she inched her hand beneath the warm cotton and when she found what she sought, he shivered again and breathed, “Syd…” as her fingertips skimmed the hot, sleek length of his manhood. Thick. Hot. Smooth. She ached to tug it free from the confines of his briefs, of his jeans, and just explore him to no end. She wanted to urge him onto his back and come up over him, to slip him inside her and just surrender to whatever came next.

Then, he slid a finger inside her and crooked it to send fire rocketing through her. She tightened her arm about his neck, her fingers on his cock, and when he swirled that finger, she shuddered against him, her climax already taking root. Heat filled her, billowed through her with each teasing stroke, She rocked to meet him, to draw out the sweet sensation of release so close at hand.

White lights blinded her as he shoved her over the edge and the hand on him went still as she surrendered to the moment, trembling against him as the heat devoured her, as fiery hot pleasure scorched through her. Her fingernails bit into the nape of his neck, his finger relentless as she throbbed about him, as she melted against him, and when the wave crested and receded, it left her clinging to him, fighting for breath as she whispered, “Oh… my… god… Frerin…”

He let out a soft, almost breathless laugh then dipped to kiss her as she trembled against him. He eased his finger from her, then gently caught her wrist to prize her hand off him. “As good as this feels, I don’t want to make a mess on your grandmother’s couch.”

“But… you didn’t…”

“It’s okay, honey,” he brushed her lips with his, “I’ll survive.”

The floor creaked even more loudly and Frerin jerked back at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He righted himself with a very noticeable wince and as she tugged her sweater back down, Syd couldn't ignore the guilt that flashed through her at the still-noticeable bulge in his jeans. There was no way he was a comfortable man at that moment.

Gram came striding into the parlor, bundled up for the cold with a small wheelie suitcase. She looked over at them both and Syd held her breath as Gram’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. But, to Syd’s relief, all she said was, “Teddy is going to meet me at the airport, if you or Charlie could go retrieve her car tomorrow.”

Despite her spinning head and the tingles of aftershock still rippling through her, Syd nodded. “I’ll make sure one of us gets it. Just… call when you get there, okay?”

“I will.” Gram paused at the doorway. “And be careful, Syd.” She looked over at Frerin. “And that goes for you, too, Frerin.”

He nodded. “I’m always careful, Mrs. P.”

For a moment, Syd was convinced Gram was going to add something, an admonishment or an indication that she knew exactly what was going on on that sofa only minutes earlier, but then, she just said, “Good night,” and went out into the cold.

Relief surged through Syd as she sank back into the cushions. “That was close.”

“Yeah, but it was fun.”

She looked over at him. “Fun? You didn't get to finish.”

“I’ll survive, like I said. You did and I really don’t mind making the sacrifice for that.”

Heat climbed into her cheeks at the way his eyes darkened and how his smile seemed to take on a more seductive air. “Still…”

“No, no still. I’ll be fine. But, I should probably get going.” He leaned over to kiss her, then pushed up from the sofa. “I’m working tomorrow, from eight to eight Monday morning, but if you’re free Monday night, I’d like to take you out.”

She nodded as she rose alongside him. “It just so happens I am free. Or, I should be. Unless something really awful happens.”

“Good.” He moved to pick up his jacket and shrugged into it, then reached for her hands, catching them in his. “I’ll see you on Monday then.”

“What are we doing?”

He grinned. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure something out.”

With that, he leaned in, brushed her lips with his, and then was gone out into the cold night, hurrying to his Jeep. A few minutes later, the headlights blazed bright and with a light blast of his horn, he disappeared off into the darkness.

Frerin sighed as he opened the kitchen door to let Riley run out into the backyard. There was almost nothing worse than unspent arousal and as he stood there in the cold, he realized it was the first time in a long time that he didn't do whatever he could to woo a woman into his bed. And much as he really wanted Syd, he wasn't about do anything to even give a hint that he was anything other than sincere with her.

But, at the same time, he only had a few more days, so he’d be lying if he said panic wasn't nudging at his edges. Dead sucked. He didn't want to do it again for a long time, if he could possibly help it. And now that he knew what he had to do, he wanted to just do it. He wanted to convince Syd he was sincere. That he really felt something for her that went beyond just wanting to get laid. He wanted to prove to her that he wanted future with her. A life with her.

Headlights slit the darkness and he moved to the living room to see a small red Fiat pull into his driveway.

Lisa.

Shit.

Riley barked and by the time he let her in, Lisa was knocking on his door. While Riley dove into her bedtime biscuits, Frerin bit back an annoyed sigh as he moved to the front door and opened it, but left the storm door shut. “What?”

She seemed shocked by his gruff greeting, her blue eyes wide and her smile wavering. “Well, I have to admit, that’s not what I thought you’d say.”

“Lisa, it’s almost midnight. I just got home and I have to work tomorrow. What do you want?”

“To talk. And maybe… maybe a little more?”

At one point, he’d have had that storm door opened and her in his room so fast, she wouldn’t know what hit. Especially on a night like tonight, where he was still feeling the tension of that damn unspent arousal swirling through him.

But, he wasn't interested. “We broke up, remember? You thought I was cheating on you—which I wasn’t—and so you decided to go suck another guy’s cock, remember?”

In glow of the floodlights, her blush was plainly visible. “Frerin, you know he meant nothing.”

“Yeah. And I’ve said the same thing and we both know neither one of us meant it. It’s a fucking lie each and every time and I’m done. I’m seeing someone else and I am not about to fuck it up, Lisa. I’m just not.”

“Are you serious? The Frerin I know wouldn’t be able to pounce on me fast enough.”

He just stared at her. “The Frerin you knew is dead, Lisa. And I’m not interested. Like I said, I’m seeing someone, so you’re free to fuck as many different guys as you want.”

She glared at him. “I give it a week before you’re calling me.”

“I don’t think so. Good night.” He closed the door and flipped the lock into place, then sank back again the door.

“I’m impressed.”

He jumped as Tori came out of the kitchen. “Are you kidding me with this? Will you stop popping up on me?”

She smiled. “Probably not. The Big Guy will be floored to see you turned her down.”

“Why?”

She just offered up a level look, and a hint of embarrassment swirled thorough him. “Look, Tori, tell Him I’m trying, okay? And tonight… damn… I was thisclose—” he held up his thumb and forefinger so they almost touched—“to bringing Syd here and having my way with her and I stopped because she… well, she wanted it, but I know she’s still on the fence about me and she has every right to be and…”

He let his words trail off as he sank onto the edge of his stone coffee table. His hands dangled, clasped, between his knees and he looked up at her. “What if I can’t convince her by Friday, Tori? Will He give me more time or am I done?”

Her expression grew sympathetic as she skirted the table to sit on his sofa. “I don’t think He’ll give you more time, Frerin.”

His stomach kinked even as he nodded slowly. “That’s what I thought.”

“But, she’s already seeing you’re different.” Tori’s hand came to rest on his knee, the gentle chill seeping into him through the denim. “She wants to trust you.”

“Yeah, but she also isn’t sure she can.” He raked his hand through his hair. “And if I screw this up… it’s over. And when that happens, I put my family through losing me as well as putting her through it. And I’d rather her forget all about me than to mourn me the way my family did.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” He looked up and met Tori’s tranquil dark eyes. “I love her and I have since I was fourteen years old. I just… I was too much of an idiot to see it and she had no idea I even existed before now. And if I can’t convince her she can trust me and let herself love me back, can I at least have her forget about me? I can handle being dead again—I think—but I don’t want her to hurt in the process.”

“I—I don’t know,” she replied softly, shaking her head. “No one had ever asked that before. Most people are terrified they’ll be forgotten.”

“Yeah, I was.” He offered up a sheepish grin, looking over at the family photographs on the wall across from the sofa. “I asked Thorin to remember me, to keep me alive that way. But damn… I don’t want Syd to suffer because of me. Compared to that, being forgotten isn’t so terrible.”

“You still have time.”

“Not nearly enough, though.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Tori, I have until Friday. It’s early Sunday. I don’t know I’ll be fine at all.”

“I have faith in you. You’ll win her over and when you do, she will be the luckiest woman alive.” Tori gave his knee a squeeze and then, faded from sight.

He sighed, raking his hand through his hair once more. Tori could have all of the faith in the world in him, but if Syd didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. Come Friday, he would vanish from her world and she would vanish from his.

He made his way upstairs and into his room, where he sank onto the edge of his bed with a low sigh and bent to pull off first one boot, then the other. Then he sat there, just staring at the wall for what seemed like forever as he tried to figure out just how he could convince Syd she could trust him because he meant what he’d told Tori. He was in love with Sydney Prescott and had been since he was all of fourteen years old.

He just had to find the way to prove it to her.

#Gerard Butler #Frerin Durin #Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Frerin x OC #AU #Frerin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Modern AU

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deus-ex-mona · 1 year

Text

LIPxLIP and the Filming of the New Year’s Special Programme: Chapter 6

the host definitely shipxships it

previous part (chapter 5)

next part (chapter 7)

Aizo: (Some of the stuff we had to find were rather ridiculous, but… we’re finally at the final item, huh.)

Just as the faintest sight of the final checkpoint came into view, Aizo turned around to look behind him.

Aizo: (Huh…? Yujiro’s gone. He’s been following me pretty closely for the entire time, though.)

Aizo stopped in place and looked back towards the way he came for a moment. Eventually, the distant figure of Yujiro emerged from far down the path.

Aizo: (Well… His physical capabilities are lower than mine to begin with, and he’s wearing a hakama, and there’s a camera filming us the entire time. It’s no wonder he’s lagging behind, I guess.)

Aizo: (He’ll have to run up a slight incline in the path… around here…)

Aizo: (Ah…? Wait, no, isn’t he running kinda weirdly?)

Aizo: Sorry guys! I’ll be right back!

Having spoken those words to the camera, Aizo headed back down the path. When he regrouped with Yujiro, however, the latter heaved a sigh of annoyance.

Yujiro: Hey, are you even taking this race seriously?

Aizo: Now’s not the time for that. Lemme see.

Aizo crouched down by Yujiro’s feet. As he had expected, there were blisters on Yujiro’s feet, which had been caused by his sandals.

Aizo: You’re bleeding. Aren’t you supposed to be used to wearing sandals like these?

Yujiro: Shut it. The size of the sandals that the programme staff had prepared for me was just a little off.

Yujiro: I figured that it’d be fine if the most we did was light exercises. Though I never expected them to make us go on a long-distance run.

Aizo: Why didn’t you say something sooner? …Hey, staff!

The staff members, whom Aizo had called out to, helped Yujiro to patch up his feet. In addition to that, they gave Yujiro another set of shoes to change into, and they were able to resume the race.

Host: Hmm, our staff sure dropped the ball on this one, didn’t they? I’m so sorry, Yujiro!

Host: To all you viewers out there, I’d like to apologise… for worrying you.

Host: Though, Aizo was the very first one to notice that something was off with Yujiro… I guess they really are two halves of a whole, after all.

Such were the words that the host had spoken from the studio, while Aizo and Yujiro took a short break with the camera turned off.

Host: At this rate, don’t tell me… They’ll even reach the goal together in an unprecedented occurrence on this show?!

Yujiro & Aizo: …

Aizo: …I don’t approve of jokes like that, not even by a single bit.

Yujiro: That’s my line.

Aizo: Y’know, you’re the one who started it all back at the first checkpoint by giving me that weird advice.

Aizo: So to say that we don’t care for each other would be—

Yujiro: What are you going on about? Had I not given you that hint, you’d still be struggling at the first checkpoint at this very moment.

Aizo: Ugh… That’s low…!

Aizo: (He really isn’t cute~!)

Staff: Hey LIPxLIP! We’re about to resume the filming!

Yujiro & Aizo: Got it!

Aizo: In any case, we should make it our priority to end the stream on an exciting note.

Aizo: There’s no way you’re gonna retire, hm?

Yujiro: Of course I won’t. …Don’t patronise me.

They quickly got into position to resume the rest of the run.

Aizo: (The host said that thing about us reaching the goal at the same time earlier, but… there’s no way that that’s gonna happen, right…?)

Aizo: (No way… But that would make things more exciting, right…? Nah, nope… of course they won’t…)

Such thoughts coursed through Aizo’s mind as he ran towards his destination, namely the piece of paper with the final item written on it. Shortly after Aizo arrived at the checkpoint, Yujiro reached it as well.

Yujiro: …Hurry up and pick one. You got here first.

Aizo: I’ll do it, even if you didn’t tell me to.

Host: Whether tears will be shed, or smiles will be shared, we’re finally at the last spurt! What’ll happen to the race between the two of LIPxLIP…?

Aizo unfolded the paper as the broadcasted audio from the studio drifted into his ears.

Aizo: (And the item I’ll have to get this time is… Eh?!)

#aizo vs hakama #just honeypre things #sorrrryyyyy if the words and stuff seem kinda weird i m b e a t !#i'll edit it later... maybe (hardly ever edits stuff despite this tag)#i'd say 'goodnight' but it's now 6 in the morning so... good morning!!!!!!!!!!

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facelessfrey · 2 years

Text

Roswell New Mexico - Season 4 Episode 1

And we’re back! For one last season. And of course we’ve done a time jump so everything is vaguely confusing! Haha

I feel like the only one I’m really annoyed with is the Isobel/Anatsa jump because they’re just not established enough for them to be saying “I love you” yet. I mean I know Anatsa and Isobel are going to get sacrificed for Kybel at some point before this season/series ends so I get that they just have to get it in there while they can but still...they’re cute and all but I still can’t invest because they don’t put the time and the work into it.

It’s all there just for the Kyle angst. Poor Kyle, man. He’s just so miserable. He’d rather be hanging out with Jones’s corpse than watching Isobel be happy with Anatsa because he’s not gonna screw them up because he wants her to be happy but boy is he sad about it all. Give this man some happiness. He deserves it. Also I just don’t want him moping at fucking Deep Sky all season and being away from everyone else.

Speaking of being away from everyone else, is there some rule that says that Alex is not allowed to have scenes with other people? Because it annoyed the hell out of me last season and it’s annoying the hell out of me already this season too.

That said, I was at least very happy that everyone was acknowledging that Michael and Alex are a couple. Cause that drove me crazy last season too. I’m happy they’re moving in together even if it got a little angsty. But Alex making it clear that he can’t live without Michael is nice to hear some more. If only Michael would really hear it this time.

I do really like the Michael and Dallas friendship going on. Their similar backgrounds allow them to connect in ways that he can’t with Max. So that’s nice. And in general, I like how Dallas is fitting in with the group, especially as Heath seems to have completely disappeared. I mean...fine cause there were a few too many characters last season but it is weird that he didn’t even get a mention.

Dallas and Maria is...interesting. I mean it would be really neat and tidy if they ended up with Echo, Malex, Kybel and Dallas and Maria. Then everyone gets an alien. But Gregory is still clearly in the picture, albeit off screen for the moment. So that’s a whole thing. Then again, I’d rather see the progression of a relationship from chess buddies who offer the other umbrellas to actually being together. So...you know, if they go in that direction, cool. I’m here for it. Dallas is like...Spiritual Michael, which kind of works for Maria.

Maria’s cure maybe making her lose her powers is a whole thing I guess too. But I guess if we can be spared of any half baked vision plots that go nowhere, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Poor Max trying to propose. I mean, I get Liz waiting for the other shoe to drop but as long as it’s not dropping on their relationship, why not just get married before the next alien disaster threatens to destroy you. Why wait for a safe time. There’s never gonna be one girl. If they get married by the end of the season, can Michael or Alex catch the bouquet or something. Haha. Just as a nod.

Love seeing Jenna back. I enjoy her and Max’s friendship.

I missed Rosa. Not even a mention of her either. Is she just not in this season at all? I haven’t paid enough attention to filming things. I at least want an update at some point.

As for the actual plot, I am SHOCKED they actually remembered that the Alighting is a thing. I really thought they just forgot all about that. So I’m happy that they’re going to tie things back together. I hope it’s actually interesting. I still think it might apply to Michael though. Maybe? I don’t know.

We didn’t get much of the new triad’s personalities, so I hope they can at least be fun.

Side Note: I’m still annoyed that Deep Sky literally has no other employees besides Eduardo and Kyle and Alex. Anyway...I still just hate Deep Sky in general and the fact that it still makes no sense.

Ah...feels good to rant about this show again.

#roswell new mexico #roswell nm #roswell nm reviews #rnm s4e1

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kiruuuuu · 1 year

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Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 11🧈

Hiya! Remember Day 7, when a few operators agreed to participating in a Great Rainbow Bake Off? Here's the first part of the preparation period, featuring Sledge 😊 (Sledge/Maestro, Rating G, humour/fluff, ~1.3k words)

“It is so refreshing to witness you coming into your own in the kitchen, tesoro!” Maestro flutters around him, visibly excited even though absolutely nothing is going on – all Sledge is doing is staring forlornly at the pitiful-looking light brown slab mocking him from the counter. “You’ve never shown any interest in cooking at all, it is wonderful that you’ve decided -”

“Just for the contest”, he interrupts his husband with a sigh. It’s not the first time he’s reminded him of the occasion and something tells him it won’t be the last. “And if it keeps going like this, it’ll be the last time I produce anything edible. Well. Hopefully edible.”

Maestro’s enthusiasm flickers momentarily before returning full force. “There is no way you will fail, luce dei miei occhi, you excel at anything you attempt, be it rock climbing or weightlifting or surfing or snowboarding or…”

They look at each other for a long moment during which Sledge waits for the shoe to drop. He might be perfectly suited for anything physical, but most other things elude him. He just happens to have a very outdoors-y partner who encourages him to pursue new hobbies, thus creating the illusion of a jack-of-all-trades. Though to be fair, the main reason why he’s never picked up cooking was that Maestro kept telling him he was doing it wrong before taking over and finishing the dish himself, undoubtedly much better than the Scotsman ever could have. He doesn’t want to risk his lover dying of hyperventilation, and so the only time he touches a spatula or even a pot these days is to clean it.

“Well. All I’m saying is that I believe in you wholeheartedly, zuccherino. Is this your first attempt?” He indicates the sad-looking mass with a gesture more eager than it clearly deserves.

“Yeah. I thought I’d wing it, I helped my mum make shortbread a couple of times when I was young and I figured it can’t be that difficult.”

The brief pause gives him an instant uh-oh sensation, because if anyone on this earth is supportive enough to overlook utter disasters, it’s Maestro. So if even he shows some doubt, Sledge may as well toss the whole thing and go watch rugby. “I’m… sure it turned out fine, but this is just practice anyway. Shall we try it?”

He’s uncertain he wants to. With a vague sense of dread, Sledge gets a butter knife and tries to cut what he so generously called shortbread, only to find it’s entirely too tough for this kind of utensil. He switches to a bread knife and saws off a long strip, not missing the brief horror in Maestro’s features. “Go ahead then.”

His husband looks like he’s desperately trying not to say something and it’s a miracle that he doesn’t cross himself as he brings the bakeware to his mouth. He bites into it and has to rip the bit off with force.

Sledge doesn’t even go for a piece himself – if it turns out to be poisonous, he’d rather only one of them end up in hospital. Especially because he has to win their Bake Off in five days.

Once Maestro has finished chewing (a very long minute), he struggles for words. “Cuore mio, have I told you that you’re the light of my life? Nothing could ever get between -”

He rubs his temple. “Adrianito. Just… just tell me how bad it is.”

Even then, Maestro waits for an affirmative nod to curtly reply: “Seamus. This is bread.”

Oh. So… that’s not bad then, right? “It’s called shortbread. I’m not too far off then.”

The Italian stares at him. “I’m… are you – are you sure you’re Scottish? Have you ever had shortbread before? Do you know what it is? Do you think it’s bread baked by someone like James?”

Sledge can’t help but snort at the mental image of a flour-covered Smoke, presenting a beautiful loaf right out of a large brick oven and ceremoniously declaring it shortbread. “Maybe?”

Wordlessly, Maestro grabs his sleeve and drags him out of their kitchen, urging him to put on his shoes and coat and herds him outside. Without an explanation, they briskly walk a few minutes down the road until they’ve reached their usual, well-assorted bakery. At this point, it’s obvious what’s happening and Sledge resigns himself to be proven thoroughly wrong, as so often in their relationship when it comes to food. They both have their strengths: he ensures they don’t pay too much for insurances they don’t need, and Maestro feeds him healthy, delicious meals.

… maybe Sledge shouldn’t have agreed to this stupid competition in the first place.

“Oh my god”, he mumbles through a mouthful of the buttery, crumbly biscuit Maestro all but shoved into his face. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

He’s lucky his husband didn’t take that one personally. “And this is shortbread of questionable quality. You can make it even better.”

Sledge mouths an apology at the crestfallen young man behind the counter and manoeuvres them back outside to enjoy the rest of the biscuit. Then he realises: “Wait, are you saying I can make this myself?!”

“You can add anything you like, too. Chopped walnuts, lemon zest, chocolate coating, fresh herbs – flavour it however you want, amore mio!”

For a moment, he’s drunk on the possibilities, tries to conjure up combinations he’d enjoy but reality catches up to him fast. “I can’t do that. I have no experience, I don’t know what goes well together. And I’ll never get the consistency right.”

Maestro knows him too well, it’s obvious he’s predicting where Sledge is taking the conversation, and he’s doing his absolute best to try and steer them away from it. “If you put your mind to it, you can achieve anything. Now, since we’re already outside, should we -”

“Can you help me?”

The powerless look directed at him doesn’t feel good. Sledge didn’t lie, he is a sportsman, but he’s also competitive enough to want a fighting chance. And for that, he’ll take any support he can get. “Caro mio -”

“I know I promised them you would have nothing to do with it. I don’t want you to come up with the recipe either, just… nudge me in the right direction. Give me a little push.”

It’s rare enough that he asks for Maestro’s aid that despite the circumstances, the beautiful face before him is conflicted. Eventually, the Italian gently shakes his head though not without taking Sledge’s hand into his. “Tesoro mio, I almost wish I could support you, but I can’t. I might be skilled in cooking but baking is a completely different discipline, one I have not mastered myself. Please do not ask me again unless you want me to be overcome by sadness over my own shortcomings. I will cheer you on yet cannot provide insight. May you be fortunate enough to succeed where I have failed.”

And at these words, Sledge is suddenly filled with determination. Even Maestro can’t bake? In that case, he has to make it. He’s already picturing the two of them, working side by side in their kitchen, Maestro preparing the main course while Sledge bakes the dessert, them dancing around each other and exchanging little updates about what they’re doing… and it’s so homely, so blissful that he offers a serious nod. “Okay. For you, I will try.”

The deep, sensual kiss he receives as a sign of gratitude wipes his mind clean of a quiet, intrusive thought that doesn’t manage to claw its way back to the surface for the rest of the preparation period:

Doesn’t he bake savoury things all the time?

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #grbo #great rainbow bake off #sledge #maestro #sledge/maestro #these two just warm my heart #I tried making shortbread yesterday and it turns into sand when you eat it #tastes delicious but needs to be eaten with tea oops #kac

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no-droids · 3 years

Text

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!

A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you. Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

The sky is so pretty. There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky. It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.

You should probably be running. Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk. It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs. Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day. You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow. So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.

You know what your goal is. Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you. Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day. Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob. He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.

That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him? At what point does it stop? You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.

You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance. There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now. You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.

“Excuse me!” It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”

She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile. “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came. “Osiruu is a few hours that way. There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital. I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction. “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view. I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”

So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted. You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then. Which path should you take?

Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her. But then all of a sudden, you remember something.

Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo. Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people. Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring. But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists. The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.

You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be. Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life. You never pictured yourself as the fighting type. When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that. Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.

“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?” You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile. “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”

Your footprints will lead directly there. He’ll find you easily.

“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile. Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend. “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey! I hope we meet again.”

“Do you need any food or supplies?” She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by. “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II. I’d be glad to help.”

Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady? She seems like… you, almost. Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs. You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.

“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet. “Wanna trade shoes with me?”

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible. You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad? Are you just an idiot with no hope? You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes? You’re screwed.

At least there’s food here. Plenty. There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business. Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong. There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.

It’s a lovely tune. You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors. Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic. The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is. Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.

Suddenly you see shoes—yes. Fucking shoes, your salvation. You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many. Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design. It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear. Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.

“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up? And another that’s the same but in men's?”

The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper. His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.

Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder? One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to? That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that. You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.

When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist. There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss. Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.

Alright then. Through the forest, you suppose. You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again. You have a finger point, that’s all you need. Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over. It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.

“Last call for the seven o’clock!” A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach. “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”

The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it. “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.

“Ah!” The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors. He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit. “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”

“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle. “Oh, no. I think I lost my wallet.”

He sighs. “Off the bus then please, miss. Come back tomorrow if you find it.”

You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off. “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”

The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions. “I’m sorry? Please—off the bus.”

“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier. The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them. “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”

“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste. Everyone is polite here, it seems. “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place. Please get off the bus.”

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.

Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self. Eliminate the need for a back pathing. All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers. You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do. You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.

Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink. You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left. You want him to see the sky.

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one. The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all. No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together. You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.

Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches. Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell. It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then. Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.

The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide. The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind. You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds. Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway. How do you lose him?

You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated. Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack. There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick. Sturdy.

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up. Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck. It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.

Oof, this is dangerous. You know it even before you start. The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.

Okay. Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need. You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn. If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?

You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty. You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again. This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.

And it was fun.

You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot. You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.

Water, though. Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be. Water is an eroder. Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.

Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees. You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain. The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it. You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can. It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.

That means you’re… fuck. You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?

It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water. The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall. You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go. With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it. It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found. This… this is doable.

Okay. If you pull this off, you’re a badass. If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation. This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.

You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot. Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.

You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further. Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself. The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet. It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.

“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again. “Answer me.”

You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond. So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak. You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below. “Uh. Ahem. Hello. Yes?”

“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you. “Or something on your side is too loud. There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”

You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about. It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again. You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.

“Are you already on the move?” You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.

“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before. Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something? Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good? It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough. “Ready or not.”

You huff, your tummy going warm. Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to. If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended. You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult. “But I’m… sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.

“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do? This isn’t fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well. Fair.

Stars, you can’t stay here. You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk. You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem. Din is going to hear you no matter what.

“Um. Can you give me a second?” You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this. Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.

“What?” Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.

“I need to… mute myself. Give me like… five minutes.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more. That’s a long way. You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep. Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.

It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths. You have a time limit now, you have to do this.

With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.

It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.

You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.

The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second. The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.

Okay. Okay, fucking success. It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.

“Mando?” You ask, slightly out of breath. “Sorry about that, I’m back.”

Okay, now which way do you go? Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with. As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.

After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you. You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing. “Hello? Shiny?”

“Did you trade shoes with someone?” Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.

“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile. “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”

“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment. “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again? Good idea, but the execution needs work.”

Maker, he’s smart. It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely. Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do. You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today. You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.

Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of. The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right? Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.

You want to go to Nariss. The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance. Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.

“Alright. Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit. You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat. “How’s the baby? Behaving himself?”

“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right. You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.

“You’re joking.” No fucking way, not that little demon.

“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly. “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times. Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”

That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along. He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back. Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change? That has to be it, right?

“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father. “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”

You hear it. The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet. It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.

On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.

“What’s that sound?”

You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees. Shit. “Uh. What sound?”

You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything. Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it? It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is? Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail? Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?

Oh well, too late now. You quickly decide to change the subject.

“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make. “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good. Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm. Doubt it,” immediately comes his low response. Fucking immediately.

“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.

“Are you having fun?” Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction. You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth. Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask. Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have? Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.

“I am,” you say warmly. “Be… be better if you were here, though.”

“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.

You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing. “Psh. Nice try.”

“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.

“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes. He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.

And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours. He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—

“What’s your favorite food?” (“I don’t have one.”)

“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?” (“I don’t like food that much.”)

“What do you mean? Everyone loves food.” (“Not me.”)

“Alright, well um. What’s your favorite color, then?” (“I don’t have one, either.”)

“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.” (“What’s your favorite color?”)

“…Brown.” (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)

—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.

***

Day 1–6:15am:

You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be. Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light. Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them. All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.

Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier. The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.

The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing. If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right? You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time. This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.

***

Day 1–7:06am:

You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road. The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed. You want a city. This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines. Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.

Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows. As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter. “Hey.”

“Holy shit, what?” You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you. You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

Ah. So he got to the bus, then. Okay.

“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile. Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.

“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say. Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult. “Which one of these is yours then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full. “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”

The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.

He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle. Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.

His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.

With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh. Oh stars, you’re tired.

You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains. You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest. You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you—you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.

The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental. It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped. Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes. The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead. Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough. You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.

You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in. It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be. The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own. He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop. He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.

But that only goes so far. You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.

There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think. It’s hard to see. Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders. That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right? Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up? Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…

***

Day 2–12:00am:

Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Wake up.”

It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it. You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy. “Fuck, how’d you—”

“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.

“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more. “Shit. How d’you… mm. Stay awake all the time…”

“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking. “You need rest. I’ll see you soon.”

No—

“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright. Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now. Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are. Things still feel like a dream, somehow.

You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause. “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up. You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it. “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you. You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull. So warm, so gentle. If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest. “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”

“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur. Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect. “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”

“Sure you did. You in another tree?”

You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset. “You makin’ fun of me?” You ask him with a harumph. Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.

“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know. Is that displeasure or not? It’s not immediately clear. Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now? Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it? “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”

“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back. You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright. It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.

“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it. “What’s sixteen times itself?”

You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that. You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember. Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart. Sixteen times sixteen. One forty-four. No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—

You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.

“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh. “I won’t move until you wake up. Go to sleep. You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”

Later, this moment will come back to you. That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six. You don’t even think Din would. You would, though. On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up. You should know this. And he knows you.

But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.

“You promise?” You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.

“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless. He doesn’t have to do this. You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.

“Will you, um…” your expression furrows. How do you say this? You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out. “I’m… not in a bed. I’m outside.”

Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy. You want him to stay. Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.

You don’t need to ask.

“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt. “Sleep, sweet girl. I’m right here.”

***

Day 2–5:34am:

The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck. Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.

You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time. Wait. Don’t panic. Listen.

Breathing. Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black. He’s… asleep.

Din is asleep? Seriously?

You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out. You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen. Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it. Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much. You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box. It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost. Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again. Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.

You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator. This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it. He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back. If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful. He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this. You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up. But… these circumstances are their own. You have to capitalize now, this is your chance. You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight. That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.

You have to find Nariss—you have to. It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him. Now is the time to hide. You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.

The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then. As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy. “Mm?”

“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.

“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act. “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”

“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.

“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head. Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?

“Yeah, I…” He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it. “How long have you been up?”

Op. Not good. “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it. “How long?”

How in Maker’s name? This is impossible. How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him? Can you salvage this somehow? “…Like ten minutes.”

“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak. “That was smar—”

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

Oh. Well. Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways. There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up. Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over. Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?

“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background. It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around. “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though. He walked home barefoot.”

You smack your forehead. “It was just….”

“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle. “Alright, I’m up now. See you when you get here.”

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh. What the fuck was that?

No. Nope, you’re not going to get played. That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time. You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore. You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing. He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it. That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it. Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept. You’re certain of it.

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

Nariss is big. Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected. It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning. Yes, this will work nicely.

As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?

Oh. That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time. If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.

Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion. You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly? Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show? You have to stop worrying about him. He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.

So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving. While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation. You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.

“Do you have some place to stay?” He asks at one point. So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect. He doesn’t need to know. “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”

This catches your attention, though. This is relevant. “What does that mean?”

“It’s expensive?” He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile. “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range. I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks. It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads. We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding. It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”

He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way. Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes. He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think. Someone a little less expressive. This guy… talks a lot.

“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.

“Sanctuary II is,” he comments. “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke. “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle. You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”

“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?” You ask. You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn. It’ll be the first place Din checks.

“Are you a virgin?” He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger. The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that! It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts. Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”

“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him. Good, this is almost over. “Um. Yep. That’s me.”

He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod. “When you get to the city, just go straight through. It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”

Okay, that’s… interesting. You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line. That might actually be a good move. Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you. Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right? He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to. Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him. He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it. Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.

The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly. “Oh, by the way. I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.

The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right. You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store. Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.

Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside. You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms. Oh well, you weren’t complaining. Fancy clothes for free, score.

But now you’re here, and you have the best idea. You don’t need to change shoes, not yet. Why? Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.

You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you. It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories. It’s an eyesore, it sticks out. But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.

It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters. Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.

At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left. I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it. I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.

It’s to your advantage, he said so himself. Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.

And there’s another upside, see. An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now. If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.

Let him know. Let him know exactly where you are. Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling. If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide. He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.

The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night. It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on. It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal. Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

Alright, so this was the best idea ever. This is the shit.

You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you. You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think? No, that must be a mistranslation, right?

You’re also in a robe. Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here. And… and slippers, it’s like a dream. Do people normally wear slippers in bed? You do. Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase. This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.

The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways. You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky. Violent and periwinkle tonight. You wonder if he’s looking, too.

Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.

Day 3–12:00am:

“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair. Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath. Maker, this feels nice.

“You sound happy,” Din comments. Astute, you feel happy. Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here. Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers. You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth. No face, though. Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.

“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance. You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.

“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed. You… miss him. This mattress would feel softer with him next to you. He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it. You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles. Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.

“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Din mutters. “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you. “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding. “Good one.”

You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you. You love him. Literally every single time, he just knows. Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often. Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again. “How do you know?”

“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.

Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today? How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes? A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal? You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.

“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you. “You should be here. I’d make you feel good.”

Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually. Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting. He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him. He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around. The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead. You could all look at the sky together.

Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece. “Are you in an inn?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly. Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie. You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?

“Hm.”

What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible? He read you that deeply from one single word? You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You blurt without thinking.

“Doing what?” He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.

“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?” You don’t even know what to believe anymore. How do you beat this? If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out. His perception is unbelievable.

After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm. “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.” It sounds like he’s smiling.

“I…” your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”

Din lets out a deep sigh. He’s right, that was bad, even for you. “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits. You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step. “I’m nowhere near the city yet. You have time to sleep.”

Your expression furrows and you frown. “Why are you helping me?”

“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?” He tosses back, and you huff.

“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.

“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.” His voice is gruff. You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing. “You should give yourself more credit. I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss. It’s… not good for me.”

The honesty creeping in makes you go soft. It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.” His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.

You say it before you lose the nerve. “I might just turn around and walk back.”

His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache. You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are. People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself. For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.

“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it. You feel so… known, somehow. Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his. He makes you feel loved with it. “Never wants to run.”

You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.

But again. You don’t have to say anything, he already knows. “Give me your coordinates.”

Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip. Oh, stars. You hate that you do genuinely consider it. He could be here, and very soon. With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably. He could take a shower. Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one. You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.

Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together. You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you. Let him come. You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.

It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.

“Are you eating the purple fruit?” You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement. You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him. Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone. You like to think you’re both better that way. Balanced.

“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.

“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?” Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.

“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you. It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it? This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting. Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around. The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.

“You’re alone, right?” You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit. He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.

“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts. His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…

This has a very small chance of success, you already know. “…Do you want to—”

“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you. “We can’t.”

Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless. Should you push it? You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?

“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip. It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach. “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.

“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?

“What are you gonna do?” You whisper to him devilishly. Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down. Stars, your heart is already pounding. You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason. He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire. “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me. Or you could find me before I’m finished. Come make me stop.”

Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to. The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.

You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels. You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.

“Do you want to listen?” You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond. Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing. “I’ll talk.”

Still, nothing from him. Dead silence through the comm. You’re starting to understand. For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice. He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.

You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.

“Hm. If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu. You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.

Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece. “No, don’t even think—”

“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen. “Take pictures.”

He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement. When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy. “…You wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now. “Oh shit, does this holocall? Or is it a video option?”

“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him. “Pick up.”

Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear. “What if I don’t?”

You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious. He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you? Really?

“You sure?” You ask softly, raising an eyebrow. “You’d get to see me, where I am. What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”

The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop. You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all. Did he decline the transmission request? No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before. Why can’t you see him?

“Why can’t I see you?” You ask. You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.

“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath. “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”

Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist? Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?

“Nobody can see me but you?” You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows. You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible. “Can you see… this?” You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.

“Where are you?” Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.

You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more. “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”

“Why?” Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed. “Can you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet. Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that. How do you know he’s telling you the truth?

“What am I doing?” You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.

“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden. Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end. Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.

“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight. Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.

“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit. “Where?”

“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera. Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.

“Where in Nariss?” Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.

“I don’t know,” you say again. Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors. You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop. “But the window is open. And there are lots of people outside.”

“Can they see you?” Din immediately challenges. Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that. You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.

“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him. It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay. Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently. It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth. “Does it matter? I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”

“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?

Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”

“Give me your coordinates—”

“Are you giving up?” You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following. You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.

The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator. Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.

You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself. Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea. No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well. You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place. Is he just that aroused by you? Or is there something more?

“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again. Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.

His deep, shaky breath is so telling. Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back. You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible. You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.

You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do. It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.

“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—

“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell. He’ll be able to see it, you think. The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside. It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip. He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something? You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless. It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you. You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now. You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you. Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples. “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious. “You think—y-you think—”

“What?” You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious. Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops. It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?” He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet. “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there? You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering. He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now. “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh. That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart. He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you. Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word. “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly. Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down. “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid. Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days. I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss. You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it. You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his. He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey. “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not? What have you got to lose? Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways. What’s the worst he can do? Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days. You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you. You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table. It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #smut #reader insert #fanfic #rough day #no-droids #tw: stalking

6K notes · View notes

xutokawa · 3 years

Note

aahh the s/o finding scratch marks is fulfilling my angst needs 😭🤚🏽 could u maybe do one with bokuto & suna 🥺 i love your writing so much!! xx

pairings: suna x reader, bokuto x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating

wc: 2.3k

» masterlist

a/n: thank you for your support! I tried adding more plot to it this time hehe. breaking bokuto’s heart broke mine bro :( hope you like it! also TYSM GUYS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS FDJSKF i love every single one of yu :D <3 mwah mwah mwah

atsumu and oikawa ver.

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Suna

“Rin, hand me the soy sauce,” you asked, not looking up from the dish you were stir frying.

“Get it yourself,” Suna teased back. Rolling your eyes, you stuck out your hand. Laughing, Suna came up behind you, placing the bottle of soy sauce in your hands before wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands snuck under your shirt, laying on your bare stomach. You leaned back into his chest, sighing contently. The two of you rarely had time together anymore. While you were burying yourself in your work in hopes for a promotion, Suna was busy with practices that extended throughout the whole day. Both of you were exhausted by the time you came home to your apartment together, unable to muster the energy to do anything except fall asleep in each other’s arms.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Suna said, taking a deep breath into your neck.

“I think that’s the fried rice you’re smelling,” you joked back. Butterflies stormed your stomach as Suna’s hands gently massaged your sides. Even after living with the middle blocker for three years, he never failed to make you feel like a crushing high school student. Suddenly, Suna’s gentle hands grew antsy, teasingly tickling your sides. Jumping, you tell him, “Rin, stop! I’m going to spill something!”

“I think I’ll keep going,” Suna teased back, his hands continuing to tickle you. With one poke to your side, your entire body jerked, causing the soy sauce in your hand to fling into the air, and onto Suna’s shirt.

“Y/n! I really liked this shirt!” Suna whined.

“That’s your fault, baby. I told you to stop,” you shrugged, laughing at his expression.

“Whatever, I’m going to go change,” Suna pouted, turning away.

As you finished cooking, you went into your shared bedroom to tell Suna dinner was ready. You were stopped in your tracks, however, when you saw his changing form. Back to you, long scratch marks ran down the length of his back. Scratches that were not put there by you.

“R-rin, what is this?” You asked, voice beginning to waver.

Suna spun around, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you knock?” Suna nervously asked, rushing to push his t-shirt over his head, “It’s nothing, babe, just uh, got in a fight!”

“Are you sure it was a fight? Or was it a late night in someone else's bed?” You asked accusingly, brows furrowing. Would your Suna cheat on you? You had felt pretty secure about your relationship before now, never having a reason to doubt your trust in your boyfriend. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to make excuses for the lines raked down his back.

Pain and guilt flashed across Suna’s eyes, and that’s when you knew. You were wrong to believe you gave him everything he needed in a relationship.

“Look, y/n, we can figure this out, just let me-” Suna began.

“Please, stop,” you choked out, eyes welling up with tears. The middle blocker felt his heart shatter watching you back away from him as if he were a plague.

“No, you don’t understand! I can’t lose you like this,” Suna said, walking towards you, wanting nothing more than to pull you in his arms and wipe your tears away. He stopped in his tracks, however, when you flinched away from his touch, hatred flickering in your eyes. At that moment, Suna felt like the scum of the earth.

“Please, get away from me. Get out of this room, get out of this apartment! I don’t need your excuses,” You said, voice raising. When you finally looked up to meet Suna’s eyes, you found nothing but despair and regret.

“No! I won’t leave you, y/n! You don’t understand how much I need-” Suna started.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Rintarou,” you scoffed. The pain in Suna’s chest grew at the use of his full name.

“I-it’s Rin. You always call me Rin. Please, call me Rin,” Suna pleaded, voice beginning to shake, “Stop distancing yourself from me. I’m your Rin. Please, don’t leave. I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you!”

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Rintarou! Cheating on me and then begging for me to stay and forgive you? Tell me, what was your plan? Did you just want a quick fuck one night? Or did you plan to keep cheating on me for the rest of our relationship?” You angrily walked towards him. Suna watched as the love you once held in your eyes for him turned into agony. He felt himself crumple knowing he was the sole cause of your anger and hurt.

“No! It was a mistake! Please, let me make it up to you,” Suna reached for your hands, desperate to have you with him.

“The only mistake that was made here was me trusting you,” You said, spinning around as you headed for the door. Suna physically flinched at your words, hurt and shame flooding his body. Panic filled his mind at the sound of your keys jingling and the sound of you putting on your shoes.

“Wait! Y/n, where are you going? Please don’t leave, it’s not safe for you to go out right now. Just stay and let us talk about it,” Suna pleaded, walking up behind you.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here with you right now,” you coldly replied, reaching out for the door handle. Suna rushed to stop you from turning the knob.

“Please, y/n, I can’t handle you leaving me,” Suna whispered.

“Just leave it, Suna. No amount of begging or love can fix my trust for you,” you replied, back towards his sobbing figure. Suna finally fell to his knees in defeat as you walked out of the apartment, knowing he lost you forever.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Bokuto

“Ugh, I’m so ready to just relax,” you sighed out, dramatically splaying your arms across the center console in your fiancé’s car. A tingle ran up your spine at the sound of Bokuto chuckling from beside you, not taking his eyes off the road. You could never get used to his laugh, no matter how many times you’ve heard it.

“I know, baby. You deserve it,” Bokuto replied, taking one hand off the steering wheel to place on your thigh, giving a light squeeze. The two of you had been insanely busy the month leading up to this trip. From your boss’ unrelenting demands at work to your family’s constant nagging and opinions on your wedding decorations, the two of you just needed to catch a break. So, when Bokuto brought up the idea of a weekend beach trip, you immediately agreed, jumping up and down in excitement.

The beaming sun immediately warmed your skin as you stepped out of the car. Warmth spread through your body as you glanced back at Bokuto as he started pulling out your stuff from the trunk, looking up to flash you his smile you had fallen in love with ages ago.

“You go on ahead and find a spot for us, I’ll follow in a second,” Bokuto called out to you. Giving a thumbs up, you started towards the gleaming ocean, excitement filling your body as you felt the sand beneath your feet. Finally, choosing a spot, you unfolded your beach chair, spreading your towel across the top. A smile settled on your face as you laid down, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the harsh rays. Your eyes drifted closed, the sounds of waves crashing and children giggling putting you in a serene state.

Bokuto chuckled at your appearance before setting up his own beach chair next to you, situating a beach umbrella between the two chairs. He felt his heart speed up as he gazed at your relaxing figure, wanting nothing more than to cover your face in kisses. The spiker felt so much love for you, so he felt nothing but confusion as to how he woke up in another person’s bed two nights ago, naked. His adoration for you was replaced with guilt. Bokuto still hadn’t figured out how to approach the situation, how to tell you without you breaking off the engagement. He wanted nothing more than to watch you walk down the aisle in a few months, than to have children running around the two of you as you prepared dinner, than to grow old with you by his side. Bokuto was still unsure of what happened that night to cause him to slip out of a random person’s apartment in his clothes from the previous night.

The spiker was shook from his thoughts at the sound of your voice.

“Are you going into the water?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I think I will just to cool off,” Bokuto replied, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Okay, I’ll join you in a bit, I just want to lay for a little longer,” you replied to him, closing your eyes again.

“Okay, baby. Take your time,” Bokuto said, placing a kiss on your forehead before starting towards the water. You giggled as you watched your fiancé run towards the ocean. Your laughter quickly died, however, once you saw his back.

Your eyes widen with a mixture of shock and confusion, racking your brain for an explanation for the long, red strips that lined your fiance's back, but, no matter how hard you thought, nothing came up. The past month had been too hectic for the two of you to ever get close to intimate. Tears began pricking your eyes as the realization that Bokuto had cheated on you settled in your mind.

Does he know he has scratch marks on his back? Is this his subtle way of telling me he wants to end this? That I wasn’t enough for him?

As soon as Bokuto hit the ocean, the salty water stung his back. His initial confusion as to where the pain came from was quickly replaced with realization. He shot up at the water, turning to watch you get up from your seat.

Maybe they didn’t see, he hoped. His hopes, however, were quickly crushed as his heart dropped to his feet. You began to gather your things, rummaging through Bokuto’s belongings until you found the keys to his car.

Panicking, Bokuto ran out of the ocean as fast as he could, cursing at the water for resisting his movements. He watched helplessly as you began walking back towards the parking lot. You saw. You saw the scratch marks, and now you were leaving Bokuto. The spiker’s worst nightmares were turning into a reality right in front of his eyes.

The dull shouting of your name from down the beach sounded in your ears. You ignored Bokuto’s incessant calls for you, the ache in your heart overpowering every emotion you were feeling.

Bokuto ran through the sand as fast as he could, hoping to catch up to you before you left his life forever. His lungs and legs were screaming, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain of you leaving. Panic rose in his eyes as he watched you get into the driver's seat, starting the engine to his car.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you took a shaky breath, a weak attempt to try and calm your heart. You looked down at your engagement ring, memories of that night flashing through your mind, forcing another sob to rack your body knowing that your memories now meant nothing. Banging on the car window startled you as you looked up to find a panicked Bokuto. His frantic words were muffled as you watched him desperately attempt to stop you from leaving.

“Please, y/n, roll down the window. Let me explain, please,” Bokuto blabbered, “Y/n, please don’t leave me, you have to let me explain. I love you! I want to marry you, and you only!”

Anger surged through your body as you scoffed at his words. Rage blinded your thoughts at the mention of your impending marriage. How dare he tell you he wants to get married after cheating on you? Your brain didn’t have time to process your movements as you pulled your ring off your left hand. You watched as a glimmer of hope flickered in Bokuto’s eyes as you began to roll down the window, only to have his eyes widen in pain and shock as you handed him your engagement ring.

“You’re really a piece of shit, Bokuto. You know that?” Tears began welling up in the spiker’s eyes as he stared at the piece of metal that laid in his hands.

“No, y/n, please. Give me your hand, please,” Bokuto frantically pleaded, reaching for your hand. The ring in his hand belonged nowhere else except your ring finger.

“Just stop, Bokuto, you’ve already ruined everything,” you scoffed out. As his eyes met yours, he was met with a whirlwind of hurt, shame, and pity. That’s when he realized. To you, he was pathetic. The love and adoration that made your eyes shine brighter than the sun was now replaced with hatred and pain, making them burn greater than the depths of hell.

Bokuto’s heart shattered into pieces knowing you would never love him the same, knowing he broke your trust.

“I-,” Bokuto paused, unsure of what else he could say to get you back.

“I’m sorry, y/n” the man in front of you choked out. Bokuto felt helpless as he watched you roll up your window and drive away from him, leaving him in shattered pieces.

That night, when Bokuto finally returned to his shared apartment, the reality of the situation hit him. The empty aura filling the space that he used to share with you was all it took for Bokuto to fall onto his knees, becoming a shell of his former self. You were gone.

3K notes · View notes

scarlettriot · 3 years

Text

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

#mha #mha smut #bnha #bnha smut #hanta sero #sero #sero smut #hanta sero smut #sero x reader #sero x y/n #hanta x y/n #hanta x reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #smutober #kinktober 2021

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 years

Text

Versace on the Floor. Spencer Reid x Reader.

(Not my gif.)

Summary: After JJ and Will’s wedding, Spencer is in the mood. Spencer and reader to home and have a romantic night of sex.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Tw: Not for readers under 18! Teasing, heavy making out, mentions of alcohol, fingering, calling Spencer daddy, lots of praising, cream pie, language.

Word count: 3.2k

A.N.: So this is based around the song Versace on the Floor by Bruno Mars. I fee like I’m kinda bad at song based fics but I had to do this 😅 I hope you enjoy!! Italicized and indented lines are the song!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's take our time tonight, girl Above us all the stars are watchin' There's no place I'd rather be in this world Your eyes are where I'm lost in Underneath the chandelier We're dancin' all alone There's no reason to hide What we're feelin' inside Right now

The team watched, hearts full and smiles on their faces as JJ and Will stood under the beautiful flower altar, exchanging their vows and wedding rings with Henry between them.

Spencer wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body and pressing a kiss to your head. You melt into his side and rest your head on his shoulder, the perfect little shelf for you. You could feel his thumb slowly going back and forth against your side making you shiver and give him a look out of the corner of your eye.

As Will and JJ kiss, everyone claps and cheers, the officiator announcing them officially as husband and wife.

There was a beautiful dinner planned, full of lots of white wine for toasting and drinking, and lots of talking, laughing and good times. The whole dinner, Spencer’s hand never left your thigh, it was completely innocent as far as where his hand was placed, but she knew that he had other intentions deep down.

There was a bit of back and forth teasing while the two of you got ready for the wedding. He knew what seed you were planting when you asked Spencer if he could see any panty lines on your dress, and when he said yes, you slid your panties off immediately, and walked out of the room, making Spencer's head spin. To get his revenge on you in the least obvious way possible, he kept his hands on your waist the entire time you tied his bowtie, giving you a squeeze here and there until you finished. You already had a thing for ties in general, and for some reason it got you going when he let you tie his tie for him.

You held your hand out to Spencer, standing up from your chair. “Come dance with me?”

Spencer smiles up at you and takes your hand, leading to the makeshift dance floor in Rossi’s backyard, the yard lit up by beautiful lantern lights up above them.

You wrap both your arms around his neck, both of you lovingly looking into each other’s eyes as you sway back and forth to the soft music playing in the back.

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” Spencer says warmly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, handsome.” You reply, gingerly kissing his lips.

The hold you two had turned into Spencer hugging you against him tightly, his head resting on your shoulder in turn. It was as if nobody else was around at the moment, in their mind it was just the two of them holding one another in complete bliss.

“You know I only want you, baby? I want you for the rest of my life.” Spencer says in your ear.

You let out a breathy laugh and rub your nails against his back. “You only want me? Forever? Are you sure? Forever is a long time, Spence.”

Spencer lifts his head up and looks into your eyes, his heart fluttering as you stare back at him. “Yes, I have never been so sure about anything.”

“Well I want you forever. If you think you can handle and keep up with me forever.”

Spencer bites his bottom lip to fight the smile threatening to surface. “The real question is whether or not you can handle me forever, pretty girl.”

“Why don’t we find out? You want to get out of here?”

Spencer nods his head and both of you go around the party saying bye to the rest of the team before walking out to their car. Before you get in the car, you feel Spencer come behind you, wrapping himself around your body, dropping his head down to kiss your bare shoulder.

“Starting off with a taste of what I’m going to get tonight?” You remark, your eyes fluttering closed as he continues to pepper your skin with his lips.

“I can’t help it.” He says simply.

“The sooner we get home is the sooner we can play.”

Spencer pulls back from your skin and opens the car door for you, closing it once you settle in the seat.

——————

So baby let's just turn down the lights And close the door Oooh I love that dress But you won't need it anymore No you won't need it no more Let's just kiss 'til we're naked, baby Versace on the floor

Spencer wanted to pounce on you the second you walked through the doorway into the house you two shared, and have his way with you on the couch, the kitchen counter, even on the dining room table. But his hands instead found their way to your hips as you walked through the hallway, pulling your back against his chest, his hands clinging to your body tightly.

“I love you.” He rasps, kissing the spot below your ear.

“I love you more.”

You walk into the bedroom together, Spencer still wrapped around your waist as he kicks the door behind you shut. His fingers find the straps of your dress and pull them down your shoulder, not missing an inch of skin with his lips. Your whole body shivered as you felt the stubble on his face rub against your skin, loving how it scratched against you.

“I do love that dress, and how it looks on your body, pretty girl.” He whispers, his hands raking over your body as he feels your entire torso. “But I think it’ll look even better on the floor.”

You hum in response, reaching your arm up to find his hair and wrap your fingers around the curls. Your whole body was buzzing; from the alcohol you were drinking earlier as well as Spencer’s touch, as the soft kisses continued in the middle of the room, there was nothing that you loved more than how soft Spencer could be with you.

Spencer pulls his head back and ushers you to the bed, instructing you to lay down and wait for him.

You watched as he kicked his shoes off and walked over to the dresser on the other side of the room, pulling the lighter out and lighting the plethora of candles you had one by one. The dark room lit up dimly as Spencer strategically placed the candles on both sides of their bedside tables. You smile as Spencer walks back to the bed, crawling up to you and dropping his head down to kiss your lips again.

Both of you were rolling around the bed, making out, heavily with one another. You managed to wrap your legs around Spencer’s waist, bringing him closer to you as he started to press his crotch against you, feeling how painfully hard he already was.

“I want you so bad, pretty girl.” Spencer whispers.

“I want you too, but I really want you naked. Sit up, babe.” You say, unraveling your legs from him.

He quickly gets up, watching as you pull at his bow tie and throw it off to the side of the bed. You slowly undo his buttons, your eyes not detouring from his. Once you reach the last button, you tug the white button up shirt up out of his pants and throw it out of the way too, leaving him in just his pants.

“You are so handsome, Spencer. I can’t believe you love me.” You praise, touching his body lightly.

“I should be the one saying that I can’t believe you love me. I’m so lucky.” His eyes were soft as he looked down at you. “Tonight is going to be about you, okay? I’m going to take care of you.”

You nod your head and pull him back down to kiss you. You two could have gladly kissed all night, but it was inevitable that with all of the touching and the clothes coming off that things were going to get hot and heavy.

———————

Oooh take it off for me, for me, for me, for me now, girl I unzip the back to watch it fall While I kiss your neck and shoulders

“Sit on the edge of the bed.” You instruct, rolling off the bed.

Spencer follows your directions happily, sitting right at the edge of the bed and glues his eyes on you as you hook your phone up to the speaker and start a playlist you and Spencer had come up with for sexy time. He couldn’t help but take his cock in his hand and begin to stoke it as you took your hair down out of its bun and let your hair fall down your back and scratch your scalp softly.

You finally walk over to Spencer, putting both of your hands on his thighs and pressing a light kiss to his lips. “You want me to strip for you?” You ask, making soft eyes at him.

Spencer nods his head quickly, licking his lips. His mind was mush, there was no way he could form actual, coherent words. His IQ was no longer 187, he was lucky if it was at 18 at this moment. You two had been a couple for 5 years and it still made him giddy to see you naked.

You smile at him before you turn around, swaying your hips to the beat of the music playing in the back, dropping down low into Spencer’s bare lap and teasing his throbbing cock by slowly grazing over it with your ass.

Spencer had never been more focused on anything in his life as hard as he was focused on your whole body. He watched the way you pushed your hair to one side of your shoulder and turned your head back to look at him as you danced. You were mouthing the words to the song with a sexy smile on your face. Your eyes were soft and innocent, but he could almost see the fire deep in them; the same fire that was in them every time you two got hot and heavy.

Spencer’s hands travel up your back, taking the zipper and pulling it down slowly as you grind against his lap. Once he hits the base of the zipper he slides the top down your chest and stops at your stomach. “Stand up, sweetheart.”

You stand up, your back still turned to him. Spencer helps you slide the dress off your torso and lets it fall and pool at your feet. Immediately his lips ghost against your neck, biting softly at the skin as he travels to your shoulder, his thumb stroking the other side. His hand cups one of your breasts, stroking your nipple to make it hard.

You giggle as his fingers continue to play with your nipple, your eyes fluttering closed. “That feels good.” You hum.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” Spencer whispers in your ear, pressing one more kiss to your cheek. His fingertips drag down your bare stomach, slowly trailing down to your pussy, not yet touching your clit but rubbing the skin just above it.

“Spence.” You whine, melting into his body. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” He responds, sliding his fingers into your folds and massaging your clit slowly.

“Fuck.” You shakily moan, gripping his arm and digging your nails into his skin. “That feels so fucking good.”

“Do you want me to make you cum, pretty girl? You want daddy to make you cum?”

You moan at the bedroom name, nodding your head in response. “Yes. Yes, keep touching me, make me cum, daddy.” You emphasize the name, moaning it out loudly.

“You want to marry me? You love me that much to spend the rest of your life with me? Be my wife?”

You didn’t know where this was coming from, and maybe it was the endorphins swimming around in your head from all the touch, or maybe it was the wine, but the thought sounded nice. “And if I do?” You respond.

“I will propose to you right now, y/n.”

You were in pure ecstasy as Spencer’s pace picked up on your clit, the sound of how wet you were against his fingers filled the room and was beyond obscene. The knot in your stomach tightened as you felt your pussy clench harshly, you were close and Spencer showed no signs of mercy.

“Spence, I’m going to cum.” You whimper, grinding your core against him to get more friction. “I’m going to cum.” You repeat.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Cum on my fingers.”

With a few more circles around your clit, your body explodes, loud pleasurable moans falling from your mouth as you try to stay up against Spencer. You whine his name repeatedly, incoherently spouting “I love yous” as you come down from your high.

Spencer’s circles around your clit become lighter and more lazy as he feels you relax against him. “That’s my girl.” Spencer coos, kissing your cheek. “On the bed.”

———————-

No don't be afraid to show it off I'll be right here ready to hold you Girl you know you're perfect from Your head down to your heels

You watch as he pumps his cock a few times before throwing your legs up onto his shoulders. You take the shaft of his cock into your hand and rub it against your clit, both of you moaning in unison.

“Spence.” You breathe out, running your free hand up his arm and over his bare chest, running your fingertips down to his stomach. “Baby I love you.”

He drops his head down, kissing your bare skin, holding your hips firmly and worshipping your body. “You are so perfect, sweetheart. Every single inch of you is flawless.” Spencer coos.

“Fuck me, Spencer, please.” You beg, you couldn’t take the teasing anymore, you needed him.

Spencer finally slides into you, taking a minute to gather his thoughts as he feels how soft and wet you were for him. He lays on top of you, thrusting in a staggered pace. He puts his arm under you, holding you close to his chest as he rutt into you harshly, finding a good pace once the clouds dispersed in his brain.

Your hand finds their way to his curls, holding his head close to your neck. The way his breath felt against your skin sent shivers down your spine. And his choked back moans sounded like music to your ears. You wanted this moment to last forever, you wanted to last forever with Spencer.

Spencer sits up onto his knees, not daring to pull out of you as he settles, pushing your legs back against you, gripping your thigh tightly. “You want to be mine?” Spencer asks, his eyes focused on hours.

“I already am yours, Spencer. I’m your girl.” You sputter out.

“You know what I mean, pretty girl.”

“Spencer Reid, I know you’re not proposing to me while you are fucking me.” You tease, giving him a laugh.

Spencer smiles down at you, licking his bottom lip. “No never.” He remarks. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing it slowly.

——————

Can you feel it, baby? It's warmin' up Oh, seems like you're ready for more, more, more Let's just kiss 'til we're naked Versace on the floor

Your head rolls back on the pillow as you feel your walls flood around his cock. “Fuck daddy, that feels so… fucking good, please don’t stop.” You plead, taking his free hand and leading it to your throat. Even though you two were having a change of pace with slow romantic sex, you still needed a bit of roughness in the mix.

Spencer’s hand clenches around your throat softly, watching as you open your mouth slightly and gasp at the feeling.

“Harder, it’s okay.” You moan.

Spencer obliges, applying more pressure to your neck and to your clit. You were a mess underneath him, eyes rolled back in your head and loud whimpering moans filling the room along with his skin slapping against yours.

“You’re going to make me cum again.” You pant out, sinking your nails into his thigh. “I want to-fuck-cum on your cock, daddy, I want you to feel it.”

“Yeah, pretty girl, yeah cum on my cock. I love how it feels when you clench around me.”

All it takes is a few more thrusts before you fall apart under him, whimpering as Spencer still was rubbing your now sensitive clit, making you jump at the sensitivity. Spencer lets go of your throat and lightly rubs it.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, sweetheart.” Spencer grunts, feeling how well you clenched around his cock and how sexy his name sounded as you moaned it out. He could feel his own end coming close. His mind raced as he tried to fight his orgasm back, trying to last a little longer for you, but he was too far gone.

You watched as Spencer’s face softened, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth falling open as he ruts into you harder. “Cum in me, daddy please. I want it in me, fuck please.” You beg, wrapping your legs back around him.

Spencer drops his body onto yours, his head settling in between your shoulder and neck, he was just as much a mess as you were moments ago. He kisses your skin again as you feel him spill into you, letting out a throaty grunt.

Both of you lay there, drunk on each other still. You rub his back that was slightly coated in sweat, waiting for him to come back to life.

“Baby, are you alive?” You poke, combing his hair back on his head.

Spencer laughs and picks his head up resting it on your forehead. “I’m good. Are you?”

You kiss his lips and nod your head. “I’m very good. Let’s get cleaned up, we need our cuddles.”

You both head to the bathroom to clean up, Spencer still being very touchy, feely with you as you washed your face after using the bathroom. You stare back at him through the mirror with a smile on your face.

Spencer chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What?”

“Ask me.”

Spencer cocks his head to the side, much like a puppy, and gives you a confused look.

“Ask you?”

You nod your head and turn around. “Ask me what you wanted to ask me while we were having sex… unless you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no, no, baby I-I meant it. I was just confused. Just, hold on. Wait here.” Spencer leaves the bathroom and walks back to the bedroom.

You don’t listen to him and follow him out to the bedroom, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear and a big shirt and slipping it on your body.

Spencer pops out of the closet with something in his hand. “I thought I told you to stay?” Cocking his eyebrow at you.

You grin and sit on the bed. “You know I’m not a very good listener.”

Spencer walks over with a smile on his face, sitting on the edge of the bed near you. “I love you with my whole heart, y/n. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life, maybe even longer. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life, sweetheart. Will you marry me?” Spencer opens the velvet box revealing a ring.

“Wait, did you have this ring the whole time?” You ask.

“I’ve had it for about a month. I’ve been trying to find the right time to do it. But then the case ran so long and I forgot the box here. I didn’t think I would be proposing to you after sex but here we are.” He laughs. “So will you?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You whisper, kissing his lips deeply.

Spencer smiles at you, removing the ring from the box and slipping it on your ring finger. “It looks good.”

“You know, we need to celebrate the fact that we’re engaged.” You smile deviously at him.

“You can go again?” Spencer asks in disbelief.

“Get a girlfriend with a high sex drive, they said.” You say, crawling up into his lap and straddling him. “It’ll be so much fun, they said.” You tease, kissing him again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid smut fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #criminal minds #spencer reid smut one shot

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