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xjoonchildx · 3 years

Text

snapshot | jhs x reader

summary: after a day at the beach, hoseok has some surprises in store for his longtime love

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, smut, fluff OH MY GOD SO MUCH FLUFF y'all i apologize

word count: 4.7K

notes: this fic is a commission fic for the lovely @wwilloww as part of the @armyadvocates fundraising initiative to stop hate crimes against AAPI. miss willow asked for an old house, candles and soft smut as well as a mystery box. i did my best to deliver on all counts because willow is amazing and deserves all good things.

thanks go to @hobi-gif @ladyartemesia and @btsarmy9593 for beta reading parts of this story, thanks so much for keeping me on track ladies! a very special shoutout to @sahmfanficbts who helped me come up with a very *key* part of this plot.

warnings: no one dies? no one is in danger of dying? who am i? standard smut, unprotected sex. liberal sunscreen use. low air quality due to paint fumes and sawdust. references to yoongi, who we can assume is cranky offscreen, references to @untaemedqueen first suggestion of what was in the box.

Warm.

Hoseok is so warm right now, inside and out. He stretches his long body out on the length of his beach lounger, enjoying the feeling of the sun beating down on his skin. His buzz is mellow and pleasant. He lets his eyes drift shut, lulled into a lazy calm by the sounds he can hear all around him.

The steady lap of the waves against the shore. Kids laughing as they run around on the sand. Off in the distance, a bluetooth speaker thumps out a song that’s too far away for him to recognize. And after a few minutes, another sound.

Your bright laughter, carried to him on the breeze.

God, he loves that sound.

“You are such a lightweight,” you tease. Hoseok can hear the smile in your voice. “Two beers and you pass out on me.”

He cracks one eye open to find you standing beside his lounger. The early evening sunlight streams through the strands of your dark hair and warms your bronzed skin, bathing you in a kind of golden halo. He gazes up at you, languid and content.

“I’m not passed out,” he argues with a slow grin. “I’m relaxing. Come relax with me.”

Hoseok doesn’t give you a chance to accept his offer, leaning up to grab your hand and pull you down into the narrow space beside him. You laugh when he wraps his arms and legs around you like a starfish, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I’m just enjoying the perfect day,” he murmurs, nosing at the back of your ear, “With my perfect girl.”

“Flatterer.”

Hoseok can’t see you rolling your eyes, but he knows you’re doing it anyway. Just like he can’t see the way you flush and he knows you’re doing that, too.

“We should eat,” you say after a while, shivering when he strokes the pads of his fingers up the soft skin of one bare leg. “Grab something before we have to take the bikes back.”

Hoseok hums under his breath as he slides his palm up the curve of your thigh, boldly searching for trouble under the hem of your sundress. You bat his hand away and he laughs, hugging you tighter.

“Alright,” he agrees in a whisper, ghosting his lips down the nape of your neck. You jolt in his arms when he sinks his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, nipping playfully. “Just a quick bite.”

There’s not much difference between a sundress and a négligée is there?

Certainly not from where Hoseok is sitting, anyway.

He studies you as he rides close behind, watching the way your hair whips in the breeze as you pedal. One delicate sundress strap slips down your sun-warmed shoulder, exposing just a bit more of your back. Then the wind grabs a hold of your sheer skirt, lifting it just long enough for Hoseok to get a glimpse of the pretty white panties underneath.

God, he loves those panties.

Could stare at them all day, really.

But instead he forces himself to pedal faster and take the lead, grinning when you take note of his advance and glare. It’s for the best because while you think this is just some meandering evening ride, he’s the only one who knows where you’re really headed. For the best because if he falls off his bike and breaks his face because he’s too busy staring at your ass, the entire night will be ruined before it has the chance to start.

It’s quiet on this street just a few blocks from the shore.

Dolmeori Beach is rockier, more wooded than the beaches preferred by most tourists and that’s always suited Hoseok just fine. When he was a kid, he’d steal away when the weather was warm and hop the train here from Gwangju any chance he got.

It’s always felt like his place, his personal piece of sea and sand.

Pine trees loom high over the pavement, canopies so dense they block out much of the waning sunlight streaming down from above. The shade beneath the leaves makes the heat bearable, but it also makes it hard to judge the time. Hoseok steals a quick look at his watch.

Right on schedule. He hopes Yoongi followed his instructions to the letter.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teases over his shoulder, and he chuckles at the sound of frustration you make as you pedal faster to catch up. It takes a few seconds for you to coast into position at his side.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” you fuss, “Wanna clue me in?”

Hoseok turns his head to smile at you, sly like a fox.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

The realtor had said the place would need a little love.

Turns out, it needs a lot more than a little. But Hoseok was able to see right past the weathered wooden porch and salt air-worn paint right away. When he found this place online, he knew it was the one.

He slows his bike to a stop as the two of you make your approach, taking note of the warm light that glows just behind the frosted glass pane in the front door. Looks like Yoongi came through.

“What is this place?” you ask, skidding to a stop beside him. You stand over your bike on tiptoes as you survey the house, brow knit in confusion.

“It’s a surprise,” Hoseok grins, hopping off his bike. He shoves the kickstand into place and offers you his hand, which you accept with a suspicious smile. “Wanna go in?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrug. “We’ve probably already stolen these bikes. What’s a little breaking and entering on top of that?”

Hoseok laughs, leading the way to the front door.

He cringes when the porch floorboards creak loudly beneath his feet, making a mental note to put that project next on his to-do list. You stand with arms crossed, watching silently as he crouches down to lift the mat at the front door, fingers feeling beneath for the concealed key.

You stop him with fingers wrapped around his forearm when he gets to his feet.

“Wait,” you whisper frantically. “We can’t just walk into someone’s house, Hoseok.”

He chuckles before leaning down to kiss the adorable confusion right off your face. Then he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door wide open.

“Not someone’s house,” he corrects, watching you peer skeptically inside.

You step slowly through the threshold and scan the candle-lit front room before turning to him with wide eyes.

“Our house.”

“You bought a beach house.”

It’s the third time you’ve said it by now, and not once has the hushed observation been directed at Hoseok. You said it when you brushed your fingertips over the freshly-dried spackle on the living room wall, said it again as you passed your hand over the base coat of stain on the mantle over the fireplace.

You say it again as you turn to him, jaw slack with disbelief.

“You bought a beach house.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok admits sheepishly, uncertain of your reaction. He tries to see the room the way you must see it now, candles and tools scattered across the tables, floors covered in drop cloths, cans of paint and plaster stacked up in the corners.

Yoongi had done a decent job of clearing up most of the clutter before he left, but judging by the astonishment on your face, he’s probably been romanticizing the mess in here.

He’d really hoped to have a lot more done the first time he brought you here, but he’s learned the hard way that some home renovation projects don’t go as smoothly in real life as they do on YouTube. The process has been a bit of trial and error, with a lot more error than he’d originally counted on.

“I know it doesn’t look like a whole lot right now,” he says, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, “But it’s going to look great when I’m done. Yoongi helped me sand all week.”

You shake your head like you’re coming out of a daze.

“Oh my god Hoseok, no -- ” you vow with a shaky laugh, “ -- no, this is incredible. This is amazing. I’m in shock.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok grins, relief melting over him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted -- ”

“ -- Wait,” you interrupt, one brow quirked high as you step closer. “You said… you said something important. You said this was our house.”

“Did I?”

You narrow your dark eyes at him and he chuckles uncomfortably, nerves kicking in for the first time tonight. The feeling -- and the occasion both call for more booze. Which he’s prepared for.

“Are you going to give me a tour?” you ask.

“Later,” he says. “After.”

“After what, Hoseok? You’re killing me slowly with all this suspense.”

“Hang out here for a second,” he instructs, ducking into the small kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes him no time at all to find the bottle of Moet he’s stashed in the fridge and the clean champagne flutes tucked away into the corner of his dutifully-dusted kitchen cabinet. He double-checks the contents of the box on the counter, making sure everything is in place.

Then he takes a deep breath.

Your brows lift in surprise when he walks back into the room with that box in his hands. You watch him set it down on the floor, saying nothing when he turns back to retrieve the champagne and glasses.

When he finally returns, you’re on your knees -- examining the package. Lips pursed thoughtfully as you press your fingers to the gold flecks on the fabric lid.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, flicking your gaze up to find his. “I have so many questions right now.”

You look so damned beautiful in this candlelight -- like you brought your golden glow from the beach indoors. Like you absorbed the sun’s rays and you’re emitting them now like some kind of superpower.

“Have a drink with me,” he murmurs, “And I’ll answer them.”

Something in the room shifts then; the temperature changes. The silly fun of the afternoon evaporates, leaving behind something heavy and heady. Hoseok knows you feel it too, when your half-smile slowly drops and you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Let’s have a drink.”

You watch him with those focused dark eyes as he pops the champagne. The drink bubbles over the lip of both flutes as he pours, on account of his haste and shaky hands. Then you take one of the glasses in hand and offer him the other, which he quickly accepts.

“To this surprise housewarming,” you declare, raising your flute for a toast.

Hoseok clinks his glass against yours, taking note of the way you watch him carefully over the lip of your glass as you’re tilting back the flute to take a sip. He decides he can’t keep you -- or himself -- in suspense any longer.

“You know how special you are to me, right?”

You make a face.

“Did you bring me to your new house to break up with me?”

Hoseok’s startled laugh turns into a cough and tears prick his eyes as champagne bubbles blaze a path up his sinuses.

“Yes,” he says dryly, once he’s managed to collect himself. “I figured dumping you by candlelight sounded like the most romantic option.”

You tip your head back when you laugh, light playing off the curve of your neck, your collarbones, the tiny gold pendant that sits in the pretty dip at the base of your throat.

God, he loves your skin.

Hoseok looks at you long and hard before lifting his flute to take a long drink.

“This is for you,” he says quietly, acknowledging the box out loud for the first time.

“What’s in it?”

“A human head,” Hoseok snorts, flinching when you reach over to pinch his leg. “Don’t be a pain. Just open it.”

Your eyes light with excitement as you smooth your hands over the lid and Hoseok can’t help but smile. But your excitement turns into confusion the moment you open the box and find the neat row of plain white envelopes inside.

“What is this?”

“Quit asking me questions,” Hoseok deadpans, pouring himself another drink. He tops off your glass, too. “And start at the front.”

You shake your head with a wry smile as you work the first envelope open, slipping your fingers in between the paper folds to fish out the contents inside. Hoseok sips his champagne as you produce the polaroid photo, head cocked to the side as you study it.

It was cold that day, he remembers that. You’d been bundled up in a pretty scarf and matching belted coat. In the photo, the mid-morning sun flares behind you, illuminating your profile as you squint up at a display of laminated menus.

“This is me,” you murmur, mouth quirking into a disbelieving smile, “At the coffee truck outside of work.”

“Yup.”

“We’d just started dating.”

“Yup.”

“How did you take this without me noticing?”

“Easy,” Hoseok laughs. “You stared at that menu for five minutes straight. I’ve never seen someone take coffee selection so seriously. Thought you were gonna order the most complicated drink in history.”

You roll your eyes but you laugh. So does he.

“Turn it over.”

You flip the polaroid over in your hands, eyes moving over the neat block handwriting on the back.

coolest girl i ever met

“This is the day I knew I liked you,” Hoseok murmurs, “Like, really liked you.”

Your eyes are a bit glassy when you look up at him now, the corner of your mouth tugging into a soft smile.

“You were that sure that fast, huh?” “Yeah,” he admits, scratching self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was.”

You move onto the next envelope, this time prepared when you pull out yet another polaroid picture. This one is harder to place, taken in the dark, mostly black but for a few splashes of vivid light.

“I don’t know this one,” you frown, ghosting your finger across one particularly colorful blur of red and gold. “I can’t make it out.”

You turn the polaroid over, looking once again for Hoseok’s neat block letters.

she’s into me

You laugh out loud.

“That was the lantern festival in Cheonggyecheon,” Hoseok explains. “I’d invited you, but you’d had plans, remember? And I was just going to get Yoongi to go with me but you called me last minute to say you’d decided to come.”

“I remember,” you say with a smile. “Yeri invited me to a movie, but I cancelled on her. I wanted to hang out with you instead.”

“Yeah, well that’s the night I knew you really liked me.”

“Cocky,” you smirk, reaching for another envelope. “But warranted.”

Your eyes light with recognition the moment you pull the next picture out. You’re crouched down at the edge of his mother’s koi pond, one finger making ripples on the surface of the water.

“First time we ever went to Gwangju together,” you muse quietly. “First time I met your parents.”

You flip the polaroid over.

pretty sure my mom loves her more than she loves me

“Okay, this might actually be true,” you tease, taking a sip of your champagne. “Your mom and dad love me.”

“Yeah, well that was the day I decided I loved you, too,” Hoseok chuckles. “The point where I kind of knew there was no turning back.”

You look up from the photograph then, eyes glassy with emotion when they find his. Candlelight flickering across your face as you look at him fondly.

“You still feel that way?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he laughs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Keep going.”

The next polaroid is a selfie of Hoseok in bed but it’s by no means sexual. There are dark circles under his eyes and his skin has a sallow tint. Next to his pillow, the bedside table is littered with cold medicine and empty cups.

“Is this when you had the flu?” you ask, flipping the polaroid over. The neat block lettering on the back confirms your theory.

she took care of me

“You were so pitiful,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. “Wrapped up in your blankets like a burrito. I swear, men have zero tolerance for discomfort.”

“I nearly died,” Hoseok protests dramatically. “But you dropped everything to come take care of me. That’s the day I knew you loved me, too.”

Your smile is brilliant now, open and sweet as you reach for the last remaining envelope. Hoseok takes another swig of champagne, slugging it down as you pull out the polaroid and study the image.

You are wearing your delicate sundress, leaned up against the wooden railing that separates the sand and rocks. Standing just next to your bike, nose in the air as you breathe in the salt carried on the wind.

“This is today,” you murmur, brows knitting together when you flip the picture over and find the back side blank. “And you haven’t written anything here.”

“Yeah, well,” Hoseok starts and stops, clearing his throat. “I haven’t had a chance to write it in yet.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the day I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh.”

You blink. Once, then again. Hoseok can hear the shaky breath you take in when your mouth parts in surprise. He sets his champagne flute down, sufficiently bolstered by the booze.

“So that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m asking you to marry me.”

You’re still mute with shock, eyes wide as they go from Hoseok to the picture and back to Hoseok again.

“But uh, the longer you don’t say anything, the less confident I feel about this entire plan,” he chuckles awkwardly.

You take him off balance when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist. He keeps you both from toppling over with a palm flat to the floor, laughing as you pepper his face with kisses.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you sigh, pressing your lips to his temple, his neck, his jaw. “Yes. To you and to these amazing pictures and to this beach house. Yes to all of it.”

You pull away from him to grab the champagne, eyes flashing mischievously as you take a drink straight from the bottle. “Yes to champagne, too.”

Hoseok feigns shock. “Naughty.”

You kiss him deeply then, thoroughly, enough for him to feel the remnants of the carbonation on your tongue. You tease him with a barely there roll of your hips and his cock responds instantaneously, at the mercy of the warm friction he can feel straight through the thin material of his board shorts.

“You know what I’m thinking?” you murmur against his mouth.

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah,” Hoseok chuckles, sucking a breath between his teeth when you bite the skin just below his ear.

“We have a lot to celebrate, right?” you reason, tone light. “But we came here for a housewarming.”

You lean back just far enough to pull your sundress over your head, tossing it carelessly aside, leaving you in nothing but those pretty white panties he loves so much.

“So we should warm it.”

Hoseok grins, pulling the champagne bottle out of your grip. He turns it up just like you did, finishing what’s left before setting it back down.

“I like the way you think.”

The only bedroom in this house is buried beneath a two-inch thick layer of sawdust right now.

Not that making it to a bedroom seems high on your list of priorities.

The fact that you’re both sitting on top of a drop cloth on Hoseok’s living room floor isn’t stopping you from threading your fingers into his hair, slipping your tongue into his mouth, grinding against his lap.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” you laugh, pressing your bare breasts to his chest once he’s managed to untangle himself from your limbs long enough to shrug out of his shirt. Your pebbled nipples drag across the lithe planes of his chest and his cock jumps in his shorts.

“Clever.”

“That’s me,” Hoseok murmurs against your lips, deft fingers slipping beneath the damp cotton between your thighs. He slides the pad of one long finger across your wet slit and you gasp, rocking against it.

“Gotta get you out of these panties,” he laments, pulling one nipple into his mouth and working it with his teeth. You shudder in his hold. “Quick.”

“What are you in such a hurry for?” you tease, circling your hips to chase the perfect pressure of his fingertips. “We have all night.”

“We have about three more minutes if you keep grinding on me like this,” Hoseok laughs, shifting your bodies to lean you back onto the floor. “So give me a break because I want to enjoy this.”

You lie back for him dutifully, dark hair spilling onto the drop cloth around you, skin gleaming in the candlelight. Your gold pendant twinkles at the base of your neck.

God, he loves the way you look like this.

Flushed with excitement and anticipation. Like a feast laid out just for him. He rids himself of those pesky board shorts as fast as he can, leaning over you on hands and knees.

“You’re gonna marry me,” he muses, burying his face into the soft skin under your jaw. “You already said yes, can’t take it back now.”

Your laughter is echoing in his ears as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, across the bronzed planes of your shoulder. He can taste the day on your skin; the ocean salt and sunscreen mixed with that flavor that’s so uniquely you.

“I don’t want to take it back,” you sigh, whimpering when Hoseok kisses a path down the velvety skin between your breasts. He travels lower, kissing just below your bellybutton as he starts working your panties off with one hand. “I’m gonna keep you.”

Hoseok chuckles as he tosses your panties away, off to somewhere unimportant. What’s important is the way you take a deep breath and hold it when his mouth hovers coyly over your cunt.

“Look at me,” he directs, peering up at you from beneath heavy eyelids. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, candlelight dancing over your pretty face.

“I love you,” he breathes, lowering his mouth to make contact with your clit. The air leaves your lungs in that moment, a soft exhalation of air that makes the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

“I love you too,” you sigh, hips jerking at the contact, fingers digging hard into his hair. “So much.”

He knows you by now, knows how you like to be touched. Your rhythmic panting goes a bit ragged, when he slides two fingers into your cunt, crooking up to stroke you the way you like while his mouth works your clit.

God, he loves this part.

The part where you lose any semblance of control. The desperate sounds you make when you start to come apart beneath his mouth and hands.

“Hoseok -- “ your voice is strangled when you call out, “ -- Hobi, I’m gonna come.”

Something about the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. He grits his teeth when your nails dig almost painfully into his scalp as you start to tremble, shuddering against his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, pinning your hips down with his strong hands, keeping you from pulling away from the pleasure that borders on pain. “That’s it. Sound so good when you come for me.”

Hoseok stays face first in your cunt, nose and tongue pressed against you, until he’s certain the last wave has come and gone. Between his own legs, his cock pulses painfully, leaking pre-come at the thought of finally being inside of you.

Your body twitches with the aftershocks of your release as he slowly kisses his way up your thighs, your mound, your stomach.

“How was that?” he asks with a teasing tilt to his mouth, stealing your ability to answer when he kisses you deeply, fitting his slim hips between your legs. He reaches down to grab his stiff cock, sliding it across your slick entrance. You clamp your thighs together to tighten the drag and he groans at the friction.

“Amazing,” you sigh, dragging your nails over his ass, up the lean muscles of his back. “Perfect. You should let me return the favor.”

His dick practically jumps at the suggestion, stomach contracting hard at the prospect of feeling your pretty mouth wrapped around it. But Hoseok is too worked up, too riled up by the alcohol and the excitement.

“Can’t tonight,” he pants, arousal shooting up his spine when you wrap one hand around his now-wet cock. You pump him lazily, trailing soft bites from his jaw to his shoulder. “Need to be inside of you.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for that too,” you admit, guiding the blunt head of his cock to your entrance.

He surges forward then, pushing past the tight grip of your fingers, groaning as he’s enveloped completely by your warm cunt. You whimper at the stretch, locking your legs around him, gasping when he bottoms out.

He pulls back to the tip only to drive in again, earning another strangled moan. You’re squirming beneath him, breathless and dewy, looking like some kind of wet dream.

“I’ll never get over how good it feels to be inside of you,” Hoseok admits, burying himself as deep as he humanly can into you.

You’re so wet he can feel you spilling out onto the base of his dick and for one fleeting moment he wishes you knew how good this feels for him. How wet and hot and tight you feel around him. How being inside of you like this makes his brain go haywire, reduces him to only instinct and need.

You lift your hips to meet each snap of his, the wet sound of your joining echoing off the walls in this mostly empty house.

He hears you moaning his name in between the other sounds you make, in between the panting and mewling that makes his balls tighten. You grip his forearms as he grinds against you, kissing you in between desperate breaths.

“I think I’m gonna come again,” you gasp against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok groans, pulling back to get to his knees. He hooks one of your legs over the crook of one strong forearm, using his one free hand to press a thumb to your clit. His rhythm falters as he watches himself slide in and out of you, hypnotized by the sight of his body joined to yours.

You lift your ass off the floor, back arching as you chase the pressure of his fingers. Hoseok strokes you desperately, feeling his orgasm looming menacingly at the base of his cock. It takes just a few more strained pumps of his hips to set you off.

The second he feels you clamp down around him, Hoseok folds back over you, arms braced on either side of you as he thrusts through his own orgasm. He shuts his eyes and groans as he empties his cock inside of you, thrusting until he can’t anymore.

He collapses onto you, heart racing as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t leave me,” you groan when Hoseok peels his damp skin away from yours to get to his feet.

He strides across the room, completely nude, grinning when you turn onto your side and go up on one elbow to ogle him.

“Just for a second,” he calls out, pulling out every unorganized drawer in the kitchen until he finally comes across a pen. “Gotta finish something.”

He makes a show of holding it in the air as he walks back into the living room, opening the gold-flecked box, and pulling out the last unmarked polaroid photo.

You’re smiling the entire time you watch him pen the last caption on the last photograph.

she said yes

tag list!

@japzalileo @dionysusrage @hey-itsmina @myimaginationsrunningwild @hauntedlilies @spring2787 @suppbeccc @veronawrites @minyoongiboongi @katbonv

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #jhope smut #jhope x reader #networkbangtan #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub

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ijustreallylovethem · 3 years

Text

secrets

i came up with this fic idea in the shower so i hope y’all like it. i’d like to say right now that i didn’t research how long a sentence to this crime would be but i did see that the max juvie time for a 14 year old is only a year so let’s ignore that law for sake of the story’s timeline. the flashbacks would be during the pogues freshman year and and the present is set after season one so junior year.

special thanks to @cognacdelights for hyping me up when i posted about the idea for this fic and for reassuring me that it actually made sense and was postable. also to @socialwriter for giving me an idea to help me finish this. they gave a small suggestion and i was able to turn it into the perfect storyline.

platonic!pogues x reader

words: 7,218

masterlist

you took a deep breath as you stepped onto the dock. the air was salty and smelled faintly of fish and you had missed it. you turned to face the officer that had accompanied you back to the island and he sighed.

“alright miss y/l/n, this is where i leave you. in the nicest way possible, i don’t wanna see you again, ok?” you nodded with a smile.

“hope i never have to see you again either, phil.” you waved as he turned to board the ferry again but he stopped and turned around.

“have a safe walk home.”

“and you have a safe ferry ride back to the mainland.” he nodded his head and turned to board the ferry, leaving you to start your way home. well, not home exactly. you hadn’t been there for about a year before you left, three years now. you were on your way to your friends and the place that they called home. the place you had started to call home too.

the chateau wasn’t too far of a walk from the docks. it only took you thirty minutes before you were standing in the dirt driveway out front. the van that big john drove was parked out front and the ss pogue was tied to the dock which was a good sign that at least one of your friends were here. you made your way up the porch steps, noticing that they had gotten noisier since you had been here last. you opened the porch door and made your way across the porch, stopping once you reached the door to the house. you used to just walk in whenever you showed up but now it felt weird. you hadn’t been here in two years, things were sure to change. you lifted your hand and knocked loudly against the wood. there was no answer after a few moments so you decided to revert back to your old ways. you turned the doorknob and walked through the doorframe, taking in the old familiar smell of the chateau.

it brought a smile to your face to see pope sleeping on the pullout bed in the living room. just like old times. you grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it to wake him up before taking off down the hallway toward john b’s room. you giggled at the faint “what the fuck?” that came from pope as you opened the door and stepped into the familiar room. only it wasn’t so familiar anymore. sure, the set up was the same but the walls were no longer covered in john b’s pictures and nautical posters. instead there was a guns n roses poster barely hanging on in the corner and that was it. the presence of the room was different and it only took a glance at the bed to know why. it’s inhabitant wasn’t brunet, he was blonde.

jj slept on his stomach, the comforter pulled halfway up his back and his face smushed into the pillow. he was facing away from you but you could tell by the steady rise and fall of his torso that he was still deep asleep. you smiled at the sight of him, it had been nearly a year since you had seen him. he had been the only one to ever come visit you or even to write you while you were gone and you appreciated him for it. you slipped off your shoes and carefully sat down on the bed so your back was against the headboard. you ran your fingers through his hair a few times while gently calling his name, hoping to wake him from his slumber without freaking him out. you could feel him start to stir and his head turned so he was now facing you but his eyes had yet to open.

“jj, it’s time to wake up,” you spoke, just barely above a whisper. his nose scrunched up and his brow furrowed at the sound of your voice, no longer used to hearing it pull him from sleep. his hands came up to rub at his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows and then looked at you. you smiled at him as he blinked at you, taking in the fact that you were sitting in his bed again.

“y/n?”

“hey j, how have you been?” he smiled widely at the confirmation that it was you and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head into your stomach.

“holy shit, it’s you! you’re back!” you laughed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders the best you could, trying to return the hug he was giving you. you heard footstep coming down the hall and popes voice rang out.

“jj did you get out of bed just to hit me with a pillow?” you looked up to see pope rubbing his eyes as well but they widened when they landed on you. “it was you?” you nodded, still smiling as pope ran over to hug you as well. you wrapped your arms around his torso, finding it easier to hug him than jj due to the angle. “i can’t believe you’re back! we have so much to tell you, shit.” he pulled away from you at the sound of another door opening in the hallway. more footsteps made their way toward you and for a third time you watched as one of yours friends eyes widened at the sight of you.

“y/n?”

“hey john b. how’s it going?” he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“oh you know, pogue stuff. how was juvie?” you shrugged.

“it was decent. most of the girls there were pretty nice. there was the occasional parent murderer but they usually weren’t there too long before getting moved.” your fingers carded through jj’s hair again, his head rested in the perfect spot for you to conveniently brush his hair for him with your hands.

“and the food? better than if you were at kildare high?”

“pretty much the same to be honest. though some things were much better. i don’t think i can ever go back to eating school pizza.” pope laughed and john b smiled at the humor in your answer. jj let out a small snore and you looked down at his head in your lap. he had already managed to fall back asleep.

“how about i get started on breakfast and you attempt to wake him up again?” john b asked and you nodded.

“might be easier to just wait until breakfast is done and wave some bacon in front of his face though.” both conscious boys laughed as they left the room, leaving you alone with jj again. your fingers were still working out the unruly amount of knots in his hair. you could tell that he had gone surfing late last night between the knots and the amount of sand you had felt on his scalp. he would surf at night if he couldn’t sleep. it made you wonder what he struggled with last night to bring on his insomnia. you hoped it wasn’t his dad, though there weren’t any bruises on him that you could see. they were almost always on his face or torso and from what you could tell both were free of any signs of fighting.

you let your eyes close for a moment and your head fall back against the headboard. you had missed this. being here, at the chateau, with your friends. you couldn’t wait to take the boat out and fish with the guys until you were tired of fishing so you’d jump off the boat and scare all the fish away. sure, they guys would be angry but only for a few moments until they were jumping in with you and pretending to drown you. it didn’t take long for you to doze off thinking about the memories and you hadn’t realized you had until pope was gently shaking you awake.

“you were supposed to wake him up, not fall asleep with him. come on, breakfast is ready.” he smacked jj square on the back before beginning to leave the room. “come eat, jj!” jj jolted up onto his knees and his eyes widened until he realized where he was and what was happening.

“i hate when he does that,” he mumbled as he gets up from the bed. you chuckle as you follow him down the hallway and take a seat at the table. it was only he four of you filling your plates and you looked around as you took a bite of your bacon.

“john b, where’s your dad? out on the water?”

“something like that,” jj mumbled and pope smacked the back of his head. “well am i wrong?” john b sighed as he put down the forkful of eggs that he had just picked up.

“a lot has changed since you left. it’s one of the main reasons we all failed to visit or write to you.”

“jj wrote to me.” jj shook his head.

“not as much as i would’ve liked to. there’s a reason i stopped coming to visit you and why i didn’t write for a long time.” breakfast was spent with the boys filling you in on everything that had happened. they told you about big john, ward, the gold search, sarah, peterkin, rafe. if one left something out then another would take over telling the story for a bit.

“all in all ward got prison time and rafe got rehab. plead insanity which, to be honest, isn’t far from the truth at this point.” you had hardly touched your food since they had started talked and it was far from warm now. you were shocked at everything you had just heard and all three boys could tell by the look on your face. jj reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it lightly in an attempt to ground you.

“so big john is gone?” they nodded. “and the gold?”

“possessed by the government. apparently it’s not ‘finders keepers losers weepers,’ it’s ‘finders can suck it because the government wants to keep it covered that a black man was rich.’” you nodded, quiet for a moment before looking up at john b.

“so you and sarah cameron?” he rolled his eyes at the small smirk on your face.

“oh shut up, i don’t wanna hear it from you. i’ve already heard enough from kie for everyone.” now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“you guys are really friends with her again? after she left us? to be rich?” your tone wasn’t rude or malicious, you were just blunt in your questions and it made you sound angrier than what you were at the moment.

“she reconciled with us,” pope spoke. “when she left, it was more because of you than us. and since you were gone when she came back, it was easier for us to forgive her.”

“right. well, you don’t know what she did. i’m not saying i’ll be rude to her if we all hang out now that i’m back but i’m not going to go back to before she left us for kook academy either.” john b sighed but nodded.

“just try not to make things awkward?” pope asked.

“no promises.”

“of course not,” he mumbled as you stood from the table with a smile. you grabbed your plate and jj’s empty one, moving to the trash can to clear your plate of its contents and then putting both in the dishwasher. you turned just as the front door opened, catching a blur of blonde hair as the person ran toward the bathroom.

“really have to pee guys, hold on!” their voice shouted out as they went past. you heard the door to the bathroom slam and then it was quiet again.

“so that’s sarah,” pope said with a grin and john b smacked his arm.

“you’ll get along with her, i promise. she’s changed quite a bit since you left,” john b explained and you hesitantly nodded.

“and if you do happen to get tired of her and john here macking, just make your way over to me because i’ll be trying to avoid it too.” it was jj’s turn to receive a smack on the arm for his statement and you laughed.

“noted, thanks. so what are the plans for today? anything specific?” john b shrugged.

“boat ride, probably swimming since it’s hot as literal hell out there. we gotta come in early though, me and sarah are eating dinner with her family and we have to dress up.”

“oh yeah, i forgot rich people dress up to go to their kitchen.”

“actually, jj, we eat in the dining room.” sarah made her way behind john b, resting her hands on his shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “dinners at six so we need to be at tannyhill by four so i can shower.”

“that gives us-“ pope glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite of where he was sitting for a few seconds before speaking again, “about six hours.” you glanced at the clock, noticing that it read 1:30. you gave a pope a confused look and he shrugged. “clock’s broken.” he held up his arm, allowing you to see the watch adorning his wrist. you laughed lightly at him as he stood from the table. “i’ll pack some food.”

“i brought drinks,” sarah announced and jj cheered. you rolled your eyes and pushed yourself away from the counter you were leaning on.

“nothings changed maybank, you’re still scouring alcohol off of other people. and you’re still shirtless.” he stood up and stretched his arms over his head before answering.

“and i’m still distracting you.” he sent you a wink and you took off down the hallway to search for a swimsuit you had left here.

“only in your dreams maybank.”

“how did you know i dream about you?” you left the teasing comment alone and turned into the room that you had come to find out now belonged to jj. you opened the closet, hoping to find the duffel bag of clothes you know you had kept here but all you found were a few of jj’s hoodies hanging up and an extra pillow that no one used because it was oddly stained and had no case. “your clothes are in the bottom drawer.” you turned to find jj standing in the doorway, pointing to the dresser.

“you folded my clothes and put them away?”

“i was tired of them sitting in the corner of my room,” he shrugged. you made you way to the dresser and knelt down, pulling open the drawer that jj had dedicated as yours. you smiled at how organized it all was, surely none of the other drawers were anywhere close to this neat. you grabbed your favorite red bikini and held it up for jj to see.

“should i go with this one?” his eyes widened slightly when he realized which swimsuit you were holding but he quickly contained himself.

“your first day back and you’re already trying to kill me huh?” you smiled and made your way out of the room, slipping into the bathroom in the hallway to change. once you had, you admired yourself in the mirror. this particular suit had been your favorite because at fourteen, it was your most revealing swimsuit. it got you the most attention and you thought it made you look hot. luckily it still fit nearly the same and made you feel the same as well. it was a nice change from the gray uniform you had become accustomed to over the past two years. you gave yourself a final glance before turning off the light and leaving the bathroom. you left your boots, jeans, and shirt on jj’s bed and made your way back over to his dresser. you took a chance and opened the third drawer down, revealing just what you were looking for. you were right earlier when you assumed that his other drawers were all a mess. you didn’t mind a wrinkled cut off to wear over your bikini though and you tugged the loose material over your head before closing the drawer and leaving the room.

the house was quiet so you made your way outside. sarah and pope were hauling the cooler to the boat from the back of sarah’s car while jj and john b cleaned up the boat a bit. you cautiously made your way through the yard and down to the dock. normally, you could run barefoot across the yard no problem. but after two years of only walking on concrete and the fact that you could see a broken beer bottle near the small fire pit, you decided to take your time. just as you stepped onto the wood of the dock another car pulled into the driveway. you paid no attention to it, more focused on reclaiming your seat on the boat, until you heard her voice.

“you guys planning on leaving without me?” you turned to find kiara walking across the yard, the smile on her face a clear indicator that she had yet to notice you. boys all made remarks back to her and you turned back to your task. you grabbed a beer from the cooler and popped it open before taking your spot at the back of the boat. you looked up and took a drink just in time to see kiara stop in her tracks as she made eye contact with you. she turned to jj who was closest to her and lowered her voice, but you still managed to hear what she asked.

“why didn’t anyone tell me that she was back?”

“she only got here and hour ago,” jj shrugged. he walked down the dock and hopped on the boat, leaving kiara to get over her shock on her own. jj claimed his spot next to you and you smiled as he held out the neck of his beer bottle. you tapped yours against his and you both took a long drink.

“alright everybody,” you looked up at john b who was moving toward the drivers seat, “just a quick recap, please keep all body parts in the boat while it’s moving. i’m looking at you two back there.” he turned and lowered his sunglasses so he was peering over them at you and jj. you giggled but nodded and he turned back around. a swift turn of the key had the old boat rumbling to life and before you knew it, john b was steering you to your normal spot out on the marsh.

the day passed just like they used to. you spent the morning swimming and playing games in the water, the only foul move being someone getting water in another persons beer. once you got tired of the water you dragged yourself up the ladder big john had put on the back and into the boat. you let out a sigh and looked at sarah already curled up on the front. you grabbed your old towel from the compartment, not surprised that it was still there. it smelled a little musty but it would do for now. after laying it out on the floor of the boat, you settled yourself on it and let the soft rocking of the boat settle you to sleep.

you were only awoken halfway back to the chateau when the ss pogue hit a wave made by another boat. the bouncing of the boat on the water pulled you from your dreams and you rolled over to see pope sitting next to you.

“we had to head back so sarah could get ready for dinner,” he explained and you simply nodded and closed your eyes again. the rest of the week wasn’t much different. there were days that kiara or pope didn’t come so they could help their parents and a day that sarah and john b couldn’t come so they could go shopping for midsummers. once jj didn’t come as that was the day he had dedicated to mowing kooks lawns. only once for a few hours did it all overlap and you were left at the chateau alone.

it was like he knew. he somehow knew that you were there and that you were by yourself. the knocking on the door didn’t startle you but the face on the other side did. you opened the door and walked out onto the porch, sitting down on the couch there. he followed, sitting at the opposite side to give you your space. it was silent for a moment, only the sound of the crickets and the water surrounding you until you spoke.

“how was rehab?” rafe nodded.

“good. it was definitely needed. how was juvie?” you shrugged.

“i could’ve gone without it. didn’t get shanked though so i guess that counts for something.” he smiled slightly at the fact that you were comfortable to make a joke around him and pondered his next words.

“i’m guessing you heard about everything that happened while you were gone?”

“definitely not everything but that one big thing i was definitely caught up on.” rafe nodded slowly, looking at his fingers in his lap.

“so, you know what i did?”

“which part?” he sighed and looked out over the water. you watched him as he thought about how t answer you, opening his mouth and then closing it again, not seeming the words to be good enough. instead of making him answer, you gave him something else to think about. “tell me your side of the story. why did you do it? what was happening that made you think you needed to do what you did?”

“who are you my therapist?” he asked as he finally glanced back over to you.

“i’m just trying to figure out if i can justify what happened. if i can talk to you without being scared for my life. if i can trust you like i did before i left.” he took a deep breath as he thought of where to start.

“he was taking the gold. at that point i didn’t know about it, i was just under the impression that he was taking sarah on a business trip to the bahamas. he had just thrown me out of the house, essentially shit all over me and took my inheritance of the business away. i was coping the wrong ways and then i find out that she was taking my place.”

“so you’re coked out and angry and ward and sarah.” he nodded.

“i broke into the house and stole one of his guns. took my truck keys and managed to roll down the driveway in neutral so they didn’t hear it start. by the time i got to the airport i wasn’t sure if i wanted to kill sarah or prove myself to my dad somehow. but then i saw peterkin with a gun aimed at him and it’s like i suddenly had clarity on what i was supposed to do.”

“prove yourself to your dad.” he nodded again.

“it seemed like it was the right thing to do at the time. but now- now all i can think about is how my dad pretended to call for help. he was going to let her die not to save me but to save himself. to save his image. there wasn’t a single day i spent in rehab that i wasn’t praying that she would come out of that coma.”

“rafe you’re not even religious.” he chuckled.

“that’s how bad i knew i fucked up. i just, i hate myself for ever getting addicted to that shit, you know? like, they talk about relapses and shit but i’ve gone and gotten rid of all of what i had left, even the emergency stash. i used to like the feeling i got when i was high but now i just- i never want to feel that way again.” it was silent for a few minutes, you weren’t sure what to say to him. ‘i’m proud of you’ didn’t quite feel right so you just stayed quiet. “i’m supposed to tell her i’m sorry.” you turned your head to look at rafe but he was watching the birds out on the water. they dove down to catch a fish and then landed on the dock to eat it.

“what do you mean?”

“part of rehab, apologizing to people i’ve wronged. peterkin’s a big one. sarah was the easiest. i need to talk to your boys at some point too. i really want to turn over a new leaf and try to actually make something of myself, you know?” you nodded. you had heard this from him a few times before you had left but he never sounded as genuine as he did right now. “but peterkin, i’m scared to talk to her. i’m scared to have to look her in the eye after what i did.”

“that’s a step in the right direction, rafe.”

“what do you mean?”

“if you’re scared to face her that means you’re owning up to what you did. you feel guilty. you feel ownership for what happened. that’s good.”

“well, i’m glad that me feeling like shit is good.” you laughed and he smiled slightly. he glanced down at his watch and stood.

“i gotta get going. i’m helping wheezie and sarah with some beach cleanup thing.”

“wow, when you said you wanted to start new you really meant it.”

“well, i’ve spent my whole life building up bad karma so now i gotta try and reverse it,” he said with a smile that showed he was joking. you rolled your eyes and stood up as well.

“just stay out of trouble ok? i’ll let jj know that you want to talk to them.” rafe nodded and began to walk off the porch but stopped himself.

“oh shit, wait. the whole reason i came here.” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, pulling out two one-hundred dollar bills and holding them out to you. “i wanted to put this into your account but they wouldn’t let me because of some kind of legal thing, i don’t know. but i want you to have it now instead. use it to help out until you’re able to find a job.”

“rafe-“

“don’t refuse the money because you want to be a nice person. just take it.” you slowly reached out and pulled the money from his hand. “great. i’ll see you later.”

“yeah, see you later rafe.”

when saturday rolled around the pogues were all back together again. you were laying on the couch watching the morning cartoons with you hand in a box of cereal and your legs propped up on jj’s lap. every once in a while he would chuckle at the television or hold his hand out toward you for some cereal but other than that he was quiet. sarah and john b were still asleep in his room and no one particularly wanted to go in there to wake them up. pope had gone outside a few minutes ago to look for something he recalled leaving on the porch and kiara was scouring the fridge for something to eat.

“how do you guys manage to live off of a carton of milk and oreos?” she asked as she all but slammed the refrigerator door shut.

“why come here and complain when we all know you have plenty of food at your house and a chef to cook it for you?” you remarked, not once taking you eyes off of the lazy town rerun. she was silent for a moment before making her way out the front door. you turned to look at where she had just left and then looked to jj. “was it something i said?” he laughed silently at your question and held his hand out for some more cookie crisp, which you happily gave him.

you had mostly been avoiding kiara all week. sure, she had been on a boat or in a house with you for the majority of it but you tended to ignore her or pretend she simply wasn’t there. only twice, including now, had you talked to her, both being sarcastic remarks to a dumb sentence or question she let escape her mouth. what made it worse was the way she was treating you. she hadn’t attempted to talk to you at all but she watched you from afar like she wished you’d talk to her first. she watched with wide, pitiful eyes, thinking that you couldn’t see her. but you did, and you hated it. she didn’t deserve to pity you after what she had done.

you could hear her talking to pope out on the porch for a few minutes before both entered the house again, taking a seat at the table. it was silent for a few moments, save for the tv show playing, before kiara was speaking. again.

“you know, john b lives here and i get why jj practically lives here now too but why haven’t you gone back home yet, y/n?” you rolled your eyes at the question, not wanting to actually answer her but deciding to play it somewhat nice.

“just like it here better.” you shrugged and then shoved another handful of cookie crisp into your mouth. she was silent while you chewed but then she spoke again.

“you know, i don’t know why you’re being so cold to me. what have i ever done to you?” you stood from the couch so fast that you nearly spilled the box of cereal spinning around to face her.

“do you really want to go there?” she looked up at you wide eyed, obviously not expecting this reaction from you. “you don’t get to pretend that i’m the only one able to speak out of the two of us. you could’ve come to me first instead of staring at me like a lost puppy all week.” you were shouting but you couldn’t care less about the fact that two of your friends were sleeping just down the hallway.

“well i know i would’ve gotten a reaction like this.”

“and rightfully so, kiara. ‘what have you ever done to me?’ do you really want me to bring that up?” she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

“well considering i’ve never done anything to you, i’d love to hear what you have to bring up.” you narrowed your eyes at her and placed both hands on the table, leaning over it to get closer to her.

“i hope you realize that i had all the time in the world when i was gone to just sit and think. to think about how i got there.” your voice was flat and even at this point and all eyes in the room were on you. you heard a door open down the hallway but paid no attention to it as kiara spoke again.

“and what exactly does that have to do with me?”

“it has everything to do with you!” you were yelling again as you threw your hands up but it didn’t matter. john b and sarah were joining jj on the couch so why try to contain your volume. “you’re the reason i got caught! you’re the one that called the cops!” you saw popes eyes go wide and heard sarah gasp from behind you but kiaras reaction was all you saw. she seemed calm.

“that’s an empty accusation. why would i do that?”

“we both know exactly why you would, kiara. it was just after you started at the kook academy. you had ditched us and you told everyone it was because you liked that lifestyle better but i was the only one you told the real reason to, remember? it was because you had made that stupid no pogue on pogue macking rule in seventh grade when john b had a crush on you but then you started liking jj! so you left to try and get over him.”

“ok? so? what does that, secret by the way, have to do with you getting caught?”

“you liked jj, you got mad when you saw him kiss me at that party. simple. you didn’t think i saw you watching but i did. you looked hurt. it’s why i told jj that all it could be is a kiss. because even though we were barely friends anymore, i couldn’t stand to knowingly hurt your feelings.” kiara seemed to be affected by this as she finally looked away from your piercing glare and down to her lap.

you had told yourself that you wouldn’t need a jacket. it was summer and it wouldn’t be cold. unfortunately for you, the weather had a different idea and once the sun dropped, so did the temperature. jj noticed you shiver once and was immediately at your side.

“are you cold? i brought a jacket. i left it over on that log.” he pointed off to his right and you noticed his hoodie lying on a log that was washed up a bit away from where the party was happening.

“that would be really nice jj, thanks.” he led you over to his jacket and picked it up, handing it to you. you passed him your drink to hold as you slid it on and then wrapped your arms round yourself to absorb the warmth. “i’m already feeling much better.” you smiled and jj returned it.

“you look cute in my clothes,” he said and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“thanks. they’re comfy.” it was silent for a moment as you both looked at each other. before you realized it, jj was leaning in and placing his lips on yours. you kissed him back for a moment but pulled away. you managed to catch sight of kiara over his shoulder. you could tell by the sad look on her face that she had seen what happened.

“jj, i’m not really into you like that,” you told him. it hurt your heart to lie to him but it hurt worse to hurt kiara.

“oh, ok, i get it. can we still be friends?”

“yeah, of course. pogues for life, right?”

“pogues for life.”

“you were mad. i get it. we were still pretty close up until then and you didn’t know that i had turned him down. all you saw was betrayal from your best friend at the time. so you did what you do best. you got revenge. you called the cops. somehow you found out what we were planning and you knew we always went to the bluff. you thought you could get both of us in trouble but unfortunately for you, you forgot jj has a small bladder when he smokes.”

you laughed as you watched jj attempt to balance on one foot. he wobbled back and forth a bit before putting his arms out for balance. he wobbled some more and you laughed at the obscenities leaving his mouth.

“how are you so good at this?” he asked as he sat back down. he picked up the blunt that he had set on the ground just a moment ago and lifted it back to his lips. you shrugged.

“i don’t know, i guess it just comes naturally.” you sat down across from him and put your hand out, smiling once jj put the blunt in your fingers. you lifted it to your lips and breathed in, savoring the feeling of the smoke filling your lungs.

“ok, you know what? i have to pee.” jj stood up and started walking down toward the beach.

“don’t take forever like you did last time!” he waved over his shoulder to show that he heard you but didn’t turn around. you took another hit before laying flat on your back, looking up at the stars. a moment later, you heard someone approach and chuckled but before you could say anything, a flashlight was being shone in your face.

“maam, what are you doing up here?” you could attempt to hide everything but there was no use. the cops had clearly seen the blunt in your hand and everything else strewn out in front of you so you sighed.

“are you really gonna make me answer that or can we just draw conclusions?” you heard the officer sigh and she motioned for you to stand up.

“alright then, i won’t cuff you if you voluntarily come with me. you out here by yourself?” you nodded and she eyed you. “all by yourself? past dark?”

“most people don’t know this is here, i figured it was pretty safe.”

“alright, let’s go.” she picked up the bag of weed you had left and escorted you to where she had parked the car, opening the back door for you and closing it after you had gotten in. you looked out the window as she drove away, hoping jj wouldn’t freak out too bad about you disappearing.

“i bet you were shocked when i was the only one who got in trouble. and i bet you forgot it was my third strike. all you wanted was a little fun, to see both of us hurt. well look where we all are now, kiara. i think you’ve caused more than just a little hurt.” kiara was silent, as was the rest of the room. she shook her head after a moment.

“that’s not entirely true.”

“really? what exactly did i not get right then?” you asked, trying to catch her in whatever lie she would try to make up to save herself.

“i lied. i did have a crush on jj but the reason i left wasn’t because of that, it was because of you. and you weren’t my best friend at the time, i had already met sarah. i just wanted you to think i was still at least a decent person so i didn’t cut you off like i did everyone else. if i was going to get you in trouble i didn’t want you to be able to know it was me.” you thought for a moment before speaking again.

“ok, so then why did you look sad when jj kissed me?”

“i wasn’t over him yet. i really was sad but that’s not the reason i called the cops on you.”

“then what was the reason?”

“you just- you made me feel like i was nothing.” you were silent, trying to comprehend what she was saying.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“you always left me out of the loop! you never told me anything! you were always keeping secrets.”

“you called the cops on me- no, you got me sent to juvie because i wouldn’t tell you a secret?”

“everyone knew the secret beside me! and anytime i asked about it you would get mad and ignore me! or you’d fly off the handle and be pissed off for the rest of the day! and i was tired of it. i just wanted to feel included but no. why should i be?” you were fuming. you had come to terms with what you had thought she had done before but now you were absolutely burning. while you tried to calm yourself down enough to speak, pope raised his hand slightly and spoke up for the first time since the argument began.

“i’m, if we’re talking about her dad, since you said that you asked her about it pretty often, then i’d just like to point out that i don’t know anything about that either.”

“i have no clue about him either,” john b said.

“jj is the only person that knows because he is the only person i felt like telling,” you said in a soft, nearly calm but about to break voice. “he’s kept it a secret no matter how many times you’ve nagged him or the other guys about it, even though the other two don’t know.”

“so not only did you break the no pogue on pogue macking rule-“

“jj kissed me, i don’t think that means i broke-“

“you also broke the no keeping secrets rule!”

“fine!” you yelled, throwing your arms up into the air. you were finally at the end of your chain. “you wanna know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? fine. 17 years ago, ward cameron had an affair with my mom. not that random lady i live with but my biological mom. yeah, bet you didn’t know i wasn’t actually related to her did you? my mom, she became obsessed with ward but he didn’t want anything to do with her. he wanted to keep her a secret. he wanted to pay her to stay quiet, to keep my real father a secret, and to stay away from him. he had bigger things to worry about. bigger things like the birth of his new, conceived in wedlock baby, sarah. but my mom didn’t want that, she wanted him. but guess what? he had his family. so after i was born, my mom went crazy. she went psycho. she killed elizabeth cameron and she didn’t even bat an eye at what she had done.” kiara’s jaw had dropped as you recounted the story to her, your voice never lowering from the yell it had started at. the others just watched and listened with shocked expressions. all except jj and sarah, both of whom already knew the truth. “but you know what kiara, ward still didn’t want me. he didn’t want his image to be ruined by some bastard child. so he paid off the media to keep the murder motive a secret from the public once the trial started and then he found the first foster parent he could for me on this island. he found the first person willing to take a child support check from him and he dumped me there. and maybe all those fucked up reasons are why i didn’t tell you anything about my dad.” you gave her one final glare before storming over to the door and slamming it open. you stomped down the porch steps and into the grass, this time not watching for what you might step on. you heard the door fly open behind you but didn’t pay any attention to who was following you, not until they were running in front of you and putting their hands on your shoulders to stop you. “jj, i need to leave.”

“let me go with you, please. i don’t want you going off on your own when you’re this angry.” you sighed. now that you had stopped walking you realized how much the argument and the yelling had drained you.

“can you drive me?” he nodded.

“yeah, you get in the truck, i’ll go get the keys.” he jogged back inside and made it back to the driver seat of his truck in the same amount of time it took for you to get to the passenger seat. “where are we going?”

“tannyhill.”

#outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #kiara carerra #pope heyward #sarah cameron #john b routledge #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Note

Stranded and Geraskier? 🧜‍♂️

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): non-human anatomy, tentacles (in every possible way), choking/breathplay Rating: explicit

Summary: While exploring a cave, Jaskier gets trapped by the tide, but the inhabitant is more than happy to find a way to help him pass the time.

I took this idea and ran with it! Thank you for the opportunity to write octo!Geralt, I've been wanting to for a while now <3

There is a reason they say the northern end of the beach is off-limits, but Jaskier has always been inquisitive and rather terrible at following instructions, so it's no surprise that he ends up there anyway. He's been staying on the coast for a while now and while he always loves coming back, he's feeling a little restless lately. So he's taken to taking strolls along the beach in the early morning or the evening while he's not performing, but today he has the entire day free, so he's come a little earlier than usual to try and settle himself.

But the usual route isn't doing anything for him today. The sand is still soft and warm on his feet and the waves still crash rhythmically on the shore, but he just wants something new. So, when he reaches the end of his normal walk and comes to the gated off area at the northernmost end of the beach, he slips past the gate and continues. Nothing immediately jumps out at him as dangerous, so he just strolls along, shuffling his feet through the sand.

The beach is usually quiet, but right now there isn't another person in sight and Jaskier revels in the silence, humming to himself as he goes along. When he comes to the point, he follows the tapering beach around to a point and beyond it, there's a little more land that leads into a rocky outcrop. He can't get past it, but he could climb up it and sit in the sun, looking out over the ocean.

He wades through the water where it rises to midway up his shins before reaching the other side, but when he reaches the stone ledge, he spots what looks like a cave. And he can't just not go look at it. So he takes another quick peek just to ensure no one else is around and hurries toward the opening in the rock. The sun above is bright, but the overhang of rock offers some relief from the heat, so he takes his time.

The entrance is, in fact, the mouth of a cave and Jaskier grins to himself, slipping inside. It's not deep, but at the back there is a drop-off and a tunnel that leads further. He walks forward steps around the gaping hole in the ground, careful to keep his footing as he aims for the tunnel. It's dark, but he can still see a little - well enough to continue on for the time being - and up ahead there's a faint glow that piques his interest.

So he doesn't stop when the light starts to fade, just heads toward the glow at the back of the tunnel. It's some ways down, but he does eventually come out into another cave with a smooth rocky floor and another tunnel leading off. But what interests Jaskier more than anything is the plant life. It grows on the walls and ceiling and it glows.

It lets off a faint bluish glow and Jaskier leans up to inspect it. Some of the plants grow little purplish flowers, but most of them resemble moss or vines and Jaskier would be inclined to call them plain if they grew in a forest and weren't luminescent. But they are and he's fascinated by it.

He spends more time than he should inspecting all the different types of growth - there are at least four distinct plans he can see all growing together - and it's not until the light from the opposite end of the tunnel begins to fade that he realizes he should turn back. He has a performance tonight and he'd like the chance to bathe and change beforehand.

He slips from the room he's in, heading back through the tunnel, but the ground beneath his feet slopes downward and he doesn't realize until water splashes around his ankles. It startles him at first; there was no water on the way in, but as he reaches the main cave, he realizes what has happened.

He's spent too long exploring and the tide has come in around him, too far now to walk out the way he came in. And Jaskier is a good swimmer, but water swirls dangerously where the hole in the ground is, pouring quickly into, it and he's not a strong enough swimmer to keep from being sucked down. Even as he considers it, the water swirling around his feet rises higher and his only option is to turn back the way he came. Which is not a great option, but he doesn't really see what else he's supposed to do.

But he turns around and heads back through the tunnel. The incline is more than he remembers, and judging by what he knows of the tides - very little - he thinks he should be safe to hide out here until it goes back down again. He finds a bare patch of wall and drops to the ground to lean against it, sighing softly as he listens to the water rising in the tunnel. It splashes against stone and Jaskier shuts his eyes, focusing on the calming sound of it. Maybe the time will pass more quickly if he can just have a little nap.

But the more he listens, the more he hears and there's a slick, sliding sound he's been assuming was seaweed caught in the current, but when he focuses hard enough, he can hear something not unlike breathing. His eyes flash open and he scans the room but sees nothing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, there's a shadow.

Jaskier's heart races because he knows the kinds of things that live in the sea; sirens, drowners and any number of animals that would be happy enough to eat him alive. So he presses himself against the wall and keeps quiet.

Something long and thin slips over his foot, curling around his ankle, and Jaskier's eyes flash open. He hadn't even realized they were still shut, but when he looks up there's a person in front of him, or at least he looks like a person. But as he comes closer, Jaskier realizes he only looks human from the waist up. Below the waist is a mass of dark tentacles, sprawled out all around him and propelling him forward.

Jaskier shudders at the sight of him, but as he approaches, the fear dissipates a little, replaced with intrigue. The man - if he can be called that at all - doesn't seem angry or upset and he has a friendly enough expression. He slips closer, sinking lower so he's face-to-face with Jaskier and it becomes clear that he's just as curious about Jaskier as Jaskier is about him.

"Uh, sorry," Jaskier mumbles, "I didn't mean to intrude, I just ah-" one of the tentacles reaches out, tipping his chin up and sliding across his jaw. "I just got trapped-?" His voice rises at the end like a question, but the creature just cocks his head at him.

"The tide," he says and Jaskier nods. He's got a beautiful voice, deep and rough and in any other situation, incredibly sexy. But while Jaskier isn't discriminating in his choice of partners, he's still feeling rather trapped.

"Mmhm."

"It won't go down again until morning. Unless you can hold your breath for a long time, you'll have to spend the night."

"Oh." Jaskier is caught off guard by the lightness of his response and he looks up at him. "You don't mind?" he asks and the creature just smiles at him, an odd sort of smile that makes something in Jaskier's stomach flip.

"Stay," he says, "it'll be hours before the tide is low enough for you to leave again."

"You're not going to eat me?" The creature laughs and slides a little closer, peering at him.

"No. I've never had a… human in my home before. I'm certainly not going to kill you." He chuckles softly and swishes away to the other side of the cave, but Jaskier is caught on the sound of his laugh, a warm, welcoming thing that he'd like very much to hear again. And, well, he has all night.

"Sorry," he says, rising to his feet and following the creature to the other side, "I don't know what - who - you are."

"Geralt," he says plainly, "I'm a cecaelia. We've been here longer than most, but many of us don't come so close to the surface, so you wouldn't have met many."

"Haven't met any," Jaskier confirms. "We're told to stay away from the creatures who live in the sea." Geralt lifts an eyebrow at the word creature, but doesn't say anything about it. Jaskier makes a mental note not to repeat it.

"And you," Geralt prompts, "what's your name, human?"

"Jaskier," he huffs and I get the point. "Do you live here alone?"

"Yes, unless you count the fish who filter in and out with the tides."

"You must get lonely."

Geralt gives him a look that from anyone else he might consider flirtatious, and it stirs something inside him that he quickly tamps down. This isn't the time to get turned on. Especially not by someone who's not human.

"Occasionally. I'm used to being alone."

Jaskier isn't sure how to respond to that, so he lets the conversation drop. He wants to assure him, which is a strange compulsion because he doesn't even know Geralt. Two hours ago he couldn't have cared less about a man living on his own in this cave. But now…

He looks him over, following the line of his body from his strong jaw and thick chest down to the mass of tentacles that never quite seem to stop moving. Even when Geralt is still, they shift under him like he's trying to settle, though he seems calm. More like an unconscious motion, maybe. But Jaskier is fascinated by them. He wants to touch, to feel, but he knows well enough to keep his hands to himself when unwanted, so he switches focus.

"So what's it like living down here?" he asks, looking around the cave as though he hadn't spent ages exploring it already.

"Quiet," Geralt says tiredly, "peaceful. But that's not what you want to talk about, is it? You can ask," he hums.

"I just-"

"Jaskier, we have all night down here together. Ask."

"Do they ever stop moving?" he blurts and heat creeps into his cheeks at the abruptness of it, but Geralt just chuckles softly.

"When I sleep. When I'm relaxed."

"Then what's wrong, now? If you're not relaxed."

"I have… questions of my own."

"Okay," Jaskier says, "ask away."

"Can I… touch you?" he asks and Jaskier's breath catches.

"If you like. I have nothing to hide."

Geralt shifts forward, reaching out to brush a tentacle under his chin again, tipping his head up and moving it side to side. It feels like an examination, like the time he fell ill and had to be taken to a healer, but Geralt's touch is much softer, much more delicate than that.

"I've never met a human before either," he says conversationally, "you're… softer than I expected."

"Softer?" Jaskier laughs, "how so?"

"Your… skin looks thick and rough, but it's soft, smooth." He presses the tip of the tentacle against his cheek, pressing in gently. "Like a jellyfish," he adds and Jaskier laughs again.

"Is that bad?"

"No," Geralt hums, tilting his own head as he turns Jaskier's. "I like it." Another tentacle curls around the back of his neck and Jaskier breathes deeply, trying hard not to think too much about the touch, about how it feels like a lover's touch.

He's had countless lovers slip a hand around his neck to pull him closer and he leans in without thinking, letting Geralt have full control over him. Geralt grins and smiles knowingly at him, sliding the tentacle from his neck to his shoulder and down over his chest. The tip of it slips into the gaps in Jaskier's shirt, poking at the buttons holding it closed.

"Why do you wear these?" he asks, not looking up from his exploration. "Don't they get in the way?"

"No," Jaskier shakes his head and hates to admit that he sounds a little breathless. "They keep me warm. I'd freeze in the cold weather without clothes. And they keep me covered. It's not polite to walk around naked all the time."

"For humans," Geralt amends and Jaskier nods. "I'm not human." Jaskier chokes on the implication, but Geralt just meets his eyes questioningly.

"You can take it off, if you want."

Geralt doesn't need to be told twice. He fumbles with the button at first, but when he brings up a second tentacle to push at it, he has much more luck. Jaskier wants to tell him he could just use his hands, but there's something fascinating about the potential of having those tentacles on his skin. Once the buttons are undone, Geralt shoves the shirt back off his shoulders leaving it half-tucked into his trousers.

He frowns at Jaskier's chest, running his tentacles over his skin. Jaskier gasps when he brushes over a nipple and leans into the touch instinctively. He draws back just as abruptly, gasping as he realizes what he's doing. He doesn't have a chance to apologize before Geralt's touch lightens. He doesn't pull away, but he tips his head at him.

"Should I stop?" he asks, but the tone of his voice implies that he doesn't want to.

"I just- Geralt you don't know what you're doing."

"I do," he hums, "this part of you, I understand. It feels good for you?"

"Yeah. Do you- do you want to make it feel good?"

"If you'll let me," Geralt hums, "I've always been… intrigued by you, by humans." Jaskier grins and pushes forward, sliding one hand down the length of the tentacle exploring his chest.

"Can I touch you, too?"

"Of course, I'd like that."

"You realize what you're offering, right? Not that I'm opposed, but I want to make sure we're both on the same page, here."

"Jaskier," he hums, "we have all night and I'd very much like to fuck you if you're amenable."

Jaskier's skin prickles and he lets out a little groan. Maybe he should feel weird about Geralt wanting to fuck him just because he's human, but he's vibrating at the thought of it already.

"Please," he whispers and Geralt moves immediately.

He wraps one tentacle around his waist, hauling him in and holding him close. He tugs the shirt from Jaskier's trousers, chucking it aside as Jaskier straddles him, careful where he puts his knees so he doesn't hurt Geralt. But Geralt keeps him off the ground, hovering slightly so Jaskier's front presses against him firmly, but so he only barely touches Geralt's tentacles or the webbing between them.

Jaskier presses himself forward, conscious of the fastenings on his trousers as he grinds against Geralt's torso. Tentacles wind around his hips and chest and thighs, slipping against his skin then pausing to suck at it. It sends shivers up his spine and goosebumps break out over his skin. The feeling is so foreign, the feeling of suction all over his skin, but it feels good and he leans into it.

Geralt's hands settle on his shoulders, slowly sliding down, and Jaskier glances up to meet his eyes. Geralt's have grown dark, but there's still a sliver of gold around his pupils and Jaskier finds himself entranced by it, how it shimmers and almost glows even in the low light. He touches Geralt's face, traces the line of his cheekbones and runs his thumb against his lip.

"You're beautiful," he whispers and Geralt's hands slip to his waist, pulling him up against him. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Jaskier leans in and Geralt meets him halfway, kissing him hard and nipping his lip with teeth sharper than they ought to be. Though Jaskier supposes he doesn't have much for a frame of reference when it comes to cecaelia. He deepens the kiss, letting Geralt's tongue slide into his mouth, thinner and more pointed than his own. He licks into him, fingers digging into his skin as he grips his thighs, and Jaskier just holds on for the ride.

All his experience with other people means nothing when faced with Geralt and he's feeling a little out of his depth as he's laid back against the stone floor again. Geralt breaks the kiss long enough to squirm in between his thighs and then reaches down, fumbling with the clasps of Jaskier's trousers. He gets them undone and shoves them down his legs, immediately getting his tentacles back on his bare skin.

"Oh," Jaskier gasps, "oh, that's good, Geralt."

"Feels good?"

"Very. Keep going."

Jaskier shuts his eyes as Geralt's tentacles slip between his legs, brushing against his balls before squeezing around his thighs. Geralt hums and gets his arms around Jaskier's waist, sliding one hand down over his ass.

"Tell me what to do," Geralt says, tilting his head to kiss Jaskier's jaw, "tell me what feels good."

"Anything," Jaskier hums, "just touch me."

"Like this?" Geralt asks, sliding a tentacle around his torso and Jaskier nods, eyes fluttering as suction cups catch on his nipples. He moans softly, reaching out to run his hands up Geralt's chest and Geralt pushes into the touch. "You like that, too?"

"Yes." Jaskier revels in the surprising warmth of his skin, soft and smooth over firm muscles and he slides his hands up over his shoulders, pulling Geralt close to kiss him again. He sighs into his mouth and Geralt deepens the kiss, pressing further against him.

He's got Jaskier almost completely bound now, wrapped tightly and held just above his lap, but he moves forward, tipping him back and laying him on the ground. Abruptly, all of the tentacles around him are gone and Jaskier is left alone and suddenly cold on the ground, but it doesn't last long. Geralt slides up over his thighs, settling himself there where he has full access to Jaskier's body.

He runs tentacles over his chest and Jaskier stretches out, pushing his arms up above his head to give Geralt better access to him. His touch feels good, like a massage. Geralt doesn't hesitate to touch anywhere, pushing his thighs apart and sliding between them, sliding up around his balls as another curls around his cock, squeezing experimentally.

Jaskier gives a little whine and Gerakt's eyes flash up to meet his. He does it again, harder this time and Jaskier squirms under him. Geralt's eyes go wide and he grins as he slips his tentacle up the length of him and Jaskier nearly chokes because he's doing it on purpose now. The arm around his balls squeezes a little too and Jaskier tenses up immediately, expecting pain, but it's… good. He shudders a little as his thighs spread further and then Geralt's squeezing again, wrapping around him.

It's not something he's ever done with anyone before, but Geralt has no idea what he likes and doesn't like, or even what feels good for humans, so he's exploring. And evidently, Jaskier is learning a thing or two, also.

Geralt moves on, sliding back up his stomach again and Jaskier shudders as they slip over his hips, over the sensitive skin just above his cock. He wants to let Geralt continue his exploration, but he wants the pressure around his cock again, wants to fuck into the heat of him. Geralt's skin is thicker and rougher than his own, but it's smooth and it feels good against his prick and he just wants.

"Geralt," he whispers, "come here." Geralt cocks his head and leans forward over him. He runs his hands up Geralt's chest, slipping over his shoulders and around his neck to tug him down.

He nips at Geralt's lips, nuzzles at his neck and rocks up against him. He's hard already Geralt's skin just feels so fucking good against his heated cock. He jerks again, pushing up hard and tangling his hands in Geralt's hair. He slips one hand out of Geralt's hair and wraps his hand around Geralt's tentacle and pulls it down between them, sliding it alongside his cock until Geralt gets the idea and wraps around him.

"You like this?" he asks and Jaskier moans softly, rolling his head back as he lets out a breathy yes.

Geralt makes a thoughtful sound and squeezes firmly, eliciting another moan and he seems very pleased with himself. He strokes him a couple of times, slipping right up to the head and sliding around him as he goes. It's intoxicating and Jaskier doesn't know if his own hand will ever be sufficient again, after this.

But Geralt still delights in finding the new things and he slips away shortly, slipping up to play with Jaskier's nipples again and Jaskier just groans. Geralt perks up, grinning at him.

"Do you want this?" he asks, slipping over his aching cock again. Jaskier nods and Geralt strokes him exactly twice before winding down around his thighs and squeezing.

"Geralt," Jaskier groans, "please."

"What do you want?" he asks, a smirk spreading across his face. Jaskier could kill him, the bastard. He's toying with him.

"You know what I want."

"Do I? Remind me."

Jaskier groans and grabs for the tentacle again, wrapping it around himself and thrusting up into the coils. He moans softly, dropping his eyes shut and slips his hands around the coiled arm, keeping it tight around him.

"Seems like you've got it under control," Geralt teases, but before Jaskier can even argue, he's leaning down over him, nipping at his collarbone and squeezing around Jaskier's cock.

"Oh, Geralt, please."

His hips buck hard and Geralt coils and uncoils around him and it's a delightful feeling like nothing he's ever felt before. Jaskier whimpers and his hips jerk up into the loose coils, immediately aching for the touch again. But Geralt seems to have lost his taste for teasing now and holds tight around him, ensuring Jaskier's entire cock is engulfed by him, jerking abortively up into the grip of him.

And Jaskier could cry with how good it feels, the rough slickness of Geralt's skin creating a burning need that spreads through him and he's gonna come in no time like this, but he doesn't even mind. Because after he comes, he gets to touch Geralt, to figure out all the little things that turn him on and he looks forward to it with delight.

Geralt pulls him back to the present with a sharp bite to the join of his neck and Jaskier cries out, jerking hard into his tentacle.

"Sorry," Geralt hums, already licking over the mark, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Fuck, don't be. Do that again."

Geralt lifts his head to look at him then tentatively lowers his head, brushing his lips against the skin of his neck before kissing him. He nibbles lightly at his throat and sucks softly before nosing under his jaw and biting down hard on the side of his neck. Jaskier gasps and moans and his cock jerks as he comes hard, still encompassed by Geralt's body.

Geralt continues with the slipping, almost like wringing a cloth, and Jaskier is breathless and gasping, already swelling again under the touch by the time he pulls away.

"Fuck me," he breathes, "Gods, Geralt you are incredible."

Geralt hums, but his attention is clearly diverted and when Jaskier looks up, he's playing with the come on his chest, slipping the tip of one tentacle through it and lifting it up to sniff at it. Jaskier wrinkles his nose, but then Geralt's putting it in his mouth, flicking his tongue out to taste it and his gut clenches. That… should not be as hot as it is.

Geralt grins down at him and climbs up over him, pressing something warm and wet against Jaskier's cock as he settles himself.

"You look good," he hums, "when you come." Jaskier just groans and presses up against Geralt's underside. He gets a little gasp in response and grins to himself.

"What is that?" he asks, "do you- how do cecaelia fuck?"

Geralt doesn't answer, but shifts again, pressing harder down against Jaskier's prick. It catches on something and Geralt lifts himself just a little, keeping himself steady as he maneuvers Jaskier's cock inside him without so much as touching it.

His eyelids flutter and he moans softly as he sinks down on him, fully engulfing Jaskier's cock and clenching around him.

"Feels fuckin' amazing," Jaskier huffs, though that might be the sensitivity talking. He's not used to coming and immediately being (mounted) afterward, but he's not complaining.

"Mm," Geralt affirms, "it's been a long time since I've taken something inside, but-" he groans as Jaskier shifts his hips and drops forward, leaning on his elbows. "Fuck me," he whispers before leaning in to kiss Jaskier's neck. "Please, fuck me."

Jaskier doesn't need to be told twice. He slides his hands down, settling on the swell of what would be Geralt's hips and holding him down. He rocks into the tight heat, eyes rolling back as Geralt clenches continually around him, and nuzzling against his head.

"Gods," he breathes, "fuck Geralt, does this feel as good for you as it does for me?"

"Feels good," he huffs, "really, really good." He bites at Jaskier's skin and shifts himself forward before sliding down fully on Jaskier's cock again and rising up to sit on him.

Jaskier glances down, running his fingers down Geralt's waist and pauses when he reaches a bump. Geralt's breath catches and Jaskier presses more firmly against it, massaging the spot until Geralt lets out a low, rumbling moan.

Beneath his fingers, the skin parts and Jaskier pulls back abruptly, but Geralt reaches out, pulls his hand back against it.

"Please," he mumbles, "it's been… a long time since anyone has touched me like this."

Jaskier lets his fingertips trace the seam, slipping just barely inside when Geralt shudders. Geralt keeps a firm hand around his wrist, holding him there and Jaskier is intrigued as to what feels that good. He doesn't have to wait long to find out.

Beneath his fingers, something slips free from the slit, thick and red and very much dick-like. He flicks his eyes up to Geralt's, holding his gaze as he wraps his fingers around the head of it. Geralt groans and his cock slips further out, slipping into Jaskier's palm. Jaskier curls his hand around him, stroking evenly until Geralt's fully unsheathed and Jaskier's fingers can no longer press into the slit at the base of him.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods, rocking up into his fingers and back onto his cock. "How come no one touches you like this?" He can't possibly imagine fucking someone like Geralt and not wanting to touch every inch of him.

"I haven't seen another cecaelia in years," he breathes, "and it's not as good on my own." He flexes his hand showing off clawed fingers and Jaskier nods, understanding.

"How do you touch yourself normally?" Geralt licks his lips and Jaskier follows the motion with his tongue, rolling his hips up into him. Geralt raises a tentacle, wiggling it at him.

Jaskier reaches out with his free hand, wrapping his fingers around it, lifting it and running his fingertip along the lip of the suction cups as Geralt holds it aloft. It shivers under his touch and Jaskier grins as he looks up to see Geralt's face pinched up in pleasure, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"Does that.. do you like that?"

"Geralt nods silently," pressing the tentacle more firmly into his grasp.

"What if I-" Jaskier starts and Geralt's eyes go wide as he slips his palm along the underside of the tentacle and brings the tip toward his mouth.

The limb twitches toward Jaskier's mouth and as he wraps his lips around it, the rest of the wriggle around him. Jaskier sucks it into his mouth and Geralt groans. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that should feel good, but he likes having his fingers sucked, so he assumes it's something similar to that.

He winds his tongue between the cups, tracing the shape of each of them before taking it as deep as he can, sucking hard. Geralt groans, withdrawing a little before pushing back between his lips and Jaskier hums around him. He lets Geralt take control, leaning back on one elbow, one hand still slipping against his hip as he rocks.

From here, he has a perfect view of Geralt's cock, jutting proudly from his body as he fucks himself on Jaskier's cock. He's slick and dripping and Jaskier aches to get his mouth on him, to suck him off and make him come in his mouth. He squirms with the desire, sucking hard on the limb in his mouth instead and Geralt jerks forward hard.

He surges forward, keeping Jaskier's cock buried inside him as he winds tentacles around his arms, pushing them up above his head and holding them there. His hands slip down over them until they reach Jaskier's, twining their fingers together and using him as leverage to rock back onto him.

Jaskier squeezes tightly, even as sharp claws press into his skin. Heat swells within him and he knows he won't last with Geralt riding him like this, but he gives in to it, clearing his mind of everything but their bodies moving together. His head falls back, but instead of hitting the hard floor, the blow is softened by another tentacle, slipping up to cushion him.

"Can I-?" he asks and Jaskier doesn't even wait to hear what he's going to ask before nodding enthusiastically.

Beneath him, two more tentacles wrap around his thighs, squeezing tightly and pushing them apart. A third slips between, pressing against his balls and then slipping back behind, into the cleft of his ass. Jaskier squirms and rocks against it, pushing himself further into Geralt's cunt. He groans around the tentacle still in his mouth and Geralt presses against his hole and that's all it takes for Jaskier to tip over the edge.

He shakes through his orgasm, still sucking on the tentacle in his mouth, though his finesse fails as Geralt continues to rock onto his cock. Pleasure zips through him and he squeezes hard around Geralt's fingers, holding him tight as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him. He's still shaking as Geralt clenches around him and it's so fucking good Jaskier can barely breathe.

Geralt withdraws the tentacle in his mouth and bends to kiss him, slow and soft despite Jaskier's breathlessness. It's a little uncoordinated, and Jaskier pants against his mouth, but a warmth spreads through his chest as Geralt's tongue slides against his own. He hums against him and Jaskier just lets him lead, his eyes dropping shut.

"You're beautiful," Geralt breathes as he draws away. His lips drag against Jaskier's skin and Jaskier shudders as goosebumps pop up in the wake of Geralt's mouth.

"You didn't come," Jaskier mumbles, slipping his hands into Geralt's hair. "Wanna make you come."

"And you will, but I think you need a minute or two." He wraps a tentacle around Jaskier's cock and stroking slowly. But Jaskier is soft, though it feels good when Geralt touches him again.

"Dunno if I'll get hard again," he says but he's already feeling it, the first tendrils of pleasure swirling in his gut. And he knows he can get hard again, has done it in the past, but he's already a little overwhelmed and he doesn't know if it's gonna happen tonight.

But Geralt isn't worried about that. He strokes him again, slips up and rocks against his soft cock, kissing his neck and chest and squeezing his nipples between his fingers. Geralt is persistent and it doesn't take long before Jaskier's cock swells again under his touch. Geralt shoves a hand down under himself, squeezing Jaskier's cock and kissing his mouth.

"Want you to fuck me," Geralt hums, nipping at his lip. "Wanna feel you."

"Fuck." Jaskier drops his head back as Geralt's fingers slip up over the head of his cock, his thumb pressing teasingly into the slit. "Fuck. Yeah, okay."

Geralt tugs him up and slides off of him, turning around and bending over to lean on his elbows. He sticks his hips up, moving his tentacles to the side so Jaskier can fit in between them. He does, running his hands over Geralt's hips and down his back. Tentacles wrap around him, holding him and pressing him lightly forward, slipping up over his shoulders and suctioning to his skin.

From here, Jaskier can see his hole properly and he rubs against the ridged entrance, circling it with his fingers before pushing inside. And Geralt groans at the intrusion, dropping his head shut and pushing his hips up further.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

Encouraged, Jaskier slides his fingers inside, eased by Geralt's own slickness. He works into him easily, feeling around inside and thrusting gently. Geralt groans softly, encouragingly, and Jaskier works in a little quicker, adding a third finger without any effort. He fucks into him until Geralt is panting beneath him, tentacles clenching around him and twitching.

It feels good to be able to make him feel good and Jaskier delights in the little popping feeling of suction cups against his skin as Geralt lifts his arms and replaces them, squeezing around his limbs. He moans loudly as Jaskier's pace increases and as he squirms, Jaskier realizes how close he is and he's determined to make him come with just his fingers. So he rubs into him, feeling around until he hits something that makes Geralt gasp.

He grins, dipping down to kiss Geralt's spine as he brushes against the mound again.

"Like that?" he asks.

"Fuck. Yes."

"Wanna come on my fingers?"

"If you'll still fuck me."

"Of course, my darling. I'd be delighted to fuck you. Take you apart and make you scream on my cock."

"Yes," Geralt whines, "fuck, Jaskier."

"Mmhm," Jaskier hums, "soon darling, come on."

He slides his free hand around, slipping around the base of Geralt's cock. He slips his fingers into the slit, pressing into his cock before wrapping around it and stroking slowly. Geralt bucks into the touch, gasping and moaning and with a final thrust as Jaskier presses against that spot inside him, Geralt comes.

Jaskier pulls his fingers back, now completely slick and he slides his hand over Geralt's hip, still stroking his cock even after Geralt shudders under him. Geralt seems perfectly content to fuck into Jaskier's fist, but Jaskier is impatient now, his cock hard and aching between his legs.

He wraps a hand around himself, stroking a couple of times before pressing himself against Geralt's entrance. He's still sensitive, but it feels good and as he rubs himself against the slick skin, the sensitivity gives way to pleasure.

"You feel good," he mumbles, "want you. Fuck."

"Come on," Geralt encourages. He squeezes around his thighs, nudging him forward and sucking at his skin. "Wanna feel you."

Jaskier groans and pushes in, pulling Geralt's hips against him. He curses softly as Geralt wiggles his hips and pushes deep, keeping himself steady. One tentacle slips up around the back of his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly and Jaskier snaps his hips forward hard, pulling a low groan from Geralt.

"That's it," Geralt coos, "I know you want to come again, hmm?"

Jaskier just groans as he rolls his hips forward, letting Geralt adjust before thrusting harder. And it does feel good. It feels so good and he wants more of it. He fucks into him quickly, pushing his hands down Geralt's back and pulling back again.

A tentacle slips between his cheeks, grinding against his hole but not pushing in and Jaskier rocks back onto it, groaning loudly. He's surrounded on all sides, bundled up in Geralt's limbs as he fucks him and he loves the firmness of the tentacles around him, of the warmth and slickness and he groans as his cock throbs inside him. The one around his neck teases, slipping up to press at his lips, pulling his bottom lip down and pressing between them.

The limb tightens a little, slipping around his throat to push between his lips and Jaskier barely manages to groan out a soft harder, before his mouth is otherwise occupied. Geralt seems to get the idea though, tightening his grip on his neck just a little and Jaskier's eyes nearly roll back in his head. He fucks forward almost absently, focused on the suction cups clinging to his throat and the firm weight of it around him.

And fuck, it feels amazing.

He pushes harder, changing his angle to try and hit that same spot from before and when he does it's gloriously clear. Geralt slumps against the floor, arms stretched out in front of him, whining as Jaskier aims for the same spot again, rutting ceaselessly into him. His head is foggy with lust, enhanced by the slow intake of his breath and he's creeping close before long. But he doesn't want to stop, can't bring himself to stop.

He sprawls over Geralt's back, getting a hand around his cock again and playing with the tip. He slips his fingers around and inside, drawing back to the base and pressing into his slit and Geralt whimpers delightfully with each touch.

"Gonna come-" he mumbles and it's all the warning Jaskier gets before Geralt's jerking into his hand and coming all over him. He shudders and pushes back, and as he clenches around him, Jaskier follows, coming hard and dropping against his back.

The limb around his neck slides away and he inhales deeply, mumbling softly against Geralt's bare skin. He shuts his eyes and breathes in the scent of him, surprisingly strong for someone who lives most of his life presumably in the ocean. He listens to Geralt's heartbeat under his head and smiles softly to himself.

But he doesn't have much time to relax, only enough to catch his breath before Geralt is squirming under him, wriggling free and bringing Jaskier up to lie on his chest. He runs his hands through his hair, holding him gently around the waist with two tentacles and he just looks at him. His eyes are still dark, but they're soft and fond and it's too much, so Jaskier buries his head in Geralt's neck. He already struggles with becoming too attached to people too quickly, the last thing he needs to do is wind up falling for a cecaelia who he has no hope of continuing a relationship with.

But when Geralt kisses him, he shuts his eyes with a soft sigh and it doesn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong, he realizes, sleeping with someone who isn't even human, but he supposes Geralt is more like an elf in that sense. Elves are basically human, just slightly different. Half-elves are a thing, as are quarter elves, so why should Geralt be any different.

Evidently, Geralt thinks he's thinking too much, because he pulls himself up into a sitting position, drawing Jaskier up into his lap. He's still kissing him, but he wraps his arms around his waist this time, letting his tentacles slip down to wrap around his legs, smoothing along the skin and coiling around him. As long as he lives, no rope or bond will hold him quite as nicely, as securely as Geralt does now.

Jaskier deepens the kiss, licks into his mouth despite the heaviness spreading into his limbs. His eyes are heavy and he's not sure he could get up on his own, but he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want Geralt to let him go. Not yet. So he continues kissing him, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck and running fingers through still-damp hair.

But Geralt clearly has other plans and when Jaskier feels the tip of a tentacle pressing up between his cheeks again, he can't even find it in himself to say no.

"Don't know how good I'll be," he hums, ducking to kiss the side of Geralt's neck. "'M tired."

"We can stop," Geralt says, but Jaskier shakes his head before Geralt can even pull away.

"No," Jaskier breathes, "I just- I don't know if I can make you feel good."

"You do," Geralt hums, leaning in to meet him halfway in a too-soft kiss. "Being inside you feels good, you sucking on me feels good. You feel good."

The probing tentacle presses a little more firmly, and it's dry, but Jaskier isn't complaining. Geralt pauses.

"You're not slick?" he asks and Jaskier shakes his head again.

"No, men don't- you gotta use something, it doesn't happen naturally."

Geralt hums thoughtfully and then the tentacle is slipping away and Jaskier is disappointed for a moment before it reappears, sliding smoothing against his skin before pressing in. He's slick this time and it takes Jaskier's sex-addled brain a minute to realize Geralt used his own slick and that does something to him that he can't quite explain. Geralt pulls him in close and Jaskier whimpers as the tentacle presses into him, sinking deeper than any cock has ever reached.

He holds his breath, waiting for the pain, but there's none, even as the thickness of the limb stretches him open. Geralt touches him softly, and then another tentacle is pressing at his hole and Jaskier can only whine into Geralt's chest. The second one doesn't push as deep, pressing right up against his prostate and Jaskeir doesn't think he can come again tonight, but as Geralt bumps against him, his cock twitches against his thigh.

"If we had more time," he mumbles, "I'd like to see how many can fit." Jaskier nearly loses his mind at the words so calmly spoken, and he wants to tell Geralt that he would absolutely be willing and happy to try that, but right now keeping his body upright is hard, so he just moans against him again.

"Can I fuck you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier huffs a laugh.

"'S that not what you're doing?"

"I mean with my cock," he hums, "I'd like to fuck you properly."

"Gonna have to discuss how you fuck properly if this isn't it," Jaskier mumbles, "never been so fucking full in my life." Geralt rocks up against him, breathing shakily as their cocks rub together.

"It'll be good," he breathes.

"Not saying no," Jaskier huffs, "I want you every way. Just not sure-" he gasps as Geralt thrusts deeper into him with the second tentacle "-how it could be better than this."

Slowly, carefully, Geralt slips out of him, using the same tentacles to wrap around his own cock, guiding it to Jaskier's hole as Geralt'shands slip up his back to steady him.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier nods, shifting to adjust to the new sensation. Geralt's cock is smoother than the tentacles, thicker at the tip, and tapered and cool. When he pushes into him, Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck, holding him and shifting slowly to adjust. It's the temperature more than anything, but he likes the feeling of it inside him and he warms up soon enough.

He can't imagine how hot it is for Geralt, but it's hard to read his expression, just wide-eyed and staring as he sinks into him. As he settles another tentacle slips up his back and around his neck. Its grip remains loose, but it prods at his lips and Jaskier opens to him easily. Geralt pushes into his mouth, fucking his mouth with short, shallow thrusts as a third tentacle wraps its way around Jaskier's cock, leaving him completely engulfed.

His mind swirls with mindless thoughts of pleasure as Geralt fills him fully and wraps his way around him. He has very little movement, but he doesn't feel trapped. Instead, he just feels pleasantly held as Geralt moves under him, thrusting into him with slow, languid thrusts.

His cock is angled just so that it hits his prostate with the first thrust and doesn't stop, continually bumping against it until Jaskier is breathless and completely limp in his arms. And when Geralt dips down to kiss him, brushing damp hair out of his eyes, he's panting. He looks good like this, all dark eyes and parted lips, putting all his energy into holding Jaskier up and fucking him and Jaskier can't find the words to properly describe how Geralt makes him feel.

Then, just as he doesn't think he can get any more full, as he doesn't think he can take much more, a tentacle presses around his rim, sliding around the girth of Geralt's cock where it's buried within him.

"Please," Jaskier finds himself mumbling, "please, Geralt, I need it-"

"Shh," Geralt whispers, his voice unsteady as Jaskier squirms against him. "Let me take care of you." The tentacle presses in, winding around Geralt's cock inside him and shifting steadily.

He's so full he can hardly think, so overwhelmed and oversensitive and he can't do anything but cling to Geralt's shoulders and bury his face in his neck.

"Please," he whispers, "gonna come, please-"

He didn't think he could but his cock aches, throbs with the need to come. He needs it so bad it hurts and all he can do is grind up against Geralt as best he can in his bonds.

One of Geralt's hands comes around to hold the back of his neck and the other slips to his chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple and Jaskier very nearly comes right there. He whines and whimpers, writing amongst the mass of tentacles and Geralt kisses him hard, pinching his nipple and Jaskier thrusts into the coil of his tentacle, crying out as he comes.

Pleasure tears through him, bordering on pain as Geralt continues fucking into him, but it's so good, too good. The tentacle slips from his mouth, sliding back to cradle his head as it drops back and Geralt leans in to kiss him. He's twitching around him now, his cock snapping into him until Jaskier's seeing stars and then, with a groan against his parted lips, Geralt thrusts deep and shudders, pressing Jaskier tight against his chest.

After a moment, he continues rocking lightly, gently leaning Jaskier back so he can look at him. His expression is soft and he pulls a tentacle to take the place of his arm as he runs his fingers down Jaskier's chest.

"Feeling okay?" he asks and as Jaskier just groans softly in response, Geralt chuckles. "We've still got a few hours left until the tide is out far enough for it to be safe for you."

"Geralt," Jaskier huffs, "you're incredible, but I can't-" Geralt laughs again, dipping forward to kiss him.

It's soft and gentle and for a moment, Jaskier lets himself be drawn in, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck. His cock brushes up against him and he whines at the sensitivity, but Geralt shifts, laying him down on the ground and slipping off to the side.

It's cold without Geralt around him and he feels suddenly very alone, but Geralt gets a hand on his hips and pulls him closer. Jaskier cuddles in, rolling onto his back with one leg slung over Geralt's.

"It's been a long time since I've had company," Geralt says, "do you mind if we just… talk?"

"That sounds lovely," Jaskier hums, "I don't think I'm up for a whole lot more than that tonight," he turns his head, flashing a grin at Geralt and earns himself a kiss for it. It worries him a little, how easily he responds to Geralt's affection, how readily he gives himself over to him. His mother always told him he'd end up hurt because of it, but he never fully understood what she meant before, but he thinks he might now.

"What would you like to talk about?"

Geralt asks many things about where he lives and what it's like there, how far it is whether Jaskier is happy there. Jaskier is happy to tell him anything he wants to know, but as time goes by, he starts to nod off, worn out from being fucked so thoroughly. Geralt just pulls him in and curls around him as he drifts, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair.

When Jaskier wakes, Geralt is still there, breathing softly against him, though not asleep, and it only takes a moment to realize Geralt is the one who woke him.

"The tide is out if you want to go," he says softly, fingers coming up to slip through his hair.

"And if I don't?" Jaskier mumbles, shutting his eyes again and turning to throw his leg over Geralt's again, pressed against his chest.

"It'll be a while before the next tide-" he starts but Jaskier cuts him off with a grin, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay."

"Mm," Geralt hums, lacing his fingers with Jaskier's, "and why is that?"

"Because I like it here. I like the beach, I like the company. I'd like to get to know some of them better." Geralt scoffs, but when he rolls his eyes, his expression is fond.

"I wouldn't be… opposed to that, either."

"Good," Jaskier grins, "because I'd very much like to do this again sometime."

#geraskier #octo!geralt #mermay 2021 #rex writes

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crowdedimagines · 3 years

Text

Worse Days - Aaron Hotchner

The faint dripping of water pulls me back to reality. The same sploosh happening over and over. Minute after minute. I pull my eyes open blinking, forcing them to focus. The swaying back and forth, left to right, doesn’t help ease the dizziness I feel.

“Looks like your girl is finally up.”

I look around, searching for the source of the voice.

“Wake up, sunshine!” He finally sits in front of me, taking my head in his hand. His fingers are coarse and strong. He forces me to look him in the eyes, his grip tight on my cheeks. He tilts my head to the tripod over his shoulder. The red light on the camera blinks back at me.

“Smile for the camera.”

This is not at all how today was supposed to go…

Twenty-Two Hours Ago.

“Alright, we’re looking at four women, murdered and found on the beach in Miami. All from different classes and backgrounds, but similar age groups” JJ hands us each our files.

“He takes them for three days, before brutally dismembering them. The morning of the fourth day, the woman is always found.”

“He takes risks. Each of these women were taken from high traffic areas.” I comment.

“There’s more.” Garcia suddenly takes over.

“He also sends a live feed to the family of the victim.” She reluctantly pulls it up on the TV, a live feed of the women pleading for their lives. Saying their goodbyes.

“He’s definitely a sexual sadist. He finds pleasure in knowing that families are watching their loved ones last moments.” I clear my throat, pulling my eyes away from the screen.

“That’s what he gets off on.” Derek agrees. “He likes knowing that there’s people in distress on the other end of the camera.”

“Wheels up in thirty.” Hotchner simply says before excusing us all.

As soon as we land we start the process to find the unsub. It begins with all of us splitting up and going to the scenes where the bodies were found. All of them were ditched on the beach, early morning before anyone was out.

We get nothing from the populated beaches other than sand in our shoes.

We sit down and look at the profile and determine the man is bold and try to analyze the footage we have from the previous victims. Penelope is trying to find any identifying marks from the videos to see where they come from. Based on the way he treats the bodies, we’ve determined he’s likely a white male in his early thirties.

“It looks like they’re on a boat.” I say, we’ve been watching the videos on an endless loop. Trying to catch any new details.

“The camera is steady.” Morgan argues, looking at the TV now too.

“But look at her hair, it’s moving when she’s not. It’s like the rocking of a boat.”

“It’s possible considering he’s ditching them on the beach.” Reid comments.

“That’s why no one sees him dragging a body all across the beach. He already had them on a boat.” Ross puzzles together.

“The most recent body was found this morning, that means he’s going to take his next victim tonight.” Morgan says.

“We should visit where each of the women were taken. Try and get an understanding of how he was able to do so in such populated areas.” Hoctchner announces, “Prentiss and Morgan, go to the grocery store where Hannah Lane was taken, Y/n and Spencer, go to the parking garage where Amy Bryant was abducted and Rossi and I will go to the last two locations.”

We all nod and go off in our separate directions. Spencer and I get in the car and drive to the parking garage where Amy was taken. We drive around until we reach the second level and get out.

“Even for a parking garage, it’s bold. It’s packed with cars on this level. Anyone could show up at any time.” I look around.

“You’re right, they could.” A voice calls out behind me before everything goes dark.

Present time.

“Morgan, you owe me twenty bucks. I told you it was a boat.” I stretch out my neck that has a kink from hanging loosely while sitting up in the chair for so long. It feels heavy, like I’ve been in this position a long time.

The man in front of me rolls his eyes, huffing loudly.

“You picked the wrong girl if you were counting on me melting like puddy in your hands. You forget that I know exactly what you want. You want the tears and the begging.”

“Trust me. You’ll get to that point.” He smirks. “They all do.”

He leaves the room, loudly pulling the door shut behind him as he goes.

“I promise, it’s not as bad as it looks.” I plead with the camera, knowing that my team is on the other side of it. I can only imagine what they’re all feeling. We’ve had close calls with team members, it’s not any easier to be in their position right now. You feel helpless.

“Definitely on a boat, but I think we’re just at a marina or a pier. I can hear seagulls, we aren’t rocking that much.”

I lean forward as best as I can while still being tied to a chair. There’s a small window along the ceiling allowing me to see blue skies.

“It might be a ship. I’m above sea level, I can see the sky.” I try to give the team as much information as I can possibly gather. Anything could help.

“Sorry that’s about all I have right now to help.” I look around the bare room for any other details that could help, “I think I have a concussion, and maybe a cracked rib. I can’t take a deep breath.”

Suddenly the man comes back in, just as quickly as he left, he takes the camera in his hands.

“That’s all of your Y/n time today. You should get to trying to find me, because I am going to have a lot of fun in the meantime.”

Back with the team at the Miami police department...

The feed cuts out leaving the team in silence and shock.

“There’s nothing we could’ve done. We couldn’t have known-”

“We could have waited.

Spencer looks down at the ice pack in his lap. As if the guilt wasn’t eating away at him enough before. He also received a concussion. Only he woke up on the ground, relatively nothing compared to the person he was sent out with.

“There was no way for us to know that the unsub was going to come back to visit the last scene of the crime.” Emily defends. She can see the pure anger in Aaron’s eyes. Completely unwavering, and only focused on getting Y/n back to the team.

“But that’s the thing. He wouldn’t, that’s not in his MO. He moves on to his next target. Once he kills these women he feels nothing, it’s all in the buildup, he feels nothing at the scene of the crime.” Rossi says, thinking out loud.

“Y/n helped JJ talk to the press. The unsub could have seen her then. It’s likely that he would follow the case, especially once it was announced that the FBI had joined the case.” Spencer rapidly explains.

“She’s the right age, she fits his type.” Rossi nods.

“So, he sees her as more of a challenge. He’s escalated. He knows that she is a higher risk person to take.” Emily comments.

“Y/n, said she’s on a boat.” Morgan says, bringing up the clue that Y/n gave them before the feed cut out.

“We’re in southern Florida, there’s thousands of boats within just a hundred miles of us.” JJ sighs, looking around to the group around her.

“Four thousand, seven hundred and fifty-two within 75 miles of here.” Spencer pipes up.

Hotchner cuts him a look. Still trying to find anyone to blame, but himself. He’s the one who sent her in to that parking garage.

“Garcia, can you locate her based on the feed the unsub has sent us?” Aaron asks, looking at the plain black screen, hoping to see it come back on so he can see the girl behind the camera.

“No sir, he’s using a different routing server, just like he did with all of his previous victims.”

“Y/n is not a victim.”

---

It takes some time while the team continues to try and work out locations and who the unsub could even be. He wasn’t afraid to show his face on camera, which makes things a little more difficult. He has no record, making Garcia’s life a little harder.

The TV in the conference room lets out a crackle before the familiar room comes into their view. Everyone sets down what they had been working on and halts all conversation. It’s been several hours since we’ve seen anything from him. Y/n has been gone for eleven hours at this point.

“Welcome back to the show!” The unsub grins.

He moves out of the way to finally put Y/n in the frame. She’s hunched over, she doesn’t look as good as she did before. It’s evident that things have changed off camera.

“His name is Nick.” Y/n mutters, picking up her head as best as she can. “He’s five ten and approximately a hundred ninety pounds.”

“Don’t you learn to shut up?” Nick pulls back on the hair at the back of her head. In doing so it reveals new bruises that have taken home on her.

“Baby, we talked about this. No more sharing with them, or else you know what happens.” Nick brushes her hair out of her face now.

“This is his dads boat.” Y/n looks at the man who has taken her with spite in her eyes. It seems in his hours spent with her, he hasn’t learned that Y/n doesn’t like to be told what to do. And that she’s tougher than she looks.

He lands a sharp fist into the side of her head and takes a step back. He lets himself take a deep breath, trying to gain control. He doesn’t want to kill her yet, that would be over too soon. Now he can step closer again, he lets one hand wrap around her throat, halting any oxygen of reaching her lungs.

He waits for Y/n to start to struggle in her chair before he lets up.

“You just don’t like to learn, that’s okay. I’ll fix you.” Nick takes her hand, which is still tied to the arms of the chair she’s sat in. He pulls her pointer finger with care, before sharply pushing it straight up, breaking it.

“Garcia-” Y/n picks up her head struggling to fight against his hands, she’s coughing now still trying to gain her breath back, “You don’t need to see this. Please. Turn it off.”

“Of course, Y/n is the one being tortured and she’s worried about other people.” Morgan turns away, himself unable to watch this continue. Listening to Y/n’s screams and shouts are going to be enough to stick with him. Rossi forces himself to watch the girl he’s grown so close to since joining the team, brutally tortured in front of him.

Everyone on this team has love for this girl. She’s managed to worm her way into everyone’s life in some way or another. Y/n always knows exactly what each person needs, and she meets it. She holds the team together when they’re all falling apart. If anything were to happen to her, it would destroy them all.

Especially Aaron. As reluctant as he would be to admit it, this girl has wormed her way into his heart. Different to everyone else on the team, though. He saw her beauty and kindness. It was hard to him to imagine a woman ever entering his life like Haley did, but Y/n did it with such grace, and without even trying. Y/n helped him out with Jack when he needed it, and made them meals when Aaron just needed to catch a break. She didn’t even need a thank you, it was just part of her.

Without even trying, Y/n became his person and all he can think now is that he never got the chance to tell her, never even got the chance to thank her, and that he won’t let happen. He wants to see Y/n’s face in person, not bruised and bloody through the screen on the wall. He needs to get out to save her.

“Garcia, does that help you narrow your search.” Hotchner asks their tech who is still on speaker.

“We’ve got twenty-two Nicks with boats in the Miami area.” She explains.

“What about Nicks who have wealthy fathers? Or boats that weren’t originally in their name.” Spencer asks.

“That leaves me with one. Nick Hoffman.” Garcia cheers, “Sunset Harbour on 1928 Sunset Harbour Drive”

The team takes off without a second thought, quickly trying to save their girl. They manage to get there in record time and find the boat with success. Y/n was right, it’s more like a ship with its size.

“Morgan, Rossi, work your way around the main levels and then below. Emily and I will lead the upper level.”

The team takes off to clear the boat. It took a few empty rooms until Emily finally opens the door to where they are. Nick holds a knife to Y/n’s throat. He’s essentially using her as a shield, ducking behind her.

“If you take one more step in here, I will slit her throat.” Nick shouts.

“We don’t want that to happen.” Emily negotiates, Hotch finally stepping into the room.

“Hey! I told you guys not to move!” He presses the blade down tight against Y/n’s neck while she lets out a shudder.

“Let her go.” Hotch declares.

“I want a deal.” Nick grovels.

“Men like you don’t get deals.” Emily says, her eyes trained on him and all of his movements.

“Not even for your precious Y/n’s life?” He grins, looking down at the girl below him now.

“Go to hell.” She mutters as best she can.,

“Maybe killing you would be worth it.” He smirks, “Then we could go out together.”

“I’ve got better plans.” Y/n throws her head back into Nick’s disorienting him enough that Hotch has a clear shot, and he takes it. Nick’s body falls and Emily kicks his knife out of reach.

“Get me out of this chair.” Y/n shakes, squirming to get out of the spot she’s been constrained to. “Get me out of here, please.”

Hotch and Emily both holster their weapons and rush to help her. They quickly untie her and when her legs fail her, Hotch scoops her up. He quickly walks her down the stairs and doesn’t stop once he reaches the dock, he takes her all the way up to the ambulance.

Without hesitation, Hotch gets in with her. There isn’t anything that could keep him from leaving her now.

“Wow, that was a dramatic ending, huh?” Y/n grins.

“You can’t seriously be cracking jokes about this now.” He sighs.

“I mean come on, aren’t you going to even ask how I figured out his name was Nick? I figured it out when he ow-”

Y/n cuts herself off when the paramedic starts feeling her ribs to see which are cracked and if any are broken.

“Y/n, we can talk about this later.” Aaron smiles.

“Am I hallucinating? Is it the lack of oxygen, because you’re smiling.” Y/n comments, finally turning to look at her boss who has a smile that she knows he saves for Jack.

“You’re back. That’s reason to smile.”

They make it to the hospital to find out that Y/n has a concussion, one broken rib and three cracked ribs, and one broken finger. Not to mention the trauma to the trachea.

“The gangs all here.” Y/n smiles, noticing Garcia has flown down to join the group. Everyone has been gathered in the room since everything settled down, “What are you doing here?”

“Y/n, you were kidnapped.” Garcia states, still in shock, “You could’ve died.”

Tears fill Penelope’s eyes and Y/n opens her arms from her hospital bed for a hug, which she easily accepts.

“Ehh, I knew you guys would find me.” Y/n grins. “I’m fine Pen, I’m getting discharged in the morning and we can all go home.”

“Yes, speaking of, we should all get some rest. Especially Y/n.”

Slowly, the rest of the team clears out, giving hugs on their way.

“Not taking your own orders?” Y/n asks, noticing her boss making himself comfortable on the small couch in her hospital room.

“I don’t think I could leave if I tried.” Aaron admits.

“And why’s that?” Y/n asks, carefully turning to lay on her side to face him.

“Because I love you.” He confesses, “I have for a while now, and it’s alright if you don’t feel the same, or if my position with this team makes you uncomfortable. I just don’t think I can go any longer without you at least knowing.”

“You love me?” Y/n asks, her voice cracking. Aaron finally has the courage to look over and she has tears in her eyes.

“Yes.” He clears his throat, “The way you have become a part of my life, and Jack’s for that matter. You bring so much light with you everywhere you go, even after a day like you’ve had today. You manage to still be the brightest person I have ever met.”

“Please don’t make me get out of bed to kiss you, because I think I would crack another rib.” Y/n sighs.

Hotch lets out a soft chuckle before getting up from his spot.

“Only if you promise to go to bed after this, you need rest.”

“Promise.”

He leans down to connect their lips, it’s soft. Y/n can tell that he’s being gentle with her. She reaches up a hand to thread them through Aaron’s short hair, using it to her advantage to hold him there and pull him a little closer. They pull away eventually, Y/n stealing one more peck before fully letting go of him.

“Ok, maybe I’ve had worse days.”

---

AHHHHHH my first time writing for criminal minds! i hope you guys liked it! 🥺

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #agent hotchner #hotch

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

How about “Disowned by Family” for bad things happen bingo?

Hello! 🤍 Thanks for the request for @badthingshappenbingo

Ooh, the angst potential is through the roof. Tried to choose the focus based off of what I remember you writing and reading on ao3 (or maybe I just went hmmmm evil)

“Good job, Obi-Wan!” a woman cried, her voice warm with joy. “Very well done!”

Obi-Wan found himself grinning even as he launched himself from one difficult landing into another gravity-defying leap, sweat dripping from his skin.

“Don’t coddle him,” laughed a male’s voice, but he sounded fond. “Keep at it, Padawan, retain your focus.”

Obi-Wan did not waste breath on a reply, whirling through the air, springing from one part of the training room to the other, swinging from posts and tumbling under moving obstacles, listening to the cues the Force gave him when he concentrated.

At last he landed on the mat in the center of the room, and the droids and obstacles ceased their moving, and the fifteen-year-old Jedi dropped to his knees, gasping for breath but triumphant.

“That was beautifully done, Obi-Wan!” Tahl cried, ignoring Qui-Gon’s protests. She rushed toward the boy and clasped his shoulders in congratulations. “I haven’t seen a junior Padawan that skilled in Ataru since your Master.”

“You’re too kind to both of us,” Qui-Gon shook his head as he joined them, standing tall above his kneeling friend and apprentice. Then he smiled. “But she’s not wrong — that was beautifully done, my Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan laughed and bowed his head, happy to be humble before them.

A strange gift, for a Jedi — to have two people so very like parents.

Obi-Wan kept his head low, terrified to look upwards, terrified of what he would see, what he would feel.

There was a heavily wrapped split over one leg, stained with grime and blood. More red liquid was slowly seeping from beneath its edges, gleaming wetly. Shadows lapped at his feet like predators playing with their food before the eating. The Darkness was closing in. But he knew this was mere fanciful thought, and not an actual omen, that his fears were outpacing his reality.

Which was already cast in shadow.

The flickering lights were caused by the flames burning in front of him, and the flames were burning Tahl. Who was dead.

Because of him. The cast around his leg, barely holding up after a day of running, days in hyperspace, and then three days in the Temple, hiding in his room and speaking to nobody, which concealed beneath it an injury that had delayed him and his Master.

And Tahl had died, and now she burned.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes low. He did not deserve to say goodbye, he could not bear to see.

Slowly the flames died, and the shadows consumed. The other Jedi watching departed in silence, murmuring only soft benedictions and farewells.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes on his feet.

Something shifted in the shadows, and from the other side of the empty pyre emerged a familiar figure. Qui-Gon walked quietly around the place where his love had burned and crossed to his Padawan.

A large hand settled on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Listen to me,” Qui-Gon said in a low voice. “By my word and by the expectation of the Council, I am obligated to see you to Knighthood.”

Obi-Wan watched as tears blurred the boot tips he had been staring at for so long. Blackness swam in front of his eyes.

“But I no longer care,” Qui-Gon said. There was no wrath in his voice, no hissing, no venom. He simply spoke. “I will seek the Council out at dawn and you will be formally repudiated for negligence that cost the life of another Jedi.”

Obi-Wan’s tears escaped his eyes. They trembled for a moment against his lashes before they fell, striking the stones with a soft noise.

Qui-Gon sighed. “I told you that you were not capable of living the life of a Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your persistence cost the life of a better.”

And then he walked away.

And Obi-Wan was alone.

“Good job, Anakin!” Obi-Wan cried, clapping his hands sharply. At his signal, the young Padawan stopped his kata demonstration and turned to grin at him, bowing with bravado.

Even after two years of training, Anakin managed to surprise him daily.

The first surprise had been when Anakin, all of nine, had announced to the Council that Qui-Gon Jinn had requested before his death that Obi-Wan Kenobi, trained to Knighthood by Mace Windu, would step in if Anakin should ever need a teacher. While Obi-Wan was still reeling, blindsided and drowning in memories of disgrace and ashes, Anakin had also presented another surprise: he had attached himself to Obi-Wan’s leg and refused to let go. Almost literally, mostly metaphorically.

They bonded immediately.

“Come here, Padawan,” he called.

Anakin came running, his braid flapping against his cheek, still beaming. “I told you I could do it! I told you so, Master!”

“So you did,” Obi-Wan agreed, and he reached out as the boy slid to a stop before him and tugged gently on the blonde braid. Anakin growled in mock rage and leaned away. “But, my very young Padawan, I also told you not to attempt it. I’m grateful for your skill because it proves that you’re strong and capable, but also because it saved you from injury. If you had truly not been ready, you could have been seriously hurt.”

Anakin barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “But I knew I could do it, and I just proved it!”

Obi-Wan sighed, his hand moving from the braid to Anakin’s shoulder, squeezing slightly as he tried to make his impudent, mischievous student focus on him for a moment. “And you disobeyed me to do so. So now you have a victory slightly tainted by that. And what if the next time I command you not to do something, you do it anyways and it goes badly wrong? You overreach, or circumstances intervene, and you’re hurt? In the field that could very often be the case, which is why I need to know that you’re accustomed to obeying. I can’t trust you on the field if I can’t trust you at home.”

Anakin’s face sank into lines of bitterness and shame, his head ducked low. Anger heated his cheeks.

Obi-Wan stopped himself, taking a slow breath.

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” he said quietly, and he squeezed Anakin’s shoulder a little tighter, rubbing the edge of his thumb up and down as if to soothe the boy. “Forgive your Master, he likes to hear himself talk.”

“Hey, that’s true,” Anakin chuckled, but he still didn’t raise his head.

Obi-Wan laughed quietly. “Yes. And while I made some very good points, things I want you to think about as we approach our first mission— there’s one more thing I want you to remember from this.”

Anakin’s shoulders slumped. “…Yes, Master?”

“You did extremely well today,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “And I am proud of you for working so hard and believing in your capabilities.”

Anakin’s head jerked up, and a beam spread slowly across his young face again. “Thanks,” he said a little shyly. “I’m grateful for your teachings, Obi-Wan. There’s no one I trust more than you.”

Dooku was a traitor and had escaped capture, war had been declared, over a hundred Jedi were dead, Obi-Wan’s leg was so injured that he was stuck in a cast and splint for two weeks, and Anakin… Anakin had lost most of his arm.

Obi-Wan could think of few moments in his life that had frightened him more than lying helpless on the floor while his student payed for his reckless behavior with a limb.

Now he sat here by Anakin’s bed, waiting for him to wake up to his new mech arm and hand.

Obi-Wan had no idea how to guide the boy through this.

He stared at his hands in his lap for awhile, and then at the bandaged leg, the stupid bandaged leg. This wound, it had stopped him from getting to Anakin in time.

He would never forgive himself—

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew to the bed, where Anakin was blinking at him in a daze, his hair in disarray and an expression of pinched pain on his still youthful face.

“Anakin,” he gasped, and sat upright, his leg throbbing as he moved. He grabbed his Padawan’s remaining flesh hand with his. Hoping to transfer some of his warmth. To ease the terrible chill.

“You… you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“Did you bother,” Anakin said, his voice a dry rasp, “to ask yourself if I wanted you here?”

Obi-Wan went very still. “I… I’m sorry. I thought you might want company. I can go.”

“Company, yeah,” Anakin replied. “But not you.”

Obi-Wan stopped halfway through standing up. He clung to the arm of the fragile chair, his bad leg trembling beneath his weight. “Is there… if there’s something we need to discuss…”

“You’re a liar,” Anakin said flatly.

Obi-Wan reeled.

“You’re a fake,” Anakin continued. “You pretend to care about me, pretend to be my friend, pretend to be the perfect Jedi. But someone who was a good teacher and a good friend would never have ignored my visions.”

“Anakin, what—” Obi-Wan asked, and could not tell if the strain of tears was caused by the pain in his leg or the explosion of anguish in his chest.

“I told you I dreamed of my mother!” Anakin shouted. “You let her die!”

“I don’t — you said dreams, you never said — Anakin, I’m sorry, I would never have—”

“And then you couldn’t even hold off Dooku,” Anakin spat, “and you made us abandon Padmé in the sand! She could have been killed, but you only cared about the chase. Nothing ever matters to you but the mission!”

“Anakin, no,” Obi-Wan said, and it was a sob this time. He felt disoriented, blindsided.

Last time, he had been expecting it, but now—

“I want you out of this room,” Anakin said, still helplessly slumped against his pillow but so full of betrayal and rage that he seemed about to spring from the bed and throttle his Master. “And when I recover enough to get out of this bed, I’m going to the Council to petition for Knighthood or for another Master to finish my training.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I’m sorry. Please.”

But Anakin was shaking his head. “You’re broken. You shouldn’t have been a Padawan, and never a Knight, and absolutely not a Master. Do you understand me?” The apprentice was breathing heavily, his eyes still glazed with drugs and grief. “You leave here and figure out some other place to be. You don’t belong here.”

Anakin glared at him until Obi-Wan had backed out of the room, leaning hard on the chair he was dragging.

As soon as the door slid shut, Obi-Wan collapsed against a wall, his forehead pressed against the cold metal, his hand still clenched around the chair.

And Obi-Wan was alone.

fin.

#so this is a parallel universe where apparently both qui-gon and anakin are just complete assholes #yeah #my poor boys #mostly obi wan in this case #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #anakin skywalker #my writing #bad things happen bingo #found family #but gone very wrong

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

Forbidden

Elriel Month - Day 4, Forbidden

Pining, a little bit fluffy, a little bit angsty and plenty of Nyx if you like him

The weather was miserable, and Azriel was miserable as well.

After finishing his work at his office in the city, he would’ve typically walked, but the freezing sleet that bombarded his wings didn’t inspire walking. His mood only worsened the moment he stepped out of the building, and he found himself hating everything. Hating himself, for being a coward, hating Rhys, hating the completely innocent Cassian and Nesta, who were absolutely gracious towards him, and allowed him to remain living in, what was technically, their house now. He rose swiftly in the air, flying towards the red stone monstrosity that was carved into the mountain, while the cold rain pelted his already-freezing wings. Everything was freezing. He could’ve thrown a shield over himself, like a smart male, but he wasn’t being very smart lately. He just didn’t fucking care.

Petulant and morose, he wondered for a millionth time when and why everything went wrong for him? Why was it that the thing he loved and relished the most in his life—his family—were now the cause of his greatest despair? How could his brother, the brother who gave him his new life, who cared for and protected him, who did not judge him and gave him the opportunity to live the life Azriel wanted, who paid him generously and allowed him the freedom to operate as he saw fit—how did this brother suddenly became the impediment to Azriel’s happiness? The brother that Azriel loved and admired now outright forbade Azriel’s happiness. And over what? The ginger princeling that Azriel didn’t care for at all…as he didn’t care for the entire family. He had to sacrifice his happiness to please a Vanserra! The mere thought of it enraged him so intensely, he almost crashed into a roof. As he banked to avoid the green tiles slick with rain, he wondered if Lucien would act as honorably if the roles were reversed? Would he maintain his composure like Azriel always tried to do in Lucien’s presence? Would he fly him in his arms? (Truly, a rather horrifying memory, if Azriel had to admit. Carrying fucking Lucien Vanserra in his arms, like a babe. Like he’d carry Elain. Or even Feyre. He was forced to cradle Lucien!). Would he avoid Elain?

Elain.

Azriel wanted Elain. He always wanted her—wanted her giggly laugh, the sparkle of her caramel eyes, the flip of the braid, the surprisingly firm touch of her calloused fingers, the scent of her, the rosy blush of her cheeks. Even though he was forbidden from courting her, or pursuing her in any fashion, they still came together at family gatherings and Azriel learned of her sharp, sometimes brutal sense of humour, of her inquisitiveness, and of things that surprised him. She let it slip that she wanted to travel, wanted to see the world, the continent, all the Courts. Wanted to eat exotic foods and go to museums and botanic gardens and drink coffee in small cafes. She told him that she dreamed of going to the beach and lazing around in the white sand.

Fuck it.

Tonight, he wanted Elain. He wanted to see her with a desperation that almost hurt his bones. Even if for a few moments. Maybe just at dinnertime, under Rhys’s annoying scrutiny, but he could do it. For her, he could do it. Forbidden or not.

So, he made a sharp turn and flew away from the House of Wind, toward the River Estate. The rain was now relentless and even in his sour mood, he had the presence of mind to finally shield himself, though it did little to dispel his gloomy thoughts.

The house wasn’t warded against his entry—he still had a bedroom and an office in there, though he used it very infrequently now. Shaking off the water that was sluicing off his wings as much as he could, he opened the door and entered.

A roar greeted him. A despondent, angry, colossal roar that came from the pudgy baby that currently wheeled into the foyer in his wooden walker. Nyx was screaming like he was being gutted. His perfectly round face was wet with tears, scrunched up and so red, that Azriel feared that his nephew might be having a conniption.

“Hello?” Azriel called out, as he removed his sodden jacket, and then considered, and removed his boots, so not to drag the water and mud across the marble floor.

Nyx was still screaming angrily, looking at Azriel with a weird challenge in his blue eyes.

Shaking his head, Azriel muttered, “What is going on with you?” and then sent a coil of fluffy shadow towards Nyx. Usually, it was enough to placate the baby and allowed for a moment of reprieve. Nyx, however, watched the shadow with disgust, and as soon as it approached him, he swapped at it with his fat hand, trying to slap it away. The shadow attempted a little jump, eager to play with him, but it only caused a further scream of outrage, as Nyx lunged at it with ferocious hatred, swatting it away, until Azriel pulled all the shadows back, so not to aggravate the situation further. Nyx’s soft baby wings were tangled behind his back, since he kept flaring them in his rage, and then unsuccessfully snapping them back, so Azriel squatted in front of him and began to gently dislodge and straighten them, while Nyx wailed and squirmed in the walker. “What are you, possessed?” muttered Azriel and pulled Nyx out of the walker, and was immediately rewarded with an even louder scream, as snot and drool flew everywhere.

“Azriel!”

There she was.

Everything stopped. Azriel no longer heard Nyx’s grunting and angry squeals, as he held him and stroked his head, gently smoothing down the silky black hair.

He’d never seen Elain so…frazzled. And so beautiful. So…human.

The girl he loved was always put together, even when gardening, in her floppy hat and dungarees, she looked picture perfect. In the kitchen, in her colourful aprons that she bought from one specific shop, she was pretty and pristine. But standing in front of him right now, this was the most lovely Elain that he’d ever seen. Cauldron boil him, but Elain was wearing black…tights? Hose? He didn’t know what they were, and even if he did, he probably couldn’t form a coherent thought in his mind, because he’d never seen Elain quite so…exposed. Those long, slender legs were clad in skin-tight black tights, and there was no escaping the shape of her body, of her lean thighs, of her lovely bare feet and her manicured toes. But what jolted him even more was that she was wearing HIS shirt. One of those shirts that he wore around the house, sparred in, and generally discarded into the laundry hamper when he was done with his exercises. His mind reeled. She was wearing HIS shirt. Why? Gods above, this was the most delicious sight to ever grace his eyes.

Azriel has had many women in his life. Too many females to count. He’s even been with human women, those who dared, and wanted a bit of their own winged Fae experience. He’d seen them naked and prone, had seen them flushed with climaxes, screaming louder than Nyx was currently doing. He’d felt, tasted, touched and filled bodies of every colour and shape. Yet nothing prepared him for the barefoot Elain in her black tights and his shirt. Nothing.

Where was Rhys, for gods’ sake? Where was Feyre? The twins? Servants? Why was he left standing here, with the most desirable and gloriously attired female, all alone? His wings flared involuntarily, his body wanting, yearning for her. Wanting all of her. All of this. Everything that was forbidden to him.

Her braid was loose, honey-coloured strands escaping wantonly and spilling over her shoulder, framing her pale, rosy cheeks.

“Az, you are here!” she exclaimed, eyes widening with what he could only mark as excitement. Maybe even pleasure.

“Good evening,” he tried to sound normal, though his voice felt deep and hoarse and suddenly dropped a couple of octaves. “What is,”

“He lost Brute!” she cried in desperation. “I’ve been looking for fifteen minutes, and I can’t find it! Please,”

“Got it,” he said, tucking Nyx under his arm, like a sack of potatoes.

This was dangerous ground.

Following their unnecessarily lavish mating ceremony, Cassian and Nesta went on their honeymoon. In Illyria. When Azriel found out, he gagged. Cassian laughed. “You can’t take her somewhere better?” Azriel wondered, shaking his head. “Anywhere is better. The fucking Spring Court is better!” Cassian slapped his shoulder and argued, “Pretty, but deadly. At least to me. I’ll kick the bucket if I spend more than 15 minutes in Spring Court and Nesta will have to bring my dead body back here.” Azriel shrugged, “Might be worth it, if she avoids going to Illyria”. “You are too harsh, brother,” was all Cassian said, though Az felt like he wasn’t harsh enough. Nevertheless, Nesta and Cassian went to Illyria and to everyone’s shock, Nesta loved it! She loved the open spaces, the rugged, wild terrain, the forests and the picturesque lakes. She liked Cassian’s secluded bungalow, which he built himself—actually, the three brothers built it together, back in the day.

One day, there was a country fair celebrating some Illyrian war hero, and Cassian made a date of it. It was a surprise for Nesta, who’d never been to one, and they spent the day wandering from attraction to attraction, eating too much fried food, riding rollercoasters, which made Nesta scream until she was hoarse, and playing games. There was a shooting competition, and Cassian insisted on participating, though he wasn’t an ace with a bow and arrow, but he figured that he was still better than the average Illyrian. He wanted to show off in front of Nesta. Turned out, the average Illyrian was in fact better than the Commander General of the Armies of the Night Court, and Cassian came in third. Third. The prize was a small stuffed bat. Shamefaced, Cassian presented Nesta with the bat, promising to do better next time. So, so much better! Nesta named the bat Brute—after her mate—and upon their return from the honeymoon, she gave the toy to Nyx. And Nyx became obsessed. Brute and Nyx were inseparable and especially after Nyx began teething, leathery Brute came very handy, as Nyx chewed and gnawed on it mercilessly.

Azriel sent his shadows to search for Brute throughout the house, while he went room to room, looking in all the places that Nyx frequented in his walker. Nyx was only nine months old, but he already managed to say a few odd words. There was ‘ma’, “Lana”—which stood for Elain, “no”, and “Boot” or “Oot” or “Boo” which all referred to Brute. Nothing for Rhys yet, much to Rhys’s chagrin. Az got “Ath”, with a lisp. And of course, everyone’s favorite – “ass” for Cass.

“I already looked there,” said Elain, as she dove under an armchair, her tight little bum up in the air, while Azriel was cursing inwardly, unable to tear his eyes off the sight, disregarding Nyx’s slobbering over his arm. Nyx was getting tired of screaming—finally—so he was mostly hiccupping, sniffling and rubbing his eyes with his chubby first.

“I think I got it!” cried Azriel, once the shadows informed him that Brute has been located. He rushed up the stairs, taking three at a time, with Nyx bouncing under his arm and finally found the toy entangled in Nyx’s blanket. The first place Azriel should’ve looked. Both he and Elain were clearly off their game.

Nyx squealed with delight once Brute was safely in his hands and latched on to it with his aching gums. Tears were forgotten. Azriel lightly kissed the top of the baby’s head and then went downstairs.

Elain was awaiting them in the foyer and seeing the placated Nyx, she also gasped with delight, clapping lightly and then…she rushed and kissed Azriel’s cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he just stared at her, a smile on his lips.

“High praise for finding a toy,” he said at last, but Elain only grabbed his hand and threaded her fingers with his.

“No one is home?” he asked softly, and she gave him a knowing look, shaking her head. His thumb gently rubbed her fingers, as they walked to the kitchen.

“You will stay for dinner,” she said. More of an order.

“Yes.”

“We have to feed him,” she nodded towards Nyx.

Without releasing the baby, Azriel rolled up his sleeves and set to work. He washed Nyx’s wet, sticky face first, took out a fresh bib, which was immediately greeted with ‘no bip!”. “Yes, bib,” insisted Azriel, trying to tie it, while Nyx struggled and attempted to tear it off. Elain chuckled under her breath, watching the battle.

“He is like the Attor today!” groaned Azriel, as he finally succeeded in tying the bib, “is this how he always is? His parents need to discipline their damn kid better.”

She laughed.

“Where are they anyway?”

“The opera,” she explained.

Nothing gave Elain more pleasure than experiencing these stolen moments with Azriel.

A few months back, Rhysand, in no uncertain terms explained to her that at this point, a relationship between her and Azriel would be politically disadvantageous and therefore, ill-advised. The silver-tongued High Lord made his arguments clear, but with that irresistible firm gentleness that he employed on everyone, when he wanted something. Elain nodded, a neutral expression plastered on her face, while her heart shuttered, and something cracked in her chest. Whatever Rhysand was saying, the order was clear—she was forbidden from seeking Azriel out.

The ache…the ache inside of her only grew since then. It wasn’t an ache of sadness or despair, for deep down, Elain was absolutely sure that Azriel would find a way. He always did. And she trusted him unconditionally, knowing that nothing would stop him in his pursuit of her. Forbidden or not, they both craved each other with a wild, inexplicable hunger, and Azriel would find a way to circumvent all the restrictions that were placed on them. However, the knowledge did nothing to ease the desire that constantly coursed through her. Seeing him was a most delicious torment, a sweet, lacerating pain that never went away. When she awoke in the morning, she thought of Azriel, and when she went to bed at night, he was her last thought of the day. It was always Azriel.

He sat Nyx in his highchair.

“Are they coming back tonight?” he asked, without looking at her.

She turned away, and busied herself with Nyx’s dinner, mashing a carrot and a turnip together with a fork, mixing in a bit of cream, to make her nephew’s favorite dish.

“They are staying at the Grand Velaris Hotel for the night,” she said quietly. “Feyre just notified me. Rhys wanted to make…a night of it.”

Azriel couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. Elain froze, when she felt him behind her, his enormous looming presence like a coiled string of pure strength and power. His beautiful scarred hand gently wrapped over hers, and they pressed the fork into the vegetables together, neither paying any attention to what they were doing. His breath was warm on the back of her head—actually the top of her head—for he had to crane his neck to lay his cheek against her own, while his other hand wrapped around her hip.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, lips brushing over her ear, just short of kissing.

Absently, she dragged her fingers over the huge scarred hand that rested on her hip, her breath stalling in her chest. She became unbearably hot, heart beating so fast that she was sure that he could hear it.

“Will you stay?”

“Yes.”

His muscle-corded golden-brown arm tugged her closer, and she leaned into him, forgetting everything at once, only aware of this beautiful warrior behind her, as his powerful chest rose and fell against her back.

“Baby, I,” he began, and stopped abruptly, as if fearing that he’d made a mistake.

Baby.

‘Baby’ destroyed her.

She was never ‘baby’ to him before.

She was ‘Elain’ to him, in front of others. Once in a while, usually in Cassian’s presence, it was ‘Ellie’. More of a Cassian thing, but Azriel slipped occasionally and called her that as well. When they were completely alone, however infrequently, he let himself address her as ‘Lainey’. She loved ‘Lainey’. But he never uttered something so endearing as ‘baby’.

She turned around and looked up at him, caged comfortably within those massive arms, his golden-hazel eyes soft and loving. This look Azriel reserved for her alone. In his 539 years, no one, but Elain Archeron was privy to seeing him like this. He was undone. Ruined by this delicate woman who held his heart in her hand, as it burned with ever-present flame for her.

“Lana!” yelled Nyx, reminding them of his presence.

Azriel smirked and shook his head. She grinned and then cupped his face in her palm, as he began kissing her fingers, his hands resting on the counter behind her. For the first time, her plump, delicate breasts pushed into his chest, the material of his shirt providing bare minimum of a barrier, and he loved it, because she loved it. She loved it when he gingerly moved her breasts against his chest, and she pressed them closer into him, a silent invitation for more. More skin, more touch, more breath, more kisses, more of everything. Elain wanted everything. Elain wanted Azriel.

“Baby,” he began again, kissing the inside of her palm, “I like your shirt.”

Her brown eyes sparkled mischievously, and she looked down between their bodies, where they touched and fit together with strange, inexplicable precision, as if carved from the same flesh.

“I like this shirt too,” she assured him.

“I think you should wear it more, my beauty,” he suggested, his soft lips trailing from her wrist, up her forearm. “In fact, I think that you should wear my clothes as frequently as possible.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she admitted, and lightly kissed his chin. Yes, she had to rise on her toes to reach it, but that stunning jawline of his was too irresistible for her to ignore any longer. She kissed the subtly scratchy chin again, and again, and then moved slowly, dragging her lips towards his ear. He tensed against her, his arms pushing against her shoulders, his wings flaring lightly behind him, cocooning the two of them in the velvety darkness.

“But,” she finally wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching her body against his, feeling every bit of him. “I was thinking maybe no clothes at all would be nice as well.”

“I couldn’t disagree,” he winked at her.

“Ath!” insistent drumming pulled them out of their mutual reverie. “Lana!”

“We have to be responsible adults,” she sighed, while Azriel kissed the tip of her nose. “And feed our child.”

“You feed our wayward child,” he decided, “and I will cook dinner.”

“You might very well be the perfect man!” she laughed.

“I might be,” he shrugged nonchalantly, kissing the top of her head and releasing her from his embrace at once.

Forbidden or not, this was going to be a very nice evening.

A very nice evening indeed.

#elrielmonth #elriel #elriel fanfic #elrielmonth21 #azriel #azriel and elain #nyx #cassian and nesta #cassian #nesta #elain archeron

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mandalorewhore · 3 years

Text

Two Steps Ahead

PART THREE OF HUNTER (formerly hunter and prey)

gif by @princessxkenobi

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Fighting as Foreplay, Rough Sex, Penetrative Sex(PIV), Unprotected Sex, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Top Mando, Sub/Dom elements, Very slight Pain Kink, possible CNC elements although I didn’t write that I also want to warn anyone who doesn’t want to read about rough sex with physical fighting as foreplay Words: 6.9k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando start tracking their first bounty together

A/N: i believe things are happening...interesting

***

“I feel like you have a distinct advantage here.” A bead of sweat drips over your brow as you mop at your sweltering forehead in irritation. Your temple throbs as you press on it, pain shooting down your neck at the pressure.

It’s so fucking humid here. You’re tracking one of Mando’s bail jumpers in the middle of a boggy swamp planet that you never caught the name of and you’ve been walking through the forest for at least 24 hours, only stopping for water and ration breaks. Based on the holo-map you’re currently staring at, this entire planet is one big swamp, with no escape from the damp, sticky environment.

The thing barely makes sense, a jumble of colors and shapes that worsens your headache the longer you try to figure it out. You had borrowed a thin shirt from Mando before setting out, but it does little to protect you from the buzzing swarms of insects, while at the same time it reflects just enough heat to have you sweltering.

Mando acts unbothered under all that padding and armor, trekking through the trees without any visible sign of struggle. You don’t understand how he can stay awake for so long without caf, yourself being covered in caf-patches to keep from passing out. It’s probably somewhat dangerous to have so much of the stimulant coursing through your veins, but oh well. If my heart gives out then at least I’ll escape the bugs.

“Footprints aren’t the only way to track a quarry.” He returns mildly, moving swiftly over tangled tree-roots to avoid the pools of murky water that litter the forest floor. You move with less grace behind him, trying to climb slippery wood and juggle the holo at the same time. The twisted trees of this planet seem to reach inward to point at the forest floor, giving you the impression of being trapped within their clutches. The eerie feeling isn’t helped by the distinct lack of light, odd lichen tendrils drape between branches to create a blanket that absorbs most natural light from the sky. A faint glow emanates from the tendrils, basking the forest with ghostly illumination. You scramble to the top of the particularly tall root he’s perched on then plop down to catch your breath.

“No, it’s not the only way,” you pause to take a swig from your water skin, dabbing off the spilled drops from your chin with your sleeve, “but the footprints you track are apparently all glowy and red. I get to look with my naked eyes for shit like depressions in the ground, which is so fun considering the only paths here are solid wood.”

Mando rolls his helmet on his shoulders, the effect similar to someone rolling their eyes. When he speaks it’s short and gruff, annoyed by your attitude. Which is… appropriate. The hours you’ve spent walking in this heat together is starting to snap both of your tempers. “Stop complaining.”

He’s not wrong about the footprints. You’re mostly annoyed because of how useless you feel, more like you’re tagging along than assisting him on the hunt. Drawing your eyebrows together you try to come up with a plan. Most of those mercenary skills you talked up for Karga don’t apply here, this naturalistic setting is too messy and... wild. Unpredictable. You’re used to the structure that comes with starships and cities, places engineered and civilized.

Tracking people isn’t very hard, you’ve done it plenty of times before. The only issue is that all of your practice came from environments where they left clear signs of direction, displaced gravel indicating a shoe-print, broken branches, a trail in sand. It also helps that your targets didn’t know they were being stalked. The only path here is over hard wooden tree roots, with nothing to indicate direction, not even moss grows over the foot trail for traveling feet to mark. You take in a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before letting out all your air in one huge swoop.

“I’m sorry, “ you tell him sincerely, “I want to help you -and not just for a bigger cut. Is there anything I can do?” You truly do feel bad for snapping at him even if you know you’re right about his advantage. Just because you don’t have fancy thermal settings and footprint tracking doesn’t mean you’re useless. The Mandalorian settles his hands on his hips and surveys the area, looking for a task to assign you. His helmet tilts up and lingers on the trees, and you’re already two steps ahead before he can voice his idea.

“I can climb,” you interject, standing up swiftly and moving. “Trees can’t be more slippery than a spacecraft.”

He nods in acknowledgment. “Find something and your cut goes up by five percent.”

“Ten percent.” You grin at him cheekily, wanting to tease him even if he won’t give it to you.

“Eight, if you find somewhere to camp.”

“Deal.” You return, already halfway to the widest tree you can reach without getting your feet wet. The trunk is covered in knots and twisted vines, ugly but providing fantastic handholds for your hands and feet. Grabbing hold of a sturdy looking ledge you begin your ascent.

The climb is fairly easy even with the woods damp surface, and you reach the forest canopy with minimal effort. Carefully squirreling around the thin top-most branches you attempt to find a break-through point, the wood beneath you bowing a little from your weight.

When you finally poke your head through and see the sky you gasp, taken aback by the sight. You hadn’t hung around in the cockpit during landing, instead choosing to pack the bags while Mando skillfully piloted his ship. The forest floor is all you’ve seen of the planet and apparently you’ve missed a lot.

The sky here is beautiful, a color palette that is completely opposite from the dark, damp underbelly of the forest ground. Swirling aquamarine clouds float lazily in the sky, speckling the orange hued atmosphere above you. There are at least 6 pale moons lined up on the horizon from edge to edge, stars twinkling around each orb as if drawn to their orbit. You drink in the sight greedily, the ache in your head lessening in the natural light. This is so much better than the cold stark metal of space stations that you’re used to living on.

It’s hard to tell the time based on the sky alone, the moons must be constantly present in the sky no matter the time of day and you can’t find a single sun. Maybe this planet lives off the light and heat from each moon, reflected from a distant star? The thought is lovely but you don’t think it’s possible. You file the image away for your daydreams then divert your eyes back to the thick forest, searching for anything useful to tell Mando.

The line of trees is unbroken, a sea of dark green leaves and glowing lichen. An orange sky helps to warm up the pale glow from the lichen but it’s eeriness still sends a shiver through you. Everything on the horizon is of even height, betraying nothing within its depths. It isn’t ideal. You gnaw your lip anxiously, dreading to return to Mando without any information especially on your first hunt together. Eyes flitting around desperately, you try to analyze any possible breaks in the natural pattern of trees.

Could that be a settlement there? You think, looking at a slightly thinner section of forest that might roughly be three miles away. You aren’t sure about the planet’s curvature and how flat the terrain is so you double check the holo, looking for the information.

Something catches your eye as you’re pulling up the data, just substantial enough in your peripheral version that you stop what you’re doing. There is a mist rising from that thinned area, far enough away that you mistook it as some sort of lighting effect from the overwhelming color palette here. That has to be steam right? It’s too thick to be naturally occurring from the bog. There must be machinery over there. A settlement hopefully.

You’re about to climb down when you pause, looking at the still lit holo with renewed curiosity. Something about the map visually paired with your clear view of the forest allows the pieces to fall in place. When you compare the shape of the map to the trees you’re finally able to make sense of what you previously thought was a topographical mess. A built pathway lies here, a body of water there. And clearings. Several clearings not too far from where you are now, the perfect size to settle down in. Hopefully they’re dry.

Either the caf-patches are finally sending you into cardiac arrest or you’re manically happy to finally be of help to your hunting partner, but either way, you’re grinning so widely that your teeth clatter together.

“Hey Mando! Guess what you owe me?” You shout down at the ground, beginning to descend. You’re so excited that you practically slide down the vines, jumping to the ground when you’re several feet high in the air, sore muscles creaking at the impact. The Mandalorian is sitting now, resting with his elbow propped on his knee while he waited for you to come back. There’s a soft pang in your chest and you wonder if he’s tired. You brush it off, feeling as though you’re just projecting, and instead grin widely at him in triumph. “7 percent increase for me!”

He lifts his helmet and looks you up and down. “What did you find?”

You reply chirpily, hands grasped behind your back and shit-eating grin still plastered on your face. “There is a settlement of some kind roughly three miles that way,” you point in the direction where you saw the steam, “and several clearings nearby suitable to camp in, if we don’t want to head in right away. Oh, also we aren’t on the actual path used by locals here, the asset must be making an effort to hide.”

“That isn’t very smart of them,” Din observes, shaking his head at the concept. “Busy path hides more prints.”

“Hm…” You take that in, wondering what other techniques a quarry may use to shake its hunter.

It occurs to you that there is a lot you could learn from the Mandalorian, since so far hunting someone has been notably different from your mercenary missions. You’ll find a moment to ask questions later once you’re settled down for the night, wherever that’ll be. “Do you want to camp or find the maybe-settlement?”

“We should camp,” he responds immediately, rising from his seated position and walking closer to you, “we don’t know what we’ll face there. You can choose the area, since you climbed the tree.”

You pull up the holo-map again and zoom in on the different options, feeling far more energized now that you actually know what you’re doing. There are two spots that seem encouraging, both a short hike away from where you are now but removed enough to grant you some privacy. You’ll still need to set up a watch to prevent ambush or stray travelers from finding you but it’ll be easier if you make an effort to hide. One of the clearings seems to have a running water source, you hope it’s cleaner than the still-water you’re currently surrounded by. Maybe you can bathe there too.

“Lets go here,” you pull up the coordinates for Mando, “that looks like a stream, right?”

He leans into your body for a closer look, broad chest just brushing against you in a way that sends flutters through your tummy. You know he can zoom in with his visor, there is no reason he needs to be so close to you except for your benefit. He seems to enjoy messing with you like this, throwing you off with unexpected touches, looks, and gestures. It’s like a game he plays and you’d be far more annoyed by his teases if it wasn’t so exciting.

“Looks good,” he rumbles low in his chest. “Fresh water would be nice.”

Your heart quickens, but you tried to hide your reaction by teasing him back, tapping your fingers on his helm and stepping away. “I was hoping to clean myself up, actually…”

Mando straightens up at this, visor locked on your face.

“Lead the way.” He returns quietly, giving away nothing. Trying not to smile, you start off in the direction of the clearing, for once moving faster than your armored companion.

Your goal isn’t very far, only about 3 miles north of your previous position and a mile adjacent to the settlement you’ll pay a visit to tomorrow. Large, fuzzy fronds of an alien fern droop down the sides of the hollow clearing, providing a barrier between the forest and empty space in between. The trees still tangle above the open area, blocking out part of the beautiful sky, save a few of the large moons, and old pieces of charcoal are ground into the sandy earth here, a sight that makes you a little anxious. This spot must be used by others, you’ll have to be more careful with setting up the watch than expected.

The water source turns out to be a small spring set on the edge of a cliff at the far end of the clearing, a sizable waterfall cascading down the side and gathering in a crystalline pool. Skipping ahead of Mando to the edge of the pool you crouch and dip your fingers in the cool water, sighing in relief as it relieves some of the warmth in your overheated body.

You’re unable to hear Mando’s approach - how he is so stealthy under 50 pounds of metal escapes you, but you feel him behind you. You smirk. Arching your back as you rise, you turn around slowly and begin to make eyes in his direction however, when you actually see what he's doing, you cringe at yourself in embarrassment. He’s not looking like you assumed, instead he is surveying the clearing skeptically, body-language imbued with disapproval. Your heart simultaneously sinks to your stomach and contracts in frustration. You thought you had finally done something right.

“What? Is something wrong?” You ask him tightly, subtly shrinking in on yourself in disappointment. You try to hide this by fiddling idly with a stray thread on your tunic, stubbornly keeping your head lifted high despite wishing you could disappear. He doesn’t respond right away, instead turning and walking the length of the clearing then back, stopping just in front of you sharply. You meet his visor with your eyes, holding the look until you feel like you’re burning up in shame from the pressure of it.

“It’s too… open,” he finally says, voice halting as he tries to find the correct words. “Anyone could walk into our camp.”

“I figured we’d set up a watch. There’s only one entrance-”

He interrupts you. “One ground entrance. Anyone can climb down from the trees.”

“Maybe, but this planet isn’t supposed to be dangerous, is it? Practically abandoned,” You huff out, fists clenching at your sides as you argue with him. “Besides. It’s… pretty here.”

The Mandalorian sighs, pinching the helmet just below the visor where his nose bridge would be. “Fine. I’ll take the first watch. No fire.”

Nodding in response, you cross the clearing and set your bag down on a log, letting out a sigh in relief. That’s fine by you, you don’t need the extra warmth and the glowing lichen provides enough light to get by. You really did not want to hike again after moving for 24 hours straight. Mando mirrors your movements, leaning his rifle next to your pack before settling on the sandy earth. A loaded pause passes between you, earlier implications at the forefront of your minds.

Letting out a shuddering breath you crouch down and pull your old tunic from your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way back to the small pond. The water is completely clear, an inviting sight after the marshy puddles that made up the forest ground on your way here. You’re facing the water now but you’re still well aware of the man behind you, the intensity of his gaze burning even through the impassive visor. The invitation is clear. Take it off.

But you aren’t sure if you want to give him that yet. The exhaustion from today has wrung you dry, small bickerings between you and your work partner dampening the sweet mood leftover from Nevarro. Apologizing with sex isn’t really your thing. You’d rather stoke the mutual respect between you as allies instead of start up a pattern of fighting then making up.

You crouch at the water's edge, peering into the depths for a moment before splashing your face with cold water, fresh scar throbbing as blood rushes to the surface of your face. The spare tunic you grabbed just brushes the surface of the water, sending ripples throughout your reflection. Curious, you lean over and observe the way the mirror-like pond breaks off into fragments, bits of you here and there mixing in with the moons that lay on russet sky.

Like a painting. You think in awe, having only seen a couple of the artifacts in person. The richest target you were assigned to owned two pieces of art, real paintings on real paper, encased in transparisteel viewing cases before you smashed open the backing to wonder at them. You close your eyes and try to recall the texture of the paint before the rest of your memory catches up and sours the whole thing. The man's home had to be burned in order to erase evidence, his paintings too large to smuggle out of the city.

When you open your eyes the pond has settled with your reflection only- you’re not alone.

“Maker!” You jump at the sight of the Mandalorians gleaming helmet appearing in the reflection. “What the fuck, you sneak.”

He just chuckles in response and offers you a hand, which you take firmly while rolling your eyes and standing. He leads you back to sit with him on the sandy earth, taking ration bars out of his pack- not yours, and breaking them evenly between you. The gesture is surprisingly tender and none too appreciated what with your stomach growling audibly at the bland meal. All at once, you are reminded by the spattering of caf-patches on your limbs, the jitteriness becoming more apparent now that you’re finally still. You’re shaking. Mando notices as well.

“You may explode.” He remarks, prompting you to start pulling off the stimulant, crumpling each piece and setting them neatly in a pile at your knee.

“Good, let me explode. You’re too bossy to work with.” You return with a smirk, hoping your sarcasm lands. He hums in response, pulling one of the patches off of your forearm and flicking it in your direction for you to catch.

Tutting, you roll the patch into a ball and set it at the top of your pile. “Don’t leave a mess, this forest is ugly but at least it’s untouched,” you tell him firmly. Mando just nods.

The ration bars are hardly a delicacy but you shove them in your mouth all the same, appreciating the engineering behind them. They are so calorie rich that a piece the size of your palm can keep you going for hours. However, your body can’t seem to relax despite the food lining your belly- perhaps you actually overdid the caf. You should be tired right now. Staying awake for more than a day isn’t exactly the average schedule but your knee bounces uncontrollably in a frantic pattern, stirring up puffs of sand between you and the warrior.

“You need to tire.” Mando mutters, firmly placing a glove on your thigh and holding the limb down. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” you reply, trying to freeze yourself and sit as still as he does. Mando always exists so sagely, like a monk. Completely calm when he wants to be before exploding into action, no warm-up necessary. You wonder if he had some sort of meditation training to achieve that. Is that why he sits like that in the cockpit, his back rod straight like a statue? Weirdo.

“Hey…” The palm at your thigh presses again and you suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t even realize you were twitching again. “Do I have to hold you down?” He growls.

You gulp. “Tempting. But no.” Your words come out steadier than you feel. The caf becomes all too much in that moment so you lurch to your feet, his gleaming helmet following your body as it rises jerkily. You feel far too energetic, needing to get the energy out somehow so you can finally pass out. Your idea leaves your mouth before you can truly think it over.

“Wanna fight?”

“...What?” Mando sounds truly surprised even if his body betrays nothing.

“You heard me,” you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, swaying back and forth like a green sailor on the oceans of Mon Cala. “Let's practice our combat, I rarely get to do that.”

He’s standing before you can blink causing you to jerk back, startled by his speed. The Mandalorian poses right in front of you, too close to not be a challenge with his weight settled on one leg breezily.

“Okay. Hit me.”

What a taunting mother fu- You swing your left hand out as if aiming for the unarmored spot on his ribs, which he blocks with ease… leaving his throat open for your right fist to sharply jab.

The bounty hunter doubles over, coughing and clutching his neck with one hand.

“O-Oh shit! I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean, let me-” You scramble with lost movements, trying and failing to help him straighten upright. It leaves you awkwardly placing your palms on his back while the crown of his helmet presses into your belly. “I, um… Mando?”

His arms wrap around your middle in a flash, pulling you tightly against his chest and throwing both your bodies to the ground. It happens so fast that you can’t even shriek before the air is knocked out of you, hitting the sand hard enough to throw it into the air around you. Gasping, you smack full force at the Mandalorian on top of you, his arms still crushing you against him while your legs lock straight together with his knees on either side. It’s sexy, but you’d really like to breathe. He lets up just barely.

“Nice punch,” he rasps, throat clearly affected by the hit. “Don’t think I’ll hold back after that though.”

“Don’t… want… you to…” You shoot back at him, sharp as you can manage while wheezing. Mandos visor raises ever so slowly and pins you, hidden eyes holding you down more effectively than his body. After a drawn out moment of this, your head spinning as you calculate your escape strategy, he crawls up your body to prop himself above you, locking your wrists in one large hand with the other presses against your chest, shoving your back into the earth. It is just enough pressure to squeeze some air out of your lungs and it is then when you know he isn’t kidding about not holding back.

You’re so fucking happy that he isn’t letting you win.

In other instances, you’d panic at the hopeless feeling of being trapped like this, by someone twice your size and clad in the galaxy’s most powerful steel. But the way he spars with you now, full force and not playing easy... it has implied respect for your skill. He knows you can fight and doesn’t spare you the opportunity to prove it.

Only a second or two has passed since he fully immobilized you and you’re still locked in your flattened position. When he motions to stand, pulling your wrists as if to drag you, you know you must make your move now or it will be too late. The only spot he has open on his body right now is… well, right between his legs. The first thing a smaller fighter learns about combating larger foes is to fight dirty and there is no reason you should hold back if Mando isn’t. Your legs had been pinned tightly together before he moved to drag you but now there is just enough room to swing a knee up and hit him between the legs.

Mando doesn’t wear a full codpiece but luckily for you, the padding on his groin isn’t enough to block your kick. A choked sound rips out of his throat and he falls to one knee, the fingers encircling your wrists loosening slightly while he struggles to fight his body’s natural pain response. You wrench one hand free and use it to grip his cowled neckline, planting your feet against his cuirass and swinging yourself into a hanging position before his grip tightens again. He's steady but you try to dig your feet in to throw him forward, hoping to twist around and land on his back with his face down. He totters for one frozen second, both your bodies on the precipice of falling but unfortunately, he manages to wrench himself backwards and land heavily on his back with you on top.

You’re both gasping and groaning at the shock of hitting the ground so hard, and for one breathless moment all you do is stare heatedly at each other on the forest floor, eyes locking through his visor and somehow you know he is grinning.

His smile mirrors on your face when you feel his hands rip at your clothes, wrenching the thin pants off of you down to your thighs forcefully enough to knock your legs together with a dull thud.

“Did I not just kick you in the dick, Mando?” You laugh, working at his belt at the same time. He palms your ass through your underwear greedily, squeezing so hard that you know finger shaped bruises will blossom there.

“You missed.”

“Must’ve hurt either way…” You mutter, finally managing to reach under his thick layers and wrap your hand around his length, producing a low growl from the man beneath you. “Maybe, it's good I missed.”

The only response you get is his hands pulling both your hands to lay on his chest plate then traveling back down your body to tug aside your underwear and grind you down onto his hips, rubbing your now bare slit against his bulge. You vaguely remember deciding against coming onto him as a form of apology, but for some reason, since he started first that all ceases to matter. It feels like a game you’ve begun to play with each other, playing with the tension between you and the Mandalorian until you find out what breaks your resolve. Maybe it started even before you entered this forest, perhaps back on Nevarro or even on the station.

You can’t tell but you don’t want to question it either.

A moan falls from your throat, your hands moving on their own volition to try and remove his belt entirely, or at least enough to pull his cock out. Mando’s glove flashes up again to circle your wrists, immobilizing them and harshly pinning you down with his vambrace lain across your back.

“You yield?” He asks, voice dripping with a sickly triumph. A chill runs down your back and you feel as if he just dunked you into the pond.

“W-What?”

“You yield… I win?”

“Wha- No!” You cry out indignantly, struggling against his iron grip. “I didn’t realize we were still sparring!”

He laughs, fully bodied and dark with some emotion that swirls deep within your core, and you can’t put your finger on it exactly but you know you’ll have to do something before you’re swept up entirely. “Oh, but we are. What shall the winner gain?” He asks, so quietly that it is almost lost in the warped modulator, barely a question and more so a crackling of static.

Fuck, you’re so wet.

You lick your lips and shakily respond. “I am not one to give up, however-”

“Then don’t. Keep fighting.”

Oh, and you love what he implies. There is no reason to argue further and less time to act, so you immediately struggle hard with the upper half of your body, wrenching your wrists to try and distract him from the way your legs are free to swing into his ribs. But Mando doesn’t fall for your feint a second time. In fact, he seems to have expected it, his leg is more than prepared to hook around the back of your knees and hold you against his body, rolling to the side to throw you underneath him.

You’re pinned on your back with nearly his full weight, unable to do more than weakly punch at what you can reach- unfortunately for you all you can reach is armor. Your cry of anger is cut short when Mando flips onto your front, your chest pressed roughly to the floor of the forest.

The helmet appears over your shoulder, his ragged breathing right by your ear. “T-This okay? You want this?” You can’t find your words to respond with the way you're held so tightly against the earth, so you nod as best you can with one cheek pressed into the ground. Mando snarls something furiously, one hand leaving your back to fumble with his pants and pull his cock out, lining himself up at your soaking entrance and running the head through your folds.

His helmet drops back down to your shoulder, the visor turning and burying itself into the line of your neck and you know that if he weren’t bound by his creed then he would be kissing dark bruises there.

“You know this means I win,” he hisses, pressing his cock to breach your tight opening ever so slightly.

“I-I know.” You whimper weakly.

With that, he fully pushes himself into you and if you weren’t so wet you know his size would be unbearably painful. Instead, the stretch is pure bliss, a slow burning sensation that has a hint of sting to it, his dominance lending to complete submission and all you can do is lay there and take it. There is still the strain you grew to know from when he allowed you to use his body on Nevarro, but something about Mando topping you encourages you to open yourself for him with more ease.

He quickly bottoms out then holds himself till, allowing you to adjust to his size. You’re writhing as much as possible under the way he crushes you to the floor, knees carving grooves in the soft sandy earth.

“Fuck,” Mando grits, teeth clenched together so hard that you swear you can hear the grinding in his jaw. “You’re so fucking tight, fuck.”

The position is hard to maintain on the soft ground, his hands keep sliding ever so slightly on either side of you forcing him to adjust every few seconds. His patience breaks after the third time this happens, a growl crackling through the helmet as he settles his hands on your lower back and hoists his body up, knees planted on either side of your thighs, crushing them together with intense pressure on your clit. Your body is locked tight, pussy clenching harder around his cock when he rises into an upright position.

You let out a genuine scream when he draws back then thrusts sharply into you, pain mixing with pleasure in a manner far more biting than on his ship, when he had let you take control entirely, never even doing so much as to thrust into you. It is almost too much for you but even while you struggle to take his cock, you don’t dare tell him to stop, nor do you want him to stop. You’re so blinded by the stretch that you don’t realize he is speaking until you miss several, distorted words.

“Fuck, why did I wait, why did I wait? I should’ve fuck-fucked you back on the station, approached you in that hangar and made myself fucking clear-” Each gritted word is accentuated by a mean thrust, his dick is so big that he has to shove himself inside of you rather than glide, breaking you open in a way that burns so sweetly. Your legs are held together, knees locked and straight, which doesn’t help how tight you are but you can’t budge at all to open yourself to Mando, his hands pressing down at your lower back so heavily that you’re short of breath.

A garbled moan is forced out of you when Mando grinds his length into your pussy as deep as he can possibly reach, hips smashing against your ass while he pulses inside of you and for a second you think he's cumming. But no- he draws himself from your depths and starts to rut his cock between your cheeks, head resting on your upper back and hands by your head.

A powerful hand wraps under your side and settles at your sternum, pulling you back against his cuirass and lifting so that you end up seated together, fitting against him without even an inch of space between your bodies. His hand lifts your hips, other appendage snaking around to position his cock back at your entrance before allowing gravity to do the work, your legs spreading to rest on either side of his thighs as you sink down on him to the hilt.

Once settled, Mando starts to work you on his cock, lifting you like you weigh no more than a pebble then letting go. The head of his cock slams full force into your pussy with the weight of your entire body, each brutal pounding sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Lungs free and no longer crushed to the floor, you’re unable to stay quiet, broken sobs and moans puffing from gritted teeth as he takes what he denied himself on his ship, the memory a thousand miles away as your processing center is fucked stupid.

You can’t say how long this goes on for, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but the next thing you know is that your cheek is back on the sand, burning from the way it chaffs against the floor with each rhythmic thrust that claps against your thighs. You’re don’t even know if you’ve cum yet but it doesn’t matter, not with the way he is fucking the life out of you here in the wilderness. Mando is still talking, still uttering filth and praise through the helmet and all you can think about is how badly you want to hear his real voice speaking that way to you, you’re so close to asking him to take it off but you can’t find the words, you can’t think, you can’t-

Abruptly, he grinds to a halt at the deepest point in your body then pulls himself free, pushing your shirt up lighting fast before cumming across your back with a choked exclamation. You’re both still for a second before your knees collapse, landing flat on your belly and gasping desperately. There is a shuffling noise behind you, accompanied with heavy breaths from the bounty hunter. It sounds like he’s rummaging through something then, yeah- your train of thought is confirmed when a wet cloth wipes his pleasure from your skin, gently trailing along your spine and ass.

You reach behind you and hold his wrist, feeling the fluttering pulse there. “I’ll win next time…” You whisper, drawing his hand along the soreness on your bottom, the area he bruised, you suspect. He laughs- or pants you can’t really tell, but either way his touch becomes more gentle on your body, smoothing out the tense muscles and cleaning you up. Today's travels with the man have suddenly caught up to you and you might pass out right here, half clothed and dirty.

“Come on, get up. Don’t sleep here.” Mando firmly states, helping you up and guiding you across the clearing after you pull your leggings up from where they gathered at your ankle. You’re trembling like a leaf, fragile in your spent state but glowing all the same. Mando sets you down on a log and brings you a canteen of water which you gulp down thankfully. He chuckles. “Wait up or I’ll have to drink from the spring.”

That gives you pause, reminding you of something he said while you lay beneath him. You’re slightly nervous to ask but you do it anyway, warm and satisfied on your perch while he cares for you. “You.. When you were, um- fucking me. Well, you said something about how you shouldn’t have waited. Does that mean what I think it means?”

He nods, “I noticed you for other reasons too, burc’ya.”

“Maybe you should’ve fucked me back then.” Taking another gulp then handing the canteen back, you stretch then slide down to sit on the ground with him, back against the log. “You said that word before, ber-borshaw?”

“Burc’ya.”He corrects,“It means friend in Mando’a.”

“Oh.”You cheeks heat, feeling silly and rude for not recognizing the use of his people’s tongue, also noting that he used it to refer to you twice now, endearingly. It is an honor, one that makes you nervous. You feel like you should apologize, somehow. “Y-You speak Mando’a? I’ve never heard you use it before.”

Mando settles against the log, leaning his broad shoulders to rest against the wood near your side. A few moments pass before he responds, “I chose to not use it around the others. Didn’t trust them.”

“Oh, so you trust me?” You giggle, tapping the side of his helmet with your elbow. Questions burn within you and you may as well ask now, in the quiet afterglow of sex where everything is warm and slow. “Why didn’t you trust them if you started the company with Ran? How am I any different?”

“You aren’t ruthless,” he surprises you by answering immediately, and you can’t decide whether you're insulted or not before he continues. “Ruthless and cruel is all that group ended up being, and it didn’t start out that way. We weren’t just mercenaries, we had a code. In the early days, attacking a slave ship would’ve been out of the question. Ran wasn’t always so full of greed.”

Silence falls after he speaks, letting you mull over his explanation for a while while the waterfall rumbles in the background. Really, his perspective confuses you when you think back on your actions as a mercenary. Desperate to climb the ranks, to make a name for yourself, to earn credits and reputation. You suppose you conducted yourself with empathy, avoiding selection for hits that targeted innocent people if you could help it. You never had much choice in the area but it seems your actions spoke louder than realized. So much energy spent to avoid seeming weak and you never considered that your aversion doubled as strength.

“Friend…” You whisper, not of your own accord. The word floats on your tongue, a specter within your vocabulary. In your adulthood you’ve had allies, you’ve had teammates, you’ve had acquaintances, but to have a friend… it terrifies you as much as it warms your heart. You considered yourself partnered professionally with the Mandalorian and didn’t dare to consider yourself lovers, no matter how much you privately hoped. But a friend is a luxury you didn’t hold close, mainly out of fear. You lost too many as a child. For a faceless man he manages to strike areas that are quite intimate.

You decide that you’ll enjoy being his friend, a bit surprised that you aren’t too hurt by what is essentially a romantic rejection of the crush you held for so long. Probably because this is real , solid and built within reality instead of the silly fantasies you built prior.

This is better than lovers, you tell yourself, the slight ache in your heart melting into the background of your desires, behind lock and key for another world.

“I’ll take ‘friend’, Mando.” You grin, extending a hand to him cheekily. He stares for a second before taking it and shaking, helmet tilting in a respectful nod.

His next words send an unexpected pang throughout your chest, taking all the careful walls you worked hard to set up and throwing them into a blazing inferno.

“Let’s see where it goes.”

Fuck.

----------------

Leather boots prance lightly through thick branches high in the trees, footfalls landing silently with all the grace of an athlete. Through the delicate glasses perched on the pursuers nose, a red glow blooms on the shadowy floor of the swamp, two sets of footprints lighting up to reveal a steady path made by the travelers. A musical giggle bubbles out of the darkly dressed woman as she pulls a small holo-watch from her bag and straps it onto her wrist, pale light mixing with her lavender skin, transforming it into a sickly grey.

Xi’an claps a hand over her mouth to prevent her cackle from ringing through the trees as her plan takes form.

***

TAG LIST (working on it slowly, message if you want)

@velia27 @shrekscoochiehair @tbhitisdbh @sparklingwitches @lazyonasunday @peach-child @leah-halliwell92 @riot-sounds

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llamagoddessofficial · 4 years

Text

Happy belated birthday @aka-indulgence! I initially intended to get this out two days ago but I lost the flow a little. Luckily, it came back... hope you had a good day!

Nightmare!Sans/Reader

... It was so quiet. Dark... but you could hear something. It sounded like...

...

... Waves. Gentle ocean waves.

Something warm washed over your toes, and it made you open your eyes in surprise, looking down at your feet- water. Crystal clear water, streaming over perfect white sand... bubbles of foam popping in sparkles of light.

You looked up, confused... and found yourself looking out onto a gorgeous sea under a clear glowing lavender and orange sunset sky. You gasped, quietly, without even realising- it was so beautiful. The ocean, mild and clean, faded from sandy yellow where you were standing to green to a brilliant turquoise, and the deeper waters were a warm pink as they reflected the sky that seemed to stretch for infinity... your lips parted, awe overtaking everything. You could see little silhouettes of seabirds wheeling in the distance... Directly above you, where the sky was lilac and purples and deep blues, a few lone faint stars were beginning to make themselves known.

... It was so beautiful.

You inhaled through your nose and sighed, happily; fresh, salty sea air. The sound of calling gulls and water... the glow of the sunset on your skin, the lapping ocean at your feet... you closed your eyes, happy, calm...

You could just stay here forever... you should stay here forever...

...

Something was wrong.

You opened your eyes again, confused, turning around to look behind you. Some trees, tropical-looking, palms... nothing out of the ordinary. But why did you feel... wrong? It wasn’t a feeling you could put your finger on. Something was off. You stepped away from the water’s edge and began to walk up the beach, the sand pleasantly warm and soft underfoot, not loose enough to stick between your toes and not clumpy enough to feel damp and gross...

...

Something was wrong.

You had a terrible feeling in your chest, your eyes kept darting around to look at the scenery as if expecting to catch something. You couldn’t stop here, your heart was pounding- like something was out there, something awful would happen if you gave in here and rested. Maybe you were just being stupid... maybe you were just panicking... something’s wrong, something’s wrong-

... A noise.

... It was a sigh. A deep, breathy sigh; it sounded frustrated, but amused. And it wasn’t coming from behind you, or next to you, or in front of you... it was inside your head.

Someone else was inside your own mind- someone else was speaking to you, echoing in your head.

“every time.” It said, in a long-suffering tone. The voice was dark, silky... almost too soft. Like he was patronising you. “i’m getting tired of this, darling.”

... You froze.

Not willingly. Your feet sank into the sand the moment you stopped, and suddenly it was as hard as concrete- you let out a little frightened sound and tried to pull your legs, with no luck whatsoever. What the hell is going on!? You couldn’t think straight, your head was fuzzy, like someone had thrown a woollen blanket over your mind- over your ability to process what was going on. You were confused, nonplussed, things that should be making sense just weren’t connecting.

“nothing’s ever enough...” It whispered.

The landscape began to cycle, warp, stretch around where your feet were locked in place. You desperately wanted to stagger back... An empty roof restaurant overlooking a glowing city, you barely had a moment to appreciate it because after a second’s wait it changed again, a mirror-flat lake at sunrise speckled with pink petals from a flowering tree, giant misty emerald-topped mountains that seemed to defy the laws of physics, a waterfall as wide as the grand canyon that roared with power, your head was spinning, it hurt...

... It stopped on what seemed to be a salt flat after rain; a perfectly blue sky peppered with cotton candy clouds, everything reflected below you in the world’s largest mirror. Nobody around for miles.

“i can control this world down to each molecule.” The voice continued. It seemed almost gleeful... showing off, enjoying boasting about all he could do. “i can give you anything you want. i could take you anywhere, show you anything... there’s nothing we can’t do together, here.”

... You felt something on your stomach.

The scenery changed again; a flower field, at night. An endless galaxy overhead, purple and blue and pink blooms shifting in the gentlest of breezes.

But you couldn’t concentrate. The fear that had suddenly gripped you was icy; and it wasn’t just the fear that had a hold of you. Something wrapped around your middle, your waist, something thick and long, you looked down...

... You had no idea what it was. A tentacle of some kind? It was as if someone had coated the body of a giant snake in a viscous, gooey, tar-like substance. Thick, black, slimy, it was cold where it touched the skin that wasn’t covered by your riding-up shirt, so cold... you wanted to shove it off you but you didn’t want to touch it, you were scared you’d put your hands on it and they’d just sink straight in and stick.

“... i could give you anything...” The voice wasn’t inside your mind anymore. It was behind you, like it’d escaped from your head, whispering into your ear so close you could feel hot breath against the skin. Another thing, appendage, tentacle, curled around your neck; it was so cold you sharply inhaled, a harsh contrast from the warmth of his breath. And when you tried to reach your hands up to it to grasp at it, to pull it off in a blind panic, no longer caring about the consistency... more curled around your wrists, snatching them back and holding them tight by your shoulders.

“and yet...” ... It shifted from playfully teasing... to something else. Something... angry.

A growl.

“you just keep on defying me.”

The tentacles around you squeezed- your neck, your stomach, your wrists- you cried out, but you weren’t sure whether it was in pain or in terror as a squeak-like sound was forced out of you when your breath escaped. You didn’t understand what was going on, you could barely focus on not losing yourself in pure, unadulterated terror.

“i could be doing anything right now.” He continued. The landscape started to change again; but not into something beautiful. The stars started to flicker out and die one by one, flowers began to brown and rot and wilt, sinking into the grassless slick dirt and triggering a foul smell that invaded your nostrils and made you cringe. The gentle breeze vanished, replaced with a thick, uncomfortable heat that only worsened the smell.

“i could be destroying whole universes- amusing myself by making them all bend to my will...” He squeezed tighter, you were starting to struggle for breath, wheezing and tearing up, you could feel more wet slimy tentacles curling around you... your legs, over your hips, across your chest... he was going to choke you, squeeze you to death. “billions of lives begging for mercy at my feet.”

You expelled a precious breath in a weak sob.

...

... The tentacles loosened. But they didn’t let go. You gasped in air and gagged, the awful smell making your eyes water and stinging the back of your throat... You didn’t understand, nothing made sense, your mind felt fuzzy and confused and lost. As you sucked in breath after breath, you didn’t notice the smell fading... the air becoming clean again, the mud and rot fading away like...

... like a bad dream.

Instead, it was pitch black. The kind of darkness that pressed in on all sides, that made you somehow feel both hopelessly lonely and like something was watching you.

He moved, the voice moved. In front of you, in the darkness... a ring appeared. A ring of blue light; cold light, unfeeling, unfriendly... a single eye, partnered with a smile of giant ice-white teeth.

“but instead of all that...” The face came closer. And as it did, you could see more... you could see the ooze-covered skeletal face, the slick black substance all over him, even his clothes... you could see the way the tentacles restraining you came from his back. He didn’t stop approaching until he was inches away from your face again... smile looming over you, close enough to kiss your forehead... cold, cold hands pressed against your ribs and slid around to your back. Like he was holding you. “instead of ruling universes, i’m here again. playing with you. making intricate worlds for an ungrateful little human who won’t just give in to me... every night, something new. every night, something beautiful. and every night, you resist...”

One icy hand stayed on your back, the other... drifted up, cupping your head, weaving his giant phalanges through your hair at the scalp.

“it’s infuriating.”

You felt terror clench your chest again, harder than before. What was he going to do? Was he going to tear it out? Snap your neck, dig those slimy claws into the back of your head and kill you? You felt your lip trembling, your eyes welling up with hot tears...

He was so close to you, pressed so flush, that when he shuddered you felt it. His grin only spread wider, inhumanly wide, that bright blue eye contracting like a snake squeezing a kill...

“that’s right, pet...” He said, voice a purr that barely hid his glee, tentacles beginning to squeeze again like the claws of an excited cat. “that’s it, fear me... i could squeeze you until you snap, i could tear you into bloody ribbons...”

His hand tilted your head upward, toward the face that took up your whole vision. In a strange way, it was a good thing he was holding your legs... you were certain that your feet wouldn’t hold you up any longer.

Whatever patience was holding him back seemed to snap when you pressed your lips together- the moment his glowing eye moved to your mouth, it twitched, and he closed the precious distance you had from him. A predator striking, a monster moving to eat you whole...

... He kissed you.

...

You startled awake, heaving in breaths and slick with cold sweat, staring up at your ceiling while gripping your mattress with white knuckles.

...

Oh fuck...

The sigh you breathed in relief racked your entire body from head to toe. Shaking, close to tears... Like you were expelling the tainted, fearful air from your lungs.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

The tentacles were just your bedsheets twisted around you, as you’d turned in a panic. The cold and ice was just your bare, sweat-dotted skin meeting air... even as you laid there, bathing in your own relief, you began to forget the terrible dream.

Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

... You sorted out your sheets, turning your pillow over to the cold side to nestle back into it, calm once again. You still had a few hours before your alarm would set off... now the bad dream was out of the way, you’d surely sleep peacefully.

It didn’t take very long for you to drift back into unconsciousness.

...

The shadows by your bed started to thicken, gathering into a form sitting by you on the bed. He stroked your hair behind your ear... icy blue eye watching silently. Adoringly.

He... had planned to make that encounter a little bit... softer. He’d gone into your dreams intending to keep you calm, keep you open to influence; and then he’d make himself known to you gently, acclimating you to his presence in your mind. Maybe strike up some nice conversation... He had it all planned so neatly...

... But your fear was just so... delicious. Your terror when he held you, those wide, doe-like eyes staring up at him with you totally under his control, at his mercy... what was supposed to be one of the lighter encounters quickly spiralled as he lost himself in your skin and breath and warmth and life, feeding like a parasite on the negativity pouring out of your Soul.

... He sighed. He’d let you sleep, for tonight... he had to think of a new place to take you to. A new world to make for you... hopefully, this time, it would be enough to keep you under his spell.

“... sleep tight, doll.” He purred, leaning down to press a toothy kiss to your forehead... before his form melted into the shadows of your room, like a ghost.

#llama writes #happy birthday!#hope you like it uwu

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dead-end-street · 3 years

Note

690 with Chayenzo pls and thank you ^^

Thanks for the prompt for "on an island". I had intended for this to be shorter but then my hand slipped and it accidentally got smutty lmao enjoy~~

(Read on ao3)

---

The night breeze was stronger than usual on Pagliuzza. A gust of wind blew through Vincenzo’s open window, sending a stack of papers on his nightstand fluttering to the floor. His eyes snapped open, hand immediately going for the gun tucked between the mattress and the headboard above his head. After a few moments he realized there was no intruder — not that there would be on his secluded and secure private island — but a year and a half after living here, he still found himself reverting back to old habits.

Especially now.

He walked to the window, pushing the billowing, white curtain aside to look out at the waning moon in the sky. Something caught his eye down below and he saw a figure walking towards the beach, partially obstructed by the trees. When they reached the sand, he could finally make out that it was her.

---

Hong Cha-young stood alone on the beach, the warm breeze making her oversized sleep shirt shirt, which normally reached just above her knees, ride up slightly. She had arrived that morning after what felt like days of travel, greeted by the most beautiful man in the world, whom she now could finally call her own. The whole day seemed surreal; from finally being back together with him, to touring his island and the villa he’d built with her in mind, to the way his staff already treated her like she was part of the family as if they’d known her for years. He had told her that evening after dinner to get some rest in her room — the one he’d designed specifically for her — and given her a quick kiss that made her want more. She had wanted to object but her yawns kept sabotaging her plans to sneak into his room and before she knew it, she had passed out on her four-poster bed.

A few hours later she woke up feeling much better but suddenly wide awake despite it being only 3 in the morning. After a few more attempts to sleep, she gave up and decided to get some air. She loved the feeling of the cool sand between her toes, the grains exfoliating the bottoms of her feet as she walked towards the water. The moon was getting lower in the sky, the perfect crescent shape hanging above the waves. In all the hustle and bustle of the day she hadn’t actually had a chance to touch the water yet. She started walking again towards the waves beckoning her closer when she thought she heard someone call her name.

Peering over her shoulder she saw Vincenzo in a white t-shirt and what were probably Boorlaro silk pyjama shorts. When he got closer she could finally see his face better in the dark, hair tousled by the wind and a small smile on his face.

“Jetlag?” he asked and she nodded. “It will take a few days for you to fully switch over to this timezone. The trick is lots of water, eating meals at the right time for this timezone, and vitamin D.”

She smirked at the last part and stepped closer so she was right in his space. “So will you just feed me on the beach all day while I soak up the sun like a — what do they call them? Oh, cabana boy!”

He snorted and ran his hand up and down her arm. “Sure, if it would make you happy.”

His smile seemed so carefree — a look she hadn’t seen often on him when he was in South Korea. It suited him.

She turned away and continued her trek towards the water with him quickly falling into step with her.

“I can’t go the day without having dipped my toes in the Mediterranean Ocean!”

“Sea,” he corrected her. “It’s the Mediterranean Sea.”

“Whatever.”

A few more steps and she was ankle deep in the sea, surprised at how warm it was. She walked in a bit deeper until the waves were lapping at her knees and she pulled her sleep shirt up higher so it wouldn’t get wet.

“Is it always this warm?” she called behind her.

“What?”

The strong gusts had finally stopped but the breeze was still blowing at a good rate, making her words lost in the wind.

“The water. Is it always this wam?” she shouted a bit louder this time.

“It’s the warmest now because it’s August, but in the winter it can get down to 15ºC.”

“Ooh, so I came at the perfect time then!” she said, and began to walk a bit deeper, the water now at her thighs. She had to jump a few times to avoid an oncoming swell of water and to keep her clothes dry.

“You should come back inside, it’s late.”

“Don’t you want to join me? The water is so warm and the breeze is so refreshing.”

He shook his head and remained on dry land, which only made her want to do something naughty. She pretended to give up and walk back to him but at the last second, she flung her leg up, kicking a spray of water at him, then ran away cackling. She looked back and saw his nostrils flare, his white shirt almost soaked through and probably his shorts as well. She shrieked when she saw him start walking into the water towards her — a dark, predatory look in his eyes. She tried to run faster but forgot that running in water and on sand was not an easy feat. She almost lost her balance when she looked back at him again, realizing that he was much quicker than she’d expected, and let out an undignified squeal when his hand latched onto her wrist pulling her towards him. She crashed into his damp chest and looked up in time to see him dipping his head slowly, eyes fixed on her lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up, waiting for his lips to meet hers when suddenly she felt herself being pushed and falling backwards into the waves.

“YA!” she sputtered, when she emerged from the water to see a huge mischievous grin on his face. He took a step back but she was faster this time and hooked her foot around his ankle, making him topple into the water next to her.

When he surfaced, he looked annoyed, probably mad about his expensive Boorlaro being ruined by saltwater. She knew the only way to take his mind off of it was to distract him, so she swam over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Wet bangs clung to his forehead and she smiled softly. Leaning in, she finally captured his lips with her in a proper kiss. He tasted salty from the seawater but also minty from his toothpaste. She angled her head to one side and he opened his mouth wider, tongue coming out to caress hers. The waves made her lose her balance slightly but he pulled her closer to him, one arm firmly gripping her waist, while the other hooked under one of her knees, pulling her leg around him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support, then hopped up and wrapped both legs around him.

The water was warm, but his skin felt warmer under her skin. His shirt had floated up in the water and her bare legs were flush against his exposed torso. She realized her own shirt had floated up, his hand splayed across her back, under the shirt. She wasn’t sure if she could blame the jetlag for this light-headed feeling when there was this much bare skin pressed together, slick and smooth underwater.

He kissed her again and she forgot all about the jetlag, only focusing on the way he deepened it, then pulled back, sucking slightly on her upper lip. She couldn’t help the slight roll of her hips against him but it caught him off guard. He stumbled back a few steps, the water barely reaching his hips now. Had they been pushed closer to the shore? She looked back and the shore somehow seemed farther away.

“It’s the tide going out. It will be low tide in a few hours,” he explained between kisses pressed to the side of the throat and collarbone.

His fingers on her chin turned her head back to him. Back to his hungry mouth that kissed a path from her neck, up her jawline to the edge of her lips. Dipping her head again she kissed him back, moving one of her hands up to the back of his head, raking her fingers through his wet hair.

A gust of wind made her shiver against him, the air feeling much cooler than the water temperature. He wrapped his arm around her tighter and lowered himself so he was on his knees and the water came up to his neck and her chest. She contemplated unhooking her legs from his waist but his hand gripped her thigh and held her there. He ran his hand up and down her leg slowly, ending at her knee, then creeping back up higher and higher. She shivered again, pressing her chest into his, her nipples hard from the cool air. She needed to get lower in the water so her shoulders would be covered by the warm water, so she loosened her leg grip and shimmed down lower, relying on the buoyancy of the salt water to keep her afloat while she readjusted herself. A small wave came from behind her, knocking her into him, causing her core between her legs to rub into his pelvis.

Silk pyjamas left very little to the imagination but now there was no imagination required. He was getting hard against her and the way he broke the kiss to let out a groan gave her goosebumps that had nothing to do with the wind.

“We should probably stop before this goes too far,” he said, shakily, the lower parts of their bodies still pressed together with nothing but his shorts and her underwear separating them.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked, fingers still in his hair.

He let out a long breath and shook his head, “not really, but—”

“Then let’s not stop.”

He laughed against her lips and readjusted his grip so he held her with her left arm instead. His right hand came up to brush her now damp hair away from her face so he could see her better.

“We should go out a bit deeper, it’s getting too shallow again.”

She nodded and slipped off of him, her bottom hitting the sand sooner than she expected. The water somehow felt cool against her skin that had been flush against his warm body for so long. Instead of standing, they both swam a bit further out, with only their heads above the water. When he reached a spot where the water came to his mid-chest, he pulled her closer to him, hands sliding down her back as he kissed along her jawline. In a swift movement, he lifted her up, his hands on her ass, holding her in place against him. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him again.

Her heart was pounding after their short swim but mostly in anticipation of what was to come. She enjoyed the feeling of his large hands cupping her bottom and squirmed a little in his grip. He was harder than before and he let out a ragged breath when she ground her hips into him, at slow and steady rhythm.

She kissed him again, never tiring of the way he always met her ferocious energy, nipping at her lips and dragging his teeth across her skin. She wondered why they never gave into their desires when he was in Korea. There were more than enough chances for them to cross the line and she hadn’t been shy about her feelings, but there was always something or someone in the way or they hesitated too long and the moment had passed.

While she was sad for all the time they had wasted not getting together sooner, she couldn’t ignore the fact that this was one hell of a way to make themselves official — on a private island in the middle of the Mediterranean, half-naked under the moonlight. They never did things in half measures.

Vincenzo’s shirt floated past her and began to sink as it got heavier with water. Somewhere between making out and grinding into him, she’d missed when he removed his shirt. She looked down but could barely make anything out below the surface of the water. Instead, she ran her hands down the flat planes of his chest and stomach, revelling in the new expanse of bare skin. His palms slipped under her shirt and along her back but she wanted him closer, so she leaned back so she could tug it over her head. Her favourite sleep shirt sank to join his, somewhere in the watery depths below them.

The water lapped at her chest, the tops of her small breasts almost visible in the moonlight. He hoisted her up slightly higher so he could dip his head to kiss and lick down her chest and take one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh, fu—” she gasped. His hot tongue swirling around her nipple then trailing along her chest to kiss and suck the other one.

Using her feet she tried to push his shorts down since her hands were busy holding onto him so she didn’t sink. He quickly got the message and helped her with one hand to finally push them down over his hips and he was free.

Reaching between them, she lowered her hand down his abdomen and held him at the base, gently running her fingers up and down to prepare herself for what to expect since she couldn’t see a thing past a few inches underwater. She looked back up at his face and couldn’t help smiling at the intense gaze that stared back at her. He was trying his best to keep his breathing under control but she could tell he was struggling. She snaked her other hand around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss that felt different from the others. It tasted sweeter, somehow.

As much as she wanted to savour this moment, another more animalistic side of her wanted them to finally give in. She needed him inside her. Now. Without breaking the kiss she pulled her underwear to one side then moved closer to him. As if he read her mind, he released his grip on her slightly so she could slide down further and pressed up into her as slowly as he could bear it.

It was her turn to gasp — pressing her forehead to his, eyes squeezed shut — breaking the kiss momentarily. Gripping his shoulders and back, she began to roll her hips, sliding back slightly then dropping back down as he filled her up. The hands on her hip and ass dug into her skin as they moved together. Everything was slipperier in the water and she slid off him a couple times, resulting in giggles from both of them. She dug her heels into his thighs to anchor herself better, switching the angle slightly so she could slip her hand between them again to circle her clit. He quickened the pace incrementally, opting to continue with several quick pumps followed by a few long, deep thrusts.

Their lips met again, a little sloppy from the change in angle and the gradually frantic movements happening underwater, but still good. She would never tire of kissing him. She could feel herself getting close and could only imagine he was too. There was time later for slow, drawn out sex in an actual bed, but there was only one opportunity to have sex for the first time with your ride-or-die partner in the sea. She could truly say this was most unconventional place she’d had sex.

A flurry of Italian poured from his mouth as his nails dug into her hip and his pace slowed for a moment for him to catch his breath. She could tell he was trying to make it last longer but she was ready to go over the edge and drag him with her. She squeezed around him as she accelerated the movement of her hand around her clit and rocked her hips into him a tiny bit harder. Her breath came out in short bursts, chest heaving as she could feel her first orgasm claim her. She slowed her fingers as she clenched around him, her body jerking as she clung to him. Her hand got trapped between them when he pulled her closer to pump harder into her. She could feel another orgasm building from the friction between their joined bodies and it crashed over her unexpectedly. He finally couldn’t hold on any longer, a long moan escaping his lips, and his head falling to rest on her shoulder. He slipped out of her before he came and part of her was sad for the loss of heat between her legs. She wrapped her body around him again as they bobbed in the water, feeling heavy despite the salt water keeping them afloat.

He peppered kisses down her neck and shoulder, whispering phrases that sounded foreign to her ears but mixed with words she understood. Again, she felt light-headed but blissfully happy. She gave him a kiss and untangled herself from him to stand on her own two feet, which almost gave out at first. He slipped an arm around her waist to steady her.

“That was incredible,” he said, an air of disbelief in his voice after he pulled his shorts back up.

“I’m exhausted but I can’t wait to do that again tomorrow,” Cha-young said, with a sleepy wink as they walked back to the shore.

He chuckled, “next time, we need to do it on a surface that doesn’t move. I almost drowned us out there near the end.”

As they emerged from the water they both realized their tops were missing. Looking back into the dark sea, they knew it was a lost cause to go searching for them now. At least he had shorts but all she had on was a pair of navy blue underwear. Crossing her arms across her chest, she let him wrap his arm around her shoulder to lead her back towards the villa. He paused to turn on the outside shower for them to rinse off the salt and sand from their bodies before hurrying inside, both of them dripping on the tile floor.

---

When they’d both finally gotten dry and changed into another set of sleepwear, he knocked on her door to see if she needed anything else.

“Come in,” came her soft voice behind the door and he let himself in. She was curled up in bed, eyes closed, clutching a pillow. “Stay with me.”

He nodded and shut off the light before sliding under the covers behind her. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him so she was flush with his body.

“I’m really happy you’re finally here,” he said into her hair.

“Mm, me too,” she mumbled, already drifting into a deep sleep.

He had wanted to tell her something else but sleep claimed him too quickly. They both fell asleep soundly before the sun began to rise.

#vincenzo #tvn vincenzo #chayenzo #chayenzo fic #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #vincenzo x cha young #my fic

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joel-millerr · 3 years

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Kijimi

Chapter One of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: Reader cauterizes a wound, so read with caution if that makes you uncomfortable

Summary: You've become quite a good spice smuggler. You always managed to evade capture, and now the New Republic is getting desperate. After meeting a friend on Kijimi, you planned to get the hell off that planet quietly, but you've never had to deal with someone like The Mandalorian. // This chapter establishes the reader and is more of an introduction than plot driven tbh

A/N: I’ve never written a second person POV before so pls be gentle. Also, this story takes place after Chapter 12.

You're sitting in a booth at the back of the cantina. Periodically, you take the time to scan your surroundings. There’s a steady flow of individuals coming in and out, therefore it’s hard to keep track of everyone, but you try to monitor their movements anyway. Being in such a crowded area is risky right now, but when Tye asked you to meet him on Kijimi, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to catch up. Besides, you’re currently on a work hiatus, and now seemed like the perfect time to get back into the spice smuggling game.

It’s not that you wouldn’t have been able to do anything else. You’re quite skillful with your hands because you used to help your father fix ships back on Tatooine. Theoretically, you could have kept doing that for the rest of your days, but there was always a part of you deep down that made you believe you were meant for more important things. Granted, this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, but it is considerably more exhilarating than just cleaning and fixing ships.

It was Tye who first mentioned this “job”. You were busy fixing a T-14 hyperdrive generator that had been destroyed during a dumb gambling game of chicken. Why people would purposely charge at each other in space, you’ll never understand.

Anyway, he knew you were starting to get tired of the same routine every day. He could see it in the way your shoulders slumped while you were working, and how your voice grew tired of talking about re-wiring, and the maintenance of spaceships.

Ever since you were a child, your father had taken you with him to work and you loved it. You loved being able to spend time with your father and also learn the ins and outs of any spaceship. You could probably take a whole ship apart and put it back together in less than a week, but ever since your parents died, the work became mundane and repetitive. You no longer enjoyed doing the work. You did it just to get by.

“It’s a fairly easy job,” He started to say. You were sitting with your legs crossed, hyperdrive in your lap, rewiring the chunk of metal. “We meet the manufacturer on Kijmi and then come back to Tatooine and bring it to the client.”

“I don’t know, Tye,” You craved adventure, but your friend had a bad habit of getting into trouble. Unlike you, he didn’t have a steady job. Instead, he took whatever was offered to him, no matter how legit it was. You were usually the voice of reason and tried your best to get him on a straight path, but his spirit always craved danger, and while you fantasized about going on epic adventures, you tried to keep it on the legal sides of things.

Tye laid a hand on your shoulder, and in turn you looked up at him. His eyes were gentle, inviting and trusting. More often than not, you attempted your best to avoid his gaze whenever he tried to reel you into something because you knew as soon as you’d look at him, your walls would come crumbling down and whatever he asked you to do would get done. You crossed your left arm over your torso, placed your hand over his, and let a deep breath escape your lips.

“What are we transporting?” You asked, rising to your feet to look at him properly.

He hesitated to answer. Biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes broke contact and shifted down to his feet.

“Tye?” You inquired, leaning down to try to catch his eyes again.

“Uh…” His hand began rubbing the nape of his neck. You came to the conclusion by his behavior that this job wasn’t going to be something along the lines of transporting pieces of scrap metal and he knew you very rarely took on an illegal job. You had done maybe one or two over the years but if you could avoid it, you tried to keep your employment on the side that wouldn’t get your ass thrown in a cell.

“What’s the transport, Tye?” Your voice was more stern this time. This seemed to snap his mind back into reality and he finally met your eyes.

“Spice,” His voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren’t entirely focusing on his tone, you wouldn’t have heard him at all. Your muscles went rigid and you swallowed the lump in your throat you didn’t know was there. Once the empire fell, the New Republic had the impossible task of trying to keep the peace as well as police the entire galaxy, and wherever they were unable to properly govern, spice runners thrived. You had heard stories about spice runners. How every single one was a highly wanted criminal but were almost impossible to find. They worked quietly and discreetly and were able to smuggle spice on pretty much every corner of the galaxy.

“It’s foolproof. They supply the ship and give the location. All we have to do is meet the supplier on Kijimi and then bring the product back here. It’s simple enough,”

You began shaking your head immediately. The risk of getting caught was too high, and spice running was a hard limit for you.

“No, I can’t. What you’re asking is insane, Tye. Spice running?” You emphasized the last two words to make sure you heard him clearly.

“I wouldn’t have offered it to you unless I was absolutely sure nothing bad would happen.” Tye reached out and gently pressed his palm to your elbow, begging you to hear him out. “I can see you don’t love doing this anymore. Ever since your parents passed, I could see the passion disappear. It’s completely drained out of you. We do this one job and then you can go back to fixing hyperdrives in this kriffing hangar.” He waved his arms around the store. “Don’t you want to see what else is out there?”

You opened your mouth to protest but the words never came. He was right. Since you were a child, you dreamed of leaving Tatooine. You were tired of the sand, of the heat, of the kriffing dryness that was always eating at your skin. You dreamed of worlds where lush green ran rampant. Trees that grew so high you couldn’t make out the top. Grass that would tickle your hips as you travelled through it. Clean, fresh oxygen instead of the dry, dirty air you had grown accustomed to here. You had heard stories from travelers whose ships you’d fix about waterfalls, lakes, beaches. A large body of water? All these things you couldn’t even fathom. How beautiful must it be to live on a planet where water wasn’t fucking scarce. What did an actual shower feel like? Not some sonic shower that merely got you sterile enough to do about your daily business, but an actual shower, with water.

So yeah, you wanted to get the fuck off of Tatooine, but was this really the only option you had?

Tye could sense your apprehensiveness, but he knew the idea was tempting. Closing the gap between you, he wrapped his arms around your body. He was much larger than you, and you almost disappeared in his embrace. Taking a deep breath in his chest, you let yourself imagine a better life.

A life where you got to visit new worlds, encounter people from different walks of life, an existence where you truly got to experience the greatest things the galaxy had to offer. As a child, you’d lie in your cot and wish for an extraordinary life. One you could recount to your kids with awe, not wasting your years away on a desert planet that no longer had anything to give you. When your family passed away, you worked yourself to the bone, trying to lose yourself in repairing ships. You wished someone; anyone, would help you escape off this godforsaken wasteland one day.

You’d regret not taking the risk, you thought to yourself.

Before you knew the words had slipped from your lips, you were agreeing to the job.

You’ve been a spice runner ever since, and you were pretty damn good at your job too. Since your frame was relatively small, it was easy for you to slip in and out of towns without ever being seen, and because you had been working on crafts your whole life, you had become pretty good at flying them too. You had made an impressive name for yourself. Even if you had someone on your tail, you were always able to lose them once you left the port. Your movements were sharp as a tack and was always thinking one step ahead. It enabled you to outrun any hunter or whatever sad, inexperienced New Republic officer that tried to snag you. When you first joined, all your runs were with Tye, but soon after getting accustomed to how runs operated, you were able to go solo. After realizing how much quicker the job went by without having to rely on another person, you became a strict lone wolf. On your own, you could take higher risks, and that made the thrill of the job even more exhilarating. You had become quite the adrenaline junkie, taking some chances even your fellow smugglers would find questionable.

On one job, you were purposely sloppy and let some officers tail you right up to the moment you fought them off in your ship just because of the way the blood in your veins fired through your body. The threat of being caught ignited every nerve-ending in your body, and you constantly chased that feeling.

You were staying on a quiet, uneventful planet when you had gotten a hologram from Tye asking to meet you on Kijimi. “For old time’s sake” he said. Since you had no other run lined up, you figured it was a good time to meet him. It had been a couple months since you last saw him, and now seemed like the perfect time to catch up. Maybe he had a job in mind, too.

The life of a spice runner typically wasn’t very long. It was a physically exhausting profession, and often times a spice runner would get captured by either a bounty hunter or an officer of the New Republic, or die at the hands of a rival smuggler. You knew your days as a runner was limited, so you made sure to have the time of your life while you had the opportunity.

Lately though, a lot of your peers were getting caught by some highly skilled hunter. Whoever it was had managed to trap four of your closest counterparts and you were on high alert. No one had ever been able to snatch that many smugglers in such a short period of time, and your particular crew was starting to get anxious. The runs were beginning to get more sporadic, and spending more time underground, only going out when absolutely necessary, hence the reason you were camping out on lightly populated planet. Technically, you shouldn’t even be in this cantina right now. You should be laying low, waiting for the right moment to jump back into action, but because you now have a taste for the wilder things in life, you take the chance anyway. Plus, if Tye is still walking around then it couldn’t be that bad. He had become a lot more cautious than you, so you’re not all that worried.

You continue to keep your head down, only peering up whenever you hear the door opening. From the corner of your eye, you catch the glimpse of a dark maroon shape coming through the door. Tye. He preferred to wear dark colors, as not to draw any attention to himself. Tonight, he’s wearing a dark maroon jumpsuit, a long-ranged rifle strapped around his back. You—on the other hand, believed hiding in plain sight. You tended to wear neutral, earthy colors. It permitted you to blend in with your surroundings. Every run, you’d switch your uniform according to the conditions of the planet. White for cold environments, dark clothes for desolate, bleak planets, and so on.

He stands in the doorway of the cantina, taking a scan of the bar. He knows you usually like to sit in the back so that you have eyes on everyone that comes and goes, and it doesn’t take long for him to spot you. He walks over to your booth with a kind of swagger you’ve grown to love about him. He’s a pretty confident man, without being cocky. The way he carries himself has always fascinated you. His shoulders are always back, arms swaying at his sides, never looking down. He takes long strides as he saunters over to where you’re sitting. As you both have grown, he also has become a pretty well-respected member of your crew and he exudes that in his every step.

You scoot out of your booth to meet him as he gets closer to your table. Big toothy smiles are exchanged between the two of you and he just about runs to close the space between you. His large arms quickly pull you to his chest and all the air nearly punches right out of your lungs. He actually lifts you a couple inches off the ground in your embrace.

“Tye! I have a reputation over here. You can’t just pick me up like that,” However, you’re unable to hide the joy in your tone. You’ve missed him more than you realized. Yeah, you prefer doing jobs alone, but sometimes the solitude can get the best of you. Having someone to banter with, play sabacc with—you miss it, but you both have very different ways of transporting the product, so you know the days of you working together are long gone.

Tye finally lets you down and you both slide into the booth, sitting opposite of each other. You still have a clear view of the door.

“You couldn’t have picked a better shithole to meet?” You remark.

It’s not that Kijimi was a total shithole, it’s just that it was the biggest shithole of a planet you could ever set foot on. The weather was brutal, the people even more so. The New Republic wasn’t able to control the crime here, so criminal activity ran rampant here. Luckily, the main interest in the city was spice smuggling so you had the respect of most of the local spice lords, but there was always the threat of some travelers who couldn’t care less who you were or how important you were to come after you; to kill without mercy and take your corpse to the New Republic. Therefore, you tried to limit your visits unless they were absolutely necessary.

“I figured since we haven’t been together on Kijimi in a while, it might be worth the visit,” Tye answers honestly. Lifting a hand to the bartender behind the bar, they rushed over holding an empty cup in one hand a jug of bright blue liquid in the other. They place the jug between the both of you. Tye reaches into his pockets and places come credits on the table, giving the tender a small nod before they excuse themselves, grabbing the credits and stuffing them in a small bag that was tied to their waist.

“How nostalgic of you,” You mock, lighthearted enough for it to make him chuckle.

Despite trying to keep your mind focused on Tye, part of you is still observing the door behind him. In the short time you’ve been smuggling, not only had your reputation amongst other smugglers grown, but so had the price on your head. The last few jobs had been particularly difficult. Not only were you trying to fight off New Republic officers, but several bounty hunters had been tracking you. Apparently, you had become a huge pain in the ass. Unfortunately for them, that just made the game way more interesting, and honestly it really fueled your ego.

“Any news on the next run?” You inquire. It had been a few weeks since you last had a contract, and the itch for adventure was starting to get under your skin.

Tye’s eyebrows furrow. He looks at you quizzically. “I didn’t ask you to meet you to tell you about another run. I just wanted to see my best friend.”

“Oh come on. There’s always another job. Always someone who needs spice and someone who wants to get rid of it.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t know you. Leaning back in his seat, he begins shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You can feel beads of anger building deep inside you. He was the one that got you into this, and now he has the audacity to look at you like he doesn’t know you?

“You’ve changed.”

You scoff and let out a laugh, a laugh that drips with irritation. “Of course I’ve changed, Tye. Did you really think I was going to stay the doe-eyed girl you met on Tatooine?”

Tye reaches over and pours spotchka in both cups before taking his and throwing his head back to swallow every bit of it. “No,” He begins to say, using the back of his tunic to wipe his mouth clean. “I think those two young kids who grew up on Tatooine are long gone.”

Your lips form into a firm line, not entirely sure how to respond without sounding too cynical.

“I’ve heard stories, you know.”

“Oh have you, now?” Your eyebrow raises, and elbows firmly plant on the tabletop. The joy seems to drain from his face. Smile disappearing, and his eyes begin wandering, looking everywhere but into yours. Curiosity is starting to get the best of you, your eyes squinting and burning into him. Testing to see how he reacts; you push him again. “And what have you heard, Tye?”

Green eyes still refusing to meet yours, he’s busy eyeing his fingers that are fidgeting on the piece of wood that separates you. “That you’re becoming too reckless,” His voice is steady, but much lower than his usual tone. “You’re taking too many risks and causing problems where there doesn’t have to be.”

Your hard expression scorches into him. He starts squirming in his seat. Back on Tatooine, it would have been the other way around: you succumbing to his will, but now you’re the one with authority.

“Look,” He says, leaning in towards you. “I’m not gonna sit here and tell you how to do the job. I know you’re good at it.” There’s regret in his voice. It hasn’t gone unnoticed how he looks at you occasionally, almost like he’s ashamed of what he’s done to you. If it wasn’t for that day, you wouldn’t have turned out the way you have. You think he wants to take it all back. Wishing that you stayed some nobody who lived their life fixing and repairing shit.

“But I’m told you have a high bounty on your head. Maybe it’s best if you continue to lay low for a while. Just until the heat cools down.”

You chew on your bottom lip, and your body relaxes into the booth behind you. Deep down you know he’s right. He just wants for you to be safe and admittedly, the way you’ve been acting lately is as if you think you’re invincible. You chase the thrill and the danger but it’s just making everyday life so much harder. Some merchants are too scared to sell to you, locals steer clear of you, and those who aren’t scared get too confident and try to pick fights with you. Despite your size, you’re able to carry your own surprisingly well during a fight. You don’t quite understand it yourself. Each time you’ve had to defend yourself, there was an energy you conjured that came from deep inside you that helped you manipulate your opponent. This energy allowed you to levitate objects or people in mid-air, assisted you to kill them without ever touching them, or even influence them to say and do what you wanted them to.

It was after a late night of sabacc. You were on your way back to your ship when three male figures blocked your path in a nearby alley. Three blasters pointed directly at you.

“Can’t let you pass, sweetheart.” One of them sneered.

Bounty hunters.

One hand slowly glided to the blaster strapped to your upper thigh, the other extending in front of you. “Okay, fellas. I’m sure we can make a deal here.”

“Don’t try that shit with us. You couldn’t possibly come close to the price the Republic is offering.” The man in the middle—a Twi’ you realize, warned.

“The bounty asks to bring you in alive, so let’s not compromise that, okay sweetheart?”

Adrenaline and wrath were starting to seep into your muscles. If there’s one thing you hated, it was chauvinistic men calling you ‘sweetheart’.

“Call me sweetheart again, and it’ll be the last thing you ever say.”

All three men’s cackle echoed through the stone walls.

“I’d hate to ruin a pretty hair on that head, but if you’re going to act like a little bitch then maybe—”

Cutting him off, one of their blasters wiggled out of their reach and smacked the first hunter right in the face before he could finish his threat, blood spraying from his mouth. Your blaster found its way into your hand, raising it to strike him straight in the chest. Simultaneously, your left hand targeted the second assailant’s throat, your hands violently gripping around the pressure of his neck. The hunter attempted to scream, his hands wrapping around his throat as your grip tightened. Fire consumed you, and as your grip on the man’s throat intensified, his body started to lift off the ground. The Twi’ eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets; horror plastered on his face.

“What the fuck are you?!” The Twi’s voice bellowed, spitting as he charged at you, a vibroblade in each hand. Your eyes shifted to him coming right at you with pure fury in his eyes.

“Come here, you little bitch!” He roared.

You let your hold of his partner relax slightly, then your arm swung to the right, forcing the hunter to lift completely off the ground. Once he became jelly in your grasp, you launch him towards the Twi. Both men slammed into the concrete wall next to them. You heard the sound of skull making contact with the cement, then watched them fall to the ground hard. The Twi cried out, “Please don’t!” but you blasted him right between the eyes before he could say anything else.

You stood there, chest heaving. Your eyes examined the men in front of you, not fully understanding how you were able to fight them off. You were outnumbered and they were much larger than you were. Holding out your hands, you stared down at your palms. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to focus on the power that expelled from your fingertips. Where did it come from? How do you control it? What was happening to you?

You had never felt such power before. For a moment, you were no longer in control of your movements. In that split second where you gave into that rage, it bended you to its will, driving you to do cause more harm than necessary. This voice inside of you wanted them to hurt, for them to suffer, and you couldn’t resist it.

Tye repeatedly calling you brings you back to the present. “You okay?”

Shaking your head, the corner of your mouth curls into a smile. “Fine.”

The rest of the evening is much more lighthearted. After the initial awkward tension between the two of you, you’re able to enjoy a couple drinks of spotchka and reminisce about old times. You’ve definitely missed his company. Tye is the closest thing you have to family and you cherish him deeply. Your energies mesh together so well, and you have to admit, sometimes you daydream about settling down together, living on a quiet planet and drinking spotchka for the rest of your days until you’re finally arrested. Those are quickly replaced by reality, because the reality is, it’s just not attainable anymore.

The cantina never empties, no matter what time of day it is, and given that there aren’t any windows, you have no clue as to what time it is anymore. You came in just as the sun was setting—what little sun is even offered on Kijimi. It’s easily been a couple hours since then, and you begin to feel the fatigue creeping up on you.

“Where are you staying?” You ask, stretching your arms and your back as much as you can in the booth.

“I have a place not too far from here. It’s tiny, but it’s not like I spend enough time on this planet to need anything bigger. You can stay with me for the night, if you want?”

“That’s okay,” You start to say, shaking your head. “I’m probably going to leave first thing in the morning anyway. I don’t like to linger.”

Tye’s head bobs a few times. “Sure. I have a couple things I need to take care of here before I can leave.”

You cock your head to the left. What could he possibly have to do? You don’t ask though. It’s a common thing for smugglers not to ask questions. Staying in the dark about your crew’s whereabouts and jobs make it easy not to catch too many folks in the same squad. It’s how smugglers have been able to evade capture. If one person is snatched in a team, it’s almost impossible to catch another because chances are, they have no idea what anyone else is up to.

“I should probably head back to my ship then,”

After announcing your leave, you both shimmy out of the booth and rise to your feet. Tye is the first to move into your body and wrap his biceps around your entire torso. Quickly, your arms find their way around his back and you allow yourself to sink into his body. You’ve missed the warmth of another person. For a second, you allow yourself to be vulnerable and really appreciate the physical intimacy. Tye’s the one who finally breaks the embrace, but he keeps you at arm’s length, both hands squeezing your shoulders. Yours drop at your sides and you can’t stop the grin that forms on your lips.

“Sometimes I can hardly believe we used to be a bunch of nobodies on Tatooine,” He says. Before you can come up with a snarky remark, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Bye, kiddo.” Slapping some credits on the table, he turns on his heel and heads to the door. “You’re not even a year older!” You shout, and you’re not entirely sure he hears you given the amount of noise in the cantina, but you see his shoulders bounce, so you assume he heard you. You linger for a couple minutes, finishing off the remaining spotchka on the table. Once you’ve downed the final drop, you thank the bartender for their kind service, toss them some coins and head out the door.

It’s in the late hours when the cold Kijimi winds hit your face. The freezing air is a drastic change from the heat of the cantina and the cold immediately sends chills down your spine. Pulling your hood over your head, you cross your arms across your chest, trying to conserve a little bit of heat. The streets are dimly lit and dirty with mud and snow. It’s a long, dangerous trek back to your ship, so you keep your head down but still keeping an eye out for any potential mercenary or hunter who might want that pretty bounty on your head. Keeping your hand close to the blaster strapped to your thigh, you dart through stone made arches, and small huts. Instead of taking the straight route, you opt to zig-zag through the city, knowing it would be more difficult to track your footsteps this way. It takes more time, but you know this is the safer way to go.

The cold is starting to really get to you, now. Despite wearing gloves, the tips of your fingers are starting to go numb and you thank the Maker once you catch a glimpse of your ship not too far into the distance. You fight the urge to walk straight towards it, instead listening to your gut. You come to an alley, lit only by a small streetlight that’s flickering slowly.

“I can’t wait to get off this shithole of a planet,” You whisper to yourself.

Just as you turn the corner of the alley, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. The adrenaline pumps through your veins, causing your heart to pulse quicker than you’ve felt in a long time. Any sound person would be afraid, knowing they were in for a bout, but not you. No, you chase this feeling on your runs. This is when you thrive.

You stand tall, straightening your shoulders and slowly turn to where you assume the figure is behind you. At the end of the alley, you see the shape of a man—what you think is a man, anyway. The light bounces off the blob in front of you, and realize they’re covered almost head-to-toe in shiny armor. A droid?

“Can I help you?” You question. Your hand rests directly over your blaster, slowly flicking the safety off.

The mystery man/droid doesn’t say anything. He stands completely still, and for the first time in a long time, panic prods at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath, hoping it’ll calm the nerves in your stomach.

“Can I help you?” You say through gritted teeth.

Again, you hear nothing.

You stand your ground, refusing to run from the figure. You’ve never been one to run from a fight, and you’re not about to start now. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me who the hell you are before I blast you on your ass.” Your voice is stern, now becoming more annoyed with the fact that they haven’t said anything. What the hell is this thing’s problem?

The figured dressed in armor takes a small step forward and finally speaks. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” His voice comes out low, but is nothing short of terrifying.

You suddenly realize who stands fifteen feet in front of you. It’s him. The hunter who’s created quite the name for himself. The bounty hunter who almost every smuggler has grown to fear. The one who never lets a bounty get away.

The Mandalorian.

As much as you are terrified right now, you can’t help but let a little bit of pride consume you. For the New Republic to have him come after you, it means they’ve gotten desperate. It also means they see you as a threat, and that makes you feel good. So good in fact, that you accidentally let a chuckle escape you.

“How much are they paying you?”

No answer.

You know he’s going to blast you any moment, and you’re trying to buy yourself some time.

“Oh come on. If I’m gonna go down, I should at least know how much I’m worth, don’t you think?”

Your ship is a quick sprint away (if you go straight ahead) but you’re not stupid enough to do that. He’s probably none the wiser and thinks you would, so you have that advantage. Instead, you know running to your left is the safer option. Even though there’s no actual street to your left, you did notice a split in the foundation just big enough for your body to slide through and make it to the next adjacent path, but you’ll need to do it quick. You gauge your assailant’s body language. He’s standing with his legs shoulder-width apart and you think you see his hand resting on his blaster, but you can’t be sure. You do catch the shadow of a rifle strapped to his back, and you know that that armor looks expensive which means it’s probably beskar, which unfortunately for you is basically indestructible. No amount of blasts will penetrate that armor.

Thinking impulsively, you grab the blaster out of your holster and shoot the light, hoping he’ll struggle to find your shape in the dark and praying to the Maker that it’ll give you enough time to wiggle through the stone walls. You sprint for the wall and see blaster fire shoot passed your head. Fuck, he must have night-vision with that helmet.

You manage to squeeze through the crack and end up on the other side. Most likely he’d come by the right, so you avoid that side entirely. Breaking into a sprint, you run down the cobblestoned road. It’s horribly uneven and you trip a few times, but always manage to recover without actually falling. The air cuts at your face and makes it harder to breathe but you persevere. If you were to stop, even for a moment, you risk getting caught. Your mind is running a million miles a minute, trying not to look back but also trying to imagine the more tactical way to capture you. Before you can think of your next move, the door to a hut opens and someone seizes your left arm and pulls you into the house with such force, it almost feels like your arm was ripped right out of its socket. The door shuts behind you immediately but before you can make a sound, Tye’s hand comes to cover your mind.

“Shh,” he warns, pressing a finger from his free hand to his lips.

You nod and he releases the grip he had over your mouth.

Tye crouches near the window by the door, checking to see if the hunter is out there.

“I can’t see him,” He says, turning his gaze towards you. You move from the doorway and crouch next to him by the window. Both of you continue to scan the street, looking for any sign of the attacker.

After a few minutes of looking with no luck, you conclude that he’s lost you. You retreat from the window to examine the room. It’s tiny, the bed almost immediately to your left and you wonder how anyone could possibly sleep there. The door is just a few feet away and you can assume the cold penetrates the door easily enough. Sleeping there must be miserable. The only source of light emanates from a few candles scattered throughout the room.

“This is my place,” Tye explains before you can ask. “It’s not much but it’s better than sleeping in one of the taverns.” He passes you and lowers himself in an armchair, rubbing the palms of his hands against his face.

“How did you know?”

“Call it intuition.”

The adrenaline is slowly wearing off and now you feel an ache in your bicep. You look down and notice a section of your coat has been ripped right off. Then you notice blood, a lot of it.

“Maker!” Tye all but jumps right out of his seat and rushes to your side. Gently grabbing your elbow, he inspects your wound. It’s pretty deep and will need to be cauterized.

Realizing it at the same time, your eyes meet. “Just do it.” You whisper to break the silence.

“I can use bacta spray instead. It’ll hurt less,” He says, before turning towards the cupboards, rummaging through the shelves and tossing whatever he can find, on the ground. You carefully remove your coat without touching the gash on your arm.

“Bacta spray will hard to find at this hour,” Your voice is barely above a whisper. The pain is starting to disorient you, and you manage to sit down on the bed before collapsing. “Just do it, Tye.”

Your friend stops searching for the spray, and he’s quickly by your side again with a clean cloth. He begins wiping the blood away. It stings and you swear under your breath.

“If you think this hurts…” His voice trails off. Yeah, you both know cauterizing it will hurt even more.

Trying to lighten the tension, you force a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

It’s true. You’ve broken bones and you’ve been hit a lot worse. If you ever manage to successfully make a run without injuring yourself, it’s a miracle. This is nothing new.

Tye leaves your side to warm up his vibroblade on one of the candles nearby. Once the blade is steaming, he returns to you. He holds out the blade, and you take it from his hand. Releasing a deep breath, you hold the blade to your arm and press it into your flesh. It sizzles and smells awful. Tye squeezes his eyes shut, like he thinks it’ll stop the whole ordeal. You stifle down the scream that desperately tries to come to the surface, and groan instead. Pressing the blade to your skin in short bursts, the blood slowly stops spewing and the pain from the actual blast begins to subside. Once the sting begins to slow, you drop the blade on the ground. Tye’s eyebrows relax as he inspects your skin.

“You should still put some bacta spray on that, to avoid getting it infected.”

Nodding slowly, you let out another deep breath through your lips. “I have some on my ship. I’ll head out in the morning and hopefully get to it before metal man out there can get me.” You try to be lighthearted with a joke. Tye either doesn’t catch it or think it’s funny because he’s shaking his head at you. He meets your eyes and whispers your name. “Having a Mandalorian after you is serious business. Those guys don’t fuck around.”

You sit up straight and look at his defensively. “Yeah, I know Tye.”

“Do you? Because you’re still making jokes. Do you know that Mandalorians are like the best killers in the galaxy?”

That sends daggers through your entire body. You rise to your feet, slowly until you’re almost towering over him. “I’m well aware of their abilities, Tye.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this is just a giant ego boost for you?”

That you actually scoff at. “Kriff…” Taking a step away from him, your hands rest on your hips. “Am I a little proud that they had to get a Mandalorian to arrest me? Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to act reckless and change my tacti-“

“But you are reckless!” Tye pushes against his knees to stand eye level with you. “You always do this. This is why no one wants to work with you!”

Your eyes widen, mouth dropping. “I don’t want to work with anyone because they slow me down!”

Immediately, your friend’s shaking his head. “No, that’s not why. Everyone’s deemed you too dangerous to actually work with. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught yet.”

You try to interject but Tye holds a hand up to stop you. “I’m not done. Yeah, you’re good at smuggling, probably one of the best, but at what cost? Where’s the girl that was gentle, kind? Where’s that girl who would fix ships with her dad and play in the sand dunes with me? That girl who nursed an injured womp rat back to health because you saw some stupid kids shoot at it? Where did my best friend go?”

The laugh that erupts in the room is anything but joyful. It’s resentful, it’s anger. Your best friend stands inches away from your face, insulting who you are. Who he essentially created.

“She grew up, Tye! My parents died and left me all alone on a planet that shouldn’t even exist. I had no choice. You think a ‘gentle, kind’ girl can survive in this galaxy?”

Tye’s fists ball up at his sides. “I miss that girl. Who you are now, it’s not who I remember. This job has tainted you.”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you dragged me into this world five years ago!”

“Don’t do that…” His shoulders drop, his head hanging in defeat.

“I love you Tye, but I can take care of myself. I’m not scared of some Mandalorian. I’m not afraid of anything.” A lie, but you refuse to look weak.

“I know…” He admits, his head still looking at the ground. “That’s the problem.”

A few moments pass in silence. Neither of you try to break the apprehension in the air. You can sense that Tye’s been waiting a long time to admit that. That he doesn’t like what you’ve become, and maybe he’s right. Maybe you do act impulsively, maybe you do put yourself at risk unnecessarily just to fill this void inside of you. A void that’s been eating at you since you were a child, but it’s not something you want to hear right now, or maybe ever.

“I’m heading to my ship.” Grabbing your coat off the cot, you slip into it, groaning as the material slides against your sensitive flesh.

That appears to snap Tye out of his thoughts because he looks right into your eyes.

“Please don’t. He’s probably still out there.”

“Well it’s like you said,” Usually, your voice is soft. You’ve never spoken to Tye with such anger before, but something inside of you now sees him in a different light. You resent him. “I’m too reckless.” You growl.

Tye mouth is agape and it almost looks like tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. He takes a step back like he’s been stabbed, which I guess is true. Your tone said it all.

You both realize at the same time that this is probably the last time you’ll see each other.

Turning on your heel, you head towards the door. “Take care, Tye.” You say over your shoulder before pressing the button to open the entrance. It lifts off the ground and you step out, not even looking at your surroundings before throwing the hood back over your head and heading straight for your ship.

If you want me, come get me, Mandalorian.

You’re not careful about the walk to the ship. You’re not careful passing corners or getting to the port. You’re behaving stupidly on purpose. You want to fight him; you want to prove to everyone and yourself that not even a Mandalorian can catch you. It’s extremely naïve but your blood’s boiling and its currently clouding your judgement. You spot your ship and march towards it, without a damn care in the world. Clicking the button on your bracelet, the ramp opens, and you begin to walk towards the slope. Once your foot touches the metal, you catch a glimpse of something shiny at the very top of the ramp. A sly smile creeps on your lips.

“You know, it’s rude to hijack someone’s ship.” You peer up at him.

The Mandalorian’s tense, with his hand hovering over the blaster strapped to his right thigh. Legs once again spread shoulder width apart, he oozes authority. The metal—beskar, glistening against the moonlight. You fight the submissiveness that begins to creep up on you. You refuse to show him weakness. If you’re gonna get caught, you’re gonna make sure you put up a fight.

Your strides up the ramp get smaller and smaller. Adrenaline fully pumping now through your entire body. You wonder how close he’ll let you get to him before blasting you right off your feet.

“I do have to admit, getting caught by a mandalorian is pretty admirable.” You taunt.

His hand gets closer to the blaster and you think this is your moment. Just as he rips the blaster from its holster and fires at you, your right hand comes up, catching the blast mid-air and deflecting it. It hits one of the cargo boxes and explodes. Before he can fire another shot, the blaster is ripped right out of his hand and goes flying into your palm. As soon as you get both blasters in your hands, a grappling line exits his vambrace and wraps tightly around your ankles, causing you to slightly lose your balance. He pulls hard on the rope and it sends you flying backwards. Your head hits the metal hard, and for a second your vision begins to fog. You blink repeatedly, trying to get your damn vision to clear, but before you can even begin to push yourself to the ground, the Mandalorian is hovering over your body. One leg on each side of your thighs, he leans down and grasps both your wrists with one hand and straps some binds around them. You give it one last ditch effort and try to kick up at him, but his reflexes are surprisingly quick and catches your calf with his free hand.

“Maybe if you stayed with your friend, you might’ve gotten away without me catching you.” He says through the helmet. The baritone of his voice immediately causes your breathing to hitch. Your heart is pounding in your chest and heat begins to form in your stomach.

“Then again,” He begins to say, pulling you to your feet. “because you’re so careless, I’d find you again.”

In any other circumstance, you’d have a sly comment, but right now you can’t even remember how to speak. Once on your feet, you notice just how big he actually is. Sure, the armor might add to his demeanor, but you can’t help but be intimidated now. He towers over you, and you have to strain your neck just to look at him. You try to see his eyes through the ‘T’ of his visor, but it’s too tinted. He loops his forearm around your bound arms and guides you down the ramp.

“I can walk on my own, you know?”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. He simply continues to drag you whichever way he wants. As you make your way to his ship, your heart is still hammering in your chest. The way he carries himself, you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s definitely intense, but nothing short of fucking mesmerizing. Most of the hunters you’ve encountered were cruel and mouthy. But the Mandalorian? He barely spoke to you; he didn’t let his any emotion come through. You can outtalk any hunter, but you couldn’t do that with him. He was one step ahead of you, which you have to admit has never happened before.

Once you reach what you assume is his ship, you can’t help but be taken aback by it.

“Whoa, is that a pre-Empire ship? I didn’t think those things still existed.”

He says nothing, as per usual. In the very short time you’ve known the Mandalorian, you noticed he’s a man of few words.

You’ve spent your whole life around ships, but you’ve never seen one quite like this. It’s pretty dated and looks in pretty shit condition, honestly. Several panels are completely dented, and whatever isn’t dented is scratched up badly. You can tell it’s been in a good number of shootouts. It’s a miracle this ship is still operational.

He presses a button on his vambrace, and the ramp opens up, creaking as it lowers to the ground. The Mandalorian lets go of the grip he had on you, and gently pushes you in front of him, instructing you to walk ahead of him. You head up the ship, turning back to look over your shoulder one more time. In that moment, reality hits you. You’ve been caught. You’re going to live the rest of your days in a cell. Actually, with your reputation, you’d be lucky if you get a cell. The New Republic will probably have you sentenced to death. While you didn’t expect to live to an old age, you didn’t think you’d die this young, but it comes with the job description. Everyone’s gonna get it sooner or later, and unfortunately for you, it seems like the former.

You take notice of the three other quarries in carbonite to your right. Heating beating so fast, you’re sure it’ll burst out of your chest, you start babbling.

“Please don’t put me in carbonite,” You plead, turning around to face your captor. He’s already closed the ramp and is busy removing the rifle off his back, placing it back on the wall of the ship. “You already have me in binds, I can’t go anywhere. I won’t cause any more trouble. Just please, no carbonite.”

At first, he doesn’t bother to look at you. He lingers there for a few seconds, probably arguing with himself on the best way to handle you. Your eyes burn into his helmet, praying to the Maker that he’ll give into you. You’re chewing down on your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ll break skin. Eventually, he turns to face you and begins a slow, tantalizing walk towards you. Panic overwhelms you, and you begin to shake your head frantically. Since when did you become such a submissive? Under any other circumstance, you’d be throwing insults, trying to get under his skin, manipulating words in an effort to aggravate them. You might even try to manipulate him into doing what you ask but your brain is shut off. You can barely form a coherent thought. Therefore, you resort to begging and pleading with the Mandalorian.

You can’t stop your body from trembling, and as he reaches to grab your wrist, you shudder at his touch. You swear his glove is on fire because how the hell is it possible that his touch burns into your skin? You keep your head down, not having the strength to meet his visor. You’re crumbling under him, letting him take absolute control of you.

“Up,” is all he says, as he gestures you to the ladder that goes up to the cockpit. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod and let him guide you to the ladder. It’s hard to climb with your hands bound but you do your best.

Once you reach the top, you wait for him to catch up. Putting a hand on your lower back, your breathing hitches when he touches you. His hand nearly cover your entire waist and you can’t help but imagine that thick hand wrapped around your throat.

Maker this shouldn’t be turning you on. He captured you.

He guides you into the seat that’s to the right of the pilot, and then sits himself in the pilot’s seat. He begins the take-off sequence, and the ship’s thrusters roar to life. As the ship lifts off the ground, it creaks and makes you shift in your seat. You take one last look at Kijimi as his ship climbs higher and higher into the air, realizing that for the first time ever, you lost.

#the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #Star Wars #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #we are one when together #fics

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duskandstarlight · 3 years

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Hi! I hope you are doing well :) I absolutely adore your writing. Could you do a POV of Nesta waking up in the latest chapter of E&L? :0 or anything else haha, I'm just gobbling up any Nessian content I can <3

Hi! Thank you for this lovely message! I can’t give you a POV of Nesta waking up in the latest chapter of E&L because you get a similar perspective in Chapter 24, but I have written you a (too) long POV from Nesta of when she was in the bath with cramps and Cassian was looking after her. It originates from Chapter 15, which you can read here.

I hope you like it and Merry Christmas if you celebrate it :)

Nesta’s POV - Chapter 15

The pain was indescribable. Not as bad as the Cauldron, when Nesta’s bones had been snapped and reshaped, but then again, Nesta knew nothing would ever amount to that torture. But it was a close second. Pain lashed like a lightning fork through her abdomen and down the backs of her thighs… until Nesta was gritting her teeth and panting from the agony of it all.

Through the suffering, Nesta could feel wet blood on her thighs, but the agony that ripped through her was enough to keep her in her protective ball in bed rather than seeking out the bathroom to clean up. Even the thought of moving made her want to pass out. Or vomit. Nesta wasn’t sure which one would come first.

And then he started to knock.

Through the crippling waves, Cassian’s voice floated through wood and brick and plaster. The way he said her name was not the way others said it. Nesta could not explain how a word could be so loaded, so full of panic. How it always, somehow, seemed to come in threes even if he only said it once. As if he were moaning it; Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

The final time he said her name it was laced with such unbridled alarm that she found herself snapping, “Go away.”

It did not come out fierce as she had intended. It was weak and broken. Enough to tell him that something was wrong. Not that Nesta didn’t doubt he could sense that anyway.

He should be asleep. Should not have been able to sense her pain from across the living room. Yet here he was, arriving in a whirlwind of pine and musk, the door crashing open and slamming into the wall to reveal a wild Illyrian, his hair in sleepy-mussed tangles, a pair of loose pants slung low on his hips. Too much skin. Too much black ink. Too much.

It was all too much.

Nesta’s ovaries twisted and tightened. She curled tighter into her ball. Felt the sweat beading on her brow.

A trickle ran down her temple and onto the pillow like a tear.

“What is it?” Cassian ordered, his wings flinging out so they were half-stretched, his eyes scanning up and down her body for an obvious sign of injury.

He pressed a hand to her forehead before she could stop him. Not that she could have moved to bat him away, anyway. That would mean moving from her position — the only position that felt safe.

She did not want him to touch her. Not now. Not when she was like this. Not for such a personal matter that she had been raised to be ashamed of.

She wanted to snarl and hiss and scream at him to go away, but the only let out a strangled moan as he demanded, “Where does it hurt, Nesta?”

Clinging onto her knees, Nesta dared to roll onto her back. It was a deliberate movement to try and distract her from the pain, but it didn’t work. She moved her hands to her lower abdomen, pressing her palms over her ovaries in the hope that the warmth would do something to make the pain lessen.

It didn’t work.

So she waited. Waited for it all to click into place as she saw Cassian’s nostrils flare again, no doubt scenting the shameful tang of blood. The smell that had no doubt brought him into her room in the first place.

Even now, he couldn’t reign in that urge that told him to protect.

The mattress dipped as he sat beside her, and unwittingly, her body sunk towards him, her hips and legs resting against his side.

But rather than relish in the warmth of another body touching hers, Nesta only closed her eyes. She kept them tightly shut, hoping that the force of the action would distract her from the feeling that her womb was being wrenched from her body by invisible hands.

“Nesta, what usually helps?” Cassian urged. His voice had dropped into something softer, even though she could still detect the panic lacing it deep in her stomach, lined with the scent of him.

Nesta supposed she could feel him so keenly because she had let her guard down.

It was not a purposeful move. The pain was so wrenching Nesta didn’t have the energy to keep her icy shields in place. They had cracked and collapsed an hour ago when the pain had jolted her awake; freezing water rushing through like a dam onto hot, scalding sand.

“What helps?” Cassian demanded again.

This time the panic won out, wrangling his voice hoarse.

Nesta shook her head at him. She wished her refusal to speak would make him leave. Wished he would go back to his room and stay out of her private business. Wished she wasn’t a female who had to deal with a menstrual cycle while males put their cocks where they pleased with little to no ramifications.

A deep, slow, calculated breath from Cassian, as if he were checking himself. “Your sister has a really hard time with her cycle, too,” he said softly. “Is there anything that helped you last time?”

The nerve of him bringing up her sister had Nesta opening her eyes. It felt as if he had ripped the stitched from a closed wound, but his genuine concern was so rampant that Nesta couldn’t help but force out, “I don’t know what will help. I—”

She broke off to inhale sharply. To breathe through the agony. The slightest of whimpers broke free from her throat. She hated herself for it. Hated the vulnerability, even as she admitted, “I haven’t had one as Fae yet.”

That dark brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t eat,” Nesta managed to choke out, partly because of the confession that she had never said out loud before, but mostly because of the cramping. Cassian’s bright hazel eyes watched her knuckles turn white as she clutched her knees tighter to her chest.

She watched his expression change as he digested her words. As the realisation hit. As his features became both stricken and soft.

She knew he was thinking of how ill she had looked when she had first arrived in Illyria: the sunken cheeks, the hollow eyes, her skeletal figure. His eyes had taken on a haunted look.

When Cassian raised his hand to push the hair back from her face, Nesta nearly flinched in surprise. His touch was warm but not unwelcome. For a moment, the pain soothed and quieted, but then it roared again.

In the far distance, she heard him speak. Heard him ask if she wanted a bath. Heard the thoughtfulness in his low, rumbling voice as he wondered if ginger tea might help.

All that comment did was make Nesta wonder if he’d brought ginger tea for Mor. If he had cared for the chirpy blonde as he was trying to do for Nesta now.

So when he tried to remove the blankets, she snarled with such ferocity he raised his hands in immediate surrender.

“I’ll leave you to get up then,” Cassian clipped matter-of-factly, his impossibly broad frame rising above her as he stood, “but if you haven’t made it to the bathroom in five minutes I’ll carry you myself.”

***

By the time Nesta made it to the bathroom, the tub was full of steaming, hot water and bubbles that smelt of chamomile.

She was practically on her hands and knees, but she did not have it in herself to care. In an effort to remain as upright as possible, she clung to the door and stared at the water, wondering how she was going to remove her clothing, step into the tub, and clutch at her ovaries at the same time.

Cassian was studying her in that unnerving way of his, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, his arms crossed firmly across his bare chest.

“I don’t need you to help me get in,” she snarled weakly.

A raised eyebrow but no cutting remark, and to her surprise, Cassian left the room, only murmuring that he’d bring her some tea.

Nesta had not long been in the water when Cassian’s knuckles rapped on the wood of the open bathroom door.

He had left it purposefully ajar and she had not had it in her to spit at him to shut it close. It was probably for the best. Now she was in the tub, she had a sinking feeling that she was not going to be able to get out without his help.

The thought was mortifying, but she pushed it away, determined to focus only on the hot water that bit into her skin.

The warmth helped — a bit — and the chamomile helped to cut through the nausea for a short while. It didn’t stop Nesta from writhing when the worst of the pain hit, the water sloshing onto the tiled floor with a smack as she ground her teeth and tried not to cry out.

Through the pain, Nesta heard Cassian murmur something about tea, but she kept her eyes shut tight.

She only opened them when a hot mug was pressed into her palms. It burned but she welcomed the distraction and she wrapped her hands around the porcelain as if it were a life line.

“Here,” Cassian offered, his voice a low rumble — a balm.“Sip this, it might help.”

He had crouched so he was eye-level. The movement was a gentle breeze of pine resin and musk. And best of all; fresh, unfettered air that cut through everything for a fraction of a second.

Cassian’s hazel eyes were ringed with dark shadows, his features tired but alert despite it. Nesta knew he had not been sleeping recently. Had heard him settled onto the couch in the early hours of the morning more often than not, the rustle of papers the only sound for hours as he gave up on sleep and buried himself in work instead.

“You can go back to bed,” she said; the words her way of saying thank you, even if he didn’t know that.

But Cassian only shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep anyway. Call me if you need me, I’ll be in the living room going over some paperwork.”

***

The next hour was full of grunting pain and whooshed, low moans. Nesta tried to be quiet, tried to contain it all inside, but in the end, it was all too much. She conceded to the agony, allowing it to rip her apart as the water sloshed around her.

And on top of it all, Nesta felt Cassian’s worry. It was palpable, growing and growing like a rising tidal wave, threatening to crash into... Nesta wasn’t sure what. Her probably.

When he finally dared to push open the bathroom door again, her name was soft on his lips.

Nesta was huddled over her knees, her arms wrapped tight around her knees. Her forehead had collided with her kneecaps a few minutes prior, the jolt of pain barely registering with the rest of her suffering.

All concern about baring her skin to him had vanished as the hours ground by. Nesta did not think of the water tainted by her blood or the way in which her posture exposed how shamefully thin she had become. Instead, she focussed on the depth of his voice as he said lightly, “The water must be cold by now.”

A long, ragged moan was dragged from her throat. Her arms tightened around her legs so that her knees knocked together hard enough to bruise.

“Come on sweetheart,” Cassian coaxed from behind her. “I’ve had the burner going in your room. It’s nice and warm in there.”

Nesta did not turn — could not turn — but she sensed that cock-sure grin that never failed to make her snarl. That made her want to shatter everything.

“Actually,” Cassian mused, “you needn’t bother putting on any clothes—”

That power which had been so quiet since last night thrummed through Nesta’s veins, promising… but then a fresh hit of pain pushed it down. Distracted her from making the threat of it an actuality.

So Nesta panted, “Don’t call me that. And you’re a pig. I can barely move and all you can think about is getting your dick wet.”

Satisfaction wound through her as a sound caught in the back of his throat. She had surprised him. Good.

As if she didn’t know that word. As if she hadn’t bedded male after male in Velaris. As if she didn’t know what it felt like to wrap her hand around a cock... her mouth around one.

She was not a naive virgin any longer with only her books for reference. It served Cassian well to remember that. That she was not the girl who went into the Cauldron. That someone fiercer and more hostile had emerged.

Someone worse.

Cassian’s voice dropped into that deadly calm of his that even had Illyrian’s doing his bidding, but it didn’t work on her. It never did. “I was teasing. You know that I was. Now get out of the bath or I’ll haul you out myself.”

Nesta did not move. Pain lashed through her again, down the backs of her thighs and a streak of nausea came with it. She bit back a moan, sinking her teeth so hard into her bottom lip she drew blood.

“If I move I’ll be sick.”

Somehow she got the words out.

She screwed her eyes tightly shut as it became hard to breathe. In the background, she heard Cassian stride across the bathroom. Then she heard the sound of a window opening and bracing air — Illyrian air — rushed around the room in a gush of freedom.

Nesta lifted her head. Cassian was wearing a crooked smile, his dark features full of shadow in the gentle faelight.

“Fresh air might help,” he explained.

She watched him step towards her. Heard the creak of his knees as he crouched beside her. His wings stretched out and then pulled back in to balance him as he lowered himself down to her height.

This close up she could see the shadow of stubble on his jaw. The white scar that slashed through his eyebrow. The slight crook of a nose that had been broken one too many times.

Raggedly, undeniably handsome in that wild, untamed way of his.

Cassian’s hazel eyes did not move from her face, as he asked, “May I take your hands? Or will you punch me in the jaw?”

Nesta frowned, an action which deepened as his mouth quirked into an infuriating grin.

“I haven’t decided—” she started to bite out, but then a fresh wave of pain twisted through her and the words died in her throat.

Cassian waited until her breathing regulated, and then he quipped, “A risk I’ll have to take.”

Warm fingers coaxed her arm from her knees. To Nesta’s surprise she let him. Her body felt malleable and light, the nausea so stark she wanted to fade into the dark.

His touch was gentle, even as calloused hands turned hers so her palm was facing upwards.

“There are pressure points in the wrists that can help to suppress nausea,” Cassian said quietly, placing three gentle fingers just below her wrist line. “They are just here, between the tendons.”

His touch was like a brand, and for a moment, Nesta jolted awake, as if a tether had tugged her back to reality.

It was so startling that she let his thumbs push lightly into the middle of her wrists on both arms. Let the touch ground her, a sensation to focus on through the pain and nausea.

“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Long breaths, that’s it,” Cassian ordered, his voice not unlike the tone he adopted in their training sessions, even if it was softer… shaped just for her.

She felt his whoosh of breath as she let out a low, agonised moan, as if he too, were in pain, but she tried to focus all of her attention on his touch as Cassian pressed a little firmer.

“I found those males last night.”

Nesta knew what he was doing. Knew that he was trying to distract her. But she did not care. Needed him to do it for her. Needed him, not that she’d ever admit it out loud.

“Good,” Nesta breathed out. Her voice shook, but there was still enough fervour in it to convey how she felt about those brutes.

She would never forget the sound of Durkhanai’s head as it cracked against the mountain rock. The way the male had spat at her and delighted when she cowered.

“I’ve posted soldiers at the bottom of the mountain as part of the general patrol,” Cassian continued.

Somehow, Nesta managed to nod. She was glad. None of those females deserved to fear how they got home. Their trek up the mountainside was bad enough.

“Those males are a pain in my ass,” Cassian added, his voice laced with sudden irritation and anger. “They’ve been spitting shit and spreading dissent in the camp about the war. Ragar is the worst — the one with the scar — the other two follow him like castrated puppies. Ragar is the son of one of the local lord’s so he’s been born with a stick of entitlement shoved up his ass.”

Nesta’s huff of breath was supposed to be a snort, but it faltered as pain wrangled through her. Despite that, she summoned enough strength to say, “If you can’t control them, I’d be happy to burn them to cinders.”

Cassian laugh was loud and delighted. The sound rang around the titles, chasing away the shadows. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

A pause, and then he asked, “How’s the nausea?”

Nesta found herself grimacing, yet she felt well enough to lift her head. Cassian was staring at her, his head cocked slightly to the side, his expression hopeful.

“Horrible,” Nesta admitted, because the cramps were still intense enough to make her stomach roll. Cassian’s face started to fall and immediately she felt bad, because she could breathe a little easier. So she added, “but a little better than before.”

A short, satisfied nod. Then Cassian drew away, rising to his feet. “Let’s get you out before it gets worse then. Do you need any help—”

“What and make your day?” Nesta snapped, the thought of him hauling her out of the bath, his eyes roaming the entirety of her naked body, unfathomable. “Absolutely not.”

“A male can only try,” Cassian quipped wryly, and then, as if he knew she would fling her fire at him, he backed out of the room with his hands in the air.

Tagging those who might want to read this:

@arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @hatemecozuaintme @lovelynesta @heymelphs @nestalytical @nestable @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @sjm-things

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obxsummer · 4 years

Text

In For It // JJ Maybank

word count: 2.2k

pairing: jj maybank x female!reader

warnings: uhh smut 18+; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), daddy kink, choking, slight degradation, fingering, handcuffs, spanking

summary: in which you’re an absolute tease at a party and jj takes you home to show you who’s in charge

a/n: if you’re reading this, my heart is probably racing because i’ve never written anything like this in my life

masterlist

ask me anything

You were pushing your luck. You were pushing every inch of your luck and you knew it. JJ knew it too. The moment you stepped out with a smirk on your face and left lip gloss on his cheek, he knew exactly what you were up to. It started there and then the moment you grabbed a plastic red cup and filled it with alcohol, JJ knew he would be ending it soon.

He watched from afar as you danced with Kiara, your gorgeous body moving to the beat of the song as you smiled and laughed with one of your best friends. Sweat was starting to build up on your forehead and you knew you would need to take a break soon but you were having so much fun you didn’t even consider stopping.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this way in a long time!” Kie commented as you finished off your drink. “Happy looks good on you, Y/N!”

You laughed, “I try, Kie. I’m going to get a drink, you want anything?” When she shook her head no, you stepped away to refill your cup amongst the crowd of people that had gathered. Thankfully, John B and Sarah were at the keg and gave you a new beer in no time.

“You look amazing!” Sarah complimented as she handed you back the full cup. “I’m loving this outfit.”

“Thanks!” You smiled as you took a sip before catching your breath. Dancing was sure a way to wear yourself out fast. “Anybody seen JJ?”

John B smirked and pointed his finger towards the edge of the beach. “He’s been staring at you for ten minutes. I can’t tell if he wants to kill you or join you.”

You rolled your eyes. Sure enough, he was right, and your boyfriend locked gazes with you seconds later. You knew you were on edge with your booty shorts that drove him crazy and your v-neck crop top. JJ was probably two seconds away from leaving this party with you in grasp. “Stick always up his ass,” You grumbled. “Oh well. Sarah, come dance with us!”

“Hey!” John B complained as you snatched his girlfriend from her seat and pulled her along with you into the dancing mass.

“I brought us a friend!” You shouted to Kiara once you found her again. She raised her cup, the three of you sharing a cheers of glasses before chugging your drinks slightly and continuing to dance.

Over on the side, John B had ditched his spot by the keg to stand next to JJ and Pope, handing both their respective drinks. “Good turnout on this one.”

“Probably the biggest party I’ve seen so far this year,” Pope commented as he took a sip. “Lots of tourons for sure.”

“Y/N looks like she’s having a good time. She stole Sarah from me, though, that’s my only complaint,” John B joked as he nudged JJ slightly. The blond’s eyes still hadn’t left your dancing form, pupils darkening at the sight in front of him.

He huffed as he finally glanced away, “Yeah, I can tell.” He swirled the liquid in his cup as he kicked the sand lightly. JJ didn’t know why he was so bothered with the way you were acting. He just knew he wouldn’t be able to handle your teasing the whole night.

“Hey, Maybank! Your girl’s looking like a snack tonight. Might have to see if she’ll let me take a bite!”

Rafe’s comment had JJ over the edge as he shoved his now empty cup in Pope’s hand. “I’ll see you guys later.” Shouting followed his exit as JJ stomped into the crowd and grabbed your elbow, pulling you away from the girls without any explanation whatsoever.

“JJ!” You complained as he continued to lead you along. “What the hell? I was dancing!”

He grabbed your cup from your hand and tossed it in the trash can. “You’ve seriously got some nerve, Y/N.”

“Nerve?” You repeated as you stumbled behind him. His grip on your arm was tight and at the pace he was moving, he was living barely any time for you to keep up in your tipsy state of mind. “JJ, talk to me!”

In seconds, he spun around and shoved you against the light pole behind you, the metal connecting to your back harshly. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you came out here tonight.” His breath was warm against you, his nose inches from your face as he spoke, “Rafe was eye-fucking you from the moment you hit the sand.”

“And that’s my fault how?”

JJ shook his head. “You’re mine. Nobody else’s. You got that?” His hands slipped down your arms to cup your ass, squeezing the skin to emphasize his point. “This is mine and I don’t share. Seems like we need to get home so I can remind you.”

You were shamelessly soaked by the time you climbed the stairs to your bedroom. Thankfully, your parents were out of town for the weekend meaning JJ had zero obstacles with fucking you into oblivion.

“Strip.” JJ barked the command the second your door was shut. You scrambled to pull your clothing off and toss it wildly to the floor. JJ clicked his tongue as he watched you. “No panties, baby girl? That’s another strike. Get on the bed, arms up.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow his directions as you flopped on your back and raised your arms above your head. Your thighs rubbed together for some kind of relief as JJ discarded his clothing. “JJ,” You whined as he moved agonizingly slowly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

You whimpered again as you watched him grab the handcuffs from under your bed. “Daddy, please I-”

“Ah, ah. I didn’t ask for your apology.” You went silent as he hovered above you, metal locking around your wrists to prevent you from pulling your hands from the headboard. “You’ve been bad, baby girl. I have to punish you for that.”

“But I-” You yelped and bit your lip as his hand came down on your thigh harshly. “Sorry.”

JJ licked his lips as he looked down at you. You were a writhing mess beneath his legs. Pussy glistening in the light, nipples hard, hips bucking, and it was all for him. “God, baby. You look so good for me.” He leaned down, connecting your lips aggressively as you whimpered beneath him.

It wasn’t often JJ restrained your hands, but you were usually in for it when he did. You loved touching him during sex whether it was pulling on his hair or gripping his biceps for stability. This was torture to not be able to move.

“Do you know why you’re in trouble?” He teased as he pressed wet kisses down your neck, pausing to suck on your collarbone as you tried to press your hips up against him. His left hand pushed you down in seconds, preventing you from any movement that helped ease the ache in your legs.

“No,” You gasped as he pulled your nipple between his teeth, gently biting down on the sensitive nub to get an answer from you. “I teased you on the beach.”

JJ pulled away, his fingers replacing his mouth as he rolled the sensitive skin between his index and middle finger while his left hand came up to squeeze your other breast. “Right, baby girl. And what does Daddy do when you tease him?” His head dipped back down to suck on your left breast as he left angry marks in his tracks.

“Ah! You punish me!”

“Mhmm,” JJ agreed as he kissed you again, biting your bottom lip slightly before pulling away. “If you wanted me so bad, all you had to do was ask.” His fingers trailed down your stomach, sending chills up your spine as you watched him nestle in between your legs. “Look at you. All wet for me.” His index finger barely grazed your clit but it was enough to make you whine and struggle for more.

Tears formed in your eyes at the slight touch. You were so desperate it hurt. “JJ, please. Please, please touch me, do something.”

His palm connected with your dripping pussy as you cried out. “That’s not my name.” He growled as he nipped at the inside of your thighs. You were practically shaking beneath him and he had barely touched you.

“Daddy,” You sobbed in need as you tried anything to pull him closer. “Please, I need you.”

“I haven’t punished you yet.” JJ’s hands grabbed your hips as he flipped you over so your ass was exposed to him. His fingers trailed down your spine as you shivered beneath his touch. “You already have three strikes. One from your teasing at the party, another for no panties, and I think I’ll add one for the name slip. Maybe even double these for you assuming you can tell me what to do. How’s that sound?”

You nodded as you accepted the pain that was soon to come. You yelped as his hand connected with your ass, no doubt turning this skin red as he continued to deal out his punishment. You could’ve sobbed in relief once the six hits were delivered and you were returned to lie on your back.

JJ’s shit-eating grin was getting to be too much as he dipped his finger between your lips to feel how wet you really were. “You look so good like this all hot and bothered because of me.” He left a chaste kiss against your clit before pushing two fingers into you as you moaned in relief. “Always so tight for me, baby. You take my fingers so well, don’t you?”

“Mmm, so good, Daddy. Please don’t stop,” You mumbled as you felt his fingers curl deep inside you before you gasped. “Your fingers feel so good.”

JJ smirked as he leaned forward, his left hand wrapping around your throat with enough pressure that you almost choked in surprise. “You like that? You look so good with my hand around your throat. My pretty girl.” He added a third finger, making you cry in pleasure as you tried to push his long fingers deeper inside you. His thumb landed on your clit, rubbing slow circles as he watched you start to come undone beneath him. “Gonna cum baby girl? You better beg.”

“Please!” You sobbed as you struggled to breathe beneath his grip. You could feel the tightness building in your stomach as your legs started to shake. “Please, please, Daddy. I’m sorry for teasing you, just please let me cum!”

JJ picked up the pace, moving his fingers even faster as he pulled his hand from your throat and bent down to wrap his lips around your clit. You moaned at the sensation, hips bucking at the feeling of his tongue swiping the sensitive nub. As soon as it was there, it was gone and your boyfriend pulled away and left you hanging with no release.

“What was- oh!” Without warning, JJ pushed his hard cock into your folds, plunging deep into your core as you cried out in surprise, “Shit, JJ”

“Fuck you feel so good,” He moaned as his grip on your hips began bruising as he thrusted into you quickly. “Need to let everyone know you’re mine.”

You squirmed in his grip as his fingers started rubbing your clit, his mouth sucking on your nipple again, making you moan. “Fuck, JJ, I’m gonna cum!”

“Not yet,” He removed his fingers and slowed his pace down, wanting to drag out every inch of your release. The pleasure was overwhelming as you hovered on the brink of an orgasm, every bit of you needing to let go as you whined beneath the blond boy. His head dropped to the crook of your neck where he kissed your sweaty skin softly. “Almost, baby, I promise.”

“P-Please, I just…” You whimpered as his thumb settled on your clit again but remained still. “Daddy, please. I’m so close.”

JJ sucked on another bruise before his left hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed, choking the remaining air from your tired lungs. “Look at you. A crying mess because of me. I love seeing you like this.” He kissed you softly as he started to increase his thrusts again. “Gonna make you cum.”

“Ah, yes!” You cried as his thumb moved on your sensitive clit, sending you spiraling. Your arms pulled at the cuffs restraining when the tension in your body finally burst as you clenched around JJ, your body shaking in pure bliss. “Shit!”

“That’s it,” JJ groaned as his orgasm rolled through him. “Cum for me, baby girl.” His hands settled on your hips as he came inside you, filling you up before he stopped moving and pulled out. “I think that was the best thing we’ve ever done.”

You nodded, still breathless as you closed your eyes, threatening to fall asleep in your spot. “If teasing you on the beach is gonna end like that every time, I might do it more often.”

JJ rolled his eyes as he leaned forward to release your hands. His fingers gently rubbed at the red lines from your struggles as he kissed you softly. “Round two in the shower?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

i... can’t believe i actually wrote that lmao

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sadoeuphemist · 3 years

Text

Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2) to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order.

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair’ or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

#fiction #dumping grounds

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