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judeswhore · 2 years

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wet dream; steve harrington

summary: steve has mastered the art of pulling out during your relationship but he has an overwhelming fantasy, one that when he tells you, you’re more than happy to let him live out

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: smut, 18+, dirty talk, breeding kink, slight choking, unprotected sex, idk if i like this so yeah

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here.

"oh my god," the moan that tumbled from your lips was high and keening, embarrassingly loud as your back arched off the bed, thighs attempting to close around steve's head. you had one hand in his hair, fingers tugging lightly at the soft locks, the other gripping the sheets beneath you as he kept up the gentle lapping of his tongue against your clit. he pressed one hand against your thigh, pushing it away from his head and opening you up again, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking softly.

the aftershocks of your third orgasm made your legs shake, entire body seeming to quiver and steve glanced up at you from beneath his lashes, slowly working you through your high. you gave a quite, breathless laugh, one that slipped into a whimper when he gave one final broad lick along the entirety of your pussy and you pulled at his hair. he'd turned to pressing kisses into your thighs, lifting to nip at your hips and it all had you clenching around air, so badly needing him inside of you. you weren’t the only one who was feeling desperate, steve had spent the entire time eating you out rutting his hips into the mattress, pressing his cock firmly into the bed to ease some of the pressure.

there was something different about him. he was wound a little tighter, a little more messy and needy with his touches and kisses, drawing orgasms out of you with his own soft moans. you weren’t entirely sure why he was more desperate than usual, it wasn’t as if he’d gone some time without sex and was making up for it, he’d fucked you in the shower just last night so his overwhelming need for you was somewhat of a surprise. not that you were complaining, you’d spent your entire day thinking about him and the second he’d let you into his house after work you were more than happy to accept his sloppy kisses and the even sloppier way he tried to discard of your clothes.

“steve,” you lifted a little on to your elbows, brushing your fingers through steve’s hair when he started to kiss his way up your stomach, mouth warm and wet against the skin between your boobs. his fingers trailed your thigh and then your side, one hand pressed into the mattress, the other cupping your jaw. his eyes were dark and glassy, full of unfiltered lust, cheeks flushed a rosy pink, a thin sheen of sweat coated his body and it was almost sinful how good he looked, pleasure curling white hot in your stomach at just the sight of him. “need you.”

you mumbled the words directly into his mouth before catching his lips in a scathing kiss, a kiss that had him groaning, body pushing yours back down into the sheets, hips rocking forward. his cock was hot against your lower stomach and he shuddered at the contact, fingers slipping from your jaw to curl instead around your throat. he squeezed lightly, just enough to fog your thoughts, dragged his lips across your jaw and shifted his hips so he could grind his cock through the slick of your folds. he was everywhere, clouding your senses with his kisses and his breathy noises, sliding his hand around the back of your neck so he could kiss and bite at your throat instead.

"steve.” you whined his name again, growing impatient with his pace and the teasing way his lips met your skin. you were completely worked up and as dramatic as it sounded, he was killing you by making you wait, especially with the steady way he was rocking his hips into yours, only a glance into what was actually to come.

“shh, i know, baby,” he kissed his way back to your mouth and met your gaze with a soft smile, his eyes seeming a little unfocused. he nudged his nose against yours and gave another roll of his hips, one that had both of you shuddering, a breathless gasp slipping from your mouth. “i got you, gonna give me one more?” you could only nod, tightening your fingers in the soft strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. your other hand was wrapped around his bicep, nails sunk into the taut skin as he propped himself up. “that’s my girl.”

those words went straight to your pussy, your clit throbbing in response and you canted your hips upwards, messily slotting your lips over steve’s as he shifted his hand down to his cock. he was slow in pressing the tip to your entrance, stroking his tongue into your mouth until you could taste yourself and then he was pushing into you, hand moving to clamp down on your hip as he groaned low in the back of his throat. he took his time filling you up, sliding in inch by inch until he was buried completely to the hilt, stretching you so perfectly.

“oh fuck.” steve’s head dropped to your shoulder, forehead warm against your skin, breath hot and sticky with his light pants. you were wrapped so tight around him, walls swallowing his cock whole and his hips stuttered before he could even start thrusting when he felt how wet you were. he kept his face tucked away, lips pressing over your throat and neck as he finally started to fuck you and within seconds you were raking one hand down his back, nails most definitely leaving marks.

he started off slow, lazily pushing his hips into yours, cock dragging against your walls in the most pleasurable way possible until you were a moaning mess beneath him. you were already somewhat overstimulated from your previous orgasms, clit overly sensitive, pussy fluttering wildly around steve’s cock whenever he pressed the tip to that one spot deep inside of you. his fingers trailed from your hip to your thigh, hooking under your knee and then he was lifting your leg up slightly, sitting himself up on his own knees. the new position had him hitting even deeper spots that had you hiding your face behind your arm, crying out and bucking up into him.

“god, you’re fucking gorgeous.” steve had the perfect view of all of you, his dark eyes darting from your face, to your tits which bounced each time he thrust his hips into yours, and then to his cock, disappearing inside of you and reappearing wet and glistening. it made his head spin, his thrusts growing harder, each rock of his hips making your body jolt up the bed. he was fucking you into the mattress, cock pulsing each time he heard your surprised moans. he was already close, he’d spent all day thinking about burying his cock in you over and over and had worked himself up so much that now that you were wrapped so tight and warm around him his body couldn’t handle it, especially when flashes of his stupid dream kept playing in his mind.

he knew you were close too, could feel you tightening even more around him, your whines growing louder and more frequent, fingers twisting into his sheets. you were so wet that you were dripping around him, the sounds of him filling you up seeming to echo around the room and that only teetered both of you closer to the edge. teeth sinking into his bottom lip, steve brought his hand down to where he was fucking into you, thumb pressing down lightly to your clit and your thighs shook around him, eyes falling closed as your mouth dropped open, unfiltered whimpers and moans travelling like music to his ears.

he couldn’t stop watching your pussy swallowing his cock, couldn’t help but spread his fingers a little over your lower stomach, mind replaying that dream again. his thrusts got a little bit harder until he was completely pounding into you, fucking you in a way he wasn’t sure he had before and then he finally gave in, pressing the palm of his hand flat against your stomach and applying the tiniest bit of pressure that made you clamp down around him. he groaned, and slowed his thrusts, give slow deep pumps of his hips, hitting that spot inside you that he knew would have you coming within minutes.

“i had a dream about you,” he finally mumbled, pressing his hand down a little firmer, sliding his other hand up your body until he could roll your nipple between his thumb and finger, tugging just the way you liked. “was fucking you just like this, you were taking my cock like such a good girl and then you let me cum in you. let me fill your pretty little pussy until it was dripping out of you.” steve’s words tapered off into a low moan, his hips snapping into yours, cock twitching as he thought about actually getting to fill you up.

his words had a similar effect on you, your pussy fluttering around him, growing even wetter if possible, the coil in your stomach winding impossibly tighter. you gave a soft little whimper, fingers curling around steve’s forearm, doe like eyes peering up at him. his thrusts faltered ever so slightly, his stomach muscles quivering from trying to hold back his release.

“you looked so pretty, stuffed full of my cum, kept begging me for more,” the noise that tumbled from his lips surprised the both of you, it was whiney and desperate, full of need and it shocked you how much the whole thing turned you on, his next words, although completely said in the moment, solidifying the fact that you wanted him to fill you just as much as he did. “put a fuckin’ baby in you.”

“stevie, want you,” you gasped on a particularly good roll of his hips, the blunt head of his cock kissing that sweet spot inside of you just right and locked your legs around him. you reached up to tug him back down on top of you, the heavy hot feel of his body over yours making your head swim. he pressed both hands to the pillow by your head, dropping his forehead down to yours. “want you to cum in me.”

he blinked, thrusts ever so slightly losing rhythm but he found it again within seconds, fucking you down into the mattress with new found vigour. his sweat slicked skin slid over yours, his chest against your nipples sending wave after wave over pleasure across your body. steve took one of your hands in his, laced your fingers together and pressed them back into the pillow, his head once again falling to your shoulder. his forehead rested against your collarbone and your knew he’d gone back to watching his cock pound into you.

“fuckin’ hell, gonna cum so hard, baby, make sure you’re stuffed so full of me, yeah? fuck it right back into you with my fingers so everyone knows you’re mine.” he was babbling, his words having turned whiney and whimpery and he moaned softly when you pulled at his hair. you were so close, his words pushing you closer to the edge and you scratched at his back when he started sucking and biting the column of your throat. your pussy was clenching repeatedly around him, walls so tight he was starting to see stars. “s’that what you want? wanna see my cum dripping out of you?”

“yes, fuck, yes, steve.”

“good girl.” he hummed and kissed along your jaw as you started to shake against him, thighs quivering as pleasure licked up your spine. his pubic bone was grinding perfectly against your clit, shockwaves of pleasure numbing your mind until everything was just steve and his cock and the fact that you so badly needed to feel him spill everything he had into you. “cum for me and i’ll give you what you want.” his fingers squeezed around yours, the gesture so soft and intimate in the midst of his relentless fucking but that was all it took for you to release, coming on his cock with an almost pornographic moan.

steve grunted in your ear when you tightened around him and give a series of erratic thrusts, mumbling in a slightly whiney voice how pretty you were gonna look dripping on to his sheets. his own words and the images flashing in his mind, paired with your desperate moans and the light tugging at his hair sent him over the edge. his cock twitched and then he was coming too, cock buried deep inside of you as he filled you up, his face tucked away completely in your neck. his moans were more whimpers, his fingers wrapped tight around yours and he gave a few extra pumps, cock sliding in and out of you as he pushed his cum further into your pussy.

with a breathless laugh he collapsed on top of you, pressing you into the mattress with his entire weight and each of his slow movements still managed to pull a little mewl from you, your whole body hypersensitive to his touch. you stroked your fingers through the sweaty strands of his hair, lazily grazed your nails over the back of his neck and tops of his shoulders until he sighed in contentment. he shifted his hips and was slow in pulling out of you, lifting his head to send you a tired but characteristically cheeky grin.

“wanna see the mess i’ve made of you.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @mountchilly @calpurniatypes

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hwajin · 10 months

Text

— nasty

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: hwang hyunjin | 4k follower event

genre: smut

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

req

send me a request!

>> come over

Staring at the text, long after midnight, though you couldn't blame Hyunjin — it had been ages he had last seen you, had last lay hands on you, put his lips on your own. Far too long for your own liking too, if you were honest, though you carried far too much pride to admit to it, not in front of him.

<< i'm busy

>> i know youre not. please

Half an hour later you found yourself on your knees before him, having been pulled by his body, by the strings of his heart far too close-knitted for you to be at ease with it, for you to not grow giddy, anxious for the love he bore for you — it was more than you yourself could gift him, his whole too consumed within you, too deep into the illusion of you; though you would try to give him more than you were capable of, would love him harder than it was in your ability. For his sake, solely.

Hands on either of his thighs, head moving him up and down, slowly, dragging the feeling, making him into nothing but a puddle of neediness. It worked seemingly, audibly — softest whimpers filling your ears like sounds from heaven, the taste of his excitement like honey on your tongue, the sight before you one never bound to forget; lips parted, slick with your and his wetness, bitten and as red as the tip of his, disappearing into your mouth anew and anew. His hands lay by his sides, fingers drawing white with the intensity he dug them into the cushions of the sofa beneath him, head thrown back, or lulled to the side, brows a thick line, creasing in the middle. He was dishevelled, hair and himself a mess, under your mercy entirely.

Your hands accompanied your mouth, touching on every part your lips couldn't reach, Hyunjin's hips stuttering, jerking in response. Whine rolling off his tongue, frusrated and anticipating, wanting, needing. He locked gaze with you, dark eyes beneath darker lashes, hodded lids. Another whimper past him when you held the contact, when you kept eyes glued onto his, didn't back away.

"Missed you. S-so much."

Thrusting into you to accentuate statement, or simply because he had lost himself far too much to bare farther control over himself, over his body, and you hummed in response, sending vibrations, making shiver.

And three hours later, far past three o'clock, a time far too unreasonable to yet be awake, to yet find yourself at his place, in his bed his body was rocking with your own, your figure caught beneath his, his hands chasing stability against your hips, your waist, the thighs of you. Pounding into you tirelessly, though far too stimulated already, though bodies had seemingly reached limits, though neither of you seemingly minded it. Arching your back into his as he reached deeper, finding softest spot with ease, caressing and doting repeatedly, littering skin in kisses and bruises, filling room with sin, fuse the space between you in disguised love, in wishful thinking. A droplet or two of sweat rolling off Hyunjin's lips, finding your body, connecting with own exhaustion before finally you fell off the edge again, an amount uncountable by now, until Hyunjin followed in spasms and contractions, in high-pitched whimpers and deepest groans against your neck, colliding, tired.

And only hours later you would find yourself in his arms, in his bed, in his embrace, sound asleep, later scolding yourself for being swayed by his love anew though in his touch, in that moment it'd be all you need.

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#hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines

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layla4567 · 4 months

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Sanji with a reader who loves to collect trinkets (headcanons)

Pairing: Sanji x GN!reader Warnings: slight mention of bullying, beta read A/N: this is entirely inspired in tinkerbell lol

❀ You recently joined the straw hat crew but still became friends with all its members. You were a very curious person and you saw the world through a kaleidoscope of colors, you appreciated the small things that life gave you. And that caught Sanji's attention.

✿ You had boarded that ship for the first time with a large brown shoulder bag, it was hand-woven and had some colored patches all made by you since sewing was also one of your hobbies. You clung to your bag as if it were a life preserver, no one knew what you kept in there but everyone sensed that it must be something of important value to you.

❀ Everyone was very kind to you, respecting your space, secrets and belongings (well, Luffy not so much since he doesn't understand what personal space is). Ussop was very funny and told the best jokes, Luffy was an adventurous captain who liked to give hugs, Nami was a girl with an excellent gift for drawing maps, Zoro was a silent and serious individual but with a beautiful interior and finally there was Sanji. the ship's cook, a blonde with blue eyes with a tongue dipped in honey every time he spoke. Shameless but sweet flirtations slipped from his lips every time he spoke to you. At first you felt a little self-conscious because of his pet names or compliments, but he never crossed the line and would stop if he sensed that you were uncomfortable.

✿ Little by little you became close to him and you realized that, very contrary to what you thought at first, Sanji was not the typical womanizer who flirted with women to feel more virile and then leave them hanging, no, he was a gentleman. He always offered a helping hand, asked how you were doing and if you liked your new home. You weren't sure if he was like that with all the crew members but something inside told you that he was even sweeter with you.

❀ Your room on the ship was comforting, at first you were offered to share a room with Nami but even though you found her very nice you preferred to be alone. When you entered you saw a large wooden trunk like a treasure chest, and you would definitely place several treasures there, but not the ones that people imagine. For you, your best treasures are those you found in the sand, under a rock, hidden in the grass and in the ground, or even what you found near the seashore. You collected small relics of nature and treasured them as if they were diamonds in the rough. You opened your shoulder bag and delicately and lovingly placed what you were carrying: Sea shells, a piece of old paper that seemed to have something written on it, a stone that shone and seemed to be nacre, etc. Many people would think that you only kept rubbish and collected dirt, but you couldn't explain the value that those objects had and the satisfaction you felt when finding something new.

✿ Your room was forbidden to others, no one could enter and if they wanted to talk to you they had to knock on the door. It's not that you were a grumpy hermit, but you were so afraid of someone finding your treasure chest that you didn't want anyone to even come and look. You had a feeling they wouldn't understand you and would make fun of you like everyone else. Although now the straw hats were your friends and seemed like kind people, doubt always remained installed inside you, you were tired of the mockery and prejudices. You couldn't stand even a mean look

❀ Luffy was the most difficult to convince, with Nami and Zoro you had not had much problem since the first had understood that you had your secrets and the second was not interested in entering your room much. Ussop hadn't been a problem either and Sanji, well, after making some flirtatious jokes about "Why would I come into your room, love? Do you even want me to come in?" He respected you and didn't put a single toe near your door. But Luffy… holy crap that boy moved faster like a squirrel, always from here to there. And when you told him that he couldn't enter your room he started to ask why? like a little boy. You didn't want to give him explanations, so since you couldn't muster patience and you were starting to get frustrated, you exclaimed: "DON'T COME INTO MY ROOM AND THAT'S IT" and you walked away stomping.

✿ Poor Luffy, he was sometimes a little intense but he had no bad intentions, he was simply a slightly impulsive person who expressed his emotions eruptively like a volcano. So he didn't understand why you had gotten so angry if he had simply asked you something normal. Ok, maybe he had insisted too much and should have stopped, but he doesn't know when to shut up. After this little "discussion" things had gotten tense and Sanji, like a good Samaritan, had gently approached you to ask if you were okay: "What's wrong, sweetheart? Is everything okay?" His delicacy and tact when speaking made you smile again and you had almost forgotten why you were angry.

❀ When you returned to your room you opened your chest and caressed the objects, a soft green parrot feather you held in your hands. Your fingers brushed the furry part of the feather and soon you felt better. Those objects were all you had, they were everything to you. Every thing you collected had life and told you a story. They held memories and history.

✿ Apparently the captain of the straw hats was somewhat forgetful because one morning while you were sleeping comfortably in your hammock, Pel thought it would be a good idea to enter your room and wake you up with a smile like he usually did with the others. Luffy thought that the problem had already passed but when you finally felt the fine rays of sun on your face you slowly opened your eyes a little sleepy and when you saw him standing there next to you with a happy face you almost fell out of your hammock. Your eyes widened in horror and you jumped up, shouting for him to leave. Luffy got a little scared and looked at you confused. Your screams were heard throughout the ship and soon the other members were standing in front of your closed door, resting their ears on the wood to hear better. Angry and worried that Luffy had seen your chest, you got off the hammock and pushed him towards the door without giving him time to say anything. You opened it and kicked him out roughly while the others quickly walked away from the door and looked at Luffy in surprise.

❀ After that you locked yourself in your room and didn't come out for anything in the world. You felt angry but also ashamed and then sadness followed. The others looked at the captain with disapproval, they knew him and knew that he was a good person but sometimes he did not mediate his impulses and unintentionally hurt others. At dinner you didn't go out or eat anything, Sanji couldn't allow others to go hungry so after everyone had left the table he went to your room and knocked on the door twice: "Hey sweetie, you're not hungry?" "You haven't eaten or gone out all day." You were surprised to hear the cook's sweet voice through the wood, but you didn't want to leave, not yet. Despite your efforts to keep him away, he wouldn't give up: "Come on dove, I promise I won't come in but if you come with me to the kitchen I'll prepare whatever you want." Reluctantly you wiped away your tears and opened the door, quickly closing it behind you.

✿ Sanji noticed your moist and slightly red eyes and couldn't help but worry: "Oh my love, come here, don't cry anymore" He said while hugging you and caressing your hair "I promise to cook your favorite dish or dessert." You smiled shyly against his clothes and you both headed to the kitchen. The cook loved two things in life: cooking for others and helping people, and he did both things perfectly. He went out of his way to care for the crew and that made him happy. You sat on a stool with a downcast face watching what Sanji was cooking. He concentrated on his task but he didn't take his eye off you either, from time to time he looked at you trying to know what was going on in your mind. "Listen, I know Luffy can be very stubborn sometimes, but he really wouldn't hurt anyone, you have to forgive him," Sanji said. You just shrugged your shoulders, "I understand that you don't want to talk about what happened, sweetheart, and I respect it, but if at any time you feel like talking, I'll always be here" Sanji looked at you lovingly and you saw compassion and understanding in his eyes.

❀ When he finished cooking, he gave you the plate and you ate vigorously, you knew it was rude to eat so quickly and put large portions in your mouth (like Luffy) but you hadn't eaten in a while and what Sanji cooked was delicious. He just looked at you funny and more than delighted that you like his food so much. When you finished eating you felt much better and had the strength to tell what was bothering you so much, you felt that you could trust him and that he would not judge you. An atmosphere so trustworthy and healthy had settled between you that you decided to tell him the truth about your treasures. Sanji listened to you attentively and did not take his eyes off you, sometimes he nodded his head, understanding more about you. When you finished speaking you looked at him worried, afraid that he would say some hurtful comment, but that didn't happen. Sanji smiled warmly at you: "You don't have to fear my petal, your hobby is charming in my opinion, I would love to know more" You were pleasantly surprised by his words, the blonde boy had not only said that he liked your hobby but had listened to you without laughing and now looked at you with what could be said to be… love?

✿ The next day your little conversation with Sanji was a well-kept secret in your heart and his. He felt full knowing that you had trusted him and you were happy to have taken a weight off your shoulders. Of course the others looked at you two strangely since sometimes you smiled or gave each other knowing looks. No one had overlooked the fact that you and Sanji were now closer, some had by chance seen the cook wink at you, place a hand on your back when he pulled out the chair for you to sit down, or even flirt more with you.

❀ Yes, you became closer. Sanji had a positive influence on you. One day he approached you and asked you to give Luffy another chance. His voice near your ear tickled you but you decided to follow his advice. Sanji had become a kind of keeper of your secret and you were happy about it. He had proven himself trustworthy. So you decided to "reward" him in some way, you knew it wasn't necessary but that was what your heart told you. One night when everyone was in their rooms you went to the kitchen knowing that Sanji would be there, he smiled at you like he always did and asked you what you needed. You told him you had a surprise for him in your room. You thought you saw a rosy color on his cheeks but you were distracted by his teasing flirtations. Still he followed you behind. When he entered he felt like he was stepping on sacred ground, he didn't even know what your room looked like. A little hesitant, he stood there not knowing whether to walk or not, but you smilingly grabbed his hand and led him to the chest. You crouched down and he imitated you. You solemnly opened the chest and showed them your most precious treasures. Sanji looked at everything with admiration, you showed him a bottle covered with a cork and inside it there were different types of sand. Then he grabbed an old diary that was damaged by humidity, it was missing pages and had a worn spine. You explained to him that you had found it on the beach one day, you asked everywhere for its owner but you couldn't find it and you decided to keep the object. Everything you found, whether old or new, broken or not always given a new use.

✿ While you spoke with true passion, Sanji looked at you smiling, biting his lip from time to time, happy to hear you speak so animatedly and open up more. You were so focused that you didn't realize his proximity until you looked up and saw his face a few centimeters from yours. Your shoulders bumped into his. You felt his gaze on your lips and you pursed them somewhat blushing. He laughed and said "Thank you for sharing this with me, now I also have a treasure to take with me" and immediately kissed your cheek and then left your room. You still felt that heat on your cheek where he had kissed you. Now I also have a treasure to take with me… you didn't know if he was referring to this moment you two had… or to you.

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lincolndjarin · 10 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter four : sarad'ika (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 6.8k

summary : you finally get a chance to see the gardens

warnings, etc. : language, panic attacks, general kodo grossness

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Sarad'ika.

You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. Once you get that out of the way you’re left alone in the quiet, wide expanse of your room. You have about ten seconds of time alone with your thoughts before you get restless.

You need a change of scenery, and fast, because it’s taking every single ounce of restraint you have left to not stick your hand back up your dress, lock yourself in your room for the rest of the week, and think about that stupid, stupid dream. Opening the curtains you could see the sun starting to come up, so you pulled the rope that summons the girls because you desperately need a bath. You need to get rid of this dirty feeling that envelops you.

His phantom touch lingers on your skin. He had been so real, you swear you’ll have bruises on your waist when you undress.

Elaine and Lysa can’t get here fast enough, but when they do you’re already halfway out the door.

“Fresher, bath, now.” You’re still rocking a thin sheen of sweat and your mouth is dry. Lysa doesn’t seem thrown by your tone but you have to shoot Elaine a pleading look to make sure she doesn’t ask.

“Yes ma’am.” Elaine guides you into the fresher and quickly starts undoing your dress, while Lysa draws the bath. You know your entire body tenses up the moment she starts unlacing your bodice, thank the gods she doesn’t comment on it. You waste no time, the moment you’re free from your garments you step into the bath, you’re still not used to cold bathes like this, back on Hoth you’d pull from hot springs down in the planet's core to heat your water. But you couldn’t be more thankful for the cold now because it seems to be cooling the fire that lingers in your stomach. The girls retreat back to your chambers to prepare your outfit for the day.

“Not green.” You manage to squeak out as you sink lower into the bubbles. Watching them go. Alone with your thoughts again. Focus on something else. Don’t think about the Mandalorian. Think about how unnecessarily big this tub is. It’s less of a bathtub and more of a small pool honestly, you could swim laps in here. You float yourself over to the edge of the tub to find a washcloth, you need to scrub off any imaginary touches that might linger on your skin. You start at your shoulders, your mind manages to stay empty until you get to your chest. Then he’s there again, clear as day, so you try to think about something else, think about the least sexy thing you can, the first thing that comes to mind.

Your husband.

Yikes.

Surprisingly that works. You think about Kodo and the ache between your legs vanishes completely until you actually have to wash there. Gods, the last thing you need to do is start touching yourself here and now and have one of the girls walk in, so you make it quick, squeeze your eyes shut and shove the washcloth between your thighs and don’t think about him.

But you can’t get away from him, after a moment you open your eyes slowly and it’s like he’s right in front of you.

Fuck he’s actually right in front of you. The door to the fresher is wide open and it’s like he’s frozen in time, one hand on his blaster, the other on the door handle. His visor fixed on you.

He lingers way too long, you both know it.

Finally, in sync you both seem to snap out of it. He immediately turns ninety degrees to stare at the wall. You know he’s apologizing but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears as you feel your face turning crimson. You’re doing everything in your power to cover yourself with the bubbles but you know he definitely saw something, for Makers sake he was ogling you for a second there. There is a beat where it’s silent, you’re staring at him and he’s staring at the wall and finally you find your voice.

“Get out!” You’re covering your chest with one hand as you point at the door with the other. It might be the first time you’ve ever seen him stumble, Elaine walks in as he’s rushing out, wordlessly brushing past her, her eyes go wide as she turns from him to you. Your head is in your hands now. “I think I’m done.” She wraps you in a towel as you stand. She’s grabbing another towel to dry your hair as she extends a hand to help you step out. Guiding you to a stool and sitting you down, humming softly as she pats your hair dry. So much for the cold helping, now it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“He was just worried.” She says it matter of factly and you whip your head around to stare at her.

“What?”

“He was worried about you. We were in the closet when he barged in, all he saw was your bedroom doors wide open, and an absence of you. By the time I stepped out into the hall he was throwing doors open.” She smirks as she turns you back around so she can finish drying you off.

“He should have knocked…” You grumble as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“Go easy on him, it’s the first time in what? Three weeks? Four weeks? He’s never been in a situation where he’s shown up to retrieve you and you weren’t there, he probably thought you were spirited away in the few hours he wasn’t keeping an eye on you.” Once your hair is mostly dry she starts loosely braiding it.

“I’m capable of surviving an hour without him.” You huff, you know she’s probably right. And there is a small part of you that kind of likes how much he seemingly cares.

“You’re his responsibility. I think it’s sweet how he takes his job so seriously.”

“Of course you think it’s sweet, he doesn’t follow you around like he’s your shadow.” You mumble but she laughs it off.

“Come on, Lysa is probably alone with him right now and freaking out, so we better not keep her waiting.” She covers you with a robe and takes you by the arm, ushering you back to your chambers.

You didn’t know it was possible to look ashamed through so many layers of metal and fabric, but there he is, standing outside your quarters like always except now he’s strung-out. You swear you catch his fingers clenching into a fist for a moment before brushing past him to get dressed, Elaine closing the door behind you before rushing over to Lysa. You’re standing in front of the mirror now and you can see them whispering to each other, you don’t bother trying to get involved when you see Lysa suppress a giggle.

They dress you in a lightweight pink gown, you’re thankful that they seemed to pick up on your distaste for heavy makeup as they do it much more simply, and before you can stop them they’re leaving. And now you have to sit and stare at yourself in the vanity, putting off the inevitable. It was going to be hard enough facing him without the whole bath incident but now it feels a thousand times worse. But you can’t put this off forever so you might as well get over it. Gritting your teeth you open the door and step out, before you can even look at him he’s rambling.

“I’m so sorry, I thought something might have happened to you, I assumed the worst and it was stupid and I should have knocked but I was worried and I promise I didn’t see anything and-” He stares at the floor the entire time and his words are rushed and quiet.

“Stop.” You cut him off. You had been prepared to let him grovel but the moment you heard how genuinely distressed he sounded you had decided to forgive him. You didn’t even know it was possible for him to sound so rattled, he’s acting like he saw a ghost.

“Stop?” He sounds like he’s got way more speech prepared and honestly, you don’t wanna hear it.

“It’s fine. It was an honest mistake and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” He hesitates for a moment. “But I am sorry.”

“Stop it.” You glare at him but start walking in the opposite direction of the library. “But… if you’re really sorry I know how you can make it up to me.”

“Anything.” Well you were gonna ask him to take you to the gardens but if he was offering up anything. It’s almost like he can read your mind because he immediately shoots you a warning look. “Within reason.” Damn it. Gardens it is.

“I believe you still have a promise to fulfill?” You stop at the fork in the hallway, no longer sure of where you’re going. It takes him a second to realize what you’re implying but after a moment he nods towards the right and walks slightly ahead of you instead of trailing behind.

By the time you make it outside and to the forest trail neither of you have spoken. There’s still an oppressive tension looming over you both. You can’t look at him and seemingly he can’t look at you.

Of course in your case it’s because last night he had stared in your own personal porno and in his case he just saw you naked and you just so happen to be married to the guy who pays his salary.

Maker, is this even salvageable at this point? Do you want to salvage this?

You have to. This is all you have. Even if you hate him, (although you’re not even sure if that’s still true) even if some small part of you is attracted to him, (you also aren’t sure that part is all that small anymore) even if he saw your tits this morning, (he definitely did.) He’s all you’ve got at this point. So yes, you want to salvage this. All you have to do is say something, if you say the right thing you can fix this whole mess. If you say the wrong thing he might never be able to look at you ever again but that has to be a risk you’re willing to take and your mind moves faster than your mouth as you blurt out what might be the dumbest thing you could possibly say right now.

“Are we friends?” Gods, are you a child? He doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t stop to look at you. His stride never wavers as he continues marching down the trail.

“I don’t have friends.” Well shit. Big surprise the guy who’s paid to spend time with you doesn't consider you a friend. “But, you are probably the closest thing I have to a friend. Even if you don’t have a choice in the matter of my presence.” He finally turns to look at you. Maker, he sounds genuine, why is your heart fluttering, he called you a friend, it doesn’t get less sexy than that. “Am I your friend?” Did his voice just crack? You’re imagining things.

“Well, I talk to you more than anyone else, I spend more time with you than anyone else, so I suppose you’re also the closest thing I have to a friend.” You’re about to say something snarky to make your statement less mushy but you step out of the trees and your eyes go wide.

It’s nothing like they say it is in books. You’d always imagined a garden to be one big mass of the same shade of green but it’s so much more than that. There’s so many different greens, they all stick out, and there’s so many other colors, nothing back on Hoth that compared to this. You’d all but forgotten about Mando as you just gawked. It was massive, you could probably spend all day walking and never step on the same spot twice. There’s so much you don’t even know where to start.

You didn’t even know real flowers could be that brightly colored. You’d only ever owned fake flowers growing up because nothing would grow in the cold, the sharp hues of your plastic lilies would look pathetic next to these. These were alive, they swayed in the wind. Bugs flew through the petals. Everything felt alive. Up until this point you had not found one part of this planet that you liked more than home, but this was better than anything you’d ever had a chance to see.

“Does it live up to your expectations?” He’s next to you now, you don’t understand how he’s looking at you and not the field, you can’t tear your eyes off of it. You want to hug him. Well, no, that would be inappropriate, but you’re so thankful you almost don’t care.

All things considered you probably shouldn’t even be alone with him at this point with your combined track record the only things that happen when you’re in the same vicinity are arguments. And now nudity. But you’re so happy you don’t give a shit. You’re so happy that when he holds his arm out to you, you take it without a second thought and let him lead the way.

You wonder if you’ve been this happy since you arrived. Have you been happy at all since you found out you were promised to Kodo? You can’t recall. He’s very thorough, he makes sure you get to see everything, every flower, vine, leaf and root. Everytime he stops in front of something so you can get a good look he waits until you move first, to make sure you’ve had your fill of every single thing. When you ask him questions about the flora he seems almost embarrassed that he doesn’t have answers for you. It’s kind of cute. You don’t know how long you stay like that, arm in arm. You don’t even hear him when he finally speaks, you’re completely captivated by a butterfly.

“What?” It isn’t the usual tone you take with him, there’s a warmth to your tone that you typically reserved for people back home.

“I asked if you wanted to play a game.” Well you certainly weren’t expecting that.

“What kind of game?” You can’t help but be skeptical, even though you don’t think he’d try and ruin your good mood and you want to trust him. This just seems out of character for him.

“Well, since we’re almost friends with each other, I thought we might get to know each other better. That’s what friends do, they know things about each other.” His voice is casual and he sounds almost relaxed. It suits him. And he’s right, friends should know each other.

Friends are good. Friends are safe. Friends don’t have sex dreams about each other. You should be friends. That’s the safest thing to be, and it would be nice to have a friend.

“So what… we just ask each other questions? That doesn’t sound like a game, it sounds like a conversation.”

“Sounds like someones scared of losing.” He looks straight ahead as the two of you begin walking towards what appears to be a lake, there’s a gazebo next to it and a few other things you can’t make out in the distance. You can’t help but scoff.

“Fine. What are the rules?”

“It’s simple, we ask each other questions but you can choose not to answer, you can pass. First person to pass on three questions loses.” Well this seems easy enough, and he’s so secretive you’ll win without a doubt.

“Okay, but I get to go first.”

“Of course.” Is he smiling under the helmet? He probably has a nice smile. Is that something friends think about each other? Who cares, you can let this one thought slide, it's innocent enough. you hesitate for a moment, why not start simple.

“Where are you from?”

“Pass.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly serious.” His tone is still light so you know you haven’t struck a nerve. How odd.

“Okay so wait, what do I get if I win? Since it’s obvious I’m going to.” That gets a genuine chuckle from him. It’s nice. It’s not as bassy as his voice is, but it’s still low, raspy and authentic. You want to hear it again.

“What do you want?”

For you to grope me in front of a mirror?

Well friends don’t certainly ask friends for that. What did you want?

“I want a question.”

“Well that just doesn’t make sense princess, we’re playing a question game.”

“No, the winner gets to ask the other person a question and they have to answer. No passing.” You know you have a smug look on your face, you already know what you’re going to ask. He thinks about it for a long time, long enough that you’re worried that he might say no.”

“Okay. Deal. Where are you from?” You’ve reached the gazebo now and you both take a seat. You rest your arms on the railing so you can stare at the lake.

“Hoth.”

“I didn’t know Hoth could sustain life.”

“We live underground, why did you take this job?” You kind of expect him to pass again but he answers without missing a beat.

“I needed the credits. This was the highest paying job.”

“Why did you need money?” You pull your eyes away from the water to look at him, you’re kind of surprised to find his helmet already facing you and not the scenery, it’s gorgeous here.

“It isn’t your turn.” He asks again before you can protest. “What’s your family like?” You consider passing but it could be worse.

“I have eight siblings and I’m really close with them. Well I was. I never got that close with my parents, small colony royalty, they liked to act like they were above it all so in our colony of less than 500 people who had nothing to do, we had nannies.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the memory. He nods slowly but doesn’t ask for a follow up so you just ask your next question. “Did you like being a bounty hunter?”

“I don’t really feel anything towards it. It was work, I didn’t hate it, I didn’t love it. I was just good at it.” He doesn’t even have his usual tone of arrogance, he says it like it’s a fact. “Did you choose to marry him?”

“Pass.” You respond way too quickly, and you know you’re practically giving him the answer by passing. But you don’t want to say it, don’t want him to feel sorry for you. “When do you eat and drink?” He chuckles again, Maker, you want to marry that laugh, you want to make love to that laugh, you want to bury yourself alive and die in that laugh. Nope, that’s not a normal thing friends think about each other you fucking weirdo.

“When you aren’t looking.”

“What? That doesn’t make any-”

“No follow up questions.”

You play for a long time, going back and forth until the sun is much lower in the sky. It’s exhilarating to have a real conversation go on this long, the two of you don’t even argue (for the most part.) He tells you so much about himself that you can hardly remember all of it, you keep a mental list of your favorite things.

“Did you really read the Smitten Paladin?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a little straw in your helmet so you can drink stuff?”

“No.”

“Do you sweat a lot in all those layers?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is your name really Mando? Cause that’s, like, super convenient if it is.”

“It’s not.”

“What is your name?”

“Pass.”

“What color is your hair?”

“Brown.”

Now you’re tied, whoever passes next loses. You had passed earlier when he had asked if you wanted the rest of your books back. Cocky son of a bitch. When you had asked if he had read them all he responded with, “ Not yet.” You need to win. So you think long and hard until you come to a question you’re sure he won’t answer.

“Where are your quarters?” You give him a satisfied smirk, let's see him worm his way out of this one.

“Why do you want to know?”

Yikes. He’s got you there. Do friends usually ask friends where they sleep? Doesn’t matter, you’re so close to the win that you just deflect.

“Are you gonna pass?”

He takes a minute. A long minute, just staring at the lake, and you’re ready to accept the win when he points out past the water.

“There’s a cabin just on the edge of the pond. I live there.”

You’re so shocked he actually answered that you don’t even care that he didn’t pass, you squint and sure enough there it is, you’re surprised you didn’t see it before but it blends in so well with the trees. There’s a small cabin by the edge of the water. You have a million follow up questions but of course he cuts you off before you can ask any of them.

“What did you mean when you said I was your least favorite?”

Shit. You can’t believe he remembers that. Gods you don’t want to lose, and you can’t bring yourself to lie because you would always know your win wasn’t real and there’s no satisfaction in that. So you sigh.

“My first couple of days here I was very bored so I made a list of my favorite people here.” You can feel your face getting hot. He must be getting used to seeing you get red like this, it practically happens hourly at this point. “You used to be on the bottom of the list but now you aren’t.”

“Where am I now?” There is no hurt in his voice, just speculation. He’s leaning closer to you now. You can’t help but close your eyes and just enjoy his smell for a fleeting moment. Smoke, metal, and fresh linen. That last one is a bit shocking, he must have other flight suits that all look the same.

“No follow up questions.” You smirk. “How did you know I left my room that one night I snuck out to the library if you live across the lake?”

“Pass.” You don’t even get to enjoy the win because you’re a little disappointed that you don’t get to know the answer. “You win princess.” He stands and holds out his arm again and you quickly take it as you start walking back in the direction of the trail. When had it gotten so dark? The sun was nearly set and you’d hardly even noticed. You’d spent the whole day out here.

You want to ask your question immediately but the moment you open your mouth he speaks.

“We should do this more often.” He sounds so carefree, it catches you off guard

“The game?”

“No, but we can do that as well if you’d like, but I meant getting out of the castle.” Honestly the thought of being out more often thrills you, you just aren’t sure what the rules for that are since you married into the royal family.

“I would love to get out to the garden more often.” You whisper it, almost just to yourself.

“Not just the garden. Have you ever seen the rest of this planet?”

“No.” You haven’t even been off of the royal grounds.

“Okay, new deal. On the first day of the week we go somewhere, even if it is just the gardens.” Your heart skips a beat. He has a day now, just like Kodo, Mando has his own day. You wish you could keep the dopey grin off your face.

“Deal.”

You don’t speak until you're back inside the castle, you don’t even speak when you walk through the halls, you’ve finally found a comfortable silence with each other. You do of course unlink your arms, you don’t know why you both feel the need to pull away at the same time. After all you’re just friends, but you do anyway. Now you’re at the door to your chambers and Leo is waiting for you, impatiently tapping his foot.

“You didn’t attend any of your meals.” His voice is short, clearly upset with you. You give him an apologetic look, and you are hungry.

“Sorry… I guess I just lost track of time, if you bring dinner to my chambers I’ll eat now.” Normally you’d just go to the dining hall but you want one more moment alone with Mando. Leo eyes the two of you but takes his leave.

“As you wish, ma’am.” As he begins walking away you turn back to your steel companion.

“You owe me one more question.” You grin up at him. You wish you could see if he was smiling too.

“Ask away, princess.” He puts his hands on his hips as the helmet turns down towards you.

“What does sarad'ika mean?” You say a silent prayer that this doesn’t ruin the perfect day you’ve had. He doesn’t respond or move for quite some time. Your stomach is in knots and you start mentally cursing yourself out for bringing this up again. But he clears his throat and when he does speak it’s so unexpectedly gentle you almost take a step back.

“In Mando’a, sarad means flower, or bloom, and ika means little.”

Little flower.

He had called you little flower.

You don’t think friends call each other little flower.

You honestly aren’t sure what to say so you just sort of nod, but you don’t want him to feel like he upset you so when you open the door to your room you turn back towards him one last time.

“Thank you Mando. I had a really nice day.”

“Good night princess.”

“Good night.” You close the door.

You wish he had called you sarad'ika again. ✩

The next three cycles are the best you’ve had so far.

You don’t talk about your question and honestly that’s fine because you still aren’t sure how you feel about it. But being friends with Mando is nice, once you convince him that you aren’t going to bolt the second he looks away you actually get him to read a few books, you’re surprised he never picked something up until now considering how much time you two actually spend in the library. You stick with your fiction novels and are surprised to find how much he enjoys history books. He's a fast reader and matches your pace of a book or two a day.

But it’s the fifth cycle of the week. Which means you’re dolled up in blue and you have dinner with your husband tonight. You haven’t seen Kodo since your last dinner when he humiliated you so you aren’t exactly excited. Something tells you Mando isn’t all that thrilled either, he’s quiet today. He’s always quiet until you get him going but you aren’t feeling chatty today so neither is he. You both read in silence for as long as you can until finally you can’t put it off any longer and you loudly slam your book shut and stand.

“We should probably get going.” You smooth out the wrinkles in your dress from sitting so long. He doesn’t speak, only nodding as he stands, setting his book down on top of yours. You begrudgingly make your way down the hall and are thrown off by the amount of noise coming from the dining hall, when Mando opens the large doors for you you’re shocked to see nearly a dozen men eating, Kodo is seated at his typical spot, the head of the table and he stands as he sees you.

“Wife! So good of you to join us! I thought I’d invite some of my brothers and cousins to dine with us tonight.” He’s just as drunk if not drunker than he was last time and much to your discomfort the rest of the men don’t seem much different. Taking a nervous step inwards Mando starts to close the doors once the two of you are inside. “One moment Mandalorian, you won’t be needed tonight. Afterall, it’s just family.” There’s suddenly ice in your veins. You spent so much time trying to get rid of him you hadn’t thought about what would happen when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“I’ve sworn myself to her, I’ll stay” A chill runs up your spine. You’d gotten so used to his voice being lighthearted and gentle that it sends a jolt through you to hear him speaking so sternly. You don’t recognize the tone, even from your first few days with him. More importantly, when the hell did he swear himself to you? Was that a part of the job Kodo was paying him to do? It seems a bit severe for a bodyguard gig.

Kodo doesn’t seem in the slightest affected by the inflection of his voice even though the other men in the room look wary.

“I insist, Mandalorian. Take the night off.” He holds his cup towards the two of you before he sits back down and starts rambling to the men, seemingly picking up where he left off on some sort of hunting story. You turn, your eyes wide with worry towards Mando, you want to beg him to stay, you want you grab him by the shoulders and plead with him to not leave you alone but you know that he can’t. Even if he wanted to. It’s not like he can fight every royal family member, all the staff, and the half dozen battle droids that trailed behind Kodo. He turns to leave and you turn back towards the table but before he opens the door you hear him whisper just loud enough so only you can hear it.

“I’ll be right outside. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.” And then he’s gone, the doors close with a loud thunk and you pull up a chair.

Surprisingly Mando’s promise helps you relax, you sip your wine and you don’t have too bad of a time. It’s a miracle that the presence of all of Kodo’s relatives is a bit of a blessing. Sure, the room being full of men originally was absolutely terrifying but they keep his attention off of you and you quickly realize that they’re too scared to even look at you, you don’t understand that bit for a while until in an instant it clicks.

You’re Kodo’s.

He calls you wife because that’s all you are. You belong to him, therefore it would be an insult to Kodo to leer at you. As disheartening as that is, it's a bit of a relief and you’re able to enjoy most of your dinner until the servants come around and take your plates, which is a welcome sight because it means you can leave. Funnily enough you miss Mando standing behind your shoulder. You feel almost empty without him looming although you suppose you’re bound to feel that way after spending four full weeks by each other's sides. You’re eager to get back to him, to feel the safety of his presence and you’re about to stand up and leave when Kodo’s voice fills the room, commanding the attention of everyone present.

“Isn’t she just a gem?” In the blink of an eye everyone's heads are turned towards you. “Such a pretty little thing,” His grin is viscous and the way he says it makes your skin crawl. “aren’t you princess?” You hate the way it sounds coming from his mouth, and not in the same way you “hate” it when Mando says it. You detest the way Kodo says it.

But he’s so drunk a small wind could knock him over. You can handle this. If you can tease a Mandalorian you can subdue a douche bag prince.

“Thank you, my prince.” You bite back the venom that inevitably tries to seep out.

“Don’t you all think she’s lovely?” Once everyone's eyes are on you, you feel less confident. You wish he would just go back to calling you bland as the men nod and hum in agreement. You feel sick. It’s like having dinner with a dozen Kodo’s, they all have the same dull blonde hair and unpleasant voices. You’re preparing to leave again when what you assume is a cousin speaks up. He looks like he has a few years on Kodo and you know that the prince is the eldest of his brothers.

“When do you plan on getting her pregnant?”

You want to throw up. You can’t stand the way they talk about you like you aren’t even there.

Kodo’s grin widens.

“I think we’ll wait. My father is still young and if her looks are her only redeeming quality, I'd like to keep them intact for as long as possible.” The table erupts in laughter and you think about throwing your wine glass at him. Would that be considered treason? You don’t know so you just tune them out, you know they’re still talking about you, they do for a while.

So you drink your wine and stare straight ahead. Now that Kodo has seemingly given them permission to speak of you they don’t stop. Every once in a while you’ll catch a sentence or two and you have to swallow down the bile that threatens to erupt from your throat. They’re shameless, and they’re vulgar. The only thing that keeps you seated is that you know that none of them will lay a hand on you. It’s the only perk to being seen as nothing more than an extension of your husband. They won’t touch you because you’re his. You have a hard time finding comfort in that fact.

After what feels like an hour you stand up, your chair screeching loudly against the wood.

“I’m rather tired. I think I shall retire to my chambers.” You don’t bother hiding the repulsion from your voice but Kodo only smiles and nods as you turn to leave.

“Goodnight, wife.”

“Goodnight, husband. ”

You don’t turn back around until you’re out of the room.

You let out a sigh of relief once the doors are closed and immediately look for Mando, you don’t see him at first and a wave of betrayal washes over you. Did he leave? He had promised to stay. Could you even be mad at him for leaving? Kodo offered him the night off, he hasn’t had so much as an hour off since he started. You think back to what he had said weeks ago.

“You’re a full time job, sarad'ika.”

You hadn’t even thought of how draining that must be until now.

But he had promised.

Stop being a cry baby, don’t act like some heartbroken little girl, you’re being overdramatic.

You only get a few steps away from the dining hall when you almost trip over something and when you look down he’s there. He had been so still you’d missed him entirely. He’s too still. He should have said something by now, or gotten up. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach as you look around. Kodo dismissed all the guards on this floor except for the several repurposed battle droids in the dining hall that served as his personal guard, there’s no one here to help you as you kneel down directly in front of him. His back is against the wall and his knees are bent, hands folded in front of him.

“...Mando?” you say it as delicately as you can manage, leaning your head forward so you’re in his direct line of sight. “Mando are you alright?” Is he shaking? “Mando, I need you to talk to me.” You can hear the anxiety in your own voice, echoing through the silent hallway. He doesn’t move so you just say fuck it and crawl between his legs so you can rest your ear against his chest, it isn’t easy with the chestplate but you settle in just above it.

Maker, his heart is racing.

You pull back and stare into the helmet. The concern is apparent in your expression as you place both hands on the sides of his helmet as you would when holding someone's face. His chest is rising and falling too fast.

“Can you breathe Mando? I need you to talk to me, can you breathe through the helmet?”

Fuck you can’t tell. You lean in closer, resting your temple against the Beskar until you can hear his breaths. The modulator isn’t even picking them up, you’re hearing them through the steel.

It sounds like he’s hyperventilating.

“It’s me Mando. I need you to tell me you're okay or I’m going to have to take your helmet off to make sure you can breathe.” Gods, you don’t want to have to do this. You whisper your own name a few times to him. “It’s me Mando, I’m right here.” You’re about to do it, you don’t know what other options you have so you squeeze your eyes shut tight and grip the steel of his helmet and take in a deep breath, in the beat of silence before you can bring yourself to do it you hear the modulator crackle.

“Are you hurt? It’s like he’s just waking up as his hands fly to your hips, holding onto you like he can’t even believe you’re real. The modulator barely picks up his murmur. But you drop your hands down and rest them on his shoulders as you sigh in relief. Thank the stars.

“No, I’m okay.”

He’s nearly incoherent as he speaks softly and quickly you barely catch most of it, the modulator doesn’t pick up the majority of it so you have to listen closely to hear his voice through the helmet, he’s still struggling to catch his breath.

“I didn’t know what to do… never felt so useless… never frozen up before… could hear everything… to rip his tongue out… talked about you like that… if any of them had touched… would have broken down that damn door … wouldn’t care about the stupid droids…”

All animosity you had ever felt towards the man in front of you vanished, even if temporary. Because that’s all he was right now. He wasn’t the Mandalorian, right now he was only a man.

“I’ve never… don’t understand what… wanted to stay… what if you… too many droids…” You press your forehead against his helmet to try and hear better and you finally manage to put together a couple sentences. “I couldn’t just go in, because if I got hurt, who would look after you? I can’t protect you from a jail cell, I’ve never had to worry about that before…”

You can’t take the way his voice shakes so you hold his helmet in your hands again and tilt it upwards to meet your gaze.

“Hey… I am okay.” You enunciate each word as you stare into the strip of black. “Nothing happened, I am unharmed.” You take his hand in yours and bring it up to your face so it cradles your cheek. “See? I’m okay, nothing happened to me. And if something was going to happen to me you would stop it. Okay?”

You sit like that for several minutes. Knelt between his legs, rubbing your thumb gently against the helmet as his unmoving hand rests on your face.

It takes him a while but his breathing finally seems to level out. When he speaks again he’s loud enough for the modulator to pick up and it’s jarring how normal he suddenly sounds.

“It’s late, you should be in bed.”

“Okay.” You’re just happy he’s okay.

Although now you feel a bit self conscious about the position the two of you are in. But it’s like he reads your mind as he puts his hands on your waist and easily lifts you as he gets to his feet. You don’t have a chance to say anything before he’s already walking. You just follow, and when you arrive he opens the door to your chambers for you.

You want so desperately to speak. You want to comfort him, you want to say anything to let him know that you’re okay, that he’s okay, but he speaks first.

“Good night princess.” He says it with a finality that lets you know that there will be no further discussion on what just happened. That tomorrow you will act as if this never happened. But you don’t want that.

“Good night, Mando.”

He waits for you to close the door, you wait for him to walk away. But neither of those things happen. So instead, because the two of you are just friends, you open the door a little wider.

“Do you wanna come in?”

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oreosmama · 4 months

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What's in a Virtue (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)---Part 3

*GIF not mine*

Summary:

Gaz wants you, but the hotel bar you work at has rules; when a bartender calls dibs, all others have to back off. It’s how the peace is kept, and as the new girl just trying to rack up some savings, you’re not willing to rock the boat.

But Gaz doesn’t take kindly to you avoiding him, and he’s never been one to beat around the bush. From confessing his love on the first night you met to shouting your name seven times from across the bar, he’s not letting you off the hook that easy. Not when he’s seen the proof that you’ve fallen just as hard for him.

A/N: mwahaha, and they said it couldn't be done. those who doubted me shall gaze upon my very first (and perhaps last) complete series! Victoryyyyy! I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 8374

Part 1 Part 2

You’re pretty sure you didn’t hear him right.

You’ve got morning-after brain, and his chest is so hot and adamant behind you, and his breath is right next to your ear. Plus, your stomach is growling with a pit only chocolate-chip pancakes and white peach oolong can fill.

And he’s doing that tracing thingy again. G. A. Then what?

R. Maybe.

And that leads you to think you might’ve just maybe heard him correctly, because why the hell is he drawing his last name on your hip so brutishly that it twinges?

“Um.” You stiffen. “What.”

Not really a question. The way you say it, it comes out more like you don’t want to know the answer even if you really did ask.

Kyle groans that long, gruff way, husked past his vocal cords and throbbing a path through your entire body. “Look, I get it.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Just let me… ah, fuck, I know it sounds ridiculous, love, but hear me out.” He moves away, giving you space to think while he leans against the counter and grips the edge, tight.

“Wait,” you hold up a hand before he can start talking again, because you need a minute. Several minutes, actually. A whole assload of minutes to comprehend the suggestion he’s just thrown at you. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you serious?”

This is probably just what Kyle’s morning-after brain is like. It makes stupid, sudden suggestions that he just blurts out on a whim with no regard for how it’ll land. In all fairness, you doubt it’s ever done him wrong before. Even in a regular headspace it’d be hard to tell him no.

Never mind that he’s shirtless, and that his broad shoulders eat up the space of three cupboards, and that his gaze is doing that thing again—that unfair thing where he towers over you but can still make you feel like he’s kneeling, dips his head so those pleading irises look up at you.

“Dead serious, love.”

There’s an air about him that’s resolute, despite it all. He’s tender but stern, decided and confident in his conclusion. He’s shedding his clothes and skin, leaving himself belly-up for you to bite.

“Kyle…”

“Too soon?” He doesn’t even look hurt. Just expectant.

You shrug helplessly. “Yes? Very too soon, don’t you think?” You spin around, fiddle with the pancake mix but don’t open it. The mug you’ve microwaved for your tea is probably cool at this point, and you try to turn that into your biggest problem of this morning.

Not the special forces sergeant who lives life at three-hundred miles an hour, exuding such a new energy in here that you can’t remember the basics. It’s the morning after, and as beautifully new as Kyle is, like the stretch of new blue jeans, he’s not threadbare enough in here yet. Too tight, sucking the air out of your own home and leaving you all prickly and sweaty and nervous.

And he wants you to move in with him? Right now? This soon?

It’s easy, when you turn your back to him and lob your hand towards the microwave handle, to pretend that your biggest problem can be amended in minutes.

Because now, despite that itchiness of Kyle’s gaze on your face, your biggest problem is that you haven’t even begun to steep your tea. That’s a huge deal. You’re supposed to do it seconds after the microwave beeps, pull the mug out and let the steam soak into the tea bag that you swing for a bit, always have to watch the foggy-air disruptions back and forth. Then you steep it, let the water grow murky for ten minutes as you cook the rest of the meal. Add sugar, an ice cube because you’re scared it’ll burn your tongue like the first time, and stir while you pour syrup on your plate.

You’re horribly set in your ways, so much so that you hate—actually hate—the newness Kyle’s thrust upon you. It took him twenty-four hours to upset everything.

Well, not everything. Just you. While you feel fresh out of the box, everything around you has been preserved in mundanity.

If you took two rights and a left from this building, you’d find a sandwich shop owned by a short man with an orange cat. If you went two floors up, you’d find a pack of graduate students; one more floor, and you’d see Mrs. Beverly and her purse dog. If you went into your living room, finagled with your window a bit, the shutters would close in a perfect angle so that the sun falls on your couch but doesn’t glare on your TV.

You know it takes you twenty-seven minutes to get to work in the morning right after you brush your teeth. It takes you fourteen minutes to walk home after you clock off. Thirty more minutes to order food and settle in, Netflix the pinnacle of your night before you nod off in a tank top with exactly three holes and short shorts you’d bought under the duress of a busted AC.

You have milk and eggs both two days away from expiration in your fridge, along with old Chinese takeout. You have books with crackled spines and ruffled pages on your bookshelf, and a muddy stain on your entryway carpet from two days after you’d bought it. A bedroom unruly and unbidden, clothes strewn everywhere.

You could envision it all, see it all because you knew it all. Have known it all for the months that this place has been your home and you’d begun working at the hotel bar. You could have the rest of your life mapped out by tomorrow if you really wanted to. It’d be safe. Predictable. Boring, in that average way you’ve always known. None of it would be moving by so fast that you wouldn’t get a break to think of the consequences.

None of it would make you feel like you’re reaching new heights by jumping off cliffs, taking big, stupid risks that wind up working all the damn time—and solely because Kyle makes them work. Because he runs seven steps ahead of you and lays out the golden carpet for you to step on, telling you it’s okay to keep pushing forward.

The phone calls, the talks, his touch and voice. All of it closing in on you, molding you into something fresh and unseen.

But that’s just it. It’s still just you who’s changed.

Not Kyle, who’s certainly been like this his whole life. Who’s used to making snap decisions that have an impact, gotten so damn used to doing that that he carries it with him now.

And it’s not Mariano or his cat Garfield, or the ham and swiss you get on Fridays. It’s not Jared and Samantha, both of whom play Mario Kart after writing another page in their theses. It’s not Mrs. Beverly and Chloe, or Jeanne, or your family or friends you haven’t texted in a while.

Only you.

You’re stripped to your marrow, neurons and fibers spilling all over the place because—oh hell—you’ve grown too big for all this. Kyle’s had you melting and flowing fast and sharp since he first showed up in your life, and you’re moving too fast to feel out that old stagnancy.

But there’s an ugliness that lives inside of you too, that hates how uncomfortable every little step forward is, even if you can’t stop taking them.

It’s exposing. You feel naked, but not in the new, comfortable way Kyle’s helped you discover by virtue of his longing. More naked like school nightmares and too-small bath towels. Naked like someone’s going to douse you in lemon juice and salt any second to watch you writhe.

“Kyle.” Your hand’s still propped on the handle. The microwave beeps again, impatient. “Last night was—God, it was amazing.” You open the door, pull out the mug despite how lukewarm it’s grown. “Best I’ve ever had, by a long shot. But…”

“But what, love? You’re scared?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and you’ve no doubt he’d watched your mind run and run circles around itself, and had had enough time to form an argument of his own. “It’s too much? A lot to ask? I think that too, love, but we’re running out of time.” He rises to his full height, and you try not to shy away at how much space he takes up when he’s grim and serious.

He’s massive, bigger when he’s panting over you, sleek hips pressing down, suppressing your twists and jolts. He’s gotten better at trapping you, too. It’s intimidating. Thrilling, in better circumstances.

You can’t think straight anymore. He smells like pine all over again, and looks it too.

“Come back with me to England. We’ve got bars—bars I can bother you at. We’ve got universities for second chances. I’ve got a flat with plenty of room, plenty of money to—”

“Kyle, please.” The whine rips from your throat, and you drag two hands over your face.

In the corner of your vision, you don’t miss the way he stiffens and swallows a bit. But then he says your name through choked sigh, and rasps, “I know it sounds fuckin’ crazy—I feel like a bloody fool saying it out loud. But I don’t want to lose this, and I can’t keep comin’ back here to start us from scratch every few months.”

You don’t know what to say to that, can’t stop bobbing your mouth open and closed, trying to find those useless words that might explain what’s holding you back.

Something like, It’s only been three months.

Yes, but Kyle knows that too. And he still wants you.

You don’t even really know him.

Sure. But what was there to learn that he wouldn’t offer you on a silver platter?

It’s going to fall apart. It always does for you. Months will pass, and he’ll realize he made a mistake. He’ll kick you to the curb, and you’ll be back to square one.

A coaxing palm cradles your cheek, and a warm thumb prods over your lower lip, both of which make you flinch out of your thoughts. Kyle tips your head up, up, up until you’re looking at him, brown irises gentle and luring.

“I can see it, you know. That cruel little brain of yours is whirring so loud it’s makin’ me nauseous.”

Your eyes fall closed, and you reach up, grapple at Kyle’s wrist, massage the tender spot at its center. “I’m sorry.”

He inhales, ragged and slow. Exhales, blowing past your flyaways. “For what, bunny?”

You continue to caress the baby-soft skin of his wrist, marveling a bit at how different it feels from his rough fingertips, from his scarred thighs, his bruised back. “I need… time. A little bit to think. Consider things.”

The last thing you wanted to do was tell him to leave. You felt like an idiot for even implying that space from him was the something you needed right now. You know the silence will swallow you whole when he’s gone.

“You want me to go?” he breathes out, and his face crumbles. Likely, he didn’t want to leave. He could barely be goaded out of your bed, and now this?

Kyle looks like he wished he hadn’t asked, hadn’t said anything. Those mournful brown eyes slip to the counter, where your mug and pancake box sit, then back to you, to your eyes and nose and lips.

Your lips. He prods at the bottom one, like he can’t help it. The caress slows to a stop when he pinches his eyes closed and tips forward, dropping his forehead to yours. “But I don’t wanna leave, love,” he mumbles. “Scared if I do, you won’t let me back.”

You don’t think you could ever keep him out. Not out of your house, and not out of your head. But your brain feels unspooled and uncollected, and all that’s left are too-sweet cotton-candy wisps that can’t quite latch onto anything.

“I…”

Don’t want you to leave either.

I want you to stay. I want to move in with you. I want every night to be like last night, and every morning to begin like ours did.

I want it all to be ours.

Your hands rise up and brush against the dips and swells of his chest. Goosebumps blossom under your touch.

“Kyle, you know this isn’t goodbye. It can’t be. I need you to tell me you understand that.”

He sighs again.

“I know, love. I know that.” His thumb wanders over the arch of your cheek. “I’m used to all this, with you. All the pullin’ away and coming back.” He chuckles bitterly, a bit breathy. “It’s just so fuckin’ hard this time ’round.”

Your chest feels like it’s split open, gaping and pouring out. But your mind, or what’s left of it, knows you need this. You need the separation from him, deserve time to think through all he’s offering, all you could barely repay him for in return.

The debt between the two of you is yawning. But if you gave in and told him yes, all you’d be left with is uncertainty.

Not even a man as perfect as Kyle can make up your mind for you.

“One more kiss before you go?”

He takes you up on it before you can say any more.

His lips are a harsh press against yours, bruising enough to leave them puffy for hours. He kisses to consume, to swallow you up and spit you out wanting more.

Gentlemanly as Kyle can be, there’s not a glimpse of it to be seen now. He’s not playing fair, at the moment.

He hooks a finger under your chin and holds you steady, keeps you close and running out of air as he slips past your defenses, the hot, wet press of his tongue on top of yours. It’s instantly dominating before you have a chance to fight.

And then he’s toying with you, kneading you back into the fray with long prods and swipes, his stubble from the morning a heady friction on your skin. He’s playing and caressing and devilishly stroking needy whimpers from you, fingers dancing along your skin, drawing circles on your skin and whines from your throat. That dangerous tongue of his performs another sweep about your mouth, then slips back. Kyle begins worrying at your bottom lip, teeth digging in so harsh and quick —

—and he tears away from you so abruptly that you gasp, can’t even see straight. Suddenly you’re cold and alone, panting and losing your balance without Kyle’s sturdy form keeping you upright.

You only realize what had happened when you hear a rustling from your bedroom. Kyle reappears seconds later, avoiding your gaze as he zips his jacket up over his bare chest, legs and hips clad in last night’s jeans.

Subconsciously, you pick at the neckline of the black cotton tee you’re wearing—his shirt, one you guess he doesn’t want back before he leaves. “You don’t want your—”

“Don’t take it off—not yet, yeah?” He meets your eyes for the first time in two minutes, and there’s little brown left to them, all dilated pupils and a consternated furrow. Even his lips, wonderfully swelled, are tugged into a small frown. “Keep it on f’me. I’ll come back for it when you’re ready.”

But you don’t know when that’ll be. How could you possibly make an unbiased decision when the damn thing still smells like him and you can’t forget that ravenous look in his eyes when he’d first found you in it?

Kyle’s hovers near the door, hand tight around the knob like he can’t quite figure out how to open it again. He glances back at you over his shoulder, lets himself take you in, take the entire scene in. He even looks back at your bedroom, where the sheets are rumpled and need to be washed. Then he settles on you one last time, jaw set, muscle feathering a bit.

“Call me. Text me. Anything, darling. But don’t you dare forget about me.”

The door closes with a slam.

~~~~~~

The first day, Gaz is sure it’s fine. You need time to think, and that’s okay. He can handle that. He’s handled it multiple times.

And, yeah, when he’d gotten back to his hotel room, he had to sit for a moment, staring at the wall. Had to replay that whole night all over again.

Then again.

He did the same thing with that morning, reimagining licking the sweat off your thighs, sliding up and burying his face into your stomach, pawing at your body wherever you’d get the loudest. Replayed the feeling of your supple palms and soft fingertips—every inch of you was so damn soft, fleshy and yielding in his hands—wandering over his cheeks, his lips, his scalp.

Fucking beautiful. Every goddamn second of it.

Gaz, that first day, tries not to linger too long on how it’d ended.

So stupid of him to bring that up. Suggest for you to move in with him when obviously you both functioned at two vastly different paces.

Isn’t it ridiculous that he can’t even bring himself to think it’s crazy? He can’t find it in him to say no, that’s bullshit, because who are you and why the hell did he ever think moving with a woman he’d only known for three months was okay—desirable, even?

So bloody desirable it almost crossed that line and became imperative.

He spends that night checking his phone, wondering if you’ll call him again, borderline tears and needy like yesterday.

That was his favorite aspect of yours so far—when you needed him, you needed him badly. You needed him while you choked back gasps and almost-sobs. You needed him while you breathed a little sigh of relief at the sight of him and jumped into his arms. You needed him with that first kiss, shy and tentative, but trying your best to imitate reckless abandon—until he taught you properly.

He’d spent that whole night watching you be shocked at yourself for how badly could want him, all confused and flushed when you’d noticed your fingers digging into the buttons of his trousers. A little stunned “o” formed on your lips when you’d dug your nails in, body trembling with exhaustion, and still begged him for more. Kyle, please. More.

Gaz only convinces himself to take a shower for the night when the thoughts become too much. He almost trips over his own feet in a mad scramble when he sees his phone flash, only to find a notification for an update.

He goes to sleep in a sour mood.

The second day goes about the same. He wakes up late in the afternoon (because, due to your midnight upset, he was still on his Middle-East sleep schedule), spends way too much time remembering and staring at his phone, waiting for a buzz or a ring. Eats his dinner and drinks in a deathly silence.

Because silence is unnerving to him now. You’ve changed that much in him. Every second spent in lonely quiet feels like a waste of his time.

But you don’t call. And you don’t text.

You don’t do any of it for the next three days.

Gaz wallows even worse. He gets antsy, goes to the hotel gym and sprints on the treadmill, because he knows if he runs outside he’ll find himself at your place. He goes to stores, buys himself another black t-shirt, same size and brand as the one that you’d worn, that’d cinched in at your waist and flared out to capture your hips and thighs.

He wanders into the bookstore next door and finds a few of the ones he’d spotted on your bedroom bookshelf whenever you’d tapped out on him. He flits through a few pages, eyes catching on the naughty words, and reads through for… wistful entertainment, at least.

Research purposes, at most.

And Gaz chuckles to himself, winking at the girls that try to wander into the section inconspicuously. The same ones who surely have as good a poker face as you, and who immediately vacate the area at the sight of an invader.

It would be more fun if it was you he was teasing. Same pink ears and face, same eyes avoiding contact at all cost, fingers fidgeting at the hems of your sleeves.

A longing ache floods his chest so directly and intensely that he has to take a second, breathe and set down the book so he can center himself again. That same flood of cognizance about his situation hits him when he’s on missions, when the victims’ sobs finally get to him or he looks too long in the eyes of a dead man.

Like he’s yanked to the surface after hours underneath the tide, and the sun shines so brightly his eyes burn. But he’s seeing and feeling everything he’d shoved deep down, knows exactly what led him to this moment.

Gaz doesn’t go out much after that.

Not the next day, or the day after that. Not even the next two days after those.

It’s around this point that he wishes you would just put him out of his fucking misery. He’s so tired of thinking of you before he goes to bed, dreaming of you, then waking up to phantom touches all over his body. He’s driving himself up the walls trying not to call you, break into your house and just steal you back to England anyway.

Patience. Son of a bitch—patience. God, you strung it out so thin with him that it could snap like a rubber band and hurt you both.

It’s midnight of the tenth day of no contact with you that Gaz’s finally got his sleep schedule under control, and he’s twisted up in the sheets, body caked with sweat.

Well, actually, he’s in Prague.

He’s rapidly approaching a target in a dusty, dark alleyway. Just before they turn the corner and get into public view—can’t let that happen, have to maintain cover—Gaz wrestles them away from the glow of the streetlamps and back behind a dumpster, kicking away their gun while he wrenches a biceps around their neck—

But it’s your voice ringing through the air. Your pleas and sobs pierce his conscious too late. Your neck snaps so loud he flinches, and all the while his mind is screaming no, no this can’t be right. She’s not the target. She’s never the target.

Gaz scrambles away, tearing off the sheets and rolling out of bed.

Jesus Christ.

He has to see you.

After that, just needs to make sure. Needs to check that you’re still in tact, your sweet neck not cracked and limp, eyes not dim and silenced.

He rises to his feet and can’t find his Goddamn socks anywhere. A yellow glow from the window lets Gaz catch himself in the mirror at the perfect moment, and he can see the thick sheen of sweat that covers his body head to toe.

You deserve better than that. Better than a sweaty, desperate man with no patience pushing his way into your house and demanding an answer, a single word, fucking anything from you.

Even a nod or a shake of your head would settle his poor heart. The damn thing aches in his chest all the time now.

Gaz slips into the bathroom for a quick, cold shower, stubs his toes against the not-wide-enough walls of the tub several times, and ambles out a bit slower and far more jittery than he’d gone in.

He’s shifting a pair of pants up his not-yet-dry legs when he spots it.

A dim flash from the hotel nightstand, where his phone is plugged in.

Gaz freezes.

Surely it’s not…

Well, it might be…

But he’d been gone for not even five bloody minutes; that’s not even fair!

Suddenly, he’s kicking off the pants and hurdling over the bed, buck-naked and scrambling for his phone.

No, no, no, no, no, no, NO.

But yes. It’s a voicemail from you. Three minutes and forty-seven seconds, and he wasn’t there for any of it.

He presses it with wide eyes and a heaving chest, and something stabs him, hard, cruel, and swift right in the center of his gut when he hears your voice.

“Wow, I’m getting deja vu.” You laugh, but it’s empty and short. “I’m really hoping you didn’t sneak off to a mission without telling me. That would, uh…” Your tone grows dreary, even as you huff another laugh. “That would really suck. But I’m sure I deserve it.”

You thought he’d leave you?

You can’t see him, and he knows that, but he still shakes his head, brow furrowed because no, no, no, he would never do that to you. Damn that evil brain of yours.

“I just… um, I just had a dream, though. Wanted to tell you about it. It wasn’t even bad so, like, I don’t even know why it woke me up.” Some shuffling, and a sniffle. “Well, I mean I do, but… okay, fine, I’ll just tell you.

“It was pretty lame. Nothing big, but I was hanging out in an apartment—a flat, you might say—which is a stupid name for an apartment, but you Brits don’t even know what chips are, so whatever. I’ll let it go.

“Anyway, I was sitting on the couch kinda bored, and then you came in. Came back, really. It’s like that background knowledge thing you get in a dream, where you only know exactly what’s going on the moment it happens? But you were back from a mission, and I had dinner and a hot bath ready, and you…”

Another sniffle. Gaz hovers over the phone, waiting for those seconds to dwindle down, needing to know how you felt when the message ended so he could call you and be…well, be whatever the fuck you needed him to be in that moment.

“I don’t know. We were about to kiss, and then I woke up and you weren’t even there and I just…hated that. The idea of that. Of you not being there when you could’ve been. And knowing that the only reason you weren’t was because I was being so stupidly stubborn.”

You sigh, then, and get too quiet for him to hear without crouching closer. “Kyle, if you still want me even at all after this, I…” You suck in a long breath, and he hears that little hitch at the back of your throat. “I need it to be slow. Slower than what it’s been. Especially if… if it’s gonna be the same apartment. I’ve never had anything like this before. Never felt it. And I’m scared of, well, all of it, honestly.

“But I’m more scared of never taking that chance with you. And you’ve been commuting to my home, my country all this time, so… you know, maybe it’s time I reciprocate. Reciprocate a lot of things.”

Then someone knocks on his door.

~~~~~~

Kyle never directly told you which hotel room he was in. But when he’d kicked his pants off and you’d watched them soar over your bedroom floor that night you’d called him over, you’d laughed into his kiss at the sight of his wallet, his key card, and some loose change rattling across the floor.

The next morning, you’d picked it all up while he was in the bathroom, where he was hopefully not glaring at the impulsive hickey you’d given him. You’d snagged his t-shirt for yourself, some womanly, possessive part of you wanting to squeeze yourself into his clothes, whether it would fit or not. You’d felt like a damn fool crammed into it—until Kyle saw you for the first time, and the look he gave you made your stomach clench.

You’d organized the rest of his things onto your dresser, only eyeing the room card, and the number sharpied on the back, passively.

Room 428.

You knocked on the door now, pulse thump-thump-thumping against your eardrums.

An “Oh fuck” was muffled and low through the door.

It didn’t sound like you’d woken Kyle up, and you admit that you’d been seriously considering the fact that he might’ve left for a mission while you were in AWOL mode. A bit of luck, really, that it was actually him, still here after ten days of radio silence.

But you’d know that gruff, British grumbling anywhere, and your body began to tremor. Small, at first, in your fingertips and toes. Then your knees felt a little loose as time went on and all you could hear from Kyle’s end was quick footsteps and the snap of fabric. By the time the door whipped open, your every breath came out stumbling, like waves over jagged rocks.

And Kyle…

Oh.

Oh, Goddamnit.

Ten days was too long for both of you.

Because Kyle, for all his effortless handsomeness, was a wreck. Untidy stubble’s laid claim to his jaw and throat, and his lips look bitten raw. Deep-seated crescents curve under each eye, lined and dark and angry. He’s draping himself against the door with the black curls on top of his head in complete disarray, and watching you with a low-lidded gaze.

Gaunt, worn, weakened. Like the life has been drained out of him.

But it’s still Kyle. There’s a phantom of his old self in his form now, a tautness to his shoulders and neck, slight bend in his knees, vigilance in his whiskey eyes. You’ll have to reel his spirit to the surface.

Looking at him now, though, it hurts to think you’re the one who’d done it to him. So damn hard to believe that he takes absences of you like shots to the heart. It’s lovely, to be so wanted by Kyle Garrick.

Harrowing, too.

There’s a learning curve to holding his tender heart in your hands and trying not to squeeze it too hard, too often, but you get the feeling you’ve been treating it like a stress ball. You forget that he keeps himself at this rough idle for you. That he always carries soft, warm feelings all the time, and lets them fester behind the velvet steel of his abdomen.

“Did you get my voicemail?”

He nods a little.

“So you heard that I…?”

Another nod.

The air is thick and straining with his silence. All he is right now is two eyes watching you and ten long fingers flexed against the door, features bordering on unreadable.

But there’s yearning. There’s always that fierce yearning with Kyle.

You lean a little closer, don’t quite know whether to be disturbed or flattered at how his nostrils flare when he suddenly sniffs.

Then he hums, low and deep.

“Peaches,” you mumble, recalling months ago, a staunch memory of his words about your perfume.

“Tha’s right, bunny,” he mutters. His fingers peel off the door before he lurches toward you, a lovely swoop in your gut when he hauls his arms around your waist, tilting his face to yours. He takes another sniff, this one nestled against the top of your scalp. “It’ll smell like peaches.”

When Kyle takes a step backward, his arms remain iron-stiff around your back, dragging you with him. Step for step for step until you’re in his hotel room, kicking his door shut with the heel of your shoe.

His hand rises and sweeps back the hair stuck to your neck, already slanting his lips over your pulse point, teething at the skin. “My flat,” he whispers. Then he scoops up your jaw, tilts your head to the other side and reattaches his mouth to the next indent in your throat. “My bedroom.” Another readjustment of your head, aligning himself just below your chin, your head tipped all the way back, blurry, blissed-out eyes locked on the ceiling. “My sheets.”

“Kyle.”

His fingertips dig in hard enough to leave purple dots against your lower back. “All of it’ll smell like peaches. Like you.”

You pry him off with a tugging grip at his damp hair, only slightly intrigued by the water droplets that you now notice litter his skin.

A bit too busy trying to think back to why you’re here, outside of getting his hot mouth all over you again, to try and care about something so minor.

There’s an indignant huff against your bobbing throat before he draws back. Kyle looks damn near put out by the fact that you hadn’t let him keep sucking distractions into your skin, and his teeth bare slightly when he grumbles, “What is it, love?”

Lest you forget Kyle first and foremost loves to grope at the plush of your thighs, he does so now, mindlessly, detrimentally to your train of thought. “There’s—there’s so much to figure out, Kyle.” Your words are more like a sputter, wild spilling past your teeth. “There’s getting my stuff there, and passports, and visas. Things that take more time than how long we’ve known each other.”

The golden gleam of his smirk almost takes you out of commission. One second he’s bitter about his mouth and the lack of your skin against it, the next he’s pulled back far enough to meet your eyes dead on, confident like he knows you inside out.

“Bunny, when you first started to walk, did you go ’round asking everyone what running felt like instead of trying it?”

You… don’t know what that means. Like at all.

And you’re fairly certain you wouldn’t be able to figure it out even if you weren’t exhausted from four-hour sleep and the wandering of calloused fingers.

“Kyle—what?”

The deep timber of his chuckle floods your ears like spools of silk. It’d almost be mean if it wasn’t the same playful laugh he used to give you from across the counter, one hand on a drink, the other reaching for yours, and if he hadn’t done it with little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“I just mean…” he pauses and strokes at your thighs a little slower, “that all of this has felt so bloody natural. Like I’m made to be doing this. Like I’m learnin’ how to walk all over again. And you…” One hand departs, rises and encompasses your cheek, thumb swiping over its swell. Kyle’s features soften. “Love, you make me want to run so badly.”

Your hands fist against his chest, but you know he can still feel the quivering that’s begun. That slowly showers over your body, tip of your skull down to the bottoms of your feet, electrifying and frightening.

You say his name again, startled at how much you want him.

He’s not wrong. Not even close. Being with him is like warm sweaters, or old socks, or scuffed shoes. Things that always just fit.

But it’s new, these butterflies frenzied in your stomach, this chain reaction of shivers and sparks of pleasure and licks of sweet heat.

New, and timeless. Confusing, and so damn easy.

“I’ve got connections, love. And so much time for you. All the time in the goddamn world.” His hips press into yours, and once more, he begins to sway.

And, once more, you follow suit.

“And there’s bars aplenty in England, love,” Kyle whispers the words against your forehead. “If that kickin’ little mind o’ yours feels like it has to repay me—pain in my arse, but I’d let you do it. Even though I wouldn’t mind it if you could just sit in my apartment and look real pretty. That’s always on the table for you.”

“Definitely off the table, Kyle.”

“All right, all right, fine.” He peppers kisses over your face. “So long as you’re there each time I walk through that door, yeah?”

~~~~~~

Gaz can smell it from the hallway.

The heavy scent of chocolate and those pretty candles you love to light, along with a lingering hint of peach. The door to his flat towers, ominous and contingent, like if he doesn’t open it now, any second it’ll slip away and he’ll be back on the field, gunsmoke thick in his eyes and throat.

Coming home is always a little hard.

He’s unwinding vertebra by vertebra, trying to fracture himself into small enough pieces to fit through the door. And there’s the crotchety stiffness of his limbs, too long for these halls, too sturdy for a scene soft as this.

Gaz shoots for quiet and hits dead silence when he twists the knob. Slips through the doorway and takes in this little fault he’s discovered in reality, phenomenon he’s kept under wraps for the past year or so.

Because entering the pocket dimension of his flat is nothing short of ascendant. Every damn time.

The air in here is velvety smooth and warm. Not unbearably, for July—it almost feels like the warmth of a sweaty palm still interlaced with his, making his body all syrupy slow. The lights have been dimmed and everything in view from the doorway is more shadow than actual features. London, like the determined sadist it is, is gray and drizzly outside each of his wide-open windows, helping none with his search.

That is something he’d had to bargain for—open windows. Gaz doesn’t mind the subpar reward any creeper might receive peeking into his home, but you weren’t as convinced. The task to win you over had become almost insurmountable when he’d grown too greedy in the living room and you, with eyes only barely comprehensive over his shoulder, locked gazes with an elderly woman across the way and screeched.

But he’d won, and it seemed you honored your promise now.

Speaking of you, he doesn’t even spot you the first look-around. Even as his nerves meld into the sleek familiarity, panic splices through his gut when he glances once, twice, then thrice around. You’re not running toward him like he desperately wishes you would. You’re not hovering over the kitchen stove, or digging through the fridge. You’re not even curled up in the window seat, sipping on a steaming mug.

Gaz knows he was quiet, but he didn’t know he was too quiet.

It becomes increasingly obvious that you’d had plans to greet him.

Because not only is his favorite meal still sitting over the burner, and the kitchen’s covered in dirty dishes, but you’re lounging on the couch, plush thighs crossed one over the other with a book in hand, clad in fantastically sparse lingerie of frilly black lace that leaves meager gaps for his memories to fill in.

With a stuttering breath, he fills the gaps in tight.

Your lazy fingers scrape at the corner of a page, then you flip it with a bored sigh, shifting a little by hooking your heel over the top of a sofa cushion, splitting your legs wide so he can see—

His pack drops to the floor with a thunderclap of noise.

Your body jerks all at once, a quick shriek splitting the viscid atmosphere in half.

Your wide, prey eyes latch onto his while you grapple at your chest, book having been launched halfway across the carpet. “Kyle, you son of a—could you have been any quieter? What the hell?!”

He barks out a laugh. The potency of your voice saying his name is already swimming through his mind, and he reaches back and closes the door while you rise to your feet. “Sorry, love. Next time I’ll just crawl through the window, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ may as well have,” you grumble, adjusting the stringy straps of your bra. Your skin is all blank and pale right now from months of his absence, white space where amaranthine marks should be.

Four months. The longest the two of you have been apart, and every step you come closer that heady scent of your perfume prickles its way up his spine.

“My sweet little bunny, precious love of my life—what have you been up to, hmm?”

Your hands slot on your hips, and you pout up at him. The build-up of energy crackles all over his skin the longer you stand so far away from him, but you’ve still settled for a lecture instead of a kiss. “Well, I had this whole plan where I’d feed you and bathe you, and then we’d fuck like rabbits, but I guess that’s out of the question now.”

Gaz snickers, the abject disappointment raw on your face. “How is that out of the question?”

“Timing’s off and you ruined the whole sexy vibe I was aiming for.” You fold your arms, and Gaz shamelessly drags his gaze down from your face. “You really suck, you know that?”

His lips part in that effortless grin you so easily drag out of him. “So sorry, love. If you come over here, I’ll be sure to apologize quite thoroughly.” Gaz lifts his arms, holds them out and gestures his fingers enticingly. “I’ll have your forgiveness in a matter of seconds.”

Your expression’s all stubborn and prickly, but you sway forward a little anyway. “I…” You grunt and stomp toward him, let him wind his entire body around you, and relax a little when his palms massage and dig into your shoulder blades. “I really did have everything planned,” you mumble into his chest, fingertips all twisted up in the back of his shirt.

Gaz is starting to get an idea about what’s going on.

Only about half the candles are lit throughout the flat, the majority of which are near the bedroom. The bathroom light is still on, door opened a crack, but there’s unpacked bath bombs strewn about like you gave up halfway through. Even the kitchen is more messy than usual after the nights that you cook. Only half the pots and pans look actually used, the rest an anxious jumble of utensils and ingredients he knows you didn’t need to make chocolate-chip pancakes alone.

It looks like you were distracted. So very terribly disturbed by something that you could only commit half a mind to all your ideas.

With him, you’re rarely left to your own devices for this long, and it shows.

Gaz can see it, feel it, and practically smell it all over you. Despite his embrace and what should be relief about his return, the muscle and tissue all over your body are pulled taut, bowstring-tight and ready to pitch forward at any second.

He hums, feels the tension in your spine only grow as he draws little circles against your skin. “I know, love. I see it. Candles, and the dinner, and the bath.” He kisses your forehead, grins wider when all you do is huff and puff. “Did so well. I know it’s hard.”

It only serves to wind you up more. “I’m supposed to be the one massaging and calming you. Feeding you and taking care of you after your mission. This is…” you hiss a curse, nails scraping at his waist now.

“S’okay. I’ve been through this hundreds of times.” His fingers dance a little lower, teasing that arch in your back that you curve a little harder against him. “I know exactly what you need, bunny. Sort you out so you can get back to your plan, yeah? Just need you to let me take care of it.”

“I don’t…” you shake your head. “I don’t know why I just—I mean, all of the sudden it’s you, and I can’t—”

You fall silent so fast when he shushes you, presses a too-short kiss to your lips. Already, he can feel the verve traveling through your very bones. He lets his words brush along your lips when he repeats his promise.

“Know jus’ what you need. Let me handle it.”

~~~~~~

You’re straddling his thighs with a fork in hand, watching in a satisfied stupor as the plate balanced on his chest rises and falls at a rapid pace.

Sticky, flushed, and sated all over, you saw off another sliver of pancake and hold it up to Kyle’s lips. He accepts it greedily, lets his head knock back against the headboard with a euphoric, close-lipped smile.

He hadn’t been… wrong.

Which is to say, you’d somehow managed to get yourself so worked up in his absence that the second he returned, all you’d wanted to do was jump his bones, sans any of the prelude you’d planned.

A warning would have been nice, now that you think about it. Anytime around four months earlier when he’d first begun preparing you for his absence without you even knowing it, would have been superb.

Instead, he’d let it fester in you, like he’d planted himself a gift, fruit ripe for the plucking at a later date.

You want to be mad.

Can’t quite bring yourself to, though.

A bit too… preoccupied.

There’s still sweat dripping at Kyle’s temples when he cleans off the plate, hands still squeezing in distracting patterns around the meat of your thighs.

“Fucking delicious, love.” He laves his tongue at the corner of his lips. “My two favorite meals.”

“You’re horrible.” You scramble off him unsteadily, trying to keep both you and the dishes in your hands balanced. “I should get a bar of soap for that mouth of yours.”

Kyle laughs first, then groans, swiping his hands down his face. “If you’d said that shit in the barracks, love…” he calls after you, tutting in the distance while you deposit the plate in the sink. You almost trip on your skimpy lingerie set from a couple hours ago while stumbling your way back to the bedroom.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” You raise a brow at him even as you tug on his arm, drag him out of the bed and down the hall.

After it all, Kyle had insisted you keep up the plan. Didn’t want that guilty conscience of yours to fester and, even worse, those pancakes to grow cold. He’d poked at your cheek, voice slurring a little from exhaustion as he whispered, “Gotta stay awake, love, or your li’l rabbit heart’ll feel all sad tomorrow.”

So you’d rolled off the mattress and made the trek back through the apartment, and, admittedly, you started to feel guilty about the mess you’d left during your hazy planning earlier.

You recalled trying to think of ways you could impress Kyle but not being able to think clearly after slipping on the lacy panties; too caught in imagining how he’d tear them off to really notice how half-baked the rest of your plan was.

And how all you could think about was him serving you, which really wasn’t fair. It’d been over a year since you’d started living together, and when he went off on missions, it was an unspoken promise on your end that you’d welcome him back in calm and comfortable ways.

His first few missions had been just that—romantic kisses and big, sweeping arcs of hugs; slow dances around the living room and the kitchen, sweet, bubbly champagne with dinner.

All you’d managed this time around was half-assed pancakes, lacy panties, and a cold bath that you hadn’t been patient enough to finish prepping.

You remember that you hadn’t even been exhausted today. The opposite, really. You’d been buzzing from head to toe the moment you got his call, mind too frantic to ever really stick to your old habits.

Kyle kneels down beside you outside of the tub, three bath bombs encompassed in just one of his absurdly large hands. The other is curling your hair around a single index finger. He’s patiently busying himself by touching you, playing with some part of your body or other like he’s always done.

One morning he’d had an absurd obsession with your left heel, and he’d nipped at the tendon out of sheer curiosity.

You’d almost kicked him square in the face.

But he gets new little obsessions with you all the time. Each day, he’s poking and investigating at a different part of your body, and he always—always—has to feel it against his teeth.

And you let him. Even now, as he hinges his jaw around your shoulder.

A true adventurer, unafraid to explore with all that he is. Wants to discover every little thing in a million different ways.

You lean forward and wrench the faucet off, then pat at Kyle’s cheek. “Bath bombs, please.”

When he thunks them in the water, the air in the room floods with lavender and chamomile. The tub’s still fizzing purple when he clambers in and hauls you in after him, slowing your descent into his lap just enough that only a bit of water dumps over the edge.

A long, drawn out sigh ruffles the loose hairs atop your scalp. Kyle’s hands sweep all the way up to the underside of your breasts, then way back down to the middle of your thighs, back and forth, back and forth. For the most part, you try not to move, try to let the aches melt away with the heat.

You drop your head back into the crook of Kyle’s neck and shoulder, tipping your face a bit to look at him.

Everything’s fuzzy. Pleasant. Legs and arms weighed down by gratification, gut slick with sated heat. And your heart thumps wild and proud, bum-rushed red and gold. Natural and gleaming. Normal and perfect.

“Can we stay like this forever?” Kyle asks again, a lifetime later. You’re only one year wiser when you nod yes, of course, how else would we be?

He burrows you deeper against him, trying to meld your skin into his because it’ll never be close enough. Touching and bruising and biting only mollifies it, this wonderful new appetite only Kyle can feed.

It’s crumbs of food, or the tiniest sips of water.

Or spare oxygen.

Kyle hunches over you, hard body slipping against yours. Soughs, like you hit just the spot.

“Can’t believe you kept gettin’ away from me before all this. Tested my patience so bloody much to get here, bunny.”

You smile, tilting your head and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. “It’s your best virtue, Kyle.”

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #cod gaz #gaz cod #gaz garrick

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aeliem · 9 months

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@zucchiyeni's dtiys

design credits: dust by @safwunsies nightmare by @justanidiotartist horror by @westaysilly killer by @zucchiyeni

timelapse & ramblings under the cut

i tried to put this in the tags but it was way too long so here are my.... ramblings? design notes? process? watever it is it's here now

killer is the one i changed the least, even the pose is pretty much the same i kept the asymetrical design from the dtiys (w/ one sleeve rolled up & only one shoulder w/ spikes) for the shoes i kinda went watever & put the spikes in the middle (i bet you it caused some of the holes in his jeans) i like to think he chose blue soles bc he did a collab w/ nightmare so that he's not the only one w/ cool colors his main color is still red, but i made the leather, t-shirt, metal & jeans blue-ish as a complementary color

for nightmare, i don't even know if his design is canon, but when i saw that the murder time trio did collabs w/ him i knew i had to draw it i didn't touch the base design itself but i switched the colors around a lot bc i really didn't know how to make it work w/ the rest of the characters i kept the base palette (blue/cyan, purple & pink) but had purple as a main & cyan as an accent color (pink itself is only there in the glitter) also yeah i put the glitter on his coat instead of his tentacles cuz i wanted to show his bones & tentacles are made/covered in the same goopy stuff, and the glitter kinda went in the way of that i like that his colors are really different from the other & you can tell he goes solo while they're in a band, but i think it's not too distracting

horror is my favorite, like he's just enjoying himself in the back its kinda sad i had to hide him behing both his drums & killer, i might post a version w/out it to show it off the drums were a pain in the ass ngl, i've never played them so i had to look at a lot of references in the end i just drew a basic drum set w/ the colors on the ref (red & gold), i added silver for the metal bits bc it's everywhere in the other's designs his design itself is unchanged, i just thought having him in red only felt boring so i added orange to his fur & shirt

i realized too late i couldn't show dust's head w/ the pose i drew T-T also drew his entire outfit then had to hide half of it because of his guitare this is why planning is important people his guitare rocks tho (pun intended) i tried to make him red & purple to match his eyes, but currently it's more of an orange salmon color w/ a dark grey pink eeeh the intent is there i guess i made his gloves fingerless cuz you can't tell me this dude plays guitare w/ full on gloves like i know they're skeletons but that's physically impossible i also added a strap to his guitare cuz unless he's using blue magic, he probably can't keep it up w/ only his right hand

#my art #zucchiyeni100 #undertale au #idol au #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #nightmare sans #idol killer #idol dust #idol horror #idol nightmare #i didn't have the time to draw a background #i might make a more polished version of it later #but this one is still my entry i'm not gonna change it

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wellsayhelloaagin · 1 year

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Enchant- Beckon Part Five

Summary: Wanda struggles with her growing feelings and the fear that they may ruin everything.

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha x f!reader

Genre: Smut (top!reader, switch!Natasha, bottom!Wanda)

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: fingering, oral, voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesome, dirty talk, swearing, light angst

AN: I've risen from the depths of hell to bring you this (short) update. I do have a plan for the next part (you may not like it) so hopefully I can get that written somewhat soon.

If someone had told Wanda a month ago that waking up in bed sandwiched between you and Natasha would become a regular occurrence, she would have laughed in their face.

Yet, that’s exactly what happened.

After the morning spent making pancakes, Wanda had begun to spend more time with the couple next door. She would invite the two of you over once or twice a week, cooking dinner before the three of you would inevitably end up losing your clothes and falling into a heap on the nearest surface.

Weekends were quickly becoming Wanda’s favourite thing. She would walk the path to your doorstep each Friday night and normally wouldn’t resurface until Monday morning. And while the sex was incredible, she was also enjoying the chance to get to know you and Natasha better.

She learnt more about your relationship with the redhead, about how you both met and the beginning of your romance. Wanda learnt about the two of you as individuals as well, the things you liked and disliked. Every new piece of information was stored away in her brain, warmth blooming in her chest from the fact that you both trusted her enough to share yourselves with her.

Wanda knew she was developing feelings for both you and Natasha but she tried to ignore the fluttering of her heart whenever you smiled at her or whenever Natasha cupped her cheek. She wasn’t entirely sure if this agreement was more than just sex and she was too scared to mention anything, afraid that it could all disappear.

So instead, she kept her feelings to herself, content in enjoying whatever she could get.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your voice draws Wanda’s mind back to the present, where she lay curled up in bed with her two favourite people. The sun was beginning to peek through the curtains, a warm orange hue bathing the room in a golden glow. She admired the way the light shone in your eyes, her stomach clenching again.

“Hmmm?” Wanda asks, stretching languidly.

She was normally the last one to wake up, so it surprised her when she opened her eyes that morning to find you and Natasha both sleeping peacefully.

“What’s got you looking so serious?” You ask, finger smoothing out the furrow between Wanda’s brow. “It’s too early to be thinking that hard.”

“It’s nothing,” Wanda dismisses you, enjoying your hand combing through her hair now. “Just work stuff.”

Wanda did feel bad for lying but she couldn’t risk bringing up her quickly growing feelings and ruining this one perfect thing she had.

“Sounds like your boss rides you too hard,” you smirk, looking over at your still-dozing girlfriend.

Wanda blushes, remembering just a few hours ago when Natasha had indeed been riding her pretty hard, her thighs sandwiched on either side of the brunette's head.

“I don’t mind it so much,” Wanda returns playfully, fingers running down your bare arm and enjoying the goosebumps she left in her wake.

“Is that so?” You counter, hand tightening slightly in Wanda’s hair to pull her face closer to yours. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Wanda just hums in agreement as you connect your lips together, the smooth feel of your lips under hers making her sigh. You don’t push too hard, content to kiss lazily for a few minutes as your hand slowly trails down Wanda’s side.

You smile into the kiss as you feel her shiver against you, Wanda’s hips starting to rock slightly as she seeks out friction. You hook your hand behind her knee, bringing her leg to rest over your hip and opening her up for you.

The three of you often slept naked together, usually falling asleep from exhaustion after bringing each other to release. Wanda was thankful for it now, just one less barrier for her to get what she wanted.

She feels your fingers dancing along her inner thigh, reaching higher until you find her centre. She’s already wet from your touch, your fingers gliding over her easily as you find her clit.

“Oh,” she gasps as you apply pressure, moving your fingers in slow circles.

She rocks her hips in time with your movements, panting into your mouth as you work her body expertly. She groans as you push two fingers into her, her ability to continue your kiss disappearing as you thrust into her in slow, even strokes.

Her eyes are open, locked on yours as you bring her closer to the edge. She moans softly as you curl your fingers, captivated by your gaze. She can feel herself growing wetter, your fingers easily filling her as her orgasm builds.

“Isn’t this a lovely sight to wake up to?” Wanda hears the groggy voice from behind her, her only warning before Natasha begins to pepper kisses over her bare shoulders.

She feels an arm snake around her chest, lithe fingers dancing over one of her nipples. She arches her back, eyes closing as she succumbs to the pleasure filling her body. Her release washes over her quickly, her breath catching as you help her ride it out.

“Morning my love,” Wanda hears you greet Natasha, your fingers slowly leaving her body and pulling a whimper from her throat.

Natasha is still massaging her breast and Wanda turns her upper body to face her more. Her eyes open as your hand reaches over her, fingers that had just been inside Wanda now tracing Natasha’s lips.

Natasha opens her mouth, sucking the digits inside, her tongue cleaning Wanda’s release from your fingers. She hums happily and Wanda can already feel herself growing hot again at the sight.

She was so caught up on Natasha that she wasn’t prepared to feel your mouth latching onto her other nipple, the warm, wet feeling causing her to clench around nothing.

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out without thinking, earning a chuckle from Natasha.

“That’s the idea, detka,” the redhead laughs, now grasping your hand between both of hers.

Wanda watches as Natasha guides your hand under the blanket, knowing when you had found your target by the breathy moan Natasha lets out. You shift slightly, never detaching from Wanda’s breast as you move to kneel over her.

Wanda can see your hand moving under the blanket, transfixed by what must be happening underneath. Natasha is panting beside her, hand clutching your forearm tightly as she raises her hips to meet you.

Feeling brave, Wanda tugs the blanket aside and is rewarded by the sight of your thumb working over Natasha’s clit. She can’t see completely but judging by the way your hand surges forward, she gathers that your other fingers are buried inside your girlfriend.

You begin to trail your lips down Wanda’s torso now, teeth nipping along the way as you move your body down to hover over where she was dripping. Wanda is impressed that you managed to navigate your way down her body without losing your rhythm with Natasha.

The redhead is still moving her hips along with your thrusts, her moans growing in volume. Wanda reaches over, her fingers working over one of Natasha’s pebbled nipples as she palms her breast.

You catch Wanda off guard by licking along her dripping folds, her free hand flying to your hair as she arches into your mouth. You usually liked to tease her, working her up into a frenzy before putting your mouth where she wanted it most.

You waste no time today, your tongue already probing her entrance as you straddle one of Wanda’s legs. She can feel the heat from your sex, your arousal evident as you settle over her. She can feel the wet patch on her leg, the thought of you being turned on while eating her out causing the heat to pool low in her belly.

She shifts her leg, bending her knee and flexing her thigh underneath your centre. Wanda jolts as you moan against her, the vibrations shooting straight through her core. You begin to rock against her, never stopping your ministrations on either woman as the room is quickly filled with the sounds of pleasure and the smell of sweat and arousal.

Natasha folds first, her orgasm hitting her loudly as she holds onto your arm for dear life. Wanda can tell you’re getting close too, feeling your pace pick up as you rut against her leg, your tongue still buried deep inside her.

She wants to outlast you, wants to finally gain some kind of power over you in this dynamic she found herself in but she knows she won't last much longer. Especially now that you had another hand free, angling it under her hips and driving your tongue in deeper.

“That’s it, detka,” Wanda hears a sultry voice in her ear, Natasha curling her body to her side. “I bet it feels good with her tongue inside you doesn’t it?”

Wanda just whimpers in return, eyes clenching shut as she tries to hold off her impending orgasm.

“Shhhh,” Natasha continues, nose running over the column of Wanda’s throat. “It’s okay. You can cum if you want.”

Wanda just shakes her head, stubbornly trying to resist. Her hands are clenched tightly in the sheets as you eat her out.

“Being difficult, are we?” Natasha taunts, fingers pinching one of Wanda’s nipples. “That’s not fun.”

Wanda can feel Natasha pout against her neck before she bites down, sucking at the skin there as Wanda gasps in pleasure.

“Such a shame,” Natasha coos mockingly into Wanda’s ear again. “I really wanted to lick your cum from her chin.”

The image of what Natasha had described was enough to send Wanda over the edge, her thighs clamping over your ears as she cries out. Waves of pleasure wash over her, her voice feeling hoarse by the time she finally calms down.

You slide up her body, a satisfied smirk on your face as you take in Wanda’s mussed hair and glazed eyes. Her chest is still heaving, Natasha’s fingers still teasing her sensitive nipples as she jerks through the aftershocks.

“A bit defiant today,” you taunt, gripping Wanda’s chin in your hand and forcing her to look at you. “I don’t know why you bother trying to compete with me sweetheart, you know I’ll always win.”

Wanda just nods dumbly, her mind too fuzzy to do anything else. She watches as you pull Natasha into a bruising kiss, the redhead licking Wanda’s cum off your chin as she had planned.

Despite the two orgasms she had already had that morning, Wanda could already feel arousal stirring again.

“Come on,” you instruct, pinching Wanda’s cheek to get her attention. “If you’re good, I might let you finish me off in the shower.”

Wanda hums to herself as she towels her hair, walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. She had stayed in the shower a little longer, enjoying the warm water cascading over her aching muscles. You and Natasha had laughed at her, telling her not to turn into a prune and to join them for breakfast when she was done.

She had changed into a pair of your sweats and one of Natasha’s old shirts once she got out, enjoying the way they smelled like the two of you. Wanda liked the comfort they brought, planning to leave your house with them and claim them as her own for the nights she spent alone.

She could hear voices as she neared the kitchen, stopping just before the doorway to lean against the wall and bask in the simple domesticity of it all. She was sure she was falling hard and fast for the both of you but maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Maybe you and Natasha felt the same way.

She moves to the doorway, hovering there as she watches the scene before her.

Natasha is sitting on top of the counter, her legs swinging playfully as you twirl in front of her, a bowl of pancake batter in your hands. Natasha laughs at you, her eyes shining with adoration as her hand catches your outstretched arm, pulling you to stand between her legs.

You place the bowl down on the counter, hands resting atop Natasha’s thighs as she cups your face gently, her nose brushing over yours and making you giggle.

“I love you,” Natasha whispers but it’s loud enough for Wanda to hear from her position, her heart clenching painfully at the words.

“I love you too,” you reply as easy as breathing, leaning in to press your lips against Natasha’s in a sweet kiss.

Wanda feels the pang again, realising it was jealousy coursing through her. She felt like she was intruding on a private moment, her chest constricting as she takes a step backwards, ready to leave the room.

The movement catches your eye and you pull back, smiling at Wanda. She wonders if it was the same way you smiled at Natasha, an ice-cold feeling rushing through her veins.

“There you are,” you say brightly as Wanda forces a smile in return. “I was wondering if you were trying to use up all the hot water.”

Wanda just shrugs, walking awkwardly to sit on one of the stools on the other side of the counter. Her eyes are locked on the mixing bowl in front of her and she misses the look of concern shared between you and Natasha.

“Everything okay?” Natasha frowns, eyes searching yours for what to do.

Ten minutes ago, the two of you had left Wanda happy and laughing in the shower, a far cry from the woman in front of you now.

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” Wanda replies, shaking her head to try and clear the funk that had settled there.

She can tell by the look on your faces that neither of you believes her but you don’t push, instead taking a step away from Natasha and grabbing the mixing bowl again.

“I’m making pancakes, did you want some?” Your voice is soft and gentle and Wanda can feel the concern leaking through your words.

“Sounds great,” Wanda answers you. “I’ll cut the fruit.”

Wanda moves to the fridge, taking a deep breath as she searches for the strawberries inside.

Maybe her feelings weren’t so harmless after all?

I no longer do taglists but you can follow my library blog and turn on notifications to get alerts when I post a new story @puppiesbrainsandbabieshearts

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #beckon series #s writes stuff

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 3 months

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Harvest

Wei Wuxian had not thought much of it at first - it was not as though there was much to do in the Burial Mounds, especially not for a child as young as A-Yuan, so perhaps he had decided to entertain himself digging random holes into the dirt.

Sure, granny Wen would not find this half as amusing, with the way A-Yuan's little hands dug into the ground, sending flecks of dirt onto his freshly washed robes, but in a place like theirs, living on burrowed time and land that often felt like it would swallow them whole on a whim, laundry really was the least of their worries.

In fact, it was quite adorable watching A-Yuan finding little joys in his life, innocent to the horrors lurking around him as he played. If one were to only look at him, paint him out of the scenery onto an entirely different canvas, they would not know the harshness of the life he had to live and the loss he endured despite it being formless to his mind yet.

Wei Wuxian watched him play with a mix of feelings swirling in his gut. He was adorable, of course, so little and dedicated to his task, like the world hinged onto whatever little project he had in mind. But it was sad - no child should have to live, to grow, in a place like this, a grave of restless, resentful ghosts, in abject poverty, paying for the sins of his name but not his doing.

A-Yuan kept digging, though, seemingly unaware of Wei Wuxian's gaze. He did not seem to mind that some of the rocks he flung out of the earth were not actually rocks, nor did it bother him when the ground seemed to shift beneath his fingers like it was alive.

It worried Wei Wuxian that perhaps A-Yuan would pique the Burial Mounds' interest in him to the point it would claim its due - the formless voices had often threatened Wei Wuxian that they'd lure the boy away, take him and twist his soul and his body in the likeness of the undead hatred festering in those lands. What if something would reach from within the ground and take him? What if something took shape beneath his little fingers and snatched him into the depths of the earth, below layers and layers of pain, resentment and wrath, and Wei Wuxian would be unable to save him?

A-Yuan eventually did stop digging, much to Wei Wuxian's relief. It wasn't as though the Burial Mounds would be unable to hurt him now - but at the very least Wei Wuxian no longer felt like it was imminent and inevitable.

His confusion returned, though, when A-Yuan reached for his sparse collection of toys and items and picked up a little brush that he laid into one of the little holes he dug. Children often tend to emulate behaviors they see around them in play - and Wei Wuxiam's worries spiked again. Had he seen something happening in the Burial Mounds he should not have? Was something bothering him? Had he been having nightmares again?

Whatever the cause, Wei Wuxian could no longer watch quietly. Instead, he crouched to A-Yuan's level, watching him smooth dirt over his drawing brush.

"What are you doing, little radish?" He asked, keeping his voice light and level. "Don't like the brush anymore?"

"I am planting." A-Yuan replied simply, like what he had said had been obvious and did not require any more explanation.

"Planting?"

"Yes, planting! Like a seed! Didn't you say if you plant me in the ground, more kids will sprout next year? What if we can grow other things too?"

Wei Wuxian's gaze softened, fond and amused as he rose an eyebrow. Of course, it was a ridiculous thing he thought of to soothe A-Yuan's loneliness, being the youngest in the Wen refugee camp - to think A-Yuan actually believed it would happen was incredibly cute.

"What do you want to grow from a brush?" He asked again, smiling slightly.

"More brushes, of course! Auntie Qing broke hers again and has been using it like that, maybe we can grow her a new one."

Wei Wuxian looked down, the brush now buried in the shallow hole A-Yuan had dug. If only it was that easy...

A-Yuan reached for another item, this time it was a coin. He lifted it to show it to Wei Wuxian, like a master teaching his class. "I will plant this, and we will grow coins too. I heard granny told you we don't have much anymore."

Wei Wuxian sighed as he patted the boy's head. "Don't you worry about that. And don't eavesdrop on adult conversations again either."

A-Yuan flushed with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to..." he quickly planted the little coin, "...but I can help!"

Wei Wuxian could not find it in himself to reply to that. Instead, he let the moment pass and then he turned to the little pile of things A-Yuan had brought. "Will you plant all these things?" The boy nodded.

There were some oddly shaped sticks, pieces of broken jewelry, a shred from a torn up robe and his little tiger doll. Not much.

"Even this one?" Wei Wuxian asked as he held up the doll. "You love this one."

"Many kids will be here when they sprout out of the ground, we will all need toys to play!"

With the sun nearly dipping below the horizon, it was time to retire away into the relative safety of the little huts the Wen community built for themselves with Wei Wuxian's help. A-Yuan's silly planting project would have to wait until the morning.

Wei Wuxian smiled, fondly, a hint of sadness in the tired upturn of his lips as he reached to dust off the boy's robe. "I'll finish up here, okay? Go wash up. It's almost time for dinner."

"But..."

"No arguing. It isn't safe at night." But he smiled a little, "We can keep planting more things tomorrow, we're letting the ground rest right now."

A-Yuan seemed to think over that statement and nodded a few seconds later. "Okay, see you at dinner!"

Wei Wuxian did not reply, waving the boy away as he ran to find his granny. Left alone with the little pile of unplanted "seeds" and the few little holes around, Wei Wuxian stared at them for a moment, chuckling dryly at the premise. If only the things they needed could be grown...

It was as the final rays of sun died out that Wei Wuxian realized that, even if that were true, none of the things he needed could be planted. He didn't even have a shred of them to use as seed.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wwx #lsz #writing attempts #this is inspired by me planting everything in my garden as a child thinking a plant would grow with the thing i planted as fruit

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theelkmaiden · 1 year

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So I've been thinking.

If Captain Marvel is the Champion of Magic, does that mean he has to play by the rules of all magic? Demon, fea, pixie etc.? Because if you owe something to one of those, things tend to go wrong. Fae can take your children, pixies can make your life hell, demons can literally take your souls.

So what if Billy Batson, being the sweet boy he is, keeps doing people favours? Now, he'd never take a child or cause someone chaos, as that means actually interfering, but souls? That boy could definitely be having people sign their souls away to him and he has no idea.

The first time he did someone a favour after the wizard granted him his powers, Billy was overtaken by a surge of tingles that tasted vaguely of rotten eggs. The feeling only lasted a second, but he couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. All he did was help Old Linda from the block over carry a bag of food to her place of residence. That was it. But after the tingling, Billy felt like he was connected to her in some way, on a deep and intimate level that didn't make sense.

And then it kept happening.

Helping to paint his neighbours room. Helping a girls cat from a tree. Letting a lost child sleep in his abandoned apartment overnight.

And later, bringing Batman a coffee after a long mission. Teaching Green Arrow the basics of pickpocketing. Spotting Flash on his running form.

Anytime someone said "can I ask you a (quick) favour" the tingling and eggs would come and Captain Marvel had no idea what it was or why it happened.

That is.

Until Old Linda died.

It had been a long patrol for Captain Marvel. There was a crime wave almost every year around July, like clockwork. Mainly teenagers getting in with gangs and trying to prive their worth now that school was out (or, at least, that was Cap's theory).

He was just touching down near his building to transform when he felt an entirely unique sensation. The tingling he was so familiar with came crashing over him in a wave so intense the demigod found himself wobbling where he stood, garnering a few concerned stares by citizens. The part of him that had been connected to Linda had snapped into place and, without even having to doue check, Billy knew for a fact that Old Linda was dead.

He also knew where to find her.

Drawing on his magic, Captain Marvel opened a portal to a corner of the Rock of Eternity ans stepped through.

There, on the otherside, stood the kind old woman who would often give him food if she had any left over.

"Excuse me, sir?" She asked, looking rather fearful, "would you mind telling me where I am?"

With eyes already misting, Marvel closed the portal and stepped towards her with his arms out in a calming manner.

"Linda. I'm so sorry. You're in the Rock of Eternity. You shouldn't be here but I think it's my fault you are," he was swallowed thickly, putting every ounce of self control he had to the test to bit show how distraught he was with this development.

Clearly seeing his distress, Linda calmed and gripped the Captains arm in a consoling manner. "I'm sure it's quiet alright, dear. Why don't you tell me what happened and then you can return me home. And then you can explain to me all about this place, hmm?"

Her small smile fell when the captain did not immediately react to her request.

"Miss Linda," Billy tried, not feeling very much like a superhero at that moment I time, "I'm so so sorry! I shouldn't have helped you with the food. But I just wanted to do something good. And now you're stuck here forever and I don't know how to free you and there's so many people that are going to come here and I didn't mean to!"

The hulking form of Captain Marvel was now a kneeling, sobbing mess as the twelve year old realised what he had done. The feeling of rightness that sang in his magic at Linda standing within the Rock of Eternity. The pull of what he now knew to be souls pulling him in different directions. The fact that he had only been trying to help.

"Now dear," Linda kneeled next to him, patting his shoulder in confused concern, "I assure you I have no idea what you're going on about. I've seen you flying overhead and fighting monsters, but we've never met officially past today. But if I'm stuck here forever, then at least I'll have company. Now, come, dry your eyes and get up. You need to explain to me what's going on." The mum of four in her seemed to have taken over as she dragged the massive man up to his feet and the stood on her toes to wipe his cheeks with the sleeve of her cardigan.

Taking a deep breath, Captain Marvel nodded. "Miss Linda. You are dead. I'm sorry. I accidently own your soul and I don't know how to release you to go somewhere better. And you're only the first person that's going to arrive here. This is completely new for me and I'm not sure what to do. This place is my home so you are welcome to explore and make yourself comfortable. But it's not much."

The silence that followed was deafening as Linda contemplated her situation. It stretched on until a look of resolve made its way onto the old souls face.

"Okay."

"Okay? Is that it?"

"Well you are obviously very distressed so it was definitely an accident. But I am not staying somewhere that looks so dull for the rest of Eternity. You and I are going to be doing some redecorating. How big is this place?"

"Infinite."

"Then this shan't be an issue. We can build a lovely garden where we can all stay until you get this figured out. Besides, it'll give me something to do."

So, he did. Captain Marvel (who Linda learned to be Billy Batson) got to work and transformed a large section of the Cave into a garden, with strict directions from Linda.

Over time, more people joined and Linda took it upon herself to greet the newcomers and explain what had gone on. Many people were unhappy, but soon settled into their afterlife and making friends.

After awhile, Billy took Linda aside and granted her a Boon. One of her choosing. She chose "to be the peacekeeper of this little afterlife. I want to help comfort those here who miss their old lives. I try, I do, but a little magical help wouldn't go amiss." And so she became the Peacekeeper.

In the outside realm, when Captain Marvel explained to Batman, Green Arrow, and The Flash that he accidently owned their souls, well, let's just say that shitshow lasted a while.

#billy batson #shazam #captain marvel dc #batman #green arrow #the flash #of course billy doesnt stop helping people #but he does try to be more careful #except sometimes hes tired #he ends up also owning supermans soul and has an existential crisis over it #and he helped a lot of old people before linda died so the rock of eternity slowly fills up with grandparents trying to adopt him #he does eventually learn how to break the bunding magic but some of them decide to stay #so now the rock has a garden full of souls for the next champion to find #which will be fun for them

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pterodactylterrace · 2 years

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Jaskier gets taken A LOT. Like at least once a year while on The Path.

The first time it happens, they are coming down the blue mountains from Kaer Morhen. Jaskier had wandered off, claiming the need to search for inspiration not long after they had made camp, halfway down the mountain. Geralt became worried when he wasn’t back within the hour. He was downright frantic when he caught the scent of a grizzly bear when the wind shifted directions.

He took off in the direction Jaskier had been wandering, his stomach dropping when the scents of the bear and Jaskier’s perfume met. He was damn near frantic by the time he reached the bear’s cave, steel sword in hand, only to be met with Jaskier sitting calmly by a mother bear as she kept him wrapped in her paws, licking his head as though he were a cub needing groomed.

“Oh, hello Geralt.” Jaskier greeted upon seeing him, the bear rumbling low in her throat at the intruder. “Oh come now, he’s no threat.” Jaskier huffed, carefully wiggling away and going to rejoin his friend.

“Geralt!” Jaskier gasped when he saw him take a defensive stance, seemingly unaware of the bear following after him. “She just lost her cub, have a heart!” He scolded.

“She’s going to eat you!”

“She is a grieving mother!” Jaskier insisted, moving between the two of them, hands on his hips as he glared at Geralt. “And I for one will NOT allow this cycle to continue any further! Beartha, while it has been a lovely afternoon, I’m afraid I must depart now. I wish you all the best, and I pray to all the gods to heal your broken heart.” Jaskier actually BOWS to the damn bear. Geralt thinks he is having a stroke when the bard just wanders back out after that, the bear rumbling sadly as she curls back up where she had been previously grooming the bard.

The next time had been significantly more terrifying. An archgriffon had swooped down and snatched him up, flying off before Geralt could even draw his crossbow. It took days to track it down, each passing hour feeling more hopeless than the last.

Geralt has never felt such a sense of relief than when he spotted the griffin’s nest, faintly hearing Jaskier’s singing floating down. His relief was short lived, however, as a shadow flew overhead before landing back in the nest.

Geralt doubled his efforts in reaching the nest, sure his friend was going to be griffin good by the time he reached him.

Instead, his ears picked up a rather interesting conversation.

“Isabelle, I already told you, I don’t eat raw venison.” Jaskier sighed, a few chirps and a slow squawk following his words.

“Deer is venison. I can’t eat it without cooking it and I don’t very well have access to fire, now do I?” Another slow trill.

“Exactly. I will be just fine with these lovely berries, if SOMEONE would stop trying to steal them! Violet! You eat the deer, let me have those!” Now a smaller, almost pouting chirp, followed by a low rolling rumble.

“Thank you, Isabelle! See? Even your mother agrees!”

Geralt slowly makes his way around the edge of the cliff, eying the nest warily. It’s tucked back in a corner of rock face, only a small ledge leading around to it. Jaskier spots him first, lighting up and marching towards him like this entire situation was somehow normal.

The griffin mother pounces instantly, her wings wrapping around the bard as she spits acid at Geralt who just barely manages to get his quen up in time.

“Now, now, Isabelle! Geralt is a dear friend and not a threat!” Jaskier huffs, carefully wiggling out from behind her wings and facing her with a stern look. The griffin tilts her head at him and chirps, Jaskier sighing and shaking his head in response.

“The one I told you about? I swear, it’s like you don’t remember a thing I say!” Jaskier huffed. “I told you I would only be able to stay until he came for me.” Now the baby griffin chirps from the nest, flapping her wings despondently.

“Violet, we knew this day would come.” Jaskier soothes, stepping around the mother and gently patting the baby’s head. “I had a wonderful time, but alas, I must depart. And Isabelle? No more kidnapping nannies! Violet is big enough to join you when you leave the nest. No one needs to stay with her now.”

Then there was the time with the succubus. Admittedly, that had been less of a bardnapping and more of Jaskier not having any self preservation instincts. All it took was the succubus asking him to join her for some annual festival/mating event and he was gone. Thankfully Eskel was the “prized guest” at said event and helped bring the bard back to Geralt. Turns out the Succubi consider the scarred Witcher a good omen and claim his presence at the event brings about a year of good fortune.

Geralt is currently working on the prototype for the continents first bard leash. So far it’s just a rope that he threatens to tie around his waist if he wanders off again. Jaskier thinks he’s joking. He’s not.

#the witcher eskel #the Witcher #the witcher shitpost #Jaskier #Geralt #eskel

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chouettecrivaine · 7 months

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yes i paid attention to the poll results this fic is just becoming an absolute UNIT so it took a while. anyway here is the preview for the current wip, as promised!

genshin impact // lyney x reader // gender neutral reader // Capucine is a fic-specific OC think of her as a mentor figure or something to your character milf alert

The audience's cheers suddenly died down, excited whispers taking their place. Everybody seemed to know what was going on, so Lyney didn't bother to explain as he fiddled with the machine for a moment. In the lull, you leaned over to ask Capucine what was going on.

"I think that's a number generator," She answered, sounding thrilled and nervous all at once. "He's going to pick a volunteer!"

Lyney straightened his posture and struck a practiced pose, gesturing to the machine with one hand. He began to rouse the crowd, teasingly dropping a few hints of what might make him inclined to pick a standout individual himself. After a brief moment, Lynette pressed the button without his permission, allowing him to make a good-spirited remark about how straightforward she was.

The three numbers spun in a blur, eventually rolling to a stop at different times. The first slot stopped first, showing a large zero.

"Oh! A volunteer from the ground floor it is, then!" People up in the balconies groaned in disappointment. Lyney offered comforting words as the last number rolled to a stop, showing a nine. An aisle seat.

By the time Lyney finally looked back at the machine, the entire number was displayed. He laughed and pointed out into the crowd, drawing imaginary swirls in the air before finally resting his hand while pointing right at you.

If he could see your face in the crowd, he didn't appear phased at all that it was you - but he also didn't look like he planned it. You were too busy shrinking under the stares of everybody else to observe him under much scrutiny. A part of you wanted to decline, but the moment you opened your mouth to do so, the entire auditorium burst into cheers, encouraging you to make your way to the stage. If you tried to say no, your voice would be drowned out for sure.

With no other option, you sighed and stood out of your seat. Capucine gave you two encouraging thumbs up when you looked back, which made you feel a little more confident. Squaring your shoulders, you made your way down the carpeted aisle. Lyney beckoned you ever closer, his smiling widening when you reached the stairs leading up to him.

As soon as you were up the final step, Lynette stepped behind you and ushered you to the middle of the stage without truly touching you. Removing his hat, Lyney bowed deeply and grinned playfully at you. He looked like he was about to say something to you, but a sudden movement in your peripheral vision drew your attention from him as a large box was lowered to the stage. The gilded frame held sparkling maroon panels on each side, catching the light as it came lower and lower before finally resting just above the stage.

“With such a lovely volunteer, this next trick should be a piece of cake.” Lynette breezed behind you as Lyney talked, opening the front panel and revealing a cozy interior with stars dangling from the ceiling and metallic paper decorations in the back. You stared at the swaying decorations from over your shoulder, wary, almost like you expected something to jump out at you.

Lynette placed a hand on your shoulder blade, startling you enough to make you jolt. Her lips barely moved as she whispered to you, “Don’t worry, we’ve recently maxed out security on our audience-centered acts.”

From the corner of your eye, you gave her your most pointed yet subtle glare. Was there something you should have been worried about? You supposed Capucine hadn’t been far off when she accused you of living under a rock. Keeping up with the news wasn’t your highest priority, yet you could tell you were missing something. Lynette kept her cool front, though, and gave an imperceptible nod towards the audience, signaling you to look ahead. The stage lights washed out most of the crowd, save for the faded images of the very front row. Their cheers hadn’t relented, the noise so overpowering you could barely focus on the fact that they were all staring straight at you.

“Now-” Lyney announced, taking a step to flank your other side. You hadn’t realized he was walking around the box and showing the audience that the box was solid on all sides. “Our newest assistant will step into this box and, at your word, disappear!”

A noise of awe brushed over the crowd. Lyney turned a cheeky smile your way, offering a hand and asking, “Shall we?”

Not knowing what else to do, you turned and grabbed his hand, allowing him to lead you to the box and keep it steady while assisting your step up. All the while, he murmured his instructions softly.

“Don’t be surprised if you feel a little jostling. The box will be lifted off the ground - but not by much! I won’t let anything happen to you,” He explained, leaning his top half into the box after you. “The door will open once when you’re in the air. Once you close it, just make sure your whole body is behind the tape line on the ground. Okay?”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you glanced around the box without moving your head so the crowd wouldn’t get suspicious. The hardest part would be closing the door, but you’d been assured twice that they wouldn’t let you get injured. You could take being lifted a few feet off the ground with ease.

When you nodded, Lyney grinned widely. “I knew you were a star. Oh, and we’re trusting you to keep our secret. I’m sure you’ll help us out, right?”

He winked and twirled around before you could answer, addressing the crowd once again with a lengthy preamble. While he kept their attention, Lynette closed the door of the box, sealing you into the darkness with a firm click. Immediately, the noise from outside became muffled, blocked by the solid door. The soundproofing alone boosted your trust in the stability of the contraption. A few moments passed and you stood absolutely still, not wanting to shake the box and distract from Lyney’s crowd work. You heard him call something out and the answering roar of the audience, then the box shook for a moment before you began your ascent.

Unsure, you braced yourself with your palms flat against the sides of the box, focusing on your even breathing. While you weren’t panicked yet, you knew how easy it would be for your threads to unravel if anything went wrong. The rising motion of the box was smooth, safe for the initial jostling, and you had a surprising amount of room with which to orient yourself. Though you had been told that you wouldn’t be held too high, the slow progress made the ride feel eternal. Eventually, you were shaken slightly once more when the box halted. You could feel yourself gently swaying above the stage and took a cautious step back, just in case.

Then, as you were warned, the door swung open wide. You lifted an arm to shield yourself from the bright lights, giving yourself a moment to adjust. One step forward proved that the box was more stable than you thought. Gaining a little more confidence, you took two more steps to the edge of the opening, gripped the side of the frame, and reached for the door handle. The audience was clapping politely for your ‘bravery,’ and you swore for a moment that you hear Capucine above everybody else. As you swung the door shut, you paused for a brief second when you locked eyes with Lyney. He gave you a thumbs up, and you nodded back before shutting the door.

Once again in the secluded darkness, you stepped back until you were pressed against the wall. With the dim light filtering in through the cracks of the door, you saw the strip of tape that you were supposed to stand behind. As the crowd began counting down, you were left to wait.

From the top of the box, a thin panel began slowly falling, the lowering controlled by some gears you could barely hear turning in the wall beside you. The walls were double layered, you realized, to hold the mechanisms - that explained how well they filtered out the noise. The panel landed softly on the floor, and you knew then that the same metallic stars were pasted to the other side, blocking you from view…and giving you the illusion that you’d disappeared.

The only indication that the door had opened was the sudden increase in volume from outside, filled with what you imagined were shocked gasps and conspiratorial whispers. The moment simmered for as long as Lyney held it, allowing their disbelief to be cleared and their astonishment to grow. The audience was eating everything he was feeding them - you didn’t even have to see them to tell. You could hear it in their voices, feel it in the air as plainly as you could feel the clothes on your body. When the spotlight was on him, Lyney was in complete control, from the shows to his image to the people watching on.

Finally, the box was lowered once again and the panel lifted itself up. You stepped into the middle of the box, right where you were before the trick truly started. When the door opened again, the world was flooded in a prickling white light while the crowd shrieked and applauded. The noise washed over you like a wave, all at once before fading into the background. You had preemptively covered your eyes to shield them from the light until a shadow blocked most of it for you. Blinking, you lowered your arm when realized it was Lyney standing in the doorway, haloed in the golden spotlight and holding his hand out to you.

“See? Told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” He said, smiling softly. You felt something lurch in your chest and wished you could blame it on the box settling. Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his, certain that the careful way he curled his fingers around yours was deliberate and soft. Magic and excitement may not have been your usual scene, but you let Lyney pull you into the spotlight anyway for all the theater to see.

#🌠 pisces ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{all writing}#genshin impact #lyney #lyney x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #🛰 satellite ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{previews}

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karmic-vibes · 2 years

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Hopelessly Devoted to You

one-shot inspired by this prompt. enjoy!

cw: n/a :)

wc: 1.9k

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“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Nancy asked.

“Yeah, why not?” Steve shrugged as he finished scribbling in the rest of his sign.

“He’s not even gonna see you.”

“Nance, just let him do what he wants,” Robin sighed.

“Yeah, Nance. Okay, you two dimwits ready to go?”

“Yes, dingus, we’ve been ready.”

It was Corroded Coffin’s annual Halloween gig at the Hoosier Dome—the lead singer, Eddie Munson, always insisted on playing his home state during the most sacred time of year. It sold out in minutes. Fans were hunched over their phones and laptops, waiting in the endless queue, hoping they were able to score tickets.

Given that Steve has been a die-hard fan since their first album (mainly because he found Eddie cute), he was a verified-fan on Ticketmaster, scoring him first dibs to all their big events. As much as he’d wanted floor tickets, him, Robin, and Nancy didn’t have enough money pooled, so they all settled for the lodge.

Steve insisted that the girls make signs too, as Eddie always set time aside to read through everyone’s insane, unhinged messages, but they refused. They kept insisting that Eddie wouldn’t be able to see, but that didn’t stop Steve. He figured Eddie wouldn’t be able to see a whole message, so instead he settled for a single word: DADDY?

Robin and Nancy called him crazy, but Steve’s rationale was that if he can’t see it anyway, what’s the harm?

The entire group dressed up as Teen Titans—Robin was Raven, Nancy was Starfire, and Steve was Robin (confusing? Yes. None of them thought that far ahead? Also, yes). They waited in line, got a few beers to sip while the openers performed, and before they knew it, it was showtime.

Corroded Coffin were dressed up as townspeople from The Nightmare Before Christmas, but Eddie was nowhere in sight. All of a sudden, the soft plucking of an acoustic guitar picked up and fog covered the floor of the stage. Eddie’s voice rang throughout the arena, soft and soothing—unlike anyone had ever heard him before.

“I sense there’s something in the wind, that feels like tragedy’s at hand,” he started.

A small trapdoor slowly opened as he sang, letting all the fog sink into it. The guitar plucked on, Eddie’s voice continued blessing everyone’s ears—then, he began to emerge as not Jack, but as Sally, dress and all.

“The worst is just around the bend. And does he notice my feelings for him? And will he see… how much he means to me?”

He stopped singing and the guitar paused—the arena went pitchy black. Confused chittered filled the air, but was quickly stopped when all lights were on Eddie wailing on his guitar, breaking into a quick solo. The crowd erupted with cheers as he showed off his skills to his devoted fans. He carried on with singing, ditching the somber tune.

“I think it’s not to be,” he continued. The rest of the band joined in, turning the sad ballad into a newfound rock anthem. “Try as I may, it doesn’t last. And will we ever, end up together? No, I think not, it’s never to become…” The lights flickered before going out again, all instruments and singing coming to a halt. The spotlight shone on Eddie, who returned to his somber tune. “For I am not the one…”

The entire arena was filled with people who were screaming, cheering, and chanting. The lights came up enough to show the rest of the band. Eddie chuckled to himself before taking a sip of his complimentary beer.

“How’re we feeling tonight?” he asked—everyone screamed. “Good, good. Happy Halloween, whores. Thanks for making it out, tonight.”

“We love you, Eddie!” Someone yelled.

“And I have no idea who you are. Alright, let’s kick this bitch.”

The concert continued on with a bang. They sang their usual line-up with a few Halloween-esc songs sprinkled in between. That was the real draw to this concert—it was nearly an entire hour longer because of all the covers he did.

As Eddie finished singing I Put a Spell on You by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, he took a few more sips of his beer before drawing his attention to the several signs people created for him.

“Eddie, adopt me! No!” he chuckled. “I missed my aunt’s wedding for this! Good, fuck your aunt. Um, alright…” He scanned the crowd for the next sign. “Eddie (or all of CC) do my BeReal? Yeah, fuck it. Throw me your phone.”

As the audience member tossed him the phone and he snapped the pictures, the camera crew focused in on one sign in particular—Steve’s. Robin and Nancy nudged him as he stood there, beet red in the face. The crowd was going crazy.

“Wow, I didn’t think you guys would have liked watching me take a picture that much,” he laughed to himself.

The people in the pit started yelling in protest, pointing to the arena’s central screen. Eddie cocked a brow and ran to where he could see it.

“Is that what you were screaming for?” The crowd erupted as the camera was still displaying Steve, holding his DADDY? sign up loud and proud. “Sorry… How’re you, sir?” Eddie smiled.

Steve gave him a thumbs up and beamed. Eddie ran over to the edge of the stage, getting as close to Steve’s section as he could. He extended an arm and smirked at the boy.

“Yes?” Everyone cheered as Steve nearly fainted. “Yes?” Steve started dying laughing as the surrounding fans continued yelling. “I fear there may be a communication barrier from this distance.”

“It’s okay, I love you!” Steve yelled, despite Eddie not being able to hear.

“But just know… yes?”

Steve flashed a Cheshire smile at the rockstar as he blushed up to his ears. Steve lowered the signs and blocked out the world around him. He fell back in his seat in awe, dropping his sign to his feet. Robin and Nancy were desperately trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. He’d rather stay in a state of bliss.

Eddie finished up reading through his posters before moving on to his next song. He smirked up the Steve as he went back to his set list.

“This next one goes out to my new baby, apparently,” Eddie teased, winking at Steve. “I was feeling done in, couldn’t win. I’d only ever kissed before…”

Steve’s eyes bulged out of his head as Eddie started singing a rocked out version of Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me (apparently dedicated to him). Steve sat in shock as Eddie pranced around the stage, like the sex symbol he was, singing a song about losing your virginity.

This had to be a dream.

Steve tried to muster his way through the rest of the concert as butterflies did backflips in his stomach.

His long-time crush, Eddie Munson, noticed him and called him his baby!? There was no way is was all real.

A few days later, after Steve managed to compose himself (which was hard to do, considering his social media pages were flooded with different views of his interaction with Eddie), he posted a video of himself hanging and framing the poster.

Thinking nothing of it, he hit upload, only expecting Robin, Nancy, and maybe Dustin go like it. But to his surprise, it went viral. Nearly a million likes and over six million views.

Shit. No way Eddie hasn’t seen this.

I’m awe, Steve posted to his Instagram story, blabbering on about how much attention it was getting. He turned off his notifications and left his phone alone for a while, trying to relieve himself of some of the stress.

That evening, when he did a final scroll through of his socials, he came back to over fifty messages of people who swiped up on his story. But one in particular stuck out.

eddiemunson: yes, baby?

“Oh my god… oh my god!”

His fingers were trembling beneath his touch as he typed out an equally cheeky reply.

kingsteve: oh, daddy, and to think, i never thought you’d answer

eddiemunson: baby teases back i see

kingsteve: only for you, munson

eddiemunson: oh, i like the sound of that

kingsteve: so, when are you taking me out?

eddiemunson: when’re you free ;)

Several months passed and the boys began seeing each other and becoming romantically involved. They slowly started teasing each other on their socials, never showing their faces or displaying any incriminating details.

It wasn’t until nearly a year in, right as the following annual Halloween concert was rolling around, when the hints became less subtle. Steve was attending concerts regularly (in blocked off sections with other friends/family of the band), and Eddie was slowly showing off more features of his pretty boyfriend.

This year, Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin were people from Scooby-Doo—Eddie was Shaggy, and other members were different monsters. But where was the rest of the crew? Well, standing with Steve on the sidelines was Robin dressed as Velma, Nancy as Daphne, and Steve as Fred.

Similar to years prior, they opened with a Halloween themed song, then continue with their normal set list with a few covers here and there. Right around the midpoint in the show, Eddie started going around reading posters. Thinking he was funny, Steve resurrected the DADDY? poster.

Eddie made his way over to Steve’s area, knelt down at the edge of the stage, cocked his head to the side and smirked at Steve.

“Yes, baby?” he beamed.

The crowd burst into cheers, but they had no clue what was coming.

Steve smiled as he bit the insides of his cheeks, flipping the sign over to reveal another message.

WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Eddie dropped his mic as he blushed up to his ears, and walked away, smiling like an idiot. Steve proudly stood there, waiting for an answer.

The crowd was chanting at him, some things were good, some were bad. Meanwhile, the boys were having an entire silent conversation through their looks. Eddie eventually picked his mic up again, kneeling back into his previous position.

“I hope you know, you’re becoming a Munson,” he said.

“That’s okay!” Steve laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Of course, stupid.” He winked as he strutted over to the other side of the stage, starting his next song.

Steve fell back into Robin and Nancy’s arms, gasping in relief. He was so caught in his own head, he didn’t even realize what Eddie was singing until he reached the chorus.

“But now, there’s nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love aside, I’m out of my head. Hopelessly devoted, to you…”

The song carried on and Steve was swaying back and forth, listening to his fiancé’s lovely voice. Then came the final bridge.

“But now, there’s nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love aside, I’m out of my head. Hopelessly devoted, to you…” Eddie walked to the edge of the stage and tossed Steve a velvet black box. Steve (barely) caught it, as Eddie caught him off guard. Eddie winked before finishing out the song. “Hopelessly devoted to you…”

Steve snapped open the box, revealing a diamond incrusted band—he looked up with tears in his eyes. He ditched Robin and Nancy and charged the stage (in the walking path for the band). He shimmied his way past some amps, much to the security’s dismay, and met eye-to-eye with Eddie.

“Hopelessly devoted… to—” Steve yanked him down by his chain and forced him into a kiss. Eddie smiled uncontrollably before breaking away and running his thumb across Steve’s bottom lip. “You…”

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taglist: @steviesbicrisis

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