#unless of course she DOES keep him...she did just go through a rough break up so she might latch onto him idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldenshoyo · 3 years

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Taste like Strawberries - DILF Daichi

Warnings: Fem!Reader, age gap (Reader is 22 and Daichi is mid to late 30s), daddy kink (obv), brat taming, finger sucking, spit kink sorta, dumbification, degradation, thigh riding, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, a little praise, alcohol consumption. (as always, let me know if you want something else tagged)

Word Count: 4.9k (honestly idk how it got so long hahaha sorry)

Author’s note: This is my contribution to @kaijime's dilf collab! Make sure you go check out the masterlist and read all the wonderful works on there as well! Also, I edited this at 2am; so sorry if it is a mess.

Can you pick Mei up for me? I have to work late.

You sigh looking down at the text from your sister, this is the third time in the last few weeks she’s sprung this on you. Despite knowing there’s nothing she can do about it, it’s irritating with her husband traveling and needing to work. The one good thing is the quality time you get funny spoiling your niece after school, getting her whatever junk food she wants that your sister never lets her have.

Texting her back that you will, you go back to studying. Your final year of college has been more stressful than you expected, work always piling up with your motivation lacking. No wonder so many students take an extra year. However, you were determined to finish now and not extend your torment any longer.

Glancing at your phone you see it’s nearing pick-up time at Mei’s school. You clean up the library table, shoving your laptop and notes into your bag, and leave. The drive isn’t long, her school is close to your apartment and sister’s house so you would have needed to take this route anyways. Pulling into a free spot near the school, you leave your bags in the car going out to meet her by the school’s front gate.

“Big sis!” Your niece squeals and you look up from your phone. She’s dragging another little girl behind her, pulling her your way. “This is Kaiya! She’s my best friend. She said it's okay I use her first name, so don’t scold me like momma does! I let her call me Mei too!”

You laugh listening to her babble on about her new friend. She’s coming up on her 6th birthday, and every day she is growing more and more into her own personality. “I wouldn’t scold you like your mother. You know that,” you bend at the knees, getting at their height.

“Hi Kaiya, I’m ----. It’s nice to meet you.” You shake her little hand and she smiles.

“You’re very pretty, like Mei.” She pulls her hand away and then her lip pouts. “I wish I had a big sister.”

“I can be your big sister too if you want. Mei, you don’t mind sharing me do you?”

“Only if you promise to get me ice cream.” Her eyes and nose squint and she laughs, her mischievous face has stayed the same since she was a toddler. It’s impossible to resist.

You stand up, rubbing her head and laughing. “Fine, we can stop by a shop on the way home.”

“Sorry,” a deep male voice comes from a few feet behind you. “I had a work thing... I’m sorry I’m a little late baby.”

You watch as a tall, broad man picks up Kaiya while she giggles and wraps her arms around his neck while squealing ‘daddy’. You smile politely when he looks at you. His face is handsome, features not too sharp or round; everything about it warm and inviting. He’s still dressed in his uniform, well besides the jacket. You assume he’s a part of the police force from the pants and belt he wears matched with a dark blue shirt that clings to his form.

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you,” he says while setting her down.

“Oh of course not. She was very polite and well behaved. You’ve raised a great daughter.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’m Sawamura Daichi, and you are?” His smile is so cute, you think. It’s not forced or out of politeness, but instead genuine happiness.

“---- -----,” you tell him and shake his hand. He squeezes it once, and your stomach turns. What was that?

“Is Mei yours?” He tilts his head, eyes going between you and your niece. “I’ve never met her mother, only your husband. Kaiya talks non-stop about Mei when she’s home with me.”

“Oh, no-no. I’m her aunt. My sister works a lot, so I pick her up from time to time.” You laugh. “I go to the local college, so it’s close by. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sawamura.” Trying to keep yourself from becoming too flustered, you look away. Watching as your niece digs through her backpack for some reason.

“Please, call me Daichi. It’s nice to-”

“Daddy, big sis is taking Mei to get ice cream!” Kaiya cuts him off. “Can we go too? Pretty please!” She kisses her father’s cheek, smiling brightly as he sets her back down. She holds tight to his hand, begging some more.

“If it’s okay with your dad, we don’t mind. Do we, Mei?”

She nods with a big smile. “Kaiya they have the BEST strawberry flavor.”

“Do you mind? I don’t want to impose on your time with Mei.” Daichi asks while still keeping an eye on the girls, who have wandered a few feet away while blabbering about ice cream flavors.

“Of course not. It’s good for young girls to spend time together.” He nods and thanks you. “There’s a spot close by. We could walk if you don’t mind.”

“Better wrangle the girls then,” he laughs, walking towards them both and getting their attention.

Taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh, you try and relax. It’s just ice cream for the girls… even if Kaiya’s hot dad is coming along. You’re sure he’s just trying to be nice and let his daughter have a nice time. However, it’s hard not to feel something when a man this hot and good with children is around.

The ice cream shop has a pretty outdoor area off the back of the shop, fenced in with a swing set and other children’s toys and playsets. No one else is visiting currently, so the girls have the playground to themselves, running around with ice cream dripping all over the ground when they forget they should be holding the cones up. Sitting quietly, spooning ice cream into your mouth, you try not to stare at Daichi too often.

“What are you studying?” He asks, breaking the silence that was threatening to become awkward.

“Oh, uh,” you swallow the cold cream. “Literature and classics.”

“Interesting. I bet you enjoy reading to your niece then,” he smiles at you before taking another spoonful of ice cream. You can’t help but watch his tongue dart around the spoon.

“Yeah.” You say quickly looking away. “Mei enjoys it, well, when she pays attention. Does Kaiya like stories?”

“Her mother says she always listens to her when she reads, but for me, it’s hard enough to get her to go to bed. I don’t think she’d ever stay still to let me read her a book.” He continues to talk about the weekends he gets with her, and you listen closely.

It’s stupid, you think. You shouldn’t feel this excited that he’s either divorced or at least no longer together with Kaiya’s mom. It’s selfish, but lucky in some ways. You don’t have to worry about a jealous wife coming after you because her husband paid for your ice cream.

“I’m not around for bedtime, so I can’t really relate.” You say softly and stick your tongue out lick the spoon clean. Stopping yourself from licking the ice cream off, deciding to explain more, “Mei never really stays the night anyway. She gets too worked up without her-”

The spoon is plucked from your hands and you frown looking at Daichi, who has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “What do you like to do at bedtime?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stutter out something incoherent. Daichi’s tongue swipes up your spoon, and you watch carefully, longing to be that spoon as his tongue drags across it.

“Well?” He continues, then hands you back the spoon.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” You manage to stutter some words, even if it's not a real answer. “I uh-”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t need to answer now. Let me see your phone,” he asks holding out his hand and you hurry to hand it to him. He puts in his number then hands it back to you. “I’m not free on weekends unless I get a sitter. But, I’ll see you around.”

You sit, stunned by how quickly that turned from a polite playdate for your niece to potentially a playdate with Daichi. You bring your hands to your face, trying to compose yourself before waving at both Daichi and Kaiya as they leave.

“Big sis,” your niece wines. “Wanna go home.” She pulls you from the park bench and through the shop while you continue trying to collect your thoughts.

Did you really just pull a dad? There’s no way he was serious, right?

You texted him the night after you got ice cream, but he hadn’t responded. It wasn’t until late Sunday evening he sent back a short ‘you’re welcome’ after you thanked him for the ice cream. Your face burned and your stomach twisted with every flashback to watching his tongue slide across your spoon.

It was so unnecessary.

It was so hot.

Gathering up the courage to ask when you could see him again took another day and liquid encouragement. Maybe texting him while you were drunk wasn’t the best idea, but it did make sending him photos of yourself a lot easier. The ones you got in return nearly made you drool. Joining the police force ensured he never lost his perfect physique. Every inch of him looked like it had been handcrafted by the gods themself.

Slipping your fingers into your panties and toying with your desperate clit was all too fun when he called you late that night, not caring about his early morning shift or the classes you may have. His voice breathy and deep, yours whiny and high pitched when you came around your fingers begging him to come over and fuck you.

He only laughed, telling you to wait until he had a day off.

Sitting across from him at dinner should be fun. He keeps the conversation going and you always paid attention and politely answered. However, it becomes increasingly obvious that the burning between your thighs is becoming unbearable.

“Check please,” he tells the waiter, and you nearly squeal with excitement.

“Mind if I go get some fresh air while you settle the bill?” You ask, placing your hand over his; thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you walk out of the door, ignoring the way his eyes make you feel as you walk out the door.

Cool evening air hits you hard. Letting out another sigh, you laugh at yourself for acting this desperate in public. He must know. It’s not like you’ve been good at hiding it. You’re worse than a cat in heat, mewling for attention and a quick fix.

“Ready?” His voice startles you and you turn to face him. You nod and he extends his hand out for you. The walk to his car is short, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting in the parking garage once you slide into the passenger seat.

Unable to can’t wait any longer, you straddle his lap in his seat and he tilts his head, looking up at you in amusement. Kissing his neck, you run your hands down his chest and slowly grind against him. His firm hands hold your hips and you whimper, trying to convince him to give your body more attention.

“Daichi,” you whine against his neck. “Please, I need-”

You’re stopped as his hand takes control of your jaw, cheeks squished in his hand while he admires you above him. His gaze is intense, not a hint of a smile or enjoyment on his face, but the bulge in his pants hints otherwise. You frown looking down on him, irritated this is the most he’s touched you all night.

“I don’t like brats.” He says simply. “Impatient ones are even more annoying. Tell me, are you going to be an annoying brat?”

You try and shake your head no, barely getting it to move from side to side in his grip.

“Good,” he releases your face and you sigh. Rubbing your cheeks with your fingers you relent from trying the aggressive approach with him; seeing now he’s much less patient than you had expected. “Now can you wait until Daddy takes you home?”

You nod, a smile brimming on your lips while your stomach turns.

“I want to hear you say it.” His eyes somehow focus on you more, making your stomach twist once more.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The rest of the drive is silent, his hand resting on your exposed thigh a little too close to the hem for comfort. It keeps your mind buzzing, every nerve lit aflame at the slightest bump in the road or motion of his fingers. His thumb occasionally draws circles on your sensitive skin, and the whimper that always leaves your lips feels embarrassing.

Are you really a whimpering mess already?

Everything about being with Daichi made you feel more intense like your body knew just how to react to everything he does and says. Was it the age difference and excitement? Or was it simply because he knew how to touch and speak to you?

“Sweetheart?” Daichi’s voice draws your attention and you look over to him. “We’re home now. Be a good girl for me, and go unlock the door.” He dangles the keys in front of you and you take them nodding.

“Yes sir,” you slip out of the car. Did you call him sir? At the moment it felt right, but now with your face burning and palms sweating you wonder if he thinks it’s ridiculous.

You unlock the door, pushing it open and standing awkwardly waiting for him to walk up the stairs to the front door. Why is he prolonging this? There was no reason for him to stay behind. Turning your head to look where he parked the car, you see he’s talking to a neighbor, laughing, and paying you no mind.

What’s his game here?

You huff, frustrated, and embarrassed with how desperate you’ve been acting and he seems to not have a care in the world. Stepping inside, you close the door and take your shoes off. He doesn’t mind you having access to his house with you unsupervised. After all, he did give you the keys to unlock the door.

His home looks comfortable and lived in, not overly clean but not messy per se. You sit on the couch, crossing your legs and laying your head back. While you know it’s rude to begin feeling this irritated, if something didn’t happen soon you were going to have to call for a ride and get home to a toy or even indulge in one of the sleazy dating apps you’re all too familiar with.

Pulling out your phone, you respond to a few notifications you garnered over dinner, nothing of real substance, but better than sitting in silence. A few friends have invited you to a bar not too far from your location, and you consider it, but the front door opening grabs your attention.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you lay your phone down on the cushion beside you, feeling like you’ve been caught texting in class. “I see you made yourself at home.”

“Oh, I-” you stand up, even more embarrassed.

Does he take pleasure in making you uncomfortable or are you just too on edge?

“Sit back down,” he laughs walking into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you,” you answer quickly, sitting back down and laying your hands in your lap to fiddle with your fingers.

He comes back into the living room with his shirt unbuttoned a few, his chest peeking out, and a beer in his left hand. Sitting on the recliner adjacent to the couch, he motions for you with his pointer finger then pats his lap. Your body moves without thinking, straddling him with your knees sinking into the soft cushion of the recliner on either side of his hips. He grins watching your dress ride up your thighs before he takes a drink from his beer.

“Why are you acting so shy now? What happened to that confident little attitude?” He sets the beer down on the table between the couch and chair.

“Why are you toying with me?” You ask, furrowing your brow and tilting your head. “Just fuck me already.”

“There it is,” he chuckles. “You’re not as good of a girl as you think. You’re nothing more than a spoiled brat who needs put in her place. Lucky for you, I know just how to handle bratty girls like you.”

His thumb pulls on your bottom lip and you part them, letting his middle and index finger slip in and press against your tongue. You moan at first, grinding your cunt against his thigh before his fingers slip further in and make you gag. Closing your eyes you grind on him harder, the gagging only intensifying and your body lighting on fire.

“Pathetic,” he laughs while resting his cheek against his hand. Opening your eyes more you see he looks unamused, even as he shoves his fingers down your throat more. “Moaning like this over what? I’m barely touching you.”

You moan again, pressing your core harder on his thigh and whining. Your fingers dig into the arm of the recliner, steadying yourself while you ride his thigh. It feels too good to stop, the minute amount of pleasure intensified by Daichi’s fingers in your mouth.

“Maybe I was wrong,” his voice making you whine again. “Maybe you’re not a brat, just a dumb little slut desperate to cum.” Removing his fingers from your mouth, you take deep breaths, coughing and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“P-please,” you beg. “Please fuck me, daddy. Wanna feel you in me. I’ll be good, I swear.” You sound desperate, you know it and so does he.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He rubs the spit from his fingers onto your cheek while holding your jaw. He shakes your head back and forth slowly as a no for you. “That’s right. You don’t deserve daddy’s cock.”

“B-but-” you whine and grind against him. “Please!”

“Hmm,” he hums, releasing your jaw and licking his fingers clean before taking another sip from his beer. “Maybe if you earn it. I’m not in the mood to fuck an ungrateful whore.”

“Anything!” You nearly shout, eager to please him.

How you’re feeling is different than usual, the need to do whatever Daichi wants completely takes over your own desires. While the feeling is new, it’s something you want to continue to chase. Your head feeling lighter and body burning is all too good to give up now.

“Do I need to tell you what to do?” You nod. “Of course,” he chuckles, “silly of me to forget you’re nothing but a dumb brat. Get on your knees in front of me. Put that mouth to good use for once, won’t ya?”

“Yes daddy,” you say quietly, sliding onto the floor and tugging at his pants.

His belt is a struggle, and he makes no attempt to help you until you’re sliding his pants and boxers off and he lifts his body up just enough to get them down his thighs. Gripping his cock, your mind races wondering if you’ll even be able to fit his girth in your mouth as your fingers barely manage to wrap around him.

“If I finish this beer before you make me cum, I might not fuck you at all.” He says tapping your forehead with the cold glass bottle. “Do you understand?”

You nod again and he leans back into the recliner. Precum leaks from the tip and you wipe it up with your tongue, enjoying the taste as it floods your senses. As your tongue swirls around the head and your warm mouth takes him in, he moans.

It’s quiet and short-lived, but enough to encourage you to take more of him. He fills your mouth so quickly, but you’re determined to make him cum; unsure if it's because you’re desperate to be fucked or if you just really want to please him. Either way, you’re going to have him cumming in your mouth in minutes, you know you can.

You gag loudly when you force him into your throat, nearly taking him to the hilt. This time his moan is louder and longer, making you buzz with pride. Managing to keep him deep in your mouth you rub his balls with your shaky fingers while setting a steady pace bobbing your head up and down.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I guess that mouth is useful for something…” another moan breaks his last word but you don’t care.

The condescending praise just enough to make you hum against him with glee. He bucks his hips when you do, his fingers tangling in your hair and forcing you to choke on him again. You claw at his thighs, desperate to come up for air while you fight against him. He releases the tight hold and you take him out coughing as you stroke him with your hand.

You watch with a frown while he drinks on his beer again, watching carefully as the faint line of liquid lowers nearing the bottom of the bottle. You can do this, you tell yourself before taking a deep breath and taking him back in your mouth. Humming against him lightly while massaging his balls in your palm earns the same reaction, except you’re better at keeping a steady pace now.

“Shit,” he groans.

His cock twitches against your tongue and warm spurts of cum coat your mouth before you can swallow fast enough. He pulls you off his cock by your hair.

“Tongue,” he says and you stick it out timidly.

He spits on your tongue before pulling you to his face and kissing you, his tongue invading your mouth and making you gag at the taste of his beer. His kiss takes your breath away, literally struggling for air as he continues. You’re coughing and pulling away from him while a mix of spit and cum runs down your chin.

“I didn’t think you could do it,” he admits. “I’m surprised someone as desperate and stupid as you could make me cum that fast. I suppose I should reward you then, hmm?”

“Please daddy, please,” you beg. “Want your cock in me so bad.”

His hand slips under your dress and rubs against your soaking panties. “You really do want me, don't you baby?”

You nod.

His free hand gropes your breast, pinching your nipple through the thin material of your dress. You close your eyes biting your lip as you enjoy the not so soft touches he gives you. You moan when his fingers slip into your panties, sliding against your puffy clit.

“Daddy!” You squeal when his middle finger slides inside of you and curls. “Fuck, more please.”

He laughs, pulling his finger out and standing up. He sheds his clothes while you remain on your knees in front of him. You can’t help but admire how good he looks above you like this. Honestly, you think you’d do anything to remain in this moment even if the anticipation of him splitting you open is forcing you to clench around nothing.

Daichi offers you his hand and he assists you in standing to your feet, but it doesn’t last long. He bends you over the arm of his recliner in seconds, pulling your dress down and allowing your bare breasts to fall from it.

“Tell daddy what you want,” he teases while rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Want your cock!” You turn your head back to look at him. “Please, I need it.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans while sliding inside of you.

Even with your intense arousal and the spit on his cock, it stings. Your body goes limp against the arm of the recliner as you try and relax your body to let him in. Crying into the cushion, you try to not be too loud while getting used to his size.

“If I’d known you’d be this tight, I would have fucked you sooner,” he says after fully sheathing himself inside of you.

He isn’t nice enough to give you more time, too overwhelmed with the way you squeeze him so nicely to not start thrusting immediately. You cry out when his cockhead hits deep inside of you, pulling against your walls as he pulls back out only to do it all over again.

It hurts. It feels ethereal.

“Daddy!” You whine as his fingers twirl your nipple between them and he holds you back against him while relentlessly pounding into you. “Too much!”

“Be a good girl,” he hisses. “I know you can take it.”

You whimper in response, his thrusts forcing your breasts into his hands while he continues to assault them. Your thighs begin to shake and your core feels like it’s a tightwire about to break.

“Wanna cum!” You tell him, some part of you knows it's better to warn him or ask instead of letting yourself go. “Please, daddy! Let me cum.”

“Aw, my little slut is learning,” he chuckles, thrusting deep into you and letting you fall back onto the recliner. “Go ahead, cum for daddy. Cream all over my cock sweetheart.”

He hits the sweet spot inside of you once more and you come undone, cumming around his cock and crying out a mixture of daddy and curses. He grunts as you clench around him, body pliable for him to hold you closer while rapidly fucking you.

He cums, and you feel it drip out of you around his cock before you comprehend what’s happened. You’re too fucked out to even care if you’re honest. He pulls your panties back to the side as he pulls out of you.

“You’re going to keep it all in, aren’t you?” He pulls his pants back on, leaving his shirt on the floor and sitting on the couch.

You nod, pulling your dress back over your breasts and adjusting the thin straps back to a comfortable position on your shoulders. He pats his lap again, and you sit across him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your cheek against his shoulder.

A knock at the door startles you and you look at Daichi with a concerned face.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I lost track of time. Can you get that?”

You sheepishly nod. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I need to go grab something from my room. I’m sure you can handle it.” He disappears down the hall.

Running your hands through your hair to make sure you don’t look crazy, you open the door.

“Oh,” a sharp tone greets you.

“Big sis!!” Kaiya screams, jumping up and down and running inside.

Shit.

“Uh,” who you assume to be her mother says shaking her head. “Is Daichi here?” She’s irritated, and reasonably so. “I need to speak with him immediately.”

“Yeah, he’s right-”

“What do you want?” He appears back into the living room, pulling a loose shirt over his head as he comes in.

He easily could have done that before. Is he doing this on purpose?

Oh god, he is.

You look quickly between the two of them as he steps in the doorway with you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“I think we need to speak in private.” His ex tells him, eyeing you up and down.

“Sweetheart, do you care to take Kaiya to her room to play for a few minutes?” He kisses your forehead and you look away from the intense glare you receive from Kaiya’s mother.

“Daichi! Why are you-”

“Stop,” he says loudly. “---- can watch her for a moment.” He lets go of you.

“Can you show me your room Kaiya?” You ask sweetly and she takes your hand and guides you down the hall.

You’re not sure if you’re grateful Daichi got you away from his ex or if you’re happy Kaiya won’t have to see her parents bicker. Either way, it’s a win for you. Your heart is beating against your chest, making you nauseous. There’s no way he just forgot he was getting his daughter tonight.

You’re flattered that he used you to make her angry, but the more spiteful part of you wishes he had let you in on it a little more. Having you answer the door was good, but you could have left your hair a mess or something more…

“Big sis, why are you here? Did you and daddy have a playdate?” She asks, handing you a stuffed rabbit while you sit on the floor of her room with her.

“Uh,” you giggle. “Yeah, we had a playdate.”

#dilf collab!!#daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi smut #daichi smut #dilf daichi #daddy daichi #hq smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut

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no-droids · 3 years

Text

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

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

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

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

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

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

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

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

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

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

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

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

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

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

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

And it was fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well. Fair.

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking abou—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that sound?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 1–6:15am:

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

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

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

***

Day 1–7:06am:

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

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

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

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

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

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

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

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

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh. Oh stars, you’re tired.

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 2–12:00am:

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

“Wake up.”

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

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

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

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

No—

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure you did. You in another tree?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t need to ask.

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

***

Day 2–5:34am:

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

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

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

Din is asleep? Seriously?

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Op. Not good. “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it. “How long?”

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

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

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

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

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

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

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

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh. What the fuck was that?

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

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

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

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

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

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

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

Day 3–12:00am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me your coordinates—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell. He’ll be able to see it, you think. The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside. It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip. He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something? You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless. It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you. You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now. You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you. Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples. “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious. “You think—y-you think—”

“What?” You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious. Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops. It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?” He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet. “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there? You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering. He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now. “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh. That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart. He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you. Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word. “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly. Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down. “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid. Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days. I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss. You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it. You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his. He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey. “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not? What have you got to lose? Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways. What’s the worst he can do? Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days. You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you. You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table. It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #smut #reader insert #fanfic #rough day #no-droids #tw: stalking

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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

could you do some angsty smut please??

oh hell yeah we can. this is going to be 70srockstar!harry with roadie!y/n eekkkk! okay have fun;

Being the girlfriend of the most famous, golden boy rockstar was the craziest rollercoaster you’d ever ride.

For the past 6 months you’ve been touring with the one and only Harry Styles, living your life between helping on tour, drinking endless amounts of wine and smoking a hell of a lot of weed. The job had come past you at the perfect moment. Your dad happened to be best friends with the tour manager, Jeff Azoff, who’d spoken of their being a job opening for a roadie. You were employed to help set up the musical equipment and test out the instruments before the act went on at night, falling in love for the man you roadied for was just an add on. A beautiful bonus.

It was a lot more pressure being Harry’s girlfriend than people thought though. There was so much pressure to act a certain way and present yourself another way. Harry was so idolised and craved by millions and it put pressure on you to be a certain person for him. You loved him so much and you were so scared that he might one day realise that there was so much better than you - at least in your eyes. Someone extroverted. Someone musically talented. Someone who wasn’t a virgin.

Harry had never pressured you into anything sexual unless you were ready. Of course he was notorious for being an above star rating, when it came fo sex - thanks to all the articles published by the many men and women, sometimes both together, he had slept with. The sex reputation went hand-in-hand with his rock-n-roll aesthetic, so that part of him would never change. You’d only been with Harry for 4 of those 6 months, managing to fall for him very quickly, so you wondered just how he was coping without having had sex for that long. He usually had a different person each night to take backstage after his concert to play with how he wanted, hence how he built his reputation, but since you there had been no one.

Sex was such a big thing for Harry though, so you couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Currently, you were sat on his bed on the tour bus reading an article that had been published about your boyfriend last week. Your heart strings tugged as you read one section of the interview.

Interviewer: The new album, tell me about it.

Harry: It’s coming on slowly yeah. Just want this one to be perfect so, taking my time.

Interviewer: What would you say your biggest inspiration is for writing?

Harry: Changed on every project, to be honest man. Sometimes it’s about past relationships. Sometimes it’s about issues i’m going through. A lot of the time it’s about sex!

Interviewer: Yeah, dude, I have noticed that like every other song is about sex. Is that something you’re quite open about?

Harry: I think sex can be either something so beautiful or so passionate. Don’t believe in sad sex! But, um, yeah i’m always really honest lyrically when it comes to the songs about sex and I hope others see it as that too.

Interviewer: No it definitely does! Thanks Harry for your time and, um, keep on having sex so that third album breaks even more records!

Harry: Will do man!

It was easy to understand why you were upset. Harry’s biggest inspiration wasn’t possible for this album, because you were too nervous to let him have you. All of you. You felt a burden, as if you were holding him back from living his life and creating something so amazing. His past two albums had been such hits for songs such as ‘She’ and ‘Only Angel’, which were inspired by the intimate times with past lovers. There would only be sad songs if he wrote an album without any spice.

That’s why as soon as Harry came back on the bus, dressed in shorts and a shirt that was unbuttoned to see his toned chest, you jumped him and kissed him like your life depended on him. He was taken back by surprise, but welcomed your lips nevertheless.

Pulling back he mumbled some words against your lips, “Well this is a nice welcome back gift.” He chuckled at the eagerness of your lips and let his hands roam over your body - from your neck to your waist and over your ass. This man knew what he was doing.

“Harry?” You whispered, stopping your kiss and looking at his beautiful swollen red lips. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“Yeah baby?” He kept himself close to you and you could feel the stiffie that he’d developed pressing against your front.

“Can we… I’m.. If you…”

“What baby? Can tell me anything, y’know that.”

“Wanna have sex with you.” You told him the most simple virgin way ever, your face heating up when you saw him smirking down at you. You’d screwed yourself over here and were getting all shy and embarrassed about it.

“Hey, no. Don’t hide from me,” He drew your face back to his and kept his eyes on yours to provide you some familiar comfort, “you sure?”

“Mhm, yes.” You nodded affirmatively.

“It might hurt a little, okay? First time means that your cute little pussy is going to be really tight. Don’t even know whether you’ll be able to take me.” He taunted you, cupping his hands to your cheeks and brushing his thumbs carefully over your skin to ease your tension.

“I w-will.” You moused out, wanting to be this person for him.

“‘Course you can. You’re my best girl and I know you’ll fit perfectly for me, yeah?” He rhetorically asked pushing you back to the bed and letting you flop there. You watched him as he discarded his clothes, following his lead, until you were both naked in front of each other. You’d been this far before, but this time it felt different. It felt more lustful and exposed and nerve-wracking.

Harry bent down and started to kiss you from your belly upwards, leaving kisses everywhere until he reached your jaw where he bit more than he kisses. He loved seeing his marks being left behind on your skin, proving to everyone that you were his and his alone. His hands found comfort ins kneading and squeezing your breasts like dough, loving the way they were so soft and yet so hard beneath his warm hands. As he found your lips and divulged in your sweet tastes, you slunk your hand down and grabbed ahold of his cock, pumping him a few times to get him primed. You felt the trickles of pre-cum drip from his tip and it only excited you even more.

Taking your lead, Harry pushed one of his hands in between your bodies and started playing with your wet cunt, paying extra attention to your needy clit. He knew you loved it when his fingers got rough, so that’s exactly how he played. His tongue was battling against yours, whilst you both stimulated pleasure to one another. The wet and beautiful sounds filled the room, heightening your arousal - Harry could feel it too, his fingers becoming wetter with every circle and pump of his fingers.

“You ready, baby?” He asked carefully, plucking his lips away from yours with a wet sounding smack. You already looked fucked out and he had barely done anything to you yet.

“Y-yes.” You stumbled, so excited yet so nervous. You were finally going to give Harry what he had been missing for so long and you were also going to let yourself go, and divulge in something new and potentially life-changing.

He leant back and rubbed his own cock for a few strokes, before lining the tip of it with your opening. He teased your entrance, making you bite your lip in anticipation. He smiled down at you and mouthed the words ‘I love you’ without any sounds leaving his lips, before you did the same. The head of his cock started to push in, but you didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did.

“Shit fuck, y’so tight baby. Need you to relax for me, okay?” He asked, pulling away so he could watch your body relax. You closed your eyes and took a deep breathe, reminding yourself that the best way to relax is not to think about the problem itself but oh how you’d feel when the problem’s fixed. You smiled and once Harry could see your shoulders un-tense, he, once again, pushed his cock into your opening. He hissed at the contact, obviously finding it so pleasurable even if it was only minimal contact, but you, you felt so much pain and soreness from absolutely nothing.

You couldn’t do this.

“It should just…” Harry tried a different angle, but your smile had disappeared and your whole range of emotions had resumed to flat and disappointed in yourself. “Maybe if I just..” Harry tried to hold your legs a little wider and guide his cock more firmly into your opening, but each time he couldn’t push past a certain point without your body rejecting him or your facial expressions telling him he should stop.

“St-stop Harry please.” You cried, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you let the tears flow freely. “Please stop.”

“O-okay. Just gonna…” And he slid out as much as he’d managed to get in, which was probably less than an inch. It hurt when he pulled away and your cunt felt like it was on fire. It stung and it didn’t feel right. You felt like a failure and an embarrassment.

You cried into your arms, letting harsh sobs take over your body. You chest felt tight and your eyes stung worse than your cunt did. God, you couldn’t even do one thing for him. You were the reason why he was having a hard time writing at the moment. You were the reason people would be disappointed to hear no sex inspired songs on the album. He might even have to use past experiences as inspiration, which made your heart curl with jealousy. You didn’t feel like you were enough for him, like you would ever be enough for him.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” You sat up from the bed, not wanting to look at him and his disappointed expression as he stay knelt on the bed - cock looking painfully hard still. You scrambled for your t-shirt and your joggers and then walked out of the room, across the bus’ narrow corridor, and into the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in then mirror and were disappointed at what, or who, you saw. Looking back at you was the person who couldn’t even have sex. You couldn’t give Harry what he deserved. You were a failure and it was stamped all over your body. You cried as you looked at yourself, until you couldn’t and you just slid down the wall and onto the floor. You wished for the Earth to just swallow you whole. You couldn’t stand being here when you were clearly broken and useless.

Harry would surely leave you for this. Why would he want to stay with someone who couldn’t even get their boyfriends dick in their pussy? Couldn’t give each other that pleasure? Harry had so many people in the past and surely with you gone he’d have so many people in the future. It would be selfish of you to stay. Harry had needs you completely appreciated that, but it would be just so difficult to let him go when he means so much to you.

There was a quiet knock at the door, which broke you from your cries and self-deprecating. “Y/N? Baby honey? Can I come in, please?”

“S-sorry. Yes of c-course.” You stood up quickly, thinking that he was wanting to be let in to go to the toilet or to have a cold shower go get rid of the hard-on that you’d put there. Too bad you couldn’t have taken it away.

You unlocked the door and shuffled past him, only for him to stop you. He shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you both infinitely pressed together in the pathway on the bus. He had you pressed you up against the side of the wall and kept his arms at either side of you.

“Sweets—”

“Harry, please don’t say anything. I-I know what you’re thinking and—”

“Yeah? And what am I thinking?” He asked, not moving away from you. You held your cries the best you could and took a deep breathe to continue.

“I’m a disappointment. I-I i’m not good enough. I’m broken.” You choked out, knocking your head back against the wall from frustration.

“Stop it.” Harry ordered firmly, gripping your cheeks in his hands and forcing you to look at him. The look in his eyes was so hard to read, but he looked desperate and worried and hurt. You hated to think that you were the cause of any of those emotions. “Just stop.” Harry’s own eyes were starting to fill with tears too and you brought your own hand up to catch a few of them before they could fall.

“Don’t cry, please.” You begged, keeping your hand pressed to his cheek which he absolutely adored. He loved the feeling of your skin against his. He never wanted to not have it.

“Then don’t say things that hurt me, okay? Hearing you say those things about yourself absolutely breaks m’heart flower. Just because you were a bit too tight to take me today does not mean that you’re a disappointment or you’re a failure or that you’re not good enough. It hurts to think that you’d ever think I would think that, because - fuck -,” Harry pressed his forehead tight against yours and fanned his lips lips over yours. His closeness was everything. “I love you so much it scares me. My feelings for you are so strong and so real. I want your forever and something as trivial as sex is never going to make me want otherwise. Do you get that?”

“B-but the album?” You asked.

“What about the album?”

“I-in the recent magazine interview you said that sex is your biggest i-inspiration. I can’t be that for you.”

“Is that what this is all about? Because you think that my album isn’t coming together because i’m not having sex? Did you miss the part where I said I wanted this one to be perfect and I was taking m’time with it?”

“No.”

“Well I did say that, because it’s for you baby. The whole thing is going to be for you. Every melody. Every lyric. Every song. Just and all for you.” Both of you were silently crying now, absorbed in each others love and adoration for one another.

“I-I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. This album isn’t really for the charts or the awards. It’s for you, m’heart. I love you for a lot more than your body and its’ pleasures.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, taking all his words in and realising how irrationally you’d acted out afterwards.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For even thinking that you’d be so shallow and cold-hearted.”

“You didn’t think that though, baby. I know you and so I know you didn’t. Your thoughts were based around your own insecurities, not to do with your small-thinking over me.” He explained to you, making you nod and kick your lips.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Well then we don’t deserve each other.”

“But i’ll keep you forever if you’d let me.”

“Looks like we’re together forever then, baby honey.”

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goddess-evelle · 3 years

Text

We are here for you

Someone requested this:

Yoo thought of a idea hear me out

Poly dream team x fm y/n

Okay so y/n is having a really bad week like really really bad, and when she gets home to the boys she has like the biggest mental breakdown, she throws things, she shouts a whole load of crap, once she is done shouting and breaking things she hudles in a ball and starts crying.

The boys try to calm her down while also dogging all the things she is throwing they try yelling her name but she can't hear them since she in like her 'own little world'. They leave her for a bit and they have a little talk to try and figure out what happened to her.

By the time she has calmed down she talks to the boys and it turn into a really heartwarming cute ass fluff.

Please can you do this pleaseeee😖

Warnings: Just fluffy

Dream team x fem reader

Okay, so I am not the best at writing fluff, but I gave it a try. <3

Your head banged on the table in front of you. You just got home from college. Your professor had given yet another essay. You were so tired of written essays. You had 5 essays to do, and while you had 2 of them started; they were so much trouble to write. You just wanted to lay in bed for 5 minutes minimum; you just needed to close your eyes for 5 minutes. You had been working so much; barely sleeping so that you could take advantage of the few hours the night provided. Your mind had been too busy thinking of themes to write about. The professor really thought that having a book helped; that only mad you want to slap him. Of course, it’s easier with a book; if he hadn’t given 3 books for 3 of the essays. The problem was that your other 2 professors thought the same thing giving you 2 more books to do the other two essays. You rolled your eyes as you tried to think of how to start the essay. Your eyes lighted up as a thought ran through your mind. Your hands moved quickly on the keyboard as you chased the idea squeezing the juice, and writing as much as you could. Your mind flowed as you wrote for what felt like hours. Your hands becoming numb by the time you finished.

You let out a sigh as you stretched limbs separating as your bones cracked. You looked at the hour 5:45 am you hadn’t even realized it was that early; you started at 11:13 pm working on the essay, so naturally you were a little tired, but you knew better than going to sleep. Thanks to those extra hours you were able to complete two essays which meant you only needed to finish two more, and you would be free to do whatever you wanted. You headed to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. However, when you reached the kitchen; the boys were standing right next to the coffee maker. You try to breathe as a you try to relax; spending many hours in front of the computer had given you a migraine. You close your eyes tightly as you gulped making your way to the coffee maker. Before you could even touch it; George’s hand came to stop you.

“You can’t just drink coffee all day; you have to sleep” George starts, and you can only roll your eyes. You didn’t have time for this; you just wanted to finish your essays you already had 3 done. You just needed an extra cup of coffee to finish the other 2 essays. You did not have time to be talking right now you had to finish your essays.

“I just want a cup of coffee; it’s no big deal. I just need to finish two of my essays” You say trying to keep your voice low; even though your mind rushed with angry thoughts. Why did they have to interfere in your life? It annoyed you; they didn’t even know how it felt to be surrounded by essays and projects.

“You took three cups of coffee yesterday; I saw you. You have to sleep; you’ve been drinking coffee none stop, and you are not even eating properly” Dream spoke up this time only making you angrier.

“I can’t sleep yet!” You yelled out before being able to stop yourself. “I have two more essays to finish; I just need to keep going, and I will be fine. I will eat after I finish them. I just really need to finish it.” You say voice desperate for some coffee your eyes could barely stay opened. The boys knew what a lack of sleep could do to a person that is why they tried to let you be, but it had gone too far. They had tried to make you eat something, but you refused saying that you didn’t have time. They were scared that you would get sick for not taking care of yourself properly.

“Y/n just please take a break. Your other two essays are due Friday, right? It’s Tuesday; I’m sure you have enough time to finish them.” Sapnap tried to help, but you only saw red.

“I have to finish them now! My mind is just working so fast; I finished three essays already. My mind is just flowing with ideas. I need to finish them now.” You said voice getting louder and louder as they didn’t give you what you wanted.

“We will not let you go back to writing unless you sleep for at least 8 hours” Dream started.

“And- you have to eat at least three meals during the day” Sapnap added trying to persuade you into giving in. You didn’t have any of it; eyes seeing red as you throw your coffee mug to the ground. The ceramic breaking instantly.

“I will not go to sleep! I just need coffee, and I will be good to go! Just get out of my fucking way!” You were completely yelling, and you could only think of the coffee. You pushed pass George as you got to the coffee maker only for Dream to snap it from your hold. Strong arm holding the coffee maker so that you couldn’t use it.

“The fuck are you doing?! Give it! I need the coffee” You said as you yanked the coffee maker towards you; Dream however, did not let go. A few seconds passed as you tried to get the coffee maker; only for Dream’s hand to slip as the coffee maker came crashing to the ground. You stared angrily at the shattered coffee maker that was pretty much useless now. Your body had taken too much as you slide to the ground looking at the coffee maker. Your mind rushed with thoughts as you began crying; the stress from college being too much. You cried to your heart’s content; you looked at Dream before standing from your spot on the floor saying:

“Why the fuck would you do that? Are you fucking stupid?” The words leaving your lips without a second thought as you confronted Dream; now coming chest to chest with him as you looked up at him rage taking over your actions. Your mind being too caught up on the stress to even think. Dream talked to you, but you didn’t even hear what he said.

“I’ve had enough of this. You will go to the bedroom, and you will sleep! I do not care what you want you have to sleep” Dream spoke to you his words being rough as he talked to you. He was done with this he could not let you treat yourself this way; you were hurting yourself for some stupid essays. You moved closer to him as your mind is blank; not even a single thought of what he just said. You knew he was talking, but your mind was too tired to pay attention.

“Y/n please, we don’t want you to get hurt. You could get sick” Sapnap tried, but before he could finish George moved towards you putting a hand on your cheek finally gaining your attention as he said “Exactly, what good are you if you get sick now? You won’t even be able to finish the essays. Just take a break; go sleep, and eat something.” Your eyes widened as you realized what they were saying; they were right; you could get sick, and then you wouldn’t be able to finish the essays. You gave George a small nod as he took you to the bedroom to get you to sleep.

“I swear to god. She always does what George tells her to.” Sapnap grunted being slightly jealous of George’s ability to make you obey him. Dream laughed at Sapnap’s words knowing it was true. George knew how to get you to follow his words.

You opened your eyes to find the boys looking at you. Sapnap had a bowl of food in his hand. While Dream had a water bottle. You sat up as Sapnap handed you the food.

“Thank you” you said, but your mind rushed with what happened earlier. “I am sorry about earlier; I didn’t mean to be rude. I just- I’m just stressed” You said trying to explain yourself.

“We know; it’s okay. We are not mad at you; we just want you to take care of yourself. We love you so much; we don’t want anything bad happening to you.” George said while he engulfed you in a hug.

“We are here to help. You can talk to us about whatever you want. We love you so much; we are here for you” Sapnap said holding your hand. Dream bent down to give you a kiss, and the three of you laid in bed as the boys watched you eat some much-needed food. The night ended with you finishing your two essays as the boys cuddled, and kissed you until you all fell asleep.

#dream x reader #dream team #dream team x reader #sapnap fluff #sapnap x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream fluff #georgenotfound fluff #georgenotfound x reader

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inkyblinders · 3 years

Text

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

#luca changretta #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby

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reputationmunson · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Summary: During a rough patch in their relationship, reader gives Spencer one last chance to make things right

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst w/ a (somewhat) hopeful ending

Content Warning(s): Breakup, swearing, mention of food, mention of alcohol, allusion to depression (Please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi, everyone! This is my first fic and I hope you enjoy it! I wrote this in about an hour after listening to “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift, so it’s not the best and a bit rushed but I’m excited about it!

I sit in the dimly lit restaurant, patiently waiting for him to show up and prove me wrong. Prove to me he still wanted me as much as he did when we first met. Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes and before I knew it, an hour had passed. I was still alone looking at the empty seat across from me, imagining he was sitting there looking at me with that doe-eyed look and a smile upon his face. I found myself slightly smiling at the fantasy before I was interrupted by the waitress.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but if you don’t order something we’re going to have to ask you to leave. Are you still waiting on someone?” I gave a small chuckle before replying “Uh- no, I’m sorry. I’ll take the check to pay for the wine.” “Don’t worry, it’s taken care of.” She gives me a pity smile.

He left me. He actually left me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though, things had been different for almost a year. We were less intimate, he was sleeping on the couch or at the office, and whenever he looked at me he no longer had that sparkle in his eye that always reassured that he would love me forever.I never would have guessed our forever would be this short lived. I shamefully walk out of the restaurant and I’m so embarrassed that all these people witnessed me getting stood up by a man I never thought could make me feel this way.

How am I supposed to go back to our shared home? Would he be there? Maybe he got off work too late and is waiting to surprise me with flowers? My anticipation was too much to handle and I press the gas pedal with a bit more pressure, hanging on to the last string of hope I had. Unfortunately, my instincts were a bit off as I walk into what was once our happy home that was always filled with love and laughter that I never thought would end and now there was just an empty feeling.

It’s colder than usual and without him, it already no longer felt like home. Spencer is, was, my home. I need to be in his arms. He was the only one that could put me together and he’s the one that is fucking breaking me. I don’t remember who I was before him besides a girl who had never been loved the way he loved me. The love you read about wasn’t something I believed in until I met him and now I’m right back to square one.

I walk back to our bedroom to change into something more comfortable, but I stop when I see a piece of paper folded on the bed. I feel the tears forming before I even open it up. This was the last thing he touched and the last piece I have of him. It feels so delicate in my hand like it’s made of glass. I dread reading this. Our story is ending with a single piece of paper that lies in my hand. I take a deep breath and work up the courage to read the inevitable.

Y/N, I’m a coward. I couldn’t even face you tonight to give you the proper closure you deserve. You deserve someone who is able to give you that, and so much more. While I was packing, I noticed your red dress was off the hanger and I’m assuming that’s what you wore tonight. That was always my favorite dress on you. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I need you to know that I never have stopped, and probably never will stop, loving you. Sadly, love isn’t enough sometimes and I wish it really fucking was. Don’t think for a single second any of this is your fault. I could go on and on about how you deserve more than me, but I know you and you would fight me on that statement until you were blue in the face. I could write forever, but I should get going. I left you that cardigan of mine you like so much, the one I wrapped around you our first date. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but please never forget me. -Yours, Spencer.

-------------------------------------------------

I still think about it everyday. I think about him everyday. Five years later it still hasn’t escaped my mind. But, on the bright side, I only think about it for about half of the day instead of letting it consume my entirety. I felt pathetic. Everyone in my life was married, having kids, or getting promoted and here I was still holding onto this false dream that he would come back to me. I pretended that I moved on. I even lied about going on dates. What was the point? I already had the greatest love I could ask for. I would rather be alone right now than try to recreate what I had with Spencer with some stranger.

I distract myself with the music on the radio, considering thinking of Spencer while driving was about as dangerous as driving while intoxicated. Moments later, I’m pulling into the grocery store. Maybe I’ll meet someone new here. The love of my life could be right under my nose, but I wouldn’t even know because I’m stuck in a delusion.

I stroll the the cereal isle and laugh quietly at myself, realizing that the most exciting thing this week was trying a new flavor of cheerios. “This works” I whisper to myself as I throw the box in my cart and make my way down the isle.

“Y/N?” I stop in my tracks. I know that voice. It’s the voice that never leaves my thoughts. I can’t turn around. Is he actually here? He can’t be. What are the odds of this happening? I bet he would actually know the statistics on that. I put on a fake smile and turn around. “Spencer! It’s been what? Five years? How are you?” I think I might be overdoing the friendliness. “Yeah five years, two months, and eight days.” He nervously laughs. “Still have that big brain, I see. And who’s this?” I was so distracted by his presence I didn’t even notice the literal child sitting in the shopping cart.

“This is my son, Oliver, like the Charlemagne Knight from the twelfth century poem, Chanson de Roland. He’s turning two next month.” He smiles at his son in awe. “It’s my weekend with him. My ex and I are trying the whole shared parenting thing. It’s hard to be away from him” He continues. “I’m sorry to hear about your separation. I hope the note you left her was different from mine” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. “Sorry. Bad joke.” I add, causing us to laugh through the tension. “Ouch. I -uh- guess I deserve that” He looks down and shakes his head. “I should get going. It was nice to see you, Spence. I’m glad you’ve found happiness.”

“Maybe we could grab coffee and truly catch up.I still have your number, unless you’ve changed it.” I shake my head in response to his last statement. “Um, yeah, that would be nice. Just don’t ask for your cardigan back” I joke and immediately regret letting him know I’ve held onto it all these years. “Of course not. You always looked better in my clothes than I did.” “Goodbye, Spencer.” It’s the last thing I say. I turn around and try my hardest to keep my composure.

“Y/N, wait.” I turn back and meet his eyes once again. I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or if the sparkle in his eyes is back. “What about you? Are you happy?” There is a sincerity in his voice. “Yeah. I am.” I lie, hoping it was convincing enough for him to not question it and we went our separate ways after sharing a final smile.

My mind is having a thousand thoughts a minute. Spencer had a baby. Not only did Spencer have baby, he had another relationship. I didn’t expect him to wait around like I was, but I really didn’t expect to get hit with all this at once. All the things I wanted, needed, with him had already happened with someone else. He had moved on with his life and I was still right where he left me.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you

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persephones-wren · 3 years

Note

Can you write a Kaz Brekker one-shot where Kaz is dating the reader and basically one night while they're in his office, Jesper overhears them apart of their conversation and mistakenly thinks they're breaking up so he enlists the other Crows to help keep them together with some wild plan and Kaz and the reader are just left confused since they're still together? Thank you in advance~!

A Break (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

It's a little short, but I hope you enjoy it! I really liked writing it, it was such a sweet idea :) Thank you for requesting!

Warnings: none (I think)

Genre: Unclassified

Word Count: 1422

“This isn’t working out, Kaz. Maybe we should take a break.”

Jesper is astonished when he hears that snippet through the door. Surely it couldn’t be-? They weren’t really going to break up, were they? Kaz and Y/N were almost soulmates, as close as you could get to one, anyway. Was he really that oblivious to not notice any shortcomings between them?

“A break?” Kaz mutters incredulously.

Jesper hopes you’re kidding.

“Yeah, a break. I don’t think we should continue on like this- you’re tired of it, and so am I. We can discuss details tomorrow, but the point remains the same.”

He covers his mouth in horror. He isn’t supposed to be eavesdropping on his boss and his colleague, but- well, this was most certainly unexpected.

“Fine,” he sighs. “This isn’t good for me, and it’s not good for you either. Details tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Kaz.”

Both of your voices sound defeated, and Jes scurries off before you notice him outside of Kaz’s office.

He’s no Kaz, but he needs to come up with a plan to get you both back together. He’ll need the Crows, and he’ll need to do some scheming, Saints hope he doesn’t look as brooding as Kaz with his thinking face- but if there’s anything he swears he’ll do, it’s to get the both of you back together.

…

Planning for heists was exhausting when you weren’t constantly computing outcomes like your boyfriend, and last night was especially taxing. You had convinced him to take a break, and finalize details the next day, but- well, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought. Another long night spent at his office.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy it, it was just- sometimes it got a bit too much.

“Y/N, c’mon, we’re going to go see Nina.”

“We?” You raised your eyebrows. Jesper was up early this morning. That never meant something good. He was usually hungover or just sleeping in late. Something eventful must be happening. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” he says, frowning.

“...alright,” you say hesitantly. He was acting strange, but- well, if he wanted to visit Nina with you, you weren’t one to object. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her, anyway.

Your shoes clicked on the cobble as you walked the path to the House of the White Rose. There was something off about Jesper. He was abnormally quiet, and his energy was frantic and nervous rather than confident and easy. Maybe Nina could do something about that.

“You okay?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah,” Jes swallows hard. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“...yeah?”

You approach the front desk, and the clerk looks up at the both of you.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. Here to see Nina Zenik, please.”

“She’s in that room, with a client,” the clerk mentions. “She’ll be done soon. Make sure to knock.”

“Thanks,” you say, and you both make your way there.

You rap on the wood lightly, and you hear a bit of fumbling before a “coming!” rings out. Nina opens the door, and a client walks out, a small smile on her face. “Come on in, come on in.”

“I’m sorry Nina, but I must get back. Kaz wants me there in half an hour, sharp.” Jesper smiles apologetically at you, before putting his hat back on and leaving.

“What’s up with him?” you mutter. “Why would he bring me here just to leave seconds later? He’s been acting strange all morning.”

“No idea,” Nina answers. “But Kaz always gets what he wants.”

“Right.”

She closes the door behind you as you step in.

“So, how’s your relationship with Kaz going?”

You go to answer, but her intense stare at you throws off your answer. Does she know something you don’t? “Well…?” you trail off. “We’ve been doing well. He’s been good to me, we’re very much in love. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering.”

There’s relief in her tone, but the answer doesn’t satisfy you.

“I’ve heard there’s been some trouble in paradise from someone at the Barrel, so I thought-” she pours two cups of tea and sits across from you. “I thought it’d be good to check in. Kaz isn’t always the best, but you’re good for him.”

“Yeah…?” your expression contorts into one of confusion.

“And he’s good for you too, really. You shouldn’t let one argument change your view on him. Unless of course, he's being despicable towards you, but even Kaz has his limits. Sometimes.”

“Okay,” you sigh, exasperated. “There’s no issues between me or Kaz. He hasn’t been doing anything to me, and we weren’t arguing? Jesper’s been acting strange. So have you. What’s going on?”

Now it’s her face that sports a look of confusion. “Didn’t you two fight yesterday, say you were taking a break?”

“Yes? Well, no,” you amend. “Taking a break from working on a plan, not our relationship. Who gave you that idea?”

“Jesper. He heard you two fighting yesterday.”

“Oh.” A look of realization dawns your face. “That’s why- oh, he’s an idiot,” you laugh. “I can’t wait to see the look on Kaz’s face when he brings up our relationship, he might be done for.”

“Hopefully Kaz will catch on quick,” Nina agrees, and laughs with you. “We can go back, I’ll accompany you if you’d like. I’m sure Jes will be relieved to know it’s a mistake.”

“Yeah, probably.” …

“You shouldn’t have agreed to break up with Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Kaz turns around, and Inej is standing there.

“Did she tell you she wanted to end your relationship?”

“Did she tell me what?”

“That you wanted to take a break from your relationship,” Jesper says, and Kaz turns around, staring at him as he joins Inej’s side.

“No, she did not. Did she tell you that?”

His hands flex on his cane in an odd show of muted nervousness, but his glare remains sharp.

Jesper frowns, and Inej gives him a questioning look. “Didn’t she say that you two were taking a break yesterday? That’s not right. She’s nearly perfect for you, and it’s the same for her. You guys need to work it out, because if you guys break up, you’re both going to be miserable.”

A look of realization is there for seconds on Kaz’s face, before it morphs back into one of annoyance. “A break from a heist plan, not our relationship, Jesper. And what was your reason for eavesdropping on our conversation?”

Jesper smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Boss. I just heard you two while walking by. I thought you two were ending it.”

Kaz sighs, and a look of judgement pierces Jesper. “We’re not.”

“Jesper, you idiot,” Inej rolls her eyes, but she’s relieved nonetheless. “Good that you both are together, then. I’m going to go run some errands, and I’ll be back for the nightly report.” She gives Kaz and Jesper a mock salute, and then she’s gone.

“Still unnerving how she can do that,” Jesper mutters.

“I’ll be in my office. No eavesdropping.”

Jes tenses, but answers a small, “Got it, Boss.”

…

It’s a little while before you return, visiting some shops with Nina and picking up some random little decor you liked, or a sweet from your childhood.

Heads turn when you enter the Crow Club, as they always do, but they all go back to what they’re doing when they realize it’s you. You quietly make two cups of tea, and make your way to Kaz's office, knocking three times.

“Who is it?”

His voice is sharp and rough, as always, but it still holds fatigue. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s slaving over the same plan tonight, and you had forgotten to iron out some of the kinks this morning with him, you think, regret filling your veins.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Come in, then. No need to knock, darling.”

You open the door and he looks up at you, murmuring a small “thank you” as you set the tea down in front of him.

“We forgot to go over the details with Jes’s strange scheming, but that’s alright, let’s just do them now,” he says, and you nod in agreement.

“I don’t want to break up with you, for the record,” you grin. “That was a total mishear from Jes.”

“I’d hope not,” a brief smile flashes across his face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answer earnestly, and then you’re back to work with your boyfriend, night blanketing the sky as your love shone bright.

#thanks for the ask!#request #six of crows #six of crows x reader #grishaverse #soc kaz #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #nina zenik #kaz brekker x reader #soc x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz x reader #thank you again <3

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pepperonijem · 3 years

Text

When He Sees Me || Peter Parker

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: um peter might be a little ooc and that’s because i’m writing about my unfortunate crush but i basically just changed his name to peter parker any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental <3

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can’t close it? Catching feelings for your best friend is never easy.

A/N: This fic is sponsored in part by @bitchassbucky, @spiderrpcrker, @shurisneakers, @midnightsunfae, and @blackberrybucky who instead of shutting down my feelings, hyped me up to turn my crush and some of the things that we’ve done into a fic <3 this goes out to anyone who has ever started crushing on their best friend.

Oh God, please don’t walk this way, please don’t wa-

“Oh, hey Peter!” The crack in your voice betrayed your attempt at a casual greeting, despite your efforts to disguise it with a cough. “How’s it-- how’s it hanging?”

“You good?” Peter smiled at you but his eyebrow quirked upwards in concern. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight?” His concern faded into a wide grin as you nodded in response. Peter gave you a quick goodbye before walking away towards his next class.

As soon as you saw him turn into the classroom, you turned to face your closed locker, letting out a groan before setting your forehead against it. Peter had asked if you were good, and although you nodded, the butterflies in your stomach threatened to give you away. You were very much not good.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned to see your friend MJ. “What did Peter do this time?” MJ asked. For the last month, every interaction with Peter -- there have been a lot -- ended this way: a groan of defeat and a few welted lines on your forehead from holding your head against your locker. You turned to give MJ a dirty look, annoyed by the amused smirk on her face.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed, finally lifting your head up to talk to her. You opened your locker as you talked, not wanting to make eye contact with MJ as you confessed your feelings. “He just… smiled… and everything went downhill from there.” You rolled your eyes as MJ laughed. “It’s getting worse, I have no idea how I’m going to get through tonight.”

MJ laid a hand on your shoulder. “Well we’ll all be there,” she offered. “And if it makes you feel better, no one’s even noticed. Just act normal and you’ll be fine.” She shrugged her shoulders as if that was the easiest thing to do. But you couldn’t act normal anymore, not with Peter. Not when normal means resting your head against his shoulder every time he makes you laugh. Not when normal means borrowing his clothes when his aunt May tells you to stay the night every time a study session runs too long. Not when normal means wearing the extra sweater he keeps for you because you always forget yours.

Normal was when you didn’t feel butterflies everytime he looked at you, before your curious heart got the better of you and you began to wonder what it might be like to hold his hand. Now, things were just weird. At least for you. Nothing on the surface had changed, no one noticed how your heart rate picked up every time Peter touched you, or how you suddenly felt hot whenever he winked at you. But inside your heart was navigating uncharted territory in your friendship, trying to traipse along the thin line that separated how things have always been and how you suddenly wish things could be.

Pulling your textbook out of your locker, you shut the locker door a just a little bit more aggressively than necessary. MJ gave you a small hug before linking her arm through yours as you walked to your next class.

For the rest of the day, you found it impossible to focus on anything. Instead of taking down notes on George Orwell in English, you found yourself absentmindedly doodling hearts. Everything just reminded you of Peter and your own confusing feelings. Thankfully, you didn’t share any classes with him today, leaving you enough solitude to think about just why you were so frustrated with yourself.

Logically, you knew there was nothing wrong with having a crush on someone. You’ve had plenty of crushes before, a few of which reflected a temporary lapse in judgement on your part. You remember telling Peter about each of them, gushing about the most basic acts of human decency as he rolled his eyes and told you that you deserve someone better, but nevertheless helping you pick up the pieces every time someone broke your heart. That, you realized, was what scared you the most.

If you were to date, and then break up… well who would be there with kind words and your favorite boba when everything fell apart? The thought of losing your best friend over emotions, feelings, left far too much to chance. Was the idea of holding his hand, of hearing him call you his enough to make you risk the friendship that has always been enough for you? It should be enough for you, you reminded yourself. There was too much on the line and not enough guarantee for you to risk it.

With that determination in mind, you steeled yourself for the rest of the day, determined to put your feelings to rest and go back to normal.

Unfortunately, that plan quickly fell through.

You got to the restaurant a half hour late with only a really good nap to blame. You felt bad that your friends were waiting for you, but when you got there, you found an empty spot next to Peter, where your usual order of ramen was waiting and against your will, the butterflies flew rampant. The noodle that hit Peter’s nose as he ate while waving you over made you laugh as you sat down beside him.

“I got you your usual,” Peter explained in between bites. You smiled and thanked him before digging in. Peter had done this for you many times, and you willed your body to fight against the flutter of your heart.

Thankfully, the rest of your dinner was going well, and everyone had plenty of stories to tell. MJ had begun doing more portraits of people in distress and revealed her latest piece -- a portrait of Peter slurping up a noodle only to get a rogue drop of soup in his eye. Ned and Betty were off again, but of course they tried to keep it civil (they were on again by the end of the night) so no one would have to pick sides. Flash teased Peter about the B that he made on his literature exam yesterday over poetry and Peter’s face turned beet red.

“Hey,” Peter began, attempting to defend himself. “I totally could’ve made a perfect score. I was just distracted.” He shrunk down in his seat a little bit, and the rest of you laughed teasingly.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Flash continued. “You’ve been drawing little hearts all over your notes, dude, it’s unsettling.” He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his food, swirling his fork around the bowl trying to grab as much noodle as possible.

Across the table, you and MJ made eye contact, a look of surprise between the both of you. You tried to signal her to say something before a weird silence fell on the table, but she was not reading your cues. Thankfully, Peter spoke again.

“H-hearts?” He repeated. “Why would I be drawing hearts on my notes?” Although he tried to play it off, the rise in pitch gave him away. He scrunched his face in exaggeration.

“Actually,” Betty began. “Now that I think about it, you were doing that in Spanish class too.” You glanced over at Peter who looked at you with panic in his eyes. You took a long sip of water, suddenly feeling a layer of sweat form at the back of your neck. “Wonder what that’s about.” She shrugged and turned to Ned asking if he wanted to split a slice of cheesecake with her.

Before Peter had a chance to try to defend himself once again, the waitress appeared. “Are you all ready for the check?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we’re splitting the check,” Flash replied. Betty rolled her eyes in response. “What? Just because I’m rich does not mean I have to share the wealth.”

The waitress nodded in response. As she was leaving Peter called her back. “Oh wait,” he called. “I’ll also be paying for this order,” he gestured to your bowl. She smiled at him and headed for the counter.

“Peter,” you smiled. “I have money, I can pay for myself.” Although Peter usually had to order for you, he didn’t usually pay for you, unless it was a special occasion.

“I know, I just wanted to be nice,” he responded, giving your shoulder a playful nudge. “Plus, you seem like you’ve had a rough week. Every time I see you, you seem to be lost in thought. What’s been on your mind?” The sentence came out casually, but the furrow in his brows revealed how concerned he actually has been. Peter was nothing if not observant, like he could sense things better than most people.

You let out a sigh, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to lie to Peter, but you also didn’t want to tell him the truth, that you were thinking about him-- well, your feelings for him. Just when it seemed like he had backed you into a corner, however, the waitress had returned with the checks, and the question left unanswered.

After dinner, the six of you went to Flash’s house to watch a movie. He had a home theater and early access to new movies and he loved to remind everyone of that. Not that any of you minded, especially if it got you free popcorn and a movie out of it. Every week, a different person got to select the movie and today, unfortunately, was MJ’s turn.

You loved her, of course, but you absolutely detested her taste in movies. Mostly because she was a horror junkie, and you were absolutely not. Her last few turns however had been spent making sure you all had seen all of the Shrek movies. But today, she picked a horror film. Something about demons and the like. Peter and Betty cheered at her selection as Flash groaned. You settled into the couch in the back of the room and grabbed a blanket. Ned and Betty sat together on a smaller loveseat, and MJ sat on the floor in front of Flash’s seat, the perfect spot to be able to scare him with a single touch on his leg.

Peter sat down beside you, handing you a tub of popcorn and a soda. He pulled the blanket over his own lap as he sat criss-cross on the couch. You tried not to pay attention to how his leg was brushing against yours under the blanket, instead focusing on the screen as the room went dark.

The movie had just started, but you could already feel yourself tense up in expectation.The music was coming to a crescendo and you knew something was already going to happen. You didn’t realize just how tightly your fists had balled together in your lap till you jumped at the sound of Peter’s soft voice at the shell of your ear. “Are you okay?” He asked.

He tried to hold in a chuckle as you almost bounced the tub of popcorn off your lap. He grabbed it from you and set it to the side. “Look,” he pointed to the screen where the creature’s head had just rotated a full circle as it crawled up the wall in pursuit of the main character. “That thing kinda looks like the spider from that kid’s tv show, but not as creepy.” You let out a laugh, a little louder than you meant, and Ned turned to tell you to shut up.

The small joke was enough to dissipate the anxiety you felt towards the movie, but unfortunately only heightened your feelings about Peter. But he noticed how your fists unclenched and how your shoulders relaxed once you laughed, so he continued to tell you whispered jokes for the rest of the movie. Each time he noticed your body tensing, he tried his best to make you laugh, and god, how could you stop yourself from those butterflies anymore?

At the height of the movie, you found yourself with your hands over your ears, and eyes squeezed shut, unable to even look at the screen or hear a joke. When Peter realized a joke wouldn’t be enough, he slid closer to you and pulled you into his side and you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Before you had a chance to think about the spicy notes of his cologne or the softness of his skin, the sound of a high pitched scream in the movie caused you to jump with a gasp. In response, Peter wrapped his arms around you tight, with a gentle shush.

It was only after the music began to die down that you opened your eyes again, only to find Peter’s eyes fixed on the screen. Now that the worst was over, you no longer had an excuse to be in his embrace the way you were. You began to wiggle your way out of his arms, attracting his attention.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Peter I’m a big kid,” you smiled, teasing. “You don’t have to hold me like a baby.” Peter let out a soft laugh before relaxing his hold on you just a bit.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll just hold you like this then.” He began to shift so that your head was on his shoulder, and one of his arms looped under yours, intertwining your fingers. The smile on his face was calm as if this was something the two of you did all the time, but his racing heartbeat reminded you this was something new.

The two of you remained that way for the rest of the movie. By the time the soft music began to play in the credits, you could hear light snoring from everyone else in the room. However, you and Peter made absolutely no efforts to untangle yourselves from each other. It was as if you were worried that once the lights came back on, you would never find yourself like this again, and what a sad idea that was. Normal, would never be enough for you again, not when you know now how much better life could be like this.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the jump scares, or the sureness of his hand in yours, like it’s always belonged there, that gave you the courage to finally break the silence.

“Peter,” you breathed out, lifting your head from his shoulder, but not letting go of his hand.

He turned to you, with a look of concern, afraid of what you might say.

“Kiss me.” The words came out so softly and so quickly that you weren’t sure if you said it at all.

“Finally,” he whispered as his lips fell against yours, softly and slowly. He pulled away after what felt like hours and yet not nearly enough time. His hands reached up to cup your face. “I like you,” he admitted. “So much.”

Suddenly, you felt it. You felt exactly what it must feel like to fly, to let yourself go without worrying about gravity or anything else. The risks were still there, the numbers hadn’t changed, but you knew that no matter what happened next, just having the chance to fly would always be enough.

#peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter #peter parker #peter parker headcanon #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #i don’t know if the read more will work but uh i’ll fix it tomorrow #it’s like 4 am but i couldn’t leave this unfinished

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disasterlesbiansunite · 3 years

Text

Just Two Things: A Young Royals Fix-It Fic

His mama had stood over him as she began talking. Wilhelm could hardly focus; the vision of the video (his video, his and Simon’s video, the video of Simon) burned into his brain on a constant loop. She hadn't asked him if he was alright, not yet, but he had stopped expecting her to early on in life. Duty first, he guessed, as usual. She pulled away and off the bed, rattled off the words about the interview he’ll do to protect the royal family et cetera, et cetera.

“I don’t want you to see Simon for the time being,” she said, and he glanced up, suddenly feeling like his world is fell away underneath him. He wished Erik were here, that Erik was still alive. If he were, then maybe this would all go away. He doubted any of it could now.

August brought him dinner that night when he’s too exhausted to even leave his bed. He said that Erik would want Wille to be himself - but how is August so sure of what Erik would want him to do to fix this, to just get this whole shitshow over with, when the only person who knows that is six feet under.

“Follow your heart, really.” August said. “Follow your heart.”

If anything his heart only thought of two things at the moment. One is the crumpled up rage he feels that’s been broiling under his skin since he saw the video; the screaming, panicked wild thing that wants to shout at the world and watch it shouts back until no part of him remains, no crown prince, nothing.

The other part of his brain thought of Simon. Holding him, soft and warm until his skin, kissing his neck and inhaling as much of him as possible. Kissing him, kissing Simon, an exhilarating feeling he can’t describe, he won’t ever be able to describe. Almost all of the girls he had kissed had kissed gently and slowly, like they were afraid he would disappear right next to them. It always felt like he was being kissed by air, a ghostly possession that was over in a second and just as uncomfortable.

He would have thought that Simon would kiss like that, he had thought Simon would kiss like that, Simon had kissed like that, before they really truly got to know one another. Now, Simon kissed hard and rough, like he knew Wilhelm wouldn’t disappear but just as quick, aware he couldn’t have him by himself ever. Simon’s kiss had the edge of sandpaper, tough grit and fine smoothness rolled into one. Simon kissed for the sake of it, like there was so much he wanted to do to Wille, do with Wille, that he simply couldn’t function enough to do anything but kiss him. Wille fell asleep soon after that, dinner discarded. He wondered if the last time they would ever kiss would be the time that caused both of him to want to recoil from society and away from the world. A part of him hoped so.

The nail on his thumb was raw and bleeding.

As he walked through Hillerska, everyone stared at him in pity. He was used to the stares, used to the way his simple presence shut up people around until all they could do was give him a dumb look. It was pity that was new to him, but he tried not to focus on that as Malin rushed with him to his first class of the day. He knew the things they were saying, drove himself insane as he googled himself over and over again, watching Sweden’s trending page unravel until it felt like it was all over. He watched as Simon walked into their classroom, turning heads for once in his life. Once except for the amount of times he had his, of course. He mindlessly made small talk with his classmate, but all he could think of were two things.

After class he rushed into the locker room to talk to Simon. He looked sullen, his features that were generally framed in a light source of their own were moody and dark, an awkward, ill fitting portrait. He wanted to kiss it all away. Instead, kicked at Simon’s foot, hooking the two into a game of footsie.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Simon asked, wrapping his hands around Wilhelm’s, as if he had any of the answers. Breaking news, he didn’t. All he could do was sit in silence and hold Simon, it felt like the only thing he could do. Unless…

“They’ve asked me to deny it was me in that video.” He could barely get the words out.

“Serious?”

Wille hummed, unable to interpret that reaction. “They want me to make a statement at the castle on Saturday.”

Simon turned, his head moving off of Wille's shoulder in a way that feels entirely unwelcome. Put that back please. Wille had realized that he could only really function anymore in Simon’s arms. As if he wasn’t touch starved enough, but Simon was hot and didn’t mind so it didn’t really matter. “But you’re not going to do it, right?”

“I don’t want to say anything.” Simon doesn’t get it, but Wilhelm doesn’t expect him too; too impossible to explain.

“But, Wille, everyone can see that it’s me in that video,” Wille groaned. He had forgotten that slightly important detail. Simon continued, “What am I supposed to do? But no matter what, they can’t dictate what you say,” Yes, they absolutely can, they’ve done it before.

We haven’t done anything wrong.” He had forgotten that too, spending so much time yesterday going over consequences and contingencies ranging from plan A to Z it made his head bled. But no one had actually told him that they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even August, with his love is love attitude that came out of nowhere. Not even fucking him.

Mama had been waiting for him. Mama had met Simon. She never looked twice at Wilhelm, veiled disdain souring her mouth as she stared out the window.

“What? Why can’t I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.” He knows why. He just wants to hear her say it.

“You’re the crown prince.” And there’s the world crashing back down onto him. “And that’s a privilege, not a punishment.” It’s both actually, but whatever, mama.

“Yes, but I didn’t ask for this!” Erik should be here. Erik would know what to do.

“Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this,” his mama shot back. He feels like a little kid again, feels like biting his thumb raw. “You’re the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don’t you understand that?” He wished she would just look at him.

“You’re so young. When you’re young love feels like the most important thing in the world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance.” He wants to laugh or cry or release that panicked, clawed, anxious feeling that’s always been trapped underneath his chest, beating his heart faster and faster and faster. Unfortunate romance, she said, like Simon isn’t the best thing to happen to him, like Simon wasn’t the only one holding him together, like Simon wasn’t the only real thing in his world.

He snapped back into the conversation.“Is it worth it,” she continued. “If you feel that the attention you’ve been getting so far is unacceptable, it’s nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up. I urge you to take this chance. You may not get another.”

With Simon on one shoulder, and his mama and the world on the other, it turns out he was going to make the statement after all. Fucking great.

He felt like throwing up, but, to be fair, when hasn’t he.

“Are you ready?” His mama asked, like he could ever be ready to announce to the world, no that definitely was not me in that tape and that boy is definitely not the love of my life, thank you very much.

He dragged his feet, as he went into the room where Rosenqvists sits. Like Mama said, they only have one chance to not fuck this up.

Rosenqvist smiles at Wilhelm, her eyes hawkish. He musters as much of a smile as he can, playing with the buttons on his suit as the photographer directs the two around.

“It’s good to see you again, your highness.”

His eyes darted around the room. He could hear his mama and papa argue in the room they were in

“You too.”

The interview began then, menial questions about his existence that made him want to bite at his thumb. He resisted, knew that if Rosenqvist saw how his anxiety was surging through him like a freight train and mentioned it in her interview, his mama would be more angry then she already was. The questions are simple really, he barely thought about the answers and more about how Erik would have phrased them. Not like Erik would have been in this situation.

“So, Wilhelm, we both know why we’re here.” She smiled apologetically at him. Here we go. “As you are, no doubt, aware of by now there was a video from Hillerska that is going viral of what is rumored to be yourself and another male student,” she paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the what she’s about to say to a boy she’d been interviewing for most of his life, “being intimate. What do you have to say about these rumors, Crown Prince Wilhelm?” She’s less probing, then. He can tell his mom already prepped her on how exactly this interview needed to go. Fuck.

“That’s not-” his words got stuck in his throat.

“That’s not you in the video?” She filled, looking more and more saddened with each word, more maternal that he thinks he’s seen anyone in his entire life. He wanted to nod, wanted to do what his mama wanted for him, wanted to listen to what she feels is best for their country, because it is theirs now, isn’t it? Erik is dead and gone and never coming back no matter how much Wilhelm wishes he had been able to keep him alive. Wilhelm doesn’t exactly know much about what it takes to be king, not like Erik did, but he’s pretty sure a leaked tape is one thing a king is not supposed to have on his record. Wilhelm should want to deny the rumors, so why does it feel like every time he tries to open his mouth that it’s filled with cotton, that panicked wild thing grabbing hold of his brain and shaking it like his snowglobe. It’s begging him to choose the path of least resistance. And then there was Simon. Simon with his pretty soft voice and his even softer lips. Simon with his kind eyes and hands and just Simon, Simon, Simon. Simon, who has already been broken by the video and if Wilhelm denies their relationship then he’ll only break more. The only things he can think about. Just two things. Two things he can’t seem to choose between.

He took a deep breath. Erik would have wanted him to follow his heart, would have said that that would be how he becomes a great king. By being kind and good, and wholly himself.

He chose.

Simon’s mama shouts for a rematch as he laughed into his snack.

Ayub tensed next to him, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s up?” Simon asked, confused. Did his dad ask him to go home or something?

Instead, Ayub read from his phone: an online copy of this week’s Göteborgs-Posten screenshotted and reposted to Twitter. “The Crown Prince addresses rumors of Viral Video.”

“What?” He could have sworn Willie had said he wouldn’t do the interview. His mom and Sara exchange glances.

Ayub read on, “While the Royal Court denies rumors that the Crown Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week, his royal highness Prince Wilhelm goes more in depth on his time at Hillerska and the events surrounding the video. He says, ‘I started at Hillerska to focus on my studies and have kept to that.’ At this moment, the prince pauses and grows quiet.

‘That’s not the entire truth. The truth is that that is me in the video. I do not know who took it or why but the facts remain the same. There are many people who would want me to not address the rumors surrounding me at this time, and some even would want me to outright deny them, but I disagree. If I am to be king, and no matter what happens from this I will be king, I want to be the kind of king the people can be proud of, the kind of king my brother would have been, and the kind of king that if he saw me he’d be proud of. And that starts by being genuine and being myself to the citizens of Sweden and to the world.’ ‘Everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want,’ says the Crown Prince. ‘And I suppose the former includes me, but I would still like this time to decide further who I am and what kind of king I will be.’”

Simon is stunned. Of all things, he didn’t think of this as even an option. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

To Wille: just read the interview, what. the. fuck.

From Wille: Is that a good “what. the. fuck!!!” or a “bad what. the. fuck?!?”

To Wille: you’re so brave, wille, thank you

To Wille: also according to ayub youre trending as “gay king wilhelm” on twitter rn

From Wille: Fuck yeah, bow down to your king. Meet me before school starts tomorrow, courtyard?

To Wille: see you then, gay king willie

As Simon approached the school - having already been stopped by four journalists, three photographers, two nosy neighbors and one blogger - he could see as Wille nervously paced at the edge of the courtyard, his hand rubbed deep into his chest, shirt creasing around it. Simon couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened in the palace after Wille’s interview. From what he saw the queen didn’t really strike him as the accepting type, but that was one of those things he’d let Wille discuss on his own time. He snuck up behind Wille instead, held his arms and kissed his neck.

“Hello, my prince,” he said and twirled Wille around and into his arms. Wille let out a little sigh of relief and if he could have held Willie there for forever he would. Wille smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek.

“Can we just go one day Simon without having your weird relationship issues making a scene,” Sara huffed past and quickened her pace to the school. Simon hadn’t noticed the stares, it felt like everyone in the courtyard had been watching them from Felice to August to other boarders Simon couldn’t name, but that had definitely called him names. Simon can’t bring himself to care anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, Wille.” Wilhelm let out a little noise, the only amount of negative emotion that being schooled on refinement since before he could talk would allow. He grabbed at Simon’s coat and drew him in for a hug.

“I love you,” Wille said and suddenly Simon’s whole world had shrunk down to three words.

Wille quickly ended the hug and walked towards the school, his bodyguards following quick after. Simon speed walked up to him and grabbed his hand, “I love you too.” Wille broke out into that tiny golden smile Simon loved to tease out and grabbed Simon’s hand.

The stares followed but Simon didn’t care. “Just two things left,” he said, “Get through this last day before break and then find whoever took that video.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,”

Wille hummed and played with Simon’s as they settled at the doorway of their first class of the day, “You might want to work on your plans.”

“No, my plan only needs those two things.” Simon messied with Wilhelm’s hair and strolled into the classroom.

Wille followed after one hand fixing his hair, the other clutching at Simon’s hand, muttering, “Just two things?”

Just two things.

#if this is bad im sorry #young royals netflix #young royals #wilhelm x simon #fic writing #yes they are my comfort characters #after like two days #character study #myownfics

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angelamajiki · 3 years

Note

Can I request something?!

We try to escape Overhaul but he catches us but as a punishment seeing as we don't like him he gives us to Rappa so he can do what he wants to us for a week and in the end we go back to him and he has you never wanting to even step out your room.

Is that fine? Anyways stay safe, drink water, wear a mask, and keep up the great work!

PARINGS: Rappa x AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, watersports, noncon, facefucking, teasing, manhandling, scumbag rappa

AN: thank you nonnie!! <33

Kai had caught you trying to escape. Or rather, Rappa was the one who actually caught you, laughing and jeering at your cries and the pounding of your small fists on his back. Your captor was not amused in the slightest as his henchman emerged into his office with you tucked a little too snuggly over his shoulder.

“Caught your lil’ scrub tryin’ to escape, boss.” Rappa cackled, sitting you down on the chair in front of the yakuza leader’s desk. “Damn, does she squeal like a pig.”

He clapped his hand over your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. The man had taken a liking towards you, meaning to say that he enjoyed watching Kai dole out punishments for when you tried to escape or otherwise upset him, which wasn't hard to do.

“Yes, she does.” Kai sighed, brows furrowed deeply in irritation. “What am I going to do with you, pet? Do I not provide for you, care for you? How can I get you to behave, hm?”

Tapping a finger against his forehead, he signed and closed his eyes, slumping back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.

“I’ll never stop trying to escape because anywhere else is better than being here with you, Overhaul.” You spat venomously, squirming under Rappa’s tight grip. The man behind you just chuckled darkly.

“Say, boss...if the little lady here is so unhappy with you, why don't you put her on loan to someone for the time being? Let ‘em show her how good you are to her, eh?”

Kai quirked a brow at Rappa, immediately picking up what he was throwing down. He had half a mind to punish Rappa as well for his blatant display of insubordination and to dare to think he’d willingly give up his precious pet to him like she was a mere stray.

Ah, but the man did have a point. His pet needed to be taught how kind her master is, and Rappa is the perfect opposition to do so. A degenerate at heart, his underling, was rowdy, filthy, and above all, a bigger sadist than Kai was.

He knew the man loved nothing more than to watch him spank the poor thing until she was a sobbing, blubbering mess of “I’m sorry, Kai!” gasping and panting for air like she was on the verge of death. What a drama queen he had on his hands. But he treated you like a queen nonetheless, but your attitude was simply out of control at this point.

“I think Rappa’s right, dear. Why don't you spend the week with him? Take a break from me if I’m so intolerable.”

Ice ran through your veins as Rappa unceremoniously scooped you up from your chair, opting to throw you over his shoulder. Kai’s chuckle and Rappa’s jeers mixed with your protests as you squirmed and squealed in his monstrous grasp.

“I thought you said anywhere else would be better than being with me. Remember, this is the choice you made, darling.”

“Rappa, you're dismissed.”

With a wave of a gloved hand, your fate was sealed. The bulkier man nodded and smacked a large hand over your ass.

“You and me? We're gonna have some fun, little piggy.” ——— •

Settled on Rappa’s bed, if you could call a sparsely covered mattress that hadn't been washed in god knows how long a bed, your nerves were set ablaze watching the man undress. And he certainly made a show of it, flexing his muscles and winking at you all the while.

“Like what ya see, sweets?” He groaned, striking a pose in front of you in nothing but a wife-beater and a pair of boxers. Oogling couldn't be helped; the man was built like Adonis. Strong, fierce, and big. Much, much bigger than you were.

“I hope so, cause I definitely do.” He smirked, licking his lips as he stalked over to you. “Don’t ya about a thing, little piggy. Papa’s gonna take real good care of ya”

Climbing over you, he pinned you to the mattress with one hand and used the other to feel you up.

“Yeesh, yer stiff as a board. Maybe a little game will help loosen you up, piggy.”

Fingers crawled their way up to your torso and to your mouth, leaving a searing heat in their wake. His fingers snatched your tongue from your mouth, shoving themselves down your throat to choke you.

“This little piggy wants to choke on my cock.”

His insenstant cooing and grinning had your stomach turning in knots, helping the fingers in your throat gag you even further. The thumb pressed down on your tongue before spitting a glob down your throat.

“This little piggy wants to be squeezed real tight.”

The sing-song tone in his voice only served to heighten your fear. Of course, the bastard thought this was all a game to him and you his toy.

His grin only got wider as his hand crept down your throat and ghosted itself there, barely touching before lunging. A panicked yip flew from your mouth as he pinned you by your throat.

There was hardly any pressure, just a cage of fingers keeping you locked into his impossibly firm grip. The hand was more than large enough to circle your neck. You smell the grim on his fingers, the labor of his love for the Shie Hassaikai.

“Almost got ya, piggy!” He teased, licking a long strip up your cheek. God, his breath stunk.

“Keep up now; the fun’s just starting.”

His fingers seemed to leave a trail of grime as they traveled down to your exposed breasts. They groped and gripped at your tender flesh without finesse or technique. So rough and worn from all the fighting he does. Your right tit was cupped in his hand before he gave it a hard squeeze.

“This little piggy wants to be milked.”

Onto your left, giving your nipple a good tug and pinch.

“This little piggy wants to be sucked.”

Your squeals and cries only made him laugh harder, grunting when you squirmed against the leg in between your thighs.

“Aw, is baby girl gonna cry? Cause I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Every touch of the pads from his fingers made you even sicker than before. You could feel every place he touched, the disgusting filth they left in their wake. The continued down your stomach, stopping to tickle you softly on your sides.

“W-What are you doing?!”

Your laughter couldn't be contained as he got rougher and rougher, chuckling along with you as he pressed his face close to yours.

“Stop it! I-I’m going to pee!”

“Good. That's what I like to hear.” He grunted, pressing his elbow hard into your bladder all while tickling you. Shame and piss flushed out of you as he groaned, grinding his knee up against your wet, sloppy cunt.

“Look at that! Piggy’s finally rolling around in filth where pigs belong.”

“I can't wait to make a mess of you.”

Humiliation flushed your face and your body, feeling even more disgusted as you felt your own piss on your lower body.

Rappa stood up and took a good look at you, admiring his handy work. A flushed, tearful expression that could be fucked up even more, his favorite face to see. Especially on someone as beautiful as you.

Sitting you up, he sat behind you and took your hair into two separate ponytails before trying them off.

“There, perfect for gripping.”

A rough push landed you on the floor, naked and afraid. One hand grabbed both your ponytails at the same time and steered you to be seated facing his crotch.

“Open wide, piggy.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough for one evening.

“Are you deaf? Open up, you bratty little bitch. Don't make me ask again unless ya fancy fighting me instead.”

Now that was a truly horrifying thought. The man could quickly kill you with a single punch and let Overhaul bring you back to life, only to do it again and again. Those men, especially Kai, had no qualms about taking your life when you decided to misbehave.

Considering your choices, you cut your losses and nodded, opening your mouth slowly and braced yourself for a brutal facefucking.

The man sunk himself into your throat, sitting there when he bottomed out. His hips twitched as you choked and gagged around his massive dick.

“Yeah.” He groaned, pulling out only to slam back in. “That's what I’m talkin’ about. Finally got ya to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Hips thrusting, he set a brutal pace into your mouth. Heavy balls slapped against your chin as your spit and tears made a mess of your face. He paid no mind to your shaking and struggling, only moaning when you choked particularly hard.

“Guess I gotta let ya up to breathe, huh piggy?”

Pulling himself out, he gave you a few seconds to cough and gulp in the air before nudging his way back into your warm, wet mouth.

“Can’t spoil you too much now.” He chuckled.

One hand gripping each ponytail, he tugged them tight and fucked your mouth with vigor. His hips slammed against your cheeks, sure to leave bruises as they started to sputter.

“Y-You’re just so cute, piggy. I can’t last long when you look at me like that.” He grunted, pulling your hair even tighter.

His cock hurt your throat horribly. You could feel the burn of every stroke and spasm into your mouth, tears streaming down your face even more from the pain. Your hair felt like it was going to be ripped out from the sheer amount of strength he was pulling it with.

His thrusts increased in pace as he chased his orgasm, opting to hold the back of your head flush against his crotch when he finally did cum. Making sure to swallow every last drop, Rappa didn't let you up until he was completely finished.

“Such a good girl for Papa.” Rappa jeered, picking you up off the floor by the throat and pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth.

Tossed onto the bed, he spread your legs wide and pressed a thumb to your dripping hole.

“And this little piggy wants to get fucked all night long.”

#yandere rappa #yandere rappa x reader #rappa #rappa x reader #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere mha #mha #yandere bnha #bnha #yandere x reader #yandere

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

I kinda find it funny how, if Ed didn't break up with Bella and then chase after Victoria in NM, we might not have gotten the events of Eclipse. Girl was just vibing with her makeshift "guards," and he had to mess it all up by having her see how newborn armies work and inspire her. Do you think Vic would've still would've gone after Bella if not for NM's events (and how it'd go down)? Cause low key I think it's funnier if she wasn't a danger but Ed made her into one jfksaldjf.-Sw

I think she would have.

True, Victoria comes up with the newborn army scheme after Edward chases her down to Mexico, but she also doesn't use it right away. She tests the waters in Forks for a very long time before she decides to invade.

In other words I, sigh, agree with Edward on this: Victoria was coming back to murder Bella Swan in vengeance no matter what was happening.

Without the newborn army, however, things would have played out very differently.

A Bit on the Romantic Tragedy Penned by Edward Cullen

First, a note, Edward had always intended to leave Bella. From the moment he realized he was in love with her he told himself that he would one day leave her. It was just a matter of when.

In Twilight, he's torn. He knows he shouldn't be a part of her life, that bringing her into his world almost necessitates her becoming a vampire, but he also really doesn't want to let her go. He doesn't think he's strong enough to do it.

And as Bella keeps getting herself into danger he gives himself more and more excuses.

If he's not there, then Bella will get crushed by a van or raped in an alley or eaten by bears. Her number's up, and Edward is single handedly fighting fate to keep this angel alive.

Bella needs Edward, therefore he can't possibly go.

The birthday party put things back into perspective. Edward's family is the most dangerous threat to Bella there is, Edward himself really may lose control one day and devour her, and unless she turns (which Edward absolutely does not want) then she has no future with him.

The family has to leave now.

However, if there's no birthday party, then Edward doesn't have that catalyst and reminder. He likely decides to himself that he will leave Bella after graduation, his family will move towns, Bella will attend whichever university she attends, and he will have had a few wonderful years with Bella pretending he's a regular high school boy dating a regular high school girl.

When Bella then dies a natural human death sometime later, Edward will go to Volterra and kill himself (and force the Volturi's hand when Aro refuses to do it).

Of course, he'd probably break here too, but that's a different story.

I do think without Jasper's slip up and the birthday party, that Edward would have stuck around for New Moon.

The World Without Bella's Birthday Party

Bella throws the fit she didn't in canon.

She doesn't want this birthday party, she never asked for this birthday party, AND WHY DOES BELLA ALWAYS HAVE TO HUMOR ALICE?!

Bella has had a summer filled with Alice. In canon, this was a delight, in this world Bella realizes that maybe they spend most of their time doing what Alice wants to do rather than what Bella wants to do.

Alice is clearly throwing this party for Alice's sake, everyone knows it, and Edward tells her, "Please humor my sister and be a good sport."

Isn't this party supposed to be about Bella?

Alice is terribly upset and does not handle any of this well, Edward tells Bella to be reasonable and be the better person and give Alice this party, Rosalie thinks this is all petty bullshit but has mild respect for Bella on calling Alice out on this, and Carlisle is rubbing his temples somewhere trying to let the children deal with this themselves.

In the end, they compromise, Bella's birthday is Edward taking her out to dinner at an expensive restaurant in Seattle of Alice's choice, Bella wearing a fancy Chanel dress that Alice selected for her.

Bella's still embarrassed and miserable, but at least there aren't a billion pink candles.

As a result, there's no birthday party, no papercut, and no dumping.

The next several months instead are spent with Bella and Alice in a battle of wills and a real rough spot in their friendship. Bella tries to explain to Edward that Alice treats her like a doll, not a person.

Edward, of course, has no idea what she's talking about.

Bella fails to realize that Edward also treats her like a doll and not a person.

Laurent's Scouting Mission

As in canon, Laurent is probably sent by Victoria to scout. Victoria probably never left the area which means (remember this is book universe where Riley was in California) that she never turned Riley.

Without being all over the Forks area killing hikers, probably fewer wolves are turned. Yes, the Cullens are in the area, but they've been there three years, are very non-threatening, and in that time only Sam shifted.

We don't see the deluge of shifting until after the Cullens have left and Victoria starts actively attacking the area.

(Yes, this is worthy of a meta but that meta is not this meta)

Regardless, Laurent shows up, Sam's not sure if he's one of those friends of the Cullens or not, and Laurent walks in to see that all the Cullens are there.

Just like he expected.

Because Victoria has sent him to die.

Carlisle feels a headache coming on but is not shocked to see that Laurent's eyes are red again after only a few months. (Though this explains the sobbing phone call that Carlisle got from Irina asking if he'd seen Laurent because that beautiful, perfect, man has gone missing!)

Laurent provides some weasley bullshit explanation anyway. He asks, though it's really more of a demand, that he join the Cullen coven (much larger than the Denali, very gifted, and very powerful). Carlisle says no, Laurent has to stick to the diet if he joins the coven and he has to mean it. Given Laurent's current appearance, it seems as if Laurent is not willing to do that.

Laurent then begs them to let him stay: Victoria will murder him otherwise (and oh by the way she's after your Lunchable Bella Swan). That gets Edward into action, he demands Laurent's death and that he then hunt down Victoria personally.

Carlisle politely suggests that Laurent, rather than seek shelter from them who he knows Victoria intends to cross paths with, go back to the Denali and give the diet another whirl.

Laurent flees back to the Denali, Irina is ecstatic to see him. Victoria's not even surprised.

The family discusses what to do about Victoria. Carlisle would rather not hunt this woman down on hearsay alone. Jasper thinks they should have killed her to start and letting her escape was foolishness, he told them she'd be back. Edward for once is with Jasper, Victoria must be destroyed before she can harm Bella. They look to Alice and, yeah, there's a good possibility that Victoria will be back.

Edward is torn between hunting down Victoria and protecting Bella in person. Jasper leaves before he can make the decision, which of course angers Edward beyond belief, but, well, he guesses it is what it is.

Edward decides to not tell Bella that a vampire is after her life: it'll just worry her.

Jasper's Hunting Mission

Jasper likely has a devil of a time catching Victoria, as he did the first time, because of her gift. He ends up having very long phone calls with Alice as he tries to coordinate a successful solution to this.

Because Edward never left Bella, she never sought out Jake. She never forms her friendship with Jake nor realizes the secret behind the shapeshifters.

Billy tries to give Bella a few more ominous warnings but there's no getting through to this girl.

Edward never proposes to Bella because he's intent on leaving her after graduation. He does not tell Bella this though she constantly worries about it.

He assures her they can have a long distance relationship at college (he has no such intentions).

Victoria is kept out of the Forks area by Jasper and likely takes the one obvious route left to her. She has nothing left to live for, and it doesn't matter how much terror she lives in the Volturi, if this means her death then so be it.

She goes to the Volturi and narks on the Cullens.

Victoria Narks

It... does not go as planned.

Aro placates Caius with many excuses: this girl is in her primary schooling, is the only daughter of a police chief, she cannot simply disappear.

Carlisle is likely waiting until after she graduates and can disappear across the country.

And yes, technically this James fellow had bit Bella and they had their perfect chance but... Well, Aro will talk to Carlisle, it is not breaking the law yet.

Aro travels to Forks in person with Renata, shows up on Carlisle's doorstep, and says, "We need to talk."

Aro lays down the law, this girl better be turned after graduation, and Aro can only stall Caius so long. Also, great to see you, you built yourself a coven and that's perfectly marvelous.

Edward, of course, throws a fit but the law is the law and the law just visited them for tea. Aro makes it very clear that either Bella is turned, she dies, or Aro will have no choice to take adverse action against Edward at the very least (if not Carlisle and the rest of the Cullens).

Aro also points out this is an unsustainable relationship that's not good for anybody. Yes, it's too bad the girl has no choice, but they really should have thought of that before Edward walked around strongly hinting he wasn't human.

Edward insists they vote.

The vote doesn't go the way he likes.

Esme doesn't want Edward to live in misery after Bella dies, Rosalie doesn't like the idea of turning Bella but it appears they have no choice, Jasper (via conference call) doesn't want to be the one to eat Bella and it's stupid given the VOLTURI IS IN THE ROOM FOR THIS VOTE, and Carlisle notes that it appears Bella has no other option and at least this seems to be what she wants?

They will turn Bella after graduation.

Edward smashes a TV.

They tell Edward to tell Bella, it should come from him, Edward never does.

Instead, out of nowhere, he asks her to marry him and elope. They can live on a deserted island somewhere.

Bella thinks this is stupid and says no.

Edward dies inside.

Victoria Chooses Death

Victoria is out of options, the Volturi did not come through, and she wanders out of Volterra in a daze.

She guns it for Forks with Jasper hot on her tail. If there's one thing left for her, she will murder this Bella Swan before she dies. She fails, Jasper catches up to her in Forks and murders her.

No one tells Bella.

Graduation

After graduation, Carlisle picks Bella up. Bella has no idea what's happening, Carlisle assumes she does. Carlisle lays down the game plan, she's going to take a summer abroad before school starts, travelling with Alice, then both she and Alice will disappear in an accident.

Bella asks him to hold up, what the hell is he talking about?

Carlisle realizes with dull horror that Edward never told Bella. He awkwardly explains that the Volturi personally came to visit and, well, they have to turn Bella into a vampire.

He's very sorry.

Bella's very on board with this, she asks if it can be Edward that does it.

Carlisle says no, that's not a good idea.

They stare at each other.

Carlisle cannot believe Edward didn't tell her.

Edward and Bella do not get married nor does she have sex with him as a human.

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aquilaofarkham · 3 years

Photo

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought.

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️ Thank you so much for commissioning me!

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There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity.

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.”

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician.

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

“I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough.

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

#castlevania #castlevania spoilers #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #greta danesti #trephacard #trevorcard #my writing #*cvfic

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sanzoumon · 3 years

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70 RICKORTY PROMPTS pt 3!

Here we go again! Same things apply, warnings at the start of the prompts. Everything is bottom!Morty unless otherwise stated. Also some prompts are gen.

70, guys. 70! And here I thought I was out of ideas. Anyway you can tell the moments when I was super horny while coming up with ideas. Some of these prompts get detailed and long but as always feel free to play around with the ideas.

Also with some of these I had no idea where I was going with them so pfft.

MPreg. Post-Promortyus. Those parasites reflected their own feelings. Morty asks Rick about it, what they did and said. Long story short, after some pressing, Rick admits everything that parasite said was true, he loves Morty and wants to have a baby with him. Morty finds the idea appealing, to be honest. He thinks about being pregnant with Rick’s baby and loves it.

Angst. As they get older Rick starts becoming forgetful and develops dementia. Morty is with him through it all and Rick can feel his own brilliant mind fading away, it scares him. They still have sex but as time goes on Rick gets less and less lucid. Eventually Rick dies in his sleep one night.

Non-con. Thriller. On the Citadel. There’s a serial rapist and killer loose on the Citadel. He targets Morty’s. The Morty’s disappear for 3 days and turn up dead on the forth. The police know the culprit is a Rick, given the DNA left behind, but DNA doesn’t vary much between dimensions so it doesn’t help much. They call in a specialist, a Rick who understands people and specializes in Profiling. The culprit redressed the bodies, showing them reverence, he loves these Morty’s. Things become complicated when Profiler Rick’s Morty gets abducted. ((Criminal Minds inspired))

Hebephilia. This Rick is a straight up Hebephile and has tried to reject that part of him his whole life. Morty happens to be right in his strike zone. He even left his own Beth when she was 13, fearing he might go after her. He thought these urges would mellow out in his old age but being around Morty is a challenge. And now Morty is confessing he’s in love with Rick and that he’s attracted to older people. After resisting his whole life Rick finally gives in and feels like a piece of shit for it.

Prison. Dub-con. Rick and Morty get arrested and everyone wants Morty’s ass to make him his bitch. Rick isn’t about to let that happen, fighting off anyone who tries to lay a hand on Morty. But every time Rick leaves him alone someone tries something. So Rick does the only thing he can, after beating Morty’s assailant to a pulp, he takes Morty in front of other prisoners to show who he belongs to. Morty is freaked out but damn Rick is giving him pleasure he never knew existed. Everyone backs off Morty but he wants Rick to fuck him again and again.

Omegaverse. Everyone knew that Alpha’s were supposed to care for their Omega in exchange for the Omega’s submission. Rick doesn’t do the whole caring thing but due to the proximity they have Morty recognizes Rick as his Alpha and he wants to be cared for. Eventually Morty breaks down. This triggers Rick’s Alpha nature and he gives Morty all the affection he’s been craving. Rick fucks him slowly, gently, in a comforting way, to help calm him. Tells him how good he is, etc. Finally he knots Morty and Morty feels like he’s whole again.

Angst. Rick and Morty are goofing around, just having a good time. They end up with their faces close together and Rick kisses Morty. Morty doesn’t react well. Will he come around?

Morty is desperate to be with Rick. He just wants Rick to stay with him and he’ll let Rick do anything to him. Abuse him. Fuck him. Anything.

Anything based on the song “Pretty When You Cry” by VAST.

Morty has a kink for seeing Rick cry.

Morty likes the feel of Rick’s wrinkly and saggy skin. Sometimes he just messes with it because it feels nice.

Age Problems. For all his sexual prowess, Rick is still an old man and sometimes it’s hard for him to get it up. And it’s really humiliating and frustrating because he is horny and his dick just isn’t reacting. Morty doesn’t mind that much, it happens. Besides, Rick is still damn good with his hands.

Electro Play. Rick hooks up Morty to all sorts of sex toys. They all send electric shocks to his dick and asshole. Rick also uses a wand to shock Morty on his thighs. He also won’t let Morty cum. Eventually he fucks Morty while still shocking his dick.

Rick sends Morty to school with a vibrator in his ass. Throughout the day he turns the device on to make Morty squirm. By the time lunch period comes, Morty can’t stand it anymore. He finds Rick waiting in a bathroom stall, dick hard and waiting for Morty, looking smug. Morty practically jumps on Rick’s lap and Rick takes the vibrator out. Morty rides him and moans so loud it’s a wonder the whole school doesn’t hear.

Public Sex. They have a very specific kink for fucking in portable toilets, like you see in construction sites or during fairs. It’s so unsanitary and smells disgusting and anyone could hear them but that’s what makes it hot.

Feminization Kink. Morty has a kink for beating treated like a woman. Not crossdressing tho. He likes it when Rick calls him a bitch, his wife, princess, his ‘pretty little girl’, calling his asshole a pussy or other such things, calling his dick a clit, talking about knocking him up. Things like that. Morty likes holding his legs open, begging Rick to fuck his pussy.

Morty is a straight up slutty little cock whore for Rick’s cock. Loves riding it. Loves being plowed by it. If Morty has it his way he’d just live life with Rick’s cock in his ass.

Exhibitionism. Degradation. Rick takes Morty to a special club where public sex happens on a stage. Surrounded by a bunch of Rick’s they all hoot and holler, calling him a slut, a whore, offering his Rick money so they can fuck him, etc. Morty never cums so hard in his life.

On the Citadel. A Rick books a private lapdance with a Morty at the Creepy Morty. Like most strip clubs there’s a “look, don’t touch” rule. But for a bit of extra cash many of them will let you do more than just look. And Rick is so desperate for the sexy little Morty gyrating on his lap.

Mind Break. Rick fucks Morty hard and rough for so long that Morty can’t live without being fucked by Rick anymore. He just wants Rick to take care of him, feed him, bathe him, then fuck him like a cheap whore. Being a living sex doll for Rick is the best thing that ever happened to him.

Miami Rick x Miami Morty. Sometimes Rick’s enemies put their hands on Morty. Morty almost pities them. Almost. Rick practically runs the underworld in Miami and everyone knows Morty belongs to him. Sometimes Rick needs to remind everyone that he’s an amoral old bastard who fucks his grandson so good that the kid begs for it.

Miami Rick x Miami Morty. Branding. Morty isn’t blind, he knows his grandfather is a criminal and knows people will target him to get to Rick. Morty also notices that Rick brands the shit that belongs to him and that no one touches it. Morty asks Rick to brand him so he’ll be safe, that people will know they’ll have to cross Rick Sanchez if they touch him. After getting the brand his ass hurts so much but he’s so turned on by the knowledge that Rick owns him now. He begs Rick to fuck him. And who is Rick to deny his cute grandson?

Set during Close Rickounters. They’re filthy, tired, and stranded. Rick is aggravated with Zeep, who keeps riling Rick up. Being in close proximity to each other for months makes it awkward sometimes. Like when Morty gets turned on seeing Rick in just his tank top, violently attempting to craft something like a mad man. He looks absolutely feral and Morty can’t help but moan at the thought of Rick fucking him like that. Rick notices, of course, and he’s in such a frenzied state that he doesn’t think twice about using Morty as an outlet for his frustration. He fucks him raw, with little prep, scratches, bites, pulls his hair, spanks him, slaps his face, taunts him, even spits on him, utterly degrading Morty and treating him like a sex toy. And Rick looks, smells, and feels so gross and dirty that it drives Morty insane. He can’t believe it’s happening, that Rick didn’t even care to ask Morty if he wanted this or not (Morty does want it tho). To just be taken and used as a stress outlet? It’s the best.

ABO Kink. They’re not from an ABO dimension but they both sure as hell find it hot. Basically they’re normal but know of ABO dimensions so Rick roleplays as an Alpha and Morty an Omega.

Rick x Morticia. Breast Play. Morti has surprisingly large breasts under her baggy t-shirt. Something happens to their clothes on an adventure and Rick gets an eye full of what Morti’s been hiding. She’s ashamed and embarrassed by them. Rick doesn’t see why, she’s beautiful. Morti stares at him and he realizes he said that out loud. Morti moves her arms from her chest and, very shyly, shows Rick everything. Rick realizes this is an invitation to touch and he takes it. He has her moaning like a whore in seconds. The next morning Morti comes down stairs wearing a v-neck top, showing off a little cleavage. The family is surprised because Morti was always so ashamed before. Morti just says she got a little confidence recently and gives Rick a knowing look. Rick decides he’s definitely going to fuck her boobs later today.

Rick x Morticia. Pregnancy Kink. Rick wants to get his 14 year old granddaughter pregnant. Wants to see her waddle around, have her breasts swell up, and wants to see her walk around knowing that’s his child in her belly. He wants to keep her knocked up all the time, keep her locked up at home, barefoot and pregnant, taking care of all their kids. Putting in another baby as soon as the current one pops out. He wants to make her his little breeding slave. He wouldn’t, of course, one kid is already too much for them but it’s still hot to think about.

Cheating. Cuckolding. Morty goes out of his way to fuck other guys just to make Rick jealous. Rick comes home to find some guy plowing him and Rick goes ballistic. He never hurts the other guys, just violently tosses them out. Then he holds Morty down and fucks him to remind him that he belongs to Rick. And that’s what Morty is really after. He wants Rick to be possessive, to fear losing him. NOTE: This isn’t a cuckolding kink, Rick isn’t into being cucked.

Rick x Morty + Summer. Morty wants Summer to watch Rick fuck him and to make humiliating / degrading comments about him during it. She’s getting paid for it but she’d be lying if she said her panties didn’t get soaked during it. Seeing her baby brother get plowed by a huge cock belonging to their grandfather was pretty hot, especially when Morty started moaning like a slut. She starts grinding into the chair she’s sitting on and cums from it. Morty doesn’t notice but Rick does, even tho he didn’t say anything.

Gun Play. It’s an Earth gun, pretty archaic by Rick’s standards. But Morty wants him to fuck him at gun point with a loaded standard 9mm. Even gives the gun a blowjob. Morty’s such a little freak.

Casual Possessiveness. When they go out, adventure or not, Rick puts his hand on the back of Morty’s neck. A hand on his waist. Hand on his shoulder, pressed against Rick’s side. Morty loves the feeling of protection and Rick loves protecting his little Morty.

Slow dancing. Rick and Morty are at a party, dancing and having a good time, then the music slows down and people couple up. Morty laughs it off and turns to leave, but Rick offers his hand to him instead - an offer to keep dancing. Rick ends up being a pretty good dancer and Morty finds himself mesmerized by Rick in this moment.

Hurt/Comfort. Spooning. Rick has a nightmare and wanders into Morty’s room. He lays down next to him, with his back facing Morty. Morty notices and hears faint crying coming from Rick. Morty pulls Rick into a hug, snuggling against his back. They stay like that for a little while until Rick calms down. Rick gets up to leave but Morty asks him to stay. This time Rick lays down facing Morty and they just sorta hold each other.

In Mortyberg. Most of the Morty’s there are Rickless but a few still have them. As C-137 Rick and Morty watch the few Rick’s left find their Morty’s, clinging desperatly to them, happy to be reunited - they see one pair kiss passionately. The couple gets odd stares. The Rick picks up his Morty and the kiss even deeper. C-137 Rick and Morty feel awkward about watching it and notice a few other Rick’s and Morty’s are giving them sneers. But Morty thinks they seem happy together, he’s a little jealous. He grabs Rick’s hand and just holds it, smiling up at him.

In this dimension, Rick has been around Morty’s whole life. They’re very close to each other. As a small child Morty always wanted his grandpa to pick him up and hold him. Morty’s 14 now and that really hasn’t changed.

Rick goes full on Grandpapa Wolf when Morty is in danger. He cries out “NO! MY BABY!” when Morty gets hurt.

On the Citadel. A story about Citadel cops who respond to Domestic Violence calls. Most times it’s Rick’s abusing Morty’s, sometimes Rick’s abusing Rick’s, Morty’s abusing Morty’s, and on rare occasions it’s Morty’s abusing Rick’s.

Mental Age Regression. Past Child Abuse. Rick suffers a blow to the head and passes out. When he wakes up he doesn’t remember anything from after he was 10 years old. It’s weird for all of them and Morty falls into the roll of primary caretaker. Rick gets into a bit of trouble when he accidentally breaks something of Morty’s. Morty yells at him and only stops when Rick is cowering on the floor, begging Morty not to hit him, then Rick starts mumbling “I’m sorry daddy please don’t hit me I didn’t mean it”. Morty gets down next to him and holds him, apologizing.

Past Non-con. Past Child Abuse. Still having Rick’s memories on hand, Morty decides to watch more. He sees all the pain Rick has gone through, his father raping and abusing him, his mother knowing and ignoring it, bullying in school, countless instances of Rick being sexually assaulted throughout his whole life. Even some up until right before he came to live with the Smith family. He sees a memory he can’t recall where Rick took Morty’s place when some aliens intended to rape him (Rick must have erased it from Morty’s memories). Morty comes too and sees Rick ripped the device away. Morty was crying and the tears wouldn’t stop. It’s Rick who comforts him, holding him, telling him it was all in the past and that it’s okay now.

Non-Con. Time Travel. Morty travels back in time to when Rick was his age. They bond pretty quickly, spending all day together. At the end of the day Morty realizes he has nowhere to go so Rick invites him to stay the night. In middle of the night, Morty finds Rick isn’t in bed and goes looking for him. What he finds is noises coming from behind a cracked door. He peeks inside and sees Rick and Rick’s father, Rick is crying and his father is plowing into him. Morty makes a noise and next thing he knows he’s dragged into the room too. Rick begs his dad to leave Morty alone. Instead, Rick’s dad tells Morty to sit there and see what Rick is really like, then decide if he wants a friend like him afterward. He shoves Rick on top of Morty and starts fucking him again, Rick is crying, apologizing. Rick starts to unravel, begging for more. Rick’s father leaves the room once he’s done. Morty cleans Rick up and takes him back to bed. Rick begs Morty not to leave so Morty stays in bed with him, just holding him, and Rick kisses him on the mouth before going to sleep. In the morning he gets woken up by his Rick. Morty wants to wake up young Rick but Rick stops him, shaking his head ‘no’. So they leave. Before Morty can ask Rick tells him that when he woke up that morning he cried like a bitch when he saw Morty was gone. He tells Morty everything about his father, that it never stopped until his father died. That even today that man still haunts his nightmares. This time Morty kisses Rick, letting Rick hold onto him like a lifeline. Rick apologizes that Morty has to see all that but it was always going to happen.

Spanking. On the Citadel. It’s not uncommon to see Rick’s punishing their Morty’s by spanking them in public. Guard Rick’s punishing Guard Morty’s. Teacher Rick’s punishing Student Morty’s. Rick’s just going about the Citadel, their Morty’s being little brats, stopping to bend them over and whip their behinds. Some Rick’s pay good money to spank Morty’s. Some Morty’s pay good money to get spanked by Rick’s.

Rick falls in love with Morty the very first moment he sees him, when Morty was a newborn. Throughout the years and their adventures, those feelings changed into something more romantic and sexual. It makes Rick feel sick. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious grandson but he keeps pushing the envelope with the boy to get more of his love and affection. He even asked Morty to kiss him! On the lips! He hates himself more when Morty kisses him on the lips.

Pet Names. Getting Caught. Rick has a lot of pet names for Morty: babe, baby, honey, sweetie, sweetheart, affection insults (bitch, lil shit, etc.). But Morty’s favorite is when Rick calls him “my love”. It rarely happens because it’s not one of those pet names you could mistake for familial at all. Sadly Rick uses it during dinner with the family one night without thinking about it. Everyone did a double take and then the interrogations started.

In a dimension where Rick isn’t a scientist, he’s a criminal. Thief, murderer, arsonist, a lot of bad shit. 4 years ago kidnapping got added to his list of crimes. He tracked down only daughter and abducted his 10 year old grandson, Morty, wounding his pre-teen granddaughter (who was babysitting) at the time. They haven’t been seen or heard from since... until today. A high speed chase, a shootout, Rick being shot, bleeding out, Morty crying, rushing to him, holding him, trying to stop the bleeding, kissing Rick, telling him he’ll love him forever, Rick dying. It was all televised on the news. Beth gets her son back but does she really? Just what exactly did Rick do to the boy in 4 years?

Vore. Microphilia. Morty gets shrunk down, clothes not included. Rick messes with him by putting him in his mouth. Then he tastes something weird in there and feels something strange. Morty is grinding against Rick’s tongue and came from it. Rick’s into it.

Paternal Instincts. Caretaking. Morty wets himself during an adventure. Once they get safely home he collapses and starts bawling like a baby, his pants still wet. At first Rick tells him to stop being a pussy but that makes Morty cry harder. It triggers something in Rick and suddenly his long buried paternal instincts gutpunch him. He scoops Morty up, holds him against his chest and says “now, now, grandpa’s here, baby” and tells Morty he’ll take care of him. He takes Morty to the bathroom, undresses him, and wipes him down with a warm washcloth. He then helps Morty into his pajamas and picks him up again, asking if he felt any better and if he wants to take a nap with grandpa. Morty feels like he can’t speak so he just nods yes to both.

Taking it Slow. Making Love. Rick is really DTF-y (Down To Fuck) pretty much all the time. When he and Morty start their relationship tho, Rick tells him he’s not ready to have sex yet. Morty thinks it’s just Rick having hang ups over the whole grandson thing but no, Rick doesn’t care about that. His age then? Morty starts thinking Rick just isn’t attracted to him so Rick finally tells him he’s plenty attracted. He just wants to take it slow, not because of Morty but for himself. Morty finds out that Rick was the same with Diane, even when she was DTF. Morty thinks it’s kinda sweet so he stops pestering Rick. They date, cuddle, make out, sometimes do hand stuff. After about 6 months of dating, Rick takes him to a fancy dinner then a hotel, telling Morty he’s ready. Then he makes sweet tender love to Morty and Morty finally gets what people mean when they say “good things come to those who wait”.

Necrophilia. Character Death. Angst. Morty dies because of Rick. Rick doesn’t take it well at all. He digs up Morty’s body in the dead of night, tries to go full Viktor Frankenstein and bring him back. But nothing works. He knows it’s just an empty shell, but he can’t stop himself from caressing his body, kissing his lips, undressing him, and thrusting into him. It’s cold, there’s not an ounce of warmth left in Morty’s tiny little body. He keeps the body longer than he should after that. It’s not long before he’s found out.

Past Non-Con. Public Restroom Sex. Healing Sex. After the Mr Jellybean incident, Morty is terrified of public restrooms. Rick makes it better by giving Morty a good time in a restroom, reassuring Morty that he can put a stop to this any time. Not that Morty wants to stop. Rick comforts and praises him the whole time.

Guard Rick x Morty. The Morty of a Guard Rick loves the way Rick looks in his uniform.

Pony Rick x Pony Morty. The good thing about Equestria was that they didn’t think twice about PDA. A stallion nuzzling his grandcolt wasn’t that odd. Behind closed doors he was nailing his grandcolt’s plot pretty much every night. Rick thinks he should be careful, at this rate Morty’s cutie mark will end up being a picture of Rick’s cock.

Primitivism. In a dimension where modern tech doesn’t exist, there’s various tribes that exist. Morty’s mother Beth leads their tribe after her father stepped down. When Morty’s 14th birthday arrives, the battle for his hand in marriage begins. Being the second child (with Summer being Beth’s heir) that means Morty will leave and marry into the tribe of the victor. It’s an open contest, anyone can enter. No one ever expected Rick to enter and dominate the competition. Beth has no choice but to declare him the winner. As per tradition they must now consummate their union. Morty is afraid, but Rick makes it good for him. Afterward Morty asks why Rick did it. Rick tells him it’s because Morty always belong to him, he just made it official.

Non-con. On the Citadel. There’s a serial rapist going around targeting Rickless Morty’s. Detective Rick is determined to catch the Rick responsible, his Morty was a victim of the rapist and killed himself over it. Problem is the culprit looks like a plain normal Rick. One Morty was different from the rest, most skittered away to avoid Rick’s and the Cop Morty’s has to tend to them. This Morty however clung to Rick like a lifeline. Rick’s gut told him this Morty knew more than he was letting on.

After the events of S5, Rick decides it’s time to make a change. He’s tired, old, he wants to settle down. To do that he needs to sober up. No more alcohol, no more drugs. It isn’t easy going cold turkey, it’s painful, he’s going through all sorts of widthdrawl. But sweet little Morty is there to help him through all of it, cleaning up his vomit, keeping his temperature down, keeping Rick away from anything that would help him get any sort of fix, soothing him, even feeding Rick when he’s too exhausted to feed himself. It hurts, but Morty is worth it.

In this dimension Rick isn’t the smartest man alive. He’s just a loving father and grandfather who moved in with his daughter to be closer to his grandchildren. Morty loves his grandpa so much and they spend so much time together. Ever since Morty was a child he liked to sit on grandpas lap and cuddle up to him. This hasn’t changed now that he’s a teenager. Behind closed doors the two are much closer than anyone would ever suspect.

Set during that whole ride scene during The Vindicators. Rick’s drunken video confession ends up being a love confession and marriage proposal to Morty. Morty evaluates his feelings for Rick on the ride back. When Rick asks him what happened, Morty just smiles and says “yes”. He knows Rick doesn’t remember but he’s the smartest man in the universe, he’ll figure it out... eventually. BONUS: Million Ants comments that he senses a great deal of love and affection all of a sudden.

Summer POV. She sees the way they act, how they look at each other. How devoted they are to one another. They’re hopelessly in love and neither wants to admit it for the obvious reasons. In this infinitely cruel multiverse she doesn’t understand their hangups and why they’d deny themselves this shred of happiness. She wants them both to be happy, she really does. The day it finally happens she’s happy enough to cry.

Beth finds out about Rick and Morty. Instead of lashing out over the wrongness of it she turns on Morty, accusing him of stealing her dad away, calling him a slut, asking what was so special about him. Rick is stunned. Summer and Jerry run to them, Summer instantly getting between Morty and their mother, holding him close while he sobs into her chest. Jerry tried to pacify Beth, leading her away. Of all things Rick never expected Beth to accuse her own child of being to blame here. He was the adult, she should be angry with him. He leaves Morty with Summer, he needs to have a serious discussion with Beth about everything. NOTE: Beth is infatuated with Rick and is jealous of Morty. Rick has no such feelings for Beth and is in love with Morty.

In this dimension, Morty’s parents and sister died when he was six. Jerry’s parents had already passed so Morty has no one left to be his guardian except Rick. So Rick moves into the Smith household so he won’t have the uproot Morty’s life. Their relationship dynamic turns out quite different from other Rick’s and Morty’s because of it. For example, Rick is haggling over a deal in space, he’s being mean and aggressive about it. Then Morty wanders in just when Rick is about to get violent. Rick here’s Morty say “grandpa?” in a sweet little voice, not understanding what’s going on. Rick’s attitude does a 180, going into doting grandpa mode, saying “hi, sweetie, grandpa and his friend are almost done talking so go wait in the car, sweetheart”. As soon as Morty’s gone he reverts back to being violent. Basically, Rick only shows his doting grandpa side in front of Morty, he doesn’t want Morty to see his hyper aggressive side.

Evil Rick x Evil Morty. Possessive Protectivness. Morty hates Rick, but there was one good thing about him. Come hell or highwater, Rick wouldn’t let others hurt Morty. It becomes easy for Morty to manipulate Rick into getting rid of problems this way. All Morty has to do is tell him someone tried to hurt him and Rick will kill them no questions asked.

Past Non-Con & Child Abuse. During the S5 finale, Morty asks Evil Morty just what the hell his Rick did to him to make him hate Rick’s so much. Evil Morty lashes out, tells Morty he won’t just tell him - no, if he loves Rick so much then he needs to experience the pain himself. EM jabs Morty with another memory device and Morty doesn’t just see the memories, he experiences them, feels them. All the rape, abuse, death, torture, the fear. He vomits when he comes back to reality. His Rick looks concerned, but Morty is shaking like a leaf staring at him. Morty can’t see his Rick without seeing Evil Rick. Evil Morty asks him if he understands now why he hates all Rick’s. What happens next?

Big Bad Wolf Rick x Little Red Riding Hood Morty. Dub-con. Morty’s mother tells him to go deliver some food to his Grandpa Rick’s workshop, but not to stray from the path because ‘Wolves’ (which is code for ‘those creepy pedos who hang out in the woods and need to bang kids to return to human’) will get him. Along the way a Wolf tries to lure him off the trail. Morty doesn’t fall for it. Eventually he reaches his Grandpa’s workshop. Something is off about his Grandpa’s voice. And ears. And teeth. And eyes. Also all that body hair. Yeah, Morty can see where this is going. The Wolf reveals that he’s actually Morty’s Grandpa Rick, throws him on the bed, telling Morty he’s going to ‘eat’ him. Okay Morty didn’t expect him to actually be his Grandpa so he’s nervous now. But wait, if Rick fucks him then he’ll go back to normal, right? He can do that for his beloved Grandpa, he has to.

Pet Names. Morty calls Rick by pet names too. What really gets Rick going is when Morty calls him “stud”.

Bottom!Rick. When Rick gets really emotional while drunk, he wants to bottom. He wants to be loved, filled, comforted, praised. He cries throughout the whole thing, but Morty knows it’s just because he’s feeling vulnerable. Morty likes to take care of Rick when he’s like this.

Bottom!Rick. It’s their first time and Morty is a nervous wreck. Rick takes the lead in a different way, riding Morty cowgirl style. To be honest, Morty is pretty small and Rick is pretty loose down there so it’s physically not as great as Rick would like but it feels nice and Morty sure as hell enjoyed it. Didn’t exactly last very long.

Orgasm Control Training. Morty can’t control his damn dick so Rick decides to train him to hold back his orgasms. Cock cages, chastity belts, cock rings, nothing seems effective so he trains Morty’s body to need prostate orgasms instead. Which is to say now Morty can’t cum without having his prostate stimulated and he can’t do that without Rick’s fingers or his dick. He knows. He’s tried toys and they can’t get the job done.

Prostate Orgasm. Rick’s robot arm has a vibrate function. He loves unraveling Morty by hitting his prostate with his fingers and turning on the vibration. He can tease Morty for hours this way, denying him release when he’s so close. He never lets Morty touch his dick anymore. If Morty wants to get off he needs to beg Rick to abuse his prostate.

Size Difference Kink. Stomach Buldge. Rick is like 6’4-6” tall while Morty is only like 5’2”. Their dicks have the same proportionate size difference. Rick’s is huge while Morty’s is smaller than average. When Rick fucks him you can actually see the buldge of Rick’s cock in Morty’s guts. Rick loves how tiny and hot Morty is, loves his tiny little dick, his tight ass, his little mouth. He hopes Morty doesn’t grow much more because he doesn’t wanna lose his cute little Morty.

Hand Holding. Rick’s taken up the habit of holding Morty’s hand like he’s a child everywhere they go.

Rick contemplated moving into a younger body to spend more years with Morty. When he brings this up Morty isn’t keen on the idea. Turns out Morty isn’t really attracted to Rick’s younger selves, he fell in love with Rick as an old man and that’s just how he likes him. Sure if it’ll help Rick stick around longer he gets it but does he have to go too much younger? Like Morty could be okay with a 50 or 60 year old Rick. Rick decides to stick with his current body for a while longer.

Yandere Rick. Non-con. Captivity. Traditional Wife Kink. Rick won’t allow anyone to even lay eyes on his precious Morty. He takes him off world, on an isolated planet, keeps him locked up in a cozy little home just for the two of them. Rick gave up on most of his adventures, only leaving for short periods of time. Morty is expected to keep the house clean, make dinner, do all the chores, and most importantly take care of his husbands sexual needs. Morty is terrified but, so long as he doesn’t fuck up any of his wifely duties, Rick is gentle with him. If he burns dinner, forgets his chores, anything — Rick punishes him, he sees it as Morty not wanting to be with him. It doesn’t make any sense to Morty and he knows this is going to be his life until Rick dies. What Morty truly hates is that he looks forward to Rick fucking him each night. In those moments he’s able to lay back and let Rick do all the work, Rick wants him to feel good during it after all. It’s also the only time Morty gets leeway on his chores because Rick gets cuddly after sex. When Morty gets sick he tells him he won’t have to do any work today too. Morty doesn’t want this at all but he finds these peaceful moments.

#rick and morty #rickorty #c 137cest #rickmorty #prompts

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ladyfogg · 3 years

Text

Black Sea

Fic Summary: James has been tense for days, trying to wrangle the hotel’s undead residents while preparing for the upcoming historical landmark accreditation. Thankfully for your husband, you know exactly what he needs to make him relax. Bruises & Bitemarks Masterpost. The Evans Masterpost.

Fic Rating: 18+

Fic Song: Black Sea by Natasha Blume

Pairing: James Patrick March/Serial Killer Female Reader

Warnings: Seriously guys, 18+ for real. Explicit Smut, Pegging, Rimming, Dom/Sub, Oral Sex, Face-sitting, language, Praise kink, and probably more.

Married life suits you quite well.

After the decades of wanting James Patrick March, he’s finally in your grasp and your bed and you couldn’t be happier. Shortly after the wedding, the Countess asks to meet with you where she showers you with gifts and assures you there are no hard feelings. While you do have a few choice words for her over her treatment of James, it’s all water under the bridge. Your husband is thoroughly yours and his ex-wife no longer poses any sort of threat.

Your marital suite is now yours and James’s inner sanctum. No matter what is going on at the hotel, your space is untouchable. The moment the two of you enter the room, everything else gets left behind.

At least, that’s how it usually is.

Lately, James is having a difficult time letting go. The threat of the Cortez being torn down in the future was always minimal. However, as time progresses and wealthy philanthropists try to buy the building, the need to achieve historical status becomes a necessity. Of course, that means no more killings or disappearances. For someone like James, it’s a hard habit to break but he’s willing to make the change if it means keeping his home.

Most of his frustrations come out in the bedroom, which you thoroughly enjoy. The trunk of sex toys you have has gotten quite a bit of use during your marriage. Mostly on you. But when James arrives late one evening, fuming with anger, you have a feeling he’ll need a little something extra to take his mind off his troubles.

“Idiots, the lot of them,” he grumbles in a huff as he walks through the wall. “I do not know how they expect to keep themselves anchored to this mortal plane with no hotel. You would think the threat of absolute extinction would be enough to sate their blood lust.”

“Rough day, darling?” you ask, sliding off the bed where you had been lounging as you waited.

“Is it that obvious?” he sneers.

You pout and slink over to him, letting the sash of your silk black robe fall open so he can see your naked body, still covered in bruises and bite marks from the previous evening’s festivities. “Don’t snap at me because the others can’t follow the rules. I haven’t murdered anyone in years.”

He sighs heavily as you wrap your arms around his waist. “You’re right, my dear. Apologies.”

You lay a trail of hot kisses up his neck. “I know exactly what you need to take your mind off it.”

James grabs your upper arms and pushes you back, not too rough but rough enough for you to stop. “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for our little games tonight. I’d be more than happy to watch you take care of yourself should you feel so inclined.”

“Darling, I think you are the one who needs to be taken care of.”

James quirks an eyebrow but does not argue. As he studies your gaze, he recognizes the same mischievous cunning he’s come to associate with pleasurable experiences. “Why do I have the sense that you have some tricks up your sleeves?”

“Because you know me so well.” You kiss him roughly, teeth biting down on his lower lip.

James grunts when you do, his arms snaking around your waist so he can pull you flush against his chest. “What are your plans with me, Mrs. March?”

“Get on the bed.”

Your tone is low and stern, leaving no room for argument. As you slip out of his grasp, James excitedly slips his suit jacket off, watching you cross the room. Against the far wall, your trunk of treasures sits on an antique chest of drawers, flanked by two red candles. The moment you light them, you hear the bed springs as James takes a seat.

“So what is it tonight, darling?” he asks in an almost bored tone. “Whips? Chains? Handcuffs? Gags?”

“No, no, none of that,” you say, casting a look over your shoulder. “Well, unless you’re a bad boy.”

James has slipped off his shoes and is in the process of unbuttoning his shirt sleeves. While he certainly looks interested, there’s also a sardonic smirk on his face, as if he’s doubting your ability to take his mind off his troubles.

Which is incredibly laughable since you have proven yourself to be a delightful distraction over the years.

“This is something new,” you say, opening the trunk. Inside, all manner of provocative and sinful toys sit posed and ready for use. A fair number of them have been used already. But tonight, you have a special item that you’ve been eyeing for some time. One you know James will love. “Take your clothes off.”

“You’re being so mysterious. You have me intrigued.”

“That’s the point.”

You glance over, watching as he meticulously removes his clothes until he’s down to nothing. The sight of his naked body always thrills you and you take time to admire it. James notices, raising his eyebrow.

“You look like you wish to devour me,” he says.

“I do. Now, close your eyes.”

James humors you and does as he’s told. Once you’re sure he’s not looking, you get yourself ready. You can see him tilting his head in your direction, listening to the sounds as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re doing. Ready, you secure your robe once more before slinking over to stand in front of him. You study his handsome face, reaching out to stroke his cheek before you gently tilt his chin up and lean down for a kiss.

James responds instantly, his hand coming up to seize the back of your head and grip it tight. In retaliation, you slip your hand around his throat and squeeze. He gasps in delight, eyes rolling back in his head when you forcibly break the kiss.

“We’re going to do a little role reversal tonight, my love,” you say, thumb pressing into his windpipe. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll make you come so hard you’ll blackout. If you’re bad, well…” You lick the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder. “That can be fun too.”

You ease up on his throat and James growls at you with a smirk. “Color me intrigued. What did you grab from our little treasure chest?”

You don’t answer his question. With a firm hand on his chest, you push him onto his back, leaving his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. A wink and a coy smile are all you offer before leaving a trail of precious kisses and bitemarks down his chest, towards his cock, which is already swelling in anticipation. James hums with approval, tucking one hand behind his head as a cushion while he watches your movements.

Your hand wraps around his cock, leisurely stroking his length while your lips continue to kiss his pale skin. You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve marked and claimed him, leaving red irritated skin in your wake. That primal urge wants to come out, but you hold it at bay. Not now. Not yet.

Gently, you lavish the head of cock with attention as your hand drops from his shaft to stroke his thigh. You hear his breathing hitch, see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his saliva. His eyes close for a moment as he simply enjoys your attention, the tension and stress starting to melt away. You squeeze both thighs hard as you take him further into your mouth. Not all the way, which you know he wants. Just enough to tease him with what he likes.

When his eyes flutter back open, they’re hooded with desire. “I must say, I truly enjoy you at this angle,” he says, peering down the front of your robe which has started to slip open. “It’s a particularly erotic visual—what the fuck are you doing?”

Without warning, you seize the backs of his thighs and push his legs up so that his knees touch his chest, leaving him far more exposed than he’s ever been in your presence. You let his cock slide out of your mouth as you straighten your stance, the thin sash of your robe falling away so James can see the flesh-colored dildo hanging between your legs, firmly secured to your hips by a leather harness.

“Helping you relax, darling,” you say in a falsely innocent tone, your hand stroking his thigh. “You’ve had me in this position. It’s only fair that I have you.”

He opens his mouth to answer, but whatever retort he prepared never reaches your ears because a split second later, you kneel by the edge of the bed, running your tongue across his tight ring of muscles. What you do manage to hear is something between a gasp and a moan, and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

James loves to be dominant. Always has. And while most of the time that suits you just fine, there are others when you’ve taken the reins. During those particular times, you’ve noticed James’s excitement seems to grow. The idea of being overpowered by the woman he loves thrills him. You can tell by the look in his eyes, the delight and surprise at the turn of events, and the way his body molds to your whims.

Even now his hips arch upward, seeking more friction than what you’re currently providing. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and giving it a rough squeeze.

James thrashes against the bed. “Your mouth is truly a godsend.”

“Obviously not if you’re still stringing words together.” You jerk him off roughly, wrapping your lips around his pucker and sucking.

James throws his head back with a loud gasp, fists twisting the sheets. Empowered by his response, can’t help but keep your eyes on his face, the way his eyebrows knit together and his teeth dig into his bottom lip…if either of you showed up on camera you’d be recording him. His movements push him further up on the bed and you eagerly follow, kneeling between his legs on the soft mattress.

As you continue to loosen him with your tongue, you take your hand off his cock so you can reach for the bottle of lube in the pocket of your robe.

“You’re being an exceptionally good boy, my dear husband,” you coo, laying a bite on the round cheek in front of you.

Taking your hand off him, you uncap the bottle and let the cool liquid drip onto his overheated skin. James hisses only to moan when you start to spread the lube around his waiting hole.

“Darling, please.”

You pause, glancing up at him. “Is that begging I hear? Already?”

His cheeks are flush red which has traveled down to his chest. A chest that’s moving rapidly with each heavy breath. It’s a gorgeous visual that you’ll never get out of your head.

He is shameless in his need, reaching down to fist his cock. “You wouldn’t hear begging if you’d get on with it.”

Quick as a flash, straddle his body so you can grab the bindings attached to the headboard. “I told you to be good,” you scold, seizing his wrists and binding them. “That means, listening to me and not touching yourself. Also, don’t be an ass. I’m doing you a favor you know.”

“Is that so?” Once his hands are secured, he bucks up against you, again seeking the friction you deny.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you, James. If you’re going to be rude about it, I’d much rather gag you. Is that what you want? To be gagged? Because that’s not all it’ll be. I’ll gag you and then go fuck off for a few hours, leaving you here, naked, and begging for me. Is that what you want?”

To your delight, James purses his lips and doesn’t speak. With a grin, you wrap your hands around his throat and give it a loving squeeze as you bend down to steal a kiss. It’s quick, just enough for him to want more before you shimmy down his body, back to the space between his legs. Shoving his knees up again, you swirl the lube around the loosening muscles with your thumb, watching with delight at the way James closes his eyes and throws his head back.

The sounds coming from your husband are positively sinful and you can’t get enough. His voice even climbs several octaves when you push a lubed-up butt plug in past his prepped muscles. His body shifts and clamps down around the toy, keeping it inside him.

“W-What did you do?” he asks, fingers digging into the bindings around his wrists.

“Just used something to help get you ready for me,” you purr, stroking his thighs again. “In the meantime…”

You slide his cock back into your mouth, causing James to exhale a string of obscenities. God you love the way he fills your mouth, not to mention the way he moans every time you suck him off. To have such a powerful man like James at your mercy sends a rush of pride through you. This man, this titan of industry and murder, is reduced to a sweating, shaking mass of limbs just by your mouth and hands. It’s empowering and addicting.

You pull your mouth off him, lewdly sticking out your tongue to lick the underside of him. “Such a beautiful sight,” you say, hand still wrapped tightly around him. “I look forward to seeing you on all fours.”

“Please…”

“Keep begging, darling. It turns me on.”

You lose yourself in the taste of your husband, sucking on his cock with practiced skill and precision. His body constantly moves under you, thrashing and flexing, trying to set the pace even when you have his hips pinned to the bed by your upper body. He really can’t help trying to take control even when he’s completely at your mercy.

You can feel he’s close but it’s not time yet. There’s no way you’re going to let him come without fucking him first.

Letting him slip from your mouth, you pull back, heart slamming against your ribcage as you see tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

“I was so damn close!” he whines.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

Grabbing his hips, you flip him onto his stomach, forcing the bindings to twist. You maneuver him onto his knees, admiring the visual for a second: muscled and scarred back with taut muscles, perfectly round ass with a plug begging for you to replace with something bigger. You hook your finger through the ring and pull it out, listening to the shaky breath James exhales.

He’s so ready for you.

You let the robe slip from your frame as you kneel behind him.

“Gorgeous. Just gorgeous. You look so ready for me,” you tease, lubing up the dildo with one hand as you run the other hand down his backside.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

“Please what, James?”

He doesn’t respond right away. You can feel him clinging to that last bit of control, which definitely won’t do. Fisting his dark hair, you yank his head back.

“Please what, James?” you repeat. “If I have to ask again, I’ll just leave you here. Hard and open, waiting…”

“Please have your wicked way with me.”

With a smirk, you push into him. Between the toy and your prep, it’s almost a smooth thrust. Keyword: almost. Instinctively, his body tenses, forcing him to clamp down around the head of your toy.

You drape yourself along his back, licking and sucking on his shoulder. “Relax, baby boy. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

You feel his shaking body exhale and the toy slides further in, more and more until you bottom out, your thighs snuggly tucked against his.

“There,” you say, stroking his hip. “That’s a good boy.”

You pull out and thrust back in. James throws his head back and lets out the most guttural moan you’ve ever heard. You do it again, thrilled by his visceral reaction. You take him roughly, thrusting in and out at a steady pace, loving the way his body moves under yours. You get why he loves to fuck you this way.

Holding this power over someone is addicting and you know you and your husband will be playing this little game for centuries to come.

Your mouth keeps busy, sucking and biting at James’s throat, marking the pale flesh. His noises are to die for. Moans and grunts, occasionally broken by swears and your name.

“Fuck, darling. Fucking hell, yes!”

“Do you like it, husband?” you coo in his ear. “Do you like your wife taking you from behind?”

“Yes!”

“Such a good boy taking my cock like this,” you groan, reveling in the sounds of his pleas and your hips slapping against his. “Such a good boy, letting me take care of you.”

“My dear, please. Please!”

“Please what?”

You see his hands flex in his bindings as he clenches them. “I’m close, dear. I need to come.”

“If you insist.”

When you pull out of him, he all but howls in disappointment. But he doesn’t need to worry. As quick as you did before, you flip him onto his back, shoving his legs up before pushing back into him. Now you can see the expression on his face, watch his mouth fall open as his head falls back against the pillows.

His rock-hard cock bounces against his stomach, leaving trails of precum in its path. When you wrap your hand around his length, it’s hot to the touch.

All you need to do is stroke him once and then he’s coming with a shout, jets of white painting his flexing stomach as he chants your name.

Your own neglected arousal is nearly painful at this point. Ignoring it for much longer is not possible. Without removing the toy from your shuddering husband, you release yourself from the harness and crawl up his body.

He opens his eyes just in time for you to sit on his face, forcing him to taste you. If his moan is any indication, he doesn’t mind in the slightest. Now you’re groaning, clutching fistfuls of his hair as you grind yourself along with his tongue.

“Yes, James, yes. Such a good boy.”

Your praise is punctuated with groans, his eyes closed as he sucks on your swollen folds. You’re too wound up yourself to hold back or prologue your pleasure. When you come, your body locks in place, nails digging into his scalp until the last waves of pleasure recede and you collapse next to him.

Both of you pant harshly. James tugs on his bindings. “Untie me,” he orders.

You do as he says, only to find yourself pinned beneath him, his mouth attacking yours in a biting onslaught of kisses. It makes you smile.

“Relaxed now, darling?” you tease when he finally draws back.

James yanks the toy out of himself with a wince, tossing it to the side. “You certainly know how to help a man take his mind off his troubles.”

“I live to serve, darling,” you say with a smirk. “As do you apparently. You did a marvelous job.”

James grunts before kissing you again, his seed now spread across your chest as he holds you flush against him.

“As did you, my love. Tell me, what other toys have you been dying to try?” he asks.

All you do is offer him a coy smirk. “A lady never reveals her secrets. All in good time, dear husband. All in good time.”

---

Fic Taglist:

@lejardinfleur @kitwalker64 @tatestripedsweater @milly-louise @kitwalker02 @xmaximoffic

#james march #james patrick march #james march x reader #james march x you #evan peters #bruises & bitemarks

178 notes · View notes

parkersroses · 3 years

Text

delicate. | harry styles.

summary: two lonely people find solace in each other for the night and something delicate blossoms from it.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

warning(s): fluff and smut (a first attempt at it)

a/n: aaah i’m excited and nervous to post this. i guess it’s considered a Christmas fic because it’s set around that time. i do hope you guys enjoy this! i also wanna wish you all happy holidays! side note, i recently made a ko-fi account, so if you’re able to and like my writing, feel free to donate to it! anyways, enjoy! reblogs/feedbacks are very much appreciated! all my love and stay safe <3 (disclaimer: the gif rightfully belongs to @hampsteadharry )

He pushed through the door of the bar, jazz music filling up his ears as he wandered to get a seat. He sighed as he sat on a bar stool, waiting for someone to attend to him and possibly give him the strongest drink here if he felt like it.

Harry felt tired. He’s been tired and exhausted for a while now. Tired from work. Tired from the glitz and glam. Tired of people getting close to him because of his name and status. Just mentally and physically exhausted. But that’s not to dismiss the fact that he still loves his job. He loves and enjoys making music and seeing his fans - who he declared as the best fans in the world - singing back his songs to him.

Though, there comes a time where he doesn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he should lately. Being a well-known singer, songwriter and actor seemed pretty cool but no one knows how tiring and raining it could be. Always having to prove yourself and explaining yourself because of ridiculous rumours that articles make up. Always ending up hurt when you found out your friends were using you because of how well-known you were.

So, he announced that he’d be taking a break from all that. Of course, there was an uproar from his fans but in the end, they understood and sent him lovely messages about having to keep his mental health his main priority.

So now, here he was, sitting at a bar, trying to drink away his emotions. Perhaps, he would find a girl that he could go home with to fill in the empty space of his bed for the night. His break was quite eye-opening to say the least. Harry realised how alone he felt. He thought it was just all in his head because how could he be lonely even when he still had few of his friends around? But he didn’t know that being alone and still feeling alone were different.

And the irony of it nearly being Christmas, there wasn’t much magic or cheer going around for him at the moment. He’ll have to get his shit together before going back to visit his family for the holidays.

“What can I get ya?” a voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. A woman stood before him behind the bar, he realised it was one of the bartenders there. She wore a long sleeved black shirt, the sleeves rolled up until her elbows. Her long hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of hair framing around her face. He thought she was pretty. Beautiful, he would say.

Bartender lady snapped her fingers at his face, knocking him out of his thoughts once again. “Seemed to be far away there. Are you sure you’re good here? In a bar?” She said and she smirked at Harry. He felt the blood rushed to his cheeks, having been caught staring at the pretty bartender lady.

“S-Sorry. A whiskey for now will do,” he said softly. Pretty bartender lady smiled at him and nodded. “Alright, then,” she said, heading off to get his drink.

Harry’s eyes followed her figure, almost like he was entranced by her. He was not sure why he did. Seconds later, she put his drink on a coaster in front of him. “Thanks,” he quietly said as he picked up his drink.

“Don’t mention it. You seemed like you need it,” she said almost knowingly. He chuckled at her words. Well, she got that right. “Yeah, just trying to clear my head a bit,” he shrugged at her.

Pretty bartender lady nodded. “Rough day?” She inquired. Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. He probably thought that she was trying to make a conversation other than cleaning shot glasses. He hesitated a little, thinking she might just be another fan and might spill whatever that comes out of his mouth to the nearest journalist. But then, he remembered that he’s already one drink down to probably getting drunk and his mind won’t really care even if he woke up hungover the next day.

So, he shrugged at her question. “Guess you could say that,” he said as he set down the empty shot glass. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a lot of things in my mind. And drinking does numb my emotions a bit. If that made sense,” he chose to say as he looked at her.

She only giggled at his words. “That sounds quite deep. Should write a song about it,” she joked and for a second, Harry thought she knew about him. Because for once, he’d like to talk to someone who’s unaware of his celebrity status. Someone who’d talked to him with a sense of normalcy. Instead of talking to the famous Harry Styles.

“Maybe I should. And I’ll credit you in it,” he joked. She laughed, throwing her head back as she did. “Oh gosh, I always wanted to be a famous songwriter,” she said dramatically. They both laughed at this. It was weird to Harry, this scene felt so normal, it felt as if he knew her for a while now.

She nodded at his empty glass. “Want another?” She asked. Harry thought about it before asking. “Actually, what’s your favourite drink?” Pretty bartender lady was surprised to say the least, but smiled at Harry. “Why?” He only smiled back. “‘Cause I want another drink. And I want to treat you one too. I’ll even pay for yours, love,”

She blushed at this, not expecting him to be so forward yet sweet. “Cheeky, aren’t you?” She said smiling at him, and she noticed a hint of blush on his cheeks. “My mum always taught me to be a gentleman,” he shrugged,

She chuckled at this. “Fine then. I’ll be right back,” she said, going to get whatever her favourite drink was for Harry. Harry smiled as she walked away. He couldn’t help but feel some sort of liking towards her, but not knowing why. Maybe because she was just a pretty bartender lady.

She returned later with two glasses of her ‘favourite drink’ and set them in front of him. Harry was skeptical to see the strange colour of liquid, raising an eyebrow at her. She only smiled and raised her glass up.

“Bottoms up,” she said as she drank from her glass.

Harry sniffed the drink a bit before thinking he was being silly and drank it. As the sweet taste hit his taste buds, he chuckled as he shook his head. “Apple juice? Really?” He questioned.

She laughed as she took another sip on her drink. “Well, you asked for my favourite drink and I gave it to you,” she said with a smirk in her face. “So, you don’t drink?” he asked curiously. She shrugged at him. “A bit sometimes. Just don’t prefer it unless I wanna get really drunk,” she let out a small laugh. Harry chuckled at her words, finding himself agreeing with her.

Harry noticed how pretty of a smile she had. He didn’t know why a tiny detail like that stuck out to him. He found himself quite intrigued with the pretty bartender lady, which he realised he had been calling her that in his head without knowing her name. He stared into her eyes and found himself hypnotized by them. Suddenly, it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. Okay, stop. She’ll think you’re weird.

It was as if his mind took control over him and he found himself asking her, “When do you get off?” He asked, his eyes widening after realising the words that came out of his mouth.

What the fuck!?, he thought.

She was surprised, her mouth agape as she processed what he had just asked. But she seemed to compose herself quickly. “And why do you wanna know?” She asked nervously.

Harry paused before choosing his next words carefully. “Because you seem really cool to talk too. And I’d like to talk to you more,” he said. He was nibbling on his bottom lip, a habit he had whenever he got nervous. He shrugged before he continued, “It’s nice to have a friend, you know?”

Pretty bartender lady - and Harry swore he’ll get her name soon - nodded at him and smiled. Like she knew what he meant. “I’ll be off at 10,” she said. It was only 30 minutes until then. Harry was initially surprised at this, not thinking whether she would agree to - whatever he wanted to with her later.

He nodded in response. “I’ll, uh, wait for you here, then,” he spoke nervously. She chuckled and took their glasses away so she could clean and attend to the other customers before her boss yelled at her.

As she walked away, Harry called out to her. “Wait!” She turned around, eyes wide when he called her. “Um, what’s your name?” He asked. She smiled as her heart melted at the innocent question.

“It’s Y/N,” she replied.

Harry nodded, a small timid smile appearing on his face. “I’m Harry,” he said.

She smiled and nodded at his short introduction. Now, the pretty guy with forest green eyes had a name she could call him. “I’ll see you later, Harry,” she said as she returned to the back of the bar.

Harry sighed, seeming to be smitten already by her. “Yeah. See you later,” he said softly to himself.

❋

Now, Y/N was no idiot. She knew who Harry Styles was.

She wasn’t like the biggest fan, but she appreciated his music and thought he was a lovely guy in general, according to the fan experiences she read. She didn’t know much about him, other than he was a former member of a very successful boyband and his music was just incredible. Plus, she thought he was pretty handsome.

And when she saw him walking through the doors of the bar, she had to take a double take to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

She usually took her job quite seriously, she was polite to all customers and made sure they were always satisfied with their drinks or snacks. It was usually because she wanted to get the tips she needed to pay her rent. So, when Harry sat down by the bar, she couldn’t help herself but go to him.

But now, she was supposed to meet him after her shift. Which was strange to her because all she did was being nice to him and making up a conversation. Did he realise that she was pretending to not know him? Was this some sort of mind trick that was playing on her? Though, he mentioned how it was nice to have a friend. Maybe there was something behind that phrase that meant something deeper to him.

It was already 10 PM. Y/N said goodbye to her coworkers as she grabbed her scarf and coat from her locker. Her heart was beating fast because she realised she was about to go on a little rendezvous with Harry Styles, well, that was what she thought.

She wasn’t expecting anything. She honestly thought he might have just left, realising how silly it was to wait for a bartender friend he just made.

But she walked towards the front of the bar and he was still sitting in his seat like he said he would, waiting for her. And she felt like her heart might burst.

❋

Harry didn’t think he’d find himself sitting at a 24-hour diner, eating some waffles with a pretty friend he just met at nearly 11 PM. He was starting to blame that one whiskey drink he asked for earlier as to be honest, he didn’t know what was happening.

When he met Y/N in front of the bar after the shift, he was nervous, shifting on his feet in habit. When Y/N asked him what he had in mind, he froze because he realised he didn’t think this through. All he wanted was to talk to pretty bartender lady Y/N. The rest was all hazy to him. Luckily, Y/N just laughed at this and guided him to her favourite diner.

They both ordered waffles with honey and blueberry toppings, courtesy of Y/N as she said they were the best waffles she ever had. Y/N got herself a chocolate smoothie while Harry just ordered a nice hot tea. It was a nice little meal.

“So, Harry, what brings you here to LA?” Y/N asked him as she munched on her waffles.

Harry sipped on his tea before clearing his throat. “Uh, I live here, mostly for work. But I’m on a break now,” he said, not giving out too much information. “Hmm. But you haven’t lived here long, I assume. Could tell by your accent,” she said knowingly.

He smiled at this. “Yeah? You like my accent, darlin’?” he teased her and pride filled himself as he saw her cheeks flaring up in the colour red. “Quite the flirt, are ya? But yes, your accent is cute,” she said as she ate. “Good to know,” he smiled and winked at her.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him as she blushed. He seemed to be quite the flirt, teasing her and calling her pet names. If it were any other guy, she would’ve just left. She admitted that she might not have the best ways in maintaining a relationship. It was always whether she was too picky or bossy and her insecurities always got the best of her. She was used to feeling of being used for sex and her body even when she wanted to believe they wanted something more out of it. She closed herself off from love for a while now. While everyone said that her time will come, she just ignored them. Her main priority was herself and that was for sure.

But there was something about Harry that was pulling her in. He wasn’t far from what the papers write about him but at the same time, he was. He seemed somewhat closed off as she was. She didn’t want to pry, she’d never do that. It was like he was in this fish tank surrounded by spectators watching his every move. Maybe the life he has had somewhat prevented him from forming a real, honest attachment. Or maybe she was just making this all up.

She sipped on her smoothie, her eyes focused on his. She realised how green his eyes were looking up close. “So, I have a question. And I want you to answer this as truthfully as possible,” she said, propping her head on the palms of her hands. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, chuckling a bit before nodding. “Alright, love. Lay it on me,” he said, leaning back on the booth.

Y/N blushed at the pet name given and cleared her throat. “Why did you want to see me?”

It was silent between them. Harry should’ve known this question would come up. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer it, he was never one to make friends with a random person and go on a little rendezvous late at night. He shrugged at this, “Like I told you, it’s nice to have a friend,”

“That couldn’t be all,” Y/N smiled. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to befriend a bartender and go out with her for a late supper the same night,” Harry blushed at this and scratched the back of his ear with his finger. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to be spontaneous a bit,”

Y/N hummed at this, sipping on her drink. Harry’s eyes were trained on her and she somehow found that a bit intimidating. “I got off work just to clear my mind a bit,” he continued. “Sometimes, I’d go out with my friends, I’d meet some girls and spend the night with them, just to feel something. Just to not be alone,” This was the most Harry had opened up to someone in a while.

“But you still feel alone,” Y/N spoke. Harry frowned at this, not quite sure what she meant. “You could be with someone, and still would feel alone. I get that,” she explained.

Harry’s mouth was agape. “Y-Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled out. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,”

“You really don’t know me, do you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. She let out a small laugh. “I knew who you were the moment you stepped foot into that bar,” she said. Harry’s eyes widened. All this time, he was glad he thought Y/N didn’t know him but she treated him like any other normal person. But she knew all along.

“That was.. Surprising,” he chuckled as he ran his hands through his curly locks. “But, you didn’t seem to look like y’know me. Treated me like a normal person,” She stifled a laugh. “Well, would you rather I’d treat you like royalty? Curtsey in front of you?” She joked.

Harry laughed at this. “No, no. It was nice. It’s good t’just pretend your life is normal for once,” he nodded at her. “I’m sure you have some friends that treat you like you are just Harry,” she smiled.

Harry only shrugged at this, “A few of them do. When you’re in the industry long enough, you’d know how to tell apart the few people that are honest and real with you and the many who just use you sometimes.” Y/N frowned at this but nodded. While she couldn’t connect to being in the same industry as him, she knew perfectly how it feels like to be used by people you allowed yourself to get close to.

He brought his cup of tea to his lips, realising how cold it was getting. “You want some?” He offered his drink to her. Y/N nodded, taking the cup from him. “You like tea?” She asked.

“I do, but I prefer coffee,” he smiled at this random conversation. “Please tell me you don’t take your coffee black,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was daring him to admit it. Harry smirked and shrugged at her. “Sorry, love. It’s the best way to have coffee,”

“No, it’s not! It’s so bitter!” Y/N exclaimed and laughed at this. “I don’t think this would work out,” she pouted. Harry swore his heart beated a little faster, seeing her lips pout. He wondered how they’d feel against his. “What wouldn’t work out, love?” He smiled at her.

Y/N blushed at this, looking down at her lap before she looked at him again. “Whatever you want this to be,”

They spent their time getting to know each other and by the time it was midnight, Harry ended up paying for their meals, ignoring her protests as he did. Y/N was tempted to wipe off that smug smile off his face. The December air howled as the night went on as the decorative holiday lights lit up the street they walked on. The two walked side by side, their hands brushing against each other’s. If Harry had the guts, he would intertwine their hands together. But he didn’t. Not yet, at least.

“Random question, but do you prefer sunrises and sunsets?” she asked out of the blue. Harry thought for a moment before answering, “M’not sure, actually. Never really paid attention to them all that much.” Y/N nodded at his answer.

“Sometimes I like to wake up early just to see the sunrise,” Y/N spoke. Harry looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? You like sunrises?” he asked gently, the cold air making his breath visible to see. “I do. I like sunsets too. But no one ever stops to appreciate the sunrises,” she sighed.

“Maybe it’s because they can’t be bothered to wake up so early,” Harry joked, making her laugh. “Yeah. Well, I do that. My apartment has a nice view of it. It’s nice. The city is just beginning to wake up. The golden glow casted upon it,”

Harry nodded at her. “Is this your way of inviting me over?” He teased. Y/N paused, her cheeks flaming up. It wasn’t her intention, but she might as well have done so. Harry was a nice company to keep and she liked him. She really did like him. “Maybe,” she mumbled.

Harry smiled at her sudden shyness. It was something he liked about her. He really liked her. And he wanted her to take him back to her home, as pathetic as that made him seem.

“Well, lead the way, darlin’,”

Y/N struggled to put her keys into the keyhole of her apartment. Nervous was an understatement for her. She had a really sweet and attractive man waiting behind her and she was about to invite him in. She was almost sweating at the thought and she didn’t know why.

She opened the door, letting the warm air of her small apartment flow through them. Harry found it quite cozy. There were plants placed in different corners of the room, he noticed a record player by the television. There was also an easel standing by it. It was small, unlike his luxurious houses, but homey.

“You paint?” He asked. Y/N blushed at this, she forgot to put away your paint and clean up. In her defense, she didn’t think you would have company tonight. “Yeah, s’just a hobby. And somewhat a side hustle,” she said, taking off her coat and putting in on the couch. Harry did the same, subtly wiping his sweaty palms against his dark jeans.

“Uh, d-do you want something to drink?” she asked nervously. Idiot, you just had drinks. “Or, if y’want, I have some chocolate chip cookies. If you like chocolate chip cookies. I mean, y’don’t have to but-,” Y/N was cut off upon hearing Harry chuckling at her, his expression amused as he listened to her nervous rambling.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m good,” he said, smiling at her. She blushed again at the use of the pet name.

It was silence, the only thing that could be heard was their breathing as they looked at each other. Harry slowly walked over, Y/N’s breath hitched as he did so. She was nervous and she was scared, she hadn’t done this in a long time. His arm settled on her waist and it was the first time he touched her. His eyes, green as ever and filled with lust and passion, were focused on hers. She could feel his breath hitting her face due to the proximity between them.

Y/N gently placed her hands on his chest, feeling it rising up and down as he breathed. His forehead was already pressing against hers, their noses slightly brushing against each other. “Can I kiss you?” Harry finally asked ever so softly. And Y/N couldn’t help but nod her head. “Please,”

His lips crashed into hers, gently at first, but she kissed him harder, making it more passionate. She could hear him moan into the kiss as their tongues battled for dominance. His hands travelled lower to her backside, she moaned aloud as he squeezed them. When they pulled away, they would instantly pull into another kiss again, wanting to be close. Harry lowered his hands further behind her thighs, signaling her to jump so he could hold her tightly against him.

“Y/N, I won’t be able to stop,” he said, gasping for air. Y/N only kissed him again, replying as her lips were against his. “Then, don’t,”

Y/N wasn’t sure how they made it to her room, laying nearly naked on her bed. She just realised how many tattoos he had on his body. She traced over the art scattered over his skin delicately. “Harry,” she whimpered as she felt his hardened length grinding against her core. She could feel her arousal seeping through her underwear. She gasped as he pressed kisses down her neck onto her collarbones, her eyes rolling back when he sucked a sweet spot there. His fingers entangled themselves between hers, squeezing them tightly.

“Harry, please,”

“I got you, baby. Gonna take my time with you,” he said gently as he kissed her forehead.

Y/N could feel her heart beamed at the sweet gesture. She had one-night stands before, but none of them felt as intimate as with Harry. The way he kissed her, held her, it almost felt right. And she wondered if he felt it too.

When they’re fully naked and Harry lined himself against her, he looked at her, as if he was asking if she was still sure of this; if she wanted this; if she wanted him. Her eyes were shining as the moonlight shone through her curtains, her hair sprawled against her pillow. She was beautiful and ethereal. He almost couldn’t believe it.

A nod from her was all it took for him to push himself in, the two moaning in relief as pleasure shot through their bodies. He slowly thrusted, taking his time with her. The feeling of euphoria running through their bodies as they held each other close. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, wanting to keep his warm body close to her. “Harry, faster,” Y/N pleaded.

It was almost like a switch went off his head before Harry spreaded her legs further, thrusting harder and further into her. Moans and groans filled the room and the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. Harry had his head buried into the crook of her neck, breathing hard as he felt the pleasure burning at the bottom of his spine. He was close and he knew she was too from the way she was clenching around him.

“You close, baby?” He breathed out as he looked at her. The bed was creaking with every movement they made. Y/N moaned in ecstasy as she nodded her head, trying to keep her eyes on him. She didn’t want to miss a thing with him.

Harry took her by surprise by pulling out, lifting her up so she sat on his lap. He guided himself into herself, groaning as she welcomed him in her. Y/N moaned loudly as she felt him hit deeper, feeling herself clenching around him. She quickly began to move against him, smiling as she saw Harry shut his eyes in pleasure, murmuring her name. “C-Close, Harry, fuck,” she groaned as she moved faster.

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as if it was possible. He thrusted his hips upwards against hers, adding to the euphoric pleasure that was coursing through them. “I know, baby. Fuck, y’feel so good around me,” he moaned out, looking at her with hooded eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their heavy breaths hitting each other’s faces.

It was only a glance into his forest green eyes that triggered her high. She moaned out loud, her body shaking against him, and just the sight of her high triggered Harry’s. He groaned against her neck and cursed a string of profanities under his breath as he kept thrusting his hips into her, prolonging his orgasm. When they calmed down from their highs, they took deep breaths before pressing their lips together. Harry could hear a whimper from the beautiful woman above him. He was delirious with the bliss feeling.

They laid on their sides, admiring each other’s glowing yet sweaty state. Harry closed his eyes and sighed as Y/N brushed her fingers through his hair. “Y’alright?” he murmured to her. She nodded and gave him a shy smile. He thought it was cute of her acting all shy after having done such an intimate and dirty activity with him. He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling as she scrunched it up. “You’re beautiful,” he admitted.

Y/N let out a deep breath. There was no denying the attraction she felt for him. The setting was so intimate, far from what she thought it was going to be. She felt herself opening up to him, something she prevented herself from doing for a long time. She was scared of this, but she liked it at the same time.

“Hold me?” she asked and Harry pulled her against his body without a second to waste. Their breathing was the only sound they paid attention to. Y/N nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, her finger tracing the tattoos on his chest.

“Are you gonna stay?” she asked softly. She was not expecting anything, but she hoped he did stay.

Harry smiled and pulled her closer. “Only if y’want me to,” he said. Y/N returned the smile, tracing out his lips with her finger, feeling how soft they were.

“I’d like that,”

❋

When Harry woke up, he felt an empty cold space beside him. Confused at first, he sat up slowly, wondering where the pretty woman he liked was. He turned his head and there she was, sitting by her window looking out into the early morning. She was sipping on something from her mug and she was wearing his dark blue T-shirt from the night before. She looked absolutely breathtaking.

“You’re up early,” he said, catching her by surprise at the sound of his voice. She smiled at him and made her way to sit on his lap, putting her mug on the bedside table. “You missed the sunrise.” She ran her fingers through his messy bed hair. He sighed, realising how much he liked her doing that simple yet intimate gesture. “Yeah? Was it pretty?”

“Very,” she sighed as Harry laid his head on his shoulder. He held her tightly in his arms, similar to how he did when they slept. “Well, you’re prettier,” he said, planting kisses up her neck. She realised how deep and raspy his voice sounded in the morning, it sent shivers down her spine. “Well, you’re a charmer,” she murmured.

Harry looked up at her, taking in her morning glow that she was emitting. “Your eyes are really pretty,” Y/N said softly as she admired his forest green eyes. “Yeah? Y’think so?” he said, playfully fluttering his eyes at her. She laughed at this, throwing her head back. Harry thought it was the sweetest sound. She traced the outline of his lips with her index finger, feeling how soft they were under her touch. Harry kept his mouth agape as she did so.

“Can I kiss you?” Y/N whispered. He smiled at her, remembering his exact words from the night before, before nodding. “Please,”

The fluttering in his stomach intensified as their lips met. The thing that clouded Harry’s mind was how soft her lips were and how sweet they tasted. Their kiss almost made him feel dizzy for how much passion there was. When they pulled away, he looked at Y/N with hooded eyes, his breathing was heavy from the blissful sensation he felt. He gently wrapped his arms around her frame and it just felt right.

He pulled her into another kiss, a moan elicited from Y/N that sent blood rushing to his lower region. His hands travelled up his shirt she was wearing and he let out a groan, realising she had nothing underneath it. He felt drunk by her touch, her scent; everything. It was a delicate feeling he felt and he didn’t want to let go of it. He could get used to this, the feeling of her. For once in a long while, he didn’t feel alone anymore.

It was no doubt that Y/N felt the same.

It all just felt right.

❋

The snow was covering the backyard, the trees and bushes were covered in white. Y/N watched as the snow fell while sipping on her hot chocolate. The house was decorated for the special wintery day. The tree was lit up and decorated with many ornaments as well as pictures on it, the presents laying closely below it.

Voices snapped her out of her thoughts, she smiled as she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. She turned around to see her husband holding up a sleepy little girl in his large muscular arms, the little girl they were blessed with as their daughter. Harry was talking animatedly to Ruby, trying to wake her up in the Christmas spirit.

He gasped and pointed his finger at you. “Look, Rue! It’s mummy! An early bird, isn’t she?” He said to Ruby as he bounced her gently in his arms. You rolled your eyes at his silliness. “Mama,” the little girl reached out to her mother as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. Y/N set her mug on the counter and grabbed lifted little Ruby in her arms. “Morning, Rue baby,” Y/N cooed softly at her, closing her mouth with the back of her hand when she yawned.

“Think she’s a bit tired,” Harry chuckled at them. “Y’think? Who’s the idiot that woke her up early?” Y/N asked sarcastically at her husband. He only lifted his arms up in defense, a smug smile painted on his face. Ruby quietly giggled at her parents. He sipped on a mug of hot chocolate and she narrowed her eyes at her as he leaned back on the counter.

“Are you really drinking my hot chocolate?” Harry paused for a bit before swallowing the warm drink. “I’ll make ya another one, love,” he rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N rolled her eyes at him before chuckling. “You better, Styles.” She felt Ruby shifting in her arms and gently bounced her. “Y’alright, bubs?” She pouted at her daughter.

“Snow,” she said, pointing out the window where the snow was falling. “Yeah, bubs! It’s snowing!” Y/N exclaimed excitedly to her, making Ruby giggle. “Dada, snow!” she exclaimed to her father.

Harry laughed at his daughter’s adorableness. “That’s right, Rue!” He agreed, stroking through her curly hair that she inherited from him. He placed a hand gently on Y/N’s clothed stomach. “And how’s bub number 2 doing?” He asked softly. Y/N smiled, her heart beaming at the gentleness of her husband. “They’re doing great in there,” she said, placing her hand over his above her two-month growing belly.

Harry beamed at this, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, eliciting a small whimper from her.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. Even after all these years, she found his green eyes just as beautiful and hypnotizing.

“I love you, too,” she said and smiled at him as they broke away.

Perhaps, Harry would consider himself lucky that his sad lonely self walked into the bar she previously worked at five years ago. Maybe if he hadn’t opened up to Y/N or went back to her apartment, he wouldn’t be able to have this little family he was blessed with. There was something so delicate and real he felt that night that he wanted to keep. So naturally, they both let their walls down and took a chance on each other. And perhaps because it was nearing Christmas that night, he would think of it as some Christmas miracle.

“Wanna open the presents, Rue?” Y/N asked Ruby as bounced her in her arms. Ruby giggled, not even understanding what her mother said, and nodded. “Yeah? Wanna open presents with mummy and daddy?” Y/N said excitedly as she carried her into the living room. Harry chuckled at the precious sight of them as he followed them.

As they sat down in the living room, he took a moment to just admire his wife and his daughter. Y/N, though wearing one of his Christmas sweaters and sleep shorts, looked just as beautiful and ethereal as she did the night they met. She held little Ruby in her arms, who was busy tearing up the small present in front of her. His wife cheered at their daughter as she took out a little stuffed teddy bear, giggling as she waved it around with her small hands.

Y/N looked up at him and gave him a loving smile as she intertwined her fingers with him. Despite them being in such cold weather, her hands felt warm against his. He admired how they fit perfectly in his. Ruby babbled incoherently to her parents about her gift, in which they nodded like they understood what she said. Harry’s heart warmed up just thinking of how they’ll have another addition to their loving little family soon.

His heart was full of love and happiness. He no longer felt alone. He had everything he wanted in that moment, his growing little family.

Everything was just right.

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