#I couldn’t imagine insisting that only the show and nothing else counted

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

Being a doctor who fan and at the same time being a canon purist doesn’t make any sense to me, like you really only listen to what the show runners tell you? Are you even having fun?

#and yet I have met at least one #when I said that it doesn’t matter if a showrunner officially said something was canon or not they argued that actually it was #*does #like honestly if they have the rights/permission to produce it that’s good enough for me #and even then sometimes I don’t care if they don’t (looking at you faction paradox) #like honestly incorporating eu content into how I see the doctor who universe has made it a lot more fun #I couldn’t imagine insisting that only the show and nothing else counted #doctor who

[mikavlcs]

Young Blood

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x gn!reader

Summary: You’re new and Gwen’s forced to show you around. It doesn’t end up being as tedious as she was expecting.

Warnings: mild astv spoilers, my writing lol

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: listen, i know this will get like 20 notes, but i needed to do this okay. i love her sm. this also my first time writing anything marvel related...as i’m sure you can tell.

Masterlist

Gwen dug the heels of her palms into her eyes as she walked up the wall, unsuccessfully fighting off another exasperated groan.

She shouldn’t have been doing this. She should be off in another dimension fixing anomalies and fighting bad guys, not this. Anyone could greet new recruits, so why Miguel insisted on making her do it was an eternal mystery. She was honestly starting to think that he just liked annoying her.

Jessica offered her a sympathetic smile when delivering the news, but Gwen didn’t want sympathy, she wanted a mission.

Still, she followed orders, knowing that disobeying would only put her further down the mission list. Plus, with Pavitr and Hobie busy, what else was there to do?

She stepped up to the entrance and her eyes found you immediately. You were easy to spot. All newbies were. They all had the same awe-struck reaction to the compound which Gwen couldn’t blame them for, considering she had been there once herself.

Your mask was off, hanging limp in your hand while your eyes roamed the vast space with a wonder she felt only months prior. It brought a smile to her face.

“Insane right?” she prompted gently as she approached, drawing your eyes to her. “I had the same reaction. It’s not every day you get to see so many spider-people in one place.”

“I didn’t know there was this many. I thought I was the only one,” you admitted, astonishment clear in your voice.

Gwen chuckled. She knew the feeling well. “We all did, but there’s more of us than you can imagine.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Gwen, by the way. I’m your appointed tour guide.”

You took her hand, gave it a firm shake. “I know, Jessica told me. Nice to meet you, Gwen.”

“Likewise. What Earth are you from?”

“Uh,” you trailed off briefly, tapping at your watch. “Earth-69.”

A snort escaped her before she could stop it. You looked up at her, wide-eyed, while she fought to contain herself.

“I’m sorry, I’m—it’s nothing. I’m actually from Earth-65. Never met anyone from the same sector.”

Brows raised, you remarked, “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She took a look at your suit and, seeing the abundance of white expertly weaved in with the mixture of red and black, couldn’t help asking, “So, why white? Most of us use some combination of red and blue. Besides me, obviously.”

“I want my enemies to see me coming,” you replied, sending her a slightly off-kilter grin that made her unsure whether you were joking. She smirked.

“Foreboding. I like it.” She turned, signaling you to follow. “Now, come on. As you can see, we have a lot of ground to cover, and Miguel will want to brief you as soon as possible.”

You obeyed, following her as she led you around headquarters, showing you the ins and outs of every winding, overlapping corridor while informing you of the group’s purpose. Well, as much as she could without ruining Miguel’s big presentation.  

About a third of the way in, she said, “I should probably start introducing you to the others.” Gwen looked around, spotting a few vaguely recognizable masked faces. She pointed to one with a large white spider on his chest.

“That’s Peter.”

He gave you a polite salute which you returned, giving him a compliment about his suit as well. A familiar plastic Lego figure came ambling down the way. Gwen pointed to him.

“That’s Peter.”

The Lego twisted his hooked handpiece in your direction. You gave him a startled wave in response, looking thoroughly perplexed. Next, a car came cruising along and she pointed at it.

“That’s also Peter.”

The car honked as it sped by. You didn’t even react this time. Up ahead, Gwen spotted Ben, sitting off to the side with his tightly curled up to his chest. She sighed, halfheartedly pointed in his direction.

“That’s—”

“—let me guess, Peter?” you cut in, shooting her an unimpressed look.

She laughed. “No, that’s Ben.”

You let out a quiet oh and gave him a concerned look. Ben roused at the sound of his name, looking at the both of you with an absolutely pitiful expression.

“I would greet you guys, but I’m in the middle of a very traumatic flashback,” he moaned, overblown sorrow tinging his words.

Your eyebrows knitted together, and you started to say something, but Gwen pushed you forward by your shoulders, throwing a bye, Ben! over her shoulder. “Trust me, it isn’t worth it,” she mumbled at the confused look you gave her.

She continued guiding you by your shoulders, ignoring the odd looks from passing spiders, until you stopped short suddenly, making her crash into your back.

You were frozen, mouth agape, and eyes locked on something across the way. “Is that a t-rex?”

Following your gaze, Gwen beamed and nodded. “Yep. That’s Spider-Rex.” You gaped.

“Hey Pter!” she yelled with a wave. A ground-shaking roar echoed through the compound in response, scaring more than a few spiders and making Gwen chuckle. After a few more moments of gawking, you unfroze and continued following her, though your eyes still trailed the dinosaur in the distance.

The rest of the tour went without a hitch, the only small stops being a break to pet Spider-Cat and a short introduction to Margo. Soon enough, she was leading you down the long, dark hall to Miguel’s sanctuary.

Miguel, seemingly sensing your guys’ incoming presence, activated his platform and let it start making its way down. Very, very slowly. He wasn’t even halfway down by the time you guys made it into the heart of his den. Gwen barely resisted facepalming. He did this with every newbie, and it got more embarrassing each time. She leaned over to you, suppressing a grimace at the bewildered look on your face.

“I know, it’s slow. He just really likes his dramatic entrances,” she explained away, watching Miguel’s platform descend from above ever so slowly.

You both stood there for minutes, until finally, the platform stopped, and Miguel turned to peer down on you with a look that would have made Gwen cower a few months ago, but now just made her want to heave a deep sigh.

“Miguel, this is the new recruit from Earth-69,” she announced, voice rising at the end with the remnants of a poorly contained laugh. You didn’t seem to catch it, but Miguel did. He gave her a look that told her to knock it off and she did. Hesitantly.

He stepped off the platform and approached, eyes solely on you. “I see. Welcome. We’re glad to have you, but unfortunately, your briefing will have to wait as something has come up.” He turned his gaze to Gwen then, and her posture straightened as she realized what he was about to say.

“Gwen, I’ve got a mission for you.”

“Yes! Finally,” Gwen replied. But he was giving her that look. Her excitement wavered, realization setting in. “Please, don’t say tha—”

“You’ll be needing a partner for this mission.”

Gwen groaned. She hated partner missions. Even when she got the opportunity to pair up with people she liked, she much preferred to go solo. She just worked better alone—always had and always would. She tried to plead with Miguel, “C’mon, Miguel, you know I’m—"

“This is non-negotiable, Gwen,” he cut her off with that annoyingly authoritative tone that she couldn’t stand. “Pick a partner and get going ASAP. I want this done as quickly as possible.”

He walked off then, likely to find Jessica, leaving Gwen to sulk. And she did for about thirty seconds before pulling herself together. When Miguel wanted something done, it needed to get done. She could sulk more later. For now, she shifted her focus to finding an apt partner.

Her go-to’s were off the table. Pavitr was off on his own solo mission and Hobie was off doing lord knew what. Probably something anarchy related. She would have to find someone else.

Jessica was always busy these days, and she was taking less and less missions as her due date neared anyway, so she was off the table. She wasn’t asking Ben because she valued her remaining sanity. Peter B was an option, but he’d want to bring his baby along and Gwen was not equipped to deal with that. But maybe Web-Slinger would work. Or one of the various Peters. Or…maybe someone new.

Her eyes drifted over to you, still at her side despite the tour being technically over. She sized you up, once, twice, then one more time for good measure. You could work, but she knew nothing about how you operated in the field. The entire time, you watched her with a raised brow, unafraid of her judgment.

She crossed her arms, leveled you with a careful look. “On a scale from 1-10, how would you rate your combat ability?”

“10/10, but I may be a bit biased,” you responded immediately, still maintaining eye contact.

Her chin jerked up, eyes narrowing. “Confident, okay. How about web-slinging ability?”

“9.5/10.”

“9.5?”

“I might’ve hit a bird last time,” you said with a small grimace, “but everything else was flawless. Promise.”

That was good enough for Gwen. She uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, giving you a sly smile.

“Well then, newbie, how would you like to go on your first mission?”

You were pulling on your mask before she could even finish, red fabric veiling your wide smirk. “Let’s do it.”

With a nod, she inputted the coordinates Miguel sent her and watched as a corresponding portal spawned with a brilliant burst of light and color. The sight never got old, no matter how many times she saw it. You stepped up to her side and she sent you a sideways glance, a smile creeping onto her face.

Partner missions sucked, but she had a feeling this one wouldn’t be so bad.

#i need this movie injected into my veins #gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #spider gwen #ghost spider #across the spiderverse #spiderman #marvel #this is kinda boring sorry. testing the waters #also idk what tags this should exist under #but who else has had hummingbird on repeat??

[velvetcloxds]

KISS ME | J.M.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: basically city girl kissing the pretty surfer boy in the ocean

summary: jj has been acting like your local tour guide since you came to the island on vacation and though you can't stay there forever, there's something else that you can do

“Trust me,” it was an easy ask, truly if you were to trust anyone to lead you into what you considered undeniable danger it would be him, JJ Maybank, blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, eyes that promised nothing but bad decisions, and unforgettable nights. You’d met him on your first night on the island, all dressed up in your cutest little tourist outfit walking around all the wrong places when you stumbled into him and his friends. You had a feeling he wasn’t this welcoming to all the tourists that washed ashore via overpriced fairy and first-class ticket, but you couldn’t deny the allure of running about with a local doing everything you wouldn’t dare to think of at home.

He'd taken you on an adventure you didn’t sign up for, took you walking among the trees, showed you all his favorite spots, hiding or otherwise, stopped at the mainland to show you all the little stores meant for people like you, even stood in line with you to buy one of those beautiful but in his opinion, cringy, overprized shell necklaces, though he made sure to lay on the compliments soon after he’d helped you put it on. The logical part of you considered that this wasn’t entirely wise, allowing a stranger to whisk you about a strange place without a second thought, you’d briefly envisioned your name on some newspaper back home, “tourist girl disappears after having the best month of her life”, alas you ignored reason and allowed him to continue to talk you into his insistent spontaneity.

“Trust you?” you scoffed, a foot testing the water before gently splashing him from where he stood holding a hand out to you, hoping that that dreamy smile would convince you to onto the boat with him, it was very convincing, you’d give him that but the water splashing around you wasn’t and it brought to mind very many other newspaper articles you could end up on. “I just met you a week ago, trust is a hard ask.”

“Have I given you any reason not to trust me yet?” low was his voice, magnetic, a siren song of sorts because you inched closer, biting back a squeal when the water climbed up to your knees, wetting your sundress in the process.

“You sure you know how to drive that thing?” he’d already answered that question at least ten times since he suggested this activity last night, twice at dinner when he helped you remove the shells from your shrimp, once more on the walk home when you stopped to see someone busking by the beach, again when he walked you to your hotel, again on the phone when you called to make sure he got home alright after you’d made him late- the rest was accounted for on the way here, yet he still smiled, playfully rolled his eyes and offered you the same answers as before.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now would you just come over here already,” and with a shaky sigh and a demand from your mind to stop being a baby about it you were taking his hand to have him help you onto the boat he’d borrowed from John B. You didn’t dare take note of the way his hands lingered on your waist, or the smirk on his lips when you gripped onto his wrist until you were safe, just as you hoped he didn’t notice you trying to hide the warmth spreading to your cheeks.

JJ gave you a moment to settle once the boat started moving, hands gripping the edge very tightly as he tried not to admire the sight of you too long, brushing an entirely out-of-character respectful hand over the small of your back as he passed you to the steering wheel, you couldn't look towards him, settling your gaze on the water around you, talking your nerves down.

The nerves in question settled lightly as soon as you went further in, the beauty something you could only imagine, finally being able to experience something you’d seen on the postcards you’d bought to tell your mother all about your time here. You’d gotten courage by the time he’d dropped anker, choosing the perfect spot for what he deemed a casual swim- eyes now locked with his as he took off his shirt, dragged a hand through his hair, preparing himself for his latest pitch.

“Are you planning on seducing me into the water, JJ?” you were only half teasing, partly because you knew that if that was his plan it might just work, and partly because the idea of getting into the water was even more terrifying than getting onto the water.

“Sweet talk yes,” he confirmed, and it was embarrassing how quickly your heartbeat spiked when he flicked the strings of your sundress, a measly little piece of fabric held together by dreams and wishes, it was the only bit of your mother you could bring with you, it deserved to experience this place too. “Seduce, only as a last resort,” you scoffed at that, humming when he slid his arms to either side of you to grip the handle behind you. “You trust me yet?” he had to know the answer to that by now, so when you nodded embarrassingly eagerly, you didn’t expect him to look so surprised, or so smug to be fair. “Well then,” he was careful, seemed to always be so around you, as he released one hand to pull at the strings he flicked at earlier, expert fingers opening your dress to reveal your bathing suit. A little wink was all you got before your sundress dropped to your feet and he was over the edge and into the water.

Be brave, was all you could remind yourself, taking another second to appreciate how beautiful everything around you was, how once in a lifetime the moment felt, and how you knew without a doubt that you’d regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t go swimming in the ocean with one of the hottest guys that ever looked at you, so you did it. You slipped in slowly, reached for JJ immediately after you’d caught your breath and he was ready for it, settled his hands on your waist, and laughed lightly as you gripped his shoulders.

“Took your time,” he teased, and you could only smile, your head hadn’t caught up with you just yet, with the cold water lapping gently around you, the smell of salt lingering heavy in the air, the heat of the wind unlike how it felt at home, his body against yours, the feel of his fingers somehow still identifiable even under the water. “Talked yourself into it?”

“Just took it all in,” you shook your head, it was worthy of a thousand photos, you had to settle for capturing it in your head, securely filing it under the best few days you’d ever have, the perfect scenes, entries in diaries there weren’t enough pages to cover. “It’s amazing, everything has been so amazing, I wish I didn’t have to leave,” you were surprised you’d managed the sincerity while being so focused on his thumbs brushing ever so close to your hips, up and down matching the rhythm of the ocean.

“Why can’t you?” he challenged and though you knew it must seem so simple from where you were, had he had any idea what brought you here, what you’d run from, what you’d have to get back to, it would probably seem even simpler.

“We can’t always do everything that we want, surfer boy,” he flushed at the nickname, and stuck his tongue in his cheek, how you’d managed to make the most mundane words feel so perfectly special was beyond him. Moving his hands came naturally, instinct, pulling you closer partly because of the increased tide creeping in and because he knew this was it, the peak of your time together and he wanted to make the most of it, savor it, rush it, replay it every moment until he watched you leave.

“What about just one?” he suggested and you’d be left to wonder what on earth that meant had his eyes not drifted to your lips for a fleeting glance before meeting your eyes again, tinted cheeks though not of embarrassment as much as excitement. “What’s one thing you want that you can actually do,” you were happy for the bravery that survived from when you’d talked yourself down there.

“Kiss you,” you didn’t need much time to admit it, consider it, might as well face it and he knew you would, or hoped at least because it didn’t take him much time either to bring you flush against him, chest to chest, far closer than ever before, one hand tightening around his neck to assist you in pulling yourself up, the other though far from steady cupped his cheek. “I want to kiss you,” you breathed though far less certain, eager still but in a nervous, shaken way.

“Well, then, city girl,” he lifted a hand as well, climbed the surface all the way up to your head where he forced you to close the distance, his lips tasted of salt and coconut, perfectly fitting you managed to decide on before getting lost in the kiss and when you pulled away with a light giggle and newly wettened hair from the boat bumping into you, JJ swore he could kiss you all over again. “You could stay,” he argued, humming as you returned your hand to fall over the other, arms folded around his neck, no need for space now which is why you didn’t stray away from him brushing his nose against yours. “There’s still so much more I could show you,” you didn’t mean to shake your head so quickly and turn him down, but for once you didn’t want to think about what was next, only now.

“Kiss me again,” you demanded and you were perfectly in place to do it yourself really, but you needed him to stop talking. “Just stop talking and kiss me.”

“Now who is seducing who,” his words were laughably contradicting as he tapped your legs to have them wrap around his waist, hands drifting daringly low as he did just as you asked and selfishly he had no plans on stopping anytime soon.

#jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

[romeulusroy]

Arrangement (Roy!Sibling x Lukas Matsson)

((SUCCESSION SPOILERS))

Character/s: Lukas, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan mention

Word Count: 1,732

Requested: hi!! can i request roy!baby sibling being sent to “woo” lukas in favor of the deal? they were indifferent at first but eventually fell for him. (not necessarily needed to be included but i imagine kendall would find out about the blood thing with ebba and try to tank the deal hahaha) - anon

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: Hope you like it my love!!! This is based off the latest episode, so spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn't seen it!! Thank you for requesting!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

You cleared your throat, following him through the doorway. Your glass was cold, the stem fragile, the red wine disgusting. Something expensive, Tom had poured, swishing around, threatening to spill. You took one last glance back. They stood huddled together, nodding at you, insisting you go in. You would have rolled your eyes if he hadn’t turned to see you, inviting you in. You smiled, cursing your family. Fuck Kendall, fuck Shiv, fuck Roman, and especially fuck Logan. The door shut behind you, making you jump. Don’t worry, I’m not going to try anything. I just want to talk. His hand fell the small of your back, ever so slightly pushing you along to where the living set sat. Fuck all fo them, you added at the end, over and over again until you were sitting across from him. The room was dark except for a few lamps. One wall was floor to ceiling windows. He had his back turned on the view, as if it didn’t matter, as if the only thing you should be focusing on was him. Shiv’s home had so many rooms, so many ins and outs, it was a wonder she didn’t get lost every day. You couldn’t help yourself, letting your eyes wander over him, above him, to the glittering city. It was too dark to see any details, but that didn’t really matter. It stood grand, solid, daunting in the darkness. Your home, for as long as you’ve been alive. It looked its most perfect at its most blurry, shunned from the daylight. 

He looked tired. That was the first thing you’d noticed about him when he showed up. He wasn’t some godlike creature they all feared he was. He was just some guy in a gold jacket. The bags under his eyes were puffy, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. He brought Ebba and Oskar with him, making fun of them as if that’s what all bosses did. You weren’t sure if you should laugh or not, so you said nothing. Everyone seemed uncomfortable but him. You had Gerri, Frank, and all of your siblings. An army, and for what? This guy? You tried to hide your smile. This was the guy everyone had been worried about? Leave it to them to be dramatic. Jesus, you could have stayed in the home. It was a last minute invitation. Whose idea, you’re not sure. After everything with dad, you were more than happy to tag along. It was a wanted distraction. The thought sent a shiver through your body. This election party was a nice distraction, even if it meant schmoozing with this guy. He shook hands with your brothers, and attempted to hug your sister, stopping at you. His eyes seemed to light up. You went in for a hug, unsure of what else to do, as Kendall introduced you. Y/n, the baby of the Roy family. You’d never met him before. You weren’t even sure he knew you existed. You were as far removed from the company as possible. You just weren’t interested. You had a life outside of all this. You thought everyone should do the same, though the idea isn’t well liked. He likes you, Roman said while you two followed the rest to a private room. Was that true? He just learned your name, and yet, it seemed like he couldn’t take his gaze off you, even if you were the least significant Roy in the room. You had no idea what the deal was, what you were supposed to be rooting for, only that it was worth a lot and it was keeping your brothers up at night. Shut up, you hissed back, really wishing you’d said no. The deal went well in Norway, so you thought this was just a formality. You had no idea it was falling apart behind the scenes. 

It was their plan all along. Kendall and Rome had learned his “type”. He had a weakness for someone who looked like you. It didn’t hurt that you were the youngest, either. Barely legal, Roman always joked, though you were far older than that. They knew bringing you along would help, at least it would offer some sort of distraction, like a parting gift. He gets to talk to you, stare at you, imagine whatever he wanted, and they’d get their deal. All you had to do was stand there and look pretty. You’d figured it out quick enough. You played nice, used your best manners, but they were acting strange about it. They watched your every move, paid close attention to everything you did and said. They waited for him to laugh at your jokes before they found it funny. Lukas seemed distracted by you, too. He lost track of what they were talking about, having to be gently, constantly reminded. Even out on the grass, surrounded by his team, the rest of you left to mingle, he always found his way to you. Rome was right. The more he got to know you, heard your sarcasm, your jokes, your unfiltered thoughts and feelings, the more he seemed to like you. Want you. Over the balcony's edge, he followed you out, stood beside you, asking you questions, needing to know more. What were your interests, your hobbies, why weren't you more involved in the company. They never took their eyes off you, wanting to make sure what you were saying was okay. He wasn’t even supposed to show, but he did, and you were his bait. 

Is he always like that? You ask, taking another rancid sip, Oskar I mean. He was high, obviously, and keen on making everyone he came into contact with uncomfortable. He talked about your body in ways you’d never thought at a political party. Lukas came to your defense immediately, seriously, making him and Ebba jump at his tone. You hadn’t expected him to be so offended on your part, but he seemed genuinely upset, leaving the pair in favor of your company. Like an asshole? Most of the time, yes. He chuckles. I am sorry for his behavior. You force a smile. You should hear what they all say. They’re on their best behavior tonight. There were a few Nazis here, it could have been much worse. He nods, understanding, having gotten a warning speech from your sister about how to act and what to say. He asks how you’re doing with your father. You shrug. No one’s asked you since that night. It still feels unreal. He talks about his own father. You can’t help but notice how human he looks all of a sudden, so fragile, so small. You almost feel bad for him. Despite the situation, being offered up to him like a piece of meat, he’s a kid just like you, like your siblings, pretending to know how to handle this niche slice of adulthood. You make a joke about the wine  that gets you a smile. You become more comfortable with him, letting your shoulders drop, your spine slouch. He speaks of Sweden, how beautiful it is, how much he misses it. About his past relationships, that they never seemed to work out. About your family, how messy they are. You can’t help but agree. Not just your siblings, though it was a miracle you were all in the same room without fighting, but your father and mother. He was cruel and took pleasure in pinning you against one another. She was absent and yet so needy, unstable. You talk about your past relationships, how hard it was to find someone who wanted you, not your money or your name. An hour has gone by before you know it. You didn’t mean to tell him all of this, to open up, it just happened. 

Do you want to go back to the party? He asks, eyeing the door. Not really, you think. You can hear the murmur of guests just outside. All of them trying their best to smile and get along. Tomorrow they’ll be at one another's throats. Do you? He shakes his head no. It’s more fun here. That makes heat rush to your face. The conversation flows without any hiccups. Where you want to travel next, what you wanted to be when you were a kid, all your thoughts about the next presidential candidate, favorite ice cream toppings. You spoke about everything and anything. His laugh came easy, especially at your jokes. It was one of the things he liked most about you, your humor. He told you things he wasn’t proud of, things you’d later realize information  your brothers would have killed for. Nothing big, nothing scary, just personal fears. He trusted you with this. You wouldn’t tell another soul. You liked him a hell of a lot more than when you first met. He was more of a person, not just a walking conglomerate. His company was even enjoyable. He had absolutely no filter and said some outrageous things, but in a world like yours, that was normal. The only reason you even stopped was because of a knock at the door. Shiv wore a tight smile, asking if she could speak to Lukas alone. Behind her, Kendall and Rome watched. I’ll see you soon, he promised, don’t stray too far. You nodded, getting up, leaving the room. You couldn’t read your brother's expressions, but it didn’t look good. Wordlessly, they took your arm, leading you far from the room. What the fuck? I was doing what you said to, you said once you were alone, pulling yourself from their tight grips. Roman rolled his eyes. Not everything is about you. Did he tell you about the blood and hair? What the fuck was he talking about? The shock on your face was enough to convince them. They began speaking at the same time. Fucking Matsson has been sending. . . stuff to his ex-girlfriend. I don’t want you going near him again. His numbers are all wrong, they’re all made up. Never should have used you like this. Fraud. Deal. Freak. What were they talking about? You looked down the hall, through the open doorway, where Shiv is talking to him. She looked angry, upset. He seemed content, even jovial, laughing at himself. Was this true? You wouldn't believe it. He seemed like such a nice guy.

#requested #lukas matsson #lukas matsson imagine #lukas matsson x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy x reader #shiv roy #shiv roy imagine #shiv roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy imagine #succession #succession imagine #succession x reader

[danielfuckingricciardo]

Sealed With A Kiss - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Word Count - 1.6k

Content Warning - References to death

Synopsis - Charles had a bad day, but you come to him with an offer he simply can’t refuse.

Author’s Note - It’s been a while, huh? Honestly I wasn’t feeling so inspired but now I’m back in the swing of things and here with some spooky fics for the Halloween season! I’m such a Halloween girlie (gn) and I’ve wanted to write something like this for a while. So stay tuned for more spooky fics coming soon!

You approach him with tenacity in your step; the man sat alone at the bar, an empty glass beside his head that rested forlornly in his own arms. He was perfect, just what you needed.

You pull out the stool beside him and take a seat, tapping your talon-like red nails on the bar to attract the attention of the bartender.

“I’ll take a white russian, and another of whatever he’s having.” You say in a silky tone.

The bartender nods and busies himself with preparing the drinks, and you turn your attention to your new depressed drinking buddy.

“Cheer up, darling. One can never be so miserable when someone buys you a drink. It’s simply not polite.” You say, and he looks up at you, taking in your appearance.

You didn’t look like the other patrons of the bar. Most of them insisted on displaying their wealth, showing it off in tasteless and gaudy garments and jewellery that only served as a status symbol and nothing more. But you sat there, understated, in a simple black cocktail dress, with a ruby necklace resting around your neck. Somehow you seemed even more expensive than all the other posers in the bar, you didn’t feel the need to flash your cash, and Charles couldn’t help but be intrigued by you.

“Sorry, I, uh… had a bad day.” He says. “Thank you, though, for the drink.”

Your red lips curl into a smile, and you nod in appreciation.

“Bad day? Care to share your woes with with a complete stranger? A problem shared is a problem halved, or so they say.”

“I suppose. Uh, where to start? It’s my job, I guess. Things haven’t been going so well and my dream seems to be falling further and further out of reach, no matter how hard I try.” He says with a sigh.

You raise your eyebrow at him as the bartender returns with your drinks, and you pause for a moment to take a sip.

“That must be rather hard to deal with, yes? The human mind is a funny thing, often it is its own biggest enemy. You create aspirations and goals for yourself, and as you fail to achieve them, the battle with your mind only becomes more intense, distracting you from your true goal and rendering you further from ever achieving it.”

Charles takes a sip of his drink, “yes, I suppose so. We fight our own demons so much that we get distracted from the real fight.”

You chuckle slightly at his comment, and he looks at you in confusion.

“Then perhaps you should stop fighting those demons? Embrace them, maybe, listen to them.” You say, and you take a small pause to take another sip of your drink. “I think I could help you, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles looks at you, his eyes wide. “You know who I am?”

“I know of you, yes. And I think that I could help you achieve those dreams of yours. But I would require something in return.” You say with a sly smile.

The background noise of the bar suddenly falls silent, and Charles looks around to notice that everyone else around him had disappeared. He looks back at you, only to find that you, too, had disappeared.

“I suppose you would like to know the conditions of my deal.” You say, appearing from thin air behind the bar, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to top up Charles’ drink.

“Who… who are you?” He asks, and you smile at him once again, your eyes becoming black for just a second, before flashing back to their usual colour so quickly that Charles wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not.

“You’re a demon, aren’t you?” He asks, and you chuckle.

“Darling, I’m not just a demon… I’m the demon.” You respond.

You appear behind him and tap him on the shoulder with your sharp red nails, and he jumps, turning to face you.

“The name bestowed upon me by Lord Lucifer himself was Mephistopheles, however, unlike many of my demonic counterparts, I have elected to move with the times, so call me (y/n).” You say.

“Okay, (y/n).” Charles says, not looking entirely convinced by your existence.

“I have spent millennia assisting humans like yourself to achieve their dreams. Other demons will grant the wishes of any human who summons them at some dusty crossroads, but I am a little more… selective. The rewards I receive from these deals are much more satisfying.”

“The rewards?” Charles says, and you roll your eyes.

“Human souls.” You say, and Charles’ mouth drops open. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m a demon, not a witch, I’m not about to kidnap your firstborn or do anything else as grotesque. What in hell would I want with a human infant?”

“You want me to give you my soul?” Charles asks.

“Not immediately, no. The typical deal my kind offer to humans is ten years of life in which they experience no pain or suffering, either mentally or physically. We will fix whatever they require us to fix and they can live out those years the way they wish. And come the end, the demon will reap their soul and it provides them sustenance. However, due to my high status in hell, my deals work a little differently.” You say, and Charles looks at you, perplexed.

“I realise this is a lot to take in for a human. But I guarantee you that my offer is indeed worthwhile to you.” You say, and Charles suddenly appears as if deep in thought. It seemed that he was considering your offer.

“What is your offer?” He asks, and your red lips curl into a smile.

“A human soul like yours is worth far more to a demon than the usual soul. So I come to you with a greater deal. I will allow you to live out the entirety of your lifespan, in which you achieve that little dream of yours and live happily ever after. But when the time comes, I will reap your soul and consume it.” You say, and Charles looks rather confused.

“But that could be fifty or sixty years before you get your end of the deal?” He says, and you nod.

“When you’ve been alive for millennia, a single human lifespan feels like mere moments do to you. Trust me when I say, your soul is worth the wait.”

“How can I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain? You’re a demon, you could reap my soul right now and leave me dead in this bar.” Charles says.

“A demon can only reap a soul directly once the human has entered into a direct contract with them. Hell is, well, a bureaucratic hell.” You chuckle, “We are all bound to the contracts we sign, as are you humans. Once the contract is signed I have to deliver, and when you die, so will you.”

“This means I have no chance of getting into heaven, yes?” Charles says, and you roll your eyes.

“How many humans do you think actually make it to heaven? And even so, what makes you think that you’re destined for the pearly gates right now? I assure you, my deal will only serve to enhance your life, and yes, it does remove the infinitesimally small possibility that St. Peter might allow you entrance to that puritanically perfect borefest, but isn’t it worth the gamble? Is that minute chance of heaven really worth giving up everything you have ever dreamed of?” You say, resting your hands on his shoulders.

You lean into his ear ever so slightly, your lips brushing against his earlobe as you speak in a soft tone. “Don’t you want to be world champion? Don’t you want to bring pride to your family, your country, and your beloved team? Charles Leclerc deserves to be etched into the books of history as one of the greats, and I can make it happen. All you have to do, darling, is say the word.”

Charles turns towards you, his face practically touching yours as he speaks, “Yes. I want that.”

“Then allow me to give it to you.” You whisper, your eyes flickering into darkness once again. Charles can’t help but stare deeply into them. It was as if he could see into eternity itself, and he was truly captivated.

He nods, and you capture his lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. In that moment, you get a taste, your first taste of his pure and perfect soul, completely untouched by malice or hate. It was sweet, like ambrosia, and you felt a surge of strength and power run through your body as the contract was signed, binding the two of you eternally.

As you finally pull away, Charles finds himself once again alone amongst the excited conversations of the other patrons of the bar. There was no sign of you, besides the half empty White Russian on the counter, and his own glass, still filled with whiskey, the large ice cube slowly melting into the amber drink.

He quickly downs the beverage and slams his glass on the counter, before walking out of the bar with a sense of determination in his step. He no longer had to fight his inner demons, they didn’t matter anymore. He had a demon on his side now, and all he had to do was win, and in the end, that was all that truly mattered to him.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you

[nanaflwers]

The mistery of the lost wallet

❝ I was embarrassed to say that I was in love with you since the first day I saw you. But if I knew this bothered you this much, it would be the first thing I would have done. ❞

summary. Years after an accident involving a lost wallet got you and idol!Jaemin together, you think the only thing that binds you and him is luck. Little do you know that the love of your life fell completely in love with you the first time he saw you. You would be his first and last.

pairing. Na Jaemin x fem!reader

genres. fluff, idol au, romance, humor

word count. 1468 words

playlist. My First and Last by NCT Dream

Authors note. My first ever NCT work or whatever this is. I like to imagine stories based on songs, hope you like it :)

“What you never dropped your wallet?” You ask to Jaemin, while laying your head on his lap.

“What about it?” He murmurs, brushing your hair with his fingers. You get up, looking at him with an angry stare, which made him laugh a little.

“What do you mean with ‘what about it’? We would never meet that day, and all of this” You point to him and you “wouldn’t have happened”

“I still don’t get your point” He says, his expression showing his confusion and, maybe, concern. You give him a small smile, sighing and leaning on the couch.

“I just… can’t stop thinking about how we only met because of luck. Only luck, and nothing else.” You look at him, feeling somehow nostalgic. “What if I never looked at your wallet? Even looking at it, I could have just given to a manager or just kept to myself as an ‘estimated idol item’. And just like that, I would have never met you and you wouldn’t even know about my existence.” You look to the window on the other side of the room, pursing your lips. “I would be a fan and you would be the Idol who I can only dream about. And maybe… if other girl had found the wallet, maybe you would be dating her by now” the last part come almost as a whisper, but it was loud enough to get to Jaemin’s ears.

“All these things that you’re saying? They don’t make any sense.” He holds your hand and start to draw small in it circles with his fingers.  

“You can’t guarantee that” You insist, squeezing his hand. This is going through your mind for a long time, something stupid, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that you two were together by luck, not because of you, not because of him.

“Actually, I can.” He looks right through your eyes, with the serious look that you are rarely able to see. “You were the only person who saw the wallet”, he smiles at you, and you feel your heart melting for a moment, “Because it was left there for you and for you only”.

The soft feeling in your chest is replaced by a sarcastic laugh, that lasted enough only to make you realize he is still being serious. You don't say a thing, your brain was too busy trying to figure out how what Jaemin said could ever make sense.

“I know I always say that the first time I met you was in “Go” promotion but… It was long before it” he scratches the back of his head, embarrassed. You almost get distracted by how cute he looks when he is shy. “The first time I saw you was during one of “Chewing Gum” stages. Me and the boys were still in backstage, but we were able to see the public by the sides of it.” He smiles and nods his head. “Everyone was crazy to get as much close to the stage as possible, but not you.” He gets closer, brushing a tendril of hair away of your face. “You were trying to help a little girl who couldn’t see the stage. You held her in your shoulders and barely saw the show, but your smile did not leave your face for even one second. I thought about you for days, and in the next stage, there you were: on the back, cheering and helping everyone around you, at the same time.” He smirks. “You really got me, you know?”

You1re speechless. Not a single word was going through your head when you listened to Jaemin’s confession, the one you’ve never heard about — not even from the boys. You shake your head, feeling your chest tight for a moment that felt like eternity. He continues, leaving you out of breath in every sentence.

“And then… I had to retire for a while”. A weight falls over his shoulders, and his smile can’t cover the sadness that fulfill his eyes. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand. “You know I don’t like to talk about it” Jaemin says, slightly tapping your knees. “I asked the members about you. If you looked healthy, if you showed up during the promotions. They said you did but… somehow you did not look the same. You still cheered up for them, but not in the same way as before.” Jaemin looks at you, raising his eyebrows. You give him a kind of sad smile, remembering the time when you could not see your favorite member on stage.

“You know I love all the boys but… you weren’t there. It was not the same without you. It apparently affected me more than I thought it did” You play a little in the middle of that emotional situation. He smiles, knowing that you were joking to hide the fact that you could easily cry at any moment.

“Well, stories and more stories, time flew away, and I got better” He raises his eyebrows, leaning closer to you. “And now, the best part. “Go” comeback stage. I was so nervous; I did not know if you were showing up that day. But, when the staff was finishing the stage, there you were. And gosh, you were beautiful. It took my breath away for real”. He entangles his fingers on yours, and you’re afraid he can hear every beat of your heart, that was beating faster than an EDM song. “I couldn’t look at you during our performance because of the cameras, and that was my biggest regret of that day. I wanted to see your reaction so bad”.

“I know it’s not the same, but I will summarize it for you”. You acquire a serious pose and look at him, without smile. “You didn’t have the right to grow up and become so damn beautiful. Really, puberty hit you hard, babe”

It is enough for him to burst into laughs, clapping his hand. You smile, glad to be able to light up the mood a little.

“I was sexy with those glasses, weren’t I?”

“Definitely” You reply, winking to him. “But seriously. I wasn’t ready to see you again. When you went up on stage… part of me wants to apologize to the boys, I only had eyes for you on that day” you confess, closing your eyes and almost dying of embarrassment. You and Jaemin were dating for a while by then, but it was strange to share your thoughts on fan days. Even though you didn’t like to talk about it, Jaemin loved to hear it.

“Well, I knew I had to do something. So I asked Donghyuck and Jeno to help me with something Renjun wouldn’t approve. To lose my wallet”

And then, just like magic, everything makes sense. Feeling like Ben franklin with a key and a kite, you slowly come to realize what Jaemin is trying to tell you.

“We had to put it in a place only you would be able to see. After that, Jeno and Donghyuck distracted the managers long enough for me to recover my wallet…” He looks at you, holding both of your hands like they are his whole world. “and finally meet you”.

Before you were able to hold them, a couple of tears fall from your eyes. All this time, you convinced yourself that you didn’t deserve to be on his side, that you could have easily just walked away that day, and…

“You finally got it, huh?” He wipes your tears away, smiling. “If you if you hadn't seen my wallet on that day, I would try on the next stage. And on the next, and probably on the next too. I wouldn’t stop until I could reach you.”

“I can’t believe it”. You are barely murmuring, too emotional to say something else. He puts your hair behind your ear and gently holds your face, kissing your forehead. “Why… why did you keep this to yourself all this time?”

“I was embarrassed to say that I was in love with you since the first day I saw you. But if I knew this bothered you this much, it would be the first thing I would have done” He gets closer, holding your waist. “But there’s another thing I’m regretful for.”

“And what is it?” You ask, putting your arms around his neck.

“I wasn’t able to sing for you back then, but I’ll sing for you now.” He kisses both of your cheeks, and your nose, getting closer to the point you can feel his breath. “There won’t be another you, you’re my last”. And then the feeling of his lips on yours fulfills all fear that you could possibly fear on that moment, and forever.

“You’re my last first love”

#na jaemin x reader #na jaemin #nct #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #jaemin fanfic #jaemin fluff #jaemin cute #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct imagines

[luminnara]

Omg. I love Marko x Harpy!Reader! But i wonder: imagine if one of the harpy babies (that fot me looks like when the phoenix in harry potter burns and come back to life) wanders around and get lost bcs paul was too high to realise one is missing? I just wanna se the shit show

Little muppet baby 🥺 also this ended up sweeter than I expected when I started it

@smenny

One, two, three…your brow furrowed as you counted. One, two…three. Only three.

You looked around the nest frantically, trying to keep your cool. Three chicks were happily nestled in amongst the feathers and fabric that padded the big nest, already either asleep or close to it, but you couldn’t possibly settle down with them. Not when you could only see three.

Where was number four?

“Paul?” You called, panic rising in your chest as you walked out of your cozy little alcove and into the main cavern of the boys’ den.

“Huh?” Came a lazy reply from the couch.

Your mood immediately turned from worry to irritation as you spotted him there, sprawled out across the cushions.

“Where is he?” You growled, coming to stand in front him.

“Where’s who?” He asked, picking his head up and trying to focus on you.

“My child!” You hissed, the feathers on your head puffing out slightly. “You were supposed to be watching them!”

“I was!” He insisted, trying and subsequently failing to sit up. “Shit, I don’t feel so good…”

“Bad trip?” you scoffed.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You rolled your eyes, panic bubbling up in your chest again. Paul was fucking useless, and you were still missing a baby.

You called for him, letting out a shrill cry that had Paul wincing and covering his ears. Then you paused for half a second, listening and desperately hoping for a response. When none came, you immediately sprung into action, pacing around the room, calling out over and over and over again.

This was bad. This was so bad. You knew you shouldn’t have left Paul in charge of them, but everyone else—yourself included—needed to go out and hunt, and he was the only one willing to stay back with the babies. The others were still out, you having been the first to finish eating and rush back to check on things, and without Marko around to help, you were starting to lose it a little.

“I can’t fucking believe this, Paul!” You snarled, tears in your eyes as you tore through piles of cloth back near the beds.

He was completely unhelpful, just waving a hand at you. If you made it out of this without dying of stress, you were going to kill him.

“You’re never babysitting again!” You yelled, moving on to check around the pile of discarded take out boxes. “You’re never doing anything again! When I’m through with you, you’ll never even be able to—“

“Babe, it’s okay,”

Marko’s voice had you whirling around, and when you spotted him near the cave entrance, your worry finally began ebbing away.

“Found this little guy pokin’ around outside,” he said.

In his hands, he held your missing chick, an adorable little ball of fluffy baby feathers with big, adoring eyes that always made your heart swell. It was difficult to tell at such a young age, but this one seemed like he was heading towards bright plumage when his adult feathers finally grew in later on. You supposed that would match his adventurous personality.

“Oh, thank god,” you rushed over, losing a few feathers in your hurry. “Is he okay? Where was he? Is anything broken?”

“He’s fine,” Marko chuckled as he handed the chick over. “He was just outside. Caught him trying to eat a rock.”

“Trying?” You asked warily, cradling him against your chest.

“I don’t think he actually swallowed any.” Marko shrugged. “Good for the immune system though, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s how that—“

“I knew he was fine,” Paul interrupted from the couch. “See? All’s well that ends well.”

You glared at him before turning on your heel. “You are the worst, Paul.”

“But nothing bad happened!” He called after you.

“It very well could have!” You snapped over your shoulder. Then, to the sleepy baby in your arms, you cooed, “come on, sweetheart. Time for bed.”

He chirped and warbled, wiggling in protest. It was half hearted, though, and by the time you put him down to join his siblings, you could see his eyelids drooping.

“All four accounted for?” Marko asked, leaning against the wall as he watched you climb into the nest.

“All four,” you sighed, counting them again for good measure.

He gave you a fond look before leaning down for a kiss. “Want me to sleep in here today?”

“No, we’ll be fine,” you smiled, bumping your nose against his. “You need your beauty sleep. You’re always comfiest with the others.”

“I’m comfiest when I know you’re happy and safe, baby,” he murmured.

You beamed up at him. “We’re fine now. I promise.”

When he looked down at you there, curled up around the four vampiric little harpies you had recently welcomed into the world, he knew that you were right.

“Until tomorrow night, then?” He asked.

“Til tomorrow, Marko.”

#the lost boys #marko x monster!reader #marko x harpy!reader #marko x reader #harpy!reader #lost boys imagine

[saskiahaggens]

After the Storm Part 9

Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,  Poly Ending

Pairing: Jake x fem!Reader x Richy x Phil (?)

Warnings:

spoilers

mentioning of death, attempted suicide

swearing

Word count: 3582

Please remember that English is not my first language, so please don't kill me.

"Let's go somewhere comfier," groaned "Jake."

"What's your name? Given how much you know about me, it's only fair ", you inquired as you exited the bathroom.

"Life isn't fair, Y/n, and trust me, I know a lot more about you than you could imagine."

He laughed faintly and hopped into your bed. He took a glance at your phone's screen before starting to type. He eventually tossed it around in his palms, appearing bored. His demeanor was that of a five-year-old. You could just guess that he suffered some type of trauma because of the events in his childhood.

"Well, if you insist, I'll have to refer to you as Jake's brother." You sat down on the ground and shrugged.

"Don't even think about it."  He hissed, before adding a 'Wyatt.', after a moment of silence.

"That's all I asked for, Wyatt."

You had to find a method to convince him not to kill you. He would not feel sorry for you based on his actions after the car accident. You either have to make him like you or make him afraid of you.

You were never a great actress, but you can't let him see how scared you are.

"I like your name. One of my dogs is named after you. My friend is watching over them while I'm here.", you smiled.

You could at least give it a go, right?

"I like your commitment, young lady, but I know too much about you to believe your lies."

Your eyes widened slightly. You never uploaded pictures on any social media, so how can he possibly know you're lying? Well, you had two, but they were named Gandalf and Farmer Pickles. You couldn't think of any ordinary names, but Wyatt will be added to your list.

"Oh yeah? I don't think so."

"You were born on [your birthdate] and had never left your hometown until now.  You have your own tiny workout studio there, but you're mainly working on the finances right now. Your father works as a dentist, and your mother works in a tiny office down the road. Oh, and I know you have dogs. They're both adorable, but none of them is named Wyatt. Should I go on?"

"I would prefer not.", someone else answered for you.

Your head snapped around, and you couldn't hide your smile.

"Jake.", you whispered.

"Look who showed up to the party."

"Leave her alone, Wyatt. She has done nothing to you."

Jakes' voice was as cold as ice. You have never seen him so mad before. This whole situation felt like a movie scene, just a bit more real.

"Don't intervene here, the grown-ups are talking right now," Wyatt grumbled and looked back at you.

"But he is right, Wyatt. What exactly do you want to achieve with this? You kill me, and Jake might feel terrible for a while, but life goes on. He might remember me, but he must live with it. Worse, he might be seeking vengeance on you, creating a vicious circle."

Wyatt remained silent for a second, and you thought you had him, but you were mistaken.

"But for the time being, I'll be satisfied. I planned too long for this, to not end it like I intended to.", he grinned wickedly and stood up.

"Then kill me instead of her."

"I could do that, but I want to see you suffer, not her."

He pulled out a knife and placed it against your neck. To be honest, you regretted the decision to sit down. At least Wyatt let you turn around. Not because he was nice; he wanted Jake to see your eyes when he killed you, was his explanation.

You spoke. "Sometimes forgiveness is the worst thing you can do to a person."

Given the circumstances, you were shocked at how calm your voice was, but you couldn't care less right now. Your heart felt like it was about to explode right now. You've never been so terrified in your life. The only thing that could match to how you feel right now is the night you believed you'd lost Jake and Richy.

"I never forgive anything."

"Mom wouldn't have wanted this."

"Yeah, but she's no longer alive. That is, after all, why we are here."

"Jake wanted to help you and her back then, and I think you are smart enough to know that. So, what happened? It can't be the only reason for all this."

"Would you like to know what happened after the fire? Jake simply vanished, and I was forced to spend the rest of my childhood in an abusive orphanage. He didn't give a damn about me."

"I wanted to protect you. I almost lost you in the fire, and I didn't want to hurt you again."

"Wyatt, please, it's all a big misunderstanding alright. Shouldn't you get revenge at the orphanage? I know some cops who would help you."

"I'm sorry, Y/n, but it's a little late for that now."

"Wyatt plea-," but you were cut off when he pulled his knife across your neck.

Your hands were on your neck in seconds, and Jake ran to your side and laid you down on the ground. He searched your room for the remote to contact the nurses and pressed it without hesitation.

Meanwhile, you felt like bleeding out and drowning all together. It stung, and your eyes were watering. Jake wasn't any better, either. After all, it was his fault. Your world had become blurry by now, but you knew somebody had to come soon, so you gestured to the window.

"I'm not leaving you alone." Jake shook his head, understanding what you meant.

"Richy," your words were more like a gurgle, but he understood it.

If you had paid close attention, you could have heard Jakes' heart break right then and there. Somebody had to tell him and if he stayed here, he would be arrested. He was torn between staying and leaving, but he knew you wouldn't forgive him if he stayed.

"Don't you dare to leave us, Y/n. We need you."

On his way out of the room, he scrolled softly. It may be his last time seeing you, and those are his final words? But he also needed to focus on Richy. He couldn't have done more for you anyway. Couldn't he? He saw Wyatt running away in the distance, so at least it would be safe to go to Richy.

~~~

Only seconds after Jake fled, nurses swarmed your room, but you weren't really awake by then. Everybody thinks that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Because all you saw was blackness, it was either a lie or you just weren't dying.

~~~

"Jake!" Richy almost screamed, but as he saw Jaks's face, his happiness turned to bewilderment. "What happened?"

Before he could speak, the black-haired man kneeled down and took a few deep breaths. "Y/n"

Richy wasn't stupid. Something terrible happened to you. But, because Jake was visibly running the entire way, he needed to settle down first, otherwise Richy wouldn't be able understand him. He didn't want to know what happened if he was honest, since he didn't want to lose you. But he walked up to Jake and hugged him tightly.

"Calm down. I'm here alright."

~~~

The next three days were, without a doubt, a living nightmare for Richy, Jake, and Jessy. Richy's delight at seeing Jake rapidly turned to sadness, and he wanted to tell Jessy right away. When Jessy informed them of your situation, they spent so much time hugging each other because Jessy would start crying and Richy couldn't stand watching her suffer.

You survived barely. The doctors lost you twice and had to put you in an artificial coma that you might never wake up from. Your friends came visiting you regularly, but after the incident, police were stationed near your room, so Jake and Richy couldn't see you.

One day, Jake saw Wyatt again. He had only intended to go for a walk and found him near a bridge in the middle of the night. He had to pull himself together to avoid shoving Wyatt right back off the bridge. When Jake realized that he had meant to do it himself, he became furious.

Wyatt had second thoughts about what he had done. You were correct; he now felt empty. So why not just call it quits? In the end, all he ever did was harm innocent people.

"How do you dare do this to Y/n and then just run away like a coward? If you feel bad or you finally realize that you have nothing to live for anymore, then live for her. You took her life away from her, so spend yours wisely, dammit. "

The conversation was quite short, because Wyatt left after that. Live for you? Easier said than done, right? It was weird how he wanted to kill you all the time, and know, he just couldn't bear the burden. It was pathetic. So, he chose to leave Duskwood because it only brought him grief, and Jake realized he felt the same way.

He wanted to leave Duskwood behind, with you and Richy.

#jake x y/n #jake x mc #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios #phil x mc #richy rogers #richy x mc #duskwood richy #duskwood jake #jessy duskwood #cleo duskwood #phil duskwood #thomas duskwood #hannah duskwood #mc x jake #richy x reader #phil x reader #imagine

[cheloumita]

To the one that got away,

We saw each other again the other day.

In a sea full of people, your eyes managed to find mine.

We walked toward each other, and with each step we took,

Echoes of my heartbeat drowned the chatter of everyone and everything else.

With each step, a flash of what could’ve been and should’ve been played in my mind.

Walking toward you in that moment took me back on a trip down memory lane,

Between the realm of best friends and more than friends.

I can’t recall when we began as “friends”,

But I still remember you telling me that the first time you saw me,

You felt drawn to me because of my laughter, because of my smile.

You were never the type of guy to initiate a conversation or even acknowledge someone with a smile,

So imagine my surprise, and everyone else’s, when after just one conversation,

We suddenly became like Bonnie and Clyde.

I couldn’t pinpoint when we transitioned from being “friends” to “best friends”.

Was it when you started calling me almost every night,

Talking on the phone until the sun came up because you still wanted to hear my voice?

Was it when you would call or text me last thing before going to bed and at 4 am when you stirred awake just because you wanted me to be your first and last thought?

Was it when you updated me about your whole day every time we didn’t spend the day together?

Was it when you offered to accompany me when I was just learning how to drive?

Was it when you asked me to show up for your talk because you felt that my presence would bring you peace?

Was it when you asked me to watch a TV show that you liked and insisted on watching it at the same time, trading commentaries the whole time?

Was it when, even at opposite ends of the room, we could read each other’s minds and communicate with our eyes?

Was it when you told me that you held my opinion most valuable?

Was it when words just started pouring out of your mouth, and you told me everything that you never even told anyone else?

You were always known as a man of few words, but to me, and only to me, you spilled your secrets and poured your heart out.

Was it when you stared at me a little too long and told me I’m beautiful?

Was it when we were in line for the water slide, and you looked at me and told me, “What if we’re really meant for each other?”

Was it when you told me that it broke your heart just thinking of me marrying another man who isn’t you?

Was it when I secretly stole glances at you and watched you through my rearview mirror?

Was it then?

We were just friends, right?

You were a lot braver than I was,

Occasionally, you would hint about the possibility of “us.”

And more times than I could count, you would always phone me up when you had had too many beers to drink.

I’m the only one who knows how emotional you get once alcohol enters your body,

And how beer serves as your truth serum.

You would always tell me that we’re a better match than the guy I’m kind of seeing.

But like an unspoken agreement, everything you spilled out during your beer-induced confession is automatically forgotten once you sobered up.

We both felt it, but neither dared to speak it.

And whenever I felt like slipping into the more-than-friends zone,

I was quick to brush it off with a joke or set you up with some other girl.

I never acknowledged what I felt or even gave you a hint.

I was careful not to get caught.

I swore that I wouldn’t fall.

I convinced myself that it could never be.

Looking back, I’m not exactly sure why I did that.

Was it because I was blindly loyal to the wrong guy?

Or was it because I was afraid of something real?

Maybe I settled for being your friend, thinking that it was safer,

That with being friends, I’d get to keep you forever.

So I watched you fall into the arms of the girl who was brave enough to catch you,

And you watched me cry when the guy I chose over you left me in pieces.

We looked at each other, not uttering a single word

Because now, words are meaningless.

Words mean nothing when they’re too late.

So we just stayed best friends.

Not until she insisted that from now on, she should be your best friend and not me.

She has a point, and I agreed.

I placed the distance between us and gave her the spot that should’ve been mine.

There’s no one to blame but me.

I did this to myself.

To you.

To us.

To what could’ve been us.

I still lost you.

We were once best friends, and now officially just friends.

I should’ve just been brave and chosen you or even given you a hint that I felt the same.

And that again was my exact same thought when I took the last step towards you and reached for your hand.

I am certain that all these thoughts occurred to you as well when we met each other’s eyes.

Even after all those years, I can still read your mind.

You offered your hand as well, and you shook mine.

We exchanged pleasantries and generic greetings like any friend does.

But we looked at each other with hearts in our eyes.

Friends don’t look at each other like that.

Friends don’t hold each other’s hands that long.

And they certainly don’t give it one last squeeze before letting go.

After what seemed like forever, the handshake finally ended.

I let go of your hand with your shiny wedding band.

There was a slight pause, and then we bid an awkward farewell,

With me wishing your wife well.

#unsent letters #letter #open letter #TOTGA #the 1 #we were something don't you think so #letter six #Spotify

[whileiamdying]

Emily Brontë’s WUTHERING HEIGHTS; Chapter XVII

That Friday made the last of our fine days for a month. In the evening the weather broke: the wind shifted from south to north-east, and brought rain first, and then sleet and snow. On the morrow one could hardly imagine that there had been three weeks of summer: the primroses and crocuses were hidden under wintry drifts; the larks were silent, the young leaves of the early trees smitten and blackened. And dreary, and chill, and dismal, that morrow did creep over! My master kept his room; I took possession of the lonely parlour, converting it into a nursery: and there I was, sitting with the moaning doll of a child laid on my knee; rocking it to and fro, and watching, meanwhile, the still driving flakes build up the uncurtained window, when the door opened, and some person entered, out of breath and laughing! My anger was greater than my astonishment for a minute. I supposed it one of the maids, and I cried—“Have done! How dare you show your giddiness here? What would Mr. Linton say if he heard you?”

“Excuse me!” answered a familiar voice; “but I know Edgar is in bed, and I cannot stop myself.”

With that the speaker came forward to the fire, panting and holding her hand to her side.

“I have run the whole way from Wuthering Heights!” she continued, after a pause; “except where I’ve flown. I couldn’t count the number of falls I’ve had. Oh, I’m aching all over! Don’t be alarmed! There shall be an explanation as soon as I can give it; only just have the goodness to step out and order the carriage to take me on to Gimmerton, and tell a servant to seek up a few clothes in my wardrobe.”

The intruder was Mrs. Heathcliff. She certainly seemed in no laughing predicament: her hair streamed on her shoulders, dripping with snow and water; she was dressed in the girlish dress she commonly wore, befitting her age more than her position: a low frock with short sleeves, and nothing on either head or neck. The frock was of light silk, and clung to her with wet, and her feet were protected merely by thin slippers; add to this a deep cut under one ear, which only the cold prevented from bleeding profusely, a white face scratched and bruised, and a frame hardly able to support itself through fatigue; and you may fancy my first fright was not much allayed when I had had leisure to examine her.

“My dear young lady,” I exclaimed, “I’ll stir nowhere, and hear nothing, till you have removed every article of your clothes, and put on dry things; and certainly you shall not go to Gimmerton to-night, so it is needless to order the carriage.”

“Certainly I shall,” she said; “walking or riding: yet I’ve no objection to dress myself decently. And—ah, see how it flows down my neck now! The fire does make it smart.”

She insisted on my fulfilling her directions, before she would let me touch her; and not till after the coachman had been instructed to get ready, and a maid set to pack up some necessary attire, did I obtain her consent for binding the wound and helping to change her garments.

“Now, Ellen,” she said, when my task was finished and she was seated in an easy-chair on the hearth, with a cup of tea before her, “you sit down opposite me, and put poor Catherine’s baby away: I don’t like to see it! You mustn’t think I care little for Catherine, because I behaved so foolishly on entering: I’ve cried, too, bitterly—yes, more than any one else has reason to cry. We parted unreconciled, you remember, and I sha’n’t forgive myself. But, for all that, I was not going to sympathise with him—the brute beast! Oh, give me the poker! This is the last thing of his I have about me:” she slipped the gold ring from her third finger, and threw it on the floor. “I’ll smash it!” she continued, striking it with childish spite, “and then I’ll burn it!” and she took and dropped the misused article among the coals. “There! he shall buy another, if he gets me back again. He’d be capable of coming to seek me, to tease Edgar. I dare not stay, lest that notion should possess his wicked head! And besides, Edgar has not been kind, has he? And I won’t come suing for his assistance; nor will I bring him into more trouble. Necessity compelled me to seek shelter here; though, if I had not learned he was out of the way, I’d have halted at the kitchen, washed my face, warmed myself, got you to bring what I wanted, and departed again to anywhere out of the reach of my accursed—of that incarnate goblin! Ah, he was in such a fury! If he had caught me! It’s a pity Earnshaw is not his match in strength: I wouldn’t have run till I’d seen him all but demolished, had Hindley been able to do it!”

“Well, don’t talk so fast, Miss!” I interrupted; “you’ll disorder the handkerchief I have tied round your face, and make the cut bleed again. Drink your tea, and take breath, and give over laughing: laughter is sadly out of place under this roof, and in your condition!”

“An undeniable truth,” she replied. “Listen to that child! It maintains a constant wail—send it out of my hearing for an hour; I sha’n’t stay any longer.”

I rang the bell, and committed it to a servant’s care; and then I inquired what had urged her to escape from Wuthering Heights in such an unlikely plight, and where she meant to go, as she refused remaining with us.

“I ought, and I wished to remain,” answered she, “to cheer Edgar and take care of the baby, for two things, and because the Grange is my right home. But I tell you he wouldn’t let me! Do you think he could bear to see me grow fat and merry—could bear to think that we were tranquil, and not resolve on poisoning our comfort? Now, I have the satisfaction of being sure that he detests me, to the point of its annoying him seriously to have me within ear-shot or eyesight: I notice, when I enter his presence, the muscles of his countenance are involuntarily distorted into an expression of hatred; partly arising from his knowledge of the good causes I have to feel that sentiment for him, and partly from original aversion. It is strong enough to make me feel pretty certain that he would not chase me over England, supposing I contrived a clear escape; and therefore I must get quite away. I’ve recovered from my first desire to be killed by him: I’d rather he’d kill himself! He has extinguished my love effectually, and so I’m at my ease. I can recollect yet how I loved him; and can dimly imagine that I could still be loving him, if—no, no! Even if he had doted on me, the devilish nature would have revealed its existence somehow. Catherine had an awfully perverted taste to esteem him so dearly, knowing him so well. Monster! would that he could be blotted out of creation, and out of my memory!”

“Hush, hush! He’s a human being,” I said. “Be more charitable: there are worse men than he is yet!”

“He’s not a human being,” she retorted; “and he has no claim on my charity. I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death, and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, Ellen: and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him: and I would not, though he groaned from this to his dying day, and wept tears of blood for Catherine! No, indeed, indeed, I wouldn’t!” And here Isabella began to cry; but, immediately dashing the water from her lashes, she recommenced. “You asked, what has driven me to flight at last? I was compelled to attempt it, because I had succeeded in rousing his rage a pitch above his malignity. Pulling out the nerves with red hot pincers requires more coolness than knocking on the head. He was worked up to forget the fiendish prudence he boasted of, and proceeded to murderous violence. I experienced pleasure in being able to exasperate him: the sense of pleasure woke my instinct of self-preservation, so I fairly broke free; and if ever I come into his hands again he is welcome to a signal revenge.

“Yesterday, you know, Mr. Earnshaw should have been at the funeral. He kept himself sober for the purpose—tolerably sober: not going to bed mad at six o’clock and getting up drunk at twelve. Consequently, he rose, in suicidal low spirits, as fit for the church as for a dance; and instead, he sat down by the fire and swallowed gin or brandy by tumblerfuls.

“Heathcliff—I shudder to name him! has been a stranger in the house from last Sunday till to-day. Whether the angels have fed him, or his kin beneath, I cannot tell; but he has not eaten a meal with us for nearly a week. He has just come home at dawn, and gone upstairs to his chamber; locking himself in—as if anybody dreamt of coveting his company! There he has continued, praying like a Methodist: only the deity he implored is senseless dust and ashes; and God, when addressed, was curiously confounded with his own black father! After concluding these precious orisons—and they lasted generally till he grew hoarse and his voice was strangled in his throat—he would be off again; always straight down to the Grange! I wonder Edgar did not send for a constable, and give him into custody! For me, grieved as I was about Catherine, it was impossible to avoid regarding this season of deliverance from degrading oppression as a holiday.

“I recovered spirits sufficient to hear Joseph’s eternal lectures without weeping, and to move up and down the house less with the foot of a frightened thief than formerly. You wouldn’t think that I should cry at anything Joseph could say; but he and Hareton are detestable companions. I’d rather sit with Hindley, and hear his awful talk, than with ‘t’ little maister’ and his staunch supporter, that odious old man! When Heathcliff is in, I’m often obliged to seek the kitchen and their society, or starve among the damp uninhabited chambers; when he is not, as was the case this week, I establish a table and chair at one corner of the house fire, and never mind how Mr. Earnshaw may occupy himself; and he does not interfere with my arrangements. He is quieter now than he used to be, if no one provokes him: more sullen and depressed, and less furious. Joseph affirms he’s sure he’s an altered man: that the Lord has touched his heart, and he is saved ‘so as by fire.’ I’m puzzled to detect signs of the favourable change: but it is not my business.

“Yester-evening I sat in my nook reading some old books till late on towards twelve. It seemed so dismal to go upstairs, with the wild snow blowing outside, and my thoughts continually reverting to the kirkyard and the new-made grave! I dared hardly lift my eyes from the page before me, that melancholy scene so instantly usurped its place. Hindley sat opposite, his head leant on his hand; perhaps meditating on the same subject. He had ceased drinking at a point below irrationality, and had neither stirred nor spoken during two or three hours. There was no sound through the house but the moaning wind, which shook the windows every now and then, the faint crackling of the coals, and the click of my snuffers as I removed at intervals the long wick of the candle. Hareton and Joseph were probably fast asleep in bed. It was very, very sad: and while I read I sighed, for it seemed as if all joy had vanished from the world, never to be restored.

“The doleful silence was broken at length by the sound of the kitchen latch: Heathcliff had returned from his watch earlier than usual; owing, I suppose, to the sudden storm. That entrance was fastened, and we heard him coming round to get in by the other. I rose with an irrepressible expression of what I felt on my lips, which induced my companion, who had been staring towards the door, to turn and look at me.

“‘I’ll keep him out five minutes,’ he exclaimed. ‘You won’t object?’

“‘No, you may keep him out the whole night for me,’ I answered. ‘Do! put the key in the lock, and draw the bolts.’

“Earnshaw accomplished this ere his guest reached the front; he then came and brought his chair to the other side of my table, leaning over it, and searching in my eyes for a sympathy with the burning hate that gleamed from his: as he both looked and felt like an assassin, he couldn’t exactly find that; but he discovered enough to encourage him to speak.

“‘You, and I,’ he said, ‘have each a great debt to settle with the man out yonder! If we were neither of us cowards, we might combine to discharge it. Are you as soft as your brother? Are you willing to endure to the last, and not once attempt a repayment?’

“‘I’m weary of enduring now,’ I replied; ‘and I’d be glad of a retaliation that wouldn’t recoil on myself; but treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends; they wound those who resort to them worse than their enemies.’

“‘Treachery and violence are a just return for treachery and violence!’ cried Hindley. ‘Mrs. Heathcliff, I’ll ask you to do nothing; but sit still and be dumb. Tell me now, can you? I’m sure you would have as much pleasure as I in witnessing the conclusion of the fiend’s existence; he’ll be your death unless you overreach him; and he’ll be my ruin. Damn the hellish villain! He knocks at the door as if he were master here already! Promise to hold your tongue, and before that clock strikes—it wants three minutes of one—you’re a free woman!’

“He took the implements which I described to you in my letter from his breast, and would have turned down the candle. I snatched it away, however, and seized his arm.

“‘I’ll not hold my tongue!’ I said; ‘you mustn’t touch him. Let the door remain shut, and be quiet!’

“‘No! I’ve formed my resolution, and by God I’ll execute it!’ cried the desperate being. ‘I’ll do you a kindness in spite of yourself, and Hareton justice! And you needn’t trouble your head to screen me; Catherine is gone. Nobody alive would regret me, or be ashamed, though I cut my throat this minute—and it’s time to make an end!’

“I might as well have struggled with a bear, or reasoned with a lunatic. The only resource left me was to run to a lattice and warn his intended victim of the fate which awaited him.

“‘You’d better seek shelter somewhere else to-night!’ I exclaimed, in rather a triumphant tone. ‘Mr. Earnshaw has a mind to shoot you, if you persist in endeavouring to enter.’

“‘You’d better open the door, you—’ he answered, addressing me by some elegant term that I don’t care to repeat.

“‘I shall not meddle in the matter,’ I retorted again. ‘Come in and get shot, if you please. I’ve done my duty.’

“With that I shut the window and returned to my place by the fire; having too small a stock of hypocrisy at my command to pretend any anxiety for the danger that menaced him. Earnshaw swore passionately at me: affirming that I loved the villain yet; and calling me all sorts of names for the base spirit I evinced. And I, in my secret heart (and conscience never reproached me), thought what a blessing it would be for him should Heathcliff put him out of misery; and what a blessing for me should he send Heathcliff to his right abode! As I sat nursing these reflections, the casement behind me was banged on to the floor by a blow from the latter individual, and his black countenance looked blightingly through. The stanchions stood too close to suffer his shoulders to follow, and I smiled, exulting in my fancied security. His hair and clothes were whitened with snow, and his sharp cannibal teeth, revealed by cold and wrath, gleamed through the dark.

“‘Isabella, let me in, or I’ll make you repent!’ he ‘girned,’ as Joseph calls it.

“‘I cannot commit murder,’ I replied. ‘Mr. Hindley stands sentinel with a knife and loaded pistol.’

“‘Let me in by the kitchen door,’ he said.

“‘Hindley will be there before me,’ I answered: ‘and that’s a poor love of yours that cannot bear a shower of snow! We were left at peace in our beds as long as the summer moon shone, but the moment a blast of winter returns, you must run for shelter! Heathcliff, if I were you, I’d go stretch myself over her grave and die like a faithful dog. The world is surely not worth living in now, is it? You had distinctly impressed on me the idea that Catherine was the whole joy of your life: I can’t imagine how you think of surviving her loss.’

“‘He’s there, is he?’ exclaimed my companion, rushing to the gap. ‘If I can get my arm out I can hit him!’

“I’m afraid, Ellen, you’ll set me down as really wicked; but you don’t know all, so don’t judge. I wouldn’t have aided or abetted an attempt on even his life for anything. Wish that he were dead, I must; and therefore I was fearfully disappointed, and unnerved by terror for the consequences of my taunting speech, when he flung himself on Earnshaw’s weapon and wrenched it from his grasp.

“The charge exploded, and the knife, in springing back, closed into its owner’s wrist. Heathcliff pulled it away by main force, slitting up the flesh as it passed on, and thrust it dripping into his pocket. He then took a stone, struck down the division between two windows, and sprang in. His adversary had fallen senseless with excessive pain and the flow of blood, that gushed from an artery or a large vein. The ruffian kicked and trampled on him, and dashed his head repeatedly against the flags, holding me with one hand, meantime, to prevent me summoning Joseph. He exerted preterhuman self-denial in abstaining from finishing him completely; but getting out of breath, he finally desisted, and dragged the apparently inanimate body on to the settle. There he tore off the sleeve of Earnshaw’s coat, and bound up the wound with brutal roughness; spitting and cursing during the operation as energetically as he had kicked before. Being at liberty, I lost no time in seeking the old servant; who, having gathered by degrees the purport of my hasty tale, hurried below, gasping, as he descended the steps two at once.

“‘What is ther to do, now? what is ther to do, now?’

“‘There’s this to do,’ thundered Heathcliff, ‘that your master’s mad; and should he last another month, I’ll have him to an asylum. And how the devil did you come to fasten me out, you toothless hound? Don’t stand muttering and mumbling there. Come, I’m not going to nurse him. Wash that stuff away; and mind the sparks of your candle—it is more than half brandy!’

“‘And so ye’ve been murthering on him?’ exclaimed Joseph, lifting his hands and eyes in horror. ‘If iver I seed a seeght loike this! May the Lord—’

“Heathcliff gave him a push on to his knees in the middle of the blood, and flung a towel to him; but instead of proceeding to dry it up, he joined his hands and began a prayer, which excited my laughter from its odd phraseology. I was in the condition of mind to be shocked at nothing: in fact, I was as reckless as some malefactors show themselves at the foot of the gallows.

“‘Oh, I forgot you,’ said the tyrant. ‘You shall do that. Down with you. And you conspire with him against me, do you, viper? There, that is work fit for you!’

“He shook me till my teeth rattled, and pitched me beside Joseph, who steadily concluded his supplications, and then rose, vowing he would set off for the Grange directly. Mr. Linton was a magistrate, and though he had fifty wives dead, he should inquire into this. He was so obstinate in his resolution, that Heathcliff deemed it expedient to compel from my lips a recapitulation of what had taken place; standing over me, heaving with malevolence, as I reluctantly delivered the account in answer to his questions. It required a great deal of labour to satisfy the old man that Heathcliff was not the aggressor; especially with my hardly-wrung replies. However, Mr. Earnshaw soon convinced him that he was alive still; Joseph hastened to administer a dose of spirits, and by their succour his master presently regained motion and consciousness. Heathcliff, aware that his opponent was ignorant of the treatment received while insensible, called him deliriously intoxicated; and said he should not notice his atrocious conduct further, but advised him to get to bed. To my joy, he left us, after giving this judicious counsel, and Hindley stretched himself on the hearthstone. I departed to my own room, marvelling that I had escaped so easily.

“This morning, when I came down, about half an hour before noon, Mr. Earnshaw was sitting by the fire, deadly sick; his evil genius, almost as gaunt and ghastly, leant against the chimney. Neither appeared inclined to dine, and, having waited till all was cold on the table, I commenced alone. Nothing hindered me from eating heartily, and I experienced a certain sense of satisfaction and superiority, as, at intervals, I cast a look towards my silent companions, and felt the comfort of a quiet conscience within me. After I had done, I ventured on the unusual liberty of drawing near the fire, going round Earnshaw’s seat, and kneeling in the corner beside him.

“Heathcliff did not glance my way, and I gazed up, and contemplated his features almost as confidently as if they had been turned to stone. His forehead, that I once thought so manly, and that I now think so diabolical, was shaded with a heavy cloud; his basilisk eyes were nearly quenched by sleeplessness, and weeping, perhaps, for the lashes were wet then: his lips devoid of their ferocious sneer, and sealed in an expression of unspeakable sadness. Had it been another, I would have covered my face in the presence of such grief. In his case, I was gratified; and, ignoble as it seems to insult a fallen enemy, I couldn’t miss this chance of sticking in a dart: his weakness was the only time when I could taste the delight of paying wrong for wrong.”

“Fie, fie, Miss!” I interrupted. “One might suppose you had never opened a Bible in your life. If God afflict your enemies, surely that ought to suffice you. It is both mean and presumptuous to add your torture to his!”

“In general I’ll allow that it would be, Ellen,” she continued; “but what misery laid on Heathcliff could content me, unless I have a hand in it? I’d rather he suffered less, if I might cause his sufferings and he might know that I was the cause. Oh, I owe him so much. On only one condition can I hope to forgive him. It is, if I may take an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; for every wrench of agony return a wrench: reduce him to my level. As he was the first to injure, make him the first to implore pardon; and then—why then, Ellen, I might show you some generosity. But it is utterly impossible I can ever be revenged, and therefore I cannot forgive him. Hindley wanted some water, and I handed him a glass, and asked him how he was.

“‘Not as ill as I wish,’ he replied. ‘But leaving out my arm, every inch of me is as sore as if I had been fighting with a legion of imps!’

“‘Yes, no wonder,’ was my next remark. ‘Catherine used to boast that she stood between you and bodily harm: she meant that certain persons would not hurt you for fear of offending her. It’s well people don’t really rise from their grave, or, last night, she might have witnessed a repulsive scene! Are not you bruised, and cut over your chest and shoulders?’

“‘I can’t say,’ he answered; ‘but what do you mean? Did he dare to strike me when I was down?’

“‘He trampled on and kicked you, and dashed you on the ground,’ I whispered. ‘And his mouth watered to tear you with his teeth; because he’s only half man: not so much, and the rest fiend.’

“Mr. Earnshaw looked up, like me, to the countenance of our mutual foe; who, absorbed in his anguish, seemed insensible to anything around him: the longer he stood, the plainer his reflections revealed their blackness through his features.

“‘Oh, if God would but give me strength to strangle him in my last agony, I’d go to hell with joy,’ groaned the impatient man, writhing to rise, and sinking back in despair, convinced of his inadequacy for the struggle.

“‘Nay, it’s enough that he has murdered one of you,’ I observed aloud. ‘At the Grange, every one knows your sister would have been living now had it not been for Mr. Heathcliff. After all, it is preferable to be hated than loved by him. When I recollect how happy we were—how happy Catherine was before he came—I’m fit to curse the day.’

“Most likely, Heathcliff noticed more the truth of what was said, than the spirit of the person who said it. His attention was roused, I saw, for his eyes rained down tears among the ashes, and he drew his breath in suffocating sighs. I stared full at him, and laughed scornfully. The clouded windows of hell flashed a moment towards me; the fiend which usually looked out, however, was so dimmed and drowned that I did not fear to hazard another sound of derision.

“‘Get up, and begone out of my sight,’ said the mourner.

“I guessed he uttered those words, at least, though his voice was hardly intelligible.

“‘I beg your pardon,’ I replied. ‘But I loved Catherine too; and her brother requires attendance, which, for her sake, I shall supply. Now that she’s dead, I see her in Hindley: Hindley has exactly her eyes, if you had not tried to gouge them out, and made them black and red; and her—’

“‘Get up, wretched idiot, before I stamp you to death!’ he cried, making a movement that caused me to make one also.

“‘But then,’ I continued, holding myself ready to flee, ‘if poor Catherine had trusted you, and assumed the ridiculous, contemptible, degrading title of Mrs. Heathcliff, she would soon have presented a similar picture! She wouldn’t have borne your abominable behaviour quietly: her detestation and disgust must have found voice.’

“The back of the settle and Earnshaw’s person interposed between me and him; so instead of endeavouring to reach me, he snatched a dinner-knife from the table and flung it at my head. It struck beneath my ear, and stopped the sentence I was uttering; but, pulling it out, I sprang to the door and delivered another; which I hope went a little deeper than his missile. The last glimpse I caught of him was a furious rush on his part, checked by the embrace of his host; and both fell locked together on the hearth. In my flight through the kitchen I bid Joseph speed to his master; I knocked over Hareton, who was hanging a litter of puppies from a chair-back in the doorway; and, blessed as a soul escaped from purgatory, I bounded, leaped, and flew down the steep road; then, quitting its windings, shot direct across the moor, rolling over banks, and wading through marshes: precipitating myself, in fact, towards the beacon-light of the Grange. And far rather would I be condemned to a perpetual dwelling in the infernal regions than, even for one night, abide beneath the roof of Wuthering Heights again.”

Isabella ceased speaking, and took a drink of tea; then she rose, and bidding me put on her bonnet, and a great shawl I had brought, and turning a deaf ear to my entreaties for her to remain another hour, she stepped on to a chair, kissed Edgar’s and Catherine’s portraits, bestowed a similar salute on me, and descended to the carriage, accompanied by Fanny, who yelped wild with joy at recovering her mistress. She was driven away, never to revisit this neighbourhood: but a regular correspondence was established between her and my master when things were more settled. I believe her new abode was in the south, near London; there she had a son born a few months subsequent to her escape. He was christened Linton, and, from the first, she reported him to be an ailing, peevish creature.

Mr. Heathcliff, meeting me one day in the village, inquired where she lived. I refused to tell. He remarked that it was not of any moment, only she must beware of coming to her brother: she should not be with him, if he had to keep her himself. Though I would give no information, he discovered, through some of the other servants, both her place of residence and the existence of the child. Still, he didn’t molest her: for which forbearance she might thank his aversion, I suppose. He often asked about the infant, when he saw me; and on hearing its name, smiled grimly, and observed: “They wish me to hate it too, do they?”

“I don’t think they wish you to know anything about it,” I answered.

“But I’ll have it,” he said, “when I want it. They may reckon on that!”

Fortunately its mother died before the time arrived; some thirteen years after the decease of Catherine, when Linton was twelve, or a little more.

On the day succeeding Isabella’s unexpected visit I had no opportunity of speaking to my master: he shunned conversation, and was fit for discussing nothing. When I could get him to listen, I saw it pleased him that his sister had left her husband; whom he abhorred with an intensity which the mildness of his nature would scarcely seem to allow. So deep and sensitive was his aversion, that he refrained from going anywhere where he was likely to see or hear of Heathcliff. Grief, and that together, transformed him into a complete hermit: he threw up his office of magistrate, ceased even to attend church, avoided the village on all occasions, and spent a life of entire seclusion within the limits of his park and grounds; only varied by solitary rambles on the moors, and visits to the grave of his wife, mostly at evening, or early morning before other wanderers were abroad. But he was too good to be thoroughly unhappy long. He didn’t pray for Catherine’s soul to haunt him. Time brought resignation, and a melancholy sweeter than common joy. He recalled her memory with ardent, tender love, and hopeful aspiring to the better world; where he doubted not she was gone.

And he had earthly consolation and affections also. For a few days, I said, he seemed regardless of the puny successor to the departed: that coldness melted as fast as snow in April, and ere the tiny thing could stammer a word or totter a step it wielded a despot’s sceptre in his heart. It was named Catherine; but he never called it the name in full, as he had never called the first Catherine short: probably because Heathcliff had a habit of doing so. The little one was always Cathy: it formed to him a distinction from the mother, and yet a connection with her; and his attachment sprang from its relation to her, far more than from its being his own.

I used to draw a comparison between him and Hindley Earnshaw, and perplex myself to explain satisfactorily why their conduct was so opposite in similar circumstances. They had both been fond husbands, and were both attached to their children; and I could not see how they shouldn’t both have taken the same road, for good or evil. But, I thought in my mind, Hindley, with apparently the stronger head, has shown himself sadly the worse and the weaker man. When his ship struck, the captain abandoned his post; and the crew, instead of trying to save her, rushed into riot and confusion, leaving no hope for their luckless vessel. Linton, on the contrary, displayed the true courage of a loyal and faithful soul: he trusted God; and God comforted him. One hoped, and the other despaired: they chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them. But you’ll not want to hear my moralising, Mr. Lockwood; you’ll judge, as well as I can, all these things: at least, you’ll think you will, and that’s the same. The end of Earnshaw was what might have been expected; it followed fast on his sister’s: there were scarcely six months between them. We, at the Grange, never got a very succinct account of his state preceding it; all that I did learn was on occasion of going to aid in the preparations for the funeral. Mr. Kenneth came to announce the event to my master.

“Well, Nelly,” said he, riding into the yard one morning, too early not to alarm me with an instant presentiment of bad news, “it’s yours and my turn to go into mourning at present. Who’s given us the slip now, do you think?”

“Who?” I asked in a flurry.

“Why, guess!” he returned, dismounting, and slinging his bridle on a hook by the door. “And nip up the corner of your apron: I’m certain you’ll need it.”

“Not Mr. Heathcliff, surely?” I exclaimed.

“What! would you have tears for him?” said the doctor. “No, Heathcliff’s a tough young fellow: he looks blooming to-day. I’ve just seen him. He’s rapidly regaining flesh since he lost his better half.”

“Who is it, then, Mr. Kenneth?” I repeated impatiently.

“Hindley Earnshaw! Your old friend Hindley,” he replied, “and my wicked gossip: though he’s been too wild for me this long while. There! I said we should draw water. But cheer up! He died true to his character: drunk as a lord. Poor lad! I’m sorry, too. One can’t help missing an old companion: though he had the worst tricks with him that ever man imagined, and has done me many a rascally turn. He’s barely twenty-seven, it seems; that’s your own age: who would have thought you were born in one year?”

I confess this blow was greater to me than the shock of Mrs. Linton’s death: ancient associations lingered round my heart; I sat down in the porch and wept as for a blood relation, desiring Mr. Kenneth to get another servant to introduce him to the master. I could not hinder myself from pondering on the question—“Had he had fair play?” Whatever I did, that idea would bother me: it was so tiresomely pertinacious that I resolved on requesting leave to go to Wuthering Heights, and assist in the last duties to the dead. Mr. Linton was extremely reluctant to consent, but I pleaded eloquently for the friendless condition in which he lay; and I said my old master and foster-brother had a claim on my services as strong as his own. Besides, I reminded him that the child Hareton was his wife’s nephew, and, in the absence of nearer kin, he ought to act as its guardian; and he ought to and must inquire how the property was left, and look over the concerns of his brother-in-law. He was unfit for attending to such matters then, but he bid me speak to his lawyer; and at length permitted me to go. His lawyer had been Earnshaw’s also: I called at the village, and asked him to accompany me. He shook his head, and advised that Heathcliff should be let alone; affirming, if the truth were known, Hareton would be found little else than a beggar.

“His father died in debt,” he said; “the whole property is mortgaged, and the sole chance for the natural heir is to allow him an opportunity of creating some interest in the creditor’s heart, that he may be inclined to deal leniently towards him.”

When I reached the Heights, I explained that I had come to see everything carried on decently; and Joseph, who appeared in sufficient distress, expressed satisfaction at my presence. Mr. Heathcliff said he did not perceive that I was wanted; but I might stay and order the arrangements for the funeral, if I chose.

“Correctly,” he remarked, “that fool’s body should be buried at the cross-roads, without ceremony of any kind. I happened to leave him ten minutes yesterday afternoon, and in that interval he fastened the two doors of the house against me, and he has spent the night in drinking himself to death deliberately! We broke in this morning, for we heard him snorting like a horse; and there he was, laid over the settle: flaying and scalping would not have wakened him. I sent for Kenneth, and he came; but not till the beast had changed into carrion: he was both dead and cold, and stark; and so you’ll allow it was useless making more stir about him!”

The old servant confirmed this statement, but muttered:

“I’d rayther he’d goan hisseln for t’ doctor! I sud ha’ taen tent o’ t’ maister better nor him—and he warn’t deead when I left, naught o’ t’ soart!”

I insisted on the funeral being respectable. Mr. Heathcliff said I might have my own way there too: only, he desired me to remember that the money for the whole affair came out of his pocket. He maintained a hard, careless deportment, indicative of neither joy nor sorrow: if anything, it expressed a flinty gratification at a piece of difficult work successfully executed. I observed once, indeed, something like exultation in his aspect: it was just when the people were bearing the coffin from the house. He had the hypocrisy to represent a mourner: and previous to following with Hareton, he lifted the unfortunate child on to the table and muttered, with peculiar gusto, “Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we’ll see if one tree won’t grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!” The unsuspecting thing was pleased at this speech: he played with Heathcliff’s whiskers, and stroked his cheek; but I divined its meaning, and observed tartly, “That boy must go back with me to Thrushcross Grange, sir. There is nothing in the world less yours than he is!”

“Does Linton say so?” he demanded.

“Of course—he has ordered me to take him,” I replied.

“Well,” said the scoundrel, “we’ll not argue the subject now: but I have a fancy to try my hand at rearing a young one; so intimate to your master that I must supply the place of this with my own, if he attempt to remove it. I don’t engage to let Hareton go undisputed; but I’ll be pretty sure to make the other come! Remember to tell him.”

This hint was enough to bind our hands. I repeated its substance on my return; and Edgar Linton, little interested at the commencement, spoke no more of interfering. I’m not aware that he could have done it to any purpose, had he been ever so willing.

The guest was now the master of Wuthering Heights: he held firm possession, and proved to the attorney—who, in his turn, proved it to Mr. Linton—that Earnshaw had mortgaged every yard of land he owned for cash to supply his mania for gaming; and he, Heathcliff, was the mortgagee. In that manner Hareton, who should now be the first gentleman in the neighbourhood, was reduced to a state of complete dependence on his father’s inveterate enemy; and lives in his own house as a servant, deprived of the advantage of wages: quite unable to right himself, because of his friendlessness, and his ignorance that he has been wronged.

#Wuthering Heights #Emily Brontë #Project Gutenberg

[buckyownsmylife]

Follow you - Chris Evans smut

The one where Chris becomes your roomate and finds out he has a domesticity kink... and more

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, domesticity kink, friends to lovers, rommates au, pandemic mention, hair-pulling kink, daddy kink, cockwarming, kind of allusion to an age gap, but can be read as reader being into teasing chris

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Thanks to @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ for reading this over and helping me make it better! You’re the sweetest person ever!  this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them. Hope you guys like it!

Chris’ P.O.V.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” I’d been trying to convince her to close her laptop for the last two hours, unfortunately without any luck. She just glanced at me before returning to her document, and I groaned as I left the living room in search of what I knew we needed.

“Close the laptop and I’ll give you a sip.” This time when she looked up, she found me holding a bottle of my most expensive whiskey, the one she’d been dying to try ever since she first got invited to my place.

It was a tense moment of evaluation while she took in my offer and her workload, her head turning from her computer to me and then back to the device again, and I found himself growing anxious because of how desperately I wanted her company that night.

“Please?” I tried to convince her, even going so far as to pout - which at least earned me a giggle. I considered it a win, especially with the way it made my chest warm up. “C’mon, we deserve it! After the week we had?”

She frowned when she thought back on the stresses we had confided in each other for the last couple of days, and I watched with glee when she slowly closed her laptop, prompting me to wave my arms around in victory. “We?” She teased, getting up to stand before me with her arms crossed in front of her body, making me laugh.

“Alright, so maybe just you.” I couldn’t really deny that my work “problems” paled in comparison to hers. “Listen, I’m only trying to help.” She narrowed her eyes at me, reaching out for the bottle and unscrewing it before taking the sip I’d promised.

“Shit, this really is good.” A smug smile took over my face as I wrapped my arms around her, walking us back to the couch before making us fall over it.

“Only the best for you, babe.” I watched her roll her eyes at the pet name, snickering at how it affected her. I knew it made her giddy and she hated it, it’s why I insisted on doing it - or so I told myself.

Something deep inside of me whispered differently, though. I tried to ignore it. She was my best friend and we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future. No one knew when this pandemic would let up.

And lord knows that nothing positive had ever come out of my investments in romantic relationships. So every rational thought in my mind was begging me not to overcomplicate this. I couldn’t stand to lose her friendship, anyway. That’s why I had invited her to spend lockdown with me - my need to know she was okay, and be able to have her around whenever I needed to vent.

She was the only one outside my family who got my anxiety well enough to help me work through it when I was feeling bad, and she had even been able to prevent me from having panic attacks more than once.

I just couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone other than her. I simply hadn’t anticipated how fucking horny this period of forced sexual privation would make me, and I never expected her to become a willing victim to my needs.

But boy, once the liquor hit and she ended up over my lap, shivering as she rode my thigh without a care in the world, was I glad that she did.

“Is this what you like?” I asked, looking up at her with my mouth hanging open, unbelieving of how fucking sexy she looked as she used my body for her pleasure. I didn’t even care that my cock was straining against my jeans, begging me to move her on top of it. As long as I could keep enjoying the show, being a part of it, I was satisfied.

“I wanna learn it,” I pressed, moving my hands to hold her ass, squeezing it the way I’d always wanted to do but never allowed myself to dream about. “I wanna learn how to please you.” She made me feel something I hadn’t felt before, in any of my past relationships. There was attraction, of course, but there was also this deep, familiar feeling that made me feel at home. It made me feel safe, and with the help of alcohol, I was desperate to explore it.

“Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back, drawing my attention to her breasts, the way they bounced in front of my eyes, unfortunately still covered. My mouth watered at the sight of it, wanting nothing much than to strip her bare and wrap my lips around one of her nipples.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Evans.” The comment threw me off, making me frown as I took a hold of the hair on the back of her head and yanked her to me, devouring her lips. They were soft - so much softer than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine.

“Why not?” I panted against her mouth once I was forced to separate from her taste of whiskey to search for some oxygen. She kept moving, her eyes hazy and glossed over, and it sent a pang of lust straight down my body when I realized it wasn’t completely due to the drinks we shared. There was also desire in there.

“You want to learn?” She asked, hands bunching up my shirt as she used her hold to grind against me faster. “Then fuck me, Chris.” She molded her body to mine, engulfing my lips once more as I laid her down on the couch, excited to have her underneath me - excited to see her naked body, explore it, get to know every little thing that made her tick.

I knew it would be a moment I’d forever remember, regardless of the amount of bourbon in my blood. I just never expected it to become something I was so eager to relive over and over and over again.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. When I woke up in the morning, I was ready to go back to being roommates. We were good at that. She was a morning person, by the time I woke up every morning, she already had breakfast ready for me, and then we’d go out to the backyard to let Dodger out together.

We’d sit and talk and then I’d go for a run - she’d have done her yoga already, while I was still asleep - I’d answer some e-mails, she’d work on her laptop by my side and the silence was just as comfortable as all of our late night conversations.

She’d sneak out to the kitchen and come back with a few sandwiches for our lunch, and then the rest of the day would go by with us doing whatever mundane task we had in mind, together even if we were doing separate things, and I didn’t feel suffocated.

I didn’t even run out of things to say. By the time dinner rolled around and I followed her back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes while she fixed us dinner - I wasn’t allowed to cook in my own stove, mostly because she was terrified of my food but hid it under the excuse of that one time when I started a fire - then we’d eat together, watch a movie together, talk until we fell asleep - always together.

I was shocked. It’d never been this way in any of my previous relationships. In fact, I was certain it was the reason why they had never worked. I’d given up on any realistic expectation of settling down precisely because of this: I just never expected to find anyone with whom a day-to-day life wouldn’t eventually grow boring.

It’d been three months and I still loved to wake up to her coffee. We still fell asleep every night side by side, too tired to move into different beds because we had laughed our asses off after skyping Scott.

And now that sex came into play in our relationship? I just knew there was no way I’d ever go back to being nothing but friends - or living in a place where she wasn’t the first person I saw when I woke up.

It sucked that it took a pandemic and a night of alcohol to make me realize that, but damn, was I grateful that I decided to open a bottle of whiskey that evening.

I kept waiting for the catch, the moment it would all go to shit, but it never came. Our lives resumed to how they used to be, only now I had this ongoing inner battle to not just bend her over the nearest piece of furniture when we were busy, and the ability to do exactly that whenever there was nothing else to do.

And for a while it was bliss. There wasn’t a nagging voice inside my head questioning this arrangement because it was theoretically perfect. I had a best friend, a roommate and a fuck buddy, all wrapped into one single person that I adored.

Life couldn’t possibly get better - until I realized that I wanted more. Talks of lockdown being over started and she had plans of going back to her place, of course, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her.

I wanted to see my family too, but I wanted to take her with me. Introduce her to my mom, see her get along with my sisters. Witness how she’d be with my nephews and nieces - I knew how much she loved kids. And that’s when it hit me.

I’d given my heart to her. Somewhere between the morning coffees and afternoon runs, the nights where I’d rant about all of my silly problems and she actually listened to them - really listened, never making me feel bad about what could only be described as rich people problems.

All the innocent little gestures, and the not so innocent ones - when I discovered she was exactly the nasty slut I’d always dreamed of, the way she would randomly drop to her knees and suck me off, even while I was on the phone. Most times she didn’t even let me repay the favor. She just genuinely liked to blow me.

She also liked to play with me randomly, like when we were watching a movie and she mindlessly reached for my crotch, rubbing me until I got hard. It almost always ended in sex, and I just loved it.

I loved it, and I loved her, and the idea of her ever sharing this idyllic lifestyle with anyone else made me irrationally jealous.

And that’s how I knew it. I didn’t want to mess it up. But how could I not fuck this up?

Xxx

“Chris…” Her sweet voice called out to me, reaching my ears while I was hiding in my office, trying to get my thoughts in order so I wouldn’t just randomly blurt out what I was feeling for my best friend to my best friend.

To her credit, she didn’t try to force me to keep her company - but that only made me fall even deeper for her, leaving me a complete and utter mess while she went about her day as if nothing was wrong in the world.

“Yes?” I looked up to see her by the threshold, clearly reticent about invading my privacy. It made me smile, thinking back on all of the times my exes hadn’t been as understanding, even after I let them clearly know what I was needing.

“I made cupcakes, do you want me to bring you one?” The thought of her in the kitchen, baking a sweet treat just for me had my cock twitching in my pants. Biting my lips, I pushed away from my desk to finally get up and stretch my legs, taking advantage of the monitor to hide my hard-on.

“No, I’ll come eat them downstairs with you.” She smiled before leaving, and I soon trailed after her, walking into the kitchen to find the most delicious-looking little treats, just waiting to be devoured.

Much like her, I supposed.

I was reaching for one of them, already licking my lips in anticipation when something caught my eye, prompting me to raise my gaze and look at her again, but really look at her this time.

She was wearing an apron.

There was nothing inherently sexual about the damn thing, but the way she looked with it, going about her business in my kitchen like she owned the place… It just felt right, seeing her there.

And suddenly I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Y/N…” I started, leaving the cupcake back on the counter and brushing off the crumbs as I circled the kitchen island to go stand in front of her. She hummed before turning to meet me, smiling slightly to signal that she was listening to what I had to say.

But I didn’t know how to say it. So we just stood there, staring at each other until eventually her smile became a frown. “Chris, what’s going on?” I still couldn’t speak. Much to my absolute surprise though, she just sighed, wiping her hands on the apron while shaking her head, a knowing smile on her face.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, that’s why I thought the cupcakes would be a good idea,” she explained nodding towards the tray where her sweet treats laid. “They’re a reward and a break all wrapped in one delicious cake.”

The comment was like a punch to the stomach - or a scalding wave of desire rushing through my body, straight to my groin. The idea of her thinking about my needs and catering (quite literally) to them just did something to me, and I didn’t know how to explain it - I don’t think I understood it myself.

“But since they didn’t work…” she continued, blissfully unaware of the conundrum she had put me into. “I know something else that will definitely work.” And just like that, the woman dropped to her knees in front of me, reaching for my sweatpants before I could find a way to close the mouth that was hanging open.

“I guess I’ll grab a sweet treat for myself.” She looked so devious, small hand encircling my already pathetically engorged member, that all I could do was whisper an, “Oh, shit,” when she immediately wrapped her lips around it,  starting to suck me off without any preamble.

My fingers were white as I held onto the counter behind me to keep myself up. She looked so good, staring up at me with her lips wrapped around my dick, I felt like I was about to blow already.

Why did she have to be such a fucking tease?

“Oh, God,” I moaned when she managed to engulf the entirety of my member inside her throat, the choking noises getting to my head. My hand instinctively laced with her hair, first to hold her lips close to my navel, then to pry her completely off of my member.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned once she was able to speak, surprise written all over her features while I was still staring down at her slightly teary face and trying to find my voice.

“I-I have a problem.” There. I said it. I had finally made some progress in my goal to let her know what was going through my head. Only instead of curiosity, what I got was a confused expression from the woman still holding my dick, her eyes darting from my own to the member throbbing between her fingers.

“No, you don’t!” It would have been funny if I wasn’t so fucking frustrated. Yanking her by the hair, I complained, “Not that kind of problem!” pulling her to the living room so I could throw her on the couch, trying to ignore her moans of pleasure in the process.

I’d figured out pretty early on that she had a pretty serious hair-pulling kink, and if my plans of sitting down and having a level-headed conversation were ever in motion, they surely went out of the window the second she pulled my body down to cover hers and adjusted my cock so it would easily fill her.

“Son of a…” I groaned, letting my head fall down against her chest as the little vixen gleefully giggled underneath me, legs wrapped around my torso as she tried to thrust up and tempt me to move.

“Just wait a second,” I managed to reason, but she just shook her head.

“Fuck away your problem, Chris. Use me. I want you to.” Motherfucker. I really couldn’t catch a break with her. Just as she started to make me move again, my hand instinctively wrapped around her neck, lightly squeezing it just enough to get her to shut up.

“I wanna start a family with you,” I finally spilled, looking deep into her eyes as I tried to ignore that I was still balls deep inside of her. Her eyes widened, and now her mouth was the one hanging open.

I couldn’t really relish in it because she looked absolutely delicious and she felt stupidly heavenly to my throbbing dick.

A few seconds went by without as much of a reaction from her and I was about to pull out - despite still being achingly hard - but her legs held me tighter, stopping my plans of leaving her tight haven.

“You know…” She started to speak, a little out of breath, catching my attention as I finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye again. “When I first met you, I thought you were the epitome of a fuckboy.”

The unexpected sentence had me snorting, and then I just couldn’t stop laughing. Finally pulling away from her, she fixed her hair when she sat up and I did the same, shaking my head slightly as I rubbed my eyes.

Our own relative nakedness - well… mine, she was wearing her usual dress with no underwear under the damn apron - didn’t affect anything when I pondered over her words, until I decided to break the silence.

“I mean… I think I was?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she took in my response, analyzing it, weighing its validity in that gorgeous head of hers. I was nervous, but she hadn’t blew me off yet. And quite honestly? I’d do anything for that little hope that was growing inside of me.

“What changed?” Was her question, so unexpected I couldn’t help but question, “Huh?”

“What made you change?” It wasn’t an unwelcome inquiry, especially when the response became clear to me, lighting up my brain and warming my chest, spreading all over my body until I had no choice but to voice it.

“I realized I could have a future with you.” My smile was vulnerable but honest, and in her eyes, I could see that she knew that. When she threw one leg over my lap, straddling my hips, I allowed myself to breathe deeply again, leaning on the soft cushion while taking a hold of her ass.

“So, how are we gonna do this?” She non-nonchalantly asked, slowly rubbing herself against my still half-hard member. I groaned when I realized the implication of her words, knowing that the meaning paired with the feeling of her wet lips dragging along my cock would get it back up in no time at all. “You wanna do me right now?”

The brashness of the question made my eyes light up, as weird as it may sound. In that moment, it became clear just how perfect for me she really was, giving me what I needed exactly in the way I didn’t know how to ask for it.

“See? This is why I’m in love with you.” She rolled her eyes at that, making me laugh. I’d anticipated the gesture, I knew it’d take her longer to say it, but it was alright. The fact that she was willing me to give me a child was more than enough proof of her feelings for me, if her entire behavior ever since she moved in wasn’t already.

“Shut up and fuck me, Evans.” Throwing her back against the couch, she yelped in surprise when I took off my shirt and slapped the inside of her thigh, assuming my usual position of hovering over her smaller frame.

“Spread your fucking legs, darling. I’m gonna fuck you real good.” The way she bit her lip as I slowly penetrated her again showed me just how excited the prospect got her, and as I started to make good on my promise, her moans told me just as much.

“Holy fuck,” she commented as I pounded her ruthlessly, weeks of frustration and the rush of anticipation getting the best of me, and I was glad for the feeling of her nails biting into my skin because otherwise, I’d probably run over the edge of not even caring about her own pleasure as I chased mine.

“You gonna cum inside of me, honey? Make me a mom? Finally fulfill your dream of becoming a daddy?” Her words detracted me from my task of sucking bruises on the skin that was now mine to bruise, mine. I threw my head back, yelling a, “fuck yes,” as my hips sped up, desperate to fill her up, but I was determined to get her to cum before me.

“Say it,” she ordered, small hand circling my throat as best as she could, a throwback to what I’d done only moments prior. It wasn’t enough to choke me, but it did catch my attention. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Tears escaped the corners of my eyes as I blinked, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best of ways. “God, you are such a fucking tease…” She chuckled underneath me, giving my throat a squeeze before she raised up on her elbows to kiss my jaw.

“Better get used to it… daddy.” And just like that, I realized that I had yet another kink I hadn’t known about before her. Or maybe it was just her, and I was obsessed with the damn woman, painfully turned on by every little thing that she did.

“I’m gonna cum deep inside your little pussy, sweetheart,” I finally gathered myself enough to do as she asked me to. “You’re gonna belong to me forever now. Give me kids, make me happy. How do you like that?”

The mischievous grin she gave me told me everything. “I love it.” I knew this was her way of saying what she couldn’t yet voice, and I’d take it. I’d take anything she gave me, any chance I got to love this wonderful woman.

We came together, both riding our highs in deep ecstasy. I moaned when I felt myself empty all of my seed inside of her, incredibly excited about the prospect of starting our future together right then.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I cradled her face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath, but she turned it to the side and pressed a kiss to my palm and I was breathless all over again. It was such a simple action, why did it get to me so much?

“You’re not too bad yourself, Chris.” I didn’t want to part with her warmth, so I just adjusted us on the sofa in a way that kept me inside of her, sighing contently as I realized I’d never have to sleep away from her again.

“I’m gonna stay right here all night.” I adjusted myself so I was resting my face on her boobs, perfectly happy to do just so, but by the tone of her voice, I knew she had a teasing smile when she called me an, “Old man.”

“And here I was, thinking you’d be able to go again.” Warmth filled my chest at the realization of just how badly she wanted me - just as much as I wanted her too. I was so damn ecstatic. Not even her pokes at my age would be able to affect me.

“Oh, darling… better get ready,” I warned as I adjusted myself to hover over her again, taking notice of the excited glint in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she stared back at me. “I’m never gonna get enough of you.”

The next morning, I added a new kink to the list of random bits of information that were driving me slowly insane as I felt the overwhelming need to bend the woman that I now got to call ‘mine’ over the nearest piece of furniture and rail her until I had cummed deep inside her pussy: seeing her in my shirt while cooking breakfast.

Yeah, I was going to live a happy life by her side.

#my 2k challenge #chris evans smut #my fics #chris evans #smut #roommates au #friends to lovers #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader #chris evans reader insert #chris evans reader inserts #RPF #chris evans fanfiction

[mercy-burning]

Myth or Movie

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/N and Spencer's children have worked up a plan to get them to meet... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, someone is misgendered (nothing too bad, it’s very brief, and it’s sincerely apologized for by the person who misgenders) Word Count: 4.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my 2nd entry for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) Enemies To Lover’s Writing Challenge! This one was one of the prompts she provided: You and (Character)'s kids don't get along, so you have to have a talk. Turns out you... really really get along... and I couldn’t wait to tackle it! I believe my exact words were: “I’m gonna Parent Trap these bitches”... So do with that what you will lol

———

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Two heads turn to stare at me as I burst through the doors. I'm out of breath from running through the building, something the staff really didn't seem to appreciate, though their shouts and annoyed glances were the last thing on my mind.

As I try to catch my breath, the two heads stand, and suddenly I feel a lot smaller.

One of them I recognize— Principal Anteros. I'd met with her before over some of Sky's academic achievements, all positive things, which is why today's circumstances make being in this office rather uncomfortable.

It's also why I seem to shrink with embarrassment at my tardiness— and appearance. Waitressing has its benefits, but today's whirlwind of phone calls and a mention at meeting another parent are not any of them.

Speaking of, the other person in the room is one I've never seen before. He's taller than both Anteros and I, extremely well dressed, and probably the most intimidatingly beautiful human being I'd ever met. I can barely meet his eyes, and so I try not to think about what he's doing here—to think about having to talk to him.

I shrink even further.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Principal Anteros greets. Thankfully she doesn't sound too upset given the circumstances. "Please, have a seat."

I do, brushing off my uniform as if that will somehow help my appearance. The soft leather of the chairs, however comfortable they might be, fail to bring me any comfort at all.

"As I'm sure you've guessed already, this is Doctor Reid, Vivian's father."

Great, he's a fucking doctor? This already bodes well for me...

Regardless of my reservations, I turn to him and give a faint smile. He waves in turn, and for the time being I'm extremely glad he doesn't insist on shaking my hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, surely nothing but a formality.

"You, too," I say quickly, then turn back to Principal Anteros. "Your phone call sounded urgent... Is everything alright?"

As soon as I say it, I feel kind of dumb. Because of course everything isn't alright. My child's principal called a meeting with another parent, and that can never mean anything good, not to mention the fucking intimidation and awkwardness in the room right now. I almost apologize, trying to explain that that wasn't exactly what I meant to get across, but then I would have just been talking for way too long, embarrassing myself further.

Once again, I'm thankful for Anteros's ability to move the conversation along. "I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem so. I only bring this to attention because Sky and Vivian are both stellar students. They've never had any disciplinary issues or difficulties with other students..."

"No one's hurt, right?" Mr. Reid asks. I know he's just concerned for his child, but for some reason it feels like an attack on me, like he assumes my kid had something to do with it.

"No, no one's hurt. Thankfully there weren't any physical altercations. But it seems your girls are quite... loud."

The doctor looks like he wants to say something, but I'm quick to jump in before he can. "Sorry... Sky is non-binary. They use they/them pronouns."

I half expect one or either of them to make a big deal or just roll their eyes at me, as most people seem to do when I correct them on the matter, but Anteros gives a sincere apology and Reid probably couldn't have cared any less.

I still can't tell if I like him or not...

But that doesn't matter right now.

"What do you mean by loud?" I continue.

Anteros sighs. "Well, while there hasn't been any physical violence, your kids seem to have very heated arguments, usually during lunch or in the hallway in passing... We thought maybe we could resolve it here since, like I said, they're both excellent students, but then it started escalating to classroom arguments... It's a lot of screaming..."

I have never known Sky to raise their voice at anyone, not even in a situation where I probably would have. Lord knows I'm thankful they don't have my impatience and tendency to get pissed off easily...

So what happened that was so bad, it made them snap?

"You... You're sure you mean Vivian is acting out like this?" Reid asks slowly, and I can't stop myself from laughing out loud.

"Come on, she's a professional. This has been going on for weeks, in her school, I'm sure she would know if it was your kid having a screaming match with someone else..."

This time Doctor Reid actually looks over at me, an eyebrow raised, and though I very much believe what I've just told him, the way he's looking at me right now drops my heart straight down to my stomach, like he's the principal and I'm the student acting out—No, it's worse than that... I feel like he's a disappointed parent, but not with Vivian, with me.

I avoid his intimidating stare and look down at the ground. "Sorry... I'm just... This isn't like Sky, either, I don't know what to do..."

"Well, usually when we have these sort of disputes, we like to have the students talk it out amongst themselves with a moderator present. But we've tried that, and it seems that they still haven't made any progress. Now, I know your children are good at heart, and it seems like you both are excellent parents— You know your children better than anyone here ever could. So, I'm proposing the two of you take a meeting some time and try to figure out how to settle this."

Seriously? If it hasn't been made clear already, this man is a doctor of some kind, planets away from my league in any capacity, and I can just picture the two of us in a screaming match close to what I imagine our children's looked like...

Maybe we can just e-mail.

"Okay," he agrees evenly, and I'm surprised he seems this calm considering I've just practically yelled at him... "I have free time this afternoon if you want to talk it over."

"I have to get back to work, but I get done at five," I sigh, wanting to get this over with. "Are you free then?"

"Mhm."

"Good," Anteros chirps, standing and leaving Doctor Reid and I to follow suit. "Perhaps over the weekend we can get this settled."

I sure as hell hope so.

———

"Ms. Y/L/N, wait!"

I have no idea what he could possibly want from me now that we've set a time and place to talk tonight, but I'm just praying desperately that he doesn't want to take this time alone in the parking lot to get back at me for accosting him in Anteros's office...

Thankfully, his face when he approaches seems rather kind.

"You can call me Y/N..."

"Right," he says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and nodding. "I'm Spencer."

"Spencer... So, um... Did you need something?"

"O—Oh, I just... I know you have to get back to work so I'll make this short, but I wanted to see if you wanted to do, uh... dinner tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I just figured since we probably didn't expect for our weekend to go this way... We should make it worth it?"

"Are you really trying to turn this into a date?"

"W— No, not really, I just... You know, I thought it might be nice to... make this less like a chore, you know? A—And don't feel like you have to say yes, it was just a thought, I'm sorry if I made this weirder..."

The fact that I still can't figure this man out bothers me, but right now he's blushing, and he looks like he's trying to save himself from embarrassment, and it's so fucking adorable that I don't really care that I was just annoyed.

So I tell him, "Sure. Why not?"

"Really?"

"Yeah... Besides, Lord knows I haven't gone out for dinner in a long time."

The doctor is relieved, a smile creeping up on his lips that suddenly tugs at my insides and makes me wish for a second that it really is a date he's offering... "Okay, good. Do you want to meet at Waterstone, seven o'clock?"

The excitement starts to drain from me as he says it, followed by an incoming wave of embarrassment. "Oh, man, that... That place is kind of expensive, I don't—"

"Oh, it's okay, I'll pay for everything. I'll even wait outside for you so we can go in together if you'd like..."

Why he's being so nice to me I have no idea, but it's making my annoyance melt and my heart start to beat faster, and I really don't know how to feel about that. In fact I'm pretty sure it's weird as fuck given the circumstances.

But all I have to do is make it through this weekend, hopefully all will be back to normal, and I won't ever have to think about it ever again.

"Alright... It's a date."

———

Out of all the scenarios I'd pictured for the end of the night, this definitely had not been one of them.

I finished my shift at the diner, imagining on my drive home the look on his face when I inevitably showed up with something on my face or stained on my dress; Instead I showed up to Waterstone and was greeted with wandering eyes and showered with bashful compliments.

I expected to get into some type of argument about how each of our kids were better than the other or something, but we ended up talking through their traits with compassion, interest, and pride, all while agreeing that we just have to sit with them this weekend and explain that there are easier, better ways to sort out disagreements than screaming at each other in public.

I expected not to have much fun at all, but by the time we gathered the check and headed out the door, Spencer and I were laughing, just a little tipsy on Cabernet, our hands gently brushing and sparks shooting up my arm at the feeling.

I expected to go our separate ways and walk to my car and drive home, but instead he ended up telling me he was taking the Subway home, and I offered to give him a ride to the opposite side of town where I lived (Waterstone was right in the middle).

I expected to walk through the door, stumble straight up to bed, and sleep until Sky inevitably woke me up with them saying I've slept in too late and needed to get ready for work, but instead I ended up following Spencer up to his door to say goodnight.

And now we're at a fork in the road, and I can take one of two paths.

I can say goodnight, watch him walk in, and then go home and forget about this whole thing.

Or I can keep letting him stare at me until I find myself leaning in to kiss him. Whether or not he'll actually reciprocate is another story, but the little bit of wine tingling in the surface of my body and the dark, intense look in his eye gives me more courage than I've had since I met him.

Before I can make a move, Spencer talks, his voice small and inviting. "Do you want to come inside?" The beating of my heart quickens immensely as he takes another step forward and brings his fingers out to graze my chin. "Vivian's with her mom tonight."

Yes. Vivian's mom, who divorced Spencer pretty soon in the marriage after she just decided his job was too much to handle. He'd quit and took a teaching job, but even still, she declined his pleading to stay married and eventually admitted that she just wasn't in love with him anymore. At least she had the decency to let him have joint custody once his schedule cleared up, and it seemed like they were decent co-parents. Maybe even friends.

I think about Sky, how much they wish their dad had stayed, and how much I wish he had too. I was devastated when he left without anything more than a note. For years it took a huge toll on us, and I barely had the headspace to even think about dating anyone since then.

But here I am now, standing with this man who has also lost a spouse, who's somewhat of a single parent, and who seems kind and genuine enough that I don't think I'd have to worry about bringing him into the life of my child.

Though, I don't even know it'll go that far. I'm getting too far ahead of myself, and so to slow down I look at what's right in front of me. Right now.

Spencer looks at me like he wants to devour me. My whole body is tingling from head to toe. I want to kiss him, and I'm pretty damn sure he wants to kiss me back. He just invited me inside, which means that if I accept, we'll most likely end up sleeping with each other.

Again... Definitely not one of the scenarios I'd had in mind when I left the school today. But it's a damn good one, and he's so hot I want to cry.

My flirty switch turns on so fast, it nearly gives me whiplash. "And what are you gonna do if I say yes?"

"Depends... How badly do you want to walk tomorrow?"

My first instinct is to jokingly tell him to put me in a wheelchair, but I settle for kissing him instead, hoping that gives the same sentiment.

The way he melts into my body tells me I've succeeded. My arms fly up to his neck and pull him closer, and he holds me tightly to him, waiting for my lips to part so he can expertly slip his tongue past them.

I whine out and take a step towards the door. Spencer comes with me and fumbles with the keys in his pocket before reluctantly pulling away to get us inside.

Once we take our jackets and shoes off, he clings to me like static, drawn to me like a magnet, and I let him near without a second thought. Our lips find each other perfectly, like they've always meant to fit together. And as pieces of clothing come off on our way through the house and up to his bedroom, our limbs fit together just as well. Nothing is out of place.

Hell, I don't even remember how inferior to him I felt earlier in the day. Our jobs and lifestyles might seem like polar opposites, but for right now, the two of us are on very equal footing, coming together like it's always been meant to be.

I nearly fall apart when his fingers gather wetness from my cunt, just enough to tease me before pulling away and bringing them to his lips. I watch with a whine waiting on the back of my tongue as he slips his fingers past his mouth and sighs.

"More," is all he manages, and I want so badly to tease him—tell him how I know he can be more eloquent than that—but words are all lost on me too, when he drops to his knees and spreads me apart with ease. I have no choice but to reach behind and grip the foot-end of the bed as he works his tongue expertly against me.

Each of my sighs and whines are met with more avidity from him, taking the form of sharp flicks of the tongue over my clit, and once he adds his fingers to the mix, pumping them expertly inside me, I'm a fucking goner.

I come with a silent shout, clenching my thighs around his face and gripping the foot of the bed so tightly it feels like my hands might go numb.

Once my body loosens, Spencer gets up and kisses me, nearly knocking me over. I'm breathless and dizzy as the tang of my arousal coats my tastebuds. His hands are gentle despite the hunger in his lips, and the medley of sensations of all of these things has me weak in the knees.

"Getting harder to stand already, sweetheart?" he laughs, catching me as I fall into him. His hands clutch at my thighs and he carries me to the edge of the bed, crawling over top of me and kissing down my neck. "That's okay... I'll take good care of you."

I still can't manage to speak as he gently pushes in, the slow burn of him splitting me in two rendering me utterly incapable of even thought. I gladly welcome the pressure, especially once he's inside me all the way and lowering his body to mine. Our chests press firmly together as he pulls back and starts a steady pace with his hips. He traps me with his arms, bringing them to either side of my face. And when his fingers brush the hair from my eyes, he stares into them with intensity as he fucks me.

It's slow and hard. It's heart-pounding. It's earth-shattering. It's everything that makes sex worth having. In that moment we're two equals, so wrapped up in the mere feeling of each other that everything else is just background noise. He breathes me in and I do the same, and with each cant forward of his hips, he brings me deeper into this world we've both ultimately created together.

I want more than anything to wrap my legs around him and keep him close to me, but he's fucking me so good that I don't have the willpower. Instead, they lay spread out, lazy and open as his hips move between them. I'm warm all over, tingling everywhere our skin connects. When he kisses me, swallowing my pathetic attempts at whimpering his name, I'm positive that this is what Heaven must feel like.

Whether it's hours or only minutes later, eventually my body tenses, unable to hold back any further, and two particularly deep thrusts from Spencer send me barreling over the edge.

"There it is, sweetheart..." he praises, caressing my face with long, gentle fingers and leaving little kisses wherever they trail. His voice only seems to help me along, each warm syllable soothing the muscles that pulled taut at his mercy. "That's a good girl..."

I feel tired, calmed, and relaxed, when he pulls out only to jerk off over my lower stomach. Through tired eyes, I watch as he lets go and covers me with his release. Hearing him grunt out my name as he does it nearly wakes me up again, and it even finally brings some words out of me.

"God, you're so fucking hot..."

Well... Not exactly elegant, but the feeling gets across.

Spencer laughs and rolls over so that he isn't nearly crushing me anymore. He kisses down my neck, my arm, and he ever-so-slightly swipes the tip of his tongue over the mess he made before kissing my thigh and getting up to leave— presumably to get me something to clean up with.

Sure enough, he returns shortly with a wet washcloth and tenderly cleans me up. I manage to sit, leaning back on my elbows once he's done and smile at him. He's practically kneeling in front of me again, smiling back as his lips press featherlight kisses to the inside of my leg.

"How're you feeling?" he drawls, letting me pull him up to lay down with me.

"Really good. I haven't done that in so long..."

"Me either... I um... I hadn't really thought much about seeing other people once Lena and I got divorced... I guess I just wanted to put all my focus into being the best father I could, you know?"

"Mhm," I answer, turning to face him and interlocking our fingers. "I know exactly what you mean."

We lay like that for a few moments in comfortable silence, hands and limbs tangled while we breathe the same air and revel in the afterglow we've just created.

Suddenly Spencer laughs, and I squeeze his hand. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking... We probably wouldn't have met if not for Anteros calling us in, right?"

"Yeah..." I piece it together. "Guess I never thought of it that way."

"I just think it's funny, because in Greek mythology, Anteros was an Erote, known as an avenger of unrequited love, and he punished those who scoffed at romantic advances made by others... You and I never even thought about dating after our separations, and yet... Here we are now, because of Anteros."

Hearing him educate me on Greek mythology only serves to remind me how different we are. Still, the little story brings a comforting smile to my lips. "Well... Remind me to send her a basket of muffins or something to thank her."

"And tell her what? That you're grateful she got you laid?"

"Yeah. And what about it?"

The two of us dissolve into laughter that eventually fizzles and leaves us silent again. Our fingers are still tangled, and somehow we've snuggled in even closer.

"In any case, I'm glad I got to meet you, Doctor Reid."

"And I, you, Ms. Y/L/N..."

———

In the past two weeks since that first meeting, I hadn't received any more phone calls from Principal Anteros, which bode as a good sign.

Spencer and I decided to see each other as secretly as we could, which meant only giving vague details to our kids as to what we were doing in our spare time— It seemed weird to spring it on them if they didn't get along, so we figured it was best to wait until the situation was handled.

I tried to talk to Sky about their progress with Vivian, but they only insisted that everything was fine and they wouldn't have to worry anymore. And after relaying this information to Spencer, he informed me that Viv had said the same thing to him.

It wasn't until we both realized that they'd said the same things verbatim each time we asked, that something odd was going on.

And that's how we end up right here, Sky and I sitting on a park bench bathed in the golden October sun while I patiently wait for Spencer to 'coincidentally' show up with Vivian.

Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, because almost five minutes after we sit, I hear the familiar sound of my name falling from his lips, and it's hard to contain the cocky, playful smile that appears upon my own.

"Spencer, hey!" I call back, standing up and going to give him a hug. He pulls me in and he's nice and warm. He smells like burnt wood for some reason, and I want to breathe him in forever. Instead, I settle for a sweet kiss on the lips, both because I simply want to and also because it should baffle the fuck out of our kids.

Sure enough we pull away and look to them, and they look panicked. They have no idea what to do, what to say...

"Oh! Sorry... Viv, this is Y/N, Sky's mom."

The pure amusement in Spencer's voice makes me feel even warmer than being in his embrace. I look to his daughter and give her a wave. "Hi."

"H—Hi..."

It almost seems cruel to laugh at their predicament, but as I turn to Sky and introduce them to Spencer, they have clear annoyance written all over their face.

"Okay, Mom, I think we get it... How did you guys figure it out?"

"What, that you two pretended to hate each other so your principal would have to call us both in to meet?"

The pre-teens look at each other and sigh, truly defeated once and for all. "Yeah," they mutter simultaneously.

"Well, it surely didn't make any sense when you got in trouble for yelling at each other in the first place," Spencer points out. "And then when we asked you how things were working out, you both said the same exact thing..."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out, but we appreciate the effort," I add, reaching out to ruffle Sky's hair. They jerk away playfully, and I can't help but notice their smile as they peek over at Vivian.

"Our plan worked, though, so I call it a win," Vivian says with a shrug.

"As long as you two don't plan on causing any more disruptions at school..." Spencer looks between the both of them, and then at me, his eyes softening as he takes my hand and squeezes it. "Then yes. I'd call it a win, too."

I lean into him and laugh. "Turns out it wasn't Greek mythology that brought us together. It was The Parent Trap."

He raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't get what I mean, and before I can ask or explain, Vivian does it for me. "He's never seen it."

Spencer looks between the three of us like a lost and confused puppy, and we all laugh.

"Well, then, maybe we'll have to have a movie night sometime soon," I offer, reaching out for Sky.

Hand in hand, the four of us continue down the pathway, walking away from the setting sun while dried leaves rustle under our feet.

———

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[gavin-plz-call-me]

Trust in Him

TW: Depictions of sexual harassment and sexual assault

You love your job, so when one of your coworkers begins to harass you, you're scared that you'll have to choose between your job and your safety. Luckily, Artem is here to support you.

This is my first time writing about sexual harassment/assault, so I apologize in advance if it's not a perfectly accurate portrayal.

AO3

Word Count: 3.3k

You needed this job, those words alone were all that kept you from doing something rash, but your resolve was growing thinner and thinner by the day. Every day you worked in the office, which, luckily for you, grew less frequent after becoming partners with Artem and joining NXX, one of your co-workers in particular was bound to come speak with you. This wouldn't be an issue if he were speaking to you about work issues, or a case, hell, even the weather but he, Julius, never came over for any productive reasons. The two of you had worked a case together a few months ago, but other than that, you should be complete strangers.

You could see Julius approaching from the corner of your eye, a nasty smirk plastered on his, and you hated to admit this, conventionally attractive face. While others might swoon at his good looks, you had to hold back a gag as he placed his hand firmly on your shoulder, enveloping your senses in his stale scent. He then slowly leaned down, his lips almost touching your ear, and whispered "That shirt makes your tits look great," his disgustingly wet breath sent shivers through your body as he gave your shoulder a squeeze and headed off like nothing happened.

As far as you knew, you were his only victim. The other ladies in the office swooned over him, speaking highly of his good looks and "great" skills as a lawyer. A few who had witnessed his advances towards you and misinterpreted your blush as shy interest complained of how envious they were that such a handsome, successful man was interested in you, and you kept quiet. You had heard enough horror stories of women who had come out about work-place harassment who were fired, never given or even considered for promotions, and even sued for slander, and you couldn't let any of that happen to you, you had to tolerate it. A job at Themis law firm is a dream for many law students, you included, and you wouldn't let that slip away. Even if you had to endure harassment, even if you had to leave your desk to escape to the bathroom some days because you couldn't keep the tears out of your eyes, even if you couldn't fall asleep some nights because images of what he's done to you and what he's capable of doing to you infect your mind, even if you had to start wearing ill-fitting clothes to hide your figure in an attempt to get him to leave you alone, and even if you were terrified to be in a room alone with him, lest he become bolder, you had to persevere. If everything in your life went right, you'd become his boss one day, and when that day came, you could fire his ass.

Of course, though, you weren't the boss, and you had to listen to what yours said. So, when your manager approached you a few days after Julius's latest incident telling you you'd be assisting him in a case, there wasn't much you could do to get out of it. Artem and you weren't working on any urgent cases at the moment, so he gave them permission to steal you away for the case. You were very skilled in working the case type Julius was "stuck on" so your manager said you the obvious choice for the job. There was no way out.

Julius invited you into his office with a sickly-sweet smirk and an almost impermeable wink as a knot settled in your stomach. Something in you screamed at you, don't go in there, it yelled, anywhere else. Just not his office.

"Well, I wouldn't want to intrude in your personal space," You said, trying to keep an aura of professionalism while also trying to protect yourself. There were still others around, if you start to show your discomfort, you'd be found out. You felt like you were lying, in a way, maybe you were? Guilt ran up and down your spine, and you hoped the feeling didn't translate to your expression.

"Oh, MC." His voice was outwardly cheery with an undertone of something, though you couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, "You could never be an intrusion to me. Let's use my office, I insist."

No, no no, the voice within you screamed again, you felt your breath hitch slightly, but you forced your breaths to be normal, despite how badly your lungs wanted you to gasp for air. "I would prefer it if we worked somewhere else, Julius." His name tasted disgusting on your tongue, "My desk for example," the two of you squeezed together, trying to work at the same small desk, his smell surrounding you, "or an empty conference room," still alone in a room together, his hands reaching out to touch your body, "or-"

"Mc, this would all be much simpler if we just worked in my office, I promise you, I don't mind." There was a hint of aggravation in Julius's voice, but it disappeared the longer he spoke. "There won't be any meeting halls open, now come on, let's go to my office."

You stood still for half a second, debating just running away, job be damned, but you didn't have time to start walking. You hadn't even decided which way to go, towards Julius's office or towards the main exit, when a voice rang out, "Mc, Julius, conference room six is open." You turned around, eyes meeting the bright sapphire eyes belonging to Artem. His brows were slightly furrowed, looking you up and down.

"Great," You said before Julius could say a word, "thank you Artem." You turned back to Julius, his eyes were much less kind than Artem's, and all you wanted to do was turn back to face the man with the beautiful eyes and put Julius in the depths of your memories, but you plaster on a fake smile as you say, "conference room six it is, then!" You quickly passed Julius, feeling two sets of eyes burning into you as you walked away. Julius's office was past conference room six, so as you entered the room Julius walked towards his own office instead, muttering something about needing to grab his case files.

You were glad that you didn't end up in his office, but the conference room wasn't much better, panic began building up in your chest again. There were large windows leading out into the hallway, which you sat right in the middle of giving anyone who walked by a perfect view of you and whatever you were doing. Conference room six was the most open of the conference rooms, but the hallway around here was never too busy. The windows also left a few blind spots, places he could back you into if he really wanted to. With slightly shaky hands you opened your laptop, opening an audio recording app. There weren't any security cameras in this conference room, and even though your gut stopped you from telling anyone about Julius, something within you told you to record.

The door to the conference room quickly opened and shut. You minimized the recording app, the pulsing red dot indicating that it’s recording disappears along with it. Julius throws a few case files onto the conference table before walking around to sit directly next to you. You rolled your chair away from him slightly, trying to escape his revolting stench. You began speaking about the case, reading the case files, and making comments about the stranger details, details you could use to defend your client.

The two of you continued to talk about the case for a while, the anxiety that had grown so high before began to dwindle, maybe you were wrong. Maybe Julius wasn’t going to take this chance to do something horrible to you, maybe he never was going to do anything to you. Had you just imagined his threats? “Mr. Johnson’s embezzlement of the school’s funds could be grounds for-”

"Tease," Julius interrupted you, his voice much darker, almost an inhumane growl, than what it was when you were surrounded by your coworkers. Darker than it was even a few seconds before when you were talking about the case.

"E-excuse me?" you asked, your professional front slipping, anxiety raising in your stomach once again.

Julius inched closer to you, holding the back of your chair to prevent you from rolling further away from him, "I said, you're a fucking tease Mc. Making me go back and forth like that." The undertone you couldn't pinpoint from before was back, but it was much more pronounced now. Anger mixed with desire, his unkempt nails dug into the skin of your thigh as he pushed himself onto you, "but you're not gonna tease me anymore."

Desperately, you pushed your feet against the floor as hard as you could, propelling your chair into the one behind you, allowing you to stand up and try to make it to the door. Julius's hand violently grabbed your wrist, yanking you back towards him. “Come on, Mc,” he growled in your ear, “everyone in the office knows you’re whoring around to get to the top. You can’t refuse me.”

You struggled against his grip, but every movement you made had him tightening his hold around your wrist, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Julius.” you gasped as the pain of his hand on you became too much.

This seemed to enrage Julius, who suddenly stood up from his chair, forcing you against the wall furthest from the door. Your head smacked violently into the wall sending sparks of pain through your vision. “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone knows you’re putting out for Artem. Why else would he choose some sub-par slut of a lawyer to be his partner?”

“I-I didn’t-” Julius put more pressure on you as you tried to speak, stopping your words completely.

“Let’s put it this way, Mc,” Julius's hands snaked in opposite directions, one reaching your throat, putting suffocating pressure on it, the other gripping your ass, pulling you unwillingly closer to his body, “You put out for Artem to advance your career, and if you’re a good little slut for me, you can keep your career.” He pulled you somehow tighter into him, his mouth ghosting your ear before delivering a harsh bite into its flesh. “If not, you can kiss being a lawyer goodbye.”

The knot in your stomach twisted, the job you were passionate about, the coworkers you loved, Artem, your senior partner who had already taught you so much, could he really take all of that away from you? Was it really worth it to lose all that to him? Maybe you should just let him have you, once to save your job. But, as Julius’s hand moved from your ass forward, threatening to touch you in a much more intimate place, something in you broke. No. You wouldn’t let him take your career away, but you also wouldn’t let him have you. Throughout your career as a lawyer, you fought and fought and fought for your clients, day in and day out so they could find justice, and it was time for you to fight for yourself.

You thrust your knee upwards into Julius’s groin, and in the split second where he was caught off guard, you used all your strength to push him off of you. You ran for your laptop, his angered cries of pain filling the room as he stood motionless in the spot you left him in, grasping at his groin, trying to ease the pain. You took the opportunity to haphazardly grab your laptop and head for the door. Julius’s hand grazed your arm again as he regained some of his movement, but you were too far away from him at this point. He couldn’t reach you.

Escaping the suffocating air of that conference room could have been the happiest moment of your life. You saw Julius staring at you from the corner of your eye, still standing in the conference room, slightly doubled over. He wouldn’t dare chase you through the office, and he was out of sight before you could figure out what his next move would be. Adrenaline pumping through your body, you made your way across the office. You weren’t sure where your legs were taking you until you were already knocking at the door you sought out, Artem’s office.

The moment you saw Artem as he opened the door, his face going from stoic as always, then softening at the sight of you, and finally, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he got a better look at you all in a matter of seconds, the emotions you had kept hidden for months suddenly broke free. Tears threatened to escape your eyes, so you broke your gaze away from Artem, opting to look down at your own shoes instead. You really didn’t want to cry in front of Artem. You so desperately wanted to be a great lawyer like him, famous for winning countless cases. He wouldn’t be so vulnerable as to cry in front of a coworker, and you wanted to follow in his footsteps. You tried to push them back, but they refused.

Artem put a gentle hand on your upper back as he led you into his office, closing the door behind him, and placing his jacket on you. It smelt strongly of him. You could detect hints of vanilla from his cologne which made you want to envelop yourself further into the cloth. He led you to the sofa in his office, Artem himself sitting down on the coffee table in front of you. His kind, gentle movements, so contrasting from Julius’s threats, made the tears stream down your face harder. You began to shake from the loss of adrenaline, and you buried your face in your hands.

Artem was at a loss for what to do. He’d never seen you cry before, he felt helpless as he watched you heave from your tears. One thing was certain in his mind, however: Julius had something to do with this. He could sense your discomfort earlier when he’d suggested the two of you use conference room six to discuss business. He could tell you were trying your hardest to suppress the feelings, but they were prevalent enough on your person for him to detect, but his actions had failed to protect you further. A part of him wanted to leave the office immediately, find Julius, and beat him to a pulp wherever he stood, but a more sensible part of him knew you needed him right now. Julius could be dealt with later.

Slowly, Artem stood up from his place on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, a good few feet away from you in order to give you space. You finally looked up at him when you felt his weight on the couch. Your eyes were red and irritated from the tears, makeup running down your face in light gray streaks. You desperately wiped away at them, but it didn’t make a difference. Artem’s soft voice finally broke the silence between the two of you, “Mc, can I hug you?” The hysterical part of your brain was surprised by his words. In your emotional state, you expected him to reject you, and act disgusted by your emotions. You nodded slightly, desperately wanting his comfort.

Before you knew it, Artem had slid closer to you on the couch, taking you in his arms, and gently pressing you into his chest. This simple action started your tears anew. You began crying harder than before, gasping for breath. Clumsy words spilled out of your mouth as you tried to tell Artem what had happened. You thought he deserved to know why you came to his office crying, but Artem simply gently shushed you, rubbing comforting circles into your back. “You don’t need to say anything yet, Mc,” he whispered

The two of you stayed like that for a long time until your tears eventually slowed to a stop. At that point, you pulled away from Artem, desperately missing his warmth as soon as you did so. Artem slid his hand in yours, giving it a gentle, supportive, squeeze before speaking again, “If you’d like to tell me what happened, I’ll be here for you, okay?” Artem’s comforting words, his warm hand in yours, and his beautiful blue eyes made everything that’s happened with you in relation to Julius spill. You couldn’t look at him as you told him about everything: the case you worked on together, how he’d continue to go to your desk even when the case was over, how that escalated to the harassment you had to endure, what just happened in the conference room, and the audio recording of the incident.

When your gaze finally settled back on Artem, he was wearing an expression you had never seen on him before. It was anger, it was concern, it was... it was something else you couldn’t quite place. Artem pushed himself up from the couch, his eyes on the door to the office. You tightly grasped his arm, stopping him from moving towards the door. The door meant he’d tell, the door meant all your fears would come to fruition, the door meant you’d have to face the world outside Artem’s warm embrace again, and you didn’t want that. “Please don’t,” you whimpered, new tears stinging your eyes, “don’t tell anyone, please.” A sob escaped your throat, making Artem sit back on the couch next to you. “I love my job here, I love working with you and Kiki. I love being your partner and working on NXX cases with you. I don’t want to lose it all.”

Artem was back to rubbing circles into your skin, this time at the base of your shoulder. “You won’t lose your job, I promise.”

“B-But, so many people have b-been fired because they r-report assault, I-I can’t l-let that happen.”

“Mc,” Artem said, his voice slightly stern, but still gentler than you’d ever heard it before, “please look at me.” Your eyes trailed up his body, which was still holding you, and finally met his eyes. “I won’t let that happen, okay?” His hand found your hair, gently combing through it with his fingers, “I promise you that you’ll be okay, that your job will be okay. I’ll put Julias in jail if it’s the last case I ever take, just please, please let me help you.” Before that day, you could never imagine Artem crying, but you knew the sight of his eyes filled with tears was real. He allowed you to see his emotions just as you’d allowed him to see yours. He wasn’t some emotionless lawyer who would allow his coworker to be fired because they told the truth. He was a man who’d openly share your emotions with you, even if that meant sharing your tears. You could trust him, you knew that now.

“Okay,” you let the word with a shaky breath, “I trust you, Artem.”

Artem stood up from his place next to you, not letting your hand go quite yet. He leaned over you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, before looking into your eyes, determination filling his own sapphire ones. Your body slightly tensed when Artem finally removed his hand from yours, you quickly grew cold at the lack of his warmth, but you let him go. You watched his figure as he reached the door, taking one more glance behind him towards you, and left, shutting the door behind him. Eventually, you knew, everything would be okay again.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fic #tears of themis fanfic #tears of themis artem #artem x reader #artem wing #angst #hurt/comfort #tw sex assault #tw sa #tw sex harrasment #artem wing x reader

[aitseleci]

deceived pt. 2

details: angst, albedo x gn!reader | cw: death / injuries / blood 

word count: 1840 | part one !

note: do i like this? idk mixed feelings tbh  — didn’t bother to add a picture for this one. but like here is part 2 as many requested 

It’s been months since the day Albedo broke up with you. A relationship that Albedo didn’t cherish, as he states. As time continues to pass, your heart aches as you recall those joyful moments with each other. Your affectionate feelings still lingered on edge; holding closely to the past. The nostalgia had you at ease in times of distress. You’d still loved him. No words can express your desire to stop loving him. But what else can be done? You were nothing but a victim to his research. He used you and admitted it, after all. 

Melancholy thoughts seem to be on your mind lately. You wonder how Albedo was doing, how he’s been, what he’d accomplished. You’d still cared, in fact getting over him wasn’t a no brainer. Everywhere you looked reminded you of him. His own essence loiter among commodities. The residents of Mondstadt and Dragonspine didn’t assist in your healing; the reminisce of the things you two did together: exploring, sketching, finding materials, indulging the savory dish of Sunshine Sprat. He taught you how to recreate this dish, lecturing you how to properly cook the salmon. 

“You make sure that the salmon becomes a dark orange and stiff,” the blonde whispers as he observes you flipping the meat over the stove. You nodded, eyeing the salmon carefully, letting out giggles in response. 

“I can’t believe we’re so focused on salmon ‘Bedo.” 

“Hm, you think so?” he answers in an amused tone. 

Whenever he shows you his special dish Woodland Dream, the prince himself had a smiled painted in his eyes. Indeed proud of himself with his culinary masterpiece. He describes the dish to be sweet and tender  — a blooming flower with each bite. You can still remember the tangy flavor that danced on your tongue. Despite this savory dish, this prince seemly has a sweet tooth. To him, he finds the sugar rush that washes throughout his body quite pleasant. A childish nature that you didn’t expect yourself.  

“You find it pleasant... a sugar rush?”

He was hesitant averting his eyes from your stare, “Well the ‘hyperactivity’ feeling, gives me a boost in energy... It's refreshing.”

“Hm, okay..” you smiled. How cute. 

Those wistful moments will remain to be daydreams of your little mind. It was a facetious act he pulled to test you. With the little hope you were attached to, you hope maybe Albedo didn’t mean what he said. At least a little. 

You didn’t bother going to Sucrose or Timaeus for your answer to your questions. Your relationship wasn’t public and doubted anyone would understand. Moving on shouldn’t be onerous, it’s not compared to your daily tasks. Ugh, you sighed in frustration. 

You were exploring the land of Dragonspine, wondering to find new discoveries. Despite Albedo’s influence to pique your curiosity of Dragonspine, your shrewdness needed to go beyond your understanding. It’s been a while since you stepped foot in the land of snow. Not after how much of his essence remained for your little heart. 

You trudge up along the path of Dragonspine, slowly recalling the time you had with Albedo. The crunching of the white snow underneath your feet, digging deep in the ground. The noises you can hear over the screeching winds. A path of fresh footprints laid behind you, displaying where you came from — not where you’re heading. In honesty, you don't know where you’re heading. All that was known was that you are going somewhere. Discover something. Get your mind off of him. 

The Adventurers’ Guild was still trying to post expeditions and catch the eyes of others. Though many adventurers have turned down these pleas. The cold condition was much too dangerous for them to handle, proper preparation was needed but expensive. Dragonspine was menacing for their safety and that was understood among the citizens. 

You briskly rubbed your hands for warmth. The icy winds swirled and sighed around you, sweeping against your skin. Sending chills throughout your body, the fabric of your clothing keeps you warm. Warm enough to make you at ease with the temperature, but not your cold thoughts of gloominess. 

“[y/n], you need my coat? It’s quite cold today, I wouldn’t want you to freeze,” Albedo sighs with the hinges of concern, already starting to slip off his coat.

“Huh, you sure, what about you?” 

A slight curve plastered on his face. An expression you don’t usually see besides his familiar blank expression. “Yes, I don’t exactly get cold and of course I insist.” 

He placed his coat on top of your shoulder, instantly feeling the warmth. The soft fabric rubbing against your cold skin. Your nose was occupied with his scent, filling you with wonder and interest. At times, his scent would be simple than complex. That day it was simple, calming and reassuring you with solace. 

You looked up to the sky, it was filled with ominous mackerel clouds. The dark sky was kissed by the high mountains and bare trees. The sudden wintry breeze whooshed passed you, overwhelming your body. You were missing the sunlight spilling its rays among the land of Mondstadt. How much time has passed? Who knew you would be homesick after wandering in the land of Dragonspine. And Albedo’s company, you couldn’t grasp the fact that he’s no longer in your life. The warmth and bliss of both the recollection of fond memories. Face lit up, feeling your own embarrassment in your cheeks. 

It’s been months, why can’t you get over him? 

“Ya!” the strange noise alerting you. You looked frantically trying to find the source of those gurgling sounds. It was deserted, the possibility of small rodents roaming around the area is surely high  — no wait; trying to think rationally. Then finally you see a monster camp right in front of you. 

You were ready to whip out elemental reactions and attack — oh no. Your vision illuminated its bright color. Still, nothing was released and hilichurl fighters were running at you. No way you were going to stand with this commotion, resorting to run for your life. As you huffed and puffed, accelerating your speed. The cold oxygen filling up your lungs, fingers were numb. Vision started to get foggy, decreasing your pace. You gaze down to notice red blood drizzled on the white blankets of snow. 

Blood? 

You felt the arrows that shot your head and leg. It must have been the hilichurl shooters. There were gashes on the back of your head and leg that began to rip you with pain. You touched the back of your head and felt the wet blood. With the energy in your had left, you continued — you looked back to see blurs of mitachurls with huge axes. Axes that can slice you in half. Your head and thoughts were swirling, unable to focus. Numbness seeped through your legs — stability was lacking. You were trembling, feeling your own body was out of your control. The snowy scenery swayed underneath you as your vision bathed in black spots. You collapsed in the snow, unable to pick yourself up. Legs and head were throbbing with agony and anguish. Pain that you never thought could exist, groaning in pain. The urge to scream came to you but no noise came out of your tired lips. You pushed yourself to crawl, eyeing a tree. Glancing back to see the monsters were leaving you alone. In the vast distances, struggling to hang on to dear life. Faint soft footsteps were heard, the soft slushing of the snow. Must have been an echo or from your imagination. Left alone suffering in the sub zero condition. Your mind was so foggy, eyes half-lit before seeing a glimpse of a familiar figure along the path. It was a blur of colors, you squinted in attempts for a clearer image. Just before you could make out what or who it was, darkness swallowed you whole; lying face down. 

“[y/n]!” 

You blacked out, unconscious in the cold. 

Albedo came running towards you, surely was shocked to see your body stiffly laying there. But noticing your wounds and the wet blood on your clothes — he had to take action. Still seeing that your vision was glowing, he didn’t worry as he checked your pulse. You were bleeding profusely, as Albedo swiftly wrapped you up with cloth he had on him. No words can explain how Albedo felt, as he threw your arms on his shoulders and back. Lifting your body up and holding on to your thighs; securing you. 

Albedo felt your pulse, beating with each running step. His pace started getting quicker, the desire to keep you alive. Not sure what to think of it besides the want to face you. His thought process was incoherent and he wanted it to be resolved.  

Little time. 

After sending you off, Albedo handed back to his camp, straight back to work. Focusing was an issue though. He had mixed feelings of frustration, unsure what these feelings could mean? He hoped you would be alright, but again, why would he care? Ever since the end of your relationship, Albedo noticed that he’s more sensitive than usual. Reactions seemingly to be more livid, stronger. New unfamiliar emotions that he can’t wrap his head around. This all left him at a dead end. 

He felt himself drowning in his own unwanted guilt. The princely blank face wasn’t there, instead contrasting it was the void of such strong rage. Teeth clenched, eyebrows arched. Face painted with pain and remorse. The look on your pale unconscious face... What was the source? His body heats up from this confusion, slamming his gloved hands on his desk. Palms sweating, soaking the leather, as he tossed them off. Papers and documents were flying everywhere, his arms swinging with tension. 

Is this what you're doing? It must be. 

Maybe as a vision bearer, you found a way to manipulate others. Nonetheless, Albedo needed answers. But with your crucial state, are you going to be alright? 

Albedo never felt this rage towards anyone: his master, Alice, Klee, Sucrose, Timaeus, The Knights of Favonius...

If only times were different. 

Weeks, months had passed, you were pronounced dead from your fatal wounds. On your deathbed, the glow of your vision had dimmed to a gray color. You were truly gone. Word got out and Albedo couldn’t pull himself together. Your death has left a void in many lives and memories. 

If only he cared. 

The blonde was choking with despair, gasping for a change... hope. As he flipped through the sketches of you, he stared blankly at your face. The little details that made you, you. He repeatedly muttered incoherent words: If only, if only.

There it was a sketch of you and your smile, if only he could see it one last time. He sighed, letting his head drop. His blonde hair was unkempt as he exhaled heavily. 

Once that first tear fell on the paper, more followed. 

If only he loved you. 

© aitseleci 2021 ✰ do not modify or repost

#🌧; angst-cele #albedo x reader #genshin angst #angst genshin #albedo genshin impact #albedo angst

[forever-rogue]

if you’re still taking requests for Bucky, can you do one from this quote if it sparks any inspiration: ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’

A/N: please, this is so soft 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped soft lips as Bucky laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. There was almost no sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the aging clock on the wall, combined with the sounds wafting in from the open window, and the almost non-existent humming of his vibranium appendage. He reached his hand up to his chest to ground himself by touching the dog tags that had been his for way too many years now. A temporary moment of panic set into his bones when he realized there was nothing there, but revelation quickly dawned on him as he remembered that they were currently with you. The last he’d seen them, you were wearing them, the metallic silver tags safely nestled under the soft fabric of your t-shirt.

When he’d given them to you, a sign of his desire to call you his, among other things, he never actually expected that you’d wear them. The first time he’d spied you wearing them, along a casual outfit consisting of jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, he’d almost short circuited. There was something about comforting knowing they were safe and sound in your possession now. They were yours now too - just like he was.

A gentle tugging lifted the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile. How foreign it still felt sometimes, the gentle feeling of blossoming happiness and knowing he was loved. Loved. What a strange and odd concept that was. He couldn’t remember the last another soul had told him they loved him besides in the most platonic sense. But the first time you’d whispered those words to him, so effortlessly, so easily, I love you, his whole world came to a screeching halt and he was sent into a wild spiral that left him speechless. Bucky hadn’t reciprocated your words then; but it wasn’t long after that he did. It had been a half shout, half declaration as you just grinned at him, pulling him against your lips and only letting him go when you were both breathless and dizzy.

He relaxed at the thought, settling against the pillow as he reminded himself to swim in happy memories, rather than drown in the ghosts of the past.

His phone vibrated against the glass top of the coffee table as it startled him out of his stupor, causing him to almost roll off the couch in surprise. He scrambled to grab the phone, and relaxed when he saw your name on the screen. Straightening himself up, he cleared his throat before answering, “hi sweetheart.”

“Bucky!” your excited voice on the other end of the line made his heart relax as he just imagined you bouncing around your small floral shop, making sure everything was perfect, “it’s about time you answered, old man. I’ve called you like three times! Did I disturb your afternoon nap, Barnes?”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling an old man,” he snorted as he stood up and stretched, surprised by how easily you were able to read him, “I got decades on you, kid, respect your elders.”

“Respect me when I’m right,” you grinned as he laughed lightly. How easily everything seemed to flow between the two of you; he’d never thought he could have anything like this again. Even once he’d left Wakanda and life slowly went back to a semblance of normality after the Blip, he still had a hard time trusting people; perhaps, more than anything else, he didn’t trust himself.

While he knew he was himself again, Bucky, and not the Winter Soldier, he still was never quite convinced that he wouldn’t ever go back. For so long he had been nothing but a killer, it was hard to believe that he could ever be fully himself again. So he’d closed himself off, steeled himself, despite the constant reassurance from the people around him that it was okay to let others in. He couldn’t trust himself - after so long...how could he? How was he just supposed to be able to pick the pieces and just be James again?

But he was learning, over time, slowly, bit by bit, that it was okay to let people in, okay to feel, and be okay and also not be okay. Sure, some days were hard, but the good days were good. And they were getting to become more and more frequent.

“Bucky? Hello?” you called his name from the other line, trying to get him to snap back into attention, “James? James Buchanan Barnes?”

“S-sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle for a moment, “I...yeah.”

“Yeah,” you teased softly, “zoning out again huh, my love? I know how you get. What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

“Nothing much,” he admitted, shrugging to himself despite the fact that you weren’t able to see him, “when are you off?”

“Whenever I want to be,” you reminded him, “I’m the boss now, remember? Why do you ask? Got some grand plans for us?”

“Nah,” he confessed, “just want to come and see you. Is it okay if I stop in? I’d come and bring you some flowers...but that would seem a little...on the nose.”

“Ahh, look at you,” he could practically hear you grinning, “very clever, aren’t you? Come and see me - it’s been slow so I might as well close up when you get here. Maybe we can go for a walk and get dinner?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed softly, “see you soon.”

“See you soon, Bucky.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

While you waited for Bucky to arrive, a brilliant idea popped into your head. You quickly grabbed a vase and started to gather some of the flowers that reminded you of him. It wasn’t long before you had a variety of them, neatly arranged and topped off with a bow, ready and waiting for him. He walked into your small shop, ready to announce himself but quickly found that he didn’t have to.You were perched up on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you tilted your head to the side and studied him with a small smile. He was dressed casually today, sporting a dark blue henley and a pair of well fitting jeans. His arm, intricate and beautifully designed golden and black vibranium, wasn’t on full display, nor was it completely hidden. Progress; a step in the right direction, albeit small. He’d get there when he’d get there and if that took another five years or fifty, you planned on being there for him.

“Hi James,” you popped off the counter and met him halfway, letting him wrap you up and envelope you in his warm, tight grasp. His arms, his body, was your favorite place to be. You never felt more safe and secure than when you were wrapped up in him, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” he chuckled as you just nodded, pouting lightly as he couldn’t help but kiss you softly, “it’s only been a few hours since we’ve seen each other.”

“I know,” you ran a hand through his dark hair, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t miss you, does it?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as you took his hand and pulled him over to the counter. Bucky dramatically rolled his eyes as he trailed after you. Your hand looked so small in his hand; delicate skin contrasted against harsh callouses as you gave him a squeeze of reassurance. Whatever hesitation or tension was left in his body seeped, replaced by a feeling of saccharine bliss, “what are you up to?”

“You always think I’m up to something,” standing in front of the flowers, you paused, studying his features before reaching up to tenderly cradle his face in your hands. Bucky, resilient and strong, turned into a puddle of mush and practical whimpers as you traced a delicate fingertip across his features, “perhaps this time you’re right.”

“Tell me then,” he turned his face, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm as you used your free hand to reach behind you and push the vase to your side so he could see the ornate display. Blue eyes narrowed, highlighting the wary crease in his brow before they widened, softening all the way through. His hand slinked down to your waist, a light squeeze followed as he shuffled to the side and studied the flowers. Bright yellows and oranges, brilliant crimsons and pinks, and mellow pastels were suddenly under his intense scrutiny as he took in the sight of the blossoms, “w-what are these?”

“And here I was, thinking you were smart,” standing behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, delicately and slowly at first so you wouldn’t startle him. His frame stiffened for a mere moment before he relaxed, the weight of your head on his back a welcome burden he was happy to bear, “these are called flowers.”

“Very funny,” you could feel the laugh vibrate through his chest as a hand, one colder and more metallic than normal, but still all him, settled on your own. Pressing a line of soft kisses to his shoulders, you listened to the steady beating of his heart, “what’s the occasion?”

“There is none,” you insisted, “I just thought you would enjoy them. Look at the colors and blossoms, they all reminded me of you. So brilliant and warm and bright and lovely - just like you, Bucky.”

A few beats of silence met your ears as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a million thoughts swirling around his mind. Before you could speak or say anything else, he turned around in your arms so he was facing you. He gestured between you and the flowers for a few moments, finding himself at a loss for words, “me?”

“Yes,” you promised him, “for you. Do you like them?”

“I love them,” he reassured you, an easy warmth settling over you, “back in the day I would have been doing this for you…”

‘You’ve gotten me flowers plenty of times,” you laughed, a sound that had easily become his favorite thing in almost no time, “besides, you deserve some nice things too.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a new one,” you teased as he jokingly groaned, “ I jest! I’ve noticed you’ve been a little more quiet and stoic lately...I didn’t even know that was possible for you. What’s been on your mind, my love?”

“There’s this quote that came into mind...I heard it somewhere, but I can’t remember from what or who,” he mused as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, “it’s something along the lines of ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’ I feel like...I can do that with you - like I can be myself and you’re not judging me, even though you know who I am.”

“Bucky - James - I know who you are,” it was surprising you didn’t melt into a puddle then and there, melting into nothingness at his feet. You leaned in, looking at his eyes for a few moments before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. You broke apart slowly, reluctantly before resting your forehead against his, “I know exactly you who are. And I love you for it - a good man, friend, partner, and so many other things. You are good, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks. Fuck them - the people that know you know who you really are.”

“Even after…”

“Even after everything that’s happened,” you promised, “you are safe with me. I’m not going to suddenly turn my back on you and walk away. I love you, Bucky. You have me, now and forever, and I’ve got you, always. That’s not going to change. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you could feel him smiling against your lips as he breathed you in and let you overwhelm his senses, “I know that.”

“Good,” you smiled as you reached for his hand, “let’s go to get dinner. I’m starving.”

“Don’t you need to close up?”

“Nah,” you winked at him, “I closed up as soon as we got off the phone earlier so we would have interruptions. C’mon Buck, I’m going to take you for a night on the town! What do you say?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, “there’s just one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” he pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply as your body melded into his, “I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #tfatws #bb imagine

[beskarberry]

Blue Orchid

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 1

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

Next->

Summary: You discover your hunting partner isn't human, which in a galaxy far, far away isn't that strange until his alien needs become too much for him to hide.

Rating: Explicit as FUCK

Word count: 9.2k

Content warnings: Major kinks: breeding and pregnancy, eggs and oviposition, mpreg/fpreg, alien genitalia. Minor kinks: praise, eating and weight gain. Kink sprinkles: threw some things in like just a tad of sex pollen, hair pulling, spanking, a very brief daddy kink, the idea of a/b/o. There's a few more but if you're familiar with my writing you know what's up. Negatives: body horror, dysphoria.

A/N: Yeah... um... hm... So this is some weird shit but if you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar this will be right up your alley. If that was weird and creepy for you then this is not for you! You have been warned!!!

There’s something strange going on with your partner.

Mando, as he insisted on being called, even though that was clearly not his real name, had been acting differently recently. Though he was an odd one from the get-go, the burly, short-tempered, efficient hunter took some getting used to, but now something about him was off.

It was a strange partnership you’d gotten yourself into, ever since that day you had been sitting in the same cantina booth as him on Nevarro, arguing with Karga over the last available bounty puck.

“Karga, I’m not splitting a puck with this guy.” You’d barked, crossing your arms and leaning back with a huff. Next to you, the armored stranger grunted in agitated agreement, his plated shoulders catching the light as they stiffened. You didn’t know each other, and as far as you could tell the only thing you both had in common was that you both worked for the Guild.

“Well that’s too bad!” The old agent stated, shaking his head. “This is the last one I’ve got until next month, so unless one of you wants to wait until then, this is all I have left. You're going to have to work together as a team.”

“Unless I kill her first.” The iron giant said coldly, not even looking your way.

“I’d like to see you try.” A knife flew from your belt to the table as you buried the tip of it in the faux wood counter, glaring daggers with your eyes at his shiny metal head.

“Easy now, we’re all friends here! Can’t have my two best hunters fighting, or killing each other…”

“Bullshit, I’m the best hunter here, Kargsy, and you know it.” Fury seethed from your words, but it was seemingly lost on the other man. “Tinman here can go fuck himself.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I fuck yours with it!”

Greef slammed a fist down on the table, making the trio of spotchka glasses bounce and spill. “That’s enough, either you two figure out how to play nice or neither of you will be getting this puck, or any other pucks for that matter! And that’s final!”

That was six months ago.

Despite your differences, the pair of you made for a terrifying duo, between his heavily armored body and your quick, nimble blades, it was like hell itself had released its most deadly demons. The bounty was found, hunted, and captured so quickly and easily that the minute the Razor Crest touched back down on Nevarro you were both excitedly harassing Karga for more.

Your newfound companion didn’t talk much, but what he didn’t say with his words he made up for with his actions. He gave you a little backstory, filling you in on his Mandalorian heritage and what that meant regarding his helmet and armor, and you were fine with the condition that he would never show his face around you. What he did show you was how lethal he could be, a whirlwind of blasters and beskar, an immovable object that coupled neatly with your unstoppable force.

It was poetry in motion.

Bounties fell at your feet like wheat before the scythe, wracking up credits like Kessel-running smugglers which you both blew on firearms and vibroblades as if the galaxy was ending tomorrow. What didn’t go towards guns and ammo went towards food and fuel, the Crest blasting off of Nevarro again and again and again.

As time went on, you slowly started to warm up to each other. You couldn’t really say you were friends, just work partners that happened to be flawlessly efficient at what they did. It was a fine arrangement, but over time small, but significant changes between you started to catch your attention.

You’d pinned a bounty, a large, malodorous Twi’lek that nearly squirmed out from your grasp, only to earn themselves a vicious cold-clocking to the back of their tentacled skull. Breath heavy and eyes burning with aggression, you’d slogged the captive into the carbonite freezer like you were taking out the trash, your wanton strength not going unnoticed by your companion.

“Good job.” Mando had said with a tilt of his helmet, watching your chest heave with adrenaline. “Such a strong verd’ika, can’t wait to see what you do to the next guy.” He’d never complimented you up to that point, if he spoke to you at all. It’d caught you off guard, but in a good way, and you knew right then you wanted to hear him say it again.

So you kept doing a good job.

And you did it on purpose.

The next bounty you held in place while Mando punched their lights out, holding steadfast against the living sledgehammer that was your partner, wincing every time you felt his fists explode against the Aqualish’s exoskeleton. When they’d keeled over, you let them fall to the floor, jumping slightly when Mando patted your shoulder, impressed with your ability to hold your own.

He seemed kind, when he wasn’t retaliating against your snide remarks or beating the living shit out of a bounty. Often when it was just the two of you he was almost soft spoken, asking you if you got enough to eat or if your wounds needed tending to, but not once did he ever make a pass at you.

That was somewhat of a surprise, but you didn’t even know what species he was, so there was a good chance you weren’t even on his sexual radar. He looked human, he obviously wasn’t a Togruta or a Twi’ with that helmet, and he was too tall to be a Rodian or Ugnaught. Too broad to be Gungan.

He was humanly proportioned to a sinful degree, his wide armored shoulders and cinched waist giving you wicked thoughts in the late hours. Even his fucking voice did something to you, the deep, gravelly husk of it almost reverberated in your chest when he spoke, and more than once you wished it would vibrate for you somewhere else.

But you were just two hunters making a living, nothing more.

Recently, however, something had started to change; and it wasn’t something that you liked. You weren’t buddy-buddy, but in the recent weeks his demeanor had started to wane. Mando was always private, taking his meals alone and keeping the fresher door locked when in use, but even when he wasn’t dealing with the necessary inconveniences of being alive he was starting to avoid you more and more.

At first you let him have his space, it was none of your business what was bothering him if he wasn’t going to speak up about it. But as the weeks seemed to drag on his temper began to flare more often, his sentences getting even shorter than they already were, his words sharp and vindictive.

You let it slide until he was rude to a merchant in a Bespin market, demanding more food rations than what he was being offered. Mando had left the market with so much dried meat and canned vegetables that it was falling out of his satchel, leaving a breadcrumb trail of bantha-in-a-can as he stormed back to the ship.

He was eating more often, too, squirreling himself away from your campfires or tucking himself up in either his sleeping cubby or the cockpit; whichever was further away from you at the time. You had your own space in the upstairs part of the Crest where he’d strung a ramshackle hammock for you, but it was so close to her reactors that you frequently woke up sweaty whenever you were in hyperspace.

On one such occasion you decided to sneak over to the ladder hatch when he thought you were sleeping, carefully peeking into the hold below. You could see him in his alcove, but just barely, only his back visible to you from your vantage point. He was eating, a lot. You watched his back and shoulders heave with each desperate bite of food, gorging himself as if he’d been lost in the desert for weeks.

The next cycle he kept his back to you almost constantly, like he was trying to hide something from view, but there were very little private spaces in the ship, especially while the stars streaked by overhead. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his secret from your prying eyes, though you weren’t surprised with what you saw after watching him eat like there was no tomorrow.

He was gaining weight.

It was just a little at first, maybe just an illusion brought on by some extra layers of clothing; hyperspace was chilly, after all. However it soon became obvious as his extra warmth began to pudge over his belt and upset his armor that it wasn’t all fluff. You checked the larder after he went up to the cockpit to work on the navigation, and you were alarmed to find that almost half of your rations were already used up after having left Bespin only three cycles ago.

Something was definitely up with your partner.

You were watching him now from where you sat on one of the supply crates, toying with a vibroblade while he rigorously cleaned a plate of his armor, his back turned to you. His beskar was spotless, nary a drop of blood or spec of dust remained. He was just trying to distract himself from his newfound curves, but you were starting to get frustrated.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting-”

“I’m fine.” he barked, the aggression behind his words making you jump. You weren’t afraid of him, or he of you. Your partnership was mutually beneficial and respected, and it wasn’t like him to be so short with you in close quarters. You weren’t having any of it.

“That’s crap and you know it, something's up with you, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?” Though he wasn’t looking your way, you cast your eyes at his pudge muffin, hoping he would catch your implications without you having to put it into words.

He said nothing, instead he rose from his seat and hurried up the ladder to the flight deck, sealing the airlock behind him.

You didn’t see him again until the ship dropped from hyperspace.

It was a quiet couple of days, and fucking boring too. Mando didn’t even come down to use the fresher or grab food, which made you nervous after seeing him stress eating like he had been. The Crest touched down on Jedha not far from an enormous crater that the Empire had put there in its heyday, but even when the engines went quiet, the blast door remained sealed.

“Mando? You still alive in there?” You asked tentatively with your ear pressed to the door, rapping your knuckles against the durasteel.

“Fine.”

“Are you coming out?”

There was a long pause, then: “...No.”

You grumbled and donked your head against the door. “Are you gonna make me go get this bounty myself?” He didn’t answer, which unfortunately meant the answer to your question was ‘yes’. You sighed heavily like you’d heard him do innumerable times. “You suck. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, thank you verd’ika.”

He was still alive, and talking, so those were both good signs, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him during your entire hunt. The bail jumper you were after came quietly, which on a regular day would make you angry that you had even wasted fuel for such a lame chase, but you were anxious to get back to your partner.

You marched the delinquent up the ramp and goaded them into the freezer, filling the little cabin with carbonite fog. Though you were making a hell of a racket, you still hollered up the ladder before climbing it, only to find the cockpit empty. Nervously you searched the upper floor, checking everywhere from your hammock to the fuselage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping down the ladder, you quickly scanned the hold, only to realize that you’d run right past him. The door to his cubby was closed, like it always was even when he wasn’t in it, but outside on the floor near the entrance were piles of empty food tins. Horrified, you checked the larder, your eyes going all the way to the bottom of the crate. He ate everything!

“Mando! I’m back! Open up!” You yelled, pounding your fist on the door, not giving a flying fuck if he was asleep. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re back already?” He called, his voice weak and hoarse behind the door, making your blood run cold. Oh Maker no, don’t tell me he’s sick.

“Yeah, and I’m worried about you! Open this damn door before I rip it off its rails.”

“You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“‘Scuse me? Fucker I live here! I’m not-”

“Please, you’re not safe.” He pleaded, his voice sounded broken and desperate, like he was trying to choke something back.

“Not safe? Mando you’re not making any sense, I already took care of the bounty, they-”

“You’re not safe from me!”

A weird mix of emotions flooded through you, first the worry for the health of your partner, the confusion at his panic, and suddenly the rage that burned behind your eyes at the mere notion of him thinking you couldn’t peel him apart like a can of sardines.

You’d had enough.

“Fuck you, chum bucket, this ends right now! Hope you’ve got pants on because I’m coming in!”

“No! Don’t, please!”

“HERE I COME!” You bellowed as you slammed your fist into the glowing button panel on the wall, deaf to his fretful protests. The metal grate rattled as it rolled upwards, and briefly your eyes caught the back of his head right before his helmet sank down over the dark curls that he kept secret. The fact that he even had hair was the least startling thing of all.

What hit you first was the smell.

Inside the sleeping cubby where the Mandalorian was hurriedly scuttling into the deepest reaches, the pungent scent of...something hurtled through your synapses. It didn’t stink, quite the opposite, it smelled delicious. Warm and rich, like honey on fruit sitting out on a beautiful summer day, the alien aroma making your mouth water.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you roared at the man huddled as far away from you as he could get, his body lost to the shadows behind the scattering of armor he had discarded. You didn’t like that one bit, feeling something akin to pity at his doubled-over, armorless frame. You sniffed the air again, taking deep, greedy inhalations and trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. “Are you eating starfruit?! You fuckhole! You’re snacking without me!”

“Please leave me alone.” He grumbled, wedging himself even harder against the back wall. “I’m fine, really, I just want to be alone.”

“Well that’s just too fuckin’ bad, you’re sick, and the least you could do is tell me what’s wrong. I have a right to know if my partner is gonna up and die on me.” He pleaded again, his voice sounding whiny even through his vocorder, but you were having none of it. “I’m coming in.”

“Dammit all, why won't you leave me alone?!” He was yelling now, but in his anger he turned enough towards you that you could see his front, making you gasp.

Big.

“Holy fucking shit, Mando, are you… are you pregnant?!” Hidden by his broad backside no longer, his protruding belly caught the light, jiggling a bit when he wrapped his arms around it.

“No! I mean… sorta…”

“The fuck do you mean sorta?!” you were screaming now, blown away by his swollen guts and the fact that he was very much not pregnant only a few days ago. “What the hell is that then?!”

He was caught now, you’d seen his shame and there was no going back. “They’re… they’re my eggs.”

You stood a moment, staring at him while your mouth flopped uselessly like a dying fish. Welp, there’s your answer, he is not human. There were lots of sentient species in this great big galaxy you called home, many of which produced offspring via eggs, so you weren’t as surprised by that as you were by the suddenness of it. Of... him.

Mando rubbed at his belly, curling in on himself as if doing so would shrink him down into nothingness where he could disappear into oblivion. “Please, it’ll pass, I’ve just… I’ve never had anyone around me while I...grmph... deal with it.”

His groan of pain broke your stare, pumping determination into your legs along with the burn of adrenaline. “Do… do you need help? Is there anything I can do for you?” You leaned forward into the alcove, reaching for him. “Are you in pain?”

“...I-I’m f-fine.” He shirked away from you, avoiding your touch. “Happens every couple of years, just...hmmph… it’s not usually… so much.”

Now you were just plain fascinated, climbing up slowly on your hands and knees, trying to be delicate. “Mando, I’m your partner, I’m not just gonna stand around while you suffer. Tell me what I can do to help.” The warrior flinched hard when your fingers found his shoulder, reflexively protecting his belly. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Cyar’ika, please, I don’t want to...hmmph… do anything that I-I’ll regret.”

“You already ate all our fucking food, what more could you do to piss me off?” You said with a laugh, trying to break the tension. Carefully you brushed your hand along his clothed shoulder, a thin smile dancing over your lips when you felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t touch me, I’m dangerous.”

“You ain’t shit, and I’ve seen how you’ve stiched my wounds closed, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

“No you don’t!” He screamed, flipping around all the way to try and shoo you out of the cubby, but his hefty gut kept him rooted in place. You couldn’t help but stare at his rounded middle, his flack coat straining to keep zipped shut as the weight of him wobbled delightfully. It made you laugh.

“Mando! You’re gonna be a m... da... parent! You’re gonna be a parent! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have baked you a cake.”

“It’s.. it’s never been this bad.” he stuttered, consigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with you. “I grow a clutch every year or so, but it’s usually just a handful of... them.” he hissed with an air of disgust, shame creeping into his voice. “They pass without much issue, but it’s never been this much.”

“What do the other Mandalorians do when this happens?”

He shook his head, guarding his middle. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. The Mandalorians rescued me after an army of droids killed my parents and everyone else in my village. I… I don’t know what species I am, and neither does my clan. There’s no record of my village, or where they found me, and I can’t find anything on the holonet about… this.” His visor tilted down to his tummy. “I might be the last of my kind.”

“Mando, that's terrible, but I’m sure there’s more of you somewhere. There’s gotta be! Maybe if you took off your helmet I could see-”

“No, helmet stays on. I don’t need to add the indignity of a broken creed to this mess. Now please, mesh’la I’m begging you, lock me in here and let me ride this out alone. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.”

You scuttled closer on your knees until you were right up against him, cautiously reaching out towards his swell. His visor snapped at you, his body flinching harder into the corner, but he was trapped. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?” You whispered as your palm met the straining fabric cradling his shameful secret.

He grabbed your wrist so hard you felt your bones grind from the strength of his grip. “Because…” he growled, the timbre of it so low you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I need to put these eggs somewhere, and I want...I need to put them… inside…” He trailed off when a painful contraction shook his body, making him let go of you to hold himself together. “Get out now! It’s starting… please I can handle this alone but if you’re near me… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Shut’cher gob and tell me what to do, and don’t tell me to leave because I won’t!” You didn’t know jack shit about human births, let alone alien gestation, but you’d been through some fucked up situations, what’s one more for good measure? “I’m guessing you need to get your pants off.” His breathing was heavy, his helmet tilting with each laboured heave, but he nodded and started to fumble with the zipper of his trousers.

Your heart leapt to your throat. In the darkness of your hammock you’d imagined what it would be like to undress him, taking each of his beskar plates off and trailing your fingers down his tight clothes, revealing the man underneath like unwrapping a gift. With your fingers lost between your legs you’d pictured his muscular shoulders and broad chest, maybe even a trail of dark hair that led you all the way down his beefy abdomen to his thick, heavy cock. You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

His gloves and his girth were giving him a hard time, so diligently you stepped in to help him undress. Your nimble fingers found the button and zipper with ease, the heat of his groin making your cheeks flush rosy pink, and then red when you pulled the zipper across the bulge in his pants and flooded the tiny nook with the perfume of his sex.

The hair surprised you, you didn’t think that an egg-bearing creature would even have curls, but there they were. Dark brown and soft against your fingertips, growing from lovely, sun-bronze skin, but that was the last of his human traits from there on. Ultimately, you were expecting a cock, horrified by the implications of what that meant in this situation, but as the zipper’s teeth continued to split, your eyes were greeted with something that made your guts flip.

It was fucking blue.

The thing sitting heavily between his legs was the prettiest ocean blue you had ever seen, with coils of deep indigo veins running up it’s length between bands of bioluminesce. Long, thick, and glowing, Mando’s half-hard trouser meat sprang out of his open pants, a relieved sigh wheezing through his modulator. It was shaped like a wang dangler all the way up to the head, but there it was something else.

At his tip a circle of petal-shaped protrusions cinched together like the blossom of a flower right before it bloomed. The knobbed end of his thingy wept with clear juices, beading deliciously from between each little bud. Your eyes were locked to a particularly fat drop of precum as it slicked down his length to his base where you found another feast for your eyes.

A hole.

He didn’t have balls, you guessed they were somewhere inside him, instead he had a fat, juicy cunt, his quivering cock growing from where a clit would be on a human. It was just as alien as his length, a dark cobalt that lightened to vibrant teal around sharp teeth that lined his widely spread folds. Those rightfully made you nervous, and fucking confused. What the hell are those supposed to latch on to? Me?!

“I’m disgusting, I know.” He whispered, turning away from you to study the wall while you studied his excitables.

“What? No you’re not, you’re… you’re beautiful.” He snapped back towards you, his visor searching your star-struck eyes for the hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. He was looking at you, but you weren't looking at him, you were looking at him, straight through his groin into his vulnerable soul. There was just so much, and you wanted to touch all of it. Reflexively you licked your lips, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. Your fingers crept forward, hovering inches from his cerulean length. “Can I?”

A sharp inhale echoed in the cubby, followed by a stark nod. “Be gentle… it’s... argh… sensitive!”

“Shhh, Mando, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Your fingertips met his heated flesh, making him shudder and groan. His strange length twitched from your touch, making another pearl of precum shimmer from the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking the velvety length that weighed heavily against your palm. His helmet hit the wall with a deep, guttural moan, sending molten waves of heat to your own growing need.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck mesh’la...your hands are amazing.” The man purred, letting his arms fall from his belly to his sides where his fists tangled in the threadbare sheet. His hips thrust upwards into your slow tugs, rutting into your palm. In the tight quarters the mouthwatering scent of honeyed fruit grew stronger until you were sucking down your own spit to keep it from flooding your mouth.

“Hehe, yeah? You like this?” You flicked your wrist in languid spirals, running your thumb over the weeping blossom to drag warm slick down his length and towards your second goal. His toothy slit parted for you as you got closer, the pearly white fangs curling away from you safely. With one hand still on his beef, you rubbed your fingertips around his flushed hole, sinking a digit down to the knuckle.

“Yes.” he moaned breathlessly, his womb jiggling when he convulsed from your touch. You sank another finger inside, scissoring him open while you fisted his cock. “K-keep doing that and... and…” His heels scooted on the mattress when he clenched around you, his swelling length pulsating in your hand. A needy whine busted out of his modulator, and between your sunken digits you felt something grow.

“Go ahead, Mando, come on my hand, or in my hand, I don’t care. That’s a good boy.” He bucked into your steady thrusts, lost in the combination of filling and being filled. His walls fluttered around your fingers, and you felt something press against you when he bore down, but instead of something popping out of his cunt, something went up his length.

*Pop!*

From the tip of his spear, a bright orange ball sprang from him, surprising you so much you let go of his throbbing shaft and pulled your fingers from his slit. Excitedly you plucked the egg from where the halo of petals parted, presenting the orb to you like a priceless gem. “You did it! Look, Mando, it’s a… ball! Congratulations.” You were beaming, so proud of yourself for midwifing him through the process, but he was shaking his head.

“There’s more… and… and I’m starting to get desperate. You got me started, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

“I’m not leaving til you’re done, but let me go find a bucket or something to… oh no!” In your hand the soft shelled egg started to dissolve and wither in the dry air, turning into goo that dribbled down your arm. “Oh shit! Oh shit Mando I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know w-what happened!”

“No no… It's alright.” He shook his head, bringing a hand up to caress his swell. “They never make it. It’s ok though, it's not like they’re fertilized. Please leave me now, your hands aren’t going to tide me over for long, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“You keep saying that! I don’t understand, why do you think that you’ll-”

“Because I want to breed you.” The singular black eye of his visor snapped viciously towards you, making you pale. “I’m sorry, but it’s all I can think about. It’s been getting worse the closer I’ve gotten to my heat, but I don’t want to do that to you, I respect you too much. Please… forgive me.” He looked away from you shamefully, but his luminous length was still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “I think being around you is why I’m so full, you’re just so damn beautiful… a-and I want you.”

Maybe it was the sickenly-sweet spice that he was putting off, or the cum soaking your hands, or even the vulgar fantasies that you imagined to yourself in the night, but you were intrigued. “You wanna do what now?”

“Breed you.” He growled, his voice so dark and sinful everything inside you clenched around nothing. “Fucking stars ever since you stabbed the cantina table I’ve wanted to be inside you. Feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me, hear those sweet moans you make when you’re alone at night… yes I can hear you. You’re louder than you think you are. But I want to be the one making you scream.” His growls turned to forced laughter. “I wish I’d gotten to before...this.”

“I don’t mind this…” You hummed, dragging your fingers along his velvety length, but he caught your wrist again, shaking his head.

“Stop, before I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.” You batted your lashes at him and bit your lip, leaning seductively towards his hunkered body. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know what I’d do to you, what my… ugh… eggs… would do to your body.”

“Maybe we should… find out?”

“You don’t know what you're asking.”

“Neither do you.” With that you rolled forward to kiss at his big blue eel, making him curse out your name and grab a fistful of your hair.

“Mesh’la…”

You hummed and lapped at his crown, his nectar tasting even better than it smelled. Sweet and succulent, driving you crazy with need. Your venomous tongue could be so kind when it wanted to be, swirling around his knobbled head and flicking at his frenulum. Beneath you he was a mess, writhing and bucking with desperation. Lips slick with spit, you sank your mouth as far down as you could take him without gagging, fisting the rest with one hand and teasing his cunt with the other.

Fingers digging into your scalp, Mando fought the urge to fuck your throat raw, your obscene sucking threatening to toss him right over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and spun your tongue, lapping around each sensitive bean and plunging into his slit to drink him down.

His muscles swelled and clenched with another pass, and you barely were able to pull your mouth away when a new sphere spat out his tip, rolling away from you to melt elsewhere. “Mando, they’re going to waste, what are we going to do about that?”

“Take your fucking clothes off so I can fuck them into you, pretty girl.” He was gone, the husk of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me breed you properly, make you mine. Show you what it means to be mated by a Mandalorian.”

You obeyed, rocking back on your haunches to peel your shirt away, releasing your breasts into the hot, steamy space. The black swath of void where his eyes should be drank in the sight of you as if you were the last glass of water on Tatooine, his hand coming up to pinch at your pert nipple. “These are beautiful. I’ve dreamed about these for so long, but they’re so much better in person.”

“They taste better, too.” You crawled over top of him, your knees in between his, waving the heavy dewdrops in front of his armored face. “You wanna?”

“My creed…”

“Party pooper. Fine, then you better help me open up, you’re packin’ more than I think I can fit.” You’d taken lovers before, once you’d even taken a Wookie on a drunken dare, and if it wasn’t for the persistent wet dog smell it might have been the best sex you’d ever had. But Mando was thick, and even thicker when his cock swelled to push out an egg.

“Are you really ok with this? You’re not just saying…”

“Mando~” You purred, pressing your softness against his pulsating length, shivering when you felt his fangs scrape your thighs. “Breed me. They’ll just melt back out anyway, what’s a little...fun?”

He reached a hand up tentatively to your face, his helmet shaking slightly from side to side while he hunted in your eyes for any resistance, any clue that you were just saying that to make him feel better, but he found none.

“How did I get so lucky…”

“You’re about to get even more lucky.” You teased, taking his hand from your cheek to pry the black and yellow glove off, chucking it somewhere behind you. The flesh of his hand matched the flesh of his groin, a soft golden tone that looked like it was kissed by the sun, but not once had you ever seen him bare an inch. It was also very human, looking much like your own, save for the length and thickness of his fingers and the dark hair that grew from his knuckles. They were very much the hands of a man.

Yay!

Your pants fell away next, disappearing out of the cubby and onto the floor with the collection of empty ration tins and discarded armor. Naked as the day you were born, you clambered over him and flopped against his side, letting your legs fall open. “Touch me, Mando, get me nice and ready to be bred.” He growled against you, rolling on his side and cradling you to his chest so he could easily sink his fingers into your fluttering heat.

“Fucking stars, you’re soaked. This all for me?” You nodded and whined, your eyes rolling back when he dove one finger inside, then a second, curling them upwards to find that hidden patch of nerves you could never really reach on your own. “Gonna get you nice and open, make you cum so you can take my clutch. Would you like that, mesh’la, want me to fill you up? Swell your belly full?”

You mewled at the debauchery of it all, blissed out of your mind as he finger fucked you relentlessly. His fingers sank into you all the way to the knuckle, his thumb drawing tight, diligent circles on your clit. Mando snaked his free arm under your neck, pulling you in close to his muscular body and leaning his helmet against your brow. The cold metal burned against your sweating forehead, the steam of his breath coiling out from under the sharp iron edge with every ragged breath.

“That’s it, come for me, beautiful. Almost there.” Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders and made you realize he was way more dressed than you were. Need to fix that. With shaking knees you squirmed and writhed on his slick hand until he brought you over the edge, your walls trying to break his fingers as you came, drenching the thin sheets. “Good girl, such a perfect little cunt. Give me one more, cyar’ika.” All his gentleness evaporated as he thrust into you, his thumb pressed to your sensitive button and making you fall apart all over again.

“Fuck me, Mando, please! I want you in me, you’re not the only one with wet dreams, y’know.” He rumbled a laugh and pulled his arm out from under your neck and his fingers from your sopping mess, dragging the wet of it across your bare thigh. Hauling himself up, he moved until he was between your legs, pulling his remaining glove off and working to undo his flack.

With bated breath you watched him hurriedly undress, wondering what other fun alien treats he was keeping from you. As the dark fabric fell away, your eyes were gifted with the sight of his body, though besides the wandering blue tiger stripes and his obvious non-human bits, he was remarkably close to a man.

Except for the parts of him that were glowing.

Strings of faint teal lights followed the flow of his body, mixed intermittently with yellow stars. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the little alcove, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless, a constellation of stars you could call your very own.

His chest was wide and muscular, a trail of dark brown hair dusting down his sternum and over the swell of his middle. His arms and shoulders looked like tree trunks, ribbons of countless scars marring his flesh with shimmering whites and pinks. Pushing his pants all the way off gave you an even better view, though he had considerably more glow streaks further down his legs, spanning from the sapphire spire around his hips.

He was fucking gorgeous.

What does his face look like, then?

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” He asked sweetly, grabbing his beast and dragging the leaking head against your thirsty little cunt. You bucked your hips up to him, trying to notch him in your entrance, but he pressed his tip into your clit to make you writhe. “Tell me, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Mando, now please please fuck...me!!” He snapped forward and thrust his appendage into you, bottoming right out even though his full tummy was in the way. He held himself still, his body shivering with delight as your excited walls rippled around him. Deep inside you felt the little buds at his tip teasing at the tight ring of muscle that protected your innermost sanctum, politely asking for entry.

“Fuck-ing Maker, I knew you would feel good, but...ah… so much better than I ever imagined.” You giggled at him, reaching out and rubbing the taut flesh of his abdomen where it sat heavily against your own, rocking your hips side to side. His fingers dug into the skin of your knees with a broken curse, trying to hold you still. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna…”

“What? This?” You arched your hips into his, trying to coax him into gear. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, tinman.” His helmet vibrated with a growl before he was sliding himself out, making sure you felt every inch of his length drag along your walls. The head of it almost managed to drop out, sitting tantalizingly at your gates before thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

You shrieked, impaled on his otherworldly spire again and again, the noise of it wetly echoing in the cubby. Above you he grunted with the strain, hooking his elbows under your knees and going to town. You were helpless, head rolling back, eyes fluttered shut as he filled you over and over again, moaning out his name.

Though he was lost in the heat of the moment, he wished the name on your lips was his real name, the one he had sequestered away when he took his oaths. Din. He fantasized about it in the night, the short syllable tumbling from your full lips, wet from sucking him dry. Din! He wanted to snuff out the sound of it with his own mouth, capturing your tongue and tasting you fully, plundering the hot wet hole that would so beautifully sing his song.

“Din!”

But Mando would have to do.

For now.

Both of you could feel he was getting close to something, his thrusts quickening with his breath. You felt your heartbeat gallop in your chest, thundering against the walls of its cage with excitement. He was gasping, struggling to pull oxygen in through the iron that protected his face. Hips snapped against yours, the slap of skin sounding obscene in the little space. You arched your back and bore down on him, your coiled muscles milking out his release.

And then you fucking felt it.

The clever little buds on his tip stuffed themselves into the cradle of your body, teasing your cervix open and leaving something behind. Inside you felt the soft little ball swell your womb sweetly, giving you a feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. You keened from the sensation, bringing your hands up to your belly, searching for your treasure.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Mando asked urgently between broken breaths, a weathered palm coming up to caress your face. You tittered and nodded, his relieved sigh felt through your legs and stomach.

“Got any more for me, big boy?” You purred, dragging your nails through the soft hair on his bulging abdomen where he obviously did.

“You’re going to ruin me, cyar’ika.” The pulsating length stuffed inside you slid out slowly, stringing a line of precum from your slick heat to his flushed blue tip. “Get on your knees and I’ll show you how much more there is.”

Scrambling out from under him, you flipped yourself over like a slutty little pancake, presenting your ass in front of him to feast on with his eyes. The rough pads of his fingers dug viciously into your fleshy globes, making both of you groan. “Gonna give you all of me, beautiful. Tell me you want that?” He was trying to be dirty, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart flood with honeyglow.

“I want it, tinman, I wanna be full!”

A dark, lecherous laugh rumbled behind you while he lined himself up, rubbing himself over your slit before plunging in. Stars flashed behind your eyes when he hit your deepest reaches again, making you drop to your elbows. He circled the bones of your hips with his hands, squeezing and rubbing at your waist while you adjusted to the new angle. Impatiently you clenched around him, earning yourself a stinging swat on your backside that made you squeal.

“Bad girl, you have to wait.” He growled behind you, making you whine and earning yourself another spanking that was followed by a soothing palm. “You gonna be a good girl while I breed you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“-snrt!-” You were having too much fun now, begging underneath him for friction with a roll of your hips, giggling through the cock-dumb grin on your face. “I’ll be good~”

“I know you will.” He slid forward, the angle hitting something destructive inside you, and you could tell he felt it. Memorizing your insides, he rocked forward again and again, building you up higher and higher to make you squirm. Fisting the sheets you cried when the lightning cracked up your spine, your cunt squeezing the life out of him and soaking him through. Your orgasm sucked another egg from his cock, the gentle weight sitting pretty next to the first.

“More…” you mumbled into the mattress, curving your ass up and brushing the underside of his swell. “Please…”

“You’re fucking perfect, mesh’la, so perfect for me.” His voice behind you sounded wildly different, lacking the gravelly modulation you’d grown used to, replaced with a rich baritone that tied your guts up in knots. Curiosity almost got the better of you, but before you could turn around to look at his bare face he covered your eyes, his broad palm spanning the entire width of your face. “No peeking. Be a good girl or you won’t get any more.”

He set his empty helmet down by your head, giving you something to look at if you could keep your eyes open, but his filthy cadence made your eyeballs roll back til they were gawking at your brain. Mando plowed you like his life depended on it, his fuckstick swelling inside your walls with each pass of his spend.

Reaching back, you rubbed your steadily-filling middle, the weight of his brood already making you show. Your devious digits kept going, fingertips teasing around where he melded into you, your lips stretched tightly around him. He jumped when you stuffed your hand back even further, careful not to catch on his goddamn crotchteeth to finger his cunt.

“Mesh’la!” He cried, bucking into you and pushing at least three more eggs into your womb with a single thrust. Above you he curled against your spine, his belly flattening while yours continued to swell. His arms left your hips to snake up your body, crossing between your breasts like a seatbelt and hauling you up off your elbows to his chest. Buckle up, buttercup! His sweaty pecs stuck to your spine while he kissed at the side of your neck.

You wanted so badly to look.

Instead you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the passionate kisses he pressed to your skin, his teeth grazing the tender flesh under your jaw. The fact that he even had lips crossed a few dozen species off of your list of possibilities, and even more when you felt the tickle of facial hair. Mando’s heated kisses tracked up your throat to nibble at your ear, his thrusting getting messy behind you.

“Can you cum for me again, beautiful? I wanna feel it.” The hand between your breasts slid up to your throat, pressing ever so gently while the second found your clit and spun devious little circles. His scruffy beard scraped your shoulder as you writhed on him, tears springing to your eyes with your crashing orgasm. “Mmph, that’s my good girl. So fucking perfect!”

His hips stuttered, slapping against your ass with a final burst, the fill of him swelling your middle to capacity, bouncing with fullness. Heavy, desperate breaths puffed against your skin as he came down from his high, caressing you with his hands and the sharp point of his chin; mumbling praises in your ear. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, look at you…”

At his purring you flickered an eye open, looking down past your breasts at where you were swollen with his clutch as if you were swollen with child. His broad palms danced along the taut flesh, sliding from your precious tummy to the drops of your breasts, his hums of contentment rumbling between you. His chest and abdomen were flush with your spine, his body returned to its natural shape while yours had changed so drastically.

Between your legs his spent cock throbbed, making your combined arousal drip down onto the destroyed mattress when it softened and released. You whined from the loss, whining louder when he sneaked his fingers inside, feeling your stretched walls and musing about how wonderful you felt.

You reached forward for his helmet, handing it back to him and trying not to look at the warped reflection of his face in its sloping surfaces. He took it from you gently, letting it sink over his face so you could get off of your knees. You flopped heavily over on your butt, sitting upright and petting your full womb with a blissed out look on your face.

He laid next to you, holding you close to his body as if you were his cute little wife expecting your first baby together, and not a pair of interspecies hunters giving in to your primordial needs. You leaned against him, sighing contently and watching his serpent retreat into his body, the rows of teeth biting together and showing you why he didn’t wear codpiece with his armor.

“That’s fuckin’ weird, dude.” You laughed, brushing a fingertip along the glistening enamel.

He winced behind you. “I know, I’m sorr-”

“No, I like it.” you crooned, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “That was fun. How often did you say this happens?”

“About once a year, but… uh… I can still get hard, without a clutch, if that’s what you’re asking?” You nodded with a laugh, curling up against his side so your full womb rested on his hip. He sighed contentedly, drawing circles on your belly with his fingers. “How does this feel? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all, actually feels good. Feels full. I like it, I’m almost sad that it’s not gonna last.”

“Me too, you look so good like this. I could get used to it.” You hummed in agreement, shifting your legs apart so that when the eggs withered and turned to goo they could easily make their way out.

Should be any second now.

The two of you waited, laying together in post-coital bliss, just enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies, tracing scars and stars, exploring the wonders you’d kept secret from each other.

You waited.

And waited.

The minutes ticked by, at first it was a blessing, giving you time to bask in the afterglow together, but as the minutes turned to quarter hours, then halfs, you started to get worried. “Mando? I can still feel them, they’re not breaking down.”

“I’m sure they will, they always do.”

“Ok…”

They didn’t.

Hours went by, and even after waddling to the fresher shower and trying to squat them out, the eggs remained. You got washed up, half morbidly, half exuberantly watching the way the fresher water dripped from your belly while you cleaned up.

Outside the shower you toweled yourself off, taking extra steps to dry under the swell of your womb, but you struggled to reach all the way around. Mando knocked on the door politely before letting himself in, dressed only in his helmet and pants. Dutifully he took the towel from you and got to the places you couldn't reach while you were carrying his potential young.

It was surprisingly intimate, maybe even more so than being stuffed full of his length. He started on your legs, between your thighs and up to their apex, then softly wiped at your tummy and hips. His deft hands dragged the towel under each breast, then your shoulders and arms, then lastly your neck; draping the wet fabric around you like a cloak when he saw your bunching brows. You looked nervous.

“We’ll figure it out, mesh’la, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He stated with determination, brushing his thumb down the curve of your cheek and turning your eyes to meet his visor. Your hair was still wet, and now so were your eyes, the first twinges of fear creeping into their corners. He didn’t like what he saw. “Close your eyes, lovely girl.”

You did, squeezing back the mist that was starting to form. He let go of you, and you heard the sound of something heavy and metallic being set down on the sink. The towel around your shoulders was lifted over your head, draping it over your face. You were about to give him hell, mad that he would want to hide your face when you were clearly getting emotional, but instead you felt the wet fabric being lifted as he joined you underneath.

Then he kissed you.

Warm, petal-soft lips pressed against your cold wet ones, suddenly surprising you before you melted into him. His kiss was as gentle as his hands that were making their way up to your jaw, holding you steady while he slotted his mouth to yours. He felt human, the edges of his teeth dull like yours, thankfully not sharp like the ones between his legs. Tasted human, too.

You kissed him back, darting your tongue out with an experimental flick, licking his plush lower lip. He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by your forwardness. His fingers coiled around the back of your head, tangling in your wet hair as his kisses grew in intensity. The smooth muscle of his mouth danced with your own, letting you both taste each other for the first time.

“Ner cyar’ika, I’ve waited so long for this.” he purred against your lips, his words heavy with adoration. He kissed you again, pulling you into himself hungrily and tickling your nose with his mustache. Your own hands came up, slowly dragging over the expanse of his chest to the sinewy length of his neck, and finally to the edge of his jaw.

“Can I touch your face, Mando? I won’t look with my eyes.” He nodded against your lips, his nose bumping the side of yours. Cautiously you wandered your fingertips along the edge of his jaw, the stiff bristles catching under your nails. He shivered with need when you scratched him, carding through his scruff like you were taming a massif.

His sharp jawline led you up his cheeks, their softness dusted with erratic bristles. You ran your thumbs under his eyes, exploring his cheekbones and the creases that bordered his large eyes. Pressing your forehead to his and pulling your lips away, you circled your thumbs down the sides of his well-defined nose to the line of hair above his lips. The creases that your hands found told you he wasn’t a young man, but he probably wasn’t too far beyond your age either.

And you imagined him to be very handsome.

It wasn’t until your hands found his ears that you remembered he wasn’t the same species as you. They were pointed, and sensitive if his little moans of pleasure were anything to go by.

“I don’t ever want you to see those, they’re ug- oh!” You cut off his self depreciation to tilt his head between your hands, pressing a kiss to each of his ears with a seductive puff of steam. “St-stop, you’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Stop being so mean to yourself, buckethead, only I can be the judge of that, and I bet they're cute!” He laughed, the sound warm and brassy, but not enough to distract you from your current predicament. “What… what are we going to do about… this.” You took each of his hands in yours and set them on your full belly, letting him caress his handiwork.

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the dark of the towel, his lashes brushing your skin when he dropped his brow to yours. You heard his lips part with a smile, imagining the way the wrinkles around his eyes would bunch, wistfully hoping that one day you could see them for yourself.

“Mesh’la I-… I have no idea."

Next->

If you liked this fic, check out Garden of Ishtar! It's chapter 9 in a series but can be read stand-alone. Enjoy~

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