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no-droids · 3 years

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Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt. You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours. But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to. You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did. Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints. Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does. Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it. But truthfully, you didn’t want to. You were worried about him—still are, actually. But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on. He’s been through way worse, and you know it. You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers. He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening. Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation. After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield. It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips. The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards. To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster. “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you. “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code. My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound. “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment. “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it? You blink. No, it doesn’t. You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name. You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever. “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not. “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show. Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here. Something could’ve happened. Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it. Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina. Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot. “They’re fodder. Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.” He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass. “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions. Tied specifically to Guild contracts.” Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare. “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties. Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him. “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace. “Not sure I’d care too much if you did. It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit. Shit. What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed. Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company. He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied. Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence. Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy. It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this. Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve. Karga is a nice guy, right? He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando. And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too. How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder? You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?” You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice. Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly. You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way. You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity. “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it. “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you. If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice. If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it. You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal. “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head. “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out. “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold. It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to. It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando. You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave. You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides. He said he wants to help you? This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?” He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head. The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?” You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours. “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously. “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances. You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment. “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away. He helped you out, you’re halfway through this. Now comes the exchange. Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you. “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far. Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late? He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face. “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table. There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task. “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…” Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it. This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here. He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it. “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you. “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay. Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much. Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again. Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.” You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you. “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay. Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly…

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it. Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck. It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward. You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?” You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit. This is not at all how you expected any of this would go. You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request. There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary. Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum. “You said you’re here on his behalf. You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh. Oh, no. This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits. It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table. You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here. It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!” He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good. Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t. You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you. You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach. He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him? Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried. Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before. Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp. The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him. “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend. The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air. Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now. You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe. “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet. Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense. You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him. You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!” A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab. Right in fucking front of him. “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck. Great. Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t. You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out. Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now. You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it. Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

***

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried. You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual. You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing. Was there a confrontation, you wonder? Is he okay? He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though. As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you. Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view. The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace. He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?” He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down. “Are you alright? Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say. How are you going to tell him? He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say? You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh… I-I’m sorry, I just…” But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him. “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?” He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him. “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out. His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him. If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you. Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess. “It’s okay. You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak. He’s lying for your benefit, he must be. When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—” You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…” His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?” You have to think about it. Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already? You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility. “Um… no? I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?” He asks, taking a small step forward. “You don’t know? Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes. You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…” Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him. “I don’t know, I’m not like you. I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better. I think he was probably just being normal. He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb. This is what’s bothering him? Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work? It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played. He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them. How are you supposed to take that? Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning? You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?” You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest. It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason. He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you. Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly. Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him. “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.” His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention. “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?” You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm. In another weirdly stupid, primitive way. You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it. Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode. Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before. You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now. He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of. “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “Maybe. He could’ve just been trying to be friendly. What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit. “Did he scare you?”

“For me?” You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards. Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless. “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?” Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds. The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid. Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you. Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you. You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours. You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now. Achy. Hot. Needy. Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks you after a prolonged silence. His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained. Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you. “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice. Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards. He wants to do this here? Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word. Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?” You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck. You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought. Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to. It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker. You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it. Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long. You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you. You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?” Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner. You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him. He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss. Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this? Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?” Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you. Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull. Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment. You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you. “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet. This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest. Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling. “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need. Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point. You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?” Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him. You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing. Nothing. You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing. Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time. Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability. You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better. His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again. You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view. Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass. The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time. His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open. You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit. His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you. The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here. If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body. You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it. You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort. Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most. Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this. You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too. It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too. Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place. You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace. Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance. You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him. He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you. Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can. It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning. You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer. His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting. Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?” He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it. “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could. He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle. You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to. You could struggle. If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it. You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time. Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him. You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more. It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too. Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t. Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock. Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him. There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin. You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you. You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears. Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways. You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb. Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off. You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up. The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours. Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works. Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too. At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly. You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal. You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face. “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do. Easy. He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed. Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body. You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep. He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal. The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again. You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation. Come on, work. Move forward. Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly. Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled. Ran over by a truck. Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful. This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart. The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones. You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs. It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever. It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it. “Hey. Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know? You figured you’d be way ahead of him. You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here. The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over. You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point. It’s easy, you like it. Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back. Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway. It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin. Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine. He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin. His bar of soap, not yours. They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize. How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone. The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not. Hot water, not freezing cold. Standing upright and supporting you. Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue. You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again. Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this. Skin to skin contact. Someone to hold. Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar. Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest. You want to tell him not to leave. Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay. You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed. You don’t know. But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know. You know. From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection. But you know him. You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return. You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you. Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary. Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to. It wasn’t said so he could say it back. It just is. Some things don’t need explanations, they just are. You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it. You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word. It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels. There’s something hidden underneath. You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired. You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless. He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber. “I’m… not allowed to ask. I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense. Was that a translation? Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest. It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it. You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows. “You can.”

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

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: Chapter 9.4

Xiao was sick to his stomach. The idea that Childe turning out to be an ally to the group disgusted him--and don't get him started on the thought of Zhongli possibly falling for that act a second time. It would be an understatement to say that he wanted nothing to do with that harbinger ever again. But of course he just had to deal with him for awhile longer, and it was for your sake only.

"You mean..." Aether was still processing Zhongli's confession alongside the yaksha. "You tricked us? Again?"

"You're just as bad as Childe if you lie this much!" Paimon huffed in obvious disappointment before poofing out of the conversation.

"Forgive me for not informing you sooner; I made a grave mistake for trusting him the first time, but I will not leave you in the dark for a second." The former archon bowed his head in a deep apology after revealing what really happened in Fontaine all those weeks ago.

"And you knew of this, Xiao?"

"He informed me in a dream while I was still unconscious."

"I-I'm still wrapping my head around this," uttered the boy. "And now Childe is making the same move again? What're you going to do?"

"I think it's time to make our final move." The archon eyed the couple of Fatui agents walking past their table, careful to keep his voice lower than usual.

"As much as I want to, you can't join us. You'd be breaking your own contract. Isn't that a problem?" Zhongli didn't answer, so the traveler then turned to Xiao. "What do you want to do?"

"I..." The yaksha averted his eyes. I want to rescue her, he thought. I want to, but if she's not in contact with me, she won't be affected by my karma. Zhongli noticed the sour expression on Xiao's face and piped up.

"We do not need to decide our move right at this moment. A situation so dire cannot be approached lightly."

"She should stay where she is," Xiao muttered under his breath after Aether and Paimon ran off to do some commissions.

..............

"Are you just gonna stare at me or what?"

You were sitting with your back against the far wall of an unfamiliar cell while your hands were carefully placed on your lap to avoid touching the scummy floors. On the other side of the cell bars stood what was probably the shortest of the eleven harbingers.

Scaramouche didn't answer you, electing to deepen his scowl instead. His glare fell to the vision at your hip like he was trying to understand why the Tsaritsa refused to give him the order to confiscate it. Your gaze followed his until the faint glinting of the vision's glass was all you could focus on.

Why didn't she take it this time?

And that wasn't the only thing that was different about your second imprisonment. Your cell was painted in what you assumed to be anti-adeptus sigils like Xiao's cell had been. Maybe this was to prevent you from calling for Xiao; the threat of his capture seemed to weigh heavily on your shoulders, but something about this cell felt off and you couldn't put your finger on it. Why take this precautionary measure if she knew you wouldn't call for the yaksha for his own safety?

That question was answered a little too-quickly for your liking. One of Scaramouche's underlings brought in what looked like a toolkit, only to reveal a plethora of presumed torture objects inside.

"Is this really appropriate for you, my Lord? We can take over from here; you don't need to participate in an activity that would insult y--"

The harbinger shot him a dangerous look. "I don't remember asking for your input. Get out."

"Y-yes, sir. Excuse me!" The guard doubled over in an apologetic bow before scrambling out of the prison as fast as he was able to. Then Scaramouche's glare returned to you as he reached into the bag.

....................

I'm gonna kill them all. I'm gonna kill them. They'll all fall at my hands.

A blood trail tailed behind you as Fatui guards escorted your weakened body into the frigid throne room for the third time this week. They threw you to the tile floor, while your vision clinked unhappily against the hard surface. She still hadn't bothered to remove it; it was like she was taunting you with the illusion of power, and she shot you down every time you thought you'd take her by surprise.

I'm going to kill her, Xiao.

The coldness of the unwelcoming floor seemed to welcome you into your repeating nightmare while the hot blood that pooled in your mouth dripped onto the surface. Unlike the other times you were dragged in here, Childe wasn't present. It was a shame that the one who so badly wanted to be involved in the brawl was about to miss out. The tapping of a fingernail against metal prompted you to push yourself up to your knees.

She'll fall at my hands.

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa."

You just coughed up more blood without obeying. Twitching fingers were the remnants of Scaramouche's torture.

"The perseverance of humans truly is something to witness," the cryo archon muttered in distain. She had run out of patience; you were nothing more than a nuisance if you refused to work with her any longer, and it was a miracle that she put up with you longer than she would with her own men. "Very well. You'll die here. Any last words?"

"Y-You threatened them."

"If you wish to be heard, speak up."

"You threatened them," your voice raised loud enough for everyone to hear despite the fact that your throat was sore from the amount of screaming Scaramouche managed to get out of you. A small groan left your lips as you forced yourself to your unsteady feet. Blood coated your lips and chin, and soaked into your tattered shirt. "You threatened my friends, you've threatened Xiao, and you're ultimately responsible for my Granny's death. Your crimes against us and the people of Teyvat will never be forgiven. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Hm." A hint of a wry smile was quickly overshadowed by hatred and disgust. She had heard enough of your disrespect, and it was clear beating you into submission wasn't working.

You caught the subtle twitch in her hand before she flicked her wrist and hurled an attack in your direction. Defiant feet remained planted, and a counterattack almost as quick as the Tsaritsa's was thrown her way. You didn't feel the blast of her magic reek havoc against your body, but subconsciously heard the sound of shattering glass right before you initiated your counterattack.

The Tsaritsa waved off the guards that readied to restrain you while hiding the beginnings of fear from her face. She'd kill you herself. The temperature dropped lower and lower until the entire room froze over and your fingers began to go numb. Of course, this wasn't because of your magic; you could drop the temperature below zero, but this was on a completely different scale.

"You've earned your friends' deaths as well!" The archon raged and stood from her seat with the intent to kill you on the spot. Shards upon shards whirled around her before shooting at your frail exhausted figure. "Morax's yaksha will join you in death for your disobedience. Thus is the punishment for disrespecting the will of your master!"

"You will not harm anyone!"

BOOM! The palace walls shook violently as the force of a shockwave ran through them--with you at the epicenter. A brilliant light shone from your eyes for a split second, though it made no difference in your tunnel vision of determination. This time, you were the one to lower the temperature. A growing layer of frost enveloped your skin in a warm embrace. Your power was a mix of ice and stormy gales that tore through the throne room at a vicious speed, sending Fatui agents and harbingers alike running for cover as the palace became an unstable battlefield.

............

Two days before.

"What kind of a suicide mission is that?!" Xiao growled out to the open night air with frustration, though he knew you couldn't hear nor feel his response. "This recklessness will be the end of you!" He took a deep breath to regain his composure and his gaze fell to his hands, which were enveloped in the fine black mist that was his accumulated karma. He couldn't keep his thought process of protecting you from himself if you were practically asking to be killed by the cryo archon. He wouldn't let that happen no matter what risks his karma may bring.

Days of grueling torture unlike anything you've faced before haunted his ears. He could tell that you never meant to pray to him these past several days, but somewhere in your delirious state of mind, clouded by pain, you called his name. Not for him to come and rescue you, no. That was a trick you weren't going to fall for and he wasn't rescuing you out of respect for your wishes.

But hearing your cries, you sobs, was a torture method in and of itself to Xiao.

After the first three days your agony turned to resentment, then to rage. You plotted. You schemed. You planned until you settled on what was probably the dumbest 'solution' to your problems. And Xiao heard every word.

"FOOL!" Overcome with frustration yet again, Xiao impaled the nearest tree with his polearm. The winds whipped violently through its leaves until he let out another aggravated sigh. He looked down to Liyue Harbor and the sunrise that began to chase away the shadows. Yelling would result in nothing and it was immature of him to do so. He would go to Zhongli, and summon Aether. There was no time to waste.

............

What awaited them at Zapolyarny Palace was nothing short of stupefying. They were met with a stampede of shaken guards that were so disorganized and distraught, they didn't even notice that intruders had broken into the palace. The three of them exchanged knowing glances before Zhongli led the way to the throne room. It was then that a powerful shockwave--loud enough to be a sonic boom-- nearly threw them into the wall behind them as the doors flew open.

"You will not harm anyone," muffled words reached the ears of the intruders. "Not me, not Zhongli, not Aether, and certainly not Xiao!"

It took a moment for Xiao to process what he was looking at; the snowstorm that raged on was barely contained in the throne room, and white obscured the battle for the most part. He didn't need a clear image of you to pick up on your words.

A new light appeared above you and this time you caught sight of it. Six star-like objects lit up a similar color to Xiao's hair and connected to one another. You paid no mind to it, as it disappeared as quickly as it came. The storm grew violent, and much like your most recent confrontation with Childe, your power was harming yourself. Icicles shredded your worn-out garments. The wind turned so sharply that it bit into your skin.

"That shouldn't be possible," Zhongli's widened gaze lingered where those stars had appeared above your head.

"So you saw that too," Aether mumbled in bewilderment as he also stared at the same empty air. I thought the people of Teyvat needed Stella Fortuna to unlock their constellations? He snapped out of his daze quicker than Zhongli. "Let's go, we need to help her!"

Xiao blocked their advance with his polearm. "Wait."

"You think we should wait?" Paimon hissed. "She needs our help!"

The yaksha ignored their hesitance and kept his narrowed eyes on the blurry image of you in the distance. Rely on me. Call out my name. If he was allowing himself to be vulnerable with you now, risking your safety from his karma, then it was your turn to do the same. Call out my name, and I'll be there when you call.

"DIE!" The Tsaritsa waved her hand through the air and summoned a glade of ice that was meant to slice you in two.

"I won't succumb so easily!" A blast of wind erupted from your side, and it cut the ice in half before it could reach you.

Wind? Anemo? Zhongli sent a glance to Xiao's figure. Could this be...

You pushed off the ground with the aid of the wind, and a flurry of snow hurled towards the Tsaritsa. She shot shards through it, and they impaled the ceiling after clearing the fog. You weren't there.

The archon spun around and was met with the devilish amber eyes of an adeptus and the cocky grin of her weapon of war. This power--The wind kicked up the accumulated layers of snow from the floor and blocked her line of sight again. A sharp pain sliced through the backs of her knees, and she crumpled to the ground. The speed of your movements was unlike anything your friends have seen from you before.

You landed before her and relished the feeling of having a literal god kneeling at your feet. Maybe you weren't so unlike Childe after all; if this sight made you feel that good, then one could understand the harbinger's obsession with battle. The three friends behind you--who you had yet to notice--took note of the Childe-like expression on your face. You summoned your iced polearm. Or...tried to. A quick glance to your hand confirmed it was still empty despite your attempts. Instead, a cold breeze playfully weaved between your fingertips. Huh? Did I exhaust myself? I feel fine...

"Ha...haha...Hahahaha!" A wicked cackle sent chills down your spine, and you returned your attention to the god that was hunched before you. "You may have picked up on my Childe's arrogance, but you wield it like a weakness." You anticipated her next move from the growing of sheer cold, but with your current position, there was no way you'd be able to dodge it in time. She swung her arm out to you.

The name fell from your lips without thinking. "Xiao-!" WHOOSH! The blast of air knocked you onto your butt, and your vision cleared to view an unsettlingly-silent battlefield. For several seconds, the cyclone calmed.

"Tch." The sound of a struggle made you look up. There was your yaksha, neck-at-neck with the cryo archon. He held his polearm in a blocking position, and it rattled uncomfortably against the force of the ice sword that pushed against it. The pair were staring daggers at one another.

"Xiao!"

"Took you long enough. Leave the killing to me. Leave, now."

"There's no way I'm leaving you by yourself!" You pushed yourself to your feet and ran towards them.

Xiao picked up on the sound of your footsteps, and glanced back at you for a split second. "Get back!" He could almost feel the grin that spread on the god's face as you got closer. "Move!" Panicked, Xiao pushed back against the Tsaritsa before dashing through the air and pulling you with him just in time to avoid what would've been a devastating blow of the god's power.

The sharp movements made your stomach do a flip or two, but you didn't have time to puke. The Tsaritsa levitated towards the two of you, who were now standing side-by-side with Xiao's hand placed lightly between your shoulder blades. Your eyes met his, but you couldn't tell what he was thinking. Instead, you nodded in encouragement just in case he wasn't on-board with you still being here with him.

The yaksha seemed to understand on some level, and nodded back before returning his eyes to the god above you. "Now."

#xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao genshin impact #xiao fanfiction #genshin fanfiction #wesimpforxiao #say my name and ill be there

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superman86to99 · 3 years

Photo

Superman #84 (December 1993)

Superman takes a short Paris vacation! Like, one day short. What's the worst that could happen?

Oh, man.

So, for the past few issues, we've been hearing about children being abducted in Metropolis. Now we see that they're being kept inside a giant toy house by some creepy bald man in Quasimodo clothes who seems to be obsessed with toys -- a "Man of Toys," if you will. Side note: no wonder the children haven't been found... all the articles about them are just gibberish! (See clip below.)

The kidnapper thinks that these kids' parents don't deserve them, and that they're much better off here, in an underground hideout with a man who threatens to starve them if they don't play with him. (And I do mean literally play, with action figures and stuff.) Meanwhile, as these children cry for help, Superman is having the time of his life. While helping move a stranded ship with some huge-ass chains, Superman spots a sunken galleon with a treasure chest inside and fantasizes about keeping the booty...

...before turning it over to the authorities anyway, the big boy scout. Then, he wakes up Lois at 6 AM and tells her they should go to Paris right now, which usually means your significant other is having a mental breakdown, but in this case they can actually do it. And so, after deciding that he deserves to use his powers for fun every once in a while, Superman and Lois drop everything and fly to France with super-speed for the rest of the day/issue.

Anyway: back to the child abduction! Cat Grant and her son Adam attend a Halloween party at Adam's school, but there's a disturbed weirdo in a hideous costume lurking among the crowd. Yes, I'm talking about Jimmy Olsen in his Turtle Boy suit.

Shortly after that, a guy in a dinosaur costume (see, all the creeps are dressed as reptiles) lures Adam out of the party with the promise of "superb video games." What child could resist that? Of course, that turns out to be the kidnapper and Adam ends up in his hideout along with the rest of the missing children and, worst of all, not a single "Lextendo" console.

The kidnapper gets angry at Adam when he refers to the toys at the hideout as "old-fashioned junk" (he was REALLY looking forward to those video games), and even angrier when Adam tries to free the other kids. Adam is brave and puts up a good fight, but...

And those were Adam Morgan's final words. "Uh-oh."

Next, we have a pretty harrowing scene of Detective Turpin letting Cat know Adam’s body was found, and Jimmy and Perry White taking her to the morgue to identify the body (most people probably wouldn't bring their former boss to something like that, but Perry sadly knows more than most about losing a kid). As for Lois and Clark, they were gone so long that the Daily Planet had time to print a headline about the murders. The issue ends when the lovebirds walk into the office smiling like two people who just spent the night fooling around in Paris... only to feel like jackasses when they find out what happened.

To be continued!

Character-Watch:

And that's it for little Adam Morgan who, unlike the also tragically diseased Jerry White, didn't even get any post-death appearances. Adam went from a little kid scared of Superman, to a huge brat, to a character who was approaching likeability as of last week. That's why I hate it when DC kills off young characters like Adam or Liam Harper: in long-form storytelling, children represent potential. Look at how much Wally West or Dick Grayson evolved over the years compared to their mentors! Sure, there's a huge probability that Adam would have ended up disappearing from comics for 25 years anyway, but who knows, maybe we'd now know him as Teen Gangbuster or something. GangbusTEEN.

This issue also represents a turning point for the kidnapper, who is never named or seen clearly in the story itself but I don't think I'm shocking anyone by spoiling the fact that he's Toyman (it's in the cover, for one thing). In his last two appearances before this storyline, Toyman helped Superman save some kids from Sleez and looked genuinely sad to learn about Superman's death, so this is a pretty dramatic change for the character. We'll find out why he went from big softy to child killer in Superman #85 (but don't get your hopes up).

Plotline-Watch:

The most disturbing part of the issue, all things considered, is still the part where Toyman climbs into a giant crib and hugs a huge stuffed bunny. Look at serial killer Tommy Pickles here:

Don Sparrow says: “Even with the upgrade, Toyman is still just a man in a suit, a common complaint about Superman’s rogues gallery.” Funny you should say that, because I JUST shared an old Wizard interview in our Twitter in which Dan Jurgens talks about how Doomsday came out of his frustration with the fact that most Superman villains are dudes in suits (plus other interesting tidbits from the era, like how it was actually Roger Stern’s idea to bring back Hank Henshaw, so check out that link!).

Don again: “The entire Superman storyline of this issue feels like filler. Diving for buried treasure and soaring off to Paris -- it all feels like wasted time next to the Adam storyline.” I have a theory that the entire ship sequence is there as an excuse to put Superman in those big chains and make that Spawn joke (which I didn’t get until now, since I’ve always read this issue in Spanish).

Superman says that pulling that big ship was "a little easier than expected" -- that's either another hint that there's something going on with Superman's powers since he came back, or a subtle dig at the state of American ship manufacturing.

Another adorable "window tap" scene for the books, and this is the sexiest one so far. Is it me or has Jurgens started copying more than just Teri Hatcher's hairdo from Lois & Clark? (For anyone who thinks Lois has gotten implants, I refer you to this clip.)

While in Paris, Lois asks Clark if he's ever wondered what would happen if his rocket had landed in other countries. Don: “Clark’s conversation with Lois sounds like a bunch of concepts for Elseworlds stories. We eventually would see a Russian Superman, and a British Superman, but not yet the French Superman. (Hire us, DC!)” Yep, got my French Superman pitch ready, Jim Lee. Or just let us do Russian Superman again, since Red Son wasn’t even the first time you published that idea.

Don once more: “Another thing that makes no sense about the ‘new’ Toyman is his resentment of technological toys—when in previous appearances he himself had deadly high-tech toys to vex Superman over the years.” I especially resent his hatred of video game consoles. Incidentally, I wonder what types of games are available for Adam’s beloved Lextendo. Star Lex 64? Mega Man Lex? Sonic the Hedgehog 3 & Knuckles & Lex?

No one is more upset at Lois and Clark for going AWOL than Whit. NO ONE. He's so furious that his usually grey mustache turned black.

Patreon-Watch:

As always, shout out to our patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Samuel Doran, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush and Raphael Fischer! Last month’s exclusive Patreon article was about the recently unearthed sequel to Superman 64 for the PlayStation, featuring Metallo, Parasite, and Lois looking even hotter than in this issue:

Hot damn. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99!

And believe it or not, Don Sparrow has even more to say about this issue. Read his section after the jump:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

I should start off my section with a big caveat: I flat out hate this issue. There were several weird decisions made in the post-Death-and-Return era (most of them along the same lines of making the Superman titles more grim-and-gritty), and this story was one of the worst of them. My theory is that, despite the praise and record-breaking sales of the Death and Return storyline, the Superman creative team felt pressure to have more extreme storylines, perhaps in response to the wildly successful Image books coming out at the time. Between this story, and the upcoming “Spilled Blood” storyline, the Super books take a hard—but temporary--turn into more violent and upsetting storytelling—even though these stories are by the same writers as the previous few years. While death has always been a part of comics, and Superman comics was no exception, there is a jarring glibness and unfeeling toward the way violence is handled in these pages that is quite different from the stories that preceded it. It’s made all the more jarring by the fact that well-established personalities suddenly veer wildly out of character, Toyman chief among them.

We start with the cover, and while it is technically well-drawn (by the familiar team of Jurgens and Breeding) it’s also a very upsetting visual. I think they should have gone with the pieta type pose with Adam and Superman, OR the scary badass bowie-knife Toyman (who apparently has a Cheshire cat smile now) but not both. But the cover is a good hint at the tonal dissonance of the comic within.

We open with a splash of the now-extreme 90s looking Toyman, with his serial killer shaved head and spooky cloak, ignoring the pleas of hungry kids he has locked up in a tiny jail cell for days at a time (if that sentence doesn’t ring alarm bells for how wrong this is for a Superman story, I don’t know what will). For much of the issue Toyman’s eyes are obscured by glare on his lenses, further de-humanizing a character who was once one of Superman’s more empathetic bad guys.

We cut to Superman tugboating a huge tanker with giant chains and it’s a cool visual (one repeated in the Batman V Superman film). It feels especially out of place to focus on, given how upsetting this issue is otherwise, but throughout the whole comic, Lois is drawn smoking hot, especially on the two page spread on pages 9-10.

The scenes depicting the actual murder, while still wildly out of place in a Superman comic, are well done, and give a real sense of darkness and menace, which I suppose is the intent. Perhaps my least favourite visual is the Big Bird stuffie, silently bearing witness to what’s about to occur.

The edges of the panels on get more slashy and off-kilter (to me, looking very much like the layouts more typically seen in Image comics of the day) and I suppose I appreciate the restraint of how little Dan Jurgens shows of the death of a child, showing only a bloody slash on a black background. This is still a pretty baroque image for a Superman comic, but certainly less violent than it could be, given what is happening.

Cat Grant’s silent horror is well staged, and powerful in its way. Lastly, Clark Kent bending in sorrow and regret is a powerful image.

While this issue is handled marginally better, and more maturely than other comics on the shelf at this time, I still believe it is one of the biggest mistakes of the era. Giving a long-established character an unceremonious death for shock value is gross on its own, but making it a child definitely crosses a line for me. Making it worse is that, while the Toyman is a criminal and a killer, he has shown in past issues (a similar kidnapping storyline involving Sleez) that he genuinely cares for the well-being of children. So for a long-time reader, this also felt like a betrayal of a long-established, fully developed character. Adding to the ugliness of this is that Adam dies heroically, trying to free the children who have been caged, unfed, for days, but even in that regard, he fails. The headline at the end of the issue confirms all the children are dead. Adam’s death did not buy the other kids enough time to get away. It was all for nothing. Had Adam died, but the other children lived, maybe this issue wouldn’t leave quite as bad a taste. [Max: It’s weird because it’s all told in a way where it’s told in a way where it would make sense, narratively and within the story universe, that the other kids survived, but then it’s almost casually revealed that nope, they died too. A scene of one of the kids relaying Adam’s heroism to Cat in a future issue would have gone a long way.]

Superman doesn’t come off well in these pages, either. It’s honestly the type of story they should just stay away from, because the more you think about all the calamity that is going on around the clock, the less defensible the whole Clark Kent persona becomes. Superman carving out time to romance his fiancée directly led to the preventable deaths of innocent children—how do you come back from that?

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I’m always looking for hints that perhaps Jimmy or Perry know Superman’s secret identity deep down, and Jimmy’s anger at Lois and Clark on their return to the Daily Planet offices would seem to give that theory some credence, as he’s as angry at them as if he knew Clark really were Superman. Either that, or he’s ticked that it fell to him, and none of them to escort Cat into the morgue. [Max: Has this issue finally converted you to the “Jimmy is terrible” side now, Don?]

I don’t think I’m the only one who disliked the new Toyman—SPOILERS BE HERE: years later, in Action Comics #865, Geoff Johns retconned this whole story, reverting Schott into the criminal who over-relates to kids, rather than the child-killer of this story. Apparently the infantile Schott, who speaks to “Mother” a la Norman Bates, is a robot so lifelike it fools even Superman, and the “Mother” he’s constantly replying to was the real Winslow Schott trying to recall the malfunctioning robot. [Max: That’s one Geoff Johns retcon I really didn’t mind, even if it felt kind of derivative of his similar “all the Brainiacs are robots made by the real Brainiac” reveal.]

#superman #dan jurgens #josef rubinstein #toyman #cat grant #adam morgan #dan turpin #whit #gangbusteen #super luthor fighter ii turbo championship edition

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Omens - “Angel’s Christmas Wish” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley doesn't know what to get his angel for Christmas. It becomes such an issue, it creates a time-loop, forcing Crowley to re-live the day until he gets it right. (2263 words)

Notes: Written for @theantichristmaszine 2020 :)

Read on AO3.

“Oh, Aziraphale … darling …” A soft pause. A hard swallow. “Look at me, angel … please …”

Aziraphale’s eyelids flutter open - nerves and self-doubt fighting to keep them shut. And they almost win. It’s hard to be seen this way - vulnerable, open, full of this beautiful demon who’s doing his level best to please him, to fulfill his every desire.

And he’s succeeding.

Which is why opening his eyes is so hard.

Opening his eyes would mean letting Crowley see into him, expose the fact that he wants this, everything about it - the sacred connection between hearts and souls.

The carnal connection between skin and skin.

But Crowley’s pleas to him are so sweet, Aziraphale can’t deny him.

He stares up at his demon, eyes glistening with tears.

“There you are,” Crowley whispers. “I thought you might have disappeared on me.”

“Never, my dear. I’m right here. I’m with you. And I always will be.”

Crowley sweeps a thumb underneath Aziraphale’s eye and collects a single tear. He brings it to his lips and kisses it away. Then he leans in and kisses his angel again.

Aziraphale didn’t know he’d started crying but he can’t help himself. It’s not a habit of his. He’s not a ninny. But this moment, this one right here, with Crowley hovering over him, arms wrapped around him, moving with him in a slow rhythm, is the most magical moment of his entire existence.

From where this night began to where it ended up, this is nothing short of a miracle in Aziraphale’s eyes …

***

“Dearest? Why do you look so glum?” Aziraphale asks, handing Crowley a glass of champagne. “It’s Christmas!”

“Of course, it’s Christmas!” Crowley grumps, grabbing the glass from Aziraphale’s hands and knocking the alcohol back in one go. “It’s always Christmas!”

Aziraphale stutters a laugh, staring at Crowley as if his demon has suddenly gone bonkers. “What on earth do you mean it’s always Christmas? It isn’t always Christmas. Christmas only comes around once a year!”

“Not for us, it doesn’t,” Crowley mutters. “For some strange reason, we’ve been through this over a hundred times!”

“We as in the world? Or we as in you and me?”

“The world! And no matter what, I still get it wrong!”

Aziraphale watches Crowley rearrange his legs underneath him on the sofa. He gets up and paces, then sits down again. Aziraphale waits a moment longer before he comes up with a response. It’s not Crowley’s words that give him pause. It’s the tone of his voice, his body language. What he’s saying may sound ridiculous, but from the way he’s behaving - taking an anxious lap around the room with his shoulders tensed and his hands shoved into his pockets, as if waiting for a bomb to drop - Aziraphale can’t do much of anything other than believe him.

“You’re going to have to forgive me but I don’t understand,” he says, fishing for clarity. “This is the first Christmas we’ve spent together. Well, spent together as a couple. There was that one year …”

“No! No, it isn’t!” Crowley interrupts before Aziraphale can derail the conversation. “I don’t know what’s going on, Aziraphale, or how! I honestly don’t! But this is the 132nd Christmas we’ve spent together! We exchange gifts, have dinner, go to bed, wake up, and it’s Christmas all over again! And I can’t figure out why!” Crowley drops onto the sofa and buries his head in his hands.

“Oh,” Aziraphale says, topping off his demon’s glass, then taking the seat beside him. “Well, that … that is a puzzler … isn’t it?”

***

“I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley utters. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I …” He doesn’t necessarily have Aziraphale’s attention, but it’s like the words aren’t for him to hear. Just for Crowley to say. But in the quiet of the room, Aziraphale does hear them.

“You know, my dear,” he says into the crook of Crowley’s neck, “if you had told me a year ago that we would finally get to this point, I would have thought you’d gone mad.”

“I was going mad,” Crowley admits. “Every time I saw you, I dropped hints like they were breadcrumbs and you … well, you never seemed to notice.”

‘Hints?’ Aziraphale’s brow wrinkles, thinking back on their every interaction, every conversation, trying to discern when Crowley had dropped any hints of any kind. Aside from saving those books from that church bombing (which may have made up for any hints Aziraphale missed) he is pressed to remember a single one.

“They must have been subtle,” Aziraphale deduces out loud.

“I was trying not to be too forward. Demon, you know.”

“Yes, my dear,” Aziraphale says with a fond sigh for his ridiculous lover.

Crowley chuckles. Then his brow wrinkles as well. “Wait … did you say finally?”

“Yes. I did.”

“But that would mean you thought we would get to this point eventually.”

“You did, too. What with all your hint dropping.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Crowley argues. “I hoped.”

Aziraphale pushes lightly on Crowley’s shoulders, tilting his head to look into his eyes. “I knew,” he says softly. “Deep down inside, I have always known.”

***

“Do you have any leads?” Aziraphale asks, getting caught up in the excitement of this mystery, even as his poor demon wallows in the angst.

“I think …” Crowley begins, tapping his heel on the floor as he thinks “… it’s the present.”

“What about the past? And the future? If we’re repeating time …”

“No no no!” Crowley interrupts. “Not the present present! The present present!”

Aziraphale frowns. “What?”

“Present as in gift. My gift to you.”

“But I love my present!” Aziraphale gushes, putting a hand to his waistcoat pocket and retrieving the gift Crowley gave him. “This is a perfectly beautiful pocket watch! No little screens or beeping buttons. Just a simple, elegant piece of machinery.”

“That’s just it! It is a perfectly beautiful pocket watch! And it’s just the kind of thing you’d appreciate. But it’s obviously not the thing! Not the right thing! Yesterday, I gave you a perfectly beautiful book of poetry …”

“Oh! Who wrote it?” Aziraphale asks, eyes gleaming.

“Wat? Uh … Byron, I think.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replies, slightly disappointed.

“Wat? Wat’s wrong with Byron?” Crowley asks, curious if this could be the reason why they’re here today. If he can find out what’s wrong with his presents, then he can get Aziraphale the right one and the two of them the Heaven out of this mess!

“Nothing’s wrong with Byron. It’s simply that … well, I like your writing better.”

Crowley scoffs in frustration.

Nope. That didn’t help him at all.

“And the day before that, it was a perfectly beautiful bottle of 1947 Cheval-Blanc. Every gift I’ve given you has been perfectly beautiful in your own words. But it’s not, because I wake up every morning and here we are again, celebrating Christmas! And I want to move on from here, Aziraphale! I want to go forward with you! How do I do that? How do I break the loop?”

***

Crowley’s body is exceptional.

Simply exquisite.

If Azirapahle didn’t know for a fact that Crowley had refined his corporation himself, he would say that Crowley’s body is the Almighty’s best work.

Aziraphale knows things like physical beauty aren’t supposed to be important, but the fact of the matter is Crowley has created a facade that is not only pleasing to the eye, but which fits his personality to a T.

If one wanted an accurate first impression of the demon Crowley, they would not want to look to his true form, but into the eyes and winning smile of this glorious creature.

Unlike Hastur. That rotting, maggot-ridden, gray-skinned ghoul with the soulless black eyes?

That’s who Duke Hastur truly is.

Aziraphale can’t stop looking at his demon’s body.

Not to mention the things he can do with it.

Aziraphale supposes that’s part and parcel with being a demon - knowing how to inspire lust.

But the things Crowley is doing to him, the way he makes him feel …

… Aziraphale, with his vast knowledge of human linguistics, can’t seem to find the words for.

There are no words powerful enough to describe the sensation of Crowley’s lips on his skin, or his hands feeling out erogenous zones Aziraphale never realized existed. These corporations they use to fit in on earth, they are so frail. So delicate from the standpoint of a supernatural entity. When he first got his, he had to take great care always not to harm the thing.

But that became easier the more he grew to love it.

Apparently God made up for the frailty of the human body by giving them this incredible gift of physical intimacy. And for humans especially, an intimacy with no purpose other than for two beings to simply enjoy one another.

And Aziraphale is grateful that he gets this opportunity to sample it.

***

“If you ask me, I would say that we’re stuck in a loop you’ve created, since you’re the only one who seems to know it exists,” Aziraphale says, sounding utterly nonplussed by the whole sticky affair. “Therefore, only you can break it.”

“But how!? What am I missing? What is the right thing? What do I need to give you that I haven’t given you already?”

Aziraphale looks down into his flute of bubbling alcohol and smiles a wistful little smile. “Oh, my dear, that’s just the thing.”

“Wat do you mean?” Crowley asks, poised on the brink of desperation. He may have created this loop, but he very much believes that angel holds the key to shattering it. “Wat’s the thing?”

“You don’t need to give me anything. Nothing you would purchase in a store, at least.”

“Wat … wat else is there?” Crowley asks, perplexed.

Aziraphale turns his body towards him, leans in a hair closer, and looks deep into his eyes. “Think,” he says. “A little harder.”

***

“I’m yours, you know …” Crowley whispers through a veil that sounds like tears..

“What’s that, dear?”

“I’m yours.” He sniffs. “Have been. For as long as we’ve known one another. No …” Crowley wipes his left cheekbone with the back of his hand. “No, since the moment I saw you standing on that blasted wall. It’s the most ludicrous, most inconceivable thing in the world for me to say. There were so many times I thought I was lying to myself. But it’s true. Ever since then, Aziraphale …” Crowley stops, looks at Aziraphale to make sure he hasn’t lost him in his confession.

The smile on his angel’s face tells him that’s not likely.

“I’m yours,” he repeats.

“How come you never told me?”

Crowley shrugs. “Would it have made any difference? You’re an angel. I’m a demon. We aren’t exactly a perfect match.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, my love,” Aziraphale says, putting a hand to his demon’s cheek. “We are a perfect match. And I know this because I’ve been yours as well … you foul fiend.”

***

Crowley shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, my dear …” Aziraphale clears his throat but tightens his jaw, what he’s about to say making him a bit uncomfortable “… at the end of any of these loops, have you made love to me?” He clears his throat again, his cheeks warming, glowing pink.

“Oh …” Crowley hadn’t expected that. He sits up, which moves him away from his angel - which wasn’t his intention “… uh … n---no. No, I haven’t.”

“Then you’re right.” Aziraphale dares to shimmy closer with his cheeks burning now. “You haven’t found the thing yet. Because, to be quite honest … that’s what I wanted. Th---that’s what I was hoping for.”

“You want me … to make love to you? For Christmas?”

“O---only if you want to. I would never assume … or imply … which is to say, I wouldn’t want to force you to …”

***

“Oh Gahhh …!”

“Don’t say it!” Aziraphale hushes, giggling. “The consequences of that could be disastrous!”

“I know, I know. It’s just … I think I understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why humans call out her name … during sex, I mean. Making love … it’s kind of like praying, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale swallows hard, fear pooling in his stomach with the thought that now that Crowley has come to that realization, he’ll never want to do this again. “Do you hate it?”

“No. Not at all. Not so long as I’m with you.”

***

Aziraphale doesn’t finish his sentence.

Not because he falters.

But because Crowley’s mouth on his takes his breath away.

“I am … so stupid,” Crowley says against his angel’s lips, unwilling to leave his mouth. “I never realized. I should have told you,” he confesses between kisses - to Aziraphale’s mouth, to his cheeks, to the soft curls surrounding his face, “so many times. I should have told you how I felt. How much I loved you. And I tried. I tried so hard to think of something I could give you that would let you know …”

Aziraphale puts a hand to his demon's cheek, stares into amber eyes he has seen - and admired - hundreds of times. But now, he feels like he’s looking into them for the very first time. “You don’t need to give me anything. All I want for Christmas ... is you.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale #Crowley

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thehomierobbstark · 5 years

Note

HC/ y/n is mad at Erik cause he did something dumb and he’s trying to make it up to her “kiss me like you mean it “

Shame [Prelude] // Communication [Part II] // In The Cut [Side Story]

A/N: So I have an inkling who might’ve asked this question *cough @wakanda-inspired cough* but I hope this turned out the way you were hoping anon!

I wanted to get something out for Valentines Day while I’m working on other stuff, and this isn’t part of it but don’t forget to check out the With Love, From Wakanda Fic Fest that @purple-apricots and @hoopshoney are hosting. @wawakanda-btch posted the first one I’ve seen so far and and I’m super excited about it.

Anyway, I know some peeps do celebrate Valentines Day and some don’t, but I just wanted to dedicate this fic out to all of yall. I know I write Erik in super cheesy n corny ways sometimes, but we all deserve to have people in our life who will take the time to learn us authentically. Romantic or otherwise. Hope yall like it!

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!! x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh, crossing your arms as you lazily trail out in front of the rest of the group, feet moving slowly as you put one foot in front of the other and attempt to walk in a straight line, if for no other purpose than for your own personal enjoyment. You were pretty through with the night, but you didn’t want to rush along anyone and risk dampening the fun mood, so you tried occupying yourself as best you could to keep from sending out the wrong vibrations.

You feel the presence come up next to you before it makes itself known, but you ignore it, choosing to feign ignorance instead of acknowledging it with your usual situational awareness.

The presence lingers for a moment, waiting for you to notice it, but when you don’t it inches a little closer, nudging its shoulder against yours with a light tap, the spot where it touches you feeling tingly.

“So, how’d you like the movie?” He asks you, and you glance up at him, seeing his eyes lit up and full of interest.

“It was ok.” You answer flatly, shrugging your shoulders, and those eyebrows of his hike up, not expecting your nonchalance.

“Oh.”

It was an honest answer. The movie was just OK. Even though it wasn’t just the movie you were expecting more out of tonight.

You divert your attention back down to your feet, indulging again in your own little game of ‘Walk the Plank’. The presence next to you grows quiet again, and you know he’s observing you, trying to figure out what’s going through that head of yours.

It doesn’t phase you, already knowing that whatever emotions you had you didn’t wear them on your face.

Luckily, you were hard to read like that.

This was the second time-

*Correction*, the third time that the both of you had hung out this week with your friends, and you were starting to get the feeling that maybe there was something happening between the two of you.

At least, that’s what you thought… up until tonight.

“Everything okay?”

You can hear the hint of worry hiding somewhere behind his words, and part of you wants to just drop it and chalk your mood up to being tired or something.

You nod your head, shrugging your shoulders again, eyes focused somewhere on the floor.

Don’t be petty. Don’t be petty. Don’t be petty.

You lift your head and look him in the eyes, smiling.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He returns the smile, visibly relaxing now, diverting his own eyes to the floor now as he chews on his lip.

You quirk an eyebrow, watching him, and open up your mouth again.

“So where’s your friend at?”

Fuck.

The sound that comes out of his mouth is something between a choke and a snort, and he brings a fist up to his mouth to clear his throat before looking back your way.

The smile is still plastered on your face, but not an evil one, just…friendly. Weirdly friendly.

You can see his eyes squint a little as he quickly studies your face, trying to figure you out, but there’s nothing to see except what appears to be your innocent smile.

“You, you mean Clarissa?” His voice almost cracks at the end as he points a thumb back in the direction of your friend group, referring to it’s newest blonde member, but you don’t even bother to look.

You know who she is.

“Oh? Is that her name?” The charade you’re putting on sounds so real you almost believe it yourself for a second, and you have to drag your attention back to the conversation at hand to keep from verbally patting yourself on the back.

“Clarissa?” You repeat (for clarification, of course), and the name sounds harsh and abrasive in your mouth, but that doesn’t keep you from saying it with perfect pronunciation.

“Yeah, yeah no she’s back there chillin, I guess.” It’s his turn to shrug now, and he almost acts as if he didn’t spend the entire movie sitting right next to her. While you were all the way on the other side.

Out of the group, you and Erik were the only single people, and while you usually hated it when your friends’ boyfriends tried to set you up, you liked Erik.

He’d just happened to be back in town the same week his boy had made plans, so it wasn’t like he was there for you.He was just… there too.

But you’d clicked instantly.

The whole night you and Erik had been hanging together, picking right up where you’d left off from the other night.

Then Clarissa showed up.

Your voice keeps its same curious tone, and you press on. Not to make him uncomfortable or anything, but just to…understand better. After all, it’s not like the two of you were dating or anything, you were just friends.

Friends were allowed to be curious, right?

Maybe the feeling you thought you had between the two of you was wrong.

“Oh, OK.” You say, and silence falls between the two of you again for a moment as you reach the double door exit of the movie theater. He opens the right side, holding it for you, and you brush past his chest a little as you walk out.

You can feel the solid muscle resting underneath his sweatshirt and smell the scent of his body wash, and before you can let yourself get distracted by it you accidentally blurt out your next sentence more aggressively than you wanted to.

“Umm, you can go hang out with her if you want, you know. You don’t have to be up here with me.” You word vomit, and you squeeze your eyes shut, mentally face palming.

So much for trying to be subtle.

“What?” He walks out behind you, letting the doors shut, but you don’t stop walking, not wanting to have to look him in the face.

Your feet unwittingly stop in their tracks after a few steps and you blow out a sigh, your body betraying your urge to flee. “I mean…”

You scratch at the back of your head, gathering up all your courage to deal with the dumbass situation you’ve just put yourself in.

“…don’t feel obligated to be up here with me. If you wanna go be with her that’s okay-”

“Be with her? Who said I wanted to be with her?” He interrupts you, and you open your eyes to see he’s standing in front of you now, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and what looks like frustration.

Shit. You so didn’t mean for it to go this way.

“Nobody! I’m just, I’m just saying that if you wanted to you could-”

“Y/n.” He stops you again, but this time when you look up at him his face is oddly calm, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth barely hidden by his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

You don’t say anything at first, but when he raises his eyebrows at you as if to repeat himself, a small ‘yeah’ escapes your lips.

“…Are you …jealous?” You can hear the teasing lilt in his voice, and your face deadpans, your feet working again as you stomp past him.

Jealous? You? Please. You’d sooner watch the original ‘Birth of a Nation’ than ever let anything that girl says or does intimidate you. You knew your self worth, and you’d rather die alone than let any man think you’d waste your time competing for his attention.

You can hear his boisterous laughter behind you, and you quicken your pace, but you don’t get very far before you feel his arm wrap around your waist and pull you back, feeling the deep rumbling emanating from his chest.

“Alright alright ma, damn, I was just joking. Where you think you going anyway? We all drove together.” He wraps his other arm around you to keep you in place, emphasizing his words.

“I got Lyft, I’m good.” You sniff back, and he kisses his teeth, dragging you both backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of one of the patio tables, and he lifts the both of you onto it to sit, you on his lap.

You sit there stubbornly for a few moments, and when he realizes you’re not going to speak he rolls his eyes, breaking the silence.

“So you gon tell me wassup, or what? Why you acting like this, babygirl?” His voice is soft but stern, and you stir a little in his arms at the pet name.

“I’m not acting like anything,” you try and disagree, but your words sound distant and clouded in your ears, losing some of their bite.

He sighs patiently behind you, leaning forward to tighten his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You can feel him looking at you, and you turn your head away, staring through a hole in the grated table to the ground.

“… I’m trying, okay? Just… give me a second.” Your voice is just above a whisper, but he still hears what you say.

“I know,” he presses a kiss into your shoulder through you sweater, and he lays his head there. “Take your time.”

You take a few beats to gather your thoughts, mulling them over in your mind a few times to make sure you’ll be able to say it right.

When you’re finally ready, you turn around a little to sit sideways in his lap, still facing away from him as you rest your head on his chest.

Taking a deep breath, you finally let it all out.

“Look…all I’m saying is if you’re interested in other people, that’s okay. It’s not like we’re together or anything, all we did was share one kiss. You’re free to do whatever you want and so am I, there’s no commitment here.”

A dry laugh that comes out as a sniff blows out through your nose, those shoulders of yours shrugging again as you try and crack a joke.

“It’s not like you live in California.”

Your last sentence hangs in the air for a bit, and when Erik doesn’t say anything, your heart starts skipping beats.

Shit, was he offended? You didn’t mean to offend him. All you were trying to do was be honest…and keep your heart safe.

“Erik?” You wait a second for his response, but when it doesn’t come you turn your head to look at him.

His eyes are downcast, and a small smile plays on his lips.

“Do you think I just go around kissing strangers, Y/N?”

The question catches you off guard, and when he lifts his head to look at you, you don’t know what to say.

“Do I seem like the type of person who would kiss random people just for the hell of it?”

Well, it didn’t seem like he was the type.

“…no.”

“Then why would I kiss you and go be interested in someone else? You are the person I’m interested in, Y/N. It’s you.”

You want to say something back to him, but when you open your mouth, an emotion you can’t place starts creeping up your throat, paralyzing you.

“Listen… that… ‘thing’ at the movies… trust me, ya boy not interested. I was trying to get back over to you but ol’ girl couldn’t take a hint. Figured I’d just be polite and let her sit next to me during the movie. It’s not like it’s her I’ll be calling anyway when I get back home tonight.”

He flashes that knee weakening smile at you, his golds peeking out, and you roll your eyes, pushing at his chest.

“So what you tryna say? You got hoes now?” You joke, and he fake groans in annoyance before grabbing you up in a gentle headlock, pressing kisses to your temple as you squeal and struggle.

“You so annoying, I swear,” he grumbles, and after you calm down he releases you and cups your chin in his fingers, angling your face towards his.

“Gimme kiss,” he mumbles, and you lean up a little, pressing your lips flat against his for a soft lazy smooch.

“Mmmm,” he moans against your lips .“Mm Mm.” He detaches from you.

“Nah,” his full lips poke out in a pout. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

Blushing, you smooth your hand against the back of his head and pull him into you, lips parting to accept his full, juicy ones between yours, both your tongues poking out to taste each other.

He sighs in contentment into your mouth, and his hands latch onto your soft waist as he takes over the kiss, letting his tongue roll against yours.

Leaning into him you wrap your arms around his neck, breaking the rough kiss to give him gentle teasing pecks that make him whine from the back of his throat.

“Fuck, you’re making me miss you already,” He whispers into your skin, nudging his face down into the crook of your neck and taking a huge inhale.

It sends sparks across your skin, and when he groans hungrily at your scent you can feel the vibration in your whole body, making you clench in different places.

You both get lost in euphoria until a loud voice from a ways away grabs your attention.

“Uhh… y’all ready to go?” You rise out of your blissed state as you pull away from Erik, looking around dazedly to find the source.

You spot Rashad, Erik’s friend, looking curiously at you two from his spot across the patio, and the rest of your group behind him snickering childishly, including Clarissa.

“Yeah bro we comin!” Erik yells back, all his attention still on you.

“Well meet you there,” he mutters, not really caring if his friend heard or not, and he buries his face into your neck, growling and fake munching on your skin as your laughter fills the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: CollegeBoi!Erik, Softboi!Erik, Fluff,

#TheHomieFics #erik killmonger x black!reader #erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger #bp #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther fandom #headcanon ek #vulnerable ek

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mskinkyafro · 5 years

Text

Blurred Lines (Ethan x MC)

A/N: This is my take on Miami with our man. From Ethan’s perspective and there’s a few references from my previous fics but its not necessary to read those before this. I was originally wanting to post this before the chapter aired but life happened and a week later here it is. I took some dialogue from the chapter and placed it in here but not much. This also uses Ella Mai’s close near the end. I wasn’t originally gonna use a song in this but the story kept shifting but it’s a great song that reminds me of these two. But overall I hope you all enjoy my version of Ch. 10. This fic grew way longer than originally thought but oh well lol.

Summary: Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Michaels start to crossover into new territory during the Miami conference.

All Rights to PB and Ella Mai for her song “Close”

Sidenote: Song Lyrics are italicized

Word Count: 3,996 words.

Tagged: @sharrybh20 @ifyouseekheart @perriewinklenerdie @radlovedreamer @siegrrun @flyawayboo @gabbisaur

Sorry if I forgot anyone else, but iIf anyone else wants to be tagged just let me know!

Ethan Ramsey stood in a secluded corner of the atrium as he watched the interns scrambled to the leaderboards. He’d learn his lesson over the last few weeks of attempting to post the rankings in their sights. The amount of times he was almost ran over or harassed by the young doctors was wearing down his already thin patience. This time he decided to post it earlier to avoid the savages.

Usually he would carry on with his patients after each week’s posting or spend some time checking on his mentor and looking over his case, but on this occasion he couldn’t help but stay just to catch a glimpse of Katrina when she looks at the ranks. Out of the sea of interns he could make out a young doctor flinging her arms around Katrina in excitement and hear brief exclaims of congratulations. He notices the young African-American woman taken aback by the news but quickly a fierce look of pride washes over her as she talks amongst the few lingering colleagues who wish to extend kind pleasantries.

He smiles to himself as he watches Katrina’s grin. Despite growing closer the last few weeks Ethan was unsure how he felt about Dr. Michaels. It was clear to himself he trusted, admired, and respected her even though more times than others she’s a pain in his ass. And on the other hand, residing deep inside was his raw attraction for the young resident. He catches himself staring at her when she’s unaware or if talking to her how his eyes tend drift to her round, pouty lips. Ever since his daydream about Dr. Michaels, to their conversation in his home, and the last weeks of closely working together on his secret case he’s noticed there’s a difference.

Ethan would never willingly admit to himself that he may have became enamored with the young doctor. No, he keeps those dangerous thoughts regarding Katrina in the forgotten depths of his mind. He has far to many other important things to focus on. He soon notices that he’s no longer alone in his little corner. A familiar perfumed scent hits his nose and without turning he addresses the figure.

“Chief Emery, what can I do for you?”

“Now Ethan, must you always be so formal. ”

Ethan rolls his eyes and turns to face Chief Emery. He can tell by the way she said his name she wanted something. Before, he always folded but as of late her attempts of being his emotional puppeteer has had no effects.

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood Harper nor do I have the time so let’s keep this short, yes?”

She’s momentarily taken aback but brushes off her initial surprise.

“Yes, you definitely seemed...” Her eyes move to land on Katrina.

“...preoccupied at the moment.

Ethan follows her gaze and his eyebrows furrowed as he sees where it lands, annoyed at the subtle insinuations.

“Ahem, what exactly did you need?”

She turns back to look at Ethan and hands him papers and continues to speak as he looks over what she’s handed him.

“This actually. You’re going to Florida. Well, Miami specifically and accompanied by Dr. Michaels to a medical conference. You both will be surrounded by other accomplished doctors from the best hospitals all over the country, so make sure to mingle and represent Edenbrook well.”

She turns to walk away from him but he cuts her path off.

“Wait, why must I go and bring along an intern for that matter. Isn’t the schmoozing apart of your job description?”

“Actual my job description is to assign who I want to schmooze, if not myself. Second, as a way to mix things up in the competition I decided to throw in an exclusive reward. Thus, attending a prestigious medical conference with the accomplished Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”

“You enjoy torturing me, don’t you Harper?”

“No, no of course not.”

Ethan takes a step back as he realizes Harper attempting to cup his cheek. Her hand falls back to her side.

“But at least your company is someone you’ve taken a ...liking too, from my understanding.” her tone was polite but Ethan noticed a small hint of hidden meaning in between her words and an unfamiliar glint in her eyes.

“Now Harper, I-”

Ethan was interrupted by the buzzing of Harper’s pager.

“Duty calls. Dr. Ramsey, this is final.”

She walks away without another word down the west corridor. Ethan shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Unable to argue anymore he makes his way to the center of the atrium towards Dr. Michaels who’s still surrounded by her roommates and a few straggling interns.

“Rookie. I see you saw the news.”

He sees her turn toward him as a hush fell amongst the other young doctors as he finds himself standing a few spaces of chest to chest with Dr. Michaels.

“Yes I did Dr. Ramsey. Are you here to congratulate me?”

“For not killing your patients? No.”

He noticed a flicker of sadness in her eyes and the way her smile fell. He mentally kicks himself.

“However…”

Katrina eyes grow more hopeful.

“...you’ve yet to let me down, Rookie.” he let his eyes soften as he finished speaking. Ethan felt his heart skip a beat as Katrina’s annoying yet radiant smile grew wide.

“And I don’t plan to anytime soon, sir.”

“Good.”

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before a cough from others interrupted the moment.

“Ahem, anyway Rookie. Pack your bags tonight. You’re accompanying me to Florida this weekend for a conference as reward for ranking first this week.”

“What?! Really?!” she said in disbelief.

Ethan ignores the many audible gasps, groans of disappointment, and bitter mumbles.

“I’m not repeating myself, Rookie. Send me your address so I can pick you up, our flight leaves at 7:00 am tomorrow morning.”

And with that Ethan walked away and head towards his office.

Time seemed to fly for the next morning arrived and Ethan found himself immensely irritated. He rubs his face in exhaustion and frustration. He hopes that their flight would end soon because he was unsure how much longer he could take before he might lose it. First, the flight was delayed by two hours, then he realized the tickets were economy not first class, so himself and Dr. Michaels were huddled with the other passengers like cattle, and thirdly a infant seems to have been crying non-stop since the departure.

He knows how little of an impatient man he is so at the moment all he could do was suffer in his seat and try not to succumb to his building temper as his companion managed to sleep during the entire trainwreck of a flight. As he was steaming in his seat he felt a pressure land on his shoulder. He turned and looking down on his right shoulder he saw a messy clump of afro hair and soft snoring from Katrina. Seeing Dr. Michaels sleep so soundlessly and how peaceful her features were made most of his bitterness melt at the sight. He didn’t know why but just one look at her and he felt calm. Just for a minute he thought maybe this flight isn’t all bad.

Soon enough the overhead speakers came alive to alert the passengers that in a few minutes they will arrive at their destination soon. The sound of the seat belt sign chiming cause Katrina stir from her slumber and she slowly open her eyes as she adjusted to her surrounding. Her eyes land on Ethan and she immediately bolts upright, bumping her elbow in her neighbor who shoots Katrina a nasty glare.

“Sorry sir.”

The man beside her let out a grunt and continued to read his newspaper. Concern at the lack of warmth from his shoulder and for the way Katrina woke up he gently laid his hand on her shoulder.

“Everything okay Rookie?”

“Oh, umm yes Dr. Ramsey. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was-”

“Relax Dr. Michaels. I’ve had worse things happen to me on economy flight. Being your pillow is not one of them.”

She smirks towards him.

“Is that so? So you’re saying I can specifically request you as my pillow?”

“No.”

“Hmm. I don’t believe you.”

“Do I look like the type to lie.”

“Of course not sir but I feel like you’ll give in.”

“And what makes you think that I’ll cater to your wishes, Dr. Michaels?”

She lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Ethan as a smirk that rivals the cheshire cat graced her face.

“I can be very persuasive.” Ethan feels goosebumps form as he feels the ghostly trace of her fingertips brush his hand reaching to the seat pocket in front of her. In his head he’s trying to decipher if that was a coincidence or something orchestrated by the young doctor.

Reeling from the simplest of touch, Ethan stayed quiet for the moment before he readied himself with a retort but interrupted by the woman beside him.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her and shake his head.

“I agree that your growing ego is unbecoming, Rookie.”

She giggles at him and then turns to look out the window hoping to not disturb the man beside her while Ethan kept his gaze fixed on her. Trying to process how he’ll survive this weekend.

A hour passes after landing in Miami and Ethan and Katrina arrive at the hotel and make their way to the front desk.

“Yes how may I help you?”

“We have a reservation for two double rooms under Ramsey.”

“Alrighty let’s take a look.”

The woman behind the desk types on her keyboard before her face scrunches up.

“I’m sorry sir, but it seems there was a mix up and all the double rooms are booked for the weekend.”

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and lets out a gruff sigh a Katrina tries to reason with the concierge.

“I’m sorry but that’s unacceptable. What other rooms are available?”

“Well ma’am, once more I’m terribly sorry for the mix up. We have one room available, the honeymoon suite, which we’re willing to give to you and your husband for free as condolences for the booking conflict.”

Ethan looked up from his previous position and noticed the faint blush that graced Dr. Michaels face at the woman’s assumption. He saw Katrina about to correct the employee but his mouth spoke without warning.

“We’ll accept it, Thank you.” he nods curtly as he collects the key cards and heads to the elevator, leaving behind a stunned Katrina.

She manages to catch up to his long strides as he enters the elevator and presses the bottom to the penthouse level. The door closes and there’s a small silence between the two. Ethan can tell she’s dying to question him so he speaks first.

“You’re allowed to talk, rookie.”

“Umm are you sure you’re comfortable with sharing a room, Dr. Ramsey?”

“They are no other rooms and we’re probably unable to get double rooms at any other hotel in the ten mile radius, I gathered we might as well enjoy an unexpected upgrade even if it’s due to moronic behavior.”

The elevator halts and the doors open and Ethan steps out and strides down the long hallway followed by Katrina and arriving in front of the last door of the corridor.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He opens the door and holds it open for her to enter.

“Are you uncomfortable sharing close quarters?”

Katrina enters and was about to respond but was distracted by the glamour of the suite. He follows behind her and watches as her eyes lit up with astonishment at the room. Ethan’s relieved that she’s preoccupied by their room to question him any further. His rational, safe-playing side is chastising him for accepting this arrangement but his other side took the lead at that moment. He didn't have a true reason for saying yes other than wanting another occasion to be close to Dr. Michaels

“Okay, one. This room is gorgeous. I mean, this view of the beach is breathtaking! Two, I may be distracted currently but that doesn’t mean I didn’t noticed that you answered my question with a question.”

Katrina done inspecting the suite moves to gently set her suitcase down as Ethan stands a few feet beside her placing his own down.

“If I didn’t know any better rookie, I’d say you’re scared to be alone with me.”

Ethan can feel Katrina’s hot gaze look him up and down and hear her sly grin as she spoke.

“Oh, I’m not the one that should be afraid.”

He feels a flush grow in his neck at her words.

“And I noticed you didn’t correct the concierge when she assumed we were husband and wife.”

“People are always going to assume. Why waste my breath to change what they others think?”

He hopes she doesn’t see through his thin excuse.

“Wise words Dr. Ramsey. So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” she smiles as sits on the edge of the king size bed.”

Ethan pulls out a folder filled with documents from his bag and sits at on the loveseat in the room and places it on the coffee table in front of him.

“The conference doesn’t start til tomorrow so for the rest of the day-

“I can soak up some Miami sun!” Katrina interrupts.

“Yes, I suppose so while I stay in to look over some files.

“Dr. Ramsey you’re going to work when…” Katrina hops off the bed and saunters to the glass door of the balcony and gestures to the scenic view of the beach below them.

“...this is out our window.”

He moves to take out his glasses from his pocket and places over his eyes and doesn’t bother glancing out the balcony.

“My job never ceases, Katrina.”

Ethan begins to read the documents when the papers are pushed away from. He looks up at Katrina with an annoyed expression on his face.

“You work so hard as it is back home. You need to relax, Dr. Ramsey. Come along with me. I promise I’m loads of fun.” She said as she threw him a wink.

Ethan reaches to center his work in front of him once more.

“Tempting, but I have to decline.”

“Suit yourself.”

Katrina turns away from him to dig into her suitcase and grabs a few items before she heads to the bathroom

Ethan soon becomes engross for a few minutes and doesn’t tear his attention away even as the door of the bathroom opens and Katrina’s light footsteps approach.

“So is their a curfew I should be aware of?”

“Well-” Ethan’s words die at his lips as he looks away from his work and takes in the sight before him. Katrina stands in front of him wearing a scandalous yellow triangle bikini that makes her coffee-hue skin glisten and shows off curvy figure. The revealing fabric hugged in all the right places, her thick hips, thighs, and shows off her double D sized breasts. He realizes he’s been staring for too long and finally speaks, his voice slightly cracked.

“Ahem, urm...you’re not confined to a time frame but keep in mind we have a long and early day ahead of us so I advise not too late.”

“Gotcha.” she turns to a nearby chair and slips on her see-through yellow wrap skirt. She walks over to the body length mirror to check herself out and fluffs out her frizzy fro and heads to exit the room. She pauses and calls out to him over her shoulder

“You sure don’t want to tag along, Dr. Ramsey?” she asks one more time. Ethan can tell her tone is innocent enough but in her hazel eyes he sees hope and a tiny bit of mischief in. He tries to focus on her face and not her perfectly round ass that’s barely covered in the cloth she calls a swimsuit.

“Well, we are in Miami. I suppose these documents can wait” he flashes a rare smile.

“That’s more like it sir!”

“Please Katrina, Ethan outside of work?

“Sorry Ethan.”

He smiles small and heads to his bag then the bathroom to change. He steps out in just his swim trunks and slips on some sandals. He notices Katrina’s eyes roam his bare chest before landing back to his eyes. He smirks at her and then walks to open the door to start their afternoon.

They spent the rest of the day and early evening basking the Miami sun. Walking on the shore, smiling and laughing discussing their lives before Edenbrook. Soon night fell and they found themselves back at the hotel outside bar nursing several scotches on rocks, sitting elbow length from another.

“So that’s really all there is to know about me. I switched from the west coast to the east coast. I haven’t visited in a while but I have an older brother and niece who live in LA. It’s difficult to visit sometimes because he’s a busy detective and my niece Chelsea is heavily involve in school especially now she’s entering her senior year.”

Katrina says as she sips from her drink.

“Do you miss it?” He asks.

“Sometimes. I miss craziness of LA or just driving to the beach and surfing in the hot summer days. But being here at Edenbrook, I have a new love, helping my patients.”

Ethan couldn’t help but stare as she said this. It was rare to find another doctor who truly wanted make a difference. More and more he got to know Katrina he couldn’t help but fall more.

He nods and finishes his drink. As he sets his glass down music begins to play and the other people outside begin to grab their partners and dance. He sees Katrina’s face light up in recognition and downs the rest of her drink and excitedly hops of her stool and fumbles slightly. From the alcohol or just the sudden movement, Ethan was unsure but had inkling it was both.

“I love this song! Ethan, dance with me.”

He looks around nervously. Looking for any doctors that could be in range.

“I don’t think so. I’m not one for dancing.”

A pouty look forms on Katrina’s face and in that moment Ethan just wanted to kiss her then and there.

“Please, for me.” She reaches to pull him off his seat.

He decide to throw caution in the wind and followed Katrina to the makeshift dance floor.

They find themselves in the center surrounded by other couples dancing to the sensual music. Katrina wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself closely to Ethan’s body. He places his hands on her hips and his eyes bore to hers as the sway to the music. He feels intoxicated by her citrus perfume.

I don't even really care who knows it

Just keep me there, keep me in the moment

Seen a lot of things, but I never seen my spirit glowin'

The way you do me got me outta body

Cause you the only out of everybody

Who gon' go out of the way to show me all the ways

Come control the flame

I just wanna stay right here with you

Katrina then turns so her ass is pressed against Ethan’s groin and grabs his arms so that they wrap around her as they continue to sway to the music. Ethan groans quietly to himself and tries hard not to become too excited. Being so close to her felt so good but he can’t help but question this. He knows he’s a little tipsy and he’s sure she is after the amount of rounds they had.

“Katrina…”

“Kat. Call me Kat.”

Ethan moves on of his hands to trail up her arm to her neck and push some of her fro out the way and his hot breath lingers on her neck as he whispers in her ear

“What are you doing to me.”

Let the water flow

Just let it fall out from my face

Cause I never thought I'd ever hear me say

I just can't breathe without my baby

Ooh, you my baby

Ethan can feel her shiver at his words and she turns back around and place her hands over his exposed chest. Her fingers tracing his skin. She stands on her tip toes and leans up as her hands bring his face closer to hers and whispers

“Only whatever it is you do to me.”

So come and kiss up on me

As we dance close

Come and kiss up on me slow

Ethan tightens his hold on Kat and stops their movements all the while others around them keep dancing.

“Kat.” His hand tangles in her hair and his eyes roam her face and he sees desire and longing.

“Ethan.”

Ethan closes his eyes as he feels her plump lips graze over his. He moves his mouth to respond briefly as he savors the moment but the fading sound of the music sobers him up and reminds him on where he is.

He reluctantly untangles himself from Katrina and holds her hands.

“Kat...Katrina. We can’t do this.”

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with confusion.

“Why? Do you not feel…”

“No of course not. I want this so bad, but not enough to jeopardize your career and reputation. ”

“No one has to know. It’ll be our secret.”

“We’d know. Plus I can’t push you to be the best doctor you can be if I…”

He pauses and lets go of her hands and adds space between themselves.

“If you…”

He shakes his head at her.

“Let’s call it a night. We’re both tipsy and have an early morning.”

He stalks toward their room feeling he disappointed gaze on him. They make it back to their suite and both quickly change into night clothes, Ethan in his pajama pants and no shirt and Katrina pops out of the bathroom in an over-sized T-shirt that covers her torso but shows off her legs and her hair wrapped in her silk bonnet. Even in the simplest clothing he finds her so beautiful and he’s kicking himself for cutting off what could’ve happen but he reminds himself its for the best. He speaks first.

“I can take the couch and you can have the bed, Rookie.”

“Ethan, we’re both adults we can share a bed. I promise no funny business.”

“Rookie…”

Katrina cuts him off

“No. Right now I’m Kat and your Ethan. No Rookie, no Dr. anything. We have all day tomorrow for that. Let’s give ourselves this moment right now before going back to reality. Please, Ethan.”

He sighs and gets inside the left side of the bed and gestures for Katrina to get in as well. She turns off the lights and gets in on the right side. They lay down facing each other, eye to eye. Their breathing grows soft and faint. Katrina closes her eyes first and flips so her back faces Ethan.

“Good night, Ethan.” She whispers.

He’s still facing her and longs to hold her but ultimately shuts his eyes.

“Goodnight Kat.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes when he feels rustling in the bed and warmth closer to him. He opens his eyes and notices Kat moved in her sleep. He would scoot over more but he’d be in the edge of the bed and he didn’t want to risk waking her up to move her over so he just pressed closer toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist and lay his face near the crook of her neck. He knew he was well over the boundaries he attempting to draw but Ethan decided give not only himself but both of them this moment.

#choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC #dr ethan ramsey #open heart choices

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rogue-barnes-16 · 5 years

Text

SECRETS (part I/II)

Summary: Detectives James Barnes and Y/n Y/l/n never really got along, despite being partners for seven months. You could say they hated each other, however, when James' past shows up threatening to break him all over again, the truth about their feelings comes to the surface.

Pairing: cop!Bucky Barnes x cop!Reader

Genre: angsty (fluff in the end) (modern au)

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @sinviix @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack

Warnings: hints of a toxic relationship, drinking, smoking, bad described make out session and implied sex.

A/N: I couldn't finish writing the latest request I was writing bc tumblr is a bitch, so I'm dropping the first part of a 2-part fic here. I hope you enjoy my first au (I'm practicing for a Brooklyn nine nine fic) <3

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

"C'mon Y/n" Samantha called me from the entrance of the bar we were going to get into. She came closer, placing a hand on my bicep. "You're still thinking about it?"

I stayed silent, my eyebrows knitted, and my eyes fixed on the pavement. "yeah" I replied absently, having another puff of the cigarette held in my hand.

"do you really think you're right?"

"I don't know, Sam" I confessed, tossing the cigarette and stepping on it. "I think I don't wanna be right about this." with that, I turned around to join our friends.

The music playing in the bar almost made me forget what I had been thinking for two days.

Almost.

Two Days Ago

"BARNES!" I yelled from across the precinct's floor where we both worked. "WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?"

"charmin' as always, Y/l/n" he replied in that condescending voice of his, staring at board covered in pictures and notes.

"you dismissed my suspect." I stated, finally reaching the place where he was standing.

"it's our suspect, not yours" he corrected me crossing his arms over his chest "and we'd reached a deadlock"

"I told you to fucking wait, dammit!" I spat, hitting the desk in an attempt to draw his attention.

He jumped, spinning around so he was now face to face with me. For an instant, I saw panic in his gaze, quickly replaced by anger.

"I told you to follow Vargas, and did you, smartass?" I huffed. "see? We're fuckin' even"

I glared at him slack-jawed. "You're unbelievable." grabbing three manila folders from his desk, I made my way to mine. "and for the record, Vargas didn't show up, you fucker!" since my back was to him, I missed his eyes fixed on my form with something way different from anger, frustration or hate.

BUCKY'S P. O. V.

I stood still, staring at Y/n leaning over her desk to examine the manila folders with my jaw clenched, reminding myself that I hated her.

I needed to remind myself that I hated her every single day, because if I didn't, I knew shit would go south.

Unexpectedly, she looked up from the reports and her eyes dug into mines. I only mimicked her position, leaning over my desk, holding her stare.

Surprisingly, it was me who first averted my eyes, my ring tone catching my attention. When I looked at the screen, I saw an unknown number. "Hello?" I asked hesitant.

"Morning honey" my body went stiff at the voice, my jaw clenching while I tried to stay composed. "I made you some coffee, can you tell them to buzz me in?" I stayed silent "oh don't worry, I'm in"

I hung up and tossed the phone over my desk before stalking to the entrance of precinct just in time to see her appearing.

READER'S P. O. V.

I followed Barnes with my gaze, worried that something bad might have happened. However, in the entrance I only saw a redhead with a smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Barnes hissed from a considerable distance.

"I told you, silly" she let out a giggle "I brought you some coffee." When she tried to step closer to Bucky, I saw his trembling hand ghost over the holster he was carrying. "are you gonna shoot me, baby?"

Something in her voice made chills run down my spine, but I knew stepping in wasn't a good solution, so I stayed leaned over my desk.

"you can't be here" she stared at him with defiance before smashing her bag over the nearest table, making Barnes jump.

"hey" before I realized, I was walking to them. "Miss, who are you?" flash of madness crossing her eyes scared the shit out of me, but I didn't back off. Instead, I stepped between the two of them. "who are you?" I repeated.

"I'm James' wife" her reply shocked me enough to turn around and give Barnes a very confused look. "who's this woman? are you cheating on me, baby?"

I felt Barnes hand sneaking in the gap between my arm and my waist to grab my forearm "I fuckin' work here" I replied, completely ignoring the tug in my arm.

"then go work" she hissed "and let me catch up with my husband" when I didn't move, and irritated look made its way to her face. "I told you to leave, bitch."

Before I could reply, Bucky’s grip on my arm tightened and he managed to bring me closer to him, crashing my back against his chest.

"you can't be here, Dot" he repeated, managing to hide his shakiness from her. "leave. Now" The same shakiness that wasn't able to hide from me.

Due to the lack of space between him and me, I could feel how his chest went up and down rapidly and unevenly.

"But listen baby, I'm sorry" she whispered, suddenly switching to 'angel' mode. "I'm really sorry, please let's talk this out, okay?" She took a hesitant step towards us and I subconsciously pushed Barnes back in a very subtle way. "c'mon, let's go and have breakfast, and we'll talk. Please, honey."

"What is she doing here? Who let you in?" Rogers appeared in my peripheral vision, walking fast towards us. "leave. Leave right fuckin' now"

"great" that Dot girl muttered, taking a exasperated sigh. "Steve, this is between James and me, so don't you take this bitch with you for me to-"

Steve made his way to the redhead and, grabbing her arm, he guided her out of the precinct.

I spun to face Barnes, who was quickly putting himself together. "what the hell was that about?"

"you always have to meddle in everyone's business" he spat, letting go of my arm "don't you?" I stayed silent while he went to his desk to grab his things. "Tell Captain Fury I wasn't feeling well." and with that, he left.

The following day he didn't even show up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This place's amazing!" Lexa, another one of my friends, exclaimed excited. "let's look for a free table"

The six of us wandered around for a while until we found a free table. "what do y'all wanna drink?" Joe asked, getting up.

Joe came a few minutes after with everyone's drinks and we chatted for a while. Again, I was almost able to forget about it, but then I saw him sitting on a stool, leaning over the bar top with his back turned to us.

"guys, I've something to do." I stated, grabbing my drink and getting up. "be right back." said that, I made my way to the stool besides his. "you didn't show up yesterday, nor today."

He frowned before moving his head to glance at me. "fuckin' hell..." he groaned, shifting to look at the wall full of bottles across us. "outta every fuckin' bars, you hadda come here?"

"gosh" I scoffed, taking a sip of my drink before mimicking his posture. "it's not like I'm looking for you, Barnes, so get your head out of your ass."

He huffed, letting out a humorless, dry laugh. "it's always a fuckin' pleasure to talk to you." I rolled my eyes and he looked over his shoulder. "come back with your friends, 'cause we've nothin' to talk 'bout"

I ran my fingers through my hair and, taking a deep breath, I glanced at him. "that girl, Dot" he went stiff and my heart sped up because, damn, I didn't want to be right, but it seemed like I actually was.

"what 'bout her?"

"is she really your wife?" I asked, tiptoeing around the topic. "we've been working together for seven months already, and you never mentioned her."

"she's mah wife. Kinda" he confirmed me, drinking all the alcohol in his glass. "anythin' else?"

"what happened between the two of you?" He let out a weird laugh, letting his forehead rest against the wooden surface. "You're drunk"

"not enough for this conversation" he groaned with a smirk on his face. The corners of my mouth twitched up at the view and something in his eyes seemed the lit up. "If you wanna stay" he took another look at my friends before turning back at me. "maybe at the end of the night I'll be drunk enough to talk 'bout it"

I pursed my lips in a tight line, staring into his eyes to see if he meant it, because I really really needed to know what happened between them.

After a couple of seconds, I turned to the barman "hey sweetheart" I called him "keep the shots coming here, will you?"

Barnes let out a chuckle, but this time it wasn't weird, and it wasn't dry. This time it was genuinely amused. "eager, are we?"

"you could say so, yeah" I replied, giving him the ghost of a smirk while the barman put the drinks in front of us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay okay okay, but-" he started to laugh again and I nudged him "Nononono, listen-" a couple of giggles escaped my lips before I could keep going. "it's true!"

"it ain't true, darlin'." he said between giggles. "Romanoff 'n Stevie- that's insane"

"I'm tellin' you, Barnes" I replied, taking a swig of my beer. "one- don't laugh at me! One day we'll find 'em fuckin' in the office."

"You're crazy" he stated, finishing his beer.

"whatever" I looked at the clock. It was past 4 am already. "Barnes" I whined turned to him. "Tell me what happened between you and Dot, pretty please" I pouted at him, leaning over the bar top and getting a bit closer to him.

He groaned, leaving the beer aside to look at me. "ya really know how to spoil the mood"

"we're drunk as fuck already" I propped myself over my forearms, getting even closer to him. "c'mon Barnes."

With an exasperated sigh, he moved to tower me. "I swear, Y/n, you get me on my fuckin' nerves."

"I know, and I love to do it" his jaw clenched and his eyes traveled to my lips for a second. "you get me on my nerves too, y'know? But I don't care" he gave me a confused look "it's kinda... Our thing, so I don't mind it"

"You're sweet when you're drunk" he stated, half smiling at me. "wish you were this sweet all the time."

"nah" I retreated to my initial position with a teasing smirk on my face. "you love my rude ass side."

He stayed silent, which made me turn to him to check he was okay. "I do." he mumbled "I love your sweet side too." after taking another peak to my lips, he leaned on me and, without thinking twice, I closed the gap between us.

Our lips crashed and, while his right hand went to my cheek, his left traveled to my thigh. Letting out a muffled moan, I let my hands roam over his upper body. "let's get outta here" he mumbled against my jaw.

"yeah, let's get the hell outta here." I pulled away to clumsily grab my purse and pay the drinks, though t was a difficult task to accomplish with Barnes lips attacking my neck.

"you sure 'bout this?" he whispered, pulling me away from the bar top as soon as I had paid. " 'cause you're gonna regret this in the mornin'."

"I'm a grown ass woman" I replied, exiting the bar and pulling him into another sloppy kiss. "my place's near."

Within minutes, we were bursting into my house, tossing or clothes all over the place in our bumpy way to my room. "I'll tell you everythin' tomorrow" he mumbled, taking off his shirt. "I promise"

"Okay" I managed to say, unzipping my pants and letting him take them off. "I'll take your word for it"

He took off his remaining clothes and I did the same "Good" he groaned more than said, picking me up.

"Good" I echoed, letting him carry me to my bed.

Fuck, we were really going to regret this, but I couldn't care less.

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otaku-words-blog · 6 years

Text

Cold; Excerpt

Adrianne sat back in the cushioned chair, one of her legs crossed over the other as she let her dark gaze drift across the room. A glass of wine rested in her hand, her long fingers cupping the bulb of the glass from below. She stared hard at Victoria, her expression stoic and firm. It was obvious she used her charms on Lord Prescott, he never preferred the affections of just a single woman for this long. Though, it wasn't like Adrianne sought his attention for herself, but the change in routine annoyed her.

The blonde bombshell laughed along side him, draped off his arm. Adrianne could see the light refracting off her plethora of rings and bracelets. Victoria swam in soft pale furs and pastel revealing gowns that more resembled thin sheets laid over her voluptuous body. She was an ornament for him to show off. For now. A quiet snort sounded from Adrianne as she simultaneously raised her glass to her lips to hide the reaction. There was no way she would last long, she thought to herself.

Adrianne let her gaze move across the room, the party well attended by various well known individuals. Not many interacted with her and it affected her none. The space was what she preferred and a glowering glare was enough to send off the most persistent of courtiers. It was then that Adrianne caught a glimpse of striking blonde hair, was it her? A certain curiosity piqued her interest and she stood in one fluid motion. The contents of her drink were now gone.

Without any care to who saw, Adrianne pushed open the service doors and strolled into the kitchen. The workers paused, taken aback by her sudden presence. The tension didn't break as they immediately began to get to work when she regarded them with a stern expression. It was loud and busy, but everyone moved seamlessly around her, successfully avoiding any physical contact with her. Where is she, Adrianne asked herself, irritation beginning to build.

Suddenly, as she turned a corner, a waitress collided with her. Adrianne looked down at her off the shoulder black midi dress, a white smear of mashed potatoes marred the impeccably soft fabric. The girl she ran into inhaled sharply, immediately pulling forth a rag to wipe it off, in which it came off with ease.

"I am so, so, so sorry, Miss Renata." Aia said, panic building in her voice. It was obvious she knew she was in trouble, and terrified of the idea.

"You are not supposed to be here, Miss Amnis. You are a receptionist, not a waitress. If you were..." She looked back down, "This would not have happened." Adrianne's voice was cold and dripped with a distasteful venom. "You will go home. Now." By the final word, her voice boomed, echoing with ease over the loud clanging of dishes. Everything halted again for a mere moment before continuing back at pace.

"But Miss Renata, I- I need the money." Aia stammered, her face growing red with embarrassment and possibly a bit of frustration.

"Do you think that matters to me? You should have requested training in a new department. It is quite an easy thing to do. Now. Go. Home." Adrianne's words cut hard and the tearing up Aia turned and left to the employee's locker room, her shoulders trembling. There was a pang in her stomach, her hand drifting to press over it. I must be getting ill, Adrianne thought to herself as she turned and left the kitchen. I'll just head up to my room early.

The party was still going, the gentle classical music flowing through the air; It covered the soft hum of conversation flawlessly. In the distance, she caught sight of Lord Prescott and Victoria, still attached to one another, but this time by the bar. Adrianne went to them in long strides, her speed never diminishing the confidence in each of her steps. Victoria made eye contact with her, those plump red lips pulling into a wide smile.

"Hello, dear Adrianne, how great of you to finally socialize with us." Her English accent flowed smooth, Lord Prescott turning to face his long time thrall. His smile was small, but entertained, his sharp blue eyes on her for only a moment before he let it remain on Victoria.

"I am only here to give both of you a farewell. I am headed to my suite, might as well get started on tomorrows work." Adrianne said it with poison, her dark brown eyes on Victoria, "Some of us employed to the Lord actually have work they must complete." Her monotoned hatred ended as she directed her attention to her Lord. "I apologize for my lack of entertainment on this joyous occasion for you, I do truly wish you a great evening."

"You as well, my fair Adrianne. I hope to see you more often. Since you've taken over the hotel, it is only at social functions that I am graced with your elegant presence." Lord Prescott reached out his hand and instinctually, Adrianne placed her pale fingers onto his sun kissed hand. He leaned forward and placed his lips on the back of her knuckles. "But do not think I do not appreciate your hard work."

"You are too kind." Adrianne dipped in a subtle and polite bow as he lifted from her hand. She pulled it back, a small curve lipping her full lips. No matter what, it pleased her to hear his praise. It rolled off her like a feline enjoying a single claw racking down his neck and spine. Her cold gaze met Victoria's, who hasn't near as pleased.

"You do work very hard, Adrianne. I hope a bit of it rubs off on myself." Victoria said in a smooth tone, underlying hints only audible to Adrianne. As her words ended, Lord Prescott pulled Victoria to him tightly, a grin pulling his lips.

"You work very hard as well, my pet." Before she saw anymore, Adrianne turned and left. She was disgusted by such public displays of their sexuality, it made her skin crawl, and it wasn't out of jealousy. It just wasn't polite, there was no etiquette in sexual innuendoes. Maybe that was why she did such a great job managing all of his estates, and now this hotel. Adrianne was never distracted by such primitive urges.

The front lobby was silent, the darkness from outside chilling the air ever so slightly. Adrianne's heels clicked on the expensive tile as she made her way around the receptionist desk. It took her mere moments to turn the heat up, hoping to remove any hint of chill in the air before the customers began rising in the morning. Adrianne caught the sound of a voice nearby, from the hidden offices behind the receptionist desk. Her hand rested on the threshold of the door, her narrow gaze looking for who ever it was in the dark shadows.

"I'm sorry mom, I didn't mean to, I never wanted to trouble you." It was Aia, speaking to her mother at this god awful hour of the night? "I got mugged yesterday... They took half my rent. I-I was going to make up for it tonight, the owner's birthday is being held... But I was sent home by this... this vile woman, even though I begged her to let me stay." Adrianne's jaw clenched, a huff exhaling through her nose. "Thank you, mom. No, no don't worry, I will sleep here so I don't risk getting mugged at night again."

There was that pang again. Adrianne hissed, annoyance flooding her again. Instead of confront Aia, she just turned around and left, preferring to get to the elevator and to her room. Adrianne's hand rested over her midriff, her breathing smooth. Never in her life had she felt this sensation, she always felt devoid of feelings, unless she was frustrated or angry. She had to be sick, this nausea plaguing her was most uncomfortable. I'll just enjoy a nice long shower before I begin to look over emails, she thought to herself, hoping it would ease her stomach.

It didn't. In her room, as she slipped out of her clothes the odd pang seemed to migrate upwards from her stomach to her chest. It felt like she couldn't breathe. The shower did absolutely nothing to ease it away, and she couldn't simply shrug it off. Out of the steaming waterfall, still dripping wet, she poured a glass of champagne and downed it. It eased back a touch.

There it was, her solution. Within moments, she drank two more glasses and the uncomfortable feeling nearly completely dissipated. Now dried, swathed in a thin silk robe, Adrianne sat behind her desk, the bottle and glass coming with her.

"Vile woman..." Adrianne repeated it back to herself, it wasn't the first time someone had called her that, but it was the first time it had affected her. She downed another glass, submerging herself into her various emails received since she'd been away from her phone.

#adrianne renata #excerpt #cold excerpt

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stormecloudyy-blog · 6 years

Text

Amor Proibido [iii]

Special thanks to @mercyonmendes for writing the Shawn blurb!

Get me out of my mind and get you out of those clothes - Fall Out Boy

Deep breath. I can do this. I have done nothing wrong at this point. Everything is good. My life is absolutely fucking amazing.

I can have this conversation with the man I am going to be marrying and not let on some kid tried to kiss me. Okay, he is not just some kid now…but whatever. I have a fiance and I love him. End of story.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, running a hand over my face and listening to Landon go on and on about his day. He is telling me about how hard his job is working at his dad’s company where he pretty much does nothing all day and how shitty his night was because he had to come home alone to an empty house because of my fucking job stealing me away from the worst time. Yet again, it is another ten minutes of listening to him talk only about himself and not even ask me about everything major. Even though he knows how much of a big deal this article is, Landon will always be more important than me.

“Listen…” I say, trying to let on how much stress I am under from this shit show of my life. “I will call you tomorrow because I am exhausted. I just want to crawl into bed and fall asleep.”

Landon says, “I don’t like having to sleep when you aren’t next to me. What am I supposed to do when I want someone to make my dick hard?”

I think he thinks it is sexy, but I just find it annoying. I would never let on so I say, “Just know I am thinking of you, babe.” It is partially true. “I will be home in a few days and we can more than make up for any lost time, okay?”

“I love you, talk to you soon, sweetheart.”

“You too,” I reply, ending the call and lying back.

There is now a special place in hell for me.

My phone chirps with a text early the next morning Concert day.

It is from an unknown number, but it must be someone related to this whole debacle because otherwise I am going to think there is someone stalking me. And trust me, I am not worth anyone’s time at all. In fact, I am a rather shitty person. Last night was the perfect case in point.

I could just ignore the text because I have a lot of work to do in starting my article. I am going to be spending most of my day writing and planning because I have to attend this concert tonight as well. I have to write about the concert and still do one more interview with him tomorrow. Then I will be able to go home the day after and act like he never kissed me. It was just a stupid kiss, and I pushed him away. It means nothing at all.

Who is this? I type back, sitting up in bed and debating about whether or not I want to make the trip down to have some kind of food or just have it delivered. I mean, work is going to pay for it but I don’t even know what I would choose.

A picture of a sleepy eyed Shawn appears on my screen, his hair askew and his lids half closed.

Holy fuck.

What the fuck is this kid doing? He has no reason to be texting me. I could ask how he got my number, but I am sure he has his ways since he is fucking famous. Also, why am I like half turned on by a photo of him lying in bed? There is something very wrong with me, and I am going to be atoning for these thoughts for a very long time.

I throw my phone down, deciding to take a shower and get dressed. Maybe he will get the hint if I don’t say anything. He is trying to get under my skin, but I need him to be as distant as possible. I have a fiance, and I have a life. This is going to be good for me as long as I don’t mess it up, but Shawn is making it so fucking hard.

Returning to my phone, I see two messages.

You don’t seem pleased to know I have your number.

I am not going to apologize for kissing you.

Fuck my life.

This is my fucking job, and I don’t have time for some fucking kid to think it is okay to mess with me as a joke. I am not interested in you. Please stop.

Oh, my god. I am such a fucking liar.

I bet you look beautiful in the morning.

FUCK. He is trying to be sweet. Okay, deep breath. He is just full shit and trying to get you to sleep with him. There is nothing genuine about his words, right?

You are so full of shit. No wonder your eyes are so brown.

So you noticed my eyes? Yours are gorgeous. You are gorgeous. I’ll see you tonight at the concert, yeah?

Go fuck yourself. It’s my job. That’s all.

I want to fuck you. Tonight.

Holy shit. What the fuck is my life even?

Shawn

Sitting on the edge of the bed in my hotel room, I mindlessly strummed my guitar as I gazed out at the city and wallowed in my own frustration. I wasn’t even sure why I was frustrated.

Her evident frustration was justified: I was an arrogant, irritating little prick to her. I also wasn’t sure why I did that either. It had been such a habit to crank up the sexually heated charm that it had now become second nature to me whether I wanted it to or not. But hey, I am still essentially a teenage guy. This was normal, right?

A heavy sigh escaped my lungs and I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends in confusion. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t focus my mind on anything but her. Meeting attractive girls every day was a job requirement so obviously I was struck by some of them. Again, reiterating the hormonal teen part. But she was different. Could it be because she was an older woman? I did have a thing for that. God, do I have mommy issues? Is that even a thing? I cut off my own incessant rambling thoughts with a loud groan which prompted Geoff to bang on the adjoining wall and mutter something crude. Ignoring him, I loudly strummed the opening chords for Roses that I had just written down and released my pent up disgruntlement in the only way I knew how. I sang.

The concert is insane. The crowd is enormous, and Shawn seems more than ready. Looking from backstage, I can see the people waiting for the show to begin. It must be one of most exhilarating sensations in the world to be able to perform in front of so many. It reminds of how one day I would love for to be a writer everyone is reading. This is my first step there. A good beginning. There is the chaos of setting up the show and everyone making sure everything is perfect. Trying to stay out of the way, I roam back to Shawn’s dressing room.

Instead of finding his normal posse, he is just sitting there alone with his guitar. He looks otherworldly, just strumming softly and singing the words in his head. It has to be one of the most attractive things I have ever seen in a man. Not that he is a man… he is just a boy and…

“Can I ask you a few more questions before the shows starts, Shawn?” I ask, stepping towards him and breaking his concentration.

He looks up at me with a smile, placing the guitar down beside him. “Sure, why not,” he says.

I hesitantly sit down at a chair somewhat far away from him and tap my fingers on my knee. I don’t know why I wore this black dress because it’s way too short and too tight around my breasts. Then again, Landon was always telling me not to wear it so maybe this is my subtle fuck you to him. I know I look amazing. He just wants to fucking control me.

“Do you have a favorite concert venue?” I ask, inwardly groaning at my shitty questions. Shawn is making me flustered to the point where I can’t even do my job properly. What I need is to have a few drinks during the concert so I can calm down and just forget about all of this weird tension we have going on. He has to know he is making me crazy. It is like he is doing it on purpose, trying to fuck with me and get me to notice him.

“I can’t hear you,” he says, leaning forward. His hair is perfectly done in messy perfection and he is wearing a charcoal button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black skinny jeans, his shoes are brand new all black Chucks. He looks fucking amazing. Not that I would tell him. And I probably should not be noticing?!

“You can hear me just fine,” I say and cross my arms over my chest, trying to cover my cleavage. However, it seems to make them more perky. Fuck. “Just answer my questions so you can play your damn show and this can all just be over for us, okay?”

Shawn raises an eyebrow. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, I just…”

“You just what?” he echoes, searching for answer I don’t fucking have.

This was just supposed to be a career maker. Not suddenly make me fucking confused about my entire life. He is a fucking teenager. I am a grown woman. He probably is reminded of his mom when he looks at me, there is no way he could be attracted to me. This is just a job I need to do so I can return to my life. My life where I have a fiance and a house and a job and all of these adult things. I am not someone who plays music all over the world and has this amazing, fun life all the fucking time.

“Nothing.” I pause. “I don’t hate you. I don’t feel anything for you.” Lies. “This is just my job, and I want to do it well. This article is important to the both of us. You want to look good, and I am hoping this is going to help me be able to write more important stories.”

“You don’t look happy when you talk about your job,” Shawn says off handedly, like he can just see into my soul no big deal at all. “I don’t see the passion you are supposed to have. I am sure you have a passion for writing, but what do you really want?”

I don’t remember the last time anyone has asked what I wanted. It catches me off guard. “What.. what do you mean?”

“What do you want?” Shawn repeats, getting up and walking over to me. He looks down at me, waiting.

Without another word, I rise and look at him. “I want to be happy.”

“I am going on stage soon,” he whispers against my neck, tracing his lips along the curve and stopping right below my ear. His hands are moving lower than my waist now, lazily venturing towards his favorite place.

I try not to shiver at the sensation of his breath against my skin, but I feel those chills up and down my spine. He knows it too because there is a smirk on his face as he slowly slips his hand up my thigh, moving beneath my dress and locks his eyes with mine as though daring me to protest. I can already feel the moisture building between my legs and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

Gnawing my cheek to keep from alerting him about the status of my aching core, I just nod at him and keep my eyes on his.

His hazel eyes bore into mine, anticipating something will happen soon. His lips ghost kisses beneath my ear before he delicately kisses the shell of my ear and whispers, “I am going to make sure you remember me while I am on stage.”

I just nod my head and arch my hips up to his hand, not quite sure how else I am supposed to behave while he seems to have rendered me speechless with just his touch and a few words strung together. It shows how well he can get beneath my skin, but it makes me wonder what he has in mind for me.

His hand slides down to my hip and he grips it tightly as he tilts my head so my lips are pressed against his, his kisses are deep and meaningful. He nibbles on my bottom lip eagerly, chuckling at his deviancy for a moment before I find myself completely melting into his advances.

I try to reach my hand out and slide it up his thigh, but he bats me away, stating, “I am in charge right now, and we are going to do what I say. Hands to yourself or else.”

It is hard for me to listen to him when there is this part of me that craves so badly to make him want me the way I tend to want him. I know he is turned on right now by the apparent bulge in his shorts. I want to run my hand up his leg and tease him, to feel his length in my hand and know I am the one who is able to make him so fucking hard. I want to do that more than anything else, but he cuts me off from that. Shawn has set up the parameters I am supposed to follow, but I am curious to know what could happen if I dare to break them. His fingers resume their journey, two of them pressing against the fabric of my lacy panties. He runs them over my clit, raising his eyebrow at me. Shawn adroit fingers skim over the damp area, and he tells me, “I made you so fucking wet, and I have barely even touched you.”

It is not something I want to admit out loud to him, but I adore the way he just tells me exactly how it is. The words coming from his mouth are so attractive and make me even wetter for him.

His thumb rubs my clit lazily, not trying to rush what he is planning. My hips buck up to meet his touch, and I still long to make him seem so desperate the way I am. Instead he gets to be all calm and collected while I am a total mess, which I do not think is very fair at all. “Shawn..I..” My hand stretches out to cup his erection, ready to alleviate the tension building between us.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes darkening as he stares down at my hand touching him. Shawn stops his motions, leaving me desperate for the finish. I can feel myself slowly getting closer, and he has just denied me the release. I want to grab his hand and force him to continue, or I could do it myself. But I find myself transfixed by his gaze as he takes my hand away and says to me, “And now you are going to have to learn your lesson the hard way. I warned you that you should not touch me. Hands to yourself was rather a simple command…” he sighs. “But now you are going to have to deal with the consequences of your actions.”

I expect him to take his hand away from me and say he is not going to allow me to experience any pleasure at all. It will be cruel, but I would not be surprise I want to kick myself for being so eager to touch him, but I could not help myself. I fucked everything up. My hips begin to pull away from him, allowing him to pull his hand off. But he doesn’t do that.

Instead, he slides my dress up, sliding my panties off me with one hand, and tosses them on the floor. His index finger slips in between my folds, allowing him to feel more of the moisture he caused to grow from his actions. He moves his finger in and out of me for a moment before bringing it to his lips and gently licking it in front of me. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, “I. Want. More.”

There is no chance to speak before he has grabbed my legs and pulled my entire body towards him; he spreads my legs with his hand and guides my hips to his mouth.

His blue eyes gleam as he looks up at me before slowly taking his tongue and running it along my clit. He grips my thighs tightly, pushing them down onto the bed as he glances up at me with those hazel orbs while never taking his tongue off my wet center.

He takes one of his digits, sliding it inside of me and quickening the pace to match the movement of his tongue. I can feel my hips pressing towards him, small moans falling from my lips as I beg him to keep going. He nibbles my clit gently, using his fingers to probe on with his ministrations.

I can feel myself slowly getting closer to release as his tongue traces circles around my core, his own moans causing me to become even wetter. He removes his finger and brings it up to my mouth, instructing me with his eyes to lick it off for him. I take his finger between my lips and slowly suckle, hoping he is going to allow me to repay him soon.

“You are so beautiful,” Shawn whispers as she takes his finger back, now placing two inside of me. I can feel him going deeper, his knuckles brushing my folds and causing me to gasp at how intense he is causing me to feel. His mouth continues to tease my clit, lapping up the juices eagerly and making me feel as though I am going to completely lose it at any second. His fingers have found my g spot, carefully teasing it and causing me to gasp out his name. He has to know how unfair this is for me; I am feeling as though I am going to lose myself completely and he is just taking his sweet time. His tongue continues to flick at my clit greedily as my hips pump up against him from the combination of both mouth and hand.

“Shawn, please…” I beg, needing the overstimulation to stop. I need to release or I am just going to…

“Oh, so that is what you want, love?” he teases from between my thighs, slowly taking his mouth away from me.

I reach down to place his hand back to its previous position, but he raises his eyebrows at me and just repeats, “I told you twice about hands to yourself and now you don’t get to orgasm for me just yet.”

I stare at him dumbfounded as he takes his hand out of me and sits up for a moment, licking his fingers like a clever cat. His eyes flash with amusement as he sees the frustration furrow my brow, causing me to let out a groan. I close my legs, feeling the wetness dripping down my thighs and it makes me want to strangle him for being such a tease. There is nothing fair about bringing me so close and just stopping, but he seems utterly pleased with himself.

Just then, there is a knock on the door. “Shawn! Showtime!”

He stands up, quickly wiping his face and looking at me. “Make sure you’re watching from backstage, I am sure you won’t be able to stop thinking of me.” He raises an eyebrow again before he leaves with guitar, leaving me standing there with trembling thighs and no panties on.

Standing stage side to Shawn is one of the best experiences I’ve had in a long time. He is pure talent and he has so much stage presence. He just shines with the guitar and his voice is beautiful. It is hard to deny he is doing what makes him happy. But it brings up all of the thoughts running through my own mind right now.

I have a fiance. And we are getting married in a month. Yet, I let Shawn…

Oh, my fucking god. What have I done?! This is the worst thing I have done yet, when everyone find out I am going to lose my job and be labelled a slut. Because Shawn is famous. And a man. he will be forgiven because boys will be boys. But I should know better because I am supposed to be a lady. Fucking double standards. Fuck society.

He has been looking at me all night too. The most intense eye contact in the world. I can feel his eyes on me no matter and that stupid smirk is glued onto his fucking face. I blush every time he looks at me because well… there is no way I am going to think of him as a kid any longer. He is a man who has given me the best head I have ever had. Because Landon thinks it’s only for “sepcial occasions”. Fuck that. Shawn seems like he would ravage the fuck out of me with that mouth all the time, ad I just…. I need to stop because this has already gone too far. He is just a kid, and I have a fiance. Nothing else can happen between us.

“This song is for a very special person…” Shawn says, once again with the fucking intense eye contact. “It’s called “Roses.” “

And I have to be honest with you baby Tell me If I’m wrong, and this is crazy But I got you this rose And I need to know Will you let it die or let it grow? Die or let it go?

Oh. My heart… what is happening? I barely know him. There is no way I am falling for Shawn Mendes.

Right?

Will you let it die or let it grow?

He looks at me as the song finishes, and I realize my heart may slowly finding its way to unexpected happiness.

How the fuck am I going to tell him the truth now?

#writing #mine #amor proibido #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes smut

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sighingsiren-tales · 7 years

Text

|A Theory pt 2|

GROUP: GOT7

GENRE: Smut, Angst, Pure unadulterated nonsense

LENGTH: 3.6 K

Gif used below is not mine

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

My eyes widened at Yugyeom’s words.

“E-excuse me?” I squeaked.

Yugyeom chuckled, burying his face in my neck.

“I didn’t stutter sweetheart” he whispered, heartedly kissing the side of my neck.

“So I raised a sex fiend is what you’re telling me?” Jinyoung tsked again while Yugyeom just chuckled.

“Sex fiend is a bit much hyung” Yugyeom spoke, his shy nature slipping through.

The whiplash with this boy was ridiculous.

“You have no damn right to talk about what’s too much after that” Jackson spoke up, dusting himself from off and standing up straight.

“What was this theory though?” Mark asked with an eyebrow raised.

Why did he have to fucking ask that? I felt my cheeks burn at the question and I began to fidget, lowering my gaze.

“Please. You’ve almost fucked the maknae in front of us and now you’re embarrassed? Really?” JB pointed out, obviously amused.

Yugyeom pulled me over to one of the couches where he sat down, pulling me into his lap and wrapping his arms around my waist. He kissed my cheek sweetly and I had to tone down my heart’s exaggerated reaction so I wouldn’t over think his actions.

“Go on, talk” He encouraged gently.

“Is he seducing her?” Jinyoung asked incredulously.

“What did I fucking tell you?” Bambam exclaimed.

“Look we can discuss Yugyeom’s sex preferences later. As for right now, answer the question princess” JB said, effectively turning the conversation back to me.

I ignored the slight raise in my pulse at the nickname best I could as I hid my face behind my mass of curls.

“Do I have to?” I whined.

I felt a hand brush my curls away from my neck, placing a kiss to the base of it. The tension from my body disappeared almost altogether but was immediately replaced by sexual frustration and longing. His lips were so close to my spot. A few inches down and I’d be done for. I barely registered Yugyeom’s low and breathy “please” as scenarios involving both my spine and a certain group of boys invaded my thoughts. In my blissed out state I began to talk.

“Yeah, okay. Well I, Yugyeom, cut that out” The feeling of him innocently playing with my curls was divine but I needed to focus on saying just enough while concentrating on not revealing too much and, with his hand in my curls, I knew I wouldn’t be able to censor myself. He chuckled, letting his hand drop back down to my waist gently.

“Okay. This is going to sound weird, so please don’t judge but I was talking to Jimin and Taehyung” I began but Jinyoung cut me off with a comment.

“This doesn’t even sound like it’s going to end well”.

“I meant she kissed us all, yes? I say it ended pretty damn well. Right babe?” Bambam spoke, sending me a playful wink.

“Continue beautiful” Mark prompted.

I ignored the burn in my cheeks from the various nicknames and tried my best to continue without stuttering.

“And we got on the subject of you guys and well, uh, sex. So Jimin asked how do I think all of you would be…in bed” I let my gaze drop to the floor before continuing.

I started to squirm a bit out of sheer embarrassment but Yugyeom’s hands went firmly to my hips, effectively stopping me.

“Stop” He groaned.

“And here we fucking go again” Jaebum chuckled.

“You try having her moving like that on your lap and then you tell me how much self-restraint you have left” Yugyeom quipped.

“A-anyway” I began, letting them know I was still here and wanted to get this over with so I could just forget this embarrassment ever fucking happened and let my dream end on a happy note.

“I actually started, ah, thinking about it and Taehyung said you can figure out how a guy fucks by how he kisses. Jimin said I would never do something like that and…I sort of hinted that I would definitely be into it but could never really go through with it. This led to that and it ended up becoming a dare”.

When I finished there was silence for a few moments so I raised my head, my eyes meeting Mark’s first. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips as he watched me.

“So it was dare?” He asked slowly.

“Well, yes and no. I wanted to do it. I was just too shy to ask on my own. The dare gave me the push I needed I guess” I spoke as I nervously toyed with the ring on my finger.

“So you’ve thought about kissing us?” Bambam asked innocently.

“Yes. You can’t blame me. You are all so disrespectful” I groaned, standing up so I could pace, much to Yugyeom’s dismay.

“Disrespectful?” JB asked, obviously amused.

I groaned leaning my head against a wall and shutting my eyes.

“Yes. You’re all incredibly sexy and being frustrated to this extent and in this way doesn’t help”.

“So you’ve thought about us, like that?” Bambam asked, turning the conversation back around.

“How did you think each of us would be in bed babygirl?” Jackson’s question immediately followed Bambam’s.

“You just had to fucking ask?” I groaned, lightly hitting my forehead against the wall.

Yugyeom chuckled.

“I mean we do want to know. How do you think I’d be baby?” His words went straight to my core and I bit my lip to keep myself composed.

“I think we all have a good idea of how’d you be. Especially after that” Jaebum commented.

“Lucky for her, she’ll be the only one in this room with exact confirmation of how good I actually am” Yugyeom spoke lowly and I could practically see that small smirk on his damn face.

I groaned again at the insinuation of his words.

“Ignore them angel. Can you answer the question please?” Youngjae asked in a sweet voice.

I kept quiet, not really wanting to handle more embarrassment than absolutely necessary. I felt hands on my hips following my prolonged silence and I was pulled into a solid chest. I craned my head to see Jaebum behind me.

“No one has asked the most important question yet” Jaebum mused, his face dangerously close to my neck.

I raised an eyebrow, though he couldn’t see it.

“You have practically embarrassed me to no goddam end and somehow we haven’t asked the most important question?” I asked incredulously.

“Well” he inhaled sharply, pulling me completely off of the wall and against his frame.

“This question doesn’t require a verbal answer so maybe that’s a bit of comfort” he said in a low sweet tone, pulling me closer to him, swaying slightly.

“This answer” Jaebum bit my neck, harshly causing a rush of heat to surge through my body and my head to fall back onto his shoulder.

“Is purely physical sweetheart”.

His voice was a low purr, calming and yet so alluring.

“In other words, how are you in bed baby?” Jackson’s voice was added to the mix once more.

Before I could answer, the man behind me spoke.

“How much you want to bet that princess here is a screamer?” he questioned, fingers playing with my curls absentmindedly.

“Definitely” Mark chuckled and I looked up in time to see him smirk.

“How would you know?” I asked with an eyebrow raised and a bit of confidence.

He answered so quickly, it made me suspicious. He had to know something that the others didn’t. He caught the suspicious look in my eye, winking playfully before he turned his attention elsewhere.

“Oh trust me, we can tell” Jinyoung answered, voice lowering and bringing me back to focus.

“I wonder what turns you on” Youngjae stared at me with a sweet smile.

“Really now?” I asked in a tone a bit darker.

Though it was a surprise, Youngjae’s surprising subtle confidence as well as sweet demeanor, helped to calm my nerves. Youngjae’s smile changed to a small smirk before he nodded, letting out a small ‘mhm’.

“Her hair is big turn on for her” Bambam blurted out.

I turned to him, eyes widening. Why in fucks name did he say that? How did he know that?

“Is that so?” Jinyoung mused.

“You like having your hair pulled angel?” Youngjae asked, with an amused smile playing at his lips.

“I’m not answering that” I immediately answered lowly.

I’ll be damned if I gave them self-incriminating evidence. It was silent for a moment before I felt a hand tangle itself in my curls and yank, pulling my head back. I let out a high pitched whine as I was now staring at Jaebum. A slow smile crossed his features.

“Answer your question Youngjae?” The man with a hand in my curls asked, turning his gaze to him and untangling his hand from my hair.

The man in question nodded before speaking.

“Also raises a few more”

“Like what else does she like” Yugyeom spoke from his position on the couch, leaning forward with forearms resting on his knees.

“You’re trying to get me fucked Bam” I groaned when Jaebum began subtly playing with my curls, his grip loosening significantly.

“And the issue with that is?” Mark asked with an eyebrow raised.

What the hell was even going on anymore? I should feel dirty, easy, like a slut. But I didn’t. I felt wanted, sexy and beyond horny. I was torn between feeling like I owed Taehyung and Jimin or killing them because this ordeal may very well kill me.

“Wait, Mark, how are you so sure she’s a screamer?” Jackson asked diverting the conversation back to Mark’s previous statement with a hint of suspicion in his tone.

Hell, I was suspicious too. How did Mark know? I racked my mind for all possible scenarios of how he could know that, all scenarios being ridiculously sexy but beyond frustrating. Mark chuckled, deep and gorgeous, before raising his head and meeting my eyes first. He knew that I was beyond confused, racking my brain for all possibilities. He bit his lip before speaking, teasing me with those damn bedroom eyes he was giving me.

“How do I know?” He repeated the question, pausing to push himself off of the table to make his way over to me.

“Well, I came home early one day. Thinking I could hopefully get some sleep but someone had other ideas”.

“Oh my motherfucking god” I groaned shutting my eyes in hopes that it would relieve the embarrassment I felt as the realization of what he was talking about clicked in my mind. Mark Tuan had fucking caught me? The universe wants me to die.

“So I walk in and I hear someone moan, loudly. A beautiful sound really. Now I’m walking around to find out who made the sound. And know what I find?”

I feel two fingers under my chin, tilting my head upwards so I can open my eyes to meet his. JB let go of my hips completely. Mark leaned down, his lips dangerously close to mine.

“This little one, legs spread with a hand between them. Head thrown back, hair still wet from a shower, that dark red towel stopping me from seeing everything I wanted to but what I saw was more than enough” his voice lowered a bit and I clenched my thighs again.

“Caught that” Yugyeom teased but I couldn’t even break eye contact with Mark to look at the maknae. Mark and I held eye contact, his bedroom eyes pretty much ensnaring me.

“You’re fucking kidding” Jinyoung spoke up.

Mark looked up at him, breaking eye contact and changing tactics to a physical hold on me, his arm going around my waist tightly.

“Am I really?” Mark paused.

“So how do I know that she can only take two fingers?”

I felt my cheeks burn at his statement. Must he recount every moment?

“Really?” JB asked with a darker tone and eyebrows raised from his stance next to Jinyoung.

Mark gave a small nod before he spoke again, this time looking back at me.

“But what I really couldn’t get out of my mind was the way she screamed when she came. She was so vocal, back arching up off the bed and her fingers, God, fucking drenched.” He finished his statement by taking my ear in between his perfect teeth.

“Mark” I whined, causing him to tighten his hold on my waist.

He chuckled, answering me with a dark and low “yes?”.

“Mind showing us?” Jaebum questioned with a playful smirk on his face.

I groaned and hid my face in Mark’s chest and he chuckled.

“What, shy now beautiful?” He asked.

Before I could even properly answer, he grabbed my curls and yanked back so I met his eyes again. He bit his lip when we locked eyes and his gaze dropped down to my neck. I let out a strangled moan as Mark leaned to to place a heated kiss on my neck.

“Good job on the hair thing Bambam” Jackson praised.

“Bambam h-how do you even know about the fucking hair thing?” I stuttered, trying not to focus on Mark’s lips on my neck or his arm around me.

“Language angel” Youngjae chided before walking over to me, causing Mark to move from my neck and stand close behind me with his arms loosely around my frame. He stopped right in front of me, raising a hand and allowing a finger to trail down my lips slowly.

“I hear another curse come from those lips and you’ll be using that mouth for something else”.

What?

Did Youngjae just say that?

“Youngjae” Jinyoung spoke his name in a tone that was mixed with amusement and obvious surprise.

“Him too? First Yugyeom now Youngjae?” Jaebum asked,

“Oh please. We all knew about Yugyeom” I spoke in a low tone, surprising myself.

Mark even let go of me to look at me in surprise. Fuck they heard me.

“Oh?” Yugyeom questioned with a devious glint in his eyes.

“Is there something here that we don’t know about?” Jackson spoke.

“I swear if you two have been fucking on the low and haven’t told me, I’ll kill you both” Bambam whined loudly eliciting a huff and an “I wish” from Yugyeom.

Looking around the room, I was met with expectant faces and raised eyebrows.

“No, we’re not together like that” I spoke softly.

“But, Bambam said it earlier, we all know you don’t move your hips that well because you dance” I chuckled, attempting to relieve the tension.

“Wanna find out how well they can move?”.

“Fucking rabbits. The two of you” Jinyoung chuckled.

“Know anything else Bambam?”

Jackson questioned eagerly, diverting the conversation yet again.

I was snapped from my second small burst of confidence as I silently prayed to God he didn’t. Please. I cannot fucking handle anymore. I felt my body becoming more and more frustrated with how badly it was being teased and how badly it just wanted to cum by the second.

“Well, I know one other thing. Hyungs, move away from her for a second” Bambam asked.

Mark moved away from me and with a final sweet kiss to my lips, Youngjae, who never necessarily left my side since his comment, moved away from me as well. I watched Youngjae move away from me, letting his teeth catch his bottom lip before he finally broke my gaze. I had about 5 seconds before I comprehended what Bambam just said. What in hell else did he know about?

“Babe come here”

I looked toward Bambam and he raised an eyebrow, letting his head fall slightly.

“Well?” He questioned when I didn’t go to him immediately.

I hesitated for a moment before walking over slowly to him. He pulled me to his side, his arm going underneath my black oversized sweater and his hand pressing against the bare skin of my waist once I was within reach. The was varying reactions inside me were insane. My mind was struck with a mixture of fear and excitement, my blood heated and my body buzzed with the idea of finally being touched. As he skimmed the skin of my lower back, I froze. There was only one possible reason that he was near my back. He knew about the tattoo. My breath hitched at the realization. How does he fucking know about the tattoo? As if reading my thoughts, he began to speak.

“Ya know” he began, pulling me closer to his frame.

“You should really keep your voice down when talking to those two baby”.

With that his hand trailed up my back gently, careful not to touch any skin but the minute he reached the base of my neck all hell broke loose as he slowly trailed his finger down my back, tracing the tattooed korean letters along the length of my spine and arch of my back. My reaction was instantaneous, I threw my head back and let out a curse in the form of a loud moan followed by a whine of his name. But he didn’t let up, instead he moved his soft, plush lips to where my spine (and tattoo) began, giving a slow heated kiss to area, the same area Yugyeom would have been if his lips were an inch or two lower.

“Oh my god, Bam, please.” I whimpered.

I heard several intakes of breath.

“Well fuck” JB breathed a laugh.

“I bet you sound gorgeous when you beg” Jinyoung said off handedly.

“And just what in the hell was that?” Jackson asked with wide eyes.

My eyes widened and I scrambled away from Bambam who wore a proud smirk on his face.

“Gonna show them?” He teased.

“Show us what?” Jackson questioned, causing me to snap my head in his direction.

My hand instinctively went to where Bambam kissed, tenderly brushing my fingers over the slight raise of my skin because of the ink. Jackson walked up to me confidently, stopping a few inches from me.

“What did he just touch princess?” He asked gently, eyes clouded over with lust.

“My skin?” I squeaked hoping he would buy it.

Eliminating the space between us, he leaned down so his lips were a hair away from mine as his hands went to my hips.

“Try again” his voice taking on a husky tone.

“Jackson” I whined, trying to prompt him to drop it.

“As much as I love to hear my name coming from those pretty lips of yours, I want to give you a reason to say it” He muttered, a finger trailing down my lips.

The temptation was all too real as I felt a sudden surge of confidence rush through me. Taking the chance while I had it, I took the tip of Jackson’s finger between my lips, sucking gently. He raised his eyebrows at the action, keeping eye contact as I released his finger.

“Oh so now you’re bold?” Mark commented playfully.

“Don’t do that” Jackson groaned, dropping his head to the crook of my neck.

“See, it’s things like that ends in you not being able to walk the next day” Jaebum spoke in a low voice.

“Angel, can we see?” Youngjae asked, redirecting the conversation back to what it stemmed from and sounding a bit more excited than I expected.

I felt the wetness between my legs actually soaking through my panties and I let out a breath to compose myself.

“We’ll take good care of you afterward baby. Just show us” Jackson said, brushing his lips against mine briefly.

I took a deep breath, nodding as I moved away from Jackson and more toward the center of the room. Turning toward Bambam and Jackson, I lifted the hem of the sweater and in one move it was up and over my head. I let it drop to the floor, lifting my curls slightly so they could see the entirety of the tattoo.

“God” I heard from Mark.

“You’re trying to fucking kill me” I heard Yugyeom groan.

Jackson walked around me to see what they were and I suddenly felt very exposed. But for some reason the emotion associated wasn’t embarrassment this time, but lust.

“A few years back I got this. I always wanted to get one and I didn’t want it readily visible so I settled for my spine. It hurt like a bitch but when it healed, it made the area highly sensitive”.

“That doesn’t explain how Bambam knows about it” Jinyoung’s came across.

“Well, since I never told Bam about it directly, he must’ve overheard when I told Taehyung and Jimin” I explained, my voice lower than I would have liked but the effect they were having on me was insane.

I raised my eyes to look at Bambam and his eyes darkened seeing as their gaze was fixated on my chest, which was concealed only by a thin white shirt and bra. When he raised his gaze to meet mine I raised my eyebrow slightly and bit down on my bottom lip as a way to keep my composure.

“You should see the way she’s looking at me right now. It’s like she’s begging for it” Bambam said in a low tone.

“It’s always the quiet ones” I heard Jinyoung chuckle before I felt warm fingers trailing down the length of the tattoo and I let out another loud moan, my head falling back onto someone’s shoulder.

“Is it really that sensitive?” Youngjae asked, voice much closer than I remember.

“Mhm. C-can you please refrain from d-doing that if you’re not prepared to deal with the aftermath?” I whined.

I felt hands grab my hips and pull me back into a solid chest and a very obvious arousal.

“Deal with the aftermath?” I heard Jaebum chuckle.

“Gladly”.

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stormecloudy-blog · 7 years

Text

amor proibido iii

Special thanks to @mercyonmendes for writing the Shawn blurb!

Get me out of my mind and get you out of those clothes - Fall Out Boy

Deep breath. I can do this. I have done nothing wrong at this point. Everything is good. My life is absolutely fucking amazing.

I can have this conversation with the man I am going to be marrying and not let on some kid tried to kiss me. Okay, he is not just some kid now...but whatever. I have a fiance and I love him. End of story.

“Listen...” I say, trying to let on how much stress I am under from this shit show of my life. “I will call you tomorrow because I am exhausted. I just want to crawl into bed and fall asleep.”

Landon says, “I don’t like having to sleep when you aren’t next to me. What am I supposed to do when I want someone to make my dick hard?”

“I love you, talk to you soon, sweetheart.”

“You too,” I reply, ending the call and lying back.

There is now a special place in hell for me.

My phone chirps with a text early the next morning Concert day.

A picture of a sleepy eyed Shawn appears on my screen, his hair askew and his lids half closed.

Holy fuck.

Returning to my phone, I see two messages.

You don’t seem pleased to know I have your number.

I am not going to apologize for kissing you.

Fuck my life.

This is my fucking job, and I don’t have time for some fucking kid to think it is okay to mess with me as a joke. I am not interested in you. Please stop.

Oh, my god. I am such a fucking liar.

I bet you look beautiful in the morning.

FUCK. He is trying to be sweet. Okay, deep breath. He is just full shit and trying to get you to sleep with him. There is nothing genuine about his words, right?

You are so full of shit. No wonder your eyes are so brown.

So you noticed my eyes? Yours are gorgeous. You are gorgeous. I’ll see you tonight at the concert, yeah?

Go fuck yourself. It’s my job. That’s all.

I want to fuck you. Tonight.

Holy shit. What the fuck is my life even?

Shawn

Sitting on the edge of the bed in my hotel room, I mindlessly strummed my guitar as I gazed out at the city and wallowed in my own frustration. I wasn't even sure why I was frustrated.

Her evident frustration was justified: I was an arrogant, irritating little prick to her. I also wasn't sure why I did that either. It had been such a habit to crank up the sexually heated charm that it had now become second nature to me whether I wanted it to or not. But hey, I am still essentially a teenage guy. This was normal, right?

A heavy sigh escaped my lungs and I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends in confusion. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't focus my mind on anything but her. Meeting attractive girls every day was a job requirement so obviously I was struck by some of them. Again, reiterating the hormonal teen part. But she was different. Could it be because she was an older woman? I did have a thing for that. God, do I have mommy issues? Is that even a thing? I cut off my own incessant rambling thoughts with a loud groan which prompted Geoff to bang on the adjoining wall and mutter something crude. Ignoring him, I loudly strummed the opening chords for Roses that I had just written down and released my pent up disgruntlement in the only way I knew how. I sang.

“Can I ask you a few more questions before the shows starts, Shawn?” I ask, stepping towards him and breaking his concentration.

He looks up at me with a smile, placing the guitar down beside him. “Sure, why not,” he says.

Shawn raises an eyebrow. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, I just...”