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thecreelhouse · 2 months

Text

crystal clear

Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

WC: 14k (i am so sorry)

Summary: What started as friends “helping” one another out, turns into something much more than either of you anticipated. Secrets are revealed, mistakes are made, and confessions are confessed.

This is the 3rd and final part of this lil unnamed roommate trilogy! You can find part one and part two here!

CW/Tags: language, smut, PiV sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), cum play, super brief anal play, free use, praise kink, humiliation kink, switch!steve & switch!reader, cockwarming, choking, jealousy, angst. Lots. Of. Angst., hurt/comfort everywhere, internalized biphobia, weed mention, happy ending i promise!!

A/N: this took way longer to write than I expected, and apologies for the late post, I had too many technical difficulties 😭 major thanks to @stevenose for hyping this up and helping me on some parts<3 this one’s long as hell, and there’s a LOT going on, but I hope y’all that enjoyed the first two like this one as well. thank you for the support on the others!! <3 title is from a hayley williams’ song by the same name lol.

“Is it weird yet?”

The first time either of you asked the question in the backs of both of your minds, Steve had you bent over the bathroom sink, pulling your hair, forcing you to watch as he railed into you relentlessly.

You can’t remember who asked first, but neither of you answered it. Not out loud, at least. You were too busy moaning Steve’s name to worry about the question.

“Isn’t this kinda weird?”

The question came from you, after Steve came home from a failed date, a failure you silently celebrated. He was in a funk, not expecting anything, but you offered, so how could he say no?

Because turning down the offer of you riding him until he cried—his request, comfortably carried out by you enjoying the mini power trip over your roommate, seemed foolish. You did your best to hide how smug you felt that Steve’s date didn’t work out, so when you offered to cheer him up, and he begged on his knees to touch you, you’d be insane to turn down the opportunity.

“People do this? But that’s… weird, isn’t it?”

“So… what if you’re not in the mood? ‘Cause I don’t wanna initiate anything when you’re not feeling it. Like, I get that’s the whole point, but I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable—”

You’re laying on Steve’s bed, the morning after fucking around when you got home from the bar. It didn’t last long, with the two of you too drunk, too tired, getting handsy but being clumsy messes while laughing and falling over one another multiple times.

Instead, you fell asleep in his arms, and you wanted to kick yourself for it.

You’ve been trying to distance your feelings from whatever kind of roommates-with-benefits dynamic had appeared between the two of you, but fuck it wasn’t easy.

“What if I wear something specific when I’m cool with it?” You suggest, tugging on the scrunchie on your wrist. “If I have this on my wrist, you’re free to do whatever.”

Steve was leaning against his dresser, arms crossed as his eyes were glued to your figure, barely covered by an old shirt of his while it clung to the softest parts of you.

He wishes you didn’t look so goddamn cute in his clothes.

“Uh— yeah. Yeah, that works, I guess— ” Steve pauses to overthink. Again. “Are you sure this isn’t too weird?”

“Babe,” It slips out, making you stall as you sit up, clearing your throat to brush past it. “If I thought it was too weird, would I be the one to suggest this?”

Steve blushes, in the way where it’s so much red across his face, it blooms to the tips of his ears. He can feel it, brushing his hair over his ears, ignoring the look you give him.

“Right… Uh, so what should I do? Like, to show you I’m cool with it?” Steve’s puzzled on how this even works, or who would find this hot to begin with. Yet with each confession of what turns you on, the quicker it is for him to get harder with every, and probably any fantasy.

“You want a scrunchie too?” Steve rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t dim the red hue across his face. You giggle at how flustered he is while pulling a thin, black hairband from your other wrist, holding it out. “Would this work?”

Hesitantly, Steve takes the hairband before slipping it over his hand. “Okay, but… What if someone says something?”

You snort, “First of all, it’s just an elastic band. People won’t know. And if anyone’s inspecting your wrists that closely, they’re just fucking weird.” He slips it onto the other wrist, the one his watch is always on, hoping it blends in better. “Steve, now I can’t see it.”

He rolls it over his hand before stretching it between his fingers, playfully shooting it back your way. “Fuck it, I won’t use anything.”

“You sure? That’s— what if I did something when you’re not in the mood?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“Immediately?”

“Immediately. I swear.”

You’ve appreciated how easy it’s been to talk about whatever either of you want, or don’t want. This roommates-with-benefits thing might’ve been awkward, still is if you’re being honest, but talking about boundaries from the start with Steve gave one less thing for the two of you to worry about.

He rubs his jaw, lost in thought. “What’s it called again?”

“Free use, but If you’re not comfortable, or just want it to be one sided, don’t be afraid to tell me.”

“N- no! ” Steve shouts quickly, immediately embarrassed by how desperate he sounds. “I mean… what’s off limits for you?”

You smirk, twirling the scrunchie between your fingers. “Nothin’. You?”

Steve exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Uh… I wanna say nothing, but… if something happens that I’m not cool with, or you’re not cool with, we can stop, right?”

“Yeah, Stevie. We’re not doing this if either of us aren’t into it. If I do something to you that you don’t like, tell me, okay? It’s just like fucking around any other time, but a lil’ more… exciting.”

With a scoff, he sits next to you on the bed, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were bored when we fuck. You never sound like you’re bored when you’re shouting my name.”

You elbow his side, ignoring the way your stomach flips, “Shut up, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How’d you even find out this was a thing?” His curiosity’s going to kill him someday, he just knows it, but he can’t stop himself from asking. “I doubt those romance novels get that filthy.”

“Um…” You retreat into yourself, growing shy. “I might have, like, a teensy tiny stash of some… movies… and stuff.”

Steve’s face lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“You? Since when?!” He’s smirking while regret sets in; should’ve kept that one to yourself. “Wait. Why haven’t I seen you in the back at work?”

Laughing, you admit, “Steve, why the hell would I go where you work to rent porn? I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“Well— I- I wouldn’t make fun of you, y’know.”

Again, you bark out a laugh, “Bullshit, you totally would, especially if you saw wh—” You freeze eyes darting away as your laughter dies in your throat. Steve’s lit up like a fucking city skyline now.

Why, oh why did you have to be cursed with such a big mouth?

“Say it,” He taunts, a smirk growing on his face. “Tell me.”

“Harrington, I’m not telling you a damn thing.”

Steve nods a few times, like he understands, then shoots a mischievous look. “Where’s the tapes?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“Neither was your vibrator dying, but look, it brought us to some good things, right?”

“Th- that’s different, Steve.” You can feel your face heating up, your skin prickling as he puts you on the spot, hand resting on your thigh as he studies your expression.

Leaning in, his voice drops low as he asks, “How different are we talkin’?” His palm is warm, long fingers already close to your heat without even trying.

“Steve…” The warning tone in your voice means nothing to him right now; your gaze follows the direction his hand heads in, inching closer to where you want him most. Where you always want him. Where you always need him.

You expect him to stop, but his fingers ghost over your cunt, covered by the sweet, heart-patterned fabric of your panties— his favorite pair. You shiver as he adds some pressure, slowly rubbing along your sensitive core.

“What, did talking about being used like a slut make you wet already?” Steve taunts, chuckling as you roll your hips forward, trying to chase the feeling he’s barely giving you. “Tell me where the tapes are, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to hold back any noises that might give him satisfaction and an ego boost. He mocks you with a pout and a whine.

“Well, guess I’ll have to find ‘em myself,” Before you can register what Steve says, he’s out the door and rushing to your room, while you’re left to shake yourself out of the fog of lust he left you in.

“H- hey! Don’t you fucking dare!”

When you make it to your room, Steve’s on his hands and knees, snooping under your bed. “Not there…”

“Steve, please, ju- just drop it.”

“Why?” He’s having way too much fun teasing you like this, but you’re embarrassed, wishing you could take your confession back. He’s casually opening drawers in your dresser, peeking inside each one with no success. “You wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t want me to see.”

“I— there’s some stuff I wanna keep to myself, I didn’t mean to say anything.” You’re digging your nails into your palms as they roll into clenched fists.

“Thought you liked being humiliated?” When Steve brings it up, it’s part of the teasing, until he looks up to see your uncomfortable body language. He steps away from the drawer he was digging through before making his way to you.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” He comes over to you, cautious as he watches the way your fingers curl into your palms and tense into fists, while you look at the floor, trying not to cry. “I promise I didn’t see anything. And I- I’m sorry for invading your space.”

Steve looks ashamed, and you feel bad. He didn’t know your tears were serious, but you’re already consumed by your own emotions.

You finally look at him, bottom lip curled into a wobbling pout, eyes glassy, “Can I be alone for a bit?”

“You- Yeah, f’course,” Steve automatically wants to comfort you, but he fights it off, just like the time you came home after your awful day, giving you the space you need. “I’ll be…y’know… yeah.”

Steve gently shuts the door behind him, leaving you to cry in the comfort of your own solitude.

···························

A few hours pass, with Steve spending most of it curled up on the couch, trying to mindlessly watch a movie, but he can’t get his mind off of you. He feels horrible that he didn’t catch onto your emotions earlier. He was hoping you’d come out by now, but you’ve been holed up in your room since you asked him to leave.

In the few moments he wasn’t consumed by his guilt, Steve’s thoughts would be spinning, trying to figure out what was on those tapes that would make you so upset if he saw them. Maybe you were just into kink. He wouldn’t judge you for that, everyone’s got their own… interests.

What if they contained something violent, or dark? Again, he wouldn’t judge you, but he’d be concerned for you and your safety. Then again, if it’s between two consenting adults, it’s none of his business.

Still doesn’t stop him from wishing it was his business.

All this time, up until the vibrator incident, Steve had every right to believe you were such a sweet, innocent person. Now, he’s not so sure, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Steve’s so wrapped up in his own spiraling thoughts, he doesn’t hear you open the door, or walk into the room. Instead, he notices you when you drop a cardboard box on the floor near him, startling him out of his layered overthinking.

“Holy fu— ” He sits up and rubs his eyes before locking his view with yours, heart sinking over how tear stained your face is. How swollen your eyes are. Had you been crying this whole time? “… Hi. What’s— are you�� ” Steve’s unsure what to ask first: “what’s in there?” or “are you okay?”

You make it a point to sit on the floor, far from Steve. Crossing your legs underneath you, you’re beginning to pick at your nails nervously, unable to look at him.

“That’s what you were looking for earlier,” You rasp, fighting off another wave of tears.

Steve’s tempted to rip the box open immediately, but he restrains himself. “Honey, if you don’t want me to see, it’s okay. I had no right to dig around earlier, even if I was just joking. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I- I’m so sorry I did. And if it makes you feel better to keep this to yourself, we can forget about all of this. I’ll never bring it up ever again.”

His sweet, apologetic rambling just makes this heavier for you to bear. You lean into your hands, face buried in your palms as you groan, frustrated. “Steve, sometimes I wish you were a dick, because it’d make shit like this so much easier.”

“What are you talking about?”

“At this point it’s just… look, it’s probably for the best you know about this, since we’re fucking around.” You murmur into your hands. “Let me know when you’re disgusted and want me to move out.”

Steve’s brows furrow, really concerned now. “I’d never… I don’t want you to leave. Why would you think that?”

You sit up but look away from him, giving a weak gesture towards the box. “You’ll see.”

Again, Steve hesitates, but you look at the box as you still avoid his gaze, nodding in reassurance. “This isn’t a trick, or anything. I’m letting you— I’m showing you what you should know.”

So, carefully, he opens the box’s flaps one by one before peering inside; Steve slides off the couch and to the floor next to the box, pulling out a tape.

It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before; some tacky porno, with sleazy cover art and a corny title. It’s got your standard, generic shot of a man fucking a woman from behind, with her hands bound in front of her and a blindfold over her eyes.

“This…” He stops himself before finishing with ‘is nothing’, because maybe it’s still a big deal to you. “It’s not worth getting yourself upset over. Why’d you think I’d hate you for this?”

You shake your head. “That’s not the one I’m worried about. I didn’t take anything out, figured I might as well show you everything. Keep going.”

Steve sets the tape on the coffee table before reaching into the box again, pulling out another tape. Similar design layout, but the cover photo is of a woman sitting back, pulling her legs up and back with her, while a man slips a plug into her ass. Steve flips the case over, finding the same couple, positions switched while the woman rims the man.

Steve chokes down a moan, thrown off that you’d be into this, and yet, it’s still not shocking enough to him to warrant kicking you out.

“Y’know this isn’t that bad either, right?”

“Yeah, that’s not the one I’m— you’ll know it when you see it.” You murmur, looking over at Steve, clearing his throat as he adjusts himself on the floor, playing it off like he’s finding a comfy position to sit in. You wish you could tease him over this, but you hold off, knowing he’s going to hate you any minute.

Steve continues plucking tapes out of the box, examining each one, still unsure what would have you so distraught if he were to find out.

Bondage? No big deal. Choking? He kind of figured out you liked that the first time the two of you fucked. It’s common. Free use? You just broke that down for him, so it can’t be what has you upset.

One of the tapes has a few kinks sprinkled throughout; gangbangs, exhibitionism/voyeurism, orgasm denial, femdom—

“Jesus, this one’s got everything, huh?” Steve tries to break the tension, but you don’t laugh. “This… this was the one, right?”

You huff out a mirthless laugh, pulling your knees to your chest before resting your head on them. “I fucking wish, Steve.”

He can’t stand how hard this is hitting you right now. “I don’t need to know, not if it’s going to hurt you. Seriously, it’s your business, whatever it is, and that’s okay. We all have our secrets, right?”

“Jesus fucking christ, Steve.” You scoot over to him and the box, digging to find the one you’re worried about.

“Hey, wait— ” He holds your arms softly, looking into your cry-worn eyes, only making your bottom lip quiver again. “Seriously, you don’t… whatever you’re hiding isn’t for me to know, clearly. And I’m not going to take something that personal to use as leverage to kick you out— why would you even think that? I love living with you. No weird kink is gonna change that.”

The last part almost makes you laugh. Almost.

You wish the way he said he loves living with you didn’t make your stomach flip, either. Any other conversation, that'd be one of the sweetest things he’s ever told you, but you know that’s going to change once he’s too disgusted with you.

When Steve stopped you, your hands had already grabbed the tape. You pull it out, tossing it on the table before pushing yourself back, away from him as you anticipate the worst.

He’s quiet for a bit as you watch his eyes fall on the cover, taking in every detail, flipping it over to read whatever the corny summary says. He looks back at you and just shrugs.

Steve just fucking shrugs.

“Threesomes are… not a big deal. Like, at all.” He doesn’t say this to belittle you or your feelings, more to assure you that there’s worse to worry about than liking porn about threesomes.

You start crying again, silently, as you hug your knees to your chest again. “God, Steve, please don’t make me spell it out.”

As his brows furrow while looking over the tape again, he gives another shrug. “I feel stupid— ”

“You’re not stupid, I promise. I’m just scared to say it out loud to you.”

“Okay, two girls, one guy, having consensual sex together. I genuinely don’t g— ” It hits him, and he feels a little sick, not from your silent confession, not from the topic itself, but the fact he didn’t get it sooner. He hates how he dragged this out, only making you more upset. “... Oh.”

You’re not straight. You clearly still like men, but attraction doesn’t stop there for you. He glances down into the box, finding another tape, one of just two women together. It looks like the one peeking out under that is similar, too.

“Yeah. Yep, okay, there it is.” You push off the floor to your feet, sniffling. “Well, it was cool being friends and… whatever the fuck, but I’ll pack and get myself out as soon as I can.”

Steve scrambles to get up, following you down the hall as you head towards your room, beating you to the doorway. He stops in the frame, blocking you from retreating to the bedroom.

“We’re talking about this. You can’t just… you can’t just drop that and expect me to brush it off, or be disgusted with you. Neither are happening.” Steve’s tone is firm, but everything he says is with care. Your eyes well up with inevitable tears. “Hey, honey, look at me.”

You try pushing past him, but he refuses to let you in. “Stevie, p- please— ”

“No, enough with the hiding. I know this is scary to talk about, but please, don’t shut me out.” He moves into your room, gently pulling you in with him to sit on your bed. “Can I be cheesy and thank you for sharing something so personal? That’s not easy for anyone, but you still did. Even if you thought you had to, that took guts.”

You reach for a pillow to cry into, and Steve doesn’t stop you, just lightly hangs his arm across your shoulders. You lean into him instantly, hugging the pillow for a moment before abandoning it, wrapping your arms around him instead.

“I thought you’d hate me,” Your voice is so small and shattered; it kills Steve that your fear has been weighing so heavy on your mind and heart. “That’s why I was so scared for you to find the box.”

“Nothing could ever make me hate you, angel. I’m sorry I caused so much stress for you.” He hugs you tighter, wishing he could take back these last few hours.

“It’s not like you knew. I’m not mad at you, Steve. I should’ve told you sooner.”

That shouldn’t make Steve huff out a laugh, but it does. The noise he makes turns into a silent, shoulder shaking laugh as he holds you. You’re so confused.

“Steve, what the fuck? You just told me— th- this- none of this is funny.”

He tries to control his laughter, and he does, but only for a moment. A quick pause to kiss your forehead. You push him back, reading his expression, still bewildered.

”I’m sorry, I— ” He runs a hand through his hair as he stifles his laughter, more successful this time. “— lemme grab something quick, okay?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer, just gets up and rushes to his room, snickering a few times to himself. You’re left baffled.

What the fuck just happened? And what the hell is so funny?

There’s sounds of some movement floating out of Steve’s room, soft grumbles of “where the hell did I put that?” and “jesus this is heavy”, making you smile, ever so slightly. He’s only gone for a moment before he returns with an old milk crate, carrying VHS tapes and magazines, it looks like.

Steve sets it on the bed next to you. “This… this is funny.”

Your brows furrow, still trying to understand what the hell he’s talking about.

“You can look, y’know.”

Most of the content is tacky porn, just like yours, mostly straight couples—

Wait.

You’re about to grab a tape, one similar to the film you showed Steve; another threesome porno, but this one has two men, one woman. It doesn’t take you more than a second to get it.

You snap your head up to look at him, holding the tape up, lost for words. “Are you— shut up. You’re joking.”

Steve leans back against your headboard, hands behind his head, almost appearing smug, but he just finds the coincidence really fucking funny. Sure enough, he starts laughing again. It’s not cruel, nor does it have a sharp edge. It’s just his usual warm, sweet laugh.

“I’d never joke about this. I swear.” His smile is like sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds on a stormy day, making you feel comfortable, happy, even. You’re not alone in this, you don’t have to be. Feelings aside, Steve proves time and time again how thoughtful and kindhearted he is as a friend; a completely different person from who he tried so hard to be back in high school.

“You didn’t have to tell me— n- not that I’m upset you did, just hope I didn’t pressure you to say something by being such a crybaby.”

“No, no way. When you said you should’ve told me sooner, I figured well, shit, I might as well come out to you, too.” Steve admits, “Honestly, I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I was scared you’d hate me.”

Your heart sinks; why does coming out have to be such a nerve-wracking event? Sometimes even dangerous if you confide in the wrong person. You’re grateful that’s far from the case here.

“I could never hate you, Steve. Never ever.” Though sincere, your attention falls back on the crate, eyes dancing over all of the tapes and magazines when a certain photo sticks out like a sore thumb.

He notices the way you pause, eyes falling on the familiar white border of a Polaroid, peeking out among the mess of filth. He lunges to grab it, but you beat him to it. Your jaw drops with a gasp at the lewd image.

“Steve, this is— ” He reaches out to grab it, but you push back, stumbling as you stand before rushing across the room, Polaroid in your hands. You stare at the photo in awe.

Striding across the room, Steve makes his way to you, about to grab the photo from your grip, “Give it back— ” You hide it behind your back while you’re against the wall, tucked in the corner with a smirk.

“Fuck no, this is karma for making me cry,” You giggle, causing relief to wash over Steve. He’s not even mad about this. He’s just happy to hear you laughing after today. You spin around, head ducked against the wall, studying the photo. “You’re so pretty on your knees, Stevie.”

Steve ignores how your comment makes his stomach flip, sneaking his hands around you to snatch the photo back. Eyes rolling, he jokingly grumbles, “Yeah, yeah, you had your fun.” You twirl around, attempting to grab it back, but he effortlessly holds it high above your head. He tries playing off the blush that rises up his neck and to his cheeks over your comment.

You can’t help thinking, How’d you even fit that into your mouth?

Steve chokes on air, eyes wide, “W- what?”

Apparently, you think out loud now.

“M’sorry,” You whisper, cringing at yourself. Steve just shakes his head as he clears his throat between laughs. He ends up sitting at the edge of your bed, tugging you closer to him, hands in yours.

Glancing up, he locks eyes with you while softly asking, “Are you disgusted by me?”

You stare at Steve, unsure if he’s joking or serious. “What? Because you’re not straight? No way, why would you even ask— ”

He holds his arms out with a lazy shrug. “There ya’ go, there’s my answer to you, too.” It takes a minute for you to understand what he means.

Why does he always have to be a smug little shit when he’s right?

“Okay, wait. Why the fuck were either of us worried? We’re both still friends with Robin, even after she came out.” You and Steve lock eyes before bursting out into laughter.

“It- it’s different when it’s just a friend!”

“Thought we were just friends.” Steve forces a teasing tone to his words, but maybe you’d answer differently this time.

“Well, yeah, but— it’s different since we’re fucking.”

So much for that.

It’s silent for a beat before Steve mutters, “We’re both morons.”

You smirk, “Now, that picture on the other hand, disgusts me,” Steve’s smile falters, your words making him nervous. “Because it looks like you’re totally better at deepthroating than I am.”

His jaw drops, face flushing red. “Okay, listen—”

“That’s a compliment, I promise!”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Steve plucks the scrunchie on your wrist back, letting go to softly snap against your skin. “This still okay?” Your breath hitches as you nod, feeling a hand slide to the small of your back, bringing you even closer to him.

“You- you don’t have to ask, that’s the whole point,” You rasp, trying to suppress the breathy, light groan threatening to break.

“Oh, I know,” Steve gets up, smirking down at you over how flustered you look. “Just wanted to make sure.” He slides past you to reach for the crate of filth before leaving the room.

Resisting the urge to let out a disappointed groan, you mutter under your breath, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not,” Steve quips as he walks by your room. Now you groan dramatically, and he just laughs while making his way down the hall.

Two can play that game.

You find Steve in the kitchen, looking around in a drawer, until you come up behind him and slam it shut. Startled, he jumps, and you take the opportunity to flip him around to face you, hands grabbing his hips before pinning him to the counter.

“Whoa— ” Steve’s eyes are wide at the abrupt maneuver, “—what are y- you- oh, shit.”

In the blur of manhandling him, Steve didn’t realize his pants are already around his ankles, not until you begin stroking him slowly. He grips the edge of the counter as a shuddered breath slips out, watching you from under hooded eyes.

You spit onto his length, coating his skin for a smoother glide, one that makes his hips buck roughly, challenging the grip you still have on one of them. When he settles down, you lick slowly along the underside of his cock, eyes locked on his as your tongue makes its way to the base, then down to his balls.

As you begin lapping and sucking, Steve’s head falls back against the cabinet, a classic move you usually make; halfway through one of the prettiest moans he’s made yet , he grumbles an “Ow, what the fuck?”

Naturally, you laugh, but with him in your mouth, the sensation of your muffled sound replaces his ruined moan with another. “Fuck, fuck— honey, I- god, I need you.”

His words bring you back to his shaft, one hand toying with his balls, while another reaches around to squeeze his ass, all while you take him into your mouth fully. “H- ohmyfuckinggod,” Steve’s face contorts into an expression at the crossroads of being pained and absolutely blissed out.

While you bob up and down on his cock, making him rasp out an airy cry when he hits the back of your throat, your hand on his backside inches towards his taut, sensitive hole.

He shivers, overstimulated by all three of your actions, “H- hey, angel, you… fuck… y’don’t gotta do th—” His words die on his lips, replaced by a throaty groan as your finger gently circles the tight ring; you moan around him, and he’s a goner, spilling into your throat without much warning.

You were going to leave him with a ruined orgasm, but another idea pops into your head.

“Fuck, fuck m’so sorry,” He’s babbling apologies as his hands fly to your head, holding you down onto his cock, still using your mouth as a personal cum dump. His chest heaves as his high winds down, hands letting up on your head, too.

Back on your feet, you kiss him roughly, but as he allows you in, you’re swapping spit with cum; surprised, he whines into your mouth as he pulls you against him, kissing back with a desperate, pathetic fervor. His fingers dig into your hips, tongue gliding along yours while he tastes himself. As you break the kiss, you murmur against his lips, glistening with the lewd slick, “Swallow.”

With a wicked smile, you step back and watch as he follows your command, adam’s apple bobbing before his mouth falls open with heavy pants.

You stretch up to kiss his cheek, whispering, “Good boy,” before turning on heel, leaving the room quiet, and a breathless Steve who feels filthy.

···························

The next day, you’re up early to catch up on some priorities, including some chores. You’ve got your headphones on while vacuuming, bopping around and (poorly) singing along to I Wanna Dance With Somebody while sweeping the hallway. Both the music and high pitched, droning suction of the vacuum block out any sound, especially Steve sneaking up behind you.

In one swift motion, he pulls your shorts down and pushes into you immediately. The surprise stretch makes you cry out in a little bit of agony, and a whole lotta’ bliss. You’ve got one hand on the nearest wall, while the other keeps you balanced on the vacuum handle as he lifts your leg to go deeper.

Steve rips your headphones off, “Are you always this fucking wet?”

You can’t answer, not with words, not when every and any thought has been fucked out of your head already. All you can do is whimper as your eyes roll back further with each rough slam into you.

The harder he thrusts, the closer you move to the wall, until you’re completely shoved against it. One hand wraps around your hip, the other tangles into your hair to pull you out and bend you over even more. All that holds you up is the wall against your chest, shoulders, and head, along with his grip, departing from their original spots to tug your arms behind your back and restrain them.

“Stevie…”

“This what y’wanted? With your gross, little fantasy?”

You shake your head— not the easiest when you’re shoved against the wall— pouting, and Steve immediately slows down, almost completely. “What’s wrong?”

“More,” is all you can rasp out.

“More… what?” Ever so slowly, he begins to move again. It’s still not enough.

“H- harder,” You murmur, and Steve mockingly hums in understanding, shoving himself to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you.

“Was that it?” He’s asking but he knows the answer.

“Faster,” Your needy little whine is just what he wanted to hear.

His pace picks up, unforgiving while railing into you, “That’s my girl.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Steve to climax, leaving you dripping, without release as he pulls out, satisfied. He swipes two fingers between your folds before they slip inside you, pushing his cum back into your entrance, laughing cruelly at the way you clench around him and groan tiredly.

Steve pulls his fingers out and brings them to your face, tapping your lips with the sticky, pearly slick covered fingers. “Open.” You obey, and gag as he shoves his fingers back farther. They slip back out, and he squeezes your face, mocking you from the night before, “Good girl.”

As he retreats to his room, you’re left alone, still an aroused mess, barely holding yourself up against the wall while trying to catch your breath.

···························

In the last few weeks, you’ve grown more comfortable with less clothing around Steve at home. He’s not complaining, especially later that night, when Steve watches you pass his room with the infamous vibrator in hand. Your outfit of a comfy bralette and shorts earns a double take from him.

“Hey, where ya’ goin’ with that?” He smirks at the bothered look on your face, probably still wound up from being used like a toy earlier, abandoned without your own climax.

“Shut up, Steve.” You grumble, but still stop in his doorway, flicking the switch on the wand on and off. Nothing happens, and you pout. “I think it died.”

“So… put new batteries in?”

“No, it’s like, dead dead. This was the third round of new batteries I put in, and still, nothin’.” You sigh with a shrug, “Eh, good riddance, I guess.”

You’re about to leave when Steve murmurs, “Not like you need it now.” Your face heats up and something pulls in your lower stomach.

“I mean… I do.” You walk away, and Steve follows you out the door.

“Huh? Why? You’ve got me.” It’s supposed to be a teasing joke, but it comes out more sincere than Steve intended.

“I- I’m not gonna just expect you to be in the mood whenever I am and need to… y’know.” Flipping the garbage can lid open, you drop the defunct sex toy into the trash. “Thanks for the memories, you stupid, janky wand.”

Steve snickers, “Yeah, the best memory being the day you needed my help.”

Ignoring him, you grab a glass from one of the cabinets, heading to the sink, but he leans against the edge to block you from the faucet.

Steve smirks; this could be fun. “And no, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

“See, that’s why I like my vibrator. It can’t sass back like a certain someone.”

“There’s many ways to shut a certain someone up.” You shove Steve aside and he scoffs. “Alright, well, next time you need to get off, don’t come crying to me.”

When he leaves, he ends up in the living room, turning the TV on before flopping onto the couch.

You frown and crinkle your brows as you shut the faucet off, muttering in a mocking tone, “Don’t come crying to me. Blah blah blah.”

“Heard that,” Steve flips you off, and from where you’re standing in the kitchen all you see is his arm shooting up above the couch, making you giggle.

“Wasn’t trying to hide it.” You shuffle over to the couch, about to sit on the opposite end of Steve, but he lets his arms fall open lazily, looking at you expectedly. “What?”

“C’mere,” He whines, forcing a pout.

You narrow your gaze, setting your glass on the table. “My vibrator wasn’t this needy, either.”

Steve leans forward, grabbing your hand as he pulls you back down near him. You yelp, landing next to him, fidgeting a bit to get comfortable. “Yeah, well, your vibrator wasn’t this hot, so is it really that much of a loss?” His arm hangs over your hip, while the other reaches for your back; he traces mindless patterns along your exposed skin, prickling as you shiver.

With your back to the TV, its glow slips over you and onto Steve, illuminating his features as the two of you grow into a comfortable silence, as your hands lazily wander his body. It’s only sweet, gentle caresses from the both of you, something you wish you could get used to. Something, a small, mundane detail you wish the two of you had in a relationship.

Except, there is no relationship, and you have to remind yourself often you can’t become more attached and attracted to Steve than you already are.

You’re just friends.

“This is… kinda nice,” He murmurs as you duck your head under his chin, cuddling closer.

Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

“Y’know, if you ever just wanted to, like, hang out like this… I’m cool with it if you are.”

“‘Hang out’, I didn’t know cuddling had a new name,” He softly teases, embracing your frame. “Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask you something, you got a minute?”

“No, Harrington, I’m actually late for a meeting at…” You turn over to read the wall clock, glancing back at Steve, “… 8:36 p.m. We can reschedule for tomorrow though!”

“You’re the worst.”

“But I’m the best at being the worst, right?”

He doesn’t answer, just gives a drawn out, exasperated sigh before letting his head fall forward, onto your shoulders while he sneakily pushes his pants down. Just enough to free himself. He rests there for a few moments before he pulls the fabric of your shorts aside, teasing the head of his cock at your entrance. You whimper and push back against him right as he guides himself into you. The stretch, as always, renders you silent as you adjust to his size.

“Is this what I have to do when you won’t shut up?” His arm winds around your neck, bringing your back flush against his chest; he’s not choking you, but when his arm flexes around your throat, your walls constrict around him. “Yeah, thought so.”

You wait, but no movement comes. No rocking his hips into you, no slow, teasing thrusts; Steve just lays behind you, buried deep in you, enjoying the way you squirm.

“I wanted to get you off to make up for earlier, y’know, just trying to be a good friend,” The last two words came out with an edge. “Trying to reward you for being such a good little fuck toy,” His arm tightens a bit, adding the tiniest bit of pressure; you throb around him, shuddering. “But now, I think you can just keep me warm instead.”

“Steve, please… I- I‘ll be good, I’ll be so good,” You babble, desperate for some kind of movement, some kind of friction, anything. He tightens his hold on you a little more, laughing breathily into your ear as you try moving. You gasp, “Touch me, p- please?”

“I’m already touching you.”

“That’s not what I mean!” You’ve got a short fuse when he riles you up just to drag out the teasing.

Just like the first time, neither of you know when to quit.

“Okay, so what do you mean?”

Whether it’s from the teasing now, or being used earlier. Maybe it’s both, mixed with the feelings you have for Steve that are getting too overwhelming. Whatever the case, you get pissed off enough to touch yourself instead.

“I didn’t say— ”

“I don’t fucking care what you didn’t say, if you’re not gonna do it, I will.”

Sometimes the tension makes you mean, and it’s something Steve likes, but refuses to admit, with his words, at least.

His throbbing cock inside of you, on the other hand, has no problem telling the truth.

“Well, fine, guess you don’t need me then,” Steve’s arm loosens from your neck as he begins to slip out, but with all of your strength, you reach back to hold him in place. It’s an awkward position, sure to make your arm sore tomorrow. You open yourself up a little more, throwing a leg back over his.

“You’ve been teasing me non-fucking-stop, asshole. Least you can do is stay while I get off.” Your fingers try finding a satisfying pattern to tease your clit with, but you’ve been so spoiled with your stupid toys, and Steve, it doesn’t feel the same. Doesn’t feel as good.

You can feel the smirk Steve makes as he leans against your shoulder, looking over to watch your hand and fingers struggle to keep you blissed out.

“Aw, honey, is it too hard for you?” He kisses the back of your shoulder, then slowly makes his way with more up your neck. Your breath shudders as you clench around Steve, just from his words alone. “Doesn’t feel as good as that toy, huh?”

You can feel hot tears begin to surface; you’re angry that you can’t make yourself feel good, angry that he’s taunting you after trying to take over and show him you didn’t need him.

But you do need Steve, and that’s been fucking with you so much since the first time the two of you kissed. That alone had you soaked, but right now, your own fucking hand isn’t cutting it, and you’re angry at how embarrassing this is.

Sure doesn’t stop Steve from humiliating you, though. “Doesn’t feel as good as my hands, hm?”

You bite your lip, holding back groans of frustration, but Steve can feel how tense you are.

“Must not feel the same as my tongue. Not even close,” he murmurs into your ear, kissing the skin behind it, then back down to your jaw. “No way those fingers can ever feel like my cock.” He nips at your jawline, “I bet you can’t get rid of that ache between your legs, not without my help. You need me, don’t you?”

Steve slides his hands onto your chest, tugging the bralette down before roughly, yet slowly, grabbing you. He pinches your nipples, enjoying the view of you arching into his touch, whimpering as your hand slows down on yourself, defeated.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what, Steve?” You spit through gritted teeth. He grabs your face to bring your attention to him. Something flashes across his eyes at the sight of you near tears, not lust, not desire, but you can’t figure out exactly what it is.

“That you need me.” You tighten around him, already giving your answer. He smirks, but again, something’s hidden behind that dominant exterior, past the pleasure over humiliating you.

What the fuck is he hiding?

“I d- don’t,” You lie, but your wobbling pout gives you away immediately.

“Angel, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I can help you.”

You’ve abandoned touching yourself completely, exhausted and embarrassed. Holding one another’s gaze, there’s a softness in Steve’s eyes that makes you finally break. “I- I need you, Steve. Please?”

One hand still teases your nipple while the other slides down, down, down, reaching your waistband before he pulls out completely, causing you to whine in protest.

“Hang on, angel,” He pulls your shorts off completely, leaving you bare before gently sliding back into you, groaning, “Wanted t’really feel you.”

Sex with Steve has usually been rough, or fast, or both. It’s usually needy with desperation to get off. Sometimes there’s a fantasy one or both of you want to fulfill.

This… this is different. Just like the look Steve held, you can’t figure out what is different, but it’s not bad.

In fact, you might like this the most.

“You want me to move?” Steve asks, and it’s not cocky. It’s not the demeanor he was teasing you with before.

“I don’t— do whatever, just need you to touch me,” Your whining is pathetic, but at least he finally reaches down to where you need him. His fingers slide between your folds, groaning when he meets the slick of your arousal. He’s slow, not painfully slow, rather careful as he thrusts into you. It’s soft, and you can feel every inch of him, really feel him.

“This okay?” His breathy question is just above your ear while he kisses along the shell of it.

“So, so okay.” This position might be your favorite, with the way he’s so deep in you, forcing your eyes to roll back into your head as he fills you completely. You lean back into him, and he takes one look at you before leaning in to kiss you, like he knew what you were silently asking for.

It’s soft, languid, the kind of kisses that make you squirm with a certain need, one he’s fulfilling right now.

Pulling back, his lips barely touch yours when he teases, “You’re s- so tight… y’really like it soft, huh?”

You only answer with a nod and a whimper, leaning in to kiss him again, but he moves back with a smirk. It’s not taunting, for once. He’s just really enjoying how turned on you are right now. How much he’s turning you on.

“I like it w- when we— god, fuck— when it’s…” You’re struggling to find the right words, fucked out already. Steve still watches you, listening intently as he can feel your walls pulse around him “… Intense, but this is s- so— oh!”

It’d almost be embarrassing how fast he can push you over the edge, but it feels far too good to care. You shake against him, tensing up as your head lolls back against his chest, jaw dropped in a silent moan. Then, it finally slips out, and it’s loud.

“Good girl,” Steve murmurs, kissing your temple. “Doing so— fuck— s- so good for me.”

Before you can even rest, he convinces you to let him keep going, give you more pleasure, murmuring how you’re ‘his girl’, how you can take one more, just ‘one more’.

By the third round, Steve’s question is long forgotten by both of you.

···························

“Why am I taking the backroads again?”

“It’s a… nicer ride. Just trust me.”

Steve drove along the lonely, winding road. The sunset began to blanket the sky in hues of oranges, purples, and pinks.

“Okay, but… you know it’s a longer drive this way, right?”

You’re leaning over the seat to unzip his pants, and Steve freezes, but not before hitting the gas by accident. He only speeds up a little before catching himself. “Are you trying to kill us?!”

“I only touched your pants. Are you really that sensitive?”

“I- I just didn’t expect it— I’m driving and trying to be safe.”

“Yeah, and I bet you look both ways before making a turn, too.”

“I do!”

You pull his cock out, half hard already, and waste no time leaning down to lick up the precum already beginning to seep out.

“H- hey!”

You pull off. “What? Don’t want this? I can stop.”

“This- it’s just— unsafe.”

“Is that your only complaint?”

“Well… yeah, I gu— shit- ” Steve tries suppressing a moan as you take him in completely without hesitation, and the sound that leaves him just sounds strangled and pained. He white knuckles the steering wheel while your eyes water, gagging around him.

Not a soul to be found on the roads, and Steve’s still nervous he’ll hit something. Or someone. But you’re humming around him, and making these sweet, little gagging noises, he has to remove a hand from the wheel to pull you off of him.

With his strong hand, he yanks you back, still focusing on driving. “I thought you’d like this,” You pout, backing off as you settle back in your seat. “I’m sorry.”

“I do, but I- I think I like it a little too much. As much as I want you to finish, I need to make sure we get to Robin’s... Um, alive.”

“Okay, well… What are y’gonna do about that,” You point to his crotch, cock still hanging out of his pants, flushed red with need with precum still pearling at the tip.

Steve sighs, exhaling roughly through his nose, thinking for a moment as he drives on. He mutters a quick ‘fuck it’ before grabbing you by the hair to pull you back onto him. He doesn’t miss the mischievous smirk that flashes on your face before he shoves your mouth onto his cock.

“You— mnfph— that’s it, just— oh, g- god— relax, angel, relax that p- pretty throat f’me,” His cock twitches against your tongue, making you moan. “Wish I could fuck your face right now.”

Popping your mouth off of Steve, he catches a quick glance of your lips covered in your spit and some of his own mess, “Fuck…” You wrap your hand around his length, stroking him slowly.

“Kinda wish we did this on the highway instead,” You murmur as your lips attach to his neck, sucking the sensitive skin softly. Steve’s eyes almost flutter shut, but he forces himself to grip the wheel and keep his eyes on the road. “It’d be kinda hot, huh? Trying to do this without gettin’ caught.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Soooooo… If I keep going, can you finish before we get there?”

Steve’s answer comes in the form of his hand on your head, twisting his fingers into your hair before shoving you back down on his cock.

···························

It’s under an hour since you and Steve got to Robin and Vickie’s new place, where she said it’d just be a small, casual housewarming party, and two things have you incredibly bothered right now:

This party is anything but small— you didn’t think Robin even cared about this many people to invite them over.

Steve’s kissing someone else right now.

While wandering around to find Steve and ask if you could leave early, you stumbled upon Steve playing goddamn tongue hockey with someone else.

If it happened when you and Steve were just friends, you’d be happy for him, genuinely. Hell, even if the two of you were FWBs and you had no feelings for him, you’d be thrilled he felt comfortable enough to kiss someone tonight that wasn’t a cis woman.

Shit, you’d even be a solid wing-woman and cheer him on for any action. Yet your feelings for him just turned it all into envy. Nothing but envy coursing through your veins. You had no right to say anything in the first place, because it’s not like the two of you were actually together.

It still didn’t settle your jealousy, or the overthinking triggered by the mixed signals he’s given over the last few weeks. The audacity, too, for Steve to pull this only hours after you fucked… just one hour after you gave him road head—

Yeah, you had to leave, ASAP.

“Hey, where ya’ goin’?!” Robin slurred after you, too drunk to get up and check if you were okay.

So you just call over your shoulder, “This was fun, but I gotta go home!” And you knew damn well you weren’t fooling anyone with the way your voice wavered; you hoped everyone was too drunk or distracted.

The front door creaked open as you hurried down the porch steps, relieved to breathe some fresh air, at the very least. The soft song of the crickets in the woods kept you company.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, shielding yourself from the breezy spring air. You wish you didn’t leave your jacket in Steve’s car, but this was better than having to see him kiss someone else.

Until a familiar BMW pulls up alongside you on the empty street.

Harder to shake than a cold.

Rolling the window down, Steve calls out, “Angel, why are you trying to walk home?”

“Don’t you have a throat to shove your tongue down, or something?”

Steve taps the breaks as he mutters, “Fuck.”

“Surprised y’all didn’t do that, either.” You continue on, and he continues following you in the car.

“Please, just let me drive you back? Don’t have to talk to me or anything.”

“No thanks, I can get home on my own just fine.”

Steve hits the breaks, sighing as he throws the car in park. He steps out of the car, leaning on the roof. “Yeah? What direction is home?” You spin around, walking backwards as you throw your arms out, exasperated.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

He bites his tongue, resisting the urge to say some stupid shit like “Already did”; riling you up wasn’t the answer right now. You angrily point in the direction you’ve been walking, continuing on with all the confidence in your body.

“Try again.” His remark makes you whip around, flipping him off, before marching on in the wrong direction again.

Okay, he deserved that, at the very least.

Steve jogs to catch up to you, though it’s not like you made it very far, stumbling over your own feet. You’re about to lose your balance when Steve makes it to you, just in time, catching you mid-fall.

“Alright, c’mon,” He groans as he attempts to get you stable on both feet, before slinging your arm around his shoulders, and yours around his waist. He guides you back to the car, not giving into your little grumbles and protests as he helps you into the passenger seat.

An agonizing silence settles between the two of you on the ride home, and you’re not sure if you can break the silence without crying. So you don’t. Steve has no problem speaking up first anyway, otherwise, the silence will just send his anxiety skyrocketing.

“I’m sorry,” He sounds sincere, as always. He tears his eyes from the road for a moment to glance at you, only feeling worse when he can really see how hurt you are. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it was like… that. With us, I mean. And I’m sorry.”

“S’fine,” Your voice wavers with weakness, “I know what this was. I- I knew what we were getting into. If anyone should apologize, it’s me, ‘cause I had no right getting jealous.”

Steve forgets his response immediately, pausing a moment to take your words in.

“You were jealous?” He almost sounds pleased to hear you admit this.

Oh, god fucking dam—

“….. No?”

“You literally just said you got jealous.”

“I- I don’t— shut up. You misheard me.”

“Oh, I did?” Steve Harrington can be such a smug and snarky motherfucker sometimes. “What’d you say then? Just wanna make sure I hear you correctly this time, honey.”

You fire back, “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Should I just call you a brat instead?”

“You know what, Steve?” You glance over and he’s still smirking like an asshole. “Don’t talk to me for the rest of the ride. Or the rest of the night.”

His face falls. “Why not?”

You don’t answer, just cross your arms and tilt your view to the window, watching the world pass by.

“Are you really gonna shut me out? Over this?”

Again, you hold back any responses. Let him dig his own grave at this point.

“You’re the one who kept saying we’re just friends.” As he reminds you, his fingers are clutching the wheel tightly, eyes glued to the road. “You’re the one—“

“No, Steve. You are the one who said from the start friends can fuck around. You said ‘what are friends for?’ after you went down on me.”

So much for your petty silence.

“You continued it! You said ‘this is what good friends do for each other’, and that fuckin’ around is just helping each other out. How was I supposed to know you wanted more?”

Steve had a point. You tried lying to yourself that you ended up sending the wrong signals his way.

“I— Look, I’m sorry I kissed someone else. And this doesn’t excuse hurting you, but did you ever think maybe I was doing my best not to fall for you?” As he pulls up to the apartments, he sinks into his seat, sighing. “I should’ve been honest from the start, or maybe should’ve ran out for batteries instead of fucking around with you and both of our feelings to begin with. I’m sorry.”

You’re exhausted and intoxicated, out of energy to continue this. Unable to look at Steve, you mutter, “Can we just… talk about this tomorrow?” There’s no chance for him to answer, because you’re already out of the car and making your way through the lobby and to the stairs.

···························

Steve took his time returning to the apartment, wanting to give you space, but also in case he got upset enough to cry, too.

He was so, so fucked, and now… he fucked everything up. Sure, you didn’t make it crystal clear how you felt about Steve when you could’ve so much earlier. But it’s not like he did any better.

When he enters the shared space, everything’s dark, and quiet. He figures you went to sleep, since your bedroom’s door is closed. To his shock, though, he finds you asleep in his bed.

Maybe you mistook his bed for yours while being drunk and tired. Steve’s unsure if he should sleep on the couch, to give you more space. But maybe you fell asleep here purposefully. Or maybe you waited here for him and eventually passed out, too tired and upset to keep yourself awake.

You’re half covered by the blankets, wearing only your panties and his shirt again, the one you’ve practically stolen at this point. Steve notices your scrunchie still on your wrist, the subtle symbol you’d give if you were in the mood for free use play. He also notices the way your skin is prickling up; you’re definitely cold, but you’re too drunk to wake up and do something about it.

Steve reaches down and slips the scrunchie over your wrist, setting it on the nightstand, then pulls the covers over you. Immediately, you curl into the blankets, making the softest hum of contentment, falling deeper into sleep.

Or so he thought.

As he changes and strips just to his boxers, Steve hesitates, questioning again if he should sleep here, or the couch. Consumed by trying to make the best choice, mainly for you, your hand reaches out and grabs his leg weakly.

“Stay?”

Your eyes are red, both from exhaustion and crying. Steve feels awful.

He also can’t pass up an opportunity to tease you lovingly. “Honey, I appreciate the invite, but this is my room.” Your hand lifts to flip him off. “Yeah, there she is.” He huffs a quick laugh out, before double checking, “Are you sure you want me to stay? I- I can give you space if you need.”

“I need you, not space.” You roll to the other side of the bed, throwing the covers back. “Please?”

Steve felt his heart ache; this wouldn’t make the dreaded conversation any easier by morning, but he didn’t want to say no, because in some backwards way, the two of you need one another right now.

He crawls in next to you, pulling the covers back up over both of you. He holds himself back from reaching out for you, an action that’s become second nature over the last few weeks.

Instead, he asks, “Can I hold you?” Steve hates the way his voice cracks with longing, giving away how awful he felt. For himself. For you. For the both of you. It wasn’t supposed to end up in this strange suspension between lust and love. It should’ve stayed a one time thing, if at all.

Only silence comes from your side of the bed as you’re already falling back asleep. Steve turns over and hopes sleep can come that quick for him, too.

····································

When morning arrives, you wake up peacefully, naturally, and with a major headache.

“Fucking christ.”

You roll over, realizing the other side of Steve’s bed is empty.

Wait. Why am I here?

You didn’t forget last night, but you can’t come up with a good reason as to why you decided to fall asleep in Steve’s bed instead of your own. Not a justifiable reason in sight after the car ride home.

Blinking a few times as you adjust to the bright light, something on the nightstand catches your eye.

It’s a note, with a water bottle and your cute little pipe with a packed bowl. A smile joins your features as you read the note.

hey, angel. figured you might need these for the rough hangover.

if you still wanna talk when I get home, we can. if not, we can do whatever makes you feel comfortable about us. either way, you better stay hydrated today. or else. not sure what the ‘or else’ is yet, but I mean it. drink your damn water.

— steve ♡

While the note, the tiny heart near his name, and kindness behind it made your smile grow, your heart aches at one line.

We can do whatever makes you feel comfortable about us.

It’s sincere and considerate, like Steve is, other than last night, but he didn’t know. He didn’t know you fell for him during all of this, so could you even count that against him?

Steve’s more worried about your comfort in all of this than his own; he always does this, he always puts everyone’s needs and feelings first.

Before you can even fully wake up, you’re reaching for the phone on the table, dialing without much thought. It rings twice before a familiar voice answers.

“Family Vi— ”

“Robin! Is Steve there? Can I talk to him?”

“Yeah, hi to you too,” She deadpans.

“Sorry. Hi. Hi Robin. Hello. Please give Steve the phone, pleaaaaaasssseeeeeee— ”

She scoffs, and you can hear the eye roll she makes, “Oh my god, shut up, shut up. I’ll get him.”

“Thank you!” You’re a little too enthusiastic in your reply. It’s quiet for a minute until you hear someone pick up the other end’s receiver.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve’s immediately jumping into worry mode.

“Nothing’s wrong, why would something be wrong?”

“You never call here. Just… surprised me, is all.”

“Oh… well, look, I- I just wanted to say, about the note—” ”

“Was it too much? I’m sorry if I— ”

“Steve, shut up for a minute. Please.” He pushes a soft, quiet laugh through the phone. You can picture him with his arms crossed, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, leaning against the counter. Robin’s probably rolling her eyes. “We can… we can talk tonight. I didn’t want you to go the whole day worried about it.”

It’s silent on his end, other than distant, soft breaths. “You didn’t have to call. N- not that I don’t appreciate it! Just… y’know. I kinda have an idea of what’s coming. And it’s okay. I just want you to be—”

“Steve, I’m grateful you’re always looking out for me and my feelings, but that’s why I called. I want you to feel comfortable too, okay? Whatever works for you, works for me.”

“I— ”

“Steve, get off the phone! You can talk to your girlfriend later!”

Steve lazily covers the mic, but you can still hear him quip back, “She’s not my— whatever. Give me a minute.”

“Thirty seconds!”

“Jesus, what bug crawled up Keith’s ass?” You joke, earning a sigh from Steve.

“Definitely something annoying, like a mosquito.” He snickers back into the phone before clearing his throat. “Um… can we talk in… two hours? I can come back on my bre— ”

You cut him off anxiously. “Yes. Please. Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Okay, two hours. Yeah. Okay. See ya’ then.” Steve sounds nervous, rushing off the phone before hanging up first.

Two hours. Not that long. You should be fine.

Totally fine.

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It’s been an hour, and you’re ready to move on from chewing your nails nervously, to gnawing your entire arm off.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit much. You’re still nervous as fuck, though. How can you last another hour like this?

You passed up the weed, wanting to be as sober as possible for the conversation, but you hate taking painkillers, so you keep the lights off and throw a pair of sunglasses on; the light is the worst for you with hangovers, but this barely helps.

Even worse, your head’s spinning and the constant stream of thoughts revolving around you and Steve make you dizzy. You stay in his bed, covers pulled up and blinds drawn to keep out the light, with your headphones on to block out any noise outside the apartment. They’re not even plugged into your Walkman, you’re just hoping the barrier of silence helps.

It doesn’t. You hear no sound, but your head is still pounding. Maybe you should’ve smoked after all.

The blankets are yanked back, startling you into a scream. It stops as soon as it starts when you see Steve. He’s chuckling at your reaction, and though you’re relieved to see it’s him and not some monster or masked intruder, your heart’s about to jump out of your chest.

Gently, he pulls the headphones off of you. “Sorry, honey. Uh… why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”

Every time he calls you that, or angel, you feel yourself melt. The hold this man has on you is insane.

“Hangover, lights suck, all that stuff.” You grumble, falling back onto the bed. Steve sits next to you. “I- I thought you said two hours?”

“Yeah… waiting was driving me nuts. So, I, uh, I left for the day.” He rubs the back of his neck, gaze shying away, but not before he notices you’re still wearing his shirt, and not wearing pants.

You’re shocked he pulled that off. “What’d you tell Keith to leave early?!”

“My great aunt’s in the hospital.”

You stifle a laugh, “Steve, didn’t you use that excuse a few months ago?”

His eyes grow wide. “Shit, did I?”

“Oh my god, yeah! You had me call to pretend— whatever,” You crack up, head falling back with a loud laugh. “You gotta keep track of these excuses!” You cradle your own head, wincing from the pain your own loudness brings.

“Hey, you didn’t— ” Steve’s eyes darted to the nightstand, about to tease you for not smoking yet, but you haven't touched the bottle of water either. “Jesus, no wonder your head hurts.”

“I didn’t wanna be high when we talked,” You grumble, about to lay back down, but Steve holds you upward, handing you the water. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You take a sip. “Happy?”

Steve lets you go, running a hand down his face with a sigh. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You’re mid-sip before choking on water, struggling through a cough to ask, “I- I- did you— what did you just say?”

“Uh… good question. You heard that? I said that? Out loud?” Steve rambles a lot, but he’s great at it when nervous. “I think you’re imagining things.”

“Would’ve worked if I was high, but nice try.”

He groans with an eye roll, flopping onto the bed, landing on his back. His hands come up to cover his face, but you pull them back.

“I didn’t want to say it like that.” His admission comes without eye contact as his face burns red. “I wasn’t gonna say it at all, honestly. I kinda figured out this is the end of things anyway.”

“Wait, what? Steve—”

“N- not that it’s a bad thing!” You haven’t let go of his hand, and he’s either completely oblivious or doesn’t want to let go. “I’m— whatever you decide, I’ll respect. We can go back to being friends, or even just… boring roommates, if you want.”

“Okay, but— ”

“And since it’s all out there— not saying this to make you feel guilty, or bad, or anything, but I- I thought these feelings were new, and it turns out I’ve felt this way about you since… probably the first week we lived here.”

Your heart aches, but in the best ways; you need to tell Steve you feel the same.

“Stevie, listen—”

“But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I can move out, if that’s easier.”

If only he’d shut the fuck up.

He’s getting himself worked up, and you wish he’d just take a minute to breathe. “Not, like, forcing that either, because if you just wanna be friends still, I- I’d be more than happy… and lucky to have you in my life still. But that’s- it’s— I’m not trying to—”

You’re growing agitated, wishing he’d give himself some grace. “Steve, take a second to— ”

“And I mean what I said last night, I’m so sorry for hurting you. I thought maybe it’d help distract me, but it just hurt you instead… I just fucked everything up—”

“Oh, for the love of— ” You swing a leg over his lap to straddle him, throwing your sunglasses off in the process. Leaning down, tone dripping with adoration, you murmur, “Steve, shut up.”

You kiss him, hoping this pauses the overthinking. He’s stunned, expecting anything but this. The two of you have kissed plenty of times by now, but this one is everything to him.

Finally, Steve kisses back, earning a smile from you against his lips. You cradle his face in your hands as you feel his run along your back, holding you against him as any uncertainty floats away. Breaking the kiss, you don’t pull away, just admit softly against his lips, “I love you, too.”

He sits up, leaning back on his arms with eyes wide in disbelief, “You- are you- you mean it?”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t suffer through a hangover for just anyone, you know. I wish it didn’t take the whole battery incident— ”

“You mean vibrator incident—”

“Oh, will you shut— it’s all the same! Anyway,” You giggle, a sound Steve adores, one that pulls a smile across his face every time he hears you. “That’s when I realized I had feelings for you. A- and you coming out just to make me feel better about coming out, that really woke me up… and, uh, do not let this get to your big head—”

“My head is not big!”

You narrow your stare, shutting him up. “… When I saw you with someone else, and it made me so jealous, I’ve never felt that with anyone before. I didn’t think it was love until you came looking for my dumb, drunk ass on the street.”

“Someone had to, you were on your way to fucking Canada if you kept walking in that direction.” Steve snickers, but kisses your cheek, softening the blow. You can’t help huffing out a laugh with him; honestly, he had every right to poke fun at your little stunt.

Your voice falls quiet, turns small, “I’m sorry I never said anything earlier, and that I kept pushing that ‘just friends’ bullshit.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” Steve tries steering you away from taking the blame, “You’re a way better kisser than they were.”

You snort, “You’re just saying that.” It doesn’t stop your skin from prickling up, or the heat that blooms across your face.

“I’m not, I promise. You weren’t kidding, they literally shoved their tongue down my throat. You running off gave me an excuse to leave, so… thanks.”

You can’t help teasing him, “What are friends for?”

Steve rolls his eyes for the millionth time before sitting up to push you back onto the bed. He climbs on top, and you tug at the ugly Family Video vest he still has on.

“Babe, get this stupid thing off,” You giggle, tugging it down his arms. He pouts.

“What? You’re not into it? I thought it was kinda sexy,” His brows wiggle with his joke, and you throw it onto the floor, glaring at him. “What if I wore that, and nothing else? Just the vest.”

You’re pulling his shirt off, throwing that to the floor, too. “Then I’d definitely kick you out.”

Steve leans down to you, murmuring, “You’d never.” His lips brush against your jaw, kissing along your face to reach your neck.

“You’re right, but— ” Your breath hitches, holding your words back as he continues to kiss down your neck. “—w-we definitely wouldn’t fuck for a long time.”

“Now that’s a threat I take seriously,” His words against your skin vibrate and tickle, sending shivers up your spine. Then, he stops, and sits back up.

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” You instantly cringe at how pathetic you sound, but Steve doesn’t tease you for it, just kisses your forehead quickly before leaning over you.

“Sit up,” Confused, you listen as he takes all the pillows around you, cushioning and covering the headboard. As he comes back to you, he pushes you back softly. “Okay— ”

Now it clicks. “Oh my god, I’m not gonna hit my head this time, I swear!”

He smirks, “Better safe than sorry.” Stealing your chance to quip back, his lips are back on yours, and it’s the kind of tender kiss where he likes to draw it out, take his time. The kind that only makes you squirm from the start.

“Hey, what’s got you so worked up?” Steve pulls back, resting his hand on your face; he can feel the goosebumps on your face prickle up against his palm. His touch is warm, soothing, and easy to gravitate to; you’re certainly not immune to leaning into his hand whenever he does this.

“Need you, Steve,” You breathe, legs closing underneath him to try and subside the ache between your legs.

“I wish I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that,” He teases, pushing your legs apart, fixated on the damp patch on the fabric between your legs. You whine, rolling your hips against nothing, only showing how needy you are. “‘Cause if I did, I’d have enough to get you a new vibrator.”

You feign offense with a loud gasp, “I thought you said I wouldn’t need it anymore, ‘cause I have you instead.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your panties down. His hands run up your legs, pinning you to the bed as he reaches your hips. It’s not like you were going anywhere to begin with, but the pressure and possessiveness feels… nice.

“You do have me,” The meaning behind his affirmation spreads far beyond sex. “Always.”

You reach for his pants as he leans over you again, “Don’t have you in me yet, though,” You grumble, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. Steve stifles a laugh while you struggle. “Who designed this fuckin’ thing anyway?”

“I thought we were having a sweet moment, but your sailor mouth’s ruining it,” His joke doesn’t make you laugh like he hoped. Instead, you just look frustrated, finally loosening his belt. “Whoa, hey— honey, look at me.”

A sharp exhale escapes your lips while you glance up at Steve, but only for a moment before staring off, “M’sorry.”

“We don’t have to do this, you know that, right?” A finger slips under your chin, gently tilting your face up towards his. Your eyes meet his again, and he gives you the same soft, caring look he gave you a few nights ago. “I’m perfectly content with just hanging out the rest of the day, doing whatever you want.”

“I want to, I really do, I just… ” You try forcing your voice to come out stronger, more certain, but it just cracks as you admit, “I think I’m scared it’ll end so fast.”

Steve thinks back to the first time the two of you kissed, the first time you were fully exposed to him, the first time he went down on you— the first time anyone went down on you, how disappointed you sounded when it was almost over. He remembers telling you it could happen again, that it didn’t have to be a one time thing.

He remembers the way you hit your head against the wall, again, the first time the two of you fucked, and how he told you next time it’d be in a bed, helping you laugh off the clumsiness. You sounded so surprised that you even talked about the possibility of a ‘next time’.

Almost every time after either of you initiated anything sexual, your reaction was always shock and surprise when Steve talked about fucking around again in the future. There were more times where you begged him to not let it end yet, but he thought it was just in the moment.

Steve didn’t realize you meant you didn’t want things between the two of you to end. It wasn’t ever really in the moment. It was a fear you’ve had since the first time he’s touched you, and it’s a fear of Steve’s, too.

“Angel, I’m not going anywhere,” You move up against the pillows as he speaks softly to you, shifting with you to keep you comfortable while staying close. “I can’t speak for you, but on my end, I don’t plan on ending this fast. Or ever… but that- that’s another conversation for another day, okay?”

You nod, slipping your hand into his, “Okay.”

“Point is, this isn’t a one time thing. You really do have me. And when I say always, I mean it.”

There’s no hesitation in your response, “You have me, too, Steve. Always.”

“Let me take care of you,” His hand is cupping your face again, thumb sweeping along your cheek softly. “Get those awful thoughts out of that pretty head of yours. How’s that sound?”

You nod against his palm, hands coming up to hold his forearm as he holds you. “Please, Stevie.” Your eyes fall to his belt before reaching for it. You pull it off, adding it to the pile of his clothes. “That thing is the worst.”

“Won’t wear that one around you anymore, promise,” Steve chuckles as the two of you strip each other from any remaining clothing.

His lips find their way back to your neck, picking up where he left off with the gentle kisses. Your hands wander his body, tracing along the dips and curves of his toned arms. It’s easy to lose yourself in the scattered freckles and moles all over, making up constellations, a galaxy of his own. What brings you back is the breathy moan made from his touch along your folds.

It’s one finger, then two, and you’re arching your back, pressing yourself against him, dizzy from shallow breaths as he finds your sweet spot. His long fingers have no problem reaching where you need him most, not struggling the way you do when you touch yourself.

Steve starts kissing down your body, but you grab him by the shoulders. “You okay?”

“Stay with me,” You gasp as he continues fucking you on his fingers. “I- I don’t— it feels good, but I wanna cum with you instead.”

A blush creeps along Steve’s face as a lazy smile curls up. He makes his way back to you, retracing his kisses with new ones, of course. When he rests his forehead against yours, his hand’s still between your legs.

“Still wanna make y’feel good first,” Steve’s thumb softly swipes over your clit while he continues working his fingers, curling them just right. “You can cum twice, you’ve done it before.”

Your fingers twist through his hair, bringing him towards you as you close the gap, trying to kiss him the way he was kissing you. Your hips roll onto his fingers, feeling your legs shake and your walls constrict around him.

Steve pulls back, admiring the way your face twists in an expression of beautiful agony, so, so close to the edge. He leans down to murmur into your ear, “That’s it, angel, let go for me”. Other praises follow, but you’re just at the point of no return, unable to hear him as you finally reach your high, a strangled moan slipping between your lips with ease.

Aftershocks roll through your body while you pant shallow breaths, vision a little fuzzy from your eyes squeezing shut, and Steve kissing your temple, then your cheek, with more gentle praises, ones you can faintly make out.

You’re barely settled, still in the comedown, but you’re pulling Steve closer, “Fuck, I love you.” He beams, knowing already he’ll never get tired of hearing that from you.

He spreads your legs, but stops to study your expression. Checking on you, he asks, “Are you sure you can handle one more?”

“Uh-huh,” You try to giggle, still breathless as you nod. “As long as it’s with you.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but you know him, he loves the corny little remarks you shoot back and forth. You know him. You know him so well by now, because he’s yours. And you’re his.

“Hey, angel?” He’s admiring your figure, still catching your breath, already blissed out with hooded eyes, and the sweetest smile he’s ever seen on your face. He lines up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he leans back down to you with a lingering forehead kiss.

“Y- yeah?” You shudder out, adjusting to him all over again. His hand slips into yours, fingers lacing together before he gives a gentle squeeze.

“I love you, too.”

The first night you had together, when Steve offered to help, it wasn’t meant to just be a one and done kind of fling. Maybe it felt like it back then, and maybe even last night, while the two of you fought over your feelings, it felt like it should’ve been an arrangement that ended long ago. But now? Now, everything’s so sure. Everything’s so certain.

With Steve, everything’s crystal clear.

It only takes the first thrust for the two of you to meld together with ease. It’s almost effortless, the way you and Steve can flow into and with one another. You’ve never felt like this with anyone else, never felt so comfortable, so at home within someone’s embrace, never felt such safety to be yourself completely.

At the same time, both you and Steve give each other the same, cheesy line, “feels like you’re made for me.” While neither of your movements stop, the two of you burst into a fit of laughter. Steve buries his head into your shoulder, while his shoulders shake along with the noise. Your arms wrap around him, laughing even harder when he realizes he can feel you laugh while deep in you.

“Hey- h- hey wait, waitwaitwait!” He can’t control his laughter, and neither can you. “Every time you do that it— fuck!” He’s trying his hardest to calm down, hoping you can, too. “You gotta stop doing that, I can- you- fuck, you’re so tight.”

You cover your face with your hands, trying to kill your giggles, and slowly it works, leading Steve to calm down, too. With a quick kiss to his chin as he lifts his head, you flip on top, riding him immediately.

Any laughter still at the back of Steve’s throat dies instantly as you grind down onto him. You finally find a steady, slow pace to roll your hips; there’s no rush, there’s no fear it’ll all disappear when the two of you finish. It’s just you and Steve, nothing else, no one else.

No distractions or kinks or secrets, just the two of you, together.

“Honey, m’not gonna last if you k- keep this up,” he breathes, strong hands on your hips, gently guiding you along.

“S’okay, I- I’m close,” You whimper, hand splayed against Steve’s chest. “A- and we can just— ” You sharply gasp, walls constricting around him. “we got all the time in the world, Stevie. You have me, always.” Your head tilts back as pleasure consumes you both, feeling him throb while your legs shake.

Before the two of you reach that sweet high together, you faintly hear Steve respond, “Y’have me, too, angel. Always.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #my fics #crystal clear #*slaps post* this baby can fit SOOOOOOO much angst in it

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peachsayshi · 4 months

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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ being wrapped in your arms feels like coming home ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 1,820

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: here is a little drabble in honor of toji's birthday! this piece was originally titled as "adoration" but I changed it to this instead. I'm taking a small posting break, but I'll be back to my regular schedule within a week! I'm sorry if I haven't been responding to tags or messages, but I will do so soon <3 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and I'm sending all my well wishes out to you! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: widow toji; age gap (reader is 30 while toji is in his early 40s); a little angsty; toji attempting to break up with you but failing because he's oh so in love

toji overstayed his welcome which was only supposed to last the scorching heat of summer, but he found himself lingering through the quiet stillness of fall. winter came in with a brisk chill and gloomy skies, and that's when toji knew it was time for him to end things with you.

he’s lost interest far quicker in previous relationships. they served their purpose of healing over the wound in his heart, of soothing away the ache of loneliness. he oftens forgets that he was once a loyal, loving husband whenever he abandons yet another fling.

the difference, however, is he at least had the guts to verbally cut things off before.

fucking pathetic, he thinks as he scolds himself. he's been a coward, reducing his actions to disappearing before the sunlight peeks through the horizon, and avoiding any chance of waking you up. he ensures that he is never there to see the way your brows furrow with concern when your hand meets the cold pillow, because otherwise he would falter in his attempt to escape.

this has been going on for over two weeks now but last night was the first time you've actually snapped at his cold, detached behavior. he approached the argument with nonchalance to wither you down, shrugging off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and then walking out halfway through the fight.

he stayed at a motel thinking that maybe you have finally taken the hint that he's done.

he arrives back to his apartment only to be met with unfamiliar silence. the entrance of his home is dark and lifeless, and it's so quiet he can even hear a pin drop. there's a tightness in his chest, followed by a wave of disappointment that runs over him like a feverish shiver.

despite his hard headed decision, he's still anticipating on hearing your lovely voice to greet him as he walks through the door.

he knows it's selfish.

toji expected many things to happen after last night's fight. he figured the reaction to him leaving you (again) would be far bigger. a screaming phone call or a string of cursing text messages to call him out on his shitty behavior.

after all he deserves it for acting like an insufferable asshole.

he tries to swallow his guilt but it remains lodged in his throat when he acknowledges that this might actually be the end.

the expression on his features falls.

it’s better this way, he consoles, dragging his feet across the floor to approach his kitchenette. he shrugs off his beaten up, oversized coat and tosses it over one of the chairs. he opens one of the cupboards, and grabs a mug to prepare himself a cup of tea.

she’s too young to settle for a guy like me, he continues. widowed with two kids who he barely sees anymore, working paycheck to paycheck just to make ends meet…

a deadbeat.

he exhales, swirling his brew in his ceramic cup. the aroma of sweet leaves dances up the spiral of steam to kiss his nose.

she deserves more than me.

he places the kettle down but stares at the cup mindlessly, losing all train of thought as his hands grip onto the edge of the counter.

he can acknowledge that his insecurities are clouding his judgement on something truly special, even though this was only ever meant to be purely physical.

except, the sex was growing more intimate. the experience wasn't about pleasure for him anymore. he would find himself losing all focus to the depth of your pretty eyes, stealing kiss after kiss like your mouth was the source of where all his happiness belongs.

belonged.

it’s over now, he thinks again. it has to be.

a faint patter of footsteps distracts him, prompting him to ease his hold on the counter as the muscles on his face relax. his heart steadies itself, and he draws in a breath when he feels two arms delicately twine around his waist.

“you’re...still here...” he points out in shock.

he feels you press your forehead into his back. “of course, where else would I be?”

he clears his throat to release the guilt then spins on his heel to face you.

"I thought you might have taken off," he bluntly states as he rests his lower back against the counter.

his heart swells, emanates flurries of golden sparks when he meets your gorgeous irises. the will to carry on with his decision crumbles when he catches the corner of your mouth tick into a slight grin.

"I thought about it," you reply casually, loosening your grip to place your palms flat on the side of his stomach. "but the truth is I'm worried about you and I just…want to talk things out…make sure you're okay...”

“I’m the one acting like a jerk and you’re worried about me?” he blurts.

you quirk your brow at the slip of his question. “so, you know you’re acting like a jerk?”

toji’s eyes widen slightly, a hint of pink tainting his cheek. “I asked the question first.”

you purse your lips playfully, aware of the crack that's been revealed and ready to swing once again with another blow.

“it’s because you’re acting like a jerk that I’m worried about you,” you explain, “you’re not yourself when you’re unsettled about something…”

his face warms, the hue of pink deepening into a stronger blush. the familiarity of pointing out his personal traits feels all too homely. seven months shouldn’t feel like a forever but in this bubble with you time ceases to exist.

you trail the pads of your finger tips up his torso, your hands clasping around the back of his neck as you press all your soft and sweet parts right up against the frame of his body.

the brush of your lips on his scar prompts him to flutter his eyes close. he fails to stop himself from holding you then, his firm hands reaching for the outline of your waist

“so,” you murmur with a tempting kiss as you return to your question, “you know you’re acting like a jerk then?”

please don’t make me say it, he thinks, please don’t make me unravel right in front of your eyes.

he squeezes your side, whispering a defeated “listen…”

“did I do something wrong?” you question, a hint of pain laced through every vowel which only makes his heart ache further. “did something happen?”

toji shakes his head.

“it’s not you,” he grumbles. “look, you asked me a couple of weeks ago if this thing between us was serious and…it shouldn’t be.”

you narrow your gaze, tilting your head with adorable confusion that makes toji want to kiss you right there on the spot.

he can feel you pluck at the fabric of his sweater nervously, “why not?”

toji drops his head and sighs.

“c’mon, doll, let’s be real. I’ve got nothing to give you other than a good fuck in this shitty apartment. you're better off finding someone else and I don't want to waste your time”

you press your mouth into a firm line. “your behavior…” you reply, nipping your bottom lip slightly as you gather your thoughts. “are you acting like this because you…want to end things with me?”

toji has never felt smaller. you’ve reduced him into a shriveled pea rolling around his scuffed up boot. “look, it’s better this way, alright?” he admits with a raise of his head, still refusing to outwardly say what you easily deduced. “it's better to move on before things get too complicated…”

the silence hangs heavy in the air, the tension so thick toji feels like he can’t breathe properly. his heart rattles with no restraint, and he finds himself suddenly lightheaded. an apology rests on the tip of his tongue, ready to take back everything he just bombarded you with but his throat simply tightens once more when your hands cradle his strong jaw.

“I like your apartment,” you quietly speak, “your bed sheets always smell so good, and you fixed the water pressure after I complained that it sucked…”

toji blinks back his surprise.

“I also notice that you burn the candle that I got you and that you switched laundry detergents when your old one gave me that weird rash,” you giggle and toji couldn’t help but huff out an embarrassed laugh himself. “the windows let in the best kind of sunlight, and it’s always so cozy in here…”

you press your lips against his mouth to leave a chaste kiss, “as for the company…” you add on, nuzzling the tip of your nose over his, “I consider you more than just a good fuck.”

toji can physically feel himself wilting underneath the heat of your gaze. “I’m just looking out for you, doll.”

"you can look out for me by making me breakfast instead of running away from me..."

he looks serious but his eyes are sincere, holding a level of tenderness that he only reserves for you. his palm moves to seek out your lower back, a hint of pressure pulling you back into his warmth.

your lover has stayed tight lipped about his past, but over his period with you he's found himself spilling out a few secrets here and there.

"I haven't done this in a long time," he vulnerably admits.

"I know," you reassure him, "but...the real question is, do you want this?"

he parts his lips ready to seal the last nail in the coffin, ready to give you the chance to walk out of his life for good. but you're gazing up at him from underneath your eyelashes, your determined stare an opening of your own mercy. your plush, supple lips summoning his cowardice into oblivion.

"toji?"

his breath hitches, his apprehension silenced by the urgency of his desire.

you're so lovely, he thinks. you feel like home.

"I want you," he reveals, his deep voice smoky and untethered, releasing enough sentiment in those three words that he can feel you tremble in his arms. "I just don't deserve you. I don't want you getting caught up in my bullshit..."

""you're a lot sweeter than you look, you know?" you run your fingers through the streaks of his black hair, combing it back to reveal his forehead. "you deserve to be happy, toji, and...and I think I can make you happy..."

your aura beams with delight when he flashes you a wolfish grin in return. a smile you've grown to adore so deeply. his apology comes in the form of a kiss, one that's gentle and slow. a stroke of fire burns up the back of your neck, making you quiver in places when he glides his tongue across yours. you hum softly into his lips while he releases a content sigh, the barrier he's been keeping up turns to ashes beneath your feet.

#toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fluff #toji angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #peach is {offline} ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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heavenlyraindrops · 26 days

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♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Three ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Three Warnings: slight profanity Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Three]

You kneeled by the side of your bed, clutching an angelic spear in your trembling hands. Outside you could hear the bustle of angels preparing for this year's extermination, the early rays of sunlight glinting off of their blades.

You tried as hard as you could to not think about last year’s extermination as your lips moved in silent prayer.

The door at the front of your house burst open. You could hear someone clumsily clattering around- something shattered and they cursed softly. You didn’t turn to look at him as Adam ambled into your bedroom, casting around a baleful eye.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty-“ he stopped, eyebrows shooting upwards as he saw you kneeling by your bed. “Get up, sugartits, it’s time to go.”

You looked at him without turning your head, then at the clock. Still ten minutes.

“What are you even doing, anyways?”

“Praying,” you said flatly.

He snorted, inspecting a vase full of flowers on the windowsill, which was casting a square of pale light into the room, banishing shadows to the corners. “Of course you are,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes but ignored him.

“What are you even praying for, anyways?”

You scowled. “The easier it is for me to pray, the quicker I’ll be done. You’re not exactly making it very easy.” You could almost feel him roll his eyes behind you. “So stop distracting me.”

A few moments ticked by, and you stood up, handling your blade with care. You turned to him.

“What were you praying for?” He repeated the question as you held the door open for him on your way out.

“To resist temptation, Adam,” you muttered, trying again not to think about last year. He laughed- it was more like squawking.

“Stupid thing to be praying for.”

“It’s alright, Adam, we’re all aware that you’re quite prone to being tempted easily. Go on, then. You remember our deal, right? For the extermination.” He scowled at you.

“Haven’t forgotten, sugartits,” came the reply. You crossed your arms, pleased. A feeling which immediately dissolved after you remembered why the deal existed in the first place.

“Good,” you said flatly.

♱♱♱

The wind whipped at your face and tangled through your hair as you swooped across Hell’s red sky, eyes scanning the land underneath you, your spear clutched in front of you for protection, a notebook in the small satchel you had opted to carry with you. You’d taken the notebook as an excuse for your visits to Hell for the Seraphim: ‘observing Hell’, you had told them.

You had been flying around aimlessly for a while now, letting your wings take you wherever your instincts did.

The area began to look familiar.

No, you thought. No no no NO.

A telltale building began to loom in the distance.

You almost skidded to a stop mid-air, legs kicking out underneath you to break your momentum, wings beating feverishly to stay up. You could see the broken window still, pale red light glinting off of the jagged shards of glass. He hadn’t fixed it?

You glanced around.

Why is no one here?

Sinners, you understood, but no angels? You gulped, and then it hit you. Why would the angels dare hang around Lucifer Morningstar’s territory? It was like a death wish. You swallowed again, throat getting dryer and dryer.

You had three options:

Go inside via the broken window.

Explore the area without going inside.

Fly the fuck away (the rational option).

God, why wasn’t your prayer from this morning working?

Against all judgment, you chose option two.

Your wings arched back as you scaled the side of the building, glancing through the windows. The curtains were either drawn, or the rooms inside were dark and abandoned.

All that space for barely anything or anyone inside?

You glanced down, and your breath was sucked out of your lungs.

A garden?

Your wings fluttered, shedding a feather as you descended towards the square of greenery. Well, greenery wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t very “green.” The flora? Vegetation?

A tree stood in the middle, tall and proud. The second your feet hit the ground, it captured your attention, enrapturing you and rooting you to the spot.

Why am I even here?

You didn’t know Hell had gardens- you’d expected it to be a barren wasteland, more or less, but the lush “greenery” seemed to be proving you wrong. You quickly pencilled it down in the notebook you had brought with you.

What you definitely didn’t expect at all, however, was the apple tree you were standing under.

The fruit seemed beautiful, ruby-red and delicious. You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, then glanced at the sky, praying the exterminators weren’t worried about you or looking for you. Adam had better held up on his promise. You looked back at the tree.

It seemed so- so out of place from the otherwise hellish landscape that you just had to take a closer look. As you took a step forward, grass crunching, you frowned, recalling Sera’s words, again.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” you murmured, then frowning.

”But satisfaction brought it back.”

You shrieked and jumped a couple of feet in the air, feeling your wings burst out behind you as you whirled around. Lucifer crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“What the hell?” You hissed, nerves frayed.

“That’s what I should be asking you. Snooping around in my garden.” His eyes flicked to the tree. “Ogling at my apples- alright that- that sounds weird when I say it like that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The point is, you’re the one who’s out of place here. Couldn’t get enough of me the first time?

You hesitated. You’d never expect the King of Hell to fumble around with his words like that. Your muscles relaxed slightly. “That is far from the truth. The tree just… piqued my curiosity.”

You both stared at each other, silently. As if on cue, an apple fell off of a branch, straight into his outstretched hand.

“Have a taste, then.”

You stared at the shining red fruit in his hand, then looked at his golden eyes. His smile seemed surprisingly genuine.

“I…”

He rolled his eyes, grinning wide at the look at your face. “This isn’t an Eve-and-the-forbidden-fruit situation, angel. It’s an apple.” He waved it around, eyebrows arched, as if to prove a point. “An apple.”

The more he spoke that way the more you felt stupid, until he tossed the apple at you without warning. You caught it, not missing a beat. The fruit felt cool against your warm skin. He turned.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, entering a small door in the wall, which led straight into the manor. You slowly put the apple in your satchel. He turned and grinned at you again. “Wanna come in?” He glanced at the sky.

Fuck, that prayer was really not working.

Your body was almost frozen in place, locked in with his stare.

You cleared your throat. “Sure.”

He grinned, and disappeared into the manor. You followed.

Crap. Crap this is so weird. You stared at the back of his blond head as you followed him down a hallway. We’ve met once. A year ago. Why am I following him into his house? You felt like you were in a fever dream.

“Um, excuse me… sir?”

He turned to look at you.

“What exactly are we doing? Or, going to do?”

He put his arm on your forearm, grinning. You didn’t shy away from the contact, but your arm burned where he touched it. “Have fun, of course.”

You blinked. “What?”

He outstretched his arms. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen another angel. It's good to have something new in life, am I right?” He paused. “Or at least that’s what that one therapist I had said,” he muttered. You tilted your head. “Anyways. I doubt you get much action up there in Heaven yourself?” Without warning, he spun you around. You yelped, hand grappling onto your satchel to stop the contents inside to go flying.

“Who better to befriend here in Hell other than me?” He said.

Cocky, you thought to yourself.

“Right,” you coughed, stumbling a little as he let you go. “So, um… sir, how exactly do you propose we spend our time?”

He shrugged. You stared at him.

“Right, I’m leaving,” you decided, starting down the hallway with conviction.

“Come onnn,” he complained, hurrying after you. “It’ll be a waste if you just leave and we never see each other again!”

You turned and looked at him. “No, it won’t. And frankly I’m not supposed to be here. You’re the goddamn Lucifer himself.” You stabbed your index finger towards his chest. “And the Seraphim would not be pleased if they found out that we’ve made contact- twice!”

He touched your wrist, lowering your hand, and dropped his voice to a husky whisper. You stared blankly at where his skin met yours.

“What the Seraphim don’t know won’t hurt them,” he smirked.

You could slowly feel your face turning red, and you looked up to stare into his eyes. Ugh, there it was again. That genuine, sweet smile.

“Fine,” you huffed, insides churning.

You just knew, that whatever was about to follow-

It would be the death of you.

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog

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notjustjavierpena · 1 month

Text

Terror

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: By popular demand! This turned awful in my brain very quickly. I know instantly that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, so please read the tags before jumping into this. Not everything is fun and games for hubby.

Summary: Javier doesn’t think that he has nightmares about Colombia anymore until he suddenly does. The difference is that he also has you and the family that you have given him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, graphic description of gun violence, some gore, PTSD night terrors, major character death (but not really), panic attacks, domestic, cuddles, hurt/comfort, family time, love confessions, pregnant reader dies in this dream

Word count: 2.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54592621

Terror

Javier searches and searches to no avail. He walks with frantic determination between burning cars and bullet shells, occasionally hitting the latter with the tips of his shoes so they go cascading down the asphalt with a clinking sound. He doesn’t trip on them though, as his steps are sure, moving around the chaotic scene of the aftermath of an ambush by grabbing at whatever he can to push himself forward.

He knows where he is but he doesn’t remember getting here, and he has no clue if he was involved in the shooting that has evidently occurred here. However, when he looks down at himself, he finds no bullet wounds and no tactical gear either. So why does he think that you are here? He yelps as he accidentally grabs the hood of a car that seems to have been burning for a while, the metal so hot that it scorches his skin. The heat radiating from the vehicle makes his body prickle with sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin that is riddled with damp sweat from anxiety. He clutches his burnt hand and continues down the never-ending street.

Where are you? Where are they? He searches through several empty cars, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges to get to you quicker. Perhaps you know where they are but he doesn’t even know where you are.

When he gets to what feels like the hundredth car, finally reaching the end of the road that somehow resembles a labyrinth despite only moving forward, panic has started to rise in his throat. He calls for you but you don’t answer, and then he calls for Lucas in case he has managed to hide himself and his sibling somewhere.

“Lucas! It’s alright, it’s just me!” He yells out but it’s just the echo of his own voice that answers him, “You can come out now, it’s over, te prome— (I promi—).”

Javier has turned the corner. It is the sight of Horatio Carrillo’s face that makes him realize that this isn’t real. Carrillo is dead, and he has been for nearly twenty years. Javier will never forgive himself for not having been there. He should have been there with everyone. It should have been him; he had had nothing waiting for him back in Laredo.

In front of him, a row of children and teenagers are kneeling but he doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He has seen this scene before. He remembers doing nothing back then, and the thought is enough to make his gut twist with guilt and nausea even if nothing could have been done to change Carrillo’s attitude towards the kids. He hears a gunshot and a young child falls to the ground, head split open from the way the bullet has torn through soft, young flesh. He flinches in a way that he didn’t back then, in a way that only a man who is a father can.

Carrillo’s blank and indifferent stare terrifies him to the point where he wishes that he could wake up. It is clear that this is a nightmare, so why hasn’t he woken up yet? Aren’t you supposed to wake up when you have figured it all out? He tries pinching his arm but nothing happens, and the claustrophobia of being stuck in his own head makes his chest constrict and his heart, too big for his rib cage by now, hammer with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.

The stare he is watching is not one of being rid of emotion but rather the look that washes over a face when the person it belongs to is dead. His old colleague is standing in front of him in a zombie-like state and Javier cannot shake the feeling that Carrillo looks less like a person and more like a thing.

“Carrillo,” he says sternly. On the ground, the blood oozes towards his feet and he shifts to avoid it soaking through his shoes.

His colleague turns to him but doesn’t say anything. He still has the weapon in his hand, arm stretched out, and pointing the gun at the row of innocent children. Javier speaks quietly despite his anxiety, “C’mon, they’re just kids. Look at them; they’re just ki—“

He turns to look at the kneeling figures but the faces aren’t unknown to him anymore. His blood runs cold at the sight of his eldest son who has his arms stretched out to hold Inés close to his body, effectively shielding her from any shot that may be coming at her at any moment.

“Lucas,” he croaks, “¿Dónde está tu madre (Where is your mother)?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” his son replies, “I’m scared.”

“I know, don’t worry, I— I’m gonna take care of it,” he replies with a dizzying heartbeat followed by the urge to throw up.

It’s then that you appear too. His heart skips a beat as you materialize right behind your kids, pregnant with his child and vulnerable as tears stream down your cheeks. Your arms are in front of you, wrapped around your children as you try to protect them while whimpering in a way that makes Javier more than desperate. He tries to sound more assertive than anxious but listening to his own voice, he doesn’t feel very successful. He turns back to Carrillo who hasn’t moved the firearm even an inch, “For fuck’s sake, get that gun away from my family!”

“Están trabajando para Escobar, Peña. Si quieres justicia, entonces esta es la única manera (They are working for Escobar, Peña. If you want justice, this is the only way),” is the only reply he gets. Carrillo spits at the ground.

Javier takes a step forward but suddenly, a shot is fired at his feet and he is forced to jump back with his hands in the air. His eyes are pleading, his voice wavering, “Jesus Christ, Carrillo, they’re not working for him. Put the damn gun down! They’re mine. They are my kids. You’re pointing a gun at my wife!”

Lucas shifts on his spot on the ground. His knees can barely hold himself up anymore, gravel gnawing at his kneecaps but Javier holds out a hand to stop him, “Don’t move, mijo (my son). I know you’re scared but—“

But Lucas’ eyes are wet with terrified tears. He panics, throws himself to the side to crawl away and the ghost of Javier’s previous colleague seems to come to the conclusion that it is too risky to attempt a shot in the boy’s direction in case he misses, so instead—

Javier flinches at the loud sound of the gun going off. You lie on the ground in the next moment. He lets out a cry of anguish, crawling across the gravel road to get to you until his hands are scraped and his knees are dirty. The love of his life and his unborn child.

“No,” he yells as tears spring from his eyes. He clutches at you whilst you breathe rapidly and try to hold onto him as well but your grip is slowly loosening on him with every beat of your heart. He can see the way your pulse slows in how your clothes soak slower and slower, knows where it is going. You try to say something but he cannot understand it, your voice having been replaced by gurgles of blood, “No don’t try to talk, baby. Shit, I— look, it’s not even that bad. Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s not even that bad, it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, mi vida (my life). You and the baby. I promise.”

The same blank stare as the one that Carrillo sports washes over your face. He says your name over and over, “Mi amor (my love), no, no, look at me. No, no, no no no.”

Inés has started screaming in panic. She’s crying for you in the most heart-wrenching manner, terrified when you don’t react to her words like you always do. Her pitch climbs with each passing second but Javier has no strength to soothe his daughter because he yells your name until it feels like he cannot breathe.

Lucas yells for his mother in the background. The agony of hearing his children cry mixed with hearing you say nothing is too much for him. He panics, shakes you violently—

He jolts awake in the next moment to the sound of your voice. Fear still has him in its grip and leaves him disoriented, ready to fight whatever comes his way. He hyperventilates until he feels lightheaded and tries to figure out where he is, beads of cold sweat having collected on his forehead during his restless sleep.

“Javi,” you say with a hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around to face you. A moment ago, your eyes had been glazed over by death.

Immediately, he grabs your wrist in an iron grip. You place your other hand on top of his, speaking softly, “Javier. Let go.”

“Are you alright?” He chokes out and grips you harder, eyes wild in the dimly lit bedroom. He wants to run a million miles, “Are you alright?”

“I am okay, baby. We’re both safe,” you reassure him with a hand on your pregnant belly. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. He is unable to shake the image of you lying dead on the ground, “Shh…”

“Are you sure?” He whimpers, eyes flickering from your face to your stomach and back to your face again.

“Yes. It was just a bad dream. It was just a nightmare,” your voice is still ever so gentle and nowhere near the way it had been in his state of terror. He releases the clutch on your arm and you carefully run a hand over his forehead, “Breathe. Hold my hand. Tell me you love me.”

You offer your free hand to him and he carefully takes it, trying to convince himself that you won’t slip away from him in the dark bedroom. You squeeze his hand slightly. It’s a silly thing you came up with years ago.

“I love you,” he says quietly, already feeling a little better but when you say it back ever so gently, he finds himself bursting into tears. He cries and it is the kind that comes from the very bottom of one’s lungs; frantic and breathy sobs that sound almost painful.

He thought that the nightmares had stopped. They had been bad when he first met you, and he connected it to his decreasing alcohol consumption because back in Colombia, he was sometimes too boozed up to even dream. However, meeting you - marrying you - had been a glimpse into a future where he could get better because you were together. So why does his brain still do this once in a while?

“Pensé que te había perdido para siempre (I thought I had lost you forever),” he sobs when you engulf him in your arms. He rests his head against your soft chest, grabbing onto whatever he can of you to make sure you are real. It’s only times like these when his strong, broad hands feel unsure on your skin.

“Oh, baby. I’m right here,” you rock him carefully in a way that a mother does, “I’m not going anywhere, te prometo (I promise you).”

“No puedo vivir sin ti (I can’t live without you),” he continues. You reassure him that he won’t have to, that by then, someone will have discovered eternal life or made all of you into kind-hearted robots. Despite the chuckle he lets out, you also let him cry for as long as he needs to.

It takes you a while to calm him down again, resting your chin on top of his head as he lets himself fall into you instead of going out of his mind. He mumbles, “Where are the kids? Where’s Inés?”

“They’re in bed,” you promise him, arms cradling him and rubbing his back until his breathing starts to slow again, “They’re okay. They’re just asleep.”

Except they are not asleep. Your hand stops moving on his back, and he looks up at you to find your eyes on the door.

“Inés. Lucas. Stop standing at the door,” you say gently.

“Sorry,” they say in unison.

Relief floods Javier’s system at the sound of his children’s voices. His chest expands as he breathes in deeply for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He watches their little faces, hears the click of the lamp on your nightstand as you turn on the light.

“Is Daddy okay?” Inés asks carefully. Her eyes tell Javier that he has noticed the tears on her father’s face.

“We heard you yelling,” Lucas elaborates to his father, “Inés didn’t want to go in here alone. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” your voice is sweet and calm. It is in these moments that he loves you the most; when you prove to be the anchor in any storm, knows that the only times he might actually get a good night's rest is when you are right here beside him.

“Come here, mis amores (my loves),” he scoots a little away from you to open his arms. His children look uncertain for a moment but then Inés rushes forward to climb into bed and into his embrace. Lucas follows a moment after, the both of them earning a kiss on top of their heads.

Inés’ eyes are wide as she stares up at him, “Papá, you scared me.”

“I had a bad dream,” he explains to both of them and attempts to smile, pulling them closer to his chest. They make faces as they are squished but he doesn’t let go, “but I’m okay now. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Then why are you crying?” Lucas gets out of the embrace to study his face, shocked to see the tears running down until they drip down from his chin.

“Daddy! You are crying!” Inés parrots her older brother as she notices too. She kneels in front of her father and tilts her head.

“I am?” He asks, pretending not to know. Inés’ tiny hand reaches to wipe a few tears away without much success and his heart clenches in his chest with how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful family.

“It’s okay to cry,” Lucas explains softly, “That’s what Mom says.”

“Alright, let’s give your father some space,” you lock eyes with your husband, cup his cheek for a moment before brushing away the last traces of tears from his face with the back of your hand. He smiles at you and it is completely genuine for the first time.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Inés protests loudly.

“What if you both sleep in here for the rest of the night?” You bargain whilst still smiling at Javier, however a little more goofily now, “Just for tonight.”

Lucas is already crawling under the covers to cuddle up next to you, and Inés lays down next to her father. It takes a moment of quiet chatter and soothing caresses to make them both fall asleep again, their bodies exhausted from being awake in the middle of the early hours of the morning.

Javier can’t fall back asleep but from the way you breathe, he can tell that sleep hasn’t found you either.

Outside, the first light of dawn has begun to filter through the curtains. There’s a warmer glow in the room now, and he peeks at you from where he lies, looking like someone catching a glimpse of their crush.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You turn your head to face him and smile tenderly, the morning glow illuminating you from behind. You are so beautiful, he thinks, beautiful and pregnant, and he is so lucky.

Your voice is filled with genuine happiness, warm and loving. You look down at your sleeping children, place a hand on your bump, and then look back up at him, "We love you too.”

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

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kimsunos · 10 months

Note

Vampire sunoo with a s/o that has a biting kink

ALL MINE ☆ SUNOO SMUT

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (18+ CONTENT)

in which you have a biting kink your vampire boyfriend didn't know about.

tags: afab!reader, dom!sunoo, sub!reader, vampire!sunoo, mentions of blood, biting kink, praising, breeding.

words: 800

a/n: sorry for the delay as i said i'm coping with a lot of mental health issues but i love to write so im not abandoning here! this is very short but i liked how it turned out so im posting as an actual smut anyways thank you guys for waiting 💗🪽

he's thrusting deep and hitting every place, doing so well for you, making you feel so full. his hands are feeling your body desperately, trying to memorize your curves and lines, as if you were to disappear any second now. "beautiful." he says with adoring eyes as his mouth finds your exposed neck after abusing your lips until they got all red and swollen, kissing and licking the area.

he was hungry, starving for you, it was impossible to control himself if you kept clenching and milking his dick that way. he needed to make you completely his right now by his own will, because soon the switch would flip and only the animalistic instincts were going to take over his body.

he playfully bites the skin of your neck, gently, just to test the waters, afraid he might scare you. he was expecting a gasp of pain, surprise, even a giggle because he knows how necks are sensitive and everything tickles. he was really expecting anything, anything but the sinful, lustful, depraved pleasure moan you let out.

he stopped moving, eyes widening. "what was that, princess?" a smirk slowly creeping up his face. your cheeks got red and your face hot.

"i'm sorry." you said, avoiding eye contact, using your hands to cover your face. "it was nothing, keep moving, please." he only devilishly grined and raised an eyebrow, his sharp fangs showing. "pleaseeee, sun, just move." you whined, embarrassed.

"oh, dear…" you could hear a smile in his voice. "if it was nothing, i guess we should just keep going, right?" he kissed your neck in the same spot he bit earlier and continued his movements. it was good, obviously, but there was something missing, that pain that hurts so good, enough to make you feel stars.

and missing it so badly, you start to cry out of frustration. so desperately wanting again the alluring sensation of his teeth on your skin. you wanted to feel how much would his fangs sink, if he would have mercy or not, you needed to know and to feel it over and over.

"darling? why are you crying?" he says with a pout, feigning sympathy, lazily thrusting back and forth. he absolutely knows what you're up to.

"sunoo-" you whimper, reaching to cup his face with your hands. your eyes are shining with the tears. "sunoo, please." you look so defenseless. "do it again." he smirked as you said it.

"do what, my dear?" he knows what. but he needs to make you beg for what you want before caving in. you breathe, searching for courage.

"bite me." your voice went out in a whisper as you begged.

he smiled, really brightly.

"as you wish." devouring your neck with wet kisses and continuing his work with his hips, quicker this time.

"oooh, oh my god." you moaned as you finally felt his fangs sinking into your skin. the pleasure was unbearable, overwhelming, making you cross your legs around him, pulling him even closer. you craved more. "bite me more, sunoo. bite me again, please. bite me." you chanted as in a spell and he sank his teeth even more, feeding on your blood.

you could hear him moaning too, the sounds of your own moans and the skin slapping blending together. just like you, he was close to his release.

"delicious." he said, lifting his head from your neck, using the back of his hand to clean the blood staining his plump lips red. "you're all mine now, y/n." his foxy eyes devouring you entirely, and his voice trembling. "a-all mine. all mine. i can't- believe, you're finally all mine." his thrusts started to get even more desperate and messy, hitting your core amazingly as you were so sensitive in your entire body. the two bruises on your neck were stinging so good just adding to the pleasure. "my p-perfect princess, finally mine, right?"

"ooh, s-sunoo, yes, i- am."

"i'm- i'm going to stuff you full, my darling." he panted. "going to be- ah, dripping for days. so full of me, right?" you could only moan at his obscene remarks. "mine. forever." he said as his cum painted your walls white, filling you up, you following right after.

sunoo collapsed on top of you, his cold skin gently warming up because of your human heat. he loved to feel your heart beating, so full of blood and life.

"sun." you said.

"hm?"

"can i bite you?"

#sunoo smut #sunoo hard hours #sunoo hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #sunoo fanfic #sunoo x reader #enhypen smut

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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 5 months

Text

Let me put my lips to something (Alicent Hightower x Reader)

synopsis: Neglected by your husband, you find a confidant in Alicent, who is being treated the same way by her own husband. The depth of that trust and friendship however stay hidden to the two of you until one faithfull evening.

warnings: period typical homophobia, more porn than plot, kissing, oral sex, afab reader

word count: 3k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall, @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

It is late when you knock at the queen´s chambers. You are aware it is, but you don´t know where else to go as well. Trying to keep a neutral expression on your face for the servants that walk by you, your foot taps on the stone floor, until the heavy doors finally open. You can tell Alicent is surprised to see you at this time of day.

“The hour is late. Are you feeling well?” She asks with worry coating her voice.

It takes a while for you to find your own voice as you see her standing in front of you however. She looks so beautiful. Her curly, auburn hair flows over her shoulders perfectly and the dressing gown covering her night dress adulates her figure in the most flattering ways.

“May I come in?” You ask quietly so that only the woman can hear.

“Naturally.” Alicent steps aside to let you in.

Together the two of you sit down at the table in her rooms and suddenly you are more nervous than before your knuckles grazed her door.

“I must say, you look positively radiant this evening.” You compliment her in the hope to distract her attention from the way your fingers pick at each other and you eyebrows pull together. To no avail.

“You are amongst friends. Speak your mind freely. What is wearing so heavy on your soul?” Alicent lays her hand on yours to keep you from hurting yourself. Much like you often did to her. The touch sends a spark of electricity through your arm to your heart, making it stop for just a beat. You weren't sure how it had happened but after you married her eldest son, the queen and you had become a source of comfort for each other. Both neglected by your husbands and left to fend for yourselves against a seemingly uncaring world. Or court at least. And some time in the three years you now lived in the Red Keep, you had found yourself falling for the one person you could never have. Not only a woman, but the queen of the seven kingdoms none the less.

"My Queen. My friend. You know I do not like to speak ill of people, even more so when it is your own son I am speaking about. Yet every day more I feel I am not strong enough for this marital bond. I find myself wishing Aegon would simply divorce me. The silent sisters or even the wall would seem like a simpler lot."

“I feel for you and I do not blame you for such thought, my dear. Yet I must also protest. You possess much more strength than you think. I can see it in your eyes. Your husband may not know how lucky he is in having someone so lovely and intelligent besides him…” She pauses in the middle of her sentence and never finishes it. Searching anything in the room but your eyes.

“I cannot thank you enough for listening to my foolish worries. They must seem so small compared to what you have to endure.” Your hands take a hold of her delicate ones and you allow your thumb to caress the back of them to get her attention again.

Unbeknownst to you that simple action drives her heart to pound against her chest in a much quicker rhythm than before.

“If they burden you they are not foolish at all. Better to voice them in the safety of this chamber than to break from them. I have to admit, I do feel like I am trapped in a gilded cage from time to time. Though your presence has made my suffering more bearable.” An inexplicable blush lays itself over the queen´s pale features at the last sentence.

“I will always be here for you, dear friend. For as long as I breathe.” You squeeze the woman’s hands gently to emphasize the intent in your words. Words that speak of a love far deeper than the one for a mere friend.

One of your hands leaves her touch to rest against her rosy cheek. Your thumb caressing over the warm skin. The air between the two of you seems to crack with tension. Her breath falters under your fingertips and suddenly nothing between you seems like it should be between friends. The underlying feeling of her being your husbands mother is gone entirely. It encouraged you to utter the words you swore you would never tell a single living soul.

“May I confess something else? Something darker than what I laid upon you already?” You feel Alicent nod under your hand. It is your only answer as you avert your gaze in shame at the desire you are about to share.

“I had a dream last night. Stemming from desires I tried to hide and pray away for some time now, but all the praying in the world was for naught.” Your voice is barely above a rough whisper.

“What happened in that dream?” Follows Alicent´s question. Equally as quiet at the seriousness of the moment.

“I dreamt about you…” The words come out only slowly. “And me. We were lying in bed. You were writhing underneath me in pleasurer at my touch. It was a most sinful, yet beautiful dream.”

Alicent is left speechless, with an even higher beating heart and an animated fantasy. Despite that, her words speak of the opposite sentiment.

“This… this is highly inappropriate. We are both married and even if we weren´t this could never be by the laws of the seven. It would be better for you to retire to your chambers now” The words have so little conviction that you are unsure who she is trying to convince.

Your thumb wipes over her heated cheek once more and before you know it there are mere inches separating her lips from yours. Your eyes meet hers one last time and with a shuttering breath you taste her lips on yours. It´s only for a moment, but that tentative touch heightens your senses massively. When your eyes open again Alicent´s brown ones are already looking back at you. Uncertain, searching in yours for what to do next, for an answer to all this.

“You need to leave. Now. Before this can lead to anything… more…” The brunette stands up, walking out of reach to wrap her arms around herself. The feelings of shame and want clashed inside of her. Swirling in her stomach in a whirlwind of emotional conflict.

“Please, do not send me away so soon.” You plead in a soft tone. Walking after her to lay your hands on her shoulders. “I am begging you, dear friend.”

Alicent doesn´t push them away. Instead she turns around to take your hands once more.

“What are you doing to me?” She breathes.

“I merely wish to love you. To worship you, just like you deserve. Even if it is for one night only. Let me prove the true nature of my feelings to you. I care naught for how sinful these desires are. You are too beautiful not to sin.” You lead your friend to her bed and sit her down beside you. “Will you let me?”

Your hands travel the length over Alicent´s arms with feather light touches as you wait for an answer. Taking in the satin of her dressing gown underneath your finger tips and the silky, smooth texture of her hair as you put it behind her ear.

Her soft lips part to make way for a fluttering breath to escape and then she leans in to lock her lips with yours again. It takes not even a second for you to respond to it. At first they brush over Alicent's lips in a slow, sensual manner. You try not to overwhelm her with everything. That however quickly wanes, when her tongue presses against your lip to silently ask for entrance. Of course you let her in letting her tongue explore your mouth and dance with yours as you do. One of your hands wanders down to open the dressing gown and slips it off Alicent´s shoulders. Wandering up the front of her body, grazing her breasts that were now only clothed in a thin nightdress anymore. The way her heart beats against it clearly tangible. Assuring you that your friend is just as excited as you are. Next your hands gently push the older woman backwards by the shoulder, to lay on the bed as you straddle her hips. Letting your hands wander over her breasts over the fabric of her nightdress once more, a small moan falls sounds off into the room. Her body has long since forgotten what is happening right now is a sin. She feels herself being pulled into the heat of the moment, letting her body go loose to the touches of her friend´s hands. You part from her only for a second, trying to gather yourself. It is so unbelievable that you are lucky enough to be allowed to touch her in this way. Then you place a peck to the corner of her now kiss swollen lips, trailing more passionate, open-mouthed kisses along the length of the side of her neck. Looking down, Alicent's fingers clutch at the blankets, her hips instinctively rising towards yours as your bodies brush against each other. Another moan escapes Alicent's lips, as the tingling sensation your touch leaves behind and that excites her more and more.

“Do you know how long I have desired this...?” Alicent whispers in a voice full of passion, her voice catching in her throat.

“Tell me how long.” You murmur against the hollow at the base of Alicent's throat. Mouthing at it and then kissing further down to her collar bones. Alternating between soft kisses and gentle nibbles.

When the queen´s hips raise off the mattress again, you shift your weight to put a leg between both of her thighs, to assist her in her search for more friction to satisfy the need for more stimulation.

Alicent turns her head to be able to look into your eyes, even though they are blurred because of lust and love and the way her body rubs against yours. Her heart still pounding heavy in her chest.

“Since I first saw you. When you came to the keep after the match was made. Your dress was such a beautiful green and you hair… Oh, your hair.” Alicent's voice trails off as she closes her eyes, unable to keep looking for the moment.

“Keep looking at me. I want to see your eyes.” You whisper into Alicent's ear with a soft dominant tone. Waiting until you have your lover´s eyes on you again to push up the nightdress to reveal her pale skin and the rosy nipples that sit atop her beautiful breasts.

“ I cannot.” Alicent says while trying to hide her face, but she can't manage too.

You grab her chin between your thumb and forefinger to turn her face back to you and her body is overcome with lust, and her mind is consumed by the image of your hair in her hands. Your eyes looking deeply into hers, with a look as if she had created the world and your lips on her supple skin.

“Look at me.” You whisper with more emphasis. “You are so beautiful.”

“Yes, oh yes.” Alicent whispers in a faint voice, her breath catching in her throat.

She feels her mind go hollow and her heart beating so fast it feels like it is about to explode. She moans again and again as she is overwhelmed with so much more than she has ever been able to desire in her lifetime.

“You are a goddess…” You murmur breathlessly against her breasts. Your tongue swirling around the erect buds until they are painfully hard. Blowing on them to elicit another sound of pleasure, before you close your lips around the peaks of her chest to nibble and suck on them.

Meanwhile your hands find Alicent's hips. Leading them with a firm grip in a slow rhythm to drag against her thigh.

Alicent's breath comes out in hot, shallow breaths. Her entire being is consumed with your touch, her body shaking.

“It's like heaven. It's divine, that touch of yours.” Alicent's breath quickens, yet her mind remains empty of all thought. All she understands is the need to feel more.

The older woman´s hands let go of your hair and the bedsheets to take hold of your shoulders. Her nails digging into the flesh as you guide her away from your thigh and instead replace it with your fingers. Reverend touches of your fingertips, pull all kinds of sounds from her. Delicious whines and whimpers and needy pleas for more.

“Please, oh gods, please. More… More...” Alicent is on the edge of losing control. Her mouth opens, but no words can form under the small, deliberate circles you rub into the sensitive bundle of nerves that sits at the top of her fluttering cunt.

You can tell Alicent is close to her release. So you capture your lover's lips in another passionate kiss, swallowing her every loud moan as to not get caught by any guards, your fingers lead her over the edge of pleasure.

“Yes! Yes!” That's all her mind can grasp as her entire body shakes with her release.

Once all the pent up energy is out of Alicent´s system and the shaking dies down to a trembling again, You take your fingers, that had caught some of her juices, away from her wet heat and lick them clean.

“You truly are a delicacy. To be savored, not used and cast aside at the whims of men that cannot even begin to process the goddess that you are.” You groan at her sweet taste.

Diving down between her legs, wrapping your arms around them to keep her hips still, you begin to kiss all around her center. Nibbling and sucking a few, easily concealed marks into her flesh. Teasing her long before she finally puts her lips to the queens wet heat. Letting her tongue swipe out to lick a wide stripe through it.

Alicent feels like a bolt of electricity has hit her. Her entire body is consumed with excitement. She does not want you to ever stop touching her. Every touch is a pure delight that Alicent's body and mind crave. It has her panting and heaving for air, writhing underneath you in no time. Not able to stop the feelings she feels building up in her body, she tries to push her lover´s head away, but her weakened arms cannot stop the force of your touch.

Assured by her actions, you suck on the queen's pearl even harder. The feelings of another oncoming release begin to wash over her again, she is taken back to that moment when her body was pushed over the edge. Her nails raking over your back to leave red markings along it. Until they reach the back of your head.

You willingly let Alicent pull your head closer between her legs and think, that if you were to die then and there, tasting your lover's nectar on your tongue, it would be the happiest death. Nevertheless you live and Alicent reaches her second peak. Alicent gasps for air as her entire body is consumed with pleasure. She is convinced that her heart will give out any second now from how hard it beats. She is in the seven heavens. Would be screaming out her feelings, if it wouldn´t be for your hand covering her mouth. You are eager to please the queen, but you are not eager to face the king´s wrath for doing so. Your tongue guides her through her climax. Making sure not to waste a drop of the sweet nectar from between her legs. While under your hand a muffled whine of your name signals her overstimulation. Then you kiss your way up again. Over Alicent's stomach and chest up to her lips.

"You taste so sweet. Truly divine.” You murmur as you give her a taste of herself.

Shifting your weight once more, you lay next to Alicent. The pinky finger of one of your hands entangled with one of hers as your other hand runs lightly over Alicent's bare arm.

“How do you feel?” Alicent feels her heart flutter, as the simple touch and question. She looks towards her lover, her eyes fixed with adoration. Her cheeks become flushed once more as she takes in her love, not only for you but for the way you makes her feel. Safe, loved, content.

“I do not know how you manage to make me feel this way.” Alicent says as she caresses your cheek.

“I am merely a fool in love, lucky enough to share the bed of the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros.” You say as you savor every moment of the sweet touch. Butterflies raging in both of your stomachs.

Alicent cannot take her eyes away from you. The love she bears for her lover, the way all her thoughts and emotions are consumed by the desire for your touch and love makes her smile.

“Come here.” Her voice remains calm, though it trembles slightly due to her lasting breathlessness. “Kiss me again.”

“Anything the queen commands.” You tease her with a wide smirk. Letting her pull you closer, before laying her lips on Alicent's in a slow, most tender kiss. You wrap your arms around the queen. Tracing the length of her spine with the most reverend touches.

Even the softest movement of your fingers send a wave of pleasure down her spine. She cannot hold back any longer. Alicent's body is overcome with a feeling she can barely describe.

“Love me.” Her voice trembles with excitement, though she cannot say much more. All she wants is you.

“You will never go unloved for another day as long as I live. I promise. In the smallest gazes and touches or in the biggest gestures we can allow. I will always love you.” You promise her and the look in your eyes tells Alicent that you mean every single word of it.

#queen alicent #alicent hightower #alicent x reader #alicent x you #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x you #alicent hotd #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic #hotd x reader #hotd x you

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eupheme · 8 months

Text

— room for two

agent ortega x f!reader

rated e - 3k

tags: pwp/stagecoach sex, reference to sexual harassment, implied mutual pining, flirting, teasing, semi-public fingering, shared tasting, dirty talk

a/n: as a rdr2 enthusiast and with the amount of stagecoach fics I’ve read - as soon as I saw one in the pilot I was like 👀💖

You find your ride back to Brimstone is spent with some very unexpected but very welcome company.

He had made room for himself in your thoughts before, but never quite like this.

Close enough to touch, in the cramped stagecoach.

Just a few moments ago, opting for the smaller of the two had seemed appealing - the cheaper cost, the journey back quicker with only two horses instead of four.

Never thinking you’d be sharing the space.

And now - it feels as if your knees would brush, if you uncrossed your legs. Already trapped within his spread ones.

The morning had been spent two towns over. That carriage shared with other girls, all with their own tasks for Madame. An envelope sealed with bright red wax clutched between fingers as you had clambered out at the first stop - as they had continued on to the next town.

A little bit of stolen time amongst the shops, after your letter had been delivered. The coins slipped to you in thanks spent on something sweet to eat, a new ribbon for the straw hat you had been repairing at home.

The sun creeping past noon, before you had found a carriage to take back. Just managing to settle inside, when you had heard a friendly voice calling from outside.

A hand catching the edge of the door, as the driver had moved to shut it.

“This coach heading to Brimstone?”

The Agent, with his sharp clothes and his dark eyes. You’ve seen him in the Emerald Palace, slipping upstairs to meet with Madame Hume.

The curiosity had sparked even then - unable to keep your eyes off him. Heat rising to your cheeks at the wink sent your way, the caught smile as he followed behind his partner.

His appearance becoming more common. In the past weeks. A little jolt in your stomach when you saw the two of them, standing out amongst the regulars.

Those dark eyes always seeming to find yours, for just a brief moment. But one that lasts, lingering long after he’s gone.

It had been enough to just think about him.

Wishing for another life - one where you weren’t felt up by strangers while serving drinks. For one where you were whisked away by him, instead.

A much different kind of stranger.

There was a fluidity in the way that Agent Ortega moved - folding himself inside the carriage, an easy smile shot your way. Bowler hat discarded, set down on the bit of seat next to him, as he settled in.

“You don’t mind, do you darlin’? This ride is on me.”

And you hadn’t. Not at all.

Now - your eyes drift, across the gray shades of his suit. The sharp vest, the golden chain of his pocket watch where it tucks into a pocket. Everything nearly in place except for the buttons popped at his collar - exposing that extra inch of his throat.

A silver badge glinting against his chest, in the afternoon sun.

With an effort, you tear your eyes away.

But you can still feel the weight of his own exploration. His gaze as warm as the sun that peeks in through the opened windows, settling across you skin.

“Never seen you outside the Palace,” Ortega comments, breaking the silence as the driver cracks the reins. A creak of the carriage as the horses follow - taking you down the main road.

The implication that he’s noticed you at all is not lost - your attention quickly drawn back. Your own smile shy, as his grows wider - pretty curve of his lips.

“Nothing interesting, I’m afraid. Just runnin’ errands, sir.” You shrug, intentionally vague - missing the way his eyes drop to your mouth at the word. The little shift in his seat as you glance out the window, as a rider on horseback thunders by.

“Miss Hume keep you busy?”

It’s an understatement. Running the Emerald Palace was hard work - and combined with a powerful woman and her short temper meant there was rarely a moment to breathe.

Your face must show your answer because he laughs - an arm slinging across the back of the seat, the movement bumping his knee against yours.

“She’s keepin’ us busy, too.” He confides, “Been runnin’ all across New Mexico. But I think we finally found what she’s lookin’ for-”

Agent Ortega catches himself then, his smile apologetic as his hands raise, “Sorry, shouldn’t divulge any more.”

“I understand.” You smile.

Everything behind doors with Madame Hume was hushed - half-spoken whispers and sealed letters, drowned out by the piano downstairs. The only quiet thing about her business.

But you had found yourself leaning forward at his confession - drawn in by him, the secret of the detective’s recent and sudden appearance.

There’s a jolt then - the wobble of the left wheel as it rattles against a deep divot that cracks the dirt road. The speed of the stagecoach has the carriage lurching, a wheel lifting as it crosses the narrow gap.

A little yelp rips from your throat, as you lose your balance. Already off-kilter, drawn in by the almost-reveal of his secret.

Hands catch on your hips as you tip forward. A swift tug as he spares you from slipping into that narrow gap between his knees, the force behind his pull bringing you into his lap.

Chivalrous, in his intent.

A clucking tongue for the driver - a glare as if the uneven road was their fault, as your fingers bite into his shoulders. Wrinkling the fine fabric as you steady yourself.

Acutely aware of the strong arm that curls around your waist. The pull of your cotton skirt where the layers bunch up around your knees - thighs spread wide where you kneel in his lap.

The warm scent of his aftershave, curling over your senses with how close you now are.

“You alright?” There’s concern in his tone, the words stringing together with his worry. His grip still firm, as you blink down at him.

It takes another second - him repeating his question more slowly, with the cock of an eyebrow - before you get your bearings.

“I am.” Your head ducks, “Thank you.”

But you find, that you don’t move.

And neither does he.

His lips part, with a slight upward tilt of his head - a movement that you just begin to mirror, without thought.

Before there’s another uneven rattle - hitting the carriage even more strongly than before - and you find yourself clinging to him, again. Flattened against him, as his face buries in the bare curve of your shoulder.

Your hands ghost across his chest, sliding over the buttons of his vest. Leaning back as heat creeps across the back of your neck, up to your cheeks.

“‘m sorry-” You’re murmuring, the mortification from before, now fully catching up. “So sorry-”

Just now realizing the position that you’re in - how incredibly inappropriate it is, with your knees pressing into his ribs.

With his breath ghosting across your shoulder, so close to the soft curve of your breast.

It has you leaning back - though the hands at your waist tighten, for the briefest of moments.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart.” There’s none of the worry in his expression. The part of his lips as you shift - a short, inhaled breath, “‘s not every day I get a beautiful girl in my lap.”

That has you freezing.

Wide eyes blinking down at the grin that pulls across his face, tugging up one side.

The words - softly breathed out, “You think I’m… beautiful?”

His eyes drag down like they do before - like they’ve done. Slower this time, with the knead of his fingers against the fabric of your dress.

“Thought I made that obvious.”

This time when his head tilts - you meet him.

The press of his mouth against yours. A fluttering in your chest as the soft sound of his groan, as his hands slide around to your back.

One dropping against the curve of your ass, nudging you forward. The slightest inhale of breath before you’re leaning into him, fingers sliding into the dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck.

Your own moan swallowed, as his tongue brushes your lip, licks inside your mouth. The upward tilt of his hips, an unconscious grind of his hips against the layers of your skirt.

A moment as you tug at them - a need to get closer. His hushed “yes” when you settle, when you can feel the stiffening curve against you.

Hands wandering, tugging at the dark tie around his throat, teasing at the peek of skin where the button strains at his chest.

His own tracing up near your ribs, spanning beneath your breasts. Warm through the thin layers of your bodice, and with the next breath - you’re pulling his palm higher.

Ortega groans a curse, sharp on his tongue as he cups your breast, the tips of his fingers brushing against bare skin.

There’s a building heat inside your chest, your tummy. You’ve been touched before, but not like this. Never with such want. Never so openly.

That second thought is what pulls you out - an unconscious glance from over your shoulder. Peeking out at the stretch of road behind you, the trailing path of kicked-up dust.

“Where did you go?” He coaxes - his voice low, strained.

Eyes blown wide, those pretty lips parted again. Your smile shy and embarrassed, your lower lip caught between your teeth.

“I just…” You squirm, “I haven’t done this before.”

His hand drops from you, the dazed look disappearing from his eyes, “We don’t have to, pretty girl. I didn’t know-”

A little laugh then, as you realized - drawing his hand back.

“No.” You smile, “I’ve, um… I just mean here. The stagecoach, it’s so open-”

With the three windows and the driver above. Soft noises already pulled so easily from you - you’re sure if things went any further, there would be no mistaking what was happening inside.

The frown transforms into a knowing smile. Relief lacing his words as his thumb teases against your nipple, the tight pucker of fabric that betrays your need.

A second, before he’s coaxing you off of him. Your disappointment mounting, before he spins you around - only to pull you back against him again.

Your ass snug against his front, with the layers of your dress settling around you. His nose ghosting along the column of your throat, mouth pressing a kiss against your skin.

“How is this, then?” He asks, his voice low in your ear, “I’ll take care of you, and you can keep an eye on the road. See anyone, and I’ll stop.”

A hand flattens across your stomach, lips on the back of your neck. Sending your skin prickling as he inhales, a soft groan bitten back between teeth.

“You’ll… you’ll-” You’re distracted by the sweep of his fingers, the slow rock of his hips. The thudding of your pulse between your thighs, an ache that has them pressing together.

“I’ll make you feel good, honey.” He sighs, “Anythin’ you want.”

It’s tempting. The desire that pools low in your belly. Your thoughts running wild - wondering just what he had in store. What he will give you.

The thought is enough to have you nodding, settling more comfortably in his grip. Perched on his strong thighs, your breath hitching as he starts at your shoulder.

A kiss pressed against the skin, as he works his way up the curve of your neck. A hushed groan as the rock of the carriage grinds him against your ass, his own need evident.

The slow drag of his hand as it rises from your stomach, spanning the space beneath your breasts as his head hooks over your shoulder.

“Christ. Just look at you, darlin’-“

The peek of your breasts above the low neckline. Fingers lifting to play with the pale, pretty ruffles that line the edge - the tip of one stroking against the tight bud just beneath.

Another jostle of the carriage coaxes the dress down further. His thumb slipping up, and then hooking beneath.

Ortega’s groan is soft in your ear. Your hips rocking against his, with the slow sweep of his touch.

“This okay, darlin’?” He husks, before his mouth presses against your neck, “If it isn’t, I’ll get out and walk. Don’t you worry.”

“S’okay.” You sigh, arching into him, “Feels so good-”

With your words, he’s tugging the hem down. Baring you as you send the briefest glance out the back of the coach - but there’s only the sun and sky above you, the rising streaks of red and orange layered in the rocks of the canyon around.

He teases you. A peek of his tongue as it swipes the pad of his thumb - smearing the slick tip across the tight bud, before he’s pinching it.

Your moan is a high, bitten-off sound before you’re catching it. Desperate for more, as you begin to move with him. Meeting the slow rhythm of his hips, your fingers fisting in your dress.

Before you’re catching his hand, dragging it down. Letting him cup you over the layers, where the low ache has settled, simmering.

“Please-” You whine, needing more.

He gives it to you, as he promised he would. Gathering up the layers of your dress, letting them pool around your waist - spreading out the fabric to cover you.

Your bare thighs pressed against his, and it’s now that you can truly feel him. That hard, swollen curve that strains against the fabric. Adjusted to press snugly against your core - an urge rising to touch him yourself, but he’s catching your hand before it wanders far.

“You first, honey.” His jaw grits, “Said I would, and I’m a man of my word.”

Fingers trace over your knee, up over the bare skin of your thigh. Cupping you again - like before. A wide palm against the thin fabric, another needy sound ripped from your throat, that he hushes through a grin.

Before he’s teasing at the waistband of your drawers, then dipping under. Meeting warm, soaked flesh, his own sound unrestrained as your thighs press together.

“Fuck.” His fingers trace your seam, splitting as they part you. Sliding back up until the tip is pressing at a spot that makes your hips jolt. The same tender place that you’ve only found at night, when you’re alone.

“So fucking wet, sweetheart. All for me, isn’t that right?”

Your answering hum is high, as he begins to circle. Turning into a sharp gasp before his hand is covering your mouth, muffling the sound.

“Hush, honey.” He coos, “Don’t want the driver to hear you, now.”

Somehow - the thought is thrilling, now. The thought of an errant moan overheard, the peek of a passer-by seeing the flash of your skin, his mouth at your neck.

But you clamp your teeth together, as his hand drops to curving over your breast again. Holding you to firmly against his chest, the jerk of your hips now stilted as you chase his touch.

The soft sounds caught in your throat, as each breath grows shorter. His soft hums at each one you make, as he teases at your opening.

The tip of a finger pressing inside, before he’s dragging the soaked pad up, pressing just a little harder, a little faster.

“Bet you taste so fucking good. Wish I was between those pretty thighs right now.” He growls in your ear - a thrill at his words, even if you don’t quite understand them.

Clarity coming a moment later, as his fingers slide from you. Shining and slick with you, that heat rising to your cheeks again at the filthy sight.

A little gasp of surprise as he slips them between his lips. Shocked by the groan he makes, as his tongue swirls over them to suck them clean. His other hand catching at your jaw, coaxing you to him.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, when your mouths meet. A sweet tang that wasn’t there before, melting against the heat of his tongue as it strokes against yours.

“Just knew it.” He grits out, before they’re slipping between your thighs again, “Need to get you in my bed, darlin’. Let you be as loud as you want-”

It feels like there’s a spark that’s a bright as the sun, burning inside you. Shining with the wet press of his fingers, those tight circles placed with such precision that it makes your head spin.

Fueled by the thought of getting him alone. Wanting to know more about how he’d taste you, fill you. Wanting to strip away those layers, to find the man beneath the badge.

It’s enough that you’re there, on the edge of something that feels like more than you’ve ever known. The urge to leap rising, knowing that he’s right there with you.

Ortega’s name soft on your lips, breaking as you try to muffle it. His answering hum, low and rough as he keeps the same swirling touch.

The path to that edge rushing towards you, overwhelming as your fingernails sink into the meat of his forearm. The stretch of a finger as it sinks inside you, opening you up.

His hushed murmurs, asking if you’d take him here. How good you’d feel, wrapped around his cock - the one that presses against you with each lift of his hips.

Your whining assent. That you would, that you want him to, want him-

Broken off as the heel of his hand rocks against your clit. The feeling heightened with his finger buried in you, curling and stroking. A second joining, each thrust wet as he mimics his thoughts - finding a rhythm that has you clenching down hard around him.

“That’s it, cariño.” He’s groaning, watching the heave of your chest, the way his fingers move beneath the dress, “Christ, I can feel how much you need this. Let go for me-”

It doesn’t take much more. His touch, his words, rip through you. The thud of the hoofbeats, the creak of the wagon fading out to nothing. A white noise as your head tips back, as your vision blurs.

A ragged sound in your throat muffled as he brings his mouth to your again - the sound of the stagecoach drowning out the wet pound of his fingers as you pulse around him.

The rippling pleasure washing over you, wave after wave. Your thoughts hazy as his hand spans your jaw, keeping you close until you come back down. Leaving you’re draped against him - utterly boneless.

Breathless, until a whistle breaks into your afterglow.

Mechanical - not a person, but the train that you’ve come to know well. The one just outside Brimstone, it’s departure welcoming of your arrival.

The bright glow of your pleasure dims, as you gasp - forgetting that you were supposed to be keeping watch.

“‘s okay, sweetheart.” Ortega coaxes, his fingers still buried in you, “Been watchin’ for you, pretty girl. No one’s lookin’ at you but me.”

There’s ache as he pulls from you, leaving you empty. Helping you put yourself back together - your fingers curling around his as he helps you back to your seat.

The same hand coming to cup himself a few minutes later - a lewd adjustment as the carriage comes to a stop, just outside the Palace.

You shoot him a pained expression, wanting more time with him. To return the favor - all while knowing you’re both expected at the Palace. A look that he shakes his head at, in response.

Opening the door for you like the gentleman he is, instead - lingering behind as he buttons his long jacket closed.

Hiding where he throbs for you. The spot where the fabric of his trousers has soaked through, dampened with his desire.

Almost forgetting his hat, snatched up at the last second.

You have to part now, it would be improper to do so otherwise. But there’s a moment where he lingers - a hand at your elbow, a split second where he pulls you close.

“Got a room over at the Turquoise Sky. Tell me you’ll meet me there tonight, beautiful?”

Murmured out for just you to hear, in the busy streets. Your very own secret, an offering to find out the true meaning of his words - just how well he could take care of you.

Emboldened, you lean close to whisper your answer back to him.

And amongst the crowd - he smiles.

just wanted to write a fun little no-pressure thing, thank you for reading! 💖

#the pilot was all over the place omg but it was fun!#and I am sucker for an 1880s setting so here we are!#agent ortega x reader #agent ortega x you #agent ortega x f!reader #agent ortega #the sixth gun

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geminijade · 6 months

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What Are We? Part 3

A/N: Any and All Military Mistakes Are My Own. I'd love to thank @mrsevans90 for helping me get the ball rolling on this installment. It would not be possible without their input and feedback!

Trigger Warnings: A Vague Disclaimer is Nobody's Friend. You and you alone are responsible for your reading material. Jake Seresin is a complete menace. I tried to tag as many as possible but it wouldn't let me tag everyone and for that I apologize. Angst in the form of parental death/drunk driving. Illusion to Goose's untimely passing. Airplane accidents. A little bit of smut because this is Jake we're talking about. I think that covers it. If I missed anything please feel free to let me know! Hearts, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ❤ Happy Reading 📚

The next morning came bright and early with Jake's alarm clock waking him. He groaned and rolled over to stop the offending noise. He slammed his hand down until he made contact and all noise ceased. Lying on his back he roughly ran his hand over his face trying to wake up, he looked out his window and the sun was barely peaking over the horizon. Today was going to be a very long day of running drills and flight plans.

Jake wished that it was you waking him up with your warm, soft lips and hands instead of his shrill alarm clock. He grabbed his phone that was sitting on his bedside table and saw that he had a missed text from you. Just seeing your name first thing in the morning brought a smile to his face. Y/N: Good Morning, Handsome. You're probably still sleeping. Call me or text me when you see this. If I don't hear from you I hope that you have a wonderful day!! xoxo Y/N

Jake tossed his phone onto his slept in bed and made his way to the head to drain the snake. His dog tags rattling around his neck and his grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. He quickly took care of business and washed his hands. He was desperate to hear your voice hoping that it would make his day go by quicker. Checking the time he saw that it was only a little bit past 6 in the morning.

He wasn't sure why you were awake so early but you hadn't texted him that long ago, he dialed your number and listened to it ringing on the other end. You picked up on the 3rd ring and answered, "Hello?" "Good morning sunshine. What are you doing awake this early?" You could hear the humor in his voice, Jake knew that you weren't a morning person at all. "Oh, ya know just thought that I would be up before the sun. You do this every day? On purpose?"

Jake let out a chuckle "hazard of the job, Sweetheart. So what are you doing up this early?" You groaned that Nat had talked you into joining her on her daily juice and jog as she called it. Phoenix always starts her day with a juice cleanse and a jog and she roped you into it. You were changing into a pair of leggings and matching Tshirt plus some sensible shoes. You pulled your hair into a messy bun and resumed your conversation.

"Oh you know, trying to fit in some sister quality time before she goes to work." You took a good long hard look in the mirror and decided that you looked fine for an early morning run. You were pretty sure that muggers wouldn't care what you looked like. "Can I ask you for a favor?" "Anytime. What you got for me?" You felt awkward asking and you figured that Jake could sense that.

"You don't have to be shy around me, remember I know what you sound like when you cum. " You could pretend to be scandalized but he was in the right. "Could I drop you my location? I'd just feel better knowing that you know where I am incase anything happens. Logically, I know that nothing will but I've definitely seen one to many true crime shows and horror movies that start with this exact scenario: Hot young women go jogging and boom they either find a dead body or end up as said dead body. "You were aware that you were rambling but couldn't stop yourself.

Jake thought it was adorable but he didn't want to diminish your anxiety and he thought it was cute that you were still shy around him after everything. "Of course you can. Do you know where Phoenix is taking you?" You pulled your phone away from your ear and googled the directions. "Mission Beach Park," you let Jake know as you scrolled through the pictures. It looked really pretty and not secluded but it was still dark outside and you'd rather be safe than sorry.

You dropped your location to Jake's cell phone and he heard the ding a few seconds later. You felt a little bit of relief that someone else knew where you would be. Now that you got that out of the way, it was time to move on to why you really texted him so early in the morning. You weren't sure how to broach the subject so you just dove right in. "So, next week Nat and I are hosting a little get together at the house. It was actually Amelia's idea and Penny's too. Everyone's invited. "

You kind of let the silence fill the void, the implication being that you were looking forward to seeing him again in a more personal setting. Jake decided to put you out of your misery, "wild horses couldn't keep me away from seeing you again. " You released the breath that you weren't aware that you were holding. "Good." Jake could practically feel your smile through the phone.

Phoenix yelled up the stairs that she was going to get ready and your freshly squeezed juice was sitting on the kitchen counter. You gave him all of the information for next week's gathering and you were hesitant to end the call. "I gotta run, literally. " You let out a snort and Jake thought you were adorable and had no problems letting you know that. "You're so goddamn adorable it hurts me. "

"Oh no, we wouldn't want you to be in any pain. You might have to come over and let me kiss it and make it better. " A sly smile on your face had Jake groaning into the phone. "Don't be a tease Y/N, you know that I'll drop everything and be there so fast your head will spin. " You gave yourself a final glance in the mirror and went downstairs to the kitchen.

You saw your juice where she said that it would be and you could hear the shower running as you took a sip of the green juice. It was surprisingly good and you finished about half. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Seresin." That brought a smile to his face as he was changing into a pair of athletic shorts and tshirt, you could hear his dog tags rattling as he slid them under his shirt. "What's on the agenda for today?"

Jake tried to keep his tone light when he told you that he was joining Coyote on his run followed by breakfast in the main dining hall followed by a few flight test runs and then being debriefed. "Just a typical day, sunshine. I should be done around 6. I'd love to take you out for dinner and drinks, pick you up and take you out on a proper date. You put on your best dress and get all dolled up for me. How's that sound?"

"I know what you're trying to do here, you're trying to distract me from you training for life and death missions, Lieutenant. " That got a laugh out of Jake. "Tell me that it's working?" You begrudgingly acknowledged that yes the idea of being wined and dined by him was definitely working on you. "Good. " You heard a banging on his door and you caught bits and pieces of his conversation with Javy. "Tell Javy that I say hi and you guys have a safe flight training."

Jake could hear the worry in your voice and he hated it. "I'll see you at 7 sharp, Princess." You tried to take the fear out of your voice so that he wouldn't worry about you being worried about him. "I'm counting down the seconds" you whispered into the phone as Nat made her way further into the kitchen to put on her running shoes. You both quietly hung up and you turned to face her.

"You ready?" You nodded and grabbed your light athletic jacket and you made sure that you had your gps on and your pepper spray. You and Nat stepped out onto your front porch and she locked the door behind you. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Phoenix asked you as she did some pre run stretches and you followed suit. You looked at her warily and let her know that Jake was picking you up at 7 tonight for a date. "Oohhh, the plot thickens, " she smirked at you.

"That's not until later tonight. I think that I'll look for a job or maybe I'll go back to school. I'm not sure yet what I want to do." Phoenix nodded and linked your arms together as you started to walk together towards the beach. "I'm really happy that you're planning a future here, I honestly wasn't sure if asking you to move here and uproot your entire existence was the right thing to do but I'm willing to help you figure everything out. "

"I appreciate you offering and for everything else that you have done for me. I should plan at least one trip back home to get the rest of my stuff out of storage and finalize the sale of the house." Phoenix lightly punched you on your shoulder and you looked over at her. "You know that you don't have to do everything on your own, right? I mean I'm all for being a strong independent woman but sometimes the adult thing to do is ask for help. Let me help you."

Your sister's words brought tears to your eyes and you were too choked up to speak so you just nodded yes and hugged her. "I love you, Y/N. You're my family and the squad already considers you one of us. There's no escaping it now." That made you laugh through your tears "only a crazy lady wouldn't want to be surrounded by hot U.S. Navy men and live near the ocean. "

That elicited a groan and an eyeroll from your sister who playfully kicked you in the butt. "I should have known that would have been the deal breaker for you. " You put your hands on your hips and started jogging down the path. "Catch me if you can," you called over your shoulder and kept up a steady pace. You two jogged in comfortable silence for a few miles and made it home just as the sun was rising.

Phoenix made sure that you got home safely and got her stuff ready for work and soon the house was quiet again. You made yourself a light breakfast of egg whites and avocado toast and took a quick shower. You threw your dirty clothes into the washer and changed into a pair of shorts and tank top. You found your laptop and fired it up, you were quickly burning through what little savings you had and you desperately needed a source of income. You refused to sponge off of your sister as you browsed the help wanted section.

In your previous life back home you were going to school for nursing and working part time when your world was turned upside down. You didn't want to go back to school so work it was, you emailed a few different places with your resume and hoped that someone would reach out to you soon. You cleaned up the kitchen and switched your laundry and decided that you would need something pretty to wear on your night out with Jake. You looked at the clock and saw that it was only a little bit past noon and you figured that it was as good as a time as any to text him and ask him where he was taking you so you could decide on an outfit. Standing in the middle of your room you shot him a quick text.

JAKE'S POV:

Jake was standing in line for lunch when his phone vibrated in his shorts pocket. His morning and afternoon consisted of a 5 mile run with Rooster, Bob, Payback, Coyote and Fanboy. A few laps around the track to cool down and then they hit the showers just in time for lunch in the mess hall. His blonde hair was still damp from the shower and he was starved. After lunch they'd be practicing evasive flight maneuvers.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out and saw that it was you asking for hints about how fancy should you dress up. He planned on taking you to the best steakhouse restaurant in San Diego. He fired off a quick text letting you know that he thought you would look stunning in a burlap sack. Two seconds later he got your response : not at all helpful, Seresin. Coyote was standing behind him and trying to look over Jake's shoulder to see who he was texting.

You had it narrowed down to a few different options and decided to send Jake some pictures and let him decide on which outfit was your best look. Unaware that Javy was still looking over Jake's shoulder he opened the picture messages and Coyote let out a wolf whistle. "Yo, who's the hottie sending you sexy pictures?!" Jake quickly put his phone back into his pocket but it was too late, the damage was done. All of the guys swarmed Jake trying to figure out who you were. Rooster and Phoenix walked in and saw the guys huddled around Jake.

"What's going on?" Phoenix asked and they all turned to look at her. Javy was the first to spill the beans, "Hangman has a hottie sending him sexy pictures and he won't share." If looks could kill there would be five mortally wounded men in the mess hall. Rooster glanced over at Phoenix and elbowed her in the side, "ain't that your sister, Y/N?" Phoenix slowly nodded her head and as she was walking towards them they at least had the common decency to scatter. "Before you attempt to rip me a new asshole she's not sending me nudes, she's asking for my opinion on outfits for our date tonight. "

That seemed to appease Phoenix as Jake showed her the pictures that you just sent him. "Tell her to go with the LBD and the black stilettos. " Jake quickly replied that he wanted to see you in that little black dress and sexy heels. With that decided the squad sat down and dug into their food. "What's on the agenda for after lunch?" Coyote asked Rooster. "We're going up in groups of four and practicing different counter strikes, basically the last two pilots flying are the winners. "

Hangman and Coyote fist bumped each other "Y'all might as well forfeit because you're looking at the winners right now. " That got a collective groan from the dagger squad as they made their way to their respective quarters to change into their flight suits. As they strode out onto the tarmac and waited for Maverick and the rest of the instructors to arrive Jake sent you one more text that he couldn't wait to see you tonight. Your reply was pretty much instantaneous: the feeling is completely mutual. See you soon 😉. The first four pilots got into their fighter jets and taxied down the runway.

Jake, Coyote, Phoenix and Bob were next. Everything was going according to plan, Hangman was in his element in the sky until he made a move to counteract Phoenix's attack and the sun was in his eyes and he didn't see the incoming flock of birds getting sucked into his plane's engine and everything started going haywire and he couldn't get it back under control. The next thing he knew was going into a spin and all of the fighter jets alarms started going off. "Pull up!" Coyote shouted at Jake as he struggled to bring it back under control. "I can't! All systems are in failure!! Eject!! Eject!! Eject!!"

Y/N POV

It was getting closer to 7 pm and Jake should be here any second now. You curled your hair and pulled it into a loose pony tail, you sprayed enough hair spray to put another hole in the ozone layer and once you were satisfied that not even a hurricane could move your hair you moved to put the finishing touches on your makeup. You went with a classic cat eye and fire engine red lipstick, you were spraying some perfume and getting your black clutch that matched your outfit and you heard the doorbell. You smiled as you grabbed a black leather jacket and made your way downstairs and opened the door expecting to see Jake but it was Maverick and Hondo instead. Your smile faltered and you felt your stomach sink.

"Hey Pete, Hondo. Is everything okay? Is Jake running late and he sent you to keep me preoccupied until he gets here?" Pete couldn't look at you and Hondo had his head down. Pete shook his head and cleared his throat, "I'm really sorry Y/N, earlier today we were flying flight maneuvers and patterns and there was an incident involving Hangman and Coyote. They lost contact with the control tower and ejected somewhere over the desert. Their GPS gave their last known location but it's not exact coordinates. Search and Rescue are out looking right now. "

You couldn't hear Pete but his lips were moving and Hondo looked to be on the verge of crying. You couldn't breathe, your chest felt tight and it hurt to inhale. Pete made a move to step inside your house and it all went silent. You must have dropped the stuff that you were holding but you didn't realize it. You tried to shove past them but they gently stopped you.

"No, I...we...he....had plans...." you weren't sure when you started crying but you were on the verge of hysterics and everything was happening at lightning speed while you felt like you were sinking in quicksand. Their words running through your head: Jake...Coyote....accident...desert....search and rescue. You couldn't focus, you couldn't breathe. You just knew that you couldn't sit here and wait for word if they were alive or dead. You must have made it to your room to change into jeans and a sweater.

It gets cold at night in the desert and you couldn't help but think are they hurt? Are they cold? Are they injured? Are they... no. Not possible. You wouldn't allow yourself to entertain the thought. You were frantically looking for a flashlight that you had somewhere and you found it under a pile of clothes, you saw Jake's brown bomber jacket and you grabbed that too. You ran down the stairs and grabbed your car keys sitting in the dish by the door.

Pete was chasing after you but you were quicker than him and Hondo. You got in your car and drove as fast as you could towards the base. "Shit, Hondo we have to get there before Y/N. She doesn't have the credentials to get on base and she's not thinking clearly. Text Phoenix and let her know that Y/N is headed that way. "

Hondo nodded and let Phoenix know that you knew what happened and were driving like a bat out of hell. The ride to the base was quiet and somber, Phoenix let them know that she was waiting for you at the gate. "Do you think that they're ok?" Pete took his eyes off the road for a split second and shook his head. "I honestly don't know, I really hope that they are. Y/N and Phoenix lost their parents not too long ago in a drunk driving accident. I don't think that Y/N would be able to recover losing someone who she cares about so soon after...."

You somehow made it to the base in record time without being pulled over for speeding. You barely put the car in park and jumped out leaving the keys in the ignition and the drivers side wide open. Pete and Hondo pulled in after you, "Y/N! Wait!" Their pleas fell on deaf ears and you barely recognized your sister standing at the entrance. "Natasha!! You were flying with him and Javy!! What happened?!" Pete parked your car in the visitors area and pocketed your keys and followed you onto the base and into a waiting vehicle designated to take you to the search and rescue site. "I'll fill you in on the way but you have to promise me that you'll stay out of the way and let the professionals do their job, promise me?"

You couldn't speak so you weakly nodded yes. Nat filled you in without going into to much detail. You felt stupid and weak for crying in front of your sister and her superiors but you didn't care. You couldn't lose Jake so soon after losing your parents. You made it to command central, military personnel and ATVs were scouring the desert.

Nat led you to the makeshift shelter that they had set up. It was at best controlled chaos and pandemonium. Radio chatter and flood lights overwhelmed your senses. You were numb and just standing under the white canvas tent staring into the inky darkness. You felt more than saw someone slip a wool blanket over your shoulders and hand you a cup of coffee.

You glanced over and saw that it was Rooster. He gave you a sad smile, you took the coffee into your ice cold hands and quietly thanked him. You took a sip and grimaced at the black bitterness but it was just what you needed. It was beginning to thaw out your hands and you were grateful. "We don't have to talk but just so you know I'm here for you. "

You were too overwhelmed with emotions to thank him but you hoped that he could tell you appreciated him and his efforts. Rooster led you over to a chair and you all about collapsed. Rooster sat next to you and ran his hand over your back in comfort. You had a million different questions and you wanted to ask but you thought it would be inconsiderate. You had a death grip on your coffee cup and your leg was bouncing wildly.

Rooster's big hand was on your leg trying to cease your jumpy movements. You put your hand over his and held on so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. There was a lull in the commotion and you could hear excited chatter throughout the crowd of military personnel. ".....found the wreckage ..... ejected....no sign of......bringing in trackers...."

Your head snapped up at the mention of trackers being brought in to help with the search. You looked at Rooster with hope in your tear stained eyes and he didn't have the heart to tell you that it wasn't always a good sign. He didn't have it in him to add to your heartbreak. "What does that mean? That's good, right? They walked away from the crash? They're still alive?!" Rooster silently pleaded with Maverick and he came and sat on your other side. "It's too early to tell but we should know something soon."

Dejected and overwhelmed with worry you felt a fresh set of tears forming behind your eyes. You were starting to succumb to exhaustion and fatigue. Your eyes drooping shut, you just decided to close your eyes and rest your head on Rooster's shoulder. Soon enough you let the comfort of darkness consume you completely with one last thought of Jake and Javy. Please let him come back to me.

~fin~

@tess-love @erindiggory @luna-lovethegood @scarlettwidow19 @ilack3 @imlilconcerned @sarahwasfound @sgt-barnesveins @angelbabyange @mini-bee-bee @supergirl000983 @mrsevans90 @trickphotography2 @jakeyzzz @jessa-21 @madisonmg @these-books-are-ruining-my-life @1111zxc @topgunfan1986 @tess-lecter-blog @tgmavericklover @hangmandruigandmav @hookslove1592 @the-romanian-is-bae @kyliesalvatore @runningawayfromsociety @awhitemanswhoresblog @halibshepherd @atarmychick007 @86laura11 @rockstxr-x @kissmunalodz @crispycitrus @dizzybee03 @caitsymichelle13 @bellaireland1981 @blah-blah-blah-bla @mamachasesmayhem @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @beautifulandvoid @rosiahills22 @erindiggory @tonkatesuramen @fandom-life-12 @tootser98 @ellianwhite @mamaskillerqueen @kyliesalvatore @toobouquet

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smoothielenny · 9 months

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Dancing at Night

Ao’nung x Omatikaya! Fem! Reader

[Decided to make a part two of this, (I recommend reading it first) this time the reader is dancing ;D]

[I honestly wanna title this, “These hips don’t lie, shakira, shakira—“]

Summary: After Ao’nung’s fire dance performance, you were suddenly called to performing not knowing your parents told the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik that you’re good belly dancing.

Tag list: @manumanulau @shit-i-say-shit-i-think

After the performance, you continue to enjoy your meal. While eating, you couldn’t stop thinking of Ao’nung’s performance. You won’t deny it, he did look attractive when he was dancing, probably because he constantly look at you.

As you eat, the Olo’eyktan stand again to announce something, “My people, our event isn’t done yet. Tonight we will have a performance from the Sully, specifically” he look at me chowing down the food, “(Y/N) Sully.”

“…What?” Your family claps at you while smiling. You’re definitely clueless at what happening. You look at your mother, “What do they mean?”

“You’ll dance in front of them.” She said like it’s no problem.

“You didn’t tell me I have to perform, mom!” I said in disbelief.

Before the celebration, the Olo’eyktan notified the Jake about the celebration. He talks about how there will be performances and such. Your father jokes about you performing too, which Tonowari thought it was serious. And now here we are, your dancing outfit is being suited on you by your sister and mother.

“Sorry kid, I didn’t know he will take it seriously.” Your father apologized scratching his head. You just rolled your eyes.

“Well, I better get something out of this.” You sighed feeling defeated. You couldn’t believe that your parents set you up to this, well accidentally at least.

Neytiri and Kiri prepared your clothing, surprisingly they brought the clothes you wear to dance when you left your home. It still is intact, not damage at all. They carefully put it on you making a slight tingle noises.

Now that you are ready, the nervous and adrenaline starts to crawl in your body, it’s been a while when you performed and you don’t even know if you still can dance like you used to. You slowly walk at the center where Ao’nung and other guys performed. You can still smell the burn wood from that performance. Everyone look at you in awe, specially Ao’nung. When he hears his father’s words that you would dance, he was shocked not knowing that you will perform as well though it is also the same reaction you have when the Olo’eyktan announces it.

The beat started and you followed it by dancing. The beat got quicker and your hips follows it moving up and down. The ornaments in your skirt making noises as if it is part of the music. As you dance something ignited inside you, seeing everyone amused by your dance made you smile. It’s the same familiar feeling that you had when you dance back home seeing everyone amused.

While dancing, in the crowd, Ao’nung watches you lovingly. This guy is head over heels for you despite you rejecting him many times. He’s just very persistent. Tsireya, who is beside him also enjoys your performance and noticed the way her brother looks at you. It made her giggled.

Your dancing continued moving every part of the ‘stage’ getting close to some audience which Ao’nung made him a bit jealous and wish you would also come close to him…and you did. It’s like Eywa herself is in front of him giving him a magnificent performance in front of him. Watching you sway your hips, he wanted to touch it and worship it. But sadly you moved on to another audience to dance. This made him frown a little.

You finished your performance by bowing. Everyone cheered at you as you quickly left the stage wanting to remove the clothes.

“You did well, ma’ite!” Your mother helped you removed your clothes. You pant catching your breath, it is nice that you get to dance again, but you didn’t have the same stamina as you used to back then.

Kiri took a clothes and helped you wiped your sweat which freshen you up, “ugh I feel like I’m gonna puke, I ate a whole ass buffet.” Kiri just giggled as she wiped you head. After changing, you walked back to your family who told you that you did great. Finally you are back to eating your food… at least that’s what you thought.

“Hey, (Y/N).” You sighed hearing that voice. You look at Ao’nung with slightly annoyed expression.

“What now? I’m eating.” He sat down beside you with that stupid grin on his face.

“You did good dancing, I felt as if you were hypnotizing me with your hips~” he winked making me cringe. Though you felt a slight flatter in your heart. You look away not knowing what to say from that.

“Well thank you..” you smiled lightly at him, and the first time at that. This made Ao’nung very happy.

“Say…would you dance like that to me in my marui—“ you slapped him.

#avatar 2009 #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #atwow #avatar #avatar x reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar headcanons #aonung #aonung x reader #atwow ao'nung #atwow x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #avatar ao'nung

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tofulune · 1 year

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༻laundry day

—"gonna shrink your shirt"

noctis lucis caelum x reader

Synopsis: Loving Noctis is like wishing for rain on a hot summer day. Irritating and Pointless.

Tags: [Words: 1,129], pining, angst, set before the game, reader is gender neutral

a/n: fun fact i finished writing this while waiting for my laundry to dry LMAO

“Pom, what are you doing?” You take the lollipop out of your mouth and gesture towards the house of cards Prompto was building on the floor of the laundromat.

“I’m trying to keep busy.” Prompto mutters as he carefully places the next card on the tower.

The laundromat smells like chlorine and despite the slight breeze you feel whenever the fan hanging by the door turns your way, your skin feels sticky from sweating so much.

It was a hot summer day and Ignis decided that today was cleaning day at Noctis’ apartment.

“This room is not fit for a Prince, let alone the soon-to-be King.” Ignis had said in his ever so posh voice.

You and Prompto couldn’t weasel your way out and were included in the cleaning regime since you were already hanging out at Noct’s place. You guys weren’t doing anything in particular—just sitting in front of a fan while playing King’s Knight on your phones.

The four of you spent the day scrubbing Noctis’ apartment down floorboard by floorboard, top to bottom. Your feet are sore and astrals know you need a shower.

When you guys were done with that, Ignis prompted things to go by quicker if the four of you split up. Ignis and Noctis went grocery shopping while you and Prompto were on laundry duty.

“The fact that it’s not even our OWN laundry we’re waiting for.” Prompto leans back on his hands with a groan.

A high pitched beep plays from the dryer and you jump off of it to unload the first batch of clothes.

When you open the dryer, a white piece of folded paper falls out onto the floor.

“Oh, hey. I guess Noct left something in his pockets.”

You pick up the note and start to unfold it when a hand snatches it out of yours.

“No!” Prompto clears his throat.

Your eyes widen and you furrow your brows in confusion as Prompto starts to walk away from you.

“Psh, this is just…a list of princely duties.”

Prompto sings the last part as he folds the paper up again.

You nod your head, suspicious. Prompto tries to avoid your eyes.

“Prompto, what’s that?” You say slowly.

“Nothing!”

You stare the blonde down until he shrinks his shoulders.

“You’re not gonna wanna read it.” Prompto mumbles.

“Try me.” You say, walking up to him and taking the note from his hands with your thumb and pointer finger.

It’s a letter from Noctis addressed to you.

Your heart skips a beat and you bring the note closer to your face.

You skim through it, brushing past him telling you about his engagement to the Oracle and how he’ll be leaving Insomnia to be wed to her because you didn’t need to cry over that again.

What sticks out to you is the line in the smack middle of the letter.

‘The truth is I’ve liked you for a long time.’

‘I’ve liked you.’

‘I like you.’

You zero in.

Because Noctis is Noctis and he holds his feelings in until they implode on himself, he rambles on for a couple of paragraphs about his feelings for you, but you skim past that, too.

Because how could he? How could Noctis confess now of all times?

You pale as you lower the note.

“I told you, you shouldn’t have read it.” Prompto sympathizes, pouting.

“Did you tell him?”

“No, you told me not to.” Prompto says as if it was such a sure thing.

You fold the paper up, putting it in your own pocket. The letter has reached its receiver.

You and Noct have always had this kind of tension in your friendship. Lingering touches and words that could mean more than platonic. It’s a tricky type of thing. Something you don’t want to break. You and Noctis were both cowards, afraid of tipping the boat and drowning, because what if it didn’t work out? What if these feelings were a phase and once you both got into a relationship it would lead to regret?

For a second, Noct’s letter, his words, made you feel like maybe this was something worth feeling, but ultimately it isn’t. People are dying in the never ending war and in order for it to end Noctis has to marry the oracle. It’s what the king decided.

That’s why the letter was crumpled at the bottom of his dirty cargos.

It’s why you’ll bite your tongue and stuff it in your own pockets.

“But this is a good thing! Isn’t it!” Prompto smiles in hopes of cheering you up. “Noct likes you, you like Noct.”

You give Prompto a sad smile before wincing.

“Prom,” You say his name solemnly, “This doesn’t change anything.”

Prompto’s smile dies and he sighs.

“Yeah, I know.” Prompto says after some silence.

You take Noct’s clothes out of the dryer, put them in a basket for Prompto to fold, and start on the next batch.

The dryer springs to life again and you heist yourself back on top

You gnaw on your lollipop stick for a bit.

“When are you guys leaving?” You mutter out.

The question makes Prompto pause, but he resumes folding.

“In three days.”

You nod once, slowly.

It’s sunset when you and Prompto walk out of the laundromat, and with only a few steps there’s Ignis and Noctis.

Noctis—with his stupid spiky hair, and his adoring blue eyes, and his red-bottom combat boots that look way too big for him.

It feels like you’re seeing him with new eyes even though he’s always been like this. Now, it’s different because you know he sees you, too.

Prompto eagerly greets the two and teases Noctis about how long it took for his laundry to dry and how great of a friend he is that perhaps it calls for a royal favor to which Noctis mutters out a, “yeah, right.”

“I can’t wait to get back home.” Noctis groans and rolls his neck back.

He shoots you a teasing smile, but it’s different from all the other ones now that you know what you know. You see the hidden glint in his eyes behind his bravado and your heart aches for a future you can’t have.

You give him a small smile back, heisting the laundry basket up before making your own complaints.

The truth is he never planned to confess to you and neither will you.

Whatever you and Noctis have now is all you’ll ever have—

You know that.

He knows that.

Loving Noctis is like wishing for rain on a hot summer day.

Irritating and pointless.

#noctis lucis caelum x reader #noctis x reader #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv x reader

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oops-all-concrete · 3 months

Note

What would you think of how would each BG3 companions to Tav being secretly a god that has been tagging along with them all this time? Just curious

(SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS, MY BRAIN HELD MY MOTIVATION RANSOM MIDWAY THROUGH ME WRITING THIS)

Ooohhhhh this sounds funnyyyy

Context: I'm imagining Tav is a god and has God status, a place in the pantheon and everything, but-! So continuity makes sense and the whole journey is still necessary, I'd assume them a curious God of some miscellaneous small thing so their powers wouldnt be THAT useful anyhow (God of clouds, God of fur, God of bread) but yeah!

BG3 companions react to Tav secretly being a...God???

(MILD SPOILERS FOR ACT 1/2)

Lae'zel -

She's suspicious at first, disbelieving of course. But as she watches Tav just summon (whatever they're the god of) from thin air, she frowns. "Chk. You may be of godly status, but if you're unwise enough to get kidnapped by a ghaik nautaloid, you are no mighty God." She finishes, nose upturned and almost- dissapointed??

Shadowheart -

Once shes been convinced, she frowns. "I don't think I've ever known of such a God...granted, Lady Shar only allowed for us to study her." She admits. She's quite hesitant, but she does ask. "Have you ever...met lady Shar/Seluné? Can you tell her I say hi? Is that appropriate?"

Wyll -

He's also hesitant to believe, but he's so curious once he believes you. "Wait, so, what's it like being a God? Does being a mortal feel weird? Are you immune to anything? What happens if you die? Does someone become the new God of what you're the God of? Are you even allowed to be here? What does the immortal plane smell like?" Just, a million and one questions and he wants ALL the stories.

Karlach -

"Woah! That's so cool, I wish I was a God...I'd be the God of potatoes. Is that already a thing?" Regardless if its true, she let's Tav have their fun. She also refers to every time she's saved by Tav as 'Divine Intervention' which isn't...wrong?

Gale -

"Ah, I got that impression, albeit with doubt." He says, sounding only a little smug. "Your disguise is well crafted, I'll give you that. Definitely something I aspire to learn from" he smiles fondly. Then there's a pause. "...I understand its not quite your field but you wouldn't be someone who could fix the whole...orb in me chest could you? Or would that also put you under Mystras ire?"

Astarion -

He seems immediately intrigued. "Really? I thought you were a little calm for all of this, but I never would have guessed- no offense. I'm sure you're very...powerful in your own way!" He says, somewhat forcing a smile. "So- does prayer work, or does the world have to be ending for everyone in order for you to pick up a summon?" He asks, curious, but seeming somewhat irritated too. He doesn't elaborate on why.

Halsin -

He seems doubtful at first but believes you quicker than you expected. "I hadn't imagined thr gods would send one of their own to come and save me from goblins or...help lift a shadow curse left by Shar of all people." He says, a faint smile on his face. "While I am in your debt, you should my life is already pledged to Silvannus. I hope what I'm already doing is enough"

Jaheira -

She looks Tav up and down, crosses her arms, and then- chuckles? "Sorry, I just- I feel like I finally have evidence I've been here too long. I haven't passed away to some dumb idea yet, so the Gods sent one of their own to get me." She laughs it off but then looks at Tab quite seriously. "...you're not here to get me are you?"

Minsc -

"I know!" He replies happily, not missing a beat. "Boo alerted me of your origins immediately. He's delighted to be joined by another of the pantheon, even if a lesser God" He smiles, mindlessly as ever.

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ghouljams · 6 months

Note

I love the fact that in all of your AUs Soap has to work for his darling(s). Whether it be because someone else wants them too (fea!AU), they don't want to fall for his handsome dumb kissable face (cowboy!AU, Viking!AU), or he didn't know that was even an option but now he kind of wants it (Demon!AU).

Just the fact that Soap's stories all almost slow burns in a way makes me just giggle like a school boy wishing I could have him. He'd be so good to anyone he dated. I still think about a tag you had on one of your Ghost demon!AU fics in which you called Die Ghost's hell assigned girlfriend. When is Johnny going to learn hush is his Hell assigned boyfriend? Love your writing, and I hope you're settling into your new place alright.

-Hot mess rambler

Unfortunately because Soap summoned Hush and made a contract that way, Hush is NOT a Hell assigned boyfriend. He hasn't come pre-loaded with any of the affection that assigned demons do, all of his is home grown. Which I really really like. I love making Soap work for it, and this feels very much like the au where he sort of... doesn't have to work for it? Hush pursues him, and Soap attempts to keep up when he didn't even know this was an option haha.

You're sitting in the helo pushing your tongue against your teeth, trying to get some of the sinew out from between them. You're thinking of cutting back on raw muscle, better to stick just to organs. At least they don't stick on your teeth. Soap's been uncharacteristically quiet since you blew the tunnel. You'd have thought that would be all he'd talk about. Really it was a wonder of out-the-box thinking, you never would have come up with it on your own. That's what you like about Soap, he's smart but unconventional.

You rest your elbows on your knees, leaning forward to try and politely pick at your teeth. Soap leans back, closer to the helo wall. You pause, and glance over your shoulder at him.

"You good?" you ask, discomfort all but forgotten, "Hardly said two words since the tunnel."

"Fine," His eyes dart away from you. You hum, watching him as you slide your nail against the line of your teeth. He doesn't look injured, and nothing in your head is sending up alarm bells, but he's clearly got something weighing on him. Something other than you.

"I bust your eardrums or something?" You inspect the stringy piece you pull from your mouth, feeling Soap's attention on you. You can always feel his attention, but this feels different, heavier.

"Cannae think of anything else that happened," He grumbles. You glance at him again, brows raised. The fuck is he on about.

"The fuck are you on about?"

Soap uncrosses his arms, nearly throwing them apart to hold his hands up in a 'what the hell' motion. "Ya kissed me?" he reminds you.

"Oh," You narrow your eyes, glancing to the side as you try to remember, "did do that, didn't I."

"Aye," He huffs, like you've finally gotten the point.

"Ya never kissed a bloke?" You frown, confused. Doesn't make much sense to you, you thought the army was a breeding ground for that sort of thing. Sort of why you joined up. Soap stares at you with open confusion.

"Nae, ah-"

"You want to?" You offer, cutting him off. He blinks at you, opening his mouth to say something and closing it just as quickly. "Be down for a shag too," you hum, considering the offer. You could do with a shag, and Soap's fit.

"Ya-" He huffs, his cheeks ever so slightly pink, you feel your pupils dilate(interesting), "Haud yer weesht, God," He presses his hand over his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees. "Yer nae funny."

Your heart patters a little quicker in your chest. His ears are red. You think back to the tunnel, the surge of Soap's pride that had rushed through you, the excitement you'd felt, the kiss. A release of emotion, one you hadn't even thought of. You're with Soap all the time, you feel his emotions, his attention, his attraction. You didn't think it would be an issue. You... you don't think it is. You watch Soap collect himself, your hand over your mouth where your chin rests in your palm.

"Thought I told you to shut up," He grumbles, and you realize it's not the hum of the helicopter filling the space with noise, it's your purring.

"Didn't think a joke would get you blushin'," You mumble, although you think both of you know it wasn't a joke. Soap glares at you between his fingers. It's enough to quell the rush of unintended consequences. For now.

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danaewrites · 2 months

Text

Helmet Over Heels

part ii: metal man with a backup plan

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 6.4k

summary: When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives.

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

i think this fic set a writing record for me lol (10.2k words in two weeks? with a regular posting schedule?! unheard of!) many more chapters to come... i have so much planned for these two <3

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii coming soon!

You didn’t see the Mandalorian again for weeks.

You weren’t missing him, exactly. Sure, the droning noise of your coworkers’ voices seemed just a bit more dull in comparison to the baby’s sweet giggles, and Maker knew none of your regulars were ever up for lively banter, but rule number one in this galaxy was to never get too attached. Especially to mysterious strangers who left quicker than you could say ‘mudscuffer’ and more likely than not would stay gone. Despite knowing that, your foolish imagination hadn’t received the memo, and you kept finding yourself wondering what the beskar-plated man and his tiny son were doing somewhere out there in space. His ship must have been fixed, since you hadn’t seen any unfamiliar spacecraft when you strolled past Sanna’s shop the other day. In a temporary moment of weakness, you wished you knew what it looked like so you could casually fish for information about it from off-planet travelers at the cantina. Then again, asking questions could bring unwanted attention to the odd pair, so perhaps it was better for all of you that your curiosities remained unsolved.

You’d woken up the morning after the storm to an empty cantina with every doorway blocked by two metres of snow. You weren’t sure how he’d managed to get out without disturbing the squeaky hinges of the shutters, but the Mandalorian had left the place completely untouched except for the bag of credits–far heavier than you deserved– on the bar. Your eyes had widened to the size of the two empty soup bowls next to it when you counted how much was in the pouch. Kriff, what sort of cosmic royalty was he, with this much money to spare on a cantina waitress? You remembered the bright glint of his armor in the moonlight, belatedly recognizing the characteristic sign of pure-cast metal. Beskar alloys were far from cheap, but pure beskar? If you had so much as a thimble-sized piece of it, you could afford passage off this planet fifteen times over. You huffed out a breath, shaking your head with a tiny smile. Well, that meant that he definitely still had enough saved to take care of the kid after his not-so-small gift, so you grudgingly allowed yourself to enjoy having a few extra credits for once.

The credits he’d left you weren’t enough to buy a ride off-world, but they’d pay for this month’s heating bill and a nicer set of clothes while you put the rest of your paycheck towards a future ticket. The extra money emboldened you to go shopping for the first time since you arrived on Nath– which was why you were currently weaving through the narrow streets of the Solstice Market, hoping to find a decent textile shop amongst the booths that lined this alley. You brushed past the promenade of young couples holding hands despite the cold (as well as significantly more haggard-looking spouses holding pouty children), awed by how the bright colours and loud haggling around you seemed to brighten Nath’s dreary atmosphere for a moment.

Your steps slowed to an abrupt stop as you heard a quiet chiming coming from your left. You turned to see a pocket-sized holospeaker sitting on a rickety display table, shaped like a mildly deformed egg and covered in twisting silver filigree. The booth worker looked hopeful as you eyed the far more impressive–and expensive–metalworks arranged in front of the small item, but quickly slumped back to dazed boredom as your fingers traced the rounded object instead. The speaker was dented and each note vibrated for slightly too long, but the melody it produced reminded you of the Odalian lullabies your mother had sung to you as a child. Stars, you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed her voice, soothing you with ballads of true love and tragedy until you fell asleep with the stories etched into your dreams. You blinked back the water that threatened to fill your eyes as you hummed along to the soft music, love and grief welling up between your ribs with a gentle ache.

That was how the Mandalorian found you– eyes half-closed, your head gently bent toward the tiny instrument. You were so lost in your memories that you didn’t register his awkward presence until a tiny green hand poked your side. You gasped, instincts learned from years of working in a rowdy cantina kicking in as you reflexively threw a punch at the offending party. The Mandalorian immediately shifted to shield the giggling child, a move that was good for the kid’s health but rather unfortunate for your knuckles.

“Kriff, metal man, you could’ve said something,” you wheezed out, rubbing your throbbing hand where it’d met unforgiving beskar. The kid gurgled happily up at you from his position in the bag. Apparently, your newest injury was the most amusing thing he’d seen all day.

You pouted exaggeratedly at him, reaching to ruffle the wiry hair that floated above his floppy ears with affection. “Sorry about that, bug. Didn’t think I’d see you again,” you spoke softly, giving his very shiny father a subtle once-over in the daylight. The Mandalorian was taller and broader than you’d remembered from that dark night in the cantina– something that definitely did not cause your stomach to twist with interest. His armor appeared to have been polished sometime recently, and you stole a moment to admire the pride with which he wore the gleaming beskar. The effort he’d put in to maintain the parts of his appearance that were visible to the outside world was obvious (and strangely attractive, if you were being honest.) You briefly wondered whether he was as well-kept underneath the armor, but realized your mistake when that question brought a whole host of dangerous ideas to mind. Stars, why did you continually do this to yourself? You immediately shoved any daydreams of what he might look like behind that helmet somewhere far, far away lest a traitorous flush reappear on your cheeks.

“I need to talk to you,” the Mandalorian in question stated, distracting you from your quickly-spiraling thoughts. You glanced up at him inquisitively but allowed him to steer you away from the busy crowds.

“Nice to see you, too,” you grumbled once you had reached a reasonable distance away from the market. “What happened to hello, how are you, sorry I left and didn’t even leave a note saying how I got past the shutter locks.”

The Mandalorian turned to face you, cocking his head. “I left you the credits, didn’t I?”

You opened your mouth, retort poised on the tip of your tongue, but then thought better of it. Probably not a good idea to risk the generosity that brought you to this market in the first place. “Okay, you win that one.”

The Mandalorian ignored your rare moment of surrender, rolling his shoulders back and stepping closer to you in a fluid movement that had more of an effect on you than you wanted to admit. “I need you to look after the kid.”

O-kayy then. Straight to business.

“I have a job here, I can’t take him with me– it's too dangerous.”

“A job?” Your brows furrowed as you considered what work he could possibly be doing here. People here either worked in the ice fishing huts or in one of Nath’s many depressingly ugly oil processing factories, and neither of those occupations seemed right for the intimidating man in front of you. You crossed your arms, only partially teasing. “You mean you have things to do besides scaring innocent waitresses half-out of their skin?”

The Mandalorian scanned the area around you, then subtly pulled a small metal object out of the leather holster slung around his hips. You leaned over to see the unmistakable blinking red light of a tracking fob resting in the palm of his dark glove.

Oh. That explained the money, then. Bounty hunting— through the Guild, if the emblem on the device was anything to go by— had shot up in popularity after the Empire fell and the New Republic needed good mercenaries to capture the remaining Imperial loyalists. You’d bet a decent amount of credits that this hunter wouldn’t balk at capturing a few Imps, with the way he’d spat out the name of the Empire as if it poisoned him when you first met. Personal vendetta or not, you respected anyone who was brave enough to give them the justice they deserved for the destruction their reign had brought to the galaxy.

You bit your lip, considering. You had already made up your mind to take care of the child when he suggested it, but he didn’t need to know that. “How long would you need to leave him with me for?”

“A day, at most. Shouldn’t take too long, I’ve been stalking the quarry for a while.” The Mandalorian continued. “I can pay you well for your time.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You still owe me a story, you know.” Bending over, you reached into the Mandalorian’s bag and gently picked up the child, careful not to snag his tiny tunic on the metal clasps. “C’mere, bug. Looks like you and I are going to get to know each other.”

A thought popped into your head as you stared down at the small green baby. “Does he have a name?”

The armored man in front of you spoke with gruff pride, “His name is Grogu.” He seemed unexpectedly pleased at your question; you supposed he didn’t have many opportunities to talk about his son very often, with the literal wall his armor created in social interactions.

You watched in surprise as Grogu twisted towards the Mandalorian at the sound of his voice, cooing happily. “You like the sound of your name, huh?” Clearly, the kid adored him, and for good reason. The stoic warrior had an obvious soft spot for the little guy.

Speaking of which… You eyed the man in front of you. “You know, it’s generally polite to have introduced yourself by now, metal man. It’s getting a little weird to keep thinking of you as The Big, Nameless Suit of Beskar,” you teased.

You beamed up at him innocently and spoke your name, extending your hand towards him. “See? Not so hard. Now it’s your turn,” you explained slowly, as if you were trying to teach a toddler to sound out the alphabet.

After several tortuously long seconds, during which your outstretched hand began to waver slightly, he finally responded. “Most people just call me Mando.”

You dropped your arm, flexing your fingers. Ah, well, you could work on the handshake bit later. “Mando.” You hummed at the way the name easily rolled off your tongue, absently registering how the man stiffened at the lilting sound. “Not as scary as the outfit, but it’ll have to do.”

The M–Mando shrugged off the strange, momentary stillness that had possessed him and began retreating closer to the throng of marketgoers. “You’ll be alright with the kid?”

You rolled your eyes, affirming your ability to take care of Grogu while he handled business. Mando gave a quick nod and turned, preparing to leave. You took the moment to swipe the holospeaker out of the child’s hands– how had he gotten ahold of that?– and scanned the market for a booth that he might like. You still couldn’t find a textile shop in your line of sight, but you noticed a tiny arts and crafts area that seemed perfect for him to play in.

You looked up to find the Mandalorian still standing nearby, helmet tilted towards you as he paused. “For your.. story. He likes shiny toys– he’s always unscrewing bits of the ship to play with when I’m not looking.” He pulled a small metal ball out of his holster and tossed it over to you. “This is his favorite.”

You turned the sphere over in your hand, smiling as the baby immediately reached for it. “I wonder why,” you mused, giving his silver-plated father a pointed look. “Must remind him of somebody.”

Mando huffed a surprised laugh out through the modulator, helmet angled with new interest in the green child deeply entranced by the reflective surface of the ball. “Never thought of it like that before,” he muttered as he walked away, sparing you a short wave before he disappeared in the crowd.

You watched him go with a poorly-hidden grin, balancing Grogu on your hip as you navigated a path back into the market. “Alright, bug, let’s go have some fun.”

***

You spent the rest of the afternoon browsing countless booths with your charge, picking up little trinkets here and there. You eventually left with a respectable amount of merchandise– a pad of paper and coloring supplies for Grogu, a new tunic set, and even a sachet of Hothberry tea leaves that were rumored to keep one warm for hours after just one sip. Nothing for Mando, although the thought had crossed your mind more than once. You began your return home, carrying the cooing green child under streetlamps that twinkled warmly as the sky gradually darkened. He’d behaved so well all afternoon that you gave in and bought a sweetgrain scone to share on the long walk back.

You spent very few minutes setting your purchases in your rental pod upon your arrival. Grogu was getting fussy despite the snack, and you realized that Mando had never told you a meeting place where he’d pick him up. You decided to just bring Grogu along to your evening shift at the cantina, since that would likely be the first place he’d look and you didn’t want to be blamed for disappearing with his child. Sure enough, the Mandalorian showed up soon after the sun sunk beneath the icy horizon with another bag of credits and armor that was slightly more scuffed than the last time you’d seen it. You smiled, handing him his sleepy but satisfied son and the art supplies you’d picked up.

Mando had stared at the bundle of gifts for longer than necessary and for a moment you worried that you had offended him somehow. When he looked back at you, though, your fears were calmed by his intensely genuine tone. “Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.” He carefully placed the items in his bag. You smiled as he tried– and failed– to wrest the metal ball from Grogu’s tiny hands, despite the child looking seconds from passing out.

Your eyes darted to the gradually cooling bowl of soup in front of him, which hadn’t been touched since he sat down. You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Is, um, something wrong with the food? Because I didn’t see you touch it last time, and I can make something else if you need, but.. you have to tell me.”

The Mandalorian remained silent, and you doubted whether he had heard your small-voiced question when he finally spoke. “I cannot remove my helmet in front of others. It is the Way,” he explained carefully, watching your response.

Your eyes widened in comprehension as you considered his statement. The library datapad had frustratingly little information on Mandalorian culture, and you’d never heard of this rule until now. If he couldn’t remove the helmet… how long had it been since he had the chance to eat or drink without the kid nearby? Between taking care of Grogu and tracking bounties, you assumed that there was very little time for him to find a secluded area to remove the beskar. You nodded decisively to yourself, grabbing his soup bowl and motioning for him to follow you.

“What are you doing?” His voice was curious, alert but not apprehensive of your actions.

You swiveled to face him, keys dangling from one hand and a focused expression on your face. “We have a storage room for the non-perishable food back here. If you want to eat there, I can make sure that no one comes in for a while,” you explained, leading him to a cramped, dimly lit room with pallets of sandgrain flour forming a makeshift table next to a small folding chair.

“Is this.. okay?” You spoke hesitantly when he stilled at your words. Kriff, you hoped you hadn’t implied something insulting when you’d unthinkingly offered the room. You grimaced as your brain kicked into overdrive, spinning like a frightened sand massif at the first possibility of a mistake.

“I know it’s small, and I understand if you’d rather—”

“It’s perfect,” Mando interrupted you, stumbling slightly over the rushed words. “There are– many who would try to remove my helmet.” His voice lowered, edged slightly with wonder. “Thank you for allowing me to maintain my Creed.”

He stood there for a moment, helmet tilted intently down at you. His hands lingered for a fraction of a second, tough leather brushing powder-soft skin as he gently set Grogu in your arms. When he shut the door, you leaned against the doorframe as quietly as you could, still feeling the ghost of his touch on the hands pressed to your heated cheeks.

***

And so you fell into a routine: every few weeks, Mando would come by with the kid and leave him with you for a few hours while he tracked down another bounty. When he returned, you’d invite him into the back for a warm meal, allowing him to eat alone in peace for a few minutes while Grogu thawed the icy hearts of your patrons with his mischievous coos. He always arrived after nightfall and never spent longer than an hour in the cantina. Well, except for the one time he’d accidentally fallen asleep in the small room. You’d gone to check on him once you finally cleared out the evening’s customers. It was clear that he’d been napping by his scratchy, startled response when you knocked softly on the door– emphasized even more by his embarrassed posture when he exited. Privately, you thought it was rather endearing, so you chose not to tease him about the momentary lapse in consciousness.

You’d gotten used to his schedule, your semi-frequent meetings becoming a habit you were quite fond of maintaining. So when you didn’t see Mando for several weeks longer than predicted, you began to feel worried. Your heart twinged at the thought that maybe he’d found someone more interesting than a cantina waitress to look after Grogu, someone who didn’t live on an icy prison planet a parsec removed from civilization. And yet– Mando hadn’t hinted that he’d be stopping his visits, and his job was dangerous and unpredictable. Your mind swam with visions of him spiraling through space, unconscious and battered, ship engines sputtering out flame. You started taking earlier shifts at the cantina, pushing down thoughts of him before they ate at you more than they should for a casual acquaintance.

Which is why you were shocked when Mando appeared in the doorway one afternoon, silhouetted by the bright daytime sun for the first time.

A momentary hush descended upon the cantina, quickly turning into a roar of nervous chatter when the imposing beskar figure sat down at the end of the bar. You muttered an excuse to your coworkers and rushed over, trying to look casual as you scanned his armor. It looked considerably worse than it had the last time you saw him, scuffed and covered in frozen mud– but his movements didn’t seem impaired by injury. You let out a tiny huff of relief, the sound catching the attention of the Mandalorian.

He nodded at you, straightening. You sent him a small smile as you tossed him the cantina menu. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” you said, as casually as you could manage.

“Miss me?” You couldn’t see his face, but you would bet every credit of your tips today that he was smirking under that kriffing helmet. You gaped at him, then recovered yourself with a haughty toss of your head, letting your hair fall in a curtain before your face so he wouldn’t see your flustered expression.

“Don’t know why I would. I only tolerate you for your son, you know,” you sniffed, placing your hands on your hips.

He let out a surprised, genuine laugh at that, and your face warmed at the deep sound. You felt a heady rush of pride at being able to pull the reaction from the normally reserved man, fighting the desire to do whatever it took to hear it again. You quickly brushed that thought aside, however, when you took in the empty bag slung across his torso, frowning at the noticeable absence of Grogu’s big ears.

The Mandalorian followed your trailing glance. “I don’t have the kid,” he said, tone edged with a hint of frustration as he adjusted his gloves. “Kriffing Imps,” he muttered.

You paled. Imperials? “Is he–”

Mando’s helmet snapped up at the panicked tone of your voice. “No, he’s safe. Left him with a friend,” he explained. “Someone’s been following me on this bounty— maybe another Imperial remnant. Didn’t want to risk him.”

Tension bled out of your posture at his words, but your eyebrows remained knit together in confusion. “So if you’re not here to drop off the kid…” you started slowly. “What brings you back to Nath? Since you obviously didn’t stop by just to say hello,” you asked, giving him a pointed look.

Mando tilted his head in acknowledgement. Apparently, that was the closest thing you were getting to an apology. Oh, well.

“Wish I knew,” he muttered. “Chased the quarry across the galaxy for weeks, don’t know why he stopped here when there’s more populated places. It’s like he wants to be found.”

You sucked in your bottom lip, absentmindedly scrubbing at a sticky puddle of spotchka on the counter. “You think it’s a trap?”

He gave a small shrug, subtly flicking something on his helmet and scanning the room. “Not sure.” He turned back to you, posture tensed. “Somethin’ doesn’t feel right, though. Keep your eyes open and get out if there’s trouble.”

You nodded, wiping a pair of dusty glasses to make it look like you were doing something more than eyeing the half-full cantina with hidden trepidation. You felt it too– the strange quiet of the wind brushing past the shutters, the way your hair stood up on your skin.

Minutes later, a Trandoshan sauntered into the cantina and took the seat beside Mando, who immediately stilled. He grinned lecherously at you, motioning for a drink. You poured a glass of spotchka and handed it over, grimacing at the feeling of his eyes trailing down your torso like cold slime. “Thanks, honey,” he drawled, scaly hand scraping your wrist in a menacing caress. You stiffened, but chose not to respond, focusing back on the dishes. This wasn’t the first time you’d been harassed by a customer, but until now no one had dared to do so in front of the beskar-clad man sitting in front of you. Your frequent proximity to the intimidating figure seemed to cow the usual crowd into something adjacent to manners– something you missed during the weeks he was away.

“Heard you were looking for me,” he spoke affably to the Mandalorian beside him. The hulking lizard raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, smirking. Mando remained silent, hands tightened around his glass, and you wondered why he hadn’t already tied up the bounty and left. The Trandoshan’s sly confidence around his hunter made you shift uneasily. Something was very, very wrong.

“See, I got a lot of credits, and you seem reasonable,” the Trandoshan spoke casually. “I know the bounty’s not worth what I can offer you, so how about we make a deal?”

Mando shifted slightly, the beskar plate on his forearm glinting. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold. Your choice.” His voice sounded through the modulator, deep and calm with a predator’s poise. “How’s that for a deal?”

The Trandoshan let out a harsh laugh. “Shame you wouldn’t bargain,” he said with mock regret. He twisted his hand up in the air, and you watched as nine more Trandoshans slunk out of the shadows of the cantina booths. The rest of the patrons quieted as they watched the tense scene, the smart ones making their excuses and leaving in a hurry. You were no stranger to bar fights, but they’d never escalated past a couple of drunken punches and a firm boot to the curb for all involved. This one, though… it seemed like it might get deadly.

“My friends and I’ve heard something about a Mandalorian bounty hunter. One who’s got a nice, fat Imperial price tag on his head,” he sneered, spit flying from his mouth. “Think that’d be a fair replacement for mine.”

Mando turned his helmet oh-so-slightly towards you, making the tiniest nod towards the door. Go, he seemed to be telling you, and you inched towards the kitchen–

Your breath caught in your throat as you eyed the lizards closing in around him. You were sure he was a seasoned warrior, but ten armored adversaries at once seemed a little much for one person. You couldn’t help him fight, but… maybe you could distract them long enough for him to gain the element of surprise.

Before you could talk yourself out of your quickly-made plan, you grabbed a tulip-shaped flute of algarine bubbly and stepped up to the orange Tradoshan you’d served earlier with a coquettish smile. “On the house,” you said, passing him the glass with a bat of your lashes you hoped came across as sincere. You felt ill at the way his eyes rested greedily on the sliver of your chest exposed by your lean across the bar, but it appeared that you’d momentarily distracted him. If only you could get his friends’ attention, too…

You glanced around, searching for anything you could use to cause a scene– pointedly ignoring the way Mando’s gloved hands twitched at your movement closer to the dangerous humanoid. Trust me, you mentally pleaded with him. I’m trying to help.

Your eyes finally fell on the spotchka situated uncomfortably close to your elbow. Perfect. You gave the Trandoshan a ditzy giggle, swaying like you were entranced by his gaze as you quickly jabbed the large pitcher. You gasped in fake horror as it shattered, spraying alcohol over most of the floor and onto the three closest lizards. The group swiveled at the disruption, venomous glares shifting to you instead of the armored man they were gathered around.

“Oops,” you smiled, sugary-sweet and innocent. “Sorry, honey.”

And then Mando did something with his arm, flexing out his vambrace in a motion so quick you didn’t register it until flames shot across the alcohol on the bar and onto the scales of the Tradoshans. He immediately snapped into action as they roared in shocked pain, twisting and shooting as they fell one at a time. You admired his agile form for a moment, awed by how precise his movements were, how easily he moved into the flow of fighting like it was a second skin. A moment too long, it seemed, because you snapped your gaze away from Mando to see the orange Tradoshan bearing down on you.

“Fucking bitch,” he hissed, eyes bulging with hatred as he lunged across the counter. Your eyes widened as you ducked backwards, intending to stumble into the safety of the kitchen but slamming into the unforgiving wall instead. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you chided yourself, stomach dropping as you scrambled to get your bearings through the surge of pain paralyzing your muscles. You didn’t know how to fight–should’ve run for cover the minute the spotchka hit the floor, honestly– and instead you just stood there like a kriffing nerf herder.

You cried out at the impact of the Tradoshan’s sharply-scaled fist scraping your cheek, gasping and flinching away from the hit you were sure would land next between your ribs. He hissed at you through jagged teeth, sour breath like acid on your face. He cocked his blaster and you twisted yourself, preparing to launch into one final, defiant attack–

A blur of silver slammed into the orange lizard, knocking him off of you with a violent crash. You heard his bony nose break with a crack, followed by what sounded like an entire charge cartridge’s worth of blaster shots. You pushed yourself off the floor, wincing at the throb of pain that echoed at your temples but steeling yourself to get up nonetheless. Your mouth parted at the sight of the cantina, booths ablaze and blaster shots ringing through the smoky air.

Mando shouted your name over the commotion, sharp and intense. “Are you–”

“Fine. I’m fine,” you wheezed out in a relieved sob as he made his way over to you. “We need to go, the fire–”

“I know,” he muttered as he hooked an arm around your torso and dragged you behind a countertop, shielding you with his armor. “They’ve blocked the doors. Windows, too– I got seven of them, but the others are trying to burn us out.”

“Please tell me you have a backup plan,” you begged, narrowly avoiding a stray charge that chipped the already-fragile cabinet. It would only be a matter of minutes before your feeble cover fell, and you didn’t feel like waiting around for more Tradoshans to show up.

The Mandalorian shrugged, gesturing to the fireplace in front of you. “It worked the first time.”

Your jaw dropped, anxiety momentarily forgotten. “Metal man. Are you saying that on your first night here… you left through the chimney?!”

“It’s very comfortable,” was all he said as he swung you over onto the hearth, casually shooting backwards at the face of a Trandoshan peering through a crack in the cantina door. From the muffled sound of something hitting the steps, his aim was flawless.

You gaped at him, speechless with disbelief. Was he… teasing you? If he was trying to distract you from the pain shooting across your face, it was definitely working. “Oh, no, everything’s fine, I’m just escaping a crime scene with an apparent madman,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. “Don’t know how I could’ve missed the simplest way out of here.”

No wonder you hadn’t woken up when he left– he hadn’t so much as touched the very reasonable idea of opening the shutters to get out. No, the kriffing chimney was the most obvious next step. With that kind of creativity, you supposed it made sense that he’d stayed alive in the bounty hunting business for so long. The mental image of the big, stoic Mandalorian inching his way up the vertical corridor with a little green accomplice on his back–combined with the general chaos of the last half hour–quickly became more than you could handle. You allowed yourself a moment of hysteria before sliding into the fireplace, head tilting back as you viewed the long, long passageway above.

***

Comfortable, my arse. You panted, some ten minutes later, sweat streaming down your face as you struggled to keep a solid grip on the sooty brick around you. The climb was not as amusing as you’d previously thought. Maybe you’d manage better if you had a grappling gun hidden in your forearm and boots with climbing spikes, like the beskar-plated man behind you. Right now, though, all you had were your worn-through work shoes and a hacking cough from all the smoke rising up to you from the wreck of the cantina below.

“Come on,” you muttered, willing yourself to scoot up another meter despite your quickly fatiguing thigh muscles. How tall was this chimney, anyway? It felt like you’d been climbing for miles, but maybe that was just your poor endurance talking.

“You doing okay?” Mando called up to you, grunting slightly at the weight of the Trandoshan bounty around his shoulders. There was no way you’d let him try to carry you too, though you knew he’d offer if you faltered. You screwed up your face in concentration, muttering something resembling an affirmation as you focused on shifting higher and higher until you finally, blissfully reached the top.

You let out a small whoop of success, collapsing on the roof as Mando pulled himself up behind you. “Thought I’d never make it out of there,” you beamed up at him. Your relieved smile faded as you took in his still-tensed posture as he looked off the edge of the roof.

“What is it?”

He turned back toward you, setting the Tradoshan’s body down with a thunk. “They’re setting detonators around the building,” he spoke, his modulated baritone rough and distracted as he fiddled with a heavy metal backpack beneath his cloak.

You swallowed thickly, closing your eyes for a moment as you fought to suppress the panic that rose up at his words. When you opened them, he’d shoved the Tradoshan onto the roof of the building next door, which was a safe distance away from the flames but remarkably jagged. You eyed the area, wondering if his plan was to crouch there and pray that the shrapnel from the explosion would miss the two of you.

Mando walked over, motioning for you to get up. You got back on your feet, slightly dizzy from the smoke as you stumbled over to him.

“Need you to hold on to me,” he muttered awkwardly, extending an arm. You gaped at him, utterly confused at the uncharacteristic action. How was clinging to him like a baby womp rat supposed to get you out of here before the building crumbled?

Still, you stepped closer to him and tentatively wrapped your hand around his vambrace. You made a tiny noise of surprise as he tugged you into his chest, your arms instinctively wrapping around his broad torso. You ducked your head, glad that he couldn’t see your flaming face from this angle. Yep, that touch starvation was definitely doing a number on you. You could feel the rise and fall of his breaths, his chest surprisingly warm underneath the cool beskar plates that protected it— and stars, none of that was doing anything to lessen your little crush.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and you quickly complied. Seconds after you’d scrunched your face up in concentration, you felt a tug in your stomach and the wind rise in your hair. Your eyes snapped back open on instinct as you felt your feet leave the ground, your grip on Mando tightening in panic. You peeked past his armor and saw nothing but cold winter sky— and was that a kriffing jet pack?! You gasped as you glanced down and realized that you were rapidly approaching a hundred feet in the air, the cantina exploding into a fiery speck beneath you.

You and large heights had a strained relationship, so you clung to Mando with all your strength and prayed that he had enough fuel to land somewhere very solid. “You didn’t tell me we’d be flying out of there,” you spoke, words muffled by the wind and the way your face was currently scrunched against his hard chestplate.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded. If you weren’t so focused on staying alive, you might have been offended at his cheeky tone, but you settled for an eye roll.

You landed a few miles outside of town on the ice fishers’ territory. It took you longer than you wanted to admit to get detangled from the Mandalorian, mostly because your fingers had frozen into a death grip of a hug around him. He gently pried you off his armor, setting you on a patch of snow slightly less icy than the others and walking past you. You turned to see him open the boarding ramp of a silver Razor Crest in all its pre-Imperial glory. The ship was older than you expected, but in decent condition.

You carefully followed him into the ship, climbing up after him into the cockpit. The leather passenger seat was surprisingly comfortable, and your muscles slowly unstiffened as you watched him fire up the engines.

“I have to go pick up the bounty,” Mando stated, moving over to set the navigation screen. He paused. “Do you need to be… dropped off somewhere?”

“I— I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you admitted, looking down at your lap. “The only place I had a connection to here was just blown up.” You winced, wondering how you’d ever find work now that you were partly to blame for the destruction of the town’s singular watering hole.

Mando was silent for a while as he maneuvered the ship towards the cantina wreckage. You craned your neck towards the arching glass windows, staring down at the snowy landscape of Nath. “It’s so much more beautiful from above,” you spoke softly, wonder evident in your tone. “Always wanted to travel, see views like this every day, but… off-world tickets these days are too expensive.” Your face took on a wistful expression. “Must be nice to do this for your job. I bet the kid loves it, too.”

Mando cleared his throat, helmet tilting towards you.

“You could— work for me. Take care of the kid, here on the ship,” he spoke hesitantly. “Visit planets with us when I’m not hunting bounties.”

You glanced over at him in shock, mouth falling open. Hope swelled up in you at his words, and you could hardly breathe at the idea of what he was offering you. A way off Nath, to experience the galaxy like you’d always dreamed- stars, but it felt surreal.

“It’d be better for him to have someone to rely on when I’m gone, stay in one place for longer,” he continued, faltering slightly at your silence. “The ship’s small, but I can pay you well and your needs would be taken care of for as long as you stay—“

“Yes,” you gasped out, the words embarrassingly rushed, but you didn’t care. “If— if you’re serious, then yes, I accept.”

He seemed surprised at the vehemence with which you spoke, but nodded. “This is the Way,” his deep baritone sounded through the modulator, final and determined.

This is the Way. You practically vibrated with excitement at the phrase, face breaking into a grin as you settled back in the seat. All you’d have to do was keep that pesky attraction to the beskar-covered man piloting the ship under control, and you’d finally be free. Free of Nath’s soul-crushing atmosphere, free to travel the galaxy like you’d always dreamed of— albeit with a little green child at your side.

Sure, he was the most interesting person you’d ever met, and the way his voice lowered when he bantered with you sent a jolt of something down your spine.

But it couldn’t be that hard, right?

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read on: part iii

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