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evanchantingpeters · 19 days

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How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 2)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill ;)

Read Part 1 here.

Word count ─ 4K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

If you were told ten minutes ago that you’d be straddling Evan Peters, skin-on-skin in the driver’s seat of his car, grinding your soaked pussy against his solid rock hard-on while your tongues explore each other like it’s a competition until your lips get swollen, you’d be like, “Yeah, right, when pigs fly.”

But here you are, parked in some dark, secluded spot near the club you’ve just met. Your moans bounce off his car windows as he hungrily fondles handfuls of your body. You do love you some manhandling, truth be told.

You have your friends’ blessings about leaving with someone. Though, the chances of them believing you’ve pulled and bagged Evan Peters as your sneaky link for the night are slim to none, especially after you lecture Adria on the celebrities-normies combo being far-fetched. But it’s fair to say you didn’t choose the night with Evan Peters; the night with Evan Peters chose you.

His veiny hands on you and his gravelly voice against your ear trigger a muscle memory, recalling the heat you felt—but never vocalised—during Murphy’s close-ups on Evan’s hands in the Dahmer series and his viral ‘Relax, I just wanna take some pictures’ line. His baritone in that unsettling scene still gives you chills.

“Damn, miss...you’re something else,” he rasps out with a sly smile. You become his Roman Empire as he worships the sight of all of you on top of him, eyes devouring your entire body as you move gracefully, biting your bottom lip.

He groans deeply as his hands knead your tits and waist all the way down your thighs. With a cheeky squeeze of your ass, he draws you closer, a little squeal escaping you as his raging erection rubs harsher against your wet centre.

“I’m dying to fuck you,” he huffs after your lips meet again, his eyes imploring as he buckles his hips against yours. The friction sends your arousal flying. You just know he’s the type who promises to rail you until your guts rearrange and actually delivers. Better hold on tight.

With a coy grin, you reach down and caress his bulge straining under his jeans. “I can tell,” you whisper, your hot breath making him shudder as you mischievously trace his upper lip with your tongue.

Evan sucks in a sharp breath and bucks against your touch with a choked grunt. You can feel his length convulsing beneath you, your wetness still squishing against him.

“No...for real, Y/N. You’re insanely hot...and while I wanna bang your brains out right now, I don’t wanna objectify you. I respect you an—”

You cut him off mid-sentence with another steamy kiss. The urge to sit him in front of a mirror as he unravels his feminist, anti-alpha male stance, all while you jerk him off before riding the shit out of him, is stronger than ever.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, Evan? So virtuous with your strong values and morals,” you praise his ‘golden-retriever’ and ‘husband material’ nature, delicately caressing his cheek. “But let’s cut to the chase—I’m here to hook up.”

With newfound energy, you attack his neck with eager kisses as you roll your hips against him more vigorously. Your fingertips roam over his sculpted Greek-God chest, travelling down to the contours of his divinely marbled abs.

Body is damn bodying.

You go on full “pick-me girl” mode as you purr, “I’m thirsty” and playfully toy with the buckle of his belt, hinting at your intentions. You can’t let that mound on his jeans go unnoticed; it’s practically screaming for your attention and attentive care.

He lets out a dark chuckle against the crook of your neck as he nibbles his way up to your jawline. “How can I quench your thirst?” he murmurs, now nipping at your pouty lips.

“You’re the best refreshment around,” you hush before swiftly shifting to the passenger seat and bending over, knees near your head and ass pointed skywards in a tantalising display he can’t resist.

You begin to pepper mouth-watering kisses along his chest, sliding down to his boner. Your tongue stumbles over the ridges of his abs as you venture lower, your moaning mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk, admiring the view that the curve of your ass provides, smacking it along the way.

With practised ease, you undo his jeans, palming the damp patch of pre-cum on his boxers. Glancing up at him with a crooked smile, you coo, “Eager, are we?” before sliding down his boxers.

His head lolls back, muffled moans escaping him as you swipe your tongue along the underside ridge of his hard, red-tipped cock. His breath rushes out in laboured, choppy huffs like his life depends on you. The way you take him deeper, double-fisting him, becomes his lifeline.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he manages to utter under his breath as he tenses in your grasp. You mewl softly around his cock, sending vibrations rippling through his body like shockwaves.

You’re insatiable, sucking him up from taint to balls, coating him in your saliva as you pump him harder in your mouth. Your swollen cunt is aching for him as you feel his head harden and twitch in your mouth with building pressure, forcing gagging moans out of you.

Gripping your hair in a messy ponytail, he watches intently as he fucks your mouth with increasing intensity. His free hand brushes along your clothed slit, his sturdy fingers running up and down your soaked panties. You gasp at the stimulus, clinging to the door handle for support.

“E-Evan,” you slur out as he applies more pressure on your throbbing heat, your words faltering as ragged breaths escape you.

“Yes?” He whispers, feigning innocence, though his arched brow and smirk betray his true intentions. He knows he can edge you with minimal effort, making you cum in his hands on the spot.

“Don’t stop,” you plead through your desire, your hips swaying in harmony with his rhythmic in-out motion.

“Keep sucking, baby girl. You drive me nuts, but I wanna see you multitask,” he challenges, no pun intended with his nuts reference.

As he tucks aside your lacy panties, he begins to circle your arousal, teasing your slopping folds. A low grunt slips off him as he feels how wet and ready you are for him. “Jeez, I need to take a dive in those Niagara Falls,” he chuckles and keeps fiddling around your throbbing clit.

Before you know it, he plunges two fingers in your begging entrance, eliciting a whimper from your lips that’s louder than you expect. The way he expertly curls his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots, sends bolts of pleasure through your core.

Soon, the sound of your moans blends with the wet squelching of your pussy, echoing throughout the car.

The faster his fingers pop in and out, the louder you moan in delight as you suck his dick relentlessly. When his thumb joins in, smoothly rubbing against your clit with no mercy, your thighs begin to wobble.

His fingering inevitably loses momentum as he tightens his grip on your hair. You giggle quietly as you realise he’s about to hit his climax, his head striking against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to well up with tears.

“Fuuuck, I’m gonna burst, Y/N,” he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving faint red marks on them. He lets out the cutest, most contrasting sounds—something between a low groan and a high-pitched whimper—as his hips thrust harder each time.

With a wicked grin, you intensify your suction on his tip, sending him over the edge with a primal groan. His hot cum spurts into your mouth, filling it with its salty sweetness, before trickling down your chin. You eagerly lick his shaft clean and swallow his juices with greedy gulps, savouring his taste with a satisfied hum.

“Told you, you’ve freshened me up,” you chirp, playfully wiping him off your face. “You’re okay?” you ask with a bashful smile, reaching out to brush back the sweaty curls that have clung to his forehead.

He throws his head back, his chest still heaving with shallow pants as he stares at you with hooded eyes. “Damn, you’re good...I’m wrecked,” he breathes out.

Grinning lazily at you, he buries your face in his hands and grazes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“If you need a dopamine boost, I’ve got just the cure for you,” you coo and lean in close, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the prescription, doc?” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he bites his lip, his hands massaging your ass cheeks. It’s a silent prompt for you to climb back over him as his mouth desperately fumbles your skin.

You peer into his lustrous eyes with a sly smirk. “Sure, I can give you a ride, sir,” you purr, your fingers tracing tantalising patterns through his locks.

His grin widens as your sex alights on his crotch that’s twitching eagerly at the prospect. “I’m all for it,” he murmurs, pulling you close for another heated kiss.

His arms envelop you as you bend together towards the compartment by the passenger’s seat with shared anticipation. Your hands remain entwined around the back of his neck as you sprinkle kisses across his flushed face.

He delves into the container, rifling through its contents. “Shit,” he hisses, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Houston, we have a problem?” you ask, your voice deep with desire.

“Mission abort...out of condoms,” he admits, his eyes meeting yours with regret.

“Consider it solved, let’s head to mine.”

You fling open the door to your apartment, ushering Evan inside with a goofy grin. “Come on in and behold the fortress of fun!” you announce, gesturing grandly to the vibrant interior.

He giggles and steps inside, taking in the cosy yet funky vibe of your place. “Dang, this place’s dope,” he compliments, nodding approvingly at the eclectic mix of pop art and rococo décor.

You beam proudly. “Thanks! Gotta give props to my housemate, Mayra. She’s the mastermind behind all this coolness,” you explain as you lead him down the hall towards the living room, giving him a quick peek into your room.

“Ah, gotcha. She’s got skills,” Evan comments appreciatively as you both shuffle back to the living room, clearly digging the ambiance.

He scans the space more thoroughly this time before turning back to you. “Is your housemate around?” he inquires casually, hands in pockets.

You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, she’s living it up in NYC for work. Won’t be back for a while,” you reply with a shrug, not missing the mischievous shine in Evan’s eyes as he looks you up and down.

His gaze darkens slightly as he inches closer with a smug smile that grows with every step, pinning you against the wall next to a small table stand. “Just you and me, then, huh?” he murmurs, his voice coarse and velvety just like it turns you on.

You affirm him with a smirk. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair as he closes the distance between you with a soft kiss that rapidly turns into a full-blown makeout session. What begins as sensual brushstrokes—your lips caressing softly—soon morphs into a heated exchange, your tongues kicking off a seductive twirl.

With a breathy moan, you shed his jacket and tug at his shirt, balling it up with a scrunch as you press his chiselled body firmer against yours.

“I like your lips,” he rasps out between kisses, a broad smile etched on his lips.

“My horizontal or vertical lips?” you toss out nonchalantly with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by any potential consequences. As if that isn’t daring enough, your gaze pierces into his eyes, radiating a sexual intensity that tips him off the edge.

He reciprocates your challenge with a devilish grin, as it’s his turn to strip you off your jacket and dress. His gaze is hungry as he takes you in. “Let me do an audit down there first, assess the vertical ones, and I’ll come back to you,” he mumbles as he drags sensual kisses down your boobs.

You moan softly as he latches onto your perky nipples, giving them a tantalising pull that only worsens your wetness down there.

His mouth trails down your body and sucks onto your hip bones until it finally presses against the fabric of your thong, right on your clit. You instinctively arch your back and grip the edges of the table as he kisses and inhales against you with a hum of delight.

“Where’s my boy dinner?” he teases, staring up at you. He stretches your panties down and leaves a kiss on the peak of the mound between your legs, causing you to squirm in his firm hold.

You shoot him a sultry grin, your voice tinged with desire. “Where do you want it served?”

With a swift movement, he flips you over, offering deliciously tingling love bites on your ass cheeks. As he rises to his full height, his lips shower your neck with fervent kisses.

You instinctively rest your head onto his shoulders, granting him easier access, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you feel the firm press of his hardness against your lower back.

“You see that couch over there?” he coos. You’re quick to grab onto his belt and tug him over there without breaking the kiss. You both let out muffled moans and smile-kiss as Evan finds his leg ensnared in the folds of a blanket, miserably fighting to wiggle himself free.

You slump down on the couch together, him on top, and instantly dive into a deeper kiss. His groans fill your mouth, assaulting your senses. You playfully suck on the tip of his tongue as you feel his stiff cock on your stomach, eager to set free.

“I’ll lick my plate clean, I promise. I just want you to feed me,” he begs, flashing you an imploring look.

“How do you want it?”

“On my face...only for me to feast,” he grins, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss while groping around your thighs all the way up your tits.

Lying on your back, you watch as he stands beside you and slowly chucks your thong away. His eyes fixate on your slick sex with a mix of awe and hunger, his fingers itching to dig in and explore.

You spread your thighs wider, inviting him closer between your legs, hands on his chest. He positions his head under you, his warm breath tingling your skin. His mouth brushes along your inner thighs, leaving tender kisses as he moves closer to where you want him to be.

And then, without warning, he savagely stretches apart your dripping pussy and licks a long stripe along your slick folds, making you squeak with pleasure. Groaning with delight at your taste and the slimy texture, his lips begin to suck on your clit.

You gasp and instinctively clutch his biceps as his tongue starts to glide against your slit, forcing choked whines from deep within you.

“Fuck, I could eat you out all day long,” he moans against you, his hands gripping your ass tightly as his licking becomes harsher and more aggressive. Damn, even his voice alone can make you squirt in an instant. There’s nothing about him that can give you the ick.

Your mind goes all foggy as his nose lightly nuzzles your clit. His tongue tirelessly laps back and forth against your sobbing red pussy, twirling along your gummy walls. He lifts you up by the hips, his tongue sinking deeper each time as he pulls you down onto his face. You drop your head back, a string of moans spilling from your lips.

Your toxic trait is believing that this is just a hook-up, and you won’t catch any feelings. Even when you’re riding Evan Peters’ face, receiving head so good your coochie can explode.

Well, why toxic? E v a n P e t e r s has you seeing stars as he works his magic on your clit and jams his tongue inside you like there’s no tomorrow. And there may not be a tomorrow, so why not just enjoy him on you, next to you, under you, or in you while it lasts? He makes you feel like the hottest and luckiest chick on earth (sorry, fandom), that’s just straight facts.

Reconsidering, you set off a swirling dance on his face to keep up with his pace, your legs getting all quivery. The knot in your stomach stiffens as your high builds, hitting you like a train wreck.

“Evan, fucking hell... I’m finishiiing,” you almost scream shakily as you fight for breath, your vision getting hazy. Your legs involuntarily tense around his head, and your knees tremble, while small, punchy sobs slip off your lips.

You catch him staring at you, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as you writhe and wriggle back and forth under him, the throes of your orgasm in full glory.

He draws comforting circles on your stomach and plants sweet pecks on your thighs, giving you space to catch your breath. Your hand cradles his face as your vagina keeps throbbing, making you giggle from the tingly sensation.

“I want more,” he cries out, his lips curving downwards in a mock frown as he presses a few more gentle kisses on your heat before you climb off his face, your steps unsteady.

“Then, make sure you tone down your clit game. Most men act like it doesn’t even exist,” you scoff as you throw shade, shooting him a teasing grin as you clean his chin from your juices and his saliva.

“How can you take away the tomato from tomato juice? Same goes for Evan and a woman’s climax when I eat pussy,” he retorts, flexing his muscles with an arrogant smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, ready for a comeback. “Sorry to humble you, but for us ladies, it’s mostly a mental process. Too many tricks won’t cut it,” you counter, picking up your underwear from the floor.

He raises a sceptical brow and narrows his eyes at you, his tongue sliding against his side teeth. “Oh, really? Care to see my tactic and put that theory to the test?”

“Be my guest,” you smirk with a provocative flair, motioning towards your bedroom with a sweep of your arm.

He seizes your arm, pulling you close, and melds his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. As his tongue enters your mouth, you can still taste yourself on him, making your cunt pulsate for him tenfold. You’re so turned on that you’d fold no matter what he asks you to do.

“Challenge accepted, you’ve been warned,” he quips, wagging a finger at you before scooping you up his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

There you are, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, all bare and irresistible, sensually touching your body as your eyes lock onto his.

His imposing figure looms over you as he unzips his jeans, instantly giving you heart palpitations. With a lustful half-smile, he tilts his head and lets his eyes linger at your legs, testing his rizz.

Realising he’s only zeroing in your glistening cunt, you deliberately part your legs, granting him a sneak peak into your “inner world” up to his appetite. “Here it is, baby Ev, all yours and ready,” you grumble, a bright grin stretching across his face as he observes your marvellous pussy.

Talk about a man who sticks to his promises! He said he’d take on your “inside work” while chatting you up at the bar, and here he comes, offering in-house service.

With ease, he sheaths himself in a condom, his gaze never leaving yours as he crouches down on you, propped up on his toned forearms (veins popping all over, goodness me). Pressed flush against you, he peppers eager kisses along your face, neck, and tits, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“I wanna take good care of you,” he whispers, his hands travelling on your body.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let out a needy moan in a desperate attempt to get him inside. Your tongue pushes feverishly into his warm mouth, and he sucks on it gently, eliciting more soft whines from you.

He pulls away, tut-tutting softly against your lips. “Not yet, baby girl. First, tell me how much you want it.”

“Like mad,” you reply with a fervent nod. “And give it to me hard.”

With his throbbing length poised at your drenched entrance, a shared gasp brings smiles to your faces before turning into exhilarating groans. His eye contact never wavers, and from that missionary angle, he looks so Lana Del Rey “West Coast” coded, goddammit.

Your bodies mesh and merge together quicker than a click. Each thrust is a slow and agonising burn, as if he does it on purpose for you to beg him for more. You ache to explore every inch of him, but he just prolongs his torture by leaving only his tip nested inside you.

That’s until his gaze sears into your soul, and you feel him plunge back deep in with a force that sends you reeling, flooding you with ecstasy.

Your body jolts at the abrupt fullness, a raw wail of satisfaction ripping out of your lips as you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

Taking the reins, he captures your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he sets a relentless pace. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and before you know it, the room reverberates the sound of skin slapping mingled with your mutual moans.

He releases one of your hands, fingers tracing patterns of comfort on your wrist as he slams in you faster and rougher. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Y/N,” he grunts hoarsely as he watches his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips.

Your body responds eagerly to his rough ministrations, hips rising to meet his with a desperate need to go harder. The rush of your pleasure overwhelms you as you yelp his name.

He meets your gaze with a cocky smile as his hand brushes along your lips, his hot breath a tempting tease on your face. Driven by your unhinged horny ass, you delicately snatch his ring finger into your mouth, licking and sucking on it as he grumbles joyfully, driving deeper into me.

“Evan...” you whimper, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut to handle his magnitude.

“You like it rough, baby girl?” he asks in a raspy tone, and his throaty chuckle rings in your ear, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

“I do,” you gasp chokingly as you look up at him with imploring eyes. “Just right there.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he lifts your legs, draping them loose over his shoulders to penetrate even deeper. The slimy walls of your cunt grip onto his dick like they’re about to devour it, throwing him to the edge.

Your foreheads press together in a feverish intimacy as he pushes you closer to release. His hungry eyes fixate on the jingle of your boobs, his groans of delight mixing with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

“Let me cum inside, Y/N, please. I need to feel you around me,” he begs, his voice strained with desire. His words hang heavy in the air, laden with raw desire as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, your tongues moving in sync.

Just as you’re about to cave, a sudden loud crash echoes from the hallway and shatters the air, causing both of you to freeze in place.

His eyes widen with alarm, mirroring your dread, and you instinctively cling to his arm for support.

Wide-eyed and tense, you exchange worried glances, his typically zen demeanour replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “What was that?” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you stutter as you smooth out your hair.

A second loud thud breaks out, and it’s louder than the last, making your shrill in terror. Sensing your tremor and the urgency of the situation, Evan scoots closer to you and muffles any incoming outcry by gently covering your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.. easy... I’m with you, Y/N,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of your head. “Okay, let me throw on my clothes and go check. You stay here,” he instructs in a hushed tone, giving you a soft peck as he scrambles near him to pick up his scattered shirt and boxers.

Still nestled in his embrace, your grip tightens on his arm as he makes a move to stand up. “No, Evan,” you protest whisper-shouting. “Let’s go together.”

He hesitates and sighs in exasperation at your refusal to stay in safely. But, ultimately, he nods, his jaw set with determination.

You hastily slip into your satin robe, ready to face whatever danger lurks in the shadows. Hand in hand, you both venture cautiously into the dimly lit corridor as you stand behind him, your senses heightened in anticipation of what you might find.

The tension is palpable as you switch on more lights, illuminating your path as you dive deeper into the unknown.

After scouring every room, you return to the living room, puzzled. “There’s no one in, so we can rule out a break-in or th—” Evan’s words are cut short by a series of loud bangs resounding from the balcony, forcibly pulling your focus to the final frontier in your quest for answers.

“Promise me you’ll stay in. I got this,” he mumbles with a determined gaze. You nod silently with a bated breath, unable to utter a single syllable.

With resolve, he steps outside, the night air is thick with suspense as you watch him while biting your cuticles. Meanwhile, you pace nervously, your mind spiralling through disaster scenarios.

Suddenly, his voice pierces the silence as he calls out your name, giving you the jump scare.

“Evaaan?” you howl frantically as you sprint to the balcony, your heart racing and your hair whipping in the wind.

Relief washes over you as you spot him pointing to a twisted chunk of neon metal lying on the ground, bathed in the moon’s glow. The gusty wind continues to slam the panel against the sliding door, confirming your suspicions.

You lean over the balcony, verifying that the fallen piece has flown from the drugstore sign banner next to your apartment—just a harmless casualty of the night. “I’ll drop it off for repairs tomorrow,” you mindlessly assure Evan as you share a chuckle that mixes nerves with relief.

His grip tightens around your waist as he suggests heading back inside. You both retreat indoors, leaving the metal piece by the balcony door.

“Water?” you offer, and he accepts with a grateful nod, his gaze softening in appreciation.

As you saunter to the kitchen together, you catch him checking you out as you bend over the counter and reach up on your tippy toes to grab a glass.

Just as you’re about to stride out of the room, your cleavage skimming his chest a bit too long, he swiftly corners you against the glass kitchen door.

“Where you think you’re sneaking off to?” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands wander over your upper half.

Your eyes flicker across his face as you struggle to draw a breath, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Out?” you manage to squeak.

He inches closer, his voice dripping with suggestion, “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we?” he murmurs as his stubble grazes against your jaw, intensifying the pool between your thighs.

“Remind me?” you tease, your lips curving mischievously. You’re in your villain era; if not Evan Peters fucking you, why even bother?

He slides a hand under your loose robe and tenderly tweaks your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. A gasp escapes you at the sensation as his fingers find their way to your clit, setting off a relentless rub that brings a buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s like with each stroke, he’s hitting the pleasure jackpot.

Panting, you sway your hips to match his rhythm, lost in sensation. The play of his thumb on your clit drives you wild, leaving you craving more.

“Bring me a condom, and I’ll give you a reminder,” he chuckles, and in an erratic heartbeat, his lips crash onto yours, warm and demanding. You melt into the kiss as the room spins around you. He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you with a reckless passion, desire raging like a tempest.

With this move, things accelerate viciously. Gone is the playful banter; now it’s all primal need, Evan turning animalistic towards you. In a blur of motion, your body ends up pressed into the cold surface of the glass door; his hands firmly cupping your breasts from behind; his cock throbbing and pounding inside your slippery centre; raw horniness bursting forth through loud moans and grunts.

He’s so damn big, stretching your pussy to the point it stings. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he pulls out and jams back in you with primitive force. The door lock rattles incessantly as he pounds into you hard, his lips embellishing your soft skin with red, soon-to-be purple marks, his hot breath making you shiver.

He clings to you, his stomach against your lower back, hips still snapping into your soaked cunt. Together, you set a rhythm, rocking in and out with a measured tempo and sensual grace.

The pain blends divinely with euphoria in your body, leaving your mind foggy and dizzy as he continues to jab in and out of you despite your whimpers. His balls slap against your clit, making your climax hurtle towards you like a tidal wave. Salty tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I’m close, Evan,” you yelp, your knees beginning to fail you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises out of breath as he smacks your ass, kneading all the way down your clit. “Let go, give it to me,” he urges, punctuating his last word with a particularly deep thrust, jerking inside you and causing your screams to spill out.

Pleasure shoots you like an electric shock, and soon, liquid dribbles down your legs. As the tension in your lower belly finally cracks, you feel him buckle as well, his hips stuttering. Letting out a guttural groan, he gushes out inside of you, followed by small whines of your name.

You urgently ask him to peel the condom away and spill his cum all over your ass and back. Soon, white, sticky cum from both of you mingles and trickles around you until you become a leaky, sticky mess.

His arms band around your waist, your fingers intertwined, his smiling eyes drowning in yours.

“Fuck, what did you do to me, Y/N?” he sighs, and you both giggle, your sweaty lips meeting again in a passionate kiss.

After a mutual clean-up, you slide into a fresh nightgown and return to your room, only to find Evan rummaging under your bed, his firm backside an enticing sight.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, enjoying the view as you lean against the doorframe.

“My car keys,” he growls, his brows furrowed in concentration as he takes a glimpse behind the curtains. “Must’ve fallen out when I took my pants off,” he infers with a low and husky voice as he glances back at you.

You nod sympathetically, folding your bed throw neatly on the corner armchair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he resumes his search, the tension between you growing thicker by the second.

“It’s late already. You can crash here tonight, and we’ll track down your stuff in the morning,” you suggest, settling onto the bed.

He looks up, relief sets on his handsome features as he creeps back towards you. “You sure?” he murmurs, his arms encircling your waist, his touch igniting sparks of arousal.

“Never been surer,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss, unable to resist the pull between you.

But just as your lips meet, the jingle of keys shatter the moment, and you feel something sharp lightly nudging your lower waist. Pulling back, you shoot Evan a knowing smirk, your pulse racing with excitement.

With a nonchalant shrug and a wink, he tosses the keys onto the bedside table before pulling you under the covers and into a heated kiss.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

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starrydixon · 1 year

Text

Wildflower

Era: Pre-Prison Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Summary: After confessing that you had never been given flowers before, Daryl finds himself becoming determined to be the first one to do so.

A/N: I thought the idea of Daryl picking flowers for someone and then becoming really bashful about it was such a cute concept, so I just had to write it! I hope you enjoy!! (also the gif used is NOT mine, so credit goes to owner!!)

“What the hell are ya doin’?” Daryl drawled from his spot by the fresh animal tracks that were imprinted on the cold dirt ground below him.

“Huh?” Glenn shot up to his feet and spun around on the heels of his worn sneakers in order to face the archer.

Daryl raised an eyebrow at the young man and nudged his chin towards the flowers that were clenched tightly in his hands. Looking down, Glenn’s face flushed a light shade of pink at the realization that Daryl had just caught him picking flowers. Looking back over to the archer, who was still waiting for an explanation, Glenn shrugged his shoulders as a proud smile began to stretch across his lips. “I’m getting some flowers for Maggie.”

Daryl couldn’t help but let out a puff of air from between his lips in disbelief. “Why?”

With a smile still planted firmly on his face, Glenn jogged back over to where Daryl was standing. “I want to do something nice for her, and picking flowers is the only thing I can do right now.”

It had been one month since the Greene’s family farm had gotten overrun with walkers, which had caused the group of survivors to live on the road. With this type of lifestyle in an apocalypse, most romantic gestures had to be modified. For example, instead of making a reservation at a fancy five star Italian restaurant for a dinner for two, couples now had to settle with sharing a can of goods between them over a campfire (if they were even lucky enough to find a can that is). In other instances, you’d have to settle with a box of stale truffles instead of fresh ones, or being given a stuffed animal holding a heart between its paws that had a layer of mildew coating its fur.

For Glenn, this meant picking a few random wild flowers from the side of the road instead of buying a beautiful floral arrangement from the local flower shop.

“I think catchin’ this damn deer would be nice too.” Daryl huffed as a frown formed on his face. With his hand, he gestured towards the animal tracks that were becoming less and less scarce to come by as winter was nearly approaching.

“Man, you’d be surprised how far a few flowers will go…maybe you should get some for Y/N.” Glenn pointed out while carefully placing the flowers in his backpack.

“What?” The archer gawked at the young man in a mixture of confusion and accusation.

Sensing Daryl’s sudden unease, Glenn shot his eyes back towards the archer, and straightened up his posture when he took notice of the hardened expression on his face.

“Uhm…” Rubbing the back of his head anxiously, Glenn struggled to find a way out of the hole he had suddenly found himself in. “I see how you are with her…you guys seem to have a great connection…so I figured you might want to do the same?”

“Connection?” Daryl drawled as his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Glenn swallowed hard and shifted uneasily on his feet.

“You like her, right? In like, more than a friend way.”

Daryl could only stare at Glenn in silence as the young man fidgeted uncomfortably under the archer’s intense stare, silently praying that the ground would suddenly open up and swallow him so he could escape the hunter’s wordless scrutiny.

“Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on between me and Y/N.” Daryl finally stated after a few heavy moments of silence had passed between the two men.

Nodding his head eagerly in agreement, Glenn raised his hands up in surrender. “I got it. Loud and clear.”

Seemingly satisfied, Daryl turned back towards the tracks and resumed his hunt. As he skillfully moved around dry twigs and crunchy leaves that were laying on the ground, and pushed away almost completely barren tree branches from out of his eyesight, his frown from earlier deepened, while his furrowed brows caused a shadow to cast over his eyes. As much as he tried to focus on hunting this deer and bring it back to the people who he was starting to consider family, Daryl couldn’t stop Glenn’s earlier remarks from ricocheting in his brain.

Was there some kind of connection between you and the archer that he wasn’t aware of?

Would you find being given flowers better than a deer?

Did you even like flowers?

Daryl wasn’t sure why he suddenly cared so much, but the thoughts and feelings he had about it were distracting him so much that he almost blew his cover from the deer when he hadn’t realized he had caught up to it. Readying his trusted crossbow, Daryl shook his head to rid himself of those distracting thoughts and refocused his attention on the thing he was the best at; hunting.

Later that day, when the sun was beginning to turn the once bright blue sky into warm hues, the two men walked through the front door of the house they were currently squatting in with the rest of the group. Daryl had the deer he was previously hunting hauled over his broad shoulders, while Glenn wore a grin so big it threatened to split his face in two.

At the sight of the deer perched on the archers shoulders, the group visibly relaxed and had smiles on their faces that actually reached their eyes for the first time in weeks. Tonight, and maybe for the next few days if they rationed, they’d have food in their stomachs.

Although you were also excited to see the deer, you couldn’t help but be a little bit more happy and relieved to see that Daryl had made it back safely and in one piece. For the few hours that he and Glenn were gone, you couldn’t tear yourself away from your spot by the windowsill. You tried to keep the curtains closed for safety, but every once in a while you found yourself peeking through the middle part, hoping you’d see the archer within your sights again.

Seemingly busy with getting the deer prepped for eating, you were only able to give Daryl a wave of greeting from afar. Despite having a 90 pound deer draped over his shoulders, the archer still managed to give you a curt wave back before moving towards the back of the house where the kitchen was and taking up shop there.

When he was out of sight, your focus turned to the group's love birds: Maggie and Glenn. You couldn’t help but smile at the two as Maggie happily smelled the wildflowers that looked to be falling apart due to being placed in a bag for so long. Glenn rubbed the back of his neck bashfully due to the wilted flowers, but his happiness of being able to make Maggie’s day better was clear through the light that shone in his eyes as he looked at her.

By the time the orange and pink sky had turned into a black and glittery blanket, you and the rest of the group of survivors had gathered around on the floor in the living room, eating warm and cooked venison that Daryl had cut up and made for the group. Despite the quietness that fell over the group due to the focus of filling stomachs that had been empty for days, there was a sense of peace and comfort settling over them.

You and Daryl were sitting beside one another, eating quietly and observing the group as they shared giddy looks and hushed laughs with each other. Much like the others, you had found yourself wiggling happily in your spot on the floor when a plate of meat was handed to you, unable to contain the joy of eating something that wasn’t from a can.

When your celebratory happy dance caught Daryl’s eye, he couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. Seeing you content and happy sent a warmth spreading through his chest that wasn’t caused by the warm food or from the fire that was alight in the fireplace just a few feet away from him. Shaking his head slightly to himself, Daryl ducked his head and poked his plastic fork around his plate of venison.

“What?” You asked the archer when you noticed his head shake from the corner of your eye.

Bringing his gaze up from his plate, Daryl blinked his slightly widened eyes as if he was an animal caught in the headlights of a car. “Nothin’?”

“Why were you shaking your head?” A kind and gentle smile fitted your face as your head tilted to the side to show your curiosity.

“Oh…uh, just had a thought pass through…somethin’ Glenn was tellin’ me about earlier.” Daryl explained bashfully while shifting anxiously in his spot.

Instead of responding with words, you silently motioned for him to expand his previous answer with a few coaxing nods of your head. Getting the hint, Daryl let his shoulders drop in defeat. “I told Glenn huntin’ this deer would be just as nice as pickin’ flowers…and seein’ you and the others wigglin’ around, can’t help but think I had a point too.”

By the time Daryl was done explaining his thought process to you, his eyes had drifted back down to his plate. He only looked back at you when your warm laugh reached his ears. At first, the archer was worried you were laughing at him, but the genuinity that filled your face told him otherwise. He didn’t understand what you found funny about what he had said, but knowing that he was making you laugh nonetheless did cause his stomach to flutter.

“Those are two completely different scenarios!” You expressed earnestly while wiping an invisible tear from off your cheek.

“What do ya mean?” Now it was Daryl’s turn to tilt his head to the side in curiosity.

“Picking flowers is a romantic gesture…I’ve never heard of hunting a deer as one.” You explained while setting down your now empty plate besides you.

“Didn’t say it was romantic…just said it’s nice.” Daryl frowned, which caused his eyebrows to furrow and the worry line between them to deepen.

“Okay, okay…but judging by the love sick puppy eyes they were giving each other after he gave her the flowers, I just think Glenn meant it romantically.” You pointed out while raising your hands up in surrender.

Daryl hummed vaguely in response before finishing off the meat that was still on his plate. After a few moments of silence fell over you both, Daryl spoke up. “What do you think?”

“About?” You took your gaze from off of the flickering flames of the fire so you could look at Daryl, who had begun to gnaw on the side of his thumbnail nervously.

“Flowers...you think they’re nice?”

After pondering over his question for a few moments, you shrugged your shoulders loosely and leaned back against the couch while stretching your legs out in front of you. “I don’t know…when I think of flowers I think of bees, which I hate since they scare me, but I can also appreciate their beauty or whatever.”

“So, that’s a no then?” Daryl raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you as you continued to ponder over the complicated stance you had on flowers.

“Not necessarily…I’ve never asked for flowers or have ever received them from anyone before…but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Daryl scoffed in disbelief at your answer. “Ain’t no way no one's never given ya flowers before.”

“What…do I look like the type of girl whose parents brought them obnoxiously large bouquets of flowers after performing in my school play?” You raised an eyebrow at Daryl while placing a hand on your hip.

“Yeah, ya do.”

You couldn’t help but let out an amused snort of disbelief. “Well, I didn’t...maybe I would have liked to have experienced that, just once, but it’s not like I was known as the type of person who adored flowers.” Shaking your head, you turned to look at Daryl. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason…just curious.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders dismissively as he thought back to Glenns earlier remark.

‘Maybe you should get some for Y/N.’

The resources around the house you and the group had been staying in for the past few days had run dry, and Rick figured it was time for the group to move on to another part of Georgia. Daryl wanted to see if he could catch anything before leaving, so he found himself in the woods early in the morning, just as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

From the little bit of light that the barely-there sun was radiating, Daryl could see his breath fog out in front of his face whenever he exhaled out of his nose, indicating that winter was approaching faster then he or the others would have liked.

Daryl wasn’t sure why he was hunting for tracks of anything that had a bushy tail or feathered wings, considering the woods within the surrounding gridlock seemed to have dried out due to the increasingly cold weather. He supposed he just needed an excuse to be alone for more than a few minutes since he had been holed up in a small house filled with eleven people for the past few days. Despite the lack of privacy and having his cherished personal space almost constantly invaded, Daryl had to admit he didn’t mind when you were within his personal space.

Most of the time, you would sit beside him in the corner of the living room he had claimed for himself with a book in your hand and a very worn and old sleeping bag draped over your legs. Other times, the two of you would engage in light conversation; sometimes Daryl would ask you questions about the book you were reading, and other times you’d both get to know each other more by unintentionally playing twenty questions. Daryl never felt uneasy or felt any kind of pressure when he engaged in conversation with you or when your presence kept him company. In fact, he felt like he could truly let some of his many walls down when you were around.

Maybe that’s another reason why he needed to get out of that house for a little while. Although the feelings and thoughts he had whenever you were around brought him unfamiliar feelings of comfort and warmth, it also freaked him out. So, inhaling the cold fresh air from outside into his lungs just at the crack of dawn seemed to help him clear his head a bit.

Daryl had no idea how long he had wandered rather aimlessly through the woods for, but with the sun now brightening the sky, he figured he had stayed out long enough. With no game to bring back to the group, the archer was just about to head back to the base camp when a small patch of purple caught his eye from his peripheral vision.

Turning on his heel, Daryl took a few long strides towards the purple patch and paused when he realized, thanks to the plant book he had half-heartedly flipped through one night when the group had squatted in a local library for a few days, it was a patch of purple Georgia Aster wildflowers.

‘Maybe you should pick some for Y/N.’

Groaning under his breath, Daryl rubbed at the scruff on his chin with the pads of his calloused fingers and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily as he attempted to rid Glenn’s voice from out of his head.

Daryl recalled you mentioning the other night that you had never received flowers from anyone before, and he would be lying to himself if he denied the fact that he had a want and need to be the first one to do that for you. The archer also recalled you mentioning that you weren’t a huge fan of flowers due to your fear of bees.

Glancing around the woods to make sure no one was watching, the archer reached down and plucked one of the wildflowers from out of the ground. Daryl stared at the long purple petals as he rolled the stem in between the pads of his thumb and index finger, momentarily transfixed by the spinning petals.

Not wanting to overthink anymore, Daryl clutched the stem in his hand and began to make his way back towards the group. His heart pounded against his ribcage while his lungs had a sudden need for more oxygen. His stomach twisted in nerves that he couldn’t understand.

Was he nervous because he was afraid that you wouldn’t like being given a flower?

Was he nervous that you actually would appreciate being given a flower?

Or was it because he was nervous that this gesture would open the door for expanding on that connection that Glenn had claimed he and you had.

When the archer emerged from the treeline, he instantly spotted you walking across the front lawn towards one of the vehicles with a rolled up sleeping bag tucked under each arm. For a second, his heart felt like it had stopped beating while his chest suddenly felt as if an anchor had been thrown on it, weighing him down and making it hard to breathe.

He wanted to drop the flower as if it was a hot metal pipe and step on it until the long purple petals broke from the stem and became disintegrated into the dirt. Not wanting to let his anxiety get the best of him, Daryl took long strides towards you until he was standing only a few inches away from where you were standing by the bed of the silver pickup truck.

Seeing his broad figure from the corner of your eye, you turned to face the archer with a smile on your face. Before you had the chance to greet him, his clenched fist was suddenly in your face, his calloused knuckles just centimeters away from grazing the tip of your nose.

“Uhm…” You took a step back in order to get a better look at what he was trying to show you.

“You want it?” Daryl asked rather bluntly as a bead of sweat trailed down the back of his neck.

Blinking in surprise, your eyes focused on the purple flower in his possession. “Is…Is that for me?” You couldn’t help but be a little dumbfounded at the foreign gesture.

“Only if ya want it.” Daryl swallowed hard as he uneasily shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his arm still stretched out stiffly in front of him and his clenched hand getting clammier by the second.

“They’re ain’t no bees on it either...so ya don’t gotta worry about that.” Daryl quickly added as his free hand instinctively went to the back of his neck to scratch at an invisible itch.

The biggest, and probably the brightest smile Daryl had ever seen, suddenly spread over your face as your eyes lit up like stars. One of your hands was placed on the center of your chest while the other was clasping the side of your flushed face. “Of course I want it!”

Carefully, you took the wildflower from Daryl and grinned as your eyes gawked over the long, delicate, purple petals. Glancing back up towards Daryl, who was now staring down at his boots as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, your smile never faltered as your head tilted slightly to the side. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Darting his gaze back to your face, Daryl hoped the cold weather could be used as an excuse to explain why the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks were flushed pink. The archer shrugged his shoulders loosely. “I know…just thought you deserved to be given a flower at least once.”

Warmth spread throughout your body at the endearing comment while your cheeks flushed another shade of pink. Biting down on your lower lip, you kept your gaze on the flower that was held between the pads of your fingers. “Is this because you wanted to do something nice…or for another reason.”

Daryl’s eyes widened at your question, his heart seemed to have been jump started by an invisible jolt of panicked electricity. Not wanting to put all of his cards out on the table in fear of being rejected, Daryl shrugged his shoulders again.

“It can mean whatever ya want it to.”

Your beaming smile only seemed to get brighter at his answer. Nodding your head, you tucked the flower in the front pocket of your jeans. “This was very nice of you, Daryl…and romantic.”

The archer felt another wave of heat rush to his cheeks as he ducked his head bashfully. He could only muster up a vague hum of acknowledgment as he was unable to tear his eyes away from the tops of his muddied boots.

After bidding Daryl a goodbye, you spun around on your heels and made your way back towards the house so you could continue packing up the group's supplies. Your cheeks ached due to the permanent giddy smile that was stretched upon your face, and you felt as if butterflies were fluttering in a continuous loop in your stomach. Despite the ache and the nerve endings within your body being set alight, you welcomed the sensations nonetheless.

As Daryl watched your figure get farther and farther away, he found himself unable to stop the lopsided smile from forming on his face. Pride and excited anxiety warmed the archer's chest in ways he had never felt before. Shaking his head to rid himself out of the haze you had put him in, Daryl was about to start heading towards the house after you, but paused when he noticed a figure standing in the living room window.

With a proud smile on his face, Glenn peered through the curtains that covered the grimy window and watched Daryl and you share a seemingly intimate moment with one another. Although he was surprised that the archer actually listened to him and picked a flower for you, he was happy nonetheless for the both of you. Also, Glenn couldn’t help but feel a bit smug that he was right in thinking that giving flowers was just as nice as hunting down a deer.

When the young man gave Daryl two thumbs up of encouragement, the archer responded by flipping him off and stalking back towards the house with a bashfully ducked head.

Daryl would be damned if he ever gave Glenn any kind of credit, especially when it was about his potentially blossoming love life, but Daryl had to admit that the young man may have been onto something when he said that giving flowers to someone can go a long way.

The archer wasn’t sure where this new connection he had with you would lead, but he was excited, and not as hesitant as he was before, to find out.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction

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tempe-brennans · 4 months

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be still, my foolish heart

authors note: this is probably a little silly but. us too much girlies (gn) have to stick together <3

summary: all your life you've felt like too much. joel never seems to notice.

warnings: reader's love language is physical touch and they like to talk and they prefer fuzzy blankets but nothing else specific is mentioned

You’ve been told you’re too much.

It’s a particular feeling, when those words land–especially from someone you love.

Your head gets a little foggy, mind spins a bit. The wheels begin to turn in your brain, modify your behavior. A wall comes down, cuts you off just a little more from whoever stands in front of you. Lists of things you can no longer do–lest you push this person further away–form.

Rejection. Rejection of some fundamental piece of you.

But, now, you’ve carved out a spot for yourself in Jackson all on your own. And, you’ve kept it that way. No friends, no family, barely an acquaintance–well and truly alone.

By yourself, no one can tell you you’re too touchy, they can’t say you’re dumb, can’t begin to speak the words too much.

It’s better that way. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

If, sometimes, late at night when you’re alone in bed, loneliness curls around your spine like a second skin, that’s nobody’s business but your own.

It's all fine, your life, until the day you meet Joel Miller.

He steps into your store on a particularly good day–which is the first problem.

Watching what you do, what you say, is always harder when you’re excited.

You know of him which is to say you know his name. He walks around Jackson like a ghost too afraid to step fully on the Earth.

You can’t say you blame him.

You also can’t blame yourself for the crush you’d harbored for him.

“Welcome in.” You smile. “Can I help you with anything?”

Joel shakes his head, tight smile on his face.

You nod. “If you change your mind–”

“Actually–” He interrupts you and you can see the moment he kicks himself for it.

Your smile doesn’t fade, all too aware of how it feels to intrude on someone else’s words.

“You were saying?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m looking for here.”

“Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

“Ellie–my daughter–she…she wants a blanket–for her birthday, but…” He trails off.

“But?” You prod, trying not to be pushy.

“I’m not exactly Martha Stewart.”

You quirk a brow. “Did she sow?”

Joel tilts his head. “You know, I can’t remember.”

The both of you laugh, and a little thrill runs through you that you had made the stoic Joel Miller laugh.

“I can show you what I have right now. Something might catch your eye.”

He perks up. “You actually have some?”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod. “Got some new ones in the other day.”

You step out from behind the counter, just stopping yourself from running your fingers down his arm as you watch around him.

You hope he didn’t catch the movement.

Your fingers want to thread through his, pull him along behind you, but they don’t.

“These are the quilts,” you gesture to one stack, “and these are the fuzzy ones.” You add, almost under your breath, “My personal favorite.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “The quilts have always felt a little scratchy. The seams…” You shake your head. “Oh! They’re also harder to tuck yourself into–with how stiff they are.”

“That makes sense.”

You turn towards him, eyes alight. “You might like a fuzzy one, too!” You reach out, hand landing on his belly and fingers lightly scratching–an absent-minded expression of affection. “The winter and everything, if it hurts your joints or your aches, having something extra could be nice, you know. Oh! We also have heated throws.”

Joel’s eyes flick downward, glance at your fingers. You pull them away like you’ve been burned.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” He nods, and you almost believe him. “You were sayin’ about heated throws?”

You shake your head. “I should really let you decide for yourself.” You start to step away, go back to the counter and your quiet little life, when Joel’s fingers curl around your wrist.

You feel like a fool–at the first sign of friendship, you'd burst, a jack in the box barely closed.

“Darlin’,” Joel shakes his head, chuckles lightly. “I like listening to you talk. I like your touch.”

“You did?”

“I’ve seen you around, you know.”

Dumbstruck–for once in your life–all you can say is, “You have?”

He nods. “Always seemed like talking to you, being close to you, would be like being near the sun. You seemed warm,” he murmurs. “I could use some of that.”

Because you have to hear it–you’ve always had to have it spelled out–you ask, “Are you saying…what it sounds like you’re saying?”

Joel grins. “I’m saying I like you.” His tongue peeks out, licks his lips, and he looks you in the eye. “I want to spend more time with you. That somethin’ you’d be interested in?”

You want to bite him, suddenly, and the thought makes you smile. “I’d be very interested in that,” you hum.

“Yeah?” Joel smiles, something like shock on his features.

You cross the room, throw your arms around his neck and squeeze. “Yeah.”

Joel Miller had seen what most would call too much, and he had simply wanted more.

That feeling–and the feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist–heals something in you that was broken long ago.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #the last of us #rebeccawrites

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fear-is-truth · 3 months

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𝜗ϱ 𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑼𝑪𝑪𝑬𝑺𝑺 ── kai anderson

꒰ 𝒌𝒂𝒊 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 ꒱

˚₊ ⊹ 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚: @yoursweetestgirl ˚₊ ⊹

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: college student!fem reader. legal age gap. sfw + nsfw content. probably ooc. typical kai behaviour (toxic, controlling, sexist ) talks of murder, blackmail.. spanking

𝓐/𝖭 : sorry it’s super ooc.. but i heavily relate to being stressed out by school, so here you go.

𝜗ϱ

imagine yourself stressing over a very important exam:

okay first of all, kai would use this as an opportunity to mansplain his philosophy on “self-growth”.

you know, that speech about “a larvae bee has to shed its skin to become queen”. etc.

and if you’re crying, don’t expect kai to go soft on you. he’d tell you point blank to stop being so weak.

then, he’d do a pinky power ritual with you and ask: “how bad do you want this?”

you can might as well kiss your moral compass goodbye because kai is very persuasive and there’s a good chance that he’d successfully corrupt you.

“in an unfair world, there's no such thing as ‘cheating.’ it's a quicker, smarter path to success. if you don’t seize the opportunity, someone else will take it.”

being a man of action, kai will do anything for you. fuck morals (as if he has any, ha)

given his computer programming skills, he'd hack into the system to steal the answers for the upcoming exam.

also ‘modify’ your grades a bit while he's at it, maybe even sabotage other peoples’ too.

if you’re immune to kai’s gaslighting and insist that you want to study yourself, then fine. he’d let you skip a couple of cult meetings.

when you’re studying in the house, kai would tell the rest of the cult members not to stick around after meetings.

you’d have to make up for it, though. like clean up the trash or something.

——————————————————————————————

imagine yourself in danger of failing your worst subject:

failing your classes? leave it to kai. he would find a way to blackmail or threaten your professor into letting you pass.

if the subjects that you’re struggling with happens to be mathematics or science, you’re in luck because he’s very good at it.

fair warning, kai is not the most patient teacher. he’d get frustrated and think that you’re stupid if you don’t get it right.

——————————————————————————————

imagine yourself being bullied at school

if someone at school is giving you shit, he’d stalk them on social media and send winter to spy for him.

a few days later, that person won’t be bothering you again. or breathing.

——————————————————————————————

imagine yourself experiencing study burnout:

on more than one occasion, you experience study burnout, skipping meals and pulling all-nighters.

kai would get super pissed. like how dare you wreck your body over something stupid like this?

the unhealthy lifestyle will affect your reproductive hormones and menstrual cycles, ultimately reducing your chances of fertility success. (sorry i had to add this)

he’d enforce a bedtime on you. lights out at eleven thirty– no ifs, ands, or buts.

“if you're incapable of handling your own sleeping schedule, someone else has to step in and do it for you. bed. now.”

and more mansplaining:

“why’d you seek academic validation to prove superiority? a perfect gpa or fancy diploma won’t help you change history-”

despite being his annoying self, kai would still take care of you. in his own way.

he makes sure that your basic needs are met, like having three meals a day, staying hydrated etc.

kai doesn’t cook, (kitchen work is for women, in his opinion) so he either orders takeout or microwaves pizza for you.

kai very skilled at reading people, to the point that it’s kind of scary. he can easily pick up on your frustration just from the smallest signs– a faint furrow of your brow, the way you purse your lips or tap your foot.

when this happens, he’ll snatch away your textbook or laptop and insist that you take a quick shower.

“get yourself cleaned. no point in sitting here, growing mold and not achieving anything.”

kai joins you in the shower, saying that he was gonna do it anyways and you might as well shower together to save water (oh so now he cares about the environment)

he washes your hair for you, acting like it was no big deal. needless to say, one thing leads to another..

- venturing into ˚₊ ⊹ NSFW ˚₊ ⊹ territory, mdni!! -

kai has an very… interesting method of helping you improve your memory.

he’d have you over his knee and quiz you with textbook material.

you’d get spanked for every wrong answer.

every time you make a “breakthrough”, for instance finishing that assignment or finally grasping the difficult material, he'd glance at you with the faintest hint of approval in his eyes.

followed by celebratory sex. (a win-win situation)

after a long study session, you can count on him to fuck the stress out of you.

TAGLIST: @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @officerballs @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @stveharringtn @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @taintandviolent @babygorewhore @kai-slut @doll3tt33 @babydollxxblood @coentinim

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creative-crybaby · 10 months

Text

Make Love to the Camera

PAIRING: sub!Takami Keigo (Hawks) x femdom!reader

GENRE: smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: pegging, mommy kink, nipple play, anal fingering, praise kink, use of sex toys (strap-on), oral (on a sex toy), very brief feminization, light cock slapping (like, once), size kink, dacryphilia, consensual filming + photos

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SUMMARY: Take a photo, it'll last longer. And with how beautiful your boyfriend is, you can't help but follow that saying.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: wrote this for @dabihawksluva's PegHawks2023 collab! Thank you for the opportunity to ruin him ❤️

He’s ethereal.

This isn’t unheard of, much less to him. Fans, interviewers—no one can deny his beauty. His charisma, which comes with his easygoing attitude, adds to his popularity, and it all manages to shine through even when he doesn’t need to speak.

If Takami Keigo isn’t fighting villains or saving civilians, he’s improving his image in other ways. Interacting with fans during his paroles, bumping up the charm during interviews—he even models on the side. The camera loves him.

Then again, so do you.

“Thanks for showing up,” he smiles, approaching you immediately at the start of his short break. “It means a lot.”

Your heart flutters as you see him physically relax, and you copy his expression. “Of course.” You hand him a water bottle, which Takami gladly accepts. “You look amazing out there.”

He stops drinking, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as a soft pink dusts his cheeks. “You think so?”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Like you don’t already know.”

“Still,” he sips a bit more before twisting the cap back on, “it’s different coming from you.”

The corners of your lips rise, and you lean in teasingly. “I call you handsome and pretty all the time.”

“And I fall for you every time.”

It’s your turn to feel the warmth radiating off your face, that grin forcing itself onto your lips.

You don’t get a chance to come up with a comeback as several people butt in to touch up his hair and makeup. Takami pays them no mind, used to the attention, though his soft gaze remains on you. It’s enough to ease your frustration; they’re just doing their jobs, you know this, but having them all so close to your hero when he finally gets a break is affecting your brain the way nails on a chalkboard affect one’s ears.

He notices because, of course, he does, and everyone stops what they’re doing with the raise of his hand and a charming smile. The Pro Hero steps toward you, leaning forward until only a few inches separate you.

“I’ll see you tonight?” It’s more of a statement than a question, but with golden pools softly gazing into yours, you find yourself nodding. Takami smiles reassuringly. “Until this is over, keep your eyes on me, okay?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, just pecks your temple before heading back to the set. Your focus follows his frame, finding him throwing you a glance over his shoulder with a wink.

You don’t, can’t, look away for the rest of the shoot.

“I’m home.”

The words come out somewhat sluggish as you hear the window close seconds later. You save your page in the book before placing it on the nightstand, dismounting the bed to follow that familiar voice. Its owner meets you halfway, blocking the bedroom entrance with its lean frame and tired eyes.

“Hey, pretty bird,” you smile sympathetically. Like magic, your words make some of his exhaustion disappear. Takami fixes his posture as he greets you back just as quietly and lovingly. You pull him into an embrace, and he slumps once more. “Long day?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he chuckles against your skin.

You pull back to face him. “You were great during the shoot.”

Your hand cradles his cheek, making him croon as your thumb gently rubs his tanned skin. He shifts his head to kiss your palm. “Of course, you’d say that.”

“I mean it,” you pout. The Pro Hero chuckles again at your reaction, pulling you back into the hug and peppering kisses on whatever exposed skin his lips can find. You sigh at his gentle touch. “Want me to prepare a bath for you?”

“You saying I smell bad?” muses your lover. You groan, and he laughs, the rumbling from his chest vibrating against your body. The joyful sound eventually disappears, but you can feel his smile against your skin. “I’d rather just stick with you for now, thanks.”

You hum, your hands soothingly rubbing his back and making his wings puff ever so slightly. The subtle movement has the corners of your lips twitching upwards, though you remain silent for a few extra seconds.

“Anything in particular you wanna do?” you ask, pulling back a bit. The battle between you and the ever-growing smile ends with you losing, and your teasing expression is impossible to misread. “You’ve been working really hard lately. I think you deserve to be spoiled, even just a little bit.”

Your implications have a bright red spreading across the Pro Hero’s face, his wings twitching as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. You have to refrain from cooing at his bashful expression, feeling lucky and prideful that you’re the only one that can gain a reaction like that from him.

“You’re not even trying to be subtle,” Takami mumbles, brows creasing. You snicker when you notice the tips of his ears matching his face in colour, and he pouts. Your smile only grows while he remains silent for a few more seconds. “C’mon, you know what I want…”

You pull back, eyelids hooded. “I don’t think I do.”

“Don’t make me say it…”

“Say what?” More silence on his end, smugness on yours. You know what he wants–you want it just as much–and you’ll gladly give it to him. The fact that you can get him to squirm for a bit is a little treat for yourself. You cup his face with both hands. “Use your words, handsome.”

You’re cradling him in your hold, your boyfriend whining at your dragging. You can feel the heat radiating from his face, warming your hands as he forces his gaze onto yours.

The next couple of seconds happens in a flash. Takami grabs your wrists, pulling them away from his cheeks and towards him, slamming his lips against yours. You yelp into the kiss, his strong arms wrapping around your torso to keep you in place. Still, you comply with his sudden affection, tangling your fingers into his hair and gaining a soft moan from him.

Your lover breaks the kiss, breathless and even redder than before. “Touch me.”

It’s good enough for you, and you tug him back for more as you lead him to your bed, helping him remove his clothes while his feathers fly out of the way.

Takami’s unbuckling his belt by the time the back of your knees hit the foot of the bed. You pull away from the kiss, hastily throwing the remainder of his clothes away, as well as some of yours, before leading him onto the mattress. With him on his back and you hovering over him in your undergarments, both panting and warm and needy, you resume your makeout session, allowing each other’s hands to touch whatever parts of the other they can grab onto.

You remove your lips from his own to suck on his neck when you feel his cock poking your inner thigh. A quivering whine graces your ears, and the Pro Hero places his hands on your hips.

“Can’t wait any longer,” he says desperately. You stop your actions to look at him, and his eyes plead with you just as, if not more, than his words. “I’ve been good, haven’t I? For all I know, the Commission might want me back out there. Another second of this and I’ll lose it.”

You’re surprised more by his ability to remain coherent than his words. If his touch and gaze are anything to go by, he’s not lying.

Then again, you share those sentiments, and you offer him a sincere expression with a matching apology.

With a final peck to his forehead, you then trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest until you reach one of his nipples, plopping it into your mouth and letting your tongue dance around it. Takami gasps, and it’s more than enough encouragement to tweak at the other bud, matching your mouth’s pace.

“I can’t help myself,” you apologize again after momentarily detaching from your lover. “I promise I’ll start soon. I just want to get a few more noises out of you.”

Because yes, you share those sentiments, but along with them, you carry selfish ones.

You’re back to your ministrations, making him bite his lip and squirm under your touch.

“Please, just get the strap,” he begs, his voice wavering. “I said it, okay? I promise I’ll be good if you just touch me already. Just… please…”

The slight crack at the end convinces you, though you’d have loved to toy with him a bit more.

Pulling back, you wipe a stray tear from his cheekbone. Based on his rapid blinking, he didn’t seem to notice he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, slowly getting off him. “I’ll get to it. But in the meantime, I’d like you to keep up what I was doing.” you take his wrists, leading his hands to his chest before fully dismounting the bed. You look back at him with a soft expression almost unfitting for the current situation. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

The Pro Hero nods, and you reach for a box under the bed before placing it on your vanity (courtesy of your loving boyfriend). It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for in it: a crimson, nine-inch dildo with an equally bold harness, as well as some lube.

Taking what you need, you strip yourself of your underwear before strapping the toy on. You approach your lover, who complies with your command and rubs his nipples as he watches you with want. He stops touching himself as his gaze wanders south, the sheer length and girth making him gulp as if he hasn’t had it inside him before.

You chuckle at his reaction, sitting on the mattress. “Come lay your head on my lap, sweetheart.”

Takami perks up at the command, quick to crawl toward your frame and snuggle into the fat of your thighs. He sighs against your skin, practically disregarding the fake cock mere centimetres away from his face. You smile lovingly at him, raking your fingers through his golden locks. From the corner of your eye, you catch him shifting into a curled-up position, bringing his body closer to yours.

“This should work for prep,” he tells you from his spot, turning his head to peer up at you with almost childishly proud eyes. The hand in his hair glides down his neck to his shoulder blades to play with his wings, making him shudder.

“It should,” you agree, dragging your fingertips lightly against the sensitive base. Your boyfriend moans, his cock twitching against your hip. You hand him the bottle of lube, and even in his descent to wonderland, his brows furrow at the object. “And you’ll be taking care of it.”

His face drops as he pouts, an almost silent whimper escaping his throat as he looks at you with pleading eyes. “I thought you said you wanted to treat me?”

“Of course, I do,” you coo, refraining from giving in. “But you know I can’t help how pretty you are when you get needy.” The look he gives you tells you he isn’t convinced, so take your hand from his back to cup his chin. “I promise I won’t hold back once you’re all prepped up for me, okay?”

He stares at you for a bit. “Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

The sincerity in your tone and gaze seems to be enough for Takami as he takes the lube from your grip, removing the cap and oozing a generous amount of liquid onto his fingers. You keep your eyes on his hand, watching intently as it falls past his thighs and cock, a whine slipping through his lips. You can’t see him stretch himself open, though his reactions are more than enough to keep you satisfied. You almost feel selfish; even with this moment being all about him, you’re dragging things on for your own pleasure, not wanting to miss a second of your lover falling apart.

Your greed doesn’t stop there as you catch a glimpse of your phone on the nightstand.

“Mind if I record you?” you ask softly, caressing his cheekbone for good measure. “I just wanna look at you forever.”

The Pro Hero doesn’t stop his ministrations as he gives you the go-ahead, and you gently lift his head to reach for your phone. Giving your thanks, you help him shift positions to kneel before you, his fingers continuing to work their magic on his hole.

With the dildo’s base in one of your hands and the device in the other, you give him a look that tells him everything he needs to know.

Takami opens his mouth wide, allowing you to tap the fake dick’s head on his awaiting tongue before slowly sliding the silicone shaft down his throat. As soon as his lips wrap around the toy, you press record, aiming the camera at your boyfriend’s lewd display.

“Good boy,” you sigh, eyelids drooping as he sets a languid pace bobbing his head. His tongue dances along the underside of the red cock, you notice, and you’re more than sure you’d be a goner had it been your real dick.

Your boyfriend moans around the shaft, making direct eye contact with the lens on your phone as he takes more into his mouth, his gaze sultry yet pathetic. He knows what he’s doing—of course, he does. Though with his photoshoots being at most somewhat sensual, seeing him like this with no one else around makes pride swell in your chest and lust swirl in your lower belly.

Despite your shallow breaths, you’re surprised that your hold on your phone remains stable. Even when Takami’s lips reach the base and his gags to your ears, you don’t miss any of it while recording.

It isn’t until you notice his thighs tense that you end the video.

“I think you’re ready now,” you say, slowly slipping the dildo out of his mouth. The Pro Hero heaves, nodding at your words as tears cascade down his flushed face. You wipe them away, giving him a break as your gaze softens at his beautifully dishevelled appearance. “Just lay on your back, and I’ll take care of the rest. Okay, pretty?”

He quietly moans as he changes his position, opening his legs to allow you to nestle between them. The bottle of lube is back in your hold as you lather the liquid onto your already-wet strap-on. You barely put on a show, but it doesn’t stop your lover from exhaling shakily at the display.

Tossing the bottle elsewhere on the bed, you hit the record button once more before aiming your tip at his rimmed entrance. You shift the camera’s focus to Takami’s face, watching it contort from the invasion while a gasp slips past his swollen lips. With only an inch or two inside him, you wait for him to relax, shushing him while rubbing his thigh soothingly.

It’s only when his heaving subsides that you shift your focus to between the Pro Hero’s legs, his hole stretched open and his cock hard against his abdomen and leaking precum. A grin spreads across your face, and you sink the toy deeper inside him. His whimpers make you bite your lip, holding back your own sounds of pleasure.

Once you bottom out, you zoom in on where your fake dick disappears with your phone, glancing up at your boyfriend only to find him covering his face with his arm. It’s enough to ease the ache of your cheeks from smiling so widely, but you don’t frown, either. Instead, you gently slap his cock—not too hard to cause harm, though it certainly earns you a mix of a moan and a sob.

“Don’t hide from me, baby,” you chastise, lightly rubbing his shaft as an apology. Takami whimpers, hesitantly removing his arm from his face, still red and moist from sweat and tears. Your smile returns, and your hold on his dick leaves as his on his thighs appear. “I wanna see and hear all of you, okay?”

Your boyfriend nods with a gulp. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” you parrot all too sweetly, raising your brows knowingly at him.

A pause.

Takami mewls. “Yes, Mommy.”

You coo at his pathetic tone, reeling your hips before slamming back in. Your pace is rapid and immediately set; you’ve made him wait long enough.

Taken aback by your force, the Pro Hero tightens his hold on his thighs, digging his nails into his skin as he allows the wanton cries to escape his throat. Even with more tears glossing his vision, he manages to keep his eyes open. The blush on his face spreads to his neck as his body shines with a sheer layer of sweat. The sight alone is dizzying for you, but you’ll be damned if you stop now.

“You take me so well,” you huff with a smile, brows knitted together in concentration. You wonder if he can hear you over the wet pap pap pap of your hips colliding, the lube creating a thin ring at the base of your strap-on. “Practically a–ngh!–natural. If being a hero doesn’t work out, you could… you could make a living off of taking my cock.” Takami whines at the idea as you push at his inner thigh to further spread his legs. You focus on the mess you’ve made and how easily the toy disappears inside him, moaning at the lewd sight. “Would you like that, baby? Be Mommy’s little porn star?” More whimpers from the Number 2 Hero. “Your fans would sell their souls to see you shirtless. Imagine–hah–what they’d do to see you like this.”

He keens with a hiccup, and you grin widely, your body on autopilot as you zoom in on his face. Just as flushed as when you started, Takami’s cheeks shine with the remnants of his tears as they continue to fall, his eyes layered with a mist as they cross ever so slightly. If you look closely, you’re sure to find hearts in his pupils, his glossy and rosy lips twitching upwards as drool seeps down his chin.

You’re right: his fans would do anything just to catch a glimpse of him in this state.

And you get to experience it all for free.

The passing thought gives you more than enough adrenaline to go faster and harder, angling your hips slightly differently to hit the spot that makes him shriek almost girlishly. He’s so perfect; you want to cry. You want to keep fucking him silly, and you want to ride him until your legs lose all feeling. You want to destroy him, mind, body and soul, and you want to press your lips against his while cradling his face.

You want all of him.

“Mommy,” Takami gasps, his hips twitching. “‘M close, so fucking close…” He cuts himself off with a wanton mewl, taking a moment to collect himself despite your brutal attack on his prostate. “Can I—can I cum?”

Hearing someone of such high status, someone every citizen looks at with such high regard, ask for permission with a trembling voice, you feel more powerful than any villain. And with how your cunt clenches at the mere sight of him in his miserable glory, you’re sure you ought to be classified as one, too.

But for now, you’ll show mercy, albeit recorded for his humiliation. “Make a mess for me, baby bird.”

The next few seconds happen in slow motion as you watch Takami’s eyes roll to the back of his head while his jaw falls open. Splatters of creamy white decorate his abdomen and chest, with a couple of drops reaching his chin as he squeezes around the toy. You help him ride his orgasm while making sure to catch every moment on your phone, only ending the video once his body relaxes. Your gaze softens, and you snap a few extra photos. You could make one of them your home screen later.

You shush him as he regulates his breathing, leaning forward to place your phone on the nightstand before brushing some of his hair out of his sweaty face. Once he appears somewhat calmer, you move back to rest your hands on his hips to slide the strap out of him, your lover hissing as you do so. Every step of the way, you whisper sweet nothings to him.

“Such a good boy for me,” you coo after removing the harness. You then lay next to him, and Takami whines, making you smile, tilting his head to face you. Tear stains ghost his cheeks while wet lashes clump together, his plump lips glossy with the spit as his blush fades to a subtle pink hue. He’s beautiful; it’s not fair. “Wait here. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You make quick work of doing so. Wet cloth, water bottle, whatever you can get your hands on in a short amount of time. And after wiping away the evidence of your activities from the Pro Hero’s handsome face and sculpted build and getting him to drink up, you help him sit to pull him into your embrace.

Takami pouts, tugging at your bra strap. “Still got this on?”

With a roll of your eyes, you remove the last article of clothing from your warm body, and a wolfy grin spreads across his face. He’s back to hugging you, this time burying himself in your chest.

You sigh. “Was I too rough on you?”

Still pressed against you, the Pro Hero shakes his head no. He only slightly pulls back to peer up at you, his expression somewhat more serious.

“Was I a good model for you?” he asks. You can hear the teasing tone in his voice, though there’s an antsiness to his gaze that awaits for your approval. With a soft laugh and a smile to match, you then kiss his head.

“The best.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #peghawks2023 #mha hawks #mha smut #mha #bnha #bnha smut #bnha hawks #takami x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo #sub!hawks

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cobaltperun · 5 months

Text

Lost (2) - Into the nothing

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4k

Story Masterlist / Previous part / Next part

-Heaven hear me, I know we can make it out alive-

You woke up around half past seven, the fatigue from battle still weighing you down, but more than that you couldn’t shake off that uneasy feeling from the last night. You tried and you tried, but you just felt like something was wrong. You sighed, the sound of birds chirping by your window did little to take your mind off the bad feeling. So, you sat up, turned the TV on and got up while the documentary about whales droned on. You lived in an efficiency apartment, and as cramped as it was, you made it a home thanks to Tara. She got you the few trinkets that were lying around. The cheesy ‘Home is where the heart is’ hung from the doors above the coat hangers. The small porcelain cat napped on the fridge, and a slightly bigger stuffed dog she bought you for your twelfth birthday sat on the nightstand drawer next to your bed. There were only two framed photos in your apartment, both of them were just you and Tara, one from her eighteenth birthday, and one back when you were kids and Tara and Mindy won an award for a short video.

Everything else was pretty much minimalistic, you hardly had space for anything else, given the living area wasn’t even 250 square feet. Bed at the corner, with nightstand drawer to its’ right, the TV hanging on the opposite wall, a coffee table you modified to be taller that doubled as table in general between the two with a couch just beneath the window. The kitchen area was small as well, just bare necessities, which sometimes made cooking a bit of a struggle for space. What little space was left was used up by the wardrobe closet and your bag and basic training gear, both by the wall where the TV was, standing between the doors and the TV.

You were comfortable in your home, comfortable in your own small space, separated from the rest of the town, in a building that was meant to be a part of some bigger project that got canceled, but the building remained, and the couple you worked for owned this apartment and a few other in the building and they rented it to you for a ridiculously cheap price. Right now, however, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling off, you needed to go train, or go to work, or do anything to keep your mind off whatever was causing that damn feeling.

So, you broke your rules and ran down the stairs all the way from the third floor, and then, the moment you stepped through the main building entrance, you began running. You had a set of rules you lived by, eat healthy, train hard, rest enough, and resting enough involved having a day off after a fight, meaning no work, no training, just recovering. Yet here you were, running on an empty stomach while the town woke from the slumber. Cars drove past you, as did the school bus, and for a moment you thought you caught glimpse of Tara sitting by the window, probably with Amber next to her. Running cleared your head a bit and you made up your mind. Next weekend you’d take Tara away from Woodsboro, you’d take her wherever she wants to go, Amber’s whining be damned.

You were tired of the distance, and you could feel Tara was tired of it as well, and it was about time you did something to change that.

With that sense of clarity and the decision you finished your run and, despite still having a day off, took a shower and went to work.

~X~

It was always the same old story when he and Mindy were alone. Always the struggle for the rights to control what they’d watch.

“There’s a basketball game on right now and I want to watch it,” Chad raised the remote above his head, not willing to budge. Could he have gone to his room to watch it. Absolutely, and Mindy could have gone to her room to watch whatever movie she wanted to watch tonight. Still, over the years it turned into a bit of a game between them, to see who would cave in first and he wasn’t going to be the one to give in this time.

“Pft, there’s a brand new horror movie airing and the remote has my name on it,” she pulled his forearm down so she could reach the remote, but he just tossed it to his other hand.

“No way, watch it later,” he took a few steps back and went around the sofa to put some distance between him and Mindy, only because he knew Mindy would stay put, choosing to wisely use her energy.

Mindy snorted at that. “No way, dude,” but she was grinning, clearly not annoyed by their usual argument.

Chad was about to say he was the one with the remote, hence he held the power, but his phone rang and he looked over the sofa to see who was calling him. Mindy already grabbed it and handed it to him.

“It’s Wes,” she said and while he was picking up took the chance and stole the remote from him.

“Hey, give that back!” Chad complained.

“Chad,” Wes’ sounded like he was on the verge of tears and the remote was almost instantly forgotten.

“Hey, pal, what’s wrong?” Chad asked, worried, he rarely heard Wes this distraught, and Mindy noticed his tone as well, as her victorious grin dropped.

“It’s Tara. She- she was attacked, Chad, she was stabbed seven times in her own home. Doctors are fighting for her life as we speak,” Wes wasn’t making any sense, Tara was stabbed? Doctors were fighting for her life? He must have gotten high or drunk or something.

No. This was Wes. He rarely drank any alcohol and he most certainly never got high.

“Does,” he swallowed the lump in his dry throat. “Does anyone else know?”

“No, I’ll call Amber, you, you handle Y/N, please,” Wes told him and Chad felt dread fill him up.

There was a reason why he’d choose to tell Amber and not you. Amber was Tara’s girlfriend, sure, and she’d take it hard, she’d be worried, she’d rush to the hospital and stay by Tara’s side. You on the other hand, you’d be a tempest of rage and grief and fear. Sure, you and Tara weren’t close these past few months, but it was just a small, temporary break, you were still Tara’s Guard Dog, and you didn’t protect her.

Chad had no doubt in his mind that you’d be a hound, hunting down whoever hurt Tara and making them regret going after Tara.

“I’ll call her,” Chad still promised, and he’d call you.

Wes thanked him and hung up, his voice cracking near the end.

“Chad?” Mindy walked over to him and wiped his cheeks, and only then did Chad realize he was crying as well.

“Tara was stabbed, Wes doesn’t know if she’ll live,” he whispered, breaking down and hugging Mindy. He cried against her shoulder while she tried to stay strong for them both. The remote, the TV argument, it all remained forgotten.

~X~

At half past eleven p.m. you were back in your apartment, ready to sleep, even though it evaded you. You were just lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. That bad feeling, that worry, it came back while you were wrapping up your shift at the restaurant you worked in.

You abruptly sat up when your phone rang, and you just stared at Chad’s name for a few moments. The bad feeling intensified in an instant. Chad rarely called, especially this late.

“Hey,” you pushed the feeling back, you were just paranoid for no reason. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

“Hey, Y/N,” the shakiness of his voice nearly made you drop your phone.

Just stay calm, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as your heart drummed against your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Wes just called. Tara, she-“ the pause he made when he took a deep breath to collect himself was deafening. “she was attacked. Stabbed seven times. She’s at the hospital.”

He was wrong.

He wasn’t.

It couldn’t have happened to Tara.

It did.

The world and time itself stopped, everything stopped. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, you just went through the motions as you grabbed your jacket and car keys. “Thanks,” before you understood what was happening you were already outside your apartment. “I’m heading there now.”

Move. Just get there. Just get to her. Just get to her. Just get to her. Those four words were on repeat in your mind like a chant. You couldn’t stop, not for a red light or anything else, you just kept going until you reached the hospital. Wes’ mom stopped you before you could enter the hospital.

“Easy, Y/N, breathe,” how distraught did you look if those were the first words she said to you.

“Tara, how is she?” nothing else mattered at the moment, not the worry in her eyes, not the weight pushing your body down, nothing but getting to Tara. The police would handle the attacker, so you only cared about how Tara was right now.

“She’ll live,” if you were capable of thinking clearly you’d find it ironic how such a short sentence shook you to your core for the second time in your life. And it was, ironically, the exact opposite of the first time, of the ‘he’s dead’ that broke you all those years ago. At the moment, though, you felt like you were being torn apart and pulled back together at the same time. She’ll live, Judy had told you, the reassurance brought some semblance of clarity to your mind, yet at the same time the simple fact that she needed to clarify that made you feel like you were drowning.

“Y/N, where were you between nine and ten p.m.?” the question barely registered in your mind as you leaned back against the wall and took several deep breaths.

“Work. Woodsbo-Restaurant,” when did your voice become so hoarse? The need to just get inside and find Tara was almost overwhelming but a part of you, the last rational bit of you, managed to keep you rooted to the spot just until Judy told you to get going. Trying to force your way inside would only delay you reaching Tara.

Judy sighed and pulled you into the hospital. “Come on, I’ll take you to her room.”

She guided you through the dark, cold halls, going past the reception and up the stairs to where Tara hopefully was. You were barely aware of the few nurses stopping to look at you, as if surprised by what they were seeing. You didn’t care. None of that mattered at the moment.

You promised you’d do something nice for her and Wes when Tara recovered. Not before that though, you needed to prioritize. And prioritize you did as you walked through the doors to Tara’s room. Your vision became blurry as you looked at her. Still. Pale from blood loss. Attached to medical equipment. You didn’t even realize it when your legs gave out and you crumbled to your knees. All the fighting, all the hits you took, all the times you were struggling to get up, it all paled in comparison to this feeling. The sight in front of you weighed you down so hard you couldn't even struggle to get back up. For the second time in your entire life, you felt like you couldn't move, like nothing could make you move. Tara's steady breathing was the only reason you managed to keep your own breathing steady.

“Tara?” you breathed out, trying to will her to open her eyes and look at you, to show you she’d be fine, but she didn’t. She just laid there, completely still.

“Y/N!” Judy’s shout felt distant, but you felt her touch on your shoulder.

Your slightly parted mouth closed, jaw clenching so hard you would later wonder how you didn’t crack any of your teeth. In the whirlpool of emotions, you clung to the one that was just arising, anger. “Did you catch whatever did this to her?” the anger burned through your veins. You wanted to hurt whoever did this to her.

“No, whoever did this to her fled. Tara told us it was someone dressed like a Ghostface,” anger turned to wrath. Whatever attacked Tara, that something wearing a damn Ghostface costume, was still out there, free. Oh, you knew violence, and fighting was how you made a living and that was all the difference. You fought in a controlled environment, against a willing and often just as capable opponent, the purpose was to win. Something that attacked Tara was different, the exact opposite, so as tears fell down your face and you clenched your fists a single thought ran through your mind. Ghostface better hope the police catches it.

An irrational part of you thought you should've been there with her. A more rational side argued you haven't spent a night with Tara since four months ago. Another rational argument was that you were at work when the attack happened, so you wouldn't be able to do anything even if you made plans to spend the night at her place. The irrational part argued back that it was supposed to be your day off, so in a perfect world, you would be there to keep her safe.

The world wasn't perfect, but the irrational part of you still kept winning as you got stuck in the loop of what-ifs, regrets, and guilt.

Judy squeezed your shoulder and you looked at her, and she was startled, pulling her hand away from you and taking a step back. The pure, unrestrained wrath you felt must have been clear in your eyes. “We’ll catch the one responsible,” Judy promised you as she regained her composure.

You just nodded, getting up from the cold hospital floor and sitting down on the bed next to Tara’s, clearly not willing to leave her side. And Judy understood that, as you vaguely heard her tell some nurses to not even try to separate you from Tara.

For the next twelve hours, the only sound you properly and consistently registered was the heart rate monitor beeping to the rhythm of Tara’s heartbeat. You didn’t speak, you didn’t even look at Tara, you just sat there, hands dangling between your knees and head hung low. The sound calmed you down, it assured you Tara would be fine. It also made you a bit more accepting of doctors and nurses, so when they entered you just observed their every move like a hawk instead of, well, whatever the less appropriate alternative was. Frankly, you weren’t sure what that alternative was, but you knew careful observation was a better option.

A groan shattered the silence and you jumped to your feet only to kind of freeze, not sure of what, if anything, you should do. Tara’s eyes opened slowly and the tension in your body just began fading as her eyes met yours. She blinked a few times, likely confused and still under the effects of the pain killers.

“Y/N,” the sound of her voice, or rather how hoarse it was finally got you to move as you filled a glass of water and helped her take a couple of sips.

“Easy, I got you,” you dropped down to one knee, opting to as gently as you possibly could brush your fingers against the back of her right hand.

Tara looked around, taking in the hospital room she was in, and then her eyes widened, her heart rate sped up, as did her breathing as she frantically looked around for any signs of danger.

“Tara! Tara you’re safe!” you jumped to your feet and cradled her cheek, getting her to look at you. “Okay? You’re safe,” you whispered as her eyes locked with your own, searching for something, anything to cling on to, to anchor herself to and calm down, and she did find it. Her heartbeat gradually normalized as the two of you just remained like that, frozen, with your hand on her cheek, and your left hand gently holding her right hand.

A sob tore through Tara’s throat as she tried to take your hand. “Please, don’t leave me,” she cried out, her eyes filled with fear and yet to be shed tears.

“I won’t. I swear I won’t,” and you’d be damned if you broke that oath. You moved your hand and wiped the tears off her face and Tara, still sobbing, leaned into your touch. You wanted to hug her, to hold her, to never let her go, but you were afraid you’d hurt her. “You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave,” that brought a small smile to Tara’s face and you found yourself smiling back, caressing her cheek.

“Could you help me sit up?” she whispered, still weak, fearful, but reassured that you wouldn’t leave her.

You nodded and carefully moved her. You weren’t absolutely certain about your approach, but you still wrapped your left arm around Tara’s shoulders and gently helped her sit up. Tara leaned back before you could move and rested the back of her head on your left shoulder. You were about to speak but Tara turning her head and looking at you, mere inches away from your face kept your mouth shut. “Let me stay like this for a bit? Please?”

Was it uncomfortable? Definitely. You were sort of leaning back and you could feel your muscles, still somewhat sore from the fight and lack of proper rest, ached a bit as you committed to staying still. Could you make it even more physically uncomfortable? Yes. Would you do it? If Tara let you, you most certainly would. So you moved your left arm to hug Tara from behind, sort of, it was more like letting your left arm rest beneath her neck to avoid her injuries. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she closed her eyes, relaxing and just for a moment it felt like everything was fine, like everything was the way it was a few months ago when you would spend countless hours watching movies or shows and Tara would unavoidably end up in your arms. The bubble the two of you created, the illusion of everything being as it should burst the moment Tara accidentally moved her broken leg and winced. “Did they catch him?” she asked, fear and panic once again overtaking her. The heart rate monitor’s beeping getting faster just offered you concrete proof of how much the idea of her attacker not being caught yet affected her.

“Not as far as I know,” and you knew. Despite not leaving the room you did your best to stay informed and as of half an hour ago, there were no news of Ghostface, or anyone really, being caught.

Tara buried her face in the crook of your neck. “I’m so scared Y/N,” she whispered, exhausted to the point of not even having the strength to cry anymore.

“I’m here. I won’t let it hurt you again,” if Tara noticed your refusal to refer to Ghostface as a human being she didn’t comment on it, she just leaned further into your touch. The beeping of the heart rate monitor slowed down and you felt and heard Tara’s breathing getting even. As exhausted as she was you weren’t surprised she fell asleep once again.

Tara didn’t tell you to move, or even to let her go, so you didn’t. Aching muscles be damned. That being said, your own exhaustion made it difficult to keep your eyes open and despite the position you were in you still fell asleep for the first time in roughly thirty hours.

~X~

Tara woke up to the smell she came to associate with you, a soft scent that didn’t trigger her asthma, a scent that was quintessentially you, and it felt so right. The feel of your arms around her, keeping her safe, the sound of your breathing near her ear, keeping her calm. Your warmth, your strength, you. For a moment Tara even forgot what happened, but then she raised her left hand and saw the bandages and it all came back.

The knife piercing her flesh, the boot breaking her leg, the pain… The fear. The helplessness! She was all alone and all she could see was that mask, that figure, that knife through her palm. All she could hear was that voice, the security system repeating that her systems were disarmed, the knife going inside her stomach and back. All she could smell was blood, her blood.

She frantically looked around, her eyes wildly looking for any signs of danger, and then, as if you instinctively knew something was wrong you tightened your grip on Tara. Tara’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward you, as she watched your closed eyes and melted into your touch. The sound of your breathing overtook the sound of Ghostface attacking her. Your warm touch replaced the cold knife. Your scent pushed the scent of blood to the back of Tara’s head. Right then and there you were all Tara could feel.

Tara got her breathing under control, she felt her heartbeat calming down, she relaxed. You were with her. You wouldn’t leave her. You wouldn’t let anyone harm her. You didn’t abandon her, Amber was wrong. Tara now knew that without a doubt. You were here with her, you spent who knows how long watching over her, you did what Amber didn’t. You came when Tara needed you. Despite everything that happened to her, Tara felt safe, you made her feel safe. And she smiled, letting sleep take over once again, at least until a doctor or a nurse came.

~X~

The sleep didn’t last nearly enough to get you back to a hundred percent as not even two hours after you fell asleep you felt fingers brushing against your cheek.

Your entire body felt stiff as a board, and you had to bite back a groan at how uncomfortable you felt right now.

“Y/N, you’ll get stiff like that,” there was a tiny hint of amusement in Tara’s voice, and like the hopelessly in love sucker you were you thought it was completely worth it.

“You think?” you smirked a bit and finally managed to open your eyes and look at her, she was no longer as pale as she was last night, but she still looked tired.

“I sent a text to Amber,” Tara said, making it clear she was awake for some time. Her phone was in her lap, and you definitely didn’t give it to her so someone else was here while you were sleeping.

“Damn, how come I didn’t wake up?” you groaned. So much for keeping her safe, you were so tired you didn’t even wake up until she touched your cheek.

“I do have that effect on you,” and the playful teasing was back. Good. She was messing with you and for once you would let her do it. Also, well, you couldn’t really deny it, you did have a heavier sleep when Tara was with you.

“Yeah, let me get up before Amber sees those effects you speak of,” alright, maybe you couldn’t completely let her off the hook for teasing you. The beeping sped up again, not by much, but seeing as you were listening to that beeping for half a day you could tell the difference.

“Amber isn’t here,” there wasn’t any anger or any other negative emotion in Tara’s voice, but between her words, the additional acceleration of her heartbeat, and the way she was looking at you, you could understand the unspoken half of that sentence. You were here.

A/N: And the reader can cook, because why not. Tara shall get spoiled with good food! Anyway, this is moving a bit slowly, so I’m hoping to make the next chapter longer.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader

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seichira · 1 year

Text

even when i’m hard to love.

you can argue that one of the most painful kinds of love there is, is the kind that refuses to be received. loving sanzu haruchiyo has taught you what it is like to adore someone who doesn’t think he deserves the good things in the world.

pairing : haruchiyo sanzu x reader

content : angst with comfort. mutual pining. the usual gang shenanigans. mentions of violence. inappropriate language.

growing up, you were so sure that your life would go according to plan. you will go to school and study hard, get in a prestigious university, graduate with latin honors, get a stable career, meet someone whom you will settle down with, and probably have a family if the tides ever say it’s right.

in hindsight, it was a good plan. it was commendable, and it was understandable how strict they were considering how young you were back when you mapped them all out. it really was a good plan, and you couldn’t have known that not everything would go your way.

sure, things went well for the first few steps. you got good grades and outstanding extracurriculars enough that got you into a university, albeit not your first choice (c’mon, life isn’t that kind). so far, you are still in the running for honors and the connections and experience you have accumulated basically quite assures that you’d have a decent job once you graduate.

but your luck stops there, because you fell in love with sanzu haruchiyo who can’t seem to accept it.

he does to you all the things that a lover would do for their loved one, but he never admits it. he would tip his feet to test the waters but never fully dive in.

you know deep down that he feels the same way, but years into this frenzied relation with him, you’re not so sure anymore. more often than not, you spend your nights soaking your pillows with your tears of unrequited love only to dry them off the next morning. loving haruchiyo has pushed you to do the unimaginable, to modify your plans into something where he would fit—but that is much too difficult.

he is uncontainable. the man you are so ready to give your heart and soul to is so near, but so damn unreachable. you can’t grasp him, you can’t keep him all to yourself because he is running like sand away from your tightened fingers.

you have had to scratch off your dreams of settling down and building a family because the man you’re in love with is… a blur. haruchiyo is a blur.

“what have you been doing, haru?” you ask as you approach the front steps of your dorm’s building, where sanzu was sitting on one of the steps with his head hung low, only looking up at the sound of your familiar footsteps and your voice.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean…” worriedly, you walk nearer and kneel down to level with his face and expect the cuts on it.

your face contorts into your usual expression of worry, and he hates it. he wants to flip a table and break anything on sight just for you to stop doing that expression on him.

“quit it, y/n.” he turns his face away, but you grip his chin gently and he wasn’t necessarily protesting so it was easy to keep him in place for more inspection.

“where did you get these wounds and bruises from, huh? i thought you were at home. did you get yourself into trouble again? do they hurt, haru?”

he glares at you, defensive now that you pointed out his face. he thinks he was stupid to hope that you won’t notice them or make a big deal out of them.

“just got into some stupid fight with frat boys who think they’re the shit. they’re not. you should see how they look. all black-eyed, passed out and shit.”

“them having it worse than you doesn’t make it any better.” you shake your head in disapproval, but you know better than to tell him off for doing what makes him feel alive. for now, you focus on patching him up.

he grins unseriously, “it makes it better.”

you choose to zip your mouth and no longer try to contest him to lessen the risk of having him run away again. “alright, then. i ran out of cotton swabs and antiseptics so i have to bring you to the clinic.”

the way he shoves your hand away from him does not even hurt you physically. the pain shot straight all the way to your chest where you felt it all. the pain of the rejection from him, and him alone.

“h-haru, i…” your voice trembles but you try to keep it all together. “i have to bring you there. i don’t want to leave your wounds overnight without doing anything. you need stitches. p-please. it’ll be quick. if i have to, if the nurse would let me, i would do it myself.”

he hates his scars and that is something you never fail to remember. as much as possible, you treat him fast to alleviate any pain and also… to prevent more scars that would haunt him. but if it’s just your opinion that matters, the scars he has are beautiful and you want to bury them with enough kisses to make him forget how he got them.

“let’s go, please. h-haru.”

meanwhile, you don’t notice the way sanzu shuts his eyes tightly in pure guilt at how you struggle to simply get him on board for his own sake.

“fuckin’ let it go.”

there he goes again, doing what he is best at. pushing you away and asking you not to care when it is obviously too late for that. acting like he’s too good for the love you gladly offer him.

you scoff at his attitude and stand up, leaving him sitting alone on the steps. “how could i let it go? you’re sitting in front of my building all hurt and bruised up and you think i won’t fuss over it?”

all you want to do it touch him. trace your fingertips over the red and purple marks on his face in hopes that the love you have all over you would ease the pain he carries around. hide him in your pockets so no one could ever dare lay a hand on him again.

it’s all so simple. you only wish for so little. is that all too much to ask for? to love him properly?

he looks up to shoot a sharp glare at you. “yeah! exactly! ‘cuz i only wanted some company who doesn’t act my goddamn mother!”

you don’t know it, and even he doesn’t know it, but he was lying. he went here because seeing you is his only comfort, but he doesn’t know that so he has no way of saying it. he went here because he knew exactly how you would react and he’s addicted to how it feels being cared for by you. but again, he doesn’t realize that. he acts on autopilot.

“your mother? really?” you almost spit in offense. even if he either meant it literally or in a sense that cages him, it’s both hurtful. his mother left him the way you never did, and you never meant to smother him to the point of suffocation.

“i don’t even know what you mean by that. i don’t think i want to know. but let me say this to you—if you hate it so much being taken care of, then maybe my company isn’t what you need. i will always worry about you and you want someone who doesn’t. it’s not me who you’re looking for. you don’t want me.“

he does.

god, he does.

but you don’t know it.

and he won’t say it.

he stands up to finally settle in front of you, and the way he towers over you still didn’t fail to dismantle the demons in your stomach despite the situation.

“why’d you care so much for me, hm?” he challenges you smugly, hiding the disdain he has for himself for always putting you in these situations. “come on, pretty girl. tell me why you do all this shit for me.”

a tear escapes your eye and it shakes him to the core. he is taken aback he almost forgot his lines, and for a moment when his mind went blank, he really did.

“why would you cry for someone like me?”

you stupidly and courageously meet his eye.

“don’t act like you don’t know. i have told you so many times before. i tell you all the time.”

of course, he knows that. he just wants to hear you say it again just in case he dies in his sleep tonight.

“i love you, haru. i am in love with you. that’s why. you don’t remember because you don’t want to accept it. tomorrow, you will forget that i love you. tomorrow, when you wake up, you will not know that i worry for you, night and day.”

“you’re fucking stupid,” he says. he means it. you’re stupid for daring to love someone like him. you’re stupid for setting yourself up for a huge heartbreak.

the agreement that follows doesn’t shock him.

“i know.”

sanzu haruchiyo knows about your plans. he knows all about your dreams. he knows about your dream of getting married at the beach right before the sun sets. he knows of your openness to the possibility of having children, or if not, raising corgis with your life partner. he knows, and he wants it to be with him.

but it is exactly because he knows about how passionate you are about those dreams that he cannot dare take them away from you.

he’s a criminal, a gang member, and most definitely not a husband material you could exchange vows with nor raise children with. he would make a terrible husband and a much more horrible father.

he loves you so much that he can’t risk having you compromise your plans just to fit into the shape that he is. he can’t do that to you. if he could, he would be the one to adjust but he doesn’t know how.

so, he pushes you away.

he doesn’t deserve you. his family never loved him enough, how could he ever think he could love somebody right? your love is too good, too pure, too unadulterated for his soul who has seen all the horrors of life that he could already die.

in haru’smind, you deserve to be someone who either has a phd, a jd, or an md. whatever else would work, as long as that someone has a reputable job and could provide you the life you always planned for, not someone who doesn’t even know what he would do the next day. you deserve to be with someone who knows how to raise kids or how to care for dogs, not someone who would scare any delicate being with his scars. you should be with someone that is not him—but you’re not making it any easier.

everytime you would whisper “i love you, haru” in his ears where only he could hear, snippets of a future flashes in his head. whenever you confess “i am in love with you, so much” so simply, futures of him standing on the sands of the beach, delivering his vows to you. receiving those three words from you makes him believe that he could live the life you want, because in truth, that is also what he want.

say i love you, and he will want to cross out all boxes in your bucket list with you. he wants to be a part of your plans. he wants to have your ring on his finger, your child in his arms, or your dogs on his lap. whatever the fuck you want, he wants it.

he just doesn’t think he should want it. he doesn’t think he has the right to be that selfish.

it was torturous, each step he made the night he walked away from you after you told him once again that you loved him, but he thought it was for the better because you would finally get over him.

as much as that would kill him, he would be comforted by the fact that you would be okay

on your graduation day, you complete another part of your plan, but it doesn’t feel as fulfilling you thought it would be. you think spending four grueling years in university and finishing with honors would somehow send you off in a high, but that is not the case.

you are surrounded by all the people who love you, but your eyes search for the only one who doesn’t.

your friends and family don’t understand why you love him as much as you do, but that is only because they don’t know what only you and sanzu know.

nobody else knows the midnights you stay awake due to your really bad craps and sanzu sneaking past the dormitory guard to bring you supplies.

they don’t understand because they weren’t there when sanzu ran barefoot in his panic to the alley you nervously called him to when you thought you were being followed by a sketchy guy.

no one else but sanzu was around when you got sick during finals week and couldn’t hold up on your own so he cooked your meals as best as he can, changed the wet towel on your forehead every thirty minutes, helped you dress up, reminded you of the things you tried hard to study, and dragged you to class.

your love cannot be understood by someone who didn’t see how sanzu held you when you cried over the death of the dog you grew up with and the little funeral he set up with only the two of you.

they cannot possibly make sense of the amount of affection you have for the man if they weren’t in the room where sanzu first mumbled some unclear words that sounded so closely to i love you with your name attached to it in his sleep.

you stop trying to make them understand why you want to get out of your graduation party to run to the person who wasn’t there.

as you stride towards the street where sanzu’s apartment is to come and see him on this special day, you see him as soon as you turned the corner. you were quick to spot him, but he saw you first.

with a good six meters between you, you stand staring at each other in the middle of the busy street. you look at the other’s eyes like there’s no one else around. the feeling of longing and the familiar fucking sensation of being in love with him for too long burns your throat, like flowers are growing out of your lungs but you find yourself addicted to them.

your haru also stands still to stare at you, who is all covered in a huge coat that buries your body, and the intention in your eyes gives away that you are there for him. he disappears for months and on your graduation day that he is so painfully aware of, you go to him? how stupid can you be?

why are you here? he left you so you could move on.

damn woman. you can’t move on like this. i can’t forget you like this. i can no longer let you go like this. i will want to keep you all to myself like this.

how many times does he have to push you away for you to give up on him? he has lost count already, and surely you had too. you are always on the receiving end of his rejections and yet you willingly find him wherever he is, to the ends of the earth?

he thinks he has never loved you as much as he loved you in that moment. and he thinks he will love you even more if you close the distance.

because you know he never will, you do it yourself. you take the first step to swallow the distance he so carefully placed at the expense of his own heart just to protect your future. you take the remaining steps that would make it impossible for the both of you to move on from the intensity of this love affair.

sanzu haruchiyo wants to kneel on the concrete and raise his hands in both worship and blame at the god who created you to love him as much as this.

when you stop in front of him, he is still frozen but his eyes are warm. he is slowly seeping in the warmth you have always been trying to share with him.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, but not coldly. he asks because he wants to make sure you’re real.

“i didn’t want this day to end without you. it doesn’t feel right, haru. i want you there. more than anyone.”

a pause. you can already predict what he’d ask next.

“why?”

you never get tired of answering that question.

no matter how many times he rejects you, you still believe he deserves to hear them. you always go back to him because you know he deserves the love you are trying to give him. you always seek him because you know him too much to give up.

“because i’m in love with you.”

he doesn’t laugh this time, he doesn’t roll his eyes, he doesn’t tell you you’re wrong, he doesn’t tell you that you’re stupid. he only closes his eyes and accepts your hands that cup his cheeks, bringing his hands on top of them along the process.

“you cannot say or do anything that could change it. you can curse me, push me away, and hide from me, or even not see me ever again… but i will always do.”

he sheds a tear at your words.

the next time he speaks, his voice breaks. probably at the weight of the words and of the confession he cradled in secret for years.

“i love you, y/n. so fucking much i can’t wrap my head around it. my heart… feels like it only beats for you to the point where it feels like a fuckin’ sin.”

he doesn’t let you interrupt.

“it’s so easy loving you. but you love me. that’s where it gets complicated, baby. it’s so hard, y/n. it’s hard loving me. my family told me so. my friends tell me so. everyone i meet tell me it’s so… damn… difficult to love someone like me.”

you shake your head and will him to open his eyes, and he does. you look straight into them, making sure he would see the truth you have always held for him in your pupils that could only see him.

“it’s not. it’s not hard, haru. i love you, i love you as natural as i breathe. i love you like how my heart beats and how my blood runs in my veins. it’s not hard. i do it all the time. i love you all the time.”

it is his turn to shake his head. you love him too much to even mind how complicated he really is.

you only make it look easy even when he is hard to love, but he’ll take it. in all his greed and selfishness, he’ll accept it this time.

he will spend the rest of his life filling your life with love, happiness, and adoration to atone for it.

for now, he’ll cherish the softness of your lips and etch into his memory how perfectly they fit with his at the very first time they touch.

#⏳ — lumi’s fics!#i’m back!#I AM SO PROUD OF THIS #pls give it some love!#tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fics #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers fluff #sanzu fics #sanzu angst #sanzu imagines #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo revengers

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stararch4ngelqueen · 7 months

Note

Hi!!! Huge fan and I hope you had a good day in your part of the world💗💗💗

I was just reading ur period comfort fic with jay and was absolutely inspired with this idea for an (unequivocally self-indulgent) new fic:

what if reader has intense pain on their period (like can’t stand, can barely move, everything hurts/aches etc.) and goes nonverbal when the pain gets too much BUTT reader and jay had an argument before he went on patrol and so reader feels like they can’t call him because he’s still mad at them so reader just sticks it out miserably by themselves. only until jay asks oracle to check on your vitals (because he’s a cute little worry wart and still cares a lot🥰) and sees that you’re heart rate and breath rates are wildly irregular and he rushes home (fuck batman he can finish the job himself HIS BABY IS #1) and sees you bundled up in the covers curled in a ball crying. comfort, apologies, and making up and caretaking ensues!!!

i’m so sorry if this makes no sense or it isn’t something you’re comfortable with (your comfort is #1 bestie)!!!! Also, feel free to modify in any way!!!

SENDING KISSES AND LOVE💅🏾❤️

It makes good sense!! I have no problem writing this ✨

I hope yours is going good as well! It’s a very under weather day for me, so I apologize if this isn’t what you were expecting! ❤️

—

Time written - 1:27 a.m

Tags: Period. Slightly broody Jason. Special guest star menstruation crustacean.

Part 1 in reference

—

Being miserable chased you around like a damn disease today, doing lots of more harm than good.

The kind of pain that left you breathless. An agony so severe you find yourself apologizing to any God that listened, mentally screaming at your body to give you a damn break. It was a miracle how you managed to make it from the kitchen towards your bed, forgetting to get your charging phone from the couch.

Sure, you had your watch. Yes, you had a device nestled in your end table drawer used for emergency calls. Wayne-Tech, Batman related stuff.

You didn’t use it. Either you didn’t have the strength, or too hot-headed, you didn’t reach for a button.

You believed it wasn’t going to be as bad. The cramps you’d get about a week prior before you start weren’t as painful this time. This morning had such high hopes, such high promises for a good day.

It was too early to think too highly about it.

Your body believed it would be funny to fool you, forcing you into this pathetic, crippling state shortly around ten. Rarely would you start at night.

You would’ve thought the blame belonged to someone else, anyone else other than what you experienced now. It felt like your insides were being torn apart by devilish hands, nearly making you ponder the urge to scratch against your own abdomen.

The room was normally cool, but your body was terribly hot. A peculiar shiver brushing down your spine, your susceptible body curled up in a pitiful ball along the mattress.

The house was quiet and empty, save for your choked gasps as you son through this horrible pain. You craved comfort, more comfort than any warm blanket could provide.

The biggest comfort you quietly desired more than ever wasn’t here. It was a miracle that the front door still clung to it’s screwed up hinges after being recklessly slammed shut.

You two argued over cereal, over which take out to get from what restaurant, over celebrity crushes. His side eyes were as dangerous as his criminal bloodlust, but they were always done out of amusing intent.

This time was different. You couldn’t remember when it started, recalling when it ended was now a painfully dulled blur in the back of your head. The argument was nearly verbally severe, with enough yelling to rouse the worry of your neighbors. If they even cared.

No one really does in Gotham these days.

You lay in your pitiful slump in bed for what felt like hours. In your distress, you weren’t aware of your charging phone going off in the living room. Your screen bombarded with texts and still ringing phone calls.

One of Jason’s few reliefs he had was through a distasteful crook on patrols, as violence was a great distraction. On such a slow start, Red Hood was left stalking with his own thoughts, dealing with his temper all alone in the night’s silence.

Just because he was stubborn now, doesn’t mean that he didn’t have his moments of clarity once he caught a break. He sent you a reluctant, one worded sent text at first before rushing on. He couldn’t help but shake off this suspenseful feeling though, like a tense dissatisfaction on his tongue. Was it guilt? Was it shame?

Did he feel sorry for what he basically caused? Did he at least wanna attempt to own up to it?

After ten minutes, he sent another text. Again, he sends another after seven minutes, then another around three. You weren’t answering them at all, which was a little surprising. You believed you held a distasteful quirk about answering texts too fast, which was what Jason adored about you, responding to him in under five minutes. Or ten at most if you were busy.

It always let him know you were never bored of him.

This only made that suspenseful ball in his gut grow a little heavier, so he started to call.

After about three calls, still you didn’t answer. Now that hall grew hotter and hotter.

It makes the most obvious sense that you were still angry at him, but the least you could’ve done was pick up the phone and cussed him out before abruptly hanging up. Or at the very least send his calls to voicemail after a ring or two, but that wasn’t the case,

The longer he stared at his rumbling phone screen, the worse his anxiety began to grow. Soon enough, he couldn’t take it anymore.

The Bats had an auspicious way of knowing if him or anyone else didn’t keep up their patrol routine. Jason put off this thought many times, giving less of a fuck now as he rushed home.

“Where the hell is your phone??” Came his booming question once he enters the bedroom, noticeably breathing a bit heavy from his rushed pace.

Upon your failure to answer in your trembling state, cowering under your blankets, you hear his heavy boots quickly approach the side of the bed. Opening your teary eyes, you see two milky mask sockets staring you down, still clutching his own phone in hand.

Jason would’ve questioned you over how many times he’s had to call, over how many texts he sent. He could’ve, but he didn’t.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice changed from roughly arrogant to gentle softness while pulling off his mask, relieving you of that annoying heavy breathing behind the barrier.

Because everything fucking hurts, asshole.

If you were still angry at him, it would’ve been a shouting match all over again. No, all that’s left now is physical and mental pain.

Without another word, he rummages through both your drawers looking for something. Cursing when he couldn’t find it, he turns towards the closet, reaching up ahead on the top shelves until he found what he was looking for.

He leaves the room, making your sensitive mind wonder if he had the gall to up and leave again. Especially knowing the debilitating state you were in.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The faint chime of the microwave echoed from the kitchen.

You wondered wrong.

Jason returns, pulling the blanket back just enough to expose your torso. Pulling up your shirt just enough, he proceeds to apply a warm, heavenly weighted plush stuffy along your tummy.

A chorus of euphoria washes of your tense body, your unknowingly clenched jaw finally relaxing. You whimper out in temporary relief at this beautiful sensation, the application of warmth promising a slow, eventual comfort that would easy your agonizing pain.

“When did you start?” He asks, but you don’t answer. More like you can’t, really.

“Can’t talk, huh?” His forehead slowly settles along your temple, exhaling through his nose. Pure blooded guilt mixed with cold hard sympathy in his system, making his heart beat heavily as he fully considers your pain.

“God, don’t pull an idiot move babe,” he murmurs against your cheek, his forehead settling along your head.

“That’s my job. You were right about that.”

You were stubborn, but not that hurtful towards the man you love. Unless he did something where it was really necessary.

Jason remained by your side until you were comfortable enough to sit up, never minding having to warm up the heating pad one more time. He doesn’t say much after his last words as he brings you a calorie rich snack and some pain medication, sitting idly by while opening a water bottle for you.

He gets you to a hot shower after the painkillers slowly prove they’re kicking in.

Fresh clothes were piled on the bathroom counter for you after the seething hot shower, consisting of one of his shirts and a pair of your old shorts you didn’t care much for.

Dinner, or an incredibly early breakfast, was one of your favorite cup noodles. Quick, hot and easy, so you could take a strong sleep medication and rest this horrible night away.

Jason by now was unbearably silent, too silent. Occasionally, he asked if you were okay or if the cup was too hot to hold while you slurped your noodles. Red Hood became a quiet, doting dog, keeping behind you as you shuffle to bed, still dressed in his gear.

It was only after you were settled back into bed in your much better state did Jason decide to finally relax, comfortable enough to take off his gear.

You were left watching as he turned around, pulling off his taunt, black shirt he wore under all that armor nearly every night. A faint hiss pushes through his nose as the fabric tugs on his freshly bandaged gash, just shy from his right shoulder blade.

“I didn’t mean it,” you exhale, tears dribbling over the bridge of your nose. “You’re not stupid, Jason. I didn’t mean it.”

He still keeps quiet, his head slightly turning as he acknowledges the pain you were still in. He doesn’t blame you for your anger, it just makes him feel more stupid for being mad at you.

He kept getting hurt, and you always took care of him. Sometimes, he kept getting hurt too much. You couldn’t help getting more and more worried for his safety while he chooses to shrug off the pain.

Now here he stood, with a wounded shoulder, wounded pride and a trembling girl needing his support now more than ever.

“Wouldn’t blame you if you did, sweetheart.” Jason sighs after crawling into bed beside you, making sure you remained ownership of all thick blankets.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers, peering down at you with sympathetic eyes. “I’ll try to be more careful.”

Your heart nearly melts then and there, a lingering stress vanishing from your mind for now. That’s all you asked for out of the entire argument from earlier. You knew his job was dangerous, but all you asked out of him was to be more cautious about his surroundings, to not be as reckless.

You could only help bandage and kiss his wounds so much. You never minded, but him coming home with at least three harsh gashes from possibly infectious blades put a toll on your hormonal stability.

“That’s all I wanted,” you gently say in return, accompanied with a soft sniffle.

Jason smiles before scooting just a little closer, proceeding to hold you with his good arm. A content cloud of warmth invaded your area, keeping you feeling calm and satisfied as your tired eyes mindlessly trail along his silvery autopsy scar.

“You can forgive me later,” He muffles against your cheek, lacing your skin with various gentle kisses. “Get some sleep, Hood’s gotcha now.”

You close your eyes, hiding the dramatic roll that proceeded shortly after.

“Also,” he piques in his murmur, a hint of cheekiness invading his tone of voice. “Kinda know of other ways to help with the pain.”

“Jason.” You groan with a light grimace.

He smirks a bit, only growing from the faint crinkle in your eyes and refrained smile. Just the reaction he wanted.

—

Had to throw this in 🦀

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #dc jason todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd dc #if your mans don’t get you one of these #tf you doin with him

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firstdivisiongirl · 7 months

Note

Hey I am a really big fan of your writing and I love it it so much

This is the first time I request anything so please bear with me if I did anything wrong

Can I request Law with a fem reader that is his girlfriend but he keeps feeling he is not enough and starts distancing him self from her and acting cold because he feels something bad will happen if he acts like him self?and when she confronts him he denies anything wrong which makes their relationship grow cold

Angst to fluff the more angst the better please

Hi @phsycochan! I am so happy to hear that you like my writing. Thank you for the kind words. I am so happy that people like you are turning in a lot of Law scenarios. He's one of my favorites. I love writing for him, but I never do for some reason. I hope you enjoy this!

WARNINGS: ANGST! HURT TO COMFORT!

Law x Female Reader: Distance Between Us

He let you into your life. You were his girl. But, he wasn’t acting or treating you that way. He was treating you more like a stranger. One that he’d pass and never see again. This wasn’t the Trafalgar Law you knew and loved. You wanted the distance between you to shrink. He’d listen to you, right?

To him, you were his everything. You were the girl of his dreams. However, he never felt like he deserved you. Everyone he loved died one way or another. He wasn’t strong enough to protect them, so how could he protect you? So he kept you far away, you’d be safer and happier that way, right?

You had asked him why. But, he ignored you. You told him you loved him. But, he ignored you. The distance between you only grew. Finally, after months and months of this, you decided to try again.

You walked into his office. But everything was a mess. His usual neat desk was covered in papers. His organized bookshelf was a complete disaster with books clearly not in alphabetical order. The bags under his eyes were as large, if not larger, than the day you met. What happened to him, you thought.

“What happened,” you asked, breaking the icy silence between you two.

He went back to his work, “nothing.”

“No! Something is wrong. You treat me like I mean nothing to you! What’s going on? You can’t treat me like this?”

“It’s better this way!” You could see the vein on his forehead starting to protrude.

“NO IT’S NOT!!!!! Look at you! You’re a mess and…”

“ENOUGH!,” he interrupted your speech, “I’m not a child. I can handle this on my own. I don’t need you.”

You ran out of the room crying. You both sat there, wondering what you could have done differently.

****

Three months have passed with the same coldness between you. You two could barely look at each other, let alone be in the same confined space. So you made the hard decision to leave the Heart Pirates. That’s how you got to where you are now. Everyone on the crew was so sad, especially Bepo. He wanted to believe that you and Law would work it all out and get back together.

As everyone said their goodbyes to you, Law was inside. He wanted to respect your decision, but he knew he really messed up. He kept hearing what Ikkaku told him before she and the rest of the crew left to say goodbyes. “She fell in love with you because you were you. You were so worried about losing her that you caused her to leave. Put on your big girl panties and tell her how you feel.” Ikkaku was right, so he ran out of his office before it was too late.

You were about to leave when you heard someone yell. “Wait,” Law yelled, running up to you. When he reached you he kissed you passionately. It reminded you of the first time he kissed you. The magic was still there.

He continued, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I was just afraid of losing you. I didn’t mean any of it. I love you Y/N. Please stay.” You nodded your head, tears streaming down your face

It would take time and effort, but the two of you would try. This distance between you was finally dwindling.

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece #trafalgar d vivi #traflagar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d law x you #law one piece #law x y/n #law x you #law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar d law #law trafalgar #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece angst

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yandere-kokeshi · 3 months

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*pops into your asks*

How would Nikolai, Gaz, and Price react to their darling being older than them (being in their 40s?).

— 🎂 (cake anon)

*leaves your asks with specs of flowers*

— Yandere Nikolai, Gaz, and Price with an older darling

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about reader being older, and slightly NSFW.

A/N: I apologize this is short, I'm having bad migraines. Enjoy :)

Nikolai:

Doesn’t see the issue with it; instead, he actively loves it. He definitely has a thing for aged-up people, mostly older than him, and that comes with a prize ticket of you.

Finds your wrinkles and aging hair gorgeous. Comments on your different clothing style, and tries to make you understand that you are pretty, despite the obvious age-gap.

Undoubtedly a pervert at times, but isn’t that the Nikolai you know? Sometimes looks at you, and you can almost tell what he’s thinking of. His brain is quite the wreck. But, he often challenges you to weird

Isn’t afraid to swoop you off your feet in public, laughing at your surprised state. One of his enjoyable things to do to catch you off guard.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

Kyle, being the youngest, is a bit embarrassed. Not at you, but at what you’d think of him; maybe finding him odd, or slightly juvenile because of his age. But regardless, he doesn’t have an issue.

He’s used to hanging out with older people, the team and Laswell, so he doesn’t see why you or anyone should matter. He feels wonderful with you, so it’s considerably natural to him.

However, Kyle loves to tease you. Being incredibly smug when he pulls your buttons, whispering in your ear on how ‘you could be my parent’, and soon enough, you see heart-pupils forming in his eyes. His hands grasping at your hips, asking for something more.

Honestly, he forgets your age and whenever you mention something nostalgic, his eyebrows squint, before connecting the dots as his mouth gaps like a fish; understanding that you and him have an ‘age-gap’

Captain “Price” John:

Doesn’t give a damn that you’re older than him, John doesn’t even blink at it unless someone asks. You’re his spouse, his darling, nothing more, nothing less.

Reminds you how breathtaking you are on a daily basis, and that age doesn’t associate with how you look. Enjoy looking at you, especially from afar, and chuckles at himself when you’ve caught him.

Adores the nights where the two of you can have really deep, and intimidate talks. Enjoys them completely and never wants to stop talking to you.

Doesn’t understand when people see a difference or have an issue with the age-gap. You’re still his, right? That’s all he matters.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 7 months

Text

Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 17 - Why do you run, only to let me catch you? Din Djarin x Reader

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: PiV sex, unprotected sex, mutual pining, grogu being a sessy bitch, blood, addiction mentions, addiction, oral F&M recieving, Whiny Din Supremacy.

Graphics made by me Thank you again to @beefrobeefcal @clawdee and @pastelnap for beta-ing! Read on AO3 Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me.

Why do you run, only to let me catch you?

Your relationship – if you could even call it that – with Din Djarin is a complex one, and one you love to hate, or hate to love. It’s been too long now that those lines don’t really exist anymore. There’s a passion in your chest reserved only for him, but to call it love would be a disservice, what you shared with the most feared bounty hunter in the system is something much more than that.

But it’s been at least a Standard Year since you last caught a glimpse of polished Beskar, a sight that set your heart racing like a jump to light speed. You’d heard of his exploits alongside Bo-Katan , and that of his adopted son Din Grogu, and how the three of them took down Moff Gideon and reunited the Mandalorian people.

But, as much as hearing those feats make you somewhat proud of the Beskar clad menace, it only makes you yearn for him more. You’re lost in thought when the droid in front of you snaps you out of it.

“Miss?”

The chaotic roar of the casino comes back to you in a flash, you’d been deep in your own thought spiral you had cut out everything but the image of a silver-clad predator from your mind as you yearned for the thrill of the chase.

The table is looking at you expectantly as you realize you’d slipped off into a daydream, it was your hand. You study the purple skinned Twi’lek opposite you with a smirk, he’s hiding it well, but he’s panicking. You look back to your hand. You’re currently holding eight cards, between the minus 6 modifier and the rest, you’re sitting pretty at seventeen.

You could stand, and hope that your opponent goes bust but there’s no fun in playing this game safe. Especially when this is all the thrill you live for now that your cat and mouse days with Din Djarin are over.

You let your fingertips hover over your side deck, drawing out the moment as you eye up the ten-thousand credit pot on the table. You close your eyes, snatching the card from the deck and you can’t keep your poker face up when you draw a three.

The Twi’lek across from you swears and stands with such force it spills his Spotchka cocktail over the table and you quickly scoop up the credits, protecting your winnings from the hazy blue liquid. The casino hushes around you and you look up from your pile of riches to see what has everyone on edge.

Then you see him.

Shining Beskar, tattered, flowing black cloak, blaster on his hip as the lacquered black T of his visor bores into you. Your blood runs cold, then burns hotter than the binary suns when you see him. A broad smile stretches across your lips. You’re not dressed for a fight, nor a chase, with ridiculously high heels and a tight sequined, green bodycon dress that was not meant for running. Time seems to still as you drop the credits back on the table. The clink of metal-on-metal deafening in the otherwise silent casino.

Mando tilts his head to the side, just enough to issue the challenge. You take a deep breath, formulating your escape as you see him reach for his blaster.

I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold.

Those first few words uttered to you as he had you pinned over the bar of a cantina on Tatooine replay in your head as you wink at the Beskar-clad menace. Heat pools in your core as you remember how it felt to be pinned by such a strong, confident man.

You kick off your heels, snatching them up before diving through the crowd. You’re sprinting through the main hall, bare feet slapping against the smooth flooring, making you slip and slide as you hear the unmistakable spur-like clink of metal on metal as Mando gives chase.

You barge through the chaos of Canto Bight, drinks fly as you blindly frisbee a tray at Mando, he bats it away with ease as he breaks into a run, forgoing the initial long, loping strides. You dash through the service entrance, following a waitress before the security door closes. The sound of Beskar pounding against Durasteel as Mando collides with the door has you grinning in premature triumph.

You slip through the halls, ducking confused looking waiters, a Bothan swearing at you as you make your way through to the back door. You break out into the neon-glare of the city and immediately slow your pace. You slip your heels back on and try to blend in with the denizens of Canto Bight.

The streets are packed, holographic screens of kids racing on Fathiers illuminate the facades of the various casinos and hotels. It’s a big race, you should know, you’ve got a lot of money on Skystrider tonight.

Maybe I’ll get lucky a second time tonight?

You think to yourself as you lament the credits you had left behind. You just know the Twi’lek you beat would have taken the winnings in the confusion.

But there was a bigger prize at stake now, one that you were determined to win.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

Mando’s modulated voice growls from over your shoulder. You don’t react, keeping up your purposeful stride as you weave in and out of the throng of bodies. The clink of his suit loud in your ear, you can feel his presence behind you like a heavy weight on your back.

“Was starting to think you’d forgotten about me Mando, way to make a girl feel unwanted.”

You purr as you feel a gloved hand brush the small of your back, you stop abruptly, making Mando crash into your back and you cry out. You give your best performance, letting out a terrified wail that has people turning to look at the way you cower away from the Mandalorian.

“Help he’s assaulting me, please!”

You turn on the spot, clutching at your chest as you back away from him. Mando halts as his visor scans the now antagonistic crowd around him. You wink and poke out your tongue as a man steps between you.

“Hey, tin-can, leave the lady alone.”

“She’s quarry, get out of my way.”

The man looks over his shoulder at you and you give him the waterworks, eyes pleading as you fight to keep the smile off your face.

“Heard that excuse before, just because you’re some hot shot Mando doesn’t mean you can treat a lady like that.”

The other man squares up to Din and you almost hang around to watch the pissing match, but you know you must take every advantage you can get. You take a tentative step back, Mando’s visor tilting to watch your movements as the other man keeps blustering on about honor and some other chivalrous shit. You blow Mando a kiss as you slip your heels off again.

The world blurs around you as you sprint as fast as your legs can carry you, neon lights, steam from exhaust vents, people of all races and creeds whipping by as you feel your lungs burn and you step on something sharp, but the adrenaline keeps the pain at bay.

You hear blaster fire behind you and wince a little at the fact you might have just got an innocent man killed.

There are no innocent partygoers on Canto Bight.

You think to yourself as you reach the spaceport. Your entire body trembles from overexertion as you stumble into the hangar that houses your X-wing. Your definitely, legitimately sourced X-Wing, and definitely not the one you won from a Sabacc game with a gullible young pilot.

You chuckle to yourself at the memory, opening the cockpit of your fighter until you look around the hangar and see a Mandalorian Class Gauntlet in the next bay over.

That wasn’t there when I landed.

Your stomach drops and you hear a soft modulated huff from the hangar door. Your head snaps up and you see the silhouette of the bounty hunter illuminated by the vibrant, neon rainbow of light bleeding in from the street.

You throw your heels onto the floor and launch yourself into the pilot’s seat, you begin your pre-flight checks but none of the lights or displays come online. You sigh, laughing breathily as you realize he’s done something to immobilize your ship. You have no idea how he knew this was yours, you’re pretty sure it’s still registered under the name Antilles.

You let yourself catch your breath for a moment as the clink of Beskar grows louder with every step. You try to think of a way out of this, some distraction, or final gambit to worm your way out of his clutches, but it’s futile. You’re backed into a corner.

“Alright, you’ve got me. If I promise to be good, could you forgo the carbonite? I break out every time.”

“I’m not stupid, you’d just find a way out of your restraints and gut me in my sleep.”

You shrug, you can’t blame him for that, you did shank him in his sleep the last time you promised to be good when he caught you on Endor. You can still hear the howl of pain as you disappeared into the undergrowth as he pulled the vibroknife – his vibroknife – out of his thigh.

“Fine, but I’m not moving, you’re dragging me onto that ship. I winded myself with all that running, and I think I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

You babble as you look down at the crimson liquid pooling in your cockpit. You chuckle as you feel your head spin, fractals of light crack like shattering Transparisteel across your vision as you let your head loll back onto the headrest.

“What are you-?” Mando asks as he climbs the ladder attached to the cockpit, “Dank Farrik!” He swears as he hurries to pick you up. You laugh to yourself, bemused by the way he seems to care about whether you were hurt.

“Thought you could bring me in hot, or bring me in cold?” You slur as you wrap your arms drunkenly around Mando’s neck, leaning into the cool Beskar of his chest. You breathe in the scent of Beskar, oil, and something like citrus as your vision fades to black.

~*~

You blink awake to a brightly lit hold. You hiss as the white light burns into your eyes, the sound of air recyclers humming all around you a telltale sign you were on ship, likely out of atmosphere already.

“Kriff.”

You groan as you close your eyes, you guess you’re on Mando’s ship, the Gauntlet you saw in the hangar most likely. You take in slow, steadying breaths as you try and figure out your next move. A small gurgle from beside you has you rolling your head to the side, slowly opening your eyes to the sweet little face of the little green kid Mando drags across space with him.

“Kiddo!” You cry and the little guy lights up at the sound of your voice. His large pointy ears perk up and his mouth parts open in joy as he scurries over to you, hopping up on the cot with ease and burying himself in your side as he coos softly against your chest. You smile as you feel something thin and rectangular slip under you on the cot.

“Missed you too buddy, old man’s still dragging you around the galaxy with him?”

The kid hums in a positive affirmation as he babbles away. You get hints of intention from him, like ghosts of thoughts brushing against your mind as he “talks” away at you.

“Grogu?”

Din calls from the cockpit and you sit up in the cot, the impromptu reunion with your secret best friend cut short as you watch Din freeze in the doorway to the hold.

“Get away from him.” Din’s voice is impossibly low, even through the modulator. You’ve never heard him this pissed before.

“Hey, he was the one to instigate this mutinous friendship, not me!”

You frown at the Beskar menace and cross your arms over your chest, Grogu, as you have always known him, follows suit. He plops himself down on the cot next to you and crosses his tiny little arms across his chest before grunting unhappily at his guardian.

“What do you mean friendship?”

“How many times have you gotten me this far Mando, and left me alone in your ship while you slept or got supplies?”

“How should I-?”

“Twenty-seven times, twenty-eight if we count the time I had you tied up-.”

“Naboo doesn’t count.” Din hisses as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms so that you are all in some strange, mirrored standoff.

“Fine, but my point being, kiddo’s curious, and you’re a heavy sleeper.”

“I am not.”

“So, you don’t remember when we played Don’t wake the sleeping Nerf and covered you with forty-six different pieces of junk from around the ship, including the Darksaber?”

“What are you-?”

“Oh, kriff kiddo, he really did sleep through that.”

Grogu laughs, an angelic little sound that makes your cheeks burn with how much you’re smiling at him. Mando stands there, rage rolling off him in waves as he tries to figure out what to say.

“Hey, Mando?” You ask, your tone softer this time as you realize you’re more likely to push him away if you keep teasing him.

“What?”

“You ever figure out my real name?”

“Your real name? No. Why?”

“Just curious, you got my puck on you?”

“Of course.” He grumbles, as if it’s insulting for you to have even asked, before bringing up the holographic image of you. Four statements swirl around the image, and you smile as you read them off in your head.

Whyte Phantom – Thirty Thousand Credits – Exclusive contract.

The final statement is a name.

“Wanna see my identity card?” You ask rhetorically as you pull it up from the datapad the kid had slipped you before his dad came in. Din’s head tilts at the sight of it, before turning to look at Grogu who is pointedly looking anywhere but his dad.

Din grumbles something under his breath as he steps into the hold, head dipping low to read the datapad.

“But that’s? You’re?”

“I put the bounty on myself, yup.”

“Why?”

The question catches you off-guard, you don’t really know yourself, other than you thought it would be a way to ward off the crippling despair you felt every time you walked through the streets of Coruscant. To combat the loneliness in your soul that festers in the darkness of a post-Empire-pre-utopian galaxy. The galaxy that has war veterans dying of Spice addictions while places like Canto Bight prosper as if nothing ever changed.

You could say that, but you won’t, that would require inner strength you just don’t have. So, you quip instead.

“Thought it was kinda hot, having one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy chase me?”

You flash him a practiced, perfect smile and you wait for the anger to come, bracing yourself for violence or harsh words.

“Fine.”

The Mandalorian walks over to your cot and picks up Grogu, moving wordlessly as he scoops him up and takes him up into the cockpit. You curse to yourself quietly as you rub your tired eyes. You were so close to telling him the truth, revealing yourself to the most closed-off person in this damned galaxy.

You lie back down on the cot and take a look at your foot. You smile at the smooth skin, no doubt the kid has healed you with his magic little claws. You can almost hear the conversation between them, Grogu would have insisted on using the force to heal you, Din would have argued against it, you deserved to heal slowly for being such a brat.

You feel Grogu’s mind brush against yours and you get two clear feelings flash through in your mind, his dad, and the intention to speak.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this, kid.

You think back, pushing your intent towards the cockpit. Grogu simply responds with a second, stronger intention, talk to him.

You sigh to yourself as you feel his little brainwaves dim as he clearly drifts off to sleep. You rub your hands over your eyes and decide to look for the fresher, and some clean clothes.

~*~

An hour later you hover outside the cockpit door, trying to decide if you should go in or not. You’re about to press the call button when the door hisses open in front of you. Mando charges through, seemingly not noticing you until he’s crashing his chest plate against your nose.

“Son of a Wompa!” You cry out as you feel your nose pop, blood gushes down your face and onto the soft cotton shirt you’d fished out from the storage bins. You stumble backwards and feel yourself pitching backwards, your head spinning as you wait for the inevitable crash of your body on the metal grating.

But Mando saves you from the fall, pulling you up into a loose embrace as he stops you from hurting yourself further.

“Maker, you’re a menace.” He grumbles through the modulator as his hands linger on your biceps.

“Yeah, well maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

“Kriff, this was a mistake.”

Din growls as he releases you and turns to walk back into the cockpit. You curse inwardly as you catch his wrist before he can move.

“Wait,” You growl, guilt and frustration making your stomach turn, “Please, can we talk?”

Din looks over his shoulder at you, giving you the perfect view of the profile of his helmet. Not for the first time you wonder what he looks like under there.

“Fine.”

You expect him to pull out of your grip – which he does – but what you don’t expect is the way his gloved hand falls to rest between your shoulder blades, steering you back towards the cot. He expects you to sit but you gesture for him to take a seat instead. He sits up straight, broad hands splayed on his knees as he follows you with his visor as you pace in front of him.

“So, I put the bounty on my head because I needed something in my life that wasn’t death, pain, suffering, or losing my mind to the poisons of gambling, Spice, and liquor.”

“Go on.”

You pause, looking down at the crimson spill of blood on the stolen t-shirt. You drag the back of your hand across the wet smear on your top lip and let out a soft sigh.

“I ran circles around the first six bounty hunters, and it was getting boring, I was considering calling it off,” You continue pacing, wringing your hands on the hem of the t-shirt that barely covers your ass, “Then, you come along, Din kriffing Djarin, one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy.”

Din is silent but you see him shift, sitting up a little straighter at your harsh words of scornful praise.

“And the chase began, you were always so close, often a step or two ahead, and it was like I was breathing fresh air after having only ever known the stale, recycled air of a space station my whole life.”

Din turns his head, the action jarring as you realize he’s avoiding your gaze, you can almost imagine him blushing under that helmet and the thought alone makes heat flutter under your skin.

“And by the fourth time, on Coruscant, you became my own personal blend of Spice.”

You stop pacing, waiting for Din to say something, anything. He sits, still looking away from you and you shake your head. You’re barking up the wrong tree, you’ve kriffed up yet another thing in your life.

But this was by far the most pain you’d ever endured, spilling your guts to a man you had no right feeling anything for. It feels like your skin is positively charged, tremors rocking you as you fight the urge to cry, your chest tight and painful as you feel the binding sting of rejection heavy and constricting.

“Look, just forget it, space me, drop me off at the nearest system, whatever. I’ll get your credits transferred now. You won’t have to see me again.”

You pull up your datapad and through blurry eyes you close the contract, the credits transferring instantly. You turn away, making for the fresher once more, you need to set your nose and clean up. You also need to cry, and you weren’t going to make yourself look any more pathetic in front of him than you already had.

Your skin is on fire, nervous sweat beading on your brow as your skin itches and tingles. Pain rocks through your body as you force the sobs down, just a few more steps and you can cry before wresting your bleeding and broken heart – or whatever is left of it – back into submission.

A Spice addiction can’t be that bad surely?

You joke morbidly to yourself as you reach the fresher door, it slides open just as you hear the spur-like clink of Beskar behind you.

“Wait.”

You halt in your tracks, heart threatening to burst from your chest as you feel him looming behind you. Two armor-clad arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against him, the cool press of Beskar on your flushed skin is blissful.

“I don’t want you to go.”

His voice is so soft, barely above a whisper that you almost miss it through the modulator.

“What?”

“Let me fix your nose, then we should talk, for real this time.”

You turn in his grip and look up into the glossy black “T” of his visor. You can’t see his face, but you can see the way his chest is heaving, the way his arms are wrapping around you like the moment he loosens off you’ll disappear.

Can you blame him?

You think to yourself as you realize that every time you managed to escape, it was harder and harder for you to leave. Not because you had grown bored of the chase – no quite the opposite – you were afraid that with every time you left the chances of him giving up on you grew. One day he was going to stop coming for you.

And for a year he did.

“Ok.” You say softly as you let him steer you into the fresher, he hoists you up before setting you down on the edge of the Durasteel sink. He removes his gloves, stuffing them in the back of his belt before readying himself.

“This’ll hurt.”

Din warns you as he lines himself up in front of you. He slots between your thighs without hesitation, and you regret not stealing a pair of his boxer briefs to slip on under the t-shirt. You had thought that was crossing a line into his privacy. But now, as your bare, embarrassingly wet core is but millimeters from his crotch, you really wish you had.

“Ready?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Din braces himself a little closer again and you hiss through your teeth as his strong, warm fingers snap your broken nose back into place.

“There you go,” his modulated voice is soft as he cups your cheeks with his impossibly broad hands, his fingertips ghosting your hairline as he turns your head back and forth with meticulous care for his handiwork, “Should heal up just fine.”

He starts to pulls away from your face, but you capture his wrists in your hands. You gently pull on his wrists and guide them to your hips. His chest heaves as you hear his breathing speed up through the modulator and you squeeze your thighs around his waist, pulling him closer. You feel the heat prickle over your skin as your drenched core presses against his crotch. You gasp as you feel him twitch in his flight suit against you.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done on Naboo.” You breathe as you gently unclasp his cloak, fingers trembling as you pull down the neck of his flight suit, baring a thin strip of tan skin. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and press a delicate, feather-light kiss to his exposed skin.

You don’t know what to expect, but the soft, whimpering moan that crackles through his modulator is more than you bargained for. You arch up into him, nipples pebbling as the thin fabric of his blood-soaked shirt does little to mute the cold press of Beskar against your skin.

“Maker.” Din whines again as you latch onto his skin, laving your tongue over his pulse point as you pull the collar down further, you nip lightly at his skin as you grind your core against him. He slowly pushes up the hem of the oversized t-shirt and as his fingertips reach the swell of your ass. He grinds forward aggressively, and you can tell he’s fully hard now. He leans back and tilts his helmet to the side in a silent question.

“Didn’t think stealing your underwear was the right thing to do.”

“So, you just decided to go commando?”

“What can I say? I like the freedom, besides the synthetic silk of my thong was starting to chafe.”

Din swears in another language, you assume Mando’a, before laughing softly, he presses the side of his helmet against your cheek, and you are reminded of the way Lothcats headbutt to show affection.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You say softly as you slowly pull away, moving the collar back up to cover his tantalizing skin, “I just needed to touch you, just once.”

“I want you.”

You pull back and look into the deep depths of his visor and you nod slowly, you place your hands on either side of his helmet, nestling in the concave cheeks. He flinches and you feel his hands twitch on your thighs, but you shake your head slowly before leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss over where you guess his lips are.

“Bed. Now.”

Din barks as he picks you up with ease, one arm wrapped around your waist as he strides through into the crew quarters. He uses his free hand to turn off the lights on the control panel next to the fresher door. The cavernous space is pitch black as Din lays you back down on the cot.

“Din what are you doing?” You giggle softly, anticipation making you giddy.

“Want to taste you,” Din murmurs as you hear the sound of Beskar buckles and plates sliding over one another. He sets them down gently somewhere near the bottom of the cot, followed by the soft sound of his flight suit dropping to the floor, “Need you.”

“Din, you have me.”

You feel him settle between your knees and Maker is he broad. Then you hear the soft hiss-click of his helmet coming off. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing the significance of him taking his helmet off in your presence.

“I won’t look, I promise,” You whisper as you feel him covering over you, his strong hands roam your body, mapping out your dips and curves.

“I trust you. You could have taken my helmet off many times over the years, and yet, you did not.”

His voice hits you like a long-lost melody, silken and sweet with a burning richness to it that makes you whine and keen up into him. Your hips roll against his length, and you gasp as his tip glides through your folds.

“Can I taste you, please?” You ask, suddenly feeling bold in the darkness.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.” Din suddenly sounds bashful, and you smile to yourself as he shows you the side of him you’ve only caught in glimpses when he thought you were out of earshot. The softness he shows Grogu, the care for his adopted son. This is different, unlike those interactions entirely, but the man beneath the Beskar is finally laid bare, for you.

“I want to Din, please.”

“Anything, take anything you want.”

Your heart swells and your pussy clenches around nothing at his words. You blindly reposition, careful to keep your eyes shut, until you’re kneeling between Din’s knees. You run your hands over the thick expanse of his muscular thighs as you gently, teasingly move towards his cock.

Your hands brush over neatly kept curls at the base of it, and you smile to yourself as you use your hands to blindly size it up.

“Interesting.” You hum to yourself and you feel Din shift under you.

“What? Do you not like it? Is it too small?”

“Din, shh,” You coo as you cup his balls with one hand, making your way to the base of his shaft with your lips, “Just expected you to be painfully large, you give off some serious big dick energy strutting around in your Beskar like you own the entire Maker-be-damned galaxy.”

“So, you like it?” He huffs out, squirming at your praise as you flatten your tip against his soft foreskin, licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock.

“I think it’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, pressing your tongue against his slit, circling around his tip, lapping up the pre-come before sinking down his length.

He pants and whines under you as you feel him shift under you, he cups your jaw with one hand as he props himself up on his elbow with the other. You feel his eyes on you, you expect his night vision to be pretty good at this point, but you keep your eyes clamped shut.

“You’re beautiful.”

You groan at his praise and wish you could open your eyes, to look up at him as you choke on his cock. You sink all the way down, you breathe through your nose, inhaling the musky scent of his cock and you let out a soft whine as he nudges against the back of your throat.

“Kriff.” Din grunts as he trembles underneath you, his breathing is shallow as he twitches and whines at every particularly deep bob of our dead.

“Stop.”

He growls aggressively as he sits up, moving you off his cock before pushing you onto your back. He settles between your legs, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he buries his mouth in your dripping folds.

“So sweet.” He murmurs into your skin as you feel the coarse rake of facial hair on your outer folds. His lips find your clit and you cry out when his tongue licks a stripe up from your core to your clit. Everything about him is broad, his tongue laves over your swollen bundle of nerves and you near lose it.

“Din, kriff your mouth feels so good.” You pant as your hips cant up, you glide your fingertips in his hair, not thinking to check if he even had hair. You’re met with soft, damp curls that you immediately twist into your grip. You pull him closer, letting him devour you with abandon. His tongue is unrelenting as two thick fingers come to press against your core.

“Please.”

Is all you can say as you need him inside you, you’re already so close and you want to feel him inside you however possible.

“So kriffing tight.”

Din breathes incredulously as he buries his fingers to the knuckle, his lips find your clit once more and he sucks. You bite down hard on your lip as you fight the urge to scream. Pleasure assaults you like a solar flare, permeating every cell of your body in violent waves as you come hard around his fingers. You’re delirious as you sob through your aftershocks, his thick fingers finally stilling as you tremble from overstimulation.

“Can I have you, please?”

“Yes.”

You hear the lewd sound of him sucking his fingers clean before he crawls back over your body, wet fingers trail over your left nipple and you chase the touch, arching up off the cot.

“So pretty like this.”

Din hums softly as he rolls your nipple between his calloused thumb and forefinger, making you squeal in overstimulated pain and pleasure as he lines up his tip at your core with the other hand. He eases in and you pant at the delicious stretch. He enters you with ease, yet makes your walls flutter and clamp around him as he fits you snugly.

“Kiss me.”

You plead. His lips crash into yours without hesitation and you moan into his mouth as he starts to move, rolling his hips into you like he knows exactly how you like it. You tease your tongue over his bottom lip and his tongue darts out to meet yours.

Your tongues meet outside of your mouths, sliding over one another in a lewd dance as his thrusts pick up speed. You’re both panting hard when Din seals his lips over yours. His tongue presses into your mouth as you dig your nails into his back. You press together, skin to skin, nails digging little crescent circles in the broad expanse of his back.

Your lips part only to gasp for air before you both dive back in for more, more, more. One of your hand moves to fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, the other drops to your clit. You want to come for him one more time, you want him to feel you squeeze him tight.

“Din, going to come.” You pant against his lips and he groans as he picks up the pace, railing you like it’s the last time.

“Come for me Cyar’ika, let me feel you.”

You do as your told, for the first time in your life, and you come hard. Pleasure seeps into your very bones as fire dances down your spine. Your clit throbs as you press hard circles into it. You feel Din stutter inside you and you feel him start to pull out but you hook your ankles around the small of his back.

“Come inside me.”

You whisper into the crook of his ear as you pull him deep into you.

“Maker!”

Din roars, no longer caring about noise it seems, as he pounds into you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’re whimpering in his ear as his desperate grunts and moans fill your own. He stills inside you, buried to the hilt as he twitches inside you, his spend coating your walls as you pant in his ear.

“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you?”

Din’s voice is heavy with concern, his breath fanning over your slick skin in soft puffs and you wrap yourself around him like an Ewok.

“No, no you’ve never hurt me, Din.”

You breathe as you nuzzle into his neck, you leave soft, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. You never want this moment to end.

“Come on, we need to shower.”

“Nooooo,” You whine, “Just a few more minutes, don’t want to lose you.”

The words escape from your lips before you can stop them; and Din huffs a short, barking laugh against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as he pulls out.

“You can’t lose me, I’ve been tracking you for too long, I know you.”

“And I know you. Forever.”

You say, knowing those words in Mando’a means much more than in Galactic Basic. Din presses a soft kiss to your lips, neither acknowledging them nor refuting them. But there’s no rejection in his silence, just a mutual understanding that you are both in this for real.

“Five more minutes.”

Din grunts in submission as he settles on the small cot, pulling you against his bare chest as he places soft kisses to your hairline as you both drift off into the best sleep either of you could ever remember.

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anim-ttrpgs · 5 months

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The New Character Sheet for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy!

You can tell a lot about a TTRPG by looking at its character sheet, so here is the mock-up for the latest version of the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy character sheet. This version of the sheet will be coming to patreon backers alongside the biggest single content update to Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy since we started posting about it.

Some stuff has been rearranged, some stuff has been tweaked, and some stuff is entirely new.

At the top there you can see the Composure bar. It starts out filled in, and ticks down from right to left as the player-character becomes more stressed and fatigued, and the lower the Composure, the lower the maximum base skill modifier that can be applied to dice rolls. You can find a post going into more detail about the Composure mechanic here.

What’s new is the numbers below the check boxes, denoting exactly what is the maximum base modifier at that level of Composure. One of the goals for the newest version of the character sheet was making the character sheet not just a tool required to play the game, but one that actually makes it easier as well, providing quality-of-life features that remind players of certain mechanics at a glance. This is one instance of such additions.

Next to that is where you’d write the PC’s Truth. “Truth” is a belief, personal motivation, or element of the PC’s personality that is not exactly a "flaw" but that is likely to spur them to action, for better or for worse. When the character acts based on this Truth, they get a bonus to their skill checks. This is unchanged from the previous character sheet, but you can find more info on the Truth mechanic here.

Below that we have the HP stuff. Eureka has 2 types of HP, one for serious deadly wounds and one for more minor wounds, but both of them are important. When reduced to 1 HP of either type, the character is Injured, and must make an Athletics Skill Roll. This may leave them fine with no penalties (but still Injured), Partially Incapacitated which imposes a -1 to all their skill checks, or Fully Incapacitated which means they can’t make any skill checks unless they spend a Eureka! Point.

Below that, well, the Eureka! Point stuff. When PCs investigate things, they accumulate Investigation Points. Enough Investigation Points, and they gain a Eureka! Point. Different types of PCs, as well as other factors, may increase the number of Investigation Points needed to gain a Eureka! Point.

Eureka! Points are valuable resources that can be spent for the character to have a “eureka moment” and retroactively succeed on a failed investigation check, add an extra die to a non-investigation roll to increase the chances of success, or to take an action while Fully Incapacitated. Some traits, particularly the monster ones, give even more options for how Eureka! Points can be spent, and that’s why monster PCs need the most Investigation Points before they get a Eureka! Point. A fuller explanation of this mechanic can be found here.

Next, the skills. For the new sheet, we split the skills into the skill point modifiers and the trait modifiers, to make it easier to read the sheet. Skill point modifiers across all skills have to add up to 0 for a starting character, but Traits can also increase or decrease modifiers, so keeping these as separate numbers is very helpful for keeping track of that. If you’re wondering why one skill is blacked out, here is the explanation.

Also, some of those are blanks because there are a number of optional skills in the rulebook, plus players are also encouraged to write their own.

A new addition to the core skill list is the Wealth skill. This is not a monetary resource that goes up and down, but a skill that represents the character’s resources based on their economic class. Rolling the Wealth skill helps determine if a player-character can, say, afford to bribe the security guard. It can also be rolled to determine if the PC knows certain things about high-class culture that may be relevant to the case. Notably, the Wealth skill is also “reversible”. The modifier can be reversed, from negative to positive, or positive to negative, to determine if the PC knows more lower-class knowledge, like who frequents the local soup kitchens.

Below that is a place to write the names of traits, just as a little reminder for the player. The full text of traits is written on the next page.

At the top of the second page is inventory. Eureka does inventory a little differently, and that’s why there’s four boxes for it. On-person is obviously what they’re carrying, but “Vehicle Secured” and “Home Secured” are items that are inside their vehicle and home respectively. With the addition of the new Wealth skill, Wealth checks can actually be made to add items to the Vehicle and Home inventory. These things aren’t magically appearing obviously, in the narrative of the game they’re things that the PC has already bought before the adventure started, and a higher Wealth skill means that a PC is more likely to own more stuff, or at least more likely to be able to by useful stuff short-notice.

This also connects to a new character creation mechanic I might make a post about later that is coming in the big update: The Wealth Point system. I’ll explain it in brief here. Basically, during character creation, you roll 3D6+3+[Wealth] to determine the number of Wealth Points, then those points are spent on items the character starts with, including a house and vehicle. Houses and vehicles actually have some of their own stats and trade-offs, but generally the bigger and/or more expensive they are, the more of a bonus they give to the Wealth rolls that are used to add items to Vehicle and Home inventory mid-adventure. Houses are more likely to have a bigger bonus, but it’ll usually mean that the PC has to return to their home to actually retrieve the item, costing valuable investigation time. This is also more relevant now with Eureka’s new Ticking Clock mechanics that I'll also explain some time later but basically we added optional rules for tracking in-game time to add tension to the adventure. (The Ticking Clock mechanics were inspired by a mechanic in one of @gormengeist's projects, which in turn was actually inspired by Eureka!)

Also, “Unsecured” inventory is a place to write down useful items that are not exactly in the PC’s possession, like if they left a ladder leaning against the window of the abandoned building outside.

Next is another addition to the sheet, a place to write an equipped weapon. That’s pretty bog-standard for TTRPGs, but one unique thing about Eureka is how it expects you to keep track of every ammunition magazine individually, rather than just having a pool of bullets like a video game. And this is made easy by the magazine ammo counters here, allowing you to write the contents of up to 6 magazines and a check box noting which one is actually inside the gun. While not directly related, here is a post about Eureka’s exciting and deadly firearms combat mechanics.

Next is traits. This is where the actual bulk of the traits’ rules are written. The only change we made here is making them vertical boxes, because that seems more space efficient. Here is a post explaining more about traits in Eureka.

Lastly on this page is the PC’s Tiers of Fear. That was explained in the post about Composure, but basically it’s what they’re scared of and how scared they are of it, which acts as a modifier when they make a Composure Roll related to that particular concept. Right below that are little notes and boxes for tracking how well the PC is taking care of themselves. Eating and sleeping restores Composure over time, at least for most people. Also a “tick” is an abstract unit of time used by the new Ticking Clock mechanics. Each Night consists of 10 Ticks, so the PC must spend at least half the night sleeping in order to restore Composure.

This page is unchanged, except now it’s the third page instead of being the last page. It’s a place for you to write down those failed investigation rolls to remember them and use Eureka! Points to have your PC suddenly understand them later. This was moved up in the sheet by request of playtesters so that their eyes would be on it more often and they’d remember to use it, and it would keep those failed rolls fresher in their mind.

This page is for, well, keeping track of Grievous Wounds. Grievous Wounds in Eureka are permanent or semi-permanent wounds that debuff stats related to them. At the moment a character is about to get Fully Incapacitated, the player can instead opt for them to take a Grievous Wound, keeping them able to act, but at a great cost. For instance, instead of getting cut down into Full Incapacitation and then finished off by a maniac with a machete, a Grievous Wound may mean their hand gets cut off instead. They can continue to run or fight, but that hand is permanently gone, as are the benefits of having both hands.

Players wanting to play physically disabled characters may opt to start their characters with Grievous Wounds marked from the beginning. This provides no special stat benefit, but Eureka is not exactly about playing characters with optimal stats anyway.

Certain monsters, such as vampires, actually have their own list of Grievous Wounds they can take when taking a Grievous Wound, things that no mortal could survive, such as decapitation or bisection. These are, generally, much worse than losing a hand, but also really badass. Speaking of that, one of the aforementioned special uses of Eureka! Points that some monsters have access to is the ability to instantly regenerate lost limbs and restore all HP. That’s one of the reasons that they have to gather more Investigation Points before getting a Eureka! Point.

This last page is for special monster info. Each monster has a True Nature and a Weakness section, both of which tend to be quite detailed. They explain what the monster must do to their human prey to regain Composure, and how. Many monsters do not restore as much Composure from sleeping and eating normal food, they have to consume their prey to regain Composure.

The Weakness section obviously deals with their supernatural weaknesses, such as outlining exactly how a vampire reacts to silver, holy symbols, running water, etc. This section also contains info on various “tells” they have to be aware of, such as how people might noice that a vampire has huge freaking fangs when they open their mouths.

And that’s the latest version of the character sheet!

We hope you enjoyed reading this and we hope you will consider supporting us on patron to get the full version of this TTRPG for as little as $5. If not, consider downloading the free demo which comes with a free adventure module from the download link on our website!

For another chance to play the full thing, consider joining our TTRPG Book Club! TTRPG nominations are voted on, read, played, and discussed. Eureka is frequently up for nomination, and when a game wins, we will provide anyone who can’t afford to buy the game themselves with a copy for use in the book club so they don’t have to miss out. You can join the book club discord server from the invite link found on our website!

Oh and by the way, as of right now, we are planning to launch our Kickstarter for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy in April or May 2024. Stay tuned.

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