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endlessthxxghts · 16 days

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Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

masterlist | updates blog

It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town.

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason.

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you.

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction.

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it.

You are worth it.

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.”

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you.

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge.

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?”

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up.

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you.

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of.

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you.

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts.

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements.

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter.

“I said—”

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm.

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you.

Well, apparently not everyone.

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back.

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips.

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him.

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines.

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him.

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life.

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.”

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you.

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take.

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now.

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom.

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming.

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless.

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself.

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking.

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered.

Fuck.

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you.

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?”

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics.

You quirk your eyebrow at him.

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure.

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries.

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here.

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps.

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it.

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him.

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to.

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout.

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him.

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you.

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming.

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze.

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again.

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend.

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces.

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest.

“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss.

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks.

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?”

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)

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milkywaydrabbles · 8 months

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He who was found in chains, set free. | IV.

Cross posted on AO3, here!

“Ci..circumde..Circum--” You huffed, frustrated with yourself for not being able to pronounce the words in front of you written as plain as day. (Well, you couldn’t read very well, give yourself grace). You tried again, still tripping over your words. It wasn’t even in a language you knew, this was more difficult than you imagined.

“Here,” Alucard came over, tracing his finger over each syllable, slowly, and repeated it for you. “Circumdederunt me caeli, da mihi ignem”, he spoke so eloquently, as if it had been second nature to him. Well, it had. “Try again, take your time. Once you can say it, we’ll focus on intent.” You paused for a minute, garnering the courage once again to speak, “Circumde-derunt...me caeli, da.. Mihi ignem.” You exhaled, feeling more sure in yourself. Alucard smiled at you, and you swore your heart ached out of the kindness he had been showing you. “Good, now, let’s think about intent. Do you know anything about that?”

You nodded. “I..understand the thought behind it. I’ve read only a little bit about it. Magic is focused on intent, thinking and visualizing what you need done, what you want to happen...right?”

“Yes, more or less. I know you can do it, you’ve created fire before.” Barely, you wanted to retort, but bit your tongue. “Now, try simply thinking these words, focusing your intent on making fire again in your hands.”

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this...

You focused all your might into thinking, eyes closed and brows scrunched. You cupped your hands, like you did before, and continued to focus. A spark happened, here and there, but nothing substantial. You couldn’t even get another flame like you did last night. And you were so frustrated. This was a simple, stupid spell that you should be able to do. Why was this so difficult for you? You tensed up, continuing to furrow your brow and mumble to yourself, trying your best to get this to work.

“Hey,” a hand gently placed on your shoulder. You jumped. He retracted, apologetic. “Relax, you look like you’re going to combust. Try again, with intent, but don’t think too hard okay? You need to relax.”

You sighed, releasing as much of the tension in your body as you were able to (years of trauma really makes that hard), and started again. This time, things came much easier to you. A spark, then a small kindling, and then a real flame appeared in your hands. You gasped, and waved it, thinking it was going to dissipate but it didn’t. “I did it...” you sighed, bright eyed looking over to Alucard. “I did it.”

You really were harmless, weren’t you.

“You did, good job.” He praised, nodding once. “That is how you hone your senses. Replicate that for spells, remember how you felt, what you thought, for the future.” You put out the fire after a few more tries, and clasped your hands together. You were so proud, you couldn’t believe it! The first time you were able to use magic, real magic, and not it be an accident or a miracle. Maybe now you’d be able to actually survive out there with the night creatures! You could live!

...in six days’ time. Right. You had agreed one week.

Over the course of the next few hours, Alucard would teach you higher education words, learning a bit more magic along the way and getting used to reading on your own more fluently. You were sure the magic book would be easy for you now!

“I can only teach you so much magic, it’s never been my strength but you are a natural born witch, you will be able to learn so much more. If you continue to study, I’m sure you’ll be a fierce opponent.” He chuckled, making himself laugh. “Thank you, Alucard, this has been so helpful, really, I can’t tell you enough times thank you.” You shuffled a bit closer, hands clutching at your skirt. “I would...I would like to repay you.” A hand reached out to his hands, fumbling with the metal buckle of his belt.

“What are you doing?” He sounded panicked, pushing your hand away a bit too harshly and stepping back. He was reliving too many memories, too many nightmares standing in front of you. You blinked, bringing your hand up to your chest to grasp at nothing. “I...am repaying your kindness.” You sounded meek, so soft spoken. “Isn’t this...My master...He said men enjoyed that. It’s all I’m good for, I can’t give you much else--”

“No.” That sent you reeling. “Men don’t ask for that as form of payment from innocent girls, pigs do.” He spat. You flinched, tears accumulating in your eyes. You blinked them away. He took a step forward. “Is that what he asked of you? Is that what he made you do?”

You said nothing, looked off to the side so he couldn’t notice your red eyes. Didn’t matter, he did anyways. He whispered your name. “I won’t ask that of you, ever. Do you understand?”

“But then how can I service you?” You nearly cried. “What can I do for you to repay you? I’m no good for anything, I’m no good--” a sob escaped. Your hands came up, covering your face in shame.

Alucard wasn’t sure how he could possibly remedy this. This, was much deeper than just consolation. He wasn’t equipped for this. He hadn’t even been able to deal with his own trauma, much less someone else’s. He sighed, closing up the book with a marked page, for later.

“Go get cleaned up...I’ll make dinner.” And with that, he left.

Back in your room you tormented yourself over what you’ve done. I made him angry, he’s going to kick me out sooner now. I just wanted to thank him, is that not normal?? To thank someone after kindness? You continue to pick at the skin around your fingernails, pacing around the room. It’d never dawned on you that what that vile man made you do was inherently wrong. He was cruel, but you had always assumed he was doing what any other man would do. Now, you felt sick to your stomach. You had been the only one in the village doing this? It wasn’t normal for women to do this to whatever man that bought them? Stupid, stupid, stupid. They weren’t bought. Just me! Tears pricked your eyes again, and you rubbed them as if by doing so hard enough, they would just erase off your face.

You found it best to at least wash your face and change your bandage, before Alucard showed up at your room to collect you for dinner. That is, if he showed at all. You went over to a...sink, is what he called it once in passing, and turned the knobs similar to the tub. You went as cold as it could go, and splashed yourself in hopes the frigid water would knock some sense into you. Thankfully, the shock did its job and you were able to calm down some. After you removed the old, sticky bandage from your upper arm and examined it. It was clean, for the most part. You washed that up too, just a bit, before getting a fresh bandage on one of the shelves nearby.

You heard a soft click of a door, and curiously you went back into the main bedroom area.

There were fresh clothes laid out on the bed.

Cautiously, you went over to look at the garments, and you gasped. A gorgeous, clean dark emerald dress, knee length. The bodice was sprinkled with embroidered leaves, the sleeves belled and flowing, and by the cut of it you can only guess it was off shouldered. It was still made of linen, and nothing extravagant by wealthy standards, but it was honestly stunning. You weren’t sure what to make of it. Should you put it on? Should you pretend like you didn’t see it? Should you tell him it’s too much for someone like you?

All alarms are firing against you, and you wanted nothing more than to run away from kindness, lest you make a fool of yourself again. But you touched the dress anyways, enjoying the way it felt on your fingertips. You grasped it lightly, and inspected it further. It looked...about your size. You weren’t sure if it would fit, but you tried anyway. Your worn down, tattered skirt slipped off you and you pulled the bandeau top away, sheepishly donning on the dress attire. It fit. Somehow, somehow Alucard had a dress in this castle that fit. You would question him about it, if you weren’t terrified of angering him and having him kick you out again. So you’d keep quiet about it. You did your best to tighten up the back of the bodice, and you’re so sure that it looked a mess, but it was cinched up at least. You wished you could have seen what it looked like on you. You had been in your room long enough, and figured it was time to tiptoe into the kitchen and see if Alucard was still in there. You wanted to apologize for earlier, and at the very least verbally thank him for the dress.

Alucard was finishing up plating dinner--it was fish, freshly caught from the stream about a half mile away-- and setting the rest of the side dishes when he heard, faintly, so faintly, footfalls. You were so deadly quiet whenever you walked, he wondered if you did it on purpose. If you’re trying to sneak up on him, if you’re trying to see how far you can get without getting caught, if you’re--

Stop that.

He shook off his suspicions once more. You had already proven to be innocent, let alone broken. It was far more difficult for Alucard to move past the...series of unfortunate events that had happened fairly recently than he imagined. Instead, he continued to listen to your silent patter of bare feet on the old wood come closer.

“Hello.” You spoke first. He was surprised. Alucard didn’t turn around, instead went towards the table and finish putting down the last plate.

“Good evening, dinner is ready if you would like to join me.”

“Thank you for the dress.” It was quiet, but it was there. “I would... I would like to join you, yes.”

Alucard looked up, finally, and couldn’t help but stare for a touch too long.

You looked beautiful. The silence was deafening.

“..It suits you.” Was all he said.

Not much else was spoken between the two of you, as you sat across one another and ate dinner silently. The tension was palpable, nearly suffocating, and Alucard found it difficult to swallow.

“I’m sorry--”

“About earlier--”

You both blinked, and stared at each other, seems you both had a mind to talk about what had transpired. You let out an exhale from your nostrils that, if he squinted, would have seen it was a laugh. Alucard shook his head with a smile, “You go first.” You stalled for a moment, looking down at your half eaten fish (which was delicious, but decided that if you were going to keep crying during every meal you would look mad). Then you found your voice.

“...I apologize...for earlier. I didn’t--” another pause. “...It wasn’t my intention to offend you.” I didn’t know this wasn’t normal. You braved a look up through your lashes, hoping he wouldn’t be upset with you.

And how could he?

He spoke your name with respect, another lurch of your heart. “I think you misunderstand. I was not upset with you, I was...I was upset that some monster made you think that. You are more than just a...” sex slave? “You’re more than that. I hope you understand this now.”

“It’s...difficult....to understand. But, I will try.”

“Good.”

Dinner went on, and when you were both done you made move to stand up before Alucard.

“...I can clean.”

He blinked, confused.

“I can clean,” you pressed on. “And I can cook, and I can help farm, I can do all these things.” You didn’t look up at him. “I did them, back in Gresit. He said I wasn’t any good, said I wasn’t good for anything except--” You stopped yourself, feeling bile come up your throat. Saying it was difficult now, with the realization. “But I did them, and I can do them here. I can help you, if only just for the week, to repay your kindness.” Please, let me do something.

You decided to look at him now. He smiled.

“I would like the help.”

#adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes #alucard (castlevania)#alucard tepes x reader #alucard x reader #alucard tepes #castlevania (2017)#castlevania netflix #castlevania #milk writes #he who was found in chains set free #hwwficsf

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whumpsoda · 1 month

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MAY I SUGGEST

an early captivity drabble where Malak tries to comprehend something in front of him and finds that he can’t, like it’s just beyond him. I’d imagine this would be his last day of resistance, and there’s a cold feeling in his stomach as he dimly realizes there’s no going back.

but Adrastus’ hand is in his hair, they’re telling him how good he’s being and how desired and loved he is as the two of them watch Malak’s resistance fizzle out like a sparkler reaching the end of its stick.

ANYWAYS IUST UH. ADRASTUS CONGRATULATING MALAK ON BEING THEIR TOUGHEST THRALL TO BREAKalso literally no pressure on timing i just wanted to share

WOHEO Masterlist

Definitely not my best but I’ll post it anyways

cw: conditioning/brainwashing, pet whump

———————————————————————

A puzzle.

It was only a puzzle. A puzzle. Twenty pieces at the most. So easy a small child could figure it out. Malak was an adult. At least, he was pretty sure he was. No one really treated him like one.

So why couldn’t he?

So stupidly he’d pointed to the box earlier, interested by the colorful image of a horse on the cover. His master had been wary of handing it over, knowing full well of his pitiful state. Unfortunately, he’d insisted.

Malak had barely even touched it, only having lazily dumped out the pieces in front of his lap. His glassy, unfocused gaze trailed repeatedly over each piece and edge, the visual mirrored on the box scattered over the broken up image. Nervously, he gnawed at his lower lip.

It didn’t… make sense. Any sense. Though, he vaguely knew it was supposed to. Puzzles could be perfectly reconnected to a bigger picture, yet, even with just his vision, everything seemed so illogical and confusing. Jumbled so far in his cotton filled head he could barely even begin the activity.

As far as Malak could manage to remember, a feat eerily difficult as his brain was held far in a mind numbing trance, he was fairly aware he used to enjoy puzzles. Before his master, before his strange predicament. Before he was a pet.

And yet, all he could do was stare. Stare, with empty eyes and a dumbfounded head.

Stumped. Him. Stumped over a twenty piece puzzle. It was seemingly utterly beyond him and his picked apart brain, melted to goop.

He softly cringed, disgusted with himself. Ripe anger twisted in his belly, burning with confusing emotions. He didn’t like such a sensation.

Master didn’t like such sensations.

Unsurprisingly, the master in question was already keenly aware of his distress.

“See, dear? I told you it would be just simply impossible for you to complete such a difficult task.” Adrastus tisked. But it wasn’t difficult! Deep in his faulty brain he knew so. He’d easily and swiftly completed so many in the past, all of them far more formidable. “Your cute little head is just incapable, love, and that’s just why I advised against it. I just knew you’d get all fussy.”

Letting their words simmer in his mind for a beat, soon he gradually looked back to his mess of squares. Still, they hadn’t changed. Still nonsensical. Sprawled out in lazy fashion, broken apart instead of put together like they had once been.

Just like him.

The red hot bubbling in his stomach shifted to a dimly lit chill.

That was him now. Never to be fixed, never to be put back together. Stupid till the day he dies, stuck under the will of another. Malak would never again fit together. Reduced to nothing more than brainless, muddled matter that didn’t connect.

Oddly, the horrifying realization melted into that of sickly sweet pleasure over the tiniest mention of his master. Malak liked being owned by them. He loved his master, and he loved being cute and obedient for them. It made him happy.

Content.

He giggled first, light and airy that bounced around the tight tense of his belly, till it contorted to a whine, strangled and squealy, like a child about to throw a tantrum. How fitting.

All was bad. Bad bad bad. It wasn’t supposed to be bad, he wasn’t supposed to be bad, and Malak despised the thought of annoying his master with his bad feelings, ones he knew he wasn’t supposed to have. Ones they didn’t like him to have. And, just as they said, he had done it to himself. He caused it.

If he had just let himself he could have remained dumb and giddy as he was meant to, floating through the blissful daze he was meant to be in. And even if for only a moment, he’d ruined it.

You ruin everything, Malak.

“You- y- you- you ruin everything mmngh… Malak.” He sniveled, whimpering the first clear string of words he had somehow managed in a good while. How many times had he heard the same sentence? How many people had brought to light the painful reality such as that?

Before he could reach the point of crying- something he’d done especially often since his master had claimed him- gentle fingers slipped right over his temples, swiftly subduing him.

One hand was in his hair, twisting through curls and faintly skimming their nails over his scalp, while the other rubbed warmth over his plush skin. His head lolled back along with their motions, resting against the cushion of the couch.

The scritched behind his ear, hitting the spot. “Oh, baby, how could you say that… Master loves you so much. I don’t believe I’ve ever loved something as much as you. Don’t ever think or say such dreadful things.” The cooed, continuing their hypnotic escapade over his mind and through his hair.

They paused.

“Malak.” Their voice turned low and heavy, holding the greatest weight he’d ever felt on his ears, echoing across the walls of his empty head. “You love me. I love you. I… we’re meant to be together, Malak. You need me. I’m all you have, and all that can ever truly love you. Care for you. Who can bring you everything you need.”

“You see that… don’t you?”

Carefully, he digested every syllable.

Malak didn’t need the stupid puzzle. He didn’t need anything- surely not the bad things, things that stirred up strangeness and discomfort. The thought of merely looking at the discarded object hurt in his head.

He needed-

He needed…

He needed them.

He needed his master.

For a moment Malak let it all wash over him, breathing in the rich and sweet wave of realization of what had come and what was yet to.

Malak was at the end of his rope. He was waiting at the edge, like the fizzle of a sparkler finally burning out.

Something.

Popped.

He giggled. Again, again, again, until it seemed uncontrollable.

The delightful, welcomed wave of happy, heavenly hypnotic force took hold of his body, snaking it’s way from his toes to his brain, seeping into every crack and crevice imaginable. He swooned with a mixture of wooziness and unfiltered bliss, swaying along with the weight of such power. Malak was so joyous, so much so that a big, toothy smile spread across his lips and pushed his pudgy cheeks, making him squint.

They loved him! They loved him, they loved him, they loved him, even if he was helpless and dumb, they loved him! They’d give him all the love and gifts and praises and treats and affection no one else ever would, and he would gladly take it. Malak was filled to the brim with so much gladness he wished he could get up and dance.

He continued smiling, beaming, with teeth and gums shining to his master right under his glassy, void gaze and drooping eyelids. Malak was happy. Finally, happy, all of his meaningless cares washed down the drain of his mind.

He eagerly kicked away the pieces of the puzzle till they skittered off, knees bumping against wood as he dizzily kneeled, and he had the ability to forget they were ever there.

His master’s aura strengthened at the sight, calling him closer as they rubbed his body in mollifying, circular motions. “Well, aren’t you just silly. I bet your little imaginary tail must be wagging. Good boy.” They sang, soft and sweet, holding him by the chin. Nice, but even better than normal.

He was such a good boy and he knew it. He knew it! His master was the only one who could and would ever truly realize it. Malak was a good boy. Finally he had accepted his fate, the one filled with care and true love. He’d accepted it, and allowed himself to give in.

He slightly moaned with dripping bliss. “Hap… happyyyy… happyyyy..!” It was then Adrastus’ turn to chuckle, playing with his cheeks like putty in their hands. He fully allowed them, leaning into the calling touch. Craving it, yearning for more.

“Lovely.” They whispered, more so to themself than him. “Just lovely. So hard to break,

but I think the wait was worth it.”

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

#asks :)#we only have each other #Malak oc #Adrastus oc #Whump #whump writing #My writing #whumpblr #whump story #brainwashed whumpee #brainwashing #brainwashing whump #hypnosis whump #hypnosis #conditioning whump #conditioning #captivity

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writersdare · 1 year

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Keep It Quiet | Ashton Irwin

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Ashton and Y/N kept their relationship a secret for a while, but one interview made the things a little complicated.

Warning: none

Word Count: 1 819

Author’s Note: I figured I'd write a little piece about Ash, so this came to my mind. I hope you'll enjoy reading it. Maybe I should write the 2nd part? Let me now. Requests are open ♡

It’s been few months since Ashton and Y/N kept their relationship a secret. Obviously, the friends and close people knew, but for others it was still unknown, even though, fans were guessing everything right from the very beginning. To be fair, they started to talk about these two a year ago, when Ashton and Y/N only met. They were good friends at first, yet, people were constantly asking if they were dating. Perhaps, it was just too noticeable they were always drawn to each other.

In any case, no one had a desire to scream about the romance just yet. Ash and Y/N wanted to keep it private before sharing their little secret to the world. Three months felt more like a year, though, as that’s for how long their feelings were blooming. They moved in together rather quickly, it happened almost naturally and no one even thought it was a rushed decision. Maybe because Y/N was used to stay at his place anyway, before they became a thing.

They met at work, so it was double awkward at first. Y/N was responsible for a creative part of the band’s new album, no one obviously planned to become that close. She preferred to keep her personal life and the job separate, and the guys were always like that, too. After all they were professionals. Ashton was taking it even more seriously than others, that’s why it was so hard for him to make the first move. It was a totally relief, though, when the work was done, and Y/N became more of a friend for everyone. They were constantly going out all together, and that’s when Ashton figured it was the right time to act.

“How about this one?” he entered their bedroom in a black patterned shirt and dark jeans. The guy looked at Y/N in the mirror, while she was doing her hair.

The album just came out, and the weeks were busy with the press. Apart from music, the band put a lot of effort into a visual part, and as a creative director, Y/N was attending some interviews with the guys to explain the whole art concept behind the album.

The girl looked at her boyfriend in the mirror, but then turned to Ash and made a short step back to see his outfit fully. The musician was staring at Y/N, waiting for her verdict.

“Uh… I like the first variant better.”

“Really?!” he sighed and threw up the hands in the air, being annoyed he had to change again.

“You look good in this one, too, babe. I just like you in that velvet jacket better,” Y/N shrugged and came back to her hair.

“No, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, looking at himself in the mirror. “Plus, if I put on a black shirt, it’d be better with the velvet,” Ashton concluded and glanced at Y/N, hoping to hear her opinion again. He was always like that, if the guy was unsure about something, he’d prefer people to tell him the same thing few times. As if he was checking if they were certain.

But Y/N only nodded, focusing on the curling iron.

“Are you nervous?” Ashton sensed her mood immediately and touched the girl’s shoulder. She looked amazing, and the musician made sure she knew that.

“Just a bit,” Y/N said honestly.

“It’ll be alright, sweetheart,” Ashton gently kissed her temple and smiled a bit, looking at her in the mirror. The girl gave him the same warm smile.

It was getting harder to keep everything private, as on the interviews they’d be asked about their relationship all the time, and it was annoying. Of course, managers were giving a set of questions hosts were not allowed to touch, but they couldn’t put them two on the list, otherwise it’d be too obvious.

“When is your car coming?” Y/N asked, when Ash went to the bathroom to change the outfit again.

“In twenty minutes. Yours will be in half an hour. Will you make it?” she heard his voice through the wall.

“Yeah, I’m almost done,” Y/N nodded.

Maybe it was a bit ridiculous, but rather necessary — they were going to the radio station separately to avoid too many questions.

Ashton left home earlier, and Y/N arrived shortly after the band. Introducing each other, the sign “on air” lit up, and the interview has begun. The program was going live on YouTube as well, so the lovebirds were sitting purposely away from each other. Ash was sitting in the end of the couch with Calum, Michael was in the middle, and Y/N was sitting in the corner with Luke. The interview shouldn’t have taken too long, it usually lasted about twenty minutes, so doubtfully anything bad could happen. Y/N sill felt like she was on the edge, but the presence of a friend next to the girl was calming her down. Asking the band few questions, the host drew his attention to her.

“So, Y/N, tell me how was it working with the guys, how the process looked like? Where did the initiative come from? I know you’ve been working with some amazing musicians in the past, Coldplay, Harry Styles, the list goes on and on. Is the working process always different?”

“Um, yeah,” she smiled and nodded, relaxing a bit, as the question was familiar. The boys turned heads to her, so Ashton thought it was an okay time for him to stare, too. “I was really happy the guys reached out to me, it was exciting. The process is always very different, I mean a lot depends on the music and if, um, an artist already knows in what direction they want to go to, if the music is somewhat ready. With these guys it all went almost naturally,” the boys nodded. “I feel like when we first met, we already got plenty of ideas,” Y/N glanced at Luke, as he was sitting next to her.

“Yeah, that’s true,” he nodded. “I think it was clear from the very begging that we understood each other, you know.”

“Yeah. It was also helpful the guys knew what they wanted to see. It’s harder when someone reaches out to you with no idea or concept. Surely, it’s my job, too, but if someone has no clue, no matter what we start to do, everything would seem wrong.”

“Did you have such experience in the past?” the host continued the conversation. “When the artist would contact you, but have no idea what they wanted from you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Y/N nodded.

“Can you give a name?” everyone started laughing, Y/N shook her head, smiling.

“No… But to be fair, it still can work out in the end. It’s always fun to try different ideas, I feel like we also had really a lot, before sticking to the final visual concept.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure, we tried to be as open as it was possible to the new ideas,” Michael agreed, actively gesticulating like he always did.

“Now, Y/N, we all know what’s happening on the Internet, so I just have to ask you and Ash if there is something going on between you, guys?” the host was smiling wide, clearly trying to get the truth from them, and Y/N only hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“I’m as single as it can be,” Ashton joked and smiled, being obviously annoyed.

“Alright, you heard this first on the radio! Y/N? Do you have someone special in your life?”

Y/N had no idea how these questions were related to 5SOS and the album, but she only smiled, ignoring a little sting she got when Ash answered the question first.

“I’m single, too. I know it’s a rather boring answer, but I’m currently focusing on my projects and, well, love comes when it comes,” she nodded with a smile, and the girl could swear she felt a tension that was growing between her and Ash running through poor Luke and Michael in the middle. To be fair, Ashton was first, who answered in a particular way. He could just say they were friends. But she was also certain that they both hated to lie. They just had to. Y/N continued. “We’re all good friends, we care about each other and, I guess, maybe someone just got a wrong idea because of that,” she shrugged.

“Alright, just friends then,” the host nodded and continued the interview, which all of a sudden became more of torture.

As about five minutes left, they started to play a game “who is more likely to”. The questions were quite innocent and simple, so everyone finally relaxed and were answering openly, fooling around time to time.

“Okay, next question,” the host said, smiling. “Who is more of a mom in your group?”

“Ashton,” Michael said right away.

“Yeah, Ashton…” Calum mumbled, thinking. “Although, I’d say Y/N was taking his place– “

“Yeah, I actually agree,” Luke giggled. “Y/N is more caring, would always bring snacks or ask if we drink enough water...”

Ash chuckled and nodded, remembering a story he actually did not need to tell on the radio.

“That’s definitely Y/N,” he looked at her, smiling and trying to hold giggles. “Remember, when we just woke up the other day and…”

Everything happened as if in a slow motion. Y/N kept smiling, trying to hide the horror on her face. Calum’s eyes widened, and Michael glanced at Ash to give him a hint to shut up. Luke hurried up to interrupt and save the day.

“Oh, yes, we were renting that house for a while to isolate ourselves from the civilization and just focus on music and art, and the other morning we went downstairs, Y/N was already there, making breakfast for everyone. That was rather sweet.”

Y/N nodded with a smile, deciding to go with that story, even though it had never happened. It still wasn’t too far from the reality, she was caring by her nature, indeed. And the girl definitely was coming to the studio with some snacks for everyone before.

“Yeah, that was sweet,” Calum nodded, supporting a lie. Ashton just kept smiling and nodding, feeling like an idiot. Until the end of the interview he preferred to stay silent and answer only when he was asked directly.

“Well, that was really close,” Calum commented, taking a seat in a car next to others. They were going to have another interview, so Y/N was coming with them.

“I know,” Ashton sighed. “Thanks a lot, mate,” he glanced at Luke.

“That’s alright, I think it all worked in the end,” the guy nodded with a supportive smile.

Everyone agreed with him, having no idea that meanwhile the fans were analyzing the video from the live interview and talking about Ashton’s and everyone else’s reaction when he almost told a story about him and Y/N waking up together.

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @uservalentine

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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therealmsdelulu · 11 months

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hii can you do a jonah x blk!reader where they’re blaring rnb music and just dancing together in the living room? just a bunch of fluff and jonah just admiring the reader

hopefully that makes sense!

i love your writing!

Can’t Get Enough of You

Pairing: Jonah x Black!reader

Summary: Jonah and Reader dancing to RnB in the living room.

A/N: I recommend that you listen to Can't Get Enough by Tamia and looking up the line dance just so you can have some visuals if you aren’t familiar with it and also play They Don’t Know by Jon B. Ignore my use of ya’ll throughout this, I’m from the South I couldn’t help myself. If this doesn’t meet your request pls lmk and i'll be happy to write another one.

You were currently listening to your 90's and 00's RnB playlist dancing in the living room. Jonah was in the other room probably going over a script.

Suddenly "Can't Get Enough" by Tamia came on and you excitedly ran to the room Jonah was in and dragged him from his chair.

"Where are we going?" Jonah asked as you pulled his arm.

"Come dance with me," you said as you two entered the living room. You restarted the song, "Watch me carefully," you said as you began to line dance.

Jonah watched you carefully in admiration at how smooth your movements were. It was as if you were in your own little world and he couldn't help but admire how beautiful you looked in the dim light.

He looked at you as you spun around and started from the top. He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be learning the choreography and attempted to mimic your movements.

"You got that?" you asked looking at him

“Definetely not” he admitted and you paused the music.

“Let me break it down for you,” you said. “Alright, right foot you’re gonna bounce on it a liltle bit and you’re gonna do that twice” you instructed and showed him exactly what you said and he mirrored your actions.

“Like that,” he asked looking at you hopefully.

“Yeah, you got it,” you assured him, “now the same movement but your left foot.” You watched as Jonah did just that. “Alright lets take it from the top,” you suggested.

You both repeated the steps in sync before moving on. “Okay now this is where it gets a little tricky,” you warned. “We’re going to travel to the left, four steps and you’re going to end with your right foot crossed over your left,” you explained before demonstrating.

Jonah attempted to replicate your movements but wasn’t quite getting it. “I dont understand,” he said looking at you puzzled. “How does your body move like that,” he asked genuinely amazed at how easy this came to you.

You giggled at his comment before showing him again. He eventually got it down and his movements were looking sharp. “I knew your middle name was Andre for a reason,” you joked and Jonah shook his head with laughter.

You taught him the remaining steps and once it looked like he had it all down you put the music on.

“Alright from the top,” you said.“5,6,7,8” you added in counts to help make it easier. “1,2” you said as the two of you began the dance. “3,4” you counted as the two of you bounced on your left feet.

“5,6,7,8” you recited as the two of you traveled to the left ending with your right feet crossed over your left. You finished the first round but now it was time to turn around and do it all again.

The song eventually went off and Jonah was amazed at how you were able to stay on beat the whole song. “I give you the stamp of approval,” you told him before kissing his cheek.

“Did I do good?” he asked you uncertain because he wasn’t able to see himself.

“You did amazing baby,” you assured him. “You’re definetly cookout ready."

MINI TIME SKIP

You and Jonah have been in the living room dancing for the past 30 minutes to New Edition, Brandy, and Aaliyah.

You heard the tune of a familiar song and grabbed Jonah’s hands in excitement. “This is our song,” you told him.

“We have a song?” he asked somewhat puzzled because this isn’t something that was established beforehand.

“We do now,” you said before wrapping your arms around his neck and he placed his on your waist. “Follow my lead,” you told him as you began to slow dance.

Heard about my past things I used to do The games I used to play The girls that didn't last I know what's on your mind

Jonah raised his eyebrows slightly at the lyrics wondering why you established this as yall's song.

You think I'm doing wrong Can I say what is real You are the only one When I'm not around

Jonah continued to dance with you still questioning the lyrics. “Why did you choose this to be our song in particular,” he asked curiously looking at you.

“Just keep listening,” you insisted before nuzzling your head into his neck and continued to slow dance.

Do you think of me or what the jealous ones Are claiming me to be You should know by now That it's gonna take A lot of trust from you For us to make it through

You and Jonah swayed side to side just living in the moment and enjoying being close to each other.

You should know baby you're my angel Nothing's gonna make you fall from heaven Girl I just want to love you love you

Jonah smiled at these lyrics. He tightened his grip around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me Put it out your mind cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me Put it out your mind 'cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here

Jonah could feel your smile against his neck causing him to smile as well. He rested his chin on top of your head as he continued to sway with you.

Girl lets talk about what your friends told you That I'm a selfish man Want my cake and eat it to Maybe in my past but you changed me now Now that I've learned to love It's you that showed me how Your love so real I'd be a fool to play Play around on you I want to stay with you You should know by now That it's gonna take A lot of trust from you For us to make it through

Jonah resonated in these lyrics as well. The two of you both benefited tremendously from your relationship. You learned new things from him and he learned new things from you.

You should know baby you're my angel Nothing's gonna make you fall from heaven Girl I just want to love you love you Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me Put it out your mind 'cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me Put it out your mind 'cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here

You and Jonah announced your relationship to the public not too long ago and faced quite a bit of backlash from Jonah’s “fans.” You never let it get to you though because randoms on the internet were’nt worth a crumb of your time.

Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me Put it out your mind 'cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here

You and Jonah pulled away from each other slightly and he grabbed your hand and spun you around. Your back was now to his chest and he was resting his chin on your shoulder.

Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me Put it out your mind 'cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here

Jonahs hands were wrapped around your torso and your hands were resting over his.

You're my angel Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me (I don't wanna hurt you baby) Put it out your mind 'cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me Put it out your mind 'cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here Don't listen to what people say They don't know about you and me Put it out your mind 'cause it's jealousy They don't know about this here Don't listen to what people say

The song came to an end and Jonah loosened his grip around your waist and you turned around to face him. “I love you, Jonah” you told him.

“I love you too Y/N,” he said before cupping your face and planting multiple kisses on your face.

#jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king #jonah hauer king x y/n #jonah hauer king fanfiction

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3s0t3ric · 8 months

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Profound listening

Back at it

I have found that I only submit my literature here when I’ve entered a particular state of being. It’s difficult for me to be inspired to explain ideas here when I don’t completely understand them myself, here is my attempt to deviate from that way of thinking.

This season of my life I have LARGELY expanded on my time being alone. Even in the presence of others I’ve noticed myself to feel quite absent. Preoccupied? I work with my therapist weekly to digest the past week; however recently I’ve found it even more troubling to deviate from a few key character building moments that have occurred, some months prior. The longer I ruminate the longer these feelings begin to stockpile like merchandise in the back room. I can’t seem to put anything new on the show floor, if you will.

In some of my neuroscience classes we learned about the neural structure of rumination, specifically as it presents in OCD. The constant reminder of a stimulus similar to reading the same post-it note 150 times a day (no really, sometimes even more in these studies) showed it’s what seems to be impossible to move on.

I know all of this and I can visualize each slide from the lecture in my head, but this was not the preventative/ proactive armor I knew it to be. I know this to be true, but I guess in practice I’d be a little more prepared if (let’s all be real here WHEN) the time came.

Maybe due to my oppositional defiance disorder (what I endearingly refer to as bad ass kid disorder) or maybe it’s my strong drive using spite, I have done the exact opposite of the textbook advice for these signs.

I listened to myself.

The most common treatment for OCD specifically is exposure therapy. Basically ignore what your visceral cues from within are telling you and just have at it.

I chose isolation. There was no other way I could hear my internal monologue without the chatter of others breathing down my neck. Shes got me this far, might as well hear her out right?

After I had this dialogue I needed to go to someone I trusted, someone who would listen to me like I listened to myself and someone who could make sense of what I couldn’t.

I swear my therapist was a monk in a past life. Sometimes she has these moments where I talk and she is silent, flips down her bifocals from the top of her head as she angles to her book shelf and tabs through her post-it’s sticking out of her books on a shelf next to her. It’s always a self help book she recommends and it’s always gonna knock your wind right out of your chest like you were dropped on your back on the playground as a kid.

Before this session I had felt confident I had made a steady rise in progress and mental health. Ha. She grabbed Attached by Amir Levine, a classic self help book. My therapist has extensive knowledge when it comes to attachment styles (her master’s thesis) so she whips out this book maybe once every 6 months. She reads a passage about the correlation of thought between avoidant attachment style, and abandonment issues.

This did not have that “knock the wind out of you” feeling. Abandonment issues??? I just isolated from everyone I felt connected to for 3 months because I had to get it together, what about that screams abandonment issues???

Her passage explains that the avoidant attachment style’s attachment abandonment issues look different from the widely publicized anxious attachment style’s abandonment issues. The anxious will tend to cling on tighter when they feel abandoned, where the avoidant will “don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya” (paraphrased here) you into oblivion. The book referenced a famous study originally done by Mary Ainsworth named The Strange Situation. In this children ages 9-18 months were separated from their mothers in stressful ways, and left to handle these emotions on their own. Information was also recorded when they were united. The anxiously attached would have this grande fit of sadness upon seeing their mother, crying and the like. The secure babies were excited to be reintroduced to their mothers with minimal tears however the avoidant babies outcomes were rather unexpected. The avoidant babies would acknowledge the mother had returned, and then they would resume playing with their toys from before. Later in this study it was noted the avoidant’s stress hormone cortisol was elevated similarly to the anxious babies, contrary to their differing physical reactions. Even at these young ages, these babies had these distinct reactions.

There that feeling went. I can’t believe this woman had all of these quotes locked and loaded seemingly specifically for me. The last 6 minutes of our session went by of her basically telling me that the avoidant doesn’t outwardly react to abandonment, but the body processes it all the same. I shut my laptop and stared at the wall. All of the work I’ve done to suppress my reactions, and they’re still happening, just in lowercase now?

Unfortunately this all made sense. This listening I had been doing was to the thoughts I’ve been having before and after I thought I fixed my problem is anxiety. The rumination was all too familiar from my textbooks and even though I could explain what was happening on a molecular level my brain’s disfunction I can’t stop it. Maybe ignorance IS bliss.

The shadow is the greatest teacher, the dark is where you find the stars.

In my solitude I strengthened my awareness to my inner voice. Although I cannot control it, at this point I don’t try to. I experience my thoughts, I do not own them. The thought of no reaction also being just as troubling of an abandonment issues as a grandiose smothering response is honestly still quite jarring and truly not a gag I could have predicted, but as I navigate this I am reminded I am in great company. There wouldn’t be books and studies and charts and graphs if I was in solitude here as well.

Even in our distance we are all right by one another.

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jonathankatwhatever · 1 year

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Anti-commutative is a -1 and 1 relationship, as in the negative image, as in the negative image of what is the positive, as in that which is the positive and that which will be the positive. Or in your terms, the hero is made from the anti-hero who is made from the hero who is made from the anti-hero. The usage of hero carries two meanings. One is internal, as in you are your own hero. The other is external, as in the judgement of you as a hero. That latter may be objective, as in a list of accomplishments, or it may be subjective, which is that people subjectively define themselves in a hero relation.

I was watching a CBS Sunday Morning item about extensive efforts to recover artifacts from a 1952 crash in Alaska, meaning during the Korean War, of a military plane with like 52 aircrew aboard. My reaction was: that’s a rather limited cohomology, meaning that it’s a waste of money when there are so many current needs, and that this decision only makes sense if you gather together the rationales. These form a ring which includes that putting out this effort shows that even if no one will remember you, the military will, meaning it’s a way of reinforcing the role of the military in the USA. The ring also includes the heartstrings which can be presented in a story which completely ignores that aspect on the surface, which presents this as something which should have happened earlier. Or other story versions. In other words, it’s a perspective that can be adopted, very much like any that pulls on the heartstrings to demand resources, with no higher level triage which says that’s not a sensible usage. That argument is that at higher dimensions the only aspect which comes through as value is the reinforcement of the role of the military and its sacrifice as special, which enthrones loss as the core value, as though that loss is more special than other losses, which of course when you look at them are just as bad if not worse. As in, look at all the wars since 1952 and the millions who have been killed, but we spend our resources digging up artifacts related to a 70 year old plane crash.

That came to me as a homology, with the perspectives as cohomologies.

AMT was a visual exploration of 4, 8, 16, in which we begin with 4 because that’s inherent to the construction of a grid square. And then 8 connects szK together without the other 8 because including that reduces to 4. This connects to something called Hurwitz’s theorem that a normed division algebra is only in 1,2,4, and 8 dimensions. I thus looked into a much desired connection that you can fit a 7 dimensional space within that. The spaces going up are multiplicative, while the spaces going down are divisional.

I have been struggling with grasping a good way to explain Dimensional Enclosure’s connection to LayerView. I’m still thinking about how higher DE’s operate, but that’s not Euclidian space. I remember the first times I found this information. I knew it had to attach, but I couldn’t see it.

I’m going to try to get this out: Attachment Theory relies on exterior algebra. That is, an Attachment is a structure which is external to some other structure. What is external can be an issue since all related structures form a structure, something we touched on yesterday with - wait, you’re an hour more removed, and this is 2PM material at 1PM, so I hope I don’t pee on my clothes like Billy did when DST ended - Pythagorean triples, that 25 nestles into 169, and that 25 is obviously a tiling of 4 to make 100, etc.

Reminder: try to talk more about the infinities in modulo.

So, I wrote a post on Facebook about how I liked Dave Chappelle’s short set on SNL because of the way he presents challenges to your perceptions which you can hear as you can hear them. What’s that? A ‘metaphoric bundle’. A bundle is an idea that connects to vector spaces, which is perfect though I didn’t think of that when we started using it. That’s an exterior algebra: what he says shapes a form that anti-commutes, if you will. I prefer saying inversion, because it acts like a mirror, complete with the applause or non-applause as the feedback to the generated form.

I’m going to post because I’m getting over-excited.

0 notes

chronocidalrage · 2 years

Text

Bunch of random shit from 8/24 to 8/29

BETTER I think the truth is that I’m starting to feel a little better lately. Hopefully it’s not short lived. But it’s making the parts of my life that bug me seem louder in comparison and it’s making me feel guilty that I could possibly feel good again without Atom.

But I can look at life two ways. Either Atom was the best thing and life is now stupid without him, or Atom was one of the best things in this world - along with Susie and Ruby - and if the world can give me those three, it can still give me other great things.

How things are going for me affects the way I’m looking at things.

I miss you as a brother and a friend, but also as my other half. Like I’m a random left shoe. What the fuck is someone gonna do with a singular left shoe?

If I found you again I would hold on and never let you go. That’s why I can’t see you again somehow. I couldn’t let you go again. So even if you could talk to me somehow, you wouldn’t. Because you’d know I could handle losing you a second time. And if you only live in my mind, my brain won’t let me experience something so traumatizing twice.

Makes sense that you (or my brain) would risk it on my first birthday without you, only a few weeks after I had lost you, but I can see why I haven’t felt it really since. Because I either move on or die. I probably won’t feel you again until I can handle it. Until I need it less.

I just pictured you sitting on the floor in the living room at Taber Street, eating Chinese food (chicken and broccoli with only the broccoli and the sauce, white rice and crab rangoons) with the food on the shitty coffee table. Kinda drunk still but awake and alert and watching some movie I put on. I just pictured myself lunging forward and hugging you from behind. Squeezing you as hard as I can. Weird because in this memory you’re younger than I am now. Your thirties must have been hard. Started off with a breakup and then it got better, but still lonely. Then it never really got better than that period for you. No wonder you struggled so much.

The truth is that I saw Taber Street as everything good about living at home but without having to worry about our parents, and adding regular access to some of our friends into the mix. It was just an extension of our years together and that’s why I loved it.

I think I’m scared of erasing my memories of you in the Quincy house. It’s making me avoid cleaning it out.

Maybe I’m getting more annoyed lately because I’m starting to feel good enough to want more from life again.

I REALLY WANNA MAKE A COMIC The urge is building. I want to make storytelling art. Tell visual stories. Find some way to capture the art I love again.

I think drawing and shit makes me think of Atom, and his absence in my life (now literally, but for many years figuratively), feels more noticeable when I draw so I find myself less interested in doing it.

I’m also used to him being in the next room when I play guitar.

So maybe I have to really work on enjoying those activities for myself now?

I think I started transitioning more into being an adult (and not role playing) around when I was 26. Other than moving in with Atom, I was pulling away in some ways. I wonder if me pulling a way is what made it hard for Atom to draw, not his breakup with Liz.

I wish I knew someone who loved Teen Titans as much as Atom and I did.

The Raimi Spider-Man movies are very comforting to me because they were one of the last times we really got to re-experience our childhood joy as adults. After these movies, the excitement of superhero movies died down as the genre became common and less daring. I’m sure I saw the second one with you. 2004. Yeah I’m sure you were sitting right next to me.

Yeah I feel better lately but I’m still really sad about you man. I really miss you. I wish you were here.

BAD GUYS The trick to a lovable villain is casting someone who technically doesn’t seem like that person at all. Barney Stinson on HIMYM works because NPH seems so thoughtful and kind and non-threatening. But he can back it up in statistical terms: good looking, smart, charming. So we believe he can be a womanizer, but he seems too good to be one, so we allow it more than we would if he seemed shitty. Tony Soprano is similar. Gandolfini is half lovable, kinda dumb bear (like a Homer Simpson) and half angry, big bully guy. The lovable bear qualities make us like him despite the other stuff. But he’s big and scary so he can back up the role. Cast people who seem better than their role and we’ll always want them to break out of their bad habits.

WOODSTOCK 99 Should have been obvious the 00’s would be the way they are. Weird how we got grunge (punk and metal influenced) and hip hop, which were bright and insightful from socially conscious people and it was bastardized by the angry white man, as usual.

It was time for white men to pretend they were oppressed, and society has never recovered from it.

WHAT DO I WANT? I’m missing something right now. I want my family to feel cohesive. But my mom is all over the place and Scott is far away. That isn’t a real option. I have a better chance of getting what I want from Susie’s family.

I want tight and cohesive friends. I think I can get that with Tim and Matt. Maybe not to the extent and consistency I’d like, but still.

I want more connection with Susie but I almost feel like she has to come down for me to be comfortable. It’s almost like I’m too intimidated to enjoy us. Strange.

I want to make shit. I want to feel comfortable.

I want to make that house my own, but I’m upset about the steps required to do so. I don’t want to erase my past in the process. It’s one of my last remaining “pieces” of Atom in some ways.

I feel weird tonight. I had a nice day just relaxing with Susie. We don’t get to do that a lot. We watched a true crime doc (The Girl in the Picture). It was good and very sad. We watched the Orphan prequel. It was silly. I kinda enjoyed it. We watched Can’t Hardly Wait again. What a successful movie, it doesn’t seem to make a single mistake. Susie was so happy. We watched the HBO Woodstock doc and almost all of the Netflix one.

A good day. But I feel weird. Probably because I didn’t finish the episode (NOTE: I was in the process of editing the AIPT Movies Season 1 finale at the time) and I really want to finish it. Probably because I can’t stop thinking about the house, but also want nothing to do with it.

REDUCE STRESS Getting the house cleaned out and having a clear idea of how things will be in the end (including mom’s fake kitchen, the fence, living room etc) would help extremely. Also figuring out the ownership stuff.

Finally getting the Atom shit done and dealing with his storage space.

With all of that out of the way, I’d feel a lot better. A lot.

Focus on that shit. In the meantime, spend more time moving my body and eating less garbage. Make the podcast easier and funner. Work on the movie script (no real rush), work on singing, maybe try making beats but probably not yet. Start the AC comic. Even just starting would be good.

LESS THAN Part of the problem is that I interpret everything Susie says or does from the perspective that she not only THINKS she’s better than me, but that she actually IS better than me. So I see it from the perspective of “I’m worse than her and it’s mean that she doesn’t pity me enough to lower her standards for me.” Is she doing the same thing? Do we both legitimately think the other one is settling for us?

She’s being so cute tonight. Anxious and whispering about the great laundry battle of Neponset Ave.

COPING WITH DEATH Is this feeling that you somehow completely imagined them, that they were never real. It’s awful.

HOMEWORK I’ve never wanted to do homework. Extra work. Learning shit for jobs. I’ve only ever wanted to do as little work as needed. No wonder I haven’t succeeded nearly as much as I’d like to.

0 notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

if you enjoy this fic (which i worked REALLY hard on) please reblog, like, comment, and come talk to me!

please please considering donating to my kofi since all my work is FREE to you guys!

---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong.

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often.

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

Hair and makeup went fast.

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect.

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.

There is not much more to say than that.

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

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ayamturd · 3 years

Text

cuddles│technoblade

summary: you want cuddles, but techno’s busy; laughs turn insecure, yet love overpowers it all

prompt: “Why won’t you let me love you?”

warnings: none, only fluff

pairing: in-game c!technoblade

a/n: this is my entry for @mayasimagines‘ 600 writing event!! huge props and congratulatory once more, they’re such a talented and creative writer (pls go give them love!)

i was really tempted to make it angst, i won’t lie lol (also techno visual based off SAD-ist design cause pretty pig make yam go brrrr)

wc: (1.4k) - m.list

“Techno.”

Tilting his head to glance behind him, Technoblade’s ear twitched once spotting you. You were dressed comfortable from the cold weather despite the roaring fire besides him. Holding a pillow you carried from bed, you rested your chin above it while clutching the soft fabric close.

He turned back to his work before addressing you, mixing the most recent ingredients he gathered the same day in a small brewing pot. The potion glistened in the dark of the night, the concoction dyed a subtle grey as it was unfinished.

“What?”

You padded closer to him, and with him sat low at the work bench, you leaned onto him from behind, resting against his back while laying on his shoulder. He barely moved from your current position on him.

“Cuddle.” He gave a small noise to indicate that he heard you, but continued to stir his potion. Being the patient person you were, you waited until the color slowly shifted its hue as a sign it was finished. Setting the spoon aside, Techno grabbed the nearest rag and began cleaning his hand.

“I’m busy,” he murmured, still distracted as he looked back to his current elixir on the stand. You frowned from his words, and as if he could sense it, he tried to reassure you. “But I’ll try for later if I can.”

That wasn’t good enough, you thought. With the pillow trapped between the two of you, you moved your arms around him and held his torso, hooking your hands together to secure him.

“But… cuddles?”

In spite of your attempts, Techno disregarded the small and childlike tone you used. You started to pout from his lack of response and narrowed your eyes in annoyance. Moments passed without an answer, and you lifted your head back up the stairs while still settled close to his neck, the idea of going to bed alone making you discourage to make the trek back.

With a slight sigh, you let go of him completely and hugged the pillow again, gathering yourself before heading towards the fireplace. Picking up the disregarded throw blanket on the armchair, you dropped the pillow close to the fire and plopped yourself on it, crossing your legs while wrapping the blanket around you comfortably.

The warmth from the fire would have to do in place of Technoblade’s body heat, and with your backed turned towards it, you leaned onto your placed palms to observe him.

After a few minutes, Techno couldn’t ignore your staring any longer, sighing and turning towards you. He had his hand against his knee with the other rested on his table, twisting his body.

“What are you doin’?”

Slightly smirking from his question, you took his appearance, it being the first time you could fully saw him with his attention on you for the first time that day. His hair was disheveled, yet fluffy as it encompassed his face, like a halo to emphasize his handsome features.

Though white and sometimes argued empty, you loved staring into his eyes. They always expressed more than what he was willing to voice, and although they currently were squinted from confusion, they were filled with a charm most wouldn’t see from him.

You looked him up and down, noting his casual wear and the way he rolled his sleeves up, before concentrating on his face again.

“I wanna be near you, you’ve been busy all day.”

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head and shifting his body completely to face you, resting his elbows on both his knees and tilting his head down at you.

“You sure are bein’ clingy, huh?” Your dazed grin dropped immediately from his teasing, and the action made Techno laugh loudly, it devolving to his classic snickering.

Reaching behind you, you snatched the chair cushion and chucked it his way. Technoblade obviously caught the aimed projectile mid throw but was weak to his current laughing fit.

You pushed yourself promptly off the ground, and with a roll of your eyes, began walking away. Techno reached out to grab you, his laugh fading with a big smile.

“Wait, wait-” You stepped back before his hand could nab you, and crossed your arms at him.

“No, leave me alone. You’re being mean.”

He chuckled, and stood up, his height in full as he towered over you. Shrieking from his playful glare, he bounded for you while you tried to run. You were quickly caught and yelled loudly once picked up off the ground.

With his hands on your waist, he spun you fast, laughing with you and pulling you close to him. His breath tickled your neck while his tusks rubbed gently against your hair. He continued to spin you relentlessly, your feet pathetically dangling helplessly below.

Eventually you grew tired and dizzy from the notion, shouting out in giggles for him to stop. He paused from your protests, and without warning, threw you up in the air.

You gasped from the unexpected action, voice caught in your throat from the sudden motion and the fear that gripped you. Before you knew what was happening, you were back in his arms, instead held bridal style within his arms.

Gripping onto his dress shirt and with wide eyes, you looked up at his proud grin. What a show off.

You smacked him, though not hard, and he laughed again. Wrapping your arms his neck, you laughed with him, smothering yourself into his chest and breathing in his scent. You really did miss him today, and with his hands holding you, you melted from the close contact.

While your laughing waned, his did not. You stared up at him like before, watching how beautiful he was in the dim lighting against the crackling fire and the open starry darkness of the night in contrast. You adored him for his openness with you, you loved him for being him around you.

Tenderly, you put a hand on his cheek, turning his focus onto you. You lifted yourself up in his arms, and ever so slowly, leaned up to kiss him. Before you could, however, he turned his head away, the action small yet noticeable to your acute senses and knowing eyes.

You pouted lightheartedly, hanging your head back dramatically as a joke.

“Why won’t you let me love you?”

Techno became silent, swallowing a harsh inhale from the innocent and obviously meaningless tease. Despite the previous laughs, the room’s atmosphere changed, a now empty and tense space.

Your feigned heartbreak-act softened, though the frown remained in place. You knew what he was doing; he was going too deep in thought and over analyzing, letting the voices reign control over insecurities and fear. No matter how strong or vicious he may seem to others, you knew him and that essentially, he was a man who was too anxious and too doubtful of himself for his own good.

With a comforting smile, you called his name, bringing him back after briefly falling into the void.

“Hey love?”

Blinking repeatedly to regain control, Techno snapped his head at you, your voice calm and firm in spite all that he was forced to hear. He hummed as to answer, and you cupped his cheeks before he could escape your attempted kiss again.

He was still for a few seconds, before becoming undone and lifting you closer towards his lips, fingers curling tightly on you as to express the uproar of emotions he held for you.

You pulled yourself up, hand reaching into his hair while the other remained kindly to his light stubble. Techno supported you further by shifting you, his arm now against your back that cradled you into a sitting position.

The kiss was tender and passionate, yet more gentle than one would assume. All you could feel was him and him alone, nothing breaking the pure moment of bliss and true pleasure between the two of you.

You pulled away suddenly, while fast, but to express anything left unsaid between your shared acts.

“Love you,” you whispered, still out of breath from the loss of air. Techno couldn’t help the adoring gaze he showed for you, his own voice bright from the high of your taste. He met your forehead halfway, and closed his eyes while speaking so closely to you.

“Heh, and I you, darlin’.”

“Cuddles now?”

Techno nodded, using his hands to carry your thighs as they moved to wrap around his torso instead. He walked you both towards the stairway to your bedroom, his hold on you never faltering against him.

“Yeah, cuddles now.”

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x gn!reader #technoblade imagines #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dreamsmp x reader #dsmp x reader

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narutakijune · 3 years

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About ATLA Relationship Arcs

So, this is me, finally trying to write some meta after lurking in my little tumblr corner for months! Hi!

Although I’ve tried to tag properly, if you are a Kat*anger and just want to enjoy your favourite couple in peace, this might not be the post for you. I am not trying to bash characters but I do have a lot of critical stuff to say about the writing.

Anyway, you have been warned and here is my story about my personal first Atla experience: I watched the show this year for the first time, and after the end of Book 1 I decided to look up spoilers, because after what happened to Yue, I wanted to make sure that Zuko and Iroh would be ok. So I knew what was going to happen: Kat*ang endgame and absolutely no Zutara at all. Still, by the end of Book 3, I was convinced that I had read wrong - that there would be an epilogue with a different ending or at least that Aang would only get together with Katara post-show- in that Korra series or something - because anything else wouldn’t make sense- right?

….

After I got over my shock and surprise, I went online and found out about that decade-long aggressive passionate ship war and how even the showrunners got involved.

And then I really worried that I might have missed a few points. Apparently ”Aang and Katara were the DNA of the show”, according to the creators themselves, and “Zutara could never have happened”.

Another popular anti-ZK argument I found was: Why do you always go on about Katara and Zuko? Just look at Zuko and Aang! They are the hero/ anti-hero and each other’s foils, their relationship is much more meaningful!”

So I tried to find out what it was that I apparently couldn’t see.

(Another disclaimer: I love analysing stories (like many Zutarians apparently) and this will get long and rambly. If you get bored to tears when people start talking about “narrative structure” you will probably not like this.)

Talking about narrative structure, I do believe that, in order to let your story, your characters and their relationships really shine, a good basic structure is important. There should be a recognizable development and individual parts of the story that build upon each other and lead to consequences and change, until there is a completed arc - because it is all about the journey that takes you to a satisfying ending, right? So that’s what I tried to do, with my personal Kat*ang vs. Zutara take, I tried to look at the structure and development of their relationship arcs.

The argument that threw me off track for a while is that compared to Aang and Zuko, Zuko and Katara’s relationship is not supposed to be that relevant for the plot. After all, Zuko is the foil, the anti-hero, the deuteragonist to Aang, who is the hero protagonist.

This is all true of course. But then why is it that in every finale, Zuko’s main opponent (and later ally) is not Aang but Katara? Why is it that their sun/moon, red/blue, fire/water dichotomy is so obviously highlighted?

I think one reason why Zuko and Katara are paired off so frequently in the story - as opposite elements, as opponents and as allies - is that they BOTH are Aang’s deuteragonists. While Zuko also acts as antagonist and Aang’s foil/mirror, Katara takes over the more traditional deuteragonist role of confidant / best friend/ narrator.

Protagonist Aang is what connects them, although they are on opposite sides: Both need Aang because he represents their hope to save their world. Very simply put, Katara protects him, so he can make the world a safer place again, and Zuko wants to capture him, so he can go home and be safe again. That rivalry between them is already established in the first episode, even before they meet each other: Katara, who hopes that the Avatar will return (as she tells everyone in the intro), and Zuko, who seems to be obsessed with finding him for more sinister reasons.

And just to make sure, I am not talking here about the characters’ feelings and emotions! This is just about the abstract roles they have been assigned within the narrative.

When regarding Zutara’s special connection to Aang and their rivalry with each other, it makes absolute sense to stress their “same but different”ness as well, visually and metaphorically: Red and blue, fire and water, sun and moon, arguably Painted Lady/Blue Spirit, and, when you put into account their story arc, also Oma and Shu.

With this basis, which puts them together and sets them apart simultaneously, their relationship already becomes very dynamic and interesting, even before you consider any romantic potential.

And here’s another thing, Zuko and Katara also have their own story arc within the main plot. Although they don’t have many scenes together before Zuko joins the Gaang, when they do meet there is always a new shift in their relationship and in quite a few cases their interactions are important for the main plot as well. If you just look at their “end fights” at each book’s finale, there is an obvious and consequential build-up, like any decent story arc should have:

Book 1 starts with Zuko as the powered-up enemy and Katara as the weak newbie waterbender. Both are battling over Aang. At the end of Book 1, they are finally established as equally powerful fighters but still fundamentally different (You rise with the moon, I rise with the sun!)

In CoD at the end of Book 2 happens the next step: they realize that they are not different at all! But Aang still doesn’t represent the same for them and they end up on opposing sides of the war again.

In the Book 3 finale, when Zuko has completed his own (anti-) hero's journey and Aang represents the same “hope” for both of them, they do not only join forces: Their “same but different”- traits make them such a uniquely suited match that they are even able to save each other’s lives during their fight with Azula (who in turn happens to be Katara and Zuko’s antagonist/mirror/foil).

And in addition to their own story arc they even get an individual recurring theme, which also appears in every book whenever their relationship status changes: The lost mothers, especially Katara’s mother.

In Book 1, Katara’s necklace (the symbol of Kiya) plays not only a major part in two of Zuko’s capture attempts, it is the reason for their very first one-one one encounter in the story.

Their first friendly connection in COD in Book 2 happens because they start talking about their mothers. And in Book 3, their final reconciliation (sealed with a very cathartic hug) happens after their life-changing trip which is, of course, all about Katara’s mother.

Again, I am not even trying to analyse their characters and motivations within the story - there are many metas that have already done that much better, more detailed and with screenshots. This is just dry structure and tropes and themes. But I think people recognize and connect with a well-structured arc, even subconsciously, which is one of the reasons that makes Zutara such a compelling couple. They complete and contrast each other, their relationship dynamic constantly changes, builds up, falls apart, reconnects. Such a setup is the perfect playground for a lot of creative takes on what-ifs and alternative scenarios and of course, shipping them romantically is extremely tempting - think of all the possibilities! It’s no wonder that the Zutara fandom is still so active decades after the end of the show. And it’s also no wonder that the Zutarians are known for “over-analysing everything”. You can only over-analyse if there is anything that gives you enough food to analyse to begin with. Which brings me to

KAT*ANG

I just go right to the top and take the quote from Br*yke themselves:

Kata*ng was in the DNA of the thing from the start…. [Zutara] was just dark and intriguing.

If you read this quote and then start watching the show, I would (grudgingly) agree that:

Aang and Katara understand and complement each other really well. Aang gives her the chance to have fun and go on adventures and in turn, Katara is his fiercest supporter from the very beginning, something that he really needs after he lost all his people AND has to find out that the world thinks the war is sort of his fault. In turn, the journey to the North Pole is as important to Katara as it is to Aang, because it is her dream to learn waterbending properly. That’s what she literally says when Sokka & Co try to banish Aang: (Sokka: Where do you think you’re going? Katara: To find a waterbender. Aang is taking me to the North Pole.) In that way, they are friends who give and take equally and are equally taken care of. They even have the last Airbender/ last Southern Waterbender status that connects them. The few times they have a fight, Aang does something in the end to redeem himself (perform some heroic feat) and Katara sees that she is right to believe in him.

Aang has this very sweet crush on her and it will be very sweet and wholesome when Katara will return his feelings at the end of their adventure after he has hit puberty. On the other side, there is also some heavy shipbaiting with Zuko: I save you from the pirates. The betrothal necklace. June and her excellent shipping taste. But in the end they are enemies, they barely know each other and, come on, it would be too dark and intriguing! There is no real threat against friends to lovers Kat*ang, the soft heart of the story. It’s very straightforward and there are a lot of simple “the hero saves the day” scenes for Aang but that’s fine! It’s not really my kind of ship but that’s not the point, it works for the story they want to tell.

End of Book 1.

In my - probably harsh- opinion, everything you really need to know about the Kat*ang relationship has been told by this point. If you want to be really mean, already by Book 1, episode 3.

That explains maybe why many (not all! but many) pro-KA arguments sound as if their shippers have not watched Book 2 and 3 at all. The Book 1 synopsis also perfectly sums up Bry*ke’s quote above. But then Book 2 and 3 are still there and I don’t know what happened but it seems as if they somehow decided that the Kat*ang story does not need any new and lasting input. Maybe because they were afraid that too much new development and change would stray too far away from their original Kat*ang vision. But there are still 2 more books and more adventures and Kat*ang somehow has to be kept apart until the finale.

So the tension in their potential romance is based largely on the question whether or not Katara will return Aang’s feelings. In general I don’t have a problem with that will-she-won’t she-technique. It works well in books where the love interest is not a POV or in shows/ movies where the love interest is not one of the main characters. But Katara is not only the female lead but also arguably the narrative voice of the whole story! As a result, this kind of writing makes Katara look as if she doesn’t have any agency in their relationship, which is not surprisingly a very popular anti-KA criticism.

Additionally, since her dream - learning waterbending - has been fulfilled by the end of Book 1, the relationship work becomes a bit one-sided. Of course Aang is the hero and his journey is the heart of the story. But in order to highlight their special connection it would have helped to give Katara another personal agenda, which Aang could have supported in some way. She is still the last Southern Waterbender and he the Last Airbender but this is not really explored in the Kat*ang relationship. And her other personal agenda, her mother, is already reserved for the Zutara arc.

Instead, in Book 2 and 3 the Kat*ang story is somehow all over the place. Of course there is new conflict and a few romantic scenes as well. But obstacles are either introduced too late or just dropped when not needed anymore, conflict is not resolved and their flirty, romantic moments never lead anywhere- and if they do, they lead to more conflict that is not resolved (yes, I am looking at you, EIP Kiss!).

Take for example Katara’s very sudden argument that they cannot be together now because there is a war going on. We hear her saying that for the first time in the very last episode (EIP) before the 4-part finale. That is too late to have any impact! That she has these kinds of thoughts was never even alluded to before. Not once.

Or the pattern Aang runs away/ is flaky - Katara is upset - Aang comes back and does his hero thing - Katara is relieved. In regards to their relationship arc, nothing changes here between Book 1 and the finale, only the stakes for Aang’s heroic performances get higher.

Or Katara being the one who is able to calm Aang down when he cannot control the Avatar state (which, in my personal opinion, is neither romantic nor healthy). This is also connected to the problem with the seventh Chakra, that Aang needs to let go of his attachment for her. I will be angry forever with how they wasted this for a possible relationship development! That Aang has to decide to either do his duty or save his forever girl (because let’s be fair, he did try to let go and only ran when he had the vision of Katara in danger) - that’s a fantastic setup!

But no, it doesn’t have any real consequences for Kat*ang at all. Instead there were only half-baked attempts – Aang does lie about his failed practice with Guru Pathik but the ultimate reason why his chakra is blocked is Azula, not his decision to run. Aang does try to let go of Katara for a little bit but then Azula shoots him. Nothing in Book 3 shows any change in his feelings that could have been a result of his instant let-it-go. If anything, he gets weirdly obsessive - which could have been used as a side effect of his blocked chakra but – again, no, nothing happens.

I suspect the whole thing was just introduced to create temporary drama for poor Aang, but it is never explained why Katara holds him back, what aspect of the attachment is blocking him or what would happen if he did let her go. Maybe they tried to make a statement about how love is more important than Avatar rules – which would have been fine but it’s also never properly explored. Instead, as soon as that plot point becomes inconvenient it’s simply dropped like a random rock™.

Compare all that to the Zutara arc, where both characters’ feelings about each other are always very much in the open, and where every interaction causes lasting effects in their relationship. Yes, it is unfair to compare that to Kat*ang, because up to the end of Book 3, Zuko and Katara almost never meet, while Aang and Katara spend almost every episode together – of course they cannot do meaningful things all the time. But on the other side, with Kat*ang, there would have been a great chance to show a subtle, gradual build-up instead.

It also doesn’t help that the Zutara arc seems hellbent on sabotaging every romantic moment Aang is allowed to enjoy:

There is Kat*angs first maybe-kiss in the dark before the background of the Oma and Shu legend. But it does not lead anywhere. Instead, Zuko and Katara almost reenact the legend itself in the Book 2 finale as two real enemies to almost-friends, including a glowy rocks-backdrop and the right costume colours, just so nobody misses the message.

In Footloose The Headband, Aang and Katara have a really sweet dance together, and everybody can see how they almost intuitively know each other's moves. This could be a great hint on how well they will fight together in the finale. But is it plot-relevant? No, because the final tag team is Katara and Zuko! While Aang gets paired off with random rock™.

Then there is Aang’s riding off to battle- kiss in DotBS, which Katara is not even allowed to enjoy, because keeping her feelings vague is apparently more important than character development at this point. It is the only romantic moment that gets mentioned again, but in a way that sinks the former cute and wholesome ship into the deep ocean, and the reason is - Aang is jealous of Zuko!

If all of this was only done for the sake of shipbaiting, then it really went out of control at some point.

In the end, the showrunners still had their reasons to choose Kat*ang, maybe because that corresponded more to their own vision, and there are still enough people out there who agree with them. Which is absolutely fine! In the end, what matters most is how you personally connect to the characters and nobody needs to defend their personal taste. But the typical anti-ZK claim, that all the Zutarians with their crazy analysis and rambling meta essays are reaching and delusional and that they desperately try to construct something that isn’t there, is not only a very lazy argument but simply not true.

And I’d claim that in spite of the canon choice, Zutara is technically the better written relationship. By far.

#zutara #antikataang #anti kataang #anti-kataang #atla critical #atla writing critical #long post #atla meta

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fandomwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

Getaway Car

Another plot-filled Rick Flag fic from me! I might add another chapter if this goes over well so let me know your thoughts!

~2.2k words

Rated T

You're the Suicide Squad's getaway driver and you're got a serious crush on their commanding officer, Rick Flag.

You were what one might call a liability in the operation. You weren’t a soldier under Amanda Waller’s thumb, and you weren’t a prisoner that she could threaten. You were purely there for the thrill at first. But you kept coming back for him. Rick Flag. The commanding officer of your dreams, a real hero. You weren’t sure if you idolized him or wanted to fuck him. Maybe it was a bit of both.

But as you sat in the car and eyed up the team sprinting out of the building, you skipped to your getaway song - Brianstorm by Arctic Monkeys - and revved the engine.

“Punch it, Baby!” Harley cackled as the three prisoners (plus Rick) slammed themselves into your vehicle.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You thought it over as you narrowly evaded enemy trucks and sped down a dirt road. You were technically working for the law, so they shouldn’t need a getaway car, but they always were getting themselves into tight spots so you supposed it made sense.

It was a few minutes of beating drums, wild guitar solos, and Harley’s cackles as the playlist continued (House of the Rising Sun by the Animals came on just as you dared to slow down). You finally looked over to your right, and raised an eyebrow.

“You doing alright, Colonel?” You took stock of the dark, wet blood covering the left side of his face and the way he was cradling his right fist.

“Never better, darlin,” he offered you a signature smirk and you gave a nod before turning back to the road. You were on a main stretch now, paved and full of other vehicles. You’d likely lost your pursuers but it was your job to get away from them, so you kept an eye on the horizon behind you.

“How you always seem to be in the right place at the right time blows my mind, kid,” Boomer huffed a relieved laugh from the backseat.

“That’s sort of my job,” you replied in kind, smirking into the rearview mirror as you pulled onto the highway that would take you straight back to Belle Reve.

“You don’t talk about your job much though, I noticed,” he pushed and you rolled your eyes. You didn’t talk about yourself, and you didn’t talk about how you got into the getaway business.

“I like to have an air of mystery,” you caught the amused smile Rick tried to hide and brushed your hair back out of your eyes.

“What I’m wonderin,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken, his accent coming through as he leaned forward through the gap between you and Rick. “Is how a pretty young thing like you got involved with a cold hearted bitch like Amanda Waller.”

You tightened your grip on the wheel (hopefully imperceptibly), and offered a light smile over to him.

“We’ve all got a past, Boomerang Man. Mine didn’t land me in prison, but I’m still here working for you weirdos,” you laughed and signaled your exit towards the Louisiana based metahuman prison.

“I’ll get your story some day, sweet cheeks, you’ll see,” he leaned back as you showed your identification to the guard and pulled into the penitentiary.

After you let the three prisoners off at their dropoff location (like a bunch of kindergarteners going to school), you pulled up to the employee parking area.

“You sure you’re alright?” You were quieter this time, worriedly glancing over at Rick again now that you were alone.

“Don’t you go worrying about me, pretty girl,” he pulled out all the stops with the cute pet name and the thousand megawatt smile, eyes warm and inviting. You were a goner, and you immediately dropped the subject. “I’ll see you in the debrief room,” you sighed after he’d closed the door and pulled the vehicle into your spot.

Another day, another debrief with that fucking psychopath Waller.

You smoothed down your jeans and t-shirt, you might work for the (wo)man, but you weren’t about to dress like a stuck up business person, or like a prison guard. You were too young for that bullshit.

“Baby,” Amanda Waller greeted you as you passed her into the meeting room. You hid your smirk, as you always did, when you took your seat. You’d forged all of your documentation upon taking this job, knowing that you didn’t want this woman knowing anything about your personal life. She didn’t know your real name, hell, she might not even know that Baby was your pseudonym. You sort of felt bad that you hadn’t ever told Rick your name, but you couldn’t risk it.

The debrief was a mess. You’d gotten out with the information the team went in for, but two out of the four of them were injured. Including the Colonel.

“Seems like the only person doing their job here is the fucking chauffer,” Waller spat before turning her eyes on a still-bloodied Rick Flag. “You can do better than this,” she spoke quietly before walking out. The others emptied out, leaving you leaning back in your chair, cotton candy pink Barbie™ t-shirt nearly glowing in the fluorescent lighting.

“I think you’re going to give her an aneurysm. She doesn’t know your identity and you don’t follow the dress code,” Rick had his eyes closed at the end of the long table, but he somehow knew you were alone in there together. You bit your lip. So she knew ‘Baby’ was a pseudonym. Good to know.

“She can’t get rid of me, she needs me,” you shrugged, nonchalant, but this was the wrong answer and you knew it immediately. You’d been working with Rick long enough to see the telltale signs of stress. Tightened shoulders, biceps bulging in his uniform, that vein struggling at his throat.

“You should be out there living your life, Baby,” his eyes shot open, darker than you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t be working yourself to death for Amanda Waller. Not like me and these guys. You don’t have a reason to be here,” you looked down, picking at the skull ring on your middle finger. You did have a reason. You were addicted to the feeling of being near Rick. You were obsessed with the way he spoke to you, the way he leaned in close when he was joking around with you, the way his eyes lit up when you made him laugh.

“I’m not about to tell you my life story in an audio and visually recorded meeting room,” you finally spoke, tone harsher than you intended. You stood, turned away from him and towards the door, your voice carrying as you exited. “You’re gonna have to buy me a drink if you want to get anything out of me.”

You didn’t look back to see the slack-jawed look on his face as you sauntered out of the debrief room.

You were in the deep swamp lands of Central Florida this time. Not your favorite place to be. You were blasting the air conditioning in the car as Stick Up by grandson blasted through the car stereo, your favorite angry song to listen to. This wasn’t a job you wanted to be on, but you had a contract and you were making money, and you got to work with Rick again, so it was alright. But it was a new team. Harley was out of jail and Boomer was injured from a prison fight. They were the two people you normally worked with other than Rick.

You had a gut feeling that something was going to go down, but you didn’t know what.

“Start the car!” one of the new members shouted and you frowned. The car was on already. But whatever, you shifted into Drive and waited for Rick and Co. to make it to the car. Only it was just the one guy. He hopped into the backseat and stared at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing, get us out of here!” He was shouting but you aggressively put the car into Park.

“Where’s Rick? Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Dude, get us out of here!” The man was clearly panicking, and you glanced over at the building the team were supposed to infiltrate, biting your lip.

“Baby, why aren’t you moving?” Waller asked in your ear.

“It’s just the circus freak dude, no Rick, and no team members,” you replied calmly. “What are my orders?”

“Get us out!” The circus freak dude in question (you didn’t bother to ask his name), was bemoaning your existence from the backseat and you snapped. You jerked the center console open and pulled out your gun, pointing it back at him.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut you up myself,” you put all of your fear, rage, and contempt into your glare, staring down the psycho prisoner just enough to put the fear of a woman into him, and he backed down.

“Colonel Flag is alive in there, but he’s the last one. Get in there, pick him up, and get out,” you grinned, shark-like at Waller’s voice. You could do that. You revved the engine, put the car into Drive, and hauled ass towards the building. You tuned out the moaning and wailing from the backseat and flicked the switch that activated your enhanced shields. With that in place, you drove straight towards the brick building at full speed. You could do this. You could do this. You hyped yourself up and didn’t flinch when the car made impact with the wall, immediately breaking through and skidding into a large open room. You looked around, assessing the group of men with guns pointing towards a closed door. Rick must be in there. You flipped another switch, this one with a gun sticker above it, and pulled at the steering wheel to aim the guns that came out of the front of the car. When all of the men finally turned towards you, you opened fire on them.

You’d killed for Waller before, usually by hitting people with the car, and while this was thrilling, you’d never had to actually use a gun on someone before. When they were all down, you pulled the car up, trying to ignore the crunching of bodies under the tires and opened the passenger side window.

“Get in the fucking car, Flag,” you screeched, and the door creaked the tiniest bit open. Rick peeked his head out, looked around for a hot second before locking eyes with you, and walked over before putting his ass in the passenger seat.

“I didn’t know the car had a gun in it,” he muttered, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Oh she has several,” the circus dude piped up from the back, and Rick side eyed you before promptly yelling at the other for leaving him behind. You took that as your cue to get the fuck out of there.

“You haven’t said anything in two hours,” Rick finally said as you entered Louisiana. He’d been on the phone with Waller for a while and then writing his debrief up on his phone.

“I’ve never shot anyone before. It’s a tad stressful,” you didn’t let on how nerve-wracking it had been to think you’d lost him, but you especially didn’t let on how freaked out you were about opening fire on a group of over a dozen men. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the road. He nodded in understanding. You didn’t want to talk about it. You appreciated his silence. When you finally dropped the circus dude off you had about six minutes before making it back to Rick’s dropoff.

“Baby?” He asked as you slowed down for a stop sign. You hummed in question, but he put his hand over yours, and you kept your foot on the brake as he shifted the car into park. You looked over at him, a frown on your face until he reached out and cupped your jaw with one calloused palm. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and it felt like time wasn’t passing anymore.

“Thank you for coming back for me,” he murmured, and damn you thought he might kiss you. He didn’t, though. He tucked a stray piece of hand behind your ear, the feel of his fingertips caressing your neck made you shiver, and he smirked at the sight. It suddenly dawned on you.

He knew exactly what he did to you. He knew exactly how he was making you feel. That turned you the fuck on. He was teasing you.

“I think I’d like to take you out for that drink tonight, darlin. Maybe you’ll give me a good story. Maybe I’ll finally get your name,” he was so close to you, and god but you wanted to kiss him. But as you leaned in, he leaned back with a growing grin.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get what you want, too,” he whispered before sitting back in his seat. “I’ll grab you after the debrief,” and that was him dismissing your advances until a later time. So, you put the car into Drive and pulled up to his drop off location. Luckily it had taken all day to get back to Belle Reve, so you’d only have to wait for the debrief to be over and it would be around eight at night. You’d finally get a drink with Rick tonight. You smiled to yourself as you pulled the car into your spot. Things would be changing.

#rick flag imagine #rick flag x you #rick flag imagines #rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag x female reader #baby driver inspired #dceu fanfiction #rick flag fanfic #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag dc #the suicide squad #getaway car

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years

Text

One of my favorite narrative choices/interpretations in twdg is how tied together Clementine’s “death” scene and Lee’s death are. Yeah sure, there are the obvious visual parallels but that’s not exactly what I’m talking about.

For the longest time, I was one of the people who always shot Lee, y’know? It just makes sense, you can’t let Lee become a walker, it’s so much more tragic for Clementine to be the one to put him down. Clearly shooting him is the right answer. After all, the player percentages don’t lie.

But then years passed and I eventually played the other route where I asked Clementine to leave Lee, and I am no longer one of those people.

Don’t get me wrong. Both endings make me cry. They’re powerful in different ways, but there’s something about the way that leaving Lee to turn into a walker can affect an interpretation of TFS and Clementine as a character.

[note: this turned into a bit of a Clementine character analysis and it’s long and I’m sorry that this is the way I am]

Y’see, having played through the series as much as I have, I’ve grown to love this narrative that you can build leading back to this choice and the ways it stuck with Clementine over the years, and subsequently affects the way she raises AJ.

When you ask Clementine to leave Lee, he gets the chance to give her a little more advice and it get progressively heavy:

Lee: You can leave me. It's okay.

Clementine: You'll be just like them.

Lee: It's okay. It won't be me.

Clementine: Lee...

Lee: Clem, it's time to go. You gotta get out of here.

Clementine: You can come with me.

Lee: No, honey, I can't. It's okay.

Clementine: Please?

Lee: You have to go, now.

Clementine: Maybe...maybe...I shouldn't let you turn.

Lee: I don't want you to have to do that.

From here, you have a set of options that allows Lee to explain why she shouldn’t shoot him: Shooting people changes you and Lee doesn’t want Clem to get used to that, she can remember him alive as her last memory of him rather than her shooting him, she should save the bullet, or the noise will draw more attention than it’s worth.

After that, depending on your choices, he’ll further explain himself. I usually get:

Lee: Pulling the trigger of a gun and ending a life, Clem...you feel yourself lose something every time. The first time, the most. Don't do it unless you absolutely have to.

Clementine: I'll go. I'll...leave you. I'll go as fast as I can.

Lee: And as safe as you can. Always be safe.

Lee is barely breathing at this point, he can’t keep his eyes open, he looks like he’s on the verge of turning into a walker at any moment. Clementine, gun her in her little hands, turns to him and one last time, asks him not to go.

Like… the whole scene is more than enough to make you teary eyed.

There are a lot of reasons for making this choice, most of which you’re allowed to explain through Lee. Some people have a more logical take on this by saying that it doesn’t matter if Lee turns or not, Clementine isn’t in danger with him chained up, therefore she doesn’t have to waste a bullet in killing him. That bullet might be the difference between life and death in the future.

Then there’s a more emotional approach of not wanting Clementine to be the one to have to kill Lee, forever traumatizing her even further after everything she went through with the stranger and her parents. Lee can’t ask her to do that, he can’t force this little girl to kill him just so that he won’t turn into a walker. It’ll change her.

I like to think it’s all of the above. Lee’s made sure that he can’t get to her, she’s armed and knows how to protect herself, and he cares more about her having an extra bullet that could save her life rather than wasting it on him when no matter what, death is inevitable for him. It’s like what he says about Larry if you tried to save him:

“It's like with Larry, honey. He was goin', one way or another. But at that moment I couldn't do more violence. You have to be careful about that. It'll consume you.”

She shouldn’t do that if she doesn’t have to. Lee has no idea what’s going to happen after he dies, if he’ll just be dead and gone or if part of him will remain as a walker, or something else. He reassures her that the walker left in his place won’t actually be him, but no one actually knows that. Yet, that doesn’t matter, he cares more about Clementine than himself at this point.

But what does this choice do to Clementine?

Sure, she doesn’t have to live with the fact that she killed the man who swore to protect her, even after she was indirectly responsible for him getting bitten in the first place. He asked her to leave him there, to let him become a monster, to leave before she could see him like that. He makes sure she knows that this was the right thing, the best thing for everyone, and I do think she believed him, or at least want to, in that moment. Underneath her grief and stress of the worst day of her life, she at least had Lee’s last words to her and his reassurance that she’s going to make it through this.

But then we move onto the other seasons, and Clementine isn’t the little girl she was in the first season. Season two is pretty much summed up with: “Clementine does ANYTHING and gets punished for it.”

She goes through so much shit in S2. You can try to make all the morally good choices you want and Clementine will still end up getting slapped around, people she grows to care about fall dead all around her, and she gets a lot of blame for it. She’s forced to kill a dog that attacks her, Kenny lashes out at her more than once, blaming her for Sarita’s death no matter what you do, she can’t save Sarah, she couldn’t save Luke, everything is falling apart and by the end, everyone’s fucking dead with the exception of either Jane or Kenny, depending on you choices.

Clementine carries all this shit with her, like Kenny and Bonnie telling her that just because she’s a little girl, she thinks she can get people killed and it’s okay since she’s sorry. Of course she’s going to internalize all of it and bring it back to Lee. She has conversations with Kenny where she’ll open up about how it was her fault he died. Kenny, for all his faults, will usually try to reassure her that it wasn’t.... but then pulls the shit he does so y’know... mixed messages that help no one.

But by the end of it, no matter what ending you get, little newborn AJ is left in Clementine’s care.

From all of this, we know that Clementine tends to blame herself for the deaths of those she cares about, which is traced back to Lee. It’s when we get to ANF that her tune changes a bit. She’s jaded, bitter, selfish, and Lee was right..... all of this violence did change her.

I mean, she just fucking shoots the guy who traded her bad bullets, and while she didn’t mean to... she still pointed a loaded gun at his head and pulled the trigger, something Lee taught her to never do unless she had to. Then, she wants Javi to cover for her, to lie... and if you don’t, because hey murder and lying bad, she gets upset and tries to make Javi feel like an asshole for telling the truth rather than validating her actions.

When I say ANF Clementine is my least favorite, it’s because her behavior, while it makes sense, is so frustrating and unbearable at times. It making sense doesn’t excuse it.

She steals, lies, pulls several Kennys where she gets pissy when you don’t do what she wants you to, is willing to assist in Lingard’s death if it benefits her without even considering any other options or what a dark place he’s in, and she’s at a point where she just assumes everyone around her will inevitably die or leave her. That’s just what happens, that’s why she’s alone, and as a means of coping, she tries to spin it this way to alleviate some of the pain she’s had thrown at her for years.

Now, ANF Clementine isn’t all bad, she has a lot of redeeming moments where the Clem I knew in the past two seasons will shine through. You as Javi can help her grow and get onto a better path than the one she was goin’ down. She makes friends with Gabe, which is important since as far as we know, she hasn’t had a friend close to her age since Sarah. She has hope again after David tells her AJ survived, and she has more than just survival on her mind.

It’s just.... it’s sad to think that she’s at a point where she seems to have momentarily forgotten Lee’s final words to her. And when I think about it..... this behavior would almost make more sense if she DID shoot Lee, y’know? But in this timeline we’re discussing, she didn’t, she left him to turn and he gave his reasons for why he wanted that... but she still ended up this way. Nothing he could say or do could’ve prevented that.

But at the end of ANF, Clementine has one goal: get AJ back.

Through all of this, through ANF and before the events of TFS... I truly believe that Clementine lost herself.

She’s forgotten a lot of the things Lee taught her, she’s forgotten about her parents in the sense of “what would they think if they saw me now,” she’s overwhelmed with all that bad that those good things, that hope she had, has been put on the backburner.

She’s been forced to live in a world that’s cruel to you no matter if you’re “good” or “bad”, and that can put you into that selfish mindset where you tend to just disregard everyone you don’t have any emotional connection to, and even then, people you’re close to will get the same treatment, whether intentional or not. It’s unflattering, unlikable, and the only reason more people don’t see that is because it’s Clementine.

It gets to a point where she has a few different paths she can go on, and right now, she’s on a destructive one.

I think through knowing the Garcia’s, she was put on a better path but she’s still lost. She’s hyper focused on getting AJ back. Nothing else matters, nothing will stand in her way, and that leads to a breaking point in her character.

So...the McCarroll Ranch flashback is a thing.

The varying interpretations of this scene are interesting to discuss.

Some will say Clementine was continuing her extremely selfish and destructive behavior when she found the ranch in flames and was willing to commit more murder in order to get AJ back, even if it meant traumatizing him with the death of his caretaker, and if she had shown up earlier before they were under attack, who knows how far she would’ve gone to take him away.

Others say no, that Clementine found the ranch compromised, she was acting in self-defense when she shot Eddie and AJ’s caretaker, Helen. It was either her or Clementine, as Helen was pulling a gun out when she spotted Clem, who reacted accordingly. If she hadn’t shown up, perhaps AJ wouldn’t be alive right now. We don’t know.

For me, it’s a bit of both. She finds the ranch and panics because yeah, it’s on fire and there are assholes running around, shooting the place up. She holds Eddie at gunpoint, demanding to know where the kids are. He thinks she’s another asshole raider and even tells her that he’s not gonna let her take a kid, and she kills him. She doesn’t try to explain herself, she just demands the info and kills him. It’s not great, but yeah, he would've hurt her if she didn’t kill him.

Then, she hears Helen talking to AJ, who is in the locker. I don’t know why she didn’t say anything. There isn’t an option to. Maybe she thought silence was the more peaceful route, or it would give her an upper hand. But, then Helen hears here and panics, pulls out a gun, and Clementine shoots her.

This is the moment.

She shoots this woman in the children’s room, and after examining her body, realizes that she was the one caring for AJ. Clementine is looking over this woman, and you get pieces of her thoughts like-

“She was taking care of him”

“I had no choice”

“I’m sorry”

Then, Clementine finally gets what she’s longed for- she has AJ back... and he’s covered in blood, sobbing, terrified of her. She coaxes him out of the locker and he sees his caretaker dead on the floor.

This scene, with Clementine looking at the body, walking through rubble and fire to put AJ in the car, he’s staring up at her with this unfamiliar look in his eyes.... and she stops for a second...

I truly feel like this is the moment where Clementine is suddenly hit by everything all at once, and she’s actually questioning, “Oh god..... who am I? How did I get here and what have I done?”

She did all of this for AJ, and now she has him, so it was worth it, right? Everything she did was a necessary evil and it was worth it... right?

... but imagine if Clementine did inject Lingard, killing him. She assisted in a man's death to get here. Was taking his life necessary? If you know how the choices work, then no, it’s not. But Clementine doesn’t know that.

If you stopped her, then she still gunned down several people to stand where she is. She’s has left AJ so wounded by killing Helen, and while we know she didn’t have a choice in the moment, AJ doesn’t understand that. He doesn’t even recognize Clementine and she can see that in the way he looks at her.

“Pulling the trigger of a gun and ending a life, Clem...you feel yourself lose something every time.....”

TFS is where I think Clementine has found herself again and that’s why she’s more balanced and likable, and there are more references to Lee and her parents.... yeah, I know it’s mostly the writers doing it for fanservice and to make us cry, but I’m choosing to look at it in the narrative rather than with that intention.

Clementine has AJ back, she’s been raising him the best way she can, she’s taught him to use a gun since he needs to protect himself, and Lee taught her when she was little, too. She’s taught him to read, taught him survival techniques she’s picked up, all that. She’s also more playful with him, she smiles more. She’s not a bitter 13-year-old like in ANF. Survival and safety is #1 and her attitude is mostly serious, but she isn’t afraid to tease or be a little silly.

But here’s the deal..... usually when I replay the series, I’ll leave Lee to turn but I’ll have Clementine tell AJ that if she ever gets bit, he’ll shoot her.

“What?” I hear you say. “But... haven’t you been rambling on and on about how murder bad and how leaving Lee was better because she didn’t have to live with the fact that she killed him?? but you want AJ to?? CJ you make no sense!”

I know that, but allow me to elaborate. Remember, this is all my interpretation after years of replaying this series. This is the narrative I find most enjoyable. This is my Clementine and the way I interpret her.

So, Clementine listens to Lee and leaves him to turn into a walker. He tells her that it won’t be him, he’ll be dead and gone, save the bullet. Yeah, yeah, I already covered this. But remember my “what does this do to Clementine?” question?

I swingin’ back to it because I didn’t really answer it directly, now did I? It’s basically followed up with another question: What if Clementine comes to regret leaving Lee instead of shooting him?

She herself even says that maybe she shouldn’t let him turn, and he tells her he doesn’t want her to have to do that. She listened to him, and left him behind to turn into one of the monsters that tore their world apart. She’s lived with the fact that she’s the reason Lee was bitten, that he died.... but there was always another thing that pricked needles into her guilt: Lee’s a walker. He’s going to spend the rest of eternity as a walker handcuffed to a heater. There is the big possibility that no one will ever find him, will never kill this walker version of him.

Was that the right thing to do?

I don’t know about you, but the walker debate is kinda fun to explore, and oh boy, do they try to explore it in TFS.

It’s easy for us to be like “Nope, there is nothing to walkers because they’re dead. Nothing human is left behind. Leaving Lee is fine.”

…but then I have to ask, why did most people shoot him when the episode released? Why do people still pick that option? You don’t want Lee to be a walker, but at the same time, it’s actually fine because nothing about him would be left behind?

Is it because you couldn’t handle seeing him as a walker and didn’t know if the ending would show it or not? It doesn’t, you know that now. Were you afraid he would hurt anyone else? Well, you chained him up. He’s not going anywhere. He’s no longer a threat.

So why do so many people still choose to shoot Lee and insist it’s the right choice even if by this logic, it doesn’t matter if he’s a walker because it’s not him? Save the bullet, don’t put Clementine through that, right?

Maybe you just like the way the tragedy plays out when Clementine shoots him, and that’s perfectly fine. Maybe you don’t believe there’s more to walkers, but still pick this because how can you not? It’s Lee! He can’t become a walker.

Again, I feel you. My reasons for always shooting him in the past were that. It’s Lee, he can’t become a walker. I can’t do that to him. I love him, and that would be wrong.

But that’s the thing... I believe we’re not the only ones having this debate. Clementine is having this internal debate within herself at different points over the series, but it’s especially prominent in TFS.

Lee asked her to leave him, but was that really the right thing to do? He took care of her, saved her life and taught her to survive, and after he was bitten, she left him to turn into a monster. He didn’t deserve that, but his final wish was for her to leave. Should she have shot him anyway, ignoring his wishes? Would that have been worse? Disrespectful? Is it okay to ignore his wish if you think he’s wrong and you think you know what’s best?

What if there is a part of him still inside that walker form? There’s no way to know that. What if she condemned a part of him to cruel fate because she didn’t shoot him? What if he’s truly gone and she’s worrying herself over nothing? What if she had shot him and needed that bullet later, or what if the noise drew attention?

...What about her parents? They were walkers, too... roaming the street together... are they suffering, too? Or are they truly gone?

I believe this is what lead to her decision to tell AJ that if she ever gets bitten, he should shoot her. All of these thoughts and regrets can resurface depending on your choices, like in the dorms at the beginning of ep2.

AJ: You told me your friend Lee became a monster. But you didn't kill him... because he wasn't a threat. Is that why you didn't kill him?

Clementine: He didn't want me to. He said it would change me forever. But I know he...

AJ: He became a monster. Do you wish you did?

Clementine: Yeah.... Every day.

Or, alternatively:

Clementine: How can you ask me that? What you did is completely different.

AJ: I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you mad, at all.

Clementine: .....I...I can still hear him. Telling me not to do it.

AJ: I said I'm sorry.

Clementine: ...I still hear it, sometimes.

and yeah, yeah, I know that this isn’t canon for everyone. Reminder that this is my Clementine interpretation and it’ll probably differ from yours, hence why we’re going over these specific choices.

Looking at these responses, Clementine admits that she wishes she had shot Lee, that even though he told her that it would change her and she shouldn’t have to... she still left him to die alone and change. Maybe she doesn’t even fully understand WHY he asked her to do that... why didn’t he ask her to shoot him? Did he think she couldn’t? Even though he kept telling her that she had it in her to defend herself? Wasn’t he scared of what would happen afterward? What if Lee was so sick and out of it due to the bite that he wasn’t thinking right?

Again, all these kinds of questions could possibly run through her mind, which in turn affects her choice with AJ. She doesn’t want him to go through what she did, to regret letting her turn into another monster. It’ll change him to shoot her, but it’ll also change him to let her turn.... maybe shooting her is the lesser of two evils.

The thing about Clementine is that she’s not a perfect teacher, she doesn’t have all the answers, and all of her experiences reflect in the choices she makes with AJ. She’s trying her best. She loves AJ, he’s her family and she wants what’s best for him. She wants him to be strong, to be a better survivor who can take care of himself if something ever happened to her. But, she’s doesn’t know everything, and she forgets that yeah, AJ’s a kid... and so is she. She’s not some thirty something who has all this world experience and can always make logical decisions in every situation, and neither was Lee.

AJ sees this towards the end of the season when he starts questioning her.

AJ: I always listened to Clem. Always. But...I've been thinking more. I don't know if she's right every time.

So while she truly believes that this is the best thing... she also won’t take AJ himself into account. Well, she does but she fails to ask him what he wants, what he thinks, and when he starts questioning her, she becomes defensive and makes him promise that he’ll shoot her even though he’s saying he doesn’t want to.

Which leads me to two particular scenes that I think reopen the wounds and reaffirm Clementine’s thoughts and fears. We’ll start with the obvious one: James.

I know it’s easy to just call James and his dumb walkers crazy, that walkers aren’t people, yada yada. But for fun, let’s indulge him for a moment. James is a fascinating character study with the way he’s come to view walkers, and he eventually shares these beliefs with Clementine when she asks him for help, and when you leave Lee to turn, you get this conversation:

James: They used them as a weapon. I do this...to protect them. I know it sounds strange. But that's why I brought you here. To see them as I do. As people.

Clementine: As...people?

James: Well, not people, exactly. But... Something in between. Part of us is still in there. Deep down. So few of us die anymore. We turn. Not dead, not alive.

Clementine: God, I hope that's not true. That sounds like Hell.

James: To you, maybe. I think it seems...peaceful.

AJ: Do you really think there's people inside of monsters?

James: Somewhere, yes. Think about it this way... Has someone you cared about turned?

Clementine doesn’t respond.

AJ: Clem's friend, Lee. She let him... but wishes she didn’t.

James: Do you really think...there's nothing left of who he was?

Here’s where my Clementine will remain silent, as you can either agree or disagree with him which doesn’t feel right for her, in this case. Though a little annoying that James takes your silence personally and won’t talk about Charlie later BUT that’s a topic for another ramble.

Anyway, Clementine doesn’t want to think about this. She’s thought about it enough, let it eat away at her longer than she should’ve, and now James is here asking her if she truly believes there’s nothing left inside the walker Lee became? She doesn’t have time to reflect on this, she has to get James’ help to save her friends.

However, I believe this conversation stuck with her, and that’s why she gets more defensive when AJ brings up the idea that if Clem gets bit, then she should bite him, too. Like.... No, absolutely not, AJ. That’s not what we agreed on to do if she gets bit. He’ll shoot her.

Clementine: AJ, we've talked about this. A lot. If I get bit, you know what has to happen.

AJ: I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Clementine: But you brought it up, so we're going to.

AJ: It does something weird to my stomach. Like I'm gonna get the dookies.

Clementine: AJ, I need to know you remember what we talked about. What you're supposed to do if it happens. Listen to me. If I get bit, you'll...?

AJ doesn’t respond.

Clementine: Shoot--

AJ: No! No, I'm not gonna do that.

Clementine: AJ, you promised.

AJ: I don't care. I'm not gonna shoot you! If you get bit, I'd want you to bite me, too.

Clementine: What? You don't mean that.

AJ: I don't want to be alone. Please don't be mad. I can't live with you not with me, Clem. I know we've talked about it. So much. But don't make me.

And like.... here’s an interesting thing if Clementine doubles down on this:

Clementine: Alvin Junior, if you have a gun, you shoot me. If you don't, you use your knife. No knife, a rock to the head. As many times as you have to.

AJ: I said I don't wanna!

Clementine: I don't care what you said. You will do it.

AJ: I don't care what you say!

Clementine: Goddamn it, AJ! You can't break promises.

Like jesus. She is once again so blinded by what she believes is right and what is the best option for AJ that she’s not even thinking about the fact that she’s telling him that yeah, if you have no other options, bash my face in with a rock! Holy shit, Clementine! She isn’t understanding a big thing here, the thing that factored into why Lee told her to leave him.

Of course, there are less harsh responses but I find that one particularly interesting.

Now, lemme explore the other scene: Abel.

So, the beginning of ep3 has Clementine and AJ talking to a tied up Abel about where the raiders took our friends. But it doesn’t take long before Abel starts spitting up blood and panicking that something’s wrong.

Abel: Shit... I never wanted things to end like this. Everything...it all got out of hand. Now look at me. I'm a fucking mess.

AJ: Will he turn?

Abel: No! ...My...my whole life, everything I ever got, I got with my own two hands and...and my will. For my body to turn on me...to take control... I'll tell you where to find Lilly. Just promise you won't let me turn. I'm begging you.

Look, I hate Abel, he sucks..... but I also really like him as an antagonistic character and what they did with him here.

So, we have Abel here begging for them to make sure he doesn’t turn... because Abel believes that letting some turn is cruel, he’ll even admit that he believes there are people inside of walkers and that’s why you put a bullet in them, no one deserves to be a walker.

Abel: You wouldn't do it...you wouldn't let me become...one of those things. What if they...what if they can feel it...when they turn?!

And after he gives you the info-

Abel: You got what you wanted. Please, don't let me become one of those things. Please... I don't want to turn...

Do keep in mind that this happens before the James scene, too. Clementine’s already got this on her mind when she meets up with him and the barn scene plays out.... but this whole thing with Abel is a lot. You can be cruel and torture him or you can play nice, or you can do a bit of both.

And by the way, if you let him turn, it reeeally fucks with AJ. So that’s fun.

Now not only is Clementine trying to work out a plan to get her friends back and trying to protect AJ and all that, but she’s also dealing with these thoughts and ideas presented by Abel and James..... and like, yeah I know the Lee dream sequence was intended for fanservice and to make us cry.... but I dunno, kinda funny timing that she would have a dream about Lee that night after going through both of those events in the same day as well as doing prep to infiltrate the boat.

While I love the dream sequence and this interpretation I’m talking about probably wasn’t all that intentional given that this would've been the perfect moment to explore or even hint at it but they don’t.... but it’s fine, it’s perfectly logical that she’s more worried about her friends who are still alive rather than if she did the right thing with Lee.

I think it’s time I move onto the actual bitten Clementine stuff before this turns into a novel sooo.... Clementine gets bit after she and AJ get separated from Louis/Violet/Tenn. She’s bitten on her wounded leg, and after all the chaos of getting away from walkers and climbing up to safety... Clementine just lies there for a bit.

And you can feel it, y’know? She and AJ knew what happened, but Clementine still has to confirm it... and when she pulls away part of her boot to reveal the bite... she lets out a deep breath and says she got bit..... but they gotta keep moving forward. No time, gotta get up, gotta keep moving, gotta get AJ to safety. Nothing else matters.

So they walk. They walk until it’s morning and Clementine starts to look awful... and I think most of us took this opportunity to tell AJ she loves him.

Then all hell breaks loose, they’re surrounded by walkers and have to hide out in James’ walker barn, but Clementine’s too weak to fight. This is when the game starts to have us take control of AJ, switching us between the two as Clementine shoots walkers and AJ shuts the doors.

Until Clementine runs out of ammo.

The walkers are locked out, they’re catching their breath... and now they have a whole new problem to deal with. Clementine’s bitten, and AJ, similar to how little Clementine was, tells Clementine she needs to try to get up and leave with him.

Clementine: Good job, AJ. You did it.

AJ: Now what?

Clementine: You need to find a way out of here.

AJ: We can climb up there. The monsters can't reach us up there. Let's go. Easy climb. C'mon. Please...try. You can't give up! You can't give up! I need you! I need you...

She can’t get up.

Clementine: I'm so sorry, kiddo. This is just what happens sometimes.

AJ: But...but it wasn't supposed to happen to you!

Sigh.... now here it is. This is another big moment in Clementine’s character that changes everything. It’s that moment at McCarroll Ranch again- it all hits her at once.

Clementine: I need to make sure you remember.

AJ: Remember what?

Clementine: The rules. What's number one?

AJ: Never...never go alone. So...so I can't leave. Not without you.

Clementine: AJ...

AJ: It's your rule!

Clementine: You won't be alone. Not for long. Get back to the school.

AJ: I don't know how.

Clementine: Sure you do. One of the first things I ever taught you. You need to make sure they can't smell you. So... grab that axe.

She’s dying, she’s going to die and leave AJ behind.

Clementine: Next rule: what do we do when the monsters come?

AJ: Clem...

Clementine: AJ...

AJ: Shoot them in the head.

Clementine: Got any more ammo?

AJ: There isn't any more.

Clementine: Okay, then. Fuck. And...the last rule?

AJ: I want to stay. With you. I know what will happen. And...and I don't care. I don't want to go. I just want to sit next to you and...and stay. Like that monster couple, from the train station. No one would hurt us. Just...sitting. Forever.

Clementine: I don't want you to leave, either.

AJ: Then don't make me!

Clementine: But it's not about what I want. It's about what you need. And you need to go.

AJ: Okay, Clem. Okay.

Clementine: Last rule.

AJ: No...

Clementine: What do we do if I get bit? ....Are you gonna make me say it?

And this is Clementine truly realizes, understands for the first time why Lee made the choice he did... why he asked her to leave him.

Clementine: Just leave.

AJ: I can't let you turn into a monster.

Clementine: You have to.

AJ: But before, you said...

Clementine: I know. But now that we're here... My heart is saying something else.

She finally gets it.

When Lee said she’s in his shoes now...? She IS in his shoes finally understanding a part of their situation years ago that she never could. For years, she questioned how he could ask her to leave him, WHY he did. She questioned if she did the right thing, regretted listening to him.... but now that they’re here and she’s presented with the same choice Lee was... she understands why her reasons for asking AJ to shoot her if she gets bitten were skewed, that what she thought was preventively protecting him from more hurt was only doing more damage. He’s already taken a life, and just like Lee said, he’s losing a part of himself every time he does it, and if she told him to shoot Lilly, too? and if he shot Tenn?

What is killing Clementine with an axe going to do to AJ?

What is leaving Clementine to become a walker going to do to him?

What is the right thing to do?

Well, for Clementine, her answer is to ask him to leave. She knows she told him differently, but that was when this scenario was merely a “what if?” Now it’s happening and she sees the errors in her thinking, and no matter what happens now, she’s going to die. Maybe she’ll feel it, like Abel said. Maybe James is right and she’ll spend the rest of her undead life alone in this barn. Maybe nothing will happen. It doesn’t matter.

But... we all know, AJ has another solution up his sleeve that Clementine never considered.

He turns to leave her... and then turns back around and disobeys her wishes... and chops off her bitten leg.

And she fucking survives.

Clementine survives her walker bite.

AJ did what little Clementine back in s1 couldn’t do... he didn’t listen to her, and this time, it worked in their favor.

Clementine: When we were in the barn, you didn't listen to me. And if you had...I'd be dead. You'll have to be strong for the both of us.

AJ: You made it so I can. So...thank you. For everything.

Clementine: You're welcome. For everything.

Clementine still has a lot of things to work though, especially now that she only has one leg. She can’t move around the way she could before, she has to completely relearn how to walk on crutches, possibly a peg leg. She gets to sit down and breathe, rely on others and do some reflection on who she is and come to terms with all the pain she suffered, and grow from there.

Now that she understands why Lee did what he did, she can take a step in the right direction of forgiving herself, to atone for all the mistakes she’s made and the people she’s hurt.

She has a boyfriend/girlfriend/friends there at her side to listen and love her, she has AJ, she has her lovable pupper Rosie, and she has a home... for the first time since she was little, she has a home and she can find herself again. Keep movin’ forward.

This is my favorite line of choices, my favorite way to interpret the connection between Lee and Clementine’s scenes, and how I view Clementine’s growth and understanding as a character in TFS. There are so many ways for it all to play out, no Clementine is the same between players, and I dunno I just... I find the whole thing so compelling.

Clementine is such a fun character to discuss, to compare interpretations of, and I’m sorry for such a long post but this is another thing I’ve wanted to throw out there for a while. Now that I’m done, I’m gonna go make some tea and chill out.

#twdg #twdg clementine #twdg lee #twdg aj #twdg kenny #twdg javi #long post #twdg james #twdg abel

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Perks of the Job | dark!Boba Fett x reader x (soft)dark!Din Djarin

summary: the only thing worse than one bounty hunter on your trail is two. the only thing worse than a bounty hunter who wants to abuse you is a bounty hunter who wants to make you into a lesson for his makeshift apprentice. the only thing worse than a villain is a villain who thinks he’s a hero.

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut (noncon, including vaginal, oral m receiving, anal, and dp… so you know, basically everything), a specific kink of mine which I have dubbed "no, not there!" or NNT for short (betcha can guess what that means), din catching feelings lowkey, hair pulling, choking, bondage, forced begging, all the good stuff

Boba had proven to be unendingly useful in bounty missions, even if he was a little bit rough around the edges and slightly more ‘shoot first ask questions later’ in his attack style. Still, Din was grateful for his aid and was happy to tag along when Boba explained he was tracking a target to Florrum— just a smuggler, wanted by the New Republic for trafficking death sticks all across the Outer Rim, nothing too serious or high-profile.

Turned out Din was less useful than he wanted to be, because only Boba was able to get into the club he’d traced your beacon to, so Din was instead left to wait on Slave I and try not to get into any trouble in the meantime.

After less than an hour of resting his eyes in the cockpit, he heard Boba’s voice come in through the comms system. “Target acquired,” he rasped, and Din instantly noticed the distant sounds of struggle and the destruction he must have left in his wake. “Be ready to take off when we board.”

Din leaned forward to hold down the blue button; “Roger,” he replied quickly as he kept an eye on the camera feed of the loading platform, opening and extending it so the hunter and his bounty could board easily. The man appeared on the visual soon after, dragging a woman by the scruff of her neck.

It was you, with your hands tied behind your back and your mouth restrained by a makeshift gag. You were putting up quite a fight, but not nearly enough to stop a man as ruthless as Fett. The second the two of you were inside, Din triggered the loading platform to return to its upright resting place as he started the engines, the ship’s gyroscopic insides tilting against the lift-off sequence. He turned his attention away from the screen as he saw Boba toss you to the ground, focusing instead on his task of exiting the atmosphere and getting the ship into hyperspace so you could be returned to those who sought you.

Hyperspace was quieter, which meant he could hear the sounds of your resistance more easily even with you in another part of the ship entirely. Wondering what all the fuss was about (and, secretly, a bit curious about this feisty young woman Fett had captured), Din made his way out of the cockpit and towards the cargo bay where Boba was wrestling with you.

It didn’t really seem like a fight, in the traditional sense of the word, since a fight implies two opposing forces— it seemed more like you were giving everything you had to try to wrench out of his grip (and go where?, Din was forced to wonder, we’re in hyperspace) while your captor was merely humoring you by not immediately knocking you out and freezing you in carbonite.

Your desperate grunts and whines were muffled by your gag, screeching to a halt as Boba used one hand to hold your torso and pull your back against his chest, the other gripping your jaw tightly. “Stop fighting, little girl,” he hissed, “you’re just going to get yourself hurt.” That deep commanding voice enough to intimidate even Din; thankfully, Din was on Fett’s good side, for the moment, and was pretty sure his own ‘bounty hunter voice’ (as he referred to it only in his own head) was at least 80% as scary.

You made this little motion like you were considering disobeying his instruction, but your rebellion was quelled by a gloved fist tangling into and subsequently tugging your hair. You winced, but relaxed a bit as you gave in to the reality that you’d been bested.

Din didn’t understand what was happening when Boba bent your bound-and-gagged form over a console, but he knew it couldn’t be good: not with the way tears were pouring down your face and soaking the cloth tied through your mouth, not with the way you struggled underneath his grip in your hair and on the back of your tunic.

“What are you doing,” Din asked, although it didn’t come out quite like a question without that uptick at the end, his voice firm and steady and deep even as his heart started to race.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m taking my bonus,” Boba answered plainly, kicking your flailing legs apart to slot his body between them.

Boba must have seen the younger man’s confusion, even through his helmet, because he took a pause from his work to look back at Din.

“You can fuck ‘em before you chuck ‘em, you know,” Boba informed him, like it was obvious— like this was open secret that he was amazed he hadn’t already acted on. Truly, the thought hadn’t really crossed Din’s mind before. His upbringing had been devoid of any sexual education, even to the point of drawing a clear line between right and wrong. Then again, right and wrong were always a blurry mix in his mind as a bounty hunter: instead of that dichotomy, he was taught that there was the Code and nothing else. And the Code didn’t have anything to say about this, specifically, even as guilt and fear tingled up his spine along with the sickly addictive feeling burning in his gut— arousal, as he realized with a little gasp.

Fett leaned down to push his helmet against your ear, as if you’d be able to hear him any clearer even though the helmet’s modulator made it all sound mostly the same anyway. “Don’t try to fight me,” he insisted again. “Just stay still and keep your mouth shut.”

After a shaky breath, you nodded a little, and Boba sat back up, letting go of you with both of his hands— Din was pretty surprised to see you actually stay still, clearly the threat had gotten to you. Fear, as the Mandalorian had learned many times, was a much more powerful tool of control than force. Boba had you beat in both regards.

There was a little grunt from the man behind you as he reached down to fiddle with his trousers, finding the belt and opening which he reached into. From where he was standing, Din couldn’t really see what exactly his travel companion was doing, but even he wasn’t so naive not to figure it out.

A harsh, cracked sound spilled from your mouth, muffled through the gag, as Boba roughly pulled your trousers down and slid his cock between your legs, teasing you— taunting you. It wasn’t enough to violate you, apparently; he had to degrade you, siphon every drop of terror as he reminded you what was happening. You shook your head, and even though your words were objectively unintelligible, it was apparent to Din that you were pleading with your captor to stop.

Din got the sense that he should leave, but his feet were welded to the floor. His eyes were trained on you, shaking and breathing unsteadily where you were bent over and your head was turned to the side to press on the cold metal. You closed your eyes tightly, and Din recognized the expression as ‘bracing for impact,’ although in your case, it wasn’t that you were about to be impacted but impaled. Of course this couldn’t be right, Din knew enough to know that, in fact he was pretty sure it was illegal on some planets, but they weren’t on any planet right now, and Din had done things that are illegal on every planet. Maybe this really was normal bounty-hunting fare, and he was just too inexperienced to realize that. Maybe this was a relic of how hunters operated in Boba’s time; and Din, of course, had a lot of respect for tradition.

Maybe, more than anything, Din had lost track of the part of himself that cared if it was right or wrong, overpowered by a much more primal part of himself that had been chained and suppressed for far too long. The funny thing about monsters is that they get hungrier the longer you keep them caged up.

The way your fists clenched and shook as you were forced to take the hunter’s cock inside you, the way your teeth ground together and a hiss leaked out from between them, the way you whimpered and cried and he could see the shiver run up your spine… Din was obsessed with it, and his chest burned with a foreign emotion that could be described as jealousy, but that wouldn’t explain all of it. It was more than that, indescribable even to someone much more fluent in the language of feelings than Din was.

You sobbed quietly as your body went limp underneath his tight grip on the back of your tunic, just between your shoulder blades. He was already moving his hips quickly, chasing the pleasure he stole from your body. Din could see that he was hurting you, pain unmistakable in the way your expression twisted, even as the rest of your body seemed to have resigned itself.

Din wished, against every instinct of justice still firing wildly in the back of his mind, that he was hurting you like that, and not his companion. Although, he also fancied himself noble enough that, given the opportunity, he would treat you fairer than Boba would. And he was right, but then again, to be less cruel than Boba Fett takes little chivalry.

Your cries were sharp, loud enough at times to echo around the ship’s interior, other times completely silent as the brutality of Boba’s movements knocked the wind out of your lungs.

“Take her mouth,” Boba offered, “it’ll be a good way to shut her up.”

Din’s head was spinning as he tried to process that. It was like his body was moving on pure instinct as he stepped closer, his trousers getting tighter as you looked up at him. Your eyes were pleading for something: mercy, presumably, but he felt helpless to do anything but obey Boba’s order. It was an order, right? He had to do it.

A gloved finger tucked under your gag and pulled it out of your mouth, the fabric falling around your neck as you licked your dry and cracked lips.

“Please,” you whispered.

He kept one hand weaved into your hair as the other opened his pants, his cock bouncing free the moment it was given any space to do so. He held it at the base tightly, afraid it would all end too soon if he didn’t.

“Please, don’t do this,” you insisted, whimpering a little as he rubbed his cock around your lips, smearing the clear precum over your cheek.

The hand he’d tangled into your hair moved to grip your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and he gently pushed his cock inside— barely enough to rub his cock on your tongue, to feel the humid moisture of your breathing. You didn’t close your lips until he pushed his cock deeper, enveloping him in the silky skin of your mouth as he tried to keep his cool. How it felt was one thing, but how it looked was another entirely— your lips stretching over his girth, your cheeks bulging where the head of his cock pressed against the inside, your eyes blinking up at him as they brimmed with fresh tears. He hadn’t even been creative enough to imagine something like this those few times he’d gotten himself off with his hand, those few times basic biological need overcame confusion and naivete and ineptitude. Now it was going to be the thing he thought about every time, which was why he was doing his best to commit it to memory now.

Every groan and whimper that Boba forced you to make was vibrating through his cock, making Din sigh shakily and hold your head with both hands.

“Maker,” Din whispered as his head fell back, even though he didn’t believe in the Maker. At least, he hadn’t before.

“Good, isn’t it?” Boba encouraged, his voice tinted with the curl of a grin. Din couldn’t imagine what Boba was getting out of sharing his spoils with him, but he wasn’t one to question the nature of a gift when it felt like this, like your hot, wet tongue massaging the underside of his cock.

“Yes,” Din agreed hoarsely.

You yelped around his length when Boba brought a gloved hand down to smack your rear, the sound almost as erotic as the way your flesh rippled and shook with his aggressive touch. “Go on, suck him harder, give ‘im a real show,” Boba instructed to you darkly. You whimpered but did as he’d said, hollowing your cheeks and creating the most wonderful pressure as you sucked on Din’s swollen head.

Boba shed himself of his right glove, tossing it aside to palm at where your flesh had turned red in the shape of his hand already. Din shivered as he watched Boba’s thumb move inward— he couldn’t see where it was, but he had a pretty good idea based on the way your entire body tensed up, a weak whimper of confusion echoing around Din’s cock.

Instinct told him to take his cock out of your mouth, even if the idea of not feeling you for a moment was unpleasant in so many ways. Still, he figured he needed to hear whatever it was you had to say.

“Don’t,” you pleaded with Boba. “Not that.”

“Bet you’ll like it,” Boba assured, and he must have pushed in to the first knuckle because your whole body jolted forward, running from the sensation as you winced. “Relax,” Boba instructed firmly.

“Stop,” you whimpered, and Din’s heart twisted to see you in pain.

“Do what he says,” Din suggested— not a command, just his best proposal of a solution. In situations of inequitable experience, Din deferred to Boba liberally; certainly, Boba knew more about this than he did, even if that was a very low bar.

“Please, make him stop,” you whispered to him, more of a conversation than the two of you had had before. He was almost tempted to honor your request, even if he would never consider standing up to Boba, but his body was pulsing with need and it overrode any sense of decency left.

“I’m sorry,” was his only consolation as he pushed into your mouth again, and though it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t very useful to you, either.

He held your neck as he pushed himself deeper, his sense of shame deteriorating in favor of pleasure. It was embarrassing enough to be doing this at all, let alone with Boba right there, watching him— well, Boba didn’t really seem to be watching him, too preoccupied with watching you squirm beneath him, but still, he could see it and that was a fact Din preferred to ignore. He imagined instead that this was a private, intimate moment the way it ought to be, the way that he had deduced these activities were usually conducted. He also imagined that you wanted to do this to him, that you were on your knees willingly as opposed to bent over a table by force. It was so easy to picture you wanting it, begging for it, even. Let me do this for you, I want to taste you, I want to make you feel good, you would offer as you knelt down, and he would still feel guilty for it but he wouldn’t stop you, either. Din hadn’t previously allowed himself to fantasize about having a companion of that nature, but as he indulged himself in his imagination now, he decided you would be unendingly generous: with your time, with your love, with your body. In return he would protect you… from exactly the sort of thing he was subjecting you to right now.

Renewed guilt seared through his chest as reality hit: you’d never care about him, you hated him, he could see that clearly in the way you looked up at him while he used your mouth. And he didn’t blame you for it at all, although he wished you would appreciate that it was Boba’s idea in the first place and that his crime was far worse than Din’s. Fett seemed to get off on your reluctance, relish and savor it, while it was just a compromise to Din.

You closed your eyes with a little sigh through your nose, relaxing your mouth further for him to thrust his hips forward into. He realized that you were trying to relax like Boba had told you, and for good reason— Fett had replaced his thumb for two fingers, and Din was almost curious enough to lean forward and try to get a glimpse of your puckered hole opening up to him. You looked pretty with your eyes fallen shut, those eyelashes delicately resting on your cheeks, but it wasn’t as good as being able to gaze right at you.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Din instructed quickly. When they opened again, he saw your stare dart around his helmet, seeking somewhere to latch onto. “Right here,” he clarified, releasing one hand from your throat to tap on the tinted visor. When you looked at where he had told you to, it was almost like you were really looking him in the eyes— although, truthfully, he was sort of glad that you couldn’t because he was sure you would find more there than he wanted you to see. It would be impossible to hide his nervousness, his inexperience, his fear if it weren’t for the beskar in the way. Even now, your bright eyes threatened to pierce right through him.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you, girl?” Boba rasped, the closest Din had ever heard him to beaming with pride.

You shook your head against the intrusion in your mouth, and Din pulled out to give you a chance to talk. (Perhaps it also served the secondary purpose of delaying Din’s orgasm, which he had been holding back for so long now as he found himself oddly insecure about his stamina, but that’s neither here nor there.) “No,” you denied, but your voice was wavering as your eyes darted to the floor.

“She’s lying,” Din announced.

“I know,” Boba replied. “I can feel it— on the inside,” he hissed, and Din wasn’t sure if he was addressing him or you but it made a jolt of electricity shoot up his spine either way. You seemed to react strongly to that, too, although any verbal reaction was lost to him shoving his cock into your mouth one last time— yes, this time he had no intentions of stopping until he pumped his come right into your throat.

It was all happening so much faster than he intended, due in part to your moans shooting right down through his shaft to his balls, which grew tight with his impending release. He’d never felt anything like this— he hadn’t realized before that it would feel different when it wasn’t his hand. I mean, of course everything before the orgasm would feel different, but he imagined that the peak itself was the same. That assumption was beyond inaccurate— he’d never fucked his own hand the way he was fucking your throat, he’d never moaned the way you were making him moan now, he’d never tightened his fists like he was now, and even if he had, it wouldn’t have meant choking you and hearing all your cries come to a sudden halt.

Without your noises it was only the slapping of flesh and the occasional filtered breath through a helmet. He missed your moans, and yet he relished his power to take them away so suddenly.

He could feel the shape of his own cock through the thick skin of your throat, bulging into his hand, accentuated by your pulse just nearby. He could feel you fighting for air. He understood now why Boba had more fun with this than he did with hookers in cantinas— your helplessness was his power. Your weakness was his strength. And Din had never felt so strong.

He relaxed his grip to give you a chance to swallow as he came, pumping into your throat, grunting with each pulse of his cock filling your mouth.

Suddenly the sensation felt like it would become too much, forcing Din to pull his cock out of you and step back. At the same time, Fett stepped back too, which was odd because Din was pretty sure he hadn't finished: if he had, he was a lot more subtle about it than Din was.

“You want your turn, don’t you?” Boba addressed Din, making the latter feel awkwardly exposed.

“I thought this was my turn,” Din answered.

“With her pussy,” Boba clarified, and Din was sure that he had managed to blush hard enough that it was somehow visible through the helmet.

"And you?" Din asked, not wanting to impose.

"I'll be attending to… another matter," Boba explained with that audible smirk in his tone, and Din had a few ideas of what that could mean, all of which caused him to swallow thickly as Fett grabbed you and pulled you up to stand before unceremoniously dropping you to the floor. Din joined you there, not quite sure what he should be doing but figuring he should get on with it as the other man knelt down behind you.

Pulling you onto his lap, you spread your legs to straddle him in an unexpected show of submission which Din thoroughly appreciated. One arm held you up while the other grasped his cock, still hard and hopefully not too sensitive so he could actually do this— he could actually fuck you. It felt unreal; it felt beyond real, hyperreal as he started to slide his cock through the soaked and swollen intricacies of your sex. You must have come like Fett said you would, otherwise he couldn't imagine how you'd become so wet… he could even see it glistening on the inside of your thighs.

When he found the opening he was looking for, all Din had to do was lower you down onto him, gasping slightly as he watched and felt you sink down onto and around him, a little grunt coming out of you as your hips met his.

It was lucky that he’d already come once, in your mouth, because otherwise he would’ve lost it right then and there— you were so warm inside, soaked thoroughly such that his movements were smooth and easy as he instantly started to fuck you, groaning at how perfectly your body accepted him.

“Slow down,” Boba grunted, “I need to get in.”

You cried and shivered as the other man pushed into your available entrance, your head falling exhaustedly onto Din’s shoulder. He looked down at your face, then, and brushed your hair away so he could see it better, peeling strands from where they had been stuck to your forehead and neck by the thin layer of sweat that covered you. He wanted to comfort you, to promise that the pain would ease soon, but he couldn’t really think of anything to say; so, he just held you tight as he began to move within you again, and saw the other hunter do the same.

He made a conscious effort to not look at Boba’s cock, for fear of comparing it to his own. It was disturbing enough to be able to feel it, slightly, through the thin barrier your body provided. How inconceivable that Din had woken up a virgin and would fall asleep tonight with the memory of this lodged in his mind forever. In one day of sexual activity he’d gotten more done than many would in a lifetime, and yet he still lacked the most common things: love, passion, consent… perhaps someday he’d find those, even if it could never be from you.

Not worried anymore about an attempt to fight or flee, Din reached back and untied your wrists from each other, hoping he wouldn't get scolded for it by Fett who thankfully remained silent aside from his own restrained sounds of pleasure. You clung to him instantly, your freshly-freed hands clutching at his back, and he decided to interpret it as a token of affection even if he knew that was a bit of a stretch. If nothing else, maybe you recognized him as the lesser of two evils.

He opted to take credit for the way your moans were different from before; even in his wildest fantasies could he not convince himself that he was better at this than Boba was, but he could swing at the idea that you preferred him because you were meant for him. It was probably more outlandish, yes, but it was so easy to believe that you were made to be his when you felt so good around him. Din hadn’t even known anything could feel this good.

Something Boba had said earlier gained clearer meaning when Din felt your inner walls seize up and shift around him. Trying not to be too loud, he resorted to coping with the feeling by gripping your waist tightly. The idea that he could leave bruises on your skin excited him more than he would have anticipated (if, of course, he had anticipated any of this).

Another tug on your hair from Boba wrenched your head back. "Gonna come," he grunted at you lowly, "in this tight little ass. You want it?"

"Please," you whispered, not quite sounding enthusiastic but managing to give him whatever he was looking for, apparently, as another choked noise signalled his release. Your body reacted strongly to that, clenching down hard on Din's cock.

"You like it," Din posited. "I can feel it," he reminded you when you tried to deny it with a shake of your head, "from the inside."

Boba took his time pulling out, the most peculiar sensation that made Din shudder a bit. As tight as you were when you were full in that way, Din preferred having you to himself.

"I'll be in the fresher," Boba announced as he stood up and tucked himself back into his uniform, looking so composed in a way Din envied; he was sure, somehow, that he looked a complete mess even with the armor covering him. "I'll leave you to your fun. Don't take too long."

“I— I won’t last much longer,” Din stammered, wondering immediately if it was too much information.

“Not inside,” you begged suddenly.

Boba chuckled a little as he left, and Din wondered if it was what he said or what you said that made him laugh. The thought was forgotten as the hunter left, and he suddenly felt a wave of nerves wash over him— the way he always felt when he was alone with a pretty girl. Not that he'd ever been alone with a pretty girl quite like this.

Not sure what to say, he opted to just not say anything as he held you tight and bucked his hips up into you. You wouldn't let him off that easy, apparently, as you reiterated yourself: "You can't come inside, please don't—"

"This isn't a negotiation," Din reminded you firmly.

He was too close to imagine stopping now, anyway; the snug grip of your insides was too good to be ignored, his body was incapable of slowing down as he fucked you deeper and faster than ever. He noticed which angle of his hips made you moan loudest, hoping to feel you come around him just like Boba had.

“Come for me,” he instructed, hearing an impression of Fett in his own voice as he tried to come across as dominating, “I wanna feel it.”

You shivered a little, whimpering into the crook of his neck before he lifted you by the jaw to look at your face. You looked exhausted, eyes blown wide and dark, lips swollen and bitten red, hair tangled and unruly from being used essentially as reigns.

“Can you do that? Can you come?” he pressed, grinding his hips up into yours and watching you whine at the sensation of being filled so deeply. You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him. “Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered, “I’ll— I’ll come.”

“Good,” he praised plainly, doing his best to hold himself back until he got his chance to feel you reach your peak.

Your head fell back as your hands weakly tugged at his shoulders, and Din hoped that tearing your tunic down the front to grope your breasts would speed things along for you. He hadn’t taken off his gloves, but even so he relished the weight of them in his palms, curiously pinching at a hardened nipple which made you flex around him again.

“Are you close,” he asked, losing that intonation of a question again, focusing instead on trying not to sound exasperated.

“Yes,” you hissed, “I’m gonna— fuck,” you interrupted yourself.

You were moving a bit on your own now, instead of him holding you still and letting you limply take it like a ragdoll— no, you were rocking your hips in time with him, pushing down against him. You wanted it, obviously, and Din was more than happy to give it to you. He slammed into you with each thrust, held you down so you couldn’t squirm, groaned when he felt your body pulse around him. A new surge of wetness gushed between your bodies, your broken cry echoed right against his ear— if this wasn’t a dead giveaway that you were coming, he wasn’t sure what was. Unable to hold back anymore as you sobbed and shivered on top of him, he finally released into you, everything building up so fast only to snap in a moment, an embarrassingly weak moan slipping from his lips.

He was sure he had never been so exhausted, but it was the most incredible feeling as well. A little tear fell down your cheek— from terror, maybe, or disgust, or even pleasure… he had no real way to tell.

As he began to catch his breath, he wondered if he should say something; and, if he should, what that would be. Thankfully, he felt the lurch of the ship leaving hyperspace— the weight of gravity sinking a little heavier as you slumped down on top of him.

He picked you up and set you down on the floor, standing as he delicately stuffed his cock back into his trousers. “Looks like he’ll bring you in soon,” Din mumbled, but you didn’t really seem to care much, just laying on the floor and staring into nothingness. He watched his seed leak out of you and onto the steel, making a mental note to clean that up later, hoping you weren’t too angry with him for disobeying your request that he finish elsewhere. “You’ll need a new tunic,” he noticed as he realized it was probably less than ideal to bring in a target who had been so obviously violated. “I’ll bring you something to cover yourself with,” he decided.

Heading for his sack to search for an old cape or blanket that you could wear, he passed by the cockpit where Boba was steering the ship.

“I’m keeping the reward,” Boba interjected suddenly without turning back to look towards him, making Din stop walking, “since I was generous enough to share the… fringe benefits.”

“Of course,” Din nodded, not having expected a share of the bounty in the first place since all he’d done was keep lookout during the actual hunt. He was ready to walk away, but Boba spoke again as he turned the captain’s chair and faced Din, finally.

“Did you do what she asked?” Boba pressed.

“What?” Din choked, taking a moment to remember what he was even talking about— when you asked him not to come inside, apparently. “Oh, um, no.” His face warmed beneath the beskar as Fett chuckled to himself.

“Good,” he nodded. “Never take commands from a target, or a whore.”

Din shuffled nervously but said nothing, considering he had no idea how to respond to that.

“Besides,” Boba continued as he turned back to the controls of the ship, “if she’s pregnant that’ll be the New Republic’s problem.”

Din figured he was free to go now, taking a moment to glance over Boba’s shoulder at the planet ahead before continuing ahead. His quest for a cloak for you was nearly forgotten as he tried to clear his mind of what Boba had said so casually. He needed a shower, desperately, but he didn’t have time before the ship landed— and Fett probably intended on making Din complete the transfer and bring the credits back, since the older hunter wasn’t exactly a friend of the Republic.

He ended up grabbing an old shirt of his, tossing it at you when he entered the room where he’d left you, finding you standing with your trousers pulled back up. Silently he wondered if you had made any effort to clean yourself of his come or if it was still there between your legs, but neither of you said a word as he put you in more formal shackles than the rags that Boba had tied you with originally.

The New Republic officer definitely reacted to your appearance when Din brought you forward, all but dragging you as he gripped your arm. “When’d she get so roughed up?” the young officer interrogated as he handed Din the credits he was owed.

“Found her like this,” Din shrugged.

He didn’t seem to buy it, with the way he scanned your form and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything else as he motioned for two guards to take you away. Din considered looking back but decided against it, returning to the ship and immediately surrendering the credits to their rightful owner in Boba.

“Next job’s on Dantooine,” Boba informed him gruffly as he piloted the ship out of the atmosphere. But Din wasn’t listening, instead watching your new prison shrink and disappear into a dot, hoping to find in himself the carelessness that Boba had already mastered. He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask his hunting partner— Is this how it always goes? Will it happen again? Do you really think she could be pregnant? — but he wouldn’t even consider speaking any of them aloud. It was almost funny that they had shared something so disturbingly intimate and Din still felt unable to be direct with him, although neither of them had the sense of humor to appreciate it.

“Thank you,” Din blurted out. “For teaching me about the job.”

“My pleasure,” Boba replied gruffly, and with a jump back into hyperspace, the ship was submerged once again into silence.

#dark!din djarin smut #dark!din djarin x reader #boba fett x reader #dark!boba fett x reader #god how tf do i tag this uhhhh #din djarin x boba fett x reader #din djarin x reader x boba fett #the mandalorian dark fic #hopefully that's enough

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