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multi-kpop-fanfics · 7 months

Text

the kraken's girl

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild fluff and mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, tentacles, manhandling, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), double penetration, male masturbation, oral sex (f rec), dirty talk, multiple creampies, brat!reader, switch!cheol, exhibitionism

word count: 3.4k

summary: neither you nor seungcheol expected to blow up twitter after your sex-nanigans. but that didn't stop you from meeting up again.

Author's note: happy halloween beloveds! this is the next installment of Vodka Slime. major thanks to @gyuwoncheol and @smileysuh for proofreading and screaming in my draft loves🥰

disclaimer: the twitter usernames used in the fic were randomly picked, any resemblance with real twitter usernames is 100% coincidental.

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

Fifty thousand followers. Fifty fucking thousand new people followed your Twitter account within a single night, all thanks to the two minute clip you uploaded before falling asleep.

Your head is spinning with shock and excitement, arousal coursing through your body as you read the retweets one by one.

“GIRL WHO IS THIS”

“monster cock at its FINEST”

“me when me when me WHEN”

“eating a brick wall as we speak”

“i’ve never felt more submissive and breedable in my life before”

You giggle every time you scroll down, biting your thumbnail and kicking your feet like a kid who did something naughty. Although you’re not a kid anymore, your tendencies are definitely on the naughty side.

As if on cue, you receive a message from Seungcheol, who also retweeted your post on his account.

cherry_csc: we really caused a ruckus huh

You rapidly type back.

prettylilfreak: ikr ppl were STOKED

You receive another message from him.

cherry_csc: we can always make another one yk?

cherry_csc: if you’re down i’m down too

You rub your thighs at the thought of fucking Seungcheol (and his tentacles) again, but this time, you’re not 100% sure about filming it.

prettylilfreak: why don’t we discuss it over brunch? i know a place that makes mean choco waffles

prettylilfreak: unless aliens are allergic to waffles or smth

cherry_csc: if i told you i have never eaten waffles before would you believe me?

prettylilfreak: i’ve seen worse from you tbh

cherry_csc: ok fair point

cherry_csc: send me the address and the date, i’ll be there

prettylilfreak: cool, see you soon <3

You search for the restaurant and book a table for two, sending the info of the reservation to Seungcheol a few seconds later. You close your phone and let it plop down next to your pillow. You lay flat on your bed with a stupid grin on your face, your insides still squelching with need.

You turn your head towards your nightstand and open the last drawer where you keep all of your toys.

Just a quick one won’t hurt, you think and grab the tentacle-shaped dildo, licking your lips.

If only it was as good as the real thing.

“Damn, these waffles are really amazing.” Seungcheol gulps down a hefty bite of his choco waffles.

“I told you so! They are delicious.” You mirror his actions.

“Although I think you taste better than the waffles.” He sends you a wink and you nearly choke on your food.

“Damn, no need to die from waffles!” He passes you a glass of water and you drink it all in one go.

“And there was no need to spit out stuff like that without warning!” You try to clear your throat.

“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Waffles and choking aside, I think we should pick up the conversation from where we left it off.”

“You mean the Twitter DMs? Sure, I’m all ears.” Seungcheol wipes his lips with a paper towel.

“So, about that….I must admit that I had one hell of a time with you that night, and…”

“And?”

“And I definitely wouldn’t mind if we repeated it.”

Seungcheol licks his bottom lip seductively.

“But I have a condition.”

“Name it.”

“I don’t want to film anything for my account.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh. I certainly didn’t expect that.”

“Are you disappointed?” You toy with your fingers.

“What? No, of course not! It’s your account after all, you’re calling the shots in the end.” He reassures you. “Can I ask why though?”

“Let’s just say that I want to….experiment with you.” You rest your face between your palms.

“Experiment? What are you, a NASA researcher?”

“No, but you left some unanswered questions and I want answers.”

“Oh, so that’s what it is about.”

You smack your lips. “I’m glad you catch on quickly, it saves me a lot of talking.”

“You need to clarify some things first, sweetheart.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Seungcheol.”

“I beg to differ, doll.” He purrs the petname on purpose and you feel a chill running down your spine.

You stuff your mouth with more waffles, chomping on them like a starved animal to avoid answering to Seungcheol.

“You’re so stubborn, but I guess that’s part of your charm.” He plays with his bottom lip as he watches the cutlery in your hands move with light speed.

“Eat as much as you can, doll. You’re gonna need a lot of energy for later.”

The fork and knife fall from your hands and clack on the plate as you try your best to swallow the bite in your mouth.

“You….need to be restrained.” You point your finger towards his face in a menacing way.

“Hmm, I can think of a way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You can always fuck around and find out.”

You stare at the smirking man in front of you, contemplating his indirect proposal.

“You motherfucker.”

“How the fuck do you afford an apartment like this?!” You yell as soon as you enter Seungcheol’s home.

“I might be an alien, but I’ve been on Earth for over a decade. I think it’s enough time to learn how to make money.” He replies as he takes off his shoes and jacket.

“I don’t think I want to indulge my curiosity about your personal life right now…” You mutter.

“I know you don’t, Y/N.” He grips your thighs and puts your legs around his waist, carrying you like this all the way to the bedroom.

“I guess your tentacles and cock aren’t the only strong parts of your body.” You grip his shoulders as he carefully lays you down on the double-sized bed.

“Not to brag, but I spend a lot of hours at the gym to keep myself in that shape.” He grins and rolls his hips against your crotch.

You suck a harsh breath through your teeth. “If you do this one more time, I swear to God I won’t be able to hold back.”

“That’s okay, doll. That’s why I’m here - To keep you in check.”

Seungcheol frees himself from the iron grip of your legs and straightens his back. You feel slightly intimidated by his muscular build, but the intimidation molds into heady arousal when he discards his clothes one by one, until he’s utterly naked.

“Your turn, baby. Take them off.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You taunt him.

His voice grows stern. “Take off your clothes or I will rip them to shreds.”

You swallow thickly and take off your t-shirt, followed by your jeans. Your hands shyly creep behind your back and they toy with the clasp of your bra.

“There’s no need to be shy with me, Y/N.” Seungcheol kneels on the bed and cages your legs with his muscular thighs. “Now, take off the bra like a good girl.”

You exhale shakily and unclasp your bra, you slide the straps off your shoulders and remove it from your body, your nipples perking up.

“Perfect. So fucking perfect.” Seungcheol mutters before he pushes you towards the headboard and climbs on top of you.

“Don’t you want me to take off my panties?” You ask.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you want to slide your big, mean cock inside my pussy, Cheol?” You pout your lips on purpose and roll your clothed pussy against his naked shaft.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen today, doll.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Then why the f-”

Seungcheol shushes you with his finger on your lips. “I’ll make it all worth it, I promise. Now, I want you to sit across the headboard. Can you do that for me?”

“You better keep your promise, otherwise I’ll block you from my socials!” You crawl on the other edge of the bed with a grumpy look on your face.

Seungcheol gets comfortable against the headboard. “This is barely our second time together, but I don’t plan on dumping you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. “The way I’ve heard the last part so many times from other men.”

“First of all, I am not a feeble human, even if I have human appearance. And most importantly…” His tentacles appear from his back and slide around his thighs.

“No man would ever do the things I’m about to show you.”

“That sounds pretty ambitious to me, Cheol.”

“I am ambitious, doll. And meeting like-minded people strengthens my own ambitions.”

You flash a sultry smirk. "Good to know we're on the same page."

The tentacles keep gliding over Seungcheol's body, leaving a slimy trail on his skin.

"Remember when you asked me about my tentacles spitting stuff?"

"I do. And what about it?"

"Watch and you'll find out, doll."

You nearly gasp when two thick tentacles wrap around Seungcheol's thighs and hold them apart, exactly the same way your thighs were spread.

But he doesn't stop there.

Another tentacle binds his wrists above his head, rendering him completely helpless and exposed.

"Sheesh, didn't know you had an exhibitionism kink going on, Cheol." You rub your thighs together.

"I've never done this before, so consider yourself lucky."

"You've never jerked yourself before?"

"More like I've never used additional help to jerk off before."

Two more tentacles appear in front of him, one morphing into a literal fleshlight and the other approaching his rim dangerously.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, Cheol?"

"One fucking hundred percent, doll."

The fleshlight engulfs Seungcheol's cock completely and the other tentacle slides into his hole simultaneously, making him cry out in pleasure.

"H-Hah, ah, f-fuh…."

"Shit, Cheol, that's-"

"Nothing I cannot handle, s-sweetheart."

He bites his bottom lip when the fleshlight starts sucking his cock and the other appendage thrusts in his ass rather strongly.

You never expected him to pull off this stunt and truth be told, it has you soaking through your panties and clenching around emptiness.

He's struggling to keep his eyes open from how good his own tentacles are making him feel - sweat has started to form on his forehead and neck, his skin turning glossy.

"Does it feel that good?" You ask him, rubbing your thighs together.

"Stop pretending to be sympathetic, I know you enjoy w-watching me like this." Seungcheol groans as he digs his nails into his palms. "But yeah, it f-feels good." His thighs jolt with each thrust and suck delivered by the tentacles occupying his sensitive spots.

You're certain the fabric of your panties has turned into second skin from how much you've soaked them and you haven't even been touched yet. This is the first time you're affected by a man to this degree and you almost feel embarrassed. Almost.

"Fuuuuck, that shit is so good." Seungcheol leans his head back and his puffy lips fall apart, deep moans filling the room with the same speed his tentacle is filling up his hole. The fleshlight picks up the pace and starts sucking his cock harder and his hips buck up, but the slimy restraints keep him down effectively.

"A-Are you cumming, Cheol?" You ask him, "Because I might do so, untouched."

"Don't you fucking dare." He growls at you for a split second, but his expression forms into one of pure bliss as he finally reaches his climax, loads of cum being milked from his cock.

You fist the sheets beside you and bite your bottom lip to suppress your whines as you watch Seungcheol lose control thanks to his own tentacles, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to calm down from his intense orgasm. The tentacle that was torturing his hole retracts slowly and your eyes fixate on the slimy residues all over his cock and ass. The restraints on his wrists and thighs disappear as well and his arms drop down on his sides with a loud groan.

Blond hair streaks are stuck on his forehead, sweat is dripping down his chest and his breaths are ragged and heavy.

But his gaze still lingers on you.

"That was….fucking insane."

"I take it you…. enjoyed the show, doll?"

You spread your legs and show him your drenched panties, a low whistle blowing from his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I don’t want to sound greedy or anything but… I’m kind of suffering here.” You point towards your pussy and he gives you a lopsided smirk.

“I know you are. But worry not, the real fun starts now, Y/N.”

Seungcheol snaps his fingers and two tentacles attach themselves around your ankles, dragging you directly in front of him. You yelp when he puts his hands on your waist and he flips you over with little effort, propping your ass up and pushing your waist down.

He runs his hand from your waist to the curve of your ass. “Mmm, that’s a pretty arch you have, baby.”

He squeezes your flesh and gives it a sharp smack, a gasp echoing in the room. You wince away from him, but his hand on your waist keeps you in your place.

“Stop teasing me and fuck me already!” You whine in defeat.

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

“I don’t care! I just want you to fill me up until I can’t think straight anymore!” You shake your ass in an attempt to entice him.

“I can definitely do that, doll.” Seungcheol uses both hands to rip your panties apart and throw them on the floor. He pries your lips apart with his thumbs and hisses when your slick runs down from your entrance and glides on your clit.

“But I might have to get a taste of that pussy before fucking it.”

He catches your honey with the tip of his tongue right before it falls on the sheets and moans at the taste of it. He slowly rolls the tip around your bundle of nerves and you bite the sheets to muffle your noises.

“I want to hear your voice, Y/N. It’s unfair to hear it only through your twitter posts and not directly from you.” He actually begs you and it has you keeling over.

“What’s unfair is you trying to beg me to moan, when you know I can’t resist your pleas, Seungcheol.” You grumble, yet you push your ass closer to his face. “Now, I would like you to use your pretty mouth to- AH!”

Seungcheol grips your ass and smothers his face in your drenched cunt, his tongue rubbing your clit and his nose nudges your hole. You can feel the curves of his lips savoring your juices and you can hear the sloppy noises they create - pure music to your ears.

“So, mmfh, fucking delicious…” He purrs against your pussy, “Makes me wanna - umffh- keep you by my side forever.”

Your walls clench harder than before and so does your heart - but you choose to shove that piece of information in the back of your head. It’s a bit early for that, you think.

You let out a particularly whiny moan when he circles his tongue around your hole and he laughs when more of your slick gushes out, but this time, he lets it drip down on his lap.

“I don’t know what’s messier, my tentacles or your pussy?”

“S-Shut up!”

He slaps your ass. “Don’t talk back to me, doll.”

“Or what? You’re gonna rail me until I pass out?”

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and musters the strength he has left in his thighs to climb on top of your body, as if he’s about to mount you. Your breath hitches in your throat when he plants one hand next to your head and uses the other to pull your head back.

“That is actually a wonderful idea, sweetheart.” His lips barely touch the shell of your ear, but his voice is enough to make your spine shudder.

You open your mouth to give him a snarky reply, but the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs when two of his tentacles fill up your ass and pussy without warning, fitting tighter than a glove. He lets go of your hair and cages your wrists with his hands, rendering you immovable.

“See what happens when you talk back to me, doll?”

“F-Fuck, s-so f-full….”

“Yeah? You have no idea how full you’re gonna be after I’m done with you.”

You can feel his cock resting on your ass and twitching with need.

"Remember when you asked me if my tentacles can spit stuff?"

"Y-Yeah?" You try to keep your brain intact, but the tentacles thrusting in your holes make it hard for you.

Seungcheol presses his lips right behind your ear and sucks on your earlobe. His voice has dropped to a mere whisper.

"They do and it's all mine."

Your eyes start fluttering when you feel his thick cock slide between your cheeks and fuck them as if he was really fucking your pussy - even if he somehow does it.

The tentacles ram you almost violently, the little suckers gliding against your walls. You're at Seungcheol's mercy, unable to move, unable to think and unable to form coherent sentences - just a pretty little toy for a hot alien and his slimy tentacles.

And you fucking love every single second of it.

"C-Cheollie, I wanna cum! Please!" You cry out, hands fisting the bedsheets.

"Yeah? You're close, sweetheart?"

"Fuck, I am!"

"Go on then, let go for me." He kisses your temple and fucks your asscheeks harder.

You finally cum and it hits you like a raging waterfall, your entire body shaking and trembling like an autumn leaf trying to stay on the tree before it's blown away.

"Hang in there, doll, we're almost t-there." Seungcheol's ragged breath fans over your cheekbone, his hands letting go of your wrists to grip your waist.

His tentacles come to a halt and throb inside you, pumping your holes full of his cum, until a few drops start slipping out.

Fresh tears run down your cheeks when the tentacles detach from your holes, wincing when the sticky mess flows out of you. Your moans are growing louder every time Seungcheol's pelvis slaps against the curve of your ass, his nails digging in your skin.

"Such a great fucking ass, all mine to fuck, ugh!" He throws his head back as he cums, splashing his load all over your back and ass, painting it white. He pumps his cock with his hand a few times before smacking the tip over your ass.

"Cheol…..I can't move…" You pout your lips tiredly.

"I know, baby, I know." He gets up and pats your head before disappearing from the room.

A few minutes later, he comes back with a clean towel and the feeling of the soft cotton wiping you clean from the sticky mess covering your back and private parts almost puts you to sleep.

"Hey, don't fall asleep yet, I need to actually wash you." Seungcheol gently rubs the towel over your spent holes.

"Will you carry me to the bathroom?"

He lets out a chuckle. "Well, it's not like I have any other choice, since you technically can't walk."

"I wonder whose fault is that, huh." You mumble against the mattress.

"I'm sorry, doll." Seungcheol swipes your hair away from your face, "Although I did enjoy fucking you dumb."

You support your upper half on your arms. "To be completely honest, I really enjoyed it - hell, I asked for it."

He catches your lips in a short yet gentle and sweet kiss, melting into his pillowy lips.

"We can always-"

"Repeat it?"

"No," Seungcheol picks you up in bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. "I mean, I would love to, but I would prefer to take you out on a proper date first."

"Oh? I didn't know aliens had romantic tendencies." You joke.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Y/N. And I'm pretty sure there are lots of things I don't know about you."

"Are you saying you actually want to get to know me better?"

"Yes. To put it with your words, I'd like to experiment with you."

You look away purposefully. "I might be a tough formula to crack."

He carefully puts you in the bathtub and kneels in front of you, his eyes meeting yours.

"Consider this challenge accepted, doll."

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #tw monsterfucking #tw tentacles

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 10 months

Note

WEEWOO IM HERE FOR THE EVENT!! (also smth I noticed, you can't copy paste your moots @ from one post to another, bc they don't receive the notif;_; I checked my mentions for your @ and uh- nope)

ANYWAY "nights spent in" with Leona pls (or Ruggie or Kalim or Jack or Jamil 💀💀) I just want a lazy night with takeout and cuddles and looking at the city/town from the hotel or room balcony in peace but I also need this frigging degree-

Nights Spent In; Leona Kingscholar

Content; Fluff, so much fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; I came up with a whole meal for this and I want everything. All of the food mentioned is North Indian vegetarian food, except for Leona's. Best of luck with that degree, Soru!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were lounging on the sofa on the balcony, a light breeze coming off the waves helping cut most of the heat from the day as night slowly painted the sky in a deep navy. Honestly, you could fall asleep right here, since you were warm and very comfy. Count on the royal family of the Sunset Savannah to spare no expense, even when it came to their balcony furniture for the smallest of their vacation homes.

Speaking of the Kingscholars, Leona had said that he was going out to grab you both dinner, which would have shocked anyone else, but he put in the work when it came to you. You were the exception. Of course, though, he expected something in return, which was usually either using you as his pillow or giving him a kiss… or several until he was satisfied with how fast he could make your heart flutter. Smug bastard…

“Hmm, I went through all the trouble of gettin’ you food and here you are nearly passed out,” he sighed, having sneaked up on you. But he sighed, putting the food down.

Leona leisurely walked over to you before promptly laying on top of you and resting his chin on your shoulder, trapping you. He let out a long sigh and bumped his head against yours.

Taking the message, you started scratching behind his ears and hummed. “I thought I had to pay you back after we ate,” you mused.

He chuffed, but his tail was slowly waving back and forth in a relaxed manner, he was only putting on a show. “You can pay me now and then,” he grumbled, looking up at you and raising a brow expectantly.

You knew that face, it was the face that he made when he wanted a kiss but didn’t want to say it. “You can get the rest of it, but after we eat-” your stomach made a low rumble underscoring your statement. “Before I decide to eat you instead,” you joked, and poked him in the ribs to prompt him to get off you.

Leona rolled his eyes, but yielded, he wanted his damn kisses sooner rather than later. Plus the last time he had decided to lay on you and prevent you from getting food, you had indeed bit him. Even though you didn’t really leave a mark, it still stung a bit, and he would rather not get teased by the others if they found out it had happened again.

“What did you get by the way,” you asked. Whatever it was smelled divine. Your stomach gurgled even louder, sounding more akin to some beast demanding food.

Leona chuckled a bit at the commotion, but brought the food out. “Went to a small place, family run and owned,” and he brought out several containers of food. He looked at his order, “Malai kofta, raita, paratha, mattar paneer-”

You saw one other container and raised a brow.

“Rogan josh,” he answered, swiping the container away from you.

You rolled your eyes at him, but you were more than happy at the food he had got, and knew that he left a hefty tip even though he would deny it. Not only had he made you, and your ravenous stomach’s, night, but also the restaurant owners’ as well.

Now content and full of food, the both of you laid in bed, your legs intertwined. “Thanks for getting dinner,” you hummed, feeling the sleepiness from earlier returning.

Leona turned his head to you, and rubbed circles on your hip, slowly. He was wearing the same expectant look again. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” But there was no smugness, Leona was full and just as tired as you, so he was more like a tired kitty looking for some love.

You shuffled over and placed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he let out a tired sigh, pupils dilating into round saucers. “I love you,” you placed another kiss on his lips before placing one on his scar and lingering there.

He bumped his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know… I love you too.”

~~~~~~~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @inkybloom-luv, @savanaclaw1996, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii @leonistic

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x gn reader #i brain rotted. all of these are making me brain rot dear gods #also north indian & punjabi food SLAPS; if you haven't had some you really need to try it; i need to make these #pspspspsp here leona simps pspspspspspsp #<- i'm calling you over like cats yes #also i like the hc that leona head bumps as a form of affection cuz that's what cats do; leona simps were robbed of him purring though #the overgrown house cat is growing on me and he's all smug about it too uGh #soft leona hours? more likely than you think #he deserves softness and fluff #you're getting this a bit earlier than expected [by a few hours] but i have some running around to do #soru!#is food a content warning???#cw food #<- oh apparently so

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angelkhi · 1 year

Text

remodel- j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: joel is tasked with remodelling your kitchen, but he seems to forget he isn't being payed for his down time.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), i guess it's kinda public idk it happens outside, teasing, some very cliche shit soz, mentions of boring construction stuff, mentions of alcohol (like one beer), hair pulling, spanking, brief fingering, p in v, heavy petting, age gap (reader is like 25, joel is old as fuck), pet names (pretty girl, darlin, angel), kinda mean joel in parts, praise, overstimulation, use of the words slut / whore, creampie?? kay that's it bye go touch grass.

word count: 2.6k

a little note: do contractors even fit kitchens??? idk. this has nothing to do with the fact that i'm about to have a kitchen remodel at home shush. or the fact that I just finished uni leave me alone. Once again this is some nasty shit that isn’t beta’d no one look at me. (i’m thinking of opening up requests for headcanons??? let me know what you think)

(gif credit: @kpfun <3)

The sun beats down on her skin, the fine mist from the sprinklers cooling her slightly, it was almost perfect. Another loud bang drifts through the open kitchen doors and she opens her eyes for a moment, raising her head to glance at the man currently tearing the kitchen apart.

It had been three days so far, of constant banging and drilling and deep curse words from Joel Miller. From the crack of dawn til her dad came home later in the evening, he worked. Part of her admired his work ethic, the other part not so much just wanting a relaxing weekend whilst the weather held up.

She hears the drill stop right on cue, the clank of beers in the makeshift fridge follows, and Joel steps out into the garden. She hears his shuffling footsteps, pretending she doesn't notice him coming over, waiting until his looming figure blocks out the sun. He holds out a beer, cap already popped off. It's the same routine he'd picked up a few days ago, her outside in a bathing suit, him working until the early afternoon where he takes a break, sipping his beer from the porch and not so subtly staring at her.

Only today he lingers by her side, taking the recliner closest to her, sipping from his own drink casually. She glance over at him, the condensation dripping off of the bottle and on her stomach.

She raises an eyebrow at him, her heart beating a little faster at him being so close to her.

"Can I help you?" He chuckles and takes a hefty swig, "am I blocking your like or somethin?"

She snaps out of her impromptu stare off with him and lean back once more.

"You're fine." She take a sip of the cold beverage, continuing to watch him. "You don't usually sit over here."

"We can't all sit around perfecting our tan all day." The corner of his mouth twitches into an insufferable smirk as he watches her spare him a glance and close her eyes again.

"If someone would employ me I wouldn't have to."

There's a bite to her words that turns his smirk into a grin. He's silent for a few moments, his gaze dotting between the water glimmering under the sunlight, and her exposed skin shining just that little bit brighter.

"Your dad mentioned you'd just finished university. Second degree too. Must be real smart." His fingers trace the edge of his beer bottle and she tries not to watch the way his calloused skin caresses the bottle.

She hums in agreement, unsure of her body's reaction to his compliment. Not that he's unattractive, he's quite literally the opposite, but he'd said no more than 10 words to her the entire time he'd been there.

"You miss it?" He asks and she let out a laugh, sitting up leaning back on her forearms, looking up at him from her spot on the ground. His eyes flicker, watching the curves of her body shift as she moves, but just as quickly he's looking her in the eye again. She doesn't know what's worse.

"Fuck no. I never have to write an essay or speak to a frat boy ever again." He chuckles with her for a moment, watching as she nurses her beer and continues.

"They're just so insufferable. No manners whatsoever. Couldn't hold a door open or say thank you if their lives depended on it." She scowls thinking back to the many immature idiots she'd shared campus with. "And don't even get me started on how bad they were in bed."

She watches as his eyebrows raise a little, something sparking in his eyes.

"Is that so?" He hums, watching her closely. "Couldn't give you what you really wanted?"

Her throat suddenly feels like sandpaper and she swallows some more of her beer, trying to soothe whatever it is that her body is doing.

"How would you know what I like?" Her voice is low, almost hoarse. She watches him, the way his eyes take her in, his gaze almost predatory. He sets the bottle down, watching her as he does.

Joel leans forward, his thighs spread wide in front of him, his thumb lightly tracing her lower lip. His eyes are on her constantly, trying to gauge her reaction to his touch. She tries not to show him that the slightest touch has bought her more satisfaction than any other man ever had, but he sees it. The way her defiant gaze softens as she leans into his touch.

His hand shifts, cupping her jaw for a moment, then sliding around to the back of her head, his soft touch turning into a harsh grip. He grips her hair, holding her in place and she has nowhere to look but at him and his hulking frame and eyes growing darker with each breath.

"I think you like to be told what to do, not that you listen. I think you like being a good girl, even with your bratty little mouth." She feels his warm skin on her cheek as he leans closer and speaks, "I think you like a quick dirty fuck."

The more he talks, the hotter her skin grows, small whimpers falling from her lips when he grips her hair even tighter. He smiles, pulling back to look at her on her knees, thighs spread, tits pushed out towards him.

"I think you want my cock." He watches as her eyes gloss over, chuckling. "You want me to fuck you so good you'll feel me for days, isn't that right darlin'?"

He loosens his grip a little and she nods a little too eagerly. He smiles, and shakes his head.

"I need to hear the words, angel"

"Want- I want you to fuck me Joel." She speaks, finding herself nodding along with her words and Joel's grip tightens in her hair, his eyes dark.

His grip doesn't let up as he leads her onto all fours, her bikini shifting awkwardly, almost exposing her. She rests in front of him, knees apart, back arched slightly, his hands wondering across her back and thighs.

His palm settles on her lower back for a moment, travelling lower to her massaging her

"You sure you want this? I can go back inside, finish the job and get outta your hair." She pushes herself back into his touch but he moves his hand to the small of her back.

"Joel please, I need it." She hates how desperate she sounds, how easily she's offering herself to him, but she also couldn't care less, too riled up to deal with the consequences. She feels his touch leave her all together and is ready to protest but he speaks.

"Good."

With that his palm comes down on her skin, delivering a harsh smack. She whines pathetically, and he just watches her face contort, pure lust written across her features.

He repeats his action, spanking her harshly until her jiggling skin is red and warm. He rubs a soothing hand over the area, feeling all the blood rush to his dick, uncomfortably hard in his pants. He was half hard before he even stepped out of the kitchen, days of pent up desire, watching her lay out here in her skimpy bikini not a care in the world.

He continues to soothe the skin, her small whimpers going straight to his dick. He hooks his finger in her bikini shorts and pulls them to the side exposing her, the cool breeze against her hot centre making her gasp. He stares her for a moment, just staring at her wet cunt, before he touches her running his fingers through her folds and toying with her clit.

"Look at you, fuckin' soaked and I've barely touched you." He increases the pressure, "Perfect little cunt. You're perfect."

His hand rests on her hip, gripping her tight when she bucks away from him, but soon loosens again when she begins to move against his fingers, seeking some relief.

He keeps toying with her, drawing small fast circles over her swollen nub. His fingers explore her folds, teasing her weepy hole and sliding back down until she's practically panting.

"You're doing so good for me, darlin." His fingers pause at her opening, teasing it slightly, watching how she clenches around nothing. He slides in, right to the knuckle, hissing at her warmth when she clenches around him.

Her breathing is shallow and she tries to stay quiet but he's moving just right, hooking his finger right where she needs him. She feels her orgasm slowly start to build, his name the only thing on her lips as he brings her closer and closer, right to the edge, then pulls away completely.

She whines, and he places a kiss on the back of her shoulder shushing her. He waits until her breathing evens out a little and moves his fingers back where she needs him, sinking two of his thick digits into. She grows even louder when he curls the, fucking her quickly. The obscene sounds of her wet cunt swallowing him, her lewd moans and his deep breathing all drown out the chirping birds.

At some point, her arms begin to give out and she slowly lower herself forward, head resting on her forearms. Joel simply just chuckles to himself, speeding up his movements when he feels her walls clench around him once more. She can feel it once again, building in her stomach almost unbearably, but once again Joel pulls away before she can cum, swatting her ass harshly.

"Joel please." She begins to beg but he simply just shushes her, repeating the process twice more until she's dripping down her thighs.

His hands tug at her waist, pulling her into him, settling her in his lap. Her knees rest either side of him, clit catching on the rough material of his trousers. Joel presses a bruising kiss to her lips before moving lower, nipping and biting marks on her neck and chest.

He gets to the hem of her bikini top fingers tugging it impatiently, exposing her chest. He pauses for a moment to stare at her, lips swollen, hair a mess, exposed to him. Then his head drops and she falls back a little when his lips close around her nipple, sensitive and untouched. He frees one of his hands from her waist, paling at her other breast, rolling her nipple between his harsh fingers.

"Such pretty tits baby." His mouth returns to her skin and she moans loudly, clamping her lips shut when she remembers someone might hear them. She feels his grin against her skin and he lightly bites at her nipple, making her gasp loudly again. Her hands thread through his hair, keeping him where he is at least trying to gain some sort of gratification from his never ending teasing.

He pulls back, enjoying the way her eyes droop lightly, the way her mouth turns into a little frown at the loss of contact. He taps her hip twice and she raises onto her knees, watching as he reclines, back against the sun lounger and unbuckles his trousers, shifting his boxers so he can free himself.

She can feel him, thick snd warm beneath her as she hovers over him, nails digging in his shoulder through his shirt. He grips himself tightly, squeezing and stroking for a moment before moving the bulbous head against her clit, and she bucks her hips against him, overly sensitive from all of his teasing.

Joel doesn't seem to care, brushing his cock through her folds once again, teasing her entrance and slipping away again. She falls forward, head in his neck, her lips finding his skin as she tries to keep quiet. She hear him lightly tut and his hand is back in her hair again, pulling her back so that he can look her in the eye.

"You afraid someone might hear you, hm? Look over here and see you wrecked in my lap before i'm even finished with you?" He pauses, slipping his cock against her once more.

He's right. If anyone were to look over into her garden they'd surely faint at the sight. Her bikini top pulled down, Joel mouthing at her nipples, shorts hanging to the side as he rubs himself against her. He grins again, the kind of grin she knows means trouble.

"Let em fucking hear you. Wonder what they'll tell your daddy..." His hand moves once again, this time against her throat, holding her inches away from his face as he enters her in one long thrust.

She can't hide the loud whine that falls from her mouth, mingling with Joel's throaty curse. He doesn't give her any warning as he fucks up into her in one smooth thrust, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her down into him as he sets an unforgiving pace.

She chokes out a moan as her pussy stretches around him, feeling utterly full. Her hands grip the back of the wicker chair, her lips on his as she whines into his mouth.

"Such a pretty fucking slut letting me fuck you like this." He buries himself to the hilt, grinding up into her and she whines even louder, clenching around him.

"You like it when I call you a slut, huh?" He thrusts again, slow and deliberate, struggling to keep his composure as he watches her mouth hang open, eyes rolling.

"Course you do, you love it. My little fuckin' whore." His foot comes up to rest on the side of the chair, giving him more leverage as he speeds up once again. From this new angle, she can feel him even deeper, her chest rubbing up against the soft material of his shirt, clit catching against his jeans once more.

She knows she won't last long, still slightly on the edge from his earlier movements. She clenches around him, his cock hitting her perfectly over and over again.

Joel notices the way her whines get louder, how her hands bunch in his t shirt. He feels her clenching hard around him and this thrusts grow harsher, the need to finally make her cum burning in his chest.

He pulls her hips down to meet his thrusts, chasing her release through her loud moans. His lips suck on her neck, just below her ear, the sensation shooting straight to her core. Her skin tingles as she cums, her moan stuck in her throat eyes squeezed shut, mouth closed.

"Fuck" Joel groans, his fingers digging into her skin, sure to leave marks. He pulls her impossibly closer. He can, whispering quiet thanks over and over again, her words spurring him on.

He doesn't let up, chasing his own release, her cunt convulsing around him, choking his cock. His hips stutter a little and he groans loudly, his face buried in her neck, teeth digging into her skin.

His chest heaves with exhaustion, her soft pliant body on top of his. He cups her jaw softly, his actions a far cry from his earlier behaviour. His lips are soft against hers and she leans into him, muscles weak.

"You okay?" He mumbles, pulling away from her lips only slightly, watching her tired eyes and slow smile. She nods, forehead resting against his own too tired to speak so he kisses her again.

The pair rest in silence, hands all over each other, until Joel speaks up again.

"Y'know that kitchen might just take a few days" She chuckles lightly against his chest, and mumbles, almost indecipherable.

"Thank fuck."

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller masterlist #pedro pascal joel miller #the last of us part 2 #the last of us #tlou smut #tlou #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller x f!reader smut #smut

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 7 months

Note

Hello :) if your requests are still open:

This is my first time requesting something so please ignore this if I‘m doing something wrong.

I saw the 150 Random Writing Prompts and was thinking of a jealous Hunter smut. (Or Echo, if you find it more fitting)

With

143.: “Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

And if it’s ok ( I could not decide, sorry)

97.: if you interrupt me one more time— so help me god”

93.: say you want me, and i’m yours.”

Thanks 🙏🏻 You are an awesome writer!✨

Thank you so much for the request, anon! You did nothing wrong at all! I was able to work in all three, but I’m incapable of writing anything short, so this is kinda long - oops. Hope you like it! <3

Bonus point if you spot the Taylor Swift lyric I managed to weave in!

Green Doesn’t Suit You

With the whole squad safely back on Pabu, you settle into a comfortable civilian life. But the yearly Celestialis festival, said to bring good fortune for the next year to those who attend, brings with it something you never thought you’d have.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.5k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: jealousy, friends to lovers, pet names, old lady shoving her oar in, Omega is a fantastic wing-woman, confessions of love, first kiss together, squint for possessiveness, being (lovingly) manhandled, first time together, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PiV, dirty talk, soft aftercare, all the fluffy feels.

The air was stifling, not only from the heat outside but the warmth emanating from both ovens in the kitchen of your new home on Pabu.

The house had been a gift – the fanciest gift you’d ever received – from Shep and the other island residents. A thank you for all the hard work you, the boys, and Omega had put into rebuilding their island after the freak tsunami.

All seven of you, living together in a space infinitely bigger than the Marauder or your old barracks. It was heaven.

“We still need to get those tanks moved.” Omega grumbled, grabbing a clean tray and loading it with the latest batch of cooled cookies you’d made. In the sitting room, just visible through the kitchen doorway, were two bacta tanks. Where Phee had managed to procure them from was still a mystery, but they’d saved Crosshair and Tech’s lives after you, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker had stormed Mount Tantiss to rescue Omega and the twins. The brothers had been worse for wear – it was still a miracle Tech had survived his fall.

“I’ll speak to Phee in the morning.” You added it to your mental list, skirting around an open cabinet door.

Today was the Celestialis festival, where Pabu’s residents came together to wish for good fortune for the year ahead. Once Shep and the island’s organising committee had caught wind of how good your baking skills were, they’d pulled you into the fray. For weeks, you’d been planning and purchasing ingredients and trying different recipes. And for the last few days, you’d been baking all hours of day and night – with varying levels of assistance from Omega and her brothers.

Four years ago, when the war had broken out, you’d signed up as a civilian handler. Fresh out of college and with nothing lined up, it had seemed like a good idea. While other handlers stayed on Kamino and supported their squads from a distance, the moment you’d read the files for Clone Force 99, you’d known that you’d need to be at their side constantly. They had a habit of veering off track, and handling that from afar would only give you a permanent migraine. So, after signing a hefty waiver with the Kaminoans, you’d been handed some armour, a blaster, and directions to the hangar.

Three years, you’d fought alongside them, learning the best ways to manage them and their unique skill set, building bonds and friendships far deeper and more meaningful than anything you’d ever had before. This last year, since Order 66, had brought its own challenges, too, but it has also brought you Omega.

Grabbing another tray from a cupboard, you pass it over to the young girl, watching as she loads it up with more cookies. Sweat beads on the nape of your neck, and you sigh, lifting your hair to try and get some air to it.

Omega, forever perceptive, abandons the cookies to help tie your hair back. From a small pot on the counter, she goes to grab a hairband, but at the last minute, you redirect her to the strip of fabric that sits nearby, the two of you sharing a look.

It’s another hour before you’re ready to leave for the festival. The boys had headed out mid-afternoon to help set up, taking their dressier clothes with them to spare themselves the walk back to the house and to not get in your way as you finished up. As infuriating and stubborn as they could all be at times, their thoughtfulness was unparalleled.

Dragging wagons laden with treats up to the central plaza, you and Omega work quickly to lay out all the goodies on the tables Shep had set aside for you. You hoped there would be enough for everyone, especially as other food was on offer, too. Stepping back from the tables, you take a deep breath.

“Finally left the kitchen, eh?” Echo teases as he approaches, the rest of the boys in tow. He’d tried to help as best as he could over the last few days, but baking with one hand had been less than ideal. Ultimately, he’d sat at the kitchen table and kept you going with conversation and caff breaks. And he’d chased Hunter off a few times when that keen nose of his had brought him sniffing around for treats to ‘sample.’

You watch as Omega passes a star-shaped cookie over to Wrecker, and the delight on the big man’s face as he devours it fills you with pride. “If I step foot in that kitchen again at any point in the next two weeks, please shoot me.” You joke, the corners of your lips curling into a smile.

“Deal.” Crosshair teases, toothpick sliding to the other side of his mouth as he reaches for a Roonan lemon cookie. His appetite hadn’t returned much since his rescue from Mount Tantiss and time in the bacta tank, but he was trying to eat a little more each day so you wouldn’t worry about him.

“Hey!” You protest playfully, the boys chuckling as Crosshair takes a small bite, throwing you a wink. Light conversation flows between you all, broken up by the occasional island resident swinging by for some treats. The music starts, and more residents arrive, joining the festival’s spirit, dancing together and laughing.

Hunter can’t keep his eyes off you. For the last four years, he’s seen you in blacks and armour, with the recent addition of sweatpants around the house, and yet now you’re in a dress. A light and airy thing with delicate straps that cross over your shoulders, the fabric cinched in at your waist to accentuate the soft curves of your body. He’s sure it’s the same shade of aqua that paints his pauldrons, too. The thought has a strange sensation sweeping through his gut.

The sound of someone calling your name snatches his attention and drags his thoughts back to the present. As you turn towards the person calling for you, he can’t help but steal the opportunity to admire you. Eyes raking up your bare legs, across your hips and ass that he’s imagined grasping many times, over the smooth plane of your back to the curve of your neck and then…

The entire galaxy might as well cease to exist as his mind goes blank.

Wide brown eyes lock onto the scrap of red fabric keeping your hair up, and that strange sensation in his gut slams into him again. There, holding your hair up, is one of his spare bandanas.

His heart races, thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. A torrent of emotions surges within him. He wants to reach out to you, to pull you close and finally tell you how much you mean to him, but he holds himself back. He can't bear the thought of you not returning the sentiment. Maybe it had just been an accident. Maybe his bandana had been the closest thing available.

In the silence of his thoughts, he missed you excusing yourself to talk with one of the island’s elderly residents, who’d been calling you over.

“Smooth.” Crosshair deadpans, gaze flicking to Hunter as they watch you go, the rest of their siblings distracted by the food and music.

The slink of his brother’s voice pulls Hunter from his thoughts, and he frowns in Crosshair’s direction. “What?” He asks. They’d worked hard to reconcile ever since Crosshair had been deemed stable enough to leave the bacta tank – they’d broached difficult topics and mended a few bridges as they worked towards getting back to what they’d had before the Order had been given. It was slow and, at times, painful, but neither of them was willing to give up on each other again.

“You were staring at her like she’s pure aurodium. Not that I blame you…” Hawkish eyes slide towards Hunter, a smirk tugging at Crosshair’s lips as he watches his brother’s jaw clench and his head tilt, a hardness settling across his features.

Crosshair lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the slight rise he’d secured. “Green doesn’t suit you, vod.” He tosses the comment before snatching up a few more of your baked treats, striding away in search of a quiet place to perch. Crowds still bothered him, but he didn’t want to avoid the gathering altogether and feel like even more of an outcast.

Across the plaza, you’d reached Mrs. Magiere. The elderly lady had lived on the island for years and had slowly convinced her family to move across the galaxy and join her. She wandered the island around lunchtime, and you’d often crossed paths, sharing polite conversation.

Beside her stood an unfamiliar man. “There you are, dear. I want to introduce you to my grandson, Dax.” Mrs. Magiere reached for your hand, drawing you closer.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Dax.” You offered the man a smile. He was a little taller than you, with a slender build, perfectly coifed brown hair and piercing green eyes.

Dax tries to keep his gaze on your face, but his eyes betray him for a moment as he takes all of you in. You’re quite lovely, he must admit. “And you. My grandmother speaks very fondly of you.” He replies.

Mrs. Magiere looks between you both with glee. “Why don’t you two go and dance? My old bones can’t keep up anymore.” One of her hands finds your lower back, and she gives you a gentle nudge towards Dax.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks caught off guard and a little uncomfortable, but Dax offers you a reassuring smile and his hand. Not wanting to cause a scene or upset anyone, you take it, letting him lead you towards the plaza’s centre where couples and families are dancing. He stops en route, snagging a delicate pink flower from one of the blossoming vines nearby. With careful hands, he slides it into your hair, leaning back to admire you.

“And here I thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful.” The compliment comes naturally to Dax as he retakes your hand, leading you to a small available spot amongst the dancing island residents.

The warmth in your cheeks grows, and all you can offer Dax is a small smile as he twirls you into his arms once you are amongst the crowd. Laughing softly, you let him lead, the few dance classes you’d taken at college helping you keep up with him.

“You did a wonderful job with the baked goods.” Dax lays another compliment on you, enjoying your bashful smile.

It felt good to be appreciated for all your hard work preparing for this evening, especially by those outside of your little family. “Thank you. What did you like the most?”

Turmoil rolls through Dax. Truth told, he hadn’t sampled any of the treats you’d so lovingly prepared, but he knew it was essential to compliment you. “The oat ones were delicious.” He takes a stab in the dark.

Your smile falters briefly before you fix it back into place. “I’m glad.” You lie in return, not pointing out that you hadn’t made oat cookies.

Standing off at the side of the plaza, it took no time for Hunter to find you amongst the crowd. Over the years, he’d memorised the sound of your heartbeat and the delicate whisper of your voice as the light breeze carried it to him. His eyes found you, and his brows furrowed as he watched you gracefully twirl in the arms of another man, a torrent of emotions churning within him. Jealousy, like a venomous snake, coiled around his heart, injecting poison into his every thought.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The woman he loved, whose smile could light up his darkest days, was now smiling at someone else. Insecurity gnawed at him, an unpleasant feeling he thought he’d long buried during his cadet days.

He longed to be the one guiding you across the dance floor, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the galaxy. The realisation that someone else was experiencing that privilege grated on him.

“I don’t like him.” Omega’s voice snapped Hunter from his spiralling thoughts, and he glanced down to see her standing at his side, her own eyes watching you and the unfamiliar man dance.

“Hm, neither do I.” Hunter comments, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you twirl again.

It was no secret to Omega how much you and Hunter loved one another, and she was getting tired of neither of you doing anything about it. “Then, why don’t you go dance with her?” She asked, injecting as much innocence into her voice as she could muster, wide eyes turning up to look at her brother.

Hunter sighed. Omega had a point – he could quickly end this torture.

“Mind if I cut in?” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice interrupted your dance, and you turned towards him, offering him a bright smile.

The smile Dax had been wearing dissipated, a faint clench to his jaw as he shook his head while the music changed to something softer. “Not at all.” He lied, taking his hands from you. His grandmother had told him about the man who’d interrupted, with half of his face shrouded in darkness, and had warned him that you were close. Not willing to go easily, Dax lifted one of your hands to his lips, holding your gaze as he pressed a kiss to the back of it before stepping away a small distance. He’d wait nearby for another turn.

Your bright smile turned a little uneasy as Dax pressed a kiss to your hand, but relief had your shoulders sagging as Hunter stepped forward, sliding one arm around your waist to pull you close, your hand resting on his shoulder. He took your other hand with his free one, fingers interlacing. “Thank you for the save.” You murmured gratefully, knowing that with his hearing, you didn’t need to raise your voice to be heard above the music.

“Always.” Hunter’s answer leaves no room for doubt as he gently leads, moving you both in a slow sway. He can’t help but revel in your closeness. Every touch, every brush of your hand against his, feels electrifying, making his heart race with desire. Your warm body is pressed to his, his senses overwhelmed with you.

Warmth and security flood your body with the press of Hunter’s hand on your lower back, igniting a desire to be even closer. The rest of the galaxy can’t reach you here, tucked safely in his arms, and for a moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything that’s happened over the last four years – all the pain and bloodshed, all the horrors and tears. Through it all, Hunter has been a steady presence.

As you sift through the good memories, certain moments stand out. There was that day at the lake on Kintan, where the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The two of you had sat side by side, another successful mission under your belt, your laughter dancing in the air. You remember stealing glances at him, the way the sunlight had caught in his eyes, adding more warmth than you thought possible to those endless pools of brown.

Then there were the late-night conversations while you were deep in hyperspace, where you’d lose track of time, sharing dreams, fears, and secrets. Hunter’s voice, soft yet determined, painted a vivid picture of what he wanted from life after the war.

You could only hope those wants had changed.

Hunter drew his senses in, letting the crowd in the plaza fade into the background as he focused on you, the steadiness of your heartbeat, the feel of your hand in his and your bodies pressed together, and the subtle change to your scent. “You smell different.” He comments, curious eyes finding yours.

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d stomp on their foot.” You laugh, a little caught off guard by the statement. “I…” You trail off, the warmth that had faded from your cheeks now returning. “I stopped wearing perfume while knee-deep in the war, but now we’re out the other side of it. I thought I might try it again.” You admit, head dipping bashfully, before worry laces through you. “Is it too much? I aimed for something I hoped wouldn’t bother you and your senses.”

Lips parting at your answer, Hunter blinks with disbelief. Here you were in a sweet little dress, one of his bandanas keeping your hair up, and now you’d dropped on him that you were wearing a perfume picked out with his heightened senses in mind. He groans, desire churning through his veins. “Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?”

Freezing, you think for a moment that you’ve misheard him. “What?” You question softly.

Hunter realises his mistake, but it’s too damn late to take the words back.

In the following pause, neither of you moving, simply staring at one another, Dax spots his opportunity and steps forward. “Can I cut back in?”

Hunter has to actively stop himself from grunting in frustration at the interruption. “We’re not done.” He tells him politely, making sure to keep his eyes on you. He knows he has to say something to you. “Cyar’ika, I…”

Dax huffs, finding it unfair that this man had swooped in and stolen you mid-dance and refused to let him back in. “Look, bud-“

Something snaps in Hunter, and his head whips to the side, eyes narrowing at the man you’d been dancing with. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help the Maker…” He growls out the threat, no longer caring that he’s being rude. This was too important. You were too important.

Your jaw drops, and you watch in disbelief as Hunter threatens Dax. Your heart races, and for a moment, the tension in the air is palpable. Dax, a bit taken aback by Hunter’s sudden intensity, raises his hands in a placating gesture.

“Whoa, whoa, man.” Dax stammers, realising he’s pushed Hunter’s patience to the limit. He steps back, allowing some space between him and the seething clone.

Hunter takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, regaining his composure. He turns back to you, his eyes softening as he tries to find the right words. "Cyar'ika, I'm sorry. It’s just... I need to talk to you.”

Your heart still races, but now it’s not just from the tension between the two men. You look into Hunter’s eyes searchingly. “What is it?” you ask, your voice filled with concern.

Keeping hold of your hand, Hunter leads you away from the crowd, finding a quiet corner of the plaza where you can talk in peace. The silence lingers for a few minutes as he struggles to find the right words, scrubbing his free hand over his face, having never anticipated this moment would come.

Unable to bear seeing him so stressed, you step closer, resting a hand against his chest. His heart thuds heavy under your palm. “H…” You breathe the little nickname you’d given him shortly after joining them all those years ago, which breaks him out of his funk.

“You’re a kaleidoscope of everything beautiful in this galaxy.” He blurts out, catching you off guard. “Your kindness, the way you listen, how you look after everyone around you — you’ve had me captivated since the day you waltzed onto the Marauder like you owned the damn thing and introduced yourself. And now, it’s terrifying to think of my life without you in it.” Once the words start, he can’t stop them.

“And I know we’ve been friends for years, and I value that more than anything in the galaxy. But seeing him dance with you and thinking of him doing it again…” Hunter huffs, trying desperately not to get worked up. “I mean, cyar’ika, the colour…” He gestures to your dress with his free hand. “And you’re using my bandana to keep your hair up, and you picked out a perfume with me in mind...” He trails off, knowing he’s shared so much that he can’t return from it, but Maker does it feel good to get the weight off his shoulders.

A small smile weaves onto your lips, even though you know you shouldn’t be happy, given the man you love is clearly stressed. “What if I told you none of it was accidental?” You murmur, your hand on his chest smoothing across the firm plane of muscle. “That you didn’t misplace your right pauldron the other week – I borrowed it to colour match. And I purposefully asked Omega to use your bandana earlier when she was tying up my hair.” You confess, eyes darting up to watch as surprise paints itself on his handsome features.

“You know, I’ve spent countless nights replaying moments in my head, wondering if you ever picked up on how my heart races when you’re near or how I can’t keep my eyes off you when we’re together. I didn’t want to make things awkward or ask for something neither of us could give in the middle of a war. But we’ve made it out the other side, so…” It’s your turn to trail off.

Your words hung in the air, and Hunter’s heart began to race, his body swirling with so many emotions it was difficult to grasp onto any of them. A rush of warmth surged through him, from the tips of his fingers to the depths of his soul. Gazing into your eyes, all he finds is pure, unwavering honesty. Your sincerity was a balm to his fears.

Hunter’s silence unnerves you, but you’re not backing out now. Not when the promise of something so much sweeter is tantalisingly close. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.” You whisper.

Hunter’s gaze never wavers from yours, and a flicker of relief crosses his eyes as he realises that this isn’t a cruel joke or an illusion. It’s real. The tension between you seems to crackle with anticipation as he takes a deep breath, finally finding the words he’s been searching for. “I’ve wanted you since the day you walked onto the Marauder.” He admits softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “I’ve tried to be strong, to protect you and the rest of the squad, to not let my feelings get the better of me. But I can’t deny it any longer. I want you with every beat of my heart, every breath I take.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the intensity of his desire in the way he holds you and the way he looks at you. There’s no turning back now.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Hunter leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. The world around you fades into obscurity, and it’s just the two of you finally giving in to the magnetic pull that has existed between you for so long. The kiss is a promise, a declaration of all the unspoken feelings and desires built up over the years.

As your lips parted, Hunter rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged with emotion. “I want you, and I’m yours.” He whispers, his voice filled with love and longing.

A radiant smile spreads across your face, and you reply, “I’m yours too, Hunter. Always.”

His smile matches your own as he pulls back a little, though his fingers remain on your face, now stroking across your jawline. “Want to get out of here?”

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you nod. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Hunter’s eyes twinkle with excitement and relief as he takes your hand and leads you away from the plaza, slipping down side streets towards your home. As you walk hand in hand, you can feel the electric connection between you two, a spark that has finally ignited into a full-blown flame.

Halfway there, Hunter pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tucks you against the side of a building, his lips finding yours. His kisses are hungry, filled with longing and desire, as if he’s been waiting forever for this moment. And in truth, he feels like he has.

As the kiss breaks, your laughter echoes in the stillness of the night, smile as bright as the stars above as he disentangles from you, drawing you out of the shadows and back towards the house. As you reach the front door, he stops, his free hand moving to your hair, plucking the flower from Dax free. Carelessly, he drops it to the floor.

“Hunter!” You exclaim, watching the delicate bloom hit the pebbled path beneath your feet.

Something dark shines in his eyes, sending a thrill through you. “The only things in your hair should be my bandana,” his hand reaches for your ponytail, giving it a gentle tug as he leans in, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Or my hands.”

Breath catching, Hunter’s lips meet yours for a passionate kiss. The front door is pushed open, and you’re guided inside, steady hands grasping at your hips as he kicks the door shut behind you both.

Heart thudding as both of Hunter’s hands cup your face; you sink into his touch as his tongue slides between your lips, tasting you. He leads you up the stairs, refusing to break the kiss for even a moment as you reach his room. One hand leaves your face to push the bedroom door shut, and a moment later, you’re pressed up against it, Hunter’s body pining you in place, an arm resting on the door above your head, caging you in. That earlier sense of safety creeps back through you.

Tearing his lips from yours, Hunter’s chest heaves with each breath, a fire licking its way through his veins as you both open your eyes, gazing at one another for a split second. His head dips, mouth leaving a trail of delicate kisses along your throat, groaning as you tilt to give him better access, the prettiest moan sliding from your lips as he laves a kiss to the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet, following it with a quick, gentle nip.

Knees shaking, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one until you can push the fabric off his body. The rough pads of his fingers drag across your bare thighs, breath stuttering as the hem of your dress meets his grasp. He breaks contact just long enough to lean back and lift the garment over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck…” Hunter curses quietly, eyes roving over your exposed body, the curves and dips of your frame, the swell of your bare breasts. A needy groan escapes him as he realises your panties match the dress, too.

Before self-consciousness can creep in, he’s dragging you to the bed with a hungry kiss, pushing you back onto it, kiss breaking as your back meets the soft mattress. For a moment, you both pause, drinking the other in. There’s a wildness in Hunter’s eyes you’ve never seen before, a warmth in your cheeks at how his eyes devour you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times – while sparring or coming out of the fresher, changing, or patching up wounds, but now you can look.

His broad shoulders taper to his narrow waist, and his tanned, toned skin begs to be touched. Half of him is shrouded in black ink, and a burning desire to drag your nails over the ridges of his abs has you licking your lips.

Hunter’s not faring much better, either. The sight of you sprawled on his bed in nothing but a scrap of aqua fabric, lips kiss-swollen, his bandana still in your hair, and your gorgeous tits exposed has him itching to fuck you on every surface, to fill the room with the scent of your arousal and make you scream his name over and over again. “Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.” Hunter breaks the momentary silence, reaching down to palm himself through his pants.

The action draws your gaze downwards, and you watch delightfully as the man you love gives himself a stroke through the fabric.

Hunter’s nostrils flare, picking up on how the simple action drew more of your heady scent from between your thighs. At the foot of the bed, he slowly sinks down onto his knees, eyes never once leaving you. If you smell that delicious, he can only imagine how you’ll taste.

Propped up on your forearms, you watch as Hunter sinks down between your thighs, those warm brown eyes focused solely on you. Fingers skim up your calves, feather-light, gently pressing your legs wider as they reach your knees. His head turns inwards, gazes breaking as he presses soft kisses to your thighs, tongue leaving small, slow licks in their wake. He takes his time savouring you, savouring the moment.

Lips brush across the juncture between your thigh and hip, sucking small marks against your skin before Hunter buries his face against your clothed pussy, eyes shut as he presses his nose against your clit, inhaling deeply. Your scent pulls a low growl from him, the vibrations making you gasp. “So wet already. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” Hunter vows, tongue pressing forward to lick across the damp fabric of your panties, making your breath stutter at the contact as your head thunks back down onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut.

Fingers prying the material down your legs, Hunter dives back between your thighs, dragging the flat of his tongue through your soaked folds, delighting in the way your hips buck and you cry out. He was right; you taste even more delicious than you smell, and he groans at your tang on his tongue.

Drawing your legs over his shoulders, he settles in, licking long, broad strokes across your pussy, familiarising himself with you. His senses home in on you, mind cataloguing every slight noise you make, every jerk of your hips, the way your breath quickens when his tongue skirts oh so close to your entrance and then circles around your clit.

Needy little whines escape you, every nerve in your body alight as Hunter teases you, lips and tongue exploring you, his nose bumping against your clit to send sparks of desire surging through you. Warmth pools in your belly, and it only grows as the wet warmth of his tongue presses against your entrance, dipping in. “Hunter…” You moan out his name, fingers burrowing into his hair as you cant your hips, grinding against his face.

Pride blooms in Hunter’s chest at your response, and he keeps going a little longer before he flicks his tongue up and across your clit, the sounds of your cries of delight like music to his ears. Hands grasping at your thighs, he presses your legs up, almost folding you in half as his tongue sweeps side to side, teasing his way back down your pussy as he has greater access.

The change in angle makes you moan, free hand clawing at the sheets while your hips rock, chasing the delight of his mouth. A light suck on your clit makes you gasp, the warmth in your belly building with every swipe of his talented tongue. Dragging his tongue around the edge of your folds, he draws an arch, skirting around the top of your clit again. “Hunter, please.” You crack, desperate for him.

You feel him smile against you, releasing one of your thighs, fingers roaming up your body until his tattooed hand gently squeezes one of your breasts. His mouth is relentless, tongue finding your clit, firmly moving side to side over the sensitive bud as those talented fingers of his tweak your pebbled nipple.

The warmth crescendos, spilling over, and you cry out his name as your release slams into you, making your body shudder, gasping for breath at its intensity.

Hunter works you through the high, and as you whine at the overstimulation, his mouth leaves you, fingers letting go of your nipple to smooth over the soft skin of your breast. “Beautiful.” He whispers reverently, tongue darting out to lick his lips and drink up the taste of you as he watches you come down from the high, your heavy-lidded eyes opening to meet his gaze.

With your hand in his hair, you guide him up your body, small hums of delight leaving you as he peppers kisses across your stomach and chest, laving little licks across your breasts as he drags you further up the bed. He breaks away for a second, using one hand to remove his belt and shuck off his pants.

You watch as he strips completely, acres of tanned skin finally revealed. As he ditches his boxers, his hard cock springs free, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips, thighs parting a little wider. You relish the low groan the action pulls from him before he takes himself in hand, fist sliding along his shaft for a few pumps. He’s average in length but thicker than you expected - anticipation coils through you.

He prowls up the bed, settling above you, letting a little of his weight rest against you. Dark eyes meet yours, and you can’t hold back your smile, fingers reaching up to trace along his face. Drawing his head down, you steal a kiss, letting the moment build as your eyes flutter shut, tongues brushing together. Hunter shifts above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other dips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock as he teases the velvety head through your soaked folds. Achingly slowly, he presses forward, your lips parting as you let out a soft moan at the stretch as he eases into you inch by inch.

“That’s it, cyar’ika. Maker, you’re so pretty, taking all of me like a good girl.” He whispers against your lips, enjoying how your breathing changes and your heart races at his words. You feel like heaven as he bottoms out, hips flush against you, chests pressed together as his hand moves back to the side of your head, redistributing his weight.

The stretch as Hunter fills you is exquisite, and your eyes open to gaze up at him in awe that this is happening – that this incredible man is yours. The first slow roll of his hips has your head tilting backwards, a breathy sigh filling the room.

The pace builds, your hands reaching for him, dragging up his back and down his flanks, nails scraping along flushed skin, making him grunt at the combination of pleasure and pain. Desire coils through you, building with every thrust of his hips, every drag of his cock as he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in. He leans down to kiss you, demanding tongue sliding between your lips to taste you.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking good around me. Made for me.” Hunter growls and the sound of your bodies meeting creates a background of white noise. “Won’t last long, baby. You feel too good. Fucking dreamed of this.” He adds, supporting his weight with one hand again, thrusts never faltering as he reaches down to grasp one of your legs, hauling it up. He presses a kiss to your ankle before he pushes your leg towards your chest, the change in angle enabling him to thrust into you even deeper.

Eyes falling shut once again as he drives you closer to the edge, you whine and whimper as his cock repeatedly rubs against your g-spot. The hand he’d used to pry your leg up moves to your breast, fingers tweaking your pebbled nipple again before he gently squeezes. Your name falls from his lips, raspy alongside his command. “Come for me.”

Between his hands, cock, and voice, you’re powerless to resist. Fingers scrambling at his body for purchase, your back arches as you cry out his name, desire bubbling over into a rush of euphoria that sweeps through your body and momentarily renders you speechless. Tremors wrack through you, toes curling as you desperately pant for breath, hazy eyes opening to look up at him.

Feeling you come apart, watching you fall into pleasure beneath him, was more than Hunter could’ve ever asked for. You were beautiful every day, but lost in the throes of an orgasm he’d given you? You were divine. He could feel the pressure building, feel himself teetering on that edge.

“Where?” The roughness of Hunter’s voice caresses you, warm puffs of his breath tickling your ear from where he’s bent down to bring you both even closer, caging you under him as his thrusts grow sloppy, muscles taut under your hands.

“In me, please.” You whisper back, and the deep moan he lets out will forever be seared into your mind.

Hunter gives a few final thrusts before he presses in as deep as he can, a guttural sound leaving him as his eyes screwed shut, thighs shaking as he hits his own peak, the pressure evaporating into molten bliss as he gives you everything. Slowly, the pleasure pulls back, like the tide, and he swallows thickly as his eyes open, breath catching at the sight of you.

You’re gazing up at him like he hung all the stars in the galaxy, indescribable love woven through your features. Carefully, he lowers your raised leg, fingers rubbing to return some of the feeling as his lips meet yours with a tenderness that could only come from years of shared moments, mouths moving in perfect harmony, a slow, sensuous exploration of one another.

Hand sliding to your waist, Hunter holds you still as he gently eases himself out of you, shifting to lay on his side, drawing you against his chest.

You nestle into his embrace. Your fingers trace the contours of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The years of laughter and tears, the countless shared experiences, and the trust built over time have all culminated in this moment.

Hunter presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and you can feel the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. He draws lazy circles on your back, a comforting motion that brings you a sense of security and belonging.

With your bodies pressed together, you both revel in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The room is filled with a peaceful stillness, and you listen to the soft melody of your combined breaths, knowing that this love is the anchor that holds you both steady in a still-turbulent galaxy.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hunter x you #the bad batch hunter x you #sergeant hunter #hunter bad batch #hunter the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #tbb hunter x reader #star wars clone wars

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solomons-finest-rum · 10 months

Text

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 2

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to everyone for words of encouragement and for waiting for the update 💗💗💗💗💗 Goodness, that was one hefty break. I hope the next part won't take me as much, but I can't exactly promise it will be fast, sorry about that. I think this is a part 2 out of 3 and then I'll do an epilogue, but that is still more of a draft than a plan.

WORD COUNT — 2,708

Masterlist

Tommy sat beside Polly in utter silence, watching the cigarette slowly burn between her fingers to the point where the heat nearly touched the skin. Tommy observed it with morbid fascination because it was something other to do than to stay with his own thoughts. And he would not dare to speak to Polly first—not after the news he had brought her this evening.

The clock chiming in the hall let them know it was nearly three o’clock in the morning, but still neither of them moved. The fire went out long ago and Tommy wondered in his solemn silence if Polly would accept a blanket.

“How could you tell me she was dead?” Polly suddenly asked the question Tommy had been dreading for the past hour and then she flicked the cigarette butt straight on the carpet.

Tommy dared to look her in the eye then and immediately regretted that decision when he was met with nothing but hurt and steel-like anger.

“They told me she was, Pol. I went to the parish myself, saw the documents myself,” Tommy replied calmly.

That signature state of calm didn’t come to him as quickly as it used to, he noticed. These days it required more and more effort; or perhaps the things he chose to do got worse with time.

“Fucking nuns,” Polly hissed and shook her head. “You should have pressed them harder! Should’ve made them talk!”

“Then what, hm? Threaten them? Put a gun to their head, eh? There was nothing else they would have told me, Pol, they didn’t know.”

“I don’t care what! We shouldn’t have just abandoned her like that. Now look what happened, she’s a hostage with another fucking monster, just ready to put his paws on her whenever he pleases!” Polly stood up abruptly and Tommy wondered for a moment if perhaps he shouldn’t slip some laudanum in her drink. She looked frenzied, her hair in disarray and eyes bloodshot. The way Tommy saw it, she was half-ready to walk to Margate on foot and kill Alfie herself.

“Polly,” Tommy moved to stand in front of her just in case she had any ideas. He put both hands on her shoulders to reassure her. “Polly, look at me. Alfie Solomons, yeah? Alfie Solomons is just about the last man you’d find putting his hands on anybody that didn’t ask for it, all right? I swear this much.”

“Jesus, I don’t care what you swear anymore, Tommy!” Polly scoffed and tore herself away. “The man is insane, you said so yourself—many times in fact! We all remember what he did to Arthur! Or have you forgotten?!”

“No,” Tommy replied stiffly. “Perhaps he’s insane, but he’s not cruel to women, Polly, never has been. He doesn’t have the reputation.”

“Well, neither do you, that doesn’t mean one wife’s not buried, the other’s escaped!”

Though Tommy would never admit it, that hurt immensely. That was the problem with people who loved him, he supposed. They knew exactly where to hit to draw the most blood. He willed his face to return to the stony mask it was before.

“But your daughter is not buried and she isn’t gone,” he said. “She’s alive, Pol, I saw her with my own two eyes. She’s alive and we can get her back.”

“Well, that’s not exactly possible now, is it?” she scoffed and turned her gaze back to the fireplace as if some ghostly apparition beckoned her to it. “You said she didn’t know you, I bet that fucking animal has her caged.”

“That’s not true. I saw her, Pol, she looked well.” Tommy felt like stressing that might help. “She has your eyes and your wit and I swear she cooks somethin’ awful, but she’s no prisoner. Alfie is…” He hesitated then, because it wasn’t exactly a comfortable thought to consider. “She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, Pol. You can’t say no to her, eh? Just like I can’t exactly argue with you neither.”

That brought Polly back, even if just to glare at her nephew with fury.

“Pol, I swore to you once I’d bring your children home and I haven’t changed my mind.” Tommy took her hand in his and to his relief this time Polly didn’t pull away.

“I don’t think Alfie harmed her,” he insisted. “I don’t think she’d let him. Polly, she looked tough. Hardened by life. She’s a woman grown, Pol, and I know she can take care of herself. You said so yourself, eh? It’s grandfather’s gift, reading people. Well, I read her tonight and I know Alfie, too. Something happened to her, that much’s clear, but there’s nothin’ evil happenin’ to her in that house.”

That seemed to satisfy his aunt because she finally took a deep breath that actually made Tommy feel like he could breath himself.

“Why would he tell you to lie to me, Tommy?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why would he think you wouldn’t tell me? That you’d play his game.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I know what he wants in return and to be honest his plan wasn’t as delirious as I’d take him for.”

“I don’t care what you discussed with that man, that’s of little consequence,” Polly scoffed. “We are going to get her and we are going to get rid of him once and for all, Thomas, because no one fucks with the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders and no one fucks with the family! Do you hear me?!”

“I hear you.”

“Good. Now get up!”

“So we’re goin’ today?”

“Today!”

Tommy nodded and gently navigated her back into the armchair. He rang the bell for the maid. In the agitated state Polly’s house was currently in, Tommy was sure the servants weren’t really sleeping.

“And get Michael,” she ordered. “I don’t care what that peroxide tramp says about it, he’s coming with us.”

Alfie stood on the porch and smoked his pipe. He let you squeeze his arm in anger while trying to sneak concerned glances in your general direction. Tired of being treated like a spooked horse, you glared at him until he stopped with all the concern. You were tougher than you looked and you would very much appreciate it if Alfie finally admitted it.

“You alright?” Alfie asked you for what must have been the twentieth time and you nodded stiffly instead of a reply.

“Darlin’, I mean it, all right, ‘cause if you ain’t tryin’ to make me bloody worried then you’re doin’ a splendid job regardless, yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Right, that’s just fuckin’ uncalled for, that…”

“No. Someone’s coming.”

You pointed then to the faint shapes on the horizon, which, judging by the noise, must have been the Shelby Bentleys.

“Get the binoculars, Alfie.”

“I’ll get the fuckin’ shotgun is what I’ll get.”

“Alfie.”

“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own house, woman!”

“So your brilliant means of operation is just bullets, is that it? What the hell did you expect, that Tommy would just listen to you?”

There was a clear measure of challenge in your words and all you two did then was just size each other up, trying to see who would call the bluff first. Finally, your husband grumbled his best catalogue of swear words and brought you the binoculars you asked for.

“It’s the Shelbys,” you confirmed.

“Like clockwork, that lot,” Alfie scoffed. “You tell them one thing, they go the opposite fuckin’ direction.”

“Some clock that’d be,” you chuckled. “We knew they’d come. That’s why we’re here.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

The pipe now abandoned, Alfie checked the barrel of his favourite handgun and reassured himself with the number. The only problem was the Shelby threat looming on the horizon and what looked like three cars, no doubt packed to the brim with Tommy’s henchmen.

“And you’re certain he will help us?” you asked.

“‘Course. Like I said before, right, Tommy’s nothin’ if not reliable.”

“That’s quite generous coming from you.”

“Just ‘cause he shot me doesn’t mean we ain’t kin now.”

“I am many things, dearest, but a Shelby isn’t one of them.”

“Ah, well, too bad. And too late to call the cavalry off, I reckon. If ya changed your mind…”

“That’s not what I meant.” It was your time to scoff. “These people are not my family. You are.”

On a rare occasion when Alfie Solomons found himself something close to emotional, three black Bentleys finally arrived at the quaint Margate cottage. You instinctively grabbed your husband’s arm again. He didn’t flinch, not even when you dug your nails into the skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“Right, gentlemen! And lady. What a lovely surprise, innit.” Alfie beckoned with his other hand, waving the gun about and leaving very little doubt as to the quickness of change in his intentions were the Shelbys not to play along. “Let me simply say: shalom… All right. Welcome. Yeah, that is the message for today, or so one might hope.”

What would undoubtedly be another inspired monologue had to wait, however. As soon as Tommy escorted Polly out of the car and her eyes met her daughter’s, Polly’s knees gave out. Tommy and Arthur caught her just in time and held her up on both sides.

“Anna!” Polly cried. “Oh dear God, it’s really you! Anna!”

You stood still like a statue, at which point even your husband turned to look at you with a mix of concern and fascination. You let go of his arm and focused on Tommy.

“Mr. Shelby. You brought an army this time. Am I to expect a shootout?”

As cold and unmoved as Tommy tried to be, it proved to be hard with a sobbing woman on his arm.

“Or am I to understand you’re here to kidnap me?” you pressed. “Please don’t say my chicken was that spectacular, I won’t believe it.”

“Anna.” Polly squeezed Tommy’s arm and took a step forward. Alfie uncocked his gun. You sighed and wished he hadn’t, since the entire Shelby ensemble now followed with the same.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, you fools! Put the bloody guns down!” Polly seethed and marched towards the house with a newfound purpose in her step. “Anna. Come down from there. You’re coming home with us.”

You looked at the woman you knew was your mother, though now only by name. Your heart didn’t know her and your head was too preoccupied to care.

“That might pose an issue,” you answered. “Because I am home.”

The next person that got out of the car, however, seemed to finally make you shake off your stony demeanour. You couldn’t quite help it, because his face was the first you could actually say was known to you.

“Michael!” you whispered and then rushed down from the porch before anyone could stop you. “Oh dear God, you’re alive!”

You fell into your brother’s steady embrace and though the force of it nearly made him stumble, he held you firmly and wouldn’t let go—not even if the devil himself tried to claim you both again.

The tearful reunion was so quiet that no one apart from you and Michael could know what words were exchanged. While the Shelbys weren’t exactly the type to interrupt, you could tell that Alfie was out of patience.

“Are we just about finished, then?” he inquired. “Forgive the interruption, yeah, but it’s gettin’ li’l too chilly for my taste.”

Polly took that opportunity to point her gun directly at Alfie’s head.

“Now then, madam,” Alfie chuckled and stood his ground, though he didn’t raise the gun he was holding. “I’d only ask ya to aim better than your nephew, all right, ‘cause I can’t exactly take no more of this.” He pointed to the injured side of his face. “Once was enough, yeah, so if you’re certain that’s what ya wanna do, I won’t stop ya.”

“Shut your mouth,” Polly hissed. “You shut your mouth!”

“Polly.” Tommy took a step towards them. His voice was full of warning and he ordered his men to stand down with a single wave of his hand. “Polly, think about what we’re doin’ here, all right? We came to get your daughter,” he turned to point at you, who now looked toward her husband with a horrified expression. “She’s safe now, Polly, we can take her home. There’s no need for violence, Pol, not today.”

“Like hell you will!” you protested. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not even here?! No one’s taking me anywhere.”

“Now then, Tommy,” Alfie sighed. “There I was, mate, thinkin’ we had an understandin’, you an’ I. After all these years of friendship, right, you come to my house, guns blazin’, and with your lovely aunt no less, all in pursuit of justice I can’t exactly give, mate, ‘cause I ain’t the one who took Anna away in the first place. So…”

To everyone’s surprise Alfie turned his back to Polly and opened the front door as casually as one might when having a gun pointed at you turns into something of a daily occurrence.

“Might I offer you a drink then, uh, Polly, is it? Right, lemme just say that, yeah, I ain’t exactly one for close family ties, you see, that’s just not somethin’ I was brought up with…”

Alfie’s voice disappeared somewhat as he walked further into the house, completely ignoring the chaos on the porch. You tried to rush back towards the house and stomped on Michael’s foot with all your might when he wouldn’t let you go. Michael roared with pain and you took your chance to run, but this time it was Arthur who stopped you and who, all things considered, presented a much sturdier guard than your brother.

“You let me through,” you hissed.

“Nah, I don’t think so, luv. You’re comin’ with us.”

“Like hell I am!”

Polly, still stunned, turned towards her children and lowered her gun, creating an opportunity for Tommy to catch up with her and take it out of her hands.

“Not today,” he repeated softly. “There’ll be time for vengeance and there’ll be time for justice. But not here, Pol, not now. Arthur, let Anna pass.”

Polly shook her head and spat on the bluish tiles of the porch, thoroughly worn out and bleached by the seaside air. Only then did she notice the curious mosaic right before the front door and the gentle arch forming the words “lethe”.

“I’m not leaving without her, Tommy,” she warned.

“I know you’re not.”

Out of options and out of bullets, Polly crossed the threshold and she hoped the choice would truly erase the anguish from her memory—if only for a moment.

Alfie’s gambit must have been exactly that from the start, Tommy mused, because as soon as the rest of the Shelby clan entered the house, they were welcomed by the maid with a tea tray. Alfie, now comfortable in his usual armchair, gestured for his guests to sit.

Judging by his calm and calculated demeanour, Tommy doubted him and his family had been so unexpected. In fact, he just about acknowledged he had let himself be manipulated not once but twice in what was perhaps the strangest forty-eight hours in a long time.

“Right, now, we don’t know each other well so I don’t know exactly what everyone drinks…” Alfie waved at the maid dismissively and she started to serve the tea as if it was any other ordinary occasion. “Feel free to peruse the bar if you so prefer, Tommy, right, but not you.” Alfie settled his only seeing eye on Arthur, though the elder Shelby brother didn’t seem as prone to anger as Alfie remembered. That was almost disappointing.

You entered the house last, holding your brother’s hand. Michael smiled down at you fondly as if you hadn’t just caused him severe bodily harm. Tommy and Alfie both noted the scene, though neither exactly for the same reasons. Alfie looked just about done tolerating all that whispering between you and your brother and it seemed so was Tommy.

Though neither, exactly, for the same reasons.

“Right then,” Alfie announced. “Should we discuss the terms?”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

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harley-sunday · 1 year

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Feels Like Home [01]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2.7k

AN: Yes. Hi. Hello. Believe it or not but I started writing this fic because I desperately needed some good guy!Daniel being cute with kids in my life. The idea was just a short one shot. Ha. Who was I kidding? Because here we are, six months and nine chapters later... I really hope you like it, please come yell at me in the comments, on anon, or in my DMs about any and all things about this story you want to yell at me about. I probably deserve it. ♥

Masterlist

There’s something about being here, on his farm outside of Perth, that he doesn’t experience anywhere else in the world. Not in Monaco, not in Los Angeles, not even in Austin, or Montana.

Because here- Here, he doesn’t have to be Daniel Ricciardo, Danny Ric, DR, or the Honey Badger. He doesn’t have to be a Formula One driver, an eight-time race winner, the most beloved driver on the grid, and the fan favourite. He doesn’t have to be Red Bull’s wild card, Renault’s saviour, or, most recently, McLaren’s scapegoat. Here, he is Daniel. And it’s enough.

Or, at least, it used to be.

Lately, there's been a yearning in his heart that he's unfamiliar with. Or he pretends to be anyway because he’s not ready to put it into words yet, not ready to speak into existence what he really wants from life. Afraid he'll jinx it if he does.

And so he keeps it to himself and lets his heart ache for something more in silence while the life he does know slowly keeps on falling apart around him.

***

Daniel rests his wrists on the handlebar of his dirt bike and lets out a breath he seems to have been holding in ever since he retired on lap forty-five of the Monza Grand Prix four days ago. Looking out over the valley below, he feels more grounded than he has in a long time and he hopes that the next two weeks will give him the peace he so desperately needs after the shitshow that has been his season so far.

The sun’s already low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the somewhat still barren trees and shrubs even though he can tell winter is slowly coming to an end from the sprouts of green that have started to grace the landscape with their presence. There’s a kookaburra laughing somewhere in the distance and he takes it as his cue to fire up his engine again for one last run around his dirt track before it gets too dark.

He knows technically he isn’t supposed to ride his bike during the season, knows technically McLaren could issue him a hefty fine for breaching his contract, but if they ever were to find out he figures they can just take it out of the settlement they’re due to pay him at the end of the year. He’s promised Zak he’ll do whatever it takes to score as many points as possible in the last six races but he also decided early on that he’s no longer going to let the team dictate what he can or cannot do in his time away from the track.

There’s a meeting tomorrow, with Blake and Michael, where they’ll try to figure out his future in Formula One. There have been a few offers, both from teams who want him as their second driver and from teams who want him to become their reserve driver, but he’s still undecided, not sure if he wants to settle for another midfield team or stay in Formula One without really being in Formula One.

By the time he completes his lap his head is somewhat empty, too busy instead to focus on keeping his bike under control and not ending up in the dirt. It’s almost dark now and so he opens the throttle wide and guns it home, a race against an invisible clock that, unlike this past season in Formula One, he wins every single time.

Once his bike is safely back in the shed he makes his way over to the house, hosing his boots down before he takes them off at the back door and leaves them to dry on the shoe rack his Dad made for him when he bought the farm. He changes out of his gear in the mud room, making a face when he takes his socks off and catches a whiff of the smell but laughing then because he remembers them smelling so much worse after a race in, oh let’s say, Singapore. With nothing but his boxer shorts on he steps into the kitchen and heads straight for the fridge, taking out an ice cold bottle of water. The sigh of relief when he rolls it against the back of his neck almost obscene. It might be winter but temperatures in western Australia are still as high as a beautiful spring day in Monaco.

It’s then the intercom rings and for a moment he debates ignoring it, not sure if he’s up for telling yet another local journo looking to make it big by trying to get an interview with ‘shunned McLaren driver Daniel Ricciardo’ that now really isn’t a good time and that any requests for interviews should be made through Blake anyway.

Plus, he gave his family and friends the access code to the gate when it was first installed, so he doubts any of them are waiting for him to open it, not in the least because they know better than to just show up without a text or call in advance.

In the end, his curiosity gets the better of him and so he walks over to where the control panel of his alarm system hangs in the living room and pushes the button needed to connect to whoever’s at the gate, “Hello?”

“Hi,” the screen comes on then, the black and white image showing a woman wearing a Stetson hat. She’s staring somewhere into the distance, her face obscured by the shadows the brim of her hat casts under the streetlight, but her voice comes through loud and clear, “Sorry to bother you this late-”

“It’s seven thirty,” he shoots back almost effortlessly.

“-but I wondered if I could maybe ask you to keep it down with the dirt biking a little?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

She looks up and into the camera then, pushing her hat a little higher so he can finally see her eyes, “It’s just- We’ve got a flock of alpacas over in Eagle's Nest and they tend to get a little jittery from all the noise. Especially when they try to settle in for the night and-”

“I’m sorry,“ he can’t help but grin, running a hand through his hair, “but I’m going to need a little more context here.”

She laughs and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and so he’s a little distracted but then he sees her taking her hat off, revealing her face and- Fuck. She’s gorgeous. He watches her as she shakes her head, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips, “Shit, sorry. I probably should have given you a bit more to go on.” Putting her hat back on she straightens up and points to somewhere over her shoulder, “Your neighbour on that side, Oscar Linton? He’s my granddad. I think you know him, right?”

“Old man Linton!” He smiles and nods, “Of course I do.” When he first bought the farm he made sure to introduce himself to his neighbours and while he likes to think he has a good relationship with all three of them he’s always had a soft spot for the elderly man further up the road. So much so that he always makes sure to drop by for a chat whenever he finds himself back in Perth. It’s then he connects the dots and recognises her from some of the pictures Oscar has up in his living room. All of a sudden he feels guilty for not going to see his neighbour yet even though he has been home for two days already but maybe he can do that tomorrow or-

“He fell a few days ago-” her voice pulls him out of his thoughts unintentionally and his guilt triples in a matter of seconds. There’s a sad smile tugging on her lips which makes him prepare for the worst.

Surely they would have let him know if- He remembers the pile of unopened letters waiting for him on the kitchen counter then and curses quietly, “Shit.”

“He’s ok,” she’s quick to reassure him, as if she knows what he was thinking. “He spent a couple of nights in hospital and still has a long way to go but at least he’s home again.” She takes a deep breath, “They had to replace his hip and he’s got a broken wrist but,” she shrugs, “it could have been worse.”

It’s then the absurdity of the situation hits him, with him in his boxers in his living room and her on the other end of his kilometre-long driveway, talking into a metallic box. He shakes his head and pushes the button that opens the gate automatically, “I think maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation over an intercom. I could make you a cup of coffee if you want? Or something stronger? I make a mean-”

She bites her lip and seems to hesitate.

“Just a quick cuppa. It’s the neighbourly thing to do, right?”

He sees her nod, “Yeah, ok.”

He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “Happy days.”

***

The house is not at all how you expect it to be, much more modern and open-planned than any of the other farm houses in the area. The west-facing wall has been completely redone in glass panels, offering a stunning view of the valley and surrounding paddocks and you can’t help but admire the interior design of both the kitchen and the living room, which is masculine but still inviting. You wonder if he decorated the place himself or if he hired some interior designer to do it for him.

“Here you go,” Daniel, who told you ‘You can call me Dan’ when he greeted you at the door with a bright smile and an outstretched hand- offers you a cup of steaming hot coffee and motions for you to join him at the kitchen table. He’s wearing white sweatpants and a matching white sweater that look incredibly comfy and that make you want to wrap yourself around him and hang onto him like a koala bear. Wait. What?

You take your hat off to try and keep from ogling him, placing it on the chair next to you before you sit down and smile at him, “You know, all these years I thought you were called Danny Ric because that’s what Granddad keeps calling you. I’m not sure I can get used to Daniel.”

Daniel laughs, the laughter lines in the corners of his eyes even more prominent now, “Trust the old man to keep that gag going.” He shakes his head then, “I can’t believe he fell though.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, blowing into your coffee. “We’re lucky Mrs Mackenzie found him when she did or-” You let out a ragged breath and see him nod, his eyes kind, and it makes you continue, “His hip was completely shattered and his wrist is broken in three places so it’s going to take a while before he’s up and running again- I mean, if his new hip ever heals completely- He’s already seventy-eight so-” You hear yourself starting to ramble and so you fold your hands around your cup and try to calm down a little. You’re not even sure why you’re even telling him all of this, but he’s a friend of your granddad and so you figure he’s good people. “Mum and Dad wanted to come back from New Zealand to help out but-” you look up at Daniel and shrug, “I spent a lot of time on the farm as a kid, right until I left for uni, so it made much more sense for me to move in with him for the time being.”

“That’s a pretty big thing to do,” Daniel says with a kind smile, a warmth to his brown eyes that you can feel yourself get lost in. “You sure your family can miss you that long?”

You don’t really know what he’s getting at, whether he’s talking about your Mum and Dad or the husband and kids he thinks you might have left behind to come back to Mundaring, and you don’t really know you want to tell him your truth either, after all you’ve just met him, so in the end you shake your head and settle on an honest, “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

He eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t push it and instead he says, “If you’d have me I’d love to come over to see him some time. I’m still here for almost another two weeks and-”

“I’m sure he’d like that,” you offer with a smile. “He always tells me what a nice bloke you are.”

Daniel leans back in his chair and grins, spreading his arms, “Can’t say I blame him. I’m the best.”

“He says the same thing about the postie,” you tease with a casual shrug, “so don’t get too excited.”

“Ouch,” Daniel brings a hand to his chest, “that hurts.”

You pout, “So sad.”

“Very,” Daniel agrees quietly, trying his best to keep a straight face. He puts his arms on the table then and leans forward, “Before you stomp on my ego some more, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here. What’s up with that eagle’s nest over in some paddock?”

“Oof,” you pull a face and shake your head, “you were so close.” You can’t help but laugh when you see him pretend to be hurt at your comment. You take a sip of coffee before you explain, pointing in the general direction of your paddock, “Your dirt track borders Eagle's Nest, the paddock Granddad uses for the alpacas in September and October, and I guess normally it isn’t a problem because you usually aren’t home during this time of year but I heard you yesterday and today and-”

“Yeah, we had an unexpected three-week break this year so I figured-” Daniel waves his hand around for you to continue then.

“It’s just, we have three pregnant females this year and- I don’t know if you’re at all familiar with alpacas?”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t even know you guys had alpacas. Your granddad and I just tend to talk shit about Mrs Mackenzie and them over a cuppa but I've never really asked him about the farm to be honest."

You throw him a look, knowing all too well your granddad doesn’t drink coffee.

He quickly backs down, “Fine, I drink coffee, he drinks tea.”

“There you go,” you mouth with a wink. “Anyway, alpacas are basically scared of everything, even their own shadow, so you know, someone riding a dirt bike close by doesn’t really help with keeping them nice and calm during these last few weeks of their pregnancy.”

“Gotcha.”

“They’re usually out on the other side of the paddock during the day, so anything until five in the afternoon is fine” you offer, not wanting to deprive him of his hobby completely, “but we have their feeders and the shed they can hide in during the night out over in your corner, so-”

“You’re giving me a five pm curfew, basically,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Just until the end of October.” You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Nah, no worries,” Daniel puts his hand on your forearm and gives it a squeeze to let you know he means it. “I’d do anything for old Oscar.” Then, with a grin he adds, “And his girls.”

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks and try to hide it with a smile, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your arm again, “He’s gonna be fine by the way. He’s tough, that one.”

“Speaking of Granddad,” you risk a quick glance at your watch, letting you know it’s almost eight fifteen, “I should probably head back.” You push your chair back and grab your hat, putting it on as you tell Daniel, “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Anytime,” he says with a grin as he stands up as well, following you to the front door. “Tell him I’ll come by soon, ok?”

“Will do.” You turn around then and smile again, something about not getting your hopes up but doing so anyway when you ask, “I’ll see you around then?”

Daniel tips his imaginary hat, “Yes ma’am.”

#Daniel Ricciardo #F1 Fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo x reader #DR3 #F1 Imagine #Harley Sunday x Daniel Ricciardo #Feels Like Home

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adaptacy · 5 months

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A Found Flame {Pt.14}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

Word Count: 3.2k

“You seem distracted, Gale,” Shadowheart comments, picking a bit of fuzz off of her chainmail and flicking it into the grass. The wizard she speaks to doesn’t reply, simply idly walking alongside the rest of the group, and it takes a nudge from Astarion to earn his attention.

“Hm?” His head lifts, drawn out of his thoughts as he looks between the group, whose eyes are all on him aside from Lae’zel, who stares confidently at the road ahead.

“Something on your mind, darling?” Astarion hums, leaning towards him with a knowing smirk – one that only serves to confuse (and slightly unsettle) his target.

“Me? Oh, no. Well, aside from our unwarranted brain pilots, that is. Though… perhaps too literal of an interpretation,” he jokes back, though it falls mostly flat, save for a quick chuckle from Halsin.

“Still suffering the effects of last night’s fun?” The cleric asks, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Must be. I wonder – do the tadpoles feel the effects as well? I believe mine has been positively tamed since drowning it out so literally,” Gale replies, attempting to draw the topic of conversation away from his drifting mind.

“If only we were so fortunate. If that were the case, I would have subjected myself to wasting away in the reserves as the two of you did. Alas, one of us needed to keep their wits about them,” Lae’zel hisses, cutting into the conversation as if it were yet another meal, her tone a freshly sharpened blade.

“Right. Because you have such endless wits to begin with,” Shadowheart snaps, and the two share an angry glare. It comes as a surprise that they’re capable of maintaining their pace and don’t jump into an all-out war on the spot, but by no means is the tension any weaker. “Refusing to indulge does not make you any better than the rest of us, gith.”

“Perhaps it does not. But sustaining self-control certainly does, elf. You are lucky we were not attacked. You would make fine bait for predators,” Lae’zel growls, forcing Halsin to physically step between the two women, making for a large and hefty barrier.

“Let us remain focused on the journey ahead. I do not believe it will be an easy one. Moonrise towers may prove quite the threat, and it’s best that we do not allow our minds to stray,” he reminds, his tone gentle, almost guiding, and he even goes so far as to place a hand on each of their shoulders.

That plan backfires immediately, as both of them simultaneously bark out “Don’t touch me,” which both makes Halsin retract his palms and earns grumbles from the arguing parties.

“We are plenty focused,” Shadowheart defends, keeping a slightly cooler head than Lae’zel – at least on the surface.

“Focused on ripping one another’s throats out,” Astarion mumbles, and Halsin frowns at him in some attempt to scold the pale elf, though it doesn’t seem successful by any means. “All I’m saying is, if the two of you do get into a bloody tussle… My bets are on Lae’zel winning.”

“Hah,” Lae’zel chuckles, and Shadowheart’s cooler head is quickly set aflame. “A wise choice, Astarion. Shadowheart would prove no more difficult to defeat than those measly goblins. Not much better looking, either. Such a distracting nose – best it may be that I slice it off,” she threatens, and Halsin seems more intimidated than Shadowheart.

“Best indeed. Better off I would be, free from the curse of having to smell you in the vicinity. It would be the ultimate mercy. Take my eyes, while you’re at it, so I may be obliged the avoidance of seeing you,” She shoots back, her scowl intensifying.

“A wise choice, to submit. It is unfortunate that I care too deeply for my blade to stain it with blood from the likes of you. Were I lent Astarion’s daggers, the circumstances may change,” Lae’zel answers, finally breaking her gaze away from the cleric to investigate the surroundings, and she begrudgingly comes to a halt when she spots Halsin a few feet behind the trio, appearing most confused as he kneels in the dirt, inspecting something.

Shadowheart grumbles, somehow even more irritated. “You need not pull up every hunter’s trap. I’m well-aware you are ‘one with nature’, but you’re slowing us down,” she scolds.

Halsin chuckles sheepishly at her critique, but shakes his head. “Not a hunter’s trap. As much as I would love to allow you two to continue bickering, I must bring to your attention the absence of a certain brown-haired wizard,” Halsin replies, and the group immediately looks around themselves, finding that he has, indeed, disappeared.

“Chk. Your gods have seemed to bestow upon us a blessing at last. I can only hope that Shadowheart follows suit,” Lae’zel muses, though her comment goes unanswered by Shadowheart, who seems genuinely concerned at his leave.

“He was just here, was he not?” She asks, and both Astarion and Halsin nod, her tone convincing enough for Lae’zel to remain quiet and temporarily stand down from the argument. “He wasn’t attacked – as talkative as he is, he surely would have made some verbal alert to us.”

“Seems he was pushed away by your incessant arguing,” Astarion hums, as if he hadn’t been encouraging the two of them no more than moments ago. “Marvelous. Now we have to search for a wizard and a cure. Gods, this trip manages more hellish bounds than I knew possible,” he complains, unsheathing one of his daggers in case of lurking threats.

“Footprints, in the dirt,” Halsin speaks from where he is crouched by the ground, running two large fingers over a firm print in the soil. “Seems to have left in a bit of a hurry. A wonder why he didn’t alert us as to what drew his attention.”

“Suppose we ought to follow him,” Shadowheart sighs, mildly irritated at the inconvenience, but she knows he wouldn’t have split up from the group without good reason – very good reason.

So they follow, and it only takes a few steps and even fewer seconds to spot the wizard, his staff loosely hanging by his side, his grip on it barely enough to keep a hold. Only a few yards from where the group had been, he stands at the edge of a river, looking at the other side as if he expects the waves to part and allow him to cross. Alas, they do no such thing – while there are rocks that could serve as stepping stones to the other side, the water rushes quickly and roughly, permitting no traversal. He doesn’t quite detect the group’s presence behind him, not until Halsin clears his throat, and Gale looks over his shoulder, squeezing the staff and straightening it in an attempt to fix his posture.

“Ah– Apologies,” he says, sounding slightly conflicted. His head turns as he looks back at the opposing bay, watching it for a moment more before fully pivoting to address the group. “I believed I had… spotted movement on the other side,” he explains, glancing once more behind him, and the rest follow his gaze, though it is only an empty few ledges that they see, notably lacking any life.

“Movement? Such as a deer? Frightened by your approach, likely,” Halsin suggests, shrugging his shoulders in a minor shift.

Gale’s eyebrows slant inward, and he narrows his eyes, expressing his disbelief as he disagrees, “No, not an animal. It looked to be a pair of humanoids, or so I thought. It may be that my mind is playing tricks on me. Please, let us proceed.” He lifts his hand, motioning with a palm back towards the area that he’d initially left their side.

“Becoming quite the hunter, are you?” Astarion teases, his tone purposefully mocking. “Maybe next time you’ll actually have prey, rather than a… belief.”

“I’m sure he was only trying to watch out for us,” Shadowheart defends, growing increasingly annoyed with the elf’s constant taunting.

Lae’zel snickers, angling her head scantily away from Shadowheart. “Absurd. Surely he does not doubt our capability in battle? Should we be ambushed, I advise that we welcome such boldness – the cowards will be quick to realize their mistake,” she scolds, looking back at Gale and leaning her head forward, attempting to intimidate during her ridicule. “It was fallacious of you to depart from the group. You lack the strength to act so boldly.”

Gale cringes, raising his hand and dipping his head in a quick apology. “Of course. Thank you, Lae’zel, I’d nearly forgotten,” he responds, rejoining the group with a few steps forward.

“Do not make me remind you again,” she growls, not picking up on his sarcasm. The group turns back towards the path they’d been walking, heading again towards the goblin-raided village, but a quick, loud whine to their left yanks their attention away.

“A wounded animal,” Halsin states, quick to discern the noise. He’s the first to step towards the sound, and the rest of them follow, allowing Halsin to lead them towards the source of the soft whimpering – a white dog, attempting to free one of its back legs from the confines of a net that tightly wraps around it, ensnaring the creature.

“Disgraceful. The creature must be utterly dense to have been caught in such a lazily concealed trap,” Lae’zel gripes, reaching to ready her blade, but Halsin raises his hand, instantly discouraging the violence. Instead, he approaches the animal, showing his palms as he lowers himself to the ground and extends a hand, allowing the dog to sniff him.

“I suppose I could not ever disarm enough of the traps. It is horribly cruel – vile, to act with such cowardice towards the innocence of nature,” he sighs, looking behind himself and holding out his hand, his gaze on Astarion. “May I borrow one of your daggers?”

Astarion narrows his eyes, thinking about denying the request, but ultimately gives an exhale of contempt and unhooks one, holding the blade as he hands it to the druid. “I’m sure the hunter who has to fight for his food would argue otherwise. After all, not everyone is able to purchase food so readily.”

“I have no quells with hunters. Trappers, however, are entirely craven folk. Should one wish to reap the benefits of nature’s grace, it is only just that they fight for their food in the same fashion fellow predators do,” Halsin explains, using his dagger to carefully clip the thin netting around the dog’s hind leg. Once it’s able to, it steps to the side, shaking the freed leg as if to check it over.

“It has a collar,” Shadowheart mentions, pointing towards the creature’s neck, which bears a leather collar, engraved with faint purple lettering. There’s a small medallion hanging at the center, and Halsin peers closer, the dog letting him reach for the collar and lift it slightly, the light catching it better at a different angle, allowing for Halsin to read it.

“Scratch,” he hums, and the dog gives a short whine, tilting his head curiously at the name. Halsin chuckles and rubs the animal’s head, making his ears flatten and his tail wag.

“Great, you freed the mutt – I’d like my dagger back,” Astarion mumbles, his hand on his hip as he watches the scene, just short of scowling. “We’ve wasted enough time. Is it too much to ask that we please keep moving?”

“Patience, Astarion,” Halsin muses, handing him his dagger and standing up, presenting his hand for the dog to sniff once more. “Seek us if you wish, Scratch. May the Oakfather protect you on your journey, wherever it may lead.” He gives the dog another gentle pat on the head, and Scratch barks in response, seeming to understand what the elf was offering. Finally returning his attention to the group, he merely smiles in response to the few judgmental glares he was faced with. “Let us carry on with our own journey. Moonrise Tower awaits, as do the perils on our path.”

“We have had enough distractions for one day. We proceed, and we proceed swiftly,” Lae’zel commands, and while three of her four companions nod in agreement, Shadowheart lets out a short huff of irritation. Nevertheless, she does follow the group as they continue moving, even if her gaze is tainted with her distaste, she stays silent about her misgivings.

– – –

“Makes me killer in battle, which tracks, given Zariel’s purpose for me,” Karlach speaks through a mouthful of food, loosely motioning with the stick on which the freshly cooked boar meat was impaled. “Been runnin’ hotter than I’m used to, ever since I caught a ride outta the hells. Doesn’t change anything – I’ll happily take an overheated heart over being controlled by Zariel any day. Guess it wasn’t really made to operate outside of Avernus, though.”

You take a bite of your own kebab, only difference being that you fully chew and swallow before responding. “Does it hurt? I mean, all those flames, and inside of you no less? Surely it’s a little painful.”

Karlach shrugs, bringing a knee up and resting her arm on it. “Eh, at first. After ten years, you get pretty used to it. And anyways, I was pent up in the hells for long enough to get used to the heat,” she chuckles, and though her tone is light, you’re sure that the memories aren’t all too pleasant to reflect on. “I was fighting – all the time. Usually had worse, and more painful, wounds to bear than the ol’ furnace. Always been a fighter, though. Even as a kid. Your pain tolerance builds up pretty fast when you’re constantly on the wrong side of a weapon.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like. At least you’re resistant to it, though,” you hum, not entirely sure whether you should attempt comforting her or not.

Karlach smiles, nodding and taking another bite. “Beggars can’t be choosers, eh? Oughta take what I can get. I like stayin’ optimistic – lookin’ on the bright side, all that jazz. Even if the odds are pretty shit,” she explains, tearing off the last of the boar meat and snapping the stick in half, tossing it into the campfire between the two of you. “I don’t mind all the fighting n’ killing. Just prefer to do it on my own terms, and avoid violence against innocents and all that. Plus, all my experience means I can protect those who can’t protect themselves.” She gleams, pulling up an arm and flexing, laughing at her own expression of strength. “Got somethin’ to show for all the hell I’ve been through. Or, more specifically, all the hells I’ve been through.”

“Figure we’ll probably need it,” you tease, knowing damn well that she was a necessary companion if you wanted a real chance at survival. At least until you found Gale, though you didn’t have any intentions of ditching Karlach once you did – you just assume that surviving won’t be so dependent on her when you have an extra person to accompany you.

“You said you’re lookin’ for someone, right? You think the nautiloids got somethin’ to do with him? Or, maybe he has something to do with the nautiloid?” Karlack asks, using a nail to pick out a stuck piece of meat between her teeth.

As she flicks that piece of meat off into the distance, you finish off your own meal and contemplate her question. You’re not sure, really – but there’s always a chance, and things seem about as impossibly derailed as they could be. Nautiloids in Faerûn, something about new deities and everything that Elminster talked about? Hardly imaginable, yet they seemed plenty real. “Not sure, to be completely honest. I have no clue how he would’ve somehow wound up in such an ordeal, but… I also struggle to grasp that any of this is actually happening.”

Karlach chuckles in agreement. “You and me both, scout. Gods, I’ve missed the grass. Such a simple thing – oh, and the sky! The flames of Avernus ain’t got shit on the stars,” she sighs dreamily, laying back and folding an arm under her head, looking up at the sky.

“My mentor’s obsessed with the stars. Sorry – Gale’s obsessed with the stars. Back home, where we live in Waterdeep, he has this balcony with a drop-dead gorgeous view,” you comment, imitating her movements and stargazing as well. “I guess obsessed is a strong word. He just has an odd affinity for them.”

“He’s your mentor?” Karlach asks, and you hum out a short affirmation. “I don’t blame him. If I could, I’d spend the rest of my years watching them. Never really know what you got ‘till it’s gone. Wasn’t always trapped in the hells, you see – I was a city kid, and I used to live in Baldur’s Gate. Born and raised Baldurian.” She speaks with pleasant recollection, and takes a pause to truly reflect. “Almost twenty years spent under the sky. Almost twenty years to really enjoy it, take it in, appreciate it. Never did. Not enough. Back in Avernus, there’s nothin’ like it. Missed it everyday. Might sound ridiculous, and maybe it is,” she lets out a mildly self-deprecating chuckle, “But damn, did I take it for granted.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you argue, hardly finding her struggle anything short of realistic. “I don’t think so, anyways.” You give yourself a moment to think through your next words, carefully tip-toeing into the subject of her servitude – she speaks calmly about it, and doesn’t appear particularly troubled or bothered by the topic, but you don’t know her very well at all, and don’t want to risk upsetting her. Still, you don’t want to avoid the conversation completely and risk seeming apathetic. A middle ground is foggy at best, but you’re willing to try and find it. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to hell myself,” you begin, your tone just light-hearted enough to keep the conversation gentle, “But I can at least imagine how different it probably is. I think the stars have a sort of reassurance about them.”

Karlach’s head turns to look at you, and she seems more curious than anything close to hurt, or offended. “A reassurance? What do you mean?”

Squinting, you let out a short troubled exhale. “I mean, like – it’s the same everywhere, you know? Like it connects everyone,” you attempt to explain, and although you’re sure that you don’t sound entirely sure of yourself, Karlach is at least interested in further elaboration. “The stars never change,” you quote, “No matter what happens. No matter where you are. Everyone sees the same sky. They could be hundreds of miles away, but they’d still see the exact same stars. The exact same constellations.”

“Huh. Never thought about it like that. Guess they’re pretty strong, huh?” Karlach laughs, looking back up. “I always just missed it cause it was pretty, and reliable, in a way. Gave some routine, no matter how fucked-up life got. In hell, life just gets fucked-up. There’s no balancing acts, or calmness. But you’re right. It’s kinda weird to think about. Bunch’a different people, races, backgrounds, experiences – but everyone sees the same stars. Wild.”

“It is wild,” you chuckle in response, tracing imaginary lines between the stars. No matter how far away, everyone saw the same sky. Gale was out there, somewhere. You didn’t know exactly how close, or how far, but you did know one thing – he was out there, and he saw the same stars you did. You were going to find him. You had to, and you would. But for now, you watch the stars, telling yourself that he was watching them as well.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 x reader #karlach cliffgate #karlach bg3 #lae'zel bg3 #shadowheart bg3 #halsin bg3 #astarion bg3

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ashsostrange · 9 months

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i’m (not) sorry to say, but miles is better off by himself.

idk if i’ve ever written a post this long, but i got energy tonight. y’all have been sucked into the black hole of shipping, so let me ground you and remind you of this amazing thing called being single. i’m gna talk ab margo and gwen, but mostly gwen bc she’s obv miles’ (main) love interest. i’ve said more than enough about why miles and gwen don’t work/make sense. if you wna be enlightened then feel free to click the links.

thoughts on ghostflower: here!

reblogging a moot's post w/ added thoughts: hereee!

i love ranting so let’s get it! 😛

i don't have much to say about margo bc sadly, she's barely there. what i will say though is that as cute as miles and margo would be together, there’s one more movie left lol. the third movie’s gna be busy as hell. there’s literally no time for romance, and to rush miles and margo (two people who just met) into liking each other in, like, a three hour timespan would just be terrible writing. plus, we all know she’s there for some bs having to do with miles nd gwen, which is literally soooooooo very lame, words can't describe. one, where are you finding the time to cram in jealousy/all this angsty romance mess when miles’ dad is ab to die and the universe is ab to collapse bc of a nigga that looks like the lovechild of a cardboard box and a cow?? two, is this really all margo is here for?? to make gwen jealous or “help miles realize he’s in love with gwen” ?? shameeee, like summer said. 😐 i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: margo could be SO much more than a disposable love interest!!!

gwiles/ghostflower fans, i’m going to tell you something that will make you upset. i said i was coming for you and i meant it 🗣️‼️

before you yell at me and push smoke out of your ears, i need you to put your right hand on your chest and close your eyes. you feel your heartbeat? good. now, count to three while taking deep breaths and remember that none of this shit is real so you’d look stupid af trying to attack me. 🙃 some of y’all are getting TOO comfortable being unnecessarily disrespectful and ion like that lol. don’t try it here bc i’m on another level of not gaf!

listen, even if (when?) gwen and miles team up to save his dad, it won’t change the fact that gwen was keeping some hefty info from miles, yo. she was smiling in jeff’s face and cracking jokes like she didn’t know he was bout to die. y’all gotta be so very real with yourselves. you wouldn’t wna date, let alone be FRIENDS with someone who kept something that big from you, regardless of the circumstances or lack of ill intent. one of the most important people in your life concealing the fact that you’re about to lose another important person in your life is insane.

i’m aware that gwen didn’t tell miles about his dad because she genuinely thought it’d cause mass destruction if he saved jeff. thing is, even if miles knew that, i think he’d still feel betrayed. that’s 100% valid because this is his dad we’re talking about. he just lost his uncle not too long ago, too. i wouldn’t blame miles if he never wanted anything to do with gwen again. i wouldn’t blame bro if he got sick to his stomach every time he saw her. it’d be justified, bc if he never followed her that night, then he wouldn’t have had the chance to save jeff.

my point is that you can be a “good person” and still fuck up bad enough to make someone never wna speak to you again. miles is a sweetheart so he’ll probably forgive gwen. my thing is, miles forgiving gwen doesn’t mean the two of them are obligated to be friends again. they can handle it maturely, go their separate ways, nd never speak again. it’s really not even gna hurt y’all cuz it’s the last mf movie anyway??? 😭😭

if it isn’t clear by now, i don’t want miles and gwen together at all. they have no business being around each other frl 🙃 not as friends and definitely not as lovers. like, sure, that one scene where they’re swinging/talking on the bank was my absolute fav. it was cute. i shipped them before i really thought about it. that scene is still my fav, but my adoration for it isn’t gna stop me from keeping it real.

i really don’t care what anyone says or how in love they think these two are, this isn’t a “forgive and forget” situation. if the writers truly wanted gwen and miles to be involved romantically, then not only should they have structured their dynamic better, they shouldn’t have made gwen the person she was in this movie. love, love, LOVE redemption arcs because it’s a reminder that we're human and we're flawed, but you can’t redeem yourself from that. sorry. (not) i say miles should leave that girl alone 🤷‍♀️ leave all potential girls alone ffs.

in conclusion, it’s okay for miles to be single. he's 15 anyway, it's not like he'll die without a girl. i’m the suckiest sucker for anything to do with romance, but characters in film/animation don’t need to have love interests for a project to be considered good. if you feel like it does, then maybe ts you’re watching just sucks, lmao. a girl and a boy can be friends without one having feelings for the other, or both of 'em having mutual feelings. (in the media idk ab irl..) it’s time to stop forcing ts. please.

and it’s okay y’all, i promise you. it’s okay if miles and gwen don’t end up dating. it's okay if they reconcile and stay friends. it’s okay if they reconcile and don’t stay friends. though unlikely, it’s also okay if miles doesn’t forgive gwen at all! resolutions like these go to show that you can “forgive” someone without letting them have access to you anymore. that’s what miles needs to do. straying away from the “happy ending” everyone is expecting would be nice. it’d be a different approach and a realistic way to complete the franchise. (i’m not just saying this bc i love angst)

but before the gwiles (ugly ass ship name btw) fans start throwing up and telling me to end my shit, it’s 99% unlikely that anything i just stated will actually happen. we’re more than likely getting a kiss between miles and gwen, nd that’s bc the writers are probably high off the same dope they were on when they wrote gwen sneaking in thru miles’ window, j for his parents to be way more calm about it than any other normal parent would be. i could say some more about certain scenes but that's for another night.

miles doesn’t need to be with anyone. especially not gwen when it comes down to it.

oh and i HATE peter b. fuck that nigga. he was nun but an extra in this movie and i know he’s an opp in the next. 🙎‍♀️

that’s all! if you read allat then thanks, cuz i wrote a lot. if you're feeling angry, then go for a walk. this isn’t a place for any typa criticism bc i am right, therefore, i am not requesting confirmation. 🙌 i said what i said. have a good night.

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sarcasmsweetie · 1 year

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Insecurities

A requested bonus scene for "A Better Life"! And my first request! I had a blast with this, and wound up doing a whole cannonball into insecurities instead of just dipping a toe in. Woops...

Request: would you mind writing about something in the a better life series where the reader is a little insecure and az reassures her?

Word count: 3.4k

Azriel x Archeron Sister

Masterlist

Taglist: On hold until the shadowban is lifted (as no one gets notified when I post with the ban still in place)

When Mor wants something, Mor gets it. Unfortunately, what she wants is to celebrate my visit back in Velaris with a night out at Rita’s. This is my first time back since Nyx was born, so I was hoping for a quieter evening in with everyone. “Quiet,” however, is not a word in Mor’s vocabulary. As Feyre and Rhys stayed home with their son, they promised me they’d spend all day tomorrow with me to make up for their absence tonight.

While I thought I wanted the quiet night, Rita’s proved to be fun as well. Mor hadn’t dragged me onto the dance floor just yet, so I enjoyed sitting in the booth beside Nesta, chatting with her and Cassian about anything and everything. Especially Nesta’s latest book recommendations.

“When you go home, I’ll pack up a few things for you to take back. Don’t think I didn’t notice how bare your shelves were when Cassian and I visited last month.”

“Ah, so what you’re saying is you’re going to send back a miniature library of romance novels, with a spice level no lower than 4 out of 5. Shall I also prepare a journal for my reviews so we can talk in length next time we see each other?” Cassian laughed, thinking I was joking, but Nesta’s eyes brightened in excitement.

“Not just reviews, but I want stream of consciousness. I can’t be there by your side to gauge your reactions, so I need to know everything about what you like and what you don’t so I can strengthen the next haul, ensure every book is to your liking.”

“Then for this first round, throw in a few mystery novels as well if you have them.” She raised an eyebrow and I shrugged. “I like to see if I can figure out the answer before it’s revealed.” Nesta looked to be deep in thought, mentally cataloguing everything she’s read and what could fit the “mystery” criteria.

Grabbing my drink, I noticed Azriel watching with mild interest in our conversation. Varian and Amren were speaking quietly to one another on one side, while Mor tried to convince Elain to try her tequila cocktail on his other.

“I’ve got a few mystery novels I can add to the collection. Maybe in your journal, you can note when you think you’ve figured it out and we can compare who solved it quicker.” I raised my glass to him, and he raised his beer in response.

“While I don’t like my odds, Spymaster, I’ll accept this challenge.” We both smiled as we finished the last of our drinks. Taking a glance around the table, I noticed everyone else’s glasses were low. As Elain and I each were on the end of the rounded booth and she was still trying to decline Mor’s invitation to try her incredibly strong drink, I took the initiative to get everyone’s refills. “I’ll go grab us another round.” Amren smiled as she finished the last of her wine as Azriel tried to stand to help. “You’re wedged in, Az. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back in a minute.” He nodded, though with a slight hesitation, as he moved to settle back into his seat.

I moved around some of the stray dancers on the edge of the dancefloor to get to the bar, thankful there was a space opening up at the bar as I approached. Stepping in quickly before anyone else could, I waved down the closest bartender and requested everyone’s drinks. As the bartender began to make everything, I organized my coin purse to pay for the drinks and leave a hefty tip. I took a few minutes to look around my surroundings, smiling softly at the dancing couples and the groups of people laughing around the bar. A flash of blonde caught my eye, and I watched as Mor made her way to the center of the floor, dancing briefly with everyone she moved past. My smile grew at the image, though my eyes glanced back to our table. Elain was seated bit closer to Az, presumably so she wouldn’t have to move again when Mor came back from dancing. My smile dropped a bit, though I knew things weren’t like they used to be between them. She was writing with Lucien, and I knew Azriel was trying to get to know me better. But I watched the easy way they spoke to one another, the way they engaged so effortlessly. I watched as he chuckled over something she said, and I felt something tighten in my chest. It was easy to guess they were commenting on Mor as they were both watching her dance, a simple and safe topic, but that didn’t wipe away the sting of jealousy I had watching them together.

“Do you think the Shadowsinger will ever make a move on that female?” I tore my gaze from the table to the couple at the bar beside me.

“Who knows? We never see him with anyone, though it would be a shame if he lets this one slip away. They look so pretty together, don’t they? Opposites attract, and all that.”

They provided a bit more commentary to one another about my sister and my mate, suggesting ideas of their relationship simply being more private than others of the Inner Circle, before they collected their drinks and moved somewhere else. I didn’t watch where they went as my gaze fell back on the two in question.

They did look quite attractive. Elain was always light and petite, which I could agree paired well with his darker and larger build. Having always been the tallest of the sisters, I was always closer to the men’s height of our village, never really knowing what it was like to look up to someone or struggle to meet their eye. I also packed on a bit of muscle since moving to Winter due to maintaining the cabin and Fenrir’s stable all on my own. Feyre and Nesta had a bit of muscle themselves, but I always believed they had the build of dancers whereas mine feels… thicker than what they have. Elain, on the other hand, was as feminine as one could be, focusing primarily on “traditional” tasks a female would take on and not anything that could build a strength that could threaten the strength of the male on her arm.

My brain fell down the rabbit hole of thinking back to every encounter I’ve witnessed of the two of them, remembering how there’s always been an easy connection there. They never had to argue in order to be seen, to be on the same side. They never had to fight in order to keep the other’s attention. One simply exists and the other is in their orbit. If Nesta never said anything about the mating bond, would they still be together? Or would he have realized on his own what he had done and stepped away, chose me?

I was brought out of my musings by a bump to my back. Turning, I noticed the bartender sliding a tray holding all of our drinks towards me. I apologized for zoning out, handing over the payment and tip, and headed back to the table. Along the way, Mor caught up with me, sliding an arm over my shoulders while grabbing her drink for herself. She helped me pass out everyone’s drinks before saying she’ll take the tray back to the bar for me.

“You don’t have to trouble yourself with that, Mor! I’ve got it.” She smirked at me.

“Trust me when I say that this is no trouble. In fact, you’re doing me the favor of giving me an excuse to chat up the cute new bartender Rita brought on.” She winked as she sauntered off, and most of the table chuckled.

I tried to at least remain aware to the conversations around me as I nursed my drink, but I kept falling back into the thoughts of not belonging here, of not being enough. Nesta nudged me, brows slightly furrowed, but I tried to shake her concerns away with a smile. “Just tired, is all. Not used to nights out like this.” Nesta didn’t look convinced, but Elain nodded along like she understood.

“I normally don’t come out, either. What would you be doing now if you were still in Winter?” While Elain has been getting better at asking questions since our confrontation last time I was in Velaris, I noticed she never called Winter my home – just referenced it as a place I was currently staying at.

“I’m attempting to knit socks.” I chuckled to myself as I looked back down to my drink. “Right now, I’d be snuggled up on the sofa in front of a large fire, trying to figure out why I just can’t get socks right. Something about the way they curve at the heel is apparently baffling to me.” I shrugged as I thought about what else my nights would entail. “Tomorrow would have been a brunch day with Viv, so when I inevitably get fed up with the knitting, I’d move to the kitchen and bake something for those at the manor. There is a common fondness for ginger biscuits, so I’ve been toying around with some of those flavors. But now that I’m building up my own library, I imagine more reading in my future.” I glanced back up at Elain and she had a small smile on her face, though the same could not be said for everyone else at the table.

Before letting any possible looks of pity settle in my skin at my isolation, I swallowed back the rest of my drink. “And I believe this is where I’ll call it a night. Tell Mor I said good night and thank her for inviting me out, would you?” I kissed Nesta’s cheek in goodbye, squeezing Cassian’s extended hand at the same time, then nodded at Amren and Varian (genuinely shocked they were still here).

Elain stood to hug me goodbye, asking if I could join her in the gardens tomorrow. I agreed with a smile, mentally sorting through a possible schedule with Rhys and Feyre that would allow me time to break away, and we both watched Azriel stand from the booth before Elain could slide back in. “I’ll walk you back.” I was fully prepared to turn down the offer, content to wallow in my own self-pity, but the stern look in his gaze made it clear he wouldn’t accept any arguments. Biting back a sigh, I nodded and followed him out. As we neared the exit, my eye caught the couple from the bar, both of whom looked shocked he was leaving with someone other than Elain as they moved their gaze between myself and my sister, whispering to one another as they watched. Crossing my arms over my chest, I felt myself shrink a bit under their judgments, clearly not impressed with Azriel’s choice of company.

Once we were out the door, I only felt one pair of eyes on me instead of dozens. I kept my gaze forward, not wanting to look at the source of my anxiety. “Thank you for the offer, Azriel, but I can walk back on my own. I don’t want to take you away from your evening.” From my sister.

“Like you, nights out aren’t really my thing. I hope you don’t mind me tagging along in your escape.” Ah, so I’m just an excuse to leave as well. “And while I know you’re still here for a week, I was hoping you wouldn’t be opposed to me stealing you tonight for a bit longer? Walk around the city, just us?” Startled, I glanced up at him to find his gaze intense and locked on my own. “Please?” Doing the one thing I didn’t want to do, I stared into his hazel eyes and found myself agreeing without thinking. The smile he offered in response was so bright, I had to look away.

“Lead the way.” We were quiet as we walked, and I took the time to observe my surroundings. When I lived here, I never came out at night, which I’m learning was quite the shame as it truly is beautiful. Not just the sky, but the people became livelier at this time, all enjoying an evening under a clear, bright night. The moon lit up everything around us, and it’s like the buildings came alive as well under the moon beams. He walked me to a bridge over the Sidra, and I found myself in awe at the clear water reflecting the sky, as if the stars of Night lived in the water as well as the sky. I contemplated reaching out to see if I could actually scoop a star from the water, but decided to save that possible embarrassment for another day.

“This is my favorite place to go when I have something weighing on my mind.” I glanced at him, wondering what he was worried about. Was I so lost in my head that I didn’t even notice he was upset as well? He was leaning against the railing, arms crossed in front of him. His head was facing forwards, but his eyes were focused on me at his side. I felt myself slipping back into old roles, preparing to be a mediator for a possible argument he’s in with someone or soundboard for frustrations in trying to solve a problem. I didn’t know the tells of the Spymaster to know which role he needed of me now, but I’m pretty certain that I have experienced next to every possibility with three younger sisters always needing something.

“Are you alright? Do you want to talk about what’s weighing on you?” He turned himself to face me fully, though his features didn’t change to help me pinpoint what I could do to help.

“I was about to ask you the same questions. You’ve been quiet, in your head. And it’s more than just being tired. I thought maybe a place that helps me sort things out could do the same for you.” I blinked at him, trying to wrap my head around the abrupt change.

“Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s just… I do the listening, I don’t do the talking.” He eased his elbow onto the railing, relaxing into the position as if he was beginning to settle down for a long conversation.

“I get the sense that maybe it’s time for you to do some talking.” His eyes shifted, and he glanced down. “If you want to talk to someone else, that’s fine. I suppose I did just assume you’d open up to me…” I bit my lip, unsure of what to do.

Instead of talking, I moved closer to where he was and mirrored his previous position that allowed me to look over the Sidra instead of looking directly at him.

“I think that’s part of the issue.” I could practically feel his gaze on me, which made me focus more on how the skyline and water blended seamlessly into one another. “I don’t know how to open up to you.” I swallow, wondering if I should say what’s on my mind. “I suppose the only way to open up is to just do it, so thank the gods I have a few drinks in me to keep pushing me forward, but…”

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes only to envision him and Elain next to each other in the booth. Next to each other on the love seat. Next to each other at the dining table. “I wonder what you would have done if Nesta never said anything.” With my eyes still closed, I didn’t see him go still, but I could feel his stillness all the same. Something in the air shifted, and I let my shoulders droop. “It was so easy for you and Elain to be together. You brought her out of her shell, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that she lightened something inside of you as well. It’s why I never said anything when I still lived here. I couldn’t possibly be the selfish one, inserting myself into your narrative because I thought I should be there with no regard to what you and Elain wanted. It wasn’t just me involved in all of this. You cared for her, you chose her. And I wonder if Nesta never said anything, would you still be by her side because it’s so effortless?”

My words echoed around in my head as I continued to see him and Elain together behind closed lids, continued to compare myself to my younger sister in ways I never did before this bond snapped in place. He remained silent, and that tightness in my chest grew stronger the longer he kept quiet. I opened my eyes, vision blurry with tears wanting to spill, and decided it was time to go.

“Thank you for showing me this place, but I should head back – “

“I choose you.” I froze, back to him, when he finally spoke up. “I choose you as I should have from the very beginning. But even if Nesta never said anything, I know I would have still chosen you. You said it seems effortless and easy between Elain and I. In some regard, I suppose that’s true. But that’s because no decisions were ever needed between us. Nothing was ever at stake because we were never supposed to be together. I will continue to grovel for all of our days for the pain that I’ve caused you, but I know now what I should have known then, and that is that I don’t want effortless.” My brows furrowed as I turned to him, and he shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.” I watched him for a moment as he tried to form the words he’s struggling with.

He began pacing, alternating between rubbing his face and pulling at his hair as he tried to explain himself. “I want to be challenged. I don’t want you blindly agreeing with everything I’m saying, but questioning what I say, having different opinions on what I think so that we can have a deeper connection, a deeper understanding of each other. I want someone who asks questions when I’m talking about my day, disagrees with my theories of books, someone who calls me out on my bullshit. I don’t want the ‘easy and effortless’ life you claim Elain and I could have had because that was so… empty. We talked about the most mundane things because we didn’t know what else to talk about.” He turned and looked at me, eyes softening. “I want to read by your side in front of a large fire while you succeed in knitting your first sock. I want to join you in teasing Cassian when we tell him that Fenrir is the superior version of himself. I want to hold you in my arms when we can’t sleep as I take you flying and you tell me about recipes you’re trying out and how they’re different from when you made it in the human lands.” He gave up on pacing to move in front of me, grabbing my hands and holding tight. “I want you to be the one I go to when I’m happy, sad, furious with my brothers and their stupidity, when I’m exasperated with my brothers and their stupidity…” He gently raised a hand to wipe away the tears from my face. “I’ve chosen you, and I’m never going back on that. And I will be here when you’re ready to choose me, too.”

His words bounced around my head as if that would make it easier for me to process what he said. He remained silent, thumb continuing to wipe tears as they fell, eyes moving over my face as if committing this snot-filled moment to memory.

I choose you.

The hand that still encased in his tightened its grip slightly. “I choose dinner.” His brows furrowed and I fought back a smile. “With you. One of these nights while I’m still in town. Maybe we can talk about some of these books and theories you have.”

“It’s a date.”

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #a better life #bonus scene #bri's writing #request

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amywritesthings · 1 year

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ownership of mine. (3/4)

Pairing: Kino Loy x F!Reader (ANDOR)

Word Count: 5.3K

Summary: The Empire has integrated their prison systems, with you as one of the few women now incarcerated at Narkina 5. The unit manager takes you under his wing -- but for reasons you didn't anticipate.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only!); Prison, Violence, Gore, Aftermath of Torture, Unresolved-to-Resolved Sexual Tension, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Dirty Talk, Implied Power Imbalance, Age Difference

A/N: My first ever finished series! I've had so much fun writing this fic in the last few weeks, and continue to be forever grateful to the wonderful support that inspired me to make this beyond a one shot. I have loved writing Kino, and I've loved writing this pairing, so I hope you enjoyed the finale of this piece.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR

( Read on AO3 )

By the one hundred and sixty seventh day, Unit Five-Two-D went to shit.

Your recollection of that day is hazy at best, scrambled by the adrenaline that has been simmering in your gut since your arrival at Narkina 5.

Everything happened so fast.

. . . . . .

The day’s work begins without a hitch, where urgent hands meet cold machines.

Kino shouts his typical encouragement spiel to get Table Seven to work harder. He stalks around Table Five like a predator hunting its prey for sport and, as a result, take fourth place. Tables One and Two whistle and gloat of their successful hike into their namesake places — Table One in first, Table Two in second — leaving Table Four somewhere in the middle.

Somewhere safe.

Then Winshaw’s hands give out.

What is months in the making — the stalling, the ointments, last-ditch attempts to solve an ever-growing problem — crashes down hard as a star-structured mechanic slips onto the table and rolls near an edge.

Winshaw holds both of his cramped hands curling inward with excruciating pain and whimpers in a sickly tune between pursed lips.

The rest of the table scrambles to catch the large metal item before it can fall to the ground, but there’s no use.

The part discards itself at Taga’s feet.

The man is lucky to jump out of the way before it can crush his toes.

Metal against tungstoid steel sounds off a fateful boom through the sterile white room, causing your side of the table to instinctively put your hands parallel to your heads before the guards can question your intent.

(No threat. We aren’t a threat.)

You stay frozen for a beat, but a hefty shove at your shoulder spins you clear from your post and into the red-beaten face of Pusl.

“S’your kriffing fault!”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you. One blink and your attention is on Winshaw’s agonized expression. Another and you're faced with a fuming Pusl a mere few centimeters away.

(A threat.)

“Changing places with him hurt his hands more!” Pusl shouts in your face, but the words do not register.

You barely recognize that you’re stepping back, colliding with Gris’ shoulder. Gris shoves you forward.

“There’s you, thinking you know better than everyone," Pusl continues with a growl, "but I was right about you this whole time.”

Something hits your face.

It’s Pusl’s stubby finger pressing harshly into your cheek.

When you look down to view them, his fingers wrap brutally around your chin and drag you towards his spitting mouth.

“Was it worth it, Lady Narkina? Was your whoring around worth hurting Winshaw—”

You don’t remember swinging.

You don’t remember hitting him so hard that your knuckles bruise, but you do.

Right in front of the entire factory floor — in front of the guard tower above — Pusl goes down the minute your closed fist collides with his cheek.

And you follow.

Before you can stop yourself, you drop to your knees and over Pusl to grab a fistful of his overgrown hair. Your fist remains closed, remains tight, and you collide his nose with the brunt force of your hand.

Again.

And again.

“What are you doing, Table Four?”

Kino’s voice booms over the blood pumping in your ears, but you keep hitting. Reeling your arm back and shoving it forward — you repeat the motion over, and over, and over, and Trem’s worried call for the day shift manager to stop this, stop it before she kills him! isn’t lost on you.

In the moment, you just can’t find a reason to care.

Gris’ large hands take hold of your shoulders to drag you back, but you keep hold of Pusl’s hair to stay right where you are. The rest of the men halt production to watch, silent in their panic.

You know you see red.

You know it’s Pusl’s blood making your hand wet.

(You don’t care.)

Gris pulls at your body again, this time with a force unlike anything you’ve ever felt, until your bottom drags along the pristine white floors now littered with speckled red dots.

“Enough!”

Kino booms above you towards the right of Gris.

A sickeningly sweet chime sounds above, and everyone goes silent.

The final bell.

Your chest heaves with a breath you cannot catch, not when you’re holding onto your anger, your shame, with a vice grip.

Pusl lay on the ground, limbs splayed and face wrecked. He wheezes and whimpers, unable to move from the attack. Gris keeps you in a head lock to keep you from advancing any further, but you do not resist the hold.

Not when you can see Kino rounding the corner from Winshaw’s crooked form to you, with an indiscernible expression.

You meet his eyes, but you do not see him.

The rest of Table Four shuffles away, bare feet padding along the floor with newfound fear. Kino is the only one to step forward, but he blinks up to Gris.

“Let her go.”

Kino doesn’t shout. He doesn’t scream. The neutral baritone of his voice is calculated, low, to keep the command between the three of you.

“She tried to kill him!” Gris yelps, shaking his arm around your neck for emphasis.

Kino shakes his head, palm flat and pointed to the ground. “I said let her go, Gris, before someone else gets hurt. I can’t step in when they do.”

He pointedly peers up past the both of you to the tower, and Gris releases your neck on impact. You fall forward with the shove onto all fours as bloodied hands smear red along the white floor.

Kino does not move to help you.

No one does.

Sweat clings wayward pieces of hair to your forehead, cheeks, and you can feel a violent shake from leftover adrenaline rattle your body. Kino’s jaw sets, albeit not without a tremble when he shouts the next few words as he dips his chin to acknowledge the device strapped to his forearm.

“Time’s up! Production’s over. Due to insubordination, Table Four’s on the block. Congratulations, you lot get the pleasure of lining up last. The rest of you can stop gawking and get the fuck on the lift back to the barracks.”

“But Winshaw!” It’s Trem on the other side of the table, speaking nothing beyond a squeak.

He doesn’t care about his own safety.

Trem doesn’t deserve your punishment. None of the others do.

Not when you couldn’t keep a lid on your own anger.

(Not when it could’ve only been Pusl in that chamber.)

You feel sick to your stomach.

“I know, lad,” Kino reassures without losing his authoritative tone. “I know. I’ll speak with the guards, let them know what all the fuss is about. In the meantime, clean up Pusl.”

Gris shuffles around you to pick up his unconscious friend. “And he’ll—”

“—go through punishment like the rest of you because his hands weren’t hurt,” Kino explicitly states.

It’s not an invitation to negotiate his terms.

Gris glares to you, nearly purple in the face from the rage he cannot — and will not — act upon. Not in front of Kino.

Not like you did.

You suspect there will be repercussions by the both of them at a later date, but for now all you can do is stare at the unconscious and bloodied Pusl a mere few feet from you.

You’ve heard what they do to teams that fail.

Everyone works so damn hard to avoid it.

Now Pusl — and you — have sealed Table Four’s untimely fates.

. . . . . . You underestimate just how grueling the electric floors can be.

Straight from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, everything is underwater yet on fire with no means to cure it. Too cold, too hot — you see why every inmate in this unit works so hard to avoid the touch of the floor, even at its lowest notch.

An hour after the rest of the men have retired to their cells, the doors open and Table Four stumbles out of the lift to the barracks with battered bodies and dry throats.

Many of the other inmates are watching, waiting, with mutual understanding of the losing table’s punishment.

Kino stands in the middle of the fray, hands balled tight into fists.

One by one, the injured try their hand at leaving the lift. Some stumble. Others limp, like they’ve gone through this a thousand times.

You want to walk on your own two scorched feet like nothing is wrong.

(Your fault.)

One step down and the pain shoots clear up your calves. Another step and the world begins to dizzy, setting off a cold sweat.

Third step, your knees give out.

(This is all your fault.)

Your head never hits the floor, instead landing on something hard yet soft. You’re hoisted in the air, weightless and breathless, until you find yourself cradled in the arms of Kino Loy.

“Get the rest of Table Four out of the lift!” his voice booms over your head to the other. “It’ll be an early turn in tonight, boys, so get everyone to their cells. Now.”

Everything is hot yet freezing. Against him your limbs shiver violently, expelling sweat in buckets. Your eyes roll up to find his scruffy chin above the crown of your head as Kino stares straight ahead, steps quick and deliberate.

“Let me — walk,” you protest weakly, but Kino keeps walking.

“You’ll never make it to the fucking cell,” he growls back, baritone grumbling in his chest. “Just shut it.”

“Kino—”

“I said shut it,” he demands under his breath. “Listen for fucking once in your life, kid.”

And for the first time in your Narkina 5 sentence, you listen.

Intently, because every jostle of your limbs sends a belated shock to your system.

Kino takes a step higher and bends at the hips, lowering you until you feel your back hit the familiar material of your cot. He stays above you, never once removing a hand from your shoulder — a constant reminder that he’s still here — as he answers questions from other frantic prisoners.

Mess.

It’s all a fucking mess.

In your sweat-slicked haze, you can hear a more fragile voice come into earshot. You turn your chin just enough to see Winshaw, held tightly by Trem, as he peers into your cell and up at Kino.

“Will she be alright?”

It’s Winshaw. If you weren’t careful, you’d think he was worried.

“Nothing sleep won’t fix,” Kino replies casually without ever removing his hand. “I’ll eat dinner later. Staying here for most of the night making sure this one doesn’t freeze to death before the bell. How’s the hand?”

“Better,” Trem answers for Winshaw, voice gentle and melodic in your ringing ears. “Much better, now.”

“Good. That’s good. And how are you doing?” Kino asks Trem with a sliver of protective care.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” Trem tries to lighten the mood. “Everyone’s fine, besides… well, besides Pusl and her. And I’m — Kino, we’re so sorry about—”

“No,” Kino interrupts, and it’s softer. “No apologies. As far as I’m concerned, the day is over. We start anew tomorrow without incident.”

“But Pusl—”

“Will live,” the day shift manager interrupts again. “And if he steps a toe out of line again, then I promise he’ll be dealt with.”

“He started it.”

Your chin tilts to get a view of Trem on the outline of Kino’s pant leg. The smaller, lankier man stares up at the older man with bright, sad eyes.

“I saw it happen. Pusl grabbed her by the face and he called her a—”

“I know, Trem.” Resolved. Exhausted. Kino draws out a long sigh and shakes as if he’s nodding above you. “I heard. Go get some rest with the rest of the blokes, yeah? Tell ‘em they’re no good without it.”

“Yes, Kino.”

With care, Trem shuffles Winshaw out of view towards his cell. Kino stays by your side as you ride through the chilling waves of pain, opting to sit at the foot of your cot with your bloodied and bruised hand in his.

Watching.

Waiting for the final bell to turn in, locking him to the mercy of your cell for the evening.

You pass out before it rings.

. . . . . . One hundred.

Chin downcast, you stare at the idle screen flickering with an unfamiliar number.

You were down in the 400’s only twenty-four hours ago. Now the number shows something closer to your original sentence.

“Rise and shine, boys! Floor’s safe!”

The day shift manager’s words are underwater. Men start to step down from their cells, but you remain.

“Form up for the lift. You know the fucking drill by now. Oi — you.”

That’s Kino in his cell, cautious in his bark in what sounds like an attempt to get your attention.

You don’t respond.

Others shuffle towards the lift like zombies, awaiting the next day of work.

You don’t.

Can’t, not when you’re still staring at the flickering number with a heavy gaze.

Quick feet pad towards your cell, but a slow hand gently circles your bicep. Kino ducks into your peripheral with his salt and pepper hair.

“What is it?”

When you still remain silent, the day shift manager lightly shakes your arm.

“Talk to me, kid, what is it?”

“They added one hundred days to my sentence.”

“They what?” From your side view, you see his chin turn over and down to see what’s there: what isn’t a mirage or a post-punishment haze, but a real number.

“For yesterday’s display,” you mumble, soured, but it twists into a laugh. “For what I did to Pusl. Chances are it’ll go up even more once you’re gone. I won’t be yours by that point.”

“Hey.” He switches his tone to harsh, cold, and pushes your chin with his index finger and thumb to look at him without choice. “Don’t. Do not say that.”

“You know I’m—”

“The number doesn’t make a damn bit of difference, do you hear me?”

“I’m not getting out of here, Kino.”

You push the thought out in a blurt, running the risk of your voice wavering with emotion. It swells faster that you can stop it — your eyes water, throat closing, as the hope you’d once shared feels so lost.

“That’s — not — true,” he accentuates every word, purposefully looking into your eyes.

Your chin trembles under his grip. “It is.”

“It’s not,” he emphasizes, leaning in. “One hundred days go by in a blip. You know this. You’ve been here for over a hundred, and look how fast it’s gone. You’re getting out of here.”

“Yeah, maybe, but it'll an entire year after you.”

Finally — finally — you leave your unfocused haze to look him in the eye.

Kino’s brow smooths with a sympathy you wish it didn’t hold.

Then he pulls your chin in, and you’re met with plush lips.

Frozen in place, you don’t dare move a muscle when the older man pulls you closer, free hand on the back of your head, to press a searing kiss to your lips. Eventually your body thaws, inch by inch, until you're grappling for him.

He shifts you both further into the cell, pushing you into the ivory wall with abandon. You hear him take a sharp inhale through his nose before pulling away a fraction of space, yet his hands remain.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he mumbles, his lips ever so gently brushing against yours. “Whether it’s two hundred days, three hundred, four — doesn’t matter. I’ll be there.”

Kino abruptly pulls away, adjusting the shirt of his uniform back to its neatened form. You remain against the wall to catch your breath, staring as he offers one last glance before exiting your cell to join the rest of the crowd by the lift.

Down the hallway you hear him shouting, but his voice is more hoarse than it’d been only a mere moment ago.

Your lips still tingle from the force of him.

When the warning chime rings its final bell, you leave your cell to follow the rest of the men to the factory floor.

. . . . . . A month passes.

An entire month passes and he’s never attempted to make another move like that again.

Kino Loy is much too busy bringing Unit Five-Two-D back to order — partially to do with your healing, another with the animosity of Table Four, but mostly to do with the fact that the factory incident has off-set production for almost an entire week.

Winshaw received medical attention without a grace period, but Table Four got by. Pusl was assigned a new position — one far away from you, closer to the start of the table’s build — but that was never a conversation between Kino and yourself.

He decided.

You endured.

And for the most part, the tension of your ill-fated table has simmered. Trem sticks closer to you when the time to transition from barracks to factory floor arrives, and you find yourself looking for the younger inmate in the morning.

Because at night, Kino has resumed sleeping with his back to you.

You’re not sure if it’s from stress or old habits or fatigue, but you continue to sleep facing him.

Waiting.

All your brain thinks about when you accidentally lock eyes on the factory floor, in the barracks, is the way his lips felt against yours.

How, if you were brave enough, you would leap into his cell and do it again.

You don’t think he regrets it, not really. For the most part, Kino is still Kino. He still visits your cell after shifts, talks to you while you both eat food across the hallway, but there is an underlying pressure between the space.

A point of no return.

A line he cannot — and won’t — cross.

So you will.

You wait. Every night when the lights fade and the barracks are filled with sleeping prisoners, you stare at his back and wait for him to eventually roll over.

(Is this what he did in the first few months, when you first caught him staring?)

It takes one entire month for him to finally — finally — turn in his sleep towards you.

The movement is lethargic, as if stuck between reality and a dream, before his blue eyes slowly blink open to stare into yours. Your one hand is tucked under your ear as a makeshift pillow. The other rests against your belly, elbow draped over your side.

When you’re certain you have his attention, the hand on your belly moves south.

Kino doesn’t move.

Your fingers duck and slip under the waistband of your uniform without straying your gaze from his. From the faint light of the white and red buttons on the wall of his cell, you see his eyes open a fraction wider.

(Good.)

Holding your breath, you slip lower until the tip of your index finger presses against your clit. Your sight flutters for a moment, the relief of touching yourself almost far too much, but you stay strong in remaining silent.

Although the older man cannot see your hand, the movement is enough to make his hand by his head ball into a tight fist. His gaze ducks from yours to stare lower, to watch, as you draw quickening circles around the bundle of nerves.

You shift your hips, turning until your back is flush with the cot. Parting your knees with abandon, your head dips back from the ecstasy of it all.

You won’t last long, but that isn’t what it’s about.

This is about a show he cannot touch.

The anticipation of his eyes following your movements like he’s a parched and starving man watching a mirage.

When your orgasm comes quick, tense and all at once, you slam your thighs together and shake. You bite your tongue from uttering so much as a whimper, fearful of alerting anyone nearby, before your body floats back down to Earth.

And when you turn your chin to see if Kino’s still watching, you find that he’s standing at the edge of his cell with his hand pressed to the wall, keeping himself back from stepping onto the electrified floor.

He looks positively wrecked from this angle: he breathes heavier, lips parted, pants so uncomfortably tight that you can see the outline of his cock through his uniform.

There isn’t an option to cross this bridge, not when there is a physical barrier separating the two of you into the morning hours.

Your tongue darts out to lick your lips, daring to speak without a voice.

He hears you in the deafening silence.

(I want to burn.)

. . . . . . Kino is particularly louder the next day.

Shouting at every table, stalking every inmate, expecting the most; he hasn’t unclenched his fists since he stepped out of his cell. The veins of his neck protrude when he yells, bare feet demanding in their steps, and he doesn’t look at you.

Can’t.

Because you know if he looks at you, he’ll remember what you look like when you come.

Table Four is particularly spry, pushing for a second-place slot for the first time since the incident involving Pusl. You are diligent, quieter than usual despite the casual quips around the table, and keep your head down.

You have to or else your heart will beat out of your chest.

Because you know if you look at him, you’ll lose focus all over again.

(Something neither of you can afford until the shift is over.)

The final chime is a blessing. The men of Table Four cheer at their newfound success, but Kino is matter-of-fact. Cold.

He wastes no time ushering his men into the lift back into the barracks, as if he’s haunted by borrowed time.

You’re too self-aware not to wait for the showers, allowing most of the men to pass you for the lockers as you wait in your cell.

Hours pass.

Kino never shows up.

When it’s finally time for your turn, you take to a casual gait down the barrack hall and into the showers. Head down, shoulders squared; you almost lose your breath when you hear another pair of feet padding in behind you.

You continue to walk until you reach your usual stall, only to crane your chin over your shoulder to see who it is that stands with you.

It’s Kino Loy — hands still balled into translucent fists, neck still tense, shoulders still tight.

Still wrecked.

“What?” you greet, forcing neutrality in your tone. “Something wrong?”

His nostrils flare, like the sound of your voice snaps against his skin like a taut rubber band.

“Tell me.”

Your brows furrow. “Tell you what?”

He takes a step forward.

“Tell me to go and I’ll go.”

His voice sounds as if it’s struggling at the precipice of control.

You remain where you stand.

“Why would I tell you to go?” you inquire, and he draws a slow inhale through his nose.

“Tell me to go,” he repeats, taking another cautious step forward. “And I’ll go.”

Instead of responding, you press your lips together and take a step back into the stall.

Kino follows in a danceless tango, pressing forward. Both of you continue to walk until you run out of room — your back hits the cool tiles of the shower wall, caging you in. He stops as soon as he’s toe to toe with you. His hands never leave his side.

“I’m begging you,” he murmurs in the safety of privacy, and his voice betrays that crack of resolve, “to tell me to go.”

A beat passes.

You feel as though you can’t breathe.

Wordlessly your hand rises and reaches for the shower dial, turning the knob until water spouts beyond the both of you. The water ignites a white noise, encompassing the stall. The droplets of water speckle wet dots along the shoulders of your uniforms.

“Don’t.”

His brow shifts with a hint of confusion when you speak, voice trembling.

“Don’t go.”

They’re the only two words Kino needs to hear.

His hands release from fists at his side and raise, attacking either side of your face to pull you into a grueling kiss as his body propels yours into the wall.

The way he presses his lips to you is nothing like the moment in your cell a month before. This is feral, mashing teeth and lips and skin wherever he can touch. His hands disappear from your face to duck lower, scrambling to draw under your damp uniform shirt to feel — your hips, your sides, the curve of your breasts.

He’s an animal unleashed.

(I want to burn with you.)

The sensation of his thumbs brushing along your ribcage forces you to hold your breath, avoiding a loud moan from filling up the shower room. They press, pushing you into place as he pulls away from your mouth and drops out of sight.

Kino Loy kneels, just as he did all those weeks ago, and drags your uniform down with him. Suddenly you’re very aware that he’s face to face with a half-naked version of you, but he doesn’t give you time to think.

There isn’t any time at all.

“What you did last night… cruel. So bloody cruel,” he muses, urging you to step one foot out of your pant leg, then another. You oblige. “Knowing I couldn’t touch you.” His hands glide up your calves to your thighs, widening your stance. His thumbs part your lips, exposing your wetness to him. “Knowing I couldn’t taste you.”

You swallow thickly. "I needed to get your attention somehow."

"You've always got my attention," he responds, admiring the sight in front of him. "No matter where you are, it's always you."

“Kin—”

The last syllable of his name is lost in a gasp when he dives in, latching his lips around your clit with an insatiable tongue. You use the walls of the small shower stall to keep yourself stable. He moans below you, low and rumbled, before swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

Below, the sight is filthy. Kino looks up at you while his mouth greedily finds what makes your thighs tremble. He takes, and takes, and takes; as if it’s his last meal he’ll ever have on Narkina 5.

If you die this way, then you’re certain it would have been worth it.

Familiar crests of pleasure begin to build in waves, shocking your body in a different way to the electric you’ve come to know. Kino removes a hand to test the waters, sliding through your slit as he finds your entrance with the tip of his index finger.

He loses his brutal rhythm to catch his breath, ragged and broken.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he murmurs as if in awe of the discovery. “S’this all for me?”

(As if he cannot believe it’s because of him.)

“It was just as bad last night,” you admit just as small, bucking your hips into his teasing fingers. “When I imagined it was you.”

"You imagine me often?"

"All the time," you answer, and he squeezes your outer thigh with a curse under his breath. "But I need more than this."

"More?" he chuckles and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. "Like this?"

You buck into it with a choked whine. "You know what I mean."

“I do know, but I will warn you that I won’t last long, love,” he speaks into the softness of your thighs, kissing the inner parts of them with pure adoration. “I want this to be good for you.”

You laugh breathlessly, dropping your head back to the wall. “This is already good for me. Just shut up and fuck me.”

Kino leaves a brief love bite to your inner thigh at your demand, but rises back to a stance. His fingers replace where his mouth was, teasing your clit in agonizingly slow circles.

“What do you want?” he asks, looking you straight on with that authoritative gaze. “I need to hear you say how you want to be fucked.” Your knees grow weak. “How you want to cum.”

Feeling useless with your hands not doing much of anything, you scramble to push his uniform down his hips to release his aching cock. Your hand curls around him, earning a hiss of need from the older man.

“I want to watch,” you reply, pumping him with the same slow intent. “I want to see you when I do.”

Kino’s jaw tenses as he nods, slipping his hand from you in order to position both hands around your thighs. “Might want to hold on, then.”

And with that he lifts you like you’re nothing, the muscles of his arms prominent now in the dampened white shirt that’s practically translucent from the water. You wrap your right arm around his shoulders while your left hand presses flat to the stall.

But he stops.

He stops, and your body’s screaming at what little time is left before the rest of the barrack figures out you’re both gone.

He tries to find his breath, fails, and blinks up at you.

The older man’s eyes are nearly black, pupils blown with desire.

“Are you s—”

“Please stop asking stupid fucking questions,” you interrupt, pressing your lips against his for emphasis of consent. Kino takes this with a buttery groan, lining up his cock while pressing the both of you flush to the wall for stability.

You’ve never felt a more delicious sensation of your life when he pushes forward and stretches you, fully and properly, burying himself to the hilt.

The noise that escapes your mouth is abrupt, a squeak at best, and he captures your lips in another kiss to quiet you before slamming his hips into yours.

Over and over he fucks up into you, pushing his wet chest into yours, and offers no mercy. Rough, pointed, with a passion unmatched; Kino gives you everything he has, brutal in the snap of his hips.

You were already close from before, but now the sheer image of this happening — that Kino Loy, day shift manager of Unit Five-Two-D, is fucking you senselessly in the shower stall of the Narkina 5 barracks — is too much.

You whimper into his mouth, voice heightening as each thrust brings you closer to the edge. He whispers obscenities against your mouth just as you fantasized; how badly he’s wanted to do this; how much he’s thought about fucking you, making love to you, being everything you need in a man; how he’ll spend all his days as a free man between your legs if you’ll have him.

It’s too much.

You can’t even warn him when you come.

All you can do is yelp when your walls clamp down on him, orgasm shattering your body into seismic trembles. He catches your mouth with his to swallow your cries, erratic in his own thrust until he meets you and lets go.

Kino follows you over the edge, arms trembling to hold you until his hips still, cock still twitching inside of you.

There it is.

The point of no return, reached.

You pull away to find air, painfully aware of the steam overtaking the shower.

They’re going to know.

(They’ve always known.)

When he gently glides you off of him and back down to Earth, you remain with your foreheads pressed to one another’s in the search for shared air. Your feet touch the water-soaked floor where half of your uniforms lay crumpled in a heap.

Kino Loy snakes a hand up and around your head, pulling you in for one final, decisive kiss. When he pulls away, it’s a mere centimeter.

He speaks, low with authority and crackled with ruin.

“You’re mine.”

You reply, just as low and just as ruined.

“I’m yours.”

#kino loy #kino loy x reader #kino loy x you #andor #andor fanfiction #andor fanfic #kino loy x f!reader #smut fanfiction #andor smut #kino loy smut #fanfiction #fanfic #star wars #Star Wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #andor tv series #andor tv #ownership of mine #amywritesthings

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ahdraftingco · 2 years

Text

Oneshot: I’ll Take Care of You

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

AO3 Crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40017822

Rating: Explicit, readers are advised to read the warnings below before proceeding.

Warnings (in no particular order): Porn With Plot, Planetary Politics, Swearing, Rough/Angry Sex, Choking, Light BDSM, Daddy/Caretaker Kink, Praise Kink, Mild Degradation, Biting, Spanking, Face Slapping, Play Fighting, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, LOTS of Aftercare and Safe Sex Practices

Summary: The Mandalorian goes after the same bounty every few weeks. Why? Because you just keep running away from home and he's the only one that has ever been able to catch you. That's just what happens when a princess like you enjoys escaping her palace a little too much, much to the dismay of your parents. Sometimes, you just want to feel some sort of thrill and the Mandalorian sure does deliver…

Word Count: 15.5k+

A/N: This oneshot is set in the middle of the events of the Book of Boba Fett. It's like 30% plot and 70% shameless smut so enjoy!

You know what the best sound in the whole galaxy is? The faint beeping of a tracking fob getting closer and closer. There's not a better thrill in the world than knowing the Mandalorian is right on your tail. It brings a cheeky grin to your face as you walk through a packed night market, hearing the gasps of the crowd. As they always do, they're parting to make way for the shiny hunk of metal that is slowly gaining on you.

Then, you hear an all too familiar voice call out to you, "it's time for you to go home, princess."

There are small whispers amongst the people surrounding you as you turn, letting your hood drop off your head, revealing that you are indeed the princess of this planet and that you are on the run again. Not like anyone is surprised at this point. Escaping the palace has become your specialty and seeing you is a very fun form of entertainment for civilians. But, it's you who has the most fun.

Because, when you're on the run, it's the only time you get to speak your mind to the people, like you do right now. You gesture for a merchant to hand you a wooden box, which you set in front of you so you can step up, addressing the people who have been waiting to hear your latest defiance.

"Home? Does this planet look like a home for most people? Look around you, Mando. How many of these people are struggling to call this planet home while my parents are enjoying the luxuries of their cheap labor? I will go home once my parents decide to pay these people what they deserve. Isn't that right?" You pound your chest with your fist, which the crowd follows, doing the same. The rumbling of their chants of your name bring a warmth to your heart as you exclaim, "I will not return home until my parents make this place home for all!"

"Home for all!" Someone shouts in your honor.

"May the princess prevail!" Another joins in.

"We believe in our princess, not the mockery that is her parents' rule!" The crowd cheers as you give them all a grand gesture, bowing to everyone.

When you lift your head from your bow, you look straight at the Mandalorian and say, "good luck with your chase, Mando. I hope they don't give you too much trouble."

Then, you pull three small metal balls out from your cloak, which are all blinking with a lovely yellow hue. Before the Mandalorian can do anything, you throw them to the floor and they explode on impact, creating a big cloud of shimmering gold smoke. Everyone in the crowd immediately dawns their cloaks, allowing you to disappear into the sea of people.

As you pass by several people, they pat your back and whisper sweet words like "thank you for what you do for us, princess" and "we are grateful for your constant tribute". You're certain that's the only reason your parents are irritated that you keep escaping because each time you do, you steal a hefty amount of credits that you know were originally stolen from the people through an exorbitant labor tax. You personally redistribute the credits during underground rebellion meetings and fund the efforts to overthrow your parents. They probably dislike that too, though they believe you won't succeed. Joke's on them, they lost the people's support a long time ago.

You're the true ruler of this planet and they know it. The people know it. And now, you just need to get the Mandalorian to understand that. He keeps getting in the way, bringing you back home. You get it. He needs the credits and your parents can offer him much more than you can steal for him.

At this point, you know explaining your motivations isn't enough to get the Mandalorian to set you free. You both just don't see eye to eye. He thinks you're a pest that needs to be dealt with so he can make his credits and move onto more interesting prey. So, you have to waste his time as much as you can in retaliation.

That's sort of why you purposefully created a distraction so you could strip his new starfighter of its Kineso-switch. Without it, he can't access his induction intake charger.

"Bye bye, ultrasonic speed." You tuck the switch into your pocket and leave a little note with a drawing of it where it used to be, just for shits. You hop out of the ship and you're about to celebrate your sly victory until you hear that faint beeping. You curse under your breath, "dank farrik."

"Put it back, princess." The Mandalorian commands as you turn to see him walking towards you.

"Put what back?" You flutter your eyelashes at him, putting your hands behind you.

"Whatever you stole. Put it back. I won’t ask again." Oh, you like it when he's assertive. It brings a smile to your face.

Too bad you have to pull your blaster out and shoot him in the side. You purposefully only graze him but it's enough of a singe that it catches him off-guard. You then pull your skimboard off your back and flip it on, hopping onto it to make your escape, securing your shoes against the stick-strips.

"What? You didn't see that one coming?" You shout back at him with a giggle before smacking one of your foot controls, which sends you forward at a thrilling speed. Riding a skimboard reminds you a lot of surfing in the ocean when the waves are tremendous, but it's even more exciting, since there's a Mandalorian flying after you with his jet pack. You taunt him, "someone's got a few new toys!"

"Stop fucking running, princess." He sounds very pissed off and you love every second of it.

That's why you just start blasting. The yellow lasers dance around him as he dodges your shots while trying to maintain your speed. You have a modified skimboard for a reason. He's not going to catch up to you without a fight, so he pulls out his blaster and joins in on the gunfight.

You surf around him for a moment to say, "didn't my parents tell you to bring me back alive, Mando?"

"I'll be sure not to hit a vital organ." He shoots you and nearly grazes you in the same place you hit him earlier.

"Aw, are you being a baby because a princess nicked you in the side with her blaster?" You mock him and it only makes him more angry. He sends several shots towards you in quick succession but you avoid each of them with impressive flips and maneuvers. "Oh come on, aren't you a bounty hunter? You can do better than that!"

You tuck your blaster back behind you and open your arms, letting him take a free shot at you. There's a bite in his voice as he curses, "you're an irritating fucking princess."

"Don't you mean, an irritating princess you'd like to fuck?" You smirk at him, blowing him a kiss. Then, you smack another one of your foot controls, which lets you soar right over him and onto the surface of the river rapids that run alongside the city you just left.

You skim across the water, looking up at the moon which illuminates the forest around you. The Mandalorian is quick on your trail but you still take the time to enjoy the ride, watching as your board kicks up water on both sides as you skid through it.

"You should really get yourself one of these!" You shout towards him, wanting to get on his nerves. "I can get you one next time you chase after me, then at least you might have a chance."

You suddenly see tiny missiles shoot at the water around you and you almost don't lift your board up in time to avoid them. You dart your eyes back to see that he had shot them out of his wrist. He's really trying to get you now.

That's probably why the Mandalorian shoots his grapple line at you the moment you pause to look at him, which coils around you tightly, and pulls you right off your skimboard and into his arms. Your precious board rides off into the distance without you, crashing into a nearby tree, and you glare at him for destroying it. It'll take you weeks to get another one commissioned that was as good and compact as that one!

"What? You didn't see that one coming?" He mimics you as he carries you away from the river.

"Hey, that's what I was going to say." You tell him with a delightful smile and he knows you're up to no good. Technically, it's not you, it's the blade in your hand that cuts through the metal line restraining you. You kick off out of his arms once you're free, letting yourself drop right into the rapids below.

The cold water slaps you in the face the moment you hit it and you fight for your life not to drown as the rapids carry you at an exceptional rate down the river. Fuck, you're never doing this again in the winter. It's freezing and you're trying your best not to get hit in the head by a sharp protruding rock or get your foot caught on any of the plants you pass by.

You look up and the Mandalorian is following you down the rapids from above, darting through the trees, trying not to lose sight of you. To make things difficult for him, you dunk your head underwater occasionally just to try to throw him off course, though he manages to spot you eventually anyways.

Where does this river end again? The answer quickly approaches as you see the edge of an approaching waterfall. How far is the drop? It can't be too bad. You'll live…hopefully.

As you are taken off the edge, you start to scream involuntarily at the feeling of your stomach tensing up from the drop. It's a fucking far drop and you're praying the pool below you is deep enough that you don't break all your limbs on impact.

Before you even make it to the end of the waterfall, the Mandalorian rushes by and scoops you into his arms, saving you from possibly drowning. Though, drowning might be nicer than having to go back to your parents and the palace. You debate jumping out of his arms again but since you're no longer in the water, you're shivering from the cold air mixed with how wet your clothes are as they cling to your skin. Strangely, the Mandalorian is warm and you instinctively huddle closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck.

"You're very stupid, princess." He scolds you rather harshly. "It's cold enough to freeze over that river and your dumbass really fucking dropped into it. You're going to get sick."

"As if you care." You mumble to yourself.

"I can't let you die. I won’t get paid." His words make you laugh.

"Imagine me of all people, dying of a cold. Now that's comedic." You try not to make it apparent that you are indeed freezing your ass off right now. "We both know my parents are going to be the ones who kill me and you're taking me right back to them."

"That's none of my concern. You're my bounty and they're my employers. I do my job, without politics getting in the way." He's as ignorant as always. Why do you even bother with him? He'll never understand…

"You really don't get it, do you?" You turn away from him, a frown forming on your face. "There are people here that are getting the shit end of a shit stick. I'm trying to help them but I can't when my parents want to lock me up and marry me off to some fucking shittier stick that treats their people even worse."

"Like I said, that's none of my concern." He sounds so…robotic and unreal. Is he really human under there? You know he is because you have seen him bleed but he feels nothing for your cause.

"Don't you have anyone you care about?" You ask him sincerely. "What if they were being treated like a lesser being? Wouldn't you fight?"

"I'd take them away from all of this." He answers you, which makes you shake your head.

"That's because you have no place to call home." You hate this. You hate talking to a wall like this. "These people, they have been living on this planet for centuries. Generations after generations of calling this place home only for my fucked up family to come in here and strip it all away just because the Empire let them. That's not right. I know that, my parents know that, the people know that, and yet, you have no fucking clue what it means to protect your home, you talking trash can."

The Mandalorian immediately lands you both at the base of a mountain, dropping you right on your ass on the ground. Before you can cuss him out, he grabs you by the neck and slams you against the hard stone. That knocks all the air out of your lungs and it hurts, the way he's gripping so tightly around your throat.

"Don't fucking talk like I have no idea what losing a home means." This is a different kind of anger. It's…brutal and filled with loss, tinged with grief. Every word he burns into you is fueled with rage. "You are nothing but a fucking privileged princess who is piggy backing off the struggles of others to make herself feel important because you don't like your parents or what they want for you. Well, at least you still have parents. At least they weren't murdered in front of you. At least you have a place to call home that wasn't taken over by killer droids. You are an unappreciative little bitch and I should've let you drown for pretending to care about anyone but yourself."

He lets go of your throat then and you fall to the ground, clutching your now bruised neck. You can't breathe, not because he choked you out but because…he's right. You are running from your own demons. You don't want the life that your parents are forcing onto you. You don't want to be married off. You don't even want to be a princess. You just want to choose a life for yourself and so you did. You picked the voice of a rebellion but you don't personally know these people's struggles when you live in a palace without worrying about your next meal, with parents who love you even when they hate you, with a place to call home…

You find the words to say through your strained voice as you get up off the ground. "I am exactly what you said. A privileged princess, an unappreciative bitch, someone who is just running from a life most would consider great. I don't understand the struggles these people have been through. I never lived the way they have lived."

The Mandalorian shifts his head to look down at you as you step up to him, your eyes now fierce and full of your own kind of fury.

"But," you practically spit on his helmet as you state with every ounce of power you have in your body, "don't you ever fucking accuse me of not caring. I have risked my life to steal and deliver credits, medicine, food, and other essential goods. I aid in whatever I can to help these people because I fucking care. So if you wanted to let me drown, then you should've because I'm never going to stop running to help these people. I will not back down from this fight. It isn't about me being a princess who wants to run away from her sheltered palace. It is about the people on this planet whose lives have been fucked the moment my family and I stepped over all of them and took it from them."

The Mandalorian shakes his head at you and you can't tell what look he must have on his face underneath that helmet as he says, "you are the product of a fucked up tyranny, trying to pretend to be a good girl who gives a shit. I don't buy it, princess. You're no better than your parents. You're going to end up just like them."

"Take that back, right now." You feel your blood start to boil as you stare daggers at him. "I will never be my parents. I would never hurt people to further my own agenda."

"That is untrue and you know it." He doesn't back down. "You have your own agenda and the moment your little rebellion ceases to exist, how many people would have died for you? You have already hurt people. You're just too fucking ignorant to see it for yourself the kind of trouble you're causing the very people you're trying to help."

You start taking sharp inhales as you try to process what he's saying. There's no way you could've…no, he's just trying to convince you to stop running away. He's trying to make it seem like you running away is causing more problems than good. It's all an act. A fucking sick act.

"You want to call me ignorant? You're a loner. You don't give a shit about anyone. How fucking dare you even think you're allowed to have an opinion in this matter." You scoff at him, wanting to punch him in the gut. "It's obvious you're more afraid of losing someone than giving a fuck about them. How fucking selfish of you. Learn to grow a heart, Mando, unless you want to be a soulless droid like the ones that killed your–"

"Shut the fuck up, you bratty little princess." He grips onto your collar, lifting you off your feet. The fabric rides up to your neck, making it hard to breathe. "You know, for a second, just a brief second, I actually gave a fuck about you. I was worried you were going to get sick. But now? I hope you do."

An uncontrollable laugh rips through your body and you say back hysterically, "you? Worried about me? What a fucking joke. You don't have a caring bone in your fucking body, Mando. You probably don't even know how to take care of anyone but yourself, you selfish fucking metal prick."

"I know how to take care of someone, princess." His words don't convince you though, which is why you laugh in his face again, ignoring the way he's still choking you.

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that, buddy." You roll your eyes at him, telling him with so much sarcasm in your tone. "I'm sure you take real good care of people. You're totally not a one pump chump who only gives a shit about getting himself off. No way, of course not! You're definitely all about taking care of someone else's needs, right? Give me a fucking break, you lying ass piece of shit."

The Mandalorian lets go of your collar and you barely manage to land on your two feet without falling over. Then, he takes a step towards you, looming over you as he goes, "do you want me to show you how well I could take care of you, princess?"

You let out another hysterical laugh. The Mandalorian is quite the fucking comedian. "I would love to see you try with all that metal weighing you down. How are you supposed to get anything done in that?"

"Is that a yes?" He waits for you to actually give consent. "Do you want me to take care of you?"

"Yes, Mando. I'd like to see you prove that you aren't a selfish cunt." You fold your arms at him, inviting the challenge.

"Then, let's get you somewhere warm, princess." His tone changes all of a sudden, startling you. It's so…kind. Oh no, what the fuck is this?

The Mandalorian walks up to you and scoops you back into his arms before jetpacking away once again. You don't know what you're getting yourself into when he carries you out from the base of the mountain and flies for a while until he slowly descends beside…a residential building? It's a wooden structure that is actually well built and would keep up well with the harsh seasons on this planet. It looks newly made as well, differing from many of the homes scattered around the other parts of the forest.

"What is this place?" You ask him as he helps you out of his arms gently this time instead of dropping you on your ass.

"It's where I've been staying. Your parents lent it to me for when I'm here looking for you." He answers rather calmly. He puts his arm around your shoulder to guide you inside.

It's a cozy place, just a single floor with sleek dark wood accents. There's a small kitchenette, a dining table, a fireplace with a couch in front of it and a rather large but unused bed tucked in the corner.

"I thought you said you've been staying here." You point at the way the bed looks untouched.

"I don't particularly care for beds." He tells you, kneeling in front of the fireplace to start burning some wood to heat up the room.

You aren't going to ask him to elaborate further. The Mandalorian doesn't seem like the kind of person who enjoys comfort anyways so you're not all that surprised.

You watch as he gets the fire going and then leaves to go into another room, which you presume has the refresher, and when he comes back out, he says, "I left a change of clothes in there for you. You should wash up or you'll get sick. I'll heat up something for dinner. I bet you're hungry."

You try to contain your chuckle but you're sure it slips out a bit. He really is trying hard to prove that he can take care of you. It's almost convincing, but you know how fake it is so you don't let his suddenly nice behavior sway you at all. You do decide that a shower would be nice, especially since you're still freezing cold from your wet clothes. You got used to it since you weren't paying much attention but now that you're in a warm home, you definitely need to get out of these clothes.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and peel off the clothes. You take a moment to squeeze as much of the water out of them as you can but you know you'll have to let them dry out on their own, which includes your underwear. There's no way the Mandalorian has anything for you to wear underneath the clothes he has brought you and you confirm that the moment you take a look at them. It's just a simple long sleeved shirt and a pair of pajama pants, both of which are black, like a matching set. You're kind of sad your socks are wet because he didn't leave you a pair of socks either…it's going to be a cold night.

The refresher helps though. You're surprised that the water could get so hot despite being in the middle of nowhere. Your parents must have really wanted the Mandalorian to be comfortable while he was scouring the planet for you. You scrub off all the mucky river water and once you feel clean from head to toe, you dry off and get dressed. You spend a few extra minutes drying your hair as much as you can before going back into the main room.

As a joke, you say cheerfully, "the refresher is all yours, Mando."

"Thanks, princess." He catches you by surprise with his words. "I'll be back then. I left you some food. Eat it if you're hungry."

The Mandalorian gestures to the dining table then walks past you, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You blink a few times, not really expecting him to wash up. You thought he'd be a bit too…rugged for that. Not like you care if he cleans up or not. It doesn't really matter to you.

What does matter is how nice the food he left looks. He cut up a bunch of local fruits and put them on a plate for you, along with a bowl of warm soup. You're a bit skeptical to try the soup but when you do, you actually like it so you end up eating while you think of your next steps.

Yes, this whole situation was definitely unexpected and you didn't think the Mandalorian would play along, but since he has…your best course of action is to run away now. You should, since he's currently preoccupied in the refresher and it will likely take him a while to put back on all his armor plates. You would get a very good headstart and you might be able to slip into one of the rebellion's hidden strongholds, which would allow you to stall out on him finding you again until you have to leave to get supplies.

That would be the smart idea, but you're tired and you're curious to see what the Mandalorian has planned. There's a reason he entertained this idea. A thought crosses your mind and you chuckle to yourself.

Could the Mandalorian be attracted to you? Now that would be interesting. You both may be at each other's throats, literally if the events of today have been any indication, but there's a part of you that finds him a bit intriguing. A mysterious, always covered from head to toe, emotionless bounty hunter with impressive gun skills and cool weaponry. How does he fare in anything else?

Maybe he's a virgin with something to prove. Maybe he's a playboy with something to prove. Maybe he just doesn't like you calling him a one pump chump, which could definitely mean that he is one.

Either way, you're a bit too curious to leave now so you decide to finish up your food, wash your plates and then go over to the couch in front of the fire and lay down. You notice then that the couch feels like it's been laid on. Did the Mandalorian really sleep here? It wasn't uncomfortable but he had a whole bed to use and the couch seemed a bit cramped if he was wearing all his armor.

You wonder then how he lives when he doesn't have a place to stay. When he used to have the Razor Crest, you knew he could sleep there since there was space to do so. But, there's no sleeping on a starfighter…it would be much too exposed. You can't pity him. He's a grown man who chose this profession and this lifestyle. It does, however, make you feel a little bad about your comments on him not having a home. Maybe that wasn't by choice. Where could he have a home in a galaxy like this one?

If he wasn't such a prick, maybe you'd let him stay here on your planet after the rebellion succeeds. You would let him stay if he stopped trying to take you back to your parents. He could have a home here, if he wanted to. Not like he would want to, but the idea simmers in your head for a bit. You won't offer it to him. He probably wouldn't take it anyways.

"Tired?" His voice coupled with the sound of his armor walking towards you gets you to lift your head up to look at him. He looks exactly the same, though you know he washed up and is wearing new base clothing.

You shrug. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me, princess." He gestures towards the bed. "Why don't you go to sleep?"

"And wake up back in the palace? Nice try, Mando." You shake your head at him. "I'm staying up to keep an eye on you."

"I won't take you back. I said I would take care of you and sending you back to your parents wouldn't be ideal." He sounds so genuine, it's scary.

"I can't trust you. This is a game and it could end at any moment. Then, I'd be stuck, waiting for the next time I could be free again." You sit up, turning towards the fire. It feels nice against your skin but…you don't feel very good. You're anxious, knowing that it's inevitable. You are going back to the palace, whether you want to or not. "There might not be a next time."

"What do you mean?" The Mandalorian takes a seat on the couch beside you. His tone actually seemed like he wanted to know.

"It's happening. The marriage." You don't like that you're admitting it. It makes it too real. "Not like you care but he's even more of a prick than you. At least you can pretend to be caring. He can't. He is despicable. And I would be powerless and forced to–"

The whole thought makes your skin itch and you claw at your arms a bit, unable to finish your sentence. Of course, if you're forced to have children, you'd be stuck taking care of them and trying to prevent them from being like their father or like your parents. You wouldn't be able to lead a rebellion anymore if your children would be under threat.

"I would never be able to leave again." You decide not to elaborate further. "It's okay though. I'm just a privileged princess who can't appreciate what she has, right? Who needs freedom when you have a shiny prison to call home."

You turn away from him then, not wanting him to see the tears building up in your eyes. This is it. Your final hurrah before the Mandalorian takes you back and you're subjected to a life you never wanted.

"Why would your parents let something like that happen to you?" He asks like he wants to know, like he can't comprehend that they are actually evil people.

"Because it's the only way to keep me under control." You take a deep breath before sighing. "If they marry me to a man who will break me down and tear me apart, then I'll be too tired to fight them and their rule if I'm spending my days fighting for my life."

You fold over slightly, clutching your chest. Your heart aches just thinking about it. Though, you think it aches because you know you'll never be able to fall in love. That's a luxury someone like you doesn't have. You were born to be married off to someone else. That is your role in life as a princess. You hate realizing it but it's true. As much as you try to run from it, it's what you were born to do, not lead a rebellion.

"The people here aren't the only ones being oppressed then." The Mandalorian places his hand on your shoulder and you glance up to stare into the shine of his helmet. "You don't deserve that kind of life, princess."

You give him a sad kind of smile as you say back, "you know, if you weren't pretending right now, that might have been a nice thing to hear."

"Who says I am pretending?" His words come out plain and simple but you can't seem to register that he actually said them. What does he mean? He's joking, right?

"Aren't you just trying to prove you can take care of someone? None of this is real. It's just you trying to prove a point. You don't actually care about me, do you?" You don't know why you ended that with a question. You're scared to know the answer. Actually fucking terrified because if he does, then–

"I asked you if you wanted me to take care of you and you said yes. So, I am, right now. I'll take good care of you, princess." He reaches forward to caress your cheek with his gloved hand. "Don't cry anymore. You're safe here with me."

You didn't even realize you were crying. You're just so overwhelmed that the tears flooded out. What the fuck is the Mandalorian trying to say? He's fucking with you. He has to be.

"I don't like this." You move his hand away from your face, holding back a sob as you speak up. "I don't like that you're lying. You're trying to take advantage of me because I'm being vulnerable. Please stop lying, Mando."

"I'm not lying." He stays firm on his word. "I care about you and that's why I'm going to take you away from all of this, like I said I would."

What is the Mandalorian talking about? You think back to when you asked him if he had anyone he cared about and if he would fight for them if they were being oppressed. His response was that he would take them away from all of it.

"Why would you have been talking about me? I thought I was a nuisance to you." You're so confused right now. He hates you, doesn't he?

"You are a huge nuisance." The Mandalorian doesn't sugarcoat it at all. "You run way too fast. You always break into my ship somehow. You have some kind of trick up your sleeve every time I catch you. You make my life so fucking difficult–"

"That sure is comforting, Mando." You interject but he keeps talking through your comment.

"And yet, I don't want you to get hurt." He confesses and his voice is so gentle as he does. "I always miss my shots because I can't stand the idea of what would happen if they hit. You almost drowned today and it annoyed the fuck out of me because you could've died but you didn't even care. Running away was more important than your life and now I get why. I don't like that you would rather die on the run, but I understand why you wouldn't want to live trapped either. So, let me take care of you and take you away from all of this, princess."

There's no way but…you believe him. The Mandalorian actually cares about you. Why? You have no idea but you realize now that you care about him too. You never could shoot him anywhere vital. You never fatally sabotaged his ship even though you definitely could. You always let him catch you because you wanted him to have the credits and you didn't ever keep him waiting too long.

But, can you really leave with him? What about the rebellion? All these people are looking to you as the future ruler. If you leave and never look back…would they be okay without you?

"I can't leave these people." You feel that ache in your chest getting worse.

"You would've left them anyways the moment your parents found you again and forced you to get married." The Mandalorian speaks the truth and you don’t like it one bit but he's right.

The marriage is set. It doesn't matter when they find you. The moment they do, you'll be trapped and you'll never be able to help the people again. If you take this leap of faith and go with the Mandalorian, then at least you have a chance to come back and aid them when the time is right and your parents have given up on searching for you. Is this real? Could you really let the Mandalorian take care of you?

"Why would you do this for me?" You ask him, needing to hear some kind of reasoning.

"What? You didn't see that one coming?" He reflects back with a joke, giving you the most subtle chuckle. Then, he replies, "I guess I have a thing for saving bounties in need."

"Oh yeah? What other bounty have you saved?" You tilt your head, wondering what he could be referring to.

"A child." He tells you and your eyes widen in shock. "He's…now my child. Or well, foundling."

"You have a kid?" It's almost as unbelievable as it sounds.

"Yeah. I'm going to see him after this. Would you like to meet him?" The Mandalorian is offering right now. This is real…he really wants you to come with him.

And you really want to go with him. "Okay. I'd like that."

"So, you trust me?" He wants to be sure you're all in.

"I do, for now." You say with a cheeky grin.

"Then, can I take care of you now?" His tone gets all low and almost seductive, which surprises you.

"You can try." Your smile widens into a smirk.

The Mandalorian pulls something out from his sleeve. It's a small red vial. You're a bit worried now but he explains what it is, "it's blinding liquid. I normally spray it out of my cuff during a fight but it's much more effective and less painful if you drop it into your eyes directly."

"You want me to blind myself?" You're completely taken back by the implication.

"I mean, you don't have to, but that does limit the things we can do." Oh. He's thinking of…

"You're going to take off the helmet if I blind myself?" You want to make sure that's what he's implying.

"I'll take off everything, princess." You wonder what face he must be making. You bet he's smirking under that fucking helmet…

The heat rising to your cheeks is distracting but you're too curious to stop now so you put your hand out and he puts the vial down in your palm. You quickly unscrew it and then drop a bit of liquid in each eye. It stings but it's more of a numbing feeling as your vision goes from clear to completely blurred out. Everything is mixed together and super fuzzy.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" He must be waving them at your face but you can't see a fucking thing.

"You better not be fucking with me. How long does the effect last?" You rub your eyes, seeing if that'll change anything but it doesn't. Wow, it's really effective, which is sort of freaky.

"Hopefully it lasts as long as we need but there's a chance I'll get carried away." His answer is too vague.

"An actual increment of time, please." You press him for an answer.

"Two days, give or take." He states and you roll your eyes before scoffing.

"You? Lasting two days? Now that's a funny fucking joke." You say with a hearty laugh. "I should've just closed my eyes. This will surely be over quickly."

"You can keep believing that, princess, but hopefully you enjoy being wrong." He tells you in a sly manner before getting up from the couch.

You then hear him start to take off his armor plates after he went around shutting all the curtains. Once his armor is off, the Mandalorian removes his helmet, setting it on what you assume was the dining table.

His voice sounds much more human now and it's a little too enticing. "Do you want to stay there or go to bed?"

"I'm curious what you can do on a couch." You propose the challenge and he seems to accept because you hear him sit back down next to you.

"Then come here, princess." The Mandalorian pats his lap.

You want to say fuck off but you're a little too interested to see what he's capable of so you feel around for his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt for leverage as you straddle his lap. This is probably the closest you've been to him, other than when he's carrying you in his arms. He smells nice, just like the soap from the refresher. You wonder what he looks like, not that you really need to know.

"You look good wearing my clothes." He slowly sneaks his hands under your shirt, pressing them at your waist firmly. "But you'd look better with them off."

"Wow, the helmet comes off and the horny comes out." You berate him but he gives you a light chuckle again, like he's amused by you. "If you want to take my shirt off, just do it."

You lift your arms up and he follows your lead, pulling your shirt off of you. Normally, you'd feel cold, but the fire crackling behind you is keeping you nice and toasty. That, and the Mandalorian's warm breath against your skin.

"To think, you actually look like a princess." He makes that comment and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"What the fuck does that mean?" You ask, wondering if it's an insult or compliment.

"It means you're absolutely gorgeous." He runs his bare hands along your sides. "So fucking perfect, just like a princess."

Oh, well, you can't argue with that, though hearing it from him makes your heart pound. You feel a little shy even though this isn't your first time being topless in front of someone. Maybe it's because you can’t see how he's staring at you, if he is staring at you.

The Mandalorian takes your hands and moves them to the hem of his shirt. He wants you to take his shirt off too so you do, lifting it over his head. He takes it and tosses it presumably where your shirt is before settling his hands back at your waist.

You run your hands along his sides like he did to you but then you notice a bandage where you shot him earlier. "Sorry about that."

"No you aren't." He catches you red-handed.

You chuckle. "Yeah, you’re right. It was a good shot since I didn't want to hurt you."

"I wouldn't have let you get in a killer shot." He tries to be slick but you simply look at him with disapproval. At least, you hope you're looking at him. It's hard to tell where his face is.

"Keep telling yourself that, Mando." You rest your hands back on his shoulders.

"I thought you knew my name, princess." He inquires and you shrug.

"I do, but I assumed you didn't like to be called by your name." You only know his name because your parents know his name so you overheard them using it when they talk about him.

"I want you to." He instructs. "What's my name?"

"Din Djarin." You feel strange saying it aloud but it rolls off your tongue quite easily.

"Remember that for when I make you feel good." Din says before he leans in.

You feel his hot breath against your neck as he starts to press small kisses trailing upwards. He drags his lips along your jaw and your breaths slowly get heavier as he brushes them against your lips. You instinctually lean in and that’s all he needs to kiss you back.

It's been so long since you've kissed someone, at least like this. Your lips settle in his perfectly. You're surprised he has such soft lips. You were kind of expecting them to be a bit chapped but they aren't at all.

"Your lips taste like the fruit I cut up for you. Did you like them?" He asks when your lips part for a moment.

"I did." You say with an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Din."

"So, the princess does have manners." He leans in and you feel him smile against your lips. Then, he breathes out a praise, "what a good girl."

"Oh shut up." You grip onto his face with your hands and pull him in to kiss you again.

This time, Din steals your breath away by slipping his tongue into your mouth and you let him. You don't mind it at all because it feels nice, having your tongues tied together. His hands start to move, touching every inch of your exposed skin as you both kiss. Then, they cup your breasts, holding them gently in his hands, giving them a light squeeze. You gasp against his mouth and he likes your reaction so he does it again, only this time, he drags his thumbs over your hard nipples. You let out a sharp exhale at the feeling, wanting more of it. He must know because he begins kissing you more passionately while he plays with your breasts.

You can feel him getting hard underneath you so you decide to grind against him a little, which makes him pull away from your lips. "Don't provoke me, princess."

"Or what?" You call his bluff, letting out a soft moan as you roll your hips against him again.

"I'll make you get on your knees and finish what you've started." His voice is so perfectly demanding. You like provoking him and seeing this new, more dominant side of him.

"Won't that make me right? That you're a man who only wants to get himself off?" You jab at him with your words.

"Oh, so should I finish what I've started then?" His hand slips down between your legs, touching you through your pants. You bite your lip to stop yourself from reacting but he knows you're already wet. "What's it going to be, princess?"

You think for a moment before getting off his lap and kneeling before him. Your hands sneak up his thighs to tug at his waistband, which he lets you pull down enough to get his hard cock out. You wish you could see it because it feels big in your hands. You trace along his length, liking the size a bit too much, wanting to map out every inch of it underneath your fingertips.

Then, you lick your lips and say, "tell me what to do or, better yet, make me do what you want me to."

Din definitely likes that because he grabs a hold of your hair, forcing you forward until your lips brush against the tip of his cock. You stick out your tongue and swirl around it, which makes him let out a low growl. You want to hear more of his sounds so you wrap your lips around his cock and sink down, taking him deep into your mouth and down your throat. You can barely fit him all the way without choking but you like the feeling.

A part of you wants to touch yourself while you do this so you pull off of him to ask, "can I rub my clit while I suck your cock?"

"Only if you edge yourself and wait for me to finish first." He tells you and you nod, sliding your hand between your legs as you sink your mouth back down his length, moaning the moment you feel how wet you are.

You move your mouth in tandem with your hand, rubbing your clit at the same pace as you suck his cock. The feeling of him deep in your mouth coupled with your fingers circling around your clit is pure bliss. But, this could get better and you know how, so you lift your other hand off his thigh to tap at his hand that's holding your hair.

"You want me to fuck your mouth, princess?" Din wants to be sure and you nod. "I won't hold back then."

His grip in your hair tightens and then he thrusts up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. It's intense but it only makes you want to touch yourself more so you let him do whatever feels right for him so you can focus on rubbing your clit and edging yourself. You follow his pace, which is both slow and aggressive at the same time. You hum at the feeling whenever he pulls you down onto his cock, stuffing himself as deep as he can, before pulling you off to let you breathe. You're drooling and tearing up but you've never been more turned on. You hope he can get hard again later and fuck you just as roughly as he's making you deep throat his cock.

You are growing weaker by the minute and you're surprised he's lasting so long. Keeping yourself on the edge is an uphill battle because you constantly want to give in and just come already but you know if you wait, it'll feel even more intense so you push forward, keeping yourself tensed up and ready to explode.

"Do you want to come?" Din stuff himself down your throat more and you nod against him as he chokes you slightly before lifting you completely off him. "Answer me, princess."

Saliva dribbles down your chin and you lick it up then answer through heavy breaths, "yes, please."

"Stick out your tongue and keep your mouth open then." Din commands and you listen. He tilts your chin up then stands, hovering over you. "You can come the moment you feel me do the same."

You give him a light nod in response. The sound of him wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking it right above you makes your mind go fuzzy as you pay attention to your throbbing clit and how desperately your body wants to release all the tension it's been building up. The room fills with your quiet moans and his composed grunts, drowning you both in such a sensual symphony.

It doesn't take long for you to finally come when you feel him finish all over your tongue and mouth. You swallow every bit and lick your lips before your own orgasm shoots through you and you moan his name, leaning your head against his knees. Your breaths come out dry and through long heaves, but the euphoria that shoots through you is unlike any other. You're dripping wet and you want him inside of you so badly that you slip two of your fingers in just to have a bit of the feeling.

"Pull your hand out, princess." Din sits back down and you lift your hand up for him. "Look at how hard you came all over your hand. What a messy girl."

He grabs your wrist and pulls you forward. Then, you feel his tongue lick every inch of your hand, tasting you on your fingertips.

"How sweet." He tells you, letting go of your hand. He pats the couch beside him. "Take your pants off and come sit here."

In your daze, you listen without a second thought, pulling your pants off before sitting back down on the couch. It doesn't click until you feel a pair of hands pull your legs until your ass is at the edge of the couch. Din spreads your legs open and starts kissing your inner thighs, giving you small compliments as he does.

"What a beautiful body." He says, pressing a kiss closer to the center. "You're so wet. You must've really enjoyed sucking my cock. You did a very good job."

Fuck, he's stalling with all his soft kisses and you just want him to hurry up already and go down on you. Din must sense your impatience because he purposely avoids it, making you squirm.

"Stop making me wait." You let out with a whine and you can feel him smile against your skin.

"Someone's needy." He teases you by dragging his tongue lightly along the center but not enough to satiate the desperation rising inside of you.

"I am very needy." You have lost all sense of dignity. "So, are you going to take care of me or not?"

"As you wish, princess." Din says a bit too fondly. You're not used to him sounding so…normal. The modulator always makes him sound a bit scrambled but hearing his voice all smooth and deep is a different beast entirely. Especially when he says things like that.

When he finally presses his tongue against you, you have to clamp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from making too much noise. His tongue is so warm and it licks up and down at such an excruciatingly perfect pace, swirling effortlessly around your clit to cause your head to spin. You reach out and grab a hold of his hair, which feels coarse and curly between your fingers.

"I like your hair." You mumble to him. "It's nice to hold onto."

He lifts his head off of you to say, "grip it tighter when you're about to come."

You nod and he immediately goes back between your legs, focusing on bringing you closer to your next orgasm. It builds steadily, coiling in your lower stomach. You throw your head back, leaning against the couch, your mind swirling with a million thoughts at once. You can't stop thinking about how good Din is making you feel, about how he's going to take you away from your terrible family, about how he wants to take care of you.

It all feels too good to be true but you believe it as you get closer to the edge, you tighten your grip onto his hair and he starts to swirl his tongue around your clit in just the right motion. You unravel almost too quickly, coming harder than you did earlier. You bite the back of your hand to stop yourself from screaming his name too loudly as your whole body quivers from the intensity. That's when you know it's real. He's real and he just did that to you. Fuck, that's crazy. This is really happening to you.

You try to catch your breath but he doesn't let you because he keeps playing with your clit in his mouth, using his tongue and sucking on it. You're way too sensitive after that orgasm so everything he's doing feels even more substantial and you whimper a bit, trying to adjust to how quickly you're about to come again.

Right when your orgasm hits again, Din moves his mouth off of you all of a sudden then slides two fingers into you roughly, forcefully prolonging your orgasm. You can't process the feeling of his fingers thrusting into you. You can't control yourself anymore, gushing all over his hand as his fingers hit exactly the right spot, drawing another orgasm out of you. He continues to do this, forcing orgasms out of you with his rough movements. When you're on the brink of passing out, you manage to say the word "stop" between staggered breaths and he immediately pulls his fingers out of you. You curl up from the sudden empty feeling, holding your knees close to your body, shivering all over.

You feel something warm envelop you and you realize Din has pulled a sweater over your head so you get your arms into the sleeves. You hear him put his pants back on before sitting down next to you. Then, he lays a blanket over the both of you.

"Come here, let me hold you." He opens his arms up and you find the strength to lean over, resting your head against his shoulder. His warm arms wrap around you and it's so strangely comforting. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah." You nod to confirm. "It was just ramping up too fast and I didn't want to faint."

"Sounds like you enjoyed yourself. Did I take good care of you?" He asks all sly.

"Don't get cocky." You say, pinching his arm. "We haven't even fucked yet."

"Are you going to faint when we fuck?" His words make you shove him lightly, which he returns with another soft chuckle.

"You mean if." You lazily trace down his bare chest until your hand rests right at the waistband of his pants. "Can you even get it back up?"

"You are lucky I didn't let you pass out from coming so much, princess." His hand slides down to rest on your thigh. "Do you want to play this game?"

You slip your hand right in, grabbing a hold of his now-hard cock. He does the same to you, his fingers resting at your entrance. With your other hand, you pull his cock out of his pants so you can touch him with both hands. The moment you start to stroke it, Din pushes two fingers into you again. You nearly gasp but you stop yourself, not wanting to react too much but he curls his fingers and it sends you back into how you felt earlier, so ready to come again.

"Kiss me, Din." You lean towards him and he meets your lips with his.

You both sit there, kissing and touching each other. What feels even better is when you can feel his breathing getting heavier against your lips, which means he's also enjoying himself. That makes everything more amplified and you love it. You like the way his fingers slow their thrusts when your hands slow its strokes and vice versa. It's rhythmic, almost like you're fucking but not.

You sigh against his lips. "I really want to come."

"Do it, princess." He says back but you shake your head.

"I won't until you do." You squeeze the tip of his cock a bit and he lets out a grunt in response.

"Then put that pretty mouth back on my cock." He slips his fingers out of you so that you can kneel on the couch and take him into your mouth again.

Right when you've gotten him deep down your throat again, his hand finds its way back between your legs and thrusts his fingers back inside of you. Your legs are getting weak but you have to hold yourself steady so that Din can keep fucking you with his fingers while you suck his cock. His other hand goes back into your hair, brushing it away from your face in his firm grip.

"I'm close. Are you?" He says like a warning and you nod, agreeing with him. "Good girl. Come with me, princess."

With just a few more rapid motions, you and Din both come at the same time. He finishes in your mouth as you clench around his fingers. You swallow everything before he lifts you off of him, pulling you onto his lap. He takes his wet fingers and has a taste of you, licking them right in front of you. Then, he grabs a hold of your face and kisses you again and you can't help smiling as he does, liking the way his lips feel during your orgasmic high.

You don't know how much time has passed but you and Din stay kissing on the couch for quite a long time, not being able to get enough of each other. At a certain point, he lifts you into his arms and carries you into bed. That's when your lips finally part as he throws the covers over both of you.

Din hovers on top of you, resting his hips against yours. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. Fuck, he's hard again already and you want him inside of you so badly but you don't want to be greedy. You choose to take it slow and just enjoy feeling his lips on you again. You run your hands all over him, wanting to touch every inch of his bare chest and back while you can.

All the while, your body reacts beyond your control and you roll your hips against him. You moan against his lips and pull away to say, "sorry."

"No you aren't." He is smarter than he looks and you smirk in response.

"Actually, I'm saying sorry to myself for wanting to fuck you." You make that up on the spot and impress yourself with your own words.

"I feel sorry for you too, princess." Din presses up against you, teasing you through his pants. "You must feel so empty without a warm cock inside of you."

"It's truly a tragedy." You say back, pretending to be sad. "Where will I ever find a nice, big cock to fill me up?"

"Depends what kind of protection you have." He gets serious all of a sudden and you understand why.

"I have an implant. I got it secretly from a doctor within the rebellion pretty early in my adulthood." You show him your bicep, pressing on it lightly until you're sure he can see the little thin rod under your skin. "So, I'm safe."

"Good girl." He presses a kiss on your forehead after he says that and you feel all shy from how gentle the gesture was. "I like knowing you've been safe."

"Why do you do that?" The question slips out of your mouth without thinking it through.

"What do you mean?" He sounds puzzled.

"Sometimes, you're strangely sweet and you say things that make me not want to be a nuisance to you." You reach up to caress his face, feeling that stubble he has that scratches your face when he kisses you. "Stop making me like you, Din. It won't end well for us."

"Why's that?" He leans into your hand, letting you hold his face.

"Because you'll be stuck with me." You make the joke and laugh but you hide your feelings in between the words.

"That doesn't sound all that bad. I don't mind taking care of a princess, as long as she's my princess." His words make your heart skip a beat. "Is that something you'd like?"

Is Din asking you if you want to be his? You don't know yet but you like the idea. "I wouldn't mind a Mandalorian taking care of me."

"Then, it's settled. You're my princess to take care of." He seals it with a soft kiss.

You smile against his lips and then pull away to ask, "are you going to fuck your princess now?"

"Needy girl." He checks how wet you've gotten again, dragging his finger along your folds. "So wet and ready for me."

You tug at his pants and he finally kicks them off. You opt to keep your sweater on because it's chilly and your lower body is safely under the covers with Din. He guides his cock right up against you and it takes all of your willpower not to beg him to just shove himself into you without remorse. You really are needy…

There's a moment of still silence as Din rubs his cock against you, teasing your clit with the tip. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, not wanting to let your desperate whimpers out. He's teasing you and you can't stand it, even if it feels amazing.

"Be a good, needy girl and beg for my cock, princess." Oh, so he was waiting for you to say something. What a fucking prick.

"Why don't you beg to fuck me?" You start grinding yourself up against his cock, taunting him. "Don't you want to feel what your fingers did? So warm, wet, tight. How can you resist?"

"I don't think I need permission. You want me to already. I just want you to admit it." He moves the tip of his cock right up against your entrance. "All you have to do is ask and I'll slip right in."

You bite your lip, feeling the way the tip of his cock is so close to sinking into you. Fuck, who needs dignity? You threw that shit out the window a while ago.

"I want your cock inside of me, please." You finally plead and he delivers almost too quickly, shoving his entire cock inside of you in one fluid motion.

You grip onto his back, digging your nails into his skin as he starts to move. He's fucking huge inside of you, filling you up in ways you didn't think possible. You've never felt this full before and he hits so deep inside of you. You can't believe it, how good the feeling could be when it's this perfect.

Din studies your reactions. You know this because he changes his pacing and his strokes until he finds the right combination that makes you absolutely lose your mind. You're coming all over his cock, seeing stars in your eyes. The orgasm is completely unexpected and it doesn't end, not when he's hitting it just right. You've become a wet mess underneath him, gushing out every time he slams into you.

You bury your face in your hands, embarrassed at how much you're coming. "It doesn't stop…"

"Isn't that a good thing?" He says while you cling onto his back as another orgasm shoots through you. "You're such a wonderful princess, tightening so fucking much around me every time you come. Keep going, you can do it."

Fuck, how is Din still holding on? You're literally on the verge of tears from the constant bursts of pleasure. He has to be close, especially when he's ramming into you this roughly.

"I want you to come with me, Din." You hold his face in your hands.

"Where?" He asks, leaning down to brush his lips against yours.

"Inside, please." You then pull him in to kiss you.

After a few more strong thrusts, Din finishes deep inside of you and you come hard from the feeling of his warmth spilling into you, filling you up. You both share a bout of heavy breathing and sloppy kisses until he slowly pulls out of you. He lays down beside you and you turn to cuddle up against him, which he welcomes. You draw shapes against his chest as he brushes his fingers through your hair and you both enjoy the peaceful quiet as the euphoric rush fades away.

"How are you feeling?" Din asks you, gently patting your head. "Do you need anything?"

"I feel great." You say, smiling into his chest. "I don't need anything but this right now. Do you need anything? How was it for you?"

"Very good." He presses a kiss on the top of your head. "I'll get up in a bit to get some water."

"Oh, let me get some for you." You tap his chest and he moves his arm so you can roll out of bed.

Your legs are a bit wobbly but you can still walk fine so you find your way over to the kitchenette and feel around for two glasses. You fill yours with water first and quickly chug it so you can leave your glass behind while you bring Din his full glass of water. He puts his hand out to guide you back into bed and he takes the glass from you. You hear him drink it as you pull the covers back over you.

"I don't know how you managed to do that without seeing a single thing." He tells you as if he's impressed, setting his glass down at the bedside table. "Next time, I'll get it myself."

"I wanted to do something for you. It wasn't all that hard anyways." You lean back up against his chest and he sneaks his arm beneath your neck once again. You snuggle up closer and whisper, "I like this a lot."

"Me too." He whispers back. Then, he goes, "I'm sorry about the harsh things I said and about grabbing your neck so aggressively earlier."

"Eh, I deserved it. I was being a bitch." You reassure him. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm sorry about what I said…"

"It was in the heat of the moment. I forgive you." He tilts your chin up so he can kiss you. "Just don't do it again, okay?"

"I cannot guarantee that I won't be a bitch." You smirk and he groans in response.

"I knew I was asking too much." He banters back and you laugh.

"Are you regretting your decision to take care of me now?" You ask playfully but there's a light insecurity lingering in your words.

"Not at all." He answers with a kiss on your forehead. "It's more fun when you're feisty."

"Is that so?" You tease him a little. "Does that mean I was right and you must definitely wanted to fuck me before?"

"Oh, there were plenty of times where I wanted to. Especially when you're fucking annoying." His words are very enticing so you decide to rile him up.

"Were you going to put me in my place?" You start sliding your hand down his body again.

"You're being a brat, princess." He snatches your hand before you can feel how hard he's gotten again.

"I'm always a brat." You say with a lovely grin. "What are you going to do about it?"

Din doesn't answer with words. He just pulls your hand and drags you out of bed, throwing you against the wall. It isn't forceful at all, even though you kind of wish it was. He grabs a hold of your hips and presses you back up against the wooden wall of the room.

Then, he leans in to whisper against your ear, "tell me to stop if you need me to."

There's such a gentleness to him, making sure you aren't ever uncomfortable. You nod and whisper back, "I promise I'll tell you to stop if I don't like it, but trust me when I say, I really want you to fuck me up."

Din takes a hold of your hand then and taps it against his shoulder, "two to slow down, three to stop entirely. Got it?"

You tap his shoulder once in agreement. "So, does one tap mean I want you to keep going?"

"Yes." He lays everything out there. "I don't want to actually hurt you, so take this seriously."

"You're a sweet man, Din Djarin." You lean up to kiss him once before settling back against the wall. "Now, stop being such a stalling bitch and put me in my place."

The tingles that shoot through you when Din wraps his hand around your throat are incredible. He doesn't hold back and grips your neck tightly just like he did earlier. It really sends you back and you kind of wish you provoked him enough to get him to fuck you up against the base of the mountain.

There will always be a next time…

"Who knew a princess like you loved to be manhandled?" He grabs your hip with his other hand, slamming your ass against the wall, holding you there. "Maybe that's why you're such a brat. You enjoy being punished, don't you?"

"This is kind of a weak excuse for a punishment," you manage to get out those words before he squeezes your neck tighter, cutting off more air, making you lightheaded.

"I don't think you could handle a real punishment. You're too sheltered." Oh, he's mocking you now. "I can't be a savage. You need to be pampered like the princess you are."

"Fuck you." You practically spit in his face and that's enough for him to flip you around and shove your face against the wall with his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. That's going to sting in the morning.

Din pauses for a moment and you give him one tap on his hand that's resting at your hip so he knows you're fine. That's all he needs to give you a very firm smack on your ass. You involuntarily flinch at the action, not expecting it but wanting more enough to lean back into him. You want him to know you're okay with it.

Thankfully, he knows because he says against your ear, "it looks like you want me to do it again, princess."

Your whole body tenses up the moment his hand makes contact with your bare skin again and you bite your lip to stop yourself from whining at the dull pain. You let out short, staggered breaths as he makes you wait, anticipating his next move.

That's when he presses forward, pushing his cock right up against you, and you try your best not to seem too excited about it. He catches you though. "Do you want my cock again that badly? Did you like it that much?"

You're obviously not going to answer that but then he smacks your ass against you and you whimper at the feeling. Fuck, your skin is going to be sore for days. It’s already throbbing.

"Tell me how much you like it and I'll give it to you." He rubs against you, sliding between your thighs to tease every inch of you. You’re so wet that the sounds are filling the air. You should just listen to him…but you aren’t playing that kind of game.

“As if I’d do that. You’re lucky you even got to fuck me once.” Are you digging your own grave? Probably, but that’s what makes this much more entertaining.

“Are you forgetting that you’re the one who begged me to put my cock inside of you?” He’s right and you hate that you were so fucking horny earlier because now he has that as leverage.

“Technically, you wanted me to so I was just being nice.” You bite back and he scoffs.

“Is that so? I didn’t know you had it in you to be nice to me.” Din is definitely up to no good when he says, “I guess I should reward you then.”

A scream threatens to escape your lips when he thrusts his entire cock into you from behind but he slips his hand around your throat and chokes you out before the air can leave your windpipe. Your whole body is shaking and it’s hard to hold yourself up. You claw against the wooden wall, trying to steady yourself. All the while, you’re dripping wet and you can feel him pulsing inside of you, but he won’t move at all. You’re practically squirming, wanting to induce some kind of motion, but nothing happens. He holds your hip in place with his other hand, not letting you get what you want.

He pulls at your neck, lifting your face from the wall to turn towards him. You feel his breath against your lips as he goes, “it doesn’t look like you’re enjoying your reward, princess.”

What fucking reward? This is more like torture. You’re filled up completely from this angle and the tip of his cock is rubbing right up against that spot that makes you come like crazy but it’s not enough to actually do anything. You don’t want to give in though so you just yank your head away from his hand, turning back towards the wall. You can’t let him see how he’s affecting you.

But, he knows. Din can feel it. “How much longer are you going to pretend you don’t want me?”

“I don’t want you.” You maintain your composure but that slips up a bit when he slaps your ass again and you tense up, which makes him feel even better inside of you. It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from moaning at how good it feels.

“You’re a really bad liar.” He tells you as he moves his hands to slide up your body until they’re cupping your breasts. Then, he gives both your nipples a light pinch and you jolt at the feeling. You sink back down onto his cock and you can’t hold in the shocked gasp. “I wonder if I can get you to come on my cock just doing this.”

You grit your teeth because you know you definitely could come like this. He takes his time, squeezing your breasts in his big, calloused hands. His fingertips are so rough when they roll over the sensitive skin of your nipples, sending little sparks through you. Since his hands are preoccupied, you find yourself leaning back against him, feeling his cock slip deeper inside of you every time you do. You can feel your orgasm building steadily and it’s going to be intense with how subtle his touches are.

It’s dizzying, how much you want to give in and just let him fuck you senselessly. You’re on the verge of it but you keep pushing through, hoping you’ll be able to control yourself. That is, until you come so hard on his cock that you’re physically incapable of holding in your desires anymore. Your toes curl against the floor as you feel your orgasm in every part of your body, shaking you to the very core. Your body is desperate for this feeling again and your mind can’t keep up with your own wants.

You’re a loose cannon now, which is probably why you decide to say, “was that fun for you? Proving you can’t fuck for shit?”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He sounds genuinely offended.

“Your cock did absolutely nothing for me so can you really say you know how to fuck if you let your hands do all the work?” You let out a laugh and he doesn’t like that at all because his hand goes back to your throat right away. Through strained huffs, you taunt him, “aw, poor Mandalorian, has to use his hands again to put me in my place.”

“You’re asking for it now.” He says with a low growl and you call his bluff.

“You’re such a fake. Just admit you’re a softie and we can have some light vanilla sex and go to bed.” You smile a bit too much at your words and he squeezes your throat tighter in response. “Quit with the fake aggression. You don’t scare me, Din.”

“Yet.” The word comes out all eerie from his lips before all hell breaks loose. He pulls his cock out of you and then proceeds to grab you by the hair and throws you onto the bed. The impact makes you a bit woozy but you manage to gain your composure as he gets on top of you. “Flip over, princess.”

“No.” Your defiant response is immediately met with a slap in the face. It surprisingly hurts and you scream, “what the fuck!”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you what to do. Now, flip over before I make you.” His tone is incredibly serious and yet you’re still not going to go down without a fight.

“As if you can make me.” You hold your ground and you quickly put your arms up to shield your face before he can slap it again. “Oh, fuck you, Din.”

You then proceed to slap him in the face, much to his annoyance. “You just had to be a little fucking brat.”

He tries to force you to flip over but you keep struggling against him. Somewhere midway, you do tap him once to reassure him that you’re completely okay with the play fighting and that’s when he really starts giving it his all. He rips your shirt off of you and you elbow him in the face for it, which brings out another low growl from his lips.

“You’re going to pay for that, princess.” He tells you before he puts both hands over your throat, pressing you into the bed. You start kicking at him, trying to break free, but you’re slowly losing circulation and air. You can’t see a thing but you wonder what look Din has on his face. Is he worried or aroused? Maybe both. So, you do give him another single tap, since you would really hate for him to stop now while it was getting good.

Right when you’re about to pass out, he lets you breathe again and you suck in as much air as you can while you can. He grabs a hold of your chin, squishing your face in his fingers as he says, “just listen to me and I won’t have to hurt you anymore.”

“This is you hurting me?” You laugh almost too giddily. “I didn’t know you were such a weakling. You’re pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” He grits his teeth a little as his tone gets more aggressive. “Do you know what’s pathetic? The way you’re going to whimpering and whining while I make you come until you pass the fuck out like I should’ve before.”

You’re so distracted by his words that it gives him an opening to flip you onto your stomach. He grabs a hold of both of your wrists and pins them to your back with one of his hands. You can’t fight him anymore, no matter how hard you try to wriggle out of his grasp. He’s just that much stronger than you.

Then, Din presses his whole body into yours. You can feel how hard his cock is against you and you swallow both your nerves and excitement. He brushes his lips against your ear and says softly, “last chance to back out, princess.”

You tilt your head and then lean up to kiss him before breathing out against his lips, “I wouldn’t dream of stopping now. So, hurry up and fuck me until I’m an obedient princess who listens to her Mandalorian.”

“That’s a good girl.” He tells you quite proudly before kissing you gently. That’s the last gentle thing he’ll do tonight and you couldn’t be happier about it.

As you’ve come to realize, DIn enjoys giving you no notice and just rams his cock straight into you, coupled with a firm smack on the ass. You curse to yourself at how deep he can reach inside of you from this angle, pinning your body into the bed as he starts to thrust into you. You muffle your screams of pleasure into the sheets, biting them to hold in your moans. It’s merciless, the way he’s roughly pounding into you exactly the way you want him to.

The moment you’re about to come, you tighten up around him and that’s enough of a signal for him to slap your ass hard right when your orgasm hits you, making you come even harder than you were going to. He fucks you through your orgasm and your whole body can feel every stroke of his cock, the pleasure overwhelming you. It builds up to your next orgasm much too quickly and you unravel beneath him, moaning his name.

“You like that, don’t you?” He says with another firm smack on your ass. “It feels so good being used by me, doesn’t it?”

You can’t answer, not when he’s adjusting you, pulling you onto your knees. He lets go of your hands and you have this urge to fight him but your arms are like jelly so you simply grip the sheets beneath you as he continues to fuck you ruthlessly at a new angle. For a moment, you don’t understand why he changed positions until his hand sneaks between your legs and starts rubbing your clit. You mutter quiet curses at how amazing it feels. The overstimulation is causing your toes to curl and your back to arch as another orgasm shatters through every fiber of your being. It doesn’t stop there and you don’t expect it to.

“Does it feel good, princess?” He asks when you’re out of breath from another mind-blowing orgasm. You want to be a bitch but you can’t bring yourself to lie so you just nod in response. “I love an honest girl. Do you want a reward?”

You really shouldn’t trust his idea of a reward but you nod again and he pulls his cock out of you, which already makes you regret your compliance. After a moment of adjusting, Din pulls you towards him and makes you straddle his lap. He is sitting up with his back against the headrest now. You feel his cock pressing up underneath you and you bite your lip. Is this supposed to be your reward?

“I got to use you, now you get to use me.” He holds your hips for you, helping you sink down onto his cock. “But you aren’t allowed to stop moving. If you do, I’ll punish you.”

You get the first taste of what that means when your hips meet his and you don’t move so you can get used to being filled up like this. He leans forward and bites your neck, making you whimper from the sudden sharpness of his teeth. It doesn’t hurt but it definitely will leave a mark.

“Get moving, princess. Unless you want to be decorated with my teeth marks.” His tone is so threatening and you’re too turned on by it so you grip onto his shoulders with your hands and comply. Your hips lift off of him and you feel every inch of his cock slide out of you until you force it back inside of you, drawing uncontrollable moans out of you. It takes you a while but you finally set a pace that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulders from how much it’s affecting you.

Even though you already can’t see, you have this compulsion to close your eyes and just focus on the feeling of riding his cock. His hot breath lingers against your chest as he presses kisses along your skin. You wonder if he’s enjoying the sight of you like this. He must because he’s trying to coax you into your next orgasm. His tongue swirls around one of your nipples while his fingers graze the other one, firmly squeezing your breasts as they do. His other hand is still gripping your ass, ready to smack whenever he sees fit.

You don’t know why you say it, but you let out with a pleasurable sigh, “I’m going to come soon.”

“What do you want me to do about that?” He pulls away from your chest to go back to your lips. He bites your bottom lip before asking, “should I let you come?”

You shake your head. “Not until you do.”

“But don’t you want to come?” He moves his hand between your legs to feel how swollen your clit has gotten. “You’re going to spill out any second now. Can you really edge yourself?”

Din starts to play with your clit between his rough fingers and you whimper, “not if you do that.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I don’t want you to.” He sounds rather menacing and now you realize he wants to force you to come as much as you can.

That simple thought sends you over the edge and you cry out as you ride his cock through your orgasm, his fingers never leaving your clit as he does. You lean your head against his shoulder, your mind swirling from how much you just came. You don’t think you can keep holding yourself up like this…

Din can see you wavering so he picks you up off his lap and drops you onto your back. You expect him to get on top of you but he instead stands up and then drags your legs to the edge of the bed before holding them up and spreading them open. The moment he pounds his cock back inside of you, you start screaming and clawing at him from the sheer intensity of his movements. That only makes him want to keep going and you gush out all over his cock, your orgasm filling your senses completely out of your control.

“Look at you, princess. Coming from such rough sex.” He ridicules you as he rams deep inside of you over and over again. “How many orgasms have you had tonight? I bet you’ve lost count.”

“Shut up.” You try to have a stern tone but it comes out a bit meek.

“How about I shut you up by making you come again?” Din places his thumb right on your clit and presses into it, forcing you to feel enough overstimulation to draw another squirting orgasm from you. You hide your face in your hands, embarrassed at how quickly you came again, much to his amusement. “What a shy princess, trying to hide how much she loves my cock. Why don’t you just admit it?”

“Fuck you.” You refuse to say such a thing.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” His joke makes you roll your eyes at him but then you quickly gasp when he thrusts up into you harder, hitting that spot that makes you tighten up around him. “It looks like I’m taking very good care of you. Why is that so hard for you to admit?”

“Do you want me to admit it?” You ask, knowing you aren’t going to last much longer since you’re already close again.

“Yes.” He stops moving and you whine at the loss. “I want you to be my princess who is both defiant and obedient. Don’t you want to be mine?”

If life could be like this, if you could spend everyday with him feeling this good, if all it took was admitting that you want to be his, then… “I do. I want to be yours as long as you’re mine, Din.”

“Then, I’m your Mandalorian and you’re my princess.” He breathes out into the air so warmly and your heart flutters. Then, he grips onto your legs, pushing them more into the bed, before saying in that low, seductive tone of his, “now, let me feel you come on my cock a few more times.”

You give in to him, unraveling completely. Your voice goes hoarse from how much you’re moaning his name as he continues to fuck you just right, turning you into a puddle beneath him. You’ve lost all rationality, begging him to keep going, asking him to fuck you harder, telling him how much you love the way it feels to be his.

By the time Din finally finishes inside of you, you’re spent, having came well over any sort of record you’ve held previously. You can’t move a muscle and your lungs ache from breathing so heavily. You don’t even register the way he is kissing every inch of your skin, marking you here and there, confirming that you’re his.

“Let’s get ready for bed.” Din tells you, lifting you up and guiding you back to the refresher.

You mindlessly wash up and he helps you with your hair, holding it so it doesn’t get wet. When you’re done, he gives you a towel to dry up with while he showers. You idle for a bit after you’re done, waiting for him. Once he’s all ready to go, he gives you some clothes to wear and redresses him as well before carrying you back to bed.

Everything seems all too comforting, the way you perfectly fit against his chest with his arms wrapped around you. You chuckle lightly against him as you say, “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.”

You feel him shrug before he answers, “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“How am I supposed to walk back to the ship if my legs are jelly!” You let out a groan and then you hear him laugh that quiet, smooth chuckle of his. You really like hearing it.

“I’ll just have to carry you out of here, like the princess you are.” He takes a jab at you and you pinch him in retaliation.

Then, a sense of melancholy washes over you as you think about what it means to go along with him. “The moment I leave this planet and my life behind, I won’t be a princess anymore. I’ll just be…me. And, I don’t really know who I am if I’m not a princess.”

“Why do you have to stop being a princess?” Din pats your head gently as he speaks up, “you don’t have to revoke your title. Plus, one day, maybe we’ll come back to help fight for the rebellion.”

“We?” You wish you could look up and see his face right now because you want to know how he’s looking back at you.

“Yeah.” He replies, kissing the top of your head. He rests his chin on your head afterwards then says kindly, “let’s get you off this planet safely and then come back on our terms, together.”

“You know,” you tilt your head up so you can get closer to his lips again, “all this kindness isn’t going to get me to like you, Din. I’m still going to bother the fuck out of you.”

You feel him lean down to meet your lips as he responds, “then how about you bother me and learn to like me too?”

“I’ll think about it.” You say back with a big smile before lifting your hand up to bury it into his hair, pulling him in to kiss you. Din gets back on top of you and you can feel how hard he is again already, bringing a gasp to your lips. “How the fuck are you still horny?”

“What? You didn’t see that one coming?” He tells you before he smothers you in kisses, making you laugh all happily.

Life doesn’t seem so bad as a princess on the run with a Mandalorian by her side to take care of her. Maybe this was always the life you were meant to have. A life that you chose for yourself.

A life with him.

Send me an ask/reply/reblog if you enjoyed the read! ❈

I don't think I'm going to write more of this specific plot so for now, this will be a lovely little oneshot but maybe I'll explore more of this story in the future!

If you enjoyed this and want to read more of my work, be sure to check out my series: What Color Am I?

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

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deannagrey · 5 months

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Just Dare Me: Chapter 2 (1/4)

At the top of the New Year, I have a habit of reading old stuff. It's got me nostalgic so I started re-working some scenes from this book. You can read chapter one here.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

The dares started last semester when David and I finally accepted we’d be in one another’s lives whether we liked it or not. At the time, only one of his teammates had been dating mine. Now, that count was up to two….almost three if you included Ari’s on-and-off-again thing with a certain wide receiver. Since our group was slowly pairing off, we were often left on the sidelines during nights out.

It didn’t take long for me to realize David was the kind of guy who loved getting a rise out of anyone. He’d made it his mission to find all the wrong buttons to press. Apparently, my responses to him were some of his favorites.

Ari warned me not to engage when she noticed how irritated I got in his presence. But I couldn’t just stand around listening to his contrary nonsense.

“Sure, nihilism has its place in society,” I ranted to Ari and Covee in our kitchen. It might be too early for a philosophical debate, but David’s response to my well-thought-out discussion post had me seething.

After my call with my sister, he’d spend another forty minutes waiting for his clothes to dry. While I typed away on my laptop, he’d been typing away on his phone. It wasn’t until after he left that I realized he’d crafted a lengthy response to my post on hope in a capitalistic society. His response was three times as long as the requirement. He’d picked apart every one of my arguments without so much as an attempt to see my side of things.

“But we’re doomed if we think nothing matters,” I continued.

Ari stood at the breakfast bar, balancing on one leg while her foot rested on her thigh. Covee was at the microwave, trying to avoid eye contact because she didn’t like conflict in the morning.

“Doomed might be a strong word,” Ari disagreed in a calm voice. She sipped her green juice through a metal straw.

“You’re on his side?” I raised a brow, surprised. Ari was Miss. Cool, Calm, and Collected in times of stress. But, she had beliefs. She loved meaning. In her world, things had a purpose. I’d been to too many of her yoga classes, listening about the importance of breath and balance to not know that she believed in purpose.

“No, I’m not on anyone’s side.” She smiled and tossed a curly loc out of her face. “I’m just considering his viewpoint. You know, like you say people should.”

I huffed and grabbed my favorite mug. Covee hurried out of my way with her bowl of oatmeal. I hadn’t reached rampaged levels yet but I was getting close. As the coffee machine hummed, I grabbed a protein bar from the pantry.

“Whatever, I’m over it,” I mumbled.

“Really?” Covee looked surprised as she settled next to Ari at the breakfast bar.

Ari laughed. “No way. She’s outlining a nine-page opposition essay as we speak.”

“I am not.” I turned away from them, pretending to be focused on my brewing coffee so they wouldn’t read the lie in my eyes. How should I open my argument? With something subtle or go right for his jugular?

Jugular. The answer was always jugular.

“God, I wish I was in your class,” Ari mourned. “Witnessing the fights you two have would be worth the hefty credit price tag.”

Ari was the only one of my friends on campus who wasn’t enrolled in school. She’d taken her classes online from her college back home.

Each day Covee and I came back from in-person classes, she got amped on hearing about our campus drama — no matter how big or small.

“I’ll have you know, I’m well-behaved in class,” I promised.

Ari snorted. Covee tried to hide her smile by taking a big bite of food.

“I am. There’s no way I’m letting David Porter make me out to be some raging, argumentative know-it-all. There’s so much more to me than that.”

“Of course there is,” Covee agreed with a sweet smile.

I nodded. “Plus, I have to be on my best behavior because I represent something bigger.”

“Hope?” Ari teased.

“Ha ha.” I made a face. “I’m talking about the Black Women Development Circle. Check this out. Here are this year’s executive board sign-ups.”

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the photo of our signup sheets. Ari whistled impressed while Covee gave me a round of applause.

“Not exactly overflowing enough so that we have to hold a vote with non-board members but still…I had an actual team this year! And I have a good feeling about them. They’re going to show up and do the work.”

“Oh my God, Yara,” Covee gushed. “That’s incredible. Every spot’s full?”

“Every single one.” My smile widened and my shoulders relaxed at the change in subject. Not talking about David was far better for my health. “Even our social media manager. I won’t have to bug you every weekend for poster designs.”

Covee rolled her eyes at my teasing. “You know I never mind. Besides, designing stuff for you gave me tons of practice and content for my portfolio. It was a win-win.”

“Since that’s the case…” I wiggled my brow. “Could I keep you on call? Just as a backup. No pressure, of course. I know mixing work and friendship is always a little dicey.”

Covee waved away my worries. “I’ll be on call for as long as you need. As far as I’m concerned, I’m your personal graphic designer now and forever.”

I beamed. “You’re the absolute best.”

“So, I’m assuming the ball’s a go?” Ari looked excited about the prospect. “I live for any excuse to dress up.”

“It’s a go--I just have to get a few other orgs on board. My pitch is airtight,” I said. “ I’m talking to a few other presidents next week. I’m planning out venues and entertainment next week with the girls. We’re voting on themes, too.”

“Can I toss gothic into the ring?” Ari asked. “I know a good recipe for a vegan red icing that drips like blood. I can make all the desserts.”

“That’s an option. Sure.” I laughed. “Covee, what about you?”

“Kind of like the idea of a regency ball. Cliche, I know, but for a reason,” she said with a shy smile.

“It’s cute. Classic.” I nodded and typed each of their suggestions into my growing notes list. Before I could relock my phone a text from Mr- Thorn-In-My-Side himself came through.

David: Don’t forget about tonight. A no-show means an automatic forfeit.

I scoffed and responded: I know what it means. I made up the rule. Why don’t you just worry your pretty face about your part of the dare? K?

David: She thinks I’m pretty. I’m blushing.

The thought of David blushing had me shaking my head. Long ago I was convinced because of his energy-sucking powers, he was a vampire and thus, incapable of changing shades.

“Don’t forget an umbrella,” Ari’s warning made me look up from my phone. “Rain’s on the forecast. Your hair looks too good to ruin.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I ran a hand over my Havana twists. They swayed down to my hips. The four-hour installation was more than worth it. I always felt ready for any and everything after my hair got done.

“Alright, ladies, I’m off to conquer the world. Do you need anything while I’m at it?” I poured my coffee from the mug into a travel cup.

“Mm, hearts of enemies make good broth I heard.” Ari winked.

“I’ll take weapons,” Covee decided. “My sculpture elective is killing me. I need something unique to impress my professor.”

“Done and done. Hearts and swords for my soulmates.” I grabbed my bag and the clear umbrella by the door. “I’ll see you guys for dinner. Love you two!”

“Love you!” they said in unison as I stepped out of the door.

#westbrookeangels

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mad-maximoff · 8 months

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𝙎𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙮 𝙁𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧

Oscar Isaac!DetectiveXReader

(I’m uploading the first chapter of this new series here and if you like it I’ll keep posting it! If not than it’ll stay on Wattpad🤭)

Summary: For 5 years, there's been a serial killer on the loose in New York. Homicide detective Oscar Isaac has been hunting this guy down since then. He is haunted by the female victims this animal puts in his path. He has the help of Cherry, a prostitute working the street. Can Cherry help Oscar catch the killer? Or will the killer consume Oscar?

Warnings: Language, talks abt murder (this chapt isn't spicy yet;))

Word Count: 1,043

18 deaths in 5 years. I've been the lead Detective on the case since the first murder took place. All women. 9 of them were normal women off the street. 9 were hookers. Still innocent women. No matter their profession. It's been eating me alive.

"Ey yo hombre? Tienes gasolina eh?" I walked out of the bodega on 5th Ave in the Bronx listening to two guys conversation. "Compra gasolina, te refieres a hierba. Vamos a tener un problema." I took the first bite of my breakfast sandwich flashing my badge at the gentlemen who darted when I took another step. "Pollos!" I wanted action, they fled. Too many guys lean on my black beauty, sure, a 67' Impala is snazzy. You never anything like it around New York. My cases have been piling up at the station. All the same. Someone's mom, daughter, or friend goes missing. Then we find them in the alley. It's his same MO. The women are cut in pieces. Left arm gone, a part of their ribcage, and the cherry on top. The killer cuts a smiley face on the victim's face. Slits their eyes vertically and slices ear to ear across their lips. Reason's why we call him The Smiley Face Killer. A mouthful but it serves its purpose.

I arrived at the station as a rookie told me they needed me down at the morgue. "Jesus Sánchez, what do they get for me?" I threw my coat over my chair at my desk, adjusting my belt. "Another one. Number 19."

"For fucksakes!"

·:*¨༺ ♱ ☠︎ ♱ ༻¨*:·.

"Ey! How's my homie huh?" My closest and dearest friend Detective Pedro Pascal met me at the stairs. "Qué Pasa! The morgue still needing me?" I cocked my head behind his to see the morgue down behind us. "Nah, man! I already debriefed with the nerds in the freezer. Chick looked better in a paper bag." He joked hitting me with the case file in my chest. "Jesus man, have some compassion. Someone was murdered again." The slab to the chest winded me for a minute. I'll never admit he's stronger than me, but fuck did that hurt. "Oscar, come on. We have a really traumatizing career. We need to make light some days. Speaking of, are you going to the bar tonight? My treat. Bravest or McSorleys?" Pedro threw his arm around my neck as we both exited the morgue from the stairs.

"Nah, man. I'm good tonight, thanks for the offer though. I don't want to rub elbows with trigger-happy rookies. I'm up to my neck in paperwork this Smiley Face killer's gonna drown me."

"Fuck man...don't stress. Anyway, the girl lying on the slab had a lot of new info."

"Whatda you mean Pedro? New info?"

"Yeah, well, the chief said Smiley only hunts women in Manhattan, but most of the women were near the Lower East Side. Red light district."

"Hookers paradise, but what about the other women? You know? The non-prostitutes?"

"In kilometre radius of the Red Light. Besides, the two last calls the victim Rose called were Cate and Cherry."

"Jesus Christ, I know women of the night don't like to use their real names but damn! It's going to be like finding a needle in a haystack!" We both made it back to our desks and I slumped in my chair. I fidgeted in the pocket of my jacket to find my packet of cigarettes. I booted up my laptop to write all the information in the case file under this sick serial killer's hefty file. The question remains.

Is he or she after women because they have a deep-seated hatred for women? Prostitutes?

Pedro and I worked late into the night. Pedro was making calls. I wrote down the contacts in the newest victim's phone. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, it comes with the territory. Some tough phone calls home. With everything I do under this badge, calling a victim's family is the hardest. Screaming moms, muffled fathers' tears, angry siblings. You are either loved or feared. However, that isn't the reason I became a cop at first. I did it to somehow make a difference. It's cheesy. Every rookie says the same. To make their city and town better. Once you see the things I did you don't care if your doing the right thing. You just make sure you come home in one piece.

"So...Pedro! I searched up this phone number and this Cate number is linked to the red light district's top nightclub." I finished the last puff of my cigarette flicking the butt in my trash bin.

"Oh shit! Echo?" Pedro swiveled his chair chuckling to himself. "Haha! Where do you party? No. The Core."

"Oh hell no! That place is diamond tier man, you can't even get in the door unless you're screwing one of their girls."

"So is your mom available? I need to get in?" The eruption of laughter echoed throughout the station. Pedro's jaw flung open hitting his desk. "Haha! Go to hell! I'm just saying, the chick who owns the joint won't let cops in. Let alone a detective. The woman is disfigured. Cate Blanchett is terrifying." I turned my chair to back up my shit and call it a night. "Cate Blanchett? Where in the hell have I heard the name somewhere.." I whisked my coat off my chair. "Some of those young hookers we booked a couple of weeks ago spoke of Cate. Maybe Rose was one of her girls."

"So what is she a pimp?"

"I have no clue, Detective Isaac. Go home. You need the sleep."

"Uh-huh, that's what I'm doing tonight. Noche." I lit another cigarette pulling the door wide open.

"Buenas noches!"

There is only one person left on Rose's contacts. Cherry. I'll have to haul my ass to the red light district just to find this chick. This Cherry is one chick that will be hard to find. One drink might help me think of my game plan tomorrow.

#fanfiction #oscar isaac fandom #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #thriller #serial k!ller #wattpad story #detective fiction #pedro pascal #cate blanchett

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 8 months

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When the Longing Returns

Phantom of the Opera (2004) Fanfiction

Chapter 7