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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

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well it's love, make it hurt - chapter five

well it’s love, make it hurt series

five: hollow out my hungry eyes

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You and your partner, the Mandalorian, return from a strenuous hunt for an elusive bounty, absolutely filthy. You solve that and other problems in the refresher on the Razor Crest.

Warnings: Explicit, dry humping, d/s dynamics, dom!Mando and sub!reader, subspace, established relationship, spanking, dirty talk, gratuitous use of pet names, rimming (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), coming untouched, aftercare, the helmet comes off but it's dark, Mando is filthy (figuratively and literally), pre-Grogu

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 3: Rimming/Handjob/Dry Humping, inspired by @absurdthirst’s wonderful prompt list,

also on ao3

3 ABY - Fall

When you saw the Crest through the moss-laden trees, you nearly cried with relief. You and Mando had been on a hunt for two weeks on this backwater skughole. The Gungan bounty had enjoyed quite the advantage in the bog, forcing you and your hunting partner to lay low and set traps, staying nearby and taking shifts on watch.

You wore the sleepless nights under your eyes and in the deep set of your frown. Even Mando grunted quietly, breath in ragged huffs as he dragged the corpse through the thick, hot fog. Your boots sank in a little with each squelching step to the ramp.

Content to let Mando manhandle the body into the carbon freezer, you perched on the corner of a crate in the hold as you disassembled your blasters and wiped the parts clean of muck and algae.

The edge of the crate was cool and sharp at the apex of your thighs. You squirmed, feeling the flat edge push into your soft leggings. Mando emerged and began to unlatch his armor. Whereas you had gotten soaked up to the knee in the marsh, he was splattered head to toe from wrestling the bounty.

You moved on to disassemble your long rifle, dutifully wiping down each crevice and applying oil as needed. From your perch on the crate, you swung your legs back and forth and let yourself get distracted by his careful ministrations. The way his broad palms splayed over the beskar. His fingers deft and precise, even in those thick gloves. With a tattered rag ripped from the remains of an old tunic, he rubbed a finger over the heart at the center of his chest plate with the same firm circles he used on you in the dark. You whimpered.

Slowly, he turned to look at you. Taking in the sweat beaded at your hairline, the unconscious way you rocked back and forth on the hard edge of the crate. Your hands wrapped around the rifle. How your eyes had gone dark, and your plush lips parted.

“Enjoying yourself over there?” he said, carefully setting the plate down.

It took you a moment to process that he was talking to you. “What?”

He stood up and stalked closer until you were inches apart. He towered over you, and you squirmed back a little, unable to fight the thrum of adrenaline.

“I asked if you were enjoying yourself, pretty girl,” he said, stroking a gloved finger down your cheek.

You nuzzled against it on instinct, grinding down with a soft moan.

“Desperate thing.” He chuckled and stepped back, drawing a whine unbidden from your throat.

“I know, it’s been too long. I’ll give you what you need,” he said, pausing while you moaned louder, dropping the rifle on the crate beside you and reaching for him.

You hadn’t meant to brashly pleasure yourself like that, but now that you had started, now that he was encouraging you, your hips rolled easier, faster.

He let you wind your hands into his tunic, damp as it was with mud, and draw him back, only to still your hips with firm hands. “But not yet. Go get washed up,” he lifted you clear off the crate and set you on your feet.

You wavered in place with a pout.

“Now, baby.” The command was soft, but his tone was firm, and he punctuated the order with a sharp slap on your ass. “And don’t you dare touch yourself.”

All the slap had done was make you burn with desire, and you had to talk yourself down from pushing for more. Once the fresher door was shut and the water running, you took a deep, shaky breath before leaning against the frigid wall. Anything to calm the way your every nerve was aflame.

It was good that you needed a cold shower because you knew the hot water wouldn’t last, and Mando needed it more. He had done the majority of the physical work on this job, and all those nights sleeping in trees had done a number on his back. He hadn’t complained, of course, but you saw the involuntary twinge when he moved the wrong way.

The soapy cloth was torture as you dragged it perfunctorily across your breasts and between your legs, but the temptation of his hands and cock were enough to convince you to obey. As you were rinsing off, the lights went out. You hadn’t heard the pneumatics of the door over the water and gasped at the sudden loss of vision.

The door sealed tight to contain moisture, which meant no light from the hull crept in. There was a click and a hiss, and you swallowed down a moan at the realization. Mando’s warm hand grabbed your waist to acclimate to his surroundings, and you reached to turn up the temperature before he fully stepped under the spray. He slid in behind you, arms wrapping around your stomach and chin resting on your shoulder.

“Can I…?” you whispered.

He had only taken the helmet off once before, in the same way. Here, locked in the darkness, where there was no chance for error. He hummed his consent, and you lathered up your hands before reaching into his curls. He groaned, gently sinking blunt teeth into your neck and running his hands up to cup your breasts.

You tugged involuntarily on his hair, prompting a soft moan where he was sucking a bruise into your skin. The small room was getting muggy, and your ass was slick where you rubbed it against his cock. He pinched your nipples before sliding his hands to your hips and pushing away.

“Be patient. Let me get clean first,” he said, giving another smack to your ass before turning around to grope around for the soap.

You picked it and the cloth up from the little shelf where you had set them. “Let me,” you begged, already stroking the cloth over his broad shoulder blades.

His responding groan was for entirely different reasons this time, but it still sent sparks straight to your cunt.

“Okay, pretty girl, if that’s what you want,” he said. He braced his hands against the wall, legs spread, and let you wash away the grime and tension from his back.

You pressed against a few knots until they gave way under your soft fingers, cupping your hands to spread the warm water where he needed it most, pressing kisses along his scarred skin as you went.

You knelt, textured durasteel branding your knees, and ran the cloth up and down his legs, marveling at the bulging muscles of his calves and corded thighs. As you carefully brushed over his ass, the pulsing of your neglected clit was harder to ignore.

You lingered, cleaning him thoroughly and watching for a reaction.

“Cyar’ika.” It was thick with warning. One you didn’t heed.

Leaning forward to part him with both hands, you gently pressed your lips against his skin. When you pressed a kiss to his hole, he jerked his hips and growled.

“Think about what you’re starting, baby,” he said, hands clenched into fists against the wall.

But he didn’t stop you, he didn’t safeword out, he didn’t order you not to. So you leaned back in, licked a wide stripe over his entrance, and listened to the moan it dragged out of him.

Alternating soft kisses and firm licks in and around as he clenched against nothing, you reached forward between his thighs. When he didn’t stop you, you wrapped your hand around his cock, pleased to find it hard and twitching.

He was vocal in his appreciation, letting you coax almost feral moans and growls from deep in his chest. The water was starting to run cold, but neither of you noticed. He was burning from your efforts, and you were a little hazy, feeling the thrall of subspace tugging at your mind. Humming against him, you let it cloud over you, the ache between your thighs eased by the singleminded focus on his body.

He felt something worshipful in the lave of your tongue, the twist of your wrist as you stroked him. “Are you close?” he said, looking over his shoulder even though he couldn’t see you.

You nodded, not stopping, and your hand released his cock to roll his balls between your fingers.

“Good girl. Cum whenever you want, baby,” he said before nearly snarling as you resumed pumping his aching cock.

You were giving soft little moans into his ass, tongue stuttering as his words rolled over you. Your orgasm started softly, tumbling into a fever pitch as you muffled your cries into him, hand squeezing and jerking around his cock.

It drew his own orgasm out as you clutched him, spending his seed against the wall of the fresher. Panting, he unwound your fingers from his softening cock, and turned to sink to his knees in front of you, hands cupping your face.

“Oh, baby. You’re so good to me,” he murmured, pulling you against his chest and stroking your wet hair away from your face. “Such a good girl. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips against your head, reaching behind to turn off the water. You were trembling, whether from the cold or from the intensity, he wasn’t sure.

“Can you sit up by yourself for a second, baby? Let me get a towel?” He helped you find your balance as you swayed a little on the spot. He stood up, but not before pressing a firm kiss to your lips. He ruffled his hair with a towel as quickly as possible, sliding the helmet back over his face. Wrapping the towel around you, he lifted you up and smiled as you automatically nuzzled into his chest, barely shifting away when he lowered you both onto the cot. It wasn’t how he planned the night to go, but he’d make sure to thoroughly reward you in the morning.

*title from "makedamnsure" by Taking Back Sunday

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #kinktober 2023 #din djarin fic #din djarin x f!reader #corazondebeskar-reads and writes #make it hurt verse

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megmischief · 1 year ago

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Sebastian x Ghost (AFAB READER) - Doubts Part 1

For @ghostly-grace 💜🩵

E RATED - Angst and Explicit Sexual Content

Sebastian sighed, perching on the edge of the bed next to Ghost. "Look, no one is flirting with anyone. Abi and I are just friends, Ghost. Please...stop accusing me of things that aren't happening."

"Best friends, don't hug for that long, Sebastian..." Ghost whispered, choking on her words, and she battled with herself to try and hold back any tears. "And... I know she likes you, and so do you, Seb... Please, just tell me if something is going on. You promise you wouldn't ever hurt me..."

Sebastian sat there still, pondering over what to say next. He was telling the truth. he and Abi were just friends. However, he felt incredibly guilty knowing that he, himself, had hurt the woman he loves. "Ghost, I'm sorry, my love... I never meant to hurt you. Abi was having a rough day and... I just thought she could use some comfort."

"Sebastian, don't keep apologising when you keep doing this. You know, when you're overly close to her, it hurts. I'm not posessive, but you know what I've been through. I can't handle it... And... It's not necessarily you that I don't trust." Grabbing a pillow, Ghost holds onto it tightly, burying her face into it for comfort.

"Hey..." Hooking his finger under Ghost's chin, he pulls her small, dimpled chin. "Look at me." Sebastian warmly gazes into Ghost's eyes with a look of utmost sencerity. "I love you and only you. That you can believe."

"I love you too, Seb... I just don't like the way she looks at you." Ghost mumbles.

Sebastian lets out a light-hearted chuckle. "And that's on her. But, like I said... you're my one and only, my love." Tracing Ghost's lips with his thumb, he leans in placing feathery kisses along her jaw.

"Sebby... I'm sorry for getting upset..." Ghost whispers softly between whimpers as Sebastian makes his way down to her neck.

Nibbling and kissing at Ghost's fragile skin, Sebastian pulls her into his arms. "Hey, you can always talk to me about your feelings... but let this reassure you..." Holding onto Ghost as though he could lose her at any second, he kisses her with pure passion.

Letting out a small moan, Ghost climbs onto Sebastians lap as she pulls off his hoodie and shirt with pure desperation.

Responding to Ghost's actions, Sebastian's fingers make their way up her t-shirt to explore every inch of her velvety skin.

"I love you, idiot..." Sebastian purrs.

Ghost giggles, her hands making their way into Sebastian's sleep, raven hair. "I love you too, Seb..."

Hastily pulling Ghost into another hungry kiss, Sebastian proceeds to pull off her own t-shirt and bra, revealing her breasts. He gently massages her chest while he kisses her before making his way down to the hem of her skirt. "This okay, my love?" Sebastian asks for confirmation with a heavy-lidded gaze and husky voice.

The anticipation of the moment taking over, Ghost can feel herself heat up with excited. She gives Sebastian a nod of confirmation as she allows him to pull off her skirt and panties.

Laying Ghost down on the bed, Sebastian makes his way between her legs. Placing delicate kisses from her ankle down to her inner thighs, he pauses before reaching her aching core. With a small smirk, he maintains eye contact as he begins to leisurely work on her clit with his soft lips.

Ghost's hips suddenly buck at the abrupt sensation of pleasure. He hands make their way down to Sebastian's hair as he continues to lick, kiss, and suck at her core. Her body tenses further as Sebastian adds a finger into the mix. He begins to gently move them in and out of her, continuing to taste her as he does so.

"Grind against me, Ghost... Use my tongue to feel good..." Sebastian mumbles, increasing the intensity of what he's doing.

As Ghost's moans grow hastily louder and louder, she follows as she is told and begins to grind against Sebastian. An almost sudden wave of pleasure courses through her body sending shock waves from her core.

Noticing Ghost reaching her climax, Sebastian fastens his fingers to intensify her pleasure further.

Ghost, now a shaking, panting mess, pulls Sebastian up from between her legs. "Kiss me..." She commands. With this, he complies, kissing her passionately. The sweet taste of her nectar still on his lips, Ghost tastes herself within the kiss.

"Now, do you believe me?" Sebastian whispers. "When I say that I love you... do you believe me now...?"

Smirking, Ghost replies mischievously. "Well, I can always be convinced more."

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv sebastian #sebastian stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #sebastian #sebastian sdv #stardew sebastian #sebastian x reader #stardew valley sebastian #sebastian x farmer #sebastian x mc #sebby #stardew farmer

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crystalelemental · 4 months ago

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I have finished Digimon Hacker's Memory now as well. Full thoughts below, but the short is I liked this one better than Cyber Sleuth.

I won't spend much time on mechanics because nothing's changed. I still feel like the game is largely too heavy on back and forth fetch-quest style events, and its intended path is not always clear. This game is at least a lot better about notifying you when it's open-ended who to talk to about it, but I don't love the constant running around over nothing. There's a specific Mirei quest where she has you gather various random ingredients around the real world and I thought I was going to lose my shit. This is compounded by a lot of optional quests that are...frustrating and pointless? I think my biggest issue really is the pacing of it. The gameplay can be fun, but exploration segments are short and broken up by a ton of scenes as each side-quest ends, and so many wind up being relatively unimportant. Even main quests can sometimes overstay their welcome, sharing way too much background information that isn't necessary. I think the game could've been parsed down on its overall dialogue, expanded for direct gameplay through the major sections, and come out better for it. And no, the Domination Battles addition is not expanding the gameplay. That grid system is wholly pointless, there's never an instance where you don't want to use maximum range and just attack things to claim their spots, it's overcomplicating a simple affair.

I'm mostly complaining, but I did say I liked this game better. Part of that is my own fault. I spent a lot of time in Cyber Sleuth filling out the field guide, and yes, I did 100% the Digimon roster across these two games. I was also able to optimize more efficiently, having a better understanding of the systems and what's good to use, and was able to run Lillymon and Lilamon this time to great effect. Lilamon in particular has earned my respect for a huge bulk of the game. Turns out poison does work sometimes, and the times it does work are divine. That said, the process of acquiring more optimized skills is...frustrating, to put it mildly. It still takes way too long to get the back and forth effects of building ABI and getting to needed levels for evolution and getting to needed levels for skills. Even with significantly simplified chains, it still took me like 8 hours to get my full team in order.

That is, however, a me problem. My wife does not do any of this and beat these games just fine, getting stuck only once. It's the Hosaka fight at the end of Chapter 9, which is an absurd fight. She got stuck badly enough I had to show her the Tactician USB trick on the farm, and after some level grinding and upgrading to Hououmon, she was able to clear it without too much fuss. So I am definitely overshooting the mark on what's sane. In fact, to really emphasize that point: I went out of my way to get Acceleration Boost on Lillithmon, and all it did was result in one-shotting the final boss in each of its forms. It is. Wildly more than necessary.

I do think Hacker's Memory is a harder game, though. It seems to use a lot more status effects, has generally bulkier enemies that like to buff their whole team's stats, and most damning of all, cast Aura. This game loves giving you fights where one of the components is a healer for the enemy team, and will heal for something like all the damage you dealt. Honestly, this was the problem with the Hosaka fight for my wife. She didn't get stuck on anything like his damage output or getting blasted by buffs. She got stuck because she couldn't out-DPS the healing of his LadyDevimon, who was spamming that shit like every turn. It's a frustrating way to go about things, especially knowing that you, the player, could not do the same. It's just the occasional moment where you can get completely progress blocked because you're not high level enough to seriously bypass the amount of healing being thrown around. Also I did actually try to work with elevated speed, and outside of UlforceVeedramon, who one time took two actions in a row, nothing ever seriously doubled up, and bosses still too multiple turns in our rotation.

But the bigger reason I liked this game better is, remarkably, story and character related.

At the outset, watching my wife play...I geared up to not like this one. They removed the ability to play as a female protagonist, and your main crew is three guys with one girl, and the one girl is sick and dying. Which is. Not an appealing setup. But credit where it's due, the game does a lot of good stuff with the dynamic. My wife could probably talk at length about themes of masculinity and what it means to be a man, but I am of course focused on Erika.

Erika, our sick and dying girl, is actually pretty great. She's snappy and violent and exceptionally talented, and functions as the heart of the group. Not as strictly an emotional center, she's as constipated as the others in that regard, but as a central focus. Ryuji, her brother, acts entirely to her whims, because he is fixated on being a good brother and trying to avoid losing her too after the death of their parents and the dissolution of his previous hacker team. Chitose is Ryuji's brofriend, and acts as levity within the group. Your protagonist is there. I mean he helps I guess, but it's whatever, I do not think he's fleshed out enough to be important, but there are bits I think are more interesting given the mandated male thing.

Things like Yu. The protagonist's best friend, Yu, has an interesting little arc. He's constantly trying to inject himself into events, and to get Keisuke (protagonist boy) to attend to him or rely on him, but it fails basically every time and you continue to press on with the Hudie group. This culminates in the realization that Yu is the one who stole your account, kicking off the events that led to you joining the current hacker group. Yu wanted to get you to rely on him, so he manufactured a problem he'd help you solve, but when Keisuke continues to rely more on Hudie, Yu's goals shift into becoming Keisuke as he wants him to be, and in his own words, ensuring that they would always be together. Now because my wife also pinged it, I am comfortable saying that Yu's feelings on this matter are extremely romantic in nature, which is why the conclusion is so frustrating. See, the mask he wears takes on the persona of a Digimon that has been manipulating Yu for whatever reason, and keeps talking about how "I have become me" in a Persona-esque focus on personal identity. But when defeated, and when you try to comfort Yu, they give you the option to say "I love you." This is then followed up with a beat before "Just kidding." You No Homo'd that boy.

Anyway, I bring up Yu partially because I think it's an interesting segment that ends really stupid, I'm kinda pissed at the game over it. But I also bring it up because that sense of personal identity is also a big theme for Erika. As mentioned, she's sick. She was in a car accident, because it is always cars that kill, and her parents died. She apparently lost control of her brain or something, don't ask about specifics, but the treatment is uploading memories and some thought process to a server in Eden, to minimize the strain on her flesh brain. As a result, there's some push and pull of the "real you," and whether the flesh and blood person is real, or if the memories aggregated in cyberspace is more real. This is complete with other instances of characters commenting on the cyber world feeling more real, because they feel like they can be their true selves there. And it's here where things started to connect narratively for me, both for this game and for Cyber Sleuth.

There's a mission in Hacker's Memory where you are tasked with solving a theft case from an aquarium. Bear with me, I promise this all connects. The event itself involves someone stealing exhibits, but then they're returned with no changes and no harm done. The revelation is that there is a woman who adored this aquarium, had some of her best memories here, but the aquarium is about to undergo renovations, complete with a huge change in tone from a quiet place of observation to something more bombastic with live performances and such. She hates this. She hates that this place that meant so much is changing, and decided the solution was to preserve it within the digital world exactly as she remembers, so she can always see it as it should be. Ryuji still turns her in to the police for the theft, in part because she still did a crime even if its victimless and Ryuji (and the cast at large) are a little bit bootlicker, but he also kinda gets on this woman's case, arguing that memories aren't something to preserve outside of yourself, they're things you carry in your heart all your life. Which...raises some interesting questions about Ryuji's stance on pictures, but that's not important.

In Cyber Sleuth, your main group were all involved in a traumatic event as children, as Yuugo was the first victim of the Eaters. Everyone was traumatized and had trouble moving past, so Suedou, in an act of compassion, deletes those memories from you. He also does so for his partner in the research, who was devastated over what happened. A later event involves this partner starting to vaguely recall that something happened, and it eats at him until he can recall that Suedou removed those memories. He asks you to unlock them, to bring them back to his conscious awareness, and this is how you learn about the first victim of Eden Syndrome. As a resolution, the man comments that "Even if my mind forgets, the body remembers." It's an interesting presentation as part of that sense of your true self. Yes, your memories and the thoughts within you make up who you are. But some memories, those traumas, are imprinted deeper. The body recalls what the mind may not, and there are still involuntary mechanisms that make up "you."

The final resolution of this quest is that the man asks you to re-seal those memories. They were a burden, and without them, he's been able to improve his life significantly. You comply, but Yuuko asks you if you think what you did was truly the right thing, and your options are largely non-commital and unsure. The way the rest of the game resolves, however, implies it was not. Suedou's goals are to erase all sadness by remaking the world, Cyrus PokemonGen4 style but sincere this time, and in the specific seems to be about removing the sense of trauma. Nothing will make people sad, no one will have to recall anything sad, and they can live happy lives this way. Ultimately your conflict with him and decision to try and tear him out from the Eaters is a statement of facing that reality directly, with your connections with friends being what helps to overcome a shared grief.

In both games, reliance on others plays a big role. Arata's final takeaway is that all of this likely could've been fine if he'd trusted and relied on his friends from the outset. Ryuji falls into a nihilistic rage when Rie's true motives are revealed and tries to handle everything himself to the end. There's a constant pressure on the need to be a little selfish, and to ask others for what you need. This is the entire resolution of Erika's arc, getting her to own up to her true desires and what she really wants. She's initially portrayed as bratty and spoiled enough to refuse a basic apology until Ryuji buys her a new computer, but what she really wants to ask is something she feels she can't, because of how much he gives for her sake due to her illness. In particular, there are several moments where characters comment that Erika doesn't have any real childhood memories playing with others, or things you would expect, and the optimistic takeaway is that she can start building those now with you and the rest of Hudie. Building those memories form the basis of who you are, and who you become.

*sigh* Which is, again, why the final scene is so frustrating. The end of the game, Erika fuses with Wormmon to become a new entity, Hudiemon, and decides to follow her desire to go to the Digital World. Which is about to be sealed off from the human world. Meaning she will never see you or the others again. It's a sad, but fairly poignant scene. We've established that following your needs and desires is important, and there's an earlier bit where Erika talks about how she wants to go off somewhere new and see things but return to where she feels comfortable afterwards, but knows this comes from a place of internal inertia; and unwillingness to meet change. This final decision makes sense and follows everything about her, even as it's sad. It lands well.

But they sneak in an extra scene after the credits. In it, we learn that the world has stabilized after everything with the eaters, and you still work with Hudie, alongside Chitose and Ryuji. But also Yu is here. And also Ryuji's parents are alive. And also Ryuji is referred to as an only child, and no one remembers Erika at all. Except for you, protagonist-kun. You remember her and are very sad. Not her brother, though. He forgor.

This? Drives me insane. Ryuji goes off on the aquarium quest about how memories stick with you and that it's important to hold on to them internally above all else, and the game hammers in this point so viciously that the resolution of that quest? It turns out she planted fucking bombs under the exhibits and planned to blow that place to hell, with Ryuji catching it on a hunch, because anyone that obsessed with preserving their memory of something externally that way obviously just wanted it all to themselves. Which is an insane takeaway to have. Especially consider, at the resolution of this, he just fucking forgets his sister.

It reads similarly to Cyber Sleuth's ending. In spite of all the focus on working through trauma rather than pretending it didn't happen, and the recognition that there's some mark on you as a person even if the specifics aren't consciously recalled, the ending...resolves everything neatly. Everyone just kinda forgets and moves on and Yuuko's dad is alive and I guess Rie is in love with him so she's not evil now and it's all packaged perfectly and we can just forget any of that happened. This feels similar, but more sinister. Because it kinda implies that Ryuji's temper tantrum was right. He is happier without his sick sister. Just fucking forget her, bro, you're better off. Who wants to live a life filled with bittersweet memories of a loved one taken too soon? Just fucking forget them entirely and do whatever, it's great!

We're two for two on the resolution of these games feeling wildly discordant with their thematic purpose. And moreover, feeling slightly out of touch with their own ethics. I feel like the game doesn't handle that particular aspect well. There's another case, around chapter 8 or something, where you're given two options: preserve the Digimon Market, or destroy it. It's framed as "Digimon are mistreated" vs "Hackers rely on Digimon and this is a means of ensuring they have access to those tools." It's backed by a deeper debate over "Are Digimon living things, or just programs?" Which is a neat idea to play with, since not everyone would know or agree with. However:

This comes way too late. We are introduced to this market by getting our starter from it, while it's shaking terrified in a cage. We're given a quest to find an Airdramon that escaped, and can verbally tell you the cages are small and painful to be stuck in all the time (that quest resolves with it going back to slavery because it's about to be sold and won't be in the cage much longer, by the way). Erika has Wormmon who talks about the world they all came from, your protagonist has now at multiple points taken the ethical stance on treating Digimon with care, and I'm pretty sure we had met Nokia by then. So this ethical dilemma is easily solved. You destroy the market. I'm sorry, but "some hackers rely on it" is not a justification for slavery.

But at the end, Erika will wax philosophical about how neither side was truly right, because Digimon are just programs. And it's like...girl, you have Wormmon. How are you still on this? It's wildly disconnected from the reality we've experienced to this point, and wants to try so hard to make an interesting dilemma at a point it cannot possibly work.

I think these games have good ideas, and on a dramatic level, most of the major scenes work. I think it's a bit bloated with unnecessary cases and padding (seriously, what is the point of the Mr Navit quests?), but on the whole, the games miss some marks. Particularly endings. Which is always a bit of a rough one to miss.

#digimon hacker's memory

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kitkatscabinet · 3 years ago

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i just saw your writing for the dylan x reader who’s always reading and just my heart was so happy-

so can i request either kaitlyn or dylan from the quarry with a crush who sort of sacrifices themself for them. like one of the monsters is chasing either character and reader sees it and causes a distraction before leading the monster away and towards them.

i am a weak hearted person who just cannot do angst so maybe eventually character and reader reunite and character calls them an idiot and asks them why they would do something stupid like that before reader confesses it’s because they’re in love with them

thank you <3

Pairing: Kaitlyn x reader

Word count: 1170

Genre: Fluff, a little angst kind of ruined by the tone of writing

Thinking back on it later the moment you had decided to sacrifice yourself for the group (Kaitlyn) was really the moment things went tits up for you. It was also the moment you proved yourself to be a giant fucking self-sacrificing idiot just because you had a crush on a pretty girl. With the lodge compromised by some giant guy with a shotgun you had been forced to make a break for it, intending to meet Ryan and Dylan at the radio shack. Unfortunately, God had decided he had favourites and you were not one of them as before you could reunite Dylan’s voice boomed over the PA system screaming at you to get indoors. Running up to the nearest cabin you were thwarted by the fact it was locked. You weren’t exactly sure what you were running from but Dylan’s urgency paired with the inhuman shrieks filling the area had you really unwilling to find out.

Turning to face Kaitlyn you noticed her panic as she tried and failed to get the door open, Abi and Nick were so focused on getting inside they didn’t notice what you did. Whipping your head behind you at the sound of a much closer shriek you felt your guts heave at the sight of… some sort of feral creature that definitely wasn’t friendly. Sparing one last glance at the competent woman you had fallen for over the Summer, you made a split-second decision. Darting down the stairs and in the opposite direction of the creature you made a mad dash into the woods, screaming and attracting its attention away from the group still trying to get inside. Things unfortunately went to your plan as it started chasing you instead and you swore aloud when you realised it was at least 3 times faster than you. The only reason you hadn’t been ripped to shreds was your massive head start.

You didn’t dare turn to look behind you in fear of tripping but the sound of snarls and breaking branches alerted you to the fact that you should definitely keep running. You pushed past the oncoming stitch as you ran fast enough to make road runner proud, your internal monologue pretty much consisting of variations of fuck mixed with other words. The sound of a gunshot alarmingly close to you had you faltering and ducking on instinct, in turn leading you to rumble down the side of a small hill that had appeared out of nowhere. Like a cheese roller putting their body on the line for the prize, you flew down the side accumulating mud, scratches and bruises as you went. Eventually landing on your back you were incredibly winded and unable to get up straight away, straining your ears you found no indication you’d been followed this far. Catching your breath, you waited a few more minutes before getting up and trying to make your way back to the lodge, or anywhere you knew the geographic location of. Hands roaming over your pockets you swore as you realised you had lost your phone somewhere, because of course, that was exactly what you needed. Grinding the palms of your hands into your eyes you forced back tears and started moving slowly forward, the light provided by the moon was nowhere near enough to provide sufficient vision, but you refused to give up and die so you walked. The stinging pain became more and more apparent as your adrenaline faded, and you were pretty sure your ankle was sprained and your ribs may be bruised, but you pressed on. The promise of seeing Kaitlyn again, of finally confessing your feelings the only motivation you needed.

Outwardly Kaitlyn was livid, she swore when she got her hands on your dumbass there would be hell to pay. Inwardly she was panicking beyond belief, mind filling with unwanted questions and scenarios. Where were you? Were you ok? Were you even still alive? That last one hurt the most to think about and she forced all thoughts of you from her brain, focusing all her mental energy into helping Dylan and Nick.

Hours passed and Nick had turned into what was apparently a werewolf causing Abi to have to shoot him and some girl in an eyepatch had shown up after killing Kaylee Hackett in an attempt to cure her werewolf boyfriend. What bothered her the most was that there was still no word from you, no one had seen or heard you since the radio shack incident and she was growing increasingly frantic about it. But following Ryan’s leave she had to step up even more as group leader, that was how she found herself making her way to the scrapyard to fish for parts.

Sighing in defeat at their lack of progress outside of almost getting mauled by a werewolf Kaitlyn kicked the ground in agitation as her and Dylan made their way back to the lodge. A rustling from the bushes had her raising the shotgun in alarm, finger hovering over the trigger as she readied herself for whatever was out there. Instead, she found herself drooping in relief as you stumbled out onto the path in front of her and Dylan. That relief morphing into panic once more as she took in your form.

“Oh my god, what the fuck happened to you!” Kaitlyn yelled, taking in the various splotches of blood and mud you were covered in.

“Oh that” you scrunched up your nose, deciding the best way to answer “I fell over” you ended up shrugging before wincing as the movement jostled your aching ribs too much. Near shoving the gun at Ryan to take, Kaitlyn quickly closed the ground between you and threw her arms around your waist in a hug “You idiot” she yelled, burying her face in your torso. “Never do anything that stupid again do you hear me” she half yelled, still refusing to let go. As giddy as you were at the affection you couldn’t stop the wheeze escaping your lungs at the sudden rush of pain caused by her desperate squeezing.

“Hey, Kaitlyn, I love you too but you gotta let go. I’m pretty sure you just cracked my already busted ribs” you attempted to joke. Startled at how quickly she jolted back from you and the astounded expression on her face you rewound the previous conversation, choking on your spit as you realised what you’d blurted out. “Wait I mean uh…” you tried to backtrack, but it was too late, Kaitlyn certainly wasn’t going to let you off the hook for that.

“Hey, no takebacks” she yelled, “you said it so now you’re stuck with me.” The smile on her face had you clocking on to her meaning and you would have pulled her into another embrace if it weren’t for Dylan awkwardly clearing his throat as the both of you were rudely reminded that he was there. Pouting, you began your trudge back to the lodge, entwining your fingers with hers for the road.

#the quarry kaitlyn #the quarry oneshot #the quarry #the quarry requests #kaitlyn ka x reader #kaitlyn ka fic #kaitlyn ka

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vanillasakura · 3 years ago

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RDRSW21 Day 4: Clothes

Title: Breathe Our Vows While the Stars Chase the Clouds

Word Count: 1452

Pairing: Abigail/Reader

Notes/Warnings: NSFW, slight exhibitionism, domme Abigail

Title from A Wistful Waltz by Teddy Hyde

≿━━━━━━━━━━༺❀━━━━━━━━━━≾

Let me rest in your eyes, hide in your ears

Abigail always looked perfect. No matter what time of day, no matter what she wore, she was always gorgeous, a magmatic queen for the rest of the world to behold. You were convinced that you could keep your eyes locked onto her the entire day through and it still wouldn’t be enough, you’d still want to trace your eyes along her figure, studying the way her clothing accentuated her body and the softness of her skin that wasn’t covered. You were enamored, obsessed, and you would do anything to keep it this way. She was the most gorgeous woman you’d ever laid your eyes upon.

“Abi…” you whimpered, hiding your face in her chest, arms wrapped around her as you ground down on her thigh, both of your skirts hiked up and your bloomers discarded somewhere on the ground. The two of you were behind your tent, Abigail sitting on an old crate with you in her lap, her plaid jacket pulled tight around both of you so as to shield you from the cold night air.

“Sh, you’re doing so good… so good…” she coaxed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I need more… please, touch me…” you begged, still rutting against her.

“I know, I know, but can you hold on just a little bit longer for me? I know you need me, but I just want to watch you for a while longer. Please, my darling?”

Your hands squeezed at her waist, encircling it and pulling her closer to you as you kept on riding her thigh. Abigail dropped one hand from around your back, touching your chin lightly and pulling it up to face her. You flushed red, embarrassed from the forced eye contact, but also couldn’t help taking in just how loving Abigail looked. Her eyes reflected the lamplight, her smile soft and loving as she smoothed her other hand over your back, running it back and forth over the openings of her jacket and the little bit of your shirt that stuck out in between them.

“Mm, do you know how good you look right now, my darling? I can’t think of a better sight in the entire world.” Abigail whispered, and fuck she was so attractive you had to bite your lip to hold back a whimper. “I love watching you, so much, my darling, so, so much. My good girl, such a good girl.”

You felt your face flush, and you bit down on your lip to hold back a groan. “Abigail…”

“Could watch you like this for hours, just grinding down on my thigh, chasing your high again and again…” she paused, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’d love to do that, y’know?”

The fact that she still had your chin in her hand, eye contact unbroken was threatening to break you. “Oh God, Abigail…”

“I love you, by the way. Love you so much. So damn much it almost kills me sometimes…” Abigail tightened her grip on your back, and you kept grinding down, letting yourself drown in her. “You mean the world to me, you know? I have no clue what I’d do without you, my darling…”

“Abigail, my love, please, I’m…” you cut yourself off, not able to finish your sentence. The praise, the eye contact, the closeness, it was beginning to be too much.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, my love. I always do.” Abigail cooed, slipping the hand off of your chin to between your legs, the hand on your back halting your movements as she began to rub at you, and relief swept through your entire body as you began to shake against her.

“So wet for me, such a good girl.” Abigail praised once more. Her hand may not be on your face anymore, but you still didn’t want to break eye contact with her. You’d never felt this physically close while you made love before, (you’d definitely have to try the jacket again in the future,) and not getting to see all of the adoration in her eyes would be like throwing the last piece of a puzzle into the Dakota River. It just wouldn’t be right.

“Can feel you dripping down my thigh, by the way. How utterly soaked you are, how much you need me… do you have any idea what that does to me?” Abigail asked, running her finger around your clit in hard, fast circles.

You weren’t sure whether to nod or shake your head, so you just sat there, rolling your hips against her fingers. When you didn’t respond, Abigail chuckled, taking her hand off of your back and grabbing one that held onto her waist, hiding it under her skirt and her bloomers. “How ‘bout you see, hm? See what you do to me.” Abigail’s gaze was full of lust, and when she guided your hand up against her completely soaked core, that was it. You threw your head against her chest as you started to come, vaguely conscious of her grabbing your chin and forcing you into a kiss as she helped you through your high, moaning into her mouth and letting the waves of pleasure carry you away. For a moment, you and her existed as one, and the rest of the universe around you faded into nothingness.

You slumped against her once you finished, squeezing your arm around her waist as she did the same to you, kissing the top of your head. Lazily, you began to rub at her in return, cherishing the sounds she made quietly.

“Love ya, Abigail…” you murmured into her chest, the soft cotton of her bloomers rubbing against the back of your hand while you pleasured her. “I love you so much…”

“That’s good, my angel, just like that… good girl.” Abigail moaned your name gently, letting her face fall into the crook of your neck as she tried to coax you inside of her. You obliged, sliping two fingers into her warm heat and dragging them along her walls, utterly adoring the sound that she made as you did so.

“Come whenever you need to, okay?” You whispered into her ear.

She laughed. “You really think you’re the one in charge here, my darling?”

“Hmm, I mean, I am the one giving you what you need, am I not?” you teased. “There isn’t anything stopping me from pulling away now, is there?”

Abigail laughed again, low and sultry. “Oh, but I know you, and I know that right now, you’re far too enamored with me to tease me.” She pulled her head up and kissed your cheek. “You can talk all you like, but I’ve got you right under my thumb, and you’ll give me whatever it is that I need.”

You clenched your jaw, not meeting her gaze, and not stopping your ministrations.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“...You are.”

Abigail moaned softly, pleased. “Just as I thought.” She kissed you again. “Fuck, you’re really good at this, my love.”

“How good?” You couldn’t help but tease her just a bit more.

“Good enough to make me come.” Abigail responded, grinding herself down on your hand. “I’m getting close.”

“I love you, Abigail.” you told her, moving your hand faster at her words. “I love seeing you feel good.”

“I love when you make me... feel good. Fuck, my darling, just like that, keep going…” Abigail coaxed you along, and you kept fucking her, smiling as you heard her let out a choked cry and fall against your chest, arms gripping you close to her as she trembled.

You kissed her as she came down from her high, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she caught her breath. “God, you’re gorgeous, Abigail.” You told her again. “I’m so in love with you.”

“I love you too, my darling.” Abigail smiled, pushing you off of her lap and inviting you to take the space next to her instead. You obliged happily, resting your head on her shoulder as she wrapped her jacket around your two figures once more.

“Was that good?” you asked, hand finding hers and fingers interlacing,

“Of course it was, my darling. It was just what I needed.” Abigail assured you, putting her head on top of yours as she stroked the skin on your hand with her thumb. “You’re always just what I need.”

You smiled, closing your eyes and pulling the jacket tighter around you. Jack would probably need to go to bed soon, meaning you two would have to make your appearance at the campfire once more, but for now, you simply let yourselves bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking. Reality could wait a few more minutes.

#rdrsapphicweek2021 #red dead fandom #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #abigail roberts #abigail roberts marston #abigail marston #abigail roberts x reader #abigail marston x reader #f reader #wlw #sapphic #my writing #fanfiction

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leiakenobi · 4 years ago

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Title: Graceless Fandom: Star Wars Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader/Spice runner!Din Djarin Rating: Mature Word Count: 3.4k Summary: “Two bad men, just nice enough to treat you right. Is that what you want?” (A young spice runner named Poe picks you up at a bar and takes you back to his ship. When an older member of his crew walks in on you, your one-night stand goes in a very different direction than you’d anticipated. Takes place in 20 ABY.) A/N: Someone in my discord server mentioned spice runner Din and before I knew it, this happened. (Also, shout-out to that same person for talking me into actually cross-posting this one to tumblr instead of just sharing a link like I normally do.)

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

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He tells your friends his name doesn’t matter when he sets a vial of spice on the table that you’re all sitting around, but an hour later, his mouth is on your neck and he whispers, “I’m Poe.”

There’s something about the truth of it—his peculiar desire for you to know him. While you grind in his lap and his hands cup your ass, he wants you to know his name. It’s something in there that makes you soften, a little bit. When, a few minutes later, he breathes, “Can we get out of here?” you agree.

And instead of taking him to a nearby hotel – a rundown place where you’ve taken more than a few untrustworthy one-night stands – you falter when he asks, “What if I showed you my ship?”

Kriff, a punk flyboy spice runner who’s hoping that maybe you’re something of a gearhead.

You’re not, but there it is again: that peculiar desire for you to know him, lurking somewhere in his spiced-up gaze.

“Okay,” you blurt. There is no decision to it; you don’t even take the time to run back inside to tell your friends that he’s taking you to the shipyard. Maybe you’re about to be stolen away. Maybe in a few days’ time, your face and name will be broadcast across Kijimi – across the galaxy – as a missing person. All because right now, in this moment, you think Poe has an honest face.

Honest for a spice runner, at least.

But then, almost as soon as the door is shut, he’s kissing you again. He presses you up against a wall in the main hold, his knee settling between your legs, and you are so kriffing close to feeling trapped; his body almost oppressively close, holding your hips so tight you can barely budge.

The feeling sends a thrill through you that makes your heart pound when Poe begins to suck and nibble on your neck. You curl your fingers into his unruly hair, where it would be so easy to just pull. You do, a little bit—he groans and rushes to kiss your mouth again, chasing your tongue desperately with his own for some time before returning to your neck.

You feel him smiling against your skin, and you realize why a moment before he says anything: “D’you wanna ride my thigh, baby?”

And maybe, yes, you’ve been grinding against him slightly. Not least of which because Poe’s legs were one of the first things you noticed about him—firm and muscled (probably from lots of running from danger and bad deals). You wouldn’t mind getting off against him just like this.

Really, though… “I want you to fuck me.”

He pulls back to look at you, and his eyes darken. Those warm eyes – that honest face – telegraphing his desire for you and igniting your own arousal.

It’s a matter of fumbling with your bottoms, after that. You, grasping his cock in his pants and making him inhale sharply. Just barely stripping enough so that you feel the cool, filtered air of the ship on your cunt. Not that you feel it for long before Poe has you hiked up against the wall, lining his cock up against you and pressing into your core.

You whimper. His body is shielding you from the cold, from everything; so hot and close and gentle against you. It’s strangely tender.

You lean your head back against the wall and the sound turns into a moan as he whispers in your ear. “Maker, you’re so tight, baby. So warm and good.”

Poe kisses you again at the same time his hips snap forward with an eager thrust, and you gasp into his mouth. He reacts with a giddy laugh, clearly pleased with himself. The sound courses through you, saturating your limbs and your lungs with desire.

“Just like that,” you breathe. Just like that. The metal grating on the wall digging into your back where your shirt’s ridden up, his grip on your hips sturdy as he keeps you at just the right height to fuck you. One of your hands has settled over his shoulder, clutching his back tight, while you use your other hand to keep his face close. Not that he seems to need much encouragement to kiss and suck anywhere his mouth can reach.

You hear a rattling from deeper within the ship, just moments before a door hisses open and: “Haar’chak osi’kovid.”

Poe is buried inside of you when he stills with a groan, his forehead settling on your shoulder. “I thought you were doing inventory tonight.”

Although Poe’s reaction suggests that the stranger poses no immediate threat, you can’t help feeling self-conscious, and not only because you can feel his dick twitch inside you when you tighten your legs around his waist. Not that asking him to put you down seems like it’d be any better; as it is, Poe’s holding you close, leaving you feeling remarkably safe and unexposed.

But you are almost certain that the stranger just spoke Mando’a, and though it’s difficult to tell in the dim light of the ship when you risk a glance at him on the other end of the hold, he doesn’t seem to be wearing Mandalorian armor.

Which tells you that you’ve stumbled into something very, very strange.

“Finished early.”

The voice is soft, a little gruff. As he draws a little closer, you can start to make out his features. He’s older—probably old enough to be Poe’s father, although something about the tone they’re taking with each other makes you think that’s not the case. He’s also handsome, in a very different way than the youthful and eager Poe; given his wrinkles and his graying hair, he looks remarkably world-weary, but like Poe, there’s a peculiar softness to him.

Another honest face.

He’s still going: “Least you could’ve done was check the ‘fresher first.”

“Next time, I will.” Poe practically growls the words. It’s a clear attempt to dismiss the other man, and you saw the ship from the outside—it’s big enough that there must be somewhere else for him to go. When the man doesn’t immediately turn to leave you alone, Poe asks, “Is there something else I’m forgetting, Din?”

Din. The stranger’s name is Din. And at Poe’s question, he lets out a low laugh. “Funny you should put it that way.” He’s nearly right beside you, now, leaning against the wall about a yard away and looking at you – not Poe, but you – with a thoughtful, penetrating gaze. Subconsciously, you shift your hips, making Poe exhale abruptly as you take his cock even deeper.

“Sorry about the kid,” Din says, with the nonchalance of someone who’s not talking to a stranger who’s in the middle of being fucked against a wall by his friend. “He thinks his handsome face and big cock are enough to make someone happy.”

You swallow, breathless over the attentiveness with which he is staring. His words – seemingly so innocent – are going straight to your pussy anyway; you clench around Poe’s cock, longing for him to move. To give you anything. But he seems speechless, immobile, his face still buried in your neck.

“I like him,” you say softly. Poe clutches you a little bit tighter.

“Sure, but I could hear everything that was happening out here. You can’t tell me he was going to get you off, not like that.”

“Hey!” Poe exclaims, finally looking up at him.

But Din doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything at all. Just looks at you with those warm, tired eyes. And you’re at a bit of a loss, because the thing is… you don’t know.

Maybe. He was starting to get a good rhythm going before Din showed up, and he fills you nicely and kisses you so fucking well. But you’d be lying if you tried to claim that you’re convinced. Which isn’t to say that it’d be a bad fuck, if he left you wanting. You’d been having a damn good time.

You’ve taken long enough to answer, though, that Din knows the truth. Poe, too, if the flash of hurt in his eyes is any indication.

“I could fix both of those problems, if you like.” Maker. You have no kriffing idea who this man is, not really, but oh, is he making you wet, making you ache. There’s a slight quirk to his lips as he reaches out and claps Poe’s shoulder—the impact makes him thrust into you again, and you gasp, digging your nails into Poe’s back so firmly that you wouldn’t be surprised if it smarts even through his shirt. “I promised Poe I’d take him under my wing.”

Poe’s Adam’s apple shifts in his throat as he swallows. “We both know that’s not what you meant.”

Din hums softly. “I told you I know what addicts like. I know what women like, too, Dameron. Let me show you.” He tilts his head to look at you. “If this pretty girl wouldn’t mind.”

You manage to completely tear your attention from Din for the first time since he came out of the ‘fresher, and when you meet Poe’s eye, you’re nearly overwhelmed by the combination of curiosity and reluctance you see there. Gently, you smooth a hand over his neck, his cheek, his jaw—that honest face. Your heart stutters at the way he leans into your touch.

This might be a one-night stand, but from the way he’s been reaching out to you, you don’t want to see him hurting over the fact that he picked you up but his friend got all the fun with you, instead.

“Only if you fuck me after,” you whisper.

He licks his lips, staring at you for what feels like an eternity.

The absence of him between your legs is the first indication of any true reaction. You’re aching for him at once as you settle back onto the floor on shaky legs, and you’re half-convinced he’s going to tell you to get your clothes fixed so you can leave.

“Say something if you want to stop,” he says instead.

You nod, speechless, as Din reaches for your hand. “Come here, sweet girl. Do you want to sit? Lie down?”

“I’ll lie down,” you offer softly. You don’t even know what you’re lying down for, with no real clue of what he’s going to do to you. All you know is that he could offer to do anything, and you think you might say yes.

Din has you on the floor, legs bare and spread before him, in what feels like an instant. He remains fully clothed as he leans over you—leans in close. “Can I kiss you?”

Glancing up at Poe again – kneeling beside you and looking more than a little tentative, still – you hesitate. “No,” you say at last, softly. Not when you have the exquisite feel and taste of Poe’s lips still lingering on yours. Certainly not when the tension leaves Poe’s shoulders as soon as you refuse.

He could offer to do anything, you suppose, but kiss you.

To his credit, when you meet Din’s eye again, he seems completely unfazed. “Alright, sweetheart. I’m going to touch you, then, okay? With my fingers first, and then my mouth.”

Your hips shift on the floor with even this description of his plan for you, and you see the way his mouth curls into a smirk.

One of Din’s hands settles at your hip at the same moment the other dips between your legs. You respond at once to his fingers tracing over your folds—you’ve been aching to be touched again from the moment you lost the feeling of Poe inside you, but now you’re newly aware of how wet you are. How slick Din’s fingers must be with your arousal. The richness of the sensation makes you arch toward him, and Din laughs from low within his throat again. “Look at this beautiful girl, Poe. Isn’t she pretty, chasing my fingers like this?”

“Yes.” Poe’s voice is quiet, and his breath catches when Din curls two fingers inside of you, making you gasp and buck up again. “So pretty.”

Din hums, his fingers fucking you almost lazily. Tracing over just the right spot in your cunt as though it’s nothing and making you moan. “Don’t you think it’d be a crime to come before her? When she’s so hungry for a good mouth or a good cock to push her over the edge.”

Poe seems barely able to speak. “Yes.”

Even before his mouth is on you, you see Din bend his neck and you begin to whimper.

Because you’ve asked a few men to do this for you, and frankly, they’ve all proved a disappointment. So you’ve stopped asking. But from every sense that you’re getting from Din—

Maker.

You’d buck up again if it weren’t for his hand, tighter on your hip. His mouth is warm, his tongue eager to taste your pussy, and you grab for his hair, holding him tight and guiding his mouth to take a slightly different, better angle at your clit.

The strands don’t tangle in your fingers – tangle to pull – in the same way that Poe’s did, and part of you laments that difference, but mostly, you gasp as Din runs his tongue over your folds.

His fingers are still easing in and out of you, the sound of them – soaked in your arousal – comingling with your heavy breathing and your sporadic moans. Poe’s heavy breathing too, you realize, as you find the presence of mind to turn your head and look up at him. He’s transfixed by the sight of you, writhing under Din’s touch, and as your gaze traces from his face downward, you smile.

“Do you like watching this?” you breathe. Gasping when Din suddenly adds another digit as he fucks you with his fingers.

It’s not like you really need an answer; you can see that he’s hard and dripping for you. You can see his hands, clutching his thighs so tight as though it’s the only thing keeping him from touching himself.

“Yes.”

“Wanna know what’ll make me come faster?” The question comes from somewhere deep inside as an image settles into your mind and won’t let go. You grind against Din’s mouth at the very thought of it.

Poe’s voice is almost strangled with need. “What?”

“Come on my face.”

“Maker, you’re…” He trails off, and you hear Din laugh with his mouth still between your legs. You feel it, too, sending a wave of pleasure through you that only grows when Poe gives into your shared desire for him to stroke his own cock.

Almost none of your body is being touched, but as Din licks, sucks, fingers your pussy, it is entirely overstimulating. The sensation melds with the image of Poe over you, his strokes aggressive and his expression eager while he watches Din pushing you closer and closer toward release. Poe’s gaze sporadically meets yours, and even though neither of you have come yet, it is ecstasy.

He’s thrusting into his own hand more haphazardly along with your heady gasps and moans, so that even though he struggles to stammer through a warning, you are by no means surprised when he spills onto you with a desperate groan. It is just as you promised him: with his cum warm and sticky across your mouth, cheeks, nose, your tongue darts out from between your lips to get a taste, and your own orgasm takes you abruptly. You let out a desperate cry and clutch at Din hard, arching toward him.

“Kiss me, Poe,” you plead, barely even aware that you wanted to ask for it through the pleasure rushing through you. But he’s so kriffing quick to listen; his mouth is on yours in an instant, tasting you and his own cum while his hand curls into your hair.

You’re still trembling from your climax when Din stops his ministrations on your pussy to ask, “Can I fuck you, baby girl?”

The question sends a new rush of arousal through you, going straight to your cunt, and you nod against Poe’s mouth at once. “Mhm.” The sound is little more than a shaky whimper as you open up your legs more, begging for him.

Din’s audibly pleased by your eagerness. As he unfastens his trousers, he breathes, “That’s right. You’re desperate for me to fill you up while Poe kisses you, aren’t you? Two bad men, just nice enough to treat you right. Is that what you want, sweet girl?”

Bad men with honest faces.

Again, you nod.

Moments later, Din adjusts your legs, guiding you to bend them and lift your ass off the ground. And then he is burying himself inside of you.

You moan into Poe’s mouth, clutching him tight while Din begins to fuck you. He kisses you like he never wants to stop, and maybe he doesn’t. Just your mouths, tongues, the taste of his cum shared between you. His nose and cheeks becoming sticky with it as his skin presses against yours. Maybe he never wants it to stop.

And Din… Maker, Din. You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten turned on again so quickly, but he’s chosen an angle that hits you just right. His thumb has found your clit again, which is deeply oversensitive from the attention he’s already given it. Each thrust, each small touch, is already sending shockwaves through you.

It’s more than that, too, because now that his mouth is free, Din keeps whispering things.

Encouraging you. Praising you.

“Feel so good,” he murmurs.

“You take me so well, baby girl.”

“So pretty underneath me.”

His gentle words saturate your blood until you are full to the brim with the pleasure of them all—with the pleasure of those words and Poe’s tender kisses and Din’s touch.

When you begin to inch toward another orgasm, it is the first moment when Din’s composure falters. Your walls have begun to clench around his cock, and he lets out a low groan before fucking you faster, pushing you closer to a release.

Poe shifts his mouth to your neck just shortly before you come, and you are almost convinced that he does it so that he and Din can both see and hear you scream.

And you do—you moan and thrust toward Din desperately at the same moment that your head falls back and your eyes squeeze shut tight.

Din stills inside you but continues with the gentle movements of his thumb, and you are so desperately giddy over the feeling of his cock, full and hard inside of you. You whimper and look up when he pulls out abruptly, only to realize that he’s giving himself a few quick strokes and coming into his own hand with a shuddering gasp.

While Din shudders and catches his breath between your legs, you begin to come down from your own high, and Poe’s mouth wanders again—kissing back up from your neck to your jaw to your lips. You close your eyes and open your mouth to him at once. Revel in the way he wants you to know him.

Revel in everything he’s sharing through a kiss.

The sound of Din refastening his trousers pulls you out of it, and you and Poe both stop kissing abruptly to look up at him. His lips are glistening with your cum even in the dim light of the hold, and your stomach flips as he licks it away.

“D’you see what I mean, Poe? Gotta make it about her, if she wants you to. She might be too scared to ask.” His gaze meets yours, then, and for a heart-stopping moment, he says nothing. Then: “Thanks for the fun, sweet girl.”

He turns around and retreats through another door – to the quarters, maybe? – without another word.

You sit up to watch after him, your breathing still a little shaky, before using a sleeve to wipe Poe’s cum off your face as best as you can. And when you look over to Poe, your heart lodges somewhere in your throat at the sight of his soft, tentative gaze.

“I know what you said, but we don’t… you don’t have to go again, if you don’t want to.”

Maker, this boy should not be a kriffing spice runner. Not with the way he’s talking to you, or the way that he’s staring.

(Not with that honest face.)

Rather than answer right away, you smooth a hand over his hair. Then, with a quirk to your lips, you climb into his lap. “Let’s go again, Poe.”

#fanfic #my fic #poe dameron x reader x din djarin #poe dameron x reader #din djarin x reader #created

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marybethsjournal · 4 years ago

Text

Just For Tonight

Summary: Abigail makes a promise to join when he’s injured in Colter; John is determined she make good on said promise.

Pairing(s): John Marston/Abigail Roberts

Word Count: 2146

Warnings: 18+, smut, face sitting, the works

More Abi/John works from me was requested by @redeadepression, so here you go! I hope you like it!

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810562

“Shit, woman, if you need a place to sit, come here”

Abigail had been mortified when she heard John say this in the Colter cabin in front of the whole gang when she had been complaining about not having a place to sit. She had scolded him profusely at the time, telling him how that was only their business, not the whole gang’s, and that he was far too weak to even be thinking about that. John had just been devoured by wolves and now he was trying to have her ride his face? That man was relentless.

Later the same night however, when everyone had long since gone to bed and she was checking on John one less time before laying down with Jack to finally get some much needed rest, John grabbed her hand.

“When I heal we can do it, though right?” he asked, gently running his hand over her. A rare moment of pure affection.

“What are you talking about you silly man?” she responded, having forgotten all about earlier.”

“You’ll let me appreciate you, like I said earlier. I know we don’t do that much anymore, but it’s the least I can do, with you nursing me back to my dumb, ugly self.”

Abigail hesitated before uttering a quiet, “Okay. Once you get better.” Before letting go of his hand and going off to bed.

Abigail was sure John didn’t remember that now. She didn’t think he’d remember much of Colter at all. His brains had been half eaten, after all. And even despite that, now that they were setting up camp at Horseshoe Overlook, both of them were real busy. John had better things to do than any funny business than her, especially funny business that put her first. A part of her wanted all this will we, won’t we bullshit to end for good, but part of her wanted him to pull her into his tent and rock her world. She didn’t suppose that she could be blamed for this, she had a Hell of a looker, despite what John said of himself.

She couldn’t think much about John and having her world rocked, however, because Jack was running around asking everyone questions when they were just trying to set up camp. She walked up to where her son was, asking yet another invasive question.

“Why do you cry all the time?” Jack asked Molly innocently.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Molly retorted, visibly uncomfortable.

“No I heard-” Abigail grabbed Jack’s shirt before he could cause anymore damage to Molly’s mood.

“Where are we going,?” “Let go of my shirt, mama.” Jack, not getting the hint, kept babbling on.

“Jack Marston,” she started in a stern voice when they were out of earshot, “What did I tell thoughts in your head?”

Jack thought long and hard for a moment before responding with an air of uncertainty, “That some thoughts are Jack-only thoughts?”

Abigail nodded. “Yes. And when you have a question about someone, how about you ask Mama the question first, okay?”

“Okay Mama!” Jack affirmed.

“You play right here, okay? Mama and Aunt Tilly are gonna set us and Pa places to sleep. I’m gonna find your toys somewhere in all this mess too and I’ll bring them back to you.”

Jack nodded and after ordering him to behave himself, Abigail began helping Tilly to pitch John’s tent. She grumbled a little when reflecting on the fact that she and Jack’s tent hadn’t been saved but John’s had. A cruel world they lived in. She pushed the thought aside. The mood in the camp was tense enough, what with all the lives they had lost. She didn’t want to add her dumb complaints into the mix

The whole camp worked until sundown to get the large clearing to start to resemble a place they could call home. Not as glamorous as the Blackwater setup, but it would do just fine. The camp was something to be proud of for the gang. They had all worked together for what they had and that, in of itself, was a beautiful thing.

Abigail had just sung Jack to sleep and was walking over to talk to Sadie (she wanted to make sure the poor woman was alright) when John stopped her outside of his tent. “Where do you think you’re going?” John blocked her path.

“Leave me alone, John.” she tried to push passed him but John, having other ideas, held her in place and tutted her.

“Don’t talk to me like that. Come here, we had a deal.” he gestured towards his tent.

“You remember that?” Of course Abigail knew what he was referring too, she had thought about it on and off again all day today. She was just surprised that he remembered and was serious about this.

“‘Course. You changed your mind, huh? And I’m the one that breaks promises.” John teased her, his tongue dripping with sarcasm.

God, this man knew how to make her blood boil. “I keep my promises, John Marston. Come on then.” Abigail dragged him into the tent.

Abigail turned around to see John wearing the goofiest grin, as if he had won. She wanted to wipe that grin off his face immediately.

“What are you waiting for? Lie down. Now.” Abigail told him sternly, hands on her hips.

John chucked at her tone, amused that she was trying to boss him around. He began to unbuckle his belt but Abigail promptly stopped him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Marston? Don’t think having a lady riding your face requires that.”

“I-” John was speechless at Abigail’s assertiveness. He did what she said and lied down on the cot, a little unsure of himself. What had he got himself into?

“You are a piece of work, you know that? You invite me to come sit on your face and then try to pull your dick out. That’s not gonna fly anymore. Someone’s gonna need to teach you how to be a gentleman.” Abigail scolded as she dropped her skirt and bloomers to the floor.

John, still unsure of himself but not dropping his cockiness act, responded, “By all means, darling, go ahead and show me.”

Abigail sure was glad she was about to make him shut up. She walked over to the cot and swung her legs over either side, sinking herself down on top of his waiting mouth. It had been a while since he had eaten her out, she wondered if he was as good as she remembered him being, or if she had simply been a young girl blinded by love at the time.

She got her answer almost immediately. The man annoyed her to no end, but she had to admit that he knew how to use his tongue.

“Fuck, John.” she moaned involuntarily when he licked a line down her cunt hungrily.

“I am a gentleman then, yeah?” He smiled beneath her, stopping momentarily.

“Shut your mouth already.” she grinded herself on his face to make him.

This time he finally took the hint and focused all his attention on her, not on talking. He spent most of his time running his tongue along her folds, focusing on the areas where she gave the most audible response to. Abigail was trying to keep up her domination act but couldn’t help but praise her man. “Good boy” “so good for me” and “such a gentleman” kept spilling from her lips without her thinking. Before long, however, she realized how well he was responding to the praise and continued on purposefully. He was being so attentive, she wasn’t used to that. He used to be like this, before Jack, but a lot had changed since then. She wondered if after today, he’d go right back to his usual, stubborn self. Probably.

Before Abigail could go too far down the rabbit hole of remembering all the stupid things John seemed to love to do, he brought her back into the moment by sucking on her clit.

“Y-yeah, keep doing that.” John didn’t snap back with a silly comment, but Abigail could feel him smirk beneath her.

A few more minutes of this and she was going to come on his tongue. That was rare for her these days. She usually finished herself up after John was done with her. That made her feel a little bit used and not appreciated, to tell the truth. This was certainly a welcomed change and as much as she would like to finish like this, she knew John must be straining against his pants by now and she didn’t have it in her to deny him release.

She pulled back from John and he looked up at her with a quizzical face, as if to ask what was wrong. She noticed the coat of wetness lining his lips and stubble.

“You look good like that” she complimented him, biting her lip. He sure was a sight to be beholden.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” he responded, grabbing at her thighs to pull her down once more. She shook her head as a warning for him to stop.

“You hard for me, Marston?”

“Uh huh.” he gulped, eyes glazed over in lust.

Abigail felt behind herself below his belt and was rewarded with his large bulge. She smiled unabashedly and unbuckled his belt, freeing his rock hard dick from his pants.

“You know, if you’re good, I’ll let you fuck me.” Abigail purred, lazily stroking John.

“Haven’t I been good?”

“Yes, but I want you to do something for me.” she continued in the same tone.

“What-,” John let out a labored groan, “What do you want from me.”

Abigail knew he’d do anything she wanted to at this point. She had him right where she wanted him.

“Tell me you love me.” Abigail demanded, stopping his stroke now, leaving John without any friction. She laughed lightly when he instinctively humped the air, trying to find any friction possible.

“Abigail you know-” Abigail knew what he was about to say. He always had a hard time saying those words, for some reason. She had gotten it out of him before, but it was rare. Even Jack heard it from him more, not that that was saying much.

“Fine then.” She bluffed, picking his skirt and bloomers off the ground and going to start putting them on.

“No! You know I do. Ugh- I love you, Abigail. I really do.” He whimpered, frustrated out of his mind.

Abigail dropped her clothes but made no effort to move. “There sure was nice, you stubborn man, but I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? I said I loved you.” John was becoming more desperate by the second.

“You know you’re mine, right? Every part of you, mine.” Abigail walked closer to him and bent to eye level with John, maintaining intense eye contact.

“Yeah, I’m yours.” John nodded, fully aware that his cock was twitching.

“So how about,” Abigail paused, “A ‘I love you, mistress’?”

John looked up at her bewildered, but after a pause of no longer than a second, repeated, “I love you, mistress.”

“That’s a good boy. You’re doing such a good job listening today.” Abigail praised as sunk down on his cock. Fuck, she had missed this.

“God, you feel so good,” John thrust up into her “and so tight. Fuck.”

“We could do this more if you weren’t such an ass” Abigail retorted in a faux sharp tone.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve teased me enough tonight.” John retorted, grabbing her hips roughly, pulling her down towards him. She let him, she liked enjoying herself and letting him do the work.

It didn’t take long of bouncing on his thick length before Abigail came undone (before John for once), moaning her partner’s name loudly. He helped her ride out her orgasm and subsequently tried to pull out.

“No, cum in me. Please.” Abigail requested, sensitive but still turned on. Abigail knew John preferred to finish in her and he had earned the privilege today.

Abigail didn’t have to tell John twice. The words themselves almost sent him over the edge. A couple more strokes and he finished inside her, happy as a lark.

The two of them laid down in silence for a moment, Abigail on top of John, before John lifted her head and said, “Y’know, I really do love you.”

“I love you too.” She gave him a quick kiss. He smiled against it.

“Thank you. For this.” he told her, he looked in her eyes in an attempt to signal that the sentiment was genuine.

“Sure. I best be going. Goodnight, John.”

And just like that she was gone. John knew they’d probably be yelling at each other in the morning, but at least they had enjoyed themselves for the night.

#nsft #John Marston #abigail roberts #john x abigail #Red Dead Redemption #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #jack marston #rdr

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linkemon · 3 years ago

Text

Hasegawa Langa x Reader x Kyan Reki

[Reader] nienawidziła deskorolki z całej siły. Dopiero Langa i Reki uświadamiają jej, że kawałek drewna na kółkach to coś więcej...

Praca znajduje się również na Wattpadzie (pod tym samym nickiem). Beta: Dusigrosz

Dodatkowe informacje: 1. Zdecydowałam się na romanizację jak chodzi o imiona i nazwiska bohaterów zamiast angielskiej wersji, bo tego się trzymam przy wszystkich shotach (stąd Ranga a nie Langa). W związku z tym występują tu też honoryfikaty i postacie zwracają się do siebie nazwiskami a nie imionami. 2. Kickflip, Grind i Benihana to nazwy trików deskorolkowych.

Ranga rozpędził się i wyskoczył w górę. Deska pomknęła razem z nim. Przez moment miał wrażenie, jakby znowu przemierzał kanadyjskie śniegi.

Nad głową miał czyste niebo. Wciągnął haust zimnego, górskiego powietrza. Gdy pędził, chłostały go ciemnozielone gałęzie. Nawet ich nie omijał. Trochę otarł sobie policzek, ale to nic. Na mrozie ból nie dawał o sobie znać. Zajmie się tym później. Z nieba spadał gęsty, biały puch. Zalegał na czapce i szaliku. Odgarniał go po każdym powrocie na górę, ale przemoczył kurtkę. Mama zdążyła go za to zbesztać zanim poszła na obiad. Powinien dołączyć do niej i taty, ale wciąż miał ochotę jeździć. Za każdym razem powtarzał sobie, że to ostatni raz. Nie był głodny. W brzuchu wciąż jeszcze czuł przyjemne ciepło po niedawno wypitej gorącej czekoladzie. Była ciemnobrązowa, aromatyczna i przyprawiona cynamonem. Do tego dostał podwójną ilość pianek. Pani z kawiarni od zawsze uważała go za swojego stałego klienta. Ulubiony napój czynił to popołudnie jeszcze lepszym. Stanął w kolejce do wyciągu. Wyciągnął rękę, by złapać płatek śniegu. Podobno były niepowtarzalne. Wytężył wzrok, próbując dojrzeć, czy ten, którego złapał, naprawdę jest wyjątkowy. Na tle granatowej rękawiczki dojrzał sześć ramion. Nie potrafił ocenić...

— Hasegawa-kun!

Upadł na beton. Wspomnienie skończyło się w ułamku sekundy. Był w Japonii. Deska miała kółka. Nie mknęła gładko po śniegu. To nie snowboard.

— Wszystko gra? — Kyan podał mu rękę.

— Nic mi nie jest.

Kickflip nie wyszedł. Kolejny raz źle dobrał ilość siły. Rotacja powinna wynieść pełny obrót, tymczasem on wykonał zaledwie trzy czwarte.

Prawa noga pulsowała bólem. Na niej oparł cały ciężar ciała, kiedy się przewrócił. Z pewnością weekend rozpocznie z okazałym siniakiem.

— Jesteś dzisiaj okropnie rozkojarzony. Stary, co się z tobą dzieje?

Chłopak nie wiedział, co odpowiedzieć. Przyjaciel miał rację. Przez całe popołudnie myślał o wszystkim, tylko nie o przygotowaniach do wyścigu. Powinien się starać, aby dorównać Adamowi. Tego właśnie pragnął przez cały poprzedni tydzień, ale dzisiaj coś skutecznie odciągało go od myśli o S.

Mimowolnie zwrócił głowę w stronę oddalonej ławki. Przechodził obok niej codziennie. Nie zachęcała wyglądem. Nie wątpił, że mogła się na niej kryć niejedna drzazga. Farba miała paskudny, ciemnożółty kolor. Odłaziła płatami. Do tego chore drzewo, nieustannie zrzucające liście, i stada kruków. Nikt nie chciał przesiadywać w takiej scenerii. Poza tym okolica była opuszczona. Dawne bloki mieszkalne zburzono. Teraz znajdowały się tu jedynie magazyny i stary skatepark. Deski, rolki i wrotki przejęły ten teren dawno temu. Tak mu kiedyś powiedział Joe.

Dlatego tak bardzo dziwił się dziewczynie czytającej książkę. Odkąd przyjechał do miasta, nie widział ani jednej osoby w tym miejscu. Czuł się zaintrygowany.

Nie umknęło to uwadze Rekiego.

— Już widzę, jak się sprawy mają — oznajmił z miną znawcy. — Dziewczyna wpadła ci w oko.

— Wcale nie! — Ranga odwrócił głowę. — Nawet jej nie znam.

Złapał za deskę i wrócił do treningu. Miał nadzieję, że tym samym odwróci uwagę przyjaciela od tematu. Poczuł gorąco na twarzy. Od dzieciństwa się rumienił. Niektórzy uważali to za urocze. On jednak nie lubił tego, jak bardzo własne ciało potrafiło go zdradzać.

— Możesz poznać — droczył się Kyan. — Nazywa się [Reader]-san. Przychodzi tu czasami. Zawsze siada w tym samym miejscu i ma ze sobą książkę. Nie dziwię się, że jeszcze jej nie widziałeś. Ostatni raz była tu jeszcze przed twoim przyjazdem. — Objął go ramieniem. — Zapoznałem się z nią, ale zawsze, kiedy chciałem dłużej pogadać, mówiła, że musi już iść...

Ranga wiedział, jak bardzo natarczywy potrafi być chłopak. Jego upór przekraczał zdrowe granice.

— Ile razy próbowałeś?

— Sześć albo coś koło tego. — Podrapał się po głowie.

— Nic dziwnego, że nie było jej tu prawie dwa miesiące. — Hasegawa roześmiał się.

To był błąd. Na twarzy Rekiego pojawił się dobrze znany uśmiech. Zwiastował kłopoty.

—Dzisiaj będzie siódmy. Szczęśliwe liczby nie kłamią. A poza tym pójdziemy tam razem.

Przyjaciel wzmocnił uścisk wokół szyi. Tym samym zmusił go do podążenia za sobą. Na nic zdały się protesty i błagania. Nie udało mu się wyrwać.

— Cześć!

Na dźwięk znajomego głosu [Reader] zamknęła książkę.

— Hej! — odparła niezbyt entuzjastycznie.

— Dawno się nie widzieliśmy. Przyszedłem ci przedstawić mojego nowego przyjaciela. Niedawno się tu przeprowadził. [Reader]-san, to Hasegawa Ranga. Hasegawa-kun, to [Reader].

Chłopak ukłonił się. Czuł zażenowanie. Przeszkodzili dziewczynie w czytaniu. Nie wyglądała na zirytowaną, ale zdecydowanie się zmieszała. Pewnie tak ja on nie przepadała za poznawaniem nowych ludzi.

— Też czytałem „Północny wiatr" — powiedział, chcąc przerwać ciszę. — Podobało mi się, w jaki sposób porusza trudne tematy. W ogóle nie spodziewałem się zakończenia.

Okładka w niebieskich odcieniach rzucała się w oczy. Rozpoznał ją od razu.

— To dosyć niszowy tytuł. — Spojrzała na niego ze zdumieniem.

— Jestem z Kanady.

Autorka książki również z niej pochodziła. Umieściła akcję w jego ojczystym kraju. W związku z tym w Kraju Klonowego Liścia sprzedaż była fenomenalna.

Kupił książkę kilka miesięcy temu. Nie przepadał za taką rozrywką, ale potrzebował czegoś, by zająć myśli. Po stracie ojca zdarzało mu się szwendać bez celu po domu. Nie potrafił usiedzieć w miejscu. Nie chciał, żeby mama się martwiła, więc postanowił spróbować sił w czytaniu. Nie pochłaniał stron w zastraszającym tempie, ale fabuła mocno go wciągnęła. Zupełnie nie spodziewał się tajemnic, jakie skrywała główna bohaterka, i to go najbardziej fascynowało.

— Kurczę, Shadow przyjechał. Powinniśmy się zbierać. — Kyan wydawał się naprawdę zawiedziony.

Najwidoczniej zrozumiał już, że kolejna szansa na pogłębienie znajomości przepadła.

Tej nocy odbywał się kolejny wyścig. Higa obiecał, że zabierze ich ze sobą. Musieli go błagać, żeby w ogóle pozwolił im usiąść w swoim aucie. Dbał o nie bardziej niż o deskorolkę, mimo że było starym rzęchem. Dobiegały z niego dziwne dźwięki, świadczące o tym, że najwyższa pora na wizytę u mechanika. Raz nawet nie chciało odpalić. O mało co nie spóźnili się wtedy na S. Kiedyś próbowali w nim otworzyć po cichu paczkę chipsów na tylnym siedzeniu. Hiromi dostał szału i kazał im poodkurzać wszystko co do okruszka. Zmarnowali całe popołudnie.

— [Reader]-san, powinnaś kiedyś wpaść, żeby zobaczyć, jak jeździmy.

— Chłopaki, ile mam na was czekać? — W głosie kierowcy było czuć zniecierpliwienie.

Reki ruszył przodem, próbując uspokoić Shadowa.

— Przepraszam, jeśli się narzuciliśmy — słowa same wyrwały się z ust Langi — i za mojego przyjaciela. Czasem bywa natarczywy, ale chce jak najlepiej.

— Naprawdę tak myśleliście? — Zamrugała z niedowierzaniem. — Że nie chcę z wami rozmawiać?

Teraz naprawdę poczuł się głupio. Założył, że tak właśnie było. W zasadzie nie miał nic, żeby to udowodnić. Po prostu wydawało mu się to najlogiczniejsze. Szczególnie po tym, co wcześniej słyszał. W końcu sześć razy to wystarczająco dużo, by dać do zrozumienia, że nie chce się kogoś widzieć.

— Wiem, że to dziwnie wygląda, ale naprawdę coś mi przeszkadzało za każdym razem, kiedy próbowałam pogadać z Kyanem-kun. Nie bardzo mogę to wytłumaczyć, ale mam nadzieję, że nie ma mi tego złe...

— Oczywiście, że nie. — Próbował wyratować sytuację. — Bardzo by się ucieszył, gdybyś przyszła do skateparku.

— Tylko, że... ummm... On bardzo lubi jeździć a ja... nie umiem. Tak właściwie to bardzo nie lubię deskorolek... — Wbiła oczy w ziemię.

— Możemy cię nauczyć. A nawet jeśli nie, to po prostu przyjdź poczytać na ławce obok. Mamy lepsze światło niż pod tym drzewem. — Uśmiechnął się zachęcająco.

Nagle do ich uszu dobiegł głośny dźwięk klaksonu.

— Jedziesz z nami, czy popylasz sam?! — wydarł się kumpel.

— Już idę! — odkrzyknął. — Powinienem się zbierać. Miło było cię poznać. — Odwrócił się z zamiarem odejścia.

Kiedy już postawił krok, zatrzymało go ciche pytanie:

— Hasegawa-kun, kochasz deskorolkę?

Zwrócił się w jej stronę i pokiwał głową.

— Dlaczego? — Mocno ścisnęła książkę.

Chłopakowi przyszło na myśl to dziwne, tajemnicze uczucie, którego doznawał za każdym razem, gdy zabierał się do jazdy. Nie potrafił go opisać słowami. To nie była tylko drewniana deska z kółkami. Chodziło o coś więcej.

— Byłem trochę jak bohaterka „Północnego wiatru"... Samotny i zagubiony. Myślałem, że najlepsze jest daleko za mną... ale skateboarding pokazał mi, że to nieprawda. Wyciągnął mnie z czarnej dziury, gdy myślałem, że nie ma dla mnie ratunku. Dał mi przyjaciela, dobre wspomnienia i nowy cel. To więcej, niż kiedykolwiek mogłem chcieć.

Kolejny głośny sygnał z auta Higi dał znać, ��e przeciąga strunę.

— Do zobaczenia! — rzucił i pobiegł w stronę samochodu.

Nie widział tego, ale dziewczyna wpatrywała się w skatepark jeszcze przez długi czas po jego odejściu.

***

Reki mocno się zdziwił, widząc [Reader] na ławce przy torze do jazdy.

— Przyszłaś zobaczyć, jak śmigamy? — zapytał entuzjastycznie.

— Hasegawa-kun mówił, że tu jest lepsze światło do czytania. Wpadłam zobaczyć, czy to prawda. — Uciekła wzrokiem.

Coś go leciutko ukłuło. Znał to uczucie. To była zazdrość. Nikła i niepozorna, ale jednak. W głębi ducha mówił sobie, że ma do niej prawo. Próbował nawiązać kontakt z dziewczyną wielokrotnie. Zapraszał ją kilka razy, ale nigdy nie przyszła. A teraz wystarczyło, że pojawił się jego kumpel, i od razu się udało. Jakby tego było mało, prześcigał go w ulubionej dyscyplinie. Jeszcze dwa miesiące temu był nowicjuszem. Totalnym żółtodziobem. Nie potrafił nawet utrzymać równowagi na desce. Kyan stał się nauczycielem nieporadnego znajomego. Jednak teraz uczeń przerósł mistrza. Nie zostało już nic nowego, co mógłby mu pokazać.

— To my idziemy poćwiczyć. — Uśmiechnął się Ranga.

Zrobił to naturalnie. Jakby wcale nie musiał się zastanawiać nad tą reakcją.

— Zerkaj na nas czasem! — rzucił Reki.

Jego uśmiech był inny. Przyklejony do twarzy. Wymuszony.

Zaczął się zastanawiać, kiedy zamienili się rolami. W którym momencie przestał być tym pogodnym gościem, zawsze gotowym kogoś rozweselić?

Ścisnął mocno deskę — ten od lat wyjeżdżony kawałek drewna, który przynosił mu tyle radości. Sam zamontował specjalne kółka. Spojrzał na pociągniętą kolorowymi sprayami powierzchnię. Niedawno razem ją odnawiali. Kumpel pomógł mu wybrać kolory i wzory. Spędzili razem zabawne popołudnie w garażu.

Odepchnął się mocno lewą nogą. Znał tylko jeden sposób na radzenie sobie z problemami — jazdę. Jego Grindy potrzebowały dopracowania. Postanowił, że skupi się na nich, ale niechciane myśli wciąż pchały mu się do głowy.

Nie chciał się złościć na przyjaciela. Obwinianie go o coś, na co nie miał wpływu, byłoby chamskie. Szczególnie że przez długi czas dobrze się z Hasegawą bawił. Razem chodzili do szkoły, spędzali czas i rozmawiali o wspólnej pasji. W dodatku łączyły ich nielegalne wyścigi. Nie pamiętał, kiedy ostatni raz w jego życiu działo się tyle dziwnych, ale dobrych rzeczy.

Dopiero od niedawna zatruwały go myśli o tym, że jest gorszy. Próbował sobie tłumaczyć, że tylko w tym jednym aspekcie. W końcu nie mógł pokonać czyjegoś talentu samą ciężką pracą. Nieważne, jak bardzo by się nie starał, stało się jasne, że w skateboardingu Hasegawa będzie o krok przed nim.

Teraz jednak wyglądało na to, że zabrana zostaje kolejna rzecz, na której mu zależało.

Szybko zganił się za te słowa. Przedmiotowe myślenie o dziewczynach było niewłaściwe. Poczuł się przez to jeszcze gorzej.

Kolejny raz spróbował powtórzyć Benihanę. Palce ześlizgnęły się z krawędzi deski. Rozpaczliwie próbował zdążyć, ale przez to noga zamiast stabilnej powierzchni napotkała powietrze. Wydawało mu się, że wszystko wokół na moment zamarło. Jakby na ułamek sekundy czas się zatrzymał. Zaraz potem upadł na twardy beton.

— Cholera — mruknął cicho.

— Wszystko w porządku? — krzyknął Ranga.

— Jest git!

[Reader] odłożyła książkę na ławkę, zabrała torbę i podeszła do niego.

— Bardzo boli? — Kucnęła.

— To nic takiego. Skater bez siniaków jest jak żołnierz bez karabinu.

Parsknęła cicho, próbując ukryć to dłonią.

Nie był to pierwszy i nie ostatni raz, kiedy zrobił sobie krzywdę. Sport wiązał się z kontuzjami. Już od małego przyzwyczajał go do zadrapań i ran.

Z całej siły wykręcił do tyłu głowę, próbując zobaczyć, w jakim stanie jest prawa ręka. Trochę krwi i brudu, ale poza tym wydawało się, że wszystko jest w porządku.

— Mogę to opatrzyć, jeśli chcesz. — Złapała za torbę.

— Nie wolisz oglądać, jak jeździ Hasegawa-kun? — Zgryźliwy komentarz opuścił jego usta zanim zdążył się powstrzymać.

[Reader] zamrugała parę razy.

Zrobiło mu się głupio. Co się z nim ostatnio działo? Miał dosyć samego siebie.

— Przepraszam. Zapomnij, że cokolwiek mówiłem.

— Nic nie szkodzi. — Wyciągnęła buteleczkę, gazę i bandaż.

— Masz w środku całą apteczkę? — Spojrzał na to wszystko wielkimi oczami.

Widział czasami, jak dziewczyny nosiły ze sobą plastry. Zazwyczaj na wypadek obtarcia nóg po wysokich butach. Zastanawiał się, po co sobie to robią. Może i wyglądały ładnie, ale nie zamieniłby wygodnych, znoszonych trampek na szpilki.

To jednak było o wiele więcej niż przeciętna zawartość torebki.

— To dlatego, że... jestem niezdarna. No wiesz... często się wywracam i takie tam — powiedziała cicho.

— Dlatego nawet latem nosisz długie rękawy?

Przedtem nawet nie zdawał sobie sprawy, że to zauważył. Zdecydowanie za często patrzył w jej stronę przez ostatnich kilka miesięcy.

— Tak. Mniejsza o to — ucięła.

Nasączyła gazę. Delikatnie złapała go za rękę i zaczęła przemywać czerwone miejsce.

— Auauaua! — Wyrwał się.

— Musi trochę poszczypać.

— To boli. Myślałem, że masz Octenisept albo coś takiego. Może jednak zostawimy to, jak jest? — zaproponował, czując łzy wzbierające w kącikach oczu.

Popatrzyła na niego karcąco. Poczuł się jak małe dziecko.

— Woda utleniona jest tańsza. Po co niepotrzebnie wydawać pieniądze? — Wzruszyła ramionami. — Daj mi to dokończyć, bo jeszcze wda się zakażenie.

Zniósł więc nieprzyjemne uczucie. Nie syknął ani razu. Nie chciał wyjść na okropnego mięczaka.

[Reader] sprawnie uwinęła się z opatrunkiem. Musiała mieć spore doświadczenie.

— Muszę wracać, bo się spóźnię. — Nerwowo spojrzała na zegarek.

Kyan zauważył, że wygląda na całkiem stary. Model był zdecydowanie sprzed ostatniej dekady. Zaintrygowało go to. Czyżby podążała za dziwną modą? Ale nigdy dotąd nie widział jej jakoś szczególnie ubranej. Zazwyczaj miała na sobie szkolny mundurek albo wygodną bluzę i spodnie. Stwierdził więc, że pewnie przedmiot ma jakąś wartość sentymentalną.

— Co do tego wcześniejszego pytania... — Zawahała się, jakby nie do końca była pewna, czy powinna odpowiedzieć. — Hasegawa-kun dobrze jeździ, ale wydaje mi się, że ty czerpiesz z tego większą frajdę. Chciałam się przekonać, czy deska rzeczywiście może komuś sprawiać radość. Kiedy patrzę na ciebie, myślę, że to naprawdę możliwe.

Zostawiła go z tymi słowami i zabandażowanym ramieniem. Od tamtego momentu aż do wieczora, każdy trik wychodził perfekcyjnie.

***

— Powinnaś spróbować! — nalegał Reki.

Nadal nie wiedział, jak do końca powinien się czuć ze swoim skateboardingiem. To jednak nie oznaczało, że przestanie namawiać innych do próbowania. Szczególnie że [Reader] nie wyglądała na aż tak mocną konkurencję, by jeszcze bardziej podkopać jego poczucie własnej wartości.

— Sama nie wiem...

Dziewczyna niepewnie zerknęła na deskę. Tyle razy obiecywała sobie, że będzie się trzymać z daleka od znienawidzonego sportu. Ten jednak znalazł ją, choć przez całe życie chciała się przed nim ukryć.

— Będę cię trzymał za rękę przez cały czas, jeśli się boisz. — Wyszczerzył się.

— Może lepiej będzie — podkreślił Hasegawa — jeśli to ja będę ją trzymał za rękę. Kiedy się uczyłem, też mi obiecywał, że będzie bezpiecznie. Zgadnij, co się potem stało...

— Puścił cię i zaliczyłeś glebę?

— Dokładnie. — Spojrzał karcąco w stronę nauczyciela.

— Jej bym nie puścił — odparował Kyan. — Zresztą nieważne. Zawsze mogę asekurować.

Wzmianka o tym, jak dopomógł odwadze przyjaciela nieco go zawstydziła. Tak już miał, że pod wpływem chwili przychodziły mu do głowy różne pomysły. Prawdą było, że trochę za szybko planował usamodzielnić ucznia, ale nie chciał jego krzywdy. Trochę straconej krwi jeszcze nikogo nie zabiło. Nie przewidział, że kiedykolwiek wrócą do tego tematu, a już szczególnie teraz.

Ostatecznie [Reader] dała się przekonać. Z początku lekko się chybotała, ale dość szybko okazało się, że ani dłoń, ani zabezpieczanie pleców nie są potrzebne. Nie upadła ani razu. Ranga nie zobaczył w tym nic dziwnego. W końcu pomimo talentu zajmował się tematem od niedawna. Co innego Reki.

— Nigdy wcześniej nie jeździłaś? — zapytał.

Dziewczyna uciekła wzrokiem i zeszła z deski.

— Może kiedyś, w dzieciństwie. Nie pamiętam — wymamrotała.

Czuł, że to nie jest pełna odpowiedź. Nie do końca kłamstwo, ale też nie całkowita szczerość. Kim jednak był, aby żądać całej prawdy?

— Na dzisiaj chyba wystarczy — stwierdził, chcąc uciąć temat. — Piękne dziewczyny nie powinny mieć zakwasów...

Poczuł się jak idiota. Miał wrażenie, że mózg na moment przestał mu pracować. Albo jeszcze gorzej — zniknął. Takie teksty serwowało się w filmach, nie na żywo. Nawet jeśli uważał, że jest śliczna. A co, jeśli pomyśli sobie, że jest natarczywy? Albo że widzi w niej tylko urodę? I już nie będzie chciała przychodzić do skateparku... Jak się przeprasza za takie rzeczy? Czy to możliwe, że zaraz zejdzie na zawał?

Miał wrażenie, że myśli przelatują mu przez głowę z prędkością rozpędzonej deskorolki. Nie mógł wykrztusić z siebie ani słowa. Teraz był już pewny, że zamienił się rolami z Hasegawą. W końcu zawsze dotąd wiedział, co powiedzieć. Nieważne, czy to był nauczyciel w szkole, gdzie nielegalnie jeździł, czy Adam podczas wyścigu. A teraz go zamurowało.

Mrugnęła trzy razy zanim dotarło do niej, co powiedział. Wiedział, bo liczył. Chwila zdawała się niemiłosiernie dłużyć.

— Jeszcze nikt... nigdy...

Chciał się zapaść pod ziemię. Rozważał nawet zabranie deskorolki i zwianie na niej w najbliższą ulicę.

— ...nie powiedział mi, że pięknie wyglądam. Dzięki, Kyan-kun. — Uśmiechnęła się nieśmiało.

Radość i ulga po tych słowach były porównywalne do wygrania w S.

***

Ranga mijał czerwone, pomarańczowe i żółte drzewa posadzone wzdłuż chodnika. Słońce leniwie wstawało w chłodnym, rześkim powietrzu. Poranek zapowiadał się zimno. Na szczęście zabrał z domu marynarkę. Spojrzał w bok. Sąsiedzi sprzątali trawniki. To przypomniało mu, że obiecał pomóc mamie po powrocie do domu. Jesień w Japonii wyglądała pięknie, ale nic samo się nie uprzątnie. Kilka samotnych, zeschniętych liści przeleciało tuż obok jego głowy.

Jechał do szkoły, czytając książkę. Z jednej strony obawiał się mandatu, ale z drugiej tak się wciągnął, że nie mógł przestać. Miał nadzieję, że uda mu się skończyć rozdział na lekcji. Nauczyciel był nierozgarnięty. Może jak schowa powieść za okładką podręcznika, to jakoś mu się uda. [Reader] podsunęła mu tę radę. W końcu to dzięki niej znalazł przyjemność w nowym zajęciu. Miał ochotę wyjść z nią gdzieś po południu. Miał jednak świadomość, że wypadałoby zaprosić Rekiego. Zazwyczaj spędzali czas we trójkę i jakoś tak się przyjęło, że prawie nigdy nie widywali się w innym składzie. Ostatnio zaczęły go nachodzić myśli o tym, jak by to wyglądało, gdyby zobaczył się z dziewczyną sam na sam. Czy to byłoby jak zdrada przyjaciela? Nie był na tyle ślepy, aby nie widzieć zainteresowania, jakie okazywał jej Kyan. Coś wisiało w powietrzu. Tylko dlaczego miałby rezygnować z potencjalnej szansy? W końcu nie padło żadne oficjalne oświadczenie z żadnej strony. Równie dobrze [Reader] mogła nie być zainteresowana jego przyjacielem w taki sposób.

Ziewnął przeciągle. Na japońskim z pewnością będzie żywym trupem. Miał tylko nadzieję, że nie zaśnie. Wczoraj do późna pomagał przygotowywać prezent urodzinowy.

Znalazł w pożyczonej od dziewczyny książce dedykację. Z daty jasno wynikało, że święto wypada dzisiaj. Nie mieli zbyt wiele czasu. Tak więc razem z przyjacielem zakasali rękawy i postanowili zrobić dla niej deskę. Nie chciała kupić własnej, bo mówiła, że szkoda jej pieniędzy. Pożyczanie też nie było idealnym rozwiązaniem, bo ktoś zawsze musiał siedzieć. Do jazdy we trójkę potrzebowali czegoś więcej. Tak więc Reki zebrał całą techniczną wiedzę do kupy i z radością zaczął składać elementy zamówione w Internecie i kupione w Dope Sketch. Wybłagali u Oke-sana zniżkę. Dał ją, choć z bólem serca. Hasegawa nie mógł pomóc w kwestii budowania, więc zajął się ozdabianiem. Zaprojektował wzór na kartce, a potem w ruch poszły spraye i naklejki. Nawet udało mu się znaleźć kilka motywów związanych z książkami, o których mu opowiadała. Miał nadzieję, że dzięki temu poczuje bardziej, że deska należy do niej. W końcu indywidualizm stanowił ważną część skateboardingu.

Na koniec znaleźli w garażu nieużywane pudełko i wpakowali dzieło do środka. Kiedy owijali je papierem, była już trzecia w nocy. Rankiem Rangę ratować musiała kawa do spółki z energetykiem, ale nie żałował. Miał nadzieję, że praca się opłaci i wkrótce zobaczy zadowoloną solenizantkę.

***

Hasegawa trzymał pod pachą prezent i zastanawiał się, czy wygląda dziwnie, jadąc z nim na desce. Głównie dlatego, że ludzie patrzyli na niego z zainteresowaniem. Bardziej prawdopodobne było jednak, że to jego nietypowa uroda przyciągała uwagę. Często brano go za turystę. Nierzadko również zakładano, że nie potrafi mówić po japońsku.

Przyjaciel śmigał tuż obok niego. Co jakiś czas wykonywał triki. Nie dziwił mu się. Sama jazda dosyć szybko się nudziła. Poza tym Kyana rozpierała energia. Widział, jak bardzo nie może się doczekać ujawnienia niespodzianki. Nadmierna ekscytacja udzieliła się też jemu. Niestety zamiast wręczać paczkę, kręcili się po nieznanej okolicy

[Reader] napisała, że nie da rady dzisiaj przyjść do skateparku. Stwierdzili więc, że wpadną do niej do domu. Dopiero potem uświadomili sobie, że nie znają dokładnego adresu. Dziewczyna nie odpisywała na żadne wiadomości, więc wzięli sprawy w swoje ręce (albo raczej nogi). Skierowali się w stronę osiedla, o którym kiedyś wspominała. Wypytywali ludzi w okolicy, mając nadzieję, że ktoś wskaże im odpowiednie mieszkanie.

Szczęście przyniósł im mleczarz. Staruszek miał już najlepsze lata życia za sobą. Siwy, brodaty i pomarszczony niestrudzenie brnął przed siebie. Zgarbione plecy pokazywały, od jak wielu lat jeździł rowerem z przyczepką. Zrównali się z nim.

— [Reader]? Znam ją. Nigdy ode mnie nie kupuje — mruknął. — Mieszka w tamtą stronę, dwie przecznice stąd. Dosyć duży dom, na pewno nie przegapicie.

Podziękowali serdecznie. Mieli już dosyć błądzenia po nieznanym terenie. W ramach wdzięczności każdy z nich kupił po butelce białego, jeszcze chłodnego napoju.

Napisali sms-a do [Reader], że niedługo wpadną. Liczyli na to, że go odczyta i wyjdzie im na spotkanie.

Podążyli zgodnie z otrzymanymi wskazówkami. Mężczyzna miał rację. Nie dało się pomylić budynków. Co prawda dom był mały, ale wyróżniał się na tle innych. Brama była bogato zdobiona. W ogrodzie rosły krzewy uformowane w przedziwne kształty. Nawet chodnikowa kostka wyglądała na niemało kosztującą mozaikę. Na drzwiach zawieszono ozdobny wianek z kolorowych kwiatów. Zamiast dzwonka znaleźli staromodną kołatkę. Niewiele myśląc, złapali deski pod pachy i zastukali.

— Ej, śpiewamy sto lat? — szepnął Ranga.

Nie zdążył otrzymać odpowiedzi.

W drzwiach pojawiła się wysoka i szczupła kobieta. Ciemne włosy upięła w dystyngowany kok. Elegancka, fioletowa sukienka powiewała za nią, gdy do korytarza wtargnęło jesienne powietrze. Wygląd psuł jedynie orli nos, nadający jej twarzy surowy wyraz. Spojrzała na nich podejrzliwym wzrokiem.

— Dzień dobry. Pani [Reader]? — upewnił się Reki.

— Zgadza się — przytaknęła. — Ale nie chcę od was niczego kupować — burknęła, omiatając wzrokiem pudełko. — Mam już garnki, odkurzacze, sokowirówkę... — zaczęła wymieniać.

— Źle nas pani zrozumiała. Szukamy naszej znajomej — [Reader].

Opisał jej wygląd w nadziei, że to pomoże.

— Mojej bratanicy? — Ton głosu od razu się zmienił. Stał się jeszcze zimniejszy niż na początku. — Wysłała was po pieniądze? — Zaśmiała się histerycznie. — Możecie powiedzieć jej i mojemu bratu, że nie dostaną ode mnie złamanego grosza! Na wszystko sobie zasłużył. Nie musiał się rozpijać. Zawsze mu mówiłam, że ten jego cholerny sport nic mu nie da, ale po co słuchać starszej siostry? Zniszczył sobie życie i rozwalił rodzinę...

Nie wiedzieli, co ze sobą zrobić. Byli pewni, że chodzi o ich przyjaciółkę. Tylko o czym dokładnie mówiła ta kobieta? Nie wypadało jej przerywać. Nie mogli też odejść, wplątawszy się w tę dziwną sytuację. Stali więc, słuchając tyrady.

Hasegawa czuł, że wcale nie powinni się tu teraz znajdować. Wszystko brzmiało jak afera rodzinna, a oni nie byli jej częścią. Już chciał się pożegnać, gdy za jego plecami pojawiła się [Reader]. Widocznie w końcu odczytała wiadomość. Wybiegła z jednego z sąsiednich domów. W porównaniu z rezydencją, przed którą stali, budynek wyglądał odpychająco.

— Co wy tu robicie? — W jej oczach widać było przerażenie.

Łzy błyszczały w kącikach oczu. Nieudolnie próbowała je wytrzeć rękawem starego, znoszonego swetra.

Przybiegła w nadziei, że jakoś uda się jej wyprowadzić chłopaków z okolicy. Jednak było już za późno. Ciotka powiedziała, co chciała. Prawda wyszła na jaw. Nie dało się nic zatuszować. Szczególnie że na policzku wciąż widoczny był czerwony ślad po uderzeniu. Historyjki o upadku ze schodów czy potknięciu na drodze nic nie dadzą.

— Wracaj tu! — Krzyk pana [Reader] niósł się echem po osiedlu.

Zataczał się. W dłoni trzymał tanie wino. Resztki czerwonej cieczy tańczyły w butelce przy każdy chwiejnym kroku.

Widok ten nie stanowił nic nowego. Najbardziej żałowała, że znajomi muszą na to patrzeć. Nie bez powodu trzymała się z daleka od ludzi. Z powodu ojca nikt nie miał ochoty zadawać się z kimś takim, jak ona.

Ranga na moment osłupiał. Czuł się, jakby oglądał film. Trudno było mu uwierzyć, że jest świadkiem całej tej sytuacji. Miał świadomość, że ludziom przytrafiają się takie rzeczy. Jednak cała idea był odrealniona, bo nigdy tego nie doświadczył. A teraz okazało się, że ktoś z jego otoczenia jest ofiarą, i to wywróciło wszystko, co do tej pory wiedział, do góry nogami.

Każdy siniak i rana nabrały znaczenia. Noszenie przy sobie apteczki na nagłe wypadki stanowiło konieczność. Zrozumiał, dlaczego dziewczyna tyle czasu spędzała poza domem. Ucieczka w świat książek była jedynym wyjściem. Dotarło też do niego, że nigdy nie widział jej w towarzystwie koleżanek ani znajomych. Nagłe odwoływanie spotkań z dziwnych powodów nareszcie miało sens. Antypatia do deski też nie pojawiła się znikąd.

Kiedy zrozumiał, że ojciec zamierza podnieść rękę na córkę, stanął mu na drodze. Poczuł skok adrenaliny. Jego ciało ruszyło się pod wpływem impulsu. Kyan zrobił dokładnie to samo. Uderzenie przyjęło na siebie prezentowe pudełko. Potem pamiętał tylko mieszaninę krzyków, szarpaninę i telefon na policję. Kiedy funkcjonariusz przyjechał, wciąż był w szoku, ale odetchnął z ulgą.

***

— To zabawne — stwierdziła [Reader]. — Porażka w skateboardingu zniszczyła mojego ojca, dlatego nauczyłam się go nienawidzić. A teraz uratowała mnie deskorolka.

Spojrzała na kawałek drewna na kółkach pod stopami. Wyglądało na to, że jednak polubi ten sport tak mocno, jak czytanie.

— Jesteś pewna, że chcesz zostać u ciotki? Jak znam moją mamę, to nie miałaby nic przeciwko, żebyś u nas na trochę zamieszkała. — Hasegawa poprawił jej ustawienie nóg.

— Nie wiem, co dokładnie ją poruszyło. Może zwyczajnie zrobiło jej się głupio, że bronili mnie obcy ludzie, a rodzina nic nie zrobiła. Zresztą nieważne... — Spróbowała podskoczyć, zachowując balans. — Długo rozmawiałyśmy o wszystkim. Mogę tam zostać. Teraz, kiedy założyli mi niebieską kartę, powinno już być spokojniej.

— Już my tego dopilnujemy — stwierdził Ranga.

— Na rozmawiajmy o tym na razie. Dzisiaj mam ochotę tylko pojeździć.

Jutro czekała ją wizyta u psychologa. Nie dało się na to przygotować. Bała się jej, ale też pokładała w niej nadzieję.

Nabrała w płuca chłodnego powietrza. Świat wyglądał zupełnie inaczej w pędzie. Kolory rozmazywały się w jej oczach. Chciała choć na chwilę zapomnieć o wszystkim. Nie musieć się przejmować przeszłością. Gdzieś z tyłu głowy czaiły się stare myśli. O tym, że w domu może zastać wielką niewiadomą — pozorny ład albo dziki szał. Należało więc potulnie schodzić ludziom z drogi. Na wszelki wypadek. Teraz problemy finansowe w końcu przestały spoczywać na jej barkach i czuła się z tym dziwnie. Nie musiała się zastanawiać, jak zapłaci czynsz za kolejny miesiąc. Dostała nawet kieszonkowe. Wciąż obawiała się je wydać, jakby miało za chwilę stać się potrzebne. Sen stał się dziwnie spokojny. Tak bardzo, że aż czasami nie potrafiła się położyć do łóżka. Nie chodziła już spać w akompaniamencie krzyków na zmianę z przeprosinami i fałszywymi obietnicami lepszego jutra. Wiedziała, że teraźniejszość była normalna, ale wciąż nie umiała do końca tego zaakceptować. Nie dało się nagle wymazać lat pełnych przemocy, alkoholu i bólu. Jednak zamierzała spróbować.

Spojrzała na chłopaków jadących obok niej. Wierzyła, że z nimi wszystko się uda.

#hasegawa langa x reader #kyan reki x reader #hasegawa langa x reader x kyan reki #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk8 the infinity #sk8 x reader #oka shokichi #higa hiromi #shadow

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Leave No One Behind

Ch4- Not So Little Problem Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: Ari deals with the aftermath of his conversation with Hannah the previous night, and the resort has some unwelcome visitors

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.

Episode Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

“I’ll be there to comfort you, build my world of dreams around you, I’m so glad that I found you.” I’ll Be There by the Jackson 5

19th March 1971

“Oh Mama!” Hannah beamed at her mother as the large chocolate cake was set in front of her, complete with candles “Did you make this?”

“Of course I did!” her mother smiled “I’ve made you every birthday cake you’ve had, naturally I would make your 21st one!” “It stops here Han!” Sammy grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Mama ain’t made me a cake for the last 7 years.” “You’ll get one on your 30th.” Mama Navon narrowed her eyes “That is if you cut your hair. What on Earth makes you think it looks good?”

Ari let out a snort at that point and Sammy gave him a punch on the arm. “It’s a mullet, Ma, it’s fashion”

“Fashion, really?” Ari asked.

“You’ve no room to talk…you had that dodgy mop top for years.” Ari shook his head laughing, running his hand through his newly shorn hair, careful so as not to disturb the side parting he’d spent ages ensuring was pristine.

“Yeah, you’ve gone from George Harrison to George Lazenby.” Hannah winked at him and Ari grinned back.

“Whatever, get those candles blown out, I want some cake.” Sammy grumbled.

“Yeah, Han, make a wish!” Hannah’s friend, Amira instructed. The rest of the table began to join in, and with a grin she leaned forward, pulling her long bouffant pony tail back out of the way. She glanced over the table, looked at Ari before closing her eyes and blowing her candles out.

“Speaking of Bond…” Sammy spoke as their Mother began to slice the cake up. “The new film is due next month.”

“Connery returns, thank fuck!” Hannah nodded “Because Lazenby is shit.”

“Yeah, hear that, shit…” Sammy nudged Ari who shrugged.

“Hey, the fact that Firefly think’s I’m like James Bond is good enough for me.”

“Well you are an agent so… “ she shrugged, before she grinned wickedly “Although I’m not sure he would wear white skinny Levi's...” she gestured to his pants and he looked at her, his eyebrow raising.

“Erm, I’ll have you know that these are Sta-Prest and happen to be the height of mod fashion” he scoffed.

“Whatever.” she shrugged, before she smirked again “At least you don’t look like Rod Stewart. Mama’s right, that mullet needs sorting Sammy.”

“Can everyone stop taking the piss out of my hair?” Sammy glowered.

Once the cake was eaten, they all had another drink each before the meal came to a natural close. At this point Hannah’s mother wished them all goodbye and headed off home, the rest of them heading to the club across the road.

They headed straight to the bar and then Sammy vanished to go and find a couple of American Green Berets who were on a secondment into Mossad for 6 months, pending a potential formal recruitment following a successful mission a few weeks back.

They all placed their orders, and Ari took a quick check over his shoulder before he moved behind Hannah, bending over to speak into her ear.

“You know, you should be careful what you wish for, it might come true”

Hannah took a breath before letting it out slowly, and turning her head to look at him “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Firefly…” he arched an eyebrow at her.

“So you think you know what my wish was, Levinson?” she asked, coyly, looking up at him.

“I think I know, yes” his voice was loaded.

“And are you gonna make it come true Lobo?” her eyes were suggestive as she bit her lip and Ari smirked a little. He wasn’t an idiot, he hadn’t missed the signs Hannah had been giving him for the past 3 years since her 18th. He’d been trying to ignore it, due to the 7 year age gap but in the 4 years he had known her he had watched her turn into the amazing, gorgeous young woman stood in front of him, and now, well, it was getting increasingly hard to come up with reasons as to why he should be ignoring her, especially now she was 21.

Before he could respond, Sammy returned interrupting their little moment, slapping Ari’s back.

“Let me introduce you to my little sister, this is Hannah, Hannah meet Andy and Max.”

Ari didn’t miss the way Andy’s eyes travelled up and down Hannah’s form and felt himself bristle a little as the man took in her outfit. He couldn’t blame them though, she did look good in her blue and purple paisley print mini dress and knee high white boots.

“Nice to meet you guys!” Hannah smiled at them both.

“Pleasure is all mine” Andy grinned.

“Sammy say’s it’s your 21st” Max looked at her “Happy birthday” he grinned, kissing her hand.

“Thank you” she smiled

“Yeah, congratulations.” Andy grinned, bending over to kiss her cheek. .

Ari shifted on the spot, reaching for the scotch that the bar tender had set in front of him. He took Hannah’s Campari and Soda, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing his slightly as she took it and he saw that adorable pink tinge appear on her cheeks.

“So if it’s your birthday why you hanging bout with these 2 morons?” Max asked, jerking his thumb in Sammy’s direction.

“I’m not, they’re hanging with me.” Hannah shrugged, taking a sip of her drink through the straw.

All of them laughed, and Max looked at Sammy, then Ari, then back to Sammy again. “I like this girl.”

“That’s my sister for you.” Sammy shrugged, turning to the bar tender to place his order.

“Yeah, be careful, she looks like a Firefly but can bite like a mosquito.” Ari looked at Max before he glanced at Hannah.

She winked at him and then turned to Andy and Max. “Well, seeing as you guys are in town for a while, come with me and I’ll introduce you to a few of my friends”

Ari watched as she led them over the light up dance floor, tapping Amira on the shoulder. She started to talk to the rest of the her group of University friends, and he saw one of them, a red head, Abigail, lock eyes with him and he smiled politely before looking away.

“She giving you the eye again?” Sammy smirked, nodding to Abi and Ari shrugged.

“Got my eye on someone else.” he said simply. For once Sammy didn’t pry.

15 minutes or so later, the band was in full swing running through a number of hits from the 60s through to the present day. Hannah seemed to be having a good time, and as the opening bars to Sweet Caroline struck up she grinned over at Ari and Sammy. Ari, done with observing from a far, downed what remained of his drink and jerked his head towards them. Sammy nodded and followed him over to the group where they joined in the dancing and singing and laughing as they all chanted along, When that finished it morphed into another song, then another, then another… they were dancing for a good half an hour to hit after hit, and then Twist and Shout by the Beatles started. Hannah gave a cheer at this point before her and the girls launched into some kind of dance routine, twisting on the balls of their feet, dipping to the floor, laughing as they did so.

It was the perfect opportunity for Ari who moved behind Hannah, giving her a hug from behind. No one paid them the slightest bit of attention as they were too busy dancing themselves so he took it upon himself to pull her back closer into him, his hands falling to her hips as he swayed with her to the music, grinding up against her, his face resting against her neck, the short whiskers of his beard scratching at her skin. Taking her hand in his he spun her out, then back to face him, his spare arm curling around her, hand splaying on her back.

She glanced up at him as the music faded into “I’ll Be There” by the Jackson 5. The song was slow enough but not too slow, so he could keep her in that hold and it looked perfectly innocent. Just two friends enjoying a dance, even if the electricity between them was crackling…and then she leaned up to whisper into his ear.

“What were you saying about making my dreams come true?” she purred, her eyes locked onto his, a sultry look on her face as she blinked slowly.

Ari swallowed and glanced at Sammy, who was fooling about with Max, Andy and a few of Hannah’s friends and he felt himself hesitate. Was he doing the right thing? Was this really appropriate? It was an unwritten rule that you didn’t touch your best friends little sister, especially when she is 7 years your junior. And then there was the whole thing about was he good enough? She was a bright, young, clever woman...with a huge career as a doctor ahead of her which was almost unheard of for a female... Fuck! He had been so sure before but now it actually came down to it, he was plagued with doubts. Subconsciously he loosened his hold slightly and Hannah, as perceptive as ever noticed.

“Are you backing off, Levinson?” she looked at him, reading his face as always.

“Hannah, you look amazing, you are amazing but..”

At that point she rolled her eyes and pulled back slightly “Oh just don’t…”

“Firefly…” he began to protest but she stepped away, shaking her head.

“I need the bathroom”

And with that she headed off over the dancefloor.

Ari watched her leave, groaning as he ran a hand through his hair, grappling with himself once more. He wanted her, like he had never wanted anyone before, and he knew that there was something there on her side too. But was it right? But then again, how could something that felt this good be anything but?

With a last glance at the group, he strode after her. Positioning himself outside the women’s bathroom he leaned against the wall, trying not to look like too much of a pervert. It took her a little while but when she emerged he reached out, grabbing her hand.

“Ari?” she asked but he didn’t say anything, simply laced his fingers between hers and dragged her outside.

Once there he spun round, backing her against the wall to the left of the door, placing his hands lat against the concrete either side of her head, looking down at her

“You’re driving me crazy.” he looked down at her as she bit her lip, her eyes wide, suddenly her demeanour was all coy. He chuckled and shook his head, “Don’t play innocent with me now, Han. You want me as much as I want you.”

“Well, sometimes we don’t always get what we want do we, mi Lobo hambriento?”

Fuck that nickname! It did things to him, inappropriate things and he gave a little groan as he looked down at her.

“You can have what you want Firefly.” Ari’s voice was low as he looked at her “I’m all yours, but I think you already know that…”

Her breathing became deep and Ari could tell she was turned on but he wasn’t going to do anything until she had given him a sign. He was ensuring she had the power, that this was her decision. Her eyes bounced across each of his, as if she was searching for something, making sure he was absolutely telling the truth. Which he was. He had come clean about his feelings it was up to her now. As he watched, her gaze flickered down to his lips and then back up again and she took a deep breath that was almost a gasp.

“Ari it’s almost midnight…” her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “And I’m pretty sure birthday wishes are supposed to be granted on the actual day…”

Ari grinned, arching his eyebrow slightly “Better not keep my girl waiting.”

His hands moved to her face, cupping her cheeks gently before he leaned down and kissed her. It was soft at first but quickly became heated as her hands slid up to his chest, clutching fistfuls of his black sweater. He kissed the life out of her. It was raw and heated as they both poured out 4 years of fucking frustration in one another.

Eventually Ari broke the kiss, more to breathe properly than anything, pressing his forehead to hers, both of them breathless.

“Were you serious?” Hannah asked.

“About what?” he frowned, and he watched as she bit her lip and looked down before she glanced back up at him.

“About me being your girl…”

“I thought I just made myself perfectly clear…” he said, his eyes boring into hers.

She looked at him, a smile playing on her lips before she shrugged, her hands sliding up round his neck, pulling his face back down to her.

“Hmm, maybe you better show me again…”

******

Ari woke up when the first rays of sun seeped through the latticed window above his bed. When he opened his eyes he was hugging his pillow for dear life and it took him a couple of seconds to adjust to reality, the memories of that night slowly retreating to the back of his mind where they had been kept for nearly 9 years now. He yawned and stretched and pulling his bed sheets away, he sat up on the edge of his bed and rubbed his eyes.

He groaned when he looked down and his eyes focused on his erection. Fuck, he thought. He tried to remember when the last time he had had a wet dream was but couldn't even recall it. Being around Hannah and stirring old feelings and painful memories was surely having an effect on him. An effect he had to sort immediately if he wanted to impersonate his role as the owner of this God forsaken hotel in front of the group of Germans that had unexpectedly arrived the previous evening.

Once he had got rid of his, not so little, problem in the shower of the small bathroom attached to his hut and after pulling on a pair of black shorts he headed out in the scorching Sudanese sun.

He went round the side of the building and he met Max leading some kind of class to a group of tourists, apparently Tai Chi. He saw Max turn to him standing on one leg and give him a wave, and so did the tourists mimicking Max movements. Ari waved back, an astonished smile on his face. He was surprised Max knew Tai Chi, a trained assassin and sniper giving an ancient soothing martial art class clad in what looked like a pair of pyjama pants. And to make it more surprising he had stopped eating to do so, seeing as he, for once, didn't have food in his hands.

Ari watched him for a second before looking down and giving a huff of a laugh. He decided then to head towards the main building with the intention of getting a cup of coffee. He stopped again as he saw Rachel walking from one of the jeeps, carrying a load of what looked like new bed linen, followed by a member of the staff carrying a box of groceries. Ari wondered where the fuck had they got all that, but then concluded they must have gone shopping as he spotted a load more boxes and baskets in the back of the open trunk of one of the jeeps.

And just as he turned towards the doors of the main building he saw Sammy walking from an outhouse with a basket of laundry and a blatantly grumpy expression on his face. He didn't stop, but gave Ari a stare instead of a good morning greeting. What was wrong with him? Ari wondered if he would still be pissed at him for the incident during the mission the previous night. Whatever. He shrugged and headed inside the main building.

He entered the kitchen and grabbed a mug. The kitchen and the reception area were deserted at this time of the morning. As he poured some coffee he noticed there was still no sign of Hannah, or Jake for that matter, and he thought it was probably for the best given the way things had gone last night and his damned dream and issue that morning when he woke up. Moreover, he wasn't quite sure how he should handle himself around her. She would probably be upset at him if not mad. Or maybe she simply wouldn’t give a damn, which would be worse because that would mean she didn't care anymore about their.... past. But then again it had seemed like she cared last night. A lot if you asked him, she had even admitted she had been in love with him back then.

Sighing slightly he grabbed his coffee mug and headed out to the seafront part of the building only to find Jake led on a sun-lounger in a very tight pair of red speedos. And, Damn it!, he spotted Hannah next to him in another lounger. She was lay on her stomach, her chin resting on her folded arms, and her head turned towards Jake who was explaining something to her, probably some of his exotic diving adventures.

Ari then noticed she was wearing a red bathing suit which had cut out panels on each side of her waist. She hadn't worn it before, Ari thought he would definitely remember if she had. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun and her eyes were covered by her Aviators. Ari couldn't help but check out those damned legs and curves, and that ass and he was suddenly glad he had jerked off in the shower that morning, though he still felt something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

He hesitated but he then decided to approach, watching as Hannah turned half her body to Jake and resting on her right elbow, her head on her hand just a moment before the two of them burst out with laugher. With the green eyed monster in the pit of his stomach groaning, Ari walked over to them and saw Jake had matches between his fingers and thought that would give him the perfect opportunity to engage in conversation and see where that would lead.

"What's with the matches?" he asked Jake.

Hannah lifted her head to face him. Ari couldn't see her eyes, hidden as they were by her shades but her demeanour didn't appear angry or stiff…just passive which was what he feared the most. Had someone asked him how to handle her, the answer would have been no fucking idea.

Jake looked up and then at the matches, which fell out at the motion of his hand moving his shades up his face, before answering which gave Ari the perfect opportunity to steal another glance at Hannah. A very appreciative one, now that he could take in the curve of her breasts and her cleavage.

“It's the only way to spread the tan evenly.” Jake answered.

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard." Ari replied.

Hannah snorted at Ari's comment and Jake looked at her slyly before saying “You won’t be laughing at the tan lines you'll get from that thing.”

She frowned and looked down at her body. As did Ari, and Jake. Ari looked at Jake a second later and caught him checking her out. Not that he could blame him. He himself had been doing the same thing since he had spotted them both, but for some reason it pissed him. Then Hannah spoke bringing him back from his thoughts.

“Not like anyone’s gonna see em Loop.”

Ari swallowed hard and brought his coffee mug to his lips to conceal his raising uneasiness. Ok, so now we are on pet name terms. Fuck my life.

“You never know Red…” Jake winked.

Hannah laughed before retorting “I should be so fucking lucky…”

What in the name...

Ari tried to divert the attention and looked around him before asking Jake "What's going on here?"

"Well, your brochure mentioned the daily relaxing Tai Chi class. Irving" he said nodding at Max. "Liam is doing laundry because he lost a bet." he continued.

Ari looked down back at Jake, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"He bet Rachel that Max didn’t know how to do Tai Chi…stupid bastard, not like he ain't known Max for 9 years or anything…" Hannah explained rather harshly.

“Are you mad at your brother?” Jake asked turning to look at her.

“Damned right I am.” Hannah snorted. Jake looked at her, raising an eyebrow but she said no more so he looked at Ari who shrugged. It was clear to him that he was not getting a reason why.

Ari shifted position and put his left fisted hand inside his shorts' pocket as he knew all too well what the reason for her bitterness against her brother was. He suddenly felt uncomfortable and looked behind them both, seemingly interested in the Tai Chi class while Jake continued his report of the chores assignment at the resort.

“Angela went shopping after giving a massage to a hairy Nazi. And now I'm giving a diving tour…” and at that he looked at his diving watch as he stood “which starts in exactly 12 minutes…” Jake informed, giving Ari a look “as per your fucking brochure.” But before leaving he glanced down at Hannah.

“You coming sweetheart?”

“Hell yeah��” she replied taking the hand Jake was offering her to help her up, but she then stopped.

"You promise I'm not gonna get eaten by a shark?" Hannah asked.

"Don't worry, I'll look after you." he chuckled. "Come on."

They both started to walk off without any more explanation before Jake turned to Ari. “Care to join?”

Ari looked at them for a moment but didn’t answer, he simply scoffed and drank his coffee. He was taken by surprised. He hadn't expected Jake and Hannah to hit it off and become so close in such few days. The green eyed monster now stopped groaning and started growling. He decided to shut it up by finishing his coffee and going to call Ethan and Isaacs to debrief the previous night successful mission in the privacy of his the outhouse where they kept the diving equipment.

***** Ari got back to the main building after the call to Tel Aviv and sorting a misunderstanding with a German couple who had been assigned separate rooms by mistake. Ethan and Isaacs had been giving him a hard time about the radio failure issue, Ari was willing to bet Ethan hadn't believed any of the excuses he had improvised. And seeing the turn the conversation with Isaacs had taken, he wouldn't like to be in Ethan's shoes and having to deal with Isaacs in person.

By the time he entered the main dining room Hannah and Jake had already come back from their diving tour and Hannah was gushing about the marine life, and how Jake had been amazing on the tour, showing everyone where to go and what to see. Max, Sam and Rachel listened carefully to her colourful account of Jake's expertise in the matter while Jake leaned back casually on one chair smoking and brushing off Hannah's flattering comments.

Honestly all Ari wanted to listen to was the sound of Jake's jaw breaking from his punch. But he faked interest as he sat on one of the free chairs and lit a cigarette after brushing his hand over his hair, an equally fake smile on his face. Rachel then suggested it would be nice if they all took a trip that afternoon after lunch seeing as they would be dismissed from their chores by then.

So for the second tour of the day, the entire team bar Sammy, who allegedly had a phobia of fish no one knew anything about and so offered to stay in the boat as spotter, decided to take a dive.

Later that day, when all the equipment had been checked and the tourist taking part in the diving tour were all settled in the boat on the way out, Sam sat next to Hannah who shifted in her seat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispered. “You’ve been avoiding me all morning and now you’re looking at me like I murdered someone…”

“Not someone…” she replied without even bothering to look at him and shrugging.

If Ari could have turned himself invisible he would have, but seeing as that was impossible he was seriously considering throwing himself overboard and getting eaten by a shark instead. But chances were there wouldn't be sharks in the Red Sea, given his luck lately.

"What do you mean?" Sammy asked a bit taken aback.

Hannah shrugged again not looking at him. She still was undecided about how to confront her brother about his big fuck up many years ago, but it surely wasn't gonna happen in a boat in the middle of the sea with a group of chubby sunburnt tourists and Ari fucking Levinson nonetheless.

"What have you done to her, man?" Max chuckled.

"The fuck I know." Sammy groaned, looking at him

"Time of the month cracker?" Max asked Hannah, grinning.

“Seriously?” Rachel groaned.

"Like, that’s the one thing I never understand, why men assume when a woman is a little moody that they’re on their period?" she huffed.

"The one thing I never understand is why lesbians use dildos or strap-ons. I mean they either like cock or not." Jake thought out loud.

Ok, I might as well give a chance to the sharks, Ari thought.

"Maybe they like cock but just can’t be arsed dealing with the 6ft useless ball sack attached to it…" she offered before cursing in Spanish "Maldito cabrón." (Fucking asshole) Ari noticed Sammy rolling his eyes, clearly understanding whatever curse she had just spoke. Then a middle-aged German woman laughed and said something to Hannah in Spanish.

"Con quién estás más enfadada?" (Which one are you most angry at?)

Hannah laughed and glanced at Ari, Sammy, Max and lastly Jake.

"Ahora mismo, con todos." (Right now, all of them)

Sammy turned at her giving her a questioning look, but he couldn’t blow cover in front of the tourists so he bit back the urge to ask her what the fuck was going on.

Ari rubbed his face. Suddenly this boat trip was taking too long for his liking and his wetsuit felt far too tight.

Everyone remained silent, lost in their own thoughts. Silence only broken by sound of the waves and the lively chatter of a pair of overexcited German youths. Once they had reached the diving spot, Jake helped Hannah as she tumbled backwards into the sea before helping the tourists to do the same. Then it was Rachel and Max. Ari was the last to go.

"When did those two become so close? Is Jake hitting on my sister or am I imagining things?" Sam asked Ari, who merely shrugged before he tumbled backwards into the sea effectively determined to have his date with destiny... and sharks. Thanks, Sam.

God. Hannah had been right. The bottom of the sea at that spot was gorgeous. Being there, underwater, diving through the crystal-clear waters among all that rich variety of fish was simply overwhelming. Ari could recognise butterflyfish and clownfish along with sea turtles and some eels, and then a school of an unknown to him species of fish came swimming off a breath-taking coral reef when the group approached it. And just when he thought he couldn't be more amazed, Jake led them to a rather ghostly ship wreck.

The experience was as amazing as Hannah had described it, yes. But it would have been even better if Ari hadn't had to put up with her and Jake diving close together the whole time and him guiding her instead of the tourists. He would be lying if he said he wasn't low key pissed at them, had he a reason or the right to be or not. And he might or might not have not voluntarily kicked a school of fish with one of his fins. And to make things worse, that tight short legged wet suit she was wearing was doing nothing to help.

Just when he had decided to dive a bit more inside the ship wreck in order to keep his mind and his eyesight away from the pair, he felt a tug on his line. He swam up a bit and saw it was Sammy pulling so he heading up to the surface. He bobbed at the side of the boat gripping the boat side handle with his right hand and pulling his mask off with the left one.

"What's up?" he asked Sammy catching his breath.

Sammy just nodded towards the shore and said "Turn around."

Ari turned around and saw a bunch of armed guards all stood along the beach.

"Shit" he cursed. "Ok, I’ll go down get the others."

A few minutes later he had warned Jake and they all had gotten the tourists back in the boat and headed back to shore. Ari trying to keep calm so as not to scare the tourists and to reassure his team at the same time. Everyone more or less succeeding in keeping up appearances till they got to the beach.

When they descended the boat, Ari saw a man in an army uniform, with his hat on his head and a pair sunglasses covering his eyes. He quickly guessed it must be Colonel Ahmed of the local force, the one Kabede had warned him about.

"Hello." Ari greeted walking towards him, followed by his team.

"How can I help you?" he asked reaching his hand out to the Colonel, who looked back at him seriously as they shook hands.

"There's been an incident last night, and we wanted to make sure that all of you in the hotel are safe." Ahmed informed in his thick accent.

Ari looked back at his team, trying to buy some time, before turning back to the man.

"What kinda incident?" he asked faking a curious expression.

"Smugglers." Ahmed replied as he turned and walked back towards the hotel, all of them following. "They drove through one of our roadblocks last night. Nearly killed two of my soldiers."

The team exchanged glances as the soldiers began flanking them as they walk, guns held in their hands.

"I heard there's a smuggling problem up and down the coast, I hope no one was hurt." Ari offered casually.

Ahmed stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him. He inspected Ari's expression carefully before smiling an ample white toothed grin. He then nodded and continued walking, heading straight for the trucks parked at the left front side of the main building.

Ari had to put his quick thinking skills to the test before Ahmed started suspecting he didn't want his trucks inspected. He stopped as Ahmed walked to the trucks and leaned against the bonnet. He removed his glasses and gave Ari that inspecting look again before speaking.

"My soldiers shot the trucks. So the trucks from last night should have bullet holes in them."

Ari kept his face passive. Behind him Max and Jake both move nearer to Hannah and Rachel in a protective mode as the soldiers started circling the group. Tension was rising fast.

Ahmed resumed his walk round the side of the trucks towards the rear of them "There's no reason why your trucks should have bullet holes, Mister..."

"Thomas. Guy Thomas" Ari offered, walking after him. "And no. No reason." he admitted laughing a little with the last two words, as if he found it all ridiculous.

Ahmed didn't spare him a glance and proceeded to check the trucks, pushing at the wooden panels. Ari stood there watching. Then he looked at Ahmed whose face had fallen as he hadn't found the bullet holes he was sure he would find.

Overtaken by frustration Ahmed then barked something to his soldiers in Arabic. A second later a soldier ran up, saying something back as he nodded and Ahmed looked at him, before looking at Ari and returned to check the truck again.

Ahmed comes back a few seconds later and said something to his soldier, his voice steely, before beginning to make his way back down the side of the truck to his troop. Ari lowered his head with relief and in a bold move, encouraged by the rush of adrenaline, he chimed

"I hope you come visit us again real soon."

Hannah looked at Max and hissed "Seriously?" once the armed men had jumped back in their trucks. “I hope you come visit us again?” she looked at Ari, “You’re such a dick…”

Ari frowned as she turned away and with a shake of her head waked back down the sand and took a right towards the boat that they had occupied little over 10 minutes ago which were now moored by the launching ramp near the diving centre part of the resort. Max looked at Ari, gave him a shrug and then shouted after Hannah.

“Cracker, wait up…”

She stopped and turned, allowing him to catch her and Ari stood with his hands on his hips as Max tossed an arm round her, gave her a squeeze and they fell into step with one another walking down the soft sand.

“Come on, let’s get the gear away and we can talk.” Ari said, tearing his eyes way from Hannah’s back and nodding to Jake. Between them they all grabbed various bits of equipment and began hauling it up the beach to outhouses. It was hot work, the boys all undoing the tops of their wetsuits in an attempt to keep reasonably cool, but as Ari felt the sweat dripping down his back he could think of nothing better than getting out of the damned thing.

Once the last oxygen tank was placed on the floor by Jake, he let out a loud breath and wiped at his brow then his chest with a towel. Ari saw Hannah look at Jake and smile and that damned green eyed monster stirred in his gut again.

“Like what you see Red?” Jake teased with a wink and a smirk as he gave a little twirl.

“Well, there’s not much left that I ain’t seen, Loop, thanks to those fucking speedos.” she shot back and he gave a laugh, as she unzipped the front of her wet suit before she paused and then stopped when Max broke the silence.

“Smugglers huh…”

“Well they weren’t wrong.” Hannah mused “Just not smuggling the types of things they expect…”

“I almost shat in my wet suit.” Jake said, with a chuckle.

“Yeah, if that soldier hadn't been too scared to admit he'd missed, we'd all be locked up right now.” Sammy spoke, shaking his head.

Hannah’s attention flicked to Ari who wasn’t listening. Instead he was leaning against the wall, looking out of the window at the guests on the beach, one arm folded across his bare abdomen, the other playing with his beard and she could tell from the look on his face that an idea was forming in his head.

“Come here.” he spoke to the group as he pointed out of the window, his hands falling to his slim hips “What do you see?”

With that he turned and looked into the hut. Hannah, who was stood closest to him stepped up beside him, following his gaze to the tourists who were sat out on the sand, a few of them drinking beer from a cool box. Sammy moved to stand next to her and raised an eyebrow.

“Unsuspecting collateral damage?” he huffed a sarcastic laugh.

Hannah rolled her eyes and give him a filthy look as she shook her head, her hands falling to her hips. She shared a glance with Rachel who smiled at her, clearly they were both on Ari’s wave length.

“Best cover we could ask for.” Hannah said. Ari turned to look at her, smiling as she met his eyes her face almost smiling back.

“Imagine if the Germans hadn't been here when Ahmed arrived.” Ari looked at Sammy before he turned back to the window, folding his arms again.

There was a moment’s pause as the group stood looking out of the window for before they glanced round at one another, Max, Rachel, Hannah, Jake and Ari all grinning. Ari turned his attention back to the tourists, the idea was genius. Operate as a fully functioning hotel! They had the staff, and it was the perfect damned cover should anyone come sniffing around. Granted it might slow things down, they’d need a good few months to get it fully operational, and then there was the task of getting Ethan and Isaacs on board but he was confident he could sell it, especially with all the team’s support.

Well, almost all the team that is.

“You're kidding, right?” Sammy deadpanned.

“Yeah, coz this is one big fucking hilarious joke Sammy.” Hannah snarked and Ari turned round everyone’s attention focussed on her “Ari has a point…”

“What a surprise, you’re backing him up, again!” Sammy rolled his eyes.

Ari gave a sigh and stepped forward a little “Hey, hey come on…” he placated but Hannah ignored him completely and glared at her brother.

“Oh fucking grow up Sammy!” she shook her head, before she barged past him, shoving into him with her shoulder before she stormed out of the group.

“Oh fuck this…” Sammy grumbled, following her out.

Hannah stormed down to the sea front, Sammy hot on her heels.

“Hannah! Hannah, STOP!” he yelled, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“You really wanna know?” she rounded on him, her eyes blazing.

“Well I’d appreciate it if you told me instead of the snidey, bitchy comments and looks!”

“Would you appreciate it if I came round to your apartment one morning and punched you in the jaw…sound familiar?”

Sammy’s eyes grew wide and Hannah shook her head at him as the realisation spread across his face.

“How did you…” he started to ask but Hannah cut him off.

“Fuck you Sammy, how could you? You had no right to interfere in my life!”

“Hannah, you were my little sister…”

“I was 21 years old….a fucking adult.” she shook her head.

“I just…” Sammy sighed, and shrugged “I was trying to protect you.”

“From what? From Ari?” she shook her head “He’s your best friend Sammy, I mean how bad do you really think he is?”

“I know what he’s like Hannah.” Sammy shook his head “He’s a great guy but he’s reckless and arrogant and selfish…” “He wasn’t…” Hannah swallowed “He wasn’t like that with me.” “Look at what happened with Sarah.” Sammy sighed “That would have been you.” “Well, funnily enough neither of us has a husband now do we?” she shot back.

“Don’t say that.” Sammy looked at her.

“Why not?” she shrugged. “It’s true.” “You were 21…he was 28…”

“And?” “You had all your training to do.” “You had NO RIGHT!” she screamed at him “You had not right to decide what was best for me…I fucking loved him Sammy!”

At that Sammy’s face fell, and he looked down, shaking his head. “Hannah, I-“ “I loved him…and you took him away from me.” she sniffed “Why you would do something that you knew would hurt me so much?”

“I was trying to stop you getting hurt.” Sammy shook his head

“I mean, was it jealousy, is that it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Han.” Sammy scoffed.

“You were scared I was gonna take your best friend or something?” she looked at him

“I didn’t know how serious it was.” Sammy looked at her “I didn’t know you’d been together for any amount of time…” “Hang on…” Hannah frowned “You didn’t know, so what? You just saw us at the party and then decided you’d punch him in the face?”

“I…I never saw you together.” Sammy looked down.

Hannah stopped dead and looked at her brother as he raised his eyes to hers “What? Then how did you-“ “I never saw you Han.” he repeated “Someone else did and they told me.”

“Who?”

“Hannah, does it matter?”

She snorted, remembering how Ari had said the exact same words to her the night before and let out a sarcastic laugh.

“I’m getting sick and tired of people telling me what does and doesn’t matter. I want to know. WHO told you?” “Hannah, don’t do that to yourself.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” she said loudly “I have the right to know, tell me Sammy who told-“ “It was Andy!” Sammy yelled back “Ok, you happy now?” At his words Hannah visibly recoiled, stepping backwards on the sand. It felt like someone had just slapped her round the face.

“Andy?” she whispered.

“Yeah…” Sammy sighed

Hannah looked at her brother again, before she took a deep breath and turned and headed back up the sand towards her hut, the tears stinging her eyes. Her husband had been the one that had caused Ari to leave her. She didn’t want to believe it, but she knew her brother wasn’t lying. It felt like a double betrayal, from both of them, and it hurt. It physically hurt.

“Cracker?” Max stepped into her path, his voice gentle as he gently laid his hands on her shoulder

“Just...leave me Max, please…” she said, the tears pouring down her cheeks.

“I can’t leave you like this….” he said softly “What’s wrong? What are you and Sammy fighting about?”

“Hannah?” Ari asked softly as he appeared and Hannah groaned inwardly. She really didn’t need this. All she wanted to do was go and lie on her bed, curly up and cry. “Firefly, what happened?”

It didn’t take a genius to work out what the siblings had been arguing about. Ari watched her as her chest heaved with sobs, debating whether or not to hug her but he stopped himself, not sure exactly how well it would be received.

“He…” she started to talk and shook her head, taking a deep breath before she turned her beautiful blue eyes onto his, they were shining with tears “It was Andy.” Ari felt like the rug had been pulled from his feet, he knew instantly what she was referring to but couldn’t quite believe it.

“Andy?” he repeated, looking at her and she nodded.

“Andy saw us that night, and he was the one that told Sammy…” “Aah, shit…” Max sighed, and both Ari and Hannah turned to look at him. “That isn’t exactly what happened”

“How do you…how do you know what we’re talking about?” Hannah frowned.

“Because it was me. I saw you.” “What? Hannah whispered as Ari let out a groan and turned away for a moment to gain some composure.

“I saw you and Ari outside Cracker, and I made a joke to Andy because he liked you….and we knew Ari had some secret girlfriend he was refusing to tell us about and…”

“God, Max!” Ari spun round to look at him, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know he was gonna tell Sammy, or that he did…I swear.” Max finished, apologetically “I’m so sorry.” Hannah looked around at Max, lost for words.

“Cracker…” he said but she simply shook her head.

At that point Sammy approached and that was it, she’d had enough.

“You….” she pointed at Sammy “Had no goddamned right to interfere…” she turned to Max “You should have kept your mouth shut…and you…” she looked at Ari, wanting to scream and shout and rail at him for walking away and not fighting for her, but as his eyes locked onto hers, she saw the sadness behind them and even now, with the anger and hurt coursing through her veins, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Instead, she simply turned and stormed into her hut, slamming the door behind her.

**** Chapter 5

#leave no one behind #Ari Levinson #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson x original female character #red sea diving resort #chris evans #chris evans characters

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ceobams · 5 years ago

Note

Hewoo. Can please do a yugyeom smut where he overstimulates you but babys you!

It was supposed to be a movie night with your boyfriend and his friends but you all decided it was good for a change, to drink tonight and have some fun which turned out to play truth or dare which you found out it was actually a lame excuse for your boyfriend's friends about your sexual life, to tease their youngest friend. ‘’Truth or Dare Y/N?” Jackson asks, ready to set up your trap. ‘’ Truth” you choose, to early and too sober yet to pick the dare.

"’Is he too soft on you?” Jackson asked jokingly, seeing your boyfriends face flustered by the question. ‘’Kinda?” you answered avoiding eye contact with Yugyeom, feeling sorry towards him. You knew the moment you said it you’d regret it, he would make you regret later every letter you said. You loved that he was always making sure you were fine, and taking care of you but you wanted him to switch sides, be rougher on you. You didn’t know how to bring it up without hurting his feelings, of course he knew how to pleasure you, what you liked and didn’t like but you were craving more and more. ‘’Yugyeom bro, I think your girl wants to change the plans.” Bambam said patting his best friends back.

The game carried on, you tried ignore his gaze on you, knowing he would probably mad at you, and getting mentally ready for an argument due to your inexistent courage to talk about it. Sure, you preach about communication being the key to everything but you couldn’t, not when your boyfriend, was too sweet, too caring, too precious, for you to hurt him like that.

‘’Hello? Y/N! Earth calls Y/N.” Mark said snapping his finger in front of you, in order to wake you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell me you were already thinking about Yugy, under the covers, Y/n? You dirty girl.” Jackson teases you, again, cause that’s what he does best. “Dare” you answer irrationally, gaining conscience three seconds later of what you just said, regretting immediately. ‘’Oh! Someone’s feeling brave, aren’t we?” Jinyoung teased you next, you rolled your eyes at the boys getting excited for your boldness.

“Hm okay. Make-out for a bit with your boyfriend so you can make up to him, and he’ll stop having that face. See! Look at him right now” and for the first time since your humiliation, you can see a smirk in his face. Not sure for what was about to happen, you gulp and you get up immediately, when everyone cheers for their friend.

‘’Go get it tiger!’’ Jackson says, obviously excited for what was about to go down. Before you knew, Yugyeom grabbed your wrist pulling you into his lap aggressively, closing the spaces between you two, feeling different for the first time since you both started to dating. Usually he would kiss you more carefully, grabbing your neck or cupping your cheeks. But this time was different, you could feel the electricity all over you, the dominance all over him, the way his tongue would explore more of your mouth. Grinding on his thighs, as the kiss gets deeper and deeper.

‘’Okay! We get it, get a room you two!” Youngjae yelled at both of you, almost forcing you to split. ‘’I am sorry. I just didn’t know how to tell you-” you stop at the middle of the sentence feeling his arms around your waist. ‘’You’re in for a ride babe.” he winks at you, his words hitting you like a truck, leaving you gasping for air. You nod, anticipating the end of the night, feeling eager to feel his touch, anything.

The game keeps going, many dumb dares happened thanks to Jackson and Jaebeom. You start to feel his hand on your thighs, at first you ignore, thinking he might just put it there simply even though your mind is racing. He carries his hand, secretly, closer to your core, making you ache with need. “p-please” you whimper as he starts doing small circles with his index finger closer to where you need him. ‘'you don’t care if they see, do you?” you gasp at his words, not used at how dirty he sounded. ‘'answer me or I will stop’’ suddenly stopping leaving you on edge. ‘’ I- Please baby” you beg not caring if the boys were or not paying attention to you.

For your own luck, the boys start to doze off, ‘’let’s go baby” he says lifting you off his lap, making way to your room, you didn’t lost anytime attaching your lips to his, as you close the door, hands grabbing his neck bringing him even closer to you, no distance left between both. ’You don’t know how mad your little humiliation made me, baby” he said flipping you both, having you underneath him with lust all written over you. His hands switching from your neck, to your breasts, making their way to your aching core. a gasp left your mouth when his hands finally made contact, with your panties, your knees part reflexively for him, and he pushes forward into the space ‘’I bet you’re imagining all kind of stuff, you dirty girl.” he said, slowly getting on his knees for you never breaking contact with you making you squirm all over him with anticipation.

‘’But..In return I need you to moan loud as you can for me, so we can both prove you were wrong.” you blink stunned at his suggestion, only realizing what he means when his fingers make contact with your clit, you nod at him craving him more than anything in the world. you don’t even feel embarrassed by your instincts when he gives you that gaze. Like you’re slowly making him lose his cool, slowly making him subordinate to his instincts too. He traces his fingers slowly, at the same licks slowly your labia testing your patience, and then proceeds to devour you like a beast. He’s licking, and sucking, like a starved man who hasn’t eaten in weeks, almost as if he’d waited centuries for this to happen, your moans getting louder and louder every time he speeds up his tongue in and out of you, making you whine and begging for more.

‘’You can come baby, we still have more rounds” and then he pups his index finger inside you, you were already squirming and close to your orgasm with his tongue, now you were a mess with both his tongue and fingers in you. “I-Im close yugy-” you moan at loud, not caring if you’d wake up the boys. “That’s right, beg for my fingers baby. Tell me how much you want it.” You whine even louder, not caring about the risk of getting caught by the others boys as you lift your hips to roll against his mouth. ‘’That’s it, come for me like the good girl you are” and you came undone in his fingers. Tasting you in his fingers, licking every part of you reminiscent on his fingers fixing his look on you. “B-aby I need you, like need you” as you gulp at the sight of your attractive boyfriend still teasing you. ‘’Oh, you do?” teasing you, knowing it would be more fun to see you beg for him. “Yes” you drag him, to his bed and climb to his lap making contact with his full erect cock still covered by the sweatpants he was wearing.

“You’ve gotta work for it” he winked at you. His face contorted from playful to be surrendered at your mercy as you started rubbing yourself in his thighs receiving a groan from him. “F-fuck baby, keep going” eyes shutting in pleasure as you speed up your pace, getting closer to your high. “If you don’t stop im gonna cum all over you baby” as your name was stuck in his mouth, your moans getting louder and louder as you both were near your orgasm. “You’ll be the death of me. But I really need you deep balls in me.’’ you said painting, still recovering from your recent orgasm. It didn’t take him much time to get rid of his sweatpants, a sight accidentally slipped from your mouth as he pumped his glistening member covered in his pre-cum.

‘’Don’t worry it baby. You'll have it in a bit” as his tip brushed on your folds causing you to whine at the unexpected touch. Entering you right after, not missing another second from you “How are you this tight holy-” he buries his face against your chest and his hips press frantically into yours. Your core starts to tighten, pleasure building and your hips jerk rapidly under his ministrations. The unceasing throbbing deep within grows larger and hungrier the harder he grazes against your sweetest spot and soon enough he’s pulling wrecked whimpers from your lips as you buck and grind wildly against his hand. The gush of wetness that signals your orgasm is bordering on excessive, and you can’t help but muffle a scream into the blankets beside your head, recovering from the aftershocks.

“Close,” he mutters, and reaches a hand between your legs. His fingers slip against your clit. You’re already so worn out, shaking, that you sob from the sudden stimulation before you start cumming. It’s so intense your spasm and you try to push away but Yugyeom holds your hips down against him with both hands. He’s still thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm. Sweat drips off the tip of his nose. You’re crying, it’s so good but too much and then suddenly Yugyeom grunts. His cock pulses and jerks inside of you while he cums and you feel another orgasm crash over you.

“Wow.. That was hm... Intense" you laugh, as you see your boyfriends flushed cheeks, returning to his usual self “I am sorry baby... Did I hurt you? Are you fine?” immediately checking up on you. “Sorry if I was too rough” he apologized, giving a small peck. “Why? I was about to say you were fantastic” you smiled at him, reassuring him. “Can you guys keep it down, next time? Cause my head hurts like hell I don’t need to hear you two fucking the entire night” Jackson groaned, displeased about what he and the other members had to listen.

#got7 smut #yugyeom smut #requested #my writing #yugyeom #yugyeom imagine #kpop imagine #got7 scenario #yugyeom scenario #kpop smut

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lk-ramblings · 4 years ago

Text

Coming Home

Dicle and Barış

Menajerimi Ara

(This scene picks up from Dicle going to meet Barış in Episode 30.)

* * *

And I'd give up forever to touch you

Cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

-Iris

Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

He watched his younger self on the tiny television, eyes full of hope- a far cry from his current state- and looked around. Everything about the house seemed like a museum; from the TV, to the peeling paint, to the sheet covered sofas like relics. Preserved to keep his worst memories intact.

He wondered why they even kept this house in this condition when none of them were living here.

But then he remembered he didn't know how long he could afford his current house, when the path ahead seemed so bleak. So many houses, no home. Younger Barış chose that moment to remind him of all his shattered dreams, " ......lastly, I congratulate myself. I'm sure there are good days ahead of me!'

The piercing ring of the doorbell interrupted the video; someone had clearly glued their finger to the ringer.

His temper, which always seemed to be bubbling under the surface these days, spiked and he welcomed the anger.

'Can't even be miserable in peace, NE VAR YA?' he shouted, going downstairs.

He opened the door, fully intending to give the idiot a piece of his mind- and couldn't believe his eyes.

He was hallucinating again. He had to be. She couldn't be here. Dicle-

'Sen bana bu nasıl yaparsın.....'

The sting of the slap barely registered. But she wasn't done yet. He'd never seen her in a temper like this.

'How could you just disappear like this? I've been losing my mind with worry! I thought something happened to you. How many days have I been looking for you? How many days have I been dying with worry?!'

His heart strummed an aching beat; he was elated, shocked, humbled, ashamed.

'Do you even have ANY idea what kind of state I was in? Bir şey soylesene! Ya cevap versene Barış!' She kept questioning him and he felt guiltier with every passing second. Just bore the onslaught of her fury.

'Do you even know what I'm dealing with? What I'm going through? And yet I'm not leaving everything and running away. I'm not leaving my loved ones alone.'

He didn't know what to say, couldn't grasp at words much less sentences.

"Is this how we're going to continue? Weren't we going to fight together? Weren't you going to be next to me?" Her voice turned beseeching, revealing the extent of her hurt, and he couldn't bear it any longer.

So he kissed her.

Gently, so gently, with a tenderness he could not find the words for, for the all the apologies he wanted to say. Her breath caught in surprise and she opened her mouth hesitantly.

His pulled softly at her lips- so sweet- taking one last taste. Even this had been enough to quieten the chaos in his head.

Dicle watched a tear fall unbidden down his cheek, as he waited for her reaction. She could still feel the ghost of his kiss, containing a wealth of things unsaid. You’re important to me. I missed you. I'm sorry.

So she decided to answer back. She kissed him again, not gentle like him, but devouring him, the pent up longing finally finding a release. I missed you too. I'm here now. Let me in, let us be together.

Barış felt the sharpness of her teeth on his lips and he knew he was not alone. He groaned into her mouth. His body ignited. This. This was finally something he knew how to do right. How to love the planes of her perfectly, countless nights spent imagining it.

He opened her jacket, his hands roaming all over, he couldn't get enough of touching her, never. Tried to get off his clothes without breaking away from her lips, his lifeline. He'd backed her against the wall.

Dicle arched into him, eliciting a hiss. Standing was no longer enough.

Never breaking the kiss, he picked her up and laid her smoothly on the bed. She remembered the night where they had fooled around, but this was so much more. Frantic with need, they both made quick work of her shirt.

He opened the clasp of her bra and kissed her; the cold of the house, and the warmth from his body heightening the sensations. She didn't want to let go of him. His hair was disheveled, his beard longer than she'd ever seen. He was so beautiful, it made her ache. Just before he pulled away, she licked at the sheen of sweat beginning to shine in the hollow of his collarbone.

He watched her, his eyes hazy, roving over every curve. She looked magnificent. All lithe limbs and creamy skin dusted with constellations of freckles; each of which he wanted to count with a kiss. And her hair.

Falling over him, unbound, when she moved forward. Reaching for him as if in a trance, he saw her eyes reflecting his own desire.

Suddenly embarrassed, she put her hands over her face and whispered, "What if I do it wrong?"

He removed her hands and gently touched his forehead to hers. "There is no wrong here. This is just you and me."

'Sadece Barıs ve Dicle."

That was all the encouragement she needed to claim his mouth again. He tasted of a slight tang and something she just knew as 'Barış'. His mouth was wet, soft, delicious. The moment he stopped, even to take a breath, or lavish attention anywhere else, she tugged him back.

He caressed her lightly, gently, where he knew she was ticklish. Devouring the softness and warmth of her body against his.

She felt untethered, the feeling both consuming and bewildering. They moved together, grinding, the friction promising a lovely high.

'Barış....' Even the dance of their tongues wasn't enough to sate her desire, instead stoking it higher. She grabbed at his shoulders, trying to get closer, trying to deepen the kiss even more, touching him everywhere. 'Barış...I need close...I want to be in you.'

He made a rough sound of amusment and spoke against her lips. ' I think you're stealing my lines, sweetheart.'

Dicle laughed on a sigh and then moaned as he kissed her thigh softly, first one then the other. The graze of his days old stubble was driving her insane. She made up her mind to ask him to keep it like this always, as he kept moving higher and higher making her writhe with need.

She had no idea exactly where he was; she could feel him everywhere. His breath in her hair, whispering endearments, his warmth surrounding her, one hand at her head, the other engulfing her waist.

'Dicle. Dicle. You're so soft. It's fucking ridiculous.'

'Everywhere I touch, you just fit me. So well. so fucking well. I've imagined it so many times, sevigilim.....'

Finally, finally he slid in. Skin to skin. The heat of it was exquisite. He bit her throat softly, trailing kisses down her neck. He tangled his fingers with hers and wondered how they they arrived at this moment, desire burning away the blazing anger from earlier.

But then she moved her hips in a needy motion, and he had no capacity for thought anymore. The pressure of her moving against him spurred him into a heavier, faster rhythm.

This. There was this.

Love and desire swirled together in a heady mixture as they fell together, her hair surrounding them, their bodies moving in sync, chasing the release.

* * *

'I didn't plan on that.'

'Hmm-mm. Me either.'

They lay cuddling together and Dicle finally voiced the question that had been at the back of her mind.

'So you've been going everywhere with protection at all times, in case the opportunity presents itself?' she teased him.

'Ah-what can I say- old habits die hard. I've always kept a spare wallet in my car.'

'What?' she sat up suddenly.

'What? What is it?' he followed her up aswell, trying to keep up with the sudden change in her tone.

'So you always keep one- or rather several- in your wallet incase you get together with some- I thought-'

'You thought?' he urged her on softly.

'I thought you were always ready because- I mean ever since we- I was talking about us earlier when I asked.' she muttered, her voice getting increasingly smaller.

Finally understanding dawned, and Barış tried to find the right words. To reassure her. To voice the depth of feeling that only she inspired. He could not fathom how she could think that this was just another one night stand for him.

'Dicle...Bak, I....'

He tried again.

''Abi and I learned to keep our cash and essentials on us if we ever needed to run from our father's rage. And then.....after his death, and getting a few small acting jobs, it was a lifestyle I fell into. Theatre parties. Chasing pleasure mindlessly if I could. Only a few times though.....' he hastened to add.

Dicle could see the faintest blush in the light filtering in from the hallway.

'I wasn't famous then, so, there weren't- but.....' he muttered and then sighed. "It just became routine for me to be careful."

She smiled at him after a beat, "And I'm glad for your care otherwise where would be right now?"

He relaxed at her words and caught a lock of her hair, running it through his fingers. Marvelling at the ease between them. Even in the dim light, she glowed.

"But you should know,' he spoke haltingly, hoping the words would come to him as he looked into her clear gaze, 'that my feelings for you.....my passion now....is like comparing an ocean to a drop. A sun to a lamp."

His words sank into her, igniting some primal part of her. She threw herself at him in a hug that took him by surprise. Barış caught her instinctively, a mass of tangled hair and long limbs.

Possession torched her throat, and she kissed him fiercely, instinctively, whispering in between kisses.

'Sadece bana bak.' The faintest touch of her lips on his eyelids. 'Bana gül.' Returning to his lips again. 'Bana dokun.' She kissed each of his cheeks in turn, the tiny dimples under the matted beard.

'Benim ol.'

He had been smiling into her kiss, but she felt him tense under her hands immediately, his shoulders stiff with tension. She drew back to look in his eyes, asking softly, "N'oldu?"

'Hiç,' he avoided her eyes, approximating a smile and tried to capture her lips again.

She gave him a kiss but asked again, caressing his face,' Barış, what is it?'

'Is it what I said? I know it wasn't original... but you...I see you in every thing I read and love so I just.....' she knew she was babbling at this point.

He laughed lightly. 'No, I love everything you say,' he followed the slope of her cheek to her lips.

'It just reminded me....I remember them- a version of them- from my childhood. In a far different tone and with a different intention.'

She just massaged his neck lightly, waiting if he wanted to share.

He took a deep breath and recited in a flat voice, " I often heard my father saying them to my mother. Whenever he would come back drunk, hearing whatever mahalle gossip there was, twisting it in his mind."

'This was my room.' He looked around, with a cursory glance, trying not to let the walls resurrect the past around him. He was grateful for the dark so he could pretend he was just sitting in a room somewhere with Dicle, just telling her these things, not living them.

' Abi and I moved here so- well I already told you. Closer to the door than the upstairs one. I would hear him shouting these things, doubting her, before going to sleep it off.'

Neither of them spoke. He could feel her hand in his hair, lightly stroking.

'Anne used to join us here aswell sometimes," he shrugged.

He looked so vulnerable in that instant as he looked at her and recounted his past with troubled eyes. She would have given anything to go back and soothe that smaller, younger Barış; protect him.

But there was only the present. And this Barıs, who remained soft despite life being hard to him. And she only had her words and her heart to give him.

Dicle took his hand. 'I'm so sorry,' she began softly.

'Memories are like that.” She pressed a kiss to his palm. “An endless reminder of the past. Forming and festering on their own. Sneaking up on you, when you’re least prepared for it.”

'But we can make new ones; better happier ones right now. Deliberately. In this same place.'

'So in the future, when you turn back, you go looking for them as a treasure rather than an insidious whisper you fear. Tamam mı?"

She hugged him, trying to absorb his worries. Hearing the beat of his heart next to her ear, knowing that he was warm and whole and next to her was enough.

'Dicle.....'

'Mhmm?'

'Just.....thankyou. Thankyou." He hugged her back, sighing, content to stay in her arms forever.

'Burada, what were you saying earlier? More poetry from Sabiha?"

She smiled, seeing his melancholy melt away slowly. 'Oh, no no, that was Madonna in a Fur Coat....."

'Hmm, looks like I have to read it aswell now after Shakespeare,' he said, closing the distance between them. His lips hovered over hers, and they smiled.

She knew they were both remembering the night she went over, hinting about Sinan and Serap. When they were testing and teasing each other.

But now, when she drew closer, it wasn't a game. He kissed her.

This time it wasn't hot and hungry. It was slow and sexy and sensual. He pulled her closer and closer by her waist until she was lying on top of him. Loving the warmth of her body against his, as their mouths fell together easily again.

* * *

After what felt like hours, she drew back. He lounged lazily next to her.

'What is it?" he asked, trailing a finger lighty down her shoulder, connecting the freckles. He gave her the mischevious look she loved so much, 'Are you tired?'

'No it's just....I'm thirsty,' she said, feeling unaccountably shy all of a sudden.

Barış laughed and sat up. 'Ah pardon. Where are my manners, not treating my guest properly."

'Oh, I wouldn't say that,' she had missed this, just talking to him, so much. ''I feel quite well treated, Barış Bey."

"Oh, öyle mı?"

"Evet. Although my nose hurts.'

He grinned at her, "I'll get some water from the kitchen.....there's nothing much else," he added embarrased.

'There's nothing else I need, sevgilim."

Giving him a quick kiss of reassurance, Dicle put on his shirt from the floor and made her way to the kitchen, wishing she could live in this moment forever.

There was nowhere else she would rather be.

* * *

#dicle x baris #menajerimi ara #my writing #episode 30

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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

Text

We All Still Die (part one)

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

This fic was supposed to be one whole story, but it’s way too long, so i had to split it into parts. anyway, this fic is about the rule of Anne, Jane, Cleves, and Katherine, through the eyes of the maid/lady in waiting who knew all of them.

Also, everything in this fic is to be seen as fictional. I doubt any of this actually happened historically. This is just me having fun and trying to entertain people. If this bothers you, then don’t read the story.

———————

“Since you’re just a maid in waiting, you won’t be expected to do as many duties as a lady in waiting,” Said the guide leading the young blonde teenager down the wide hallway. She was a member of the queen’s Privy Chamber, apparently, yet she got stuck with instruction duties for the new girl. “However, you may sometimes be asked to sleep with the queen. And no, I don’t mean in her bed. You’d be amazed at how many times I’ve been asked that,” She laughed at the stupidity of the younger girls in the court. “The king and queen don’t sleep together. The queen sleeps in her own room and usually there will be a lady or maid in waiting there with her in another bed.”

The new girl nodded, mentally taking notes of all of this. She was doing her best to pay full attention, but the grand tapestries strung on the wall and the shiny polished floor kept distracting her. She doesn’t think she’s ever been in such a beautiful place before.

“You’ll have today to settle in after you meet the queen. Tomorrow will start your duties and classes.” The Lady went on.

“Classes?” The girl echoed.

“Yes,” The Lady said. “You will have music classes. You will also be expected to keep up in reading and writing skills.” She pauses and squints at the girl. “You can read and write, can’t you?”

“Y-yes!” The girl said quickly. “I can!”

“Good.” The Lady looked forward again, then stopped. They both stand in front of a large door. “The queen’s in there.” She said. “Better make a good first impression.”

“I have to go in alone?” The girl squeaked.

The Lady laughed. “Of course. Trust me, it’ll look better on your part.” She patted her head. “I’ll see you around.”

The girl was left alone in the large hallway, quivering slightly from the sudden rush of anxiety. She attempted to gather her nerves as she pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, but whatever confidence she managed to wrangle up immediately disappeared when she saw the queen sitting in her throne.

She was even more beautiful than in the stories. Unblemished, shining ivory skin, soft from the golden oils she bathes with, and warm hazel eyes that glimmered like jewels in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Luscious brown locks fell around her face, which is set with a smile as she converses with a younger woman at her side. When they notice the girl awkwardly loitering around by the door, they both turn to look at her. The queen neatly folded her hands over her pregnant belly.

“Hello, little one,” Queen Anne Boleyn said. “Please, come in.”

The girl obeyed without a moment of hesitation. She approached the throne slowly, taking a moment to look around the room before centering her attention back on the queen.

“What’s your name? And how old are you? You look quite young.” Anne said.

“Joan Astley,” The girl said. “I’m- I’m sixteen.” Her ears flame red when she stutters, but the queen doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’s good to meet you, Joan.” Anne said. “I’m sure you’ll do me good by being in my court.” She glanced momentarily at the woman by her side. “Oh, and this is Maggie. She’s my right hand of sorts.”

The woman, Maggie, dipped her head to Joan with a small smile, but didn't say anything. She’s standing very close to the queen, almost acting as a bodyguard of sorts- they must have been close friends.

“She’ll show you to your new chambers.” Anne said, gently touching Maggie’s hand. “And if you need anything that has to do with any maid or lady in waiting duties, I would go to her.”

Joan nodded.

“Thank you, my lady.”

———

Joan winced as yet another sour note came from the lute she was attempting to play. She saw the music teacher, a strict old woman with hawk-like features named Mildred, whip her head around in her direction and a glare. Joan shrunk up on herself.

“Uh oh,” The girl at Joan’s side whispered. She was slightly older than Joan and smelled like freshly picked apples. “Joan...”

“Can you play any instrument, Jane?” Mildred snapped.

“Um- my name is Joan-”

Mildred narrowed her eyes dangerously. Joan snapped her mouth shut.

“As a maid in waiting, you need to be able to play music for the king and queen,” Mildred went on with her chiding. “You don’t want to upset them, do you?”

“N-no ma’am.” Joan stammered. The other maids in waiting around her stepped away as Mildred stalked towards her. She hunched her shoulders around her neck and looked at the floor, afraid of making eye contact.

“Then why are you being such a disappointment?” Mildred hissed. “You’ve only been here for a week and you’re already proving to be a failure.” Her voice lowers to an agitated mumble, “This is why Lady Boleyn shouldn’t just hire anyone she wants... We get stuck with little street rats and strays.” She narrowed her eyes at Joan, examining every inch of her. “How old are you? Don’t you eat? Maids in waiting and ladies in waiting are supposed to be regal, poised, beautiful. Not...whatever you are.” She looked at the girl with disgust. “Scrawny.”

“She does!” A girl further down the line suddenly blurted. She had a French accent and a mop of curly brown hair on her head. Joan believed her name was Miriam. “She eats fine. As much as anyone.”

“It’s not her fault she’s small!” Another girl piped up, her thick Welsh accent creating a certain edge around her words.

“STOP TALKING RIGHT NOW!” Mildred roared, and silence dropped over the music room. A few girls glanced at Joan apologetically.

“I-” Joan’s voice bubbles up in her throat before she can even stop herself. “I can play the harpsichord.”

Mildred’s eyebrows actually went up in surprise before her eyes narrowed. She sneered.

“Oh really?” She scoffed.

“Yes ma’am.” Joan grits out. Whatever bout of confidence that made her speak up is now gone.

“Show us.” Mildred gestured for the grand harpsichord in the corner. When Joan doesn’t budge, her mouth curves into a twisted smile. “Were you lying to us, Jane?”

“It’s Joan.” Joan growled, although her ‘tough voice’ sounded like a baby lion trying to roar. “And I am not. I can play.”

“Then get your arse over there and show us.”

This time, Joan obliged and marched over to the harpsichord. She sat down at the stool and stared at the smooth, polished keys spread out before her. It was a lot bigger than her grandma’s harpsichord, but she would have to make do. Bigger was better, after all.

With a deep breath, Joan’s fluttering fingers floated over to the keys and pressed gently. The hum that comes out shivers up her arms and up to her brain, filling her ears with the sweet tune. She presses once more on another set of keys and then another and then another until she’s fully playing a song she had created herself and memorized, since she didn’t know how to write music. It was a lovely little song with deep, throbbing notes that rattled her to the core and light, quivering chimes that twirled delicately through the air. After just a few moments of playing she was completely engrossed in what she was doing- the room around her crumbled and fell away until it was just her and the harpsichord.

And then the queen walked in with Maggie to check on how the music class was going. At first, Joan hadn’t noticed the noble pair watching her, as she was way too focused on playing, but then she noticed the flash of the iconic emerald green dress Lady Boleyn usually wore and she fumbled, accidentally slamming her hands on the wrong keys and causing a terrible sound to come from the harpsichord.

A few titters swept through the group of maids in waiting. Mildred sneered and rolled her eyes. Anne tilted her head at the girl at the harpsichord.

“I knew you didn’t-”

“What wonderful playing.”

Mildred snapped her head in the direction of the queen. She blinked several times, like she was trying to process if she heard that correctly.

“My lady-” She said. “Surely you don’t think this worm’s playing is...”

“It was beautiful.” The queen said. She raised an eyebrow at the music teacher. “Don’t you think?”

Mildred is grinding her teeth. “Of course.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Anne smiled before gliding over to where Joan was sitting. Maggie follows along behind her. “You are very talented, Johanna.”

Joan went to correct the queen, but knew better than to do that to Her Majesty. Besides, she liked Johanna better than Jane.

She blushed shyly, dipping her head slightly. “Th-thank you, my lady. Th-that means a lot.”

———

In Joan’s defense, it hadn’t been her idea to spy on the queen while she was in labor. It was Abigail’s. But Abigail was very persuasive and made a very good point about how they needed to know how to deliver a baby for future events, so Joan agreed to sneak out to the medical wing of the castle with two other girls.

“Ew,” The tallest girl named Felicia said softly, curling her nose at the smell wafting from the sick room. “That smells gross.”

“Did you think it would smell good?” Abigail said, laughing slightly. “She’s having a baby. I don’t think they usually smell good coming out.”

They crept closer to the door and peeked around the doorframe. Everyone inside seemed way too busy with the laboring queen to notice four maids watching them.

Anne’s face was reddened, soaked in sweat, and pinched with pained concentration. Maggie is at her side, holding her hand and whispering things the maids can’t hear. It doesn’t seem like Anne is listening, though, as she’s much too focused on pushing.

“That looks painful,” Another girl in the group, Guinevere, whispered. “Do we really have to do that when we get older?”

“Not if we don’t want to.” Abigail whispered back. “Hopefully.”

A sudden scream made them all jump. They turned their gaze back to the queen, who was straining and writhing in the bed. Maggie is doing her best to calm her, but she looked even more terrified than Anne.

“Lady Margaret looks like she’s going to break if Her Majesty sneezes wrong.” Abigail commented.

“I think she’s just worried.” Joan said. “Is Lady Anne going to be okay?”

“Of course she is,” Felicia said.

“She’s the queen! Nothing can bring her down!” Abigail added.

Joan nodded and went back to watching. The midwives were yelling something about a head and began to encourage Anne to push again. Before any of them could see what came out, however, the sound of a throat clearing caught their attention.

The four girls whirled around to face the huge, towering figure of the king peering down at them.

Abigail, Felicia, and Guinevere immediately bolt down the hallway back to their chambers, but Joan is frozen in place. It felt like every inch of skin was slowly being peeled off the longer she was inspected. When Henry tilted his head at her, she nearly keeled over and died on the spot. Then, he gave a gruff laugh and nodded down the hall, signaling for Joan to go.

Blinking, the girl bowed swiftly and then scuttled down the hallway.

———

It’s later that night that Joan learned that the queen had given birth to a baby girl. The king was, naturally, disappointed, but seemed to be happier than he was when he saw his first living daughter, although Joan hadn’t been around to know for sure.

She was delivering fresh towels and some tea when she actually got to meet the child. The sick room had been cleaned up, but the smell of birthing fluids and blood still lingered. Maggie was asleep in a chair right next to the bed, but Anne was awake, staring lovingly down at the little bundle in her arms.

“Joan?” She looked up. “Is that you, dear?”

Joan stepped in fully and nodded. She set the silver platter of tea and sugar down on the nightstand, nearly hitting the candle over and made a small ruckus trying to settle everything. Anne laughed softly at her clumsiness.

“I was told I had an audience earlier,” Anne mused. She grinned slightly at the shade of red Joan’s face turned. “It’s quite alright, dear. I probably would have done the same at your age.”

“It was kinda gross.” Joan admitted. “S-Sorry. That was rude.”

“No, you’re right,” Anne laughed again. “It was very gross. Very slimy.”

Joan’s nose curled. “Ew.” She glanced at the baby. “What’s her name?”

“Elizabeth,” Anne said proudly. “My little Elizabeth.” She nuzzled the baby.

“That’s a pretty name.” Joan said. “She looks like you.”

“You think so?”

Joan smiled. “Definitely.”

Anne smiled back. “Wanna hold her?”

Joan’s eyes widened. She opened and closed her mouth for a moment, fingers twitching.

“C-can I?”

“Of course. You’ll be one of the first, you know. That’s a big title.” Anne set Elizabeth into Joan’s shaking arms. “There you go... Just like that.”

Joan stared down at the tiny baby with wide eyes. She tried her best to not move, fearing that Elizabeth may die if she so much as coughed wrong. Elizabeth, however, didn’t get the memo because she began to stir and, a moment later, she opened her honey brown eyes to blink up at Joan.

“Hello,” Joan whispered, and Elizabeth began to cry. She flinched at the piercing noise. “O-oh dear. Oh dear. Wh-what do I do?” She looked at Anne nervously.

“Rock her,” Anne instructed. “It’s alright, dear. Baby’s cry all the time. You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

Joan nodded shakily and began to rock Elizabeth in her arms. It takes a few sways, but the baby’s wails eventually taper off and she’s quiet again, blinking curiously up at Joan.

“She stopped crying!” Joan beamed at Anne.

“Good job,” Anne praised with a soft smile.

“Hi there,” Joan said down to Elizabeth. “My name is Joan. I’m a maid. My friend’s say I kinda look like a sheep. Do you know what a sheep is? No, probably not... You were born a few hours ago.”

Elizabeth seemed to think that was the funniest thing in the world, because she burst out into giggles- or the closest thing a baby her age could get to giggles. She raised her little hands and grabbed onto Joan’s long blonde hair, gleefully stuffing it into her mouth.

“Oh no,” Joan said in dismay. “Ow! L-Lady Anne- ow!- she’s pulling my hair. Ow!”

Anne chuckled and held out her arms, and Joan quickly gave Elizabeth back. She cringed at the baby saliva dripping from her hair.

“Sorry,” Anne said. “You can use one of the towels you brought.”

Joan nodded and began to clean off her hair. In the queen’s arms, she watched as Elizabeth gurgled and then flopped her head over a second later, asleep. She blinked.

“I wish I could get to sleep that easily.” Joan said and Anne laughed.

“You’re a good girl, Joan.” The queen said. “I hope you always remember that.”

———

“John!” Joan jumped up from her spot in the grass. She raced across the garden and leapt into her brother’s arms. He laughed in response, twirling her around.

“I missed you, too,” John said, grinning. He peeked over Joan’s shoulder. “You have a little monster with you.”

Joan scurried back over to the one year old she had left alone with some toys, but kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure John was following her (he was). She crouched down next to Elizabeth and John sat in front of her.

“This is Elizabeth.” Joan said.

“BOO BAH!” The toddler shouted enthusiastically.

“Indeed,” John said, raising his eyebrows. “So, you’re on babysitting duty?”

“Kinda,” Joan said. “Better than cleaning out the toilets, I suppose.”

John snorted. “You got that right.”

His eyes softened as he looked back at Joan. It had been several months since they had seen each other, something they would have never been able to manage when they were younger. The two of them were twins, so they were just naturally inseparable. They were all they had growing up, surviving alone after their parents left.

And then their distant sorta-grandma found them and took them (read as: forced them) into her care when she heard about the trouble they had been causing. She made Joan go into court, while John stayed back and had to do whatever he was pushed into after she was gone.

But he was still her brother. Mossy grey-green eyes and freckles and brown hair done in a ponytail that he insisted on wearing for some reason and all. He was never annoying or judgmental, and rarely ever shouted. When John got angry, it was a cold, deep, dark anger that he held onto for the rest of his life. He once slipped rat poison into a boy’s drink after he had sexually harassed Joan. The boy survived, but only barely.

John was kind of awesome.

“So, what does grandma have you doing now?” Joan asked.

John wrinkled his nose. “Textile.”

“Oh dear.” Joan winced. “Sounds...”

“Boring?” John guessed with a small smile. “It’s way worse than you think. I’m a BOY! Boys don’t SEW!” He crossed his arms with huff. “Boys— I don’t know. Fight? But I don’t want to be a soldier. I kinda want to go back to being a thief.”

Joan jolted and hissed. She looked around frantically for guards, only to find that they weren’t being watched at all. She couldn’t tell if that was relieving or not, as she did have the princess with her.

“John, don’t say stuff like that!” She whisper-yelled. Elizabeth looked up at her in awe. “You know we can’t.”

“I know, I know,” John rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying. It was a lot better back then than it is now. At least for me.”

“Hey, I don’t have it easy, either!” Joan yelped. John gave her a thoughtful smile.

“Oh, you poor thing,” He said. “Living in the palace, eating truffles with the queen, burdened by all your beautiful clothes.”

“You goose.” Joan giggled, playfully punching his arm. “You can borrow anything I have right?”She took off the sparkling silver necklace she was wearing and put it around John’s neck. He looked at it as if he were wondering how much it would go for in the market.

“So pretty,” Joan cooed.

“TEE!!” Elizabeth agreed gleefully.

“Thanks, now I look even more like a woman,” John said. “I’ll fit in perfectly in textile!”

Joan snickered. “It’s the ponytail.”

“No it’s not!” John barked. He reached back and delicately touched his ponytail, as if he had been worried that someone would cut it off behind his back. “It’s cool! You’re just jealous.”

“Oh, extremely.”

“Meely,” Elizabeth babbled. John peered down at her.

“So, no son?” He asked.

“Nope,” Joan sighed. “Not yet. Lady Anne and King Henry have been trying very hard, though.”

“I bet that makes sleeping difficult,” John said and then yelped as he was shoved backwards into the wet grass. He floundered his long limbs awkwardly, sending Elizabeth into a loud fit of giggles, before he was able to roll upright. “Oi! Not nice!”

Joan laughed and a handful of grass and dirt was thrown into her face. She spit some of it out, then glowered at her brother, who was grinning up until she flung her own clump of dirt at him.

Elizabeth howled in laughter as the two siblings tussled in the grass, uprooting several patches of soil to throw at each other. Joan made a mental note to apologize to the gardeners later. She was having too much fun to worry about their reaction right now. It’s felt like forever since she’s played like this. Everyone in the castle was so refined and poised, even the other maids; a year in court has made most of them much more mature. There were very few people who wanted to play with her anymore.

As if the thought of nobles had summoned them, Queen Anne, Maggie, and the oldest princess were suddenly looming on the edge of the garden.

“WHAT is going on here?” Mary’s booming voice made the brother and sister jump to attention. She was staring at Joan with the usual disgusted expression she wore when looking at her. Ever since they met, Mary just hated Joan’s guts, no matter how nice Joan tried to be to her.

“We’re s-s-sorry!” Joan stammered. She hated how weak and helpless she got when she stood before Mary, who was only a few years older than she was and close to her height. Something panicked inside of her always told her to get away from the princess.

This girl will do something horrible someday.

“Yes,” John glanced at her. “We’re very sorry.”

“Who are you?” Mary turned her disgusted sneer to John, but, unlike his sister, he wasn’t phased by the princess’ expression.

“I’m John.” John said. “Joan’s brother.”

“Hm.” Mary studied them both. “I expect nothing less from two urchins.”

“We were just playing!” Joan said. “W-we didn’t mean to cause a scene! We just- we barely see each other anymore and-”

“And now you’re talking back.” Mary said. “You’re sleeping in a cell tonight. I’m sure being alone in the cold will teach you not to act like a fool.” She looked up at Anne hopefully, but the queen merely glided past her and scooped up her daughter. Elizabeth babbled to her mother, still giggling.

“I’m really, really sorry, Lady Anne.” Joan said.

Anne looked at her with a half frown. “It’s alright, dear. You are expected to fix the mess you made, however.” She glanced at the ruined grass and dirt around them.

“Yes, your highness.” Joan dipped her head.

Anne turned to John. “You should get going now, boy.” She said gently.

John nodded and then gently touched Joan’s shoulder, managing a small smile.

“I’ll see you around, alright?”

“Alright,” Joan whispered. “Bye. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Then, a moment later, he’s gone, taking Joan’s necklace and courage with him.

———

The courtyard is lit up from end to end. Firelight blazes in every window in the great hall. Long tables stretch the length of the room, heavy with bread, meat, and jugs of honeyed wine. The room is packed with people dressed in their best: soft suedes and linens trimmed with fur; bright rings, bracelets, and torcs; sparkling silk dresses and beads that glimmer like gemstones. Some of the people sport bruises or fresh bandages. Some sit propped against the stones of the wall, faces grey, nursing stricken limbs, clearly adamant that they’ll be present no matter the severity of their wounds. The people of London are set for a long night of feasting. What are they celebrating exactly? Joan had no idea. It seemed like every week there’s a new jubilee going on.

She never encountered this kind of buzz of activity from when she was a girl. As a child, before she ran off with her brother, she lived in a quiet little town near the ocean. Her father hated it there, but he never left, even during the most aggressive fights. Her mother loved it for reasons Joan never really understood.

There were rumors in the village- there always were. People in the local tavern murmured about her mother and why such a lady would even bother having children. Or, more so, why she kept either one of them alive. They talked about her spouse and the fights that kept the whole neighborhood awake and the man she worked for.

They murmured about her father like he was an artifact bound to his wife. How he shouldn’t be there. How he was going to drown himself in the sea spray one day.

Everyone said the two of them hated their children, but Joan never believed it. Even when they said it to her face, she never really believed it.

Joan remembered so much from when she lived in that musty house they shared. She and her brother slept in a small room, bundled up with blankets and carpet. She would watch her mother at night as she worked on things for a ‘Mister Cromwell’, waiting for her to look over and smile. That’s all Joan ever wanted. A sign that there was hidden kindness inside of the woman.

But she never did look her way.

It only got worse as years went by. Joan realized that her parents seemed to be at their happiest with each other when they were talking about how terrible she and John were. They always agreed when they said how they should have just killed them the moment they were born.

Joan learned really quickly not to cry, at least in public.

At night, she wished for a nice family to come along and adopt her and John and maybe let her get a puppy. She used to think wishes were stars. So cold, so many…so out of reach.

Instead of discovering a situation right out of a storybook, Joan became stronger, wiser, faster, and smarter. No one was going to take care of her, so she had to learn to take care of herself.

“Oh ho ho. Here comes trouble.” A maid in waiting nearby whispered, but it’s not her empty cup she means.

Shouldering her way through the throng came Princess Mary, and the look on her face is not one of friendship.

“You.” She growled, cornering Joan against the wall. “Why are YOU here? Trying to taint the food with your filth?”

Joan ruffled. She really did not want to deal with Mary right now, so she squared her shoulders and met her eyes.

“I could say the same about you.” She struck back.

There’s a swell of whistles and murmurs from the maids in waiting near them. Suddenly, they all look a lot less regal and a lot more like teenagers: curious, mischievous, and itching for drama.

Mary clenched her jaw, clearly not used to being talked back to with such an attitude. She jabbed a finger into Joan’s chest.

“Say that to my face.” She hissed.

“I am saying it to your face,” Joan said. “Or was I saying it to your arse? It’s easy to get the two confused.”

She instantly ducked away from Mary as a loud uproar of “OOOOH”’s exploded from all the maids in waiting. They were all leaning in their seats, eager to see what would happen next. Their poised facade has melted away completely.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” A younger maid yelled. The others glanced at her and then joined in on the prodding.

“Fight! Fight!” Another hollered.

“Rip her earrings out!”

“Bust her pretty little nose!”

“Stab sewing needles in her eyes!!!”

Joan laughed. She had no plans on actually starting a fight with Mary, and her fellow maids in waiting didn’t expect her to, either, but Mary didn’t seem to read the context clues, because she vaulted herself at Joan like a rabid hyena. Joan leapt away, eyes wide. She held her hands up.

“H-hey, woah!” She barely managed to duck under Mary’s swinging fist. She vaulted over the nearby table, scattering goblets and plates full of meat. “L-let’s talk this out!”

Mary didn’t seem to be in any mood to talk anything out. She simply darted around the table (Joan has been expecting her to throw it out of her way) and advanced on Joan. Joan flinched away from a blow that never came.

“Hey! Hey.” A voice said, sharp, yet calming at the same time. Joan opened her eyes to see Maggie standing in between her and Mary. Anne was watching from nearby, her eyes concerned at the mayhem and her hands protectively folded over her pregnant belly, but Henry looked entertained at her side. “That’s enough.”

“But she-!!”

“I know, Mary,” Maggie sighed. “Joan probably did something and made you angry and you lashed out. I’m sure Joan is very infuriating.” She peered at Joan, like she was trying to find something sinister in her soft, lamb-like features.

“Let them fight!” Henry spoke from his spot. “It builds character.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose at him. Anne gave her husband a startled look.

“Mary, take a deep breath; we’ll talk later. Joan, walk with me.” Maggie wrapped an arm around Joan’s shoulder and firmly guided her out of the hall.

“Stick to your books and music lessons, pest.” Mary hissed as they walked out. “This is not your home.”

———

Joan was the talk of history class the next day. Her seat was swarmed by her fellow maids in waiting, all of them chattering eagerly, wanting to know what had happened, despite most of them being present for the fight.

“What did Lady Maggie want to talk to you about?” One girl with friendly amber eyes and red hair asked. Several other maids nodded in agreement to her question and looked at Joan expectantly.

“W-well...” Joan started and the girls around her leaned in. She was nervous at how much attention she was getting, but she wouldn’t deny that she loved it. “She just told me to be nicer and to ‘cut Mary some slack.’”

A handful of girls groaned. One of them, Abigail from the spy heist on the day of Elizabeth’s birth, rolled her eyes.

“She’s the princess.” She said. “If anyone needs to be cut some slack, it’s us. She’s always pushing us around!”

“If I remember correctly, her mother wasn’t present for most of her life,” One girl pointed out, trying very hard to give Mary the benefit of the doubt.

“Well, neither was mine.” Abigail said. “Doesn’t give her the right to act like a horse’s rear end all the time.”

She then pranced over to the curtains and wrapped them around her like a flowing shawl. Loudly, she warbled, “Ohhh, I’m Mary Tudor and my life is SO HARD! I have to WALK to the KITCHEN EVERYDAY because MY DADDY said my butler COULDN’T CARRY ME!!”

All the girls dissolved into loud giggles. One leapt up onto the table haphazardly and clutched at her heart, joining Abigail in the mockery.

“Do you know how HARD it is to be so PRETTY ALL THE TIME?” She howled dramatically.

Another scrambled over to the teacher’s desk and produced several ink wells before falling to her knees and shaking them in her hands.

“ALL THESE JEWELS!” She cried. “AND NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE TO SWOON OVER ME!!”

Laughter filled the room. A few of the maids were even snorting or had tears streaming from their eyes. One girl had fallen over! But they all hushed up when their history mentor, a plump, older man named Bertram, stepped inside. He peered curiously at the girls, especially the one who scrambled off of one of the desks and the one who frantically put the inkwells away.

“What’s going on in here?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing!” Abigail answered quickly. “We were just playing!”

“Hm.” Bertram looked suspicious, but didn’t dwell on the antics. He just walked up to the front of the room and began the lecture. “Alright, so today we will be covering the history of the Saxons.”

“I have a question,” Abigail then suddenly interjected.

“Already?” Bertram said, ruffled. “I just started.”

“About Princess Mary,” Abigail pressed on anyway. “Why is she like /that/? You know, so bossy. Are all princesses like that?”

“I hope not,” A tan girl at her side said. “I actually kinda like Princess Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, if she turns out to be a brat, I’m never going to take care of her again.” Chimed in another.

“Princess Mary, she-” Bertram floundered. “Her mother wasn’t allowed to see her very often. Henry didn’t want them to be together. She also has very awful menstrual issues, and I assume that would make anyone crabby.”

“Any girl,” Abigail pointed out as the maids snickered around her.

“Can we learn about THAT?” One of the younger girls yipped. “That sounds interesting! I wanna learn about that!”

“No!” Bertram barked grumpily. “No.” He repeated more calmly. “No, girls, we are going to be learning about the Saxons. Now, most of the pre-Saxon stories would best be described as ‘legends’ or perhaps even ‘fairytales’, however-”

And then he was cut off yet again, but not by one of his pupils. Rather, it was Maggie, who was very pale and trembling in the doorway.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” Bertram asked.

“I-it’s the queen,” Maggie said breathlessly. She appeared to be on the verge of some kind of attack. “Sh-she’s in labor!”

Murmurs swelled through the room. The maids in waiting and their teacher alike looked curious, confused, and concerned. A horrible feeling settled in Joan’s stomach.

“But wait,” Bertram said. “Isn’t she only a few months into her pregnancy?”

———

Two days later, after the limp baby’s body had been disposed of, an argument broke out somewhere in the castle. The yelling could be heard echoing down every hallway, and several heads poked out of different rooms to try and see what was happening. Joan was in the sewing room, (very badly) knitting a blanket for the coming winter. Curiously, along with many other maids, she looked out into the hallway and saw two guards dragging Maggie by the arms.

“You BASTARD!” Maggie was screeching. “Don’t you even THINK about doing that to her! It wasn’t her fault!!”

They saw Henry further down the hall, his eyes cold and hard like pieces of obsidian.

“I’ll kill you!!” Maggie roared. “I’ll kill you, I swear to God! DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!!”

Joan had no idea what the woman was screaming about, but she knew it couldn’t have been good.

The guards were taking her in the direction of the torture chamber.

———

Hours later, Maggie is seen again. She’s limping and winces each time she takes a step. Anne ran to her, catching her friend when she collapsed to the floor. Joan would later found out that the soles of her feet had been whipped.

———

“Grandma! John!” Joan called into the house. “It’s Joan!”

She tiredly trudged through the front room. Everything that had gone on recently weighed heavily on her heart and mind. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Joan by the fire and hear him tell funny stories.

But when she checked his room, he wasn’t there. Nor was he in the backyard or the kitchen or living room, but her grandma was, calmly sipping tea like nothing was going on.

“Grandma,” Joan hurried over to her. “Where’s John?”

Her grandma took a long sip of her tea, then turned to her and said, “Gone.”

Joan blinked. “Wh-what?”

Her grandma set the tea cup down and looked at her. “He’s gone, Joan. He left.” She clarified. “He’s been gone for five days.”

Joan couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were suddenly constricted by hot iron bands that tightened and tightened and tightened until she though her chest may burst open. Her grandma peered up at her pale face, not at all concerned by her obvious anxiety rush.

“My, that’s an alarming shade of white.” Her grandma mused.

“Wh-why?” Joan croaked. She’s starting to tremble. Tears prick in her eyes like hot needles. “Wh-where?”

“I don’t know,” Her grandma said helpfully. “I just came home one day and he was gone.”

“And you didn’t go looking for him?!” Joan gaped.

“Why should I? He didn’t mean that much to me. I only took you both in out of common decency.”

Joan stepped back shakily. Her breathing was picking up in the way it usually did when she got scared, but whatever was happening to her right now was much, much worse. It burned.

“You- you’re horrible!” She yelled, before wheeling around and racing out of the house.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #anne boleyn #elizabeth i of england #joan on the keys #maggie on the guitar #king henry viii #john astley #mary i of england #we all still die

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emily-strange · 5 years ago

Text

Second Chances

Dabbling again with those different POV’s!

I also will actually leave camp at some point haha

Tagging @porkchop-ao3 @redeadepression @lucacangettathisasss @janewilson-rdo @gangofgunslingers and @fangirl-ramblings who asked but if you’d like me to stop let me know :)

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You’re Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting when the O’Driscoll’s attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: Sexual themes.

Chapter 5

“Abi. Whatta you doin’?” John asks while making sure the canvas is secure behind him. Abigail has one leg bent and uncovered from the blanket on the cot, showing that she’s only wearing her chemise and small cloth of underwear. She has her arms placed behind her making her breasts push out enticingly.

“Well, Jack’s off readin’ with Hosea…I thought maybe we could have some grown-up time.” She smirks while moving off of the cot and towards a stunned John. She pushes the jacket off of his shoulders and breaths in his sent from the crook of his neck, smirking when he shivers.

John moves to gently push Abigail back but before he can, she moves on her own.

“Why d’you smell different?” Abigail asks and John genuinely doesn’t know what she means, so he shakes his head and moves past her to sit on the edge of the cot.

“Abi you can’t be here. I got guard duty; I need ta sleep.” John rubs his hands over his face, missing the gigantic eye roll Abigail gives him. She saunters over to him and pushes on his shoulders lightly, making him look up at her. Before he can protest, she rubs at his tense, tired shoulders.

“Well, then let me make sure you get a good sleep.” Abigail whispers, kneading into the knots to loosen them. John groans and closes his eyes causing her to smile, “There we go.”

For a few moments they stay like this. Abigail standing between John’s legs, working on his tired muscles. She can sense him relaxing and places a delicate kiss on his non-scarred cheek, taking notice of the way his throat bobs as he swallows nervously. She bites her bottom lip and swipes her tongue against his Adams apple before kissing across his neck, the way she knows he likes.

John feels like he can’t breathe. Its been a long while since he’s been touched this way and his body reacts quickly. As Abigail trails her fingers down his neck to his chest, he feels his heart thudding away. Before Abigail can pop the third button of his shirt, he grabs her hands and clears his throat.

“Whatta you doin’ Abigail?” he whispers and with her crouching they’re just about eye level, “You…you’ve not so much had a kind word ta say since I’ve been back. Why now?”

Abigail physically bites at her tongue from annoyance but doesn’t let that seep into her voice as she replies, “Let’s not talk about that now John…..jus’….jus’ let me make you feel good.” And before John manages to say another word, Abigail gently collides her lips with his.

John’s hands clutch at her waist and she smiles into the kiss as he whimpers. Audibly whimpers. He closes his eyes and allows himself to bask in the tenderness. She’s being so gentle, she’s not usually so gentle. Abigail licks her tongue into John’s mouth and plants both bare knees on the cot either side of him, making his hands slip round to land on her lower back.

“I want you John. I always wanted you.” Abigail whispers against his lips and can’t help the knowing smile that graces her face when his eyes remain closed and his hands grip that bit harder against her, “You know what we have.”

John’s harder than he’s been in months and Abigail’s sweet words while she straddles him aren’t helping the matter. He knows, deep, deep down that she’s doing this for a reason. That she didn’t just wake up this morning and decide she suddenly just had to have John Marston. He knows this is about Jack or the gang or needing him on side for something but in the moment, he can’t find the strength to care.

“Do you want me John?” Abigail asks in that hushed tone women use when they’re playing the part, “Do you need me like I need you?” And when she pushes her hand up into his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, he’s done for.

John grabs her backside and grinds his crotch up into hers, causing her to gasp. The feeling sends electricity through his body and he does it again even harder.

“Yes John.” Abigail moans as the feeling jolts through her as well. She brings his lips back to hers in a heated, ferocious kiss. One that causes them both to moan into the others mouth. Abigail rips at his shirt, sending buttons flying all over the tent and runs her soft palms down his chest. The feeling of her tender embrace and her skin on his is enough to make John’s eyes roll back and his hard cock pulse against her core.

Abigail pulls her lips away from John’s and runs her nose down his neck, breathing deeply before swirling her tongue around his pulse point. She nips her way up and down his throat while pushing down onto his erection. She sighs into his ear and John trembles at the warm feeling of her breath against him.

John moans quietly and feels the tightness in his trousers almost too much to bear. He shifts Abigail back a bit with the intent of opening his fly and Abigail’s eyes light up. As he works on the buttons, she brings his chapped lips back to hers while smiling and says, “See John, we could be happy.”

Abigail’s words cause John to pause and gently push her away from his face. He pants heavily and pushes the voice telling him to continue to the back of his mind. Her look of genuine surprise makes his heart clench but he shakes his head and pushes so Abigail is able to stand back up.

He picks up the skirt she discarded and hands it to her without meeting her eyes, “I really need ta sleep Abi. I think….I think ya should leave. ‘M sorry.”

Abigail breathes heavily through her nose and snatches the skirt from his hand. While she puts it on, she shakes her head and watches as he changes shirts.

“Ya know John. You really can be so stupid.” She states firmly and John just nods while buttoning up the new shirt, “You could have everythin’ a fella wants. The love of’a woman and a beautiful son. Well, you got the son so you best start payin’ attention ta the first part.”

John clutches at his cot with tense hands and bows his head, staying silent and avoiding her furious gaze.

Abigail fixes her clothes and eyes John’s discarded shirt on the floor. She snatches it up and moves to leave the tent before running her hand through her tousled hair. She takes a second to breathe before moving back to John and pushing the hair from his forehead; leaving a small, quick kiss in the middle.

When she leaves, John lies back on his cot and does up his trousers. He stares at the ceiling of the tent for a few seconds before feeling his eyes beginning to wet. He throws one arm over his eyes, shielding them from the light and places his free hand on his stomach. John clenches his fist, digging his nails into the palm of his hand as he quietly sniffs.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

You sit back with the other ladies, carrying on with the remaining washing when you see Abigail practically skipping towards you. “Ladies” she greets brightly and everyone, including you, respond with a smile. Even if yours is a tad strained.

“Oh y/n” Abigail sings, “Can I add this to ya pile?”

Abigail hands you a shirt and you notice that most of the buttons are broken off. You weren’t planning on asking why but Abigail answers the question anyway, “It’s John’s. I’ll sew it back up afta it’s clean. He was uh….in’a bit of a hurry.”

Abigail winks at Mary-Beth, who giggles, then walks away to greet Jack who’s still sitting with Hosea.

You feel the cold shiver rising from your toes all the way to the top of your head. You place the shirt onto the pile and fight the feeling of tears that threaten to gather in your eyes. You know what she’s doing. You aren’t stupid. You just try to remember John’s your friend and nothing more. There’s no reason to get upset.

Unbeknownst to you, Tilly and Mary-Beth exchange a quick look of worry as Tilly smoothly moves the shirt from your pile to hers.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the early hours you find yourself unable to sleep, so you go to the scout fire. The main campfire always has people sleeping around it and you just wanted to be alone.

After you’d finished the washing earlier you had an early dinner from your own supplies and went to bed. While in town last week you’d bought a tent, which you sometimes shared with your mother, even though it was a small fit. Tonight though she was with the other women, sensing you needed your space.

So currently you’re sat at the scout fire drinking whiskey from a bottle you also bought with your own money. Something about using your own stash made you feel less like one of the gang, which made it easier to convince yourself that this was only temporary. So you shouldn’t bother getting attached.

Unfortunately, because you’d gone to bed early, you weren’t aware of who was on guard duty until Bill arrived to take over.

“Hey uh….” Bill stutters.

“Y/n, Bill. My names y/n.” you respond to him when he comes up short. You take a swig from your bottle and don’t even bother to look at him.

“I know! You uh, seen John?” he questions and that does make you look at him.

“No. Why?” you answer but before he can respond, John shows up from the trees. Bill doesn’t say anything but goes to greet him and take the rifle. He wanders off to his post and John spots you at the fire. You avert your eyes from his but this doesn’t seem to deter him.

He comes to sit across from you at the little fire.

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