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fangirl-dot-com · 5 months

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😾Really Nice Guy Who Hates Only You

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Celebrity!Reader Genre: Fluff/Miscommunication/Humor/SMAU Summary: Oscar was known to be the epitome of a polite cat. His reputation is that he is genuinely nice to everyone. Well, everyone except for you.

*once again, I have loved writing for this series and it seems like everyone loves these chapters (as they have the highest notes out of all of them). I'm really excited for what is to come! I have loved making all the special tweets and other additions to the posts!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Oscar had been in a bad mood. The garage could practically feel the cloud that surrounded the Aussie as he walked through the garage on Saturday morning for the sprint. The scrunch of the nose and the constant side eyes also gave it away.

Normally, Oscar tends to be more on the quiet side. But today, he was even quieter. Gone was the polite cat, and it was replaced by a very grumpy feline.

“Hey Oscar! Come meet our guests!”

Oscar let out a sigh as he turned around and put a very fake smile on his face. This is the moment he had been dreading ever since you stepped into the garage. He did, or couldn’t, understand why you were wearing his number on the back of the jersey you wore.

It disgusted him.

You were very pretty though, he had eyes. Your hair went very well with the papaya orang and your smile could pretty much kill a man in a 10-foot radius. Except that right now, Oscar wanted your perfect hair to catch on fire and he’d avoid the smile.

When he finally got closer, he stopped a few feet in front of you, not wanting to get too close. Two hands clapped him on the shoulders as Lando started to shake him.

“So Os-cah, this is Y/n L/n, 2-time Grammy Award winner and probably the prettiest guest we’ve ever had.”

All right, so Lando was a gonner.

Oscar fought the urge to roll his eyes right into the back of his head so he wouldn’t have to look at you anymore. But your smile was oh-so pretty. You looked at him with wide eyes as you held out your hand for a shake.

However, Oscar just looked at it, then looked at you.

“Welcome.”

Lando reeled back, confused at his younger teammate’s coldness. The two watched as your smile faltered just a bit. (If Oscar had any remorse, he didn’t show it.) You were quick to recover and spread another smile, even if this one wasn’t as real as the first.

You put your hand down as you greeted, “It’s such an honor to finally meet you! I’ve been a fan for what feels like forever.”

Oscar grunted. “Can’t say the same.”

You absolutely wanted to whimper. You had been waiting to be invited to a Formula 1 garage ever since you won your first Grammy. And well, you had other offers from Red Bull or Ferrari, but the McLaren garage is the one you wanted to be your first. So, you had declined and declined until you knew that you could meet the driver that you had been following for so long.

But now that you finally met him, you wondered why he was such an asshole.

You pushed down your feelings and continued. “That’s ok. My music isn’t for everyone. But I wanted to congratulate you on your rookie season last year!”

“Thanks.”

Ok, Lando knew something was up and he couldn’t take the hurt-puppy-eyes coming from you anymore. The Briton was about to say something, but Zak had decided to interrupt with another celebrity guest.

“Guys, this is Sabrina, she’s also joining Miss L/n in the garage today. Ladies, we have two headsets for you in the back when we’ll go over some last minute car things if you’d like to listen in!” Zak explained.

It only hurt when Oscar eyes lit up at your fellow musician, brushing past you to personally introduce himself. Lando was now left with a very sad Grammy winner on his hands. He gently put his arm around your waist to bring you to the side.

When a long sigh escaped your lips, Lando felt awful.

“Y/n, I swear he’s normally the nicest person on the planet. Oscar always seems to love everyone, no matter the guest.”

Your eyes flitted over to where Oscar was now animatedly talking to Sabrina about her new album. You let out a scoff.

“Yeah, everyone but me. Maybe I should have just taken the offer from Red Bull or Ferrari.”

Lando pouted. He knew that you had been a fan of Oscar’s way back to the start of his F2 season. And then you had purposefully put the word McLaren in many different songs. Hell, your newest album titled “Momentum” was basically a love letter to your beloved team. You even had plans to become an investor once you could make the first payment.

The Briton felt lost. “I was going to find Max and Charles if you’d like to join me?”

You took one more look at Oscar, not surprised to see him glare at you from the side. That action made up your mind and you agreed to go with Lando.

Taking with Max and Charles was like a breath of fresh air. The two were great conversationalists and pretty funny. The Monegasque even invited you into one of the media buildings to look at the behind the scenes, which put you in awe.

The two rivals, thought, couldn’t understand why you were attached to Lando when you had a giant 81 on the back of your jersey.

“Have you met Oscar yet?” Charles asked. When you tensed, he knew that he had asked a wrong question. Your expression quickly became sad.

“Yeah. But I don’t think he likes me very much,” you muttered.

Max scoffed. “That’s absurd. He’s quiet, but he’s nice to everyone.”

Lando winced. “But for some reason, he was being really rude and just standoff-ish.”

You looked so dejected. “At first I thought he might not be a fan of my music, but then he was super smiley with Sabrina and we co-wrote most of mine and her songs. So it’s not the genre.”

The Briton wanted to try to bring your spirits back up, but he noticed the time and said that you and him had to be back at the garage. You said your goodbyes to the Dutchman and Monegasque before you followed Lando back to the garage.

On your way in, Oscar sent you yet another glare as he got ready to be in the car.

Although he had been mean, you still said, “Good luck.”

Maybe he heard you or didn’t, but he never responded or acted like he took it to heart.

When Oscar was able to overtake multiple cars and finish the sprint in P2, you were ecstatic. His terrible attitude did not hinder your joy for the Aussie. You didn’t secretly call yourself the #1-Piastri fan for nothing. Sabrina laughed next to you as you hopped up and down, glad that your driver finished well in the points.

It was sad for Lando who didn’t make it past P5, but the Briton explained that qualifying for the actual race is when it truly counted.

You watched with stars in your eyes as Oscar walked up after Charles to be interviewed by Jensen Button.

The former driver asked the first question.

“Oscar, first congrats on the P2, you did a lot of overtaking. Was that in the strategy?”

The Aussie laughed, really showing that he indeed was polite to everyone.

“Well the strategy is always to win, but we were close with all the upgrades. It’s been good and I’m ready for the races to come.”

A few more questions were asked and exchanged before Jensen somehow brought you up.

“So we saw that Y/n L/n and Sabrina Carpenter were both in the McLaren garage. And we all know that Y/n is a massive McLaren fan as well as your fan. Have you listen to any of her songs?”

Many people definitely saw the change in facial expression when your name was brought up. The smiley Oscar was replaced with a bored one.

“Well, I don’t really listen to artists who bash or make fun of my driving.”

Jensen gave me a very curious look. “She actually praises you in most of her songs.”

The Aussie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like the one where she said she crashed her McLaren like Piastri.”

Your eyes widened, along with everyone else in the garage. Those were definitely not the lyrics to one of your songs. Lando also had wide eyes and he was looking right at you, who seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“I would never do that,” you said, looking into Lando’s hazel eyes. The Briton looked puzzled. He had specifically played or sung songs for the Aussie that mentioned McLaren or Oscar.

You kind of just sank into the background, trying to process what could have gone wrong. Lando on the other hand raced to catch Oscar as he was walking into the garage.

“Mate, what are you doing?” Oscar asked as Lando was directing him to one of the driver rooms. Lando slammed the door and turned to Oscar.

“What are the lyrics to Y/n’s song?”

There was another eye roll. “Lando you sung them to me like two weeks ago.”

Land shook his head. “But tell me.”

Oscar huffed, “Small talk, big love. Act like you don’t care but I disagree. When I crashed my McLaren like Piastri.”

“Stop!”

The Aussie cocked his head.

Lando continued, “Those aren’t the lyrics you muppet. It’s ‘When I crashed my McLaren like past me.’ A few years ago, Y/n used to wreck a lot of cars at a teen. She got better and decided to buy a McLaren when your seat was announced for 2023. And then she crashed it on accident after she got broken up with.”

A look of realization washed over Oscar’s face and then a look of dread. A giant sigh left his lips. Lando thought he was going to pass out or something but the second Papaya driver quickly ran out of the room. He stopped short of where you had sat in the back of the garage and quietly started to step closer.

Your head was in your hands but you looked up when you heard footsteps. You were shocked to be looking at Oscar, who had a guilty look on his face. You shot up out of your seat and began to ramble.

“Oscar, I swear, I would never back and diss you in any of my songs. You’re truly my favorite driver and I was so excited to meet you. I have put your name in my songs before, but it’s only been praise. I’m so sorry that you’ve been thinking that I’d make fun of your driving and-“

Oscar held out a hand to stop you.

But now it was his turn to ramble, hands flying everywhere.

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry. I’ve been an utter asshole to you all day. That was horrible of me. Lando sung me the song a few weeks ago, but it was pretty mumbled because he couldn’t remember some of the words and I heard Piastri instead of past me and I just thought the worst and…”

Lando was having a field day watching you watch Oscar with stars in your eyes as he apologized over and over again.

The Briton pretended to dust his hands off as he watched Oscar pull out his phone and offer it to you.

“Another day, another matchmaking completed.”

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_l/n thank you so much McLaren for the amazing day today! It was truly a dream come true to meet my all time favorite driver! little surprise for everyone else - Florida is yours (inspired by a special someone) 🧡

liked by mclaren, its_papaya, oscarpiastri, landoscar, and 3,205,195 others

queeny/n OH MY GOSH NEW SONG AFTER THE MIAMI RACE??

y/n&f1 wouldn't the song be written for Logan then?

y/nxoscar she said inspired - didn't mean that it's actually about him

oscah81 P2 SPRINT RACE AND POSSIBLE NEW WAG

landonorris I too would like a song pls

charles_leclerc we all know she wrote golden about me ♥️

maxverstappen1 I claim midnight rain then

landonorris ☹️

y/n_l/n it's ok lando - working on one now!

y/nsgrammy to think that Oscar thought she dissed him when she's like his biggest fan ever

oscargirlie y/n get's us with the second picture

oscarpiastri was the second picture necessary? and Florida? when did you have time to write that??

y/n_l/n 1. yes, it was very necessary, 2. I wrote it when you ignored me

oscarpiastri and you still wrote me a song?

y/n_l/n of course! most of my songs had you written in mind ☺️

oscarpiastri so. . . dress?

y/n_l/n 😳🤭

loscar-land your honor I love them

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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bakuhatsufallinlove · 4 months

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424

All right, listen. It’s pretty damn funny that two weeks ago I posted all like, “oh I don’t really comment chapter-by-chapter, I’m waiting to see what happens next,” but this one broke me.

This chapter was everything I wanted for bkdk, and it’s so much more tender than I ever dreamed it could be.

This post is not going to be like most of my posts, because I am a flood of emotion. If you’re wanting some detailed, well-researched analysis of this scene, that ain’t coming for a while.

I don’t have some kind of comparative linguistics to show you. I just have my visceral reactions as someone who speaks Japanese and has absorbed Japanese media for many years. I have shared my heart with others in Japanese, I’ve sputtered out words between sobs and felt the many kinds of comfort different people try to offer. I have comforted others who let themselves be vulnerable with me.

In all these moments, just as in English, I wondered if my words and feelings reached them. Each time, I felt the warmth of connection when they looked at me, and I decided that they knew I did my best. They accepted me, even if it wasn’t perfect.

I’m gonna tell you the truth, and I wouldn’t normally say this so directly, but it matters to me: the fan translation for this specific scene is not good. The tone is wildly off in some ways and it outright omits a number of very important words.

The official translation gets so much of it right.

But that’s not really what I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about how people are reading this scene.

I have seen a ton of, frankly, oblivious interpretations of Izuku’s side of things.

Listen to me. Izuku is not making fun of Katsuki for crying, he is not telling Katsuki that crying isn’t like him, that isn’t in the text at all. He is not rejecting Katsuki’s feelings, or belittling them, or ignoring them, or any of that.

Izuku has seen Katsuki cry in-canon a number of times, but every time it was over his own personal failures, and the frustration, anger, guilt, and grief associated with them. We see it in the aftermath of Deku vs. Kacchan 1. We see it during Deku vs. Kacchan 2.

Izuku is shocked to see Kacchan cry because this is the first time he has cried for Izuku.

When Katsuki apologized in 322, he looked Izuku in the eye and told him his feelings with conviction and poise. He was gentle and vulnerable, but strong, because he was asking Izuku to trust them and rely on them. To come back with them and believe in them, like they believe in Izuku. He bowed his head to show his remorse. He caught Izuku when he fell, and he accepted Izuku’s own apology.

He embodied dignity, sincerity, and strength of character. He was a true hero.

This?

This is the raw, honest sorrow of a young boy. It is a tender, earnest, unguarded display of how much Izuku means to him.

These are the tears you shed for someone you cherish. These are tears for when you think you are losing something you can’t live without. Because Katsuki isn’t just crying for the loss of Izuku’s dream—it’s their dream, the future they dreamt up together as kids.

Izuku is almost pathologically incapable of understanding how other people see him and feel about him, but this is unmistakable. He is stunned because there is no other explanation.

There is unmitigated heartache and longing at the core of Katsuki saying, “I just thought somehow we would be together like this, competing and chasing after each other, forever.”

And Izuku is reeling, but so, so touched, and filled with fondness. Look at how his shock shifts to this overwhelmed, affectionate smile.

He’s right—this isn’t the usual Katsuki, and that is precisely why it means so much. We as the audience have been privy to Katsuki’s feelings, but until now Izuku himself has never really grasped the depth of them. This is all the tenderness Katsuki has kept locked up inside, and he is letting Izuku see it for the first time.

To see Kacchan—strong, fierce, and absolutely unstoppable—shed these innocent, helpless tears for him and tell him through sobs that he wanted things to stay this way forever, I can’t blame him for being blown away.

I think Izuku expected Katsuki to be shocked and a little sad that he gave up OFA, both for Izuku’s sake and because it is the legacy of their hero. Before Katsuki even starts crying, Izuku has this small smile on his face, like he was ready to reassure him that he had made peace with his own choice.

But he clearly didn’t expect for Katsuki to weep openly in front of him about it or to confess to wanting him by his side. Izuku had so enjoyed just being allowed near Katsuki, allowed in his life at all—to think that Katsuki could want the same and want it this much, to the point that he worries that things would change, that Izuku would abandon him or deny him? How could that ever be?

In what world could Izuku ever stop chasing Kacchan?

Izuku is a bit of an idiot. He has always thought that Katsuki understood how much he cared for and admired him—that’s why he is so shocked during DvK2 to hear that Katsuki thought he looked down on him for years. Izuku thought Katsuki understood his feelings and simply rejected them.

The way he loves Kacchan is natural and unquestionable. Even now, he can’t understand how Katsuki doesn’t know. It’s baffling to him.

But he still accepts Katsuki’s vulnerability and responds to the intimacy.

This is such an affectionate, loving thing to say. Izuku is being so sweet. I cannot convey to you strongly enough how Izuku telling Katsuki, “C’mon, stop it, this isn’t like you!” reaffirms their closeness.

If Izuku had not said this line and instead skipped straight to this nervous, awkward little attempt at comfort here:

It would have read as so much more distant.

With his tears and his confession, Katsuki pleads with Izuku to not leave him. To be with him always.

And in response, Izuku unabashedly stakes his claim on their bond by being bold enough to affectionately scold him and even assert authority on what kind of person Katsuki is. Remember these?

Chapters 202 and 319

This is such a staple in Japanese media for showing close bonds. Your loved ones know you. They tease you. They scold you. They have that right. You gave it to them.

The people you love cheer you up by reminding you that you’re strong and brave and that even if things feel hopeless and like you can’t go on, that they know you can. Everything will be okay, and they know so because they’ll be right there with you. Of course they’ll be there.

Symbolically, throughout the series, Izuku’s response to Katsuki trying to be closer to him has always been: “Of course.”

He has always accepted Katsuki as much as he is able to, as much as he had awareness for. He is wildly lacking in self-awareness, so it’s certainly not perfect, but by god does he try.

What Izuku is really saying is a mixture of “Really? You want that, too?” and “Don’t be silly!”

One part is him being shocked and touched; the other is him being absolutely certain of his own heart, and showing it as best he can.

He does get flustered and self-conscious, though—because it’s overwhelming to see Kacchan this way, and this is kind of new territory for them. So he switches tactics to reassure Kacchan about how things are now, and make sure he doesn’t feel embarrassed about this outburst. He still has the embers, so it’s okay for now. And their bodies are weak, so of course their heads will be in a bad place too, it’s easy to get low spirits. Of course Katsuki would be feeling vulnerable. It’s normal.

He gives Katsuki so many things here. He gives him as much as he can.

Izuku doesn’t know how long he’ll have the embers for and, frankly, he doesn’t have any guarantee that he will be able to satisfy this longing of Katsuki’s after he loses them. This, too, is a staple of promises in Japanese media: “I don’t know if I can satisfy you, but I want to try. I hope you can accept me.”

Things will be different—the future is always uncertain, now more than ever for their world. But what will never change is what they feel in their hearts.

After this scene, I honestly don’t care if we get something other people see as “bkdk canon.”

What Katsuki says is as good as a confession to me. What Izuku says in return is genuine and pure. This is a messy pair of teenage boys figuring out how to reach each other with words, when they have always been so damn bad at it. This is the two of them both reaching a new point of intimacy and reaffirming everything that came before.

#bkdk #bakudeku #mha 424 #meta #mha spoilers #mha manga spoilers #I swear to god I will fight everyone #my heart is dying at the LACK OF APPRECIATION FOR WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE #some of us need to learn how to love Izuku the way Kacchan loves Izuku

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xxsabitoxx · 5 months

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xxSabitoxx is now archived.

After some heavy consideration over the last few months, I have come to the conclusion that I am going to be archiving xxSabitoxx.

I have poured nearly three years of my life into this blog. I have seen several friends come and go. And most of all, I have been blessed with such a large following that I truly don’t deserve.

However, my love for writing has slowly diminished, just as my love for this site has. I am not going to go into boring detail as I do not want it to seem like I am searching for pity.

But, before I go, it has been brought to my attention that many are displeased with the way I handled a particular anon ask last week. I wanted to take a second to apologize, as I agree that I could have answered that question much more level-headed and maturely. It has since been deleted because I did not like the way I was spoken to, and I especially disliked the way I spoke to them.

I could have responded to that ask in several ways and I chose to be rude, and for that I am sorry.

With that being said, I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs on Tumblr over the last decade under a few other usernames and aliases. I’ve witnessed the steady dumpster-fire decline of Tumblr etiquette and people's genuine disregard for others on here.

I am simply one person with a life outside of the stories I choose to write. I have several priorities that will always outweigh my hobbies.

After all this time, I can say I am finally done. I’m over it. There is no point in putting effort into a hobby I no longer have a passion for. So I am closing this chapter today to start fresh tomorrow.

I cannot begin to thank you all enough for choosing to read my work and support my blog. Whether you’ve been with me since the start or just followed me today, you supported me in some way and I’m forever thankful for that.

I’m deeply sorry I couldn’t do more, and I am especially sorry for those who were waiting on stories that will never be written. I hope you can forgive me but I understand if you can’t.

It has been both a wonderful and terrible journey as xxSabitoxx / May. And as much as I would love to be done with this and simply click the “delete blog” button in my settings – I know many of you enjoy the stories I’ve posted and quite frankly I have grown attached to this blog as well.

So, it shall remain an archive that may one day revive itself but please do not hold your breath. If the day comes that I decide it’s time to delete this blog, I will take the time to move as much of my work as I can over to ao3 before doing so.

So, until we meet again, take care.

- May

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wlntrsldler · 7 months

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another fratboy! luke installment. percy comes to visit!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 (final)

tagged poseidonsfavchild and lukecastell4n.

yn_yln: baby bro came to visit so we showed him around 🏙️

poseidonsfavchild: you did not buy a single book in that bookstore stop cappin for the gram

yn_yln: 😐 go home

poseidonsfavchild: yw for the last picture

poseidonsfavchild: i couldve lived the rest of my life without seeing yall like that tho

bethchase: dont listen to him. he talks about how cute u guys are when ur gone

liked by yn_yln and lukecastell4n.

lukecastell4n: HA I KNEW YOU LIKED US TOGETHER

poseidonsfavchild: i shouldve pushed u in the water and let u drown when i had the chance

gr0verunderwood: me and bethchase gotta go with him next time!!!

yn_yln: yes!! i miss my kiddos 🥹🩵

liked by bethchase.

clarisselarue: u and luke are sickeningly cute bye

silenabeauregard: RIGHT

poseidonsfavchild posted a story!

y’all lukecastell4n and chrisr0driguez live like rats wtf is this?

location: kappa sigma house at umm.

lukecastell4n replied to this story:

lukecastell4n: PERCY DELETE THIS

lukecastell4n: we haven’t cleaned yet :(

lukecastell4n: it doesn’t always look like this trust

lukecastell4n: we haven’t had chapter yet and we usually clean then

poseidonsfavchild: “it doesn’t always look like this trust” ive been here for three days and it’s looked like this the whole time

read.

bethchase replied to this story:

bethchase: oh ew 😭😭😭

bethchase: boys are so dirty

poseidonsfavchild: don’t group me with them

bethchase: i once saw a week old pizza in your cabin that had mushrooms growing on top of the mushrooms

poseidonsfavchild: sorry i didnt have time to clean my room i was too busy SAVING OLYMPUS?!

read.

yn_yln replied to this story:

yn_yln: this is why i dont sleep over the ksig house

poseidonsfavchild: I'm gonna stop u right there

poseidonsfavchild: i dont need to know any more about ur sleepovers

read.

tagged yn_yln.

lukecastell4n: recharging on a brunch date with my fav tridelt after the weekend we just had

yn_yln: hot

yn_yln: love you 🩵 spending time with u is a blessing

lukecastell4n: you’re the biggest blessing 🤍

silenabeauregard: AWWWW SHITTTTT

bethchase: CUTE

clarisselarue: KSIG PRES IS A SOFTIE

lukecastell4n: only for my girl 🤷🏻‍♂️

liked by yn_yln.

poseidonsfavchild: im having a hard time believing that hanging out with me for ONE WEEKEND warrants a “recharge” when ur partying every weekend

lukecastell4n: percy you almost fought the chipotle staff TWICE

poseidonsfavchild: I PAID FOR GUAC SO I DESERVE MY GUAC

yn_yln: YOU paid? 🤨

poseidonsfavchild: MY SISTER PAID FOR GUAC SO I DESERVE GUAC

lukecastell4n: and the second time?

poseidonsfavchild: i didnt like their vibe idk

gr0verunderwood: percy 🤦🏾‍♂️

tagged lukecastell4n.

yn_yln: being in love is fun when u dont have ur little brother in ur ear telling u it’s gross that you’re dating his idol

poseidonsfavchild: I CALLED HIM MY IDOL ONCE

poseidonsfavchild: i’ve grown. i’m no longer young and naive.

gr0verunderwood: LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. he always asks what we think luke's workout is. he's tryna get like him.

liked by lukecastell4n.

poseidonsfavchild: I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE

lukecastell4n: i gotchu lil bro

poseidonsfavchild: don't ever call me that again.

lukecastell4n: i love you forever and ever

liked by yn_yln.

silenabeauregard: wait the second pic!!! where is that!!!

yn_yln: the museum downtown on 6th!

silenabeauregard: ty!!! charliebeck we need to go.

liked by charliebeck.

#hehe silly post #frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smau #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson smau #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo smau

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azrielslittleslut · 3 months

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"The Lost Queen"- Prologue

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him learn about the complexities of the modern world, unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about the forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives forever.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: angsty, kinda dark, mostly a lore drop for later

a/n: i was gonna wait to post this, but i'm the most impatient person alive so here ya go. this is the beginning of the lore drop for this story, and it will play a huge role later on! hope y'all like it! let me know what ya think! next chapter we move onto the present day with our fave bat boy.

Enjoy!

Prythian, 25 years ago

“Hurry. We need to hurry,” the female gasped, ignoring the pain from the sharp rocks beneath her bare feet. She hadn’t bothered with shoes or even a cloak, as there had been no time to bother with such comforts. They had fled as soon as they had gotten word that their location had been revealed. She regretted that decision now, for the icy cold bit into her skin, and she could see her breath in front of her face, mixing with the darkness around them.

Her husband groaned, struggling to keep up with her fast pace. “Do you remember the words, Carina?”

“Yes, Klaus. I’ve gone over them every day since we got the letter.” She looked back at him, noting how tired and weary he looked. The last few months on the run had taken a toll on him, sucking the life out of his once luminous face. “Now, come on!”

Her lungs burned as they picked up the pace, nearly sprinting through the dark forest. Shadows danced around them as if they were trying to shield the couple from their pursuers. She held the small bundle in her arms close to her body, praying to the Mother her body heat would transfer through the blanket.

In the distance, Carina could hear footsteps growing closer, crashing loudly through the dead leaves. “Damn it! They’re getting closer!” Her heart was racing, and it took all of her self-control to keep from falling into a fit of panic.

“Keep going,” Klaus said as he unsheathed the sword he kept at his back. “I’ll fight them off. You have to make it to the clearing.”

She stopped running as she fought back the urge to let her tears fall. “No! We promised to do this together. You can’t leave me.” Her breathlessness as she spoke was not from the running but from her heart shattering into pieces inside her chest.

Not like this, not like this, not like this.

He ran a gentle finger down her cheek, his dark eyes full of love. His eyes were what she had fallen in love with first, all those years ago. They had been her anchor through storms, her beacon of hope.

Now, she wondered if she would ever see them again.

“You know there is no other option, my love,” he murmured. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her frozen lips. She was so numb she couldn’t even feel the contact of his skin. “We have been running for too long. It’s time to end this. You have to end this.”

Deep down, she knew there was no other option, and there was no way out. She gave him a solemn nod. “In this life and the next- “she began, speaking the promise they always said to each other.

“-in this world and the next,” he finished, cupping her face in his hands. “I love you, Car.”

Carina’s heart stuttered at the nickname he had given her. She watched in silent agony as he turned away, his sword at the ready. “I love you, too,” she whispered, but he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness. Though he was a warrior, she doubted he would be able to fight against them. With a deep breath, she locked her feelings away, compartmentalizing them to be dealt with later.

If there was a later. She began sprinting again, her mind scrambling. In her head, she went over the words from that gods-forsaken letter, the one her husband had mentioned.

Find the opening in the trees. East of the mountains. South of the river. Where shadows dance with moonlight and whispers carry on the wind. Repeat the words given to you in the Old Language, spoken only by those in the Royal Lineage.

In the letter, there had been an ancient-looking scroll. Written on it were the words she needed to speak to summon the one they had asked for help. She had repeated them, committing them to memory. She didn’t know what they meant, but that didn’t matter now.

The only thing that mattered now was that they worked.

After what felt like an eternity, she ran through an opening in the dense foliage. The air was thick with the scent of frozen earth, and it was laced with a metallic tang. Chills ran down her spine, but it wasn’t from the cold. The palpable sense of magic tingled along her skin, and she fought the urge to cower in the presence of such a power.

From above, the clouds parted to reveal a full moon, and she could see the shadows darting along the tree line as if they were indeed dancing with the moonlight. The wind picked up, and she could hear whispers crying out, their near-silent voices mingling together into one accord.

Carina took a deep breath, still cradling the small bundle to her chest. There had been no movement or sound in the last few hours, and she wondered if she was too late, if all of this was for nothing.

“You must live, little one,” she murmured to the sleeping form in her arms. “The fate of our world hangs in the balance.” Perhaps the words she spoke were too grim, but they were relevant to the situation.

Carina squared her shoulders, standing tall against the primal power creeping into the clearing. She wouldn’t mess this up. Everything that had been done... the running, the hiding… it all centered on this moment.

With a loud voice, she began to speak those words written on the scroll. Time slowed and the wind stilled as they flowed from her tongue. Even the shadows disappeared, blending into the darkness around them.

Her body began to tremble as she felt the presence of something enter the clearing. It wasn’t like any magic she had encountered before. No… it was something old and dark and wholly other.

Her knees hit the ground as her body finally gave out, and she put out a hand to keep herself from crushing the precious gift in her arms. She went silent as she saw an ethereal-looking form take shape before her eyes.

Clad in a robe that seemed to move with the power of unseen forces, the figure had an aura of grace and power. Beneath the robe, the body appeared to be feminine, with generous curves and full breasts. Black tendrils of hair that looked like shadows blew gently in the wind, framing a beautiful face that held age-old wisdom from centuries gone by.

For a moment, Carina swore she saw the faint outline of wings emerging from the figure’s back, but the sight was lost after a few seconds. Slowly, she raised her eyes, meeting the stare of one who held the secrets and mysteries of countless worlds.

Carina smiled softly as she felt a wave of relief flood her veins. She bowed her head as a sign of reverence and submission. The fate of her daughter was in the hands of this ancient power, and she would do anything to ensure her safety, even if it meant putting aside her pride. Though she was weak and tired from the running, her voice was stable as she said, “Hello, World Walker.”

tag list: @lilah-asteria @starofanotherworld @melmo567 @xxemmarldxx @ivy-34

if you want to be added let me know!<3

#the lost queen #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #dee writes #lore drop for the win #will be important for later tho

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penkura · 3 months

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last forever [9/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: Post-timeskip, go let's go. Of course, they're a little older now, we know Zoro is 21, so Reader is now 20. :) This chapter IS shorter than the others that are left, but that just means we're getting into the better parts of the story. I really can't wait for you all to see what's next. :)

Taglist:

@misfits1a

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7] ● [Ch. 8]

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt such strong anxiety about seeing people, not since the last time you’d met with your parents’ chosen fiancé for you, but it’s come back in spades at the thought of seeing your crew again after two years.

At the thought of seeing Zoro again, more than anything.

The thought of him deciding to dissolve your marriage when he sees you again is the main source of your anxiety, what you try to push away as you leave the lovely group of swordswomen who took care of you for the last two years, those who you’d told about your situationship with Zoro wishing you the best as they dropped you off. You hope no one is jinxing anything, but still feel nervous every time you see someone or something that could be Zoro as you go about, looking for things to purchase and for your friends.

When Nami and Usopp find you, the happiness between the three of you makes all your worries and anxieties dissipate for the time being. Both hug you so tightly, a three-person group hug, you almost cry out of happiness at seeing them again, before Nami starts fawning over how you look so much stronger yourself. She can’t believe how different you seem! She adores your outfit of course, a fitted tank top with knee-length shorts to match and ankle boots, your beloved sword from Elias still attached to your hip. You tell her how wonderful she looks, giving Usopp the same compliment as the three of you start making your way towards Sunny, running into a distraught Chopper who you’re able to calm down after an explanation of the fake Starw Hats on Sabaody.

Chopper gives you a big hug and lets you carry him the rest of the way, its like you have a child but you don’t mind it. You’ll baby Chopper all he wants, it’s the least you can do after he’d taken such great care of you all as your crew’s doctor before you were separated.

Once you make it to Sunny, you’re glad to see your ship and home is safe, and receive compliments from Franky and Robin regarding how more grown up you look. You are twenty now, after all, but it makes you smile shyly and your face feel warm as you thank them both.

After Chopper leaves to retrieve the missing members of your crew once Brook arrives, you start to feel your anxiety creep in again, Robin noticing right away and giving you a soft smile.

“Zoro will be glad to see you again.”

“You,” you gulp a bit, smiling nervously now, “you think so?”

“I do. You two have been close since I’ve been with everyone, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you’re well.”

You really do hope Robin is right, especially when you hear Chopper calling for you all, the large bird he’d left on returning now with Luffy, Sanji, and Zoro aboard as well. You surprise yourself by not crying when you see Zoro, instead grinning brightly and joining Usopp at waving widely to the three of them, shouting their names.

It slightly catches Zoro off guard to see you so happy, but still makes him keep his own smile on his face when he sees you. Robin is correct, though Zoro doesn’t know that, but he is truly glad to see you’re fine, you look so much stronger than two years ago, and seeing how you keep yourself up on your feet when Luffy flings himself down to give you a hug, he’s even more impressed. He wants, needs, to talk to you alone, but after making it on deck, Luffy still hasn’t let you go, Zoro realizes its going to be a bit before he can take you elsewhere to talk, especially so once Sanji recovers from his nosebleed and also gives you a hug. He turns to fawning over you like Nami did, telling you how lovely you look.

Zoro can’t disagree with that statement.

He gives you time with Sanji, who continues to talk to you and tries to tell you about his own two years, until he notices you’re constantly glancing past him, and he knows exactly why.

Sanji smiles at you, before taking you by the shoulder and pushing you towards Zoro, essentially telling you to go see your husband already, he’s been waiting for you to be free so you could talk maybe. It makes you smile at him before you finally walk over to Zoro, who had turned to leaning against the rail with his arms crossed and eyes closed, until you tap his shoulder and he opens his one good eye to see you.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.”

You feel nervous, for some reason, before you notice the scar over his left eye finally and tilt your head.

“What happened with your eye?”

“Training accident,” Shrugging, Zoro stands up straight and you realize he’s gotten slightly taller in the last two years, he notices the same for you but you’re still shorter than him, “Come with me for a bit, yeah?”

Nodding, you follow Zoro up to the crow’s nest, the two of you briefly talking about your two years. You’re amazed to hear he trained under Mihawk, while Zoro is beyond impressed you ended up in a village for swordswoman. He knew you looked stronger, he can’t wait to see how much better you’ve become with your sword.

Once you’re both in the crow’s nest, before you can say anything else, Zoro surprises you this time but hugging you as tightly as he can, which you return once you’ve shaken off the shock that he’s initiated this. You thought the two years would make the two of you drift apart, not being around each other or anything, but perhaps you’d just been paranoid the whole time.

Don’t cry, I don’t want to cry right now…

“I missed you.”

He’s making it difficult for you not to cry, so you just nod a bit, biting your tongue to keep from crying.

“I missed you too, Zoro…”

Neither of you say anything for a while, you’re impressed the rest of your crew hasn’t tried to bother and bring you both back down with everyone, but you’re also grateful for it. You both need this, just some time together, time alone, it’s probably not enough time to discuss your marriage and what’s next, but you don’t really care that much.

“I…I love you…”

Zoro nods, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead briefly.

“I know.”

That’s enough for you right now, it still makes you smile up at him, before you frown a bit, causing Zoro to raise an eyebrow at you.

“My parents…they still want me to go back and marry him…”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod, staying quiet for a moment before you sigh and lay your head back against his chest and gripping his top while he strokes your hair a bit. He may not agree with what you’re about to say, but after two and a half years, your marriage could only be ended by divorce, a thought you’ve hated since this came into being. You even hated the thought of the annulment plans, and now, you two only had the choices of divorcing or staying married.

“I don’t want a divorce…”

“We’re not gonna. Not now,” Zoro hugs you a little tighter, one arm around your shoulders and the other around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the top of your head, “I won’t let anyone take you away from the crew, even if we stay married forever.”

“Thank you…thank you so, so much, Zoro…”

“Of course. I’d never let anyone force you into anything, wife.”

+!+

You think Fishman Island was one of the fastest “get to city enter battle” events you’ve experienced do far, maybe second only to Sabaody. Your crew was separated almost immediately, you ended up with Nami and she took you to the shops right away, demanding discounts and trying to put cute clothes on you, things she swears Zoro would probably like to see you in with a grin while you shy away and push her off a bit. Admitting to her and Robin that you’re in love with Zoro might have been a mistake, but at least you have people to talk to about the situation.

Of course, though, nothing is easy as a member of the Straw Hats and you all quickly are defending the Ryugyu Kingdom from Hordy Jones, fighting off masses of Fishmen to protect yourselves and the innocent citizens of the kingdom.

While you don’t take out anywhere near as many enemies as Zoro or Sanji, you still fight enough to help keep them at bay, getting some compliments post-battle from your crewmates and some of the citizens. It makes you feel both shy and proud at the same time, your two years of training weren’t a waste after all, even Zoro can see the changes in your fighting style and how well your attacks land now. You don’t look as nervous as you used to either, despite the confidant air you’d put on back then. The little bout you two had when you asked to stay with him, he saw you shaking so badly because you were scared but also still recovering from being sick, you tried your best and Zoro could see that, it’s part of why he had no problem with you following him, especially once you let him start teaching you more about swordsmanship.

You’ve definitely improved from the shaky, scared girl he met four years ago.

You feel like Zoro hasn’t changed at all, despite the scar over his left eye and definitely becoming bulkier, he was still the same to you. Still makes your heart flutter when you watch him fight, he still checks on you after fights, it makes you happy to see he’s still the same. He’s still Zoro, of course he wouldn’t change.

“Hey, come with me for a minute.”

During the celebration that’s being thrown for you all as thanks for saving Fishman Island, Zoro takes your hand leads you off again, just the two of you. It makes you comment that if he keeps taking you away from everyone, someone is going to get the wrong idea, but Zoro just shrugs it off. He doesn’t really care what others think still, you’ve always known that.

Once you’re far enough away from everyone, he guides you to sit beside him before surprising you with what he says next.

“We should talk about our situation.”

The fact Zoro actually wants to discuss what’s going to happen next is the surprise, but you still nod, agreeing with him.

“Change your mind on us divorcing?”

“No, I haven’t,” Zoro brushes a bit of hair behind your ear, placing his hand on your cheek which makes you smile at him, “We’re not divorcing unless you want to, but…I think we should try, you know, dating, or whatever you want to call it…”

You blink a few times, completely confused and shocked before tilting your head.

“…huh? You…what?”

“What, you suddenly going deaf or something?” Zoro pinches your cheek a little which makes you wince and pout, before giving him a glare that makes him smirk at you, “We should try a relationship, forget your parents and our original deal. I…I want to try being your boyfriend.”

You really didn’t expect this, you first thought, like you asked, that Zoro had changed his mind and decided he was done with your fake marriage, but instead, he actually wants to give the two of you a try. Wants to see if this might be something that really could last, not a temporary solution to your personal problems.

While you think it through for a moment, you barely register that Zoro is starting to look nervous, something you’ve never really seen before. Once you make up your mind, before he can say anything more, you lean up and kiss him, pulling away with a smile that Zoro returns.

“I’d love to give us a real try, Zoro.”

Everything is going to be okay, you’re sure of it.

+!+

Sanji and Nami can see a difference in your and Zoro’s relationship quickly after you leave Fishman Island. As you approach Punk Hazard, Zoro doesn’t really let you go, keeping you near to him even as you all draw straws and you end up being one of the group to stay on Sunny and keep watch. Neither of them say anything when he pulls you aside once again, but the smile you have while you talk to Zoro tells them both everything is fine, especially when you nod once more and hug him, which he returns to their surprise.

The two look at each with questioning glances, trying to see if you’ve said anything to the other, but both shrug. Truthfully there’s not been time to talk to either of them, and when the group Zoro’s a part of leaves, the two drag you to the kitchen and start asking questions, which causes you to laugh, but Nami doesn’t really think it’s funny.

“Come oooonnnn,” Nami leans against your arm, giving you a pout, “You guys are acting weird, you can’t tell us something isn’t going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nami.”

The blush on your face starts to give you away, and Sanji figures it out, giving you a slight grin.

“Did he finally tell you he likes you back?”

“Mm…something like that.”

“Are you guys dating then?”

“Maybe~” You’re not very good at being coy, to the point Nami gasps and shouts that she knew it before hugging you tightly while you laugh and Sanji sighs, still smiling.

“About damn time. That stupid mosshead, taming two years to tell you anything.”

“Well, all he said was that he wants to try a relationship, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“So he’s your boyfriend!” The little squeal and giggle from Nami makes you join in. “Finally, I told you he liked you back!!”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right!”

Sanji is quiet while he watches the two of you for a few moments. He really does hope that you and Zoro are going to be okay one day, that he’ll stay your husband and neither of you has to deal with the divorce papers or anything like that. He doesn’t want to watch another couple in his life break down, even as you two are just starting out.

Well, minus your two and a half years of actually being married, even though it hasn’t been a real marriage yet. It still isn’t, as you explain after a bit, but your friends seem to get it. You still want things kept under wraps, until Nami brings something up.

“Yeah…umm…about that…”

You give her a confused look as Sanji sighs again.

“Luffy kind of told everyone that didn’t know. It was the day Franky was making comments about you and mosshead being in his bed.”

Groaning, you lean back in your seat before nodding.

“All right then…let’s keep me and Zoro dating between the four of us then?”

“A good idea.”

“At least we can keep a secret.”

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #last forever #fem!reader #roronoa zoro x reader

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pimosworld · 3 months

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Only if you catch me

Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!photographer reader

Series Summary- You meet Frankie when you least expect it. Both of you hiding from your past and trying to find each other won’t be easy, but it’s worth it if forever is with him.

Series CW-18+,MDNI, NSFW, Angst, hurt/comfort, Explicit Smut, D/S dynamics, canon typical violence, Tom is mentioned (but dead), The boys got the money, Frankie helping reader open up in the bedroom, mentions of past abusive relationships, recovering addict, PTSD, tough family relationships, healing through therapy, protective Frankie, protective TF boys, found family, reader is a photographer , no description of reader other than the nickname Flash.

A/N- Coming soon. I don’t post regularly because life….but this fandom has kept me going through some dark times. I’ve been working on this for quite some time and I’m very proud of how far I’ve come as a writer. This is my first solo Frankie series and I can’t wait for you all to read it. 🤍

Chapters

1.Aperture

2. Composite

3.Flash

4.Blue hour

5.Candid

6.Shutter

7.Overexposed

8.Focus

9.Absolute resolution

Epilogue- Golden hour

#frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #triple frontier au #tf boys x reader #triple frontier frankie #frankiesdate #fluffy frankie

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lily-fics-11 · 17 days

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I Can See You: Chapter 5 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @dinanellie, @everegretseverything, @mikellie, @lamolaine, @0pheli4, @soupycloud, @radioheadfan699, @callmelola111, @hysteriawillnotsuccumb, @normalthing111, @3isosoup, @lmaoo-spiderman, @cqliflower

*Not beta read

This took forever and I’m so sorry😭 Since I last updated, I took a trip to see my girlfriend and she came to see me too (if it seems like I’m in my lover girl era it’s because I am). I went on a trip to Disney (I am an extensive planner, I even made spreadsheets. I put my heart and soul into it) (I had to prep my body and mind as well, for spending that much time with my mother, also the Florida heat and tons of walking). I’ve done a bunch of babysitting and have been on the hunt for a full-time job! I missed writing and hope to get to do it much more often now!!!

Ellie Williams is a player, on and off the lacrosse field. You begin tutoring her so that she can get her grades up and stay on the team. You try to keep things professional, however, your affection is a great motivator. Ellie wouldn't be caught dead with you so you become her secret mission.

Chapter 5

Ellie gets a little jealous when another girl shows interest in you. You share many sweet moments as she tries to spend every second with you that she can.

Word count: 4k

CW: *Ellie and reader are both 18* profanities, sexual innuendo/references, semi-intimate situations, mentions of drinking/smoking weed

You and Ellie spend the rest of the time before her practice kissing and planning dates. Neither of you can wait to share your dorky interests with the other.

Picking up your phone, while getting ready to leave, you see a text from Elise. It’s not about homework. You audibly groan and Ellie raises an eyebrow.

“I got a text from Elise,” you tell her and then read it out loud. “Are you going to Kyle’s Saturday night? I’m hoping to see you there.”

Ellie’s face scrunches up in disgust, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I told her to only text me for school stuff. I’m going to remind her,” You tell Ellie, then type out a text while reading it out loud.

“I'm happy to answer your questions about school work, but I’m not looking to be involved with you in the way I think that you want us to be. I’m your tutor now and that wouldn’t be appropriate.” Ellie laughs at that, you ignore the irony. “Also, I’m seeing a girl that I like a lot, you and I aren’t going to be anything more than friendly.”

“You tell her.” Ellie nods in approval, hyping you up. “That girl better watch herself. She might be disrespecting what you want on purpose, but she doesn’t know that she is disrespecting me too.”

Elise asks who you are seeing so you tell her that the girl goes to North, not someone she would know. Ellie laughs again, though somewhat maniacally this time.

Ellie hugs you while saying goodbye, holding your close, not letting you leave until she is satisfied. She kisses you softly, longingly, and the taste of her lips lingers on yours for a while after you have parted ways.

Ellie calls you that night, to check that no one was bothering you. You tell her that Elise had continued asking more questions but you stopped answering.

Ellie was not happy to hear that.

The next morning you get a text from Ellie.

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: You free during home room today?

You: Yes!

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: Meet me in the science wing bathroom at 8

You like the message and finish getting ready. You get a hall pass and leave to meet Ellie. The science wing is empty during homeroom, so it’s a good spot to be alone.

When you walk in Ellie is leaning back with her hands on the sink.

“We’ve unlocked a new location,” she points out enthusiastically.

“We have,” you giggle at how cute she is.

“Less than ideal, but I like getting to see you in person.”

“You spend plenty of time seeing me in person,” you tease her. She walks over to you and flips your hood over your head.

“Actually spending time with you,” she specifies grabbing your hands to pull your arms around her.

You lean your head onto Ellie’s shoulder. “It is really nice getting to hang out with you. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

“A few minutes?!” She practically yells in your ear.

“It may be normal for you to disappear for a half hour but if I’m gone more than 5 minutes people are going to think I’ve got explosive diarrhea or something.”

Her face is contorted in confusion until it hits her, eliciting a discouraged sigh.“You study during homeroom don’t you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s what it’s there for.”

Ellie waves a hand in the air dismissively. “It’s like those yellow speed signs, a suggestion.”

Your jaw drops and you shake your head in mock disapproval. “Remind me not to get in a car with you.”

“I am a GREAT driver. I’ll pick you up for our first date and show you.” Ellie says matter-of-factly. Eyebrows furrowed, but a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Your heart flutters at the mention of a first date, but it is against your nature to halt the banter. “I’ll just have to bring a helmet.”

“I’m coordinated enough to play lacrosse. You on the other hand, I bet you hit a lot of curbs.”

“I plead the fifth!” You stick your tongue out at her.

“I know that one!” Ellie informs you with enthusiasm, eager to impress you.

“I feel like you are the kind of person to know the rules so that you can break them most effectively,” you tease her and you can tell by the look in her eyes that you are right on the money.

Ellie throws her hands up in the air. “I want my lawyer!”

You playfully shove her and she grabs your arms to rope you into a hug.

On Friday during your tutoring session with Elise you are working in a textbook. You slide the book towards her to point to the asymptote in the graph and she puts her hand on top of yours. You quickly pull away and you hear a textbook fall off a shelf nearby, but don't think anything of it.

When Elise asks to borrow your pencil sharpener she tries to slide her hand over yours once again. Before you can react someone coughs loudly from the other side of a book shelf. Elise gets startled and quickly lets go.

Reading over an answer to a problem Elise had done you hear a very familiar voice hoarsely whisper “what the fuck!”

You look around for Ellie but the first thing you notice is Elise’s arm around the back of your chair.

“Do that again and you won’t have a tutor anymore,” you tell her sternly and she folds her arms across her chest in a huff.

Looking around you see a pair of eyes peeking through a hole on the bookshelf, they are green and sparkling in a way that tells you they are accompanied by a smile. Further down the shelf you see another face poking through, Paz, accompanying Ellie on her little mission.

You pull out your phone and send Ellie a text.

You: Are you spying on me???

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: I have no idea what you are talking about

You: None at all?

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: You’re right. Now that I’m thinking about it Paz mentioned something about undercover work

You look back towards Ellie and Paz and they quickly duck out of sight. You have to stifle your laugh and refocus on your job.

Friday at the end of the school day you head to the locker room to retrieve your gym clothes, they need to be washed. You are giddy at the prospect of catching a glimpse of Ellie. Even if you don’t get to talk to her, let alone be near her.

When you enter the locker room you are greeted by the sound of a ruckus. You hear a crash a few rows back, like someone fell into a locker.

You creep down the rows of lockers to investigate. That requires navigation through a crowd of softball and lacrosse players. You see Ellie hovering in an offensive stance over Elise, who is crouching slightly, as if recovering from a hit.

“What the hell, Williams?” Elise asks in disgust, shoving Ellie away from her.

Ellie pushes her back, much harder. “Just think you need to watch yourself, Knolls.”

Elise doesn’t retaliate this time, Ellie plays lacrosse she knows how to rough someone up. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Ellie pushes Elise up against the lockers and pins her there. You may or may not be jealous. “Don’t ever get in my way again.” The gathered crowd collectively gasps but no one tries to intervene. After staring Elise down long enough to make her point, Ellie lets go of her and turns away. Elise watches confused, pissed off, and embarrassed. You know why Ellie is angry with her, though you are baffled that she would display those emotions so publicly.

What if Elise told someone about this and Ellie ended up in the principal’s office? What would she tell her? Sorry, she was flirting with the girl I like. She was MY tutor first!

This isn’t a side of Ellie you are familiar with. This aggression is uncalled for, but it’s attractive. Seeing her physically fight for you? It has you in a lust filled haze.

The crowd disperses and Ellie walks past you. Her cheeks flush when she spots you, realizing you saw what just happened. But her expression turns cocky when she sees the hunger in your eyes. She bites her lip and winks at you. Her hand reaches so that her fingertips brush over your waist. No one else could have seen because of the way you two were positioned. Normally you would have panicked, but the public display of affection was concealed by the angle of her body. Not to mention the way you caught up in the passion you share.

Even after Ellie passes by, you stand there dumbfounded. Nonetheless, you force yourself to shake it off in order to continue on with your day. But your phone buzzes…

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: You liked that didn’t you?

Everyone else should be gone in about 10

Want to wait around?

You: That was a bad idea, confronting her like that

But yes I liked it

And yes I’ll be waiting

You dawdle at your locker while the chatting dies down to silence and footsteps are no longer falling.

Ellie approaches you and leans against a locker with her arms crossed.

“You know where my gym locker is?” You question.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know where to watch you get changed?”

You playfully hit Ellie in the arm. “Shut up!”

“My locker is right on the other side.” She admits. “Doesn’t matter how many voices are around, I can always hear yours.”

Focusing down on your shoes you blink rapidly and take a deep breath, unsure of how to handle this attention. Yes, you’ve received this type of attention before. But Ellie being the girl that notices you is still incomprehensible. Not only that, you have now seen her feelings towards you exist outside of when you two are alone. Sweet moments in secret are one thing, but her defending your honor? Of course no one knows that’s what it is, but it doesn't stop your head from spinning.

Ellie tilts your face up with her pointer finger and your wide eyes stare into hers, they are focused on you.

“What?” She asks, her worry evident in her expression as she searches yours for a clue of how you are feeling.

“It’s nothing,” you lie and Ellie raises an eyebrow. She knows you too well now to get away with that.

“Well…” your voice is soft and timid. “It’s that… you just … seem to care a lot about me. And it’s sweet.

“I do care a lot about you. I guess I need to make that more clear. I have a secret to tell you.” You cock your head to the side in confusion, Ellie leaning close to whisper “I like like you.” In your ear. You start giggling.

Ellie wraps her arms around your waist and tucks her face into the crook of your neck. You rest your cheek on her soft auburn hair and hold her tight. You feel Ellie take a deep breath, breathing in your scent, and feeling her exhale on your neck sends shivers down your spine.

“I have to go to practice but I don’t want to,” she mumbles.

You sigh. “I don’t want you to go either. But super stars don’t skip practice.”

“Super star?” She asks, picking her head up to look at you. Her surprise is so genuine it melts your heart.

“I watched your old games, Ellie. You really are talented.”

Ellie smirks, her sense of wonder broken by her dirty mind. “Talented,” she repeats.

You roll your eyes playfully and ignore the comment. “You can’t slow down now. You’ve got another championship to win.”

She nods in agreement, with a sense of duty. “Very true. I’m like a Wendy’s 4 for 4. Plus I am dating the smartest girl and it would be embarrassing if she wasn’t dating the best lacrosse player.”

“I’ll never eat Wendy’s the same way ever again.”

Ellie’s green eyes sparkle devilishly. “Yeah. You’ll be eating me too.”

“I’m looking forward to it. But my super star really does need to get to practice.”

“Will you stay with me until I’m ready to leave?” Ellie asks shyly, a bright flush coloring her freckled face.

“Of course I can.”

Ellie grabs your hand and leads you over to her locker. She opens it up and pulls out her practice clothes.

You don’t even pretend that you aren’t watching. Ellie watched you watch her. She pulls her shirt over her head, only momentarily breaking eye contact when the fabric passes over her face.

Your breath hitches seeing her like this. Her sports bra hugging her exquisitely and her abdomen pleasantly toned. The urge to trace you fingertips over her impressive body burns in the pit of your stomach.

“Like what you see?” Ellie chuckles, clearly pleased to see you gawking at her.

“I guess you could say that,” you sigh, pretending like you aren’t ogling at her body.

“Don’t lie to me, tutor girl.”

You cross your arms and pout. “Fine. I’m impressed. Happy now?”

“Very.” Ellie hooks her arm around your waist and drags you into her, hastily, and you have to grab her shoulders to steady yourself. Ellie presses her forehead to yours and you take a deep breath after she has taken it away.

“Pretty girl.” Ellie mumbles and you just gaze at her starry eyed. Ellie kisses you gently and you let your hand slide down her body, over her perky breasts and tight abs. You grab her hips firmly when you get there and then distance yourself, still holding on to her.

“Practice,” you remind her and she groans. Ellie throws on her practice pinnie and then slides down her pants leaving her in her boxers. Thankfully she pulls a pair of shorts over them right away.

Ellie puts her clothes away and starts taking her practice things out.

“Can you hold this for me?” She asks, extending her lacrosse stick towards you. You nod as you take it. Ellie slings her lacrosse backpack over her shoulder and stops to take you in for a moment.

“I didn’t actually need you to hold it,” Ellie admits. “I just knew you would look cute.”

You shake your head at her and bite back a smile.

“I’ll text you after practice,” she tells you before giving you a quick peck on the lips and heading out.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment.

Is this real?

Does Ellie Williams really like like you?

This is not something you ever imagined happening, but here you are, kissing her before she goes to practice.

You literally pinch yourself so that when you get a text from Ellie you know it’s real.

Ellie sends you a message after she has finished with her practice. You ask each other about your time apart and chat.

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: Can you send me your schedule?

You: Plan on stalking me?

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: Yes

I’ve got some of it figured out but I want to try and run into you whenever I can

You send her a picture of your schedule.

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: I didn’t know half these classes existed

This doesn’t look fun

Like at all

You: Don’t worry about me😂

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: Don’t tell me what to do😡

I’m going to make sure you don’t get too stressed💚

You: I have a few ideas about how you could do that

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: 👀👀👀👀

I will mix wholesome and not so wholesome

You: Sounds like a plan

Ellie ends up going on a rant about practice, Abby Anderson did something to piss her off. However, Ellie’s team won their scrimmage so it’s okay.

You text Ellie the rest of the night and end up staying up later than usual until you finally say goodnight. Even though you don’t want to.

On Saturday Ellie has an away game and then goes to a party with a bunch of her teammates.

You spend the afternoon studying, then go to a party yourself. Definitely not the same one.

Elise eyes you from across the room and you ignore her. When your friends ask why you are giving her the cold shoulder you tell them it’s because you are her tutor now. Your friends are relieved, they know how that type of thing has gone in the past. You are happy they don’t know it already happened again.

You socialize outside of your friend group too, politely ignoring any flirting. You have a lot of fun, even if you are waiting for your phone to buzz.

You hear from Ellie more than you expect to. She keeps you updated on the drama around her and you can tell she had been smoking before she even mentioned it. She is more silly than usual, and it’s incredibly charming, especially since you’ve had a bit to drink.

Nicole sees you smiling at your phone. “I know that look!”

She gets excited but rolls her eyes when you try to brush it off. She looks you up and down with a bit of an attitude, it’s unlike you to keep this kind of thing from her.

“Fine. I’m talking to a girl,” you admit and Nicole’s eyes light up.

“Are you going to tell me who it is?” She pesters you, a wildly excited look in her eyes.

You make up a little lie. Nicole isn’t ready for the truth yet. “She goes to North. You wouldn’t know her.” Nicole knows who Ellie is but she doesn’t really know her. Not like you do.

She squints her eyes at you. “Is that all I get?”

“For now.” You take a long sip of your drink, signaling you are moving on from this topic.

Nicole shakes her head in disapproval. “I guess that’s better than nothing. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting about this.”

You and your friends get picked up around 2 am. On your way back to Nicole’s you get a text from Ellie, asking you to come over. You tell her that you can’t drive anywhere because you’ve been drinking. She says she is high but can walk to you, so you explain that you are sleeping over at a friend’s. Ellie says she will be coordinating with you next weekend because she always misses you extra when she’s intoxicated.

Sunday is busy. School work, chores, and family dinner.

Ellie gets some homework done too, alongside a bunch of yard work with Joel.

You: Good morning:)

What are you doing up so early?

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: Getting you coffee

You: I always make it at home you don’t have to do that

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: I want to.

And I know your order anyways

You: How????

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: I took a picture of it that day you came in late with Dunkin

In case I ever needed it

You: I’m genuinely impressed

You’re 10 steps ahead

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: 🫡

Meet you at your car when you get to school?

You: What if someone sees us?!

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: I’m like Michael Jackson

You: ???????

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: A smooth criminal

You: That’s actually a good one😂

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: I’m glad you said that, otherwise I’d have to beat it

You: Okay ma’am that’s enough

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: Don’t act like this isn’t a thriller for you my PYT

You: You are too much

In the best way possible

Space Nerd 🚀🤓:

When you park at school you let Ellie know that you have arrived.

Out of nowhere Ellie casually strolls by and leaves a cup of coffee on the hood of your car.

As you are getting out and picking it up Abby pulls in next to you. She gives you a smile and a wave, so you politely wave and smile back.

Your phone immediately starts ringing and you pick up.

“NO FUCKING WAY SHE’S GOT THE SPOT NEXT TO YOU!” Ellie yells into the phone and you are grateful the volume wasn’t all the way up. Would’ve burst your eardrums.

“Last year too,” you inform her.

“My enemy is living my dream,” Ellie practically growls.

“I would pay good money for you to be my parking neighbor,” you promise her.

“Top dollar?” She questions, deadly serious.

“Absolutely!” You assure Ellie. You hear her sigh in relief.

“Thank you. I gotta go but I’ll talk to you later?”

“I would love that!”

“Bye pretty girl,” you can hear Ellie’s smile in her voice.

“Bye El.”

You say hello to Nicole a few minutes later.

“Is that Dunkin’!?” She gasps.

“Uh… yeah?”

“You didn’t even ask me if I wanted any! You always do!” Nicole groans.

“Sorry, I uh… it totally slipped my mind. I really needed it this morning,” you explain, trying to cover your tracks.

“You should set a location reminder on your phone. When you get to Dunkin’ it will remind you to ask if I want some,” Nicole says, not a hint of sarcasm.

You salute her. “Aye aye captain!”

Your phone buzzes a few times during 5th period, but you don’t check it until class is over.

Space Nerd 🚀🤓: Don’t go into 6th period right away (12:35 pm)

My class is right across from yours (12:35 pm)

I want to say hi (12:35 pm)

And maybe kiss you👀 (12:35 pm)

Hi (12:47 pm)

Hey (12:53 pm)

You don’t check your phone during class do you (12:55 pm)

When you see the messages you like them all and hurry to your next class.

As you approach your 6th period class you look for Ellie. She is outside the door across the hall, mindlessly rummaging through her backpack, despite looking around for you and not at all paying attention to what she is doing. Ellie winks at you when she spots you.

When the bell rings the hallway starts to clear, so you bend down to tie your shoe to stall.

Once the hallway is almost empty Ellie gets up and starts to walk over to you. Once everyone is gone she says hi and grabs your hand, giving you a quick kiss.

“I know you don’t want to be late. I’ll see you later.” Ellie holds your hand for another moment before finally letting go and heading across the hall. She gazes back longingly, a pouty frown on her face, not wanting to leave you.

You bite your lip, just as sad to watch her go, and think to yourself “I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into, but I don’t think I care.”

#ellie tlou2 #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #tlou ellie #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams au #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie willams x reader

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netherfeildren · 7 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it.

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves.

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady.

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon.

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull.

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set.

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right.

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped.

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him.

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything.

The two of you, like grief and the mountain.

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself.

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be.

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled.

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking.

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs.

A friend, indeed.

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots.

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?”

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were?

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face.

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one.

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you.

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship.

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand.

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe.

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk.

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small.

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can.

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts.

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down.

“What’ve I told you?” He barks.

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian.

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame.

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his.

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate.

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially.

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years.

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly.

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face.

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins.

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest.

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes.

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go.

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.”

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company.

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night.

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated.

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue.

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half.

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man.

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly.

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep.

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it.

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward.

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears.

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal.

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly.

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here.

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions.

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber.

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons.

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now.

Your desire.

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?”

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still.

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again.

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher.

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically.

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now.

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor.

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that—

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man.

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive.

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand.

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting.

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words.

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive.

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust.

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want.

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does.

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.”

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs.

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh.

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you.

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display.

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury.

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence.

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.”

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him.

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact.

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls.

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him.

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand.

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears.

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard.

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter.

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before.

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it.

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him.

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue.

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String.

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other.

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid.

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you.

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight.

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath.

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles.

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself.

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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fangirl-dot-com · 8 months

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Chapter 16.5 - Confessions and Cars 2

I thought I'd post this as a "I'm sorry" chapter lol and I felt like you readers needed some closure.

While writing this, I also realized that I do not know how to write a kiss (due to my non-existent love life)...so if someone has suggestions - I'd gladly take them :D

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

If Arthur thought that visiting you last November before you signed a Red Bull contract would somehow end up with you in his arms, he wouldn’t change anything. Back then, you had been his best friend. And, well, you were still his best friend, but he was hoping that soon (like tonight) you’d be more.

The end credits of Cars 2 played on the tv in the dark room. Most of the drivers (including but not limited to Lando, Oscar, Lewis, Daniel, Pierre, Charles, and Max) – maybe all of the drivers, who had come to visit you after your release from the hospital, had all left by now. A completed Lego Porsche 9-11 sat on the little counter by the basic coffee machine.

Now, it was just you, whose eyes were slowly drooping, and Arthur, who hadn’t been able to take his arms off of you since you got to the hospital in the first place.

Arthur, who had held you hand as the doctor put an IV in, because he knew your fear of needles.

Arthur, who had extra hair ties on his wrist, because he knew you hated to have your hair on your neck right after races, no matter what.

Arthur, who had called ahead to the front desk to specifically ask for a copy of Cars 2 be delivered to the room.

Arthur, who ubered your exact McDonalds order because you mentioned the craving once while you were still under some strong pain medication.

Arthur, who was your best friend, but you honestly wanted to be some more.

Your brain had been running a million miles since your car flipped into the barriers.

“Are you ready to go to bed yet?”

But his voice, was able to stop all thoughts.

You only let out a sigh in response. Arthur didn’t want to rush you, so he just picked the remote up and started your comfort movie over again.

Yet, you didn’t want to watch the entire thing over again.

“I was scared.”

Arthur immediately paused the movie, but kept his eyes in front.

“I watched the sky cross the opening. And then it just, hurt.”

His arms tightened around you. Yet, it wasn’t painful.

“I blacked out for a while. And then when I woke up, all I heard,” you turned to look at the boy in your arms, “was you, calling for me.”

Tears started forming in both yours and Arthur’s eyes. You shuffled a bit closer to him, getting even closer.

Arthur took a deep breath.

Hours before, he was ready to confess it all once you had gotten your first place trophy. He had it all planned out. But then, his world stopped the moment your back tyre clipped the first kerb and then you rolled.

“Y/n,” he started. This time, his eyes met yours. The TV forgotten in the background. In this moment, Arthur was glad that everyone else had left.

You waited with baited breath, urging him silently to continue.

“Well, I had this big plan, for after your race. And now, sitting here, I just know one thing and one thing only.”

You cocked your head in confusion. Yet, your heart was wanting him to speak the once sentence you’ve wanted to hear for forever.

“I love you. And when you didn’t respond,” he took your hands in his, “I wanted to die. And I know that might sound extreme, but at that moment, I knew I didn’t want a life without you in it. I also know that we’ve only known each other for a little more than a year but…”

You decided to interrupt him. “You’ve been my best friend for the majority of that year.”

He nodded with you, heart a bit dejected since you hadn’t confessed right after.

“I’ve never had a best friend, before you. And, I also couldn’t imagine a life without you. And Thur…”

He didn’t let you finish.

His lips met yours in a fervent kiss. You had to take a second to reel in your thoughts, but you kissed back. Because in this moment, you didn’t want anything to change. A large exhale left your nose.

You were hungry for a race win.

Arthur was hungry for your love.

His hands moved from holding yours to gripping your sides. And well, in true Arthur fashion, he gripped a bit too hard as a hiss left your lips.

His wide eyes looked right at your with concern. “I am so sorry.”

And before he could start to ramble in broken French, you pecked his lips. Well, that shut him up.

“It’s ok,” you whispered, trying to convince him. “And I love you too. Maybe a bit too much.”

Arthur sighed in relief and pressed his forehead against yours. “You do not know how happy that makes me to hear.” His words were a bit jumbled and his accent was heavy, but you got the gist.

“What now?”

Maybe it was your fears and doubts, but if this changed things, you’d rather not continue. Because you’d rather be best friends than lose him.

Arthur shut his eyes, smiles, and cocked his head. “I was hoping you’d be my girlfriend.” He gave you another sweet kiss, one that you reciprocated with a smile.

“Well then,” another kiss, “ask me.” A smirk replaced the smile.

Arthur leaned back and took your hands back into his and sat up straight. “Y/n?”

You let out a giggle.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You quickly pressed up against his face. Not in a kiss sense way. More like, you missed and just smashed your face against him. He tried to keep you upwards, but you pushed him down and fell on top of him. Another hiss left your lips, but a laugh covered it. You gently rested your head on his chest as your attention was back to the movie.

“Yes. I will be your girlfriend Mr. Leclerc.”

Arthur just let you snuggle back into him as he played the movie for a second time. Just as Mater was about to be reunited with Lightning McQueen, a thought suddenly crossed your mind.

“What are we going to tell Max?”

April 9, 2024

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 through it all, nobody gets me like you do

liked by y/n.nation, f1_fanatic, olliebearman, and 59,294 others

b0x_b0x UM GOOD MORNING? NOT EVEN A HELLO?

maxiel_lover babe, wake up, y/n just did a soft launch

y/n_nation Arthur isn't in the likes...

y/nxarthur I fear this is the end of the friendship?? y/n-on_top why would it be the end... y/nxarthur who knows, Arthur always likes her stuff and comments. maybe he doesn't like the boyfriend

oscarpiastri rue, when was this?

mcLaren_fan even Oscar doesn't know? logansargeant get in line of who doesn't know

olliebearman mother?? pick up your phone please

maxverstappen1 what the kid said, pick the phone up

box_box_official and the plot thickens

change_ur_f-car y/n not picking up her phone and Arthur isn't in the likes, what is this silly season?????

Big Racer

It's Arthur Isn't it??

Little Racer

who snitched

Big Racer

Kid, he looks at you like you hung the sun It doesn't take much sleuthing to find out

Little Racer

Please don't tell It's so new And I don't want to risk it

Big Racer

My lips are sealed But I do have one question Do I need to give you the talk?

Little Racer

MAX!?

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

#arthur leclerc x reader #f1 x driver!reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc fanfic #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x y/n #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #f1 x reader

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siconetribal · 16 days

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Beyond the Bookshelves (9)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Frustration, Impatience, Time taking forever, Loki still not getting anyone's title right

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you��d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Two more days?! The plastic and metal rectangular deceive creaked from the intensity of the grip, moments away from breaking. “What does she mean, ‘just two more days’,” he sneered the words, launching the device into the leather cushion as he stood up from his couch. It bounced up and plummeted to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud that was masked by the rapid steps of the pacing god. “It is not ‘just’ two more days, she has failed to respond to me multiple times, and she dares to say it’s a mere two extra days? I’ve been going mad in this overly decorated prison tower with nothing new to read! Had she looked at my earlier texts, she could have easily changed the order while on site at those other facilities!” He curled his lips inwards and pressed down on them, coming to an abrupt halt as he clenched his fist and took a few deep breaths, running a hand through his hair. This was unacceptable. He was a prince, and she was supposed to answer to him. Regardless of professional ranking, he outranked her socially. She was a mere Midgardian, and he was one of the great Asgardians, whom her kind revered as gods once upon a time. He knew the Librarian was aware of this, she was well-informed and managed the resources of this organization. And yet, here she was able to cripple him, bend his knee and ask that she return his clearance to enter the library. “She will pay. I will make sure of it.” He hissed the words through gritted teeth.

The spoke words worked like a charm, dispelling his anger as a calm fell over him. His frigid body temperature quickly warmed, and the frost that was beginning to coat the surrounding furniture and floor quickly evaporated. He walked around the sleek coffee table and picked up the abused phone. Tapping the screen to life, he reread her message again. However, this time he focused his attention on her other words. There, in black text, were the words ‘I trust you’. How could she trust him? He was the unforgivable, irredeemable villain who terrorized the world and nearly lay waste to the entirety of the city he was currently in. The very city where she worked and most likely lived in with loved ones and kin. He was the monster that needed to be caged and monitored, never to be trusted. And yet, here she was giving it away to just anyone? He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the naïveté.

No one in their right mind would give me their trust wholeheartedly. This has to be one of those sayings these Midgardians have. What were they called? Me-mes? He relaxed back into the couch, lips scrunched to one side and eyebrows furrowed. “She has to be out of her mind, there is no other plausible option.” The hushed words seemed to echo in the silence of his suite. Painful and sharp, there was no other explanation. “Why else would she wait for an apology from a prince?” He rubbed at his chest to ease the uncomfortable ache that swirled above his heart. “At least she is fine.” The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, but were never spoken. He had too much on his mind at the moment to care about yet another oddity that linked to this queer young woman, it would be something to worry about another time.

Y/N sneezed for what had to be the tenth time within the last hour. She knew planes could be a bit chilly, but she was well bundled up and currently comfortable. Pressing the inside of one of her wrists to her forehead, she tried to assess her temperature.

“I don’t feel warm, but it must be fatigue getting the better of me. I’ve been running all over the freaking globe getting all this set up.” She gently massaged her forehead, closing her eyes to ease any potential sensory overload of her exhausted body. The only solace she had was that everything was set into place and the other locations could begin scanning all the documents they have into the database. She would start the scanning process in the main branch as well. She knew traveling to and fro from the various bases was a waste of valuable resources and, most importantly, precious time. With only two translators, who were not even always readily available; it was better to have them read through scanned files when she could nab them, instead of letting them look at the physical text in person. “This is the most efficient way to do this. They’ll read and translate it, I’ll transcribe and upload it.” Easier said than done, Y/LN, easier said than done. She rolled her wrists and flexed her fingers with grim foreboding, the ghosts of cramps future coming to haunt her like the ghost of Christmas future did Scrooge.

“I’d joke about retiring early after this, but I don’t think this task will end soon enough for it to be considered ‘early’ anymore. What did I do to deserve this punishment anyway? At least Scrooge as a miserly jerk, what karmic deity did I piss off in a past life?” Rubbing the back of her neck, she reclined the seat and shut her eyes, sneezing one more time before falling into a deep slumber.

Two hellish days sluggishly ticked by as Loki impatiently awaited the return of the little nuisance known as the Librarian. The fact that he knew she would be back seemed to make the wait all the more insufferable. Each time he looked at the clock, it was as if the hands were frozen in place. A part of him even wondered if Stark somehow caught wind of her reply and purposely adjusted every clock that he happened to look to show that no time had passed at all. The younger prince knew it was not plausible because Stark had gone on his mission with Thor and some others. They left days prior to her response. He was in this infernal hell because fate was cruel. The only thing keeping him sane were his own meetings and training sessions. Only then did time seem to move properly, instead of slower than molasses.

Great, I’m thinking in such weird terms because of all the time I’ve been forced to spend with the Lieutenant Chatterbox. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. Never mind that, today is the day. He glanced at his phone’s lock screen. There was a notification with the date that read: Return of the diabolical librarian. As soon as the clock struck eight, Loki left his quarters and made his way to the sanctuary he was unlawfully denied access to. He could have left early and been at the door just as it was to be opened, but he decided to have some leniency and give her a fair ten or so minutes to prepare. He was a magnanimous ruler, he would hear her out before deciding whether she left with malicious intent or not.

Standing before the wooden double doors, Loki hesitated for a moment. He gripped his key card that hung from a badge reel on his suit jacket. He eyed the speaker system above his head, knowing full well that the same grating computer voice will spew the same words that have been haunting him for weeks now. This time, he had a response, though. He would tell it that the Librarian has asked for him to come speak with her, and it would verify with her before allowing him entry. If not, he would use his magic to transport himself to the main desk and calmly request that she upheld her word of removing the hold. Pressing the card to the scanner, he watched the red light turn green and heard the chime of it being registered. A click from the speaker above signaled it had been activated. His jaw tightened as he took another deep breath, anticipating the rejection.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne @wolfsmom1

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michellemisfit · 1 month

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✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thanks for creating the game and for the tag @jrooc thanks for the tag @vintagelacerosette

Today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Michelle, michellemisfit

Current Location: Living room, surrounded by feathers, as I’m currently fletching some arrows

Favourite picrew: This one is pretty fucking spot on. Or at least it was at the time. Hair is very different now. But then, hair is always different… lol

Also this one is spiritually VERY me

What's one thing you want in a picrew? Ability to add coloured streaks! And a wide selection of scars, or alternatively the ability to move them around the screen. Either is fine. But mostly the hair thing. My hair is generally 4 different colours. Don’t try and limit me to one!!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Erm… 3 way tie between Mexico Gallacrafts, Fimo Gallavich, and Cookie Gallavich? Maybe? Argh. Turns out, looking back at my art tag… I’ve created some pretty cool stuff. Huh. Yay me.

Why is it your favourite? I don’t really do photography, and I’m really proud of the idea behind and the execution of that photo. And while I LOVE drawing more than anything, I don’t think I’m exceptional or anything. But I’m damn creative when it comes to silly 3D craft projects, so both Fimo Gallavich and Cookie Gallavich make me happy and feel like something not just anyone could do… I dunno.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? It was LONG to create. Both cookie and Fimo Gallavich took several days in total. And I think that’s the other thing I like about myself. I am willing to put in the work, and it usually pays off.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Hah! You’ll be able to corroborate this, I’m not just sucking up!! LOL I’m currently reading Camp is a Battlefield by @blue-disco-lights, @jrooc, and @mybrainismelted, with artwork by @creepkinginc, so that’s the last one I commented on :)

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I mean… every single WIP I have ever started reading, only to realise that maybe there won’t be any more of it… 😱 Every. Single. One. They’re all special, and they all hurt in their own special ways. And I will remain subscribed to all of them FOREVER, because you never know!!

Also? Comment on WIPs. Tell authors how much joy the story brought you, how much space it’s occupying in your brain, how much you would love to see it continue but how happy you are to have read as much of the story as there is because it’s changed your brain chemistry… do NOT comment saying ‘next chapter when?’, cause that makes you a dick bag.

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I’m a sucker for fake dating, only one bed, and a soulmate AU 🤷🏽‍♂️

Least favourite? …not a huge fan of kid fic, but hey, all it takes is a great author to make it work.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Again, do not kink shame, because you’re only ever one good fanfic away from discovering something about yourself you did NOT see coming…

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Exhausted and antsy. Is it good enough? Are people gonna like it? Should I even bother anyone with this? Why don’t I just go and hide under a rock forever?? I felt okay about this when I finished it, why is it suddenly the worst thing to have ever been created??? …I wish there was a sense of calm and accomplishment. There is not. Brains suck!

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @deedala - I so appreciate how we’re on a similar wave length when it comes to art as well as ‘everybody wants to hunt me for sport’ vibes. I know I can always count on you for kind but honest words, and that’s so important!!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Read comfort fic. Probably Like Real People Do or None the Wiser.

Edit: Also? Go and read comments and tags on old art posts. That’s a sure fire way to cheer me up!

This was fun, and made the 15 minute wait between fletching each feather pass much faster. Thanks!!

If you are currently making your own arrows and need something to occupy your wait time with… how about completing a tag game? lol

@heymrspatel @loftec @creepkinginc @deedala @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @iandarling @iansw0rld @ian-galagher @mybrainismelted @palepinkgoat @crossmydna @mikhailoisbaby @sickness-health-all-that-shit @rereadanon @rutherinahobbit @energievie @junemermaid @francesrose3 @deathclassic @faejilly @rutherinahobbit @gallawitchxx @look-i-love-u @jessij1997 @callivich @celestialmickey @wehangout @doshiart @lynne-monstr @the-rat-wins @blue-disco-lights @suzy-queued @sleepyfacetoughguy @spookygingerr @burninface @gallapiech

#tag game #weekly tag wednesday #Mys stuff

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baronessvonglitter · 2 months

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if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 11 | "if it hurts, that means it's working"

Dave York x f!Reader

Word count: 2,566

Summary: scared that Carol will catch on to you and Dave, you create a little white lie that brings out Dave's darker side.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, fingering, squirting, pet name (‘sweetpea, silly girl’), mention of breast fucking, anal sex/fingering, use of sex toys, fake relationship, jealousy, verbal threats, coercion, gaslighting, slight harm done to reader (he grabs her jaw), emotional bullying, brief flashback of childhood abuse/trauma, lotta red flags here, auralism, masturbation. If I’ve left anything out please let me know.

Author’s Note: The week I’ve had!!! (Hurricane Beryl was quite the bitch.) I’m just glad to be able to post this 💗 This particular chapter gets pretty dark (read the tags above) so if you’re not in a great headspace to read, please don’t.

For help in leaving real life abusive relationships, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline 800-799-7233 Abuse is never love.

Series Masterlist

“Quiet, sweetpea.." Dave warns, a growl in your ear. One of his hands gently muffles your mouth while the other fingers your slickness, three of his fingers filling you up. Your legs are over his shoulders, effectively pinning you down to your bed. You whimper beneath his palm as yet another magnificent surge rolls through you and you tremble, eyes rolling back in your head as you come, and a spray of liquid shoots out, surprising you.

"I guess the third time's the charm," Dave grins, slowing his fingers as you finish your orgasm. "I knew you were a squirter. And look, you've drenched me. I'm still in my work clothes, silly girl." He loves calling you 'silly' these days, it's a somewhat appropriate nickname for when you're around Carol and the girls, something that won't attract too much attention.

His come from earlier is drying on your chest and neck from where he titty-fucked you just moments ago, getting you alone as soon as his daughters were asleep. Carol's away from the house, visiting her sister, and you two are taking advantage of the momentary freedom.

“You're such a bad girl for getting me all wet. But I think you know how to make it up to me.." Dave removes his fingers from your pussy and gently rubs the ring of your asshole, causing you to gasp but you don't pull away. "Easy, sweetpea," he murmurs, easing his finger inside. Automatically you clench around him. “There’s a good girl..” he whispers.

There’s a part of you that balks at this, that shies away from the deviance of this act, but there's a baser part of you that desires what Dave desires above all things. He could cut you just to watch you bleed and you would get off on it.

He glides one of your dildos, a bright purple one that you bought as a dare, into your pussy, watching you open and stretch around it while he continues to finger your asshole. You moan his name as he begins to thrust the dildo into you, using teasingly slow strokes at first then roughly, the way he would do it with his own cock. When your moans grow too loud he grabs the panties he'd ripped off of you just moments ago and stuffs them in your mouth, stifling your sounds. You come again, your juices coating the dildo, and before your spasm is over you feel the toy at your ass, replacing Dave's fingers.

“Nod if this is okay, and shake your head if it isn't," he tells you. You don't even hesitate before nodding. He smiles at your enthusiasm. "I've got to get my silly girl ready for me.. I've been waiting forever to fuck her ass like she promised me." You whimper, your ass automatically trying to keep your exit just that, an exit. "Breathe," Dave reminds you. "Look at me and breathe, relax." He's always gentle with you at first, testing your boundaries, right before his animalistic sides comes out and you join him in his unrestraint.

You feel the toy slide in, little by little, already wet and warmed from being in your pussy. "Look how well you're taking it," Dave praises. "So eager to have something in that tight little ass of yours, aren't you?" You nod, heat rushing throughout your body as your cunt clenches in vain around emptiness. "Don't worry, I'm gonna give you everything you want," he rumbles.

“I want you," you mumble through the makeshift gag. "Inside my ass. Now."

Dave's eyes darken as he gently removes the gag. "You're sure?"

“Yes," you tell him with sincerity.

"Spread your legs for me. I want to see all of you."

You do as you're told, and he takes a moment to savor the sight of you before he strips from the waist down, then you feel a warm glob of his saliva on your puckered hole, then another teasing finger before you finally feel the thick head of his cock slowly making its way inside you. Your hands grip the bedsheets as inch by inch he settles in your ass. "Fuck," he growls. You're unable to make a sound except a broken gasp as your heart beats madly within your chest. "Breathe," he commands. "Eyes on me.."

It nearly takes his breath away to see your eyes go big and wide, your breath coming in short gasps as he picks up the pace, grabbing your ass as he controls the thrusting. "My girl loves this, doesn't she? Loves to let me do whatever I want with any part of her."

“Yes! Yes please!" you try to control the volume of your voice, but he's so deep, filling you so full and it feels even better than you ever imagined.

"Fuck," he growls when you clench down around him. "Turn over for me like a good girl. Scream into the pillow if you have to."

Once again you're situated, face down, ass up, and Dave takes control. The smacking of your skin is unmistakable as is the creaking of your bedsprings. You fill your pillow with your moans and muffled gasps as he rams into you, grabbing your cheeks tight to watch as he moves in and out of you while you rapidly finger your clit. "Dave!" you whisper his name desperately. "I'm coming!"

He replies something unintelligible, pulling your hips against his in a frenzy and this time you're not able to keep so quiet. A loud wail emanates from your lips as you come hard, and at the same time you feel the warm gush of his come. You're both breathing heavily as he extricates himself from you.

“Does Carol ever let you fuck her like that?" you ask, simply out of curiosity.

He glances at you as he pulls his pants back on, and it's almost a glare. His first instinct is to warn you never to ask about his wife, but he sees the candor of your expression, the flush of your cheeks in the afterglow of what you've just shared. "Never," he answers. "She thinks it's dirty. She's very.. traditional."

"Vanilla."

He shrugs. "Yeah. Vanilla." There's a moment where his real feelings are shown, and he lets a bit of his guard down when he says, "I wish she were more like you."

You know better than to criticize his wife and the mother of his children, though deep down you know you could do better if you were in her place.

The next night Dave comes home early, as you're helping the girls with homework. "Hello, Mr. York," you greet him with a simple smile. The girls run to hug their dad and you wish you could hug him too. He chitchats with the girls a moment while you look on, pretending for a moment that this is your family..

"Dinner smells good," he smiles at you as the girls get back to their homework.

“I made a roast chicken with rosemary and vegetables," you tell him once he's settled in, jacket and briefcase put away, work off his mind. "The girls helped with dinner." It's not easy to pretend there's nothing going on between you. His lingering glances down your body, probably remembering the night before, are hard to miss, and you pour him some bourbon before dinner, letting him see you take a quick sip from his glass before handing it to him. There's so much said in the words you don't say out loud.

You hear Carol's car in the driveway, a sound you've trained yourself to listen for. "Girls, please set the table for your mother."

There's a rosiness in your cheeks as you dine with the Yorks, something you've done a hundred times. No matter what you think of you can't make your blush go away. You manage to act normally, even smiling at a little joke Dave tells. You're distracted, and Carol catches on.

“Are you all right, dear? You're flushed. I hope you're not coming down with something," she says with concern.

A part of you is touched by her concern. "I'm fine, I'm fine," you assure her. "I guess my head has been in the clouds lately.. I've actually started seeing someone at school."

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Carol beams. "You must really like him."

“I do," you glance from her to Dave and back again. "I just.. I see you and Mr. York so happy, and I want that for myself one day."

Carol's smile is warm. "I hope you find what Dave and I have one day.. and I hope this young man is that person for you."

"What's his name?" Dave asks bluntly, hand tightening on his knife as he cuts into his meal.

“Yes, we want all the details," Carol insists.

"Josh," you answer, giving the name of a guy who's been hitting on you since the semester started but who's never really stood a chance with you. "I think you'd both like him."

Dave's expression is blank but you can sense the wheels turning in his brain. Meanwhile Carol's excitement for your new "relationship" is palpable.

“Maybe a double date is in our future," you follow up, testing the waters, seeing how far your little white lie can fly. "I'll clean up after dinner so you and Mr. York can have coffee," you offer.

"I'll do it," Carol waves you away. "You relax, maybe call that boyfriend of yours." She smiles as she begins to clear the plates away. Molly and Alice go upstairs to play.

Dave's already waiting for you in the living room, the lights dimmed as a police procedural show is on tv. "Who's Josh?" he asks, barely audible over the television.

"My fake boyfriend that I'm using as a cover up for us fucking," you reply with a straight face.

"Clever move." He sips yet another bourbon, his expression stony. "If I thought for a moment you were actually involved with this Josh person, I'd have to kill him."

You shake your head. "Jesus, Dave. Be nice." You elbow him playfully.

"If you were ever to cheat on me, with Josh or anyone else.. their blood would be on your hands, not mine."

Everything stops. You stare at Dave. This is the most serious that matters have been between you. You know about his work for the government, his past in the military, but you've never felt him to be dangerous until now.

Seeing your expression change so dramatically he takes your face in both his hands. "You know I'd never hurt you," he whispers. "There are some other parts of my life, things I can't tell you yet.. I know you'll understand when the time comes." When you don't reply he applies just enough pressure to make you worry. "Say it. Say you know I'd never hurt you."

It's too much like something your father would do, guilt you into loving him. Make himself look sorrowful for all the bad he'd done and swear it wasn't on purpose, tell you his love for you was special, one of a kind. This is too much like one of those moments. But you repeat the words, because you're good at doing what you're told. "I know you would never hurt me, Dave.."

He smiles, all the severity gone from his features. "Good. With that, there is one thing you can never do." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "You can never, ever leave me. If you do, I'll do things you can't imagine." He smiles again and gives you a kiss on the forehead. "Never leave me, my girl."

You shake your head eagerly, eyes wide. "I won't.."

His fingertip traces your lips, circling them with a softness that belies the coldness in his eyes. "I'm going to be with Carol tonight. You're right, we need to throw her off the scent." He's doing this to get back at you, in a way, for creating your lie about having a love interest. "Are you going to be a good girl and wait for me after?"

A cold stab of fear, of jealousy, enters your heart, twists your stomach. "Dave, you're being cruel.."

"I'm being practical," he corrects you, removing his touch from you. "Obviously I'm not going to force you, but if you leave your bedroom door unlocked tonight I'll take that as a nice, warm welcome from you."

"You're an asshole," you mutter, leaving the room. But after putting the girls to bed and having some time alone, you leave your door unlocked.

It's late when you hear Carol and Dave in their room, and you press your ear to the wall, your headboard sharing the same wall as theirs.

"I don't know about you, my love, but today has been really long," you hear Carol say.

"I think I might just have the remedy for that," Dave's deep voice is heard.

Your heart pounds so hard but you can't not listen. You hold your breath, excited and anxious in a depraved kind of way. It feels wrong. Then again, Dave belongs to you, so in a way you have every right to listen in. You did it plenty of times before you starting fucking him.

They're quiet, and you assume they're kissing and embracing. Carol giggles and it goes quiet again. The bed rustles. They're practically next to you. "Carol.. my god.." Dave groans, and your stomach turns. You keep listening as your fingers wander down beneath your panties to slowly finger your clit, even as tears form in your eyes. You hear what Dave's saying to Carol: words of praise, of desire, of lust. Soon you hear both of them moaning, their headboard lightly thumping against the wall. He's soft with her, softer than he's ever been with you. That's the difference between a wife and a mistress. Jealousy ties a knot around your heart, squeezing until your tears run free.

The headboard stops and there's more of Carol's giggling, which soon turn into moans. She's trying to be quiet, likely because she knows you're right here next door, but Dave's good at what he does, and eventually she can't hold back, moaning his name, gasping, panting.

Your heart hurts. Your stomach hurts. But this is the reality you're grounded in. This is how it's supposed to be: a man with his wife, not a husband and the younger, naive au pair.

The bed shakes again, harder this time, and both Dave and Carol's moans combine in a rhythm that you'd like to forget. Your fingers don't neglect their work, dipping inside your drenched pussy while your thumb circles your oversensitive clit. It's ironic, poetic, comical, and just plain fucked up that you come when both of them do, hand clasped over your mouth just as Dave does to you. By now it's a Pavlovian response. A hand over your mouth gets you wet, all thanks to him.

Afterwards, they murmur, sharing secrets that married couples do, giving over the intimacies of their heart. Or maybe you're romanticizing it just to make yourself feel worse, to push the knife further into your heart. You cry yourself to sleep. You're going to look terrible in the morning, not that anyone cares how you look anyway.

That night, Dave doesn't come to your room.

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