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heeliopheelia · 11 months ago

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GET HIM BACK! (s. jake)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

includes: making out, skin marking, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, brief hair pulling, choking, slight bulge kink, degrading, praising too, slight exhibitionism, facial, cursing

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰

note: i really hated the build up to the one i posted before so i rewrote it as promised... sorry for the confusion guys ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

guts event masterlist ⋆♱✮♱⋆ main masterlist

“Your parents home?” Jake breaths out the words right into your mouth as he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.

It’s been mere three minutes since you first heard his loud and obnoxious bike speeding down your quiet street. He’s careless and tact-less as always, and for some reason that’s what draws you in even more.

He never keeps you waiting long. He doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s always one foot out the door of wherever he is, always waiting for a single call or text from you. He knows what he wants and is always vocal about it, a go getter type of a man.

So it was expected to have him climb up the low roof of your porch and hear his gloved hand knocking on your window not even ten minutes after you texted him a not so innocent wanna come over?.

As if that was even a question. Of course he wants to come over, wants to see you any chance he can get. He doesn’t need to think for a second to grab his helmet and ride to wherever you are, so needy for him. He’s known you for less than two months – met you at a party and kept hooking up weeks after, and yet here he is, wrapped around your finger, with nothing else in his mind but you.

You’re not much better yourself, dreaming of his beaming face every night that you somehow don’t end up spending with him. You’ve grown attached to him, so attached that the tearing inside your chest becomes more hurtful whenever you’re not with him, day by day he takes a firmer grasp of your feeble heart.

Your hands are grasping onto his worn out t-shirt, kissing him greedily and breathlessly as he giggles into your mouth, pulling you closer and closer into his chest.

“They came back an hour ago,” you answer, raising on your toes to make the angle more comfortable for the both of you.

Slowly, he pulls away and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to the other one. “That’s kinda inconvenient, no?” He asks, nosing at your cheek and you close your eyes and nod your head, melting as the leather of his glove brushes against your skin as he lifts your chin up with his fingers.

His warm lips are on yours again, hand pulling your face upward to leave you breathless in a matter of seconds. “Wanna go out with me?” He whispers in your lips. He hums when you shake your head. “No? Jay’s party’s still going. We could go, hm?” He kisses you again even when you shake your head no. “Wanna just stay here?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out quietly, eyes never meeting his.

“Okay, as you wish, baby,” Jake smiles into your lips. “I don’t mind. Anywhere with you is good.”

Before you get the chance to swoon over his words even more, he’s pushing you backwards and against your dresser, putting his helmet down on it before caging you in between his flexing arms. He kisses you dizzy then, angling his face to the side to press and suck on your lips better.

It’s so Jake-like to make you forget about all of your surroundings, to kiss you into oblivion until your lips are swollen and burning. You never complain – why would you when you know you can only have him for this summer, before college starts again and you’ll be out of your hometown for another year. You always take him in, again and again, because you’re scared you’ll wake up from this dream too soon and never see him again. And you can’t let that happen.

This time he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, the warm muscle working against yours. Your hands finally relax from where they’ve been clutching onto his black top so desperately, only to travel up into his hair. You tug on it gently, feeling the slightly sweaty strands underneath your fingertips.

Jake pulls you flush to him, pushes his hips into yours for any type of fraction and groans lowly in his throat when he gets what he’s been craving for for the past hour.

“Couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see me, baby?” He teases, but you’re nodding your head quickly before he even has the chance to finish the sentence. He smiles into your lips as your desperate fingers pull his shirt up and off of him, leaving you pressed to his toned chest.

The two of you messily make your way to your bed, bare of any duvets and blankets as it’s too hot to sleep under any. You fall on top of him and part your lips only to latch onto his neck, tongue lapping over the bite marks you leave afterwards.

Jake chuckles at your feverish suckling onto his skin, never objecting to being marked by you. He tugs on the leather gloves with his teeth, pulling them off and throwing them on the floor, fingers immediately going down to follow your lead and dispose of your top. You’re only wearing underwear underneath the big t-shirt you sleep in and the sight makes Jake’s mouth water. He runs his hands over every inch of your burning skin, impatiently unclasping your bra as you’re still busy with his bruised neck.

You pull away, visibly pleased with yourself, then lift yourself on your arms and smother his swollen lips again. Jake grunts, kissing you almost just as fervently, hands going lower and lower until he grabs a handful of your ass and rolls his hips up into yours.

You let out a whimper at that, an even louder one following when his slim fingers skim over the soaked cotton of your panties.

“You need to be quiet, doll,” he chuckles breathlessly, drowning the sounds you make with his lips when he slips his fingers underneath the fabric and gets a feel of your slick pussy. “I don’t think we would want your parents walking in on us like that, hm?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stumble out, shifting as you’re laying flat on his chest, face buried in his collarbone and eyes fluttering when his moves only grow bolder. You shudder slightly, feeling his long digits teasing your clit with butterfly touches.

“Ease up, pretty girl,” Jake coos, other hand wrapping around your waist to keep you steady when the first of his now soaked fingers slips inside your tight hole. You nuzzle into him further, breath becoming unsteady as you whine quietly. He moves his hand, burying it deeper and skimming it over your walls.

Couple seconds later he adds in the second finger, the heel of his palm pressing to your clit and making you jolt slightly in his firm hold. He strokes inside you slowly, feeling you progressively getting wetter with his every push. You’re panting, hot breath hitting his skin and making his dick twitch in his pants.

He’s plunging his fingers deep inside of you, your walls squeezing him and stretching out his lips with a satisfied smile. You can’t help but buck into the air in the little space that Jake gives you, when he picks up on his pace. His fingers thrust in and out of you, one by one, never losing their rhythm.

Curving his fingers, his knuckles brush against the spongy insides of your hole, making you moan shakily.

“You good?” He asks, the hand on your waist caressing you gently.

You sigh, hands reaching up to squeeze his shoulders. “Yeah,” you whisper because that’s all of your voice that you can muster.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but tease and you can hear the grin that’s plastered on his pink lips. But this time you only respond with a nod of your head.

With your face buried in his skin, hands wrapped around his neck tightly, you know you’re cumming when the warm wave hits your stomach breathlessly. You’re whimpering in his collarbone, really trying your hardest to keep quiet, but with the twitching pleasure spreading through your body, and his hard bulge pressing into your stomach, it’s quite difficult to stay sane.

Jake gives you a second to breathe before removing his dripping fingers and unbuckling his pants with it. He somehow manages to shake out of his jeans while keeping you steady on his chest and you shiver when you can feel his warm cock resting between your bodies now.

“Stay still for me, baby,” he coaxes you before shifting you on his hips.

Next second, you can feel his tip prodding at your sensitive pussy and he glides his cock between your glistening folds, coating it in your slick. He readies you with a squeeze at your waist, and slowly starts sinking his length inside of you.

“Wait, Jake-,” you choke on your words when he buries himself entirely inside of you, stretching you out and making you lose your composure completely. “I’m still s-sensitive,” you mumble out, about to nuzzle your face in his neck when his hands grip your waist.

“Now, up you go,” he says and lifts you up, making you sit on his hips and take in even more of his cock.

You moan rather loudly, sinking your teeth in your bottom lip to stop yourself from spilling any more sounds. Jake slowly rolls his hips up into you, quiet grunts leaving his own mouth as his hands settle on your hips. He starts guiding you up and down carefully until you’ve fully adjusted to him.

He only lets go once you’ve picked up on a steady pace, bracing your hands on his stomach, the feeling of his hardened muscles making your cheeks heat up. The way your pussy spreads around him is making him go crazy, and now and then he realizes that the combination of feeling you topping him and looking so fucking pretty at the same time, is nothing less than lethal.

You’re so soft under his hands, soft around his cock, soft hands pressing on his abs – everything about you is so damn soft. You’re making him feel almost too good. To ground himself, one of his hands goes up to your hair and tugs on it slightly, making you arch your back and show your pretty, glistening with sweat neck.

He grits his teeth when you speed up slightly, eyes misty and sparkling down at him in your dimly lit bedroom. You’re riding him so well, taking his heavy cock with little struggle.

“So good,” he pants out, fingers digging into your ass. “You’re doing so good.”

You can feel your muscles straining whenever you lift yourself up, tired legs making you drop down onto him a little more forcefully than you initially planned but you’re rewarded with his low moan and eyes shutting tightly, long lashes brushing over his cheeks.

The room feels almost too hot, the house is too quiet for the lewd noises coming out of both of you. Your rhythmic bouncing on his aching cock soon changes to messy grinds as your knees give out and thighs burn. Your movements are shallow and visibly weakened, so to help you up, Jake brings his knees higher and roots his heels into your mattress only to thrust up into you, meeting your hips halfway.

You mewl, your legs twitching when he makes your hole take even more of him. He can feel your slick mixed with his precum seeping out and covering his stomach, and he desperately needs more.

Swallowed by the haze, you push your hips backwards and try to meet his thrusts, making his moves stutter and a strangled groan bubbles up his throat.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says through clenched teeth before grabbing you by your hips and pulling you off of him. Before you get the chance to ask what he is doing, you find yourself with your back slammed to the mattress, and Jake’s hands grabbing your calves and throwing them over his shoulders.

When he enters you again, you feel your eyes rolling back a little but before any sound can make its way out of your throat, Jake’s veiny hand slaps over your mouth as he leans his face closely to yours. Your whimpers are muffled now as he picks up on his previous pace and the now changed position makes your walls clump down on him even fucking tighter.

“Keep it down. We don’t want your mom barging in and seeing her daughter folded in half like a slut, do we?” His words only make you moan louder as your fingers dig into his toned shoulders. At your reaction, Jake’s lips spread with a sly smile as he raises his eyebrow. “Do we?” He asks breathlessly, watching as your eyes glisten in the dark room. “You really wanna get caught? To let somebody see you like that? Naughty, fucking, girl. Well, there you go.”

His hands leave your mouth and settle on your stomach instead. You just can’t predict his moves anymore, too absorbed in the pleasure spreading through your body, so when he pushes onto your stomach and presses you even deeper into the mattress, a loud moan ripples out of your lips. Jake groans too as he can feel himself moving so deep inside you underneath his fingertips. He pushes onto you even harder. Your head rolls backwards until you’re nearly facing the headboard.

It’s quite difficult to breathe and you’re not sure whether it’s from the stifling summer air that’s gotten into your room or the veiny hand that’s suddenly latched onto your throat. His hot cockhead seems to be hitting everywhere where you need it most. Nothing but dumb squeaks leave your parted lips and he thrives off of every single one of them, even deepening his thrusts to hear them grow louder.

His thighs clash into yours loudly and you yelp when he leans even more forward and the one hand that’s currently not on your throat clutches the headboard tightly. You can’t even do anything when the wood starts rattling against your wall.

“You like getting fucked like this? Who would’ve thought,” he hums, grinning down at you with the teasing glimmer in his eyes.

His thrusts are deep, making the tip of his cock kiss your cervix over and over again. The moans you sob out are like a shot of adrenaline in his veins, better than any drug he’s ever tried and suddenly the thought of having you to himself only for the next week crosses his mind. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to breathe without you now that he’s almost sure he’s addicted to you.

He works his length deep inside you. Your vision threatens to turn black and you’re already out of breath when he presses onto your throat a little harder. You send him a half-lidded look and he moves his hand away from your throat to push your sweaty hair away from your forehead because nothing can fucking take the sight of your fucked out face away from him.

Your lips are parted with the ragged breaths leaving them, hands fisting his hair and legs beginning to tremble against his chest.

“So pretty, all for me. All because of me.” You nod thoughtlessly at his words, mind taken over by the feeling of the soon to be approaching high. “So lewd too. Where did your shame go?”

“C- Close,” is all you’re able to say. You can feel every vein on his cock more prominently with every next thrust of his, all of your senses besides touch evaporating. You can’t even hear any more of his dirty words when your climax hits you like a truck, making you let out a loud moan.

Jake wraps one of his arms under your waist and lifts you up slightly, now folding you in half and making your orgasm hit twice as hard. He slows his hips down for a moment to help you ride it out, thrusting his dick with deep strokes.

He’s letting go of you soon enough, quickly forgetting about your sensitive self as he feels the twitching and aching between his legs begin, waiting for his own release. With a groan, Jake braces both of his flexing arms on the headboard and ruts his heavy cock into you feverishly, making you see stars and cry out of overstimulation.

You have to bite on his shoulder to stop the sudden scream from leaving your throat, your whole body ricocheting with his hard thrusts. Your thighs are drenched and so are his, so the skin slapping against skin sounds even louder than before, leaving the backs of your plush upper legs red and stinging.

He loves having you like that, limp because he’s fucked you just that good but body no less responsive to all that he keeps giving you.

“So fucking good,” he repeats himself before abruptly pulling out of your spasming pussy. “Get down here, baby.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you only nod and eagerly pull yourself down on the bed with your wobbly legs. Once you’re lowered enough, Jake angles his swollen cock right above your face and strokes himself quickly, only to couple seconds later cover your face with the thick white ropes of his release. You flinch slightly, closing your eyes as the warm liquid hits your cheeks, lewdly licking everything that’s sputtered over your lips.

“Oh, fuck!” Jake groans, a little pitchier than before, nonetheless just as pretty. You lift your head up from the mattress and swiftly engulf his leaking tip with your lips, milking him until he’s dry. Jake shudders above you and moans, watching you through almost closed eyes as you suck on his softening cock.

You pull away when there’s nothing else to take from him and the doe eyed look you’re giving him makes him weak in the knees. He drops down next to you, brushing your hair away from your cum stained face before giggling and picking up the shirt you’ve thrown on the floor. He gently cleans you up with it, then leans forward to drown you with his lips.

You could kiss him for eternity, be buried with his soft lips on yours. He’s gentler now, pressing his mouth on yours and leaving peck after peck on them.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers suddenly, hazy, nose brushing against yours and making you smile the softest smile at him. “There’s never gonna be anyone else like you, YN.”

And with your heart in your throat, you can only swallow harshly and speak through your clenched throat. “Love you too, Jake.”

There’s silence between the two of you for a moment as you just stay in the moment. Heavy breaths, gentle touches brushing against each other’s bodies and soft voices making promises you most likely won’t be able to keep.

“You won’t forget about me, right?” You whisper quietly, looking up at him with misty eyes as he glazes his thumb over your bottom lip.

He shakes his head immediately, flashing you this charming smile of his you’ve gotten so used to over the past two months.

“How could I?” He’s just as quiet. Then he gently takes your hand in his and presses it to his chest, allowing you to feel the hammering of his heart. “All of this is yours. I’ll wait for you.”

And that’s all you need to hear right now.

The two of you get dressed, giggling and smiling like fools as there’s nothing much left to say. Your hip is leaning on your dresser when he steps closer and kisses you again, sucking on your lips sensually and slowly, procrastinating as long as he can only to not part with you yet.

His gloves are back on his hands, helmet under his arm as he turns back to you and tries one more time, grabbing your smaller hand in his. “Go out with me now?”

You don’t know how you’ll be able to face your parents tomorrow.

You don’t wanna say goodbye to him tonight.

So with a smile on your lips, you nod your head and climb out of the window – hands intertwined together and his helmet safely tucked on your head.

But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends

And he would take us out to parties and the night would never end

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aetherraeys · 24 days ago

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expectations

(a night to remember pt1, pt2, pt3/this)

sirius black x fem!reader ⊹ 7.7k

cw ⟢ suggestive, fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, mentions of sex, no actual smut, alcohol, sirius is so sweet, reader is in denial.

the one time you let yourself get sucked into the fast and fleeting pleasure of life, it had to be with him, and whatever started between you and sirius was doomed from the start.

a/n: part 3 of a night to remember is finally here!! im acc shocked ppl even wanted a part 2 to begin with, i had sm fun writing this ENJOY MWAH!!

A cup of tea.

A singular invite in for a cup of tea started this.

Well, maybe it was more than just the invite, maybe it was the drunk staring and dancing, or the drunk kiss, or the next morning’s tension and teasing—it didn’t really matter what brewed whatever was going on between you and Sirius.

Because it was nothing.

False—not nothing, but not something. An impossible contradiction.

And anything so fickle, so paradoxical, was bound to end badly.

It was never in your nature to do things like this, to partake in things you knew would be fruitless, that you knew would temporary, short and fleeting. But there as just something about him, so unbelievably, undeniably magnetic—an irresistable lure of the reckless, carefree pleasures that life had to behold. The embodiment of everything you’d always denied yourself.

Sirius Black.

You’d only dipped your toe in the water, but he was all-consuming, dragging you in to the deep depths of an endless ocean when you didn’t know how to swim.

Worst of all, you couldn’t even deny it, you were enjoying yourself—ignorant to the rising water around you, woefully ignoring the way your limbs struggled to keep you afloat. Always so in your head about things, taking extra precations, drawing boundaries or just avoiding things all together—accept for the one time you needed to.

It started with relatively small things, even that night he kissed you with such vigour, so intense yet his hands held you as though you’d crack, unfairly tender, and it made your head spin.

Sirius had given you a glimpse into the delights of the unknown, to joys of possibility. You were always one step ahead, reserved, calculate. And he’d gone and dulled your sense like an external force—he was charged with being your wreckening and you were basking in it.

In the span of the week after your kiss, you’d seen him five out of those seven days. His name always popping up on your phone screen before you’d finish work, asking what you’d eaten, if you were busy, if you wanted to go for a late-night drive.

And that continued for weeks—progressing into him checking your rota weekly or when you’d visit James, he’d always find a reason to stay in the living room, loitering around to spend time you.

Even going as far as him showing up outside your house at random points on your days off, playing it off as he was just in the area, looking for a driving partner—and it didn’t matter what obscene time of day it was, you just couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Relenting with a playful sigh and roll of your eyes as you let him put on your helmet for you, giggles ringing high in the air as you drove off into the quiet roads.

He was always so relaxed, so easy-going and charming. Bringing the spark of entertainment into your life that you didn’t know you lacked. You’d hear the revving engine of his bike outside your house, and rush to the door—heart thumping loudly in your ears, a burst of adreneline bursting through your veins.

The hum of his motorcycle beneath you, the cool night air sharp against your skin, the scent of leather and wind whipping around you as you held onto him, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket just a little tighter than necessary. Sirius Black was reckless, and he made you reckless too.

And yet, it was never just about the drive.

Because it wasn’t just one type of thrill he gave you, those late-night drives somehow so frequently ended with you and him, skin on skin—

Your back hit the door the moment it shut behind you, the resounding click echoing in the silence before his lips found yours, all teeth and tongue and unrestrained hunger. He kissed like he lived—wild, consuming, like he had all the time in the world and yet, somehow, none at all.

You let him.

Let him steal the breath from your lungs, let him press his body flush against yours, let him unravel you, his grin against the skin of your neck was so lazy, so smug.

“You’re awfully eager,” you mused, tilting your head as he dipped closer, lips barely brushing against yours.

Sirius hummed, pretending to think. “Well, you wore that jacket.” His fingers traced the collar, warm against your throat. “It’s very distracting.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile was impossible to fight. “You have zero self-restraint, you know that?”

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

And you weren’t. Not when he kissed you again, slow at first, just a press of lips, a silent question he already knew the answer to. Then deeper, more insistent, like he was pulling you under with him. Laughter echoed off the thin walls of your living room, giggling against his mouth when he tugged your jacket off with too much enthusiasm, nearly toppling the both of you in the process. “Merlin, you’re impatient.”

“You make me impatient.”

It was ridiculous. The way he could say things like that so easily, like it was nothing, like it didn’t send heat pooling in your stomach. But there was no time to dwell on it—not when he was pushing you toward the edge of your bed, not when he was pressing you down into the mattress, settling between your legs like he belonged there.

“Godric, you’re so smug.”

“I have a lot to be smug about,” he said against your skin, lips dragging along your jaw, your throat, lower. “Can’t really blame me.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the laugh that left you melted into something softer, breathier when his hands skimmed beneath your shirt. His touch was slow, teasing, deliberately unhurried. For someone who prized themself in their almost prophetic ability to tell how things were going to end, it was like you’d been blinded. Sirius had a way of pulling you into the moment, of making you forget that there was anything beyond this.

Beyond the way his touch became to hypnotisingly feverish, a sharp inhale, your head tipping back against the wood as his mouth trailed along your jaw, down the column of your throat, the scrape of his teeth leaving goosebumps in their wake. He chuckled against your skin, the sound rich, knowing.

Clothes lost between hurried touches, between lips tracing paths across bare skin, between the way his hands pressed against your hips, grounding you even as he sent you spiraling.

There was something intoxicating about him—the way he moved, the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing worth his attention. It made you reckless. Made you selfish. Made you want to keep him like this, to keep the way he murmured your name like a secret, the way his hands roamed your body like he was committing it to memory.

There were a million ways this could go wrong, each more unforgiving than the last, but you still did it, everytime—like an addict, high on the wave of Sirius and everything that came along with him. Even though he took his time, he never stayed—relishing in the warmth of your skin on his, while your chests rose and fell quickly and in sync.

Still trailing breathless kisses along your neck, hand wrapped firmly around your waist, body still trembling with the remants of pleasure. Always lingering long enough to enjoy the afterglow, and then, after he’d cleaned you up when you hung on the edge of sleep, he’d whisper his goodbyes.

He’d slip away—pulling on his jeans, running a hand through his hair, flashing you that easy, careless smirk before disappearing into the night like he hadn’t just unraveled you.

And you let him.

For no particular reason, it was just how it was. This little arrangement was never meant to be more that some small stolen moments and whispered touches.

But so unfortunately for you, things changed.

One night, he didn’t move.

He stayed, stretched out beside you, one arm draped over his face trying to catch his breath. Exhaling a low chuckle as he turned to you, just as out of breath, eyes half-lidded and blinking slow. He reached up a hand, every so gently brushing away some of the stray hairs that had stuck to your forehead, with an uncalled for fondness in his eyes.

“What?” you asked, pulling the cover up over you, tilting your head up at him—pupils still blown, content sighs slipping as your lips as you nuzzled into your pillow.

“You,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and something else, something unreadable. “You’re just…too comfortable.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s such a you problem, Black.”

And yet, he didn’t move.

Didn’t slip out of bed, didn’t reach for his clothes. Instead, he kept is gaze on you, studying you like he was seeing you for the first time. His hand found your waist again, thumb stroking absentminded circles against your skin.

“You want me to go?” he asked, voice quiet, careful.

You should have said yes.

Should have told him to leave, should have drawn the line like you always did. But instead, you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Stay if you want.”

It was dangerous—this thing between you, this game you were playing so ignorant to the rules. But in that moment, with his body warm beside yours, with the air still thick with the remains of lust, of pleasure and the scent of him clinging to your sheets.

It was your first mistake.

And although it wasn’t a secret per se, the little situation you had going on with Sirius, it was nothing serious, and therefore not common knowledge.

It wasn’t until Marlene came by one day to pick up a parcel she’d got delivered to yours, that she noticed it. Sirius’ bike parked in at the front of your house—and when she used her spare key to get into the house she noticed something else, too.

His leather jacket, tossed haphazardly over the back of your couch. His boots, lazily kicked off by the door.

Her sights eventually falling on him.

It was one of those mornings where the lines between sleep and awakeness were firmly blurred. The kettle was humming softly on the stove, steam rising in tendrils, and Sirius was leaning against the kitchen counter, rubbing his eyes like he hadn’t slept a wink in ages. He was still a little dazed, hair tousled in every direction, his usual carefree grin replaced by a half-awake, sleepy smirk. Two cups sat on the counter, waiting for the tea to brew, a simple gesture that felt strangely domestic.

Sirius didn’t notice Marlene at first—she was just standing in the doorway, eyes narrowing in silent observation. The moment stretched on, the sound of the kettle’s whistle cutting through the silence.

Clearing her throat, Marlene made her presence known.

Sirius blinked slowly, still half in a dream, and as casually as if he were talking to you, he mumbled, “I’m making tea, love. You want two sugars today?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest. She took a step into the kitchen. “You’re not making that for me.”

His eyes snapped open, the sleepiness clearing in an instant as he looked at her, finally registering that it wasn’t you standing there. The shift was instantaneous—he straightened up, looking almost too casual. “Oh, hey, Marlene,” he said, his tone still nonchalant as if nothing was amiss. “Didn’t realize you were here.”

She studied him for a moment, giving him a smirk that said she knew everything. “Clearly,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement.

Sirius, ever shameless, shrugged. “It’s early.” He shot her a playful grin. “Can’t be expected to function before my tea, can I?”

At that moment, the sound of soft footsteps padded down the hallway. You appeared in the doorway, the oversized shirt you were wearing—Sirius’ shirt—hanging loosely off your frame. Your hair was a little messy, eyes still sleepy as you mumbled, “Is the tea ready?”

And then you stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes widening when you spotted Marlene standing in the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh,” you said, voice faltering as you froze, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Marlene... what—what are you doing here?”

Without missing a beat, Marlene raised both eyebrows, her smirk widening. “You told me I could pick up the parcel anytime, so I let myself in,”

You still stood dead in your tracks as she continued, “But now it seems like I’m here to make sure Sirius isn’t taking advantage of you,”

You immediately flushed, mortified, and quickly grabbed Marlene’s arm, tugging her away from the kitchen with a little more urgency than you meant to.

“Come on,” you hissed, pulling her into the bedroom. “Let’s go talk.”

Sirius, still leaning against the counter, didn’t seem fazed by the interaction at all. In fact, he leaned back with a satisfied smirk, watching you drag Marlene off with a mixture of amusement and something else.

Once inside your bedroom, you closed the door behind you with a sigh, rubbing your hand over your face as you tried to salvage what little dignity you had left.

“I thought you’d text me when you were coming,” you mumbled under your breath, but she was already taking in the state of the room.

She raised an eyebrow, glancing around with an expression of equal parts amusement and curiosity. The bed was a mess—sheets twisted and bunched, pillows strewn about in a chaotic heap. A scattered reminder of the night before, of everything you and Sirius had gotten up to.

Marlene shot you a knowing look, and you groaned, covering your face with both hands. “It’s not like that, okay? It’s just a bit of fun. No big deal.”

Marlene wasn’t convinced. Her gaze softened just a fraction, but the teasing smile never left her lips, humming back “Right. Just a bit of fun,” Before you could say anything else, she gave you a quick, sly wink and turned back toward the door.

“Oh, and by the way,” she added, her voice dropping to a whisper, “I’m watching you, Black.”

Sirius, still in the kitchen, gave her an innocent look as she passed him, a wink of his own playing at the corners of his lips. “Always a pleasure, Marls.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving you standing in the aftermath of her visit, groaning inwardly to yourself as you flopped onto the bed.

You and Sirius fell easily into a routine—him picking you up from work, late-night drives that turned into late-night kisses, wanting touches that led to waking up tangled in each other. Spending virtually every day together for months, whether out of habit or convenience, it didn’t matter—neither of you were in a rush to change anything.

So when Marlene invited you to a small get-together at a friend’s place, you figured a night out that wasn’t spent wrapped up in Sirius wouldn’t be the worst thing. “It’ll be chill,” she promised, linking her arm through yours. “Just a few people, some drinks, some music. Nothing crazy.”

But the second you stepped inside, it was clear that Marlene had lied. The house was packed, bodies pressed together in the chaos of dancing, mingling, drinking. As music pulsed through the walls, laughter and shouts cutting through the thrum of conversation. You shot her a look—Really?—but she just shrugged, eyes wide and innocent like she had no idea this would happen.

“You know how these things go,” she said, barely containing her grin.

Rolling your eyes, you made your way to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of cranberry juice. The moment someone asked what you were drinking, you answered without hesitation—“Vodka cranberry,”—opting to lay off the liquor for the night.

Still, as you sipped your very much non-alcoholic drink, you couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered around the room, scanning the crowd without thinking. It was almost instinctual, like muscle memory at this point. Was he here?

Marlene caught it instantly.

She leaned in, smirk playing at her lips. “You looking for someone?” she asked, voice all too knowing.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No.”

“Right,” she drawled, clearly unconvinced, but before she could press any further, a loud voice cut through the crowd.

“There you are!”

You barely had a second to react before James was bounding toward you, all long limbs and drunken enthusiasm. He practically tackled you into a hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you in a dizzying circle.

“James!” you yelped, gripping onto his shoulders. “Put me down!”

He only laughed, setting you back onto your feet, hands still gripping your arms like you might disappear. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with the telltale signs of one too many drinks.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” he grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he led you and Marlene further into the chaos. “C’mon, we’ve got a party to enjoy!”

It was fun, more fun than you’d excpected, so painfully aware of the drunk bodies that bumped against your sober one—and despite Marlene’s efforts to get you to sip on her drink, you’d held your ground quite well. Even when she did mutter, “Party pooper,” under her breath, you just snickered at her, dragging her through the path in the crowd that James had successfully parted.

The music thumped, bass reverberating through the walls, but it was nothing compared to the laughter bubbling from your throat. James, in all his drunken glory, had taken it upon himself to be the life of the dance floor, flailing his limbs dramatically as you and Marlene followed suit, spinning and swaying wildly to the rhythm.

Your giggles rang high above the music when James, with absolutely no warning, grabbed Marlene’s wrist and spun her with a flourish, dipping her so low she nearly hit the floor.

“James Potter, I swear to Merlin—” Marlene shrieked, flailing as she tried to right herself, but James only grinned wider, holding her firm.

“Dance with me, darling!” he declared theatrically, waggling his brows before attempting to spin her again.

You clutched your stomach from laughing so hard, abs burning from the excertion, leaning into James’ side as you caught your breath. “I’m getting a re-fill,” you told him, wagging your almost empty cup in front of his face, still breathless.

James, ever dramatic, responded far louder than necessary. “ALRIGHT, LOVE!”

Rolling your eyes with a fond smile, you slipped through the sea of bodies, the heat of the room pressing in on you. You didn’t notice Marlene right behind you, having taken the opportunity to escape James’ drunken grasp. She followed at a slower pace, weaving through the crowd, her eyes scanning for you as she made her way toward the kitchen.

You were almost there, just a few steps from the counter, when you caught sight of a familiar head of dark curls, towering slightly above the sea of heads.

Sirius.

A small part of you relaxed at the sight of him, a stupid, involuntary kind of relief washing over you. But the moment was fleeting—because then, you saw her.

A hand, fingers trailing deliberately over his sleeve, then curling gently around the lapel of his jacket. Your stomach twisted as you recognized her—Emmeline, maybe?—but before you could process the moment, she was pulling him down, pressing her lips to his.

Something inside you froze, the heat from dancing moments ago now replaced by something cold and heavy settling in your stomach.

Marlene had almost caught up to you when she noticed the way your body had gone still, your wide, unblinking gaze fixed ahead. She followed your line of sight—and immediately saw it. Sirius, standing there, stiff as a board, Emmeline’s lips pressed against his.

That was the first time you felt it, first time you’d notice the sound of the water whossing in your ears, you were drowning—and as the alarm bells sounded, body frozen in place. Only then did you realise it was too late, you couldn’t run from it, couldn’t try save yourself from the vast monopolising sea that was Sirius Black.

You so wished you could feel bad for yourself, to hate the girl who’d had her fingers tangled in his hair, will yourself to be angry at him. But despite the pinched numbing feeling that bloomed in your chest, the way your eyes burned as you tore your gaze away from the scene before you—it was no use.

Like you were seeing something that had been standing in front of you for the first time, something that had been right under your nose—all the pennies had dropped at once and the clarity it gave you, honestly made you want to be sick.

It wasn’t that you thought you were so amazing and special that the notorious playboy, heart-throb Sirius Black would drop everything and change his strips to be with you forever. You didn’t care that much, you knew what you were signing up for, right?

Marlene started, but by the time she reached where you’d stood, you were already gone, swallowed by the crowd.

She cursed under her breath before snapping her head back toward Sirius, storming forward without hesitation.

Sirius had already pulled away, his brows furrowed, lips parted in shock. He looked—almost offended—like he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. Before he could even react, rough hands grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around.

Marlene.

She was seething.

“You’re a right foul git, y’know that, Black?” she spat, voice sharp with fury.

Sirius barely had time to process the insult before she scoffed, turning on her heel and pushing back into the crowd, searching.

“Wait—what?” Sirius called after her, but she didn’t so much as spare him a glance.

Jaw tightening, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, inhaling through his nose—Sirius barely even noticed Emmeline stumble slightly beside him, too drunk to react to the moment, too unaware of what had just happened. She wasn’t smirking, wasn’t looking pleased with herself—if anything, she just looked vaguely confused, glassy-eyed and unbothered as she swayed on the spot.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before shaking his head, frustration bleeding into his features. Then, without another glance back, he pushed forward, chasing after Marlene—chasing after you.

But they both just ended up standing outside, you nowhere to be seen, name flashing on Marlene’s screen for several rings before eventually cutting itself off—voicemail. All she could do was sigh heavily in frustration, spinning around to find Sirius standing behind her—as she caught glimpse of him, her face twisted into a grimace. Rolling her eyes, shoulders brushing his as she trudged inside to find James.

You were lost in deep thought, pacing all the way back home.

It was silly anyway, just a bit of fun—and you’d been foolish enough to think it was anything more than that anyway. Even if the way his fingers would brush over your skin, tracing nonsense patterns as he held you close night after night—endlessly whispering to each other about the silly and impossible things. The ideas you had, your hopes and dreams. Even if the way he’d breath your name, chest vibrating against you, caressing the tops of your cheeks—gaze too soft as if he were catalogueing every single feature on your face.

Even if just thinking about all those small things, made your throat close up, it wasn’t enough to change the reality that had come unforgivingly crashed upon you.

Really it was your fault for getting lost in a little world of make believe, it was your fault for allowing yourself to be in the situation in the first place, you should have never invited him in, never kissed him, never met him.

The feeling that swirled beneath your ribs was one you couldn’t put your finger on, you didn’t feel sad, you didn’t have the urge to cry. All you wished to do was lie down, suddenly so exhausted. You found your fingertips tracing the outline of your lips as you stood meters away from your door, in a daze, unable to bring yourself a step closer.

Only after several long drawn out moments of the cold wind whipping against your skin, the burning in your soles of your feet to become just that bit more agnosing, did you to finally take your keys out and enter your home.

Completely ordinary, nothing out of place—exactly how you’d left it.

But as you took in the sight of your living room, my stomach lurched, stuck again by your doorframe—traces of him everywhere. The usual mugs waiting on the counter, a jumper laying on the single seater, his jacket hanging over his chair in the kitchen. You even tripped over the slippers you’d bought him at you entrance when you dragged yourself further in.

Shoes disgarded roughly behind you, recklessly tossing your bag in the general direction of the general direction as you pushed through the door to your bedroom. Another obstacle.

No matter how much you wanted to flop onto the bed, let your muscles sink into the plush cushion of your mattress and let the exhaustion of the night swallow you whole, you couldn’t. It was brutal and oppressive, the way his scent wafted around you, taking up too much space—swallowing the room whole, a mark—a stain of his presence.

Almost as if a wave of nausea had hit you, you body tensed pushing down the churn that built its way up into your chest. Fingers rubbing harshly against the base of your throat, eyes darting around the room, the seconds passing like hours with each reluctant step towards the bed.

And as you gripped the edge of your bed sheet, ready to tear them off. It wasn’t even a fraction of a second, the soft fabric in your grasps that had housed him barely a day ago—warm caramel, leather, and a hint of petrol—it sent a shooting pang through the middle of your chest, forcing you to rip you hand away like the fabric burned.

No matter how many times you repeated it, just a bit of fun, it never quite felt like a lie—until now.

Just too much.

A hot shower should do you some good, turning away from your bed and to your wardrobe, even your selection of sleep clothes had dwindled down to more of Sirius’ clothes than not. Your mouth felt bitterly dry as you scavenged through your clothes looking for something old, something yours—something that wasn’t smeered with a thought of him.

You stood in the showere for too long, arches of your feet still burning, water too hot against your skin, and still you stood there. Letting the fast pitter patter of the water dull your senses. Your mind wasn’t overworking, it wasn’t running wild, it was just blank.

Empty, unoccupied, vacant—tired.

Like you held the weight of the world on your shoulders, you head was sunk as you plopped onto the sofa, knees brought to your chest, cradling your head as your arms wrapping around yourself. You sat in silence, for a while, a long while—waiting for sleep to come, welcome you with open arms and wash away the ache that had settled at the bottom of your ribs.

To your misfortune, an incessant knocking began not long after you’d closed your eyes—jolting out of sleep’s sweet embrace and off the sofa in a panic. Eyes burning with sleep, your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, you were frozen in place, listening.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

Your stomach twisted, a strange cocktail of unease and anticipation bubbling beneath your skin. The knocking continued, steady and insistent, like the person on the other side had no plans of giving up.

You willed yourself to ignore it.

Sitting back down, muscles still aching and heavy with exhaustion, fingers fumbling for your phone. 2:56 AM. The screen glowed mockingly in the dark, and you let out a slow, steady breath, willing your heartbeat to slow.

But the knocking continued.

Five minutes.

Then ten.

Each rap against the wood sent a dull throb through your skull, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself up again. With slow, cautious steps, you approached the door, peering through the peephole—and felt your breath hitch violently in your throat.

Sirius.

He was standing there, shoulders tense, jaw tight. His knuckles were raw and reddened from the persistent knocking, his fingers flexing at his sides like he was battling the urge to stay calm, composed in his knocking. He shifted slightly, eyes searching, and then he knocked again, softer this time, cautious. Like he knew you were standing on the other side of the door.

You didn’t dare move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

Until he did. Until he said your name, quiet, almost pleading; "Please, love—let me in."

Your chest ached at the sound of it, at the way his voice cracked just slightly at the end. It felt like every cell in your body was screaming at you saying open it open it open it, staring at the handle as if it your gaze could make it vanish, remove the temptation to do so.

"I’m tired, Sirius. Please go home."

The words came out barely above a whisper, but they landed like a punch. You saw it, the way his face crumbled at the sound of your voice. His hands pressed flat against the door, shoulders sagging as his forehead made contact with the hard wood of your door, creating a dull thud. For a moment, he looked lost. Defeated.

But he wasn’t going to leave, Sirius was nothing if not relentless. You knew that much.

And yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to step away from the door, he continued knocking, the flat sound echoing in your ears, ringing between each thump of your heart. You should’ve ignored him. Should’ve let him knock until he got tired—but you didn’t.

With a deep, steadying breath, you unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The second he saw you, a rush of relief flashed across his face, though stress and urgency still burning in his eyes. Instinctively, he reached out—but the moment his fingertips brushed your wrist, you shifted , jerking away as if his touch scalded you. And Sirius felt it—felt the air in his lungs force its way out of him against his will, winded at your reaction. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, his hand lingering in the airn before slowly letting it drop to his side.

“Do you need something specific, Sirius?”

Gods, the way you said his name, devoid of its usual warmth, its usual playful, fond tone, devoid of you, it made breathing just that bit harder for him. You voice was so flat, emotionless. And your eyes were trained on somewhere near his shoulder, not meeting his.

Sirius hesitated, his brows furrowing, before stepping inside hesitantly. "I need to explain—"

"You don’t need to explain anything to me."

The words were sharp. Final. Matching the heavy slam the door made behind him, and he winced at the unforgiving tone of your words as you continued, “It’s fine. You can do whatever you want”

His brows pulled together tighter, frustration flickering across his features. "But I don’t—I didn’t want that. I didn’t—"

His fingers brushed against your arm again, desperate, and you recoiled so quickly it felt like a physical blow to his chest, his jaw falling slightly agape, voice pleading more breath than words.

"Love, please—"

"Don’t."

It was just one word. One syllable, but it made his stomach lurch, freezing in his space, watching as you backed away, arms folding tightly around yourself like a shield—shielding yourself from him.

"We have nothing to talk about." Your voice wavered, barely audible now. "It was just a bit of fun anyway."

Sirius flinched, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face, twisting into an almost pained frown. “Stop.” voice hoarse.

You didn’t respond.

"Don’t say that." He took a step forward, but you mirrored the movement in reverse, keeping the distance between you. Still, you haven’t looked at him once, almost backing yourself into a corner, tryping to escape his words, his ever intense stare, him.

Your voice came out weak, faintly above a whisper, bordering a beg; “Please just go, Sirius,”

He didn’t listen, just continued forwards wordlessly, watching you—excuriatingly aware of each slow tread he took, until he was just in front of you—barely any space left between you. And it made you hold your breath, you couldn’t go any further, back flush against the wall.

“Look at me,”

Immediately you shook your head, you couldn’t—it would be too taxing, an unfathomable task. He was so painfully close, that same familiar smell, warmth so undeniably Sirius, a whisper of air left between you. He was here, your wreckening, something that you so woefully dreaded.

His voice was quiet, almost pleading—”Tell me that it was nothing more and I’ll leave right now,”

And God, did it hurt. It made that same whoosing gurgling return between your ears, sinking into the depth of the water—fully submerged.

There was something raw in the way he said it, something that sent a deep ache blooming in your chest. It took everything in you to steel yourself, to look up at him, gaze burning and glossy with unshed tears, swallowing the lump in your chest, “It was nothing more than a bit of fun.”

The air around you felt thinner, like it had risen and had become too hard to breath in, denying you of the last tether you had to the room. The frown on his face etched further onto his lips as he breathed in deeply through his nose, muttering as he shook his head; “You’re lying.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. He saw right through you—not the slightest bit convinced.

Your lips parted, an argument on the tip of your tongue, but he cut you off before you could even form the words. His voice louder than he expected,

"Why? Why are you lying? I’m trying to fix this—"

"Fix it?" The dam finally cracked, anger and frustration spilling into your voice, looking up at him with a gaze so burning and intense it made him take a step back. "Why would you want to fix it, Sirius? Stop acting like you care when it was just a game to you anyway."

Your chest was heaving now, emotions bubbling over, forcibly rubbing your hands over your face before they dropped roughly to your sides—but he didn’t look offended. He didn’t look angry. If anything, his expression softened, like he understood—and that only made it worse.

"Is that what you really think?"

You didn’t answer.

And the silence that rung between you had you questioning if you were alone in the room, he was still looking at you—long after you tore your gaze away from his, you knew deep down if your looked at him again, you’d surely shatter.

Neither of you spoke. Not when his presence alone made your chest tighten, made your throat burn with the effort of swallowing back words you weren’t sure you had the strength to say.

Sirius didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t fight you on it. The only thought ringing in your head was that it better this way, easier this way. Maybe you could make yourself believe it.

Then he spoke, and his voice—so raw, so careful—made you flinch.

"Do you really think this whole time I was just playing with you?"

The little breath you had in you stilled in your lungs, sharp and uneven. You didn’t answer, you couldn’t trust your voice, not when it was so hard to swallow the small tears you wished to let out.

Sirius exhaled through his nose, taking a slow step closer.

"Do you really think I’m that cruel?"

His words were quiet, but they hit like a punch to the gut. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as if the sting of it would ground you, anchor you to the decision you had already made—to shut this down before it could hurt more than it already did.

But he was watching you too closely. Too intently. And Sirius had always been too good at reading you. So when he saw it—the wet marks beginning to bloom on the front of your shirt, the silent tremble in your shoulders—he knew. And it panged straight through his gut and through his chest, burning and searing guilt.

He moved then, just slightly. Slowly—so slowly—his fingers brushed against yours, tentative, careful. You sucked in a sharp breath at the contact. But you didn’t pull away. And that was all the invitation he needed.

Sirius took your hand fully in his, his grip steady and warm, thumb grazing over your knuckles as if to soothe your hurting. Then, just as slowly, he lifted it—pressing your palm against the center of his chest, his own hand covering yours entirely, keeping it there, locked against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It was fast. Strong. Alive. And it was beating beneath your hand like it had something to prove, like it was all he had.

The silence that stretched between you now was different. Heavier, laced with a tenderness that had your pulse skipping.

And then he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper.

"Can you feel that?"

You did. Of course, you did. It was all you could feel. The solid weight of him beneath your fingers, the heat radiating through his skin, the undeniable proof of him, of everything he had ever made you feel.

You parted your lips, but no sound came out. Just a sharp hiccuping breath.

Sirius said your name then. So delicate. So soft. And that—that—was almost your undoing. Because of all the times he’d said your name he never said it like that. Never that serious, never so delicate and aching. Like it was something sacred, something important. Like it was the most precious thing he had ever held in his mouth.

He ducked his head slightly, lowering his chin just enough to try and meet your eyes. He physically had to hold back the gasp the threatened to leave him.

Because you looked devastated. Completely wrecked.

Your lower lip was trembling, your cheeks flushed, tear-stained, your eyes filled with something so raw, so deeply wounded, it physically hurt to witness. And Sirius—who had never been afraid of anything in his entire life—felt terror claw its way up his spine at the sight of you like this.

His grip on your hand tightened just slightly, pressing your palm harder against his chest, like he needed you to hold him together now.

He swallowed, throat bobbing as he forced the words out.

"This," he murmured, gaze unwavering, "this heart?"

The beat beneath your fingers felt impossibly loud. Thudding, steady, strong.

"It’s just for you. I promise."

Sirius didn’t let go of your hand. Not for a second.

Instead, he took slow, careful steps backward, pulling you with him, guiding you toward the sofa. His grip was safe, anchoring, your palm still pressed against the center of his chest, feeling every erratic beat beneath your fingertips. And when the backs of his knees hit the cushions, he let himself sink down, pulling you with him until you were sitting so close your knees brushed.

You didn’t look at him.

Your gaze stayed fixed on your hands, on the way your fingers still rested over his heart, like you were trying to memorize the feeling of it. Your mind was screaming at you to push him away, to shut him out, to let self-preservation win. But there was something about the way he held you there—not trapping, just holding—that made your chest tighten under the ache.

"I swear," Sirius started, voice so quiet it barely rose above the silence. *"*What you saw—it was nothing. I didn’t know her. I didn’t want it. I would never—" he inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I would never want to hurt you."

He leaned in, ducking his head slightly, trying to meet your gaze.

"Can you look at me, please?"

Your lips pressed together forming a tight line, eyes squeezing shut for half a second before you forced yourself to meet his stare. God, he was so easy to believe. So convincing. His eyes, dark and pleading, held no trace of deception. He was here, completely and entirely, his sincerity palpable. And you so desperately wanted to drown in him again, let yourself be consumed by the current of everything that was Sirius Black.

But instead, you asked, "What is this?" Your voice wasn’t angry, but there was an exhaustion beneath it, a quiet, vulnerable hesitation. "What are we? Because I can't—" you took a slow breath, "I can't do this again and lose."

Sirius' breath hitched, a flicker of something soft crossed his face. He reached out, taking both of your hands in his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles as his voice came out low, earnest, genuine.

"Y/N, I can't breathe when you're not with me." His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to make sure you were really listening. "You're all I think about. From the moment I saw you I was yours—"

Your breath caught in your throat.

Sirius’ eyes darted across your face, searching, begging for you to see him. And you mirrored him, scouring his features, looking for any hint of deception, any feigned conviction—but there was none.

Only warmth. Only that same tender, devastating fondness you’d spent so long trying to ignore.

"Please say something," he whispered, so fragile you nearly broke again at the sound of it.

Your lips parted, but the words died before they could form, the weight of everything making your chest tight, making it impossible to breathe. Sirius just looked at you—desperate, hopeful—while you struggled, until finally, finally, you managed a single word.

"Sirius."

It was barely a whisper, but it was soft. That same, familiar cadence you used to use when it was just the two of you, curled into each other in the quiet safety of the night.

He felt his shoulders drop slightly, relief settling into his bones.

Cautiously, as if afraid you’d disappear, his hand lifted, fingers ghosting over your jaw before settling there, cradling your face with a reverence that made you dizzy. His palm was warm, radiating a heat that you were so familiar with and your brows furrowed, reaching high on your foread—skin burning under his touch as you let out a shaky breath.

"Can I kiss you?"

His other hand joined, thumbs brushing gently over your cheekbones, holding you like you were made of something precious. You could feel the slow nod of your head before you were even aware you were doing it.

And then he kissed you.

It was different this time.

Not rushed. Not messy. Not laced with laughter and playful teasing.

It was real. It was raw and vulnerable and slow, like he was pouring every single unspoken thing into it, like he was trying to convince you without words. And God help you, you leaned into it. Because you were weak when it came to him, helpless to the way he so easily consumed you completely.

The kiss deepened, a passion—a yearning desperation seeping through as Sirius leaning back, pulling you into his lap, arms wrapping securely around your waist like he was terrified to let go. And just as you were starting to lose yourself in it, his lips parted against yours, murmuring something you couldn’t quite make out.

You pulled back slightly, forehead resting against his, both of you breathless, dazed.

"What?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius’ lips curled into the softest grin, eyes practically glowing even in the dim light of the room. He planted slow, lingering kisses across your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, before finally pressing a last, gentle one to your lips, exhaling into you.

His hands cupped your face, thumbs tracing delicate patterns against your skin as he looked up at you like you were everything, the only thing that tethered him to the earth, the only thing that had ever mattered in that moment and for every moment to come, eyes swimming with a silent promise.

And then, with no hesitation, no doubt, he said it again.

"I said, I love you."

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year ago

Text

Asshole Instructor

Luke Castellan x Jackson!Reader

Request: luke x jackson!reader angst to fluff like he likes reader but bullies her and like one day she almost dies and then he feels so guilty and confesses

Summary: Luke has been an asshole but he can't help it until he realizes the girl he likes could be gone any minute

Warning: Angst, bullying, Luke acting like a five year old, monsters, injuries

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

A/N I tweaked your request a bit so the story flows more imo

“Faster,” I yelled at one of our newest campers. Y/N Jackson dropped her sword and ripped off her helmet, looking at me with fury in her eyes. I was a little afraid but mostly really attracted to her like this.

“Don’t fu-”

“Hey, we don’t curse,” I reminded her of the camp rules. “What with all the kids around.” Seeing her become even angrier made it so hard not to laugh. I was just glad that we weren’t near any bodies of water. When I had told her that her 12 year old brother was a better fighter than her at dinner, every glass of water rose up in the air she was so mad.

She just threw the sword down and stormed off. “Hey!” I yelled after her. “You’re not dismissed.” But she ignored me, continuing to storm off towards the beach. I felt a pang of guilt antagonizing her to the point that she left but I figured I shouldn’t chase after her if she was going to be around water. Plus, it was funny to see her get so mad.

I turned around the clean up the arena only to see Annabeth standing there looking unimpressed. “Why are you being so mean to her?” she asked.

“I’m not, I'm just messing around.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re antagonizing her. And I think I know why,” she smirked.

“Why?” I asked, deciding to humor her.

“Because you looove her,” she replied smugly, drawing out ‘love.’

“I do not,” I immediately defended. I cringed as my response was too fast. She only gave me a satisfied smirk. “Fine, okay. She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.” Annabeth just raised her eyebrow. “And smart,” I admitted. She kept looking at me. “And nice.” More looks. “Fine! Whenever I see her I want to kiss her and never let her out of my sight.”

A smile broke out on her face, finally satisfied. “See? Now go tell her that. Well- maybe not that exactly. You’ll probably scare her off. But tell her how you feel instead of harassing her and making her hate you.”

My heart stopped. “She hates me?”

“Probably!” Annabeth said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Or at least she will if you keep treating her so terribly.”

“Fine, I’ll apologize to her after dinner,” I sighed.

“No! Now,” she demanded.

“But she’s at the beach. She’ll kill me!”

“I don’t care. Go,” she said, pointing down the beach. “And take this to her.”

I grumbled, grabbing her helmet from Annabeth before heading after the daughter of Poseidon. When I finally found her she was sitting near a cluster of rocks, clearly trying not to be noticed by anyone. But as I prepared to tell her how I felt but as I looked at her, I thought about all the horrible ways she could reject me. And then humiliate me by telling everyone in camp about it. So instead I threw the helmet at her.

It bounced off the rock with a clang, clearly startling her. “What? Are you gonna cry because I told you, you sucked. What are you 5?”

“Go away, Luke,” she yelled. I once again felt a pang in my chest as I heard the trembling in her voice. Whether from rage or tears I wasn’t quite sure. But picturing her laughing in my face as she rejected me made me keep going.

“I see why your dad went back to your mom. He couldn’t have his only demigod child in decades be so weak like you.”

“I said go away!” she yelled, standing up. Her eyes were practically on fire as she looked at me with a burning glare. The ocean was getting choppier behind her before it lunged up into a huge wave, soaking me to the bone. I coughed when it finally receded and she was left there, standing dry. “Leave me alone or I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe,” she threatened, walking off.

When I told Annabeth what happened she threatened to stuff me in a sewer pipe. But other than that she let it go and I hadn’t seen much of Y/N. Which hurt at times because I missed seeing her and I thought about her all the time but I honestly deserved that threat she gave me so I respected her wishes.

That was until I heard a scream and then a boy’s desperate yell. I was in the arena when I heard it and didn’t hesitate running towards the sound. There I found Percy and his sister at the edge of the forest. Percy was frantically pushing on his sister’s bleeding leg as she was getting visibly paler. He looked up, seeing me. “Do something!” he yelled.

I ran over, kneeling by her side. I could now see the wound clearly and it was deep. Deep enough to kill her from blood loss. She already had a puddle underneath her and I could see a trail coming from the woods. “Go get Chiron,” I told the boy. He nodded, getting up to sprint to the Big House.

I looked at Y/N’s face, surprised to see her still conscious. “Surprised you’re not cutting me further open,” she said through shallow breaths.

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve treated you like shit and I promise I’ll explain why when you’re better but I need you to focus on staying awake right now. Think you can do that?”

Despite the fact that my hands were keeping her from bleeding out she had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. I felt ashamed realizing that was probably the first nice thing I had ever said to her.

Once some Apollo kids came and took her the Big House I went with them. But once they had her in the sickroom and everyone else was kicked out, I became wracked with guilt and worry. I made her life miserable. Why? Because I was afraid of my own feelings for her? I realized just how ridiculous that was. And I realized how little time I may have to actually confess my feelings.

“What happened, Percy?” Chiron’s words interrupted my thoughts.

“We were in the forest just trying to get some monster fighting experience when this big… dog—I think it was a hellhound—jumped at me out of nowhere. I guess she saw it first because she pushed me out of the way but its claws caught her leg,” Percy explained. “Is she going to be alright?” he asked, tears in his wide eyes.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Chiron assured the boy before sending a reassuring look to me too. Did everyone know I liked her? I briefly cursed Annabeth, she probably told him.

But soon enough Lee and Michael said we could go in so I followed Percy into the room. Her leg was wrapped in a pristine white bandage and the sheets must have been changed because they were also white in contrast to her bloody shirt and shorts.

“Percy, why don’t you go get her some clothes for when she wakes up?” I suggested. He looked reluctant but went anyway so I could talk to her. I took a seat by her head, observing her peaceful, beautiful face. “I don’t know if you can hear me but… at least you can’t reject me like this,” I said, letting out an empty chuckle. “But um I guess I'm fulfilling my promise. The reason I’ve been such an asshole to you is because… well… I think I’m in love with you. And I was afraid of my feelings and that you’d reject me so I took it out on you and I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve that.”

I sat there for a beat of silence, unsure what to do. But just before I stood up and left, I felt her fingers brush against mine. “Took you long enough to confess, jerk,” she said. I looked back at her, finding the slightest smile and her gorgeous eyes.

“So… you like me too?” I asked, my heart pounding with insecurity.

“Yeah, of course I do,” she admitted. I smiled, leaning down to press my lips to hers. When I pulled away to breathe she took the opportunity to speak. “If you tell anyone I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe.”

“Sure you will,” I taunted her, connecting our lips again. This time I only pulled away when I heard a slightly squeaky voice.

“What are you doing with my sister?”

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #the lightning theif #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #percy jackson x sister!reader

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marlynnofmany · 3 months ago

Text

At Home in the Mud

“Hey Wio, does your hover stool work over mud?” I asked from the door to the cockpit.

“Not deep mud,” Wio said, glancing at me with her tentacles at work on the controls. “The sensors feel for solid ground.”

“Dang.” I sighed. “Guess I’m stuck with cleaning the exo suit after this delivery.”

“Yeah, sorry,” she said. “There are fresh batteries for the gravity wands, at least. Shouldn’t take you too long.”

Zhee stalked past me, his many bug feet clicking in what was probably irritation. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, at least until he was out of earshot in the direction of the cargo bay.

I whispered to Wio, “And at least I only have two legs to clean.”

“Good point,” she agreed. “Best of luck!”

I thanked her and headed off after Zhee to where the exo suits waited. He had a head start in getting his on, which he needed. I tried not to draw attention to how easily I tugged mine on over my regular clothes (minus the shoes). Zhee didn’t even take the opportunity to make fun of my need for footwear; he seemed determined to get this delivery over with as quickly as possible.

He said, “Be sure to hold on to the hoversled so you don’t fall and slow us down.”

“Sure thing,” I agreed. I’d planned to keep a solid grip anyway. Hopefully this mud wasn’t the foot-sucking kind.

The ship landed gently — or rather, arrived. There was no landing pad close enough to our client’s location, at least none above the mud at this time of year, so Wio held the ship just above the surface on stable thrusters. The ramp nearly touched the mud.

Captain Sunlight had come in to see us off, and she stood to the side as we hustled down the ramp. “Be quick but careful!” she told us.

Zhee replied, “That’s the plan.”

I freed a hand to wave, then grabbed the edge of our most reliable hoversled. I would have liked to ride on it next to the cases of medical supplies (low priority, not urgent, thankfully), but that wouldn’t have been fair to Zhee. So I did my share of pushing and stepped cautiously into the mud.

Whew, I thought. More watery than thick. I can walk in this. And it was cold, but the exo suit did a decent job of insulating for temperature. I took in the sights more confidently, appreciating the fuzzy moss on all the trees, and the intricate shapes that the bushes grew in. It didn’t quite look like an Earth swamp, but it didn’t look hostile, and that was all I could ask for, really.

Behind us, the ship closed the bay door and lifted up to a more comfortable height to wait. Zhee, with a better view of the screen on the front of the sled, pointed with a pincher arm. We changed direction slightly and trudged through the mud.

The depth changed a few times in quick succession, going from ankle deep to above the knee and back. I did my best to maintain a careful speed, though it was tricky since I couldn’t see the bottom. Zhee seemed to be doing fine. I held onto the sled and took long strides, feeling the way with one foot before trusting my weight to it. Thicker lumps and rocks lurked along the uneven ground. I focused on stepping between them without losing my balance, trusting Zhee to keep us on track.

“Scenic,” I commented to break the monotony of silence and my own breathing inside the helmet.

“Wet,” Zhee replied.

“Scenic and wet.” I glanced up at the mossy trees, then back down at the watery mud. Muddy water? Somewhere in between. “Not the easiest place to walk, though.”

“The captain could have chosen Blip and Blop for this delivery,” Zhee griped. “But no, they’re busy helping Eggskin prepare some complicated food.”

“And Paint wouldn’t be up for this temperature,” I said as I stepped into deeper water that chilled me to my thighs. “Or this depth, really.”

“Paint misses out on a lot of unpleasant environments. Lucky.”

I looked over at him across the pile of strapped-down cases. “Only because she’d pass out and die if she got too cold. I don’t know if I’d call that lucky.”

Zhee tapped an antenna against the inside of his helmet. “Bah. Today, she’s lucky to be coldblooded. We’re stuck with this instead.”

I mentally ran down the roster of our other crewmates. Some of them, like Wio, had other jobs to be doing. “I suppose Mur wouldn’t have an easy time in something this deep either.” I didn’t even know if he could swim. Looking like a squid didn’t necessarily translate.

“No one is likely to have an easy time in this,” Zhee said, shaking a foreleg and splattering watery mud across a tree trunk. “I can’t imagine why the client chose to live here.”

“Maybe they like mud,” I said, trying to watch my feet even though I couldn’t see them.

“They are welcome to it. I look forward to getting back to the ship.”

I was in agreement about that. The info summary about this location had said it was the wet season (Really? Shocking) and that the regular roadways were unavailable. I was under the impression that there was a town somewhere nearby, or at least other people than just the one, but all I could see was endless swamp.

With rocks and the occasional tree root just waiting to trip me. I focused on stepping carefully and trying not to slow our progress.

Concentrating as I was, I didn’t realize we’d arrived until Zhee tugged the sled to the side. I looked up to find the first dry ground I’d seen rising out of the mud into a walkway of flat paving stones. A round stone house perched at the top of the rise.

We slogged up to leave an interesting set of footprints along the walkway: my left/right muddy bootprints and Zhee’s collection of much smaller splats. With the hoversled between us, it looked like this house was getting two visitors interested in staying as far away from each other as possible, instead of a single delivery.

When we got close, a chorus of tiny squeaks started up. I located the source: a small cage hanging beside the door, which held a handful of cricket-sized whatevers. While Zhee found what passed for a doorbell, I took a surreptitious look. They were small and blobby, not mini near-cousins of his, which was definitely for the best.

“Delivery!” Zhee announced while a chime jangled.

Various bumps and a muffled voice sounded from inside, then our avian client opened the door eagerly. “Thank you for coming!” he said in the same trade language we were using, just with the distinct quackity overtones of his particular species. His dark feathers were flecked with white and he kept his arms folded as if they were wings. He said earnestly, “I hope it wasn’t too long of a walk.”

“It was fine,” Zhee said. “Would you like your packages unloaded right here?”

“Oh! Ahmm…” the ducky fellow looked indecisively between the stack of boxes, the paving stones, and the indoors.

I said, “We could carry them in for you, but we’d track in a bit of mud.” The sled was much too wide to fit through the door.

“That’s all right; I’ll move them,” he decided. “Out here is fine. Now where should I—? Yes, thank you.” He took the payment screen from Zhee and signed for the delivery while I undid the straps holding everything down. We didn’t always bother with those, but I was starting to think we should. If I’d managed to trip and knock a box into the mud, that would have been an embarrassing bad mark on our record.

While we unloaded the boxes, those little whatsits serenaded us with a fresh chorus of squeaky chirps. It reminded me of tame finches with just a touch of guinea pig. I wondered if this was the local version of a windchime or something else.

The client saw me staring and said, “My dear little Cozy went missing, and these are his favorite food. I’m hoping to lure him back. You haven’t seen him, have you? A young cuddlebeast about this big, with a white stripe on his head?” He held clawed hands a few inches apart.

“Sorry, no,” I said with a look at Zhee. “I didn’t see any beasts at all. Did you?”

“No,” Zhee agreed. “Just mud.”

The client ruffled his feathers in a way I didn’t know how to read; maybe he was embarrassed. “They did tell me he’s suited to living in this environment, and he might not return if I let him out, but I haven’t given up hope. My home is nice and warm, after all.”

“We’ll keep an eye out on the walk back,” I told him. “Does he come when he’s called?”

“He always did when he was inside the house,” the guy said. “Cozy! Cozyyy!” He waited for a moment, then looked down. “He loves his cuddles. I hope nothing bad has happened to him.”

Zhee set down the last box. “You’ve done what you can,” he assured the client, sounding like he might have even meant it.

“I suppose so.” The ducky guy looked sad for a moment, then rallied. “Well, thank you again! I don’t want to keep you. Safe travels!”

We bid him goodbye and headed back down into the mud, with me waving goodbye and Zhee trying to make good time. The client went back into his house and I focused on taking long strides again.

We went slightly to the side of the route we’d taken before. The mud was much lumpier here, with herds of round rocks that rolled around and made the footing treacherous. Despite my death grip on the sled, I was nearly swimming at a couple points in an effort to keep up. The muddy water was deep enough to swim in, but not consistently so, otherwise I might have given up and started paddling.

I had just decided to ask Zhee to slow down when I lost my footing completely and went under, holding my breath in panic before I remembered the exo suit covered my head. I got my feet under me by kicking lumps out of the way and I stood in the waist-high mud, wiping futilely at the dirty face mask.

Zhee sighed audibly and stopped walking. “Really?”

“It’s hard to find somewhere solid to step!” I exclaimed. “There are rocks and lumps of mud everywhere!” I scooped one up to prove my point, ending up with what looked like a potato. “Huh. That’s too light to be a rock. Tuber?”

“Fascinating,” Zhee said drily.

“It reminds me of an Earth food, but those don’t grow in swamps,” I said, giving it a closer look.

“Do not bring it back to the ship for eating,” Zhee said sternly.

“I wasn’t going to!” I protested.

“Good. It’s probably horribly smelly and liable to poison half the crew.”

I started to protest more, just on principle, then the potato opened an eye and I dropped it. “Ah!”

“What?”

“It’s a creature!” I shuffled in place, feeling more potato-like shapes bump against my ankles in the cold watery mud. “Are these all animals??”

“Ugh,” Zhee declared, lifting a couple exo suited legs out of the murk on his side of the hoversled. “What an unpleasant choice of environmental niches.”

I was thinking fast. “Wait, these could be like toads. It’s cold right now; maybe they’re hibernating. Hey, do you know what a ‘cuddlebeast’ actually looks like?”

“Not a clue. That’s your area of expertise.” Zhee gave me a look through the domes over his faceted eyes. “Do these things look especially cuddleable to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” I felt around gingerly for another one, hoping they didn’t have sharp teeth to use on people who interrupted their hibernation. “But that would explain why Cozy never came back, if he’s out here dozing with his distant family.”

“Well I’m sure he’s very happy if so,” Zhee said, stepping forward. “Let’s be off.”

“Wait, lemme try something first.” I put a hand on the sled as it eased past, but did my best impression of the squeaks that the food animals had made earlier. Cute little questioning sounds, like they were curious.

“If that didn’t work close to the house, it’s unlikely to work out here,” Zhee said. But he stopped again.

“It’s worth a shot,” I said. “Cozy! Cozyyy!” Then I squeaked some more.

“What a surprise; nothing. Now let’s—” Zhee flinched when something by his hind leg croaked.

“Cozy!” I said with a grin, ducking to look under the hoversled. “Here, boy!” Something potato-like with big eyes and a distinct pale swatch on the top was treading water in the murk.

Zhee stepped fastidiously to higher ground. “I can’t believe you found it.”

“Yup,” I said, testing my footing. “Now I just have to catch it.”

“As long as you keep your mud to yourself.”

“No promises,” I said, making the first lunge of many and only splashing a little.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writeblr #writblr #writing community #science fiction

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frannyzooey · 6 months ago

Text

On the Green: 4

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: age gap, mature-ish, bordering on explicit?

A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @imaswellkid for reassuring me that I actually understand this man in some capacity and for giving me praise when I needed it the most. ily. ❤ thank you also to @the-scandalorian who had the patience to decipher my half-asleep ramblings and assure me that I was on the right path. ily. ❤ and thank you to YOU, reader, for sticking with me during my unintentional months long hiatus of this story - I hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

The back of your suit disappears in the lush greenery as he follows you through the forest. You guide him deeper and deeper, the light reflecting off your helmet flickering between the leaves. Moss gives way to thick, creeping vines, and then the earth opens up into a deep, gaping pit.

You stand at the edge, and his glove reaches through the air to pull you away from danger but before he can grasp your suit – you jump.

You’re at the bottom of the pit together, your profile alight as he watches you dig. His eyes slip over the flutter of your lashes, the tip of your nose, your plush lips. You turn and say something to him, and he smiles. Opening his mouth to reply, he tries to take a breath in, but the air is…thinner. Like his suit has a leak.

He checks his filter and when he looks up, you’re gone, the connection hose between your suits cut.

You’re running again, and he’s chasing you.

Ezra.

It’s your voice, but it doesn’t sound the same as it does from within his helmet. It sounds like you’re outside of him and inside of him all at once, whispering his name. He loses sight of you, and panic blooms in his chest. His lungs constrict with every gasp for air, his body breaking out in a sweat underneath his suit and then several things happen all at once:

He’s in the pod with you beneath him, your body arching underneath his.

A moan breaks free of your throat; a masked person hiding in the bushes before they disappear.

A scream – he can’t decide if it’s a cry of ecstasy or of pain – and he’s pushing forward between your spread thighs.

Ezra.

He reaches for your face, your lips parting to allow for his thumb to press inside.

He does; another masked person peering in through the pod window.

Ezra, you moan.

You suck hard on his thumb, a deep groan reverberating from his throat as his hips rock forward and —

He jerks awake.

With his heart pounding and his cock hard, you perch at the edge of his cot, your delicate face etched with worry.

“Ezra. Ezra, hey.”

Your hand presses down on his chest, and he covers it with his own for a moment as the surroundings of the pod become clearer, sharper. Your face comes into focus, a luminous, soft thing in the hazy dark and for a split second, he feels an overwhelming draw towards you. As if he should sit up and meet your mouth with his.

His cock throbs, and he flinches. Shit.

“Hey,” he breathes, taking his hand off yours. He sits up, trying to disguise the aching heft of his cock under his thermals. They leave nothing to the imagination – he knows, since he’s seen you in yours.

“You okay?” you ask. “Another nightmare?”

He’s used to them after being in this line of work for as long as he’s been in it, but he’s not used to someone else seeing them. He feels slightly sheepish, but can’t decide if it’s because he feels vulnerable or guilty, like you know what he was dreaming about.

“Seems so,” he replies, the corner of his mouth lifting ruefully. “Sorry to have woken you, Birdie.”

You shrug. “Wanna talk about it?”

He pauses. “Not particularly, no.”

He’s grateful for the way you immediately drop it.

Weeks on the Green have left you with a certain sort of familiarity with each other, one that’s grown and flourished in the way only sharing a very small space allows. You know about his nightmares, and he knows things about you as well.

He knows you prefer to start your day in silence: a hot beverage, your headphones, your journal. You look even younger then, swaddled in your blanket by the window, your face still puffy with sleep.

You like it neat, a good balance to his own disarray.

You’re a good cook, which has saved him from a diet that used to consist purely of Bits Bars.

You’re methodical and measured, which, paired with his own impulsive ways, makes for a good partnership.

However, he’s been careful beyond that.

Whatever role you assumed during life with your father is not one he intends to make you relive. You’ve taken every single thing he’s thrown at you in stride, but to make up for it, he’s tried to balance the scales by teaching you anything he can. He hasn’t allowed you to assume the role of caretaker. You’re equals, or, if anything, he’s over corrected in some sort of fucked up recompense for everything you went through before this. Just like he promised, he’s protected you.

And he’s needed to – with word getting out about your ship, he’s had to take care of two more people in the last month alone. He taught you how to shoot after you asked him to, and he was grateful for it later on when the second one almost got the better of him. It was a close call, and he hated you being in it.

Hated the man more though, which he satisfied with a shot between his eyes.

He blamed the pull towards you after that on the adrenaline, but he wasn’t being honest with himself. It began long before that. The lessons themselves had been tests of his self-control: your smaller back tucked against his chest, your eagerness and willingness to learn, the way you preened under his praise.

He fucked his fist in the shower that night and blamed it on so many things: the needed release of stress, the forced proximity, how long it’s been since he was able to sink into a willing partner. His loneliness crept into the dark room while you slept that night and he thought about how, until now, it had been satisfied with your close companionship.

That night, he’d laid awake and wondered how eager you’d be underneath his hands.

Would you beg him to teach you what he likes? Would you ask for more the way you do now that he’s encouraged it?

Then the dreams started, and it got worse. Your face, so close to his each time you woke him. The warmth of your body next to his cot. They only made the urge to protect you fiercer, both from himself and the scavengers, and that didn’t even take into account the real threat. The one he’s waited for to show up since he found you. The one who he promised –

They appear in his dreams, alongside you. Hiding in the bushes, peering in the windows. But they aren’t ones who come looking. They wait for you to come to them, and so far, he’s avoided it at all costs. He made that deal when he was desperate for a ship, but now he’s more desperate to keep you safe.

You both need to get off this fucking planet.

He shakes the thought of the others free as you crawl back to your own cot. Your headphones discarded on the floor next to your face down journal and your rumpled socks, you tug the blanket up around your shoulders, rolling over to go back to sleep.

Too unsettled to follow you, he stays awake.

–

He watches you frown in concentration, focusing on the tiny piece of metal in your hand.

Your fingers are so much more nimble than his, but even you’re having a hard time finding purchase. It slips within your grip the longer you hold it, and not for the first time, he marvels at something seemingly so insignificant in size, yet so crucial to your plan. The converter in your palm is what sparks the engines to life – just a tiny scrap of intricate wiring, one of many that clips into a board that then fits neatly beneath a panel on the floor.

And unfortunately, the thing that took the hardest brunt of impact upon your rough landing.

There are forty in total needed and you have twelve that function. Thirteen, he counts, if you’re successful with this one.

Satisfied with your work, you blow gently on the piece. His eyes drop to your mouth when you purse your lips, and it stays on your profile until you break his reverie, handing the converter to him.

He blows out a breath, prepping the voltage pen.

“Here goes nothing, little bird.”

He attaches the pen to the converter, and the pod is silent for a fraction of a second.

His thumb presses forward and – red.

“Fuck,” you mutter, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t understand what the issue is.” The statement is laced with frustration, and he runs a broad hand down his face before dropping it onto his lap. “Do you have any idea?”

You shake your head, defeat etched into your features. “I wish. I’ve rewired it a couple of times. I’m scared if I keep messing with it, it’ll strip what there is to work with.”

Leaning back on your hands, you arch your back to stretch the muscles and the action draws his gaze downwards, focusing on the way he can see your chest through your tight thermals.

“I feel like we should call it,” you suggest. “We’ve been at it for ages, and I’m starving.”

You crawl over to the cupboard next to your bed, your pert little ass in the air as you rifle through the contents and he thinks about how he’s starving too. His mouth waters, and his tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip.

“I can read through the manual again,” you start to say, the rest of your words fading into the background as he continues to stare. Your thighs, the flare of your hips, the peek he has of your cunt. He can see the shape of it through your leggings, a tiny hot little space that he imagines the heat of. He longs to touch it. It calls for his fingers, or his tongue and he imagines the taste of it through the thin material.

What would you sound like if he put his mouth on you that way? Would you let him?

“Maybe I missed something.” You straighten, sitting on your knees to thumb through the pages of the ship’s manual and the youthful way you bite your lip as you study it stirs shame in his gut. It’s a sensation he’s not used to, and though it would normally be easy to ignore, he can’t. Not when it comes to you.

You are so fucking young, and he needs to get out of here.

Still, he wonders if you feel it like he does. The tension that fills the space sometimes, the magnet that pulls the two of you together. He might be inclined to say you don’t feel it…but he also knows people. He’s seen a flicker of interest on your face, he’s seen your pretty eyes hooded with what he’s sure was lust. With anyone else, he’d have already broached the subject of a…mutual arrangement, but with you, guilt stops him every time. He’s not used to the feeling stopping him from doing anything, but the imbalance of the situation is too much for even him to think about taking advantage of.

Though if you were to ask him, he wouldn’t say no.

You continue to flip through the manual, and he imagines you making the first move. Asking him to help with an ache you have, telling him only his fingers could soothe it. You, hovering at the side of his cot, whispering please. It’s perverse, the dynamic that makes him throb. You, helpless and begging for relief, and him, competent and so very willing.

Your youth plays into it, he’s sure. Your eagerness does too. You’re so sweet, and it’s been so long – which is exactly why he shouldn’t even think about sullying you with his dirty hands.

You want it though, he can tell. Maybe not everything he wants, but you do want. You’ve dirtied your hands and liked it, reveled in the things he’s been able to teach you: how to defend yourself, how to shoot, how to dig and plot and survive.

You’re a fighter, and he loves it.

He feels your eyes on him.

What would you do if he stood up and took what he wanted?

“Ezra?”

He blinks at the sound of your voice bringing him back to the present.

“Want some dinner?”

“Sure.” .

Watching you cook, he’s momentarily transported outside this pod, off this planet and into wherever you lived before this. Every action is a practiced, deft one. You work in silence, as if you’re used to it. A solitary creature, much like himself. Not by choice though – also much like himself. He’d almost think you prefer to be alone, but the way you’ve leaned into his companionship tells him differently.

Feeling the guilt press against his ribcage again when he hungrily takes in the nape of your neck, he tamps it down. Helping you instead of fantasizing about you is the least he can fucking do.

He comes to stand next to you, and you look up at him, confused.

“Want some help?”

You smile, and he mirrors it, taking the meal packet from your hands. Dehydrated rations vacuum sealed in tiny pouches, he pours the contents of two into the pan on the stove, adding water. He stirs for a moment, watching a porridge of sorts form. Chicken, he thinks, from the color of it.

“I can’t say this looks entirely appetizing.”

“Feel free to feast on your Bits bars,” you toss back, and the edge of his mouth lifts.

“Now now, I didn’t say I wasn’t going to eat it.”

You set the bowls out, and he pours the contents of the pan into them, dividing the portions up. Your cots parallel to each other’s, he sits across from you, each of you cradling a bowl in your hands.

Rain hits the roof harder, making the small space intimate.

“What are we going to do if we can’t fix it?”

Your question gives him pause, but it’s your face that affects him more. So open, so trusting. Looking to him for guidance and reassurance, and an image of you flat on your back on your cot with the same face flashes through his mind. He clears his throat.

“Somethin’ I’ve been trying to avoid,” he replies. “Though it seems that I can no longer.”

You wait, and he meets your eyes directly.

“We’re going to have to scavenge some parts,” he says. You chew thoughtfully for a moment, and he keeps his eyes on your own, studying your expression. He lifts his eyebrow in question. “You ready to be my right hand man?”

“...I think so,” you reply hesitantly. “I mean, I’ve got the hang of the thrower.”

“That you do,” he agrees, taking a bite of his dinner.

You picked it up much faster than he thought, but it shouldn’t have surprised him the way it did. You were a determined, fierce creature – one who was capable of so much more than you thought you were, and one who reveled in it every time he encouraged you to learn something new. Sometimes, when he thought about the man he never knew, he felt frustration flare bright. He wasted you. You could have been so much more, and not just a harvester partner either.

You could still be so much more, he reasons – and not for the first time, he wonders what will become of you once you go home. He’ll be sad to miss it.

“Do you think I can do it?”

He lets the question sit for a moment. Can you? Yes. Should you? That’s a question he can’t answer. You shouldn’t even be here in the first place. But you are here, and so you have to do what you have to do.

He leans forward, as if to let you in on a secret.

“I think you can do anything, little bird.”

You smile, and he returns it – but only for a moment, before his expression sobers.

“We need a few things, and I don’t think we can get them all from the same ship. That means we’ll have to throw ourselves in the face of confrontation more than a few times. You understand?”

You nod. “What do you need me to do?”

The question is asked without hesitation, and he fights the urge to tell you to forget he ever said anything. That he’ll find another way to get the two of you out of here without putting you in direct danger. His mind races for an alternative…but there isn’t one. He knows what this place demands of people. There isn’t any hiding from it; it’s better you understand the risk and prepare for it.

“I’ll be the muscle, you the mechanic. I’ll need your nimble fingers to harvest those converters. I know where we can find some, but it might take us a couple cycles to get them all.”

“Where?”

“The other prospectors that are here. They have ships – between those and some wreckage sites I’ve come across, I’m hopeful we can gather enough for what we need. I’m not sure if they’ll be functioning or not, but it’s worth a try.”

You nod in agreement, and he scrapes the rest of his bowl clean. Spooning it into his mouth, he catches the way your eyes linger on the action and he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. You make it too easy with your expressive face, and feeling guilty only goes so far against his impulses.

Keeping his eyes on you, he sticks the spoon back in his mouth with relish, sucking it clean.

“Tastes sweeter than I thought it would,” he hums.

You swallow hard, staring at his throat. He feels the thrill of victory, but only for a split second though, until the tension between your bodies immediately fills the small space. Your eyes hood, and his own calculating gaze narrows. He drags his tongue across his bottom lip, taking note of the way you watch it.

Will you ask him now?

Taking a deep breath, you stand instead and reach for his bowl.

He hands it to you, keeping his eyes on your ass while you walk away.

—

It started with the lessons.

Actually, it began in flickers before that: glimpses of his profile, the feeling of his arm across your chest when he stopped you from tripping over a vine, the sound of his steady breathing in the night. The lessons had only amplified it, dragging the fleeting sparks of attraction to the surface, letting them catch fire under the intensity of his presence.

You asked him to teach you how to shoot and the whole while, you felt it dripping down your spine to pool between your thighs. Two suits between you, and every word he uttered through the comm link left you feeling stripped bare.

“Easy does it,” he murmured. The speaker in your helmet added husk to his voice, and that only made it worse.

“Grip it harder,” he said, pressing his hand around yours, and your knees almost buckled.

He must have felt the tension, because he brought it up afterwards. Not directly, but that was never his way. He danced around it, until he pounced.

“Small space. Before. How did you…seek relief?” He lifted his eyebrows meaningfully.

It was a bold question, but then again – everything he’s done told you he’s a bold man.

“I don’t –” you shied away from the question, looking away. "Let's not talk about it.”

“So you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say that, I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“So you did?” His eyebrows raised.

No, you didn’t, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Why are you so worried about it?” you asked instead, and he lifted his hands in surrender.

“Not worried, little bird. Just curious.”

He was always curious - and that was the issue. It wasn’t true attraction he felt, but rather misplaced attraction on your part. When you thought about it for too long, you felt foolish and immature. It wasn’t him, it was the situation. He was too attentive for his own good, too charming. He thought of you as someone who was dependent on him, not someone to be attracted to. Besides, how could it be him? Not only someone with ages more experience than you, but also someone so…rough? A murderer?

A murderer that’s done so only for you, a small voice whispered inside your head.

Logic told you that you were too young, too inexperienced for a man like that. But it didn’t stop your treacherous mind from rebelling.

You did seek relief that night, hours after he teased you about it. The second he went to shower, you laid down on your cot and spread your thighs and let the fire you felt earlier consume you. You recalled his words, his touch, the solid breadth of his body behind yours. It didn’t take long with how worked up you were, but afterwards, you felt overwhelming shame. You scolded yourself, telling yourself never again. It was a violation of his fucking privacy for fucks sake, a violation of his boundaries that you did it while he was stuck inside the same small container with you. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would mind, but still, the guilt consumed you for days, so bad that you couldn’t even meet Ezra’s eyes for fear that he would know.

You felt like your fingertips were branded red, your come a permanent stain on the skin.

Days later, you did it again.

You couldn’t help yourself. It seemed like everything he did was unintentionally filthy. The phrases he said, the little grunts he let out while working, the strain in his voice sometimes through the helmet. Everything sounded like a double entendre to your horny, shameful ears and that said nothing for the way he looked at you.

You never stood a chance against that empty promise to yourself.

Weeks of living together has taught you that he likes to shower at night before bed, and tonight is no exception. You watch as he gathers his clothes from underneath his cot, his thermals stretching across his broad back. The muscles shift underneath the thin fabric, and you track every movement out of the corner of your eye.

Pretending to clean the dishes, you’ve been waiting all day for this, and after today especially, it takes everything you have to feign nonchalance.

That spoon. The way he licked it, the sound he made, the look on his face. The mental image joins others: his hands while he works, the shift of his back muscles underneath his thermals, the heat of his knee knocking into yours when he sits close. Sounds join: his breathing through the commlink, the soft sound in the back of his throat that he makes when he shifts in his sleep.

Images and sounds cycle rapidly through your head, all joining the swirl of arousal that feels like an empty pit low in your belly and it’s everything you can do to wait until you’re sure he’s showering before you bend over the kitchen counter, thrusting a hand beneath your thermals.

The second your fingers find slippery wetness, you sigh with relief. It’s a pained sigh though, one of desperation that has you rubbing the pads of your fingers over your clit with a steady, firm press as you bite your lip to quell the telltale sounds of what you’re doing. You hurt with the way you’ve wanted him, made worse by his close proximity. It’s been raining for days and you’ve been stuck inside with him and the sounds he made last night while he was sleeping echo in your mind. You breathe hard, condensation fogging the counter top.

The sound of water splashing in the background, your imagination supplies the rest:

His tanned skin, flush with heat. His hair, even darker when wet. The line of his throat as he tips his head back, the swirl of hair around his belly button and down, the broadness of his shoulders in that small space. His forearms flexing as he washes himself – an image that automatically turns into his hand braced on the wall of the shower, steam filling the air around him as his other hand pumps frantically between his thighs –

You climb higher and higher, a heady pulse throbbing between your legs, your thighs trembling as you ascend with frantic, little whines between your clenched teeth.

The phantom weight of his cock in your grip and then the smooth, blunt tip of it sliding across your cheek, between your breasts, your lips stretching around it as your tongue molds to fit the underside.

You don’t have a ton of experience under your belt, but you have enough to know what a cock feels like. His though? Would it be thicker? Bigger? You picture him stripping out of his suit the way he does, his thermal inching up just enough to see the thatch of hair that collects underneath his belly button to lead down beneath his waistband, and you start to come, pressing your face into the crook of your arm to muffle the sound.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Watch my fingers.”

“Easy, easy, Birdie. That’s it.”

“Hold it nice and tight. That’s it.”

Every word he’s spoken to you taken out of context to supply the scene in your head, you bite the fabric of your thermal when you come. You let out a breathless sob, your cunt pulsing as the sparks of your release burst bright between your hips, and your fingers work the last dregs of it out, savoring the intensity of satisfying the ache you’ve felt all day.

You slump against the counter, your limp hand resting between your thighs and catch your breath. The blood rushing through your ears fades, clarity bringing the sound of silence.

Silence.

The shower is off.

–

He heard it.

He thought he was hearing things as he dried off; lingering echoes that remained from his release moments ago. It was faint, but when he paused toweling, he heard it.

A muffled groan, a soft whine and even while still feeling the throbs of the spend he painted the shower wall with, he begins to harden.

He fucking knew it. He clasps himself in hand, giving his cock a firm squeeze, and listens.

There is silence on the other side of the door, and he wonders where you are in the pod right now. Where did you end up when you took your relief? He pictures it, and the flare of lust that instantly clouds his vision almost has him opening the door without getting dressed. He’ll come and find you, push you down onto your cot, rip the clothes off that have been giving him everything and nothing all at once these weeks and finally consume you, like you’ve consumed him.

He dresses quickly, pulling his thermals over still damp skin. Opening the shower compartment, he finds you at the sink, scrubbing your hands.

In the kitchen? You didn’t even lay down on your cot? Your need must have been too urgent, and he grins at the idea. Will you let him fuck you there?

He feigns ignorance, coming to lean casually against the counter. Leaning in close, he wears a mask of politeness. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“No problem,” you reply, not meeting his eyes.

In any other situation, he’d revel in the game of cat and mouse. He’d plot out ways to get you to break or bend to his will, letting you dangle on the edge until you were begging him for relief. But now…he pauses.

“You okay, Birdie?”

“Yea.” Your expression is one of fake brightness, your eyes giving it away. “Just…thinking about tomorrow.”

It’s clear that’s not the whole truth. He knows what he heard and from the rapid beat of your pulse under your delicate skin tells him that you’re obviously hiding something, but the mention of tomorrow is like being doused with cold water.

Tomorrow, when he brings you out into the Green, putting you in the path of danger that you never asked to be in. You never asked for any of this, and he feels sickened at the previous idea of pushing you down on your cot to take what you’re “offering”. He should be focusing on preparing you for the danger that’s out there. He knows better than this, and for the first time in a long time, he feels chastened.

“You’ve got this,” he reassures you, and though he can feel the slight hitch in your breathing when his hand rests on your shoulder, he ignores it. “We’ve got this. As your partner, I swear on my life I won’t let anything happen. Understand?”

He feels you lean slightly into his touch, and suppresses the urge to pull you close. It’s been a long time since he’s comforted anyone, and he’s surprised the impulse comes back so quickly.

You look up at him, and the impulse grows with how vulnerable you look. So open, so trusting – yet resolute in your faith in him.

You nod. “We’ve got this.”

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra/you #ezra/reader

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 1 month ago

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Buried Secrets Chapter 3: So It Begins

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile. Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

Word Count: 8.5k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Frankie's ex sucks, the struggles of addiction recovery (it's Frankie), crude guy humor

Chapter Quote: “You’re the expert, I’ll let you strap me down properly.”

Frankie’s POV It had been almost a week since stopping by the gallery to see Mya, but we had been in touch several times to discuss plans and time tables so that she could draw up the contract. We agreed that I would take a small team down early to do a little recon on the area she was planning to explore. She was actually the one to suggest it, relying on me to choose the best place for camp and to plan security protocols based on the geography of the area.

Pope, Benny, Will, and I would be leaving in a matter of days to scout the area. We were also planning a small side mission of our own, hoping to secure Lorea’s money from the canyon we dropped it in nearly two years ago. The possibilities of all the things that could go wrong were weighing heavily on me, so much so that I could feel that old craving for escape prickling under my skin. I was working double time to keep myself distracted from the urge to give in.

The sun was setting over the distant horizon by the time I arrived home from the office. After pulling into the gravel driveway, I sat there for a beat, staring at the small creek that ran through my backyard and the tree limbs blowing in the breeze. I could feel the numbness beginning to set in. The same numbness that always hit before a deployment. I suppose it was my way of compartmentalizing things, my life from the job. It was something I needed to do so that I could focus. It would also make it easier for me to tie up loose ends before I left for an extended time - completely taking my emotions out of the equation.

When I finally got out of the truck, I made a beeline for the little shack that I called my garage, needing to keep my mind and hands busy until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. I was in the midst of trying to remove a stuck spark plug when the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the driveway caught my attention. I moved to stand in the doorway as I wiped my hands on a stained and tattered rag, finding Mya kicking her leg over an old black Harley Davidson. The sight probably should have shocked me, but for some reason it didn’t. If anything, something about it felt more natural than her classier persona.

I couldn’t help admiring her curvy figure in tight black jeans and fitted biker jacket as she removed her helmet and shook her hair free around her shoulders. She gave me a small smile as she unzipped the jacket, revealing a tight black t-shirt that showed the slightest hint of midriff and hugged her breast just right before she removed her aviators and hooked them into the collar of her top. The straps from the small leather backpack she wore only seemed to emphasize her chest further, causing her shoulders to retract and back to straighten. Her thick rubber soled boots crunched across the gravel as she approached, her smile widening as she looked me up and down. I knew this version of her would probably haunt my dreams later.

“Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by…I have your documents ready,” she called out.

I huffed out a laugh, “It’s funny, I don’t remember telling you where I live…”

She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal that she knew.

My brows pinched together, “You could at least act like you’re embarrassed about your creepy stalker ways, you know.”

She chuckled, “Why? What’s the point? I already told you I’d been watching you.”

She had no shame, which was somehow even hotter than if she did. I sighed and shook my head as I fought a smile, “Fair point…well, please step into my home office while I clean up.”

I moved aside, allowing her to enter the garage, watching as she appraised the old muscle car taking up most of the space. She walked around the front of it, raising an eyebrow in my direction. “70 Chevelle?” she asked. I nodded. Her lips tugged upward on one side, “Candy Pearl Apple is a nice color choice.”

She continued to surprise me. I didn’t take her for a muscle car aficionado. Then again, she was a fan of old relics, so maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked by it.

I nodded, “Yeah, it was my dad’s. I can’t take the credit for the color choice, but I do like it.”

Her hand slid up the curve of the fender as she peered underneath the open hood, “She run?”

I shrugged, “Depends on your definition of run…I’ve been trying to get her in working order. She spent years sitting with no attention, so she’s been a bit stubborn.”

She was looking at me through her lashes now with that smirk that was quickly becoming my weakness.

“You changing out the spark plugs?” she questioned as she motioned toward the pile that I had already removed.

I sighed, “Yeah, trying to. That last one’s stuck. I’ve sprayed half a can of penetrating oil on it and let it sit for 24 hours. Still no luck…”

She walked over to stand in front of me, tilting her chin upward in her defiant way. “You got a heat gun and socket wrench?”

I knew what she was about to suggest. It was my next step. I didn’t say anything though because I wanted to see where she took this. Instead, I pursed my lips and walked toward the workbench to get the items she asked for and held them up.

She gave me a toothy smile as she moved to tie her hair up, her shirt riding upward to show more skin that I couldn’t help staring at. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she removed her small backpack and leather jacket. She then reached over to snatch the heat gun from my hand, clearly having noticed my wandering gaze. I smiled nervously before turning my attention to the motor. She followed, stretching her torso to lean across the dirty metal to inspect the offending spark plug, causing her shirt to ride up further than it had a moment ago. It took everything in me not to stare at all the newly exposed skin, especially with the hint of a tattoo peeking out along the side of her rib cage. Fuck. Can she get any hotter?

Mya turned on the heat gun, pointing it at her target. Her eyes cut toward me, “If you heat up the cylinder head it’ll cause the metal to expand…then the plug should easily pop out.”

After a few minutes, she held her hand out for the socket wrench. I passed it to her without question, watching her work in silence. I had to put extra effort into focusing on the task at hand, because if I didn’t, my mind was going to wander to some dirty places that involved fucking her on the hood of the vehicle in question. My competency kink was definitely being activated by this.

With several turns of the wrench, the spark plug came loose. She turned toward me, rolling the offending hunk of metal in her fingers with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You already knew how to do that, didn’t you.”

It was a statement, not a question. Busted.

I shrugged, “I did…but I wanted to see if you were actually gonna do it.”

She approached, seeming almost cocky as she came to a stop in front of me, “Frankie, Frankie. You have so much to learn about me. Whether I’ll do something isn’t the question you should be asking…”

I arched a brow as I crossed my arms over my chest, “Oh yeah? What should I be asking then?”

Her lips tugged upward on one side, “What I won’t do is a much shorter list…”

I couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that slipped out at her suggestive tone. Her eyes bore into me, so much so that I felt the need to divert my gaze.

She was testing me, and I was failing. The smirk that I both loved and hated was back on her lips as she held up the part she had just removed and offered it to me, “Here’s your plug. I guess this means you owe me one. I’ll have to think up something creative for my repayment…”

My brows arched as I reached out to take it from her, her fingers lingered against mine for a moment longer than they needed to. When I glanced up at her face, her eyes were focused on our hands, her brows furrowing ever so slightly as something sparked between us. I could feel the warmth from her skin spreading through my body, and for a brief moment, something told me she felt it too. She jerked her hand back, rolling her lips together before turning away.

“Looks like I got a little dirty, mind if I wash up?” she asked.

I shook my head as I watched her avoid my gaze, “Go for it.”

She moved over to the utility sink, taking her time to scrub her hands and wrist clean. When she was finished, she tore a paper towel off from a nearby roll to dry her hands before turning toward me, seeming perfectly at ease in her new environment.

“Well, now that problem is solved…” She reached for her backpack, digging through it before pulling out a thick envelope, “It’s time to get down to business. I have all of your documents ready to go, including the pickup information for our larger equipment that’s being shipped in.”

She paused, pulling out a map, then unfolding it to spread across the workbench. I walked over to stand next to her, feeling the heat of her body from head to toe. She leaned in closer as she moved to point out her plans as she spoke, “These are the centralized coordinates I’m looking at. If we can set up camp as close to here as possible, that would be ideal…but I know it’ll heavily depend on the terrain. So, I’ll need you guys to identify a spot. I plan to explore within a five mile radius of this area, so as time permits before we all get down there…I would like you in the air looking for anything out of the ordinary. It will at least give us a starting point if you see something worth checking out.”

I nodded, taking mental notes of how all of this would fit into our plan to sneak off for Lorea’s money.

She pulled back to peer up at me, “I plan to come down with a small team several days after you guys so I can put them to work clearing the area for camp and cutting paths as needed. There's an old vehicle trail several miles out, but it’s in a poor state. So, I’m not sure how close the vehicles will actually be to camp. Because of that, I wanna make sure we do have the choppers nearby in the event a quick exit is needed…so keep that in mind when finding us a spot to set up.”

I smiled down at her, “I thought security and evac plans were my job…”

She shrugged, “You can’t do your job efficiently if you don’t have all the information.”

I chuckled, noting that her confidence was almost disarming. In all my years I couldn’t recall ever having met someone like her before. I knew that was part of her allure, stealthily sucking me in and awakening something inside me - a new craving that I didn’t understand and couldn’t describe if I tried.

We stared at each other in silence for a beat too long before she turned toward her backpack and began to rummage around in it. I could already tell she was going to make me crazy, I just didn’t know if the weird tension I was feeling between us was real, or purposefully being done by her to throw me off and manipulate me for whatever game I was sure she was playing.

She turned back toward me, waving something in her hand. “I got you a sat phone. I assume you know how to use these?”

I scoffed out a laugh and nodded, “Of course I do.”

She smiled, “Good, less I have to explain…Anyway, hopefully it won’t be confiscated when you land. I’ve preprogrammed my number and a few others in, but I’ve also included a list of them in your paperwork too...just in case.”

I nodded along, taking the phone from her.

“You got the choppers lined up? Everything good to go with your equipment?”

I cleared my throat, “Yeah, all is well. I ended up getting three choppers. Got a deal and thought it might be better since we’ll be doing aerial searches. I got a smaller one for that…it’ll use less fuel.”

That wasn’t something I had discussed with her, so I was curious to see how she would take me acting without her approval. Her brow twitched upward before she nodded, “Ok, that wasn’t a bad idea actually…”

I gave her a toothy grin, feeling like a dopey dog that was just told he was a “good boy”. I needed to rein it in before I let my loneliness take over and cause me to lose focus. This was a job, and I was working for her. It wasn’t an ideal situation to start anything even if I was in the headspace for it.

I sobered, then scratched at my beard, turning my attention back to the map laid out in front of me but not really seeing it. “Well, I’ll go through all of this tonight. I’ll text you if I have any questions.”

I could feel her eyes on me, the energy between us shifting - dissipating as I closed myself off. She seemed to pick up on the change, stepping away to put her jacket back on and collecting her backpack.

“Sounds good. I-I guess next time we see each other, we’ll be sweating our asses off in the middle of the Amazon.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes as an uneasiness took over. “Yeah, can’t wait.”

Her eyes were on me, analyzing for the briefest moment before she tilted her chin upward as a means of saying goodbye. Then, she disappeared out the door.

I turned, leaning against the workbench with my arms crossed over my chest as I watched her through the window. After mounting the bike, she sat for a moment, staring toward the garage with a confused look before finally putting her helmet on. She shook her head from side to side as she started the bike, backing out of the driveway without a second glance in my direction.

I sighed, realizing this job was getting more and more complicated with each passing day. It was obvious this woman was about to test me in ways I didn’t even know possible.

The following morning, I awoke already dreading the day ahead. I needed to tell my ex, Maria, that I was leaving town for a job. Given her disdain for me, I knew this conversation wasn’t going to go well. I had to drag myself out of bed, rushing to get ready so I could pop in to see her at work while she was on her break.

When I pulled into the parking lot of the bank, where she now worked as the branch manager, I could feel my anxiety ramping up. I really didn’t want to do this, but I needed her to know that my kid was important to me, regardless of what she thought.

She spotted me as soon as I stepped inside, her purse already on her shoulder as she was on her way out to lunch. Her face tensed, lips setting into a tight line as she moved towards me. She walked past without a word, exiting to the parking lot.

The minute we were alone, she whirled on me, “What the hell are you doing here? Showing up without a warning…”

I expected this, holding my hands up in surrender before speaking. “I’m sorry, I just needed to let you know that I’m leaving town for a job…I’ll be gone for three months, but I’ll be back in time for our court date.”

She scoffed, “A job? Of course. Obviously not much has changed with you.”

I shook my head, “No, this is a legitimate security detail for an archeological dig. It’s not what you think…”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna believe that. I thought you weren’t doing field work anymore? That was obviously a lie, wasn’t it?” Her tone was clipped. Angry. She didn’t care what I had to say.

“I’m making an exception for this one. It’s a major account…a lot of money for our security firm…”

“Yeah, last time you fed me this line of bullshit, Tom came back in a body bag.”

My jaw clenched as I took a steady breath. She was trying her hardest to bait me into an argument already.

Her lips twisted into a smile, “You know what… why am I complaining? Maybe you’ll come back in the bag this time and I won’t have to deal with your shit anymore.”

This was typical for her. She really had turned into a cruel person these last couple of years.

I shook my head, attempting to ignore her latest verbal daggers. Instead, I focused on turning the conversation back to my reason for stopping by.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’ve transferred the next three months of child support to your account, plus a little extra. I wanted to see if you need anything else before I go and also give you a number to reach me if needed.”

Her eyes narrowed, I could already tell she was about to spew more vile.

“I don’t need your money, Frankie. Tony makes more than enough to take care of us.”

She said that, yet she didn’t have any problems spending it.

“Well, that’s great…really, but it’s not for you, it’s for my daughter. So, I don’t give a damn if YOU need it. Besides that, I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize getting my visitation rights restored. So, you’re gonna take the damn money whether you like it or not.”

She snorted out a laugh, “Why can’t you just be an absent father? Life would be so much easier if I didn’t have to deal with your bullshit. Actually…I’m not even gonna argue with you. If you make it back this time, I’m sure you’ll lose your shit again and I won’t even have to worry about it because you’ll ruin it all yourself.”

I stood there, hands on my hips, staring at the pavement as I let her berate me. I didn’t even bother to fight back. Instead, I just nodded along, “Yeah, Ok. Well, I’ll make sure the money goes through before I leave. I’ll text you the number so you have it. If you call and I don’t answer, send a text because the signal may be spotty.”

Her cheeks flushed from anger over the fact she wasn’t getting the response out of me she had hoped for. I was done letting her provoke me. It was proof I had changed, which probably pissed her off further, if she was even willing to acknowledge it.

“I’ll let you get back to your lunch break. I’m sure Tony is waiting for you…”

I didn’t even bother to tell her goodbye, instead turning without another word to head toward my truck. I wasted no time starting the engine and pulling out of the lot. I sat at the red light, counting backwards from ten before taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

It didn’t matter how much I tried to mentally prepare myself to deal with Maria, it was never enough. She always knew exactly what to say to make it hurt. On some level, I knew that I probably did deserve some of her hatred, but she didn’t have to be so cruel.”

I could feel that familiar itch, that craving to dull the pain and slip off into oblivion so I could forget about my problems, if only for a short time. I let out a shaky breath, reaching for my phone to call Pope.

He answered on the second ring, sounding breathless and frustrated, “I really hope your interruption of what will probably be my last fuck for the next three months has purpose?”

I snorted out a laugh. That was exactly what I needed right now. His ridiculousness was always a good distraction. “You’ve got one hour to finish that up. Then I wanna get everyone together at my place to go over the plans one last time before we leave tomorrow.”

He sighed, “Fine. Fine. Can’t promise I won’t feed your ass to a jungle croc over this though…now fuck off. You’re wasting my time.”

I was chuckling as the line went dead. I shot off a quick text to Ben to let him and Will know while I waited in the drive thru at the nearest fast food joint, planning to gorge myself on a large chocolate shake and fries as a distraction and hopefully settle my cravings.

We did need to go over things one last time, but I also really needed a diversion after this morning. It forced me to focus on the mission ahead and nothing else. We ended up working late into the evening, planning our time table and going over our packing lists.

We were at Miami International Airport before the sun rose the next morning. After ten hours, we finally touched down in Lima, Peru for our three hour layover to Cusco. Thankfully the flight to Cusco was only an hour because we had to hit the ground running. There was no rest for the wicked after all.

The plan was to stop in Cusco to first pick up our vehicles, then stop at a storage warehouse for our equipment that had been shipped via ocean freight. Once we had everything on board, we finished out the last leg of our journey, which was a nine hour drive to Puerto Maldonado - the southern gateway to the Amazon jungle. After a brief stay at a rented compound to catch up on some rest, we made our way to a private heliport where our choppers awaited us.

Our first order of business was to check out the coordinates Mya had provided us with and find a place to set up camp so that I could report that information back to her. We had that out of the way fairly quickly, managing to find a small field near the coordinates. It would be just big enough to set the birds down. I surmised that we could set up camp around the outskirts under the tree canopy. As hot as it was, we definitely needed the shade.

The proposed area wasn’t too far away from the river and there appeared to be some small waterfalls nearby as well. I figured the water sources might come in handy since we would be there for such an extended period of time. The old road Mya mentioned was about 3 miles out from the location. However, with my view from above, I wasn’t sure how drivable the road was. It definitely didn’t look good. That wasn’t my problem to figure out though. She had guys coming to clear paths for the vehicles, so I would let them worry about it.

I had Pope make note of the coordinates and snap some aerial pictures to send over for Mya to share with her team so that they knew what to expect before they arrived. Once we had everything we needed, we headed back to the heliport to refuel. After calling Mya with the updates, we went off grid for our next adventure and hoped like hell that no one noticed us missing for the next forty-eight hours. As far as anyone was concerned, we were out doing recon on the area with a shitty signal.

It was a fourteen and half hour flight to the coordinates where we stashed Lorea’s money. I also had to find a place to sit the chopper down while we worked to retrieve our prize. Given that we had no idea what state the bags of money or the gorge were in, we didn’t have a good estimation on how much time it would take to retrieve the cash, but we gave ourselves a five hour window to work with.

Even with the auxiliary fuel tanks on board, we still needed to stop and refuel once on the way down and once on the way back. Pope had a contact who was helping with that to keep us off the grid. This contact was also responsible for getting Pope to St. John with our special cargo so that he could meet with the lawyer he had on retainer to set up the payouts from an LLC. If all went according to plan, he would be back with us before we met up with Mya and her team in Puerto Maldonado at the end of the week.

The plan seemed straightforward and fairly risk free. We looked at it from all angles and felt like we had planned for every contingency - or so we thought. Everything was going smoothly, we had a top of the line asset to get us to the location, the weather couldn't have been more perfect, and we were all in good spirits.

After finding a nearby place to land at the top of the mountain, we made our way down to the gorge where the money had been stashed nearly two years ago. Our excitement soon faded once we laid eyes on the area. Several large boulders had dislodged and fallen into the crevice, wedging between the walls and leaving only small openings to the floor below. We could just make out the shadow of the bags through the beams of light shining through the cracks.

Pope sank to his knees in defeat as he surveyed the area. “There has to be some higher power working against us,” he said with an exasperated sigh.

Benny brushed it off, “Naa, come on. There has to be some way around this. Maybe one of us can fit through one of those holes.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck, not having a lot of confidence in that idea as Will and I exchanged a worried glance. We moved, exploring the area to find an opening big enough that would allow one of us to slip through to retrieve the money hidden several hundred feet below. We spent about thirty minutes searching until Benny called out suddenly, excitement on his face as he insisted that he found a spot. We made our way over to have a look, hope blooming in my chest at the possibility.

We all stood around the opening staring at it. Will and I grimaced as Pope kneeled down for a better look.

“What ya think, Pope? Can you fit through that?” Benny asked.

Pope shrugged, “I dunno, maybe. It’s worth a shot. It’s the biggest opening I see. Let’s…uhh…yeah, let’s try it. Get out the harness and rope.”

We worked to get Pope rigged up and lowered him down about 10 feet to the opening. After several failed tries, anger got the best of him as he slung a handheld flashlight against the rock wall. He began muttering out a string of expletives in Spanish as he kicked at the boulder blocking his path. It didn’t budge of course. I huffed in frustration. This wasn’t how I saw this trip going.

Benny snorted, “Well, maybe if he didn’t have an ass the size of a small country, he would fit.”

“Fuck you, Benny,” Pope called out from below us. “Lemme see your giant hulking body make it this far in you fucking troll.”

Pope’s words rolled off Benny as he chuckled at our friend.

“Fish, you think you can fit?” Pope called out to ask.

I leaned over the edge of the cliff, peering down at him and shaking my head. “If you’re not fitting through, I’m definitely not.”

“Yeah, big dick Morales ain’t fitting through that,” Benny said through laughter.

I gave him an admonishing look, “First of all, what the actual fuck? Second, stop being an asshole. I know that’s how you cope with stressful situations but it ain’t helping.”

I heard Will snort out a laugh behind me for calling out his brother.

I sighed, “Alright, let’s pull him up. This obviously isn’t working.”

Once Pope was topside, we stood staring at each other. Frustration was clear on everyone’s face.

“We got any explosives?” Benny asked.

Will shook his head, “That’s too risky. Obviously, we don’t wanna chance all these large rocks falling on top of the money.”

“What if we chisel out the side of the boulder to make the opening bigger?” Pope asked.

Will gave me a questioning look as I grimaced, “I don’t know about that. We don’t fully have eyes on how that thing is being held up. One wrong chip and it could fall down.”

“This is such fucking bullshit…” Pope shouted as he slung the harness he had just removed to the ground.

Benny looked at Pope, “Yeah…too bad your girlfriend and her brother disappeared. I’d bet one of them could fit through that hole.”

“I wish you would shut the fuck up about her,” Pope seethed.

Will stepped between them, “Guys, chill the fuck out. Stop bickering like an old married couple. It’s not solving anything.”

I looked at my watch, we were short on time and we still had to hike back to the chopper.

“We’re running out of time…no more dicking around. We need to figure this out now or go,” I stated matter-of-factly.

Will shook his head, “I’ve got nothing.”

I looked to Pope and Benny, they both shook their heads along with Will.

I huffed out a quiet, “Fuck.”

We spent some more time checking the area for a larger opening before finally giving up. We hiked back to the chopper in silence. I couldn’t help thinking this was our penance for all of the chaos and pain that resulted from the last time we attempted to get this money. The money was cursed, never meant to be ours and destined to rot away in the Andes Mountains.

We were halfway to our refueling point when Pope finally spoke, “We’ve got three months down here. Surely, we can get something figured out before we have to go back.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah, maybe.”

The rest of our trip was quiet as we all stewed in our thoughts. By the time we landed in Puerto Maldonado, I was ready to switch gears and put that disaster out of my mind before I drove myself crazy.

I called Mya that evening to check in, lying my ass off by saying I hadn’t found any areas of interest yet when the truth was we hadn’t been out to look. I wasn’t too worried though, I still had two days to check things out. I wasn’t completely convinced I would find anything anyway. The forest canopy was too thick, making it seem like a wasted effort. She didn’t seem upset or shocked by my response, only replying that she was bringing in some equipment that might help solve that issue.

Before hanging up with Mya, I confirmed her arrival time, which was Friday - two days away. The thought of it caused butterflies to form in my stomach. We were about to be in each other’s vicinity for the next three months in the middle of the fucking Amazon jungle. It was making me feel on edge and anxious. I knew that I would really have to put in the effort to keep things professional. I also needed to make sure the rest of the team did as well.

Early Friday morning, we gathered at the heliport, going over checklists and making sure we had the first wave of needed supplies that Mya requested be flown to the campsite along with our equipment. We had just finished up and were preparing to load everything when Mya and her small team arrived. They were soon followed by five of my team members, including one of the other pilots, who had flown in early to begin their security detail for the small group. We took advantage of the extra muscle and put them to work loading the choppers while Mya and I touched base.

As I listened to Mya make small talk about their trip down, I couldn’t help noticing her more laid back appearance. Her silky dark hair was up in a messy pile on top of her head. Bits of stray strands stuck to the moisture beading on her neck and forehead from the heat. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and I realized that I liked her better without it. The fitted tank top that she was wearing showed just a hint of cleavage, which was only emphasized by the sweat sliding between her breasts. For the first time since we arrived, I wasn’t mad about the high temperatures because of the way it was making her skin glisten in the sun. Her dark fitted cargo pants tucked into her lace up boots further emphasized the curve of her hips and ass in a way that was completely distracting as she walked a few steps in front of me toward the bundles of cargo to be loaded. Everything about her was drawing me in and making my mind go fuzzy.

Her presence quickly became overwhelming, causing me to tune out her words. I snapped back to focus when I noticed the scowling man with greased back hair lurking nearby - the same guy that had interrupted our meeting at the gallery. Mya noticed me eyeing him as I listened to her plans, causing her to pause, her lips curling upward as she waved him over to us.

“Mr. Morales, this is Comandante Veracruz. He’s here as a representative for one of our benefactors supporting the expedition.”

My eyebrow arched at the mention of a benefactor, but I didn’t say anything. The look she gave almost begged me not to.

I smiled, shaking the Comandante’s hand, squeezing a little harder than really necessary. He seemed to do the same as he gave me a smarmy smile.

“Veracruz, this is Frankie Morales. He’ll be in charge of safety and security. He’s also the pilot who’ll be helping me with the aerial searches.”

I released his hand, allowing him to move it to rest on the small of Mya’s back as his eyes scanned over me. His thick Spanish accent and low voice sounded almost threatening when he finally spoke, “Well, it sounds like we will all be spending a lot of time together. Mya and I look forward to working with you.”

My gaze flicked to Mya just in time to catch her eye roll. It didn’t escape my notice (or Mya’s apparently) the way he talked about her, as if they were a unit. His body language was almost possessive, claiming her as his. Mya’s eyes drifted over to meet mine, now trying to read me. It was probably obvious to her that my hackles were raised. Everything about this guy screamed - threat.

I gave Veracruz a tight smile as my gaze moved back to him, “Yeah, I can’t wait to get started. I think it’s definitely gonna be an adventure.”

Adventure definitely wasn’t the word I wanted to use. I could tell this guy was going to be a pain in my ass. I was already hoping he would fall in the river and get eaten by a croc or some other jungle predator.

Mya asked if she could hitch a ride with us to the campsite on the chopper rather than riding in the vehicles and hiking in. I obliged of course, not realizing that meant Veracruz was a package deal. I was half tempted to tell him I couldn’t take both and stick him on the other bird, but I refrained.

Once all of the cargo was loaded, I boarded to begin my preflight ritual. I could hear the guys moving around in the back as they got settled in. Just as I was about to put my headset on, Benny appeared in the cockpit with a toothy grin on his face and holding his arm out as if presenting the open seat next to me.

“Given that the boss lady is ridin’ with us, I think she gets shotgun, don’t you Catfish?”

He leaned back, allowing Mya to squeeze past him so she could sit down. She smirked up at him, “Thanks, Benny.”

He nodded, then turned, shooting me a suggestive wink and smacking my shoulder as he made his way to the back. I sat frozen as I watched his retreating form. I really could have punched him in his pretty boy face for that. My attention turned to Mya, watching as she strapped herself in. She didn’t seem to have any issue figuring out the harness, but she left it too loose.

I nodded toward the buckles, “That’s not secure. You need to tighten it up or else you’ll slip out if we crash.”

I be damned if she didn’t lean back into the seat, causing her chest to stick out further as she held her arms up out of the way. Her lips twitched upward, “You’re the expert, I’ll let you strap me down properly.”

I turned forward, staring out the window for a beat and puffing air out of my cheeks before looking down to unbuckle my harness. I stood, leaning over to tighten her straps. I could feel heat rising up my neck as my fingers grazed over parts of her midsection and chest. I could feel her eyes on me as I worked. When I dared to glance up, I found her staring at my face without blinking. Our eyes locked as I pulled the last strap tighter than it really needed to be. I grabbed the harness with both hands just above her chest, giving it a strong tug to make sure it was buckled securely. Her eyebrow twitched upward just as I felt my jaw tighten. Without a word, I returned to my seat and buckled back in.

Behind me, I could hear the guys laughing about something. I was silently cursing myself knowing they had probably been watching that entire interaction go down. I could already tell, they were not going to make this easy for me.

Once we were in the air, I stayed focused on the controls. I could feel Mya’s eyes on me off and on - more than that, I could just feel her. It was like there was a weird energy humming between us the whole way. I felt a sense of relief when the clearing where we were touching down came into view, but it was only temporary. We wouldn’t be stuck together in an enclosed space for the rest of the day, but I would still be with her - near her. We would be sleeping feet from each other and having meals together. Beyond that, we would be roaming the Amazon jungle, working closely so that I could keep her safe. I sighed, realizing that I needed to focus and get my shit together.

After landing, some of Mya’s team that rode in the other chopper immediately got to work, clearing space and setting up tents and whatever else they had brought along while my team worked on getting the security measures in place. Mya and I were dancing around each other as we handed out orders and worked with our respective groups to get things set up. Though I was busy, I was aware of where she was at all times. I refused to let her out of my sight, at least until I felt better about the security around camp.

Everything was in place by nightfall. We were running through our final equipment checks when Mya approached the small tent with all our surveillance equipment setup inside. She stood by silently, listening to me on the radio with my team as we tested the motion sensing cameras that were strategically placed around the perimeter of camp. Just as I finished up, Veracruz joined us, making his presence known as he leaned in to look at the monitors in front of me along with all the equipment laid out on the folding tables. I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with him.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked him in a clipped tone as he picked up a spare motion sensor and began to fiddle with it.

I could see Mya in my periphery, fighting a smile as she turned her head, suddenly becoming interested in something on one of the monitors.

“Are you really relying on a bunch of technology for security in the middle of the jungle?” he asked with a judgmental tone.

I snorted out a laugh, “No. I’m not. I’ve got guys on watch 24 hours a day…walking the perimeter with weapons and on comms. They’ve got night vision too.”

Veracruz nodded, then pointed at the monitors. “How are you running all of this?”

I tried to bite back my condescending laugh. This guy clearly lacked common sense. “Satellites, blue tooth, solar panels…and auxiliary batteries and generators when needed. We’ve got high def cameras with night vision and infrared sensors surrounding the area in addition to all of the hidden motion sensors too. It’s gonna be hard for any person or animal to get through without us knowing.”

Veracruz turned, pausing to stare at the monitors as they cycled through all the camera feeds. That bothered me for some reason. I moved to stand in front of him, blocking his view as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Any more questions I can answer or does that cover it?”

He gave me a tight lipped smile, “I think that covers it.” He moved to leave, pausing to look over at Mya, “You coming?”

She shook her head, “No, actually. I need to talk to Mr. Morales about our plans for tomorrow.”

I could tell he didn’t want to leave her with me as he stood silently for a moment, evaluating his options. He finally nodded, then stalked away toward his tent.

Mya let out a quiet sigh as she watched his retreating form. I wanted to ask her what the deal was with him. Were they together? I didn’t really understand their dynamic. All I knew was I didn’t like the guy or trust him. I figured she wouldn’t tell me the truth if I asked anyway.

I leaned back against the table, meeting Mya’s gaze. “So, how are you feeling about everything now that we’re here?”

I watched as she reached for a folding chair and plopped down into it, raking her hands down her face as she puffed air out of her cheeks.

“It’s…overwhelming and I’m already fucking exhausted.”

I huffed out a laugh, “I can’t argue with that. At least you don’t have to share a tent with three dudes. I’m already banking on not getting any sleep for the next three months.”

She chuckled, “Yeah, you’ve probably got it worse than me.”

Her eyes drifted to the monitor behind me. She nodded toward it with a smirk, “So, you have a camera pointed at my tent?”

I pursed my lips, turning to look at the monitor. I feigned ignorance and shrugged knowing I had placed that one myself. I wanted eyes on her at all times. “We have cameras on several of the tents. Our tent is in the frame too.”

She was giving me a look that said she thought I was full of shit, but I ignored it and changed the subject. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow? Are we taking the bird up?”

She nodded, “I’d like to. I know you said the canopy is too thick to see through, so I think before we go up…we need to install some equipment. I got us a LiDAR pod. It’ll give us 3D images of the forest floor...”

I snorted out a laugh, “I know what LiDAR is.”

She shrugged, “I don’t wanna make any assumptions about your knowledge on laser imaging technology.”

I laughed, “I’m sorry, I should appreciate how thorough you are with everything. It has made things easier on my end…”

Her lips curled upward as she peered up at me through her lashes, “I aim to please.”

Fucking hell. Is she doing this shit on purpose? I had to look away. “So… what time would you like to get started?”

She sighed, “As early as possible, I guess. I have a feeling we won’t be able to sleep in even if we wanted to…between the heat and sounds of the jungle…so probably as soon as the sun rises.”

I nodded in agreement, “I assume you know where the LiDAR pod is?”

It was her turn to nod, “Yeah, it’s in the supplies tent…to the right, in a crate. I can help you with it in the morning.”

I huffed out a laugh, “I can handle it.”

She rolled her eyes and held up her hands, “Fine. Whatever.”

That action had some sort of primal feeling bubbling up inside of me that I didn’t really understand. “You really giving me an attitude right now?”

She bit into her bottom lip as she relaxed back against the seat, “Yeah and you better get used to it.”

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as my eyes focused on her mouth. I wasn’t sure if I was aroused or annoyed. Maybe both? I chewed on the inside of my cheek as my eyes narrowed on hers. She stood from the chair with the hint of a smile playing on her lips as she approached me, “And with that, I’ll leave you.”

Her hand came up to rest on my shoulder as she leaned in closer. I couldn’t look at her, instead choosing to stare at a pile of waterproof equipment cases stacked in the corner as she spoke in a low voice, “Don’t stay up too late. You and I have got a looong day tomorrow. Goodnight, Frankie.”

I gave her a small nod of acknowledgement, before she sauntered off toward her tent. I turned, watching her retreating form as I puffed air out of my cheeks. I really couldn’t figure this woman out.

I grabbed the chair Mya had just vacated, pulling it over in front of the monitors to sit down. The monitor in front of me cycled through to the camera facing her tent. My fingers moved of their own volition to zoom in. My eyes were drawn to the opening. She had zipped the netting closed, but not the cover. I could see her moving around inside, pacing as she flipped through what looked like the worn leather journal I had seen in her office. She chewed on her thumb nail as she scanned the pages, eventually closing it and sighing heavily before tossing it onto a nearby table. She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head revealing her black bra straps hugging her back as she moved through the curtain that divided her tent into another section.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and switched to another camera view of the jungle. I shouldn’t be watching her like that. It was wrong and was one hundred percent egging on the hungry animal inside of me that was begging to be let out. I was so fucked.

About an hour later, one of my team members came to relieve me of my duties in our little security headquarters so I could get some rest. Our tent sat next to Mya’s. I couldn’t help staring toward it as I walked, noting that it was now completely dark. I sighed to myself as I stepped into our home away from home.

Our living quarters were not that bad. We had lived in worse conditions when we were in the military. The tent as a whole was completely enclosed, with a tarp-like bottom that was attached to the walls so no animals or insects could get inside. It was fairly sizable with one large room where we had cots lined down the sides of it. We had a folding table and some chairs in the far corner and a few smaller folding tables we used as night stands. We had made it as homey as we could. There was a separate smaller room that we used to store our personal items, equipment, and weapons. We also used it for privacy when needed.

I found the guys already passed out in their cots. Benny and Will were both snoring loudly. Pope was lying on his stomach with a pillow over his head. I rolled my eyes at the sight, not even bothering to be quiet as I moved around to prepare for bed.

I lay in my cot, listening to the sounds of the jungle outside. As our little camp compound grew quiet, the animals grew louder. Loud enough, it almost blocked out the sound of the snores beside me. I tried to focus on the sounds of the frogs and insects and allow them to lull me to sleep, but my mind kept wandering to thoughts of Mya. I wondered if the jungle sounds would keep her awake or if she was sleeping through it. I thought about the way she had looked at me today. I thought of how soft the skin of her back looked when she pulled her shirt over her head.

I could already feel myself getting hard with the path my thoughts were taking. After letting out a measured breath, I turned to my side. The firmness of the cot and the way it curved upward quickly took my mind off Mya as my shoulder began to ache from the odd angle. I huffed and turned onto my back again. At that point, I somehow managed to shut my mind off and drift to sleep with the sounds of the Amazon rainforest playing in the background, now completely drowning out my snoring roommates.

Chapter 4: X Never Marks the Spot

A/N: Happy Monday, my lovelies! I hope you enjoyed the latest installment. Things are really going to start picking up next chapter now that the gang is all together. Mya is pretty stuck in her defiant ways and it absolutely drives Frankie insane as they set out to explore some interesting readings on the LiDAR scans. Veracruz will be Veracruzing hard. There will also be lots of complaining and jokes from the guys too.

As for this chapter's discussion...

Mya is really laying it on thick with Frankie. How much of her behavior is just fucking with him and how much of it is wanting to fuck him do we think?

Frankie is obviously attracted to her, but he's fighting it. Do we think he will break first? Or will she?

How we feeling about Frankie's ex?

The guys have run into a bit of a problem with getting that money. How do you think they will solve it? If only Pope didn't have an ass the size of a small country...😂

How much hell you think the guys are going to give Frankie over Mya? Benny has clearly already started.😏

Veracruz is already staking his claim. How do you think things are going to play out with him and Frankie?

And just an honorable mention, something about nerdy tech savvy Frankie is kind of hot, right?

Lastly, I felt it important to emphasize how loud the jungle is at night. Especially when everyone has their tents so close together...just keep that in mind for later.😆

Until next time, 💜Mysty

Group 1 Tag List:

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@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

@bunniboo0015 @burntheedges @captainredspade @chaoticfestninja @cheekychaos28

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@elisabethloves @fifitheragertot @for-a-longlongtime @girlofchaos @guelyury

@harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @imdrinkingpedro @jackie923 @janeie87

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #triple frontier #new chapter #frankie goes on an adventure #and gets his fucking money

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choco-reblogs-stuff-aaaa · 5 months ago

Text

OK OK OK OK OK people talk about sniper, or pyro, or medic being autistic right?

B u t

What if I told you all of them are?

Every single one.

Engineer? He's autistic. Soldier? Autistic. Frickin Spy?? Omgsh he's so autistic

So because my brain won't stop itching about this I'm going to write up a collection of all the evidence I have for why the TF2 mercenaries possess within their beings the big tism. By the time this is over y'all are going to be very sick of the word autism.

But IDC

So without further ado, let's go through each of these silly mercs one at a time:

Scout:

Alright, first up we got Scout. Scout I would consider to be AuDHD for multiple reasons

The ADHD is more obvious but like dude trust me he's autistic too

He's hyperactive, forgetful, gets distracted easily, kind of the basic stereotypical ADHD stuff you would notice immediately. He stims, he fidgets, he struggles in social situations, he's seen as over the top and a bit annoying, he talks a lot

Now a lot of these traits are things that are common for both autistics and adhders. But I wanna point out some things I notice about him that are autism specific

He has a special interest: It's Tom Jones. Honestly he probably has a special interest about baseball too

But I mean c'mon he's literally has a Tom Jones tattoo

You could argue this is just a hyperfixation but I bet it's been going on for a while

He also has "spikey" skills. Really good at stuff like drawing, dancing, sports, but he sucks at things like reading, math, etc

Mostly what makes me see him as autistic it's how he struggles in social situations. Bro doesn't know how to flirt unless he's got a bucket of chicken on hand

Soldier:

Honestly if anyone's autistic coded it's soldier

Special interest is all things American, especially if it relates to the military

Lots of autistic people wear certain items that remind them of something they like, usually disregarding things like how it looks or even whether or not it's comfortable. Soldier's helmet is way too big for him but he's almost always wearing it anyway

In meet the spy he does "hut hut hut" when he's doing down the stairs and it makes me so happy

He has no filter, he takes things really literally, he often sees suggestions as orders (teleporting bread anyone?)

Also when he says he's been doing nothing but teleport bread for 3 days it makes me think he must've been hyperfocused on that

I don't think he knows anything about volume control since he's yelling everything

What kind of neurotypical fights bears in Siberia while naked and covered in honey

He speaks his mind rather than beating around the bush

His helmet could also double as helping him avoid eye contact

Pyro:

Tell me they don't have aversion to like every texture besides their suit you can't

A lot of their animations are super stimmy

Pretty much nonspeaking

Has childish interests

Could also have schizophrenia? (I'm relatively uninformed about it tho so I might not be a good person to judge)

I bet half of their little mmph mmmph noises are audio stims

Special interest is fire

their stim is ARSON

Demo:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too

I mean tbf a lot of how he is is more related to alcoholism but shhh let me have this

But I mean he made friends with Soldier

Special interest in medieval weapons which would explain why he's crazy about swords?

Drinking could be an unhealthy coping mechanism/safe food

Probably also depressed with how he can never live up to his family's expectations

Infodumping about bombs in his introduction video

Honestly most of my "evidence" for him is just fanon but idc I like autistic Demoman

Heavy:

Whether or not him having a PhD in Russian literature is canon, some of his in game lines show him to be very poetic and thoughtful

The fact that he only has a few food items but always seems super happy to be eating them gives me safe food vibes

He sings and hums a lot, probably as a stim

He has the Resting Autism Face™

Special interest in his gun

A lot of his voice lines also just feel really stimmy to me, especially when he's doing the "YATATATATATA" thing

Not sure he has any volume control either

Seems to genuinely enjoy Medic's morbid stories, at least to a point

He really really really really really likes the song of the Volga boatmen in particular

He's the prettiest princess it's canon, you can't be a pretty princess without being autistic /j

He has a tiny bed for Sasha. HE HAS A TINY BED FOR SASHA

Heavy is often criticized as a class because guess gameplay is relatively simple and can become a little stale for a lot of people. Yet Heavy seems to have some of the most excited voice lines in the game. I feel like this emphasizes how much he thrives in routine, since he seemingly never gets bored of just doing his thing

Engie:

He has 11 phds

A lot of his voice lines also sound really stimmy to me. Either he's going YEEHAWW GIDDY UP or he's yelling DAMNIT DAGNABIT DANGIT DAGGIT NABBIT

Probably a lot of echolalia with that too

He humanizes his buildings and cares for them like a mother bird

Just listen to his genuinely heartbroken when his sentry gets taken down!

When playing Engie sometimes I find myself smacking stuff with my wrench even though I KNOW it's already level 3 and maxed and whatnot, or I KNOW I'm out of metal, just because I wanna hear the clang noise. So this point is just me projecting but I love the mental image of Engie giving his things a few extra whacks too

He sawed off his arm for his special interest

His whole monologue in meet the engineer is so autistic sounding to me

His dancing taunt also feels stimmy

He's always hunched over, implying irregular posture

He's a NERD—

Man of many talents including playing the guitar

Never takes those goggles off

How does he turn a stressful TF2 match into a (not so) relaxing tower defense game?

Medic:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too because he seems really scatterbrained and it feels like he's working on several things at once and always

He talks a LOT. definitely an infodumper

Either he's super stern or really giggly, there is no in between

He wears gloves in battle but not while doing surgery??? Does he just like organ textures??? Wacko

Special interest is obviously whatever the heck kinda of mad science he does

Here's a heavy medic headcanon I have: medic likes deep pressure hugs

Another special interest could be his birds

He's very spontaneous which makes me think AuDHD even more

Look how excited he gets when taking about the tumors in expiration date!

He got the organ stealing autism

Is it just me or does he fixate on baboon organs in particular???

Sniper:

I'm pretty sure all of you know why this man is autistic but I'm going to list some reasons here anyway

My main evidence tho are his Halloween voice lines: https://youtu.be/2WDljNAslys?si=JP25VOGGDWwwoCI7

Exhibit a, look how much he enjoys having an owl head

Exhibit b, lots of those voice lines make him sound really freakin' overstimulated

He probably wears the hat and shades for sensory reasons as well as because they look cool

Obviously the most socially reclusive of the mercs

I love his backstory where he learns he never felt like the other kids because he wasn't actually Australian, but what if he also didn't fit in with the other kids because he's autistic?

Also throwing rocks at people as a kid screams autism to me

No neurotypical would ever throw jars of his own piss at you either

I think he just wants to live in the woods somewhere and never come back to society and honestly that's based

I feel like he would be the type to bite his own arm when stressed (just like me fr 😭)

Extremely meticulous in following his own life rules (ie being professional and having standards, driving safely with the turn signal and everything)

Spy:

Ok just hear me out for this one

Smoking because stim reasons

He's literally and figuratively masking

He's very suave and probably really good with social things, but I feel like it looks like he's just practiced really hard, again MASKING

Who knows he might not even actually be French

Who collects photographic evidence for a ur mom joke

I see him as either being hypersensitive or hyper insensitive to pain depending on the day (his screams + "I do believe I'm on fire.")

Mad butterfly knife tricks as a stim? (Notice he couldn't help but fiddle with them even disguised as scout in meet the spy)

He sucks at dealing with relationships and that's one of the reasons he's a bad dad

He actually really cares about his team and you can see it especially in expiration date but he's not very good at expressing it

Do you think he wears the ski mask for sensory reasons too?

Probably has his suits tailored to not give him any sensory issues, which could be another reason he likes them so much

Believe me I could go on but I think this is enough to get my point across

THEY ARE ALL AUTISTIC >:00

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mechanicalbloodlust · 1 year ago

Text

✨complaining about gabriels armour yay✨

DISCLAIMER (please read): - i am doing this for fun. this is not a serious post. - this is not a criticism of gabriel's character design. - gabriel is an angel. obviously angels function differently to humans. the armour of angels in ultrakill could be purely decorative for all i know, but im evaluating it in terms of protection in relation to human anatomy. - i often specifically refer to protection against swords. this is because i am basing my knowledge off of medieval armour. (what im saying is: i know v1 uses guns im not stupid) - im not an expert on armour. i read about it for fun, as a hobby. if i get something wrong, PLEASE tell me i love getting new information about armour and i do not want to unintentionally spread misinformation.

initially i did a quick assessment of the gaps in the armour, which would be weak points. while ive seen some interpretations of gabriel wearing a sort of bodysuit, he is definitely not wearing a gambeson. this would make the armour uncomfortable to wear as there would be no padding under it.

the rest of the armour evaluation is in the images below. all of the text is also written out in the image descriptions.

after all this nitpicking, i decided to try to redesign gabriel's armour to make it more protective while keeping it similar to his original design and still recognisable as gabriel ultrakill.

• lowered pauldrons so they're not floating

• added an aventail to the helmet to protect his neck

• the golden parts of the cuirass no longer go inwards

• didnt add couters because i suck at drawing them but lets pretend that i did that to stay closer to his original design (besides he still has the elbow pieces on his vambrace to provide some defence)

• his gauntlets have articulated fingers now

• tassets are laminated rather than the layers he originally had. in retrospect i should have done tassets of three lame and decorated them similarly to gabriels original design but oh well

• i also imagine that he would be wearing a hauberk under the skirt

• added extra plates to the poleyns as well as side fins

• he's got proper sabatons now

• also he would be wearing a gambeson under his armour

• helmet is more like a visored bascinet

• there are actual holes for ventilation now, and there's more of them.

• there are also holes for vision yay

• didn't want to get rid of the gold bit that goes around the helmet so i changed the shape so that weapons wouldn't get caught on it, but would instead skate off. i think it should come closer to the visor on the side profile though. thank you for reading all of this i had a lot of fun doing this :-)

#my posts #ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #went to the royal armouries museum once and it changed my life not even kidding

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yoditopascal · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!! I love your writing. I have a request for a Jason Todd smut involving the Batmobile!!

Thank you so much!!

Ahhhh thank you sm that really means a lot 🤧

And sorry for the late reply I’ve been super sick lately! Anyways I hope you like this!

This contains smut so minors pls DNI

“This is a bad idea” you said breathlessly Jason trailing up the side of your neck leaving wet open mouth kisses in his wake.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked lips grazing your ear as he came up for breath

“No way in hell.”

“That’s what I thought.” He grinned diving back down to your neck biting and sucking as he trailed down to your clavicle and chest.

What started off as a joyride in the Batmobile turned into something so much more when Jason put his hand on your thigh and gave a light squeeze.

It was date night and Jason had just gotten back from patrol. Tossing his helmet to the floor Jay quickly changed his clothes and dragged you out of your cocoon of a bed to spend time with him. By now most places had closed except for the diner around the corner from your apartment. Grabbing a quick bite of breakfast the two of you wandered around downtown for a while not wanting the night to end but also not knowing what else to do.

That’s when Jason got the bright idea to take you to the Bat Cave. He knew Bruce would still be out patrolling and dealing with his own brand of bad guys so the cave would be damn near deserted. Once you guys got there he was pleasantly surprised to find that Bruce had also left the Batmobile behind for the night too. It had taken some talking into but eventually you caved in and agreed to take the car out for a spin with him.

Cruising around Gotham in the Batmobile, as you found out, had been a blast!

Jason would switch between speeding and drifting, every time he accelerated you would grip his thigh or he’d grip yours, the adrenaline working yourselves up, which is how you found yourself parked on top of a hill overlooking the sleepy city as you made out and he worked at getting your clothes off.

Jason lifted up your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns along your skin as he dragged them down to the hem of your pants, playing with the waistband before tugging them down your legs.

Lifting you up by your hips, he drags you down the leather seats until your legs were draped over his shoulders and your clothes core was just below his face, his hot breath fanning over your thighs as he kissed and nipped at them causing a shiver to run up your spine.

“Let me take care of you baby.” He said teeth grabbing at the hem of your underwear dragging them down your legs.

You moaned softly at the first drag of his tongue. Your legs tremble around him as he drags his nose and tongue up and down teasing you.

You clamp a hand over your mouth muffling a particularly loud moan as he presses his mouth against your clit, sucking on it before pulling away and flicking it with his tongue, drawing circles and spelling out his name around it.

Jason pulls away pulling your hand from your mouth as he pushes in a finger.

“I’ll stop right here right now if you try and keep yourself quiet again.”

Watching you through dark lashes, he slowly begins to move his finger in and out of you, curling his finger against your gummy walls until he finds the right spot. You let out a strangled half-sob as he leans back down pressing his mouth against your clit again, sucking and flicking at the hard nub.

Fuuuuuuck,” you rasp out, reaching for his hair. He knew you were getting close, he could tell from the way your walls pulsed around him as he added another finger.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you felt your orgasm building. “Please, right there!” You choked, eyes closing as you threw your head back.

“That’s it baby, just let go for me.”

You stifled a sob as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Jason doesn’t stop as he holds your trembling legs wide open as he works you through it.

“You alright?” He asks with a chuckle as he finally stops.

You nod unable to fully answer him just yet. He chuckles at you again.You watch mesmerized as you catch your breath as he pulls his shirt over his head first, then goes to pull his pants down but not off all the way, just enough to free his hard dick from the stuffy confines of his boxers.

“You ready for me?” He asks, stroking himself as he lines himself up in front of you. You nod still not fully able to use your words just yet and both watch as he sinks into you.

“Shit,” he hisses. He gives a few slow calculated thrusts, just to be sure you're well adjusted to him before he picks up the pace.

“Fuck me Jay.” You begged wanting more than anything for him to go faster, harder, anything to feel more of him against you.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He said before kissing you and locking in.

You were moving together now, a hard rhythm of skin against skin filled the car as Jason fucked into you and you tried desperately to match his pace. One hand threaded through his own while the other clutched clumsily to his back, nails desperately digging in, Jason had an iron grip on your hips as he bucked into you, neither one of you wanted to let go of the other.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” He hissed into your ear burying his face against your neck, his pace becoming harsher, you were having a hard time meeting him thrust for thrust now, both too lost in the ecstasy of it all.

“Jay, please!” You scream as your orgasm washes over you once again, nails biting into his shoulders. You curl your arm around his neck and he presses his forehead against yours, the car rocking with the efforts of his movements.

“Fuck!” he grunts, kissing you hard as he comes. He continues to thrust into you roughly, hips twitching as you card your fingers through his hair, holding onto him as he spills into you.

Pulling away Jason looks at you, a crooked smile settling on his lips as he leans down to kiss you one more time.

“Oh my god I can’t believe we did that!” You squeak embarrassedly voice going hoarse from screaming.

“What? It’s not like it’s the first time we did this.” Jason chuckles, going to pull up his pants and handing you your clothes.

“No, I mean here! In the Batmobile!” You cried as you get dressed in a hurry, you could only move so fast though as the bonelessness of being fucked senseless had started to set in.

“What if Batman finds out?” You asked biting your nails. Jason lets out another laugh as he leans down to kiss you one last time before whispering in your ear. “Fuck, Batman.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #dc comics #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #answered asks #yodito speaks

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sweetercalypso · 1 year ago

Text

Pearl Rosary || Din Djarin

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession

Notes: part three in my week of horror series! minors dni; public(ish) sex, finger sucking, deepthroating, cock worship, facial, reader is a Mandalorian who takes her helmet off, so much religious imagery

In the Cathedral of Mandalore, there’s only just enough light to make out the back of the wooden pew in front of you. The doors and windows are adorned with an ornate red glass that wash the chapel in a somber crimson gloom, a reminder that only those dedicated to their creedal faith are permitted inside.

The nave is silent beyond the occasional clink of beskar and the solemn bells ringing overhead in hourly intervals. You’d counted three resounding chimes, then four, then five, as the day stretches on outside the walls of the chapel.

In your tightly coiled spiral of pensive rumination, time seems to stand still.

Your eyes snap up as another Mandalorian passes by your aisle in their departure from the confessional. The small curtained booth at the front of the church has a strangely foreboding presence, and you’d been working up the courage to step inside all day.

The front doors close, and you’re left with your guilt once again.

If you admit to the thoughts weighing on your conscience, maybe you’ll have the chance to repent. Or, if the pit of dread in your stomach is any prediction, you’ll be cast out for your inclination towards a life of sin.

Before you can work up the nerve to decide whether to gamble your fate, the head of the church, Din Djarin, steps out of the other side of the confessional, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiff ache of being confined in his narrow compartment.

His armor has grown dull with age and wear, buffed with a flat luster that speaks of its obstinate strength.

Others have said that his appearance makes him seem ordinary, but you’ve always thought that his mannerisms were what set him apart. His imposing stance, his commanding way of speaking, the way his head tilts when he’s deep in thought – he’s beautiful if you know where to look.

When he turns in your direction, your breath catches in your throat.

“You’ve been here for quite a while.” His voice has an unexpected warmth that licks up your spine. “Are you here to speak with me?”

Your eyes flicker warily to the confession booth. “I’m not sure.”

He seems to pause for a moment before making his mind up to join you, floorboards groaning under his heavy boots as he draws near. You shift uncomfortably on the hard bench, squirming under the spotlight of his attention. He stops at the end of your row and rests a hand behind you on the back of the pew.

“We can speak out here if you’d prefer.”

You’re surprised that he’d recognized the source of your unease, though you’re not sure if he realizes why the embrace of the confessional is so distinctly unnerving.

The people of Mandalore are not known for their empathy, especially not those held in high regard by the church. Din Djarin is a fiercely orthodox man, and you doubt he understands the position you’re in.

“I’ve seen you during services,” he comments. “Always so attentive.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the thought of being recognized in the mass of devoted warriors that frequent his sermons. Is your shame so pronounced that you stand out in a crowd? “I didn’t know you paid attention to the assembly.”

He hums in response. “I care deeply for everyone in my congregation, especially those who are in danger of losing their faith. Tell me, what’s been troubling you?”

You hesitate before answering, skirting around the truth as much as you can, as much as he’ll let you.

“I’ve had… impure thoughts, father.”

“Oh?” His voice is rich with interest. “Indulge me, cyar'ika. What tempts you?”

His smooth, full baritone makes it impossible to deny his entreaty, like he’s wrenching your secrets from the far reaches of your mind.

“I’ve thought about… taking my helmet off in the witness of non-believers. I’ve thought about what you look like underneath your armor.” You pause for breath. “I’ve thought about your image at improper times.”

His chest falls with a heady sigh, though the sound is lost beyond the rasp of his modulator. “I see. And how do you think you should pay for your transgressions?”

The presence of other Mandalorians can be heard from outside the chapel – an admonition of what you have to lose if you are turned away. The air in the room shifts. Your hands flex at your sides.

“I’ll do anything.” You push forward onto the edge of your seat, ardently pleading for your chance at repentance. “Tell me how to make things right.”

He shifts in place, mulling over his options for what feels like an eternity. You swallow the urge to scream as silence rings in your ears.

Finally, he speaks.

“Maybe you’re too curious,” he decides. “Too concerned with things you cannot have.”

Your fingers dig into your palms, awaiting the final blow of his judgement.

“I think you need to experience firsthand the gravity of your desire.”

He leans down like he’s sharing something that no one else can hear, a sentiment too clandestine to be born in a house of worship.

“This is a sacred place,” he explains. “If you’re going to commit an act of sin, let it be here.”

You’re taken aback by the implication of his words. You’d been expecting a show of indignation, maybe even outrage for your betrayal of the Way, but it seems like he’s encouraging your lapse in faith. Surely, you’ve misunderstood.

The hand caressing your shoulder tells you that you haven’t.

“Revealing yourself to anyone a sin, and the public would have you exiled for removing your helmet. But here, in the presence of a higher being, I will make an exception.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his hands are on the underside of your helmet, tipping your head back with the force of his grip. The fabric of his gloves glides against your jaw as he lifts your beskar veil and exposes you under the chapel’s dim, ruddy glow.

You squint at the sudden shift in the light, surprised to discover what your dark-tinted visor had been hiding from you. The red halo cast around him is much more intense without the obstruction of your helmet. His outlined form burns with a fiery sanctitude that makes you shudder.

Your attention is drawn to his hands ghosting over your face, cradling your cheeks with a curious touch. The pad of his thumb presses against your mouth, tugging at the plush of your bottom lip. “Is this what you wanted?”

You swallow thickly and chance a look up at him, finding your face in the reflection of his visage. Your lips part in fascination at the sight of your own eyes staring back at you.

“That’s it, open up for me.”

His thumb presses further into your mouth and hooks behind your teeth. The taste of the holy chrism melts across your senses, balsam and olive oil and something you can’t name. When your tongue swipes out to meet his digit, he hums low in his chest and pulls his other hand back to curl around his belt.

“Does this make you feel good? Corrupting a man of faith?”

You whimper around his thumb, eyes blown wide with lust. The metal buckle at his waist glints in the low light, seemingly pleading for your touch. You don’t know how far he’ll take this lesson, but you’re hoping it ends in a mutual exchange of sin.

As if persuaded by your thoughts alone, he works open his belt and the fastenings of his pants, revealing a patch of tawny skin that contrasts the muted tones of his beskar.

“You need more than this, though. Don’t you?”

With a low hiss, he pulls his hardening cock from its confines, and your mouth waters at the sight. He’s eager, alive, twitching in his tight grip. The tip of his cock weeps as he bucks into his hand.

The heat simmering in your belly has grown into a blazing flame. When he swaps his thumb for the head of his cock, your thighs clench with the urgent need to consume him in every way.

His warm, salty taste is so human, so unlike the righteous figure he’s made out to be. You can almost picture what the rest of him looks like by the glimpse of what he’s offered you.

Your lips wrap coyly around his length, an earnest appeal for his approval.

The tint of his visor hides his eyes, but you gaze up at him anyway in hopes that he meets you halfway, that he commits the image of your debauched affair to memory.

“C’mon, this is your chance to atone.”

You trace the vein on the underside of his cock, tongue laving over him in search of a reaction, in search of redemption through your greedy act of worship. His hips stutter in response and the head of his cock twitches against the roof of your mouth.

He mumbles something akin to prayer and focuses his efforts, sliding further into your mouth until your nose presses against his pelvis and his cock settles in the back of your throat. You gag at the foreign pressure and try to pull away, but he settles a hand on the nape of your neck to hold you in place.

“That’s it, take it all.”

His thrusts are slow, lazy, careful not to overwhelm you. When he moves, it’s a gentle drag over your tongue, not the heedless intrusion you’d expected from him. He bucks his hips like he wants to know you’re enjoying it too.

“Fuck,” he grunts, chin dropped to his chest. “Your filthy mouth was made for this.”

You wish you could see him without the beskar disguising his reaction. The heave of his chest, the flex of his hands, the jump of his cock when you tongue the right spot – his body is so expressive, you have no doubt that his face would be too.

A few more juts of his hips and he’s pulling out of your mouth and forming a fist around his length, flushed skin glistening with your spit.

He chokes out a broken noise and angles his hips towards you, painting the evidence of your transgressions over your cheeks and your lips.

You touch your fingers to your face when he pulls away, eyeing his handiwork with a sound of approval. This part of yourself, it’s his now. Desecrated for the use of someone more sacred than yourself.

The corners of your mouth stretch into a grin. This is exactly the forgiveness you were looking for.

#sweetercalypso’s week of horror #Din Djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin one shot #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian fic #din x reader #Star Wars #star wars x reader #star wars smut #priest!din #priest!din Djarin

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