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yinses · 4 years ago

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B R A N D E D

| he would make sure that everyone knew who you belonged to |

tattoo artist! sukuna ryomen

rating: t

a/n: this is going to be a three part series. it got too long because i couldn’t shut up. thank you to @teoran for beta reading !!

you should have never informed yuuji that you were thinking about getting a tattoo, because of course his first response would be hey, sukuna owns a shop. why don’t you stop there. as if you didn’t already known that. your other friend, unfortunately had not known how to be subtle about it.

its when you go to hand off your card that they gasp audibly, drawing the attention of both yourself and the woman behind the counter.

“you’re not going to ask for a discount? i mean you know the owner, right?”

she jumps back quick enough to dodge the errant elbow you throw her way.

you knew you would regret telling her.

the woman is undeterred as she take your card, looking bored with the news. “so you know sukuna, huh?” the way she said it implied that it wasn’t the first time it had been made known to her.

you had known the man long enough to know where her thoughts were going with that assumption. sukuna wasn’t only popular for his art. a shudder rolled through your body at the idea of being categorized as one of his flings.

it wasn’t as though you were intentionally shaming the women. but it was sukuna. the same guy who locked you and his younger brother out on the patio whenever he was meant to keep an eye on you. and then blamed you for hiding from him when the responsible adults got home.

in hindsight, maybe you should have chosen another location. but now your card has been charged.

you scribbled your signature on the receipt, “uh yeah, awhile now. im not requesting him or anything.”

“his appointment book is full anyway. he doesn’t take walk ins.” its not said snidely, just matter of fact. as if she was seasoned with dealing with these kind of customers.

the man of topic strides in then, carrying a few bags of take-out that he drops carelessly onto the counter. he doesn’t m look unlike any other day, a loose white sleeveless shirt with a low hanging v-neck that just invited attention to his skin. the swirls of black ink made permanent by his hand only. though that was the advantage of this field and owning your own business on top of it.

sukuna was prepared to ignore the clientele planted at front desk, until he did a double take. those vermilion eyes took you in, morphing from speculation, to shock, a pinch of awe, then back to postulation.

“what are you doing here?”

a small frown mars you face. you didn’t actually consider that perhaps sukuna wouldn’t want you here. it was one thing to know the guy, but whether you wanted to accept it or not, you weren’t just another customer. so you unsurely respond with, “getting a tattoo?”

the snort he gives isn't one of annoyance. in fact its almost comforting to see the minuscule curl of his lips until they start to part, “yeah, missing something aren’t you?”

you realize with a frown that he’s referring to his brother.

“i have other friends.”

that slow smile wides as he gives your friend a brief look of appreciation. suddenly all those years of witnessing him cart his flings around rise to the forefront of your mind. really nothing rarely changed. “ i can see that.”

his gaze cuts back to you, “what are you getting? your boyfriends name?”

you cant tell if he’s teasing, fishing or a combination of them both.

he turns to lean over the counter, arms flexing at the action and pinches the fresh design still hot from the printer. you resist the urge to shuffle in place as he inspects the image with more interest than there were lines. it was hardly all that complex, just as you intended.

sukuna finally voices his opinion, to no surprise of your own. “yeah? kind of small isn’t it?”

“its my first sukuna,” you drawl.

you realize too late that the wording isnt best around him.

“no kidding.”

he tugs a styrofoam box free from the plastic bag before gesturing to you with a tilt of his head.

“alright, lets knock it out.”

you look to the woman expecting her to complain about his pending appointments but she only returns it with a pointed look. when it came down to it, what the boss wanted goes.

right then.

turning, you address your friend who seemed more invested in watching sukuna’s departure. “are you coming?”

her gaze snaps to you and she doesn’t even bother to pretend. she shrugs, “you may not be squeamish about needles but i am.” her hand waves vaguely towards the lounge area near the coffee station and stack of assorted snacks. “i’ll come running if you scream though,” she teases as you turn down the hall.

sukuna’s voice carries from the right in guidance where you find him setting his food off to the side. the room is neat. though you don’t know what you were expecting given the health expectations lining his work. then again, you’d spent the better part of the decade watching him cart week old pizza boxes out of his room so it was hardly a baseless assumption.

aside from the desk of tools and variety of inks the only other defining feature was the wall at the back. there was no rhyme or direction to the madness. the once white wall was littered with varying penmanships and messages. almost like an autograph book. some derogatory, others genuinely thankful for his work - you think you see a few numbers too.

the cushion of the seat protests under his weight as he rolls to the center of the room. he has the stencil of your chosen art held up in expectation.

“where is this pretty little thing going?”

“oh my rib- here on the right.” you think nothing of bringing up the hem of your shirt to expose the skin just under the curve of your breast.

he almost looks impressed, though there is some doubt. he wheels closer and gives no warning as his hand palpates the area. “over the bone? that’s daring for your first tattoo, princess.”

the name was nothing new, an accompaniment to yuuji’s ‘brat’.

part of you actually grateful that its sukuna. the entire shop had good reviews but it was best known for his talent. besides, the charge was already sitting on your card.

“i can handle it.”

he’s still squinting at your side, fingers tickling at your skin.

“yeah?” he answers absently. nimble digits you didn't think had any taste for delicacy carefully peel the plastic from the stencil. he doesn’t second guess himself in the slightest before pressing it to your skin.

when he pulls away, the chair follows him as he collects a hand mirror from his desk to reflect the design back to you.

“double sure?” he’s still rallying your resolve, but there is a hint of warning to his voice as professionalism seeps in.

with a firm nod you seal the deal,” yeah.”

“aright, pin up your shirt out of the way. tuck it into your bra if you want.”

you were expecting this already, given the location you’d decided on. with sukuna that action comes effortlessly without thought. it was no different than the times he’d seen you in your bathing suit, your brain reasoned. at least you still had your pants this time.

sukuna rests back into a lean against his small desk. absently you note that his eyes haven't left you once since you’d entered the room.

“eager little thing aren't you?”

but its sukuna.

you shrug.“ i guess. kind of been saving up for this one.”

the noise he makes is non-committal as he nods to the angled chair.

without your shirt there was no barrier between yourself and the leather. you expected the cold chill but the lack of stickiness kind of surprised you. once again you were reminded of the indisputable list of reviews at your fingertips.

sukuna goes about collecting the materials to disinfect your skin, angling the bottle and cotton over the trash can to catch the excess drops. satisfied with the saturation, he slides back.

you try to absorb the brief shock you feel when he applies the alcohol to your skin. it was hardly a substitute for actual bracing to come but it was good practice. when you look up, you catch his gaze again.

he’d been more observant in these last few minutes than you could ever recall sukuna caring before. maybe it was the job. though the thought of him excelling at customer service has you fighting a snort.

“cold,” you supply and he gives another grunt.

he chucks the cotton ball into the trash with all the efficiency of a man who has made a sport out of it and probably keeps score.

deciding on a solid color eliminated the need for him to break away to change shades, eliminating any surplus time keeping you in this chair.

a gloved hand braces your side, pinching the skin, while the other holding the gun rests against your sternum. when the motor starts you take a careful breath in. sukuna’s eyes raise at the sound.

“not nervous?”

you blink, expecting him to just get to it.

“uh, not really? i’ve never really been afraid of needles.”

he pauses. just when you part your lips to ask what wrong the buzzing starts.

its impossible not to tense at the first bite of the needle. but you fight the urge to jerk. it stings. the vibration of the motor is uncomfortable against your ribcage but it's not unbearable. you certainly wouldn't cry.

sukuna seems to notice it as well.

“not going to lie thought you’d be more of a cry baby? weren't you the one sobbing after you stubbed your toe.”

you latch onto the idle chatter even if it's a jibe.

“i was eleven and i sprained that toe.”

he gives you a quick glance. “sure, princess. completely called for the waterworks.”

you snort. “yeah well it made me stronger. im barely affected today.”

your words are followed by a shift of his hand as it turns to follow a line, the movement pressing firmly against the underside of your breast. you're too attentive to the needle pinching at your skin to take notice.

but sukuna does, eyes narrowing without your awareness.

“yeah, i can see that.”

rather than closing your eyes to block out the pain, you find a more comforting distraction in tracing the lines of his tattoos with your gaze. you can hardly make out the first tattoo he’d gotten at the age of seventeen after forging his parents signature.

the abstract design had now branched out, interlocking with new styles to map out the formation of a sleeve. it was almost like his own branded language. a dialect of bold shapes and bands. you’d never thought to actually ask what his tattoos meant. nor did you expect an honest answer.

sukuna works rather quickly and efficiently while your mind wandered. even if he hadn’t squeezed you in during his lunch break this felt like the usual pace for him. he looked so in the zone as he followed the pre-made lines to perfection.

you weren’t the model customer, still having your brief moments of weakness but he rolled with the interruptions better than you expected. sukuna was brash growing up and didn’t tolerate nonsensical people. you’d had your fair share of opportunities to be chewed out by him.

and earned a reasonable amount of them, though your returning attitude said otherwise.

but this sukuna was softer, if you could put it like that. he knew the right time to give you breaks but didn’t let your nerves settle too much. when he wasn’t adding a layer to permanency to your skin, an errant finger would smooth over the swelling flesh.

more than once you heard him throw out a quiet good girl. that you knew was meant to be encouraging but it came with additional implications that tickled your skin.

he tells you that you should be grateful that the artwork doesn’t need any shading. that it was never a good fit for beginners.

your chest expands the furthest it had in the last half hour when he finally rolls back.

“alright, princess, go ahead and take a look.”

you take the offered mirror again and angle it to take in the fresh piece. the reflection you get back is- amazing. you’d been so concentrated?? on micromanaging the pain that you failed to take in the little details he’d added along with the original design.

as if reading your thoughts, he snorts. “it's not my art if i don't leave my mark. you can tell me it looks good you know.”

if you didn't know any better, you’d say he was authentic in his attempt to bait your approval.

and you had no reason not to provide.

your legs are a little shaky but you manage to balance yourself before brining the eldest itadori into a hug. sukuna goes stiff for a moment before returning the embrace and doesn’t resist when you press your face into his shoulder. there’s an awkward pat before they release each other from the hold.

sukuna .. before he’s shrugging you off.

“god, what a noob. at least let me cover it up. you’re going to irritate the skin.”

when he turns back to rummage through his desk you note the hint of a flush creeping up his nape. you know better than to mention it, instead just smiling at his back.

there is a scowl on his face as he applies the cotton square to your skin and tapes it in place.

“please do not itch this shit. i don’t care if you feel like your skin is going to fall off.”

he presses a small tube of antibiotic into your hand.

“and apply this daily. you don't need it drying out. “

you’re grateful for the little slip of printed instructions that follow. you were able to remember the sensible directions but it couldn't hurt to have additional guidance when you started to question the progress.

“oh and no sex.”

that was definitely not on the list.

sukuna raises a brow in all seriousness. “what? if you get your blood pumping too much.”

you call him on his bullshit,” this small? hardly. “

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, try it yourself if you want. i charge for touch ups though.”

the two of you size each other up. just like old times.

with a sigh you relent, “fine, no sex.”

“good, see me in two weeks.”

his words stop you short. it wasn’t as if you needed anything added and he wasn’t a physician checking on your progress. if anything, you would only revisit your artist if there was a problem.

“what for?”

the dawning grin would follow you for the next fourteen days.

“to make sure you didn’t have sex.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna blessings #sukuna ryomen

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justauthoring · 4 years ago

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The Lingering Shadow [1]

A/N: here’s the first part! i’ve been reading far too many oikawa fics lately, specifically yandere ones, but since that’s not really my style of writing, i’ve decided to add my own little twist. so yes, some chapters might be dark, and oikawa is definitely not a good guy (sorry to any die-hard oikawa fans) but the reader will have a happy ending :)

just to be clear, she’s a second year in this. and obviously everything will be explained in due time, but please let me know who you all would like the reader to eventually end up with -- im thinking one of the third years, but not sure who. though, i’ll consider anyone (besides oikawa lol) so please send in some suggestions.

Summary: He’s a past memory you’ve tried so hard to forget. So hard to leave in the past. And you almost succeed, almost do it, until his voice is suddenly calling out for you and then, you just can’t seem to get rid of him. Pairing: tbd, Yandere!Oikawa Tooru x Reader

TW: yandere oikawa, dark themes, warnings might change as chapters progress.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before...”

The sound of his voice sends you to a rigid freeze, entire body tensing up in panic. You’d recognize his voice anywhere, of course you would -- you’d used to be obsessed with it (as strange as that sounded). Completely and wholeheartedly devoted to it. Him and that sultry tone of his. Him and that fake grin of his.

Your hands freeze on the strap of your bag, the one you’d been packing seconds prior -- peacefully and undisturbed. And you hang there a moment, unsure of what you should do. You don’t want to turn, don’t want to face him, and you certainly don’t want to engage in any sort of conversation with him.

Hands pressed on either side of you head, a looming figure standing before you, trapping you. There’s no escape. No where to turn.

You keep your gaze down, shaking, violently and without fault. You’re scared to look up, lips feel as if they’d been glued shut -- you’re so completely confused and out of your element that it’s stunned you silent without fault. He’s a intimidating figure before you, even if you’d never felt that way prior to this moment. He’d used to seem like the sun and stars to you, now he feels like nothing more then a shadow, lurking in the dark.

You hadn’t wanted this -- you didn’t want this. You were just--

“--congratulating me, right?” He smirks, voice a low drawl. “This feels like congratulation enough to me.”

You shut the memory out, forcing it to the very back of your mind like you have for the past few months. You refuse to remember it, relive it, and it’s different this time -- the two of you aren’t alone. Aren’t in some dark corner of the school where no one else can see, where no prying and curious eyes can fall on the two of you.

Your team will notice, surely--

“Ah,” he grins, “I knew I’d recognized you.”

You’ve turned to face him before you even realized you actually had. It’s like your feet move on their own, like your body had instinctively reacted to his voice, like it had that day.

When you look at him, he’s grinning widely, head tilted to that side and has that familiar twist to it that you haven’t managed to get out of your minds eye since that day. You’d never used to see it, never would’ve dreamed of seeing such a sadistic and twisted look in the boys face -- but now, you think it fits perfectly if the lasting touch of his scalding touch is anything to go by.

“O-Oikawa-san,” you whisper, forcing the words out as you bow your head. You take a quick glance around the Karasuno gym the both of you were in, finding his team scattered amongst the crowd as they packed up their things, and your own team missing. It occurs to you then that they must be in the locker room, changing out of their gym attire.

You’re not alone, but certainly not with anyone that’d care for the panicked look on your face.

Kiyoko isn’t even there.

“Y/L/N, right?” He calls, jutting his hip out as he leans on his right leg, “you used to go to Aoba Johsai.”

The casual lilt to his tone as you wondering if he even remembers that day, and with a blink you realize he probably doesn’t. Just because he recognized your face, doesn’t mean anything. You’d used to go to every single one of his games, watched with a striving passion and unwavering determination, maybe he just remembered seeing your face amongst the crowd.

Part of it hurts, the stinging realization that he didn’t even care to remember what he’d done that day. The fear he’d set deep within you, it never having fully stopped coursing through your veins.

But then, another, more logical side of you reasons good -- you don’t want him to remember. If he doesn’t remember, it’s less likely to happen again.

“You’re a manager here?”

Swallowing thickly, you force yourself to sound as strong as you possibly can. “Y-yes, well, manager in training. Kiyoko-san is helping me--”

“It’s a wonder how you managed that,” he cuts in, voice sharp. “My number one fan, manager of Karasuno. A team nobody even remembers anymore.”

You freeze, lips left parted.

“That’s what you called yourself, right? My number one fan?” His tone is light enough that to anybody in passing, it sounds casual. But you see it, that blaze in his eyes, the sweet smile on his lips that is just a little too sweet, and the curl of his eyes that seems a little too forced to be real.

You once would’ve believed it, one of the poor girls that would fall for his charms easily and without fault. Now, it just floods you with fear.

“It’s all, if I remember correctly, you were good for.”

He takes a step forward, and you take one back, and it hits you like a slap across the face.

“Congratulations on the win, huh?”

His smile turns twisted, dark, and you find yourself pressed against a wall suddenly, him gaining on you.

“How would you like to congratulate me then?”

“My faithful fan ran away it seems.”

“Oikawa,” you call, voice pitching in panic. “Please--”

“Is everything alright, Y/L/N-san?”

You don’t think you’ve ever appreciated Kiyoko more then you do in that exact moment -- and you owe a lot to her and her kindness.

Oikawa turns at the sound of her voice, and your wide eyes soften somewhat at the curious, but guarded, look upon her face as she eyes the two of you. There’s a still moment, a long pause, one where you’re not sure what to say, if you could even say anything if you wanted to -- it feels like you can barely breathe, he’s still far too close.

But you don’t have to. Oikawa does for you.

“Catching up with an old friend is all,” he smiles, bright-eyed and convincing as ever, “she used--”

“Ne, ne, Y/L/N-senpai, what are you doing talking to The Great King?”

You hate that name, you decide then, more then ever. A flash of orange appearing next to you, all but butting himself into the conversation, bounding up to you with bright eyes and a warm smile -- it’s a nice contrast to Oikawa’s you also decide, body easing somewhat.

You knew your team would notice. Of course they would.

“I used to go to the same school as Oikawa-san,” you explain softly, saying what you’re sure Oikawa had been about to to Kiyoko, finding your voice with the strength of no longer being alone with him. However, you can’t help but eye him out of the corner of your eye, apprehensive and unsure. “Though, he was a year ahead of me.”

“I didn’t know she’d transferred to Karasuno,” Oikawa explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Pleasant surprise is all.”

You notice the rest of the team joining, slowly filtering over to where the four of you stand. Hinata still looks quite confused, and as Kageyama comes to a stand behind him, he also looks quite puzzled. However, as your attention filters over to the older members of the team, they seem more apprehensive, like Kiyoko had, narrowed gazes fixtured up Oikawa.

Tanaka, in particular, steps forward, a harsh glare on his face, a threatening aura surrounding him, to which Hinata is quick to back him up (of course, you notice the way he also uses his upperclassmen as a shield) all whilst Oikawa simply stands there with a confused smile.

He’s good, you realize as well, really good. Better then you thought. He does, of course, have years of practice -- twisting that glint into something more friendly, more approachable, more charismatic.

“Oikawa-san!” A teammate of his calls, pulling the attention away from you, whilst Daichi grabs both Tanaka and Hinata by their collars, yanking them back. “It’s time to go.”

Oikawa turns to your team, offering a small wave, and hope floods you then. The casualness of his step, the way his back is turned to you, you think maybe, just maybe, that was it. Just a game to him. He probably liked seeing the fear in your eyes, got off on it, but you didn’t matter enough to him to do anything else. That was it. He would be off, and things would go back to normal -- you wouldn’t have to see him again.

It was luck that Takeda had managed a practice match with Oikawa’s team, and though you’d been somewhat nervous when you first heard -- he’d ignored you till the end. And you wouldn’t be seeing him again, transferring schools insured that fact.

But then a hand falls on your shoulder, and your gaze flickers upwards, finding --

Oikawa staring down at you, gaze intense, unwavering, and it sends a chill down the back of your spine. His grip is tight on your shoulder, having caught you the moment you’d tried to pull off the wall and get away. He’s strong, stronger then he looks, and he keeps you there with ease, before pushing, just a small push, slamming you back against the wall.

And then his other hand is gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze up, and his lips are own your before you even have a moment to argue. He’s unrelenting, forceful, and you don’t know how to stop him -- how to even beg for him to stop, because it occurs to you that he won’t care.

He doesn’t care.

“I’ll be seeing you.”

And Oikawa’s off before you’ve even properly processed his words, chest heaving as he squeezes your shoulder, the threat clearly there, and then the pressure is gone.

He’s gone.

You watch him walk off, pull on that familiar white and blue jacket, and Takeda is saying goodbye to their coach with a polite bow, and Seijoh is walking out the doors. But not before Oikawa sends a smile back at you, just you, his eyes finding yours easily, and even from where you’re stood, you can see that glint, and it feels like all the warmth in your body is just gone.

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder once against snaps you out of your revere, and your wide, somewhat panicked eyes fall on Kiyoko whose staring down at you in concern.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N-san?”

A glance at the rest of your team, and most seem to be wearing a similar expression of concern, if not confusion. You even notice Tsukishima glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Y/L/N?” Daichi calls, pressing you gently.

“Yeah,” you choke out, the words light and airy, but you smile to convince them of the fact. Your shoulders ease, and Kiyoko’s grasp lightens at the feeling, and then you’re smiling up at her, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with a light laugh. “Just caught me off guard is all. Haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“I didn’t know you two were friends.”

It’s Kageyama who says it, and his tone is sharp, blunt.

“Kageyama!” Sugawara chastises, sending him a harsh glare.

“No, no.” you argue, shaking your head. “It’s fine. We’re not really. When I was in my first year, I used to go to a lot of his games. I guess he just recognized me from the crowds.”

You hope you’re convincing, and you are enough that they leave it at that. But even if you notice the glances thrown your way, or the way Kiyoko dutifully sticks close to you as you finish grabbing your things, taking a bit longer then normal in order to insure you don’t see Oikawa again when you leave the gym.

You don’t want to see him again.

But something deep down, twisting around your heart, tells you you don’t have much of a choice in that matter.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa imagine #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #oikawa toru #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa toru x reader #imagine #imagines #my fics

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thegreenmetblue · 3 years ago

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STARKER FESTIVAL SUMMER BINGO : 2nd square

not a date

read on ao3

Peter was utterly anxious. To be honest, he’s not even sure anything in his life stressed him more than that. To be fair, he wasn’t expecting this. At all. Let’s go back to earlier in the day. This morning to be more precise.

Peter was lying in his bed, watching some weird videos on YouTube. But it was Saturday morning. It’s what teenagers do on a early Saturday morning (read : at 10 am). Not that the boy was gonna say it out loud but it was either that, either reading fanfictions about Spiderman and Iron Man. But shhh if you ask him, he’d say it’s only for checking how people are describing him.

Anyway, he was watching some hilarious videos Ned has sent him for the last six days when his phone stopped the video in exchange of Tony Stark’s face. Peter’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, like every time Tony’s calling him. “Yes ?”, he answers with a faint voice. Most of the times, he has no issues talking to Tony face to face but god knows why, Peter has still big issues with calls.

“If this isn’t my favorite young adult. Hi, Pete. Im sorry if woke up you. Or maybe not that sorry, it was time to anyway.”, Tony’s voice says in the speaker. Peter’s cheeks redden at that. He doesn’t know the reason of it, but it’s been almost two months Tony stopped calling him a kid. And now he just said young adult, it gives hope to Peter’s poor heart. Maybe Tony stopped seeing him as a kid. Maybe he sees him more as an equal now ? Lost in his thoughts, the boy doesn’t even realize he didn’t answer to the man on the other side of the phone.

“Alright, imma take that as a no. Gosh, I wondered what happened to the boy that was practically begging to have all my attention.”, Tony laughs softly. Again, he just said Peter wasn’t that boy anymore. The boy makes a little shame sound to the man’s comment about his behavior, feeling his cheeks burning even more.

“N-no, im sorry, im here mr. Stark. You didn’t wake me up. And please take that back, I was never asking for you attention, old man.”, Peter shoots back. He loves doing that. He loves talking back to Tony. “Imma pretend I didn’t hear what you just called me. And Im also gonna pretend like you’re not shamelessly lying to me at the moment. Anyway, you have plans tonight ?”, Tony asks, a bit of growling in his voice. This automatically warms Peter’s heart. He’s probably gonna go to Tony’s lab tonight.

Peter was trying not to smile too much when he remembered Tony wasn’t actually there. “No, I don’t have anything. You want me in the lab ?”, the boy asks and immediately regrets his choice of words. want me in the lab. Fuck. He was gonna say sorry to that, but thanks god Tony speaks before he can make it even more awkward. “No actually I was thinking of something a little more fun. What do you say about eating in a fancy restaurant tonight ?”. Peter’s heart doesn’t skip a beat this time, it skips severals. Tony wants- what ?

“What ?”, he lets out, without even realizing it. “Should I take that as a no again ?”. Tony’s voice echoes in Peter’s brain but never gets analyzed. The boy’s still frozen, his phone hanging in his hand, the sound of his beating heart ringing in his ears.

“Peter ? Fri just told me your heartbeats are unsually high, are you okay ?”. And this time, that wakes him up. “Wh-what ? Oh.. no that’s- im okay, it’s just- MJ!”, Peter stutters as an answer. He swears he can hear Tony’s frowning’s expression in the silence that follows.

“I mean, she- MJ, she sent me a funny, a text, it reminded me of something and I huh.. yeah. No, that’s yes.”. Another long silence. that’s a yes. Peter feels like he just answered a proposal. “Yes as in, im free for tonight, mr. Stark.”, Peter finishes, his cheeks burning with shame.

“Great. And Im not gonna question what just happened, alright ? Be ready for 7.”, Tony simply says before hanging up. Just like that. Just like he didn’t just made Peter’s brain completely fry.

“Did Tony just asked me on a date?”, Peter asks himself out loud, alone in his bedroom, his jaw hanging in shook. What the hell ?

That’s how Peter started the most stressful day of his entire life. Exams ? Spiderman ? Thanos ? Forget all of this, he has a freakin’ date with Tony freakin’ Stark, that is the real stressful shit. He spends half of the day walking in his apartment.

Around 3, he starts to panic hard because Tony said fancy. But Peter doesn’t have fancy clothes. He stayed in front of his phone, hesitating to send Tony something about that or no. He doesn’t want Tony to think he only has kid’s clothes. But then, better this than showing up in a fancy restaurant with a pun-sweat right ?

PP : How should I be dressed for tonight ?

Peter finally sends, not asking but hoping Tony’ll understand what he meant. His smile increases when, 6 minutes after, his phone rings.

TS : Happy is gonna drop you a suit at 5.

Peter’s inside catches fire at that. The words sugar daddy are ringing in his ears. Tony is gonna buy him a suit. Just for tonight. For their date. “Oh my god, imma be sick.”, Peter mumbles. His heart has been beating so fast since the call. And he feels like he’s gonna throw up. And he’s also happy. So happy. But- a date ? With Tony Stark ? Peter has been in love with the man for- he can’t even remember. Of course at first it was just a fan crush, then a real crush, then it bloomed into full love. And Peter never thought he could had a chance. But- Peter’s thoughts get cut by the entry door opening.

It’s May. And it’s been 5 hours now that Peter is combusting with impatience all alone in his apartment that he just can’t help himself. As soon as May starts taking to him, he blurts out : “I’ve got a date tonight!”

That’s how the hundreds of questions start. May knows he’s gay. However, May doesn’t know he loves Tony and she definitely doesn’t know the actual date is with Tony. So when she starts asking who he is, Peter realizes it maybe wasn’t the best idea. So after receiving the 5 hugs May felt like she needed to give him for that, the boy sends another text to Tony.

PP : Can we meet at the park next to my building please?

And then, he lets May giving him advices for tonight. “Alright, I get why you won’t tell me. Even if Im a little concerned, I get it. Where is he taking you ?”, she asks, a big smile on her face. “I don’t know actually, he just said it was somewhere fancy.”, Peter answers, trying not to let his smile gets to him too much.

“And how are you gonna get dressed ? You maybe can try some of Ben’s suit ?”. And Peter’s heart warms at that proposition. “It’s alright May, I already have something to wear actually.”

The two next hours aren’t better, they’re worst. May continues giving him advices. For his sakes, Peter swears himself to never use some. Then he takes a shower, the longest he never took. Just in case. He wants all of his skin to smell good for Tony. His cheeks brun at this thought. Are him and Tony gonna.. ? Now his whole body is warming up and Peter can’t help but jerking off at the thought of him and Tony going home tonight and having some fun.

When Happy leaves him a text saying the suit is in the mailbox, the boy sneaks to get it. Once the suit is on him, Peter can’t stop looking at his own reflection in the mirror. It’s a light blue suit and fuck, he does look good in those. His whole skin is shivering because Tony bought it to him. Tony’s money is touching his skin. The boy snorts at his own weird thoughts. But he can’t help it.

A small whine escapes his lips when he realizes there’s still 1h30 before Tony comes to get him. And that’s the absolute worst feeling ever. Peter tries to work, to watch a tv show, to talk with May, to phone MJ or Ned, to build lego, but nothing is able to make the time look less slow. And the more the time passes, the more Peter’s stomach gets stress crushed.

When 7 pm is finally approaching, Peter’s not even sure he can breath anymore. “Peter, hey- Peter, please can you stop ?”, May finally snaps and Peter turns to her, ready to burst at her that she doesn’t know how he feels right now, but she shushes him before he can even start.

“Everything’s gonna go well, angel. But please, you’re gonna faint before you’ll even get there, alright ? You’re handsome my baby, he’s gonna love you.”, May tries to calm him by hugging him. He was about to answer her when the clock beside them shows that 7 pm is in 5 minutes. Peter jumps saying he’s gonna be late and rushes out of the apartment.

He went down the stairs, crossed the street and went to the park in a 1 minute time. His heart is menacing to get out of his chest. And when he finally hears Tony’s voice behind him, his whole body jerks and he turns to the voice.

His heart stops again. Holy fuck, Tony is- he’s god-handsome. Peter’s jaw opens and doesn’t close.

“You’re doing alright Peter ?”, Tony asks, after a few seconds. Peter tries. He tries really hard. But Tony is in front of him, in a grey suit that looks absolutely heavenly hot on him, and they’re going on a date and-

“Peter ?”, this time, he forces himself to answer before Tony decides to leaves him there. “Hum… huh- yeah? Yeah you look good. I- I mean.. Im good! Im doing… good.”. He watches in horror as Tony tries to not laugh at him. “Blue suits you, by the way.”, Tony comments and Peter tries not to blush or smile at that.

Then the older one shows him the car behind them and Peter hurries inside.

“So. Why the park ?”, the man asks after a few seconds. Peter’s brows frown in confusion. “Forget it. Everything alright Pete ? You look… tense. Did something happened while you patrolled ?”. And this time, Peter’s sure he’s blushing. Why can’t he just relax ? Okay it’s a date but it shouldn’t be any different than the rest of the time they spend together.

“Yeah.. Yeah im sorry I was just a bit nervous, you know… I… Im happy you invited me tho! So.. where are we going ?”, the boy tries to show he’s grateful for this. The last thing he wants is Tony thinking he’s not happy about the date.

“It’s an Italian restaurant, my favorite one. You’ll see, everything that’ll get into your mouth tonight will make you fly.”, Tony answers and there’s a silence. Peter’s cheeks burn hot now. Did Tony really said- oh my god. “Im just realizing how it sounds. Maybe not my best choices of words.”, the man laughs. laughs, as if he didn’t created a whole fire in Peter’s body. The boy just prays not to pop up a boner just because of a single sentence.

The rest of the ride is just small talks and when they finally arrive, Peter stays close to Tony, it makes him feel protected. And he likes it. The smile on his face is uncontrollable. He can’t believe he’s on an actual date with Tony Stark. His heart is about to burst from happiness. And the place is stunning, and Tony’s stunning. And Peter sees people watching them and he feels proud. He knows how much people want Tony. But Tony’s there with him.

Once they’re seated, Peter can’t help but stare at Tony who’s in front of him. And the only thing he can think of is that he loves him. But the boy shuts up. Tony didn’t mentioned it being a date yet, and even when he does, Peter can’t just say he loves him already.

When the menu comes, Peter just stare at the Italian names blankly. “I… I don’t understand anything that’s written.” , he murmurs to Tony, a bit ashamed. But the man just fondly snorts in response and translates him the different propositions. But after the explanations, Peter’s still lost as fuck. what the fuck are all of those ?. Tony laughs again, louder this time, noticing Peter’s lost face.

“You know what, I’ll order for you. How does that sound ?”. The boy’s heart stops and he flushes different shades of red at once. Tony is gonna order for him. “That- That sounds good. Im sorry I don’t know what are those.”, Peter finally says. “Hey, none of that Pete. Plus, Im kinda excited for you to try what I’ll pick for you.”, the man says, like it wasn’t making Peter squirm in his chair. Oh my god, he’s gonna die.

To give himself a bit of capacity, he pretends to read the menu once again and pouts noticing the prices aren’t there. Meaning it must be like, super expensive. He knows Tony can pay, and there’s a side of him that likes it. Because it’s easier for him to call Tony Daddy in his head. But there’s also a part of him that hates it because it feels like he can’t complete. May and Peter are kinda broke and Peter would have liked to be able to pay a restaurant to Tony too.

“What’s up with the pout ?”. Shit. “N-Nothing, mr. Stark really. It’s just… you know, I can’t… it’s a fancy restaurant and May and I aren’t…”, he begins but Tony cuts him. “Im stopping you right there, Peter. Im sorry if me picking a fancy restaurant embarrassed you, I should have asked where you wanted to go first. But don’t worry about that, okay ? Im not asking you to pay for anything, I invited you there.”. Peter feels his heart beating hard in his chest. “No, Im really happy to be there, I swear! I just… I just don’t want- I don’t know, forget it.”.

Tony does what Peter asked him, he drops the subject and start talking about Peter’s project in the lab. And that, it allows Peter to relax a bit. Because it suddenly feels like a normal time with Tony. And not a date. Well, a date yes but not an awkward one. And if Peter chokes on his own saliva when Tony orders in fucking italian in front of him, then at least, the man acts like he didn’t see it. And Peter’s happy there’s a table because explaining to Tony why he’s hard right now would have been real awkward.

It becomes a bit more awkward again when the meals arrive. Because Peter gets aroused by how good the food Tony picked for him is. Because Tony looks genuinely satisfied with the fact Peter moans at every bite he takes. And because watching the gorgeous man eating in front of him is also a whole show.

Peter is too occupied staring at Tony to realize he’s missing his mouth with the next bite he takes. The man laughs gently at him and Peter wants to fucking hide under the table because now Tony’ll think he doesn’t know how to eat.

“That’s good huh ? Knew you would like it.”, Tony smiles, after a minute of silence. The smile on Peter’s lips grows automatically. He likes that. He really likes that Tony knew what he’d like. “That’s… the best thing I ever ate mr. Stark!”, Peter answers, beaming with happiness. Even the awkward moments can’t ruin this for him. He’s so happy.

The rest of the evening goes well. So well even. But the more the end approaches, the more Peter can’t help but asks himself if something’s gonna happen or not. Like… Is Tony gonna bring him home ? Is he gonna kiss him ? Even the thought of that is enough to make Peter’s head feel dizzy. He can’t even let himself imagine something more than a kiss would happen. And if he does, he’s gonna combust in front of Tony. And before his mind decides to picture them having sex, Peter shakes his head, his cheeks reddening with both shame and want. He had so many dream about Tony, so many wet dreams about Tony. He has been dreaming about the man since even before they actually meet. And Peter feels like he would cum the second Tony lays a hand on him. That’d be pretty awkward. And then, Peter can’t help but wonder what Tony sees in him. He’s nobody. Tony can have whoever he wants, and still, he chose him. Does Tony know he’s a virgin still ? Would he care ?

“Okay, have you even listened to a word I just told you ?”, Tony asks, a jaded look on his face. Peter realizes the man has been talking to him and blushes in shame. “Im so sorry! I was thinking… I got lost in my thoughts, sorry.”, he apologizes, hoping Tony won’t think he’s boring him.

“Wow, he’s getting invited to the fanciest restaurant ever and still act like it’s not enough. What more do you want Parker ?”, Tony jokes and one part of Peter is happy he didn’t get upset. Another part of him just wanna scream he wants Tony to kiss him once they’re out of the restaurant. But what if Tony wanna take his time ? He doesn’t wanna sound as desperate as he really is.

“I’d really love for a car.”, Peter jokes back, glad he made Tony smile. “Ask and you shall receive.”. And Peter doesn’t know how honest Tony is with this. He hopes the man is joking. But Tony’s intense look in his eyes when Peter said those words is enough to make him realize the man is serious about this. “I was joking, mr. Stark.”, the boy adds, just to be sure he won’t receive a car tomorrow. Tony doesn’t answer anything to that, which is kinda weird, but Peter doesn’t think too much about it.

When the server comes back and asks if they want a dessert, Tony answers for him again. No. This time Tony doesn’t wait for Peter to even asks him, he just orders him something in Italian again.

“I could have asked him for ice cream you know…”, Peter whines, faking a pout. “Oh so he understands Italian now.”. And the smile Tony had on his lips almost all night is making Peter heart feel so light.

“I don’t, but I don’t think I need a italian degree to understand ‘gelato’, old man.”, Peter teases, making himself feels hot all over his body. He sees Tony’s gaze changing a bit too. Is Tony loving this as much as him ? “Brat.”, the man accuses and Peter stops himself to make a punishment joke. They’re not there yet.

The boy is now eating his damn vanilla ice cream and can’t help the blush creeping on his face again. Tony is staring at him. Not watching. Staring. Peter’s senses can feel his intense gaze on him, on his face. And the boy feels like he doesn’t know how to eat anymore. He’s sure he’s putting ice cream everywhere on his lips and wants to die about it.

“Y-You didn’t want to take something ? Huh… dessert or- or coffee ?”, he stutters, to make things less intense, because Peter is seconds away to moan under Tony’s gaze. “Im all good, thanks Pete.”, Tony answers and the boy doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or not but Tony’s voice sounded more… low ? He goes back to eating his ice cream, hoping it’s the last ice cream he’ll ever eat in his life.

When they finally go out, Peter feels drunk. He’s so happy, so nervous and so horny at the same time. He’d say so in love but let’s not brings more awkward to this. They walk in silence to Tony’s car. And just before Tony can open his car, Peter blurts out : “Thank you so much for the dinner mr. Stark! It was really really good and really fun. I liked it… a lot.”, he says, knowing he’s blushing again but doesn’t care at this point. Maybe Tony is waiting for him to make the first move. Because he doesn’t wanna rush him.

“Pleasure was mine, Pete.”, the man answers, a soft smile on his lips. And then, Peter doesn’t even realize what his body his doing, but that should be the good time no ? His heart is pounding so fast and loud in his chest, ears and whole body as he leans and kiss Tony. A smack. Just a smack. Because Peter doesn’t even know how to kiss. It was fast, but enough to make Peter’s heart explodes in his chest.

But then he sees Tony’s face. Tony’s frozen and shocked face. Shit. Did it was too soon ? Did it sucked ? Did Tony expected someone who could actually kiss him ? Peter wants to throw up. ”Mr. Stark ?”, he asks faintly.

“Peter. What… What was that ?”, Tony questions, his tone dangerously flat. “I- I thought… Im so sorry I... You know with the date and all, I thought maybe… maybe it was a good time to kiss you, you know ? Im sorry if Im not a g-”, Peter painfully begins but gets cut by Tony. “Wait- A date ? It wasn’t a date.”, the man says, his voice suddenly high. Peter’s blood turns cold in his whole body.

What ?

“Wh- What ?”, he breathes, voice already trembling. Oh god no. No no no no, this can’t be happening.

“This. That’s- Christ, Peter. It wasn’t a date. I- I didn’t- We’re not- Fuck.”, Tony panics, his voice almost screaming the last bit, stepping back from Peter. Peter who’s still frozen, watching what’s happening in front of him without being able to move.

“Oh god, Im so sorry if I made you think it was a date, kid. Im- It wasn’t my intention.”, Tony tries to apologize, clearly still panicking. The only word echoing in Peter’s brain is kid. Tony hasn’t called him like that for months. And now he’s doing it again.

“Peter, kid. Shit, you can’t cry- I- Peter Im so sorry I shouldn’t-”. And it’s only when Tony says that that Peter realizes tears are rolling down his cheeks. His heart feels heavy in his chest. No. His heart feels completely crushed in his chest. And the humiliation. The boy still stands there, only capable of crying in front of Tony, who’s panicking on his own.

“Kid, you- Im sorry, Im not mad I swear, we can’t- We just can’t. We’re not… that.”. And Peter’s heart feels like breaking again. “D-Don’t call m-me k-kid.”, and it’s the only thing Peter can lets out before fully starting to cry. Small hiccups escaping his lips.

Tony watches in horror, unable to do much. “Peter, im begging you- stop crying, im not mad, you’re- kid I-”, the man starts and if he wasn’t so much in pain, Peter would have been genially shocked to see Tony struggling so much to speak. “Stop ca-calling me a kid!”, the boy almost screams, surprising both himself and Tony. The man steps back again. There’s a silence. A loud one. A painful one.

“Im sorry. It’s my fault if you thought- Jesus, it’s my fault if you mistook this, Peter. Im sorry I let you think this was a… a date. You can’t- it’s not on you, Im not mad.”, Tony speaks again. But it’s only words. Peter’s brain shut himself. He doesn’t understand what Tony is saying to him. He just wants to die.

“But- But I lo-”, he starts, desperately, only to get cut by the man in front of him again. “No. No you don’t. You- Jesus ki- Pete, it’s not-” and there’s a silence again. “It’s not wh-what ? True ? H-How would you know ? And wh-why… what was al-all of this for if-if it was- n’t a.. a da-date ?”, the boy desperately questions, in between cries. Tony’s pained expression intensifies. “Pete, stop crying.”.

“Answer me!”, the younger one screams. He can’t believe Tony. It’s not true. Tony is just being- delusional.

“Christ why are you doing this ? Peter, it was just- just… us.”. Peter never heard Tony’s voice sounding so desperate before today. But he can’t care. He feels like he’s been crushed by a fucking plane right now.

“Us ? Ye-yeah and Im- im saying that us, is me lo-lo-loving you and you- you looking at me with- with that look in your eyes.”. And Peter can sees Tony’s eyes watering. Again, it’d be the first time he sees Tony crying, but he still can’t care. The man just steps back and sighs, passing both of his hands on his face.

“You stopped calling me ki-kid. And- and you order for me- and- and sh-shit! I- I know you like it. I know i-it because I can se-see it, mr. Stark. I- I want- I want you… pl-please.”, Peter cries even harder now, his voice constantly cut by cries. “Please.”, he begs again. And it’s even more painful because Tony doesn’t answers anything. The man just stand in front if him, completely frozen, with a pained expression on his face. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t deny it. Why doesn’t he deny it ?

And suddenly, Tony’s warms hands are on his cheeks, trying to wipes the endless tears coming out of Peter’s eyes. But the sensation of the hand on his cheeks only makes Peter cry more. “Peter… Peter, baby.. please. You- fuck. You have to stop, alright ?”, Tony whispers, so close to him, but yet so far. baby.

Peter doesn’t realize he leans on the touch, he doesn’t realize Tony’s other hand is clenching hard on his light blue jacket. And despite everything that is happening right now, Peter only wants them to kiss. A real kiss.

But the next thing he feels is Tony’s strong body against him. The man is hugging him and Peter can’t help but hug him back, his cries still loudly getting out. “Peter, please. I can’t. You know I can’t. Im so sorry. I shouldn’t have invited you, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have let myself- I can’t.”, Tony murmurs those things in Peter’s ear, tightening his arm around the boy’s body and it only hurts Peter more. Why is Tony saying all of this ? What does it mean ?

“Please…”. It’s all what Peter is capable to say. Please love me. He feels Tony’s body, Tony’s warmth getting away and hates it. And the boy can’t take it. It hurts so much. So before Tony can even answer with another apologize, Peter’s wrists move on their own, and the next second he’s not there anymore, he’s on the top of the building next to the restaurant. He has to get away from Tony. He can’t stay there.

And if Peter hasn’t jumped on another building right away, he would have been able to hear Tony whispering on his own. “Pete… I wished you’d understand why this can’t be a date, why I can’t let you love me back.”, finally letting himself cry now that Peter ran away.

second square for @starkerfestivals 🙈🙈

alright so first of all im so sorry for this fjndldl 😭😭😭 this bingo is challenging me so much tho bc i wrote my first tony fucking peter and now i wrote my first sad ending

its just the first thing that came to my mind seeing ‘not a date’ so i followed my idea

also i edited it three fucking times bc tumblr was being a bitch with me today 🔪

#starker #ironspider #leah writes sometimes #starkerfestival summer bingo #starkerfestivals #starkerfestivalsevents #sfsummerbingo21

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mandalorewhore · 4 years ago

Text

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex (fem recieving), Cock Warming, Descriptions of violence/blood , Edging (maybe?), Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Blindfolded Sex Words: 11.7k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando land on Nevarro to meet with Karga

A/N: im sorry to niceguy!Karga in season 2

This would be less awkward if you knew how to talk to the man.

The awkwardness is probably one-sided though you doubt he’s brooding over what the two of you did last night in this cockpit. You’re not a blushing virgin afraid to talk about sex, but it would be nice if you actually knew something you both had in common, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. The extent of your conversations have been about sex, mechanics, and killing people. That’s pretty fitting for the two of you, you suppose. He is… Officially? your bounty hunting partner now.

However, he’s very comfortable in silence, so much so that it seems to be a central part of his character, much like the armor strapped to his body. Is being reserved a part of the Mandalorian creed too, or does he just prefer it? Does he want to talk about how you sucked his dick mere hours after abandoning your jobs as mercenaries? What is he thinking about right now? You could probably ask him all this, you know. Your internal argument is boiling over like a forgotten pot as you ruminate in the passenger seat of the Crest’s cockpit.

You woke up in his arms a few hours ago, curled up in the pilot seat together, your face feeling a bit grimey due to not scrubbing it clean after he gave you that facial. Feeling cozy in the quiet moments that follow waking, you snuggled in closer to his warmth, still only separated by the thin layer of his undershirt. You started when his palm squeezed your shoulder, his way of letting you know he was already awake.

There’s an unspoken feeling about the way he fell asleep in your presence. You may work together now, but you’re still virtual strangers and Mando is a professional. You doubt he’ll pass out in front of you again.

Slumped in your seat, you mull over every second that passed between the two of you. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there like a lump of metal. Unaffected. Impassive. If you didn’t have first-hand proof of the deliciously warm skin he hides, you would’ve passed him off as a droid.

Actually when you think about it… when it comes to conversation topics, maybe metal is the place to start. As in, the ship that is now your impromptu home for the foreseeable future. You’ve gleaned that the Crest is like home to the Mandalorian and, come to think of it, he seemingly opted to sleep on his little cot down in the ship’s hull instead of taking up a bunk back on the space station. If he were anyone else, the gesture would’ve been ostentatious. It gave the impression that he was ready to leave at any moment.

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

Bringing up the Crest is probably a safe option and you’re knowledgeable about ships. You can hold your ground when it comes to the technicalities of mechanics. Plus, you can be charming when you want to be; on merc jobs you weren’t put into the femme fatal role for no reason. Although you’ve casually lured men to their death, you’re more nervous to chat with Mando. But you’re determined to try. Try to be appealing...

“I’m curious… Once I have some credits saved up, would you be interested in adding mods to the Razor Crest? I haven’t gotten a good look yet, but I’m floating some ideas around.” You bite your lip automatically out of apprehension, but hoping it comes across as playful. You’re not out of line or anything; it's been hours since you last exchanged any words so it's not like you’ve been chatting his ear off. Still, you worry that you sound extra loud to someone who’s spent so long in stillness.

“That may be useful. What were you thinking?” Mando’s response comes only a second later, and even though he faces the cockpit’s transparisteel windows as he speaks, you’re giddy at his swiftness to respond.

“Well, I would love to touch her up a little. There are some issues with the hyper-drive and coms that could be fixed pretty easy. As for modifying, I saw that you installed a mobile carbonite-freezing chamber for bounties?” He nods to affirm your guess. “I could move that ‘round to utilize the space for storage and better suit two people living here. Either install a bed that can swing down or-”

“Separate beds are unnecessary. We can sleep in shifts or share the bunk.”

“O-oh. Sound’s good.” You gulp, feeling a little warm. The implication makes you sweat even if he shot down your idea. “Well, upgrading the deflector shields would be a good idea. Protect her better, plus efficient heat dispersal during atmospheric flight would let us jump into hyperspace faster. If we need to run or just want to fuck off somewhere.”

“Hm. That is a good idea. She’s fast but there's always room for improvement.” He accentuates his response by patting the console lightly, and something about the way his hand lingers gently on the surface reminds you of a parent touseling their child’s hair. A smile stretches across your face, finally relaxing a little after being so tense all morning. For someone that you thought was so serious, he sometimes reveals a sentimental side to his personality. It makes you want to ask him more, to know more about him and how he thinks, but you’re so nervous about asking him anything even slightly personal, anything that has to do with his preferences or opinions. Your short exchange about his ship went pretty smoothly you think, maybe you can ask him more, you’ll just stay on the topic of starships. That should be fine.

“Do you have a dream ship?” You blurt, sounding a little less casual than you were trying for. Oops.

He takes longer to respond this time, seemingly thinking the question over. “No. Maybe when I was younger. I have the Crest now, there isn’t a need to plan for another ship.”

There's that seriousness again, the way he responds to you makes you think that he has never had to answer hypothetical questions before. It makes perfect sense, the average person doesn’t go around asking tall, intimidating Mandolorians about their hobbies. What a Gonk Droid. I’m jealous he can get away with talking like that. Still, you do want to continue this conversation if only to hear his voice. “Nothin’ about planning Mando, just a little make-believe. Personally, I like an A-Wing, the RZ-1 variant is classic even if the 2 is flashier. X-Wings are neat too, minus the pigs flying them.”

A weird huff passes through his voice filter and he finally turns to face you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden eye-visor contact, so it’s a second later when you process what that noise was, and the realization makes you positively giddy. “Oh shit, did I make a Mandolorian laugh? Am I on Spice?”

“That’s funny- pigs don’t deserve the nice Starfighters.” He laughs again, clearer this time while warmth feelings bloom within you at his reaction. It’s so unbelievable to you that he’s here laughing at something you said. You never once heard a reaction like that from him before now. “Those fast ships are impressive and great for combat, but I need a bigger space… a YV-929 would suit my needs.”

“Of course it would, there’s like 1000 guns on that blocky thing. Plus the Empire banned it and you like to break rules.” The ship he named is virtually the same build as the Razor Crest, just with more guns, which is amusing to you.

Creature of habit, you think, finding yourself leaning subtly closer to his body with every exchange. You don’t think you’re imagining him doing the same.

“16. Could add more though.” He murmurs and something in his voice makes you think that he isn’t being entirely humorous.

Maker, he is probably mapping out all the baster mods he could stick on that bulky freighter. You’re still amused by his very literal sense of things. You settle back in your seat to observe the hyperspace light streaking across the cockpit, a comfortable silence falling over the cockpit.

As you sit there and ruminate, the topic of weapons brings forth a vague memory in your mind.

Someone once told you that Mandalorians aren’t considered great fighters due only to reputation and rumor. Most people are aware that armor and weaponry is part of the Mandalorian culture, but fewer are aware that such items have religious significance, going much deeper than a learned skill. Mandalorians are revered as great warriors not just because of their physical training, but because fighting and waging battle is a form of prayer.

Despite finding rumors about Mandalorians to be generally exaggerated, you feel this one may be true.

You’re curious but afraid to ask him to elaborate. The fact that neither of you exchanged more than a few words when you worked together is proof of his preferred privacy. Even though you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some sort of explanation about his culture, you decide to avoid any personal questions.

Plus you really don’t want to come across as asking about his helmet.

You break the silence shyly, trying to smoothly bring up a different topic. “Down in the hull… I haven’t explored much of your ship, I don’t want to come across as snooping. But I’m wondering, what sort of manpower have you got stored here?”

“I installed an armory. Do you want to see it?”

Fuck yes you want to check it out, his personal collection must be a wet dream.

“Yes, I’d love to!” You reply excitedly. The weapons Mando carried were always fascinating. You especially admired that rifle he slung across his back. You’ve never seen it in action but you heard it evaporated its targets. The two spokes at the end made you wonder how it shot. There has to be different settings on the gun, it would be impractical to evaporate all your targets especially if you need to bring back bounties, dead or alive. The bullets he slung across his chest must be paired with the rifle based on their size and shape when you compare them to the rifle chamber. What sort of charge do they contain to completely disintegrate its victims?

You’re tapping your fingers on your bottom lip, calculating how the rifle might function when his leg brushes past you. Glancing up in surprise, you realize he’s already headed to the cockpit ladder, twisting his upper body as he turns his helmet to look back at you.

“Come on.” You’re unable to read his face but something in his body language makes you think he’s amused by you. Flushing red, you scramble upright from the leather seat to follow him down to his armory. He slides first down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. Being unfamiliar with the area you opt to carefully descend one portion at a time, unaware of the view you’re giving Mando. By the time you reach the bottom, he’s diverted his gaze.

Tall body moving to a panel on the wall, he punches in a four-digit code, prompting a smooth metal cabinet on the opposite wall to slide open with a hiss. You shake your head at this. The man has a tiny metal cot but he installed a hydraulic system for his weapons cabinet. But when you look closer at the exhibit your jaw falls open.

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

The two side doors hang open to reveal a space in the middle filled with large blasters. His mid-sized guns are stacked horizontally above each other while the longer rifles lay vertically to the right of the center display. The doors contain smaller handguns of varying design and purpose. Each weapon is unique, there is not a single inch of wasted space given to any blaster if it doesn’t have distinct properties. Eyes locked on the arsenal, you scoot forward and make grabby hands at the cabinet.

“Oo, they’re beautiful! Can I- May I see?” You are immediately drawn to a cylindrical pistol mounted at the very top of the stack, the gun’s sight a smooth metal and grip warm brown. Despite its deadly properties, it is a fucking gun, something about it looks soft to the touch. You’re finding more and more that you enjoy the juxtaposition of lethality and softness.

Even though you’ve made no specification on which gun you want to hold, Mando reaches out and selects the very gun you’re attracted to and hands it to you. I should stare less, it's like he can read my mind. Despite resolving to do so the thought is fuzzy, unimportant when you’re so excited about handling one of the prettiest pistols you’ve ever seen. Mando watches you from a few feet away.

“Good choice. I usually conceal-carry that blaster since it’s small on me, looks like the perfect size for you though.” Mando’s compliment has you grinning up at him, feeling giddy and full of light, but you’re quickly drawn back to look at the gun. Turning the weapon over in your hands you admire the polished metal, the texture making a satisfying noise as you run your fingers on its silky surface. The weight is perfectly balanced as you aim it at the wall, lining up the sight with a seam in the metal paneling.

“You can carry it from now on.”

What? It’s a good thing you know your trigger safety otherwise you would’ve pulled the trigger in shock, probably ricocheting the blast into your head. The giddy energy drains from you, replaced by apprehension and confusion. Why is he giving me so much shit?

Of course you’re thankful. You’re incredibly thankful to be on the Razor Crest at all; however you can’t help feeling as if you owe Mando on a level where you’re incapable of repaying him. He didn’t have to take you with him when he dropped Ran’s crew, he didn’t have to indulge your sexual fantasies, he didn’t have to comfort you, didn’t have to partner with you, and he doesn’t need to give you this blaster. It is certainly a collectible, a rarity. A Mandalorian wouldn’t have it on hand if it were some run of the mill E-11 handed out to every Stormtrooper in the Empire.

But what can you even say to him? It would be incredibly awkward if you refused him right now. Your mind races.

Best focus on the easy stuff. As long as he doesn’t drop me off on some wasteland I’ll be fine. That blaster is too pretty to decline so with your willfulness broken by aesthetic pleasure, you holster the gun on your hip, opposite the blaster you already carry.

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.” You try to inject as much gratefulness into your voice as possible, even though you still feel odd about taking it.

“Yes, you will. Get ready and come back to the cockpit, we’ll be on Nevarro in a hour.”

------------------------------------------

You’re used to men like Greef Karga but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop being annoying.

The way he speaks like he’s owed something from you just because you’re listening, the way it’s clear that every decision he makes is in self-interest, the way he eyes the women around him, yourself included. He isn’t outright dismissive like some men; such as the guard placed behind him only having eyes for your partner; but you can tell he either doesn’t take you seriously or he is more concerned about how he can sexualize you.

He definitely isn’t treating Mando as a joke. Annoying.

But, it’s not all bad. You got a kick out of how a hush came over the dusty cantina when the Mandalorian entered. He had been walking behind you which, with a little imagination, gave the effect that they were all reacting to your presence instead. Even though in reality, no one had ever reacted to you that way unless they were leering. You like how they fear him. It's a turn-on.

You wish they would fear you like that.

Someone says your name, startling you out of your thoughts. You realize that everyone at the table is looking at you expectantly but you didn’t hear the question at all. Kriff, you need to show yourself up more. Mando’s reputation is practically handing you the job but you still need to sell your skills to get anything decent out of Karga. He’s so stingy with the quarry's, even with Mando despite how he kissed the Mandalorian’s ass when greeting him. You figure that Mando didn’t take on bounties often, which put his skills in high demand.

“Uhh, sorry. A bit distracted. Can you repeat the question, please?” You reply, accentuating the please with a bat of your lashes while looking Karga full in the face. If he’s going to objectify you, you may as well play into it. Smiling, he leans forward and pushes a glass of Spotchka into your hands, lingering a little longer than necessary when your fingers meet.

“I asked if you wanted a drink. Take it, I can see you need one.” He winks at you while you stare indignantly, wondering what he means by that. It’s not like you’re sweating bullets in here. You’ve been here countless times on countless planets. Seedy cantinas with seedier people. Hopefully, he’s just flirting and doesn’t think you’re nervous. Maybe the flirting is backfiring.

You grip the glass and wet your mouth with the drink, enjoying the burn for a moment. Mando tilts his helmet at the way you accept Karga’s drink, seemingly looking sideways at you. Narrowing your eyes at him, you drink again and turn back to Karga.

“Thank you, the Spotchka here is lovely.” It’s average, but flattery can’t hurt. Karga laughs robustly at this.

“It’s no Alderaan wine, but it’ll do.” He drains his glass then pours himself another, filling it to the brim before turning to your partner. “So, Mando! Word travels fast around here. I take it you’re a full-time guild member now! I’m not surprised, always took you for the loner type. In fact, I already updated your status to full-time before you landed.” Karga waits for a response from Mando but the man sits silently at your side. Unbothered, Karga continues, “But, I am surprised you stayed that long with Ran in the first place. Must be the pretty ladies he keeps around.”

The comment makes you cringe but you still smile brightly back at him since what he is inferring is clear. Can he just register you already?

“Not alone. She’s with me.” Mando’s reply is short and flat, with no reaction to how you’re attempting to work Karga’s attention, nor at the revelation that Mando’s departure from mercenary work has apparently spread across the sector.

Karga’s smile twists into a smirk as he glances between you and Mando, looking at both of you as if he wants to fit your bodies together like a puzzle. “Well, well, well Mando. Didn’t think you were the type. Is she a bed warmer?”

Your grip tightens on the glass. What the fuck is he implying? You’re rising in your seat, about to let loose on Karga when a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you down. Excuse me? Do I have to go off on everyone here? Why the fu-

“She’s my hunting partner, my equal. Don’t insult us again.” Oh okay, you don’t know why he stopped you and he still doesn’t sound all that offended, but at least he’s defending you.

Not wanting to be spoken for, you add on, “I’m prepared with my information so that you can register me in the Bounty Hunters Guild. Pull up your holo, I’m done with the small talk.” Your back is rod-straight in the cantina booth, trying to look down at the Guild leader even if he’s seated higher than you. “Also, your Spotchka is shit.”

Karga’s is unphased at your reactions, even rolling his eyes. He replies bluntly, “If you’re going to join my guild then you need to prove to me that I’m not wasting my pucks on you. Don’t rely on the Mandalorian’s reputation. If you aren't out of some brothel then you were a mercenary, were you not?”

At first, the audacity of Karga has you fuming, ready to stand again despite whatever Mando wants. However, as you’re looking out of the corner of your eye at the crowd you realize that the bodies filling the cantina are no longer milling around quite as naturally. It's subtle, to an untrained ear and eye not much has changed. The chatter around you remains at a consistent volume and no one is blatantly staring. But your senses are sharp enough to tell that everyone in this room is On Greef Karga’s side. If a fight broke out you’d likely lose, even with Mando being worth ten men and the shiny new blaster strapped to your hip.

Also, your prospects with the guild would be fucked if you fought everyone right now, which is the whole reason you’re here. You have to play nice and it infuriates you… But you still need the job.

Taking a deep breath to quiet your anger you look to your left away from Karga, only to be startled by Mando’s visor locked directly on you. Sharing a look, one that you can only guess the meaning behind, you find the patience to calm down. You turn back to Karga, locking eyes steadily.

“Sorry for insulting your drinks, that was petty of me. But I am not sorry about how you implied that Mando would keep some poor sex slave around, nor am I sorry for reacting that way. I’d like to start over… If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.” You can’t help letting some stubbornness slip into your words. If he’s supposed to be your boss then you aren’t going to keep up a pretense of respect after that. Not without an apology.

You’ve never given much thought to how you look to other people, how you affect the crowd when you enter a room. It’s not that you don’t think you’re pretty. Being assigned roles by Ran that allowed you to dress up and distract targets was a direct affirmation of how you looked, even if they were creeps. But when you walked into this place, the only heads that turned were for the Mandalorian. You've never had the experience of being scary to other people. You’re always having to prove yourself and show everyone that you’re someone who can handle what’s handed to them, an equal to every other hard character in the galaxy’s Outer Rim... it’s tiresome.

Karga is looking at you again, a little differently this time.

“I respect you for being blunt. Do accept my apology.” He sounds sincere enough so you nod, lips drawn tight. Heavy metal suddenly settles on your knee, Mando’s vambrace is laying across the soft flesh on your upper thigh. He squeezes, oh stars. Now you’re feeling flushed for other reasons than anger.

“Do I get an apology?” Mando asks Karga quietly, voice frustratingly mild just like the other two times he’s spoken up in this booth. The other man grins at Mando, more jolly than he should be considering who he insulted.

“My apologies, Mando! Do stay with the guild, your skills are irreplaceable! I’m afraid my jokes can go too far.`` His response is light and humorous but no one is fooled by the tone. A Mandalorian is far too valuable to lose.

After a few seconds pass between the two men you clear your throat, annoyed by everyone dancing around each other while you’re still not signed up to hunt bounties. It’s your only purpose here but whatever. Karga directs his smile at you, pulling his holo from behind him out of his guard’s hand.

“I haven’t forgotten about you, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to put your basic details in… Do you happen to be registered elsewhere, such as under an Identichip?” You shake your head; you always worked behind a moniker. “Great! That makes this easy for me. Simply provide a name, real or not, and I’ll set up a chain code so quarries are tied to your data.”

You provide your name while Karga fiddles around on the device. It’s unclear if it is really that complicated to work the thing or if he is just stalling. This feels a little too easy so far. Didn’t he make a huge fuss about proving yourself? You decide to ask outright, wanting to bring it up instead of waiting around for him to finish.

“I thought I needed to prove myself to you. Aren’t you worried about wasting pucks?” You were trying to tease but the bite in your voice can’t be helped. You worry you might’ve gone too far when Karga looks up at you with open annoyance.

“Do you want to go out back and shoot a few bottles down? Seems childish to me.” He huffs out a short breath and returns to his holo. “I know that you worked with Ran’s crew on mercenary missions which grants you some cred. You can tell me what your specialties were on such jobs and it might convince me to give you the mid-level pucks instead of entry.”

This is unfair, everyone knows it, he’s the one who told you to prove yourself and now he’s making you feel stupid for reminding him. He’s the one who was so concerned about wasting his precious pucks. But now that you’re here… you might actually be able to talk Karga into giving you a better quarry. Taking a deep breath, you start to list your qualifications.

“On mercenary jobs, I usually took a stealth role due to my stature. For certain missions, I would dress to infiltrate a group, sometimes carrying hidden weapons but mostly I would conceal poison in my jewelry, skin powder, or anything similar. I’m a great shot and am knowledgeable about starships. When I first started I had to work my way up the ranks, the lowest being mechanics. Within a year I managed to go from handywoman to assassin... There’s more if you want to hear, although I can’t directly prove anything.” You wish you could actually show all these skills to him instead of just telling him. Karga is right, shooting down dusty bottles like some sort of carnival game would be pretty useless, but at least it would feel more substantial than this.

You’re about to open your mouth and tell Karga more when you’re interrupted by Mando, and he finally sounds emotive, no longer inscrutable in tone. “This is all true. I haven’t worked closely with her on every job but I noticed her when I did. Her stealth was critical to our success during hits. She often worked on my starship. The Crest always came out in better shape once she looked at it.” You’re not sure what emotion is in his voice but whatever it is, it reminds you that his hand is still resting on your knee under the table.

Trying not to smile too widely, you bring your hand down on top of the one on your leg, giving it a pat of thanks. Karga’s eyes follow your movement but thankfully he stays silent, leaning back with a pensive look.

“Alright, this is all very interesting. Tell you what, and don’t take this as an insult, you can either have two entry-level pucks or one mid-tier. It all adds up to the same amount of credits, however, the mid-tier quarries will boost your rank… Mid also comes with a time constraint.”

There’s always a catch with this man you think, a little displeased, but at the same time, you understand that he can’t maintain his business if all pucks were given away in good faith. Mid-tier seems like the best deal, and you aren’t just here for the money. Presumably, this will be your job for a while so you may as well aim ambitiously.

“What are the last known coordinates of the mid-tier bounties?” You ask him, trying to sound like you’ve not already decided to take it.

“One for Corellia and one for Mimban. Neighboring planets.” You grimace, recognizing the names. How lovely, you get to choose between two shitholes. Karga is correct, the planets are right next to each other, so at least you don’t have to worry about fuel. Corellia is more dangerous but the planet is explored thoroughly when compared to Mimban and you’ve already been to Corellia once.

“I’ll take the Corellian bounty, thank you.” Karga slides the puck across the table with an unpleasant scrape before drawing out three more, stacking them in front of the Mandalorian one by one.

“Two are bail jumpers but the credits for each are decent. I also threw in one S level criminal, let's see how you do with that one now that you’re dedicated to my wonderful guild.” Karga grins at Mando so widely that it is almost a grimace. Well, he didn’t have to beg for the good pucks. Yeesh… Mando’s arm lifts from your knee and he gathers the pucks wordlessly.

Mando moves to leave, rising quickly from the booth and leaving you scrambling behind him, slipping your puck in the pocket on your pants. He’s at the door by the time you remember to say goodbye to Karga. Not wanting to be rude even if you don’t really like him, you turn and wave. “Um, bye! Take care.”

He waves back. “You as well, girl.”

A powerful hand grips your forearm and pulls you none too gently to the doors and out into the acrid, volcanic air.

----------------

It would be nice if the man who called you his equal an hour ago would tell you his plans. Instead, he had placed a small bag of credits in your palm and told you to go get some food and wait. You couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him since you were starving, the last time you ate was probably several days ago, before Cantonica. Your hunger might explain the snippiness you’ve felt all day, actually.

Having finished your meal of dubious-looking soup, you get up to explore a bit before heading back to the ship. The settlement is small and you think it may be the only town on the planet or at least the only one in the area. The land around you is flat enough to see for miles. It’s impressive that Mando disappeared considering the lack of terrain to hide behind. He must be in the city somewhere.

As you wander through the busy main strip, peering at different vendors and booths, you start to feel dejected. Mando defended you, spoke up for you, and even backed up your claims so that you’d look better in front of Karga. Then he just… disappeared. Somewhere. No communication. That's fine.

It’s a little worrisome, the speed at which you’ve become attached to the man. You’ve been together for less than three days, and you already feel weird being alone. You know that you’re being unfair to yourself right now, it's not abnormal to feel lost on a foreign planet plus you literally just lost everything you’ve worked for as a mercenary. But in the end...

Being here, alone and penniless, reminds you of home, the one you had as a child. It’s something you try to forget about.

Swallowing the memories away into that off-limits area within yourself, you decide to leave the bustling road and wander down a dingy alley. Probably not the smartest move but you do have two blasters on your hip. The sounds of the crowd fade in the background as you wander farther and farther down the twisting path.

It’s almost funny how quickly things go south.

Mere minutes later, you find yourself backed up into a wall with two Rodians aiming their blasters at you, your huddled form reflected in their massive, black eyes. One of them jabs your arm with his gun saying something in that grating, echoey voice that most Rodians speak with. You get that they’re both aiming deadly weapons at you but you’re honestly just irritated.

“I don’t have credits on me fellas, you can search me but you won't find shit.” They must understand Basic because one of them pins you to the wall while the other pats your body down, searching for anything valuable. Pulling the empty credit pouch from your belt and throwing it to the ground, he twists you to face the wall, grabbing at one of your blasters. The rare one that Mando just gave you. You start to panic now, the positioning of your bodies making you nervous as you realize how vulnerable you are, fearful that they aren’t just looking for something to steal. Kicking backward at the Rodian pinning your arms, you start to struggle against them, trying hard to wiggle free and pull your other blaster.

You must’ve connected with a kneecap because you hear a sickening crunch at the same time the Rodian howls, falling to the ground. His companion makes a furious sound then lashes out at your face, fingertips just barely connecting with your cheek as you duck slightly too late. Your face stings and feels wet, his gloves seem to have sharp points on the ends. You pray that they aren’t spiked with poison.

The injured member is still preoccupied with his hyperextended knee, granting you just enough time to pull the other blaster from your hip before he joins his partner and turns on you. You throw yourself to the ground, aiming at the same time and squeezing the trigger right before you hit the earth. The shot connects with the Rodian who swung at you and he falls to the ground, shriek cut short. Twisting to your side so you can attempt an evasive roll, you attempt to line the sight up with the chest of your living assailant but your shoulder connects with debris on the ground, jerking it out of your smooth movement.

The blast misses by a few inches.

The pain from whatever you landed on shoots to your fingertips, numbing them. Noticing your distraction, he hurls his body at you thankfully unable to jump accurately due to the injury you gave him. Despite that, he lands on your legs and starts to drag you toward him, abandoning his blaster in his rage while dirt billows around your struggling bodies.

You’re terrified, fear making you clumsy as you handle your blaster. You don’t want to die being strangled by some alien in this dirty alley but the numbness in your fingers has you moving slower than usual, hand heavy as you try to aim again. Sucking in a deep breath you scream, hoping that someone on the busy strip will hear you. But no one is coming for you and there is no time to wait. Panicked, you fire in the direction of the Rodian, not taking care to calculate possible ricochet points in the area. A shot connects, his heavy body falling on your hips, dead.

Fingers still numb, you hurtle upwards and try to wipe the dust out of your eyes to look at the bodies. The first Rodian you shot is a few feet away, slumped against the wall you were pinned to, blaster marks littering the brick surface from your panicked shots. Disgusted, you shove the dead body off of your legs and stand up.

As you analyze the second alien you realize something doesn’t add up here.

Somehow the blaster shot that killed him seems to be on the back of his head. How is that possible? Did I manage to reflect it off something and hit him from behind? You’re approaching the body to look for other possible causes of death when a large shadow leaps from the rooftop, landing heavily in a cloud of dust. You curse and aim your blaster at his head, pulling the trigger before you realize who it is.

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

“Mando! What the fuck, I could’ve killed you!” Stomach feeling like it’s full of rocks, you march up to the man and slam a fist into his chest plate, hard. Looking up into his visor you feel a flash of misguided anger, lifting your fist to pound on his armor again. “Where the fuck were you anyway?!”

A large hand flashes up to catch your wrist before it can connect with his chest. He looks at you darkly. “Do you always hit people to thank them?” he asks, while his other hand reholsters the silver blaster back onto your hip.

“What do you mean, you-” The pieces connect in your mind, the impossible blaster shot in the back of the head of the Rodian and Mando’s positioning on the roof.

He saved your ass. Again.

You already realize your anger is misdirected, he didn’t do anything to warrant it. But the adrenaline and fear paired with your entire experience on Nevarro have wound you up to the point of lashing out. You shouldn’t be mad at him, and you should definitely apologize for almost killing him. Also, you should be thanking him for saving you even though you probably would’ve survived the mugging anyway. That criminal was unarmed at the end there.

But you don’t care. You weirdly want to argue with him, to try and break that cool attitude he’s been maintaining nearly all day.

“I could’ve gotten him easily. If I didn’t hurt my arm he would’ve been dead before you arrived, also you didn’t answer my fucking question. I thought I was your equal, Mando.” You mock his earlier phrasing from the cantina, hoping he’ll snap and say something back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he does something so strange that all the turbulent emotions you’ve been harboring fly out of your body in one instant.

Bringing up one glove to cover your eyes, he holds the hand you punched him with at the bottom edge of his helmet, pushing it up with your clasped fingers. There is a quiet hiss and you can feel the weight of metal digging into your knuckles as the Beskar lifts. Your fingers meet with soft lips, coarse facial hair brushing your skin as he presses a kiss on the blossoming bruises there. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you suddenly can’t remember what you were yelling about.

It’s odd. You’ve seen the most intimate parts of him but only now, having felt his lips, do you truly recognize how rawly human he is.

Too soon- he draws away, the helmet settles back on his head. You step back blinking as the light hits your eyes, cradling your hand to your chest like it's been hurt. Which you guess it has. You can’t really feel it.

Unable to meet his gaze you stare at his boots, “You’re weird and I don’t understand you.” Your words sound embarrassingly breathless.

He chuckles quietly. “Good.” And after a beat of silence- “Do I get an apology?”

Annoyed at how he mirrored you throwing his words back at him, you look up glaring, but you’re unable to put any actual heat into your halfhearted expression. You’re still thinking about how soft his lips felt plus, you actually feel bad for lashing out at him.

“Yes, um, I’m sorry Mando, I was only mad because I was scared. I actually could’ve killed you, and those guys almost killed me- or worse.” You shrug, eyes round as you look at the violent scene in the alley. “Plus Karga is an asshole and you disappeared, telling me to wait around like a kid. I was in a bad mood.”

“Yeah.” He offers shortly. Is he gonna say more or- “Karga is an asshole.”

“...Is that all you’re going to address.”

“You’re a good shot. You could’ve killed these muggers without me, I just didn’t want you hurt.” He smoothes away a strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear before gripping your chin, twisting your head to look at the scratches the Rodian left. “Pretty girl.”

Flushing red again while frozen in his grip, you stand there with him as he examines your face. His gaze is piercing, and you don’t know what he’s staring at. It doesn’t take this long to examine a face. You think he’s just looking at you.

“Let’s get back to the ship, that scratch needs some Bacta gel.” He drops his arm abruptly causing you to sway at the loss of an anchor. Hand flashing out to grip his bicep, you regain your balance before starting to pull him along, heading to the street.

----------------

The walk back to the Crest is short.

You don’t know your way around this city but shipyards are easy enough to find. You recognize the signs pointing it out after your time spent as a mechanic, streets gradually widening to form into a flat strip of land for the vessels, heavy machinery appearing here and there. As you walk, you oddly find yourself getting dizzy, steps starting to drag as you realize you may have injured yourself in the struggle. You can’t recall if you hit your head or if anyone hurt you aside from the gash on your cheek, which has begun to throb. Did you knock your head on the alley wall?

The Mandalorian grunts behind you when you trip, quickly overtaking your pace to throw your arm over his elbow, then walking at your side and subtly holding you steady. The Razor Crest rises into view over the horizon, so you speed up, relieved. You want to sit down so badly that you even try to jog but Mando holds you back. His helmet ducks down next to your ear.

“Don’t overexert yourself. I want to make sure that scratch isn’t poisoned.” He murmurs, voice overwhelmingly low. Your stomach twists with desire and surprise at the tone of it, he sounds like he’s flirting with you.

“Does danger turn you on or something?” You blurt, wondering if there is a pattern to the man's desires. He did let you suck him off right after yesterday's conflict and now he seems to be coming onto you after an attempted mugging. Is this a Mandalorian thing? Weirdo. He doesn’t answer you, but the ship is right there so you break away and march up to the lowering ramp.

You pause in the middle of the hull noticing some changes. The small cot seems to be upgraded, a patterned blanket is folded at the end and there is even a pillow. That sorry excuse of a fresher is more orderly too, shower hose hung from the ceiling like an actual, well, shower. There’s a sliding metal door for privacy installed on the entrance now too. The previously barren hull has a touch of coziness now, not enough to get in the way of efficiency, but everything is just a little more livable. It is unlikely that he did this just because you live with him now but the gesture is still thoughtful.

“Is this what you were doing?” You ask excitedly, walking across the room to sit on the end of the cot.

“Not the entire time.” He answers vaguely, fiddling with his vambrace to close the ramp and flick the lights on. You just sigh in response, laying back against the bed, the thin mattress has a soft squish that cradles your sore body. Eyes sliding shut you take in the lovely sensation for a few moments. A shadow covers the light behind your eyelids. You open them to peek at the end of the bed, already feeling a blush hot on your cheeks.

Mando is standing there, towering over you with his legs just brushing your dangling lower half. He leans over your frame, arm reaching over you like he’s going to prop himself on top of your body. Your heart pounds as he comes close enough to settle his hand next to your head, helmet hovering right above your forehead. The visor tilts down to look at you frozen underneath him, heat pooling in your lower belly. An almost inaudible hum comes through the voice filter sounding like the beginning of a word as if he were about to say something but decided against it.

You find your voice, asking him in a trembling whisper. ‘Wha-what? Did you say something?”

He makes that low noise again, replying, “Those scratches need Bacta,” before he gently shoves his hand under your shoulder and pulls, sitting you upright at the end of the cot.

Your eyes are round, lips pursed in confusion. Honestly, you forgot all about that.

“O-Oh yeah…” You manage to stutter out as Mando backs up from the opening, making his way to the storage shelves to rummage around. He comes back to the cot with a tin box, undoing the clasps to fish out a tube of gel and gauze. The imagery of medical equipment reminds you of the throbbing on your cheek, which is now accompanied by a throbbing in your cunt. Very conflicting feelings.

“There’s no discoloration or swelling, you’re likely not poisoned.” He starts wiping at your jaw with a wet fabric that smells of chemicals, cleaning off the rust-colored blood that dried there. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm, fine pretty much.” His gentle motions make it hard to think, the swiping over your skin is so gentle that you’re zoning out. That is until he reaches the actual wound, which stings harshly from whatever liquid is saturating the fabric. You flinch, “Ouch! Well, it hurts now.”

“That means it's working.” Mando picks up the gel and dabs it on your cheek which helps to soothe the sting. “You say you feel fine yet you were stumbling around a minute ago. Are you sure you’re alright?”

His question is sweet but you don’t like how he points out your loss of balance. It both concerns you and is slightly embarrassing. Are you alright? You aren't sure, the stumbling could’ve been from a number of things, exhaustion, blood loss, or any other affliction. You feel worried now, grabbing at Mando’s free arm and locking eyes with the visor.

“I-I’m not sure… I’m kinda freaked out, is it possible that a toxin could have a delayed-release? What if I kneel over while we’re in hyperspace?” You finish the sentence a little high-pitched, unable to hide the worry in your voice. The Mandalorian circles your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand to rest on top of your leg and placing his palm over it. His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles.

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. I’ll take a blood sample for testing then we can stay on Nevarro for an hour, just in case.” You make a sad noise when he removes his hand from yours, but he’s already sifting through the box of medical supplies, probably to find something to test your blood with. Pulling out a tube he turns to you and holds your hand again, which makes you smile until you realize the tube contains a needlepoint to prick your finger with. Oh yuck, you hate needles. A life spent surrounded by danger and that tiny jab still makes you nervous. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you look away as Mando jabs your pointer finger; he must’ve noticed your reaction because his thumb starts up that soothing pattern again.

“You’re a trained mercenary who is scared of needles?” His tone isn’t mocking, he seems to be trying to distract you. You just stick your tongue out at him instead of verbally responding, worried that your voice will shake. For some reason, Mando freezes at this, one arm halfway to the metal box, the tube of your blood in hand. It is so odd of him that you instantly take note of the reaction, wondering what you did. After a second he starts jerkily moving again, laying a small strip of paper down and dripping your blood on it. He pointedly keeps his gaze on the paper, refusing to face you even when you poke at him.

‘What? I can’t stick my tongue out at you?” You prod him again trying to provoke a response. You gasp when his hand flashes up and stops your finger in its path, his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist just like when you punched him in the alley.

“Not,” he punctuates the word by dragging your hand down his waist, “When it reminds me of my cock down your throat.”

Your clit throbs again, slickness starting to gather between your legs. “Ummm… sorry?” You reply dumbly, throat going dry when he presses your palm into his growing bulge with a groan.

His helmet glances at the strip of paper again. “Results are normal. We should still stay on the planet for an hour, just in case… How will we fill the time?”

You don’t know how to respond. Any former thoughts you had in your mind have flown away, leaving you blank. Staring at Mando, your mind races to form a decent response, but you must’ve hesitated for too long because he rolls his hips into your hand, fully hard now.

Whining, you lean toward him reaching out your free hand to wrap around his neck, but he moves away from your touch leaving you flushed on the cot. His helmet looks you up and down, contemplating something.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks for the second time, voice an octave lower than before. He picks up the roll of gauze, unused at this point, and holds it halfway lifted in the air in front of you. You aren’t sure what he is going to use it for, you assumed to dress the wound but from the way he is holding it, he must have other ideas. He would’ve already patched you up if this were just about the fabric’s typical function.

“I’m feeling fine. The gel is working.” It’s the truth. You can’t feel your cheek throbbing anymore. The Bacta in your bloodstream has a calming effect as well, soothing your anxiety from before. You feel good even, clear-minded and thrumming with energy. You can’t imagine what he is planning but you know you want him so badly it hurts. Your heart quickens.

“Mando…” You breathe, the way you say his name is both a question and a prompt. He answers by unrolling a strip of gauze and holding it out in front of your face. The breathing through his modulator is audible now, pants heavy with desire.

“I cant- I can’t go slowly, if I fuck you right now. I want to try something else.” You nod fervently, completely ready for whatever he is thinking of doing to you however, you’re admittedly confused when he starts wrapping the gauze around your head and over your eyes. Mando unrolls several layers of gauze, a decently thick strip obstructing your vision to the point where little light penetrates the fabric. His voice startles you when you hear it right by your ear, asking, “Is this okay?”

You’re still wordless, nodding in response again. Mando hums and parts your legs with his hips, pulling you to his body and grinding against you. You mewl into the empty space in front of you and fling your arms out to find him, suddenly needing to feel as much of him as you can reach.

Hands connecting with his shoulders, you pull him down hard as if you were going to kiss him. The helmet bumps you in the face instead.

“Oops..” You murmur, embarrassed. Admittedly, you forgot all about the armor barrier between your bodies. Mando huffs softly and bumps you again, gently as to not hurt you with the heavy metal.

“Wanna guess my idea? “ He asks, sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every inch of you, touching you as if to replace him kissing down your body. He reaches your hips and pauses there. You can’t see anything but you’re guessing he is staring at you, the thin leggings don’t leave much to the imagination. A finger presses onto your clothed slit, running up and down the length of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You can feel yourself soaking through your clothing, Mando’s fingertip is gliding wetly along your folds as if you were unclothed. You arch into his touch, needing more from him; the overwhelming sensation has you falling back onto the cot, laying there with your legs parted and the Mandalorian still between your legs.

The world feels like it’s spinning for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being the desire you feel for the man crouched before you. Other, more complex thoughts on the situation swirl in your mind, paralyzing you with their intensity. You honestly didn’t think he would want you sexually again, especially not so soon. It just didn’t make sense for your idea of the Mandalorian, the image you carry of him as a person, all based on your time together even if much of that time was spent living separate lives. He flirted and inferred to sex a few times today, plus there was that kiss he lay on your bruised knuckles earlier. He defended you, backed up your claims, and spoke of respecting you and your skills. He’s done so much for you today, but you’re still blindsided as you sit here before him, unseeing in more ways than one. Most of all... you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Seconds after you physically attacked him and he offers you a kiss. It was the absolute last outcome you expected from your efforts to taunt him, you wonder if he’s even allowed to do that considering his vow to never show his face. You knew he was actively sexual just from your awful experiences on the mercenary station, although you never gave much thought to that drive. It didn’t need much thought, in your opinion. He is a man after all. Face bared or hidden away from the galaxy he still has needs, even if he is devoted to a religion that you can barely fathom the depths of. Your wants and needs seem minuscule next to the enigma of the Mandalorian.

This all seems unimportant when his fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings and pull. You whimper and lift your hips, trying desperately to speed up the process and bare yourself to him. The blasters you carry are still attached to your waist but you don’t try to remove them. Sex and guns pair together perfectly for the man.

Cool air hits your pussy at the same moment he moans low in his throat. “Fuck, look at you. Beautiful.”

That reminds you, “Can’t look, can I? N-not like this…” You still weren’t sure about the gauze blindfold he secured over your eyes, your only idea so far is that he must be into this sort of thing. Not that you’re complaining. The temporary loss of sight has heightened every other sense you have, especially touch and sound. You’re certain you’ll remember every word of this encounter for the rest of your life. He’s complimented you several times over the past few days. Pretty. Beautiful. You’ll never forget that.

“Still haven’t guessed?” The Mandalorian rumbles at your thigh, pulling your pants off your ankles and spreading your legs as wide as the cot doorway will allow. A short growl rips from his throat, his touch leaving your thighs much to your dismay as he fumbles with something. There is a heavy thud that you can't make sense of, he had to have set something large on the ground to make that noise but you don’t know what- oh. Oh, stars I can feel his breath.

He took his helmet off. For you. The pieces are falling in place quickly but you can’t react to it- you can’t even breathe, every implication of his gesture setting your world ablaze. Your heart is pounding, arms stretched out from the tension you hold in your limbs, you need an anchor, anything-

There's a hot puff of air on your clit and gloveless fingers digging into your thighs. He must’ve removed those too.

It’s like you’ve been sucked into a stasis chamber, the buzz of your cerebral cortex halting all efforts to process what’s happening, enveloped in a place so quiet that you feel fucking crazy. The anticipation is killing you, you’re going to die here and that’s alright, that’s fine, you’d love to die here, in fact- wait where is he? His face is somewhere near your aching center, you know this because you can feel each breath he exhales ghosting over your pussy, the muscles in your hips want to squirm and seek him out but you can’t. Not with all this atmospheric pressure gathering, the weighted air pressing harder and harder down on you and you know you’re about to break. But you’re terrified you’ll disrupt the spell that keeps you both frozen here, still and aching with pleasure. You’re gathering the courage to make the first move when Mando finally breaks the silence.

“From now on,” you interrupt him with a gasp at how different he sounds without the voice filter, the tone is so much fuller and warm, but he then continues unperturbed, “This is fucking mine.”

Your yelp echos off the walls when his hot, skillful tongue liiicks up your slit, flicking at the very top of its path off of your clit.

Fuck this feels so good, this feels so good, how does it feel like this, so fucking amazing? He barely even talks, how is he so dexterous with his tongue? Tortured noises fall out of your throat as Mando licks through your folds, trying to taste everything his mouth can possibly reach. He rolls his tongue repeatedly over your clit making you tense up and shake from the overwhelming sensation. There's a sound in the hull, you can barely discern the source of it at first but you suddenly realize it coming from your own mouth, a filthy mantra falling from your tongue.

Mando-Mando-Mando-Don’t stop- Please dont-Mando

He stops.

“Hey! What-” Your hands fly down and flounder around finding soft locks of hair and immediately latching on for dear life. Impatiently tugging at his scalp, you try to scoot down and find his talented tongue, your clit feeling cold and achy without his touch. But he’s so strong, a solid pillar of immovable stone and you can’t budge him at all, his only reaction being a deep growl when you yank a little too hard on his head. You must’ve pissed him off because one hand is suddenly on your heat, cupping your pussy with his palm but leaving a gap between your bodies, torturing you with the lack of friction. You whine pathetically at this game.

“Mando-fuck- why… pleeeaaase.” His touch leaves you entirely and you’re more desperate than ever, writhing to the point where you almost slide off the thin mattress onto the floor. Your inner thighs connect with broad hips again, this time without the barrier of your leggings between you. When your cunt presses into his crotch you realize you can feel more than the cloth of his dark pants, he must’ve pulled his cock out because you can feel his skin, the skin of his cock brushing over you plus just a patch of it from where the hem of his pants is pulled under his balls. A ragged sound tears from both of you when his thick length parts your lips, grinding against your clit.

“I-I thought you weren’t, I mean you said-”

“I’m not g-going to fuck you-” he gasps out, voice breaking despite the clear determination in his response, “not yet. I want you to use me and make yourself-fuck- cum. Fuck yourself on me.”

You’re speechless, there are absolutely no words in any of the Galaxy’s countless languages, known or unknown, that can succinctly express just how fucking turned on his suggestion makes you. Is this his way of giving back to you after you made him cum the night before? You don’t know, fuck- you don’t care either. Fuck whatever complex you had about owing him, you deserve this and you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your fucking life.

His broad body is propped over yours, cock grinding into you over and over again as he rolls his hips and groans out, “Well? You want it like this, pretty girl? Or do you-”

You interrupt him by reaching between your legs and finding his cock, pushing it down your lips to your aching hole. He sucks in a sharp breath and everything is frozen in that quiet place again, just for a split second, before you press his length into your body, sinking down to the hilt.

A broken sound comes out of you, your throat so tight that your vocal cords can’t rub together to produce anything louder than a squeak. However, the Mandalorian is not without his words, a string of curses tumbling from him in that gorgeous, rough voice. Fuck, holy fuck, you wish you could hear him speak like that for the rest of time, his real voice without the modulator hits you straight in the gut. He called you beautiful yet he doesn’t realize the power of his beauty has completely destroyed you. You’ll do anything for him, for that voice. When he claimed your pussy as his you realized that there was never a point in time where it didn’t belong to him. The Mandalorian moves mountains with his claims.

He is like a mountain himself, completely stilling his body the second you let him inside you. You clench down on his thick length and drag yourself off of him, leaving only the swollen head inside your hole. You’re burning up, a sweat breaking out over your entire body as you try to take his cock. He’s so thick inside you, stars you can't control your fluttering lower muscles that pulse from the strain. The saliva and slickness helped him slide inside initially but now you’re clenched around him painfully tight as you try and adjust to his size. He lays so still for you, still muttering curses at the feeling of you, yet patient as you work yourself on his cock. But at some point, you can’t help letting out a little wail when you fuck yourself on him, the debilitating mix of pain and pleasure is fucking overwhelming and he can tell you’re struggling.

Mando settles lower on your body, elbows next to your head and armored torso brushing against your upper half, the ridges on his cuirass catching your nipples through your shirt. The movement slightly ruts his hips, an inch of his cock entering you accidentally. You swear and freeze at the sensation, face screwing up-it’s so good but you hurt just slightly. His mouth must be close to your face because you can feel his breath on your skin when he starts whispering filthy encouragement.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock- fuck you’re so tight, how are you so tight- Maker that has to hurt, you can do it baby, keep-keep trying.” The elbow to your right lifts off the thin mattress, his hand caressing down your body, over your breasts, down your side, gentle trails from his fingertips ghosting over your skin and sending tingles all over. This helps to relax your muscles a little, you feel the walls of your cunt loosen just enough to relieve the uncomfortable ache. Wetness gathers around his cock from his encouragement, as you slide with more ease along him grinding yourself up and down on his solid cock.

It is fucking indescribable, a nearly out of body experience fucking yourself on him, every time you bottom out the thick head presses into a spot that sends flashes of white behind your eyelids. You can't even moan right now, the only noises you manage are shuddering gasps and whines as you feel yourself rise higher and higher. The peak is right there, you can feel it, you’re right fucking there-

“M-Mando, I’m gonna-gonna-fuck, I’m going-I-” You’re frantic, unable to string together the words

The hand exploring your body diverts its path, reaching between your legs to rub strong circles around your clit.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him, a rush of blood in your ears drowns out all other senses, the only thing you can feel is your blinding climax and the thick cock in your body. You’re clamped down tight on him as the sensation rips through you, building you up and destroying you over and over again. You can’t comprehend how he has the control to just hold himself there, you feel like you’re being wrung dry with how tightly you clench around him with each pulse of your orgasm. Eventually, the white noise fades from your ears and sensation returns to the rest of you, limbs tingling as you stretch the taut muscles.

Mando is trembling above you, arms shaking from the effort of propping himself up for so long. A soft noise leaves you and you wrap your arms around him, trying to soothe the tightness in his muscles like he did for you but the armor gets in your way. He makes a low noise in his throat when you skim over his side, finally allowing himself to rest when he lays on top of you, one arm still holding his full weight back so as to not crush you. You reach an arm under his shirt trying to feel more of his skin, but the padding and metal still attached to his body prevent you from moving more than a few inches.

This time, you’re first to break the silence, “What did-what were you saying?” you ask, not wanting to miss anything he says to you in his real, unfiltered voice. He doesn’t say or do anything at first, his hesitation lasting long enough that you resign yourself to never knowing. But then he lifts his head from where it lays next to yours and you feel the sharp tip of his nose brush your good cheek, over the bridge of your nose to the other side, then press closer into you as his lips meet yours.

His kiss is so gentle that you forget he’s still hard inside you. All you can think about is the heat of his mouth crushing against yours, pressure held back enough so that he doesn’t dig into your injured cheek but filled with a promise of the energy he holds in his powerful body. You fucking hate those Rodians more than ever because you would give anything for him to kiss you with his full strength right now, holding back nothing.

But soon -too soon, he draws back from your mouth and pulls his cock out of you. You blush at the obscene noise your wetness makes as he curses and wrenches the last inch away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

‘Come back to me…” You whisper desperately, reaching out for him.

“Fuck I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” Mando spits out, sounding wrecked, “I want to so fucking bad but I-”

You try pleading with him, wanting him to feel just as much blinding pleasure as you did from the way your bodies fit so perfectly together. “You won’t hurt me I swear, I can take it-you said I could.”

He groans in a tortured, painful way, hesitating for a moment and you think you might’ve just convinced him to come back and fuck you- but the hand that eventually touches you isn’t anywhere near your pussy. He’s wrapping the gauze from your eyes, pulling it from your head to press into your cheek. You blink as your eyes adjust to the yellow light of the Crests hull, the usually dull fluorescents are piercing. Still, your vision is not quite blurry enough to hide the gleam of the polished Beskar sitting back on Mandos’s head. You swallow your disappointment at losing the pure tone of his voice to that damn modulator.

“I can't,” he says softly, “you’re bleeding again. It was too rough.”

You can’t argue with him. You feel a bit weak and dizzy which is not just from your powerful orgasm. Sleeping in the cockpit didn’t grant you the most restful night; you’re exhausted, slipping away even as he speaks.

“I’m sleepy...” You mumble, your speech very simple when you’re this exhausted. Mando makes a low noise, indiscernible in tone now that it is passing through the voice filter. You hate that thing for stealing away the depth of his voice even as it fades with your consciousness.

“Sleep now… I’ll pilot the ship while you rest. Sleep…”

And so you do.

------------------------------------------

It’s many hours later. The ship hurtles through hyperspace as you stand and examine your cheek in the tiny mirror of the fresher, basked in yellow light. The wound isn't very deep but it’s long, stretching from the high point of your cheekbone halfway down to your jaw. You grimace at the sight. That will definitely leave a scar...

The Mandalorian is moving quickly behind you in the ship's hull, arranging the carbonite freezing slabs in a way that you can’t make sense of but don’t really care about. You’re too preoccupied with your reflection to consider it. Mando takes note of this.

“Warrior marks.” He tells you, walking across the length of the ship to lean against the doorway of the small fresher. “Wear them proudly, burc’ya.”

Wear them proudly.

And so you do.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #fanfic #smut fic #mando x you #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader #the mandalorian fanfic #smut #din djarin #star wars #star wars fic #fanfiction

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aerynwrites · 4 years ago

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If you're still doing marcus requests... do you think you could write something where he just broke up with Teresa and is preparing to go to DC, and the reader is his best friend, but she tries to muster up the courage to confess that she loves him before he goes? Thank you 💕

AHhh this is so cute! Thanks for requesting this! <3

Stay

Marcus Pike x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: tiny bit of angst followed by fluff!

Love is a funny thing.

It’s a funny thing simply because it can be so many things at once. It can be a warm slow growing feeling that begins as butterflies in your tummy before eventually moving it’s way into your heart. It can be an all at once feeling that seems to blow you off your feet. It can be a comforting feeling that reminds you of home and all the wonderful things that come with it. But it can also be sad. It can make your heart ache and your fingertips tingle. It can make your stomach roll in anxiousness, and make your mind run wild with all the different outcomes. But most of all, love is a powerful thing, able to make even the strongest man crumble beneath the weight of it all.

Which is what happened to your best friend.

You watched as Marcus experienced everything that love is, before the woman of his affections snatched it away when she realized her true feelings lied in another. While you were there as he cried on your shoulder and held you tightly in his arms as his grief ran out of him like a river, you couldn’t help the small sense of relief that washed over you. You too have experienced what Love is, except it was for the man who had cried in your arms, for the man you knew you could never have because he only saw you as his friend.

You too knew that Love can be sad.

You witnessed the awful ache that spread it;s tendrils through your chest when he told you he was leaving. You felt the way your stomach seemed to turn in on itself as you stood outside his door, ready to lay everything before him, no matter the outcome. Because you also knew all the good that Love can be, and that outweighed the bad, tenfold. And if there was even the slightest chance that Marcus could return the love you held for him, then you had to take that leap of faith.

You stood outside of Marcus’s apartment, wringing your hands together nervously as you built up the courage to knock on his door. It had been several weeks since Teresa had broken things off with Marcus, broken his heart. And now, he is leaving for DC, having told you the news over one of your weekly movie nights with empty Chinese takeout containers lying on the coffee table. You had held back your tears, shielded your crumbling heart as you hugged him and wished him the best. Because that;s what friends are supposed to do right? Encourage each other to pursue what’s best for them and what they want to do. Yet, as you hugged him and he hugged you back, you were unaware of the other heart breaking right across from yours.

Marcus didn’t want to leave you. In fact he had hoped you would reduce his plan, ask him to stay so he had a reason too. Because, unbeknownst to you, Marcus had only pursued Theresa because he never thought he could have you. He hadn’t realized this until later, after he had been talking to you one night after the break up. But it seems even you didn’t want him around enough to ask him to stay. So he made the arrangements to go to DC, hoping time away from everything would help him forget.

Marcus was actually packing the last of his bags when you took a deep breath and knocked firmly on his door. You shifted from one foot to the other anxiously as you waited for him to answer, and you felt your heart rate speed up as you heard his footsteps nearing the door. When the lock clicked and the door was pulled open to reveal the face of the man you loved, you felt a small if somewhat nervous smile come to your face.

“Hey Marcus,” you greet quietly.

He beams at you, holding the door open wider to guide you into the apartment, “Hey, I didn’t expect you to come by,” he says, closing the door behind you and shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks around the mostly empty apartment, “I’m not really in the best spot to entertain right now,” he jokes.

You shake your head and send him a small smile, “You know I don’t care Marcus,” you say, “I just came by too…” you trail off, unsure of how to segway into what you want to tell him, “I wanted to see you again before you left,” you say finally, eyes falling to the floor.

His eyes soften at your words, as if he himself had forgotten that he's moving across the country. He shifts on his feet for a moment before finally speaking again, “Why do I feel like that’s not the only reason you came all the way across town?”

You feel tears well up in your eyes at his words. Ever the FBI agent, trained to notice all the little things. Before you can stop yourself you launch yourself into Marcus, wrapping your arms around his middle and burrowing your face in his chest. Your tears soaking through the white t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Please don’t go, Marcus,” you beg quietly, voice wet with tears, “I don’t know what I’m going to do if you go.”

After his momentary shock at your sudden actions, Marcus wraps his arms around you tightly, resting his head atop your own, your name falling from his lip, “I’ve already made the transfer...and all of my things have been moved down there. I can’t just-”

“I love you.”

Your voice is barely a whisper as the words slip past your lips, but Marcus hears them, and you feel his entire body tense, but you don’t move from your position in his arms. Instead you pull him tighter to you, afraid if you let go he’ll run away.

“That’s what I came here to tell you,” you admit, “I’ve felt like this for a while now but never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we had, and then you and Theresa -”

You hadn’t even been able to finish your sentence before Marcus was pulling you away from him, cradling your face in his hands and crashing his lips to yours. It didn’t take you long to respond, your body melting into his, as your hands rested on his wrists. Your tears seem to flow harder now, mixing together where your lips meet as you are bombarded with an onslaught of mixed emotions. Your lips move against his naturally, as if you both had done this a million times despite this being your first kiss. Marcus pulls away slowly after a few moments, both of you desperate for air. His hands stay where they are, his thumbs wiping at the tears on your cheeks, as your own hands fall to his chest.

“Marcus? W-what, why did you-”

“I love you too,” he rasps, resting his forehead against your own, “I didn’t realize it then, but I love you so much, and I only used my relationship with Theresa as a way to try and smother my feelings for you.”

You pull back from him slightly, his hands falling from your face to rest on your hips instead, “Why didn’t you say anything?” you whisper, confusion tugging at your brows.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Same reason you didn’t,” he says, “Because I’d rather have you as a best friend than not have you at all.”

You smile at his words, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment before looking up at him, “Well I hope after that kiss we can be more than best friends now.”

Marcus lets out a laugh and nods, “I think I can agree to that,” he says quietly, his demeanor turning sheepish before he speaks again.

“Stay the night?” he asks, pressing a short kiss to your lips, “Please?”

You smile and return the kiss quickly before nuzzling your head into his chest again, “Of course, Marcus. And I hope you’ll call and cancel that transfer tomorrow.”

Marcus smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before resting his cheek against it once again, content to finally be holding you in his arms.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

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#pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #marcus pike #the mentalist

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 4 years ago

Text

His Dark Materials S2 Ep 6 - Rambling/Thoughts

I really cannot believe that we’re at the penultimate episode already, oh my gosh. It’s gone by so fast??

Again, because I’ve reread TSK in the last couple of weeks, the book is fresh in my mind but I’ve probably still missed stuff

Also last week was so intense and seeing the “previously on” section made me remember just how intense that was, so it’s a hard job to top that!

ANGELS AHH RIGHT AWAY IM GEEKING OUT

“The last time they were seen was to make war” - IT’S HAPPENING ASDFGHJKL

Ruta going off to see Asriel and me just remembering what exactly went down between them while she was there with him... heh

So Will’s hand looks AWFUL oh my god poor Will 😭

Pan is REALLY into his Red PAN-da form oh my goodness

So the other kids out for revenge terrified the living SHIT out of me, dear god I don’t think it could be any creepier than dozens of them appearing out of the shadows like that, like it’s genuinely terrifying

Serafina just dropped right in to rescue them and I was both relieved and a little disappointed? Because in the book the whole chase sequence is so much longer and more important, like it takes up most of an entire chapter I think, and here it’s like two minutes?

Serafina: What does this edge cut? // Lyra: Everything (Will at the same time: Nothing.) - 😂

I missed Lee and Jopari tbh so yay to seeing them once more! And they’ve crossed into the next world!

Oh hi again Mary!

^ I wasn’t expecting to see Mary again this series because in TSK book, her last appearance is going through the window (which was last episode), so I’m a little curious as to whether we’re going to get a TINY little peek into The Amber Spyglass here (it’s been years since I reread it, I apologize). Because last series they did a bit of TSK (namely introducing Will + him crossing into Cittagazze), so it would be interesting!

“Good, something I can understand for a change” - LOL Same

Serafina wants to take Lyra back to her world?? Really??

Not gonna lie, the two girls spying on Mary was kind of low-key creepy

Lyra mentioning that she crossed worlds to find out about Dust and mentioning Roger 😭

Also I’m so emotional over just how much she wants Will to be safe, like she would really do anything to keep him safe and I love it

Lyra asking the Alethiometer where Will’s dad is and “he’s in this world” - ahhh it’s going to happen!

Also I really hope that the BBC/whoever decides to sell replica Alethiometers because the design is so beautiful?! I would fork out serious dough for one, and it would go nicely with the one I have from the film

No but seriously, words don’t describe just how badly I want a replica

“I wanted to fly so I summoned you here, now I’m flying” - LOL OKAY THEN JOHN

Ooh damn, that outfit Marisa is wearing is FINE. I’m slightly gayer than I was before, ngl

I was like “nooo Mary don’t be nice to these kids, they’re awful”

But it’s very sweet that she offers them food?? Like she pulls a chocolate bar out and is like “it’s no good for you, it’s full of sugar”... I love her

The way that Mary was so happy and excited when they mentioned Lyra, only to tell the girls off for trying to kill her - more of a mum than Mrs Coulter tbh

“Miss, can I have a hug?” - AWWW OMG WHY AM I SAD

They asked Mary to stay and look after them omg 😭😭😭

“Come with me, I’ll bring you to your adults” - ooh okay this could go any number of ways... Either she actually reunites them with their families and all’s well, or she takes them up there and their parents/adults are all dead (for lack of a better word)? Or the Spectres attack after Mary leaves them with the adults??

Jopari talking about meeting his dæmon and also a little bit about trying to get back to his family :(

“Can you magic us up a fire?” “One moment” *presents a box of matches” - LMFAO

Wait did Serafina seriously just imply that she thought Will might hurt Lyra?!?

Serafina saying that if protecting Lyra means protecting Will as well... Yes, protect Will please! Protect BOTH of these children, I literally BEG you, they’ve gone through far too much

Ooh okay so the witch ritual/spell was kind of cool to see!

Lyra saying “please tell me he’ll be alright” 😭♥️

The fact that Lyra curled up close to Will and then Pan (in ermine form) curled up CLOSER to Will is so cute, they both love Will so much

Pan: “We feel safe her... don’t we?” / OOF OKAY THIS IS F I N E

I already know what Lyra’s ��other name” is because I read the book but the hints are anything BUT subtle tbh. “Mother of us all, cause of all sin, tempted by the serpent”... I’m not even that religious but I think it’s pretty obvious.

Also, if Mary is playing the part of the “serpent” within Lyra’s destiny, does that mean that Mary has tempted Lyra? Or that she will?

Boreal being nervous about being in the city and Marisa is just so unimpressed by him... Mood

That smirk she had when going up to that Spectre victim was so chilling, we have to stan Ruth Wilson and her incredible acting

Also, fun fact, Ruth Wilson went to my sixth form college and is from Surrey (like me), and she grew up in Shepperton, which is where my Nan used to live when she was alive (my uncle and aunt live there still), so that’s super exciting!

“We could learn from this” - PLEASE DO NOT MA’AM

God I hate the Magisterium so fucking much, the patriarchy is so strong with them

Oh great, now they’re gunning to kill Lyra :/

Also, off topic, I’ve only just connected that Will Keen, who plays Father MacPhail, is Dafne Keen’s dad?!?

“She’s lost a lot for one so young” - AND SHE’S STILL GOING TO LOSE PEOPLE, WHY IS THIS FAIR PHILIP PULLMAN 😭

“She must be protected” - AGAIN, they BOTH need protecting PLEASE

The Spectre noises reminded me of the noises of the Smoke Monster from LOST, so that’s definitely trippy for me

Thanks, I hate it

I nearly shouted “WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING” out loud in front of both my parents, I seriously thought she had a damn death wish

I have never been so damn tense in my entire life as I am watching this show - and I KNOW what happens

HOW DID SHE DO THAT WITH THE SPECTRES SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN

Lee’s so worried about Lyra - 11/10, Father of the Year

The Magisterium airships... NO. FUCK. WE’RE AT THAT POINT ALREADY AND IM NOT OKAY BECAUSE I KNOW HOW AND WHERE THIS ENDS AND I HATE IT

I deadass thought Marisa and Carlo were about to kiss when he ran up to her and I actually said out loud “NO please don’t”

Look I must just be so dirty minded but when she said “let’s celebrate”, my immediate reaction was “NO NO NO NO EW EW EW NO” and “I hope she just means having a drink and not doing the frickety-frack”

I was so close to tearing up as Will was talking about his mum, her illness, and the boys who were mean to her because of it. His love for his mum is so beautifully written and the way Amir Wilson is playing Will is so wonderful

I was also close to tears when he was talking about his dad and how he used to imagine about his dad, so maybe I’m just emotional anyway

“Could go to school... have friends” - okay yeah no I’m definitely crying 😭

“I couldn’t trust anyone.” “Until you met me.” “Yeah.” - EXCUSE ME ♥️😭 my HEART

I love one (1) soft boy, and one (1) feral girl and her dæmon

The relief I felt when I saw Marisa and Carlo were literally just having drinks 😅

“They consume what makes us human, so I just suppressed that and hid it” + *cut to the monkey looking kinda sad/uncomfortable* - Umm fUCK OKAY THEN

Why am I feeling sorry for the monkey?!?

“You think we’re equal?” - LMFAO RIGHT

EWW THEY KISSED. No, just... nO

When I saw his snake dæmon moving towards her monkey, I thought one of two things was about to happen: 1) the monkey was going to pet and paw and the snake as Marisa seduced Boreal, or 3) the monkey was going to strange the snake and kill Boreal

OKAY THIS TOOK A SHARP BUT NOT UNWELCOMED TURN

“You’ve NEVER been my equal.” “You’d only hold me back.” - OH MY GOD YES THE SHADE

She’s not wrong though let’s be honest here

So she poisoned him I’m assuming? She poisoned his drink because the monkey didn’t actually touch the snake... damn.

Her just sitting there and continuing to drink with his dead body there is... damn.

“Into that valley” NO NO, please no

Jopari really just summoned a whole damn storm huh

Also the fact he fully trusts in Lee’s abilities to land them safely :3

Lee: “Can we trust him?” // Hester: “Do we have another choice?!!” - LMFAO I love them so much

THE WAY I NEARLY SCREAMED WHEN THAT WITCH GOT ATTACKED BY A SPECTRE OMFG AT LEAST WILL WAS THERE TO SAVE HER

Okay but did Marisa REALLY sit there for HOURS with Boreal’s corpse sitting opposite her?!?

Her burning her hand on the flame in front of the monkey, and the monkey clearly whimpering and in pain was so agonizing to watch, I can’t take this show

Also, you have to wonder just how many times she’s harmed herself (and him) for her to keep doing it with next to no problems (like separating from each other all the time)

I was so excited to see the birds attacking the zeppelins, like it was one of my favourite details in the book, and I worried that they wouldn’t have the budget for it but yay!

I do kind of wish that we’d had Sayan Kötor as the “eagle Queen” leading them though - she probably was but I wish we’d actually seen it or heard Jopari say it or whatever

THEY SHOT THE GAS CANNISTER OH SHIT THEY’RE GOING DOWN HARD AND FAST IN THAT BALLOON

HOLD ON BBC YOU CANNOT END THIS THERE?!? EXCUSE ME?!

The last episode is next week and on an hour earlier, so that’s exciting! I have no idea what I’ll do once this series ends, or when we’ll even get the third and final series because of COVID and filming delays, but I’m excited for it nonetheless and hoping it’s next November/December or something!

#his dark materials #hdm #lyra belacqua #lyra silvertongue #marisa coulter #mrs coulter #will parry #serafina pekkala #ruth wilson #dafne keen #amir wilson #pantalaimon #john parry #lee scoresby #hester

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brokenkingdom-forgottenempire · 3 years ago

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It Was A Good Night (Edge/Roman)

Okay....so..... it took me days to actually write this because my brain was not helping and I kept on deleting the plot. Im not happy with this but it is all I have for now. Imma try and write more next time. Rare pair but we love it.

Edge with top!Roman for @reignsfx it’s not the best but I hope it’s okay? :’)

It was a crazy night. The crowd was loud. The arena was filled with fans. Their match was probably one of the best matches in history. The audience could not sit still, and Edge was loving it. He loved every second of it. From the punches he threw at Roman Reigns and Daniel Bryan, to spearing both men down to the mat. The painful groans and hitched breaths were music to his ears.

He loved it.

He did not win, he got stacked and pinned by Roman Reigns. He lost but it was a good match. It was a good night.

After the curtains were down, the show ended, the fans were gone, Edge was still in the mood for something else. Something that involved a Samoan man. Edge walked back into the locker room expecting to meet anyone inside, but it was empty. He began to slowly pack his things and gears. Before heading back to the hotel, he decided to shower at the arena so he could just change into more comfortable shirts.

It was as if everyone had just left, even the shower stalls were empty, but it did not bother him. Edge went into one of the stalls, took off his t-shirt and shorts, drew the curtain closed and turned on the water. Warm water felt like heaven on his tense muscles. Edge washed himself clean, shampooing away his sweat away. Once he was done, he turned off the water sprayed at stepped out of the stall, toweling his damp hair. The silence was all he needed after his match tonight, he needed peace.

Edge was too deep in thoughts to notice there was someone else inside the shower room with him. When the older man moved to grab his fresh t-shirt out of his bag, big hand wrapped around his mouth, gagging and muffling his surprised yelp, his right arm was twisted back and held there. He tried to claw at the hand, but the drip tightened.

“I’d be quiet if I were you,” deep and smooth voice made him stop struggling. Edge did not have to turn around to know who was manhandling him. Roman chuckled darkly when the old man suddenly just stood still and panted heavily. “Took you long enough to back to your locker room. The chief shouldn’t be waiting for his servant,”

Edge managed to muffle out what sounded like a ‘fuck you’ before he struggled to escape from the Samoan’s grip. What was this man thinking? What if someone walked in on them? This fucker was going to get an earful of-

“Ah-!” Edge cried out when Roman suddenly grabbed at his hair and yanked back.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” Roman whispered at his ear.

“Fuck off-“ before the older man could say anything else, a hard slap landed on his bare ass, making him realized that his towel had fallen off and he was standing there…naked. “Reigns! What the fuck someone is going to-“

“I’ve locked the door. The hallway is empty, I checked. The others had gone back early. You’d know that if it didn’t take you hours to come back, “ Roman released Edge’s hair and not so sneakily moved to fondle the older man’s balls instead. The Samoan smirked when he felt Edge flinched and his touch.

“I-I was talking to Vince, you little fuck,” even with the little insult at the end of his sentence, Edge’s voice softened. He knew Roman was a gentleman, but he also knew that the younger man could be a beast when he wanted something. “Can’t we do this somewhere else, Reigns?” Edge was not complaining but he rather not got fucked in the shower room. It would be hot, but he wanted to lay down and Roman could use him however he wished.

Roman hummed, probably thinking and considering. The Samoan gently wrapped his big hand around Edge’s cock, slowly stroking and massaging it to life. Edge’s soft ‘fuck’ was almost a whisper, but Roman heard it and the younger man knew Edge was in the mood tonight.

The older man had been busy working out to get back in shape, and he had been distant weeks before their match tonight, Roman thought Edge had forgotten about him. The twins had to coax him that Edge was probably too nervous to get back in the ring and face him again since their storyline would be bigger and longer than before.

“Thought you didn’t want to do this anymore,” Roman suddenly muttered out and it got Edge turning his head around to look at the Samoan dead in the eyes. The Rated R superstar had a confused look on his face.

“Are you fucking serious right now, Reigns? You thought I wanted out of this and missed that good dick?” Roman shrugged and released all his grips on the older man.

“You were busy-“

“-Preparing for our match tonight, yes, so you don’t have to carry my ass during the entire show. You had me and Bryan out there. Sure, crowds love to see two old golds in ring again but a bad match is a bad match, doesn’t matter who is inside that damn ring,” Edge had turned around to face Roman completely before he reached up and cupped his lover’s face with both of his hands. “Besides, the longer we’re away, the better the sex,” Edge leaned in and crashed his lips against Roman’s. The Samoan naturally rested his hands on the older man’s waist, holding him close.

“You know, I wanted to wait for us to get back to my hotel room so you can fuck me silly, but I need you in me. Now.” Edge roughly yanked Roman’s shorts down along, letting it drop to his ankles. The older man kneeled in front of the Tribal Chief and began to stroke the semi-hard cock in his hand. The action was enough to make Roman threw his head back and groaned in pleasure.

Edge wasted no time as he took the hot flesh in his mouth. Roman’s hands found its way back to Edge’s hair and had a good grip on it, controlling Edge’s movement. Meanwhile the older man grabbed both of Roman’s muscular thighs to balance himself, his head bobbing back and forth. A choking noise echoed inside the empty shower room when Roman forcefully pushed his head down all the way to the base, Roman’s balls resting on his chin, the tip of the Samoan cock hit his throat. Edge tapped at the younger man’s thigh when he felt the need to breathe, and Roman released his grip almost instantly, letting his older lover breathe in as much air as he needed.

“You tapped out,” Roman pointed out playfully, a smirk, and Edge wanted to yank him down to his knees by the balls. The older man scoffed and reached up to wrap his hand around Roman’s ball sacs warningly.

“Oh, and I know exactly what will make you tap out, but this time I won’t let go,” Edge smirked when Roman raised his arms up in surrender. The Samoan knew one should never try and push the older man’s button. “I can’t wait any longer. I need you now,” Edge suddenly stood up and gently pushed Roman down to lie on his back on the wooden bench where Edge had placed all of his other things.

Edge spat in his hand and pushed two fingers in his hole, trying to stretch himself before he let Roman’s big dick rail him. The blonde moved to straddle the younger man, and Roman helpfully aligned his cock with Edge’s twitching hole. The older man did not wait for his own hole to adjust to the grith and just slammed his ass down to the base, causing both men to gasp and moan out loudly. The sound of skin slapping skin filled in the space as Edge rode Roman hard. His knees were going to kill him in the morning but he did not care. Roman had his hands gripping at the side of Edge’s slender waist.

“Fuck, Roman. You’re so deep, babe,” The older man breathlessly said. The Samoan replied with a low growl as he continued to thrust his hips upwards; he watched as Edge’s eyes rolled back from the constant assaults at his spot.

“You’re so damn sexy, babe,” Roman grabbed Edge by the nape and pulled him down for a kiss. The blonde’s whines and moans were muffled by Roman’s lips as the Samoan purposely rolled his hips and shoved deeper into the other man’s tight hole.

“FUCK! I’m going to come,” Edge began to stroke his own dick but Roman slapped his hand away.

“Not yet. Get on your knees, baby,” Edge complied almost immediately. He winced when he felt Roman’s cock slipped out of his hole. Edge got on his knees and elbows, waiting for Roman to get back in him. He almost turned to ask what was taking the younger man so long when a black metal rod was suddenly placed in between his lips. He did not even realize Roman brought that piece of metal with him.

Roman carefully tugged at the metal rod, causing Edge to raise his head and arch his back. Oh God. Edge whined as he tasted the metal on his tongue. The younger man did not say a word as he shoved his cock back into Edge’s hole; making the other man cried out loudly. The metal rod gag muffled nothing at all. It was hurting the corner of his lips since Roman was tugging at it quite roughly.

“You like that, baby? You love gagging me in front of thousands of people? How about I gag you in front of them in the ring for next match, huh? Imagine how sexy you’ll look,” Roman thrust harder to emphasize his words. Edge whimpered at the image in his mind. He would not last if Roman decided to pull this move on him the next time their paths crossed in that ring.

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh fuck I’m going to come!” Edge whined when Roman began to jerk his cock.

“Come, babe,” The older man cried out as he shot out strings of cum, spraying the wooden bench below him. Edge shuddered at the pleasure that coursed through his body. Roman thrust few more times before he shot his come inside of the older man. Warm fluid painting his wall white, and he even felt some was starting to leak as Roman slipped his cock out.

The Samoan threw the metal rod back inside Edge’s bag, the older man gapped at him. It was as if Roman could read his mind, the Samoan answered it for him.

“I put it inside your bag when you were busy chit chatting with the others earlier. I thought you would have noticed but hey, it’s your lucky day. I’ve always wanted to try it on you,”

“You’re an asshole,” Edge muttered as he gathered his things and continued to pack. Then he realized that he was still naked and his fresh clothes were still neatly folded next to his bag pack. “I’m going to take another shower,” Edge sighed.

“I’ll come with it you. I haven’t taken mine, and I wanted to join you earlier, but you went in first,” Roman invited himself. Before Edge could even say anything about it, the younger man rested his hand on the blonde’s face, his thumb carefully traced the corner of his lips.

“Did it hurt? Are you okay? Sorry, I should have asked-“ The Tribal Chief did not get to finish his sentence before his lover moved in for a longer and passionate kiss. Edge pulled away first. He had a smile on his handsome face.

“I’m okay. It didn’t hurt. It was hot, and we should it again sometimes. Not in front of the crowd, no. I want this moment to be ours,” The older man kissed his lover’s cheek before he walked into one of the stalls he had used to shower earlier, pulling Roman with him.

Of course, they decided to have a shower fuck. This time with Edge’s back resting against the wall, and his legs wrapped around Roman’s waist. The chief’s cock sliding in and out of him easily. When they came out of the shower room, the janitors were waiting for them outside. They did not say anything but both men were damn sure one of them had heard everything.

When they both finally reached Edge’s hotel room, Roman broke the silence.

“Do you think they heard your slutty moan?”

“Fuck off, you bitch,” Edge threw his bag at the younger man but he easily dodged it. Roman’s laughter caused him to laugh too. It was a good night.

#Edge/Roman #Y's Fic #ugh I didnt even read through this again #hope it doesnt suck too badly

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untaemedqueen · 4 years ago

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The Lions Den

Mafia!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 7.

Warnings: Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), Mental Health Issues

TagList- @ayyyocee, @mysugabear03, @wisebtsgot7prune, @imaforeigner, @yeonkiminnie, @stories1907, @ppersonna, @brilee64, @gooplibrary, @vivpurple7, @xjoonchildx, @brightwingr5, @yaniposts22, @rjsmochii, @taeslittletiger, @pjmcth, @bts-chub, @kpoppingthempills, @kim-ji-hyeons-world, @jikooksgirl19, @yoong-i, @ruinsofangels, @absolutefantrash, @chiminies-noona, @eclectically-esoteric, @itsbreeeeeeee, @septembersjoon

Sequel to The Bird Cage

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. Hoseok gave very little information over the phone to Yoongi apart from the fact that during the Ims encounter with Jeongguk at the warehouse he had bitten off his own tongue during their scuffle. So there was very little chance that the Im would have been able to tell the mafia family anything at all. Hoseok had found him on the side of the road in a thicket of bushes, bleeding out of his mouth.

Upon arriving home, Jimin was pacing in the sitting room. Hands over his face before hearing the door slam shut. He picks his head up before narrowing his eyes at you, “And where were you three?” He questions as your nephew, Jisuk runs through the sitting room with Jin hot on his trail.

“At the Bird Cage, handing over the reins to Rina.” You tell your husband as you step down the entryway stairs. He hums before opening his arms for you like a small child. You can see his anxiousness quite clearly, his aura was exuding this sort of tenseness that makes your heart sink. You hug him tightly, feeling his soft lips against your forehead before he’s burying his face into your hair. “Are you tired? Do you and the baby want to nap?” He whispers gently as he rubs the muscles on the back of your neck with his fingertips.

“I’m okay. No tiredness, yet.” You whisper, relishing in the warmth he gives you. “It’s a girl.” He mutters before looking over at the two men in the entryway.

“Hoseok is up in the playroom with Im Gyujin. We have to dispose of his body. Quietly.” Yoongi pulls out a cigarette before nodding. Namjoon takes off his hoodie before following Yoongi up the second staircase. You look up at your husband, chin to the middle of his chest. He was the most handsome man in the entire universe. Even now, after all these years your heart still swells at the sight of him. He looks down at you before kissing the tip of your nose. “I love you, Kitten.”

“I love you, too.” You whisper before hugging him tightly. He chuckles gently before exhaling a long breath. “We don’t think he got far enough to tell the Ims anything at all. Which is good. He was bleeding out on the side of the road from his mouth. Passed out from blood loss.” He mumbles to you before running his hand over your back.

“Well that’s good at least.” You reply before small arms are wrapping around your leg. You hum questionably before looking down at Jisuk as he squeezes your leg. Jimin steps back before chuckling gently, “Aunt Y/N?” Jisuk whispers quietly.

You look over at Jin as he sits down on the couch, “What’s the matter, babe?” You ask before crouching down to his height and pushing some of his hair off of his forehead.

“Mommy and Daddy are going to take me to the zoo!” Jisuk says happily and you giggle as he jumps up and down. “Are they?! That’s so much fun! You’re going to get to go see elephants! Your favorite!” He nods fervently before Jin sits up on the couch. “We’re going to take Hawon and Minseok if that’s okay. I know you guys have a lot going on right now and I don’t want the kids here when the playroom gets emptied… y’know?” Jin pipes up from the couch.

“That’s a great idea. Thanks Jin.” Jimin says gratefully before your phone begins to ring. Jimin raises an eyebrow before laughing. “Rina already is feeling the pressure?”

You dig into your leather jacket before widening your eyes. “No actually, it’s Im Ryu.” You whisper before showing your husband the phone. Jin stands up quickly before picking Jisuk up and nodding towards the kitchen. “I’ll give you both some privacy.”

The ringer is loud as you both stare at each other. Nervousness encroaching upon your mind before Jimin grabs your hand. He clears his throat awkwardly before nodding to the phone. “Answer it.”

You swipe your thumb over the call button before putting the phone on speaker, “Ryu! Hey!”

You hear a giggle before she speaks, “Vixen! Good afternoon! Did you eat yet?”

You squint your eyes at your husband before he’s shaking his head slowly. “No! I haven’t eaten yet. You?” He looks at his Rolex before pushing some hair behind your ear.

“Nope! You know what that means!” Her voice sounds carefree and as light as air. It’s almost relaxing before you’re holding up your phone to your mouth.

“Gaudio’s?” You ask before hearing a laugh. “My treat, Vixen. See you in an hour?”

Jimin nods slowly before closing his eyes. “An hour is perfect.” You reply before the line goes dead. He exhales through his nose before wrapping his hand around your wrist and pulling you up the stairs.

“I want Yoongi and Namjoon to go with you. She might not know anything and she might know everything.” Jimin mutters as he riffles through his desk drawers. His eyes light up before pulling out a long thin wire with a small microphone attached to it. “You’re bugging me?” You ask your husband before folding your arms. He nods quickly before curling his hand to have you walk over to him.

“Jimin, no. You’re not fucking bugging me and making me wear this stup-” He silences you with a kiss before putting his forehead to yours. “You’re going to wear this so I can be with you. I need to hear if she knows anything or alludes to anything. Plus, you have my baby inside you and I need this for my peace of mind.” He shakes his hand, the thin wire shaking gently before stilling. Your eyes meet his, pupils flickering between both of his eyes as he stares at you with steely determination.

Now was certainly not the time to be a brat. “Okay.” You whisper before stepping back. You could be unreasonable at any given time, but today with the stakes raised so high, you would give in to your husband. Countless times before you’re denied him simple things to get a rise from him but you couldn’t bring yourself to today.

“I want you to bring a gun with you just in case. And, your knife.” You nod to him as he pulls down the straps of your dress to attach the microphone. “Don’t trust anything she says. Analyze everything and don’t walk into a trap with your free speaking mouth.” He instructs you before kissing your lips.

You giggle before staring at the new picture above the desk, it used to be just the seven men and now it was them plus the new additions to your family. If this lunch could somehow bring to light if the Im’s knew you took one of their family members, you needed to go through with it.

You didn’t hate Ryu or Haeun, nor their children for what the Im brothers did to your parents. But, they would end up suffering without their husbands. It’s unfortunate that they had to be the ones to do such a thing, but you feel no remorse for your payback. You feel remorse that their families would suffer. This lunch can bring you one step closer to your revenge, whether Jimin tries to hold you back from it or not.

Stepping into the restaurant, you can already feel your palms begin to sweat. Having Yoongi and Namjoon with you was nice but feeling the knife on your thigh gives you a steadiness you need as your heels clack against the marble floor. “Park.” You say to the waiter before taking off your sunglasses.

This part that you play so easily, the carefree Vixen of Seoul with a steeled brain and a venomous tongue usually dissipates around Ryu and Haeun. You had considered them friends for years before finding out their husbands had murdered your parents. Shortly after finding out this information, your free time that was spent with them was few and far between. You didn’t want to see their faces, didn’t want to feel unwarranted anger rise within you because of something their significant others had done and not them.

Jimin had told you countless times not to look at them in such a way if you wanted to continue to be their friend. But, how could you not look at them with anger? You were unsure if they knew what their husbands had done or even if Junggoo and Jungin knew who they killed. Regardless, revenge was coming their way and there would be major fallout.

The private dining room doors swing open and you take in Ryu as she sips her wine. She was wearing the Oh Hyungshil necklace you had bought off a patron in the restaurant many years ago and you clear your throat before entering with Yoongi and Namjoon behind you. Ryu only had one Im man with her today. You’re unsure if she knows anything but without more men behind her, you feel yourself falling into a false sense of security which is something Jimin explicitly today you not to do.

She looks up at you, a large smile spreading on her face before looking at both of the guys behind you. “Are you in danger?!” She asks quickly, putting down her glass of wine.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly before taking your seat across from her. She widens her eyes at you before watching as you place your hand over your flat stomach. She reaches over the table before grabbing the glass of champagne she ordered for you. “I’ll take that. Thank you preggo.” She mumbles before sipping the champagne.

This is usually so easy between the both of you, more so then when Haeun is around. Ryu was a genuinely nice person, she was funny and fierce quite like yourself and it tugs at your heartstrings that you’ve kept her so far away because of something her husband did. “Congratulations by the way, I know you were having a hard time trying to get pregnant." She congratulates you and you give her a small smile.

“Thanks, we just found out yesterday.” Her smile widens before looking at the two members behind you. She points to the chairs beside you before nodding to the men. “Sit down, it’s not every day I get to see two Lions in one room.”

They both sit before looking at each other with a raised eyebrow. The Ims never ask for other men to sit down, they don’t want them to be completely comfortable and so you could imagine how off putting it might be for them. Your eyes find Ryus before she’s sitting back in her chair. “I asked you to come eat with me because I got this.” She whispers before digging into her purse and handing you a letter.

You watch as she hands it to you, fingers shaking delicately before she runs her hands over the top of her tight bun. “Junggoo wanted to know if you’ve gotten anything like this.” She whispers over the table before chugging the champagne.

You pull the note out delicately, the stock card rustling before the bold words in black are presented to you.

You widen your eyes at the note before passing it to Yoongi who sits beside you. “No sender, no nothing.” You mumble to him as Namjoon peers over his shoulder.

“You haven’t received anything like that?” Ryu asks, her tone filled with fright and nervousness.

“No, we haven’t.” Yoongi mumbles before narrowing his eyes at the inked page. You peek down the front of your dress before feeling relaxed knowing Jimin was listening. This was odd, there was really nothing about the Im’s, apart from the knowledge that they murdered your parents, that they really have done wrong. They run illegal cock fighting, guns and own a casino quite like yours. They really aren’t in the business of doing things ridiculously out there. “This is handwritten.” Namjoon notifies you all before taking the letter from Yoongi’s hands with his sleeve.

“If you don’t mind I’d actually like to get some tests run on this.” Namjoon asks Ryu before sliding it back into the envelope without touching it, “We should run some tests on it. For fingerprints and stuff.” He says to her.

She nods enthusiastically, “Please! Anything would help. I’m so nervous, Y/N. What if my kids get taken or something?!” She whimpers before putting her hand to her forehead. Now this was something any mother would take seriously. “No one is fucking taking your children. Do you hear me?” You grab her hand over the table before narrowing your eyes at her.

“As a mother, you would never allow anything to happen to them and I know you very well. Your children and both you and Haeun are going to be just fine.” You aren’t promising anything else, that would be a lie and you’re too bold to do anything but tell the truth. She nods, eyes becoming glassy before Namjoon puts the letter inside of his suit jacket.

“Now let's eat.” You tell her as the waiters enter with food, before you can cross your legs you feel a piece of paper land on your knees and you shift before looking into Ryu’s eyes and grabbing it.

Jimin greets you at the door, arms open for you before enveloping you in a hug. “Kitten, you did phenomenal as always.” His tone was full of glee and you find yourself snorting as you hug him back.

“Are the kids at the zoo with Jin?” You ask quietly, Jimin hums in agreement. You wrap your hand around his wrist before pulling him up the stairs. He raises an eyebrow before following you willingly. Your hand digs into your dress before pulling out the microphone and putting it into your husband's hand.

Wordlessly you climb the sets of stairs, lips pressing into a tight line. “I didn’t read it. I waited to open it.” You notify your husband before finally ascending to the third floor.

“Read what, baby?” He asks confused as you pull a letter out of your purse and handing it to him over your shoulder as you walk towards your bedroom. He groans gently as you open up the lion carved doors before slamming it shut behind him.

His fingers rip open the letter before pulling out the piece of stock card within it. He hugs you tightly, running his hand over your stomach before cursing quietly.

“This can go one of two ways.” Jimin says before throwing the note onto the bed. His lips begin to dance over your shoulder.

“They find out it was us who had him or they think the person who sent the letter has taken him.” You whisper to him. He replies with a nod before closing his eyes. “I’m praying for the latter.”

#the lions den #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub #btswritingcafe #the bird cage bts fluff #bts angst #mafia!au #mafia!jimin #mafia!bts #mafia!jimin x reader #mafia!jimin x you

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spacetimewraithwrites-archive · 4 years ago

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OC Kiss Week Day 2: Blanket

WIP: To Annex the Kid/The Invention of Fire Pairing: Works x Russell (with a cameo by one of Works’ aliases) Timeline: TIoF CW: More yearning! Yay! Rating: T Words: 1,653

***

Cady shivered and pulled her blanket tighter around her small shoulders, teeth chattering against the frigid cold seeping mercilessly through the doors of the coach. Works turned to her in alarm at the sound.

“My goodness,” he exclaimed, squeezing her to his side on the seat. He rubbed her arms to force warmth into her wiry frame. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this cold?”

Sitting across from this display and facing the rear of the coach, Russell watched Works take a spare blanket from his satchel and tuck it under Cady’s chin, wrapping it tight across her chest and essentially swaddling her within thick wool, and after a few moments the chattering stopped.

“Sorry, Mr. Works,” Cady said. “Guess I didn’t think much of it.”

“Nonsense.” Works peered through the window as best as he could through the endless snow and fog hiding London from view. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times not to feel that you’re being an inconvenience by asking for ordinary things such as an extra blanket.” He swung around and affected a humorously severe face, brows drawn too tight together and mouth tugged down in an exaggerated frown. “Can you imagine the inconvenience if you’d expired?”

Cady belly-laughed and Russell shook his head, bewildered.

"I do not understand why y’all think the things you think is so funny is so funny sometimes," he muttered, though he let out a quiet snort anyway if for no other reason than because he enjoyed when they interacted with such familiarity.

Still laughing, Cady buried her face in her blanket. “It’s not my fault!”

"There isn’t a lot to envy in the way of having a macabre sense of humor,” Works said. He looked at Russell with an expression of false surprise. “Some say it’s a sign of low intelligence or maturity, you know.”

“Low intelligence, no.” Russell’s face split into an playful grin. “Maturity? That might be up for discussion.”

Works pretended to be affronted and placed a firm hand on the top of Cady’s head. “This is a child!”

Russell opened his mouth to respond when the coach came to a rolling stop. One glance outside told him they’d arrived at the house rented out to them by Dr. Keller, and an overwhelming yawn burst forth from him in anticipation of stretching out on the most comfortable bed he’d ever experienced.

And stretch out he did some minutes later, with a steaming cup of tea brewed by the housekeeper, reclined on a sofa in the well-lit drawing room and another five or six blankets piled onto his lap. He wasn’t sure how he got to that point or why begging Mrs. Gabb to leave him be just this once always resulted in a cup of tea that went to waste.

“Y’ever been dragged along the dirt behind a galloping horse for thirty seconds?” he asked.

Works, freshly changed into a gemstone-hued dressing gown, stifled the sounds of Cady enjoying a lively song with Mrs. Gabb in the kitchen as he pushed the doors closed. “...I can’t say I have.”

“Well, it feels kinda like this.” Russell deposited the teacup along with its saucer onto the table in front of him.

A pause settled over the floor and Works slid his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to speak to you about that, actually.” He hesitated. “About you being here, with me—”

“Works,” Russell interjected, holding up a hand to stop him, “we already talked about it enough.”

Works spared a cautionary look over his shoulder at the doors, where the jovial noise continued from further into the house. The chances of being interrupted were low, yet he dropped his voice anyway. “I still need you to know how much it means to me that you’d come so far from home, into such foreign waters for the sole purpose—”

“Works....”

“—For the sole purpose of letting me pursue a silly whim.” Works’ eyes followed Russell as he got to his feet, leaving the blanket pile behind. “I can see how uncomfortable you are here.”

“First of all, if you call this...this....”

“Symposium.”

“If you call this symposium a silly whim again, you’re gonna have to answer to me. Also, I would let you drag me along the dirt into the deepest depths of the ocean, McCoy.”

The silence that followed surprised them both. Not even Mrs. Gabb’s distant and boisterous laughter could stop the furious blush from cropping up on Russell’s face as he realized he’d taken Works’ shoulder in hand, fingers digging into the muscle meeting his neck, and they stood impeccably close to one another.

“I get seasick,” Works murmured.

“I am all too familiar with the concept.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said to me up in that balloon.” Works made eye contact and held it for ages. “I fear I’ve underplayed what hearing those words from you has done to me emotionally.”

Russell swallowed. “Yeah...I actually think this might be the first time you’ve looked me in the eye since we left home.” He, too, glanced to the doors. “You’re lookin’ a little like you wanna make somethin’ right, however.”

Magnetically, Works bowed toward Russell, pressing a purposeful kiss to the hollow of his cheek. The flutter of his nervous breath against Russell’s skin sprouted a shiver.

“Works,” he said with finality. Concession.

Taking that cue, Works met his lips, gathering the fabric of the waistcoat Russell hated wearing into tight fists and backing him into the wall with aggression so suppressed it almost snapped like a dry and brittle branch across Russell’s shoulders. Works kissed him like he needed to taste him or accept death, and Russell felt a rumble of courage in his stomach he hadn’t felt in quite a few years that allowed him to hold Works in place by the back of the neck and reciprocate enthusiastically.

Russell had the belt of the dressing gown open and his arms around Works’ waist so quickly the chill of the air hadn’t set in yet. Works inhaled sharp, shuddering under the pressure of large palms splayed flat against the curve of his backside, caught between his trousers and the softness of the robe.

Works tangled his fingers within Russell’s previously kempt hair, and the crash of a dish breaking in the kitchen followed by an undistressed yelp fueled Russell into pushing Works in the direction of the door to his own bedroom on the other side of the drawing room, to get out of open space, to sate the clawing hunger in privacy.

Russell’s famished mouth found its way to Works’ jawline, hands preoccupied by the buttons of his shirt, completely in a haze that he wouldn’t have given an ounce of recognition had it not been for Works suddenly gripping the door frame to stop them with immediacy.

“Russell...” Works hissed. He took hold of Russell’s chin. “Russ, darling....”

Russell gazed up at him with glossy eyes. “Yeah.”

“Not like this.” Works touched his forehead to Russell’s, nails so far into the wall that he tore a bit of the paper, breath coming out in forceful gusts. “I would never forgive myself.”

Russell kissed him again, slow, heart humming into his bones, parts of him aching low and urgent, and though he agreed with Works in the end, he couldn’t help but feel a sting of frustration at the tables being turned for once.

Footsteps in the hall forced them apart, and Works helped flatten Russell’s hair while simultaneously re-tying the dressing gown. He was still in the process of securing the knot in the belt when the drawing room doors opened.

“Sirs,” Mrs. Gabb sang upon entering the room. “Nothing to worry about! I’ve made a right mess is all."

“Everything alright?” Works asked, and only Russell picked up on the strained way he talked.

“Oh, yes. I dropped a teacup. Shattered it to pieces.”

Russell exchanged a look with Works. “Tragic.”

“I’ve sent the young Miss to freshen up for supper while I clean up.”

Works coughed a bit. “Allow me to help, Mrs. Gabb—”

“No, no, Mr. Robinson, I won’t have it at all. You’re guests to this house! What would Dr. Keller say?”

“Let ‘im help,” Russell grunted. “He won’t leave you alone if you don’t.”

Mrs. Gabb’s rosy cheeks pinched out as she grinned. “Well, alright. I’ve got a broom this way....”

The remainder of the evening went on much like nothing had transpired, other than Russell occasionally catching Works in the act of watching him as if he had a particularly puzzling riddle marked on his forehead from across the dinner table. The intensity of his clear blue stare gave him goosebumps.

A knock on Russell’s door much later, after he’d assumed everyone else had retired for the night, startled him. He looked up from his lettering book and tensed up. “...Whozit?”

“It’s me,” Works said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Russell tossed the book onto the bed and pulled the door open just enough to see Works silhouetted by the hall light, bottom lip between his teeth and worry lines aging him somewhat.

They stood unspeaking for a moment.

Works took a calming breath. “I love you.”

Russell nodded. He’d heard it before, but it still made his entire body warm. Insecurity prevented him from repeating what he’d said in the balloon. “I know.”

“I didn’t want you to think...I apologize if I gave you the impression that I wasn’t....”

“Gimme a kiss g’night, McCoy.”

Works leaned in to press a chaste kiss, the softest kiss to his lips. Russell let it course into his veins.

“Good night,” Works whispered.

Russell found it a little easy to fall asleep that night. If he’d known it could’ve ended up being the last time he’d ever kiss Works McCoy, however...he sure would’ve changed his mind about a lot of things.

#ockiss21 #TIoF

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

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Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part 13)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: injury, blood

Context: The boys, (Y/n) and Nico formulate a plan to get out of the cave safely.

A/N: I have a new editor! It is my good friend @jawline-of-steel and she will hopefully be helping me with editing on all of my work!😊💛💛💛

Edited By: @jawline-of-steel

Masterlist

“What do we do? There’s no way out of here except through there! We’re trapped!” I say quickly, keeping my voice down as much as i can so as not to alert anyone outside of the fact that we are very close by, “Is there anywhere we can hide?”

“In here? Yeah, there is, but I’m not sure how good the hiding places are, especially not for someone as big as him.” Dwayne muses, gesturing to Nico as he turns to David with a questioning look on his face.

“All of the hallways are blocked off by debris, and any of the crawlspaces barely fit us, so it’s doubtful that he will be able to get through.” The platinum blonde responds dismissively, though his tone betrays his nerves, the idea of a team of highly trained Hunters waiting just outside the cave worrying and unnerving to him.

“How is she supposed to walk anywhere? She’s got a busted leg, remember?” Paul interjects, pointing at me.

“One of us could carry her?” Marko suggests, which draws a low growl from Nico, his protective side showing through as he tightens his grip around me, holding me tighter to his chest.

I think for a minute, during which time the other five tense up, clearly having heard something I can't, Marko and Paul starting to look even more worried. Frowning, i look around at them all, as if asking them to clarify, though none of them care to explain; instead, David jerks his head to the side, signalling for the rest of us to follow him as he leads us through a nearby tunnel, which takes us to what i assume is their sleeping quarters, Nico having to duck down the entire time as he struggles to fit his bulk in the space. As we emerge into the area, David quickly starts talking.

“The sun is gonna come up soon, so we don’t really have too much time, but I think we can help you. If one of us carries (Y/n), then she can leave through the way we get in and out of here, which isn’t accessible by foot, so it's the safest way out. As for Nico, there’s a chance we can lure the Hunters around the caves enough for him to have a clear chance at getting out of here, but it will only work if you're fast, because they'll most likely be expecting something like this to happen. There’s a safehouse a little way away, where you can stay until you can find transport, and where one of us can stay whilst the sun is out.” The vampire swiftly explains, the rest of us nodding as we take in the plan, glad that one of us is thinking rationally.

“Hold on, why do you have a safehouse?” Nico asks, frowning in the dim light.

“Our sire made it in case anyone ever came after us.” Dwayne fills him in, before moving on again just as quickly, “Which one of us is going to carry her?”

“Paul will, he's the fastest out of the four of us, which will mean he can get to the safehouse much quicker.” David says decisively, looking to his friend for confirmation.

“I’ll do it.” The tall vampire nods, reaching out to take me from Nico, who reluctantly hands me over, giving me one last squeeze for reassurance as he passes me to the blonde.

“Hang on a sec, what about Nico? How is he supposed to know where the safehouse is?” I chip in, looking at the towering werewolf as he straightens again.

The vampires are silent for a moment, thinking the question through, clearly as stuck as I am. Eventually, Dwayne pipes up again, having thought of something.

“I guess one of us will have to go with him.” The brunette says, looking around at the others.

“Yeah, I guess that would help.” I agree, adjusting myself in Paul’s arms.

“I can do it, I'm fast enough to get out of here and into cover before the sun comes up.” Dwayne offers, looking over at Nico as the werewolf, nods appreciatively, still uneasy around the vampires, but not as much as before.

“Ok, Dwayne will go with the werewolf. We’ll stay here and out of sight as much as we can.” David says with finality, watching us all agree before speaking again, “Alright then, let's get going, I can already hear them on the steps.”

“Alright. Thank you for doing this, you really didn't have to.” I say to them all, smiling thankfully.

“No problem, Dwayne is right. We owe you this, you’ve saved our lives too many times to count.” The platinum blonde waves me off, moving to start off into a nearby hallway.

I go to say something, only for Nico to cut me off, gesturing for Paul and Dwayne to move off immediately, not allowing me to argue with him, as is often the case. Paul starts moving off, carrying me as he turns down a different way to the others, where there is already a cooler breeze blowing in from the sea just outside. I lean back against the vampire’s chest, tensing in his arms in trepidation as i think through the plan in my head, still nervous about what will happen to my friends whilst im gone, particularly David and Marko, who will be stuck in the cave with a bunch of Hunters ready to kill them at a moment’s notice, should they get themselves caught. Part of me is confident that they won’t, but the more rational part of my mind knows that there is a very high probability of things going badly, which will end even worse for the rest of us.

I am snapped from my thoughts by the sound of the roaring ocean, the cave now widening out into a cavern that is filled with crashing waves, the far end ïleading to the sea itself, the horizon still cloaked in darkness despite the proximity of dawn that is fast approaching.

“You're gonna want to hold on tight.” Paul warns me, waiting for me to grip him with more force before he kicks off the ground, the disorientation that comes with his floating slightly off-putting as I become stiff in his arms.

“Hey, relax. I'm not going to drop you.” The vampire promises, before he starts to move off towards the front of the cave and out into the open.

My back aches as I slouch in the chair I'm sat in, my fingers knotted together as I watch the doorway, my lip already in shreds from how much I've been biting it, every muscle in my body tense with nerves. Across from me, Paul eyes me in concern, knowing that every movement I'm making is upsetting the injury on my knee, which is throbbing painfully now, though I am ignoring it in favour of staring at the space where Nico and Dwayne should appear.

"They'll make it, (Y/n), don't worry." The vampire tries to reassure me, though he isn't too convinced, looking just as worried and uneasy as i feel.

"I hope so." I manage back, my jaw clenched and tight, though I am doing my best to relax it.

We wait in silence again for a few moments, neither of us daring to say a word in case we miss the tell tale sounds of someone entering the safe house through the hatch in the abandoned gas station above, the actual door itself squeaky and stiff from disuse. It takes a little while, but eventually we hear it, at which point Paul moves to stand by the doorway, ready to intercept if it should be someone unsavoury, rather than the supernatural beings we are expecting. I sit up straighter, my eyes trained on the doorway, anxiously awaiting whoever it is, the heavy footsteps becoming more and more audible as they approach.

Suddenly, the familiar, lithe silhouette of Dwayne enters the candlelight, the brunette limping a little, his bare chest stained red with blood, Nico just behind him, the werewolf completely bare, his skin covered in sweat, blood and dirt. A few cuts litter his chest, though there is a wound on his shoulder where the shaft of a crossbow bolt is just visible. The German instantly comes over to me as he sees me, ignoring any pain as he chooses instead to pull me into an awkward embrace, glad to see I'm alright.

"Thank God you're ok!" He hums into my hair, pulling back to look me in the eye.

"I'm fine, Nico, though I can't say the same about you. What happened?" I respond, looking between him and Dwayne, who has sat down beside me on a different chair.

"There were some waiting for us outside the cave. We fought them off, but we both got hurt in the process. Nico took a crossbow bolt for me." The vampire informs me, nodding thankfully at the werewolf.

"And you took a bullet for me. We are even." He responds, smiling at the vampire in his usual crooked way, moving away from me when he finally notices that he is still naked, "Are there any clothes in here that I could wear?"

"Err, yeah man, they're over there. What happened to your first ones?" Paul asks, looking a little confused.

Nico sends him an odd look, obviously wondering if the vampire is joking.

"My clothes were destroyed when I transformed."

"You transformed?!" Paul exclaims, going wide-eyed as he looks over the huge werewolf.

"It was the only way either of us would be fast enough." Dwayne cuts in, groaning as he pulls a bullet out of his shoulder with his fingers.

"Oh, right." His friend nods, going to the brunette's side to offer his aid.

Across from us, Nico roughly yanks out the crossbow bolt, growling as he does so, pulling on a shirt that is much too small for him after, knowing that the wounds will heal themselves in a little while. Once done, he moves to sit on a sofa nearby, only to come and help me up when I gesture to him that I'd like to join him. Carrying me over to the sofa, the werewolf sits down with me, placing me beside him as he leans back, clearly tired.

Tired now, I watch as Paul helps Dwayne with his injuries, the two vampires talking quietly amongst each other, clearly worried about David and Marko, who are most likely still running from the Hunters back at the cave, the two of them in great danger. Unconsciously, I let my head drop onto Nico's shoulder, my eyelids starting to droop as I start to give in to the sleep I've been fighting off all night, the perpetual warmth from his body soothing and calming to me, his arm coming up to support me as he carefully manoeuvres us so that he's lying back against the arm of the sofa, my body resting on his. In this new position I quickly feel myself start to lose consciousness, my muscles finally relaxing as I let myself fall asleep.

Part Fourteen

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 5 years ago

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Blackout | Random One-Shot Series, #1

Billy Russo x Female Reader

I’ve been through a major blackout this week, it got me thinking and this just happened. There’s another Blackout scenario I’m finishing, I’ll try to post it next week. For those lovely people who requested Matt Murdock stories, I’m still on them. Sorry for this delay in delivery, I blame Billy Russo.

Warnings: S.M.U.T.

Synopsis: you and Billy are best buddies, always have been. And it seems like nothing could change that. Well, except for a blackout, maybe.

“…you know, maybe I should just give up on men already. Start playing for the other team.”

Billy chuckles and shakes his head, his eyes skimming over the photos that you and him took earlier today at this gallery you somehow managed to drag him to. When his thumb swipes right to see yet another photo, your face suddenly takes up the entire screen, your full red lips forming a heart, a fucking sinful pout, your shimmering eyes watching him with such playfulness and boldness, he is instantly drawn to them and stunned speechless.

When did you manage to take this photo anyway?...

“What can I say, it’ll be our loss,” Billy answers hurriedly before you come back to his room from the bathroom wondering what the hell has got his tongue.

He can actually think of a few things, his hooded eyes still glued to the screen. His tongue sure would feel like home on those plump lips, among other places…

“He suggested that we hang out. When did hanging out even become a thing?! What does that even supposed to mean? ” you muse as the shower stops running, and Billy curses himself mentally, trying to ignore the tense feeling in his groin.

Dimming the screen of his phone, he throws it on the bed by his side. With his eyes fixed on the empty doorway leading to the bathroom, he tries to do his best to relax, allowing his back to hit the pillows.

“I don’t know,” he considers it out loud, biting the inside of his cheek. “Maybe it means, like, let’s spend some quality time together, you know?”

Get naked, have lots of sex and maybe even dinner?, his mind spirals back to your lips.

What the fuck is wrong with him.

Your laugh is the prettiest thing he has ever heard – and felt. As he takes in the smooth melody, goosebumps immediately spread all over his body, awakening his senses. Like some sort of a top-quality drug, spreading in his veins, getting his entire body tingle with excitement.

God damn, he has it bad.

“Is that what you mean when you ask me to hang out?” before he can even realize he said what he thinks he thought out loud, you step into his bedroom, and he nearly groans, and chokes on his own saliva.

With your hair curled at the ends, the front strands rolled back in some kind of a retro style, your lips still sinner red, you stand in front of him wearing black stockings that hit you just a couple of inches above your knees and one of his dress shirts, because you probably couldn’t find a bathrobe.

He considers thinking about dead puppies, but his mind already pictures his hands sliding up your thighs as he fucks you into the wall…

“No,” he lets out in a husky voice, flicking his eyes to your face, illuminated with a completely oblivious smile. “I could never-” he stutters, “I’d never want to do that to you… I mean, with you…”, watching your expression darken up some, he suddenly realizes it all comes out wrong.

Bloody hell, just shut your trap up!

“I mean, we’re buddies, right?” Billy finally manages weakly, hating himself for every word that leaves his mouth. “We can never be…”, he even considers just stopping talking all together, your smile having disappeared entirely, and having been replaced by a small frown and a pout.

That fucking pout.

“All I’m saying, is…” Billy rakes his fingers through his thick mane of hair, exasperated and fed up with himself. “…I don’t think this kind of hanging out can ever be our thing”.

Just when he breathes out, thinking it could have gone so much worse, his eyes shift back to your face. The next thing he knows you snap at him, your hands on your hips.

“Of course not,” Billy can sense metal ringing in every word. “Besides, hanging out would never cut it for me.”

With these words, you’re a whirlwind of cotton, hair and lipstick, as you turn on your heels and power walk back to the bathroom, tense and frustrated.

Billy feels like a blithering idiot, staring at the spot where you’ve been standing seconds ago. Moaning softly and biting his bottom lip, he buries his face in his hands.

He’d really better get his libido in line, before he drives you away with his horrendous stupidity and infinite babbling that doesn’t even make sense.

Your ringtone goes off in the bathroom all of the sudden, somewhat shaking Billy out of his stupor. You take a moment to answer, swearing under your breath as Billy hears something clutter against the tile floors, probably your perfume.

“Hey, Karen. What’s up?” It seems to him that you sound completely off, some kind of emotion that you’re trying to desperately fight raw in your voice. You clear your throat, and the sound makes Billy’s entire body go cold.

You are not angry. You’re disappointed, and you’re doing a pretty shitty job trying to mask it.

“Okay, okay, don’t freak out, Bill and I will think of something,” you dash out of the bathroom and back into where Billy sits. You widen your eyes at him, as if sending him silent signals. “He’s going to call Frank right now, and tell him he needs him to pass by his place. We’ll think of some excuse,” worry laces your every word, and Billy is up on his feet, alert as his Marine senses kick in. Even though he knows it’s just a goddamn surprise birthday party, and nobody’s in danger. For now. “Worst case scenario, he gets to your place before the guests do. It’s still going to be a hell of a surprise!”

You close your mouth abruptly. Billy watches you with concern in his dark eyes, and just as he reaches out and wraps his fingers around your wrist, the lights in his apartment go off, and the entire room is drowned in pitch-black darkness.

Something’s happening on the other end of the line, Billy can tell, as you call Karen’s name a couple of times. He lights up the flash on his phone with his free hand, blinking a couple of times.

“Hell’s Kitchen has shitty cellphone service as it is,” Billy tries to reassure in a hushed voice even though he knows better than to speak. “The citywide blackout sure ain’t helping”.

He instantly regrets having opened his mouth as your eyes shoot daggers at him in the light that his iPhone’s emanating.

“Yeah, no shit, Russo,” you scoff at him.

Before Billy can even open his mouth and retort, he finally hears Karen’s voice, and you shake Billy’s grip off your hand, without even looking at him. Your voice is a tad strangled but still firm as you tell Karen that the blackout might slow Frank down. You also tell her to stay put while Billy calls him to see where he’s at.

As you drop the call, you put the flash on your iPhone on and return back to the bathroom, not saying a word.

Having watched you disappear, Billy drops back on the couch, sighing, still trying to wrap his head around how much of a fucking retard he is. He lights his phone up, only to see the No Service message in bold white letters. Muttering a curse under his breath, he flicks the flash mode off, so he’s left sitting in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the light coming from the bathroom.

“I’ve got zero service, but I still can get hold of my guys so they can track ‘im ,” Billy suggests, his thumb rubbing against his phone’s screen in a nervous gesture.

“Do that then,” his heart breaks a little as he hears you answer cooly, like you couldn’t give less crap about what he does. “We’ll be going in five, just let me get dressed��.

Silence settles in the room until you curse under your breath, the light in the bathroom going off. Your phone must have died.

“So the hanging out guy”, he hates the begging tones in his voice, but Billy speaks up anyway, clearing his throat. He knows that probably makes him a coward, but he finds it easier to voice his thoughts while being immersed in darkness. “Did you tell ‘im that? That hanging out doesn’t cut it for you?” he asks, not even sure he wants to know the answer. Because what if she didn’t?

What if she took him up on his offer?

Billy doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle that.

He hears you scoff almost immediately at his lame questions while you’re in the middle of the fucking blackout, but he still prepares himself for the answer, whatever it might be.

“Oh yeah,” you reappear back in his room, carrying your little burgundy dress on a hanger in one hand, and a pair of killer Loubotin shoes in the other. Knowing you’ll probably need light, Billy lights up his phone again. “I told him to fuck off and call me when he grows a pair… which is never going to happen, so I’m sure as hell safe”.

Billy can feel the colour drain from his cheeks as he suddenly realizes you may not be talking about that pathetic loser who suggested that you and him hang out, because he is a fucking coward and couldn’t ask you out on a proper date.

As you make a point out of ignoring him, Billy wants to smash his head against the wall.

And then it finally hits him.

Yeah, actually, you are still talking about that loser.

That loser being him.

He squeezes his eyes shut at first, as he hears you hassle behind his back, not saying a word; when suddenly something pushes him up onto his feet, a surge of adrenaline, the sentiment of now-or-never beating his common sense into submission, relative darkness encouraging him to do something he knows he might regret.

Billy turns around to face you, and from the moment he’s struck dumb by the sight before his eyes, he knows this entire situation is going haywire.

His eyes hit your bare shoulders and exposed back. His stare slides down with the shirt that you are taking off, standing with his back to him. His eyes go wide and his pupils are blown out with lust as he catches a glimpse of the black lace underwear. As if sensing his burning stare, you half turn your head… Your eyes lock.

His breathing has yet to return to normal, but the next thing he knows, Billy is crushing your soft body into the cool wall, his fingers digging into your hips, his mouth ruining that vampire pout of yours. Biting and gnawing on your lips, he is surprised when you push your tongue into his mouth, your fingers snaking into his hair, pulling at it harshly.

With some kind of wild energy pumping through his veins, fire of lust licking at the corners of his mind, Billy drags his lips along your neck and collarbone, running his fingertips along the lace-covered underside of your breasts.

“Fuck, Billy,” you moan, your voice barely audible, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t tease”.

The way you say his name strikes deep within him, his erection rock hard and pressed against where you need him most, he likes to think.

He has to remind himself that you have no idea how many times he has fucked his own hand pretending it was your lips wrapped around his cock.

“I’m going to make you come into my mouth and then I’m taking you to bed”, Billy can feel a thorough shiver raking through you as he whispers the words against your swollen lips. A moan that escapes them is downright scandalous and Billy would chuckle if you didn’t unclasp your bra, silently surrendering yourself to him.

As Billy takes one of your breasts into his mouth, puckering his lips against your skin, you gasp, your hips moving forward. It’s only moments before Billy drops to his knees, his fingers rolling black lace down your legs. Billy’s tongue laps against the swollen bud of nerve endings between your thighs. His lips wrap around you, as he slides a finger up your wet, shuddering core.

With his dick pressing painfully against the fly of his trousers, Billy hears you moan his name again. When he looks up, he sees you open your eyes, watching him fuck you with his fingers. He feels you tighten around him, your eyes rolling back as you come, screaming his name and squeezing his hand in between your soft thighs, riding out your high…

—

“Stop staring at me,” you whisper with your eyes closed, feeling Billy’s dark eyes on you. He doesn’t say anything, just chuckles hoarsely and dives down, hovering over your body. His lips burn your bare hipbones as his hands squeeze as much of your ass as he can reach, your skin orange in the rays of the morning sun.

“God, Russo, you’re insatiable,” you growl, but Billy knows you’re hiding a smile as you bury your face in a pillow.

“You have no idea,” Billy smirks, kissing the spot just above your belly button this time. His lips don’t waver as he takes this party lower.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Billy lifts himself up in response, his hungry lips crashing down on yours.

Leaving you breathless, Billy hovers over you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you think we fucked up Frank’s surprise birthday party?” you ask him, cupping his cheek with one of your hands. “I can’t believe we missed the entire happening. Karen is going to kill us both.”

Billy brushes his lips against yours one more time and from the soft yet mischievous look in his eyes you can tell he has absolutely zero regrets.

“She hasn’t called, so I think they didn’t miss us much”, he wets his bottom lip. “Fifty bucks says they know what we were up to, and probably drank a round of shots to celebrate”.

You roll yours eyes at him, but you know what he says makes sense. This dancing around each other and ‘we’re just friends’ crap was getting old, especially for Karen and Frank.

“So what now?” you ask him.

The stare of those bottomless eyes burns again, possibly more that his touch as his hand slides up and down your ribs under the blanket. You bite on your bottom lip, hard, trying to keep a loud moan in.

“I don’t know,” Billy looks like he weighs his options. “You want to maybe hang out?’

This wasn’t what you expected, not by a very long shot. It’s out of your control as you gasp at the nerve of him, gripping his roaming hand so hard he actually winces, the Marine that he is.

“Hey, easy there, m’love,” you freeze as the nickname reaches your ears. Billy uses your reaction to free his hand, bringing it to your face. His mouth is mere inches away from yours, and you feel your stomach erupt with what feels like hippopotamuses doing an Irish dance. “What I meant is have lots of sex, and maybe even a breakfast date?...”

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