#i'll get their bios up when i can throughout the week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

icedmetaltea · 8 months ago

Text

Yesterday was ok, today anxiety's been awful again...

(rambling abt anxiety and nonsense venting below)

felt dizzy/bit of vertigo throughout the morning and when I checked my BP it was 154/108 so that scared the shit out of me... I took a bit of propranolol and that seems to be helping but I'm worried bc when I asked about what a dangerous BP was my stepdad said 160 and up and that's uncomfortably close. The last time it was high it was only like 140/90 so this was really scary

I called the number the crisis ppl give me from a resource sheet on friday again since I never got a response after leaving a message on monday but this time they told me to call yet another number and they said I couldn't get any kind of help till I came to their office to fill out some forms and like??? I CAN'T LEAVE MY FUCKING APARTMENT

Do these people never get ppl with severe agoraphobia?? The last time I had a full-on panic attack I screamed at the top of my lungs and had to call 911 to get ppl to calm me down so I'd stop hyperventilating, you want me doing that in public again??????

Anyway she told me I can call the supervisor and see if she could make an exception in my case BUT ofc she wasn't available and I had to leave a message, no clue when I'll hear back and when I do I doubt she'll even be able to help me

I fucking hate this system. This is why so many people kill and hurt themselves. When they are lost, when there's nowhere else to turn. When the crisis ppl come they give you a whole list of resources but what is there for people like me who are stuck at home, broke, unable to work bc they literally cannot function like this when it gets this bad every couple of months (sometimes more frequently)

it's either go to a psych ward where they'll pump you full of meds that'd just give me the same "locked in" panic attacks which trust me are far worse than toughing it out at home where at least it isn't bright and loud and horrible or face shit on your own

I thought it was starting to get better, yesterday I cooked 3 meals for myself, I went outside and sat on the step for 5 mins, today I can't get out of bed bc every time I try the room spins. Even when I'm laying down like this it's bad. Even if I close my eyes it's bad... I slept better last night and I thought I was doing well but no, midway through the day everything's horrible again. I keep feeling out of breath no matter how many deep breaths I take... other times I feel like there's "too much air" and I'm breathing too fast and can't slow it down... how do I even describe it??

I feel like I'm going insane but at the same time I know it's been this bad and worse before. I remember my childhood. I remember laying on the floor struggling to breathe, alone. I remember begging god to take this sensation of dread to go away, or to just let me die. Anxiety has a habit of always seeming... idk unfamiliar? No matter how many panic attacks you have, they always feel new

and what's worse is I can't even remember how I eventually always overcome these phases bc I ground rule growing up stemming from OCD I had at the time was I wasn't allowed to write anything in a journal bc it was "bad luck" or something (at the very least my OCD isn't nearly as bad these days) Idk if it takes days, weeks or months to get better. If I spend half a year or longer just waiting for things to get better then like um... it kinda becomes a quality of life issue, doesn't it?

Idk maybe it's the weather. It's 65 rn, yesterday it was mid forties, so maybe that's it. Well then I'm fucked bc it's only gonna get warmer as it approaches summer, and ya know climate change and everything wooooo

Doesn't help that the past two times when my stepdad witnessed me having those really bad attacks he said I should go to a padded cell or something... I know where he grew up there was no such thing as mental illnesses or therapy, only "crazy and not crazy", but damn it hurts. At least my bio dad understood what was going on to some extent. He knew anxiety was out my control, that I was going through it but that it didn't make me "crazy", just that my body was reacting physically to something seemingly unsurmountable on a mental level.

My stepdad was even surprised when I told him anxiety is the second most common mental illness nation-wide. I've talked to many other bad anxiety-sufferers, the reason you don't see us outside a lot is bc most of us are inside afraid to leave our houses! We're literally just trying to survive in bodies with malfunctioning nervous systems and in a society that literally is built around causing stress on a daily basis- on normal people, so just think about how that is if you literally have the being-stressed-out disorder my guy

it also seems like whenever I talk to my mom about this she tries to immediately talk about something else. Like I messaged her earlier today and when I brought up feeling dizzy and having a high BP she just said "Sorry you're having a challenging day! We're at the library getting library cards. Libraries are nice!" like sure some ppl like talking about light hearted stuff to distract them but sometimes I just need someone to be there and listen, you know? All it does is make me clam up and bottle all my emotions in, which ofc makes it worse.

I'm scared to check my BP again. I feel like there's something terribly wrong with my body but it's not as if I can see a doctor if I can't 1. afford it till medicaid processes or 2. fucking go to the doctor. You want me to have another one of those soul-crushing panic attacks and shriek around some stranger in an uber?? Hell no

So yea idk what to do. I have a math test this weekend and I've barely studied at all, can't get myself to focus on anything. I can't drop out again, I've already failed this class twice. I don't think they'd let me take it again and I'm pretty sure I've run out of financial aid to pay for it

Ofc mom and dad are gone, my sister said she'd visit me the other day but "forgot" to, so I'm alone. Completely and entirely alone.

The one thing I have going for me is the PMDD won't start up for another week or two so at the very least I have a will to live rn. Anxiety and depression usually go hand-in-hand but since it's just anxiety atm I'm still able to have the motivation to cook and clean when I'm not ya know unable to get out of bed bc my heart is beating out of my chest

When it does come back, well... I'll keep those crisis numbers on speed dial. I've survived all this horseshit, I might as well make it worth something. Idk maybe the thing I'll keep living for rn is a fucking pet fish someday. I have to hold on to every tiny thing that gets me through the day bc there is a chance, even if extremely slim, that things will in fact get better

#irl stuff #vent #tw anxiety #tw panic attacks #tw suicide #tw mental health #journal #kinda

13 notes · View notes

oojangyeol · 6 months ago

Text

hello! i go by aline (22, s/h) and im in the gmt +8 timezone, but i am a night owl with messed up sleeping schedule so communication wouldn't be much of an issue. i don't have any preferences on plotting platforms, so feel free to send dms or hmu on discord [loeykji_]. under the cut contains a little blurb about my baby jangyeol, but his bio is here and a little bit more about me, specifically my writing style and plotting preferences can be found here. do interact an i'll send you a dm <3

summary

your friendly burnt-out neighborhood salaryworker who is currently grieving the loss of his mother. fueled by coffee, ramen noodles, and a mountain of debt on his back.

the youngest of four siblings. he's not stuck as his mother's caregiver during her final years so he felt like he didn't contribute or help his siblings who stayed back home or relocated just to take care of her. that's when he decided to get a loan to pay off his mother's hospital bills. it adds up quickly as his mother's conditions worsened, so he's almost on the brink of bankruptcy.

his siblings have no clue about his current financial situation.

it is currently his first year, so he works late all throughout the week and comes home around 9 to 10 ish in the night, immediately falls asleep on his couch and sometimes wakes up around 3am to start his day (doing laundries, cleaning and whatnot). otherwise, he wakes up at 6 and sets off to work at 7. because of this, he does have a lot of annual leaves and sick leaves, so there's bound to be a time where he'll be free for weeks straight!

loves loves loves meeting new people! although he struggles with small talks, he will try his best to greet your character in the hallway. but do be considerate of his energy and don't keep him back for too long, or he will pass out on you due to exhaustion.

will even let you crash in his place if you somehow accidentally locked yourself out, if you don't mind the clutter. it's not filthy. just... messy. he just doesn't have the free time nor the will to clean up at the moment.

really likes digital drawing! his tablet is ancient circa 2014 and it's very laggy, but he would spend hours tinkering and scribbling with it on his days off. aside from working late for the extra money to pay off his debt, he's also saving up for a new tablet.

#oointro

7 notes · View notes

pettyrevenge-base · 8 months ago

Text

Finesse money from me, I'll finesse more out of you!

I was a using a dating app a while ago and was talking to a cute girl. I had noticed on her profile page she had some statements that raised my eyebrows. Basically it was her saying she was looking for a FWB and she can perform certain sexual acts with her body. Now I get that we all have wants and needs and that they should be properly expressed given the time and place. Wanting sex is fine, but most girls wouldn't put that on their profile out of fear of inviting the wrong people. And for her to do so unabashedly had my warning lights flicker dimly in my head. Still, I put it in the back corners of my mind as she hadn't really said anything weird while messaging each other.

Eventually I asked her about it, which set her off on a tangent on what she was wanting and willing to do to me in bed. Of course I was getting fed into it and ask when she wanted to meet up. She told me that she'd be down to meet up but she needed some money to pay her grandma to watch her child... weird. In the history me dating single moms, I have never heard of someone having to pay their family members, especially their grandma, to babysit for them. I chalked it up to it being some weird family dynamic or she just bugged her grandma a lot to that point. She then asked if I could give her $50 for babysitting. I told her I didn't have that on me. She lowered it to about $30, which I told her I have about $15 in the bank. She said that was fine. I sent her the money via cash app and told her where I'd be. She never responded. After an hour of waiting I saw she accepted the money, but blocked me on the dating app. I realized that the stuff she put on her profile was so she can she finesse horny desperate guys out of their money, which it did work unfortunately. Now, it was just a mere $15, but I was mad that I got finessed.

Some months later, this girl matches with me again. I wondered where she got the nerve to match with me after what she did and was about to dress her down. But during her messages I realized that she didn'teven recognize me! The months after her finessing I edited my profile pictures, updated my bio, and even changed my name to my middle name. My pictures were still me, but this time with a beard, and a lot more mature-looking. Her, however, still had the same provocative bio and pictures. About 3 weeks had passed since then. As she talked, I felt that the energy was much different and pieced together that she was actually feeling this version of me. I didn't ask about her bio this time, which caught her attention. She started saying about how guys always wanna talk about it and that she'll pretend to be interested and trick them into doing "goofy-ass shit." Idk why she thought that was something that needed to be shared with anyone, but hearing it pissed me off even more. She said she liked that I didn't focus on her bio and that I seemed more genuine. This is when I started coming up with a plan.

I started talking about how I wanted to go on a date and started listing a few nice and popular restaurants that she had told me about months prior. It lit up her spirit as she started asking when we should go out. I gave her a time, date, and place and we settled on it. Throughout the week leading up to it I would hype her up, reminding her of the date and telling her things like she doesnt have to worry about paying, she can order whatever she liked, etc etc. On the eve of our date night, I messaged her saying that she didn't need to worry about her paying, I got her. But there was a slight problem, my car battery died on the way to get gas. Asked if she could lend me $45 to buy a new battery from the auto store nearby. Told her that we were still on for the date and that I would pay her back once I got paid the following day as I was using the remaining money to take her out. Honestly, I thought it was a really stupid attempt to get her to send me money. But to my incredible astonishment, she asked me for my cashapp info! I quickly created a new cashapp account and send her the info. Moments later I got the notification that $45 got sent to my account. I thanked her and told her I'll get the battery and meet her at the restaurant. She replied that she was so excited to meet me and how much fun we were going to have and the like. As soon as she said that, I blocked her number and dating profile. Meanwhile, I haven't even left the house or put clothes on.

Hours after our supposed meet up I get a call from an unknown number. I pick up and it's her. She cussing me out crying about how I stood her up, how could I do something like this to her, blah blah blah, then I drop the line, "'How could I do this to you?' I did this to you because you've already done it to me." She was confused and got a bit quiet. I told her that I was the guy she finessed $15 from months ago, and how stupid she was for not paying attention to my pics because I didn't look all that different from before. That's when she realized who I was and started cursing me the fuck out. I ended the call telling her to let it all out, it's good for you, and that's what she gets for finessing people. Also that I was changing my number regardless if she decides to continue reaching out. I felt satisfied, and celebrated playing Fortnite. Won 3 matches straight. Sweet, sweet revenge.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

#pettyrevenge #lol #omg

7 notes · View notes

hyaciiintho · 1 month ago

Text

GETTING TO KNOW YOU.

respond to the following prompts out of character. then, tag others that you'd like to get to know a little bit better!

ROLEPLAYER NAME: Adriel

ROLEPLAYER PRONOUNS: He/Them

MUSE NAME: I have too many to list off, everyone's on my Carrd c':

PREFERRED COMMUNICATION: Tumblr works just fine for me ♡ I tend to feel overwhelmed when I have a bajillion Discord notifications so I honestly fall off from it after a while before I gather the spoons enough to go back and respond to people proper. On tumblr, at least it feels like I'm sitting down at the office and getting ready to work on stuff, and therefore, the ton of messages just feels natural to have waiting for me here pfft~

EXPERIENCE: I've been writing on tumblr since 2014! Prior to that, I was roleplaying on Facebook since... 2011 ?? And prior to that, it was MSN, text message, and notebook roleplays between my friends and I throughout high school!

PREFERRED ROLEPLAY TYPE: I enjoy the slice of life sorta roleplays. The things we don't usually get to see in a character's life because we're too busy following the main plot. Of course, I also do ADORE me a good mystery/deep plot to follow! Honestly, just give me a balance of interactions for our characters, and I'll be heaven ♡

PET PEEVES & DEALBREAKERS:

When people don't read my muse's info and push on to assume things via their own interpretations or strictly canon interpretations. I had someone praise how much they adored my Hero of Time characterization and wanted to write with me so badly-- really hyped me up, y'know? So I happily obliged because I also really liked their take on their character after I read up on their stuff, and I was incredibly flattered by how much they liked my muse! They immediately showed me how they read not a single thing about my muse through the first response c': I soft blocked real quick and moved on. Another one had even assumed my muse was a child because my blog's title was "Child of Farore", despite his bio clearly reading 20 years of age LOL

People who constantly post OOC about how "no one likes them" or "no one wants to write with them". Look... I get it... it can feel isolating sometimes... but perhaps the reason people are avoiding you is because you keep bringing the mood down? Listen, I'm not specifically talking about the feeling of feeling down and alone every now and then. I'm talking about the specific types of people who weaponize this feeling. Because they're the types that, even when you shower them with activity and interactions, they still will post these things the moment you start lagging behind on replies. Or! If you show interest in another blog and have a lull in activity with them. They'll immediately post about how people are abandoning them. It's so... no thank you. It's okay to post here and there about a lack of activity, but don't blame other people or demonizing them for it. Interactions go both ways, and honestly, if it's such a trend that people tend to avoid you? Maybe the problem... is you? Speaking of insane activity standards, that brings me to my last one:

People who hold your activity hostage as a measure of your worth as a roleplayer. Even if they don't actively say it, these are the people who immediately unfollow you the moment you're inactive for like... a week? A month at most, and they'll constantly message you with "I replied btw" or "Hey how have you been? Did you see my reply?" and my favorite "-insert link to their reply here- In case you didn't see it" and then nothing else. Not a "Hope you're doing okay!" or "Hope you're having a nice day!". It's a huge turn off and absolutely decimates my will to respond. We're here to have fun, not to feel like it's a 9-5 job. I just wanna be silly with my characters and shove them at others to see what'll happen, not feel anxious and scared over whether or not someone is happy with my response speed and activity.

PLOTS OR MEMES: I adore coming up with a general plot to work around! Memes are still fun and handy to have when you don't know what sort of plot would work, or when you don't have an idea at the moment. But still... ask any of my writing partners, the moment the question of plots come up, I am sometimes spitting out entire chronicles complete with plot twists, climax points, and bumps along the road. It's just super fun c':

LONG REPLIES OR SHORT REPLIES: This is very much dependent on my motivation and energy... sometimes I can hit you with 10+ paragraphs... and sometimes I can barely type 2 sentences :'D I would prefer to do long replies, but sometimes... sometimes... I just wanna throw a few words out and call it a job well done LOL

BEST TIME TO WRITE: The only time I really have to write, is late at night after work, and by then? My brain is so tired and I am so drained that I struggle to do much of anything that requires thinking. I think I used to be super active sometime around midday? Back in the day, at least. Now, I'm still searching for that peak hour when my brain wants to pour out words. Mornings seem appealing... I miss early mornings c':

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSES: There are aspects of me in every single one of my muses, but we're not exactly a 1:1 to each other, y'know? There are things some muses do that make me want to punch a wall LOL and others that I would only dream to be capable of doing so easily. So... yes and no...? c':

Tagged by: @tenebriism (once upon a time ago-- THANK YOU) Tagging: Anyone who would like to do it, just say I tagged ya~

#MUN SPEAKING 🌸 ᴬ ʷᵉᵃᵛᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵃˡᵉˢ; ᴾᵃⁱⁿᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ˢᵗᵃʳˢ #🌸｡*ﾟ+. DASH. MEMES #//For the pet peeves & dealbreakers section-- I've always been willing to give the benefit of the doubt #for any red flags or similar signs these types tend to show... but the first one?#It's ON SIGHT that the soft block comes on LOL I always give the courtesy of reading up on people's muses #especially since it's always demanded by them and I will not be disrespected by not getting the same in return.#Like okay you don't know headcanons and whatnot especially if it's something that isn't INTEGRAL to portrayal #But the moment you call my ADULT ASS muse a CHILD because you assumed due to titles? LOL Nahhhhh//#🌸｡*ﾟ+. QUEUE

4 notes · View notes

the-mirage-forest · 4 months ago

Text

Short Story Time!

Wrote a short story last week about Shi and some of his backstory + the aftermath, here's a link: Google Doc

I'm not sure if I'll publish future ones also in google doc, making one long post with it is probably unviable for them, archiving them on Ao3 feels like a decent option but I don't know how tagging would work.

Anyway, because I haven't posted the bios for some of these characters in a VERY long time-some bios getting edits and the almanac unintentionally being hard to access (oops)-Bios and context below the cut! I'd highly recommend at least reading Shi and Saturn's at least.

CONTEXT CUT

SHI & DEATH WELLS

One of the 11 Wielders of The Mirage, Shi is the Wielder of Death. Wielding death itself both metaphorically and literally. Unlike other Wielders, Shi’s scythe is sapient.

On one hand, Shi is a clean freak, judgemental, but intelligent and greatly caring of his family. Usually keeping Death in line and keeping the house where he and his siblings live clean, sometimes babysitting the rest if Saturn is out in public. Spending the rest of his time with Scuro, tends to flub up his english, though Scuro will always be there to correct him.

On the other hand, his scythe is also judgemental, bossy, mocking, and just the (literal) tool embodiment of an a-hole. He can talk and communicate both regularly and telepathically to Shi, usually giving snarky comments and insults towards his siblings.

Shi’s story begins in Mexico around the 1940’s-1960’s, living in poverty and by himself. Shi sees an odd creature, mouselike but not quite. And chases it into a Mirage portal. However, this particular portal was unstable, sending him back thousands of years into the Mirage. as much as Shi wanted to leave. There was a pull that was keeping him there, something was calling him.

So he followed that pull to an old, crumbling crypt. There was where Shi would meet his soon-to-be best friend, Scuro. The Wielder of Shadows, was guarding the crypt. Despite the goo monster at the crypt speaking English (Which Shi didn’t understand), Shi continued on almost robotically. With Scuro threatening to use their powers to throw him back where he came from, but never actually doing so because they don't have the heart to. Quote:“Hey! Go away! I’ll kick you right out of here! I will! I’m not kidding! I will!”

Reaching the crypt, there’s a looming ominous scythe standing by itself upon a pile of rubble. Scuro, quite tired of seeing things die from this scythe. Tackles Shi as he grabs it. Sending off an explosion threatening to collapse the crypt and sending Scuro into a wall. This was Death itself, the Last Trial Scythe. Though accomplishing the impossible of not being turned to bones the moment he touched the scythe unlike those who came before him. It was coming up on Shi, upon being called reckless by this angry scythe. Shi becomes something of a verbal dagger and starts sassing an ancient object until the object asks him to “Take responsibility”. To which Shi, not understanding what this actually meant, said yes. So, Shi got up from this whole ordeal. Becoming the Wielder of death, accomplishing what even The Overseer thought was to be a fruitless waste of time.

SATURN WELLS

I’m not sure why it took me so long to write about the Overseer himself, but it did. This is Saturn Wells, the only Overseer of The Mirage. Very old, very anti-social full-time Overseer and parent. Doesn’t really sleep much, but it’s usually only a few hours long when he does.

5’, birthday unknown, weighing 186 lbs. Saturn’s extremely wise and intelligent at his job. But also a very caring stay-at-home parent, we’re not sure why he cares so much about his own kids. They’re adopted, and he knows they might die and he’ll have to start all over, so why does he even try? According to him “I don’t care if I’ll have to take care of them forever throughout every life. I still want them to live happy lives, every time.”.

His care for the Wielders and the two Starborn are still odd by an Overseer’s standards, though. Most of the time they’re left in someone else’s hands.

It’s worth noting that he didn’t create the Xiilunes, while only he knows of their origins he simply gains a mortified look and never speaks. Although in the few cases we’ve seen him with the goo(s), he’s unable to control them, much less make them spread.

As said before Saturn’s extremely wise and intelligent. However his knee jerk reactions definitely aren’t the best in the world, often leaving him with large problems. Such as when he took the starborn in without realizing he would have to parent them, though he doesn’t particularly regret that one. He does however, have a tendency to become anxious and reacts very poorly to stress. Even small things tend to put him on edge, while very soft and caring for his family. He hates having to interact with the public otherwise, social anxiety and all that.

Lives in a house out in a secluded area, like a hermit and opposed to going out in public. The house has a special spell on it, whoever walks near it in a three-mile radius is unable to leave without his permission. Instead just walking right back to it.

Has pretty bad stress-eating habits and feather-picking habits, and a fear of abandonment, which has gotten bigger in the last few years. Compared to most Overseers, his poor health has led to his magic being a bit weaker than it should be…

SCURO WELLS

WATAWNA WELLS

The “younger” of the two Mirage starborn, Watawna Wells is technically the 2nd-to-eldest sister to the Wielders despite not being one herself. Despite this, they still treat her more like an aunt figure. As she seems to have picked up on her father’s (Metaphorical) softer side.

7’2”, born a few milliseconds after her sister (Something that’s frequently fought about), Watawna spends her days as a pediatrician (focused on the magic side of things). She seems to have her interests drift from place to place and then loop right back around, unbeknownst to anyone. She was a poisoner for a short time, but quit because unlike her sister, she has a better moral code.

Watawna’s something of a kooky aunt figure, the type of person who collects shiny rocks, the type of person who’d get distracted by all the lost stuff they found while cleaning their room. Yes, she’s those types of people with a side of care and bubbliness. Probably intelligent, but really doesn’t act like it. Personally I think she’s a bit oblivious sometimes…but I’ve heard that if she does get mad she crawls along the walls/roof chasing people like a demon in an 80s earth horror movie. Sadly, I can’t say if this is true because it’s literally impossible to annoy her at all that it's annoying in itself

Being a starborn, she’s extremely powerful in her abilities. Most of her abilities makeup what we all know as Hollowlantern Magic. Just like regular Hollowlanterns, she also needs leaves to power said magic.

The relationship between her and Tempest certainly isn’t tense, they may not act like it but they stick together through and through no matter what. It’s impossible to see one without the other nearby, although fights have certainly happened. Some leaving lots of damage and in some cases, casualties. Both are also of equal strength, although neither really show it. In fact at first glance it may seem more like Watawna is the weaker of the two siblings, but no matter how you cut it. They’re the same in their abilities.

Lives in a house with Tempest that’s nearby Saturn’s house, roughly 4 miles away.

TEMPEST WELLS

This is Tempest Wells, one of the Mirage Starborn. Being 0.00000561 milliseconds older (And more responsible in general, but how petty do you have to be to figure that specific number out?)than her sister, she’s considered the older of the two. Standing at 14’1, Tempest’s just an inch above the average Hollowlantern height.

Born sometime around October 22-24th alongside her sister Watawna. She’s one of the few starborn to still exist in this universe, starborn are beings born from magical forces getting caught in a supernova. Resulting in one or more beings of various forms to be born, however, they’re often highly deformed and weak at birth. Tempest and Watawna were extremely lucky, only being born without faces. Something easily fixed from Saturn’s knee jerk reaction of carving their faces, which (somehow?) didn’t kill them. Out of the two, Tempest is considered to be the unfriendly one. Unlike Watawna, Tempest really doesn’t care about others, not that she can’t. She just doesn’t like to. While definitely brash, gruff, and a bit quiet. She has shown to be much calmer and sometimes has a heart. A much better listener than speaker for someone who needs to vent, as opposed to Watawna, who’s version of comfort is…all over the place.

While not extremely aggressive of everyone around her, she most certainly doesn’t like them, letting her pessimism and lack of tone control. Well, control how she speaks. As you can tell, Tempest has a very pessimistic outlook on life. With Watawna there to “remind” her.

Moving on from her personality, no one really knows what’s underneath Tempest’s hood. It’s so old, and well kept, still holds together pretty well from what I’ve seen. Supposedly she got it as a birthday gift and hasn’t been seen without it since, hell even Watawna’s curious. We’ll probably never find out, because even if it goes down to her ankles it’d still be impossible to sneak up on her much less yank it off.

(I’m not sure if I’ll be in trouble for saying this, but while Tempest is a surgeon at O’Ghost General Hospital, I’ve found some evidence she may be a hitwoman on the side…so if you never hear from me again randomly, that might be why…)

3 notes · View notes

bywons · 5 months ago

Note

hii can i know your daily routine from morning to night. i also want to know how you manage writing and how you manage your tumblr. i want to know what major you study. i want to know because i am new to tumblr and managing time is hard for me. if you feel this ask uncomfy, you can ignore me.

afraid you asked the wrong person for this cuz my daily ( mostly evening & night ) routine is VERY different from each other throughout the whole week because of my tuition classes/study schedule TT but no probs, i'll try to give u my routine in the best way possible ^^

𖹭 MY DAILY ROUTINE

MORNING & AFTERNOON （≧∇≦）

6:00 — 6:30 am : wake up time boooo. although this time varies during exam season or when i pull an all nighter/ sleep late cuz i was watching a series, this is the usual time i wake up, or at least try to every single day ><

6:30 — 7:30 am : brushing teeth/skincare etc + morning workout & pilates. i usually try to do the first part is lesser time so that i have more time to workout & stretch ^^

7:30 — 8:05 am : break/creativity period. here i give myself a 35 minute break for relaxation or checking social media / practicing my italian lessons ( im vv beginner >< ) or draw or write short essays/poems or plan out my day which is the MAIN task i usually do

8:05 — 9:05 am ( 30 min gap 4 chai + breakfast break ) , 9:35 — 10:35 am, 10:35 — 11:45 am, 12:05 — 1:05 pm : with breaks, these timing are for my studying, and i follow my study routine for the day >< [ WHEN I DON'T ATTEND SCHOOL ]

1:05 — 3:15 pm : shower + lunch >< [ WHEN I DON'T ATTEND SCHOOL, i return at 3pm from skl ]

EVENING （≧∇≦）

3:15 — 5:00 pm : relaxing & writing for blr/watching shows ( or i sleep TT ) >< ONLY IF i don't have tuitions, when i do, i head out for them around 4:30 — 5:00 pm according to the timing of my classes.

(after break 4 evening snacks/chai) 5:30 — 6:30 pm, 6:30 — 8:30 pm, 9:00 — 10:00 pm, with breaks again, i follow my study schedule ><

NIGHTTIME （≧∇≦）

10:00 — 10:30 pm : have dinner

10:30 — 11:00 pm : ghost around my home / free time TT

within 11:30ishpm : finish skincare,brushing, and take my meds

after that o clock : 😴 but if i pull an all nighter or watch a series with my mum that's another story lol

𖹭 MY MAJOR/STREAM

well i'm still in school so i don't have any major, but we indian students are given to choose between 3 streams — science, commerce & humanities. as for me i am a science student ^^ i have bio, chem, phy, maths, psych, eng !!!

𖹭 TIME MANAGEMENT

again, a hard question to the wrong person cuz my schedule is not constant TT but as u can see there are breaks between my study sessions! i tend to manage my time and do stuff between those breaks, and when life gets too hectic, i take hour long breaks and write for blr! keep in mind, that you NEED TO BALANCE life & social media. find the right time for each of your important sectors like studies, work, hobbies & schedule them out equally! that also doesn't mean you have to follow them blindly, make sure to take breaks, do things that you enjoy & love life & most importantly, your precious self ^^ MWAH. hope i helped ya <333

#‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝒹𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍 doves 𓈒 𖹭 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎#LIFE_TWEETS — equilibrium。

2 notes · View notes

naughtylilbabygirl · 2 years ago

Text

READ BEFORE INTERACTING!

I am 30, identify mostly as female (Neogirl), & am mentally ill + neurodivergent - I'm autistic, have severe depression & anxiety, ADHD, & bipolar 2.

This is an 18+ kink blog. Minors DNI. Again, age in bio or pinned, or I'll block you.

Also DNI: actual pedophiles, twerfs, swerfs, trans/homophobes, racists, - basically all exclusionists.

Read the kink/hard limit lists below. Don't like one of my kinks, block me. I tag everything extensively.

Also read under the cut about what i will/won't rp if you want to do that.

I want to make something clear: I don't 'have' a twin; i did have a twin. She wasn't born (vanishing twin syndrome). So i suppose I cope with feeling like something's missing by having a twincest or fauxcest/fauxtwincest kink basically. I don't support incest IRL.

Though I have CNC/r@pe & pretend underage kinks, i absolutely don't support such things in real life in any way.

I'm mostly here to share fantasies, RP a little, talk about kinks, etc. I don't know if I'm into being in an actual relationship at this time, but, well, maybe?

Don't send me nudes without asking. I'll block & report instantly just based off the fact that that's fucking rude AF. I might share partial nudes if we're getting along, but won't guarantee anything. However, please feel free to share good porn gifs & pics though, and I'll reciprocate (i collect so much porn lol).

Don't take it personally if i don't reply for a while. I disappear for a couple weeks often before i get my good meds and can come back. I'll reply to messages when I can, promise.

Again: READ THE KINK & HARD LIMITS LISTS BELOW AND THE RP GUIDE UNDER IT.

What i do & don't RP:

What i like to RP:

🔥ass spanking, especially hard otk by hand, but anything not super harsh (like heavy bruising & drawing blood) is good too. Paddles, hairbrushes, crops, straps, and canes if I'm really bad.

🔥 pussy spanking very much wanted; would love to be in diaper position or Viennese Oyster position, and would love hard hand spanking, straps, swatters, and riding crops used on me.

(info: no spankings count if they don't turn an ass/pussy at least a medium shade of red)

🔥wedgies, especially an all-around wedgie, flossing wedgie, hanging wedgies, &/or one i have to wear for hours, especially a permanent wedgie I have under my clothes while out in public

🔥having my full bladder being pressed on and rubbed and squeezed and generally tortured; being made to drink several bottles of juice or water every few hours. Also, not belong allowed to pee without permission, and only in my diaper, like a real baby slut

🔥 painful CNC/r@peplay; r@pe any/all of my holes, & either keep me if you want a r@pedoll or leave me with ruined holes and pregnant with several rape babies inside me (maybe even tied up at home to be found by my family, or in public somewhere, maybe with a sign or body writing saying how I am a r@peslut/r@petoy and how I came X times from it)

🔥impregnation/birth, especially of multiples, and the more the better. Also erotic birth torture & birth denial, like fucking me while I'm trying to give birth and pushing the baby all the way back to my cervix with your cock, or letting the baby crown & pushing it back inside, or reaching inside me to twist the baby around in my pussy and make them squirm inside me. I'm into really erotic births where I'm made to cum over and over - when each baby comes out of my cervix, when you fuck me while the baby/s are already in my birth canal, when they crown, when you push them back inside me, when you move them around in my pussy and they squirm or kick in my slutty pregnant pussy, and ofc when I'm allowed to finally push each baby out.

🔥 related: since I'll have so many babies to nurse throughout the day and night, would love to be fucked while nursing them bc it's so dirty for me to cum over and over while feeding our babies at the same time

🔥belly button torture; having my navel fingered, spread open, fucked, putting toys in it, etc.

🔥face-fucking; having my mouth used like a fucktoy by a pussy, cock, strap, et all.

🔥 servicing/pleasing my Domme: worshipping your pussy/cock/ass with my mouth for as long as you want me to, waiting naked and kneeling by the door when you come home so you can use my mouth right away, and ofc all my holes being free use all the time, even in public (and if I say no, then you just r@pe me instead, and picking a punishment for saying 'no', like having my holes hate-fucked painfully hard until I apologize and thank you for raping me like I need)

🔥 humiliating/painful things like cuntbusting, stepping on my pussy with a rough shoe and either rubbing painfully over it until I cum despite how much it hurts, or making me rub myself on it until I cum, having your foot fuck my pussy and making me cum from it (and then clean you up with my mouth of course),

🔥verbal humiliation (like being called fucktoy and baby slut and r@peslut and breeding slut, etc - no mean things though, like being ugly or stupid or worthless.)

🔥incest – but ONLY with a sibling or cousin, & I'd love to be used along with my twin sister (mentioned above). I can RP as both of us if you want two sluts to use, or even just it watch two twincest sluts touch each other and lick each other's pussies and make each other cum again and again - and then you could jerk off onto our little pussies and tell us to clean each other up

🔥being used in semi-public places, like a dark alley at night, or the woods just off a trail in the park; you always make me cum hard enough that I can't help but be loud, and either curious strangers watch from nearby, or you invite people you know to watch. (And maybe tell them how very slutty your slave is, maybe hold my legs open to show my dripping pussy while you fuck me.)

🔥 body writing is Huge for me. I have a list of fave things here (link to come shortly) that you can write on me whenever and wherever you want, even if people can see them when I'm in public.

🔥 pussy and bladder inspections - throughout the day, at home or in public or even at a friend's house, you'll regularly bend me over and pull up my dress so anyone can see my little pussy or make me stand still and hold my dress up while you spread me open and check my pussy over, maybe softly tickling it if I've been good, or rubbing my swollen clit. For bladder inspections, they happen anywhere too, though sometimes in public you'll feel my swollen bladder over my clothes instead, and when I'm getting full, you always rub it hard, sometimes letting me cum from it. At home or at friends houses, you always pull up my dress or shirt to see my bulge better, and if I'm not full enough, you'll get out my bottles and tell me to drink them all, and I always do. If we're with people we know, maybe you'll let them look - to see how my slutty pussy drips constantly, how if you press on my swollen bladder hard enough, I'll cum over and over until you stop.

🔥 pretend underage (me being the underage one that is); i just like to imagine being small and helpless, and you could just pretend I'm either real little but still a grown up, or pretend I'm a slutty little kiddo who clearly needs an adult Domme to take care of me - mostly by using me as your personal sex doll or fucktoy, since I'm small enough to hold up in midair while you fuck me.

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

What i won't RP:

❌calling anyone daddy; pick any other title ok

❌No personal pics to or from me without permission for the former and no pressuring me for the latter.

❌Knives, needles, & similar

❌Tickling

❌Being yelled at

❌Chastity devices & cages & sleeping on the floor & stuff as punishments

❌Being called stupid/ugly/worthless/dumb/etc. Call me slutty, filthy, naughty, dirty, etc instead.

❌ Oviposition/Insect- type impregnation/birth are Not my thing, and also miscarrying or having my babies taken after I give birth (I actually love babies and so that would just make me cry)

#pinned post #pinned intro #about me #my kinks #my hard limits #rp guide

14 notes · View notes

golbrocklovely · 1 year ago

Note

i’m the anon that sent that shifting n stuff ask! so your college experience counts as shifting (like 100%) and i’d love to hear it!!personally on the fence about the legit science side of it, since small things like the berstein bears and little timeline tweaks I think could be real, and ppl having strong emotional reactions are obviously smthg unless theyre lying (but they dont have a reason to really, and theyre living w the stress of what feels like gaslighting to them). but the tiktok -🌟

see this issue i have of calling what i experienced as "shifting" is i was very much awake and living my life when it happened. hell, even someone else i knew said things felt different (i'll explain in the story) so to me, this wasn't like a very vivid daydream or dream even. but i also can't completely explain what happened logically.

okay, here's what i experienced many moons ago, where i think we switched onto a different timeline.

this is super long and weirdly timely so... strap in lol

how i always described this situation to those that wanted to know about it: imagine taking any room in your house. you have all the time in the world to memorize everything about it. the furniture, the lights, everything. imagine i tell you to leave that room for a couple minutes, and then come back. you do that, and when you come back i tell you that something about this room is now missing. it's up to you to figure out what is no longer there. now, it could be as noticeable as a couch or a chair, right? or... it could a quarter that was under the rug that you didn't know about. that's how annoying this whole thing felt. you know something's different. but you don't know what it is.

this was november of 2017. i was in college. to give a brief run down of my sleeping schedule at the time, i would leave for school (bc i commuted) around 8 am, get there at 9, and then stay at school until 5 pm. then i would get home around 6/7, depending on traffic, and pass out almost immediately. then i'd wake up anywhere around 1-3 am, do homework and whatnot and then literally stay up the entire time until the next day at 6/7 pm again. if i was lucky, i could nap at school (bc my dad worked at my university and i could sleep in his office) or if i didn't have homework i could sleep until the next day when i would have to get ready for school.

so it's safe to say my sleeping schedule was ass lol

i just came home, it was a monday. i think i stayed up a bit later, worked on an art project for school, and then went to sleep around 8/9 pm. i remember falling asleep, i remember deciding i was going to sleep.

i woke up around 3 in the morning. that wasn't odd, i usually always wake up throughout the night. however when i woke up, i was confused as all hell. i didn't have a weird dream, if anything i didn't really dream at all, and when i woke up i just felt really confused, like my room looked different to me or something.

i remember saying out loud, "something feels off", and then i went back to sleep. i slept until the morning when i had to get up, bc i had no other homework that night.

on tuesdays (from what i can remember now since this was so long ago at this point), i would have a 9 am bio class, then i would have a couples hours off, and the around 1 or so, i would go to my art class. i remember distinctively carrying a big ass portfolio to school, or into my dad's office on these days. thursdays, i had a similar schedule. the only difference being i didn't have art, i had a bio lab instead that was a bit later than the art class. this is all important to the story.

i go to school on tuesday, take my portfolio to my dad's office, leave it there, and then go to my biology class. class is normal, nothing out of the ordinary. now, to give you an exact date or time frame of when this all took place, we had a WEEK before thanksgiving break. and i knew my professor wanted our last class together to be a quiz or a test. and our break started on wednesday the following week.

and i remember half way thru class sitting there, wondering why she was teaching us all of this new material when we should have been taking a test. class ended, she said "see you on thursday" and i remember almost raising my hand to say "thursday is thanksgiving". it took me a solid 30 seconds to realize OH, i'm thinking of the wrong dates. it's not the week of thanksgiving, it's the week before.

i started walking back to my dad's office and i thought to myself "what else do i have to do today? nothing, right? i don't have any other classes." (to addon, on mon/wed/fri i only had one class). i get back to my dad's office, see my portfolio and go OMG dumbass, you have art. it was literally the only homework you worked on last night. you always have two classes on tues/thurs.

i was very confused, but shrugged it off. however, i want it to be noted that while i can be forgetful sometimes, when i was in school, i really wasn't. i was on top of my school work and never once need an extension bc i made sure to know when things were due. so to be a week off time wise was really confusing.

fast forward a bit, it's time for my art class. the one thing i LOVED about my campus was that we had flowers all over that were just absolutely gorgeous. i'll even insert the one photo i took of these flowers from a month before this event happened to me (also, ain't creepy that it's also from a tuesday??? also also i had to ss this from snapchat lol):

so as i'm walking to class, i have to pass by these flowers. they looked like this ^^^ literally the day before, and i just generally loved walking by them when i would go on that side of campus.

i stopped dead in my tracks. they were all dead.

they looked burned, like someone had set them ablaze. like, usually when plants like these die there is at least some petals left on the ground. maybe shriveled up and whatnot, but proof that they were once vibrant flowers. i'm telling you, they were all gone and there was no petals anywhere. it was so eerie to me that i felt really creeped out.

i went to class, nothing else really happened. i asked my friend if she felt off that day, and she said no. i went home after my class, repeated the cycle of sleeping and then getting up late.

on wednesdays, i had my one class mid way thru the day, so usually i would spend my mornings going to the library and working on bio lab stuff (which would be due the next day). so i did that, went to my usual spot, started working on my lab. i get a text around 10/11 ish by my friend from my art class (that was also in the same major as me, theater). and she told me the cast list was posted for our final show. this was my senior year and this would have been my last chance to perform. i had only perform twice, and really wanted to get in something else before graduating.

she sent me the cast list, and i didn't make it into anything. i was taken aback bc the director, who was also my adviser, had praised my song choice and thought i sounded excellent and basically kissed the ground i walked on after my audition, which is something that she never did before.

and the thing is, i had not been casted before. so this wasn't new to me. but literally every time, i would cry. it meant a lot to me to be included so when i wasn't i just felt terrible, so i would always cry. i remember digging my nails into my palm and tears welling up in my eyes. i remember looking around at everyone in the library, already feeling embarassed that i was gonna cry publicly. i closed my eyes, and took a really deep breath.

and suddenly, all of the sadness i felt went away immediately. like in a snap, i was suddenly okay. hell, i was more than okay. i was… happy.

not to be too sad sounding, but i'm never happy. well, it's very rare for me to be genuinely, deeply happy. especially back then when i was at one of my lowest and most depressed. but i sincerely was so happy, so relieved. i sped thru my bio lab somehow, left the library early, and when i walked back to my dad's office, i was fucking GIDDY. you ever see in movies when someone's in a good mood they point and wave at strangers?? i was, honest to god, thisclose to doing that bc that's how HAPPY I WAS.

i was deeply confused by all of this tho. bc none of it made sense. how did i forget what week it was so quickly and think i was a week ahead? how did i get over the heartache of missing out on the final chance i had to perform? it was like a week had passed in my mind, and that's why my emotions - anger, sadness, shame, you name it - were all gone within a second.

i genuinely believe that we somehow jumped a week in time. now granted, you could probably chalk a lot of this up to me just being in a weird headspace, forgetting things bc stress, my depression, terrible sleeping habits, ect. i get it. i've gone thru all of those scenarios myself, even to this day.

but the ONE THING that makes me think this actually happened…. is my mom. fast forward to mid decemeber, i remember it was when i was off but my dad wasn't, so me and mom were driving up to my university to pick up my dad from work. i was talking to her about my life and school and whatever. idk what we were talking about exactly, but i said to my mom "i feel like something has shifted. like something changed."

she agreed with me. "yeah, things feel really off anymore." i told her that i've felt this way for a while. and then my mom goes, "have you been feeling this way since the week before thanksgiving? bc that's when i started to feel it."

imma be honest, i don't believe in conspiracy theories. i'm not one to jump the gun on shit like this, but clearly something happened. i'm not sure what, but something changed for me back then. and i think it's bigger than just me and the ppl immediately around me. but that's just how i feel about it.

this was very long and i'm really sorry if this was boring to read lol

#ask #personal

4 notes · View notes

niobe-loreley · 2 years ago

Text

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {i}

breakfast, lunch, or dinner is served! *cue party horn*

(see author's notes far below)

disclaimer: pictures are not mine. BUT THE EDITED VERSION OF IT IS. still, credits to the rightful owners and to canva + weheartit.

Six x Fem!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader

Summary & CHAPTER SELECTION is in the ✨Masterlist✨ [link for next chapter is posted below]

words: 4.9k reader bio: 33y/o. waitress at a Cafe. bartender at a resto-bar. (N/N) = nickname

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

You internally scream before you give a nod and bend down toward him. He carefully raises the fork, and you take it in your mouth. You look at him, the 12-inch proximity lets you study his icy blue eyes beneath the shadow of his cap, and you resist the urge to shudder from the intensity of his gaze boring into yours. You pull back, and he gently extracts the fork.

There's a smidge of icing on your lips, it feels cool, like an oasis amidst the burning desert that is your face. You lick your lips, scattering the cream throughout your tongue, and you swallow. He inspects your lips, blue eyes becoming fiercer—

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

"What are we having?"

"Take-out."

Claire drops back down to her bed with a mighty groan of discontent. "Ugh! Not McDonald's again."

"It's actually Jollibee." Court says like it's a prize he won from the fair, holding up the paper bag decorated with a red, smiling bee.

"I think you're sabotaging this cordial bee." Claire cranes her head up to frown at her, well, father-figure.

He stifles a grin. "What?"

She flips over to her stomach and smothers her face in the blankets. "You're making me eat a lot of Jollibee so that I'll get sick of it and you'll buy some McDonald's for our Friday Night take-outs instead!" she yells, loud enough for her muffled voice to be audible.

His grin tweaks down. "Again, what?"

"You're getting me delirious." Claire abruptly sits up, pointing at him with a glare.

"You're getting yourself delirious." Court points back at her.

"I know I'm not the kind of kid who can always play under the sun. But I can't stay here forever!" she cries, and soon realizes her words and the tone she coated them in. She shakes her head apologetically, keeps her gaze on the bed sheets, and slowly falls back on the bed. "We can't.. stay in here forever."

Claire can't help it— that innate feeling of being shackled despite travelling through five countries in the span of two weeks. That's how long she and the former shadow operative were on the run, he then found places around the archipelago. She was still calling him Six until he asked her to choose where they would stay among the selected countries in Southeast Asia. He also asked her to call him by his real name.

"Court? As in courthouse?"

"Well, yeah.. but it's particularly short for Courtland."

"Courtland Gentry," she says testily. Making a face, she laughs. "It's weird! I think I'll keep calling you Six."

He sighs. "Fine… But don't call me that in public."

"What say you and I take a drive around the city?"

Claire snaps out of her stupor. "What say you, what now?"

"Let's eat outside," says Court, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Really?!" she exclaims with gleaming eyes.

"Yeah, we'll drive around, check out the other restaurants.. or you can find some on the phone I gave you."

"I wanna go to a cafe! That serves local cuisines!"

"That settles it, then."

⚜🍰⚜

When they're both buckled up in the car, Court offers the aux cord, but Claire suddenly clasps his hand in both of hers. He's dumbfounded by the gesture, and as he opens his mouth to speak, she swiftly cuts him off—

"I'm so sorry for my behavior earlier!"

"What?" he asks with a half-laugh.

"I'm sorry," she lets him go. "I know how hard our situation is— I've understood it."

Court keeps his lips in a tight line, yet the fiery waves in his eyes are unmistakable. He has travelled with precious cargo during the 18 years of being a Sierra. Took a kidnapped president back to his home country; saved imprisoned soldiers in North Korea; and even returned a diplomat's children from a ransom kidnapping. But Claire isn't someone he needs to be safely delivered to prevent a genocidal bombing.

She's his only family. Blood or not. And he owed it to Donald to take care of Claire. It immensely worries him how she'll have to grow up— on the run, always skipping town, never settling down. She will make friends only to leave them in the next hour without a goodbye. Court doesn't want that kind of life for any fourteen-year-old girl, especially Claire Fitzroy.

Dani is probably doing a lot right now to keep Suzanne and Carmicheal off their scent. Their last contact with her was before he and Claire agreed on the Philippines; even she doesn't know where they are right now. But if Carmicheal wants to keep their end of the bargain, they would leave him and Claire alone— for good. Until they die from old age.

"I just.. need a bit more time to adjust." says Claire.

Court nods. "I know.."

She takes the aux cord and reclines on her seat. "You did say we could be here for a while." Claire mentions, trying not to smile too hopefully at him.

He shortly clenches the wheel in his hands, looking away and past the windshield, he eyes the insects hovering in the car's light beams. Like dancers trying to steal the spotlight on auditions. Court turns to Claire, matching her not-too-hopeful smile, and ruffles her head. "I hope so," he says with much sincerity. "About time we get a vacation."

Claire suppresses a grin, plugging the aux in her phone, she moves to plug the other end on the stereo— Court blocks her attempt without warning. She's surprised, but manages to focus when she sees his other fist heading for her. Using the aux cord, she wraps it around his wrist, reels it down, and jabs at his face.

Court catches her fist in time, peering at her with a grin. "You've gotten good," he remarks approvingly.

She proudly huffs. "I have to."

"I didn't surprise you too much?"

"I thought you said I should be prepared for surprises."

"And what'd your pacemaker say about that?"

"She's not as angry as she was the first time we had these surprise sparring."

The drive to the Freeport Zone didn't take the usual half hour. As much as Claire wants to oversee the places they'll pass, she's too hungry to be in awe of the nocturnal aesthetics. Court is aware of that and drives as fast as he safely can. It was already 7:30 PM when they left the subdivision, they had a hard time convincing the subdivision guards to take their Jollibee takeout. The guards felt ashamed to be taking free food, they thanked them relentlessly as Court drove the car out.

Claire stops watching the city lights as they near. Glancing down at her phone, she checks the time— 7:50— and scrutinizes the map on the screen. "After we pass the bridge, take the second left."

"Copy that," Court nods.

"I think Uncle Don would've liked to get buried there." Claire chuckles, trying to peer at the mountainous cemetery. "I've never seen such an elevated memorial park."

Court glances, the burial ground is dark yet glittered with dots of fluorescent illumination, and he can see a few candlelights flickering amidst the blackness. "I agree. The view must be nice, huh?" he says, facing ahead.

"Yeah... I'm glad we visited him before we left."

It was the first thing they did after being reunited. Telling Donald that it'll be a while before they could visit him again.. promising to take care of each other.

As they pass the bridge, Claire uses her instant camera to photograph the water shimmering from the moonlight. Court carefully veers into the second left turn, letting Claire instruct him as he drives, and she watches their icon on the map as they near the Subic Bay Boardwalk.

"Left," she says. "And drive slowly."

Court flicks on the blinker, takes a gander, and makes the left. He turns off the blinker and gently cruises through the street, noting the restaurant at the right and the hotel at the left.

"Over there." Claire points at a cafe next to the hotel.

Court glances at the post that points to its cafe— Flour Cake De Liz.

"Witty," he snorts.

"I think that's the parking lot."

He drives the car up the ramp and parks in one of the vacant spaces. Only a white SUV and a moped are in the parking lot, but the cafe seems quiet. The sound of pebbles and sand against heavy moving rubber ceases, Court pulls on the parking brake and cautiously looks around. A few people are pacing through the sidewalks, the restaurant across the street is lively, and there's faint laughter resounding from the beach.

"What's the matter?" Claire asks, unlatching her seatbelt.

"Stay here, I'll just scout the area."

"Seriously?"

Court secures the gun in the holster of his jacket, looking at Claire straight in the eye. "I'm sorry. Take the wheel and keep the doors locked." he climbs out of the car, "I'll be back, Claire."

She pouts. "You better. Or else I'll run you over."

"I'll keep that in mind," he grins, adjusting his cap, he closes the door and heads for the cafe.

He increases his pace when he hears Claire locking the door. For every three steps, he warily glances. Still the same scenery, nothing out of the ordinary.

Just how covert operations like it.

That's why it's hard for Court to shake off the apprehension crawling up his ass. It's very uncomfortable.

Court grips on the gun as he shoulders the door open. A chime signals his entrance, the sound is as sweet as the fragrance in the air, yet there's a tinge of spiciness about.

"Welcome to Flour Cake De Liz!" the guy behind the cashier exclaims. He quickly looks around the place and his face contorts angrily. "Hoy, (N/N)! May customers tayo!"

{Hey, N/N! We have customers!}

He's yelling at a waitress, who's sprawled across the booth by the window.

"Teka, patapos na!" you loudly reply, fingers and thumbs rapidly tapping and moving against the screen of your phone.

{Wait, almost finished!}

The cashier guy huffs and then smiles brightly at Court. "Please, have a seat anywhere, sir." he says, brows twitching from suppressed anger.

"Sure.. I'll just get my daughter." Court steps out and overhears the workers.

"Ano daw sabi niya?" the cashier guy whisper-yells at the waitress.

"Kunin niya lang daw anak niya."

Court takes his hand out of his jacket and gestures at Claire to wait for him. She nods and takes a gander, opening the door when he's a foot away. "Well?" she heaves a brow.

"We're good." he nods.

Claire grins, hastily turning off the car, she gathers her stuff before securing the handbrake. She then hops out and hands him the keys. "Are there other customers?" she asks curiously, fixing the beanie on her head.

He locks the car. "No, it'll be just us."

"I'm kinda relieved about that."

When they reach the door, the waitress opens it for them. With you standing up and not on your back anymore, Court mentally notes that your height reaches the bottom of his earlobes, but remove the pumped up kicks, you're lower than his collarbones.

"Maligayang pagdating— welcome to Flour Cake De Liz! Do come in and sit anywhere you like," you flash your most brightest and charming grin.

It's an effective hit to the teenager.

"Salamat po!" Clare grins back as they walk past you.

You exclaim, shocked-and-awed. "Oh! Marunong ka mag-Tagalog?"

You can speak Tagalog?

She sheepishly laughs. "Kaunti lang po."

Just a bit.

"Still, that's impressive!" you let the door shut behind you, swiftly striding past the customers, you stop by the refill station to hook a tumbler to your wrist and grab two glasses.

The customers have taken a booth near the counter. You head towards them and expertly deposit the glasses to each, popping open the tumbler, you fill the glasses with ice-cold water. "If you're ready to order, line up at the counter over there! Muro-muro will assist you. Don't worry, with fresh glasses of water on your table, any other customers who are willing to venture into our domain will know that your booth is not single, but taken! Sanaol!"

Claire laughs lightly. "What's that word you just said? I think I've been hearing that around SMS."

You close the tumbler, place it on the table, and clear your throat. "Sana all is an expression of comic envy. The Tagalog word 'sana' can either mean wish, desire, or hope." you say in a genius-like tone, which soon diminishes as you continue. "The phrase is practically a shorter way of saying, I hope this or that happens to me too! It's like you're jealous in a good way. You want whatever fortune that was bestowed to someone to also be bestowed to you."

"I didn't know jealousy can be good and funny." says Claire.

"Or poetic," Court chimes in.

You shrug. "For me, jealousy is an emotion that makes us perceive the significance of others, as well as our own. Think about it, when you're jealous of someone, you see what they have and what you don't. It's not really a bad emotion if you don't make it bad. But it typically tends to leave anyone upset, so I can't say it's a completely good emotion."

"You make it sound like it is, though," Court chuckles, "And by the way, your English is excellent."

"I hope so! I've been practicing for three decades," you wink and glance over to the counter. "I have to see if our chef needs any help preparing. See you two at the counter!"

Court and Claire watch as you glide away, it's as though your rubber shoes have wheels beneath them. He scrutinizes you from head to toe; you're in a dark brown collared shirt, denim shorts, and thigh-high Star Wars printed socks. Your hair is pulled back into a dutch braid that looks like it was newly tied.

"Shall we order?" Clair asks, turning back to catch Court eyeing you.

He nods. "Sure," and rises up, reluctant to see the grin on the teenager's face, he makes a beeline for the counter.

Court gazes up at the menu as Claire stands next to him. Adobo sounds nice. He's only tasted it once, but the sweet peppery flavor is exhumed into the back of his throat like he's been eating the meal every day. He glances down at the pastry bar in front of them, feeling his mouth water with famished anticipation.

"You like her." Claire whispers, elbowing his side.

He sighs. "It's not like that."

Claire is unconvinced. "Uh-huh.."

"Been a while since somebody was actually nice to us, okay? She's just," Court shortly finds the words, "like a breath of fresh air."

"I concur." Claire nods approvingly.

"Hi!" the cashier guy waves at them, "You can order over here."

"Have you decided on anything?" Court asks Claire as they near the cashier.

She hums and meets the eyes of the cashier. "What would you recommend for dinner?" she inquires him with a smile.

Court eyes the cashier's nametag and wonders if he's new or just easily feels nervous around foreign customers. "Um, recommend..?" Muro glances over to the menu, "Oh! Best meal voted by customers is our Pork Sinigang."

"But we only serve that during lunch," you quickly add as you exit the kitchen.

Muro stammers. "Ah, yes, sorry! Sinigang is only for lunch. But best dinner meal is our Chicken Hamonado."

"What's that?" Claire asks.

"It's chicken in pineapple and cheese soup."

"I'd love to try that!"

"Hold on," says Court. "How much cheese does this meal have?"

Muro blinks puzzledly, glancing at his co-worker, and you pat him on the shoulder, stepping up beside him. "Just enough for the pineapple not to overpower the flavor," you brightly reply.

"My daughter has a heart condition, so I need to know if it's too much cheese or not."

Your eyes widen, glimpsing at Claire, who is astonished that you're more shocked than sympathetic. "Oh... Okay, how about this," you pause to click on a pen and scribble on your inner wrist. "I'll have Mindy, our chef, make two Hamonado— one with the normal cheese and another with much less. Considering if she still wants to try it."

"I want it!" she says, looking at Court with pleading eyes.

"And we'll switch the white rice for brown rice. I read online that it's much better for the heart," you proclaim with sincere certainty, smiling at the father-daughter duo.

Court glances from Claire to you, he's outnumbered, and quietly sighs as he takes out his wallet. "There's a 5-peso add-on for the brown rice, right?" he asks, nodding towards the menu.

Claire fist-pumps triumphantly. "Yes!"

"The beauty of Flour Cake De Liz is not its vintage walls or delicious meals and pastries," you pause to grin, "but its policy of free add-ons for first-time customers!"

"Are you sure you're not the beauty of this cafe?" Claire asks innocently yet suave-like.

You laugh. "If you stay here longer, I probably will not be."

After ordering, Claire and Court return to their table. "Please tell me this is where we'll be eating every Friday night!" she whispers, clapping her hands together.

"If the food is as good as the service, why not?" Court shrugs, fishing out a packet of gum.

Claire pulls a face at him. "Are you serious?"

"What, do they also have a no-gum policy?" he looks around as he unwraps a piece and fastly slips it in his mouth.

"No, but we're about to eat."

"She said the food will take up to twenty minutes."

"You could've taken the free potato mojos."

"And watch your puppy dog face as you ask me to give you more than three?"

Claire flushes. "I have self-control!"

"Not on Friday nights," Court shakes his head with a lopsided grin. He hears your footfalls nearing their booth, watching you in his peripheral vision, he keeps a hand on the table while the other in his pocket.

Claire furtively boots his shin, she knows that his left jeans-pocket contains a switchblade. Not just his gum packet. She knows and understands how to be vigilant, but she can't consistently be on her guard, especially if she's encountering someone as breezy as you. Court internally admits that it's hard to read any ill-intent from you, and letting down his barbed-wire fences around you seems right. It really has been a while since someone is genuine to them.

But to confront you with your unpredictability builds a lot more anxiety in Court's chest than facing down twenty armed-mercenaries.

"While you're waiting, you can check out the bookshelves over there," you point to the adjacent wall, "There's also some board games. But if those are not up your alley, I can just turn on the t.v."

"Let's play some games!" Claire exclaims, grinning at you and Court before she flies out of the booth and jogs across the room.

You chuckle as you watch Claire. "She's pretty enthusiastic."

"Oh, that's not even half of her enthusiasm." Court remarks, eyeing you until you face him, by then you think he's only been looking at Claire.

"Would you like to watch some television?" you ask politely.

"No," he shortly smiles, glancing at your nametag, even though he already knew what's on it. "No, thanks, (N/N)."

"Okay.. I'll play some music then." you sheepishly incline your head sideways, "Unless you mind."

"Not at all."

By the time music is playing over the speakers, Claire finally comes back with two kinds of UNO. Court recognizes the song and resists the urge to react, but his foot betrays him, it taps along with the beat.

♪See the lights of a neighbor's house

Now she's starting to rise

Take a minute to concentrate

And she opens her eyes♪

♪The world was moving, she was right there with it and she was

The world was moving, she was floating above it and she was♪

"Have you played this one?" Claire asks, holding up the violet UNO.

"UNO Flip?" Court reads the box, brows furrowing, he shakes his head. "No.. but we did play UNO once."

She smiles. "Yeah, we did. I can't believe you remembered."

"Of course." he huffs matter-of-factly.

"Good choice!" you step up to their table, glancing at your wristwatch. "Mindy, wants me to tell you that the food can be ready in ten minutes or so. I just helped her with the brown rice. She's now working on the Hamonado with less cheese, because fortunately the normal Hamonado has been prepared and only needed reheating."

"Thanks for the update." says Court. "And that's a nice first song selection."

You give a dramatic curtsy. "Why, thank you, kind sir." you laugh and straighten up, "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen, just holler."

"Wait!" says Claire.

"Yes?" you stop and turn back to her.

"Can you teach us how to play this?"

This time, Court is the one kicking (as lightly as he can) on Claire's shins.

"UNO Flip? It's quite easy," you glance at Court and squat down beside Claire. "Here, get the cards out. It's just the same as normal UNO, but there's a light side and a dark side. Let's start with what's new on the light side..."

After explaining the mechanics, you're about to leave the father-daughter duo to let them play when the daughter asks something that freezes you and her father.

"Are you single?"

You stammer. "Pardon?"

"Claire.." Court says chidingly, jaw clenching when he realizes he slipped.

"Sorry, wrong question." the teenager laughs, "What I meant was.. wanna play with us?"

Court breathes out a laugh. "I'm sorry. Like you said, she's enthusiastic. You don't have to do it if you're busy."

Claire pouts at him, and he gives her the stink eye. You're surprised when she turns her pouting face to you. The demeanor pierces through your resolve and weakens your knees— you rather hope it was arthritis.

"I'll get mad at you if you don't play." Claire declares with a half-frown and half-pout.

You look between the father-daughter, unable to decide quickly which side you're on. It reminds you of those decision-based games with quick time events. Do you select either one of the choices or let the timer run out and do nothing at all? Do you press this button to escape a probable deadly circumstance? Or you don't press the button and see if the consequences aren't as deadly as they seem?

"Alright, well, get mad.. you strange, enthusiastic, little girl. Because I don't know you, and you don't know me." you say sternly, "So, stop that puppy-eyed look or I'm gonna go and ask the chef if she needs help— because if she doesn't, I'll play and crush you in UNO Flip!"

The pair are stunned as you storm off and noisily enter the kitchen, yelling at the chef for permission. They still haven't recovered by the time you march back to them. You have an infuriated look that is swiftly replaced by a face that practically beams out rainbows. "I can play two rounds!" you exclaim like you've won the Nobel prize.

"Yay!" Claire gleefully cries.

"Oy vey," Court sighs in defeat, but truthfully, he's relieved you're joining them. It's been hard to keep Claire and himself safe with no one else to rely on. And it's much harder to raise a kid on his own.

He's trying. He wants to believe that he's trying and working hard to raise and protect Claire. That's why he can't let his guard down too much, no matter how seemingly easy it is to get along with you. No matter how kind you are— or, at least, you act to be. Evidently, Court hasn't been around good people a lot, and the bad people he's been around with have dropped dead at the end of his gun.

That's why Court knows how to read people. To understand them is a different story. And he has decided, for now, that you're one of the good ones. Although, sometimes, evil resides far beneath the surface; but he doesn't have the luxury nor does he want to deeply evaluate you or any other good person whether you're truly good or just acting like it.

But right now, Claire looks happier since the last month and a half they've been together. Court doesn't want her to feel otherwise. So if it means letting a strange woman take care of her temporarily, then so be it.

After one round of UNO Flip, their food is ready. This version of UNO is played longer than the original due to the constant flipping from the dark to light side. Claire won, you're second, and Court lost. At first, you thought he's going easy on you; but after a while, you've concluded that he is just bad at UNO.

"Beginner's bad luck," he says.

"You just need practice." you reply in a consoling yet derisive way.

With the help of Muro (his actual name is Romeo, which he hates), you serve the father-daughter duo their meals and whisk away to help clean in the kitchen. Mindy questions you about the customers, and there's nothing much to say except that they're both charming, especially the girl. You mention about her condition, to which Mindy sympathizes.

Maybe that's why she's excited to socialize with other people. Her dad doesn't appear to be bad, he's probably rather strict because of her ailment. But it's suspicious of him to continue wearing his cap indoors, even while eating. You decide he has hair issues and end your train of thoughts there, intently listening to Mindy's relationship problems while trying not to be disheartened by your own non-existent love life.

Once the father-daughter duo are almost done, Muro briefly enters the kitchen to inform you and takes a bowl of mojos.

"Don't forget to ask them for deserts!" Mindy reminds you.

"Like I don't always ask that!" you playfully shoot back and walk out of the swinging doors.

"The normal Hamonado is better, (N/N)." the girl declares, distastefully regarding the less-cheesed version of the dish.

You laugh. "I couldn't agree more," and exchange polite smiles with the girl's father.

"The brown rice is also cooked very well. But I think this is the best meal we've eaten for the month." he comments.

"I'll make sure to pass your compliments to the chef," you say with a bow. "Would you two like some deserts?"

"Sure," he answers before his daughter can make another puppy-eyed face.

"Really?" she gasps.

He nods, stifling a smile, and looks at you. "Do you have anything to recommend?" he asks, glimpsing at the pastry bar.

"We have our particularly famous carrot cake—"

"Bleugh," the girl expresses and chortles.

"I know," you whisper empathetically and clear your throat. "The red velvet and blueberry cheesecake, and cassava cake are our best sellers. But the most sold desert this week is our strawberry shortcake, it's my favorite by far—"

"She's only recommending that because she's the one who made it!" Mindy shouts from the counter.

"But it is the most sold cake this week!" you retort, too defensively.

"Can we try that?" the girl asks her father with starry eyes.

He suddenly narrows his gaze on you, and for some reason, you feel as though you've done something wrong. You nervously hold his cold eyes as he scrutinizes yours for something. It takes all your might not to look away or close your eyes, something in your gut tells you, like it always does, to keep facing challenges head-on. But this feels more like an invasion of privacy.

Like everyone says, the eyes are the windows to the soul. But this man's eyes are curtained heavily. Everybody is hiding something, yet for him, it's as though it's better nobody knows what he's hiding. Like it's better off if nobody knows whatever secret he has, for their own safety.

"We'll take two slices of the strawberry shortcake."

You snap out of your daze. "Oh, okay!" and manage a smile, "That'll be 240 pesos. Extra condiments, like whipped cream and strawberries, are free for first-time customers if you'd like—"

"Extra whipped cream and strawberries, please!" Claire raises her hand.

"We only offer two condiments for free. But there's also chocolate syrup or—"

Her father hurriedly cuts you off. "Just the whipped cream and strawberries are fine."

"Alright, then." you chuckle and stride away to get their orders.

But just before you're out of earshot—

"Man, Six, you're such a downer!"

"Shush. You can try the other condiments some other time, Claire."

You furrow your brows as questions bounce around your skull. The main one being: her dad's name is a number? Or maybe you heard them wrong. Or maybe it's a nickname.

Muro and Mindy snicker at you as you collect the ordered slices of strawberry shortcake. You make a face at them as you place a small fork on each of the small plates holding the cake slices. Mindy hands you a bowl containing six strawberries, while Muro leaves a bowl of whipped cream on the tray. You grab one of the bill books and feign to hit Muro with it before placing it on the tray and sashaying back to the customers.

"Two strawberry shortcake slices!" you gleefully announce, depositing the slices to the girl and her father. "Plus, six strawberries and a bowl of whipped cream. I'll leave the check here. Enjoy!"

"Just a second, (N/N). Claire, don't eat it yet."

"What? Why?"

Your heart pounds with anxiety. Is there a fly on the cake? Is the icing too excessive? Does it not taste like a strawberry shortcake?

You're practically sweating buckets as you turn back to the girl's father. All your dreams are prepared to jump off the plane without parachutes. "Yes, sir? What seems to be the problem?" you manage to ask without stammering, though there's a vague crack in your voice.

He cuts into the slice, scoops whatever that can fit in the tiny fork, and holds it up to you. "Here.. you eat it first."

Wait.. what?!

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

A/N: anyone want part 2? Cuz I've already written 2k words on part 2 mwahahahaha! I think I'll contain it into 3k words, but we'll see..

I'm also making some changes here regarding Six's biography to fit with the reader's age.

So in this fanfic, Six is:

37y/o (born 1985)

Incarcerated at age 15 (2000)

Recruited by Donald Fitzroy at age 18 (2003)

Officially Sierra Six at age 19 (2004)

Thus, he is 5 years younger than his movie age.

I also want to point out that the reader is who you are physically. I'll try my best to keep the skin/hair/eye color neutral (◕ᴗ◕✿)

Btw~ what did y'all about Claire and Six's POVs? I wanted to try tapping into their characters as a practice, plus I want y'all to find their perspective as interactive as the reader (if that makes any sense lol)

Lastly, I'm still a noob at tumblr so sorry for any mishaps¯\_༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽_/¯ g'day! Hope you enjoyed! The portal to the next dimension part is this -> Chapter 2

286 notes · View notes

hazel-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female OC

Summary: Aristeia, an ambitious and self-reliant journalist on Tatooine, crosses paths with a Mandalorian after a harrowing encounter with Imperial remnants.

Word Count: 5,000

Warnings: canon-typical violence, death

A/N: Oh my gosh, I finally did it. After months of reading some absolutely incredible Mando fanfics, I took the plunge and started writing my own. I'm so excited to share this with all of you!

This fic starts during episode 1x5 and will loosely follow the show's timeline (I will be taking many creative liberties). The first chapter is from Aristeia's point of view, but I'll be going back and forth between her POV and Din's afterwards. I jump straight into the action in this fic, so if things seem a little crazy at first, don't worry, all will be explained soon :)

This is my first time writing for our favorite space cowboy, so any and all feedback is welcomed! If you want to keep updated on this fic between updates, check my bio for other places you can find me. Also, a Spotify playlist to accompany this fic is coming soon!

Without further ado, please enjoy this chaotic mess of a chapter! ♥︎

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Aristeia sighed as she weaved her way through the busy streets of Mos Eisley, Tatooine. It was almost sunset and most people were heading home after long days at work. A layer of dust rose around the feet of those attending to last-minute errands. She watched as a woman bought a large red fruit from one of the street-side vendors. A soot-covered teenaged boy stood by the neighboring building, stocking up on mechanical supplies. Near his feet, two sunburnt children fought over a small toy. The scene was normal to her: ever since settling on Tatooine years ago, Aristeia had slowly grown accustomed to the slow and gritty flow of the planet.

As she continued walking, she kept her head down, eyes always focused a few steps ahead of her feet. However, whenever someone neared, she would look up briefly to offer them a small smile. Most of the time they ignored her, scowled, or rolled their eyes, but every now and then, someone would return her gesture. Those moments made the effort worth it.

Unlike the people who meandered around her, Aristeia was just starting her work for the day. She kicked up clouds of dirt as she made her way to the recently-abandoned mechanic’s shop. She used to frequent it back when she had a speeder, but after the owners passed away, it had unfortunately turned into a popular site of criminal activity. A few days back, she had intercepted a transmission that mentioned a meeting at the location, and as a journalist, she had to be there to see what was going on. Armed with a small notebook and stylus, she was prepared to document the whole thing.

Turning the corner of a dusty alley, which was littered with miscellaneous tools and sheets of scrap metal, the old mechanic’s place finally came into view. Its exterior architecture was similar to that of the rest of Tatooine, however its dark and doorless entrance led to an underground network of small rooms. With every step Aristeia took towards the building, her anxiety grew. Unlike her other investigative stakeouts, she was going into the mechanic’s blind. The transmission didn’t reveal a whole lot about the nature of the meeting, which she knew meant it was of special importance. These were the kind of meetings that could provide her with a groundbreaking story. They were also the kind of meetings where someone could get hurt.

Aristeia had never been good at fighting – physically, at least – but she did give herself credit for not having died so far, especially in her line of work. Put a blaster in her hand and she’d probably shoot her own foot off. However, put a pen in her hand, and she was a force to be reckoned with.

Aristeia had been writing ever since she was young. It started with little stories: she would go into a crowd of people, find a quiet place to sit, and observe each person that passed by. She would notice what they were wearing, how they carried themselves, who they were with, where they were going, and then she would make up the ‘why’: Why were they dressed like that? Why did they walk like that? Why were they with this person or that person? Her imagination would stitch together the missing pieces of their backstories, creating life narratives of people she had never even met. She did the same thing now from time to time. In fact, people watching was imperative to her role as a journalist.

As Aristeia grew older, she and a few friends decided to start a local newsletter that got sent out to residents of Mos Eisley every month. It was by no means a ‘professional’ establishment. The writers were all residents, many of them barely adults, who wanted to keep their friends and family informed about any activity that could threaten the freedom they had fought so hard to gain after the fall of the Empire.

A group of giggling children ran around the corner, pulling Aristeia out of her thoughts. She watched as they kicked around a near-deflated ball with bare, dust-covered feet. Sighing, she turned back around to peer down the steps of the abandoned mechanic’s. It was just beginning to get dark and the suns had nearly reached the edge of the horizon, casting eerie shadows on the stairwell walls. She looked for any sign of movement in the space below and when nothing seemed to be stirring, she made her way down the packed-dirt stairs and entered into the main room.

The area was small with not very many places to hide, immediately making her anxious. She had never been a fan of tiny spaces. But this was too important of a mission for her to give up now. She looked to her left and spotted a large plant, which obviously hadn’t seen any light or water for quite some time. However, its pot and leaves could be big enough to hide her if she was able to fit behind it. It’s not like she had very many options to choose from.

A noise from above forced her into action. She darted behind the plant as fast as she could, curling herself up against the corner of the wall. The sounds of heavy footfalls met her ears. There were at least five people making their way into the room she was in. From between the leaves of the plant, she could make out the forms of two stormtroopers and a tall, lanky man in a gray uniform. Imperials.

After the fall of the Empire, most people on Tatooine had celebrated immensely. They believed they had finally achieved freedom. It was hard for Aristeia to share their excitement, knowing how many lives had been lost on both sides. She also had always been a realist, never letting herself get too comfortable when everything seemed to be coming up roses. She had been tracking the movements of rogue troopers around the city for a while, trying to figure out who they took orders from and where they were located. In recent weeks, she had intercepted a few transmissions referencing what the Imps called ‘the asset’. Just one day before, she had caught word of a meeting scheduled to take place in the room where she was now hiding. She knew she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get more intel. Once she had enough information, she planned on writing a massive expose, informing all of Mos Eisley to her discoveries.

A raspy voice broke her train of thought: “Have you found the asset?” Peering around the plant’s leaves, she saw that it was the man in gray who had spoken.

“No, not yet,” a Klatoonian replied gruffly. “We tracked the ship to this city. As far as we know, the Mandalorian still has it.”

A Mandalorian… Aristeia shuddered. There wasn’t much in the galaxy that she was terrified of anymore. Sure, she often felt scared. In fact, she was scared most of the time; it’s part of what kept her alive for so long. But there was very little that truly terrified her. Mandalorians were one of those things.

She shook her head, forcing herself out of her spiraling panic. Focus on the facts, she thought – it was a phrase she repeated often when overwhelmed with her work. Focus on the Facts. The Imperial man’s mention of the Mandalorian was new info to her. All she knew from previous transmissions was that the Imps needed the asset for some sort of experiment. She didn’t understand it too much – she was never very good at science.

Aristeia reached into her bag, pulling out her notebook and stylus so she could document her new discovery. As quietly as she could, she opened the front cover of the journal, flipping to the next blank page.

As she did so, her finger caught on one of the pages, slicing a thin cut across the pad of her pointer finger. Kriff, she whispered, accidentally dropping her stylus as she moved to nurse her injured finger. She realized her fatal mistake too late.

“What do we have here?” she heard a voice drawl from above her. The Klatooinian, who had taken a few steps toward Aristeia, peered around the edge of the plant before looking back at the Rodian. “Is this one yours?”

Aristeia scowled at the suggestion. “No, I most certainly am not.”

The two men chuckled, infuriating her even more. “Why don’t you come out so we can take a better look at you?” the Rodian suggested with a devilish smirk.

“Yeah, cause that sounds like it would end well for me…” she mumbled, trying to think of a way to escape the predicament she had gotten herself into.

The uniformed man and his two stormtroopers stayed quiet throughout the ordeal, seemingly bored by the other mens’ interaction.

“She must be terminated. She has heard too much,” the man in gray finally chimed in.

At this, Aristeia started to panic. She was in deep bantha munk this time. Sure, she had been in tricky positions before – it was kind of a requirement of living on Tatooine – but this was bad.

“I didn’t hear anything, I swear! I was just…” She stood up slowly and looked around the room, trying to find an alibi. “...admiring the plants?”

She mentally facepalmed at her attempt of a lie, something she was never very good at. It helped her in a journalistic sense, as she always did her best to remain objective in her articles. She recognised the power that came with telling the truth, especially now, in the wake of an empire founded largely on lies. However, in this case, she could’ve used a good fib. Admiring the plants, really? she scolded herself. After a moment of silence, the uniformed man directed a curt nod at the stormtroopers, who then advanced on her quickly.

Springing into action, she attempted to kick the chestplate of the trooper closest to her, but missed, only managing to clip his knee. Nonetheless, it threw him off-balance, sending him stumbling into his fellow trooper. She took the brief opening to run as fast as she could towards the stairs that led back up to the main street. She got halfway up, mere feet away from freedom, before a large hand yanked her back down the steps harshly. She fell backwards, scraping her elbows and knees on the hard dirt before hitting her head on the floor, hard.

She couldn’t see anything but blurry spots of white and orange as strong and grimy hands pulled her across the floor, back to the troopers. The one she kicked earlier returned the favor, sending sparks of pain through her abdomen. Footsteps approached and a heavy boot landed between her shoulder blades, forcing her against the floor. Another second passed before she heard the charging up of a blaster from above her head.

Aristeia closed her eyes, cheek pressed to the dirt, accepting her fate. She forced warm memories into her mind, not wanting her last thoughts to be of the man whose heavy boot currently pinned her to the ground. Her mind danced from memory to memory, finding it hard to focus on any one image for too long: a familiar, tender hand ran its fingers along the curves of her face; trees towered over her like arrows aimed for the stars; a single candle cast a warm glow over pieces of parchment; a sweet smile, one she probably would never see again, beamed through the darkness...

A burst of blaster fire sounded from above her head. As if shooting her once wasn’t enough, she thought, before realizing that it wasn’t possible for her to make sarcastic quips if she was dead. She opened one eye, then the other, only to stare right into the lifeless face of the man in the gray uniform. It was a sight she was sure would stay with her forever.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

She finally looked up, not recognising the deep modulated voice that sounded from above her.

A shining wall of silver met her eyes, his blaster pointed at the Klatoonian. A Mandalorian, she thought. Waves of terror flooded Aristeia’s body. It was almost as if the universe had plucked him straight out of one of her nightmares and dumped him deliberately at her feet. She was familiar with the Mandalorians, more than most, but seeing one after so many years still managed to send shivers down her spine.

Focus on the facts. Focus on the facts. she repeated to herself.

Something about the way the armored man carried himself made her realize that this wasn’t just any Mandalorian: this was the Mandalorian, the one her attackers had been discussing moments earlier.

His presence seemed to fill the whole room. She found her eyes involuntarily moving up his figure, taking in the pure power that emanated from his armored form. Her gaze landed on his face, or where his face should’ve been. Instead, all she could see was her own terrified reflection in his dark, deadly visor.

When the Klatoonian didn’t make any effort to move, the shiny man looked down and gave her a barely perceptible nod to the side. She knew exactly what he was telling her to do.

As fast as she could, she rolled to her right, hearing blaster shots fire above her as she did so. She scrambled back towards the plant she was hiding behind earlier and watched as the armored man fought the others. While the Mandalorian was distracted with the Rodian, the Klatoonian aimed his blaster towards his silver chestplate. Aristeia considered shouting to the metal-clad man in warning, but didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself. To her horror, she watched as the Klatoonian pulled the trigger.

The Mandalorian, however, sensed what was coming and ducked. The blaster beam rebounded off of a large metal sheet that stood propped up against the wall behind him and hit the Klatoonian square in the chest. He fell to the floor, lifeless. To Aristeia’s surprise, she heard the Mandalorian curse, seemingly frustrated by the death of his attacker. The stormtroopers took his moment of annoyed distraction as a sign to run, bolting back up the stairs before the Mandalorian could stop them.

Aristeia’s senses slowly started to come back to her, as did the pain in her stomach, hands and knees. Unsure of the Mandalorian’s intentions, she scrambled on the packed dirt, trying to find the notebook she had brought with her. She finally found it tucked between the wall and the nearby plant pot.

She turned to see the armored man, having knocked the Rodian unconscious, finally focus his attention on her. She grabbed the stylus that she always kept clipped to the side of her notebook, the one that had caused all this trouble to begin with, and held it out in front of her as threateningly as possible.

The Mandalorian casually put a hand on his hip and popped one of his legs out slightly. His helmet tilted to the side incredulously. If she wasn’t so scared, she might have laughed at his almost-lazy posture.

“Hey, they say the pen is mightier than the sword, right?” Aristeia shrugged nervously, still directing the stylus towards the silver mass in front of her.

He ignored her comment and dipped his helmet towards the bodies on the floor. “What were you doing with them?”

She debated whether or not to tell him. His low, warning tone made it seem like she didn’t have much of a choice. So far, he hadn’t made any move to hurt her, despite the fact that he had every opportunity to. Even now he kept his distance, almost like he was trying not to startle her any further. That, or the stylus really had scared him.

“I’m a journalist,” Aristeia responded. “I was trying to get some information for my next story when they found me.”

She shifted on her feet when he didn’t respond right away.

“Story?” he finally repeated, almost like he was skeptical of the word.

“Yeah.”

She knew it must sound silly. Her stories, and journalism as a whole, probably weren’t on this man’s radar. A lot of people thought that her profession was impractical and meddling, but obviously the work she did was important enough to gain the attention of the Imps.

Whatever the Mandalorian was thinking prompted him to mumble something, turn on his heel, and start back up the stairs. Aristeia was left speechless, her hair settling back into place after being disheveled by the sudden billowing of the Mandalorian’s cape.

She looked around the room at the bodies littering the floor, remembering briefly that the troopers had escaped. That alone almost ensured her certain death. They had seen her face – it was only a matter of time before they would find her. Already regretting her decision, she heard herself calling out to the Mandalorian who had reached the top of the stairs: “Wait!”

He stopped his movement, pausing briefly before slowly turning to face Aristeia, who now stood at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up at his figure, which from her angle looked more commanding than ever, his silver armor backlit by the setting suns.

Finally finding her words, she spoke. “Please, I… I need to get off this planet. You have a ship, right? The troopers who ran, they’ll tell the others, they’ll come after me.”

She hated how desperate she sounded, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her friends barely had enough money for speeders. Most of them had never even been off the planet. All she knew was that she needed to leave, and soon.

“Why would they waste your time on you?” the Mandalorian asked, probably unsure how a girl armed with a stylus could possibly pose a threat to the Imps.

She ignored his underestimating tone before replying. “Because I overheard what they were talking about. Once they find out who I am, they’ll kill me.”

“And who exactly are you?”

Kriff, she thought. If the Mandalorian found out just how invested she was in her recent investigations, he could use that against her. “Well… I’m Aristeia.”

The Mandalorian voiced a frustrated sigh. “And?”

“And…”

She was about to answer when she spotted a blinking red light out of the corner of her eye. Upon further inspection, she found its source: a tracking fob held in the Mandalorian’s left hand. Of course, she thought. He’s a bounty hunter. The Klatoonian must have been his bounty – that’s why he was upset when he was accidentally killed in the crossfire.

Aristeia felt her heart rate spike as she devised the best way to backtrack on her previous request for help.

She slowly made her way towards the Mandalorian, subtly attempting to get back up to street level. “...and I really should be getting back to work, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just head back up those stairs now.”

The Mandalorian, unfortunately, noticed the unusual change in her disposition.

“What’s the sudden rush?” he asked as the arm carrying the fob shot out to stop her escape.

“No, no, it’s nothing! I really should go. My… husband is waiting for me,” Aristeia lied. The Mandalorian just stared, his arm remaining in place. “He gets upset when I’m late.” She offered with a fake smile, trying desperately to alleviate the tension. When he still didn’t move, she continued. “He’s very big. And uhh… He’s a sheriff!” she added, for good measure. The Mandalorian cocked his head slightly to the left in response, as if seeing how far she would take her lie. “And he has lots and lots of weapons. A whole armory with guns and knives and other… spiky things.”

“Spiky things?” he asked, almost amused.

“Well, yeah.” she replied, but it came out as more of a question.

“Well, you know what I think?” he said, taking a few sauntering steps forward. His posture oozed confidence – one hand was hooked on his belt, just in front of his blaster, while the other hung casually at his side.

Aristeia took a small step backwards. “W-what?”

“I think you have a bounty on your head.”

Kriff, she thought. He’s good.

Aristeia took another step back, but the Mandalorian closed the distance quickly. She held up her hands placatedly.

“Look, I don’t… know if there’s a price on my head. I’ve always just assumed . Over the past few years, my friends, the other journalists here, they’ve been going missing. It was pretty obvious that the Imps didn’t want us sharing their activities with the whole planet. Recently, things had been pretty quiet, at least until they started freaking out about this whole ‘asset’ thing.”

The Mandalorian’s posture straightened and his towering body leaned towards hers menacingly. When he spoke, his voice lacked all the nonchalance it had earlier and instead radiated a seriousness that chilled her to the core. “What do you know about the ki- the asset?”

Aristeia, regarding his sudden change in demeanor, stuttered in response: “N-nothing really – Shouldn’t you know?”

“Nothing really?” he repeated, completely ignoring her question.

“Just what I’ve heard over the coms.” Shoot, she thought. Shouldn’t have said that.

“You have access to their coms?” he asked, a sliver of surprise peeking through his gruffness.

She did. It was one of her biggest accomplishments since arriving on Tatooine. One evening, she had been at her desk, listening to random transmissions on an old faulty comlink her mother gave her years ago. She would do this every night, never once picking up on the voice she was desperately waiting to hear. Instead, she usually caught onto feeds from people nearby: small business dealings, calls to family working out in the dunes, even the occasional secret teenage correspondence. Aristeia enjoyed listening to the small snippets of the others’ lives; it gave her hope in a world that she seemed more and more disconnected to with each new day.

But on this night, she had intercepted a transmission that was far more concerning than her typical listening content. Two voices, one that she now knew was the man in the gray suit and another who she assumed was a stormtrooper, crackled over the comlink. Within a few minutes, she not only knew that the Empire wasn’t dead, but that they were also situated right on her doorstep . After making this discovery, she made sure to keep her com set to that specific feed, which is how she ended up finding out about the meeting that led to her current encounter with the Mandalorian.

“Sometimes I have access,” she responded to the Mandalorian’s question with a nonchalant shrug. She basked in the power that this information seemed to give her over him. “It depends on how close they are, the wind levels, and if my tech is even working that day-”

“Where do you live?” he interrupted hurriedly.

Aristeia suppressed a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“Where do you live?” he repeated slowly, though this time it came out as a more of a modulated growl.

She laughed nervously. “No way, you seriously think I’d tell a bounty hunter where I lived? That’s like breaking every single rule of common sense. I mean, come on, think of this from my perspective.”

His posture relaxed minutely and he released another sigh, this one less frustrated than the previous. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it by now.”

She recognised the truth in his statement, but that didn’t mean she was willing to go out of her way to help him. For all she knew, he could take the coms and turn her in afterwards. Aristeia tried to get a better read of him, but unlike most people she met, she couldn’t. She didn’t have any guesses as to who he was, what his intentions were, or why the ‘asset’ was so important to him. In a universe of starry galaxies, he was a black hole.

“What do I get out of it?” she asked, trying her best to sound confident. She countered the slight relaxation of his own stance with the newfound boldness of her own. “Helping you, I mean.”

The Mandalorian scoffed beneath his helmet. “I saved your life, I think that’s qualifying enough.”

“You were just going after the Klatooinian.”

“And if I hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

“Wow, consider me comforted.”

He sighed, clearly agitated by her retorts. “If you show me the coms, then I won’t tell the Guild about the little notebook operation you’ve got going on down here,” he said, waving a gloved hand towards the bag that carried her journal.

“And now I’m being blackmailed. Fantastic.” she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Aristeia stilled, evaluating her options. She could either ignore the Mandalorian and risk having him reveal her, and her work, to the Guild, or help him and hope he returned the favor. Neither option was ideal.

“Fine ,” she relented. “Just give me a second.”

Aristeia took the Mandalorian’s lack of response as a signal to go ahead, and made her way back into the darkness of the room that now reeked of death. She tried to think back to the days when she would come to the mechanic’s to repair the many malfunctions her speeder frequently sustained. She always enjoyed the loud and hectic bustle of the establishment. Its owners were kind and would always let the neighborhood kids hang out and watch them work on one project or another, occasionally even letting them help out. Those times seemed distant as Aristeia approached the body of the fallen Imp.

“Hey, you wanna hurry it up down there?” a gruff voice sounded from above.

“Really?” Aristeia replied, astonished at the Mandalorian’s near-childlike impatience.

“I thought you had some husband with a large collection of spiky things who doesn’t like it when you’re late?”

Hearing him repeat her previous lie out loud made it seem even more ridiculous, but she ignored him and continued to move towards the gray-suited man.

“What are you doing?” he called from above, seemingly untrusting of her retreat back to the main room.

Oh my stars, she thought, surprised by her own annoyance at the Mandalorian. Her initial fear had evolved into irritation at his constant attempts at intimidation and control. She couldn’t let her guard down though – she could lose her leverage at any moment and then who knows what he’d do with her.

Aristeia reigned in the sarcastic comment she was about to make and instead answered his question with a restrained sigh. “Seeing if they have any information.”

“In case you didn’t notice, they’re dead. They can’t help you.”

Obviously, she thought with a roll of her eyes, but didn’t say so out loud.

“Yeah, but their pockets can.”

Aristeia stared at the man in gray. Even though the blaster bolt to his chest all but guaranteed his death, she still approached his body warily, as if it could come back to life at any moment. Avoiding his hollow gaze, she dug through his pockets, searching for any more information that could prove useful to her future articles. All she found was a handwritten note containing some sort of coded language she didn’t recognise. She folded it carefully and put it in her own pocket for safekeeping before heading back towards the Mandalorian.

By the time she joined him at street level, the suns had already set. He took a few steps forward but paused when he felt her hesitate behind him. She felt weird leaving behind the mangled bodies of the men in the darkness below.

“We should move the bodies,” she said cautiously, her eyebrows furrowed in confliction.

“No time,” the Mandalorian replied simply, turning back towards the street.

“Please,” she pleaded, looking to her left where a group of children played in the distance. “I- I don’t want any kids finding that.”

He silently followed her gaze and stood completely still for a moment, as if debating his own response. Aristeia tried, and once again failed, to get a good read of what was going through his head.

“Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll get them in the morning.”

She would’ve liked them taken care of sooner, but it seemed that there was no room for negotiation. To be honest, she was surprised he agreed to her request at all. Something was different about this Mandalorian, and she couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“Which way?” he asked, referencing her house. The one she stupidly agreed to take him to, Aristeia thought.

“Uh…” She paused briefly, but it was a moment too long for the Mandalorian’s liking. “This way,” she finished, pointing down an alley to her left. She hiked the bag she carried higher up on her shoulder and took a few steps forward before feeling a hard tug on her arm.

“Hey, I wouldn’t recommend trying anything. It wouldn’t end well for you,” the Mandalorian said threateningly. His visor stared down at her coldly and she suddenly grew extremely frustrated by the fact that she couldn’t see his eyes. She felt vulnerable under his gaze and didn’t like it one bit.

“Let go of my arm,” Aristeia replied, her voice low and serious. His grip remained strong. She stared daggers up at his helmet and it was the first time since meeting him that she was truly angry. “I said, let go.”

To her surprise, she felt his grip loosen and she promptly tugged her arm away from him. Her posture radiated confidence, but the fear in her eyes betrayed her. Without a word, she spun around and continued heading in the direction of her small house, not sparing another look behind her to see if the Mandalorian was following.

He was.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Masterlist || Next (coming soon!)

#supernova fic #hazel writes #hazel's fanfic #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin #grogu #din djarin x female oc #star wars fanfic #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #quotev

10 notes · View notes

motleyfuckingcruee · 5 years ago

Text

One Last Time (Nikki Sixx x Reader One Shot)

Requested:

@miriampraez

Summary:

Hi!! I’ve read that you take request right now and i’m wondering if you could do a Nikki one shot based on the lirics of the song One last time by Ariana Grande and romantic smut

Warnings:

Fluff, angst, language, and smut (sorry if the smut sucks. I've never written something like this before)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ON A TAGLIST! OR GO TO MY BIO TO ADD YOURSELF TO ONE!

(Y/B/N) = your best friend's name

(Sksksk i made this gif 👇)

Your best friend pretty much drags you into Vince's house. You look around at the packed house full of sweaty bodies grinding against each other. You cringe at the sight of a couple pretty much fucking each other in the corner. This has never been your scene. Not even when you were with Nikki. Your heart drops at the thought of him.

Nikki fucking Sixx.

The man who broke your heart.

You know he's going to be here tonight. You expect him to be completely moved on from your relationship and making it with some busty blonde.

"Vinny really wants you here tonight," (Y/B/N) says.

She's been dating Vince for about two years now. You think they're great together. It's just that sometimes you don't trust Vince to keep his hands to himself.

"Why could Vince want me here?" You ask, feeling really skeptical at that.

It's no secret that Vince hated you when you two first met. He's learned to tolerate you over the years.

"Because you're one of his best friends!" She exclaims, trying to force a smile onto her face.

You roll your eyes. "That's bullshit. You're a terrible liar."

Y/B/N bites down on her lip. A tell tale sign she's guilty.

"Alright, Vince is worried about Nikki," She says, not meeting your eyes. "Vince hopes that if Nikki sees you one last time, he'll be able to get over you."

You scoff, following her into the kitchen. "Nikki misses me? I'm sure he's already fucked half of the girls in this room. Maybe even more!"

"(Y/N), he's not even leaving his house anymore! Vince sent me over to check on him one day and he was high off his ass!" (Y/B/N) exclaims.

Your heart stops. "He's shooting up again?"

She nods. "Worse than before. He's so strung out he could barely form a sentence. Hell, he could barely walk!"

"Fuck," You mumble, running a hand through your tangled hair.

You glance around, hoping to see Tommy or Mick. You know they could help you talk some sense into Nikki. Instead, your eyes fall on the gorgeous black haired man you've been dreading to see.

Surprisingly, there are no girls hanging around him. There isn't even Tommy by him. He's giving off his "Don't fuck with me" vibe. That's definitely a tell tale sign that he's shooting up again.

You leave your best friend at the counter, making your way to Nikki. You're scared that he'll go off on you. He's not the sweet Nikki you know. He's the Nikki that only cares about getting high.

You sit down next to him. He doesn't notice you at first. You shift in your seat, which causes Nikki to see who made the movement. His eyes widen as he meets yours.

"(Y-Y/N)?" He asks, stunned.

"Nikki, what the hell have you been doing to yourself?" You ask, looking at him with sympathy.

He completely ignores your question, reaching forward and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He cups your cheek in his hand as he stares deeply into your (E/C) eyes.

"Please tell me this isn't another hallucination," He says, almost to himself.

You shake your head. You feel your heart melt at how broken he seems to be. "It's not in your head Nikki. I'm here."

He smiles, leaning forward. His lips catch yours. You kiss him back without any hesitation. God, how you missed his lips on yours. You hate to admit it, but you missed him. So many things are said in this kiss. I'm sorry, Forgive me, I love you, and please let me fuck you.

He pulls you aggressively into his lap. His hands travel down to your ass. He squeezes it, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

His lips break apart from yours. His lips trail wet open mouthed kisses down your neck. Your mind goes into a different place. It's only you and Nikki.

The sound of someone breaking something brings you back to reality. You gently push Nikki off of you. He looks up at you like you had just kicked him.

You lean down and whisper in his ear, "Let's go back to your place."

You know for a fact his house is maybe five minutes away. You've never been more grateful that Nikki chose a house close to Vince's.

Nikki doesn't respond. He only scoops you up into his arms bridal style. He carries you out of the party and to his car.

The entire way over, he couldn't keep his hand off of you. It was trailing further and further up your thigh until his hand just rested on your clothed core. He constantly teased your entrance.

Once you got to his house, you know you're done with the foreplay. You just want him to fuck you so that you can't walk for the next week.

Nikki unlocks the house, pushing you inside and against the wall.

His hands run all over your body. His lips are attacking your neck, leaving multiple love bites everywhere. His hands finally rest on the backs of your thighs. This is his signal for you to jump. You do so, wrapping your legs around his waist. He grinds into you agonizingly slow. He sucks at the exposed skin on your collarbone. You let out a small moan.

He tugs off your shirt, nearly ripping it in the process. You want to scold him, but he took off your bra without any warning. You're impressed that he didn't rip this one. You tug on his shirt, signalling that you want it off. He does as you wish. Your hands run over his shoulders then down his chest. You wrap your arms back around his neck when he pulls you away from the wall.

He carries you up the stairs. Your naked chests and lips are pressed together. You feel like you can barely breathe. You've missed this so damn much.

He practically throws you onto the bed. He tugs your leather shorts off. He smirks as he realizes you're wearing no underwear. You feel the need to cover yourself, but Nikki pins your hands above your head before you can do anything.

"Don't cover yourself up, baby," Nikki says, his eyes raking over your exposed body. "You're so goddamn beautiful."

He takes his other hand and gets his pants off. He wasn't wearing underwear either. He takes his free hand and slides a finger up your slit.

"Already so wet for me, baby," He mumbles, letting go of your hands.

He goes down to start eating you out, but you stop him. He looks at you questioningly.

"I want you to fuck me, Sixx," You say, feeling desperate.

He doesn't respond. He reaches over to the nightstand, opening a drawer. He pulls out a condom with a smile on his face. He rolls it onto his hard length. He thrusts into you without warning. He doesn't let you adjust to his size.

He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back into you. He thrusts hard and mercilessly.

Him just being inside of you is enough for you to come undone. You moan out as his fingers trail their way down to your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves. His mouth sucks hard on your collarbone. Pleasure is rolling in waves throughout your body.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," Nikki moans. "You feel so good."

You moan at his words. You start to feel the white hot sensation in the bottom of your stomach. Nikki's thrusts get sloppy as he reaches his climax.

The only thing that can be heard is your heavy breathing and the slapping of your skin.

Nikki releases when you do. He rides out your highs, his face nuzzled in your neck. His hair tickles you. You resist the urge to laugh.

"Fuck," Nikki says out of breath.

He pulls out of you. He takes the condom off, then throws it in the trash next to his bed.

You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling. You and Nikki used to share this bed. What the fuck did you just do?

You get up, starting to collect your things. Of course the only thing up here is your shorts. The rest is downstairs. Fuck.

"Where you going?" Nikki asks, grabbing your wrist.

"Home," You say cooly.

"No you're not," Nikki responds. "Look, (Y/N), I know I fucked up real bad. But, please give me another chance. I'll make it up to you."

You consider it for a moment. You miss him so much it hurts your heart. "Alright," You answer, laying back down with him. "On one condition. You won't shoot up anymore."

"Deal," He says. He pulls you closer, kissing you deeply. This kiss isn't lustful. It's full of his love. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too, Sixx."

Tags:

All fics: @the--blackdahlia @sugar-content @sharon6713

Nikki: @moon-beame @slutfor-sixx @2dead2function

#motley crue #classic rock #rock #rocknroll #rock music #rockband #nikki sixx #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #reader insert #nikki sixx x reader #nikki x reader

116 notes · View notes