#ive been looking forward to answering it for a few hours now

[kasagia]

Right Hand IV

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: This is the first time you plan to do something completely behind Feyd's back. You must tread carefully with him to ensure that your plan is not exposed until it is fully implemented. However, you begin to have doubts about the role you want to play in Na-Baron Harkonnen's life… and you don't like it at all. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~

You return from the harpies as the sun begins to rise over Arrakis. It took you a little longer than you thought to come to terms with them, but to your surprise, they turned out to be very cooperative.

The first stage of your plan has begun. The easiest one. Now you have to deal with the next part of it.

You reach your bedroom and close the door quietly. You lean against it and sigh, allowing yourself to rest for a moment. Thoughts race through your head as you reconsider your plan.

Killing the baron and making it look like a Fremen kidnapping and execution would be child's play. It will be much worse to convince the emperor to protect his bloodline in the face of sudden tragic events. And what's a better solution to that than marrying his daughter to the new, young Baron of Giedi Prime?

Feyd would be, by this marriage, a sure successor to the emperor. He would also probably leave you alone and take care of his new wife. If you were lucky, he would make you governor of Arrakis.

A sharp knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. You almost fall over, being able to take only a few steps forward before the door almost flies off its hinges under the force of whoever opens it.

You take a deep breath, ready to scream at anyone who dared to invade your private space like that, but you freeze when you see Feyd-Rautha at your doorstep. Very pissed off, Feyd-Rautha. 

"Where the hell were you?" He asks in a cool, controlled tone of voice. It is surprising considering he has the blood of probably hundreds of people on himself.

"Well, I guess I should be the one asking you about it. It's not every day that you're dripping with so much blood. What happened? Instead of entering the disinfection chamber, you fell into the prison drainage system?" You scoff at him and turn your back to him, taking off your black robe.

You gasp as he reaches your side in a few quick steps and turns you to face him, his hand tightening around your throat as he is looking at your eyes. Surprisingly, his hand doesn't cut off your air; he just keeps it wrapped around your throat, pressing his fingers against your pulse point. You wonder if this is a warning for you or if he's checking to see if you are real.

"Where. Have. You. Been?" He speaks hoarsely, not raising his voice at you but demanding an answer to his question, completely ignoring your mockery of him.

"With your harpies. Someone had to feed them. Ask them if you don't believe me." You answer confidently. If he's surprised or thinks you're lying, he doesn't show it. His eyes move from your face to your torso, more specifically to the place where you were bleeding profusely a few hours ago.

You shiver as he slides his hand down your throat, through the valley between your breasts, and down your stomach. He gently lifts the fabric of your nightgown and reveals the bandage on your side. He stares at it for a while in complete silence.

Suddenly, he takes a step towards you, pressing his body against yours. You feel the blood from his armour slowly seep into the fabric of your nightgown, but that's not what makes you suddenly hold your breath.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, Na-Baron, an heir to Giedi Prime and Arrakis, a psychopath, probably a future emperor, a man hungry for pain, suffering, and blood, rests his forehead against yours and holds you tightly to him, cuddling you. You are afraid to take even the smallest breath. You just stare stupidly at the man in front of you. His eyes close as he inhales your scent and basks in your warmth.

"What happened with you? You weren't with me when I woke up.” You whisper, keeping your gaze on him, examining every last inch of his face as you try to read the reason for his strange, soft behaviour.

"Did you want me to be there?" He asks in a whisper, still not opening his eyes. His closeness overwhelms you. His tender treatment makes you feel more vulnerable than when he held a dagger against your neck.

But what terrifies you more than that is that you really wanted to see him waiting by your bed for you to wake up—just like in those hopeless romances hidden in Giedi Prime's library. But you knew too well that your life would never be like one of these love stories. More like textbooks about the history of their family—a very bloody story full of intrigue.

"I didn't care one bit. What worries me is that you clearly had fun without me. Whose blood are you staining my clothes with?" He sighs at your question. He reluctantly pulls away from you and looks at you carefully. He places his hand on your bare shoulder and plays with your hair, twisting it around his finger.

"Fremen's. As soon as the medic assured me that you were in stable condition, I joined the units that started chasing them. We caught three sandworms and people on them." He reports to you dispassionately, with no emotion in his eyes. For a moment, you think he might be exhausted from the events of the day, but ever since you became his right hand, you never remember him showing any signs of tiredness.

"I see." You say, swallowing. Lately, his proximity has been giving you a strange feeling. It's been like this ever since he ordered you to kneel in front of him. You feel a faint blush rising to your cheeks as you remember that day. He hasn't touched you since then. Something you weren't extremely happy about.

"The Reverend Mother asked about you. The one from the Corrino." He says this and moves away from you. He slowly starts to remove his bloody armor. You look away from him as he removes his breastplate, revealing his muscular, pale chest.

His partial nudity almost makes you ignore what he said. And it annoys you that suddenly staring at his fit, well-built body seems more interesting to you than listening to the important message he's telling you. After all, that was what you were afraid of—that the Bene Gesserit would start looking at you more closely.

"What exactly did she want?" You ask, directing your gaze to your black nightrobe. As you suspected, the blood from his clothes soaked yours. You wrinkle your nose, realising you'll have to change.

"Take you away from me. I clearly explained to her that this was not an option and never would be. You're mine. They gave you to me themselves." You hold your breath as he's a few inches away from you again. Only a black loincloth around his hips covered his... intimate parts. He reaches for your cheek, tracing your cheekbones with his thumb. He pulls you towards him, pressing his body against yours again.

"Technically you took me yourself. And I never gave in to you." You remind him, watching him closely as he wraps his other arm around your waist, making sure you don't run away from him. Your heart beats faster as his fingers slip under your nightgown and trace the edges of the bandage wrapped around your waist.

"Irrelevant details." He growls, tangling his hand in your hair. He pulls you closer to him, making you rest your chin on his shoulder as he buries his face in your hair. "What happened? After you used the voice. Why were you bleeding..."

"That's irrelevant. It worked. Atreides got scared, and we bought ourselves more time before his next attempt... to make a move against us." You interrupt him before he asks a question.

The story of this particular wound and your... incredible skills was something you promised not to reveal to anyone. It was the darkest memory of your past, one that haunted you more than your memories of Arrakis. It was selfish of you to forget about the poor people you had to kill to survive, but you had worked with Harkonnens for too long to be even ashamed of it. Everyone had to look after themselves. Only monsters equal to them survived among them. Apparently, you were one of them.

He interrupts your thoughts, moving away from you. His eyes burn with a vivid, burning anger that sends shivers down your spine. You lift your chin, enduring the stern look that he wanted to intimidate you with. He scowls even more when he sees that you don't take much notice of his silent admonishment.

"You almost died."

"You're exaggerating this. I thought you of all people won't be afraid of the sight of a little blood." You respond dismissively, which only makes his mood worse. In a few steps, he walks over to you and pins you against the wall behind you. His chest rubs against yours with each deep breath. But you are calm. Unlike you, he doesn't have daggers attached to his body... unless he has them under his loincloth...

"I simply don't enjoy holding your almost lifeless body in my arms. I much prefer it when your heart beats strongly against your chest... like now." He whispers hoarsely, his nose brushing against your cheekbone. His lips are dangerously close to yours; if he leaned a little closer to you, he could brush the corner of your lips with his. You sigh shakily, closing your eyes as you are trying your best to deny this strange, sick desire for him that suddenly rose in you.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all?"

Your question was met with silence and no response from him. And just when you think he's actually going to pull away from you, he grabs your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your throat to himself. You sigh as his full lips descend on your neck. He sucks on your skin, licking it before his black teeth sink into you. You gasp, reflexively placing your hand on the back of his head. You know you can't pull him away; all you can do is place your hand on the back of his neck and dig your nails into his skin as he leaves his marks on your soft neck.

You gasp when he suddenly grabs your hips and lifts you up. His hardness rubs against your clothed core as he grinds his hips into yours. You bite your lip, holding back a small moan as you feel him so close. He breathes shakily against your neck, staying there for a moment. Never in your life have you seen Feyd-Rautha Harkonne refrain from taking what he wants. That's why you're shocked when he suddenly lets go of you and walks away, turning his back on you.

"It was a very long day and I believe there is an even longer one ahead of us. So shut up, lie nicely on the bed and wait for me. I'll come over in a moment and you better fucking be there because this time I'm gonna tear down this planet looking for you, are we clear?" He asks, turning around to look at you. You nod, swallowing thickly, with your cheeks still a little blushed and your heart beating madly fast. "Good girl." He mutters and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a loud bang.

You stare at the closed door for a good while. Only when the sound of water reaches your ears do you manage to snap out of this strange state.

You place a hand on your neck, tracing with your fingertips the spot his greedy lips marked. You shudder as you hear his soft grunts from the bathroom, knowing full well what... impressive problem he's dealing with there. You blush and run to change before he comes out of the bathroom.

Your head lay on the pillow just as the bathroom door opened. You try not to stare at him as he towels off. He throws the towel on the chair next to the desk and turns off the lights in the room. You sigh shakily, listening to his quiet footsteps around the room. He locks the door with a loud click. A cold chill runs through you, and your heart beats faster as you hear him approaching the bed.

You stiffen as you feel him sit down on the bed next to you. You hear him hide something under the pillow, probably one of his daggers, before laying down next to you.

His arm slips under the covers and wraps around you, pulling you closer to his chest as he takes on the role of a big spoon. You're pressed against his naked body; only a piece of the duvet and the fabric of your nightgown separate you two. You feel your heart speed up rapidly as you feel his toned chest muscles against your back.

"Is something wrong, little witch?" He asks mockingly, as if he didn't realise how uncomfortable you felt when he fell asleep and cuddled up to you while being fully naked. Only this time you felt a completely different kind of discomfort...

"You'll be cold, Na-Baron." You say, trying to convince him to get dressed. However, Na-Baron has completely different plans. If possible, he moves even closer to you, his length brushing against your ass as he leans close to your ear.

"You can always warm me up." You snort at his suggestion and say nothing more. His lips brush against your earlobe as he presses a feathery kiss there.

His grip on you tightens, and he rests his head just behind yours, nuzzling his nose into your hair as he inhales your scent. You feel like his private stuffed animal, favourite blanket, or other cuddly toy. But you know he didn't have the privilege of having such a thing—a normal childhood with toys and so on. Just like you.

So you delude yourself that this is the reason why you put your hand on his—the one with which he hugs you—and lean more on his chest. You were doing it only in search of the rare feeling of comfort that you are both unaccustomed to and that you both silently long for, however, your rational explanation doesn't include the reason why you feel the warmth rising in your chest when you hear his soft snores before you fall asleep.

It will be better this way. — You try to convince yourself as you watch Princess Irulan and Feyd dancing on the dance floor from the corner of the room. — You never wanted him. Sure, there were... some nice moments between you two, but that's all. It wasn't even a crush. Just a few irrelevant conversations and heated meetings—nothing that you haven't experienced before with someone else.

So why the hell did you want to pierce the heart of the emperor's daughter with your dagger?

A few days have passed since Atreides attacked. Harkonnen troops cleared the area and ensured that further celebrations of Na-Barone's birthday would proceed without further incident. Meanwhile, you watched as Irulan approached Feyd as well as how the Emperor and the Baron communicated about the possible marriage of these two. And although you were happy with this turn of events, it really bothered you to look at the blonde, who was obviously flirting with your Na-Baron.

You shouldn't care. Not at all. You should be happy that the burden imposed by the Bene Gesserit has been lifted from you and passed to someone else—that another woman has been assigned to carry their fucking powerful child. But you couldn't help the burning feeling of jealousy, anger, and regret when his eyes were on the emperor's daughter and not on you.

You shake your head at your stupidity and take the glass from a passing servant. You take a huge gulp and cough, unaccustomed to the burning sensation of the strong alcohol running down your throat. But you take another sip anyway. Fuck the patriarchy and the Bene Gesserit. You're not going to give birth to any Kwisatz Haderach, so you might as well ruin your liver with alcohol.

"I see you still don't absorb alcohol well, my sweet death. It's surprising, considering how many years you've been living among the Harkonnens." You freeze when you hear a familiar voice behind you. You put your glass down and turn around in shock.

"Fevas?" You ask, shocked to see a familiar man with dark hair standing in front of you. A smile forms on your face when you see his signature mischievous smirk and the twinkle of amusement in his night-dark eyes.

"The one and only. What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost." He says it, laughing, and walks over to you. He takes you into his arms without asking, trapping you in a tight embrace. You wrap your arms around him and let yourself breathe in his familiar scent for a moment.

"Aren't you one? You didn't come to haunt me for all the times I kicked your ass in front of your friends during training?" You ask with a cheeky smirk, moving away from him. He rolls his eyes at you dramatically and gives you a nudge in the side.

"No, but if I die first, know that it's the first thing I'll do as a ghost." You laugh, shaking your head. Looking at his wide smile, you realise that you haven't felt so carefree around someone in a long time. With the Harkonnens, you always had to keep your guard up, but with Fevas... it was natural to lower your barrier a bit.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm responsible for protecting the emperor and his daughter. Since our fateful trip to Arrakis with you, Harkonnens, and the Atreides, things have been quite... boring. It's the only exciting trip I've been on since then. And a few days ago... you were amazing. I even saw the baron staring at you in pure horror. You don't know how long I will remember this picture. My people almost shit themselves with fear when you controlled us all."

"You too?" You ask with a mischievous, teasing smile, completely ignoring your surroundings.

"I admired… but I was worried about you. I went to the hospital wing, but those bald idiots wouldn't let me in. Na-Baron's order or some other shit."

"Yeah… he can be quite a pain in the ass." You nod, shifting your gaze to Feyd. He danced with Irulan. You try to ignore the pang in your heart, and without thinking much, you reach for two glasses, handing one to Fevas. The two of you make a quick toast, and you're relieved to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol masking the unexpected bitterness you feel.

"Well, since he's busy... will you allow me the immense honour of having my toes trampled by you?" You look briefly at the harpies, considering his proposition. It wouldn't hurt anyone if you will have a one dance with your old friend, right?

One of the harpies nods at you while the other two stare daggers at Irulan. And in that very moment, you decide that you will not allow yourself to become another of Na-Baron's harpies. You'd rather die than become the other jealous woman.

"I am better dancer than I used to be. You can get very surprised." You respond flirtatiously, offering him your hand. You giggle, rolling your eyes as he leans down and plants a kiss on it.

"Really? Impossible. The last time you danced with me, I had to go to a medic to heal my poor, trampled toes."

"And yet you still want to dance with me..." You reply teasingly as he leads you to the dance floor. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you a little too close to him for comfort. But neither of you care.

You think it's nice to feel seen and desired. It was certainly better to have a charming man like Fevas than to prop up the walls at a party. Sometimes being in the shadows bothered you. And even though Fevas was... too lively for you, right now you wanted to break out of your comfort zone for a moment. You knew he was perfect for this.

You didn't realise that the blue eyes of a certain Harkonnen were piercing your companion with a hateful look, which especially intensified when Fevas wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and leaned towards you to whisper in your ear.

"Guilty. But I haven't seen you in so long that it doesn't seem like such a crime, does it? We did... much braver things in the darkness of our tents, remember, my sweet death?"

"In a blur... maybe I need a reminder?" You reply in an equally suggestive tone, licking your lips. Fevas's eyes drop to your lips. He chuckles throatily, pulling you even closer to him.

"Oh, you look like you really need one. Maybe even more..."

"Exchange." A familiar, hoarse voice reaches you. Before you know it, arms wrap around your waist and pull you away from Fevas. You gasp as Feyd pushes you onto his chest, holding you tightly against him. But he's not looking at you. His gaze is fixed on the man you were dancing with a few seconds ago.

"Who is it?" He asks coldly, assessing Fevas with his eyes. You see him staring at him dispassionately, but you know from the way he tightens his grip on you that Feyd isn't even close to being calm.

"I... It does not matter…" You stop as soon as his eyes meet yours. You swallow, seeing the pure, unbridled rage.

You hiss as his grip on your waist becomes painfully tight. Feyd frowns and loosens his grip on you a little, remembering how a few days ago you were bleeding out onto the floor in this same room. And in his arms. He ordered his servants to destroy the armour he was wearing at the time. And your dress. It's a pity he couldn't erase the memory from his mind in the same way.

"I think you've forgotten who I am to you, little witch. Say it."

"I… you are the Na-Baron." He hums dissatisfyingly, shaking his head at your response.

"Try again."

"Future Baron of Giedi Prime." Your answer was again unsatisfactory to him. You shiver as you feel him press the dagger against your chest, the tip of the blade playing with the strings holding the corseted bodice of your dress together. If he used a little bit of the dress, it would expose your breasts to his view.

"Don't play stupid, or I will punish you in front of everyone. And I wish that dirty, walking pile of muscles that had his hands on you didn't see me slapping your beautiful, little ass red. In fact, I'd rather be the only one enjoying this view, so be my good girl and tell me whose remains I'll throw to my harpies tonight?"

You hold your breath at his words. Feyd couldn't visit his harpies tonight. Not when they were supposed to be busy... getting rid of the baron's corpse. You think quickly, trying to find the best way out of the situation without condemning Fevas to a certain death. Feyd's intense, urgent gaze makes you blurt out words in an act of pure panic and thoughtlessness that you have probably never said to him before.

"No."

Your words are followed by silence from him. The chatter of the guests around you and the music make his reaction a little less terrifying, but you know him too well to think he'll take your refusal to follow his orders in stride.

"What?" He asks hoarsely, staring at you in shock.

"Nobody. He... he is nobody Leave him alone. He didn't do anything." You try to quickly correct your mistake, but one look into his eyes, and you know how screwed up you are. You gasp as he pulls you to a more secluded spot, shielding the two of you from any potential onlookers.

"Since when are you the one to judge what other people deserve and what they don't? Since when do you decide for me? Since when do you oppose me? Is this your lover? Did he have you? Tell me kindly, or I'll throw you on this floor and fuck you in front of everyone until you tell me." You're trembling, not because you're afraid he'll follow through on his words, but because you WANT him to claim you in front of everyone. In front of Irulan...

"What will your princess think of you?" You ask defiantly, raising your eyebrows. His nostrils flare as he sighs. He closes his eyes and tightens his grip on your waist and his dagger. You wait patiently for his reaction, ready for anything, even for him to stab you, piercing your stupid, rapidly beating heart.

"I don't fucking care. You're mine. Should I mark you? Carve my name on your chest? Maybe it would be better if I put my heir inside you? Then no one would have any doubts about who you belong to."

"Feyd..." His name leaves your mouth faster than you think. His heart beats faster when he hears you using his name instead of his title. The madness in his eyes slowly gives way to something else. A feeling you don't recognise. "Please. Leave him."

"Who is it?"

"Old friend. Nobody important." You assure him, desperately trying to convince him that it really wasn't someone he had to worry about.

"You slept with him?" The question catches you off guard. You blush slightly, knowing full well that you can't lie to him right now. You curse alcohol for reducing your ability to come up with lies and fake stories on command.

"I... It does not matter."

He growls, staring at you intensely, as he don't want to let go of the topic. You know that the moment you give him his name, your friend will die a tragic death. It bothers you, but you're much more worried about Feyd foiling your plan by going to his harpies tonight. You thought Irulan would distract him... enough for you to finish your job. As you can see, you had to take care of Na-Baron completely by yourself tonight.

So the moment Feyd turns to find the man you were dancing with in the crowd, you grab his hand and pull him back to you. Before he says a word, you lean forward to whisper suggestively in his ear:

"He can't compare to you." You brush your nose against his cheekbone. You smile teasingly as you hear him catch his breath at your sudden, unexpected closeness.

"No?" He asks, turning his head towards you. Your noses brush against each other, and his mouth is mere inches away from yours. You lick your lips unconsciously, completely by accident. However, this does not go unnoticed by him. His pupils dilate slightly, and his breathing quickens as he waits for your response.

"No." You whisper without looking into his eyes, too scared of what you might find there. He doesn't like that you're avoiding his gaze, so he wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to look at him as he leans over you.

"Were you planning to run away with him? Fuck in one of those hallways?" He growls furiously, trying to intimidate you and overwhelm you with his closeness.

You swallow, carefully looking at him. Your hand wanders over his armour, moving to his neck and gently wrapping around it. You pull him closer to you, so you both can feel the others breath on your lips. You stroke the skin of his neck with the pad of your thumb, still holding it in your grip.

"I just... wanted your attention." You whisper, looking into his eyes. You feel the muscles in his throat tighten as he swallows, his pupils dilating to the point that you can see only them as he stares at you, completely surprised by your behaviour towards him.

To say Feyd is shocked is an understatement. He's dazed and confused to the point that all he can do is stand in front of you and let you do whatever you want with him. He should be used to you constantly surprising him, but even in his wildest fantasies, he didn't expect that you would be so eager to press your body against his to tease him in the same way he teased you. Feyd is not stupid. He knows your actions have a purpose—an ulterior motive that he honestly didn't care about as long as you had your hands and mouth on him.

"So what will you do now? Once you have it?" He asks, licking his lips as you look up at him through your eyelashes. His heart skips a beat when he sees your gaze linger on his plump lips for a moment. You both take deeper, shorter breaths, slowly closing the distance left between you.

"Come with me and see for yourself, Na-Baron." You whisper against his lips. Feyd growls at how cruelly you are teasing him. He had never wanted to pin someone against a wall and kiss them hard and deep as much as he wanted to do it with you now.

"You didn't answer the question. Who am I for you?" He asks, moving his hand from your neck to the hair at the nape of your neck. He pulls your head back and starts placing kisses on your jaw.

You tighten your grip around his neck and press him against the wall. Feyd blinks at you in surprise, but before he can say anything, you place a finger on his full lips and shush him. He trembles as you trace the bone of his jaw with your tongue, biting into it.

"My lord. My Na-Baron... my master." You whisper against his pale skin, effectively stripping Feyd of any little inhibitions or patience he had left for you.

You moan as his lips crash against yours. Your nails dig into his neck as he grabs the sides of your chest and pulls you onto the balcony. The metal door closes behind you with a loud bang. You gasp as you feel the cool, rough metal against the bare skin of your exposed back. This feeling quickly disappears under the sensations you feel thanks to the lips and tongue of your Na-Baron, who took advantage of your moment of surprise and sneaked into your mouth, exploring it eagerly.

You wrap your tongue around his, fighting him for dominance, moaning as he presses his body against yours. His hands deftly untie the strings of your dress at the back, loosening your corset. He pulls the fabric aside, moving his lips from yours to your neck, collarbones, and breasts. You groan, leaning your head against the door and digging your nails into the back of his head.

"Your princess is probably waiting for you." You mumble, closing your eyes as his tongue curls around your nipple. He sucks on it, biting it every now and then, making you squeal loudly as he cups his hand around your other breast and massages it, teasing your other nipple at the same time.

You're completely fucked under his touch—well, not so much that you don't remember how much fun the bastard was having with the princess just a few moments ago. You scream as he suddenly slaps your breast in a punishment.

"I only have one princess I want to please. And it's definitely not Lady Corrino." He says this before pressing his lips against yours. You moan as his hands tangle in your hair, and he tilts your head to give him better access to your mouth. You kiss him back with an equally burning passion, feeling the fire of desire ignite inside you with each of his touches.

"Lady? Since when have you been a gentleman?" You ask mockingly as he moves his mouth to your neck, nipping at it and littering it with hickeys.

“Would you prefer it if I called her a whore? Maybe I should really claim you right in front of her... Would that calm down your beautiful, burning jealousy, my little witch?” You growl at him, moving your hand to his hardening length and squeezing him painfully. He groans against your neck and bites into you in retaliation, making you let out a hollow scream.

"I'm not jealous. I can always go to Fevas for pleasure if you're too fascinated by the princess to notice anything else." You huff, not wanting to give him any satisfaction by letting him know that his closeness to Irulan bothers you. But why do you feel envy while watching them two together? That was your plan. He was supposed to finally leave you alone. So why is it that when the opportunity presents itself for him to become interested in someone else, you desperately cling to him and pull him towards you?

"Hm... so this is your mysterious man? Fevas..." You tense up when you hear him repeat your friend's name. You cup his cheeks in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Don't kill him." You ask him, knowing full well that he will refuse. But despite everything, you cling to this stupid hope, not knowing why you care so much about keeping Fevas alive.

"Why?"

"Because I ask you. Please." For the first time, you look at him desperately, knowing full well that all you can do is beg him to change his mind. Because if Feyd Rautha Harkonnen decides that someone is going to die, then even the Grim Reaper won't be able to save the poor man from him.

"Do you love him?" You know the answer to his question perfectly. However, it scares you too much to say out loud what you think and to admit to him and to yourself what you have been running away from for so many years. Apparently ineffective, since your first response was supposed to be:

No. I love you. And it's ruining my life.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you weren't stupid or brave enough to say it to his face.

"I am a Bene Gesserit. I don't love anyone." You answer coldly and without emotion. He stares at you for a moment before pushing you away from him. He no longer looks you in the eyes, though his eyes are still glued to your half-naked form. He stays in silent reverie for a moment, then breaks it with a bitter, hoarse laugh, shaking his head.

"And I am a Harkonnen. We don't obey anyone." He growls impassively and pushes you away to get to the door. He returns to the party, closing the metal door behind him with a loud bang.

You shiver as you are left completely alone on the balcony. You try to swallow your humiliation and hurt pride and tie your dress to gain back some of your dignity. Once you've improved your appearance enough to show yourself to other people, you decide to leave to join Feyd's harpies in the dungeons. Along the way, you try to ignore how Feyd flirts recklessly with Princess Irulan.

It will be better this way.

You repeat it to yourself like a new mantra or slogan. Or at least that's how you try to drown out the cries of your wounded heart, which desperately begs your mind for a little mercy.

But if you learned anything from Feyd Rautha, it was that mercy was an overrated thing.

And if you've learned anything today... it was that you have truly become Feyd Rautha's fourth harpy.

If it wasn't a sign of weakness, you would have covered your nose to avoid inhaling the disgusting smell that lingered in the dungeons. You might have expected that the harpies would show no mercy to the baron. You weren't here to save him yourself. Just the opposite...

"The little witch looks angry…"

"The little witch was right, we are having a lot of fun."

"Does the little witch want to join?"

You give them a sadistic, proud smirk when you see the baron's condition. You shake your head and address them as sweetly as you can.

"Maybe in a moment. I don't want to take away all the fun from you. Can you leave us alone for a short while?" The women nod at you and slowly leave the room, keeping a close eye on the barely surviving baron. You wrinkle your nose as the door closes behind them. You take a few steps towards Harkonnen and stop right in front of the large pool of blood that has formed from all the wounds inflicted on him.

"So it's you… I thought my nephew was responsible for this. Ironic… get rid of me with one of my gifts to him."

"I think we both can agree that Feyd would be more than capable of it. After everything you did to him… I'm surprised he didn't try this ages ago." You reply indifferently, taking great satisfaction in seeing him like this—on the verge of death.

"You don't know our ways, witch. You may have studied and lived with us for years, observing from the shadows, but you know nothing about the Harkonnens." You tense up, offended, and angry at his words, but you do your best not to let it show. You came here to enjoy the death of the most disgusting man you have ever met. You won't let him spoil this solemn moment.

"Possible. But I know enough to convince the court and the great houses, and even the emperor himself, that the Fremen are behind your sudden, unfortunate death. Besides... I doubt anyone would cry over you."

"The same goes for you, witch. My nephew did well to make you his right hand. I'm sure he'll get rid of you as quickly and suddenly as he took you in. Harkonnens don't take wives. We have no equals. Whatever you think, you are living in pathetic delusion. You'll end up just like me. Or the boy will hand you over to these old women when he gets bored of you." A cold shiver runs down your spine at his words.

You had considered such a scenario several times, but the Baron and your interaction with Feyd today made you realise that you had to consider this turn of events to be... the most likely to happen. You guess you have to prepare for suddenly leaving Giedi Prime... and Feyd's side. Your heart clenches painfully just thinking about it.

"That's very possible. But at least I survived you." You answer and take out the dagger that you managed to steal from Fevas. You take aim and, with a small smirk, throw it, hitting the baron's throat. You were too disgusted to lay even a finger on him, in order to hurt him. You turn away and leave the room without giving him a second glance, knowing full well that Feyd's harpies will take the revange for anything he did to his nephew better than you. "Ladies! You can finish now." You announce this to the harpies as you leave the cell.

They scream excitedly and almost rush back towards the baron. You walk forward, but a sudden pull on your hands stops you. You raise a questioning eyebrow at the oldest concubine.

"The little witch shouldn't listen to this old man. The master likes the little witch very much. He threatened to kill us if we did anything to her." You frown at her sudden confession, but you don't question why she's doing it. You decide to brush it off.

"I think we both know that he... likes to break his favourite toys only by himself."

"But not a little witch. When the little witch was bleeding, the master became furious. The master almost killed his uncle when he ordered him to kill the little witch. The master watched over the little witch until the doctors said that the little witch would survive. And he told us to guard her door while he went away to kill the people who hurt her."

"I… I really appreciate you telling me this. Join your sisters. I'm sure you don't want to miss the feast."

"Little witch." She calls after you. You turn to look at her. "We can share the master with the little witch, but not with the princess." A smile creeps onto your face. Hearing that from her is the best compliment she can give.

"I'm afraid neither of us has any say in the matter."

"The little witch is smart. The little witch is too smart to think like that. The little witch has to know that the master is crazy about her from the begining." You blush at her words, your stupid heart speeds up, and your too vivid imagination presents you with various scenarios of what could have happened if Feyd... had claimed you at the very beginning. But you couldn't turn back time. You didn't want to.

"Desire makes us weak."

"Maybe. But it is also very pleasant." You smile and nod. She responds in kind and disappears behind the cell door. After the baron's scream, which is muffled by the door, you come to the conclusion that he is clearly saying goodbye to this world. Just as he should. Alone. At the hands of women whom he mentally destroyed to make them good pets, whose task was to arouse his nephew's cruelty and bloodlust.

While walking through the corridors, you come across one of the servants. He tells you that the Na-Baron requests your presence in his chambers. You frown, convinced that the last thing Feys wants to do today is to have you close to him, but you head towards the familiar rooms.

After a very short walk, you reach his chambers and open the door. You stand frozen in his doorway at the sight that greets you.

Fevas is chained. His hands are chained to the ceiling as he is hanging above the floor. His chest is cut multiple times, and his blood drips onto the white fabric placed beneath him. You tense up as Feyd's hands are on your shoulders, holding you firmly in place as you stare at the unconscious, bloody man who is either dead or within a whisker of death.

"What the hell is this?" You growl angrily, trying to turn to look at him. Feyd, however, holds your waist tightly and grips your jaw, making sure you keep your eyes on Fevas.

"I thought you'd appreciate seeing your secret lover after I brutally separated you. Where have you been? Looking for him? Maybe you were supposed to run away together, but he didn't come?"

"I leave you alone for a few minutes, and you start creating absurd stories and tormenting a poor, innocent man?" You mock him. His grip on your waist tightens as he gets more furious with every passing second.

"A man who had the privilege of enjoying what was not his." He corrects you, growling hoarsely into your ear.

"I'm not yours either. Will you kill Irulan's former lovers too?" You ask sarcastically, struggling against his grip. He growls in your ear, shaking you gently but keeping his grip on you firmly.

"I don't care about that royal bitch."

"You should. After all, she is your future wife. The mother of your heirs..." He doesn't let you finish. He tightens his grip on your throat, preventing you from speaking, and pushes you against the wall, pressing your body against his. You shudder as you see him gasp in rage, glaring daggers at you.

You tremble as you feel his fingers spread Frevas' blood on your neck. He breathes heavily, tightening his grip. He leans forward and presses a bruising, aggressive kiss on your lips. You know this is supposed to be a punishment for you, but you can't help but moan and clutch his arms as he kisses you so intensely, pulling all the oxygen out of your lungs.

You gasp, noticing a strange ache in your neck as his lips continue to caress yours, but you choose to ignore it. For a moment, you forget about anything other than him. Even the metallic smell of blood lingering in the room fades away with the feeling of his lips on you.

His other hand moves under your skirt, his fingertips gently caressing your thigh, avoiding the dagger attached there as his hand slowly climbs up your leg. You moan into his mouth as his fingers tease your pussy through the fabric of your wet underwear.

He breaks the kiss, kissing the line of your jaw. You breathe heavily, whimpering softly as he continues to work on your clit, peppering your face with kisses at the same time. You dig your fingers into his arms, desperately holding onto him as you grind against him, chasing the release he's denied you for days.

His fingers wander under your underwear, making you moan louder. Your forehead leans onto his shoulder as you gasp as he ruthlessly pushes his three thick fingers into you.

"My little witch is so quiet and obedient when full of fingers. I'm sure if I impaled you on my cock, if you had kept it deep inside you day and night, you wouldn't even dare to think about letting someone else take your place, right? Maybe that's what I should do? Maybe I need to breed you and fill your lower lips so that the other ones will shut up and stop talking nonsense?"

"Feyd..." A needy moan of his name escapes from you before you can bite your lip. All you can do is hold on to him for dear life, wrapping your legs around his waist as he keeps you pinned to the wall and on his toes.

"You make such beautiful sounds... it's a pity you've been acting like a brat lately instead of like my good girl. You understand that, in this situation, I cannot reward you." He mocks you, pulling away from you moments before you reach your peak.

You growl at him angrily and reach out to finish what he didn't want, but he grabs your wrists and pins them to the wall, grinding his crotch against yours, teasing your desperate, abused pussy even more. You scream, trying to fight him. He effectively silences you, kissing you hard, chastisingly, and biting your lower lip until it bleeds. You are at his complete mercy. And dear Lord, you would let him do anything if that meant that he would let you cum.

He presses his body against yours and holds your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. He leans down and licks the tears of frustration from your cheeks, sloppily licking your face at his discretion.

"Can you think for a moment or have I finally made you think with just your needy pussy? Is this what you want? For me to take another woman? For me to treat her the way I treat you? For me to leave you on this damn desert? Because I can, Y/N. I can fuck the other women, become emperor the easy way, and give you damn Arrakis, but you have to look me in the eyes and tell me that's what you really want."

You stare at him in shock as he continues to hold you close to him. This is what you wanted—exactly that scenario and turn of events. You could have been finally free—free from all of Bene Gesserit's prophecies and plans.

"I... You would let me stay here? Would you let me be the governor of Arrakis? You would marry Irulan?" You ask, disbelieving that he would ever let you go from his grasp, convinced that he would rather kill you than let you leave his side.

"If that's what you want."

"It... it is..." You say this, feeling a lump growing in your throat. Your heart beats insanely fast as you desperately try to convince everyone—you, him, and your stupid heart, which is begging you to change your mind—that this is exactly what you want.

But you had definitely come too far to slip into his arms at the end and become his wife, concubine, or whatever he wanted you to be, just because you were horny for him. Desire makes us weak. But was it just lust that connected you with him?

"No. Not like that. Look at me and tell me exactly what you want me to do, my little witch." He orders, looking at you defiantly. This is a very small payment for what he offers you. Your dream future is within your reach; all you need to do is say these few words.

"I... I want you to... to marry... I..." The lump in your throat grows. You can't say anything as you look into his icy blue eyes, which pick up on your uncertainty. But she's not the only one thing holding you back.

You physically can't speak. You can't lie to him and say you want him to marry another woman and forget about you, to leave you alone on Arrakis—a place that should have swallowed you up years ago. You just can't. Your eyes widen as you realise what he's done to you.

"You son of a bitch… Which Bene Gesserit witch gave you the truth serum?!" You ask, furious, realising what he injected into your neck during your little hot session.

"This is of little importance. I was going to use it on you and ask you about your secret lover, but he himself told me a bit about your past. With a bit of pressure from my side, of course. Now, before this miracle product stops working, look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me. I dare you. Reject me like you did countless times before, my little witch. And I will gladly leave you alone."

The smirk on his face grows with every second of your silence. Your blood boils, and you feel immense rage, pursing your lips as you glare at him with hate. What's more, the bastard has the nerve to laugh at you.

"That's exactly what I fucking thought." He growls and kisses you. His lips caress yours, tasting you as if you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. He holds you tightly as if you were the most precious thing in his possession that he is afraid to let go of, even for a moment, for fear of someone stealing you from him.

You place your hands on his shoulders and pull him closer to you, letting your lust for him take over all of your senses. There was no turning back. Not after he found out that you are not indifferent to him at all and that the future with him does not seem as scary and terrible to you as it was at the beginning.

"You had no right to treat him like that." You say this as he manoeuvres you around the room and past where Fevas is still hanging from the ceiling. He pushes you deeper into his chambers and closes his bedroom door behind you.

"As if you wouldn't do the same to the emperor's daughter, if you could…" He responds sarcastically, stripping off his armour and not wasting a moment, as if he were afraid you would change your mind and start fighting him again.

"Shut up." You use the voice on him with a cocky smirk. He lifts his head, staring at you in surprise. You step back, sitting on the bed, keeping your gaze on him the entire time. "On your knees." You order in a low, suggestive tone of voice, not hiding your smirk as he is forced to obey your command right away. "Come to me." You command him, your eyes glistening dangerously as you notice his length twitch beneath his loincloth. "Good boy." You say teasingly, stroking his head as he kneels between your legs.

"Are you aware of what kind of dangerous game you are playing right now, my little witch?"

"If I were still a full-fledged Bene Gesserit, I would probably put you to the gom-jabbar test of humanity right now. You put your hand in the box, and you feel unimaginable pain until you prove that your awareness is stronger than your instincts. I'm sure Irulan or another Bene Gesserit was assigned to do this to you. I barely managed to stop one of them from giving you... a drug that would make it easier for her to convince you to extend your bloodline through her womb. Back to the topic... we both know how this test would end for you, right? How quickly would you get horny? How quickly would you tremble for release? How quickly would you show me that you love it when I hurt you, my Na-Baron?"

"Don't torment me, witch. You've been doing this for too long." He growls, moving his hands to your legs and pushing the fabric of your dress higher as he exposes your legs to him.

"You're right… why put your hand in a box when it can be useful elsewhere? Undress me." He laughs hoarsely, having no choice but to obey your command.

"You don't have to use the voice on me to make me follow this kind of orders."

"I thought the Harkonnens did not obey anyone?" You ask defiantly, raising an eyebrow at him as he licks his lips, carefully examining every inch of your (finally) exposed skin.

"I thought the Bene Gesserit didn't love anyone?"

You did not answer. You lean down, cupping his cheeks in your hands, and kiss him passionately, finally allowing yourself to express all the feelings and desires you had been hiding deep inside for so long.

"I need to feel you." He growls, pushing you onto your back. He climbs up you, placing kisses all over your body until he's hovering just above your face. He stares at you for a moment, spreads out beneath him, ready to finally take him in, and decides that his fantasies are a poor comparison to the real thing.

You both moan, resting your foreheads against each other as his pre-cum, leaking hard length, rubs against your wet entrance. You wrap your legs around his hips. You run your hand down his spine, sinking your nails into his neck as he abuses yours, kissing, nipping, and marking it as his property.

And when he is finally about to unite you and get rid of the tension between you for good, someone knocks on his door. He groans in protest and leans in to kiss you to shush you when you let out an uncontrollable laugh at his reaction to the sudden interruption.

"You should go." You say as you manage to place your hand on his chest and gently push him away from you. "This could be something important."

"Woman… how much patience I spent on you…" He growls, pressing his forehead against your temple. The knocking on the door is more insistent. His brother calls out to him furiously, and you can't help but smile as you watch his internal struggle.

Seeing your amusement, he spanks your pussy. You scream, trying to block out the sound against his shoulder so that only Feyd can hear it and not his brother, who is banging on the door. He chuckles, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling your scent.

"Stay here. Don't move an inch. I will be right back. If I don't find you in this bed naked and ready for me, I will beat that ass of yours red. You won't be able to leave these chambers for a month." He gives you a threatening warning. You roll your eyes and pull him into a kiss, teasing him and pulling away from him in a moment when he wanted to deepen it.

"I'll be waiting." You promise, out of breath after the kiss. "On the way, tell your servants to take Fevas to the infirmary."

"Next time I will kill him without hesitation. Or any other lover of yours."He promises as he puts on his clothes. You crawl to the edge of the bed and help him put his armour on faster.

"I am very aware of this, my Na-Baron." You reply snidely, still kneeling on the bed and dressing him. He rolls his eyes at you and smirks mischievously as he reaches up to pinch your nipples. You squeal, punching his shoulder. He laughs and cups your cheeks, pulling you in for one last kiss.

"I'll be back in a minute." He promises and leaves, making sure to close the door behind him quickly enough so that no one has a chance to look inside and see you naked in his bed. After all, this was a view reserved only for him.

You fall onto the bed, giggling stupidly like a teenager, as you wonder what his reaction will be to having the opportunity to fuck you as the Baron of Giedi Prime.

A cold chill runs through you as you hear footsteps in the main room. You downplay it, thinking that it was the servants who came to clean up the mess Feyd made, but too much silence starts to make you suspicious. You stand up and put on some clothes before reaching for the knife attached to your thigh.

You open the door and slowly leave the room. Fevas was gone, but something was still bothering you, giving you a strange feeling of being observed. You could feel someone's presence on your back.

You avoid a sudden attack from behind and quickly cut your attacker's throat. Before you can turn around, you receive a powerful kick in the back. You stumble and fall forward, but quickly get back up, taking in your surroundings. Three women dressed entirely in black slowly surround you, each of them armed to the teeth. You tense up, ready to use the voice, but just as you're about to, you're grabbed from behind.

You only manage to stab your attacker before a cloth is placed against your nose. You struggle, trying to fight the women as hard as you can before the sedative takes effect. After a few moments, however, darkness enveloped you. But before you lose consciousness completely, you notice the familiar Bene Gesserit symbol tattooed on the women's wrists.

What catches your eye most before you hit the floor is the familiar skirt of Princess Irulan's dress.

To be continued...

Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit - pt.iii

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

summary: As Jenna becomes more entwined in your life, you find yourself pulled deeper into the high-stakes world of racing—looks like you've got yourself your first race.

word count: 8.4k

————

The garage is usually alive with the hum of engines, the clank of tools, and the scattered voices of the crew. Everyone has their own rhythm here, groups within the crew naturally falling into place as they work on separate projects. But today is different. As soon as you walk in, you notice the shift.

The crew is huddled around Anton who has his phone out, their laughter cutting through the usual noise. You can't see what's on the screen from where you stand, but whatever it is, it's got everyone's attention. Curiosity pulls you in closer, your brow furrowing.

As you approach, Anton's voice carries over the group, smooth and teasing. "And here she is, looking all serious and focused... but wait for it..."

The guys chuckle, and you stop in your tracks, confused. You can't quite make out what's on the screen yet, but the way they're talking—it feels weirdly intimate. You shake your head, taking a few more steps forward, trying to get a look.

Anton continues, now with a mocking tenderness. "Right there! Look at that—I believe that's what we call young love, folks."

The laughter rises again, and something clicks. A sinking feeling erupts in your stomach. Heart racing, you push through the crowd until you finally see the screen. Your heart skips.

It's you. And her. Jenna.

There it is—your encounter in the garage yesterday. The split-second moment when you locked eyes with her, the subtle smirk she flashed your way. The way your hand wrapped over hers as she was holding the wrench. It all plays out on the surveillance screen, frozen in time, but somehow magnified, more intimate than you even remember.

Shit.

"Awh, my little Y/n's all grown up," Anton coos, not missing a beat as he notices you standing there now. His voice is laced with smugness. "Didn't know you had it in you."

You clench your jaw, "Shut up, Anton."

"Oh, come on! It's cute," one of the guys calls out, nudging you as if this whole situation isn't embarrassing. "A girl like that?" another crew member hollers with a whistle. "She's no Brimstoner, that's for sure. Where'd you find her, Y/n?"

As you look around you notice that everyone is looking at you with curiosity. You let out a breath. It seems like no one was able to recognize Jenna from the race. No one knows she's from Summer Valley—that she's a Viper.

"It's not what it looks like," you mumble, trying to sound indifferent.

Anton lets out a low laugh. "Sure it's not. Admit it, you've got yourself a girl now."

The teasing hits deeper than it should, and you feel your heart pounding. They're all grinning, eating this up, but for you, it's just a reminder—you still haven't texted her. Despite knowing your answer, you weren't sure when it was appropriate to text her, it's only been about 12 hours since you dropped the girl off at her home. And you were dreading seeing her again.

"Alright, alright, enough about Y/n's mystery girl. Everyone, get back to work!" Anton says, half-joking but with a playful edge. "I need a word with my cousin."

The rest of the crew grumbles as they scatter, returning to their tasks. Anton slings an arm around your shoulder, guiding you over to the car you'd stolen the night before.

"Market value on this baby is through the roof," he says, his fingers trailing along the sleek metal. "You probably won't need to work for a while after this score."

"Yeah," you reply, your mind already preparing for the real reason Anton pulled you aside.

"So... who's the girl?"

Who is she? The question lingers, heavier than you'd like to admit. What could you even tell him when you didn't fully know yourself?

"She's just someone I met at a pub a while back," you lie smoothly.

Anton clutches his chest dramatically. "You're hitting up pubs without me now? I thought we did everything together!"

"It was after one of my sales," you say, rolling your eyes. "I needed to unwind, grabbed a drink, and met her. Simple as that."

He raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. "I've never seen a Brimstoner that looked like that."

"She's not from Brimstone," you say quickly, the words tumbling out. "She's from... Ridgewater."

"Ridgewater, huh?" Anton mutters, as if that explains everything. "So, she your girlfriend?"

The question catches you off guard, heat creeping up your neck and flooding your cheeks. You'd been battling that blush since you stepped into the garage, memories of the night before playing on a loop in your mind. Everything about her made your pulse quicken. The thought of being her girlfriend... it sent a jolt of excitement through you, one you weren't quite ready to face. It was too early to sort out your feelings, but you couldn't deny she was stunning, and the pull between you both was undeniable. The lingering glances, the teasing banter, the subtle touches—there was a chemistry brewing between you two that you couldn't ignore.

"We're just... talking," you reply, though a small part of you wonders why you didn't just say she was a friend. Too late now.

"Anyway, what did you want to talk about?" you ask, eager to change the subject.

"It's actually about your girl's ends," Anton begins, leaning in. "I've got some friends from Ridgewater in town, and they're looking for a friendly race with our club."

You raise a brow, not quite sure why this involved you.

"I, uh, might've mentioned your name for a race against one of their drivers," he admits, mumbling the last part under his breath.

"Anton, what the hell?!" you snap.

"Come on! It's just for fun—one race, no big deal. No stakes. You don't even have to wear a Sinner jacket."

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to keep calm, but you still end up rambling. "Anton, you know how I feel about this stuff. I... I still don't even know what I want. I've never raced before. I'm going to suck."

"You could lose by an hour, and I wouldn't care," he says with a shrug. "I just want you to give it a shot, Y/n. Like I said, no stakes—just a little friendly racing."

You sigh, unsure but softening. "I'll think about it."

Anton nods, clearly taking your indecision as progress. A week ago, you would've shot him down without a second thought. "Race is in a week today, 7 p.m., same spot as last time," he says, already walking off with a wave.

He stops just before he reaches the other end of the garage, turning back with a grin. "Oh, and invite your girl! Bet she'll find it hot!"

And just like that, your cheeks burn again.

You blame your inexperience with girls for how easily your cheeks betray you. It's just embarrassment, that's all. Now, you're apparently faking a relationship and have a race tomorrow. Perfect.

Needing to clear your head, you turn toward your workbench, ready to lose yourself in modifications to the car you'd stolen. But the moment you pick up the wrench, an involuntary smile stretches across your face.

"Oh, you've got it bad," a familiar voice chuckles behind you.

You groan, not again. Bracing yourself for another round of teasing, you turn around only to feel a sense of relief wash over you. It's just Hunter.

Hunter always seemed out of place among the crew. He was too pure to be mixed up in Brimstone—too decent. But everyone had their reasons for being here.

"You're lucky no one recognized her," he whispers, stepping up beside you.

"W-what?" you stammer, caught off guard.

"I was right next to you at the Vipers' race, remember?"

Your eyes widen, your heart rate kicking up a notch as you realize he knew who—or rather what Jenna was. Although you trust Hunter, it only takes one slip for the crew to find out about your association with a Viper.

"Relax, my lips are sealed," he says with a reassuring smile. "You were practically making heart eyes at her the whole race though—hard not to notice."

"I was not watching her like that!" you protest, maybe too quickly.

"Uh-huh, and I'm not gay. Come on, Y/n/n, let's not lie."

You drop the wrench and face him, unsure of why he was so accepting of this. "You don't think it's weird that she's a Viper? We're supposed to be, like... sworn enemies!"

Hunter smirks. "Please. That's half the thrill, isn't it? And since when have you ever avoided doing something just because it's 'not allowed'?"

You both glance at the car you stole and burst into laughter.

"We're not dating," you start. "I wouldn't even say we're friends. Last night was the first time I saw her again since the race, and that's what you saw on the camera footage." You find yourself admitting more than you planned to, trusting the older guy more than you expected.

"Do you want to date her?" Hunter asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" You blurt out, way too fast.

Hunter just narrows his eyes, giving you that look. "I thought we agreed no more lying."

You fumble for words. "I-I mean, I don't even know her! I've known her for what, four hours? Sure, she's beautiful—okay, really beautiful—but that doesn't mean I'm thinking about a relationship." You pause, trying to gather your thoughts. "Besides, I've got a lot going on right now. You know that."

"You and your excuses," Hunter sighs. "When are you going to start living for yourself? I care about you like a little sister, and you need to take chances before you regret it. If you keep waiting for the 'perfect time,' you'll just end up with a bunch of what-ifs. If you don't know what you want, how will you ever find out if you don't try?"

This is the third person to lecture you about your life choices and philosophy in the span of two weeks. Anton, Jenna, and now Hunter. Clearly you were doing something wrong if more than one person has called you out on it.

"Alright, I want to—I want to get to know her," you finally manage to say. "I should probably text her, right?"

"She gave you her number?" Hunter asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod. "Yeah, last night. But it's only been 12 hours, I don't want to seem desperate."

"Oh my god, text her, you idiot!"

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pull out your phone, search for Jenna's name, but you couldn't find her number. You go to your recently added numbers and smile at the name she saved herself as: Your Favourite Viper. You send her a text.

"What'd you say?" Hunter asks leaning closer taking a look at your screen.

"Hey? You fucking just said 'hey'?" He looks at you incredulously. "I thought lesbians were supposed to move fast. At this rate you'll maybe get a hug in a couple years."

Before you can fire back, your phone lights up, showing an incoming call.

"Holy shit," you mutter, eyes darting to Hunter in panic.

"Answer it! Oh my god, see what she wants!" he whispers urgently, practically vibrating with excitement.

You stare as her name flashes across the screen with shaky hands. It was just another call. Just another girl. Why are you so nervous?

You take a breath and answer. "Hello?"

"Hey Greaser! You busy right now?"

Even though the phone isn't on speaker, Hunter's glued to your side, frantically shaking his head and mouthing, No! Say no! His exaggerated hand gestures make you laugh.

You laugh at how insane he looks. "No, I'm free. What's up?"

"Great. Meet me at Birch and 49th."

"Why? What's happeni—"

Before you could finish your sentence you're caught off by a beep, indicating the call ended. "Anddd she hung up," you sigh.

"I like her," Hunter grins. "She's got moxie."

"Where even is Birch and 49th?" you ask, frowning.

"Hold on, I got you." He pulls out his phone, tapping around for a moment. "That's weird. It's a shopping mall in Summer Valley."

"A mall?" you echo, confused. "Is she taking me shopping. What the fuck?"

The older guy laughs and shrugs. "No one told you to go after a girl from Summer Valley."

"I'm not going after anything."

"Sure you're not," he teases, smirking. "Yet, you're still heading to this mall. Sounds like you're going after her."

You flip him off with a grin as you walk away.

"Keep me posted, Greaser!" he calls out, teasing.

You shake your head, already feeling the nerves returning. If you're really going to meet Jenna, you need to pull it together.

You decide it's best to meet Jenna with some leverage—maybe some news on Percy.

You spot Anton deep in conversation with Madison, just like the day of the race against the Vipers.

"Yo, Ant! I'm heading out!" you call, interrupting them without a second thought. You weren't in the mood for formalities.

Both of them turn, startled by your sudden presence. There's something off about them—stressed, maybe? Anton looks angry, but whatever flash of frustration you thought you saw vanishes quickly. "Oh, hey. Where you headed?" he asks, casual but guarded.

"Just heading to the Valley to look for some parts," you lie smoothly, keeping your story close to the truth. No need to risk getting caught if someone actually sees you at the mall.

Anton nods, signaling the end of the conversation, but you're not done yet. You clear your throat. "Actually, speaking of Summer Valley, what's the deal with that Percy guy?"

Anton's brow furrows, and Madison gives you a curious look. "I saw him at the race," you explain with a shrug, trying to play it off casually. "He just gave off a bad vibe, like he was up to no good or something."

The tension between them is palpable, but neither of them dives into it. Anton brushes it off, saying, "He's just a dumbass."

At the same time, Madison leans in with, "What'd you see?"

You turn to Madison, sensing she might let something slip. "He was talking to someone. It looked... heated?"

"Georgie," she whispers under her breath, barely loud enough for you to catch. But you do.

Before you can ask more, Anton steps in, commanding the conversation, clearly trying to shift focus. "Look, Y/n, he's bad news. I don't know what those Vipers get up to in their little after-school club, but I don't want you getting involved, okay? Vipers are trouble. Stay clear of them."

"Yeah, don't worry," you reassure him, hiding the fact that you're about to meet up with one very soon.

Suddenly Hunter's words echo in your head again: If you don't know what you want, how will you ever find out if you don't try? He was right. And now, you figure the best way to shift the conversation is by dropping a bombshell of your own.

"I'll do the race," you say, throwing out the unexpected decision.

Anton's eyes widen in surprise, and you can tell that you've just given him the perfect distraction from Percy and the Vipers.

————

As you start your drive, you can't help but notice the streets are teeming with more drugged-up souls than usual. Young, old—it didn't seem to matter; the drug epidemic in Brimstone spared no one. A familiar ache settles in your chest as you watch people you once called neighbors and classmates wander aimlessly, trapped in their addiction. It was an all-too-common escape in this town—a place where ambition had no room to grow, where dreams were crushed before they even started. The further you get out of Brimstone, the fewer of them you see, like the weight of the city's decay is gradually lifting.

You pull into the bustling parking lot of the mall, the engine's rumble fading as you find a spot near the back. It's just past 6 p.m., and the place is alive with activity. Cars are circling for spaces, people weave in and out of stores, and teenagers being obnoxious. You check your phone—Birch and 49th, just like Jenna said.

Your eyes scan the area for any sign of her, but there's no sight of Jenna. You cut the engine, but the adrenaline from knowing you're about to see her again hums under your skin.

The evening air is cool as you step out, leaning against the side of your car, trying not to seem too anxious. You check your phone again—no new messages, no calls. Maybe you should text her and let her know you're here.

Before you can even unlock your phone, the sound of soft footsteps approaching catches your attention. Instinctively, you straighten up, your eyes tracing the sleek black loafers in front of you. Slowly, you lift your gaze, and there she is—Jenna. That same confident smirk that's been etched into your mind since the last time you saw her.

She's wearing a flowy brown skirt paired with a black cashmere sweater, looking almost... harmless?

"You done checking me out?" she teases.

Your eyes snap up to meet hers. Despite her bold words, you catch the faint blush colouring her cheeks, and you can't help but hope it's because of you, not the cool evening breeze.

"Yeah, I am," you shoot back with a smirk, holding her gaze confidently.

She rolls her eyes, but smiles whilst doing so. "Alright Casanova, come on," she starts walking away from you, and you follow with no hesitation.

"Wait we're actually going to the mall?" You ask confused, as she leads you both to one of the entrances.

"Yes? Why else would I call you here. Tonight, I'm taking you shopping."

You didn't actually think she called you to go shopping.  You were only joking when you said that to Hunter.  Yet here you are.

You blink at her, caught completely off guard. "Shopping?"

"Yeah," she laughs, walking into the mall. "Come on, you'll need to keep up."

You follow her lead, trying to figure out how shopping was part of her plan to one-up Percy. A race? Sure. A late-night coffee run? Maybe. But shopping? This was a curveball.

"You're taking me shopping?" you ask again, almost incredulous.

"Yeah," she repeats with a teasing look. "You need a better jacket. That one's not cutting it."

You glance down at your worn-out jacket. It's not exactly new, but it's comfortable. "What's wrong with my jacket?"

"Nothing," she shrugs, her eyes flicking over you, clearly enjoying this. "But I want to see you in something that fits my vibe.  Something that makes you look like you're not from Brimstone."

Her words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you're unsure how to respond.  The idea of her buying you something feels... strange.  It wasn't like you needed new clothes—especially not from some fancy Summer Valley mall.  Your jacket was fine, and if it wasn't, you'd handle it.  But the fact that she wants to spend money on you?  It makes your stomach twist.  You couldn't help but wonder if she saw you as some kind of charity case—a girl from Brimstone who couldn't afford to keep up with her polished lifestyle.

You didn't want to be a project for her, someone she could mold to fit her world.  The thought makes you feel a bit defensive, but you swallow it down, not wanting to ruin the moment.  You glance at her again, her playful expression making it harder to argue.  Maybe this wasn't a charity thing.  Maybe she just liked you.

Still, it felt...weird.

You roll your eyes but can't help the smirk tugging at your lips. "So, what, you're my personal stylist now?"

She grins. "Maybe."

The two of you wander through the mall. The overhead lights cast a soft glow, reflecting off the shop windows as Jenna leads you into one of the higher-end clothing stores you'd probably never step foot in on your own.

She immediately heads toward the jacket section, flipping through racks like she's done this a million times.  You hang back, watching her with a mix of amusement and curiosity. There's something weirdly endearing about how serious she is about this.

Jenna pulls out a black leather jacket, holding it up and inspecting it. "This," she says confidently, turning to you. "Try it on."

You raise an eyebrow but take the jacket from her. As soon as you slip it on, you feel the weight of the leather, the way it fits snugly across your shoulders. It's different—definitely edgier than anything you'd pick out for yourself.  It resembled the Sinner's jacket only in that it's a black leather jacket, but something about it was entirely different—it was more you.

Jenna steps back, appraising you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. "Now that," she says, her voice a little lower, "is hot."

You glance at yourself in the mirror, feeling a little out of place but... liking it.  You catch Jenna's eyes in the reflection, and for a second, the air between you feels charged, like there's something unsaid hanging between the two of you.

"Alright," you say, clearing your throat, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. "I guess it's not bad."

"Not bad?" she teases, stepping closer to you. "You look like a Viper that got dipped in ink."

"Is that your plan?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Turn me into one of you?"

"Maybe," she replies, her voice light but her eyes lingering on yours a moment too long. "One step at a time, Greaser."

You laugh, shaking your head, and take off the jacket. "Okay, your turn."

Jenna raises an eyebrow. "My turn?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning now.  "If I'm trying on stuff for you, you're doing the same for me."

You have the money to spend, you just don't spend it on clothes, so one high-end purchase wasn't going to be the end of the world for you.

Jenna looks like she's about to protest, but then she shrugs, her lips curving into a playful smile.  "Alright, let's see what you've got."

You head toward a rack of clothes, picking out something you think would suit her but also give her a taste of her own medicine—something just slightly outside her usual vibe.

You hand her a dark red bomber jacket.  "Try this."

Jenna eyes the jacket before smirking at you. "I see what you're doing."

"Just trying to give you a taste of your own advice," you say, crossing your arms.

She rolls her eyes but takes the jacket anyway, slipping it on.  And of course, she pulls it off effortlessly. The red complements her dark hair and pale skin perfectly, and for a moment, you're speechless.

"Well?" she asks, spinning around with a grin. "How do I look?"

"Like you could kick someone's ass and look good doing it," you say without missing a beat.

Jenna laughs, and it's the kind of genuine, carefree sound that makes your chest tighten a little.  The two of you continue bantering, trying on ridiculous combinations of clothes, mixing high-end with completely impractical.

By the time you leave the store, both of you are laughing, arms full of shopping bags—most of which Jenna insisted on buying.

As you step back out into the quiet night and you drop off your bags in your respective cars, she turns to you, her playful smirk softening into something more genuine.

"That was fun," she says, nudging your shoulder.

You smile back, feeling lighter than you've felt in a while. "Yeah, I guess it was."

Jenna looks at you closely, searching your face, as if trying to read whether you're on the same page as her—whether you've enjoyed this evening as much as she has, and if you're not ready to call it a night just yet.

"Want to get ice cream?" she asks suddenly, her voice casual but her eyes giving her away.  There's a hint of something more in the offer, like she hopes this isn't the end.

You can't help but smile at the unexpected suggestion.

"Why not?" you say with a grin. "This one's on me."

With that, the two of you run back into the mall, a sense of urgency and excitement as you try to beat the closing time. Laughter echoes between you as you race toward the ice cream shop, determined to grab your scoops.

————

"So how exactly does shopping fit into your plan?" you ask, taking a bite of your ice cream.

The two of you ended up sitting on the edge of the now quiet parking lot, legs dangling over the curb as you chatted.  Finally, you decide to address the question that's been nagging at you all evening.

"Plan?" Jenna echoes, pausing mid-bite as she swallows her ice cream.

"Yeah, the whole thing with Percy—finding out his secrets?" you explain, slightly confused as to why you even need to clarify.

"Wait, so you're helping me?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah? Isn't that why you asked me out?" you reply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You didn't text me back saying yes. How was I supposed to know?"

You give her a look. "...Then why'd you invite me out?" you ask, still confused.

"Because I could," she says casually, like it's no big deal. "You said you weren't busy."

You blink at her, still trying to piece it together. "So, you just... invited me out for no reason?"

Jenna tilts her head, giving you a playful smile. "Do I need a reason?"

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. The girl sitting next to you is a complete enigma.  First, she ropes you into some covert mission to gather dirt on Percy, and now she's taking you shopping and out for ice cream like it's a casual hangout.

"Well... I guess not," you mumble, feeling a little off-balance.

Jenna takes another bite of her ice cream, her gaze drifting up to the fading evening sky. "Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you.  Ever think of that?"

Your heart skips a beat at her words, but before you can react, she nudges you with her elbow, breaking the tension.  "Plus, I figured if I was going to enlist your help with the whole 'Percy situation,' I might as well reap all the benefits."

You frown, puzzled. "Like what?"

She shrugs, smirking at you. "Like seeing you in that jacket. You look good, by the way."

You can't help but laugh at that, shaking your head.  "So this was all an elaborate ploy to dress me up?"

Jenna grins. "Maybe."

You shake your head with a blush, a soft chuckle escaping you. "You'll see me in it again next week."

Jenna raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's happening next week?"

"I'm racing."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Wait, seriously? You've joined the Sinners now? And you're just casually dropping that on me?"

You wave your hand dismissively. "Not exactly. It's just an exhibition race.  A week today at 7.  Same place as where we met actually. I figured it's a good chance to see if it's for me, you know?  No commitments yet."

Jenna nods thoughtfully, her expression shifting from shock to approval. "Well, it's about time you took the wheel—literally and figuratively." She smirks. "One step closer to sorting out all your issues, huh?"

"Mhmm, so you coming?"

Jenna looks taken aback by your serious tone. "How would that work? What would your crew think?"

With a sigh, you finally reveal, "They think you're my girlfriend."

She nearly chokes on her ice cream. "What?"

"They saw footage of us last night in the garage and, well... yeah. Thankfully, they didn't recognize you. I told them you're from Ridgewater."

"Ridgewater?" She scrunches her nose in disgust. "Ugh, even I can't stand those snobs."

"You're literally in the same tax bracket," you fire back, amused.

"We're way more tolerable," she insists, clearly offended. "But seriously, how could you let us get caught on camera? Don't you know there are cameras in your club's garage?"

"It's not my club. And yeah, I know, but no one ever checks them. I have no idea why Anton did that day."

Jenna sighs, the sound dripping with annoyance. The noise hits you hard, like a voice inside your head that reminds you that this doesn't mean anything, she hates being seen with you and all she cares about is risking your alliance. It stings, leaving you wondering if she's only hanging around because she needs something from you.

Wanting to shift the mood, you bring up what you overheard earlier. "Is there a Georgie in your club?"

Her eyes narrow with curiosity. "Yeah, there is. Why?"

You explain the interaction with Anton and Madison, how Madison had whispered Georgie's name when you mentioned seeing Percy having a heated conversation at the race. "I have a feeling he could help with your plan."

Jenna hums thoughtfully. "I'll get Emma to work on him," she says, already tapping away on her phone.

"Emma?" you ask.

"Yeah, she's a friend in the club. One of the few nice ones. Georgie's got a thing for her, so she'll probably be able to squeeze some info out of him."

You nod, piecing it together. That must've been the girl you saw her talking to at the race. Still, the earlier sting lingers in your chest. It bothers you more than you'd like to admit that Jenna might only see you as a means to an end.

The mood feels heavier now, so you stand up. "It's getting late. I should head back."

Jenna pauses, clearly wanting to say something more. A part of her seemed to regret driving herself here. If she hadn't, maybe this night could've stretched out longer, and you could've dropped her home like you did the previous night. But she nods, keeping her thoughts to herself. "Yeah. I guess you should."

————

The week flew by in a blur, and before you knew it, race day was here. Your first race.

You and Jenna had been texting off and on all week—mostly about the frustrating lack of progress with Percy, but there'd been some banter too, the kind that was just toeing the line between playful and flirty. At least, you hoped it was flirting.

Your nerves buzzed as you pulled up to the track, the sun starting to dip behind the skyline. The place was already alive with revving engines and the thick smell of burning rubber.

Unlike the Viper race a few weeks back, there wasn't any strict segregation going on. Sure, the Ridgewater crew—the Ravens—hung out on one side, and the Sinners were mostly on the other, but people were still mixing. Talking. No tension, no invisible lines drawn in the sand.

Stepping out of your car, the weight of the moment finally started to hit you. Anton and the crew were scattered around, but your mind kept drifting. You were thinking about the race, sure, but also about her. You hadn't seen Jenna since the mall, and even though she texted you "Good luck" this morning, the thought of her showing up was stuck in your head.

And yeah, you were buzzing to see if she'd actually come.

Hunter appeared at your side, breaking your thoughts with a friendly clap on the back. "Ready for this?" he asked, wearing that usual cocky grin of his.

You took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. I think I am."

"Good," he said with a laugh. "Because everyone's waiting to see what you're made of." He gave you a little shove, then wandered off to catch up with the others.

With one more deep breath, you walked over to where Anton and the rest of the crew were hanging out. The adrenaline was kicking in, but so was that nagging thought in the back of your mind—Would Jenna show up?

"Sweet jacket Y/n, looks like you finally splurged on yourself huh?" Anton laughs, pulling you into a bear hug.

You grin, knowing full well the jacket wasn't your doing but Jenna's. The rest of the crew were hyping you up, throwing questions your way about the race—how you were feeling, if you were ready—typical racer small talk. You played along, but your mind kept drifting.

The group started to thin out as people dispersed, and your eyes wandered over to the pillars near the edge of the lot, the spot where you first met Jenna. It was hidden, quiet—your secret spot. Was she here?

You started walking toward it, curiosity pulling you closer. That's when you saw them—four Ravens, the Ridgewater crew in their signature blue, standing around in a tight circle, talking to someone you couldn't see clearly at first. But as you got closer, the fifth person came into view.

She did come after all.

Your heart skipped a beat, that giddy excitement rising up. But that feeling was quickly replaced by something else. Her expression wasn't one of excitement or amusement. No, she looked uncomfortable. You could see it in her stiff posture, the way she subtly shifted as the Ravens talked around her.

You step closer, the voices of the Ravens becoming clearer as you approach. One of them, a tall guy with bleach-blond hair, was leaning in a little too close to Jenna, his smirk all too familiar.

"Come on, sweetheart, why don't you ditch the pillars and hang with us tonight? We're a lot more fun," he drawls, eyeing her in a way that made your blood boil.

Jenna's eyes narrow, her body language practically screaming discomfort, though she keeps her cool. "Yeah, I'm not interested," she says flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Blondie chuckles, not getting the hint—or choosing to ignore it. "I don't see any affiliation on you," he retorts, motioning to her lack of a jacket. "You're no Raven, not a Sinner either. You're a free agent, sweetheart. Why stick around?"

That's when you decide you've heard enough.

Stepping into the circle, you make your presence known. "She's with me."

The guy looks at you with an unimpressed raise of his brow, but before he can say anything, you shrug off your jacket—the one Jenna had bought for you—and drape it over her shoulders. "She's mine," you say, locking eyes with him, daring him to push it further.

Jenna's cheeks flush a soft pink, her eyes darting to yours, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness. She instinctively grips the jacket tighter around her, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the situation.

Blondie snorts, glancing at his buddies before looking back at you. "Alright, alright, no need to get possessive. We were just talking." He raises his hands defensively, but the look in his eyes says he's not completely backing down. Still, they start to shift away, slowly retreating as the tension fades.

Once they're out of earshot, you turn to Jenna, your expression softening. "You okay?"

She nods, her lips curving into a grin. "Nice save," she says, still clutching the jacket. "I didn't know you were the possessive type."

You chuckle, feeling the adrenaline from the confrontation fade. "Just making sure they knew the deal."

"Yeah, well, I could've handled it." She smiles, but there's a twinkle in her eye. "But...thanks for the jacket." Her blush deepens, and you can't help but feel a little victorious seeing her like that again.

"Anytime," you reply, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The race may be on your mind, but right now, it's her that's making your heart race.

You glance over your shoulder to check if anyone can see you, but Anton is deep in conversation with what looks like the leader of the Ravens, drawing all the attention his way. Typical Anton.

"I didn't think you'd show up," you admit, turning your gaze back to Jenna, noticing how your jacket swallows her frame, the sleeves hanging past her hands. Somehow, it looks perfect on her.

"How could I miss your first race?" she teases, her lips curling into a smirk. "You could walk out of this a full-fledged Sinner if you end up loving it."

That thought hadn't really crossed your mind before. What if you did enjoy racing? Were you really going to add "racer" to your list of titles? And if you hated it—what then? Would you leave Brimstone behind for good? Your mind starts spinning with all the possibilities, but you stop yourself before the spiral goes too deep. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

Jenna tilts her head thoughtfully. "You said this race had nothing on the line right? Just a friendly race?"

You nod, though a flicker of doubt lingers.

"Then yeah," she says, her voice firm. "I think it's fair for you to give it a shot. Figure out what you want." Her eyes meet yours, steady and reassuring. "Sometimes, you don't know until you try."

Her words calm the storm in your mind, and for the first time tonight, the weight of your choices feels a little lighter.

"I'm totally making fun of you if you lose though," she adds, giving you a playful wink.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Of course you will," you reply, trying to play it cool, though her teasing still makes your heart skip a beat.

She smirks, leaning back against the pillar with a casual confidence that somehow makes you feel even more jittery. "Just trying to keep you grounded, you know. Can't let you get a big head if you win."

"Like I need help with that," you shoot back with a grin.

For a moment, the banter eases your nerves. But then the reality of the race looming ahead creeps back in, and you glance over to where your car is parked, engines revving in the distance. The scene is alive with anticipation, and you can feel the electricity in the air, building up to something big.

"Seriously though," Jenna adds, her tone softening, "I think you'll do great. You've got the skill, the focus. Just don't overthink it, okay?"

Her words hit deeper than you expected, and you feel a warmth spreading through your chest. "Thanks," you murmur. "I'll try not to."

She gives you a small nod, her eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before flicking to the track behind you. "Go show them what you've got," she says, her voice soft but full of that undeniable spark.

You take one last look at her before stepping back, the jacket still draped around her, fitting like she was always meant to wear it.

She must've thought that look meant you wanted the jacket back, because she started to shrug it off.

"—no, keep it on," you quickly interrupt. "I can't have anyone else bothering you, especially when I won't be there to stop them."

————

Anton stood next to you outside the car, arms crossed, his usual smirk tempered by something more serious. The roar of engines filled the air around you, and the crowd was buzzing with energy as the race time drew near.

"You ready?" he asked, eyeing the car, then looking back at you with raised eyebrows.

"As I'll ever be," you replied, your fingers itching at your side. You tried to shake off the nerves, but it was easier said than done.

Anton clapped you on the shoulder, a rare look of pride on his face. "Remember, this isn't just about winning. You gotta feel it, the rush, the adrenaline. If you're not in the zone, it's game over."

You nodded, knowing he was right. Winning is not the end goal—it was the feeling, the test, to see if this whole world was something you were cut out for. You glanced around, spotting familiar faces from the crew and a few more you didn't recognize. The Sinners, the Ravens, and everyone else, all here to watch and see what you'd do.

"I know," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Just got to stay focused."

Anton gave you a once-over, then grinned. "You're already ahead of the game. You've got your crew, and your girl showed up to watch. Not a bad start, huh?"

You chuckled, though a part of you still didn't fully understand what you were doing here—or what you were trying to prove. But you couldn't deny the thrill of the moment.

"Speaking of which, how's she doing?" Anton asked, leaning in closer. "Saw you two getting cozy earlier."

"Don't start with that," you muttered, shaking your head.

He laughed, stepping back. "Just saying, keep your head in the game. Show them what you've got."

The loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing the final call for drivers to get to the line. Anton gave you one last pat on the back. "Oh—and Y/n? Step on it. Don't stay in your limit."

You watched him walk off with those final words. It was time.

As you slipped into the driver's seat, adjusting your gloves and gripping the wheel, you glanced out the window toward the starting line. The pit of nerves in your stomach twisted a bit tighter when you spotted the racer pulling up next to you. Of course, it had to be him—the blondie from earlier, the one who had been hitting on Jenna.

He threw you a cocky smirk as he revved his engine, clearly more than ready to leave you in the dust. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the sight of him. Typical. He looked the part—flawless car, arrogant attitude, and an ego that seemed to fill the entire track.

Here he was, thinking he'd outshine you, thinking he had this in the bag. The thought sent a new wave of adrenaline through your veins, change of plans—winning is the end goal. It was personal now.

Settling into the driver's seat, you gripped the wheel tightly. Anton's last words echoed in your mind: "Step on it.  Don't stay in your limit." But the speed he wants? You'd never gone that fast, and you weren't sure you wanted to.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you glanced at the blond in the car next to you. He was smirking like he already had this in the bag. It The memory of him hitting on Jenna made your grip tighten even more. Then your eyes shifted to where Jenna stood, wrapped in your jacket. She met your gaze for a second, and you had to look away. God, what was I thinking? You cringed internally, remembering how you had jumped in like some hero and blurted out, "she's mine." What were you doing? This wasn't you.

The signal blared. Instinct took over, and you slammed your foot on the gas. The car roared to life beneath you, and you shot forward. The world around you blurred as the race began, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Blondie took the early lead, just as you expected. He was gunning it, probably trying to hit that 200 mark like Anton said.

You weren't even close. And you still weren't half way into the race. The speedometer was climbing fast, but the memory of your father's crash came rushing back. 200km/h—that was the speed he'd hit before everything went wrong. Your heart raced faster at the thought. No way am I hitting that. I can't. But you didn't need to. You weren't trying to match raw speed; you had something better—control, technique, and years of dodging the cops under your belt.

The first stretch was relatively straightforward, and you stayed just behind Blondie, pacing yourself. He was fast, sure, but he was reckless. You could see it in the way he took the turns, wide and messy, eating up his speed. You kept to the inside, handling each corner with precision, hugging the pavement like you were born to do this. Blondie kept glancing in his rearview, probably wondering why you weren't trying harder to catch him. He didn't get it. He didn't know you didn't need to reach that ridiculous speed to win.

The track began to curve—the finish line in sight, and you knew this was your moment. There was a sharp turn ahead, one that Blondie was approaching too aggressively. You could already see it. He wasn't going to slow down enough, and when he hit the curve, he'd either lose control or slide wide, giving you the opening you needed.

Now, you thought, pulling back just slightly as you hit the turn. You feathered the brakes, hugging the inside of the corner while Blondie flew into it way too fast. Just as you expected, his car swerved wide, giving you the perfect opportunity. You floored it, slingshotting around him with precision. He was still fighting to regain control when you shot past him.

Your heart raced, the finish line right there for the taking. The engine growled beneath you as you pushed forward, ignoring the urge to check the speedometer. It didn't matter now. You were in control, and that was all that counted. The crowd blurred into the background as the finish line rushed toward you.

You crossed first.

The roar of the crowd engulfed you like a tidal wave. Cheers erupted from every corner, your name ringing in your ears like a victory anthem. "Y/N! Y/N!" they chanted, and the excitement surged through you, igniting every nerve ending. You felt invincible, a high unlike anything you had ever experienced. The adrenaline coursed through your veins.

In that moment, you understood why people chased this feeling. It was intoxicating, addictive even, and a part of you hated that you were reveling in it. The thrill of victory mingled with the elation of having just pushed your limits. But then your eyes found her in the crowd—Jenna. She stood there, a radiant smile lighting up her face, and all at once, the adrenaline surged anew.

It was a reckless desire that ignited within you, overwhelming and raw. You wanted to kiss her, right there in front of everyone, to pull her close and celebrate your victory together. The image flickered in your mind, vivid and enticing, and suddenly, all you could think about was her. You remembered reading an article once about bank robbers who, after cracking the vault, had sex right in front of the safe due to the adrenaline. A story you once thought stupid, in that moment, it made sense. The adrenaline, the thrill of accomplishing something audacious, the heat of the moment—it was all a cocktail of desire that was too intoxicating to resist.

But as your heart raced for both the victory and for her, a small part of your mind pushed back. You couldn't deny it any longer; you wanted Jenna. You wanted her bad. And you didn't care if the crew found out who she was or if they learned she wasn't from Ridgewater. You didn't care if your alliance crumbled under the weight of it all. But as quickly as the thought ignited, a flicker of caution settled in. I can't jeopardize it for her, she's in trouble.

The cheer of the crowd faded momentarily as you wrestled with your feelings. Was this thrill rooted in the race itself, or was it because she was watching you? The two sensations intertwined, leaving you breathless. You wanted to close that distance between you—you at the finish line her at the pillars.

You leaned against your car, grinning widely as you took in the moment, the reality of what you'd just accomplished. The rush of adrenaline, the celebration of the crowd, and the promise of what was to come. With Jenna smiling back at you, you knew you were fucked. You thought with this race now over some of your questions would be answered, but now you are left with more.

————

The celebration continued long into the night, the energy of victory electrifying the air around you. The next hour unfolded in a blur of races, laughter, and clinking beer bottles. Your heart was still racing from the earlier adrenaline, but now it was fueled by the heady mix of joy and the shared exhilaration of the crowd.

As you mingled and celebrated, your eyes continuously searched for Jenna, hoping to catch a glimpse of her amidst the people. But luck was not on your side; you couldn't spot her anywhere. It was only once everyone started leaving, and you were getting ready to leave, did you spot the girl.

"Mind giving me a ride home?" she asked, knowing you won't say no.

And so there you both were, on the highway to Summer Valley. "I knew you would win," she broke the silence. "How did you like it?"

"It was...nice." you answer, eyes straight on the road. After finally admitting to yourself your growing attraction to Jenna, you found it hard to look her way; the adrenaline was still coursing through you, making your thoughts a tangled mess.

"Nice? All you're going to give me is nice?" she fires back with sass.

You laugh, "I'm just confused. I don't know if I enjoyed racing, or the attention that came from winning."

The attention that came from you.

Jenna tilted her head, studying you with a curious expression. "Come on, don't play coy with me. You know you loved it. That rush, the speed, the crowd cheering your name—it's addictive. You can't deny that."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you kept your eyes on the road. "Yeah, I guess it is. But it's more than just that. It's everything that came with it. The energy, the victory...and yo—." You cut yourself off before you regret your words.

Her brow furrowed slightly, "And what?"

You bit your lip, debating whether to dive into your feelings now or keep it light. But decided to can the idea as a whole. "Nothing, anyways was your friend able to make Georgie or whatever spill?" You ask trying to change the subject.

Jenna seemed upset about the change in topic, but didn't press it any further. "Actually yeah. He didn't give much context, but Percy's meeting someone tomorrow, and we are going to spy on that meeting," she smiles proudly.

"Sounds like a plan. Do we know anything about who he's meeting or what it's for?"

"Georgie just said something about Ghost Smoke. I don't know what that is—a new racing crew maybe? That name mean anything to you?"

"Ghost Smoke?" You parrot, making sure you heard her right. She nods her head.

From what you knew, Ghost Smoke was the latest drug that was being pushed out onto the streets. The one that's been causing the latest drug epidemic in Brimstone. If what you're thinking is true—then Percy is not someone that should be fucked with. You consider telling the girl in your passenger seat about what you know, but decide to keep quiet. Not tonight.

Before you knew it, you found yourself on the brown-eyed girl's street. You instinctively slowed down, stopping about twelve houses away—probably out of habit—but she didn't seem to mind. As she turned to you, her intense gaze pierced through the dim light, leaving you wondering what she was thinking. Was she going to lean in for another kiss on the cheek? Just as that thought flickered in your mind, it was swept away by the sound of her opening the car door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Greaser," she said, her voice playful yet filled with a hint of mystery, before walking down the road, still wrapped in your jacket.

You remained parked in the shadows of the dimly lit street, your thoughts racing as wildly as your heart had during the race. That uneasy feeling nagged at you, refusing to fade. You had thought Jenna was the answer to your questions, a beacon guiding you through the chaos, but she also seemed to be the source of many new ones. Just what was this girl pulling you into, and why couldn't you bring yourself to walk away?

next chapter

[sturnslcver]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ virulent love (series) ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

— chris sturniolo x fem reader —

— warnings, drinking, smoking, pills!

a/n: couldn’t figure out what i wanted to do for chris and y/n’s meet cute so it is heavily based off of a real life book i read, but ive already finished the rest of the story/chapters and it is all my own original ideas! enjoy! :)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

i creep up the stairs in search for my brothers apartment door. this place seems more like a historic hotel than an apartment complex, with its expansive columns and marble floors. when arlo said i could stay with him after hearing about another one of moms manic episodes, i had no idea he lived like an actual adult. I thought it’d be more similar to the last time i visited him, right after i graduated from high school, back when he had first started dealing. however, that was four years ago and a two story skimpy complex ago. that’s kind of what i was expecting. i certainly wasn’t anticipating this orderly area in the middle of downtown massachusetts. I spent all of last week packing up everything i own from mom’s house back in florida. luckily, i don’t own much. but after taking a five hundred mile drive alone today, my exhaustion is pretty obvious in my reflection. my hair is in a unsecured knot on top of my head, held together by a pencil, since I couldn't find a hair tie while I was driving. i reach into my purse to find chapstick, hoping to recover my lips before they end up as weary-looking as the rest of me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up my messages to arlo.

i can't remember which apartment number he said was his. it’s either 1372 or 1374. maybe it's 1372? i come to a stop at 1372, because there's a guy passed out on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the door to 1374. please don't let it be 1374. i find the message on my phone and cringe. it's 1374. of course it is.

i walk slowly to the door, hoping I don't wake up the guy. his legs are sprawled out in front of him, and he's leaning with his back propped up against arlo’s door. his chin is tucked to his chest, and he's snoring. "excuse me" i say, my voice just above a whisper. he doesn't move. i lift my leg and poke his shoulder with my foot. "i need to get into this apartment." he rustles and then slowly opens his eyes and stares straight ahead at my legs. his eyes meet my knees, and his eyebrows furrow as he slowly leans forward with a deep scowl on his face. he lifts a hand and pokes my knee with his finger, almost as if he's never seen a knee before. he drops his hand, closes his eyes, and falls back asleep against the door. great. arlo won't be back until tomorrow, so i dial his number to see if this guy is someone i should be concerned about. “y/n?" he asks, answering his phone without a hello. "yep," i reply. "made it safe, but i can't get in because there's a drunk guy passed out at your front door." "thirteen seventy four?" he asks. "you sure you're at the right apartment?" "positive." "are you sure he's drunk?" "positive." "weird," he says. "what’s he wearing?" "why do you want to know what he's wearing?" "if he's wearing a yellow shirt and goggles on his head he’s probably the janitor. the janitor in our complex is homeless" this guy isn't wearing any type of goggles, but i can't help but notice that his jeans and black hoodie do fit him very nicely. "no goggles," i say. “can you get past him without waking him up?" "i’d have to move him. he’ll fall inside if I open the door." he’s quiet for a few seconds while he thinks. "go back downstairs and wait in the lobby until someone can let you in" i sigh, because ive been driving for six hours, and going all the way back downstairs is not something I feel like doing right now.

“just stay on the phone with me until I'm inside your apartment" i like my plan a lot better. i balance my phone against my ear with my shoulder and dig inside my purse for the key arlo sent me. i insert it into the lock and begin to open the door, but the drunk guy begins to fall backward with every inch the door opens. he groans, but his eyes don't open again. "it’s too bad he's wasted," i tell arlo. "he’s not bad-looking." "can you just get your ass inside and lock the door so i can hang up." i roll my eyes. i’m hoping things will be different between us now that mom’s in the hospital. she was always turning us against one another. for example, by the time i was eleven, i’d saved up three hundred dollars so that i could finally get a pet hamster. she ended up stealing it and spending it on pills. she told me arlo stole it.

i wrap my purse around my shoulder, but it gets caught on my suitcase handle, so i just let it fall to the floor. i keep my left hand wrapped tightly around the doorknob and hold the door shut so the guy won't fall completely into the apartment. i take my foot and press it against his shoulder, pushing him from the center of the doorway. he doesn't budge. “arlo, he's too heavy. i’m gonna have to hang up so I can use both hands." “no, don't hang up. just put the phone in your pocket, but don't hang up." i look down at the oversized shirt and leggings I have on. “no pockets. you’re going in the bra." arlo laughs as i pull the phone from my ear and shove it inside my bra. i remove the key from the lock and drop it toward my purse, but it misses and falls to the floor. i reach down to grab the drunk guy so I can move him out of the way. “okay" I say, struggling to pull him away from the center of the doorway. "sorry." i somehow manage to prop him up against the doorframe to prevent him from falling into the apartment, and then i push the door open farther and turn to get my things.

something warm wraps around my ankle. i freeze. i look down. “let go!" i yell, kicking at the hand that's gripping my ankle so tightly I'm pretty sure it might bruise. the drunk guy is looking up at me now, and his grip sends me falling backward into the apartment when I try to pull away from him. "i need to get in there” , he mutters, just as my butt meets the floor. he makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. i pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. i use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist. “fuck!" he yells. he’s trying to pull his hand back into the hallway with him, but my foot is still pressing against the door. i release enough pressure for him to have his hand back, and then i immediately kick the door all the way shut.

i pull myself up and lock the door, the dead bolt, and the chain lock as quickly as i can. as soon as my heart rate begins to calm down, it starts to scream at me. my heart is actually screaming at me. in a deep male voice. It sounds like it's calling my name. arlo. i immediately look down at my chest and pull my phone out of my bra, then bring it up to my ear. "hello!" i wince, then pull the phone several inches from my ear. "i’m fine," i say, out of breath. "i’m inside. i locked the door." “okay" he says, relieved. "you scared me. what the hell happened?" “he was trying to get inside. i locked the door, though." i flip on the living-room light and take no more than three steps inside before i come to a halt. i slowly turn back toward the door after realizing what ive done. “arlo?" i pause. "i left a few things outside that i need. i would just grab them, but the drunk guy is still trying to get in, so there's no way I'm opening the door again. what do i do?” he’s silent for a few seconds. "what did you leave in the hallway?" i don't want to answer him, but i do. "my suitcase...and purse." “why the hell is your purse outside?" "i also left the key on the hallway floor." he doesn't even respond to that one. he just groans. "i’ll call chris and see if he's home yet. give me two minutes." "wait. who’s chris ?" "he lives across the hall. whatever you do, don't open the door again until i call you back." arlo hangs up, and i lean against his front door. i’ve lived in massachusetts all of thirty minutes. my phone rings. i slide my thumb across the screen and answer it.

"hey." "y/n?" "yeah?," i reply, wondering why he always double-checks to see if it's me. he called me, so who else would be answering it who sounds exactly like me? "i called chris." “good. is he gonna help me get my stuff?" "not exactly," arlo says. "i kind of need you to do me a huge favor." my head falls against the door again. i have a feeling the next few months are going to be full of inconvenient favors, since he knows he's doing me a huse one by letting me stay here. "what?" i ask him. "chris kind of needs your help." "the neighbor?" i pause as soon as it clicks, and i close my eyes. "arlo, please don't tell me the guy you called to protect me from the drunk guy is the drunk guy." arlo sighs. "i need you to unlock the door and let him in. let him crash on the couch. i’ll be there first thing in the morning. when he sobers up, he'll know where he is, and he'll go straight home." i shake my head. "what kind of apartment complex is this? should i prepare to be groped by drunk people every time I come home?" long pause. "he groped you?" "groped might be a bit strong. he did grab my ankle, though." arlo lets out a sigh. "just do this for me. call me back when you've got him and all your stuff inside." "fine." i groan, recognizing the worry in his voice.

i hang up on arlo and open the door. the drunk guy falls onto his shoulder, and his cell phone slips from his hand and lands on the floor next to his head. i flip him onto his back and look down at him. he cracks his eyes open and attempts to look up at me, but his eyelids fall shut again. "You're not arlo," he mutters. "no. i’m not. i’m your new neighbor." i lift him by his shoulders and try to get him to sit up, but he doesn't. i don't think he can, actually. how does a person even get this drunk? i grab his hands and pull him inch by inch into the apartment, stopping when he's just far enough inside for me to be able to close the door. i retrieve all of my things from outside the apartment, then shut and lock the front door. i grab a throw pillow from the couch, prop his head up, and roll him onto his side in case he pukes in his sleep. and that's all the help he's getting from me. when he's comfortably asleep in the middle of the living room floor, i leave him there while I look around the apartment.

the living room alone could fit three of the living rooms from arlos last apartment. arlo said he'd be back in the morning, so i’ll leave that to him. normally, i would be nervous about the fact that there's a stranger in the same apartment I'm in, but i have a feeling i don't need to worry. arlo would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. which confuses me, because if this is common behavior for chris, i’m surprised arlo asked me to bring him inside.

i head back to the living room to turn out the lights, but when ive rounded the corner, i come to an immediate halt. not only is chris up off the floor, but he's in the kitchen, with his head pressed against his arms and his arms folded on top of the kitchen counter. he’s seated on the edge of a bar stool, and he looks as if he's about to fall off it any second. i can't tell if he's sleeping again or just attempting to recover. "chris?" he doesn't move when i call his name, so i walk toward him and gently lay my hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. the second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream. or a nightmare. immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. he begins to sway, so i throw his arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen. "come on." he drops his forehead to the side of my head and stumbles along with me, making it even harder to hold him up. we make it to the front of the couch, and i start to peel him off me. "okay, chris. whoever you are. just go to sleep." he falls onto the couch, but he doesn't let go of my shoulders. i fall with him and immediately attempt to pull away. i gently push him back into the couch, yanking my hand away. i lay his pillow down and urge him onto it. "go to sleep, chris," i say gently.

his eyelids are heavy and watering when he drops to the pillow. he grabs my hand and hums. his eyes fall shut again, and he releases a heavy sigh. i stare at him silently, allowing him to keep hold of my hand until he's quiet and still. i pull my hand away from his, but i stay by his side for a few minutes longer. even though he's asleep, he somehow still looks as if he's on edge. his eyebrows are furrowed, and his breathing is sporadic, failing to fall into a peaceful pattern. when he makes another half conscious effort to reach for my hand, i finally give in. i place my cheek on top of our hands and lean into the couch. i fall asleep on the floor next to him.

@sturnsmadison @ryli3sworld @sunnysturniolos @ariologyy @sturncakez @sturnsxplr-25 @nickmillersn1gf

[roxygen22]

Any of these fever prompts with timothee pls and thank you 😊

Love you 😘

Link 🔗

https://www.tumblr.com/lawrencespen1777/751448171874533376/whump-fever-prompts-comment-your-favorite-im?source=share

Love you, too, doll! 🥰

Prompt: "You're not thinking clearly right now."

Tether

My fingers carded through Timothee's hair, damp with sweat as he lay unconscious on the hospital bed. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor must have lulled me into a trance-like stupor; I nearly jumped out of my skin when the ER nurse pulled aside the blue curtain.

"Oh, sorry hun. I just need to hang a new bag for his meds."

I nodded and stepped aside so she could do her job. I wondered what drug they were switching to now, seeing as how the doctor wasn't even sure why Timothée's fever had spiked high enough to trigger convulsions.

Flashbacks of my best friend writhing on the couch plagued my mind and seared into my brain. He had been feeling unwell for a couple of days and had to cancel a work trip that he was looking forward to. Knowing he would be bummed, I decided to go visit, bearing his favorite snacks and a couple of movies I thought he'd enjoy from my DVD collection. He hadn't answered my texts, so I figured he was resting. I used the spare key he gave me to let myself in and-

I shuddered and shook my head to clear my thoughts. He was more than just my best friend, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise because he didn't feel the same.

I don't know what I would do if I lost him.

Once the nurse left, I resumed my position by Timothee's side, slowly drifting off as I rested my head on the bed, my hand clinging to his. I thought I was dreaming when I felt his fingers clasp mine. I quickly sat up, blinking and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I couldn't tell if hours or just minutes had passed.

"Hey," he said through a strained whisper as we locked eyes.

"Oh, Timmy, you're awake!" I lifted and kissed the back of his hand and pressed it to my cheek. "I was so scared."

"How did I get here?" he questioned, looking around as he became more lucid.

"I- I found you. I came to check on you, and...and-" The dam broke, releasing the flood of tears that had been held back by a thin veil of adrenaline. He flipped his hand to gently wipe them away with his thumb.

"You have a knack for always being there when I need you. [Y/N], I- I love you."

"I- you-?" I struggled to form a coherent response as my face contorted in disbelief. I loved him dearly but never thought he saw our friendship as anything more than that.

"[Y/N], I could hear your voice while I was out. I grabbed onto it like a tether. I wanted desperately to come back to you. The thought that I may die without ever telling you how I feel was killing me over and over again. I love you and I want to marry you."

I felt my jaw drop as my words failed me. Time crawled before my neurons fired again. "Timmy, I- I love you, too. So, so much. But I'm afraid you're not thinking clearly right now. How about we talk about this later so you don't say something you regret. Who knows if these meds have made you loopy. They wouldn't tell me anything." I stood and anxiously walked around the bed to look at the IV bag for a clue of how genuine his declarations were.

Timothée shook his head and grabbed my hand again with surprising swiftness for someone who just regained consciousness only a few minutes prior. He nervously rubbed his thumb over my left ring finger. His eyes brimmed with tears, and his voice cracked. "My [cleared throat]- my only regret is not saying it a long time ago. I know it's a little backward to ask you to marry me and then ask you out on a date, but -"

"Ask me again when we aren't in a hospital, and I will say yes to both." I bent down and kissed him gently for the first time, but certainly not the last.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess @bluizh @jindongdongie @groovy-lady @pmak2002

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Amnesia

Prompt: You experience some retrograde amnesia after you and Luke are in a car accident. 

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: car accident, trauma, blood mention

A/N: continuing to repost these :)

The first thing that you notice when you wake up is that your head is throbbing. The pain is worse than that time you and Penelope decided to go bar hopping all night when you were visiting Emily in London. It had taken two whole days for the three of you to recover.  Judging by the way you feel right now, you think it might take a whole lot longer than that to get over whatever you had been up to the night before. 

It takes a moment, but soon, you start to realize that this pain felt like much more than just a bad hangover. Your entire body aches, and when you try to touch the spot on your head that really stung, a sharp pain shoots up your entire right arm, making your eyes open slowly in response. 

Slowly, you take in the room around you, including the IV attached to your arm and the sterile, white walls. Your mouth feels dry, and your body is still in a bed that feels so much different than yours at home. 

When you feel someone touching your arm, you turn your head.

“Rossi..?” You see your coworker looking at you with worry in his eyes and tears that are threatening to spill down his cheeks. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe now.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about. Disoriented and confused, your heart starts racing. The beeping from the heart monitor suddenly increases and Rossi quickly scoots forward on the edge of his seat, squeezing your hand and telling you to calm down.   

“What happened?” you ask, your voice shaky and scared. “Why am I here?”

You’re almost afraid to know the answer. 

“You guys were in an accident, in the SUV. It’s okay, you’re okay, and he’s going to be fine…everyone’s alright now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and try to take some time to process things…an accident… in the SUV. Derek was always the one who insisted on driving. 

“Oh my god…how’s Derek?”

There’s a strange look that flashes across Rossi’s face that you can’t quite read before he gives you an uneasy and forced smile, “He’s fine, everyone’s fine. He’s at home.”

“Oh,” you sigh a breath of relief. “So he wasn’t in the accident with me?”

“No…” Rossi’s voice trails off and his tone indicates that there’s something he’s not telling you.

But you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you think to yourself, Morgan’s okay. He’s fine. And I’m… you look down to your own body and see no visible casts or slings. I’m okay. We’re okay. 

What you didn’t see was the worried look in Rossi’s face, or the way he gently excuses himself to go call the doctor as quickly as he can. 

…

A nurse comes into the room after an hour and gives you some more painkillers.   

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she injects them into your IV line. 

“Tired,” you say. “And my head really hurts.”

She nods. “That’s to be expected from the trauma you endured.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

She looks at you, “You were in a car accident.”

“I know, but like- how’d it happen?”

“I’m not entirely sure- your coworkers can probably tell you more.  But I know there was a car chase, and you ended up getting t-boned on the side of your vehicle. You suffered some head trauma, that’s why it’s taken so long for you to wake up. Probably why you’re a little groggy too. But Mr. Alvez received a few minor injuries. I think they’re starting to stitch him up now.” Just as she finishes administering the drugs, her pager goes off. 

“I’m sorry, I have to run. The doctor should be here soon though to check on you.”

Mr. Alvez. The name sounded vaguely familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. Instead, you just assume he was the one who ran into your car. The nurse hadn’t mentioned anyone else, either, so you can only assume that you were alone in the SUV.. But why would you be chasing an Unsub alone?

Your thoughts are interrupted when Rossi re-enters the room.  Except, he’s not alone. JJ, along with a middle aged female in a white lab coat and dark scrubs trail behind him.  

JJ offers you a small smile before crossing her arms across her chest and standing in the corner of the room with Rossi. They gaze at you cautiously.  

“Glad to see you’re awake,” the doctor says. “I’m Dr. Hall. You’re very lucky that you weren’t seriously injured considering the severity of the accident.” 

She takes a moment to shine a light in your eye, and then again in your ear. She checks the movement in your arms and legs, which only causes a little discomfort at this point. “I need to ask you a few things, just some standard simple questions.”

You nod slowly in agreement. 

“Can you tell me your full name?”

You nod and tell the doctor. 

“Okay, now your date of birth?”  

Again, you answer. 

“What do you remember before the accident?”

“I'm not sure, but..” you stop, feeling a little confused. “The nurse said it happened during work. That I was chasing someone, I can’t quite remember who.”

“Okay, and what do you do for work?”

“Uh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to concentrate despite your fuzzy mind. “I work for the FBI, I’m an agent for the BAU.”

“Good, and who do you work for?” 

“Aaron Hotchner,” you say. 

But something feels wrong when you look up to see the look on JJ and Rossi’s faces. JJ’s got her hand covering her mouth and she won't quite meet your gaze. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach as you watch Rossi inhale and place a comforting hand on JJ’s back. 

Dr. Hall nods slowly at you. “Okay, we’re gonna do some more tests, if you’re up for it now.”

“What’s wrong?” you looked over to Rossi, hoping that he’ll tell you what’s happening. 

Instead, he avoids your gaze. Dr. Hall is the one to speak. “It looks like there might be some retrograde memory issues going on, but we’ll need to do a quick CT just to be sure.”

“Oh my god,” you say, surprised, but also relieved to have an explanation as to why everything feels so foggy. “How much am I forgetting?”

Finally, Rossi speaks. “Morgan left the BAU three years ago,” he explains somberly. “And Hotch left a little over two years ago.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You feel like your heart might have stopped. 

Three years? You’re forgetting the last three years of your life?

You hear the heart monitor start to beep faster again as you fight to remain calm.  

The doctor puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“No need to panic,” she assures you. “This kind of thing happens, and there’s no way to know for sure what we’re looking at here until we get a CT scan, okay? So let’s not fret yet.”

You nod slowly, but can’t quite manage to look over at JJ and Rossi again. 

“My nurse here is going to take you up to get a scan. We’ll review the results when I get them, okay?”

You just nod, because what else are you going to do?

The nurse from earlier comes in with a chair.  After helping you slip into it, you don’t look back to JJ or Rossi before she wheels you out of the room. 

Turns out, the walk to the scanning room was a long one, and you hated awkward silence. So, you bring up your conversation with the nurse from earlier.

“How’s the guy who hit me doing? You said his injuries were less than mine, right?”

She pauses slightly before speaking. “The guy who hit you was arrested by your team, I think,” she says. 

“Mr. Alvez?” you ask, maybe that’s why his name was familiar.  He was the Unsub you were after.

“Mr. Alvez is getting a cut stitched up, yes. But he’s okay.”

 You frown. “I don’t understand, wasn’t Mr. Alvez the guy who hit me?”

The nurse hesitates even longer this time. “Mr. Alvez was driving your vehicle,” she explains.

“What?” You were dumbfounded and tired of everything being so confusing. 

 “Mr. Alvez was driving your vehicle, the black SUV.”

You fall silent. He must be a member of the team. With Hotch and Morgan gone, like Rossi had mentioned, it was obvious you had acquired some new team members. You can't understand why else this Alvez guy would be in the FBI car. Your head starts to hurt from the chaos.  Rather than ask more questions, you let the awkward silence take you the rest of the way to the scanning room. 

…

When you wake up later that day, you smile to see Penelope and Spencer sitting in chairs across the room. Reid has his nose in a book. Finally a familiar sight. 

“Guys,” you exhale a breath of relief. The heaviness in your chest and the throbbing in your head isn’t so bad anymore. Instead you feel safe…because that’s how Garica and Reid always made you feel. 

Spencer looks up from his book, his face breaking out into a huge grin. “Hey, you’re awake!”

“Oh my gosh,” Garcia stands up and hurries closer towards your bed. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see those beautiful eyes,” she says.  She gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before sitting down in the chair by your bedside.  

Spencer remains standing and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” your eyes wander towards the profiler and you pause. “Your hair is different,” you observe. “It’s so long.”

Reid and Garcia exchange a quick glance before turning back towards you.  Oh yeah, you thought, the missing three years. 

“Apparently I’ve lost my memory,” you laugh dryly, attempting to joke at the awkward situation. 

“So I heard,” Spencer says uneasily, his lips pressed tightly together. 

“It’s a shame I still remember your face though.” 

That remark seems to bring Spencer’s electrifying smile back. It was even enough to get a small laugh out of him. 

“So, does anyone have the highlights from the past three years?”

The smile that’s been lingering on your lips slightly fades as you realize how much you didn’t know, so much you were missing out on. 

“Who took Hotch’s place?” you ask. 

Garcia jumps in.  “Oh, that’s good news. Emily!”

Your jaw almost drops to the floor. “Emily? Our Emily?”

Garcia nods frantically, her red lips smiling excitedly. “She came back from London to help out when she found out we were down a man, and when Hotch left, they made her Unit Chief.” 

“Wow. That’s incredible, that’s such good news.” 

It’s making your head feel heavy, trying to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of your own life. You continue to play 20 questions with them until there’s a faint knocking sound at your door.  

You turn to see some familiar and some unfamiliar faces entering the room. 

The first you see is Emily. She looks almost exactly the same, which is comforting. Then there’s JJ and Rossi and Tara, who you’re relieved to recognize. But two unfamiliar men walk into the room.  They file towards the back. You try not to focus on them, because it made you uneasy. How could there be two members of your team- that you may have known for as long as three years- that you just don’t recognize? 

You try focusing on the members of your team that you did know instead. It brings you an infinite amount of more comfort.   

“How’re you doing?” Emily asks sympathetically. “We all couldn’t wait to check up on you.”

“I’m okay,” you tell her nodding, even though everyone in that room knew it was far from the truth.

“Have you gotten your CT scan results back yet?” JJ wonders.

You shake your head. “Not yet, the nurse said the doctor would be in soon, though. I guess he was finishing up a surgery.”

You can’t help but glance towards the back of the room towards the unfamiliar members of your team after a few moments. One is standing with his arms crossed, but a similarly sympathetic smile on his face as the rest of your team was wearing. But the other, with dark, curly hair and tanned skin, is staring down at the ground. He won’t meet your gaze. He has a bandage on the left side of his forehead that he keeps itching at. 

Why can't you place him?

It’s awkward and uncomfortable with the team. Something that makes you feel very uneasy, because that’s not how you remember things being at the BAU. This is your family, so why can't you wait for them to leave?

After exchanging pleasantries and promises to visit soon, the majority of the team finally started to file out of your room. 

You wave goodbye to them as they left, realizing that no one introduced you to the two unfamiliar men. You assume that they didn’t want to overwhelm you. But as soon as it was just you, Spencer, and Garcia again, you let your curiosity peak.

“Okay, who were those two guys, in the back there?” you point to where they were standing. 

“That was Matt Simmons and Luke Alvez,” Spencer explains nervously. “They’re part of the team. 

“Alvez!” you remember the name from earlier. “The nurse told me he was driving- Was he the one with the bandage?”

Spencer and Garcia exchange another nervous glance, as if they’ve been waiting for this question all along. But you can read their faces like a book, and you see the way their faces fall.

They both nod slowly. 

“Yeah.” Spencer nods. “Yeah, that was Luke. And you’re right, he was driving the SUV.” 

“Who is he?” There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you can’t quite place.

“He took over for Morgan when he left. So he joined the team a little under three years ago.” Reid explains cautiously. 

But Garcia gives a strange look, like there was something they knew that you didn’t.  

“What is it?” you ask them. You can't stand the fact that you don't know half of what was going on. 

Penelope sighs and when she speaks her voice is shaky.

“He- he is a member of the team,” she explains. “But you've also been dating him for the past two years.”

…

Luke’s gripping at his hair harshly as he paces through the halls of the hospital.  

“She has no clue-” he exclaims frustratedly. "No clue who I am.”

The truth is that he had been overly anxious to get to your room ever since arriving at the hospital. He pleaded with the doctor who was stitching up his forehead to hurry up. He needed to make sure you were okay.  

Even when a somber-looking Rossi had entered his room earlier in the day and told him you were experiencing some memory loss, he still felt like he needed to see you.  

“She didn’t remember that Emily took over for Hotch,” JJ explained to the team, all huddled in Luke’s room. “Or anything after Morgan left.” Her gaze wanders towards Luke. 

“Meaning she doesn’t remember me?” Luke had asked, wincing as the nurse continued to stitch up his wound from the accident. 

JJ bit her lip before looking to Rossi to answer his question. 

“We don’t think so,” Rossi declared. 

Luke had nodded slowly. “But we don’t know for sure? I mean they haven’t done any tests or anything?”

“They’re doing a CT scan now, I guess to see what’s really going on,” JJ had folded her arms across her chest tightly. 

Luke nodded, his hopes not faltering. He’d be what made her remember everything. One look- and all the memories would come back. Because their love wasn’t something you could just forget.  

“Just give her space, okay?” Rossi urged, he was the only thing blocking Luke from bursting through your door. “Try not to overwhelm her.”

“Yeah, okay,” Luke said without realizing what he was even promising. Because he knew that as soon as you saw him, this whole nightmare would be behind them.  

But when he did finally walk through the door to your room and your eyes didn’t immediately light up, Luke’s hopes started to quickly fall. 

In fact, you didn’t look at him at all. He bit his lip, trying not to give way to the fact that his entire world was coming crashing down around him while you told Emily that you were feeling okay. He found a spot on the floor to focus on, a single piece of dirt, or something, from somebody’s shoes remained the focal point of his gaze throughout the entire visit.  

What he wanted to do was charge your bed- wrap his arms around you and tell you how much he loved you. He wanted to say he was sorry for not avoiding the Unsub’s car- wanted to apologize over and over again until he was blue in the face. But he couldn’t do that.  Because you had no idea who he was. 

It isn't until he's out of your room and back in the hallway that he realizes he’s been holding his breath. Luke exhales sharply, panic setting in. 

Emily tries to calm him down by saying, “She might get all those memories back, Luke.”

“But she might not,” he admits, pulling even harder at the strands of his hair. 

“We don’t know that yet,” Tara reassures him.  “Oftentimes, amnesia after an accident is only temporary.”

“Okay,” he says, “Okay, but what if she doesn’t? What if I’m a stranger to her?”

Rossi steps forward this time, and grabs Luke by the shoulders. He has a stern look on his face while he lectures Luke. “Then we deal with it then,” he says. “But until then, you have to be strong for her, okay? Because she’s scared and she’s confused and she needs you to be strong.”

Luke nods as he slowly starts to come down from his panicked state.  He takes a couple of deep breaths. “Okay,” he agrees.  

…

The sun is shining outside and the little rays that escape through the blinds on the window illuminate your room when you hear the door rattle.

The door opens a second later and Garcia peeks her head in. “Hi, you’re awake!” She doesn’t open the door all the way, which makes you look questioningly at her. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

She looks at you hesitantly. “You have some people to introduce you to. If you’re up for it.” She says it like a question, and you want to say no, but there’s something about the way Garcia looks, her normally bright, vibrant self looking dull and tired, that makes you agree. 

You wonder if talking to Luke and Matt will help trigger your memory. So you give Garcia a little nod, who looks at you smiling before opening the door all the way to reveal the two men who are waiting in the hall.

Matt walks in first. He’s got a sharp jaw that’s clean shaven and a tattoo poking out from the sleeve of his T-shirt. His hands are tucked into a pair of jeans that look slightly worn. There’s warmth in his dark eyes, and a comforting smile on his face as he looks at you.

The guy that comes in behind him is Luke. He has a head of thick, curly hair, and a pair of brown eyes that pop. He’s wearing a dark maroon shirt that clings to his biceps and makes his tanned skin look even darker. There’s something sad about the way his face is mixed with both exhaustion and sorrow. He looks like he needs a good night of sleep. 

“Hey,” Matt speaks first, and you can’t help but mirror the smile that’s greeting him. “I’m Matt.”

You look at both of them intently, trying to feel something, anything…but it only makes your head feel foggier.  

“I guess this is probably pretty weird for you guys, huh?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood. “Introducing yourself to someone you already know.”

Luke offers you the slightest smile, but it’s laced with dejection. 

“I’m sorry…” your face drops and Luke’s body goes tense. “I can’t remember you guys.” You look down at your hands because you can’t stand to look at them. You hate the disappointment you’ve caused on their faces.

“It’s okay, you’ve been through a lot, I’m sure it’ll come back to you eventually.” You look up to see it's Luke speaking for the first time. He’s got a warm, reassuring smile replacing the old disgruntled look and it instantly lifts your spirits. For a moment, you find yourself thinking, yeah, I can see why I had you in my life.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence for a moment, and you realize that you’re not entirely sure what to say. 

You want to be polite, and you want to give them both a chance, because at one point you obviously knew them well.

But when you look at them, you don’t see your team members. You don’t see your boyfriend. You just see strangers. 

… 

Dr. Hall comes in that evening to discuss your CT scan. You’re relieved that it’s only you and Emily in the room at the time that she arrives. 

“See that area there?” she asks, pointing to a mark on the screen she was showing you. “That indicates damage to the hippocampus.  That’s the primary memory storage site of your brain, so it’s no wonder why you’re experiencing what we call retrograde amnesia.”

The words she speak sound foreign, and while you did everything you could to understand, all you cared about was one thing.

“Will I get my memories back?” you ask. 

Dr. Hall scooted back in her chair and took off her black rimmed glasses. “Some people do,” she nods. “But some don’t. The good news is that the damage to your hippocampus is relatively minor. So much so that we missed it in our original MRI scan.”

You nod slowly. “So there’s a chance then?”

“There’s a chance. But even if it doesn't, the chunk that you’re missing is relatively small in the grand scheme of things. So even if you don’t get your old memories back, you do have the ability to create new ones.”

…

“Do me and Luke live together?” you ask Penelope in the car. You had been released from the hospital that day and the question popped into your head suddenly while you were on your way home. 

She nods, her grip tight on the steering wheel. “Yes, but he’s going to stay with Rossi for now. He didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You sigh a breath of relief. 

Garcia gently pushes the door open to your house that you don’t recognize. You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for what you’re about to see. You’re uneasy, but there’s an odd sense of familiarity that settles in your stomach despite not knowing what to expect.

The entrance opens up to an open living room where the gray curtains are drawn open, the light coming in from the windows shined bright against the furniture. 

There are shoes lined up neatly next to the door. A few pairs of sneakers lie next to a pair of giant boots that you know must be Luke’s. 

You recognize some of the furniture. Like the rocking chair your mother gave you, and the homemade blanket. The more you recognize, the more at ease you felt.   

The warmth only spread when you walked over to the coffee table to find a copy of your favorite book left out. 

That’s when you notice that there are so many photos. Some hang on the walls and some are in frames placed around the shelves and tables.

One in particular captures your attention, and as you draw nearer, you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your lungs. It’s a picture of you and Luke, he has his arm around you and is wearing a huge, ear-to-ear grin as he stares into the camera lens. You, on the other hand, are looking up at him, a similar smile on your face. 

You steady yourself against the wall, but suddenly feel like you’re having an out of body experience, your surroundings blurring out and Luke’s voice ringing in your head.

“I’m not gonna drop your phone, don’t worry-”

“Just do a selfie, that isn’t going to hold my phone, it’s going to fall!”

“This will look so much better than a selfie, trust me! Look, steady as ever, this branch is coming through for us-”

“Looks more like a twig to me-” 

You’re squeezing your eyes shut but all you can see is Luke rushing towards you to beat the self timer on your phone, his smile wide.

Your eyes snapped open as Garcia entered the living room to announce, “I put your suitcase upstairs- what’s wrong?” she asks when she sees your frazzled state. 

“Nothing,” you lie. You don't want to get her hopes up by telling her you think you just remembered something, so instead you say, “Just tired.”

“Oh, okay. Well let me get out of your hair then, so that you can rest.”

You nod, but all you can think of is getting your hands on some more photos. 

After wandering upstairs, you seem to know just where to look to find a photo album stashed away. You open the binder to find countless pictures. You flip through them eagerly, until one a few pages deep catches your eye. 

It’s another photo of you and Luke- this time you’re both looking into the camera. He has his arm around your shoulder and you’re pulling yourself into his side, your arm stretched across his stomach. Your head is resting comfortably on his chest and the closer you look, you realize that there’s tears in your eyes. 

Suddenly, Luke’s voice pops back into your head. 

“I wouldn’t have asked you out if I knew it was going to make you this upset-”

“I’m not upset, I’m- so.. so happy.”

“Happy. As in, yes, you’ll go out with me?”

“Of course I will.”

It’s like the floodgates open and suddenly, an influx of memories and information come pouring into your mind. You feel dizzy as you sort through them, wondering if any of this could be real.  

When you look back down at the photos beneath you, your eyes narrow in on Luke.   

You can’t help the sudden rush of tears that come streaming down your face when you realize that Luke’s no longer a stranger.  

…

You take a deep breath, trying to gather courage before pressing the call button on your phone. It seems strange to you that just a few hours prior, you didn’t even feel comfortable having small talk with Luke, but now, with your memories coming back, he was the first person you wanted to tell.  

The phone rings once before his warm, now familiar, voice answers on the other line. 

“Hey,” he greets. 

You exhale sharply before whispering a soft, “Hi.”

“Is everything okay?” he asks, concern evident in his tone. 

You nod, before realizing he can’t see you. “Yeah,” you say through the tears streaming down your face. “Yeah, can you- can you come home?”

After a brief moment of silence you add, “Please.”

You hear stirring on the other line, like Luke was moving around. 

“Y-yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah, I’ll be there in 10.”

After you hang up the phone, you continue flipping through photos as you wait for Luke. The memories come back to you faster and faster. It’s a relief, but it’s also exhausting.  

Only when you hear the front door of your house open and close do you tear yourself away from the photos. You shut the book and hastily run downstairs, eager to see Luke.  

The Luke you see in your memories and pictures around the house is different than the one standing in front of you now. The Luke you now remember has skin the color of caramel and eyes so warm the sun would be jealous. But this Luke looks flushed and exhausted, with dark circles encasing his eyes.

“Luke..” you say softly, your voice coming out in a whisper, as if saying his name would take all your memories away again.

He looks frazzled and worried, but you make your way to him slowly. 

“What’s wrong?” he frets, looking at you wildly.

You feel bad to have worried him into such a state. “Nothing-” you manage to get out. “I-I-” You’re so taken aback by just knowing who he is, that it’s hard to speak. 

But Luke’s face softens, and when he comes to the conclusion that you must have called him over here for another reason, his eyes widen. “Do you- are you remembering things?” 

Your face breaks out into a large, relieved smile, despite the tears still falling down your cheeks. You’re afraid that if you speak, you might just sob forever, so instead you nod frantically. 

“Oh my god,” Luke gasps before crossing the room in just two, large strides. He wastes no time before wrapping his arms around your body tightly. He lifts your feet off the ground, his face getting buried in the nape of your neck while he spins you around. “Oh my god,” he repeats, followed by a little chuckle. 

You breath in his comforting scent, wondering how you went so long without craving his touch. 

“I remember-” you choke out. “I remember now.”

Luke lifts both of his hands and cups your face, and you can see tears in Luke’s eyes. “God, I’m so sorry,” he tells you. “I’m so sorry I let you get hurt.”

But you’re shaking your head. “It’s not your fault, Luke.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his lips pressed tightly together like he’s trying to find his own words. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” he finally says. “First when you were unconscious at the scene, but again when you didn’t know who I was.” He takes a slow, unsteady breath. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever remember.”

He leans his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb gently rubbing against your cheek, it grazes the corner of your mouth before he leans down, wanting nothing more than to press his lips against yours, to remind you about what the two of you had together. 

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless and wide-eyed. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he whispers. 

You nod and ignore all the thoughts and fears that are racing through your mind, and instead close the gap between you and Luke once again.

Luke tastes like mint and coffee, he smells like citrus, and he’s warm like a hot, summer day.

Luke feels like home. 

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Requested: yes.

Synopsis: your and Harry’s daughter has been sick with some sort of fever and stomach bug for the last few weeks— a month after Harry went away on tour meaning your daughter was clingy for her dad, her separation anxiety getting worse. Harry hears of the news from you and he despite reassuring you that he’ll continue touring can’t just let his baby girl be sick and needing him… read on to find out what he does.

Dad! Harry x yn x daughter reader

Warnings: mention of being sick, puke, being poorly but mainly fluff of both daughter and reader. Enjoy!!

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

Your daughter Layla was sick with a nasty bug. She had been for the past three weeks and she was constantly crying for her dad. It was heartbreaking for you because you hated seeing your baby girl crying. You were resting on the sofa arm wrapped around your daughter as she was curled up in your side, a bucket by your feet filled with puke and loads of used tissues sprawled out all over the place from the amount of tissues she had used. Layla was only 7 so being sick wasn’t nice for her— she had been puking for days now and you were concerned, getting advice from doctors who advised you to keep her home and let the medication work through her body. Which you did. But of course it wasn’t going to instantly make her better. You just had to be strong for her. You sigh softly running a hand through your hair which was messy from how stressed you had been. “Mummy” the little girl soon cried out, hiccuping and you quickly grabbed the bucket holding it underneath her chin just in time for her to puke into it her eyes remaining shut clearly still half asleep.. “you’re okay baby. Mummy’s here… mummy’s here..” you guided rubbing her back gently, soothing her through it as you pushed down the twisting in your stomach. It had occurred to you last night that you had most definitely too caught the bug but you didn’t care. You needed to take care of Layla.

You sighed quietly pushing her hair back as you hushed her gently, her soon leaning down again cuddling into you as she relaxed. You played with her hair lightly until eventually she had fallen asleep Toy Story on in the background before your phone buzzed. You without looking answered it lifting it to your ear “hi.” You murmured clearing your throat. “Hello my love.. how is she?” Harry’s voice rang through the phone and you sighed, you missed him deeply, you missed his touch— his smell. “Not great.” You admitted softly gazing down at the little girl. “She’s thrown up 24/7. She’s got a fever and I’m just concerned about her.” You murmured quietly to make sure not to wake her. “Want me to come home?” He questioned and you quickly shook your head before realising he couldn’t see you, you were sleep deprived to say the least. “No. Don’t let your fans down.. Ive got this under control.” You assured him yet his silence proved he was doubting you, worried about you and tempted to come home. “Harry keep doing what you love. Okay? I love you. I’ll face time you later on tonight as Layla wants to see your face okay?” Harry remained silent for a few moments silently contemplating whether to come home or not before he sighed softly “okay my love… I look forward to that. Sending my love. I love you.” “I love you too.” You spoke with a small smile before hanging up as you relaxed back into the sofa gazing at the tv as you began falling in and out of consciousness yet you never could properly fall asleep needing to make sure Layla was okay no matter what.

-

You weren’t sure how long had passed maybe a couple hours as it was now nearing morning time again, but you were holding your daughters hair back as she threw up in the toilet “it’s okay… good job… I’m here.” You comforted. Your stomach churned once again and you had to hold back your own sick, taking a deep breath as you attempted to breathe through it a strange pain in your stomach. As Layla finally stopped you helped her get up wiping her mouth and flushing the toilet before helping her walk back towards her bedroom all until a rather loud creak grabbed your attention making you tense up– you looked towards the source of what had created the sound before your eyes locked on those familiar green eyes. “Harry….” You whispered tears threatening to form in your eyes, Layla letting out a squeal Harry grinning from ear to ear as he slowly crouched down, bag slipping off his shoulder and falling onto the floor staying crouched to Layla’s height before he opened his arms for her his smile wide and bright as he tilted his head to the side “oh baby girl are you feeling a little bit poorly?” He questioned, you let go of Layla’s hand the small girl sprinting towards her daddy before she jumped into Harry’s arms almost knocking him over, but he stayed upright wrapping his arms tightly around her as he lifted her up spinning her around once. You watched with loving eyes your vision going slightly dizzy “harry— I just need to rest for a bit.. okay.” You spoke softly, you felt awful and although you wanted to hug him you didn’t think your legs would manage to keep you upright and you didn’t want to scare your daughter. Harry nodded watching as you entered your bedroom, his attention falling back to Layla as he set her back down on the floor hands lightly resting on her waist as he looked into her eyes before he raised a hand to her forehead “oh dear you are rather warm.” He murmured with a frown before he stood up straighter grabbing onto her hand as he walked with her back down stairs having her sit down on the sofa before he began searching through the medicine box.

He soon found Calpol and a thermometer before he walked back over to Layla “can I sleep daddy?” She murmured sadly Harry looking into her eyes seeing the exhaustion and sadness before he nodded “of course baby. After this okay?” She nodded and Harry smiled. “Arm up sweetheart.” He spoke pressing the small round button hearing the beep before he slid the thermometer underneath Layla’s armpit allowing it to take her temperature as he measured out some medicine for her to take, carefully spooning it into her mouth “good girl.” He praised with a small smile just in time for the thermometer to beep and he pulled it away from her checking it… too hot for normal. He exhaled calmly “it’s not good baby. But hopefully the medicine will get rid of your pains okay? Let’s go back upstairs yeah?” He spoke and she whined attaching herself to his neck, and Harry smiled softly before he lifted her up into his embrace as he carried her towards the stairs, carrying her up them her legs wrapped around his waist. “I missed you daddy.” She murmured to him quietly making his heart clench. “I missed you too darling. But I promise to be here for you until you feel better.”

Unbeknownst to you Harry had postponed his entire tour extending the days to another day just so he could see Layla and you. He carried the small girl into her room before laying her down and tucking her in, the Calpol already working as she fell into a deep sleep drowsily murmuring that she loved him. He covered her up in her blankets securing her favourite teddy under her arm before he kissed her cheek, turning on her night light before silently exiting the room pulling the door to so it was closed but not fully shut. He then wandered into your and his shared room finding you fast asleep, curled up, hands pressed firmly against your belly. He frowned in slight concern and walked towards you, sitting down. As the bed dipped and you felt a hand touch against your back you whined softly. “Darling you’re boiling.” The familiar voice spoke feeling your forehead and Harry exhaled “let me get you some medicine” “no.” You grabbed onto his wrist “already done…” you murmured tiredly and he nodded noticing a sick bucket off to the side on the floor. You must’ve caught the bug. He gently wrapped his arms around you pulling you close, as his slender fingers stroked against your stomach soothing it as best as he could, listening to your breathing as it began to calm down until you had fallen asleep. He remained awake keeping an eye on you for about fifty minutes.

“Daddy” he heard a whimpered voice, a small hand resting against his back and he slowly sat up, seeing Layla teddy in arms as she was close to sobbing. “I don’t feel good daddy.” He carefully leaned forwards helping her up onto the bed before he laid down with her, having her between you and him “I don’t feel good” she whimpered and Harry stroked her hair soothingly “I know baby… I know…” he began humming a soft tune to her, her hands soon grasping onto his larger one as she began playing with his fingers until eventually she was half asleep, tracing his tattoos lightly before she had fallen into another deep sleep. He too began relaxing before he fell into a sleep like state… but what felt like seconds later which was actually twenty minutes he felt the bed move abruptly eyes snapping open enough to see you rushing towards the bathroom hand covering your mouth. He silently but quickly stood up, hair slightly messy from where Layla had woken up unbeknown to him and played with his hair slightly. He rushed after you and when he found you he quickly pulled your hair back securing it back with a hairband he found on the counter as his free hand then slid down to rub against your back as you threw up until eventually you had fallen back into Harry, forehead sweaty and hot as he held you as you panted grimacing in pain “I don’t want to get you sick…” you murmured tiredly but Harry didn’t respond only holding you closer, he didn’t care if he got sick. He had to be there for you and Layla even if it risked getting the sickness… he honestly didn’t care. You and Layla were the most important things in his life. Nothing else. He had to look after you no matter what. And he always would.

[stardancerluv]

A Space Journey

Part Two

Summary: New developments for Tyler. Reader and Tyler

Notes/Warnings: Mentions of fights in Tyler’s past. Esteem issues with Reader. Company induced angst with Tyler. Drinking. (Be safe and responsibly)

Runs long. It’s been writing itself. Ooh, he so deserved better.

❤️s, feedback, comments & reblogs are welcome!

Tyler, stood outside of the office. Opening and closing his hands, unease prickled him. The rain was particularly heavy today and he was more then happy to be out of it. He couldn’t imagine what they would want. He just had a very good salvage. They should be happy.

“Harrison, get in here.”

Turning sharply on his heal he went into the office. He bit the inside of his cheek when he saw a high ranking military officer and someone from the science office.

“You wanted to see me sir.” He kept his eye level straight. Just past the balding, company man that sat behind the desk and directed to to his salvages.

“Yes, Harrison. We’ve noticed you.”

The seat creaked as he sat back.

He felt his heart pick up speed.

“Me sir?”

The man nodded. “One of our bigger cargo ships has gone missing. It’s beacon recently came back online but no one is answering any of the coms we sent.”

The man gave an indifferent shrug.

“Perhaps, space pirates took it, raided it and killed the crew; we can’t be sure. But we want you to go and look into it.”

“When sir?”

“Fifteen days, Harrison.”

“If I may, depending on where it is why not send me now and perhaps I’ll come back faster then planned like with the Omega 17 salvage I just came back from.”

For a moment, a smug expression fell over his face. The pay day and his efficiency was superb. But he caught himself, and went back to a blank expression.

The man behind the desk chuckled.

“Told you guys, my boy is motivated.” The glanced at the two other men. “And he’s good. My best.” He gave him a smile. It made his stomach churn.

The military man stepped forward. “We believe, this time you will encounter hostiles.”

He pressed his lips together.

“Alright. I’ve never dealt with hostiles or anyone for that matter.”

“What about the few fights that led to a late night, dawn in one of the 4 by 10 rooms?” The man’s razor thin mouth cracked into a smirk that spread across his face.

This was beginning to sound like something he may not walk away from. He felt ill.

“Easy. You will get some training. You don’t get it, it doesn’t sink in before we need to ship out; we replace you.

“Hey, you said it would be my man we’re using.” The man behind the desk genuinely rankled.

Tyler never would have guessed that he cared one way or another.

The military officer shrugged. “My men will give you a rundown on how to handle yourself.”

“What about my crew?”

“Honestly? We are well aware of how important your family is to you, they can stay on the Corbelan IV, your cousin doesn’t need any help from us. Or we can give you a different crew.”

The man’s tone was as flat and as unforgiving as he looked.

“We don’t care as long as you accomplish what we want you for.”

“How’s the payout?”

The man behind the desk let out a chuckle. The military officer glanced down at him and back to him.

“If it all works out you will be able refit uthe Corbelan IV with the repairs its been needing and more.”

“Alright done.”

“Go to quadrant twenty seven at eight hundred hours tomorrow.”

********

Tyler, moved through throngs of people. Another miserable day in Jackson. His mind was a jumble. Did be really say yes?

“Baby want a good time?” Hand reached out, he grimaced and shook his head barely stopping.

He had to get out here. You all did. Damn, you had never even see anything else.

He was grateful, when he got to the Corbelan no one was there. He needed some time to think.

He plopped down in one of the chairs. It barely gave under his weight. But it would have to do. Looking out of the shuttered smudged window, he saw more dark clouds had rolled in bringing more rain.

He raked his fingers through his hair. He could do this. If he felt strong enough he’d bring the others along. How would he even explain using another crew.

He smirked to himself, at the idea of making some solid credit. They had wanted him. His eyes moved over the small sitting space. Grungy, cramped. Far too small. He rested a boot on the table.

Two small hands that had rough softness covered his eyes. A broad smile curled his lips.

“Guess who?”

He chuckled, tilting his head to one side. “My annoying sister.”

A peel of laughter came from above him.

“Guess again?“

“Oh! Oh! I know Navarro.”

“No!!!” You slipped to the side of him, hand on your hip.

“I knew it was you.”

He chuckled but as he looked you up and down, a smirk curled his lips. Damn. Even in your faded, torn company shirt and cargo pants you looked good.

“Looking good baby.”

You shrugged. “May I?“ Your eyes fell to his lap and back up to his eyes.

“Please.” He smirked pushing against the chair, it was unforgiving. So he could happily make room for you in his lap.

You easily made yourself comfortable. It relaxed him after what he had just gone through, good or bad. It had filled him with unease filled confidence if that was even possibly.

You wiggled more and then giggled.

“Tyler? Are you off world?”

Another giggle came from you.

His attention coming back to he rose an eyebrow as he saw you giving him a playfully serious look from under the shield of his cap. You were far too cute sometimes.

“Just the meeting I had.”

He made a face, mentally shrugging the feel off. He looked at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“What? Oh this?” You playfully placed your hands on his cap.

He motioned for it. “Give it back.”

“Nah, its comfy. I like it.”

He made a swipe for it. You avoided his hand and squealed.

Wrapping his arms around you he held you close. Easily snatched it off your head, pulled it onto his.

You were beginning to protest, when he dipped close and pressed his lips against. He felt a soft push before he felt you melt against him.

*******

Eyeing your reflection in the scrapped, mirror. You frowned. Even though the rain had let up and you all could walk to the bar with just ash and soot hanging in the air, your hair fell flat.

You had never been one to use taming spray. But it just looked so boring and dull. You had wanted to look good for Tyler.

Kay came bouncing up behind and gave you a tight embrace. You could smell the soft scent of the drinks she had been enjoying. She endearingly, pressed her head against yours.

“What’s the matter? Is my brother being insufferable?” Her eyes met yours in the mirror.

“No.” Your shoulders slumped. You patted her arms. “He’s great. I just don’t think I’m enough.”

She pulled back and turned you to face her. “What is this?” Her eyes were sharp with concern. “He adores you. I’ve never seen him so happy.” She chuckled. “So full of himself. He’s like I got the best so I am the best.” She smiled.

“Truly.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen him so confident.” She looked playful. “If I didn’t like you so much, I would have pushed him out of the Corbelan long time ago.”

You smiled then. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She offered an arm. “Now, let’s get back out there! We have to get a few more dances in and have a few more drinks.” She gigglee.

“Yes!”

******

“One more.” He gave you a wink, taking the glass. “You gotta finish yours too.” His gestured to yours.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” You hopped onto the stool beside him, grabbing your own glass.

You glanced over at the small very jammed dance floor Kay was shimmying with some random blonde guy you once or twice saw in your sector of the mine. You had lost track of where Bjorn and Navarro were.

You looked back at Tyler in time to see him bringing the glass to his lips. In the hazy, warmth the drinks you had distantly made you jealous of the glass. Looking him over, you noticed how sweat prickled his dark strands, his cheeks were flushed and how he tilted his head back as easily drank the entirety of the glass.

A loud sigh came from him, slamming the glass down he wiped his mouth the back of his hand. “Ready?”

You nodded, happily taking his hand.

His hands were firm, as he held you to him. You fingers grazed through the shorter strands of where he shorn some of his hair. It was a wonderful contrast to the longer, soft strands.

You giggled softly as he leaned in close, his lips grazing your throat. He nipped at you. It made you wiggle against him.

“Man, I want you.” His voice rasped in your ear.

Moving just so. Loving how his scent enveloped the two of you. It pushed away the others or even the place.

“I will always be yours.” You whispered in his ear.

He pulled you even closer to him.

******

He rubbed his temples under the water beating down at him. He really shouldn’t have drank that much last night.

But then again, it was the night before the company owned more of him. He was doing this for you and the others. He had to keep telling himself this.

******

He swished the water and the paste in his mouth after scrubbing at his teeth. Might as well not look and smell like he had danced and drank the night away.

Going into the kitchen, he opened one of the containers and snatched up two blocks of the corn bread. Sighing, he munched on one. By the time he came back to his room. He placed the one he grabbed for you by the environment gauge and time giver.

Carefully, he pulled on his long sleeved, thermal shirt leaving the buttons undone, always felt strangled otherwise and then he pulled on a pair of his heavier socks. He looked back at you. He had wanted to tell you, more then he even wanted to tell Kay or Bjorn but right now, he couldn’t he had to get the feel of things.

A soft sound came from you, still asleep as you moved and settled onto your back. You had snagged one of his shirts. Seeing you in it, made him smile.

Looking away, he reached out and pulled over his boots. Another soft sound came from you. Maybe he should leave a note, but you and the others knew how sometimes he would leave early if he had a good lead on a new salvage. But this was different. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Tyler?” Your voice was soft, still heavy with sleep and he felt your hand on his back.

He put on a brave face, a winning smile

“Hi sleepy.”

“You are already leaving?”

He nodded. “Got to.”

“Ok.” He felt your hand leave his back. He shuffled a bit to face you more.

You looked back at him.

“Look you trust me right?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He chuckled softly. “Look I got some good things ahead. I promise.”

You pressed your lips together. “Good. Just be safe.”

“Me? Always.” He pointed at his table. “Look, I even nabbed your favorite. The corner of the corn bread.”

You smiled then. “Thank you.”

“Nothing but the best, I can give.”

You moved fast and hugged him tight. You tucked in under his chin.

“Baby?“ He without hesitation hugged you back.

“Had a nightmare.”

He squeezed you. “Nothing will get me.”

He felt as you nodded.

“Now you are one that’s gotta to be safe in the mine today.” He rubbed your back. “Take a tablet before you head out, to clear your head. I’ll get us some good rations for tonight.”

*******

A few hours in, sweat was running down his face. He rubbed his forehead with his arm. They prodded him, pricked him to draw his blood. Now, he was hooked up to something and he was running on some kind of device; it beeped in time with the beat of his heart. He could not wait to get back to you and the others.

[ramblingoak]

How about "you're gonna get lipstick all over me"? Choose your papa 🥰

Love u!

I want nothing more than lipstick marks from Papa. Any Papa. But for you I chose Copia 💙

Smudge

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader (gender neutral reader, sfw, just Copia being silly, 700 words)

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Well?  What do you think?”

You couldn’t shake the stupid grin on your face as you watched your Papa strut around in front of you.  He had dragged you out of your office an hour ago under the guise of needing help with tour prep, but it had quickly become obvious that all Copia really wanted to do was show off.  Even so you obediently had sat down on the couch in his office to watch him move around the room.  When he turned to look at you expectantly you couldn’t help but mess with him a little so you crossed your arms and scrunched your nose up.

“Hmm, I’m not sure.”  His mouth fell open and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at him.  “Don’t you already have one of these?”

“Si, si but not in this color.”

“You needed another one?” 

“D-dolcezza!”  You wondered if anyone would believe you that Papa sometimes stomped his foot like a child.  “This is for the fans.”

“What about the blue one, was that for the fans?”

“Si.”

“Hmm and the red?”

It was Copia’s turn to cross his arms as he glared at you while you stared at him from the couch.

“People had been asking for the red to come back for a while, dolcezza.”

“Oh, have they?  I hadn’t noticed.”  You hummed and tapped a finger on your chin as you watched him mutter to himself in Italian.  “So now you needed a, what, silver one?”

“Silver?”  Copia looked about ready to throw a fit, holding his arms out while he glared at you.  “You think this is silver?”

“Isn’t it?  Wait, hang on.”  He watched you warily as you hopped up to wander over.  Copia held still as you walked around him, running your fingers across his shoulders.  “Ok, I’m sorry Papa.  It’s not silver.”

“Si, grazie.  Silver wouldn’t be very exciting so that’s why I asked for a go–”

“Brown is kind of boring though, don’t you think Papa?”

“Brown?!”  He looked down at his jacket and back up to you a few times before finally growling and advancing on you.  “Why you little brat.”

You shrieked when he tried to grab you around your waist, quickly moving away from him and stumbling back towards the couch.  He caught you right before you fell onto it, his hands on your waist helping to ease you down.  Copia climbed up after you, straddling your legs and leaning forward to make his eyes level with yours.

“Do you enjoy riling up your Papa, dolcezza?”

“Yes actually, it’s a lot of fun.”  He snorted, shaking his head while he straightened up.  You let your eyes wander over him, admiring how handsome he looked in his Papal paint and his fancy jacket.  “The gold is very pretty.”

Copia smiled and grabbed your hand to place a kiss on the back, his lipstick leaving a smudge of black on your skin.  

“You really think so?  It’s not too much?”

It always broke your heart a bit when he sounded timid, like he was afraid of your answer.  As if you couldn’t possibly be hopelessly in love with his stupid handsome face.  Still, it wouldn’t stop you from messing with him.  Just a little bit.

“No Copia, I don’t think three sparkly jackets are too much.”  You laughed when he growled and leaned down to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.  “It’s not too late to get another.  Maybe a pink one!”  He planted another kiss on you and you reached up to rub a hand over your skin.  “Ugh, you’re getting your lipstick all over my face!  I have to go back to work, you know.  Not all of us can spend the day playing dress up.”

“I’m Papa.  I can do what I want.”  When you raised an eyebrow at him he let out that dirty chuckle you loved so much.  “You should take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh?  And do what?”

His eyes darkened as he gently took your chin in his hand, rubbing a thumb across your lower lip.  

“How about we see where else I can leave lipstick marks, hmm?”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

my masterlist

my ao3

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter IV : Aite

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Hunter/prey dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Spanking; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Rough sex; Squirting

A/N: happy mando monday mother fuckers — literally nobody look at me i have nothing to say for myself 

also, again, canon deviation — he’s got the beskar spear here already.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 9.3K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER IV : AITE

MEGARA: You love the light so much?

AMPHITRYON: I do, I love its hopes.

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four plays by Euripides

You stir hours later, sweltering and tangled under the covers in the dark, cramped alcove of his narrow bunk, sweat pooling between your breasts and at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings and take in the steaming beast of a man, heavy muscle and a solid chest pressed into your back. Din’s nose nuzzles into your hair as he breathes deep and steady. The bunk is so narrow, and he is so broad, half draped on top of you, and you’re being smothered by his heat and weight. 

“Din,” muffled, sleep graveled voice, “Heavy.” He doesn’t answer – dead to the world after everything the two of you had been through. The two of you’d crawled into the cool darkness of his bunk and promptly lost consciousness after the emotional ordeal of everything you’d talked about, but now you are hot and aching, and as you try and shift and wiggle, murmuring supplications to rouse him he huffs in his sleep, disturbed at your wriggling, and that unyielding arm of muscle presses you deeper into his chest, constricting your ribs, at the same time that his overly large shirt he’d put you in shifts up to reveal your naked bottom half, and his hips shift up to press his hard, seeking cock to the wet seam of your cunt. His hips rock into you, rolling you further onto your belly, and he growls a sleepy sound deep in his chest that you’re sure would translate to sleep, little one, were he conscious. He keeps trying to push in, frustrated grumbles when he meets only soft thigh instead of the warm cunt his dreams expect. 

You can feel them on the periphery of your conscious mind, he’s dreaming of you, of your wet pussy, and the feeling of your slippery walls clenching around him. And you’ve no other choice but to give in, pulling a knee up to your chest you sense him step into this side of consciousness, and then he’s fucking in deep, meeting the end of you and grinding his hips against your ass with a low, hoarse groan. “Fuck, I was dreaming of this.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing your bottom to his pelvis and trying to tilt forward as far as the bunk allows to deepen the angle, but he pulls you back tight to his chest and lifts your leg to drape back over his hip. His hands snake up the bottom of his shirt you’re wearing to palm your tits and pinch your nipples, rolling the aching peaks between his rough fingers and mouthing at the sweaty skin of your neck.

“You’re sore and exhausted, little one. I told you no more,” he admonishes but doesn’t stop the rhythm of his thrusting hips, rolling up into your slick cunt over and over. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I hurt.” And part of you regrets it as soon as the words leave your mouth, painfully honest, humiliating, but the larger part of you is only desperate and aching for him to fuck into you, writhing wet and wanton on his cock.

“But I do. That’s all I care about.” He pushes inside again anyway though – the need too great, again and again until the two of you are trembling with orgasm together, wet and shaky and intimate. 

-

The next bounty finds itself on the planet of Kashyyyk and the Razor Crest makes planet-fall a few hours after the two of you finally stumble out of the warm cocoon of his bunk. 

You make tremendous fun of him and his ridiculously beloved ship, you can’t help it with a snickered, A Razor Crest? Really? Has the Guild been skimping out on you? To which you’re met with nothing but stony silence and then again, This hunk of junk is going to leave you stranded out in open space one day, I’m surprised it even still has the capacity to travel at– and then him spinning to pinch your cheeks between his fingers, forcing your mouth into a pucker, he gives your head a little shake. “One more bad word about my ship, and I’ll put this smart mouth to better use, do you hear me?” He’d forced your head into a little nod, but you’d rolled your eyes, snorting at him, as if you wouldn’t enjoy that. He’d harrumphed and turned to climb up into the cockpit after that while you’d washed the sweat and come of your nap from your body in the little fresher, the sound of him whispering his name to you ringing in your ears. 

-

“When do you think you’ll be back?” You pout up at him, spread out on your nest on the floor of the hull that’s become a permanent monument, your still damp, trembling, just fucked form covered only by a thin blanket. It’d been hours since the two of you’d touched down on Kashyyyk, and you knew he probably should’ve been gone ages ago, out hunting his bounty, but he’d not been able to pull himself from your soft wet clutch. He was grumpy now and insisting he had to go even though you desperately did not want him to. 

“It won’t be long – maybe two days, three at the most.” He’s re-donning the armor he hasn’t worn in days, slowly and meticulously adorning himself with each piece of beskar. 

“Alright…” you sigh, stretching out into lithe, soft lines, your hands above your head so that the blanket covering your chest inches down to expose one soft nipple to his gaze. He pauses deathly still to watch your display, and you spread your knees beneath the cover with a breathy, little moan. “I guess I’ll see you in three days… I’ll just be here.” You look up at him with the most guilelessly innocent eyes you can muster. One of his boots sneaks forward to toe the blanket away from you: He can see your little cunt, wet and gleaming, the reddened swell of recent use, and when you spread those soft, gorgeous thighs a little further apart there he is. The slow drool of his spend from your pussy. Fuck, that bounty is never getting brought in.

Squeezing your eyes shut, turning to hide your face in the bend of your arm — you need to be more careful about that, don’t know why it keeps happening. You listen to the clang of one of his pauldrons dropping to the floor. 

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” His voice has taken on that deeper tone he falls into right before he’s about to sink inside of you. 

Shit, shit shit, this is too much. Too desperate. 

You spread your legs wider, slowly pulling one knee up to your chest, and gently running your fingertips up the sensitive inside of your thighs until you reach your messy center. Swollen and overwrought from his ferocity, and you don’t care, you still want more. You flutter your fingers over the wet mess, circle your clit and pass over your clenching opening. 

“Think about you of course,” you moan, and listen to a restrained growl from him, the fall of another piece of his armor and then the soft shuck of his shirt falling as well. 

“I can see myself drooling from that sloppy little hole,” he murmurs, now the crash of the helmet, you squeeze your eyes shut tight, “Push it back in. Fuck yourself.” He falls to his knees between your spread legs. 

It is hours later before he finally manages to make it outside. 

-

On the fourth day without him, you begin to stir with restlessness.

He’d promised three at the most, and you’d wanted to say that three days was an unbearably long time to be away from him. Yes, even this soon – weak hearted little wench, you’d griped at yourself. But you’d been cast in an unbearable silly wash of shyness, going hot and vulnerable from head to toe when the moment finally came that he’d dallied just too long, and he absolutely had to go now, really, I do have to go, the bounty isn’t going to catch itself, and we’re soon to be out of credits. As if you couldn’t just steal or trick your way into more credits if absolutely need be, but he’d hear nothing of such petty thievery. So you’d kept your pouting to yourself, and let him go. 

He was a day late now, and you knew it was silly to worry about him.

He was a kriffing Mandalorian. He didn’t need you clucking over him like some worried mother tip-yip, but you couldn’t help it. You knew, even with as little experience with him as you have, that when he said he’d do something he did it. So you were beginning to stir with a frenzied and restlessly anxious energy, thinking of all the potential possibilities of harm he could have come to. Could Wookies chew through beskar? You didn’t know, but it seemed highly probable with the sort of Maker blasted luck you’d been cursed with that he’d randomly get eaten by a Wookie or some other beast on this fucking jungle planet and leave you stranded and without him.

You step off the Crest’s ramp late in the afternoon. Clad in only a pair of soft, worn leggings and your breast band, saber hilt in hand, thinking that perhaps a spot of training would help dispel your anxiety over him, but when you make it outside the weather is so lovely, warm and temperate, and you can’t help flop down into the soft grass of the field he’d landed the ship in to take in the heat of the sun. 

The sky has been different every morning, but it’s almost pearlescent today, watery gray shot with silver white that coalesces into a sort of soft hued lavender. The planet’s single star, soft behind the protection of the clouds, has you going lazy and lethargic as it fights to push its way through. You think that perhaps, the training is unnecessary then, if the sun’s able to soothe you into peace for a few moments, and you cross your arms behind your head to lay back and close your eyes to the sky, feeling the warmth of it seeping through the thin membrane of your lids.

The two of you had both gone a little shy and awkward as he’d gotten ready to finally go four days ago. While he’d gotten dressed, arming himself to the teeth, you’d felt his eyes on you as you lay wet and trembling where he’d left you, and you were sure he could read how much you did not want him to go. You’d so desperately wanted him to bid you farewell with a kiss, to tell you he’d be back to you soon, but he’d done none of those things. Had gone quiet and awkward and given you a sharp nod of his head before he was spinning on his heel, cape snapping behind him and throwing himself out into Kashyyyk’s wilderness for his bounty. Why the fuck anyone would choose the Wookie homeworld as a place to hide was beyond you. You think you’d much prefer being caught by the tin can than eaten by one of those overgrown hairballs, but what do you know. 

Well, actually – no, you’re certain you preferred being caught by him. 

I like to be caught.

By me.

By you.

So all you had to do now was sit here and stew with your own thoughts. You wonder if maybe you should plan for what your next move will be after you leave him – but your mind immediately shies away from the possibility of that. No, you think,  you’ll consider that later, in a few days, a few weeks, whenever he finally gets sick of you, which you know will happen sooner rather than later. But despite your recalcitrance to consider the timeline of when this will end, there is no part of you that doesn’t know how this will end. In ruination, surely, come by your hand, him angry or hating you. You just hope you can hold off on your inevitable destruction for a while longer, for you so enjoy being with him.

If you’re being modest and not entirely honest with what you feel, then, yes, you enjoy being here with him, enjoyment verging on something much deeper, more intense. The warmth and comfort you’d found in his ship, even if it was a hunk of junk Razor Crest, being with him, fucking him, having him take care of you, you like this. 

And it is not so much a realization, but a reminder that you’d been unsatisfied with your life thus far. Again, if you were being modest and not entirely honest, then sure, you could call it dissatisfaction.  Dissatisfaction with what you are, what you had been, and you’re angry too. Angry at the things that were done to you, the things you’d endured. You did not deserve to have been treated so. You had not deserved such cruelty, and perhaps, this time here with the Mandalorian, with Din, could be taken as a recompense of sorts. A lovely and wholly unexpected prize, a gift, after all you had endured. You could take this time with him with a grain of salt, a seed of wariness, and try and keep yourself as internally stoic as possible, entirely plausible, sure, and then when the time was right you could part ways and take your losses for what they were. For as good as you are at lying to yourself, you are self aware enough to know that at the end of this it will be a loss, he will be a loss. A worry for a later time, though, you suppose. 

You settle back on your bent arms. 

Dissatisfaction with life… you laugh lightly to yourself. What a silly thing. You’re alive, you’re free. That’s more than enough to be satisfied with. 

But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder at what it is to be a God and a slave all at once? You feel you know both sides of the coin so well – both sides of yourself. And you find yourself dissatisfied and angry at the intimacy of the knowledge you hold. You wish you could wash your hands of both facets of yourself and begin anew.

You wonder if perhaps he could provide the answer to the start of that question. 

-

“What are you doing?” His voice comes, what could be hours or minutes later, and you feel a soft, lazy smile spread across your face. Finally, finally, he’s back, he’s back. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you murmur up at him. You think you must have dozed off.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the open – it’s dangerous.” You give a derisive little snort of self assured laughter at that. Dangerous, ha ha, yeah, sure. “Where are your clothes?” So grouchy.

“I’m wearing them, shiny.” You’ve still not opened your eyes, and you listen to the sound of his long suffering sigh, big smile stretched across your face now. 

“Little one–” Your eyes finally blink open to take in the sight of him after four long days – he looms above you, extraordinary and singular, like some warrior of old – a knight or some other silver burning effigy, standing as the face of all that is good and valiant and true. Your pathetic little heart gives a sickly sweet flutter inside your chest. The two of you stare at each other silent and still, caught in each other’s gazes – it’s been four days, four agonizing, interminable days and you’d missed him. You’d traveled with him for such a short time, and already you found yourself in the painful business of missing him. 

He’s got one inescapable hand clamped around the bounty’s arm, an unfortunate Mythrol, whose head whips back and forth between the two of you.  “Aww, there’s no way – No way, man. Is this your girlfriend, Mando?!” The Mythrol practically howls. “There is absolutely no way this hunk of metal got you to bang him.”

“Shut the fuck up. Do not speak to her,” Din’s head snaps away from you to shake the creature roughly, shoving him forward. But the comically unintelligent bounty fails to read the Mandalorian’s angry countenance and digs his heels in.

“I’d decided on a spot of training, but then I got tired and lazy and hot, and now I am resting. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before–” bratty drawl to answer his earlier question.

“The galaxy really does show you new wonders every single day,” the Mythrol goes on unheeded, looking down at you with moon eyes, and you snicker. “Tell me, gorgeous, is his junk at least normal looking? He’s not like … green or something under there is he? Scales? Any strange orifices?”

“You’re literally blue,” Din deadpans.

“Blue is a perfectly respectable color to be.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten a good look at all his orifices yet, but I’ll let you know once I do,” you say coyly, looking up at Din and batting your eyelashes at him.

“You have fucking gills–” and he sounds so comically offended, you can’t help but break out into hysterical giggles. 

“Listen, if he isn’t doing it for you, trust me, I'm getting out of this real soon. I’ll surely take care of you if h–”  And then Din’s huge, balled up fist snaps out to punch the poor bounty in the face, dragging him off towards the Razor Crest, and muttering under his breath about brats and no respect and piece of bantha shit bounties. You make sure your laugh follows him all the way into the hull while you lay your head back on your crossed arms and continue enjoying the warm sun on your face and exposed belly. 

“You’re fucking naked,” he growls a few minutes later, hovering over you menacingly, very aggravatingly blocking out your warm sun.

You open your eyes to look up at him, shading yourself from the glare shining off the curve of his helmet. He’s rid himself of his armor and duraweave and remains only in his flight pants, long sleeved undershirt and helmet, the expanse of his thick neck left naked without his cowl so that you can admire all of that gorgeously tanned skin. “Mandalorian, you’re in your underthings! How scandalous.” He’s got his beskar spear gripped in one hand, and you eye it dubiously.

“You’re naked,” again, cold and clipped.

“So are you.” Maker, just the stance on him is full of sass, hands on his hips, one foot propped out like he’s about to start tapping it at you, on the verge of shaking his finger at the ornery little girl. 

“Shut up, brat. And get up.”

“I think I won’t, actually.” You lay back on your crossed arms and close your eyes again, but he knocks the edge of his boot against your bare ankle, right at the prominence of bone on the side so that you’re yelping unexpectedly and folding your knee up towards your chest to get away from him. “Mean man,” you frown up at him accusingly. 

“Get up. I want to see what you can do – let’s spar.”

The laughing smile you have plastered across your face goes wan and melts away. “You want to do what now?”

“You said you were training – I want to see what you can do.” 

“Well, I don’t want to show you.”

“My mistake, it wasn’t meant to be a request. Get your little ass up.”

“Exactly – I’m too little. I can’t spar with you.” You look up at him with big, pleading eyes, pouting at him. 

“Yes, you can. Get up.”

“I don’t want to spar with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” And he laughs. He laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. You scowl at him, bristling with indignation.

“You could never–” You take his legs out from under him with a single crook of your finger so that he’s hitting the ground with a jarring thud, knocking the breath from his lungs unexpectedly. You get to your feet, pinning him there lightly, but so that he’s not able to move even a millimeter. 

“You were saying?” Silence. “Do not mistake me for something I’m not,” you say slowly. “I could hurt you. Easily. I could kill you easily. I have to be conscious of myself and you and all the things around me every day so that I don’t unwittingly cause harm.”

More silence from him, and you panic for a second that you’ve actually gone and accidentally killed him. You fall to your knees at his side, letting go of your hold over him, and he stays still and unmoving, but then says, “I know. I know what you are. I also know that you would never hurt me. Even accidentally. You’d never let yourself.”

“Din,” you whisper, letting your forehead fall to his belly. He brings a hand up to cup the bowl of your skull and softly strokes your hair. He can’t know that. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that, and yet…

“Spar with me. It’ll be fun.”

You groan, rolling your forehead against his stomach in feigned denial. “Fine, you have a fucked up idea of fun, and when I whoop your ass you’re not allowed to be angry with me.” You move to stand,  clasping his hand in yours to pull him up with you. 

He slaps your bottom when he gets to his feet, squeezes just a little bit, “Brat.”

“You are not allowed to grope me when you’re making me do things I don’t want to do,” you say indignantly, turning your nose up at him, “And I want to make this interesting.” You move a few paces away from him, and then spin on the ball of your bare foot back towards him, igniting your saber on the come around. “Let’s switch weapons,” you say with a conniving little smirk. 

“You want me to use your lightsaber?”

“Scared?”

“Fuck off, and give it here.” Oh, he’s funny when he’s grouchy. 

You disengage the plasma beam and toss him the crossguard at the same time that he sends his spear your way. You catch it easily and give it an experimental twirl in your hands – it’s light, nicely balanced, and you give it a figure eight twist in front of you, once, twice, “Not as fancy – but I suppose it’ll do.” You take position, flexing up once on your toes to feel the tight stretch of your calves, a fizzy flutter of excitement in your belly. He’s right, you would never hurt him. A small, terrifying part of you even whispers that you think you’d do harm to yourself before you could ever even think of hurting him.

You can feel a deep hum of satisfaction coming off of him at the sight of you wielding one of his weapons, and he pauses for a beat, admiring you, and then ignites the saber, spinning the blade once in his hand, and then moving towards you on the defensive immediately, without thought. “No powers – just us,” he says, and he brings your lightsaber up above his head, the frame of his heavily muscled arms almost distracting you for a second, and then down upon you with all of his considerable strength. Fast as light, and he’s fucking strong so you feel the reverberation of the weapons meeting in your teeth with how powerful his strike is. 

“Maker– I didn’t think you were going to be a dick about this.” 

“That was your mistake.”

“Oh, you suck,”

“Not quite. But you will be later, trust me.”

“Did you just make a dirty joke?! I didn’t know you were allowed to do that,” you gasp. “This is not the way, Mandalorian,” you intone in a deep voice, imitating his baritone.

You disengage from his lock and spin away from him, twirling the spear above your head in a quick little flourish, hair fanning out around you, and then bringing it down upon him again. He’s fast and strong, but you’re small and sneaky, easily distracting. Your footwork has always been your greatest strength, like a dance and a game and a duel all at once. He parries your blow and steps to the side trying to evade you by going around. You take a light hop further away from him, and then pirouette back again, fast as you can, ready to strike once more, but he’s already there waiting, leaning heavily into your space so that the plasma blade flashes violet and angry, buzzing right up against your face. You feel the heat radiating off of it on your eyelids, and a bead of sweat slides down your temple.

“You’re not getting laid for a week,” you grit through clenched teeth, blowing a fallen piece of fringe out of your eyes. 

“Oh, you’re getting fucked as soon as this is over.” He shoves you back with all his strength, and you stumble over your own feet, giving an outraged little screech as you go ass over tits, and your bottom meets the hard ground. He circles your fallen form, “Get up. I'm not done with you yet, little one.”

Jerk. You spring back up onto the balls of your feet and meet him in a parry of blindingly quick strikes, one after the other after the other. He matches them all without even seeming to strain himself. Your strength is nothing compared to his, and for a second you feel a flash of anger, a memory of being weaker and smaller than everyone around you. He’s not even trying. You growl and spin again, going low, trying to get his legs, but he meets your blow, and then brings one of his hands up to shove you away by the shoulder. He’s never even wielded a fucking lightsaber before and this is how he does – you catch yourself with a supportive tendril of the Force on that one, and bare your teeth at him. 

“You’re stronger than me – this isn’t fair,” you pant.

“You know that isn’t true.” He strikes again, and you block it, barely. “But if it were, you’re tiny. Most people are going to be stronger than you. Tough shit – you can’t always rely on your tricks.”

“My tricks–” Fuck you. You jerk away from him, gasping for breath, sweating, angry at his words and full of reckless defiance. But you take a deep, calming breath and give him a small smile. “Oh, no?” you croon, and lunge at him again at the same time that you snake a ribbon of Force around his striking arm to pull the limb backwards, rendering it motionless and him without protection. He brings his other arm up to block your presumed blow, but you pull the saber from his grasp with your mind instead and knock the side of his spear against the curve of his helmet, loud clang echoing at the same time that you bring one small, bare foot up to the center of his belly and shove him back, sending him sprawling to the ground. How’s that for a trick? “Life isn’t fair, shiny. I'm going to use all the tricks in my book until I'm dead – and even after that, I still might find a way.” You stand over him looking down at the impenetrable dark of his visor. You crook your eyebrow at him, a little shrug of one shoulder, and oh, he’s fucking pissed, you can feel it rolling off of him. 

“I said no powers,” and grunts when you place a small foot on his belly, a conqueror over your felled opponent. 

“Oops.” You see the strain of his arms trying to fight against your restraints, biceps bulging and bunching, and he growls like an animal, like someone about to teach you a particularly savage lesson. You remove your foot from him and take a few, slow steps back from him. Retreating from the beast you’ve just purposefully enraged. “Now, now,” you try, “We were just messing around–” a nervous, hiccuping laugh.

You let him go, and he moves to his feet, long legs unfolding almost in slow motion. “You better fucking run, little girl. You do not want me to get my hands on you right now,” he says slowly.

You don’t need to be told twice, without a second thought you’re throwing both weapons to the ground and spinning on your heel, sprinting away as fast as you possibly can on bare feet. You’re pretty sure he even gives you a few seconds head start before he’s shooting after you. You can hear the pounding sound of his heavy strides over the hard ground, and you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can, making for the tree line far ahead, but there are rocks and small bric-a-brac hidden in the underbrush, and your pace falters, heart thumping painfully fast within the cage of your chest. There's a fine sheen of sweat covering your whole body, and right before his chest makes harsh contact with your back you have the thought that being caught by him is one of the greatest pleasures you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. 

He slams into your back and takes you to the ground, his hand coming up to protect your face, his other arm banding tightly around your waist seeming to press all of the air from your lungs. 

“Should’ve run faster.”

“Maybe I wanted to be caught,” you gasp.

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” You feel him lever himself up above you, and then he’s ripping down your leggings and underwear, the sound of seams popping at the ferocity of his movements, “You want to be my little whore? Want me to fuck you right here under the open sky for the entire galaxy and the Maker to see how I own this cunt?” And lands a stinging, sharp slap to your ass. He grips the meat of your cheek and spreads you wide for his inspection, you feel the probe of his thumb at the tight furl of your ass, then lower to your folds, your leaking entrance, your swollen clit. “Look at you, fucking soaked already, shit. You like being hunted and caught, little one?”

“Only by you,” you moan into the dirt, an echo of your past words to each other, your cheek squished against the grass, you watch the panting huffs of your breath disturb the blades and let him do with you what he will. He’s caught his bounty, he should enjoy the fruits of his spoils now. He presses his thumb inside, sliding it in and out of you slowly, and then unexpectedly slaps you again and you mewl, twisting the soft green blades between your shaking fingers, trying to find purchase, an anchoring, anything to steady your racing heart. You listen to the rustle of his clothes as he frees his cock and finally, finally, you can hear the change in his breath as he takes hold of his hard length. Make me so fucking hard, you hear him mutter. He reaches for your twisted hands then, pulling them behind you, “Hand here, and here–” he sets each palm on either of your cheeks, “Show me that little asshole. I want to see it.” Nasty man, and like the good girl you’re trying to pretend to be, you obey and pull yourself apart for him, presenting all you have to offer, hips lifted in a desperate little arc for him to fuck into you. He presses the wide head of his cock to your fluttering cunt, and starts to push in, stretching you painfully without having made you come before – it hurts to take him like this. Caught and fucked into the dirt, and he pushes in until he’s rooted to the hilt, heavy sac pressed tightly against your backside, and you love it. His strong thighs bracket your own, restrained in your partially shoved down leggings, making the fit all the more snug when he wedges that thick cock inside of you. “Fuck, yes,” he growls and sets a punishing pace. Slamming his hips so hard into your ass you can feel the rebound of your soft flesh in your hands, still holding yourself open, drooling and sobbing into the grass, hair a fallen mess, sticking to the wetness of your tears and spit on your cheeks. He angles his hips down and hammers into your g-spot. Fucking made for me, perfect little cunt, so pretty, you can hear him muttering hoarsely through the modulator behind you over the wet, sucking slide of his cock. He sets a brutal pace that has you going almost cross-eyed, weak little huffs of breath being fucked out of you on every push in so that you can’t even make a sound of pleasure or pain or anything. All you can do is take it. 

He moans an almost agonized sound, feels so fucking good – and oh, it’s too much, the punishing pace, the sound of his pleasure, the painful stretch of his thick cock inside of you, hitting against that ravenous little place, the feel of his desire for you pushing up against the periphery of your mind – he is devastating and life changing, world altering inside of you, and, “Din, Din, please – I’m going to come,” you hitch and cry. 

And he pulls out. Suddenly, painfully, he rips his sliding cock from the wet, fluttering clutch of your pussy on the verge of orgasm, dripping cock smearing wetly against the curve of your ass. “No,” he sits back on his haunches and turns you over roughly, your bare arms and back chafing against the grass and dirt. “Who said you had permission to come?” He rips your leggings down one leg to get at your sex and spreads your thighs wide, right here in the middle of the open field, and then hooks his fingers under your breast band at the space between your tits to pull you up into a sitting position. “Grab my cock,” he orders. “Bad girls don’t get to come.” You wrap your slim fingers around the swollen, slick length of him and start to slide your hand up and down, squeezing to the very root and then back up to the drooling head, ending in a little twist. You look up at the visage of his helmet, if his gaze had a physical manifestation it’d be all over your skin, licking and kissing and sucking. He pushes your breast band down to free the heavy, aching weights of your tits and squeezes them hard so that you’re moaning up at him softly, legs spread around his kneeling form, bare, pulsing cunt leaking into the grass beneath. You can see the skin of his neck where his stubble fades to tan sweaty skin beneath the edge of his helmet, and your teeth ache to bite there. You want to see what sort of sound he’d make if you bit hard enough to draw blood…

He twists your nipples between his fingers, and then switches to softer, soothing passes around your areolas, lifting each breast high to squeeze and then letting them fall to hang and sway heavily. “Too fucking beautiful for your own good,” he says in a low whisper, as if only for himself. Your other hand moves to cup the hanging weight of his balls and you massage them gently, and then twist a little, applying more pressure, eliciting a soft whimper from him. “No,” he grunts suddenly, pressing you belly back into the hard ground, pinning you there despite a whine and dolling out a quick, stinging slap to your spread sex. You cry out, trying to toe him away with one small foot lifted to his shoulder, escape his unforgiving hands, but he digs his fingers into the softness of your thighs and pulls you back towards him, gripping the base of his cock to feed it back into you. “This is your punishment, stop distracting me.” 

He lifts up the hem of his shirt, tucking it beneath his lowered chin so that he can fuck you unobstructed. He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your breast band around your waist and uses it as leverage to pull you onto his impaling cock, fucking up into your cervix painfully, sending you right to the edge of orgasm once again. The sight of his exposed abdomen shifting under the sunlight, sweat sliding down from his chest to the hair trailing from his navel, lower to the thick root of his cock, neatly trimmed, mouth watering – it has your already overwrought cunt pulsing and aching and drooling, clenching down painfully around him. “You are not allowed to come. If you do, I'm going to make it so much worse for you, do you understand me?”

“No, please. Please, Din. I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good,” you cry, deepening the arch of your back to open yourself further to him, to feel the jolt of his cock more intensely within you. 

“Too late.” His thrusts speed up, sloppy and unsynchronized, and he growls low in his throat beneath the helmet as he rips himself from you once again and takes his soaked length in hand, fucking his fist furiously until he comes over the gaping slit of your sex, covering your pusling cunt in the searing heat of his milky spend, spurting thickly onto the slope of your belly and your heaving tits. You let out an agonized sob, throwing your arms over your face to hide the sight of your tears from him. Your womb twists painfully, low in your pelvis, the echoes of his brutal fucking still felt in the unsatisfied frenzied fluttering of your muscles. “Bad girls don’t get filled up either.” He gives his slick length one final squeeze, twisting his fist viciously at the angry, red tip to milk out the last final drops of his come. You watch his fist, gripped around himself so tightly, beneath the hood of your wet lashes and crossed arms, and think it must surely hurt him, such a punishing hold on himself – but you also think that, like you, he enjoys a little pain with his pleasure. Or a lot… depending on the day. 

He drops his wet hand to your pulsing sex, smearing the thick viscosity of his semen into your painfully sensitive skin, and then slaps it again and again and again. Three stinging slaps in a row that has you twisting away, trying to escape him. “I want to eat your cunt,” and his voice is nothing but a gasp, “It’s so fucking red and swollen – and it gapes when I slap it.” He hits you again, presses a hand low on your belly to keep you in place and incite the coiled ball of unreleased arousal sitting inside of you, all at once. 

He leans forward, holding himself up over you on one strong arm and grips your jaw tightly, his hand wet and sticky with his come and your own slick, and squeezes your cheeks together, forcing your mouth into a pout and giving your head a little jostle, his hold on you, so tight, you feel the imprinted shape of your teeth on the inside of your cheeks. “What if someone saw you like this, being fucked full of cock? What would you do?” His hand leaves your face to press two thick fingers inside of your poor, abused pussy. 

“Please, no more–” you whisper, you can’t take anymore. 

“Quit. As much as I say – it’s mine. Isn’t it? It belongs to me.” You have to nod, you have no other choice, you must tell the truth right now, and then answering his first question: “Nothing. I don't care. What would you do?” And despite your protestations, you wrap both your hands around his thick wrist to leverage yourself against him and begin to ride his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers crooked inside of you.

“Kill them. You’re only mine to see like this– fucking mine,” but he pulls his fingers from you, again. You give a little undignified screech, feeling the overwhelming sensation of your opening clenching hungrily around nothing, and he sits back on his haunches again, taking himself away from you, and tucks his still wet, still semi-hard cock back behind the plaque of his trousers. He takes several deep breaths, the wings of his rib cage expanding so wide on the exhale you worry for a second he’d take flight, escape you, go somewhere where you could not reach him. 

“You’re so mean,” you mewl up at him, tears streaming across your cheeks and backwards, down your temples into your hair – making your already sweat damp hairline even wetter. Your whole body feels wet and trembling and raw. You move to press your knees closed, but he grips you around the ankle still wearing your leggings and pulls them off of you entirely. 

“I know,” he says, “Poor, little girl,” cooed at you, a little mean, a little condescending, his voice so soft and smokey and deep. “Perhaps, this’ll teach you what happens to bad girls who don’t follow the rules.” He pulls you by the wrist to sit up and curls to press his shoulder into the soft of your belly, unfolding from the ground all the way to standing, with the entirety of your weight slung over his shoulder, just by the pure strength of him. He turns back towards the ship and slaps your ass as he walks, right at the apex of your thighs so that you feel the rebound of it in your cunt. Tears drip down your upside down face while your arms hang limply down towards the ground, your head bobbing along limply with his gait, wild, loose hair swinging, entirely overwhelmed and conquered – just like he’d wanted you. 

And after everything, even without an orgasm, it’s really not so bad. 

-

He hauls your ass back to the ship without even seeming to lose his breath, carrying your weight easily over his shoulder. He’s so strong, and it makes you even wetter for him, if possible. Making his way up the ramp, he hits the button to disengage and shut it behind the two of you once you’re inside, and deposits your limp, trembling form onto your nest of blankets. A murmured: “I’m going to get us in the air,” and then he’s climbing up into the cockpit. You think you must fall asleep or go so delirious from the cramping deep in your belly that you lose consciousness for what seems like seconds or possibly hours later he’s back and spreading your legs again, you mumble something incoherently that sounds like his name or a plea for mercy or his cock, and then his unmodulated voice sounds, “Don’t open your eyes, little one.” You think you nod your head or give some sort of a reply of confirmation, but you can’t be sure. Your body feels so far removed from you, sun drunk and cock drunk and Din drunk. He shoves the breadth of his wide, naked shoulders between your thighs and hooks both thumbs at your soft outer lips to spread you wide and spits directly onto your swollen clit and blushed, fluttering hole. You moan and writhe, bringing your hands up to your face to dig the heels of your palms harshly into your sockets, sliding the tips of your fingers through your hairline to pull at the strands. He starts off light, whisper soft, the tip of his tongue tracing figure eights over your clit, and then further down to flutter lightly at the  mouth of your cunt. You’re sex is drenched in his own come, and he doesn’t seem to give a single fuck, tasting himself on your own skin and groaning at your combined flavors. He moves back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth hard. Your back arches in an almost painful bend, bringing your knees up as far back as you can to your shoulders, hands hooked beneath the sweaty bend of your joints to hold yourself open for him.

“Are you going to be bad again?” he murmurs into your cunt.

“Yes–” irrationally, recklessly defiant.

“Good. I’d expect nothing less.” He licks a long, wet swipe through your slit, further down to taste your ass, his tongue applying pressure to the sensitive rosebud, then back up to your pussy, licking into you with the strong muscle of his tongue. You can feel him rutting into the blanketed floor. 

“Are you hard again already?” voice ragged, you want to know, you want it in your mouth.

“Fuck yes, I’m hard. I’m always hard for you. Most perfect little cunt in the entire galaxy,” and he literally slurps at your folds, wet and lewd and entirely obscene. You writhe on the blankets, one foot pressed to the thick mass of his muscular shoulder trying to push him away and rock yourself against his face all at the same time. He moves to kneel over you and grips your other leg open under the bend of your knee. “Never want you to fucking behave,” he presses two thick fingers inside of you, hooked against that spongey spot at the front of your cunt, thumb on your clit, and sets a quick fire pace, tugging your orgasm forward, jostling his fingers inside of you. “Means I get to do this to you as many times as I want,” he grits. “Get this fucking cunt wet for me, little girl.” He shoves a third finger inside of you, hooks his fingers against your g-spot again and presses down on your lower belly with his other hand, and rubs fast and hard inside of you. You whine high pitched, an animal sound, writhing in the nest of blankets, twisting them in your hands to press your face to them. He quickens his pace, his whole hand shaking within you, and then wrenches it from your cunt and you feel yourself gush onto the waiting blankets and his spread thighs. 

He moans a savage sound, “Yes, yes – fucking again,” and he pushes those three fingers back into your gaping hole, the palm on your belly giving a slow soothing circular stroke to settle you, and you think you must surely want to beg for no more, please, no more, but you cannot. He pauses for a second, and you listen to the sound of his heavy panting breaths over the sound of your own echoing heart in your ears. His palm is so big and warm on your abdomen, and it soothes you for a second, your limbs full of fired lightning. He pets softly at your g-spot, and then quakes his hand again, palm on your belly pushing down to apply pressure from the outside. It feels like there’s plasma melting down your spine, and your vision behind your closed lids bends and flashes blinding white. Again, it’s going to happen again – he rips his hand from you, and you gush once again, soaking wet. Yes, yes, yes, he’s chanting, sounding half delirious, nonsensical, and then his mouth is at your cunt again, drinking up all the slick wetness you’ve just made for him.

Mine, all mine, look at all this – made it all for me, didn’t you, gorgeous thing. 

He laps at you gently until he’s gotten all of it, every last drop of your come and slick and sweat. Your entire frame shakes and jolts with aftershocks, trembling and sweating and crying. Heart beating an overwhelmed symphony within your chest to the tune of his name. This is not like anything else, you think. This is something to venerate and fear equally, you think. You feel afraid. He mouths gently at the raw skin of your inner thighs, pressing slow kisses to your mound, up the slope of your belly, over the trembling hills of your breasts, up finally all the way to your mouth where he licks into you wet and hot. There’s a desperately hungry energy to him, ready to shove into your cunt and fuck you again. You feel the drooling tip of his heavily hanging cock bob against your belly, and he makes a soft sound, low in his throat, but pulls back, humming contemplatively. 

“Let’s take a shower,” he murmurs between kisses, “You’re filthy,” the soft sound of his self satisfied huff of laughter. He presses one last kiss to your mouth then gets to his feet with a soft groan, the hollow sounding pop of his knees, and you listen to him move into the fresher, starting the water and shuffling about. You’re beyond words, vaguely painful aftershocks seizing your throat and muscles, and you can’t open your eyes, you won’t. He’s walking around with so much trust, moving about the hull into the softly lit fresher helmetless and entirely vulnerable. He trusts you, and you don’t think you’ve ever been able to say that, ever been able to claim the trust of another person. Never. You need to protect this at all costs, guard it fiercely and nurture it as you would a fragile and delicate sapling. 

He returns to your side after a moment, wrapping his hands around you. Your limbs have been rendered limp and useless, entirely pliable for his strong hands to pull you up into his embrace, and you feel like water in his arms as he carries you into the warm spray of the fresher, submerged in his touch and his smell, your mind murky and floating with your eyes still closed. He shuts off the lights as he passes, sinking the two of you into a deep darkness once again and sets you on your feet, shaky, weak knees knocking together, coltish and frail. 

The spray of the water is warm and sets about a cloud of humidity around the two of you. You reach up to twist your arms around his strong neck, fingers twisting in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, and his roving hands slide along your limbs and curves, water slick and lust frenzied, but still slow, categorizing, exploring. He feels you, grips your soft flesh in his big hands, the rough calluses on his palms catching at your sensitive skin, his fingers pressing along your arms, gripping the joints of your elbows between his fingers, up to your wrists clasped behind his neck. He brings one hand down to his face to press a long kiss to the center of your palm, then presses your splayed palm to his cheek, nuzzles against you like an overly large cat. “I love how this feels,” he whispers low. You think you must have lost your voice, spit it out in the field where he’d fucked you and left it there, forgotten, but you press your face up into the warm spot beneath his jaw, mouthing slowly there at his burning hot skin. He tastes like the sun, like earth and life and all the goodness you’d never before had the chance to taste, and you want to drink him down, take a bite and swallow him, let him settle down, deep and heavy in your belly where you’d keep him always. Your heart gives a heavy thump of fear, but then his other hand is there, sliding down the arch of your spine and gripping your ass to press you into the long line of his erection. “Are you ready for my cock again, little one?” And his words return your mind to the slow cramping, deep in your pelvis. The hungry clench of your cunt and the shivers zipping down the lines of your muscles. 

Yes, please, you think you whisper, and you must, for he lifts one of your thighs, hooking it around his hip and bending his knees slightly to press the head of his cock to the slick mouth of your cunt, and then he’s surging up and sliding deep inside you, gripping your other thigh as he goes to lift you high up into his arms and settle himself deep into your belly, to what feels like the very end of you, knees hooked over the bends of his elbows. It feels like he presses all the way to the heart of you, your very heart, your very heart, he has it in his clutch. That heart you’d for so long feared had been taken from you, swallowed and destroyed. You moan softly into his open mouth and he swallows down your sounds, tastes the inside of your mouth with his tongue, grips and kneads all the soft contours that make you up – that softness that still makes up the hard creature that they’d tried to force you into. He feels it, takes it in his hands. 

You run your hands along him as well. The hard lines of him to juxtapose your own softness. His broad shoulders, muscled and strong and endless, seemingly wide enough to hold up the weight of the galaxy. The thick bulge of his biceps, the strength of his chest, the flat expanse of his abdomen that gently turns to softness lower down. The thick root of his cock fucking up into you. You softly circle your hand there, feeling the slide of him thrusting into you, pressing into the swollen bud of your clit. You can feel your orgasm churning like molten ore in your pelvis, the base of your spine. You’re both scarred all over, mottled in the painful history of your individual pasts, and he has scars on his hands, covered in them, for some reason these hurt you more than any you’ve ever endured on your own body. Such strong, capable, gentle hands – you pull them to your mouth one by one and kiss each and every one of them. 

He grips your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock harder, bends his knees to deepen the angle inside of you and you keen and mewl weakly for him, a supplication in the shape of his name, shared here in this warm darkness he’s pulled you into with him, and you think of the dark and of the opposition of light. Of being alone and together and here with him, afraid and protected and how the darkness had never seemed anything more than a cruel and suffocating mantle meant to only ever subjugate and enslave you, and how here, with him now, with him inside of you and held in his arms it feels like nothing more than protection. A safe place to cast away your fear. “Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika?” he murmurs into the lush of your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth and biting down gently. 

Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika.

My good girl, taking me so well.

And no one had ever baptized you with a veneration such as that. No one had ever called to you in gentleness or care, and so you do. You come for him at the sound of it, at the feel of the wide head of his cock kissing your womb on every press inside, the grip of his hands, possessive and hard and gentle and coaxing and inescapable, all at the same time. It’s like he’s all the things in the world that a man could ever be, and you give him your pleasure, and he returns it in kind, filling you with the heat of his spend, coating your insides with himself. Sweet and full of heart, just like he’d said.

Chapter V

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[heartbreakgrill]

stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt. 9- “killing me slow, out the window. i’m always waiting for you just to cut to the bone.”

a/n: EEEK! one more after this cuz i’m a lying liar and can’t stop writing.

stiles leaned his chin against his fist, staring out the window of the second floor room in the hospital. outside, the sun was setting. the rain poured down in a thick stream, bouncing off the pavement. lightening crashed through the sky every so often, and more than once, the lights had flickered. stiles was on the edge of his seat, anxious. he hoped this was just a storm, not anything deeper than that.

down below, the parking lot was sparse of people. cars pulled in and out while the time dragged by. but, it was an unusually quiet night for beacon hills memorial hospital. outside of y/n’s room, stiles ears were only occasionally prickled by the sound of shoes squeaking against the linoleum floors. the stillness made him nervous.

stiles took another deep sigh. his chest lifted with the effort, falling as he let the air out of his nose. his eyes followed a car as it rolled into the parking lot. then, bored of the sight, and restless in his nature, stiles’ turned his knees back towards the hospital bed behind him. his gaze rolled over y/n, who was still just laying there. she was blacked out and a breathing mask sat overtop her face. an iv drop was attached to her left hand. a thin, scratchy hospital-issued blanket was tugged up to her chin, but overtop, stiles had lay his hoodie on her. he’d wanted to run over to her house, grab a blanket, a pillow from her room. but, he didn’t want to leave her sound.

stiles leaned forward, rested his elbows on the edge of the bed, and picked y/n’s hand up off of her stomach. he’d shifted between this exact position, staring out that window, and pacing the room so many times in the last 24 hours. he didnt know what else to do with himself. the nurse on duty kept assuring him that y/n would wake up, at any time. that y/n would be alright, so long as she woke up tonight. it didn’t necessarily mean y/n would be dying- but, that’s when they should all be concerned.

as if stiles didn’t have enough to worry about.

after all, his dad was missing. still. and they had no new leads.

scott had headed to derek’s loft, to warn him about jennifer. that was just a few hours ago. he hasn’t received any updates on the situation. and this storm was intensifying his anxieties.

then, stiles also wasn’t sure where anyone else was- but he just hoped that they were out looking for answers. no one was responding to his text messages.

he wanted to be out there, helping, but when scott had offered him to come to derek’s loft- stiles said no. stiles didn’t want to leave y/n alone. besides, he was paralyzed by the situation. he already lacked any physical enhancements that would offer up any sort of help to the situation. and, now, he was mentally unstable, as well. he couldn’t stopped crying, couldn’t stop his breath from quickening every few minutes. it was taking all of his energy to not crawl up into himself and panic until he wasted away.

the girl he loved was nearly in a coma, and his dad was missing. the

if only she were awake…she would say something, anything, that would help him. she would remind him of his strength and perseverance. she would hug him, kiss his cheek, and make him feel, for just a minute, that the world was simple. that he could get his dad back.

right now, he felt so hopeless.

the only thing that kept him going was the hope of her opening her eyes, squeezing back his hand. it pushed him forth.

it helped, too, that no one else had been taken, quite yet. once they were, once two more guardians were reported missing- that’s when stiles knew his dad was going to die.

stiles brushed his thumb across her knuckles, a pattern he found some grounding root in, and sniffled. he pressed their joined hands to his forehead and leaned his head down. holding back a sob, stiles stuttered out, “i don’t know what to do.”

as if a prayer was being answered, he felt y/n’s fingers twitch between his own. he quickly lifted his head, snapping his gaze to her struggling face.

y/n squinted her eyelids, her vision blurry as she tried to pry open her sight. the fluorescent lights burned her tired, weary eyes, only making her struggle more. it took her more than a moment to adjust, but when she did, she had to process a lot of information. first, her gaze latched to her body- the hospital gown and blankets were itchy against her skin, and she could feel the iv digging at her skin. the breathing mask was restrictive over her face, but the air pumped into her lungs felt so fresh. mostly, what she felt was pain- her legs hurt, her ribs ached, and her head was pounding.

she slowly regained control throughout her body. it was that buzzing feeling one normally got after this leg fell asleep- staticky and nerve-prickling. eventually, her fingers twitched, her toes wiggled, and she was able to take in stiles. he perked up as her eyes fell onto his, immediately jumping from his chair. he never let go of her hand, even as stiles found the nurse’s call button and pressed it rapidly. he leaned his torso over her.

“oh, my god,” he breathed out, gratefully. more tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t care. stiles set a hand to her cool cheek, touch finalizing the fact that she was really conscious again. “you’re awake! thank god- you’re awake, baby.”

y/n wanted to say something, but her throat was scratchy from having not spoken for a day. there was, also, a mask prisoning her mouth. a small cough forced it’s way from her throat. stiles carefully pulled it from her face. y/n lay her hand over his, helping him move it. it left a red, dented mark over either of her cheeks. they slid their fingers into one another’s.

“wha-“ she coughed slightly, clearing her throat, “what happened?” short, fading clips rolled over her working memory, like filing cabinets rattling around, shutting and closing to quickly for her to grab onto anything.

stiles lay a hand on her face, unable to focus on her words, “i’m so fucking happy you’re awake.”

“stiles,” she furrowed her brows, “what happened?”

stiles was going to explain everything to her, though he was afraid. he was sure she didn’t remember of anything, especially everything he had told her before they went to the school. so, having to explain it all to her again, especially now that she had been nearly killed by the very thing stiles warned her of- would she reject him? would she want nothing to do with not only that part of his life, but him, too?

stiles didn’t know if he’d survived losing his dad and her all within the same day. he needed her.

just as he opened his lips, hesitant words waiting on his tongue, the nurse was rushing into the room. stiles couldn’t remember her name.

she looked more than concerned, clutching her stethoscope around her neck with white knuckles. when she saw y/n, eyes wide open, breathing mask in her hand, she flinched slightly.

she went to say something, too, but lightening cracked overtop of the hospital. it was loud, louder than the storm had been moments ago. and it sounded like the wind was crashing against the hospital in thick, tormenting waves.

“good thing you’re awake,” her breathy words fell into the air, a slight, nervous humor in her tone.

then, another lightening strike crashed, and the lights in the hospital blacked out. y/n instantly grabbed at stiles’ wrist, tight, and he slipped his fingers into her. y/n’s body was shaking.

“what’s happening?” stiles demanded.

the backup generator powered on. the lights were dimmer than before, and an alarm began blasting throughout the building. a warning. y/n flinched, again, at the sound, squinting her eyes shut and tilting her head away from the noise. her forehead banged against her skull.

“we have to go! they’re evacuating the hospital because of the storm. there’s an ambulance leaving in ten minutes, and another in twenty. we need to get you on one of them,” the nurse quickly shot to y/n’s bedside. she took the breathing mask from her hands and began moving the iv stand about. “do you think you can walk?”

y/n glanced at stiles, her pupils wide with fear. she shook her head, “i don’t know!”

“it’s okay,” stiles nodded once. he managed to keep his tone steady, reaching out to help her off the bed, “it’s okay. here.”

the nurse met stiles on his side of the bed. she carefully set y/n’s legs off the side of the bed, her feet barely touching the cold floor. then, y/n’s nurse quickly slipped the young girl’s pants up her legs, a pair of hospital socks on her feet. y/n gripped either of their hands as they helped her stand, their support also pressing onto her elbows. she hissed as she stood up, bunched over from the pain. her chin dropped into her chest. stiles securely held onto her waist, her hand squeezing tightly into his other.

“hold onto this,” the nurse wheeled y/n’s iv stand over to stiles. he hesitated, unsure of how he was going to manage that.

but, he wrapped a fist around it. as soon as he had he did, the nurse bolted out of the room to help other patients. stiles stared after her, jaw slack, and a little more than pissed off at her lack of beside manners. “ok, wow. um- okay, baby, okay…we’ve gotta go, okay?”

y/n looked up at him with a pained expression. tears streaked down her face, “stiles…i don’t-“

her knees gave out on her. y/n nearly collapsed to the ground, but stiles grabbed onto her waist. he felt her entire body shaking beneath his touch, both from the pain coursing throughout her injuries and her fear.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! hey, here.”

stiles carefully pulled the iv from the needle in her hand, then looped her arms over his shoulders. “please, baby, hold on to me, okay?”

he felt y/n nod against his chest, weakly. her hold tightened onto his neck. stiles crouched down an inch more so he could get his hands under her knees. he picked her up in his arms, more than surprised by his own strength. the machines beeped, wildly, as they lost connection to her body. but, that was just background noise. outside, he could hear dozens of people rushing past, the alarm still blaring.

stiles kicked the door to her room open, pausing as those people rushed past him, down the hallway, towards the elevators. the lights flickered again and everyone yelped in fear. stiles glanced down as he felt y/n’s hair tickle his neck, her head lolled into the corner of his shoulder. her eyes were squeezed shut, teeth ground together as she tried not to scream.

“okay, here we go, baby,” stiles pushed them into the stream of people headed for any and all of the exits.

patients, nurses, and doctors moved against him, bumping y/n’s legs every so often, offering no help to the situation. he cursed every time they hit y/n and stiles, because she hissed in pain as they bumped her injuries. stiles kept glancing down at her to try to ensure she was okay, so he nearly tripped over his own feet, numerous times. but, somehow, he managed to keep going.

just as they reached the elevators, the doors popped open, and stiles was met with the sight of derek, scott, and jennifer. anger coursed through stiles veins, and his eyes darkened. he clenched his jaw as he took a step back. why was she here, with them? why had they brought her here? stiles just knew this storm was because of her.

y/n rustled in his arms as she tried to lift her head. she felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness. though she couldn’t really focus on anything happening- the lightening rattling the building, the chaos unfolding before them, the woman who nearly killed her standing the elevator- she could hear stiles’ heartbeat pounding against her ear. her fading consciousness was taken back to his jeep, his bare chest beneath her touch, his finger brushing patterns into her skin.

she heard his heartbeat quicken, his blood pumping angrily. she wanted to comfort him, remind him that it would be all be okay. they’d make it out. she’d live.

so, y/n wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, tangling them into his hair. goosebumps rose beneath her touch. stiles felt his anger ease up as he focused onto her cold fingertips.

as a cooling breath fell between stiles’ lips, scott quickly ushered him into the elevator. the doors closed behind stiles’ back. and scott breaks the news to him, “the alpha pack is here. in the hospital.”

stiles shoots daggers at miss morrell, who is trying to avoid his gaze. if y/n wasn’t here, in his arms, he’d jennifer up against the wall, hand around her throat. he didn’t hear scott at first, not until his friend touches his shoulder. he meets scott’s eyes, “…they’re here? in the hospital? why? why are they here?”

“yeah,” scott nodded shortly, “but, that’s not the worst part. cora- she’s dying. but, jennifer says there’s something she can do to help. that’s why we brought her-“

“and we’re gonna trust her?” stiles’ voice rose, slightly, as he swung around to face the enemy. as he did, y/n groaned in pain. he was aware of himself, her in his arms, again, and quickly looked to see if she was okay.

scott could smell the fear and pain oozing off of y/n’s crumpled body. he set a hand on y/n’s knee, guiding stiles back to his side of the elevator, “here, stiles. i can help her.”

stiles met scott’s eye. he didn’t hesitate to nod, once, encouraging scott to take away her struggle, to allow her just a few moments of peace. the veins of scott’s hand then turned black, as the pain coursed from y/n’s body, into his own. stiles watched her face, brows lifting in hope as he watched the painful expression on her face fall. she relaxed back into his arms, the trembling of her body ceasing just a bit.

“there,” scott patted stiles’ shoulder. “that should help. but, you need to get her out of here. i don’t know what will happen if she gets stuck between us and the alpha pack.

“i know,” stiles lips trembled as pressed a kiss to her forehead. a tear escaped his head. then, he twisted his head towards jennifer. she finally met his eye, looking just a little uncomfortable. stiles frowned, “i know, scott. but- where’s my dad? where the fuck is my dad? does she have him still?”

jennifer went to respond, a cocky look in her eyes. but, the doors to the elevators opened, again. they had arrived to whatever floor scott had pressed the button for. stiles assumed it was where cora’s room was. scott stepped forward, bracing the situation with a hand atop the door so it could not close. it was relatively quiet on this floor, aside from the flickering lights, the blaring alarm, and the scattered patient’s charts across the floor. after their hesitation to gauge the situation, derek rushed towards cora’s room.

stiles didn’t really pay attention as scott and derek investigated. he kept a watchful eye on jennifer, gently brushing y/n’s hair from her forehead with a shaky hand. it was grounding, it helped him focus. jennifer met his gaze, again, a coy smile curling into her lips.

she narrowed her eyes and glanced down to y/n, “poor girl. how many broken ribs does she have? is she concussed, or no? what’s the state of our patient, mr. stilinksi?”

stiles licked his lips as his jaw rolled in frustration. his voice was low, “after you help us find my dad, i am going to kill you-“

“have her symptoms set in yet?” jennifer took a daring step forward, interrupting him.

stiles’ brows furrowed, just slightly, “wha-what? what other symptoms?”

y/n coughed, a movement that racked her entire body. jennifer flicked her brows up, as if she had been anticipating this. stiles glanced down at y/n, and noticed some black liquid lining her lips. she coughed, again, face scrunched in pain. a small trial of what stiles could only assume was black blood trickled down her chin.

stiles’ breathing hastened and he looked back up at jennifer, “what did you do to her? what the fuck did you do to her? you-you fix it! right now! fix her, or i’m going to tear every limb from your body!”

jennifer chuckled, “your threats don’t scare me, stiles. after all, you’re just a human. you’re nothing compared to scott. you don’t have claws or fangs.”

as jennifer spoke, she circled around stiles, forcing him to take small steps backwards, away from her threatening presence. he looked to scott and derek, who were fighting for their lives. he was on his own.

“you just have your annoying sense of humor, your inability to ever stop speaking. and, now,” she gestured at y/n with an amused expression, “a dying girlfriend.”

stiles sneaker skidded against the linoleum floor as he backed up out of the elevator. he looked down at his feet to keep his trembling balance. and, when he looked back up, the doors of the elevator were slowing closely. jennifer was getting away.

“good luck!” she waved slyly.

behind him, scott, derek, and the twins continued fighting. their mangled roars were evident, now, as stiles’ focused shifted from jennifer to their chaos. he glanced down at y/n, heart thumping wildly, now. the black blood was coating her chin, bubbling between her lips. but, she was still passed out.

stiles could no longer manage his anger. it was coursing through his veins, white, hot. he felt like he would explode.

so, stiles carefully set y/n on an abandoned hospital bed that was pushed up against the wall. he tried to roll her into what had been cora’s room, just to get her out of the way, so he could focus his anger towards something useful. but before he could, ethan and aiden threw a piece of fallen ceiling towards them. stiles barely managed to dodge out of the way before another piece followed the other. he came back onto his feet, quickly, rushing to y/n’s side. he used every ounce of strength to push y/n’s bed inside the room. his sneakers squealed against the floor. then, stiles heard a roar, and he looked up again, just in time.

the anger was heating up his reddened face, now. he searched for a weapon in the hallway, something to not only defend himself with, but something to fight back.

ethan and aiden were running towards him. stiles cursed under his breath as they neared. he found a pipe, ripped from the wall, on the floor by his feet. stiles gripped it in his fists and, with the strength only ever garnered by a boy protecting someone he loved, stiles hit the werewolves over their stupid, conjoined head.

they were sent, toppling, down the hallway. scott and derek rounded the mound of mangled skin and bone, glancing between it and stiles with an astounded shock.

“nice going,” scott held out a fist for stiles’ to pound with his own. instead, his friend pushed it away, slowly.

stiles looked up at scott with a crinkled expression, tears welling up in his eyes, “she’s dying, scott.”

–

the world came crashing down around stiles. he didn’t know what to do.

scott abandoned his friend, running off with deucalion to try to get answers to solve their problems. he instructed stiles to get y/n to dr. deaton- but he wasn’t going to help. stiles tried not to focus on his frustration that came from scott’s willingness to leave him, alone, with a dying girl- and not just any girl, but stiles’ girl.

so, stiles focused his energy on quickly awakening derek, hoping he would help get her to the animal clinic. he knew he would run into troubles, and he needed a werewolf on his side. after all, jennifer was right. he was just a human. he didn’t have any powers.

but, derek simply scooped up cora, and prepared to leave the hospital.

stiles stood in the door of the elevator blocking it as derek pressed a button. he demanded derek to help him. “derek!” stiles begged, voice less assertive, but more so just weak, “please! you have to help me! she-she’s dying! you have to help me!”

“i have to help my family first,” derek set cora against the wall of the elevator. he stepped forward, a hand raised in a move to shove stiles out of the way.

but, instead, stiles gripped at derek’s hand, a weary, bargaining look in his eyes, “you know i would help you! derek- you know i’d help. we can take them both there-! cmon, derek. pls-please?”

derek hesitated as stiles’ tone cracked. it seemed like he might, maybe, help stiles. his hesitation gave stiles a glimmer of hope. but, then, derek glanced over at cora, at the black blood pouring out of every crevice of her body. he ripped his hand from stiles touch, “i can’t.”

he refused to meet stiles’ sad eyes as he backed up into the elevator. stiles was frozen. derek thought he would have to shove the boy from the elevator, but, after a second, stiles took his own step back. his body was slack, still.

he was alone.

just as the doors began to close, derek finally met the burning gaze coming from stiles’ dark eyes. “you know i’d help you, derek.”

derek’s head dipped low.

tears streamed down stiles cheeks, a silent cry that took up every ounce of energy he had left. stiles watched the elevator close, secure and tight, hands slack at his sides. all of a sudden, a scream rose from his throat. stiles kicked at the stupid metal box, hard, yelling loudly.

a sob racked through his body as he turned back to y/n. stiles ripped his hands through his hair, kicking ripped pipes, pieces of ceiling, skidding them across the floor.

stiles came to slouch on the edge of her bed. he wanted to just lay at her side, content to suffocate within her shadow. he didn’t even know where to begin. he didn’t know how to get her out of here, to the animal clinic.

the police were here. the storm had blocked off several roads. jennifer was running loose again. the alpha pack was still on the prowl. stiles’ dad was missing.

and y/n was dying.

he at least knew the end goal, which was better than nothing- get her to the animal clinic. but, he had so many obstacles in his way. so many obstacles that required supernatural abilities he just did not have.

stiles slowly turned his head to y/n, shoulders dropped, head hung low. he brushed his finger across her temple. he smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “i’m so sorry,” he lips blubbered.

stiles felt like he had failed her. no- he knew he had failed her. because he had. “i’m so sorry, baby.” stiles crouched over her body, his head in the crook of her still neck, sobbing like a baby.

he’d gotten her caught up into this mess with his stupid lies and manipulation, when he could have just told her the truth. all of this could have been avoided. but, now; she was on her death bed. and it was all his fault.

he had killed her.

stiles stared at her for a while, maybe just a few minutes, admiring her peaceful beauty. he ran his fingers over her cheeks. he’d been in this position so many times before. but never like this. his chest, though filled with fear, mourning, made some room for the love he felt for her. because he did- he loved her. he loved her so much.

his mind raced, as he wondered when it was that he finally realized he loved her.

had it been the time she met his dad? when she sat with them after her shift and ate dinner? when she spoke of her dream for after high school, when she shared the most intimate details of her hopes? he remembered how much his heart had swelled as she talked. she was so smart, so intelligent and creative. he knew she had a bright, hopefully future outside of this stupid town.

or had it been the week earlier, when he had gone to her house for just a hook up. they watched a movie, some stupid, pointless movie that he talked through the majority. he kept looking over at her as she giggled, face lit dimly by the television. his chest constructed each time she laughed. everyone always thought his jokes were dumb, but she- she laughed.

then, they had sex, and stiles felt her in his bones. he felt her fingers like they were apart of his own hand and he felt her breath strung against his rib cage. she was becoming his, and he was becoming hers. they were each other’s, a rare but beautiful, promising thing. in this world, in this town- it was everything.

maybe that was it. maybe that was the moment he knew. when he realized she was everything to him.

stiles lifted his head, an energy pulsing through his bloodstream. maybe he didn’t have supernatural abilities. maybe the road ahead seemed impossible. and maybe, just maybe, he’d die at her side- but he would only die trying. for her. always for her. everything for her.

anything.

he knew, now, that he could do this, even if he had to go it alone. but, he wasn’t going to have to.

stiles lifted y/n, carefully, in his arms, again. her head hung over his arm, arm strewn towards the ground. stiles knew she was fading fast. he had to go- now.

but, then, the elevator bell dinged.

stiles looked towards the sound. a small ounce of fear itched at his brain. he didn’t know what was awaiting them on the other side of the doors.

then, they opened- and he breathed a sigh of relief.

allison, danny, and isaac stepped into the hallway, determined looks on their faces. danny drug his eyes from stiles, down to y/n. he took a deep, nervous breath, before met stiles’ tearful gaze, again.

“well,” danny spoke, a little fearful, but confident in his tone, “are we gonna save my best friend, or what?”

stiles nodded, once, “yes, we are. i have to tell her. i need her to know that i love her.”

[lethalchiralium]

hiiiii!! first off, I absolutely love all your content. The way you write is just *chefs kiss* 🤌

would you consider writing what it was like for reader when mellie was born? being in the hospital alone, crying out for Simon even though she knew he couldn't be there. Feeling like she couldn't do it without him. that had to be so so difficult for her. I'd love to see your thoughts on it. 🩷🩷

- 🧀

cheese anon you wound me 😭

happiness canon 🥺🫶

warnings: mentions of labor and birth!

“It’s okay, Mama’s okay, Winnie.”

Your daughter sat beside you on your bed, the last day she’d ever be an only child, the last day she would be your only daughter. Your hands gently petted her curls, her eyes were full of worry for you.

“I’m so proud of you. You called for help and got me help,” Your hand gently held her cheek. “You are so good. Roach is gonna take you to go to sit and wait, okay?”

Your husband’s friend stood quietly a few feet away - he was the only contact of Simon’s you had since he used to babysit Winnie for you when you had emergencies back home. He was nice and very apologetic that even he couldn’t get in contact with anyone from the 141, let alone Simon.

Winnie leaned forwards and kissed your face, you kissed her cheek back as your right hand clenched onto the blankets beside you - you could feel the start of another contraction.

“Go. Be good for me.”

“Okay, Mama.”

Roach scooped up the four year old, he gave you a smile before carrying your daughter away - now you were alone. No one you loved could be here in time, and the most important one didn’t even know you were pregnant, let alone laboring and delivering alone. Your parents were stuck in Maine for another day due to a bad storm, your oldest brother Jake was deployed, and your two younger brothers, Tommy and Dave, were too young to travel by themselves. You had no one, but you had assumed you would the entire pregnancy. The only person who came through was a friend of your husband, but you needed Winnie to be safe before you needed support. As soon as they were out the door, you called out for your husband, a weary voice mumbling, “Simon, Simon, Simon…”

Heart beating out of your chest, another wave of intense pain ripped through your stomach, hands gripping onto the handles of the hospital bed as you let out a yell; the nurses that bustled around your room didn’t even bat an eye. One of them instantly came to your side, holding your phone which you had given her an hour ago. She gave you a sorrowful look.

“I’m sorry, he still didn’t answer.”

You nodded, still gripping the handles of the bed and trying to breathe.

You can do this. You can do this. Do it. You’ll be okay.

Fear had been written into your entire body with fire, burning the underside of your skin with every move you’ve made for the past however many hours you had been in the hospital. The harsh light, the ice chips, the IV that always seemed to go off whenever you finally got some sleep - it all made you feel uncomfortable. You weren’t ready. You wouldn’t be ready until Simon appeared by your side, taking your hand and telling you everything would be alright - but he wasn’t coming.

The nurse took your hand from the handles of the bed, squeezing it with her own and she smiled at you. “It’s okay. I’ll be here the whole time, whatever you need. Let’s meet this baby, yeah?”

You cried when she said that.

“I can do this.” You spoke quietly.

She nodded. “You can do this. We’ve got you.”

•••

Your phone was left on the side table, quiet. Your newborn was just placed on your chest after she had her checks, wrapped in a small blanket. You hadn’t even seen her eyes yet, her cries has quieted as she pressed her little baby face into your collarbone with a mere squeak.

Your arm held her up, your free hand smoothed out the small H/C strands on her head. Your fingertip traced the shape of her eyebrows, the apple of her tiny cheek, her button nose - there was no mistake that your daughter looked like her father. It made you smile.

“Hi Melody. I’m your mom.”

She cooed as you gently tapped her nose, your nurse gently cleared her throat. You didn’t even look away from your beautiful baby.

“Melody Riley.”

“No middle name?” The nurse asked from the bassinet, writing your daughter’s name onto the paper placard.

You shook your head quietly, admiring the little human you made. The way her skin was warm and soft, a comforting weight on your chest as you memorized her little face. Her little eyelids squeezed together as she sneezed, you almost muttered a ‘Bless you’ if it wasn’t for her opening her eyes. They looked exactly like Simon’s, and it made you smile.

“Not yet, my husband gets to name her too.”

the happiness asks give me life fr fr

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[212-apricity]

1999, part one

ok. this is my very first fic and the first time ive done any creative writing that isnt for a gcse english writing exam. this is part one of a mini series called "1999" (inspired by beabadoobee's song). im literally making it up as i go😍🙏.

please lmk what you think: should i scrap it or keep going? anything i should change?

and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))

warnings: none!

conrad fisher masterlist

masterlist

     ༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

Summer had always been a time Belly, Steven and I had looked forward to. Sure Christmas and Easter were beautiful and memorable, but there was something about spending our summer at Cousins Beach. We'd been doing it ever since we can remember. For a whole three months, the Conklins and the Fishers did everything together. It was like while the rest of our year was shit, summer was always there to turn it around. We watched fireworks together, surfed, barbequed, and pulled all-nighters out in the backyard in tents pretending we were far away from our parents in some other country when in reality they were only a few feet away drinking wine and talking. We spent every waking hour together for those three months. And now that we’re all older, we party together.

After Belly and I turned sixteen we started seeing the boys in a different light. It was like they were the same boys we’ve known all our lives but somehow different. 

Steven would make fun of us for what seemed like years on the car ride to Cousins whenever he heard us giggling and whispering about how Belly and Jeremiah were destined to be since he posted a reel with her favourite song (he can't even remember her favourite colour for the life of him). But whenever she’d ask me about Conrad I’d shake my head and blush trying to convince her I didn’t like him like that.

Conrad was…complicated. He was gorgeous and tall and perfect and way out of my league. Hell, he probably saw me as a sister to him and nothing more. I had seen him go through girls year after next and had slowly started to lose hope of there being an ‘us’ anyway.

My thoughts get interrupted by yet another loud sigh by Steven. I swear if I don't end up strangling him by the time we get there…

“I’m boredddd”, Steven sighs.

“Steven that's your tenth consecutive ‘I’m bored’  in a row, can’t you think of anything else to say?” Belly all but yells at him.

He lets out another sigh before I wack the side of his head from the backseat.

“Hey!” he yells out trying to get me back from the passenger seat while Belly laughs and starts recording the moment on her phone.

“Alright, kids can we dial down on the domestic abuse, please? I’d like to go at least a few hours before having to swallow another paracetamol from your headaches.”, Mom says obviously getting fed up with us.

Instead of arguing back I try and shut Steven up by asking him questions.

“So Stevie,” I start, giggling as he annoyingly groans at the nickname Belly, Taylor and I made up for him, “what are you…most excited for this summer?” I ask making up the question off the top of my head.

Steven thinks for a minute before answering, “Surfing for sure.” He nods.

“Drinking wine with Susannah.”, says Mom smiling at the thought of her best friend.

“Fourth of July.”, says Belly.

“You sure you’re not most excited to see Jere?” I nudge her with my elbow as she squeals and looks away.

“What about you honey, what are you most excited for?” Mom asks, looking at me through her rearview mirror.

“The bonfire.” I say, smiling.

I’ve always loved the bonfire. Everything about it, it's always such a vibe. The kegs, the fire, the songs, the smores. It's always been my favourite part of the summer.

Until this summer, when I brought my boyfriend to Cousins.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

“You guys ready for the bonfire, should we go down?” Conrad asks as he enters the living room. I look up at him from my position with Belly on the couch. God, I’d forgotten how pretty he was.

Conrad comes behind the couch and wraps his arms around my neck giving me a slight hug before pulling away, “I missed you.” he says looking down at me.

Before I can reply Steven speaks up, “Aw Connie, no worries man I’m here now,” he says smiling enthusiastically as he pulls Conrad towards the door by his shoulders while everyone laughs at his misunderstanding.

Conrad looks at me expectantly and takes out a small box from his pocket.

“Let's go, man,” Steven says to Conrad before pulling on him again, “I wanna show you this really cool trick I learned the other day…” He drones on as Conrad’s eyebrows furrow and he looks back at me, “Aren’t you coming?” he asks pointing at me questioningly.

I give him a sad smile before responding, “I’ll join you guys later, I’m gonna wait here for Dean he should be here soon.”

Just when I thought they couldn’t, Conrad’s eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“Who’s Dean?”

“Oh didn’t we tell you?,” Belly responds, “Y/n has a boyfriend.”

Conrad and Jeremiah’s faces were a sight to see. Eyes wide, mouths agape and eyebrows straight up, staring at me as if I had told them I got my eyeballs tattooed.

“Okay, you don't have to be that surprised…ouch.” I wince.

Conrad and Jeremiah straighten up and Jeremiah looks at me and smiles before saying, “No, no that’s…uhm that’s great Y/n.” He looks at Conrad halfway through his sentence as Conrad looks down at his feet and puts the box he was holding, in his pocket before turning to Steven and talking to him about setting the keg up for the bonfire and walking out the door without sparing a glance to me.

“That was weird.” I say to Belly as she leans in to give me a hug,

“Totally. What’s his deal?” she responds.

“Beats me.” I shrug before yelling “Have fun! Use protection!” out behind her and Jeremiah before Belly turns her head around and flips me off which just makes me and Jeremiah laugh harder.

I sigh and turn the tv on. With Mom, Susanna and everyone going out, I was the only one left to wait for Dean. I wonder how long he’ll be, I can’t wait to go to the bonfire. Luckily I got a text from him just as I decided on watching Gilmore Girls.

'hey, i'll be there in five :)'

whew that’s part one done! here’s part two!!

1999, part two

[alaydabug2]

@swans-chirping-in-the-distance

Here's the au I was talking about

I posted it on here

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter one

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

The nurse led Sophie and her parents into the hospital room that she'd be staying in. She clutched the bright blue elephant in her hands. Edaline patted her back, urging her forward. She stood right where she was and shook her head.

For the past several months, Sophie had been passing out at random. The doctors later identified them as seizures.

They were freaky when they happened. Her vision would tunnel out and her tongue would tingle. When she'd come to, her head would pound. Her little four year old self found it extremely hard to communicate what was happening and her feelings after an episode.

The most she could do was cling to her parents and cry as her brain would pulse against her swimming skull and her heart rate left its hummingbird pace.

Lots of medicines and brain scans later, and no one could identify the cause or the remedy. So now, here she was, being forced to spend her summer before kindergarten stuck in the hospital.

Sophie clung to Grady's hand as she peered up at the nurse. "You said I'd be sharing a room and I wouldn't be lonely."

"You are. Your little buddy is just asleep right now." She pointed to the closed privacy curtain on the other end of the room. "He came back from a few exams a bit earlier, so he's tired. You'll get to meet each other soon enough."

Sophie shuffled further behind Grady, but nodded. She was led to the bed. The nurse placed an IV to her wrist. Sophie whimpered.

After the nurse left Grady and Edaline explained how they'd be back in a little bit. They had to go talk to her doctor for a couple of hours to know how her hospital stay was going to work.

Then, she was alone again. Although, with the silence, she was able to hear her roommate on the other side of the room. His slight snore was muffled by what sounded to be a whoosh of air. She wondered what his name was.

Thirty minutes later, she got her answer.

She heard rustling on the other bed and a few struggled grunts after the snoring had ceased. There was a slight frustrated whine, then the sound of a few buttons being pressed and a bed adjusting. Another button click, and the privacy curtain started to slide open.

When the curtain had fully opened, it revealed a blonde blue eyed boy, appearing to be close to Sophie's age. The whooshing air turned out to be an oxygen tube that was attached under his nose. Sophie had noticed he was hooked up to considerably more machines than she was, including an IV, oxygen, heart monitor, and other different wires she didn't know did what.

In his drowsy daze, he didn't recognize her presence. His eyes continued to droop before he turned his head to her. His eyes widened. He tried to sit up, but only managed a wince.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

She smiled at him. "I'm your new roommate!"

His lips twitched up. "Well, hello then! I'm glad not to be sitting on my own in here anymore. I'm Keefe."

"I'm Sophie!" She giggled. She pointed to all of his wires. "What are all of those for."

He shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure what they do." He looked down at the wires. "I think something to do with my heart."

"That's cool. Mine are for my brain." She pointed at the stickers on each temple. They'd been applied by the nurse before left. "How old are you?"

"I'm five." Keefe held up all the fingers on one hand. "My birthday was last month. You?"

"Four, but my birthday is in August." She shrugged.

They continued to talk together until Sophie's parents got back. By then it was already getting dark. Grady and Edaline walked into the room.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here," Edaline mussed.

Sophie turned to her parents. "Hi," she told them.

Grady kissed the top of her head. "Hey, Kiddo." He gestured to Keefe. "Who's that?"

"That's my new friend, Keefe!"

Edaline chuckled. "Well that awesome sweet heart. We just wanted to come check up on you before heading home and ready for bed. Unless you need us to stay?"

Sophie glanced at her new friend then back to her parents. She flashed them a smile. "I'll be ok."

"Alright, baby girl. Love you." She leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Soon after her parents left, another nurse came in with dinner for both her and Keefe. It was mac and cheese. When it was time to settle down to sleep, the nurse came back in and looked over the both of them. He told Sophie if she needed anything or had another seizure, to press the button on her remote. He also showed her how to adjust the bed and use it to change the channel on the TV.

He went to Keefe, following her, adjusting his oxygen tube and changing out his IV bags, which were almost empty.

The nurse, which she learned was named Elwin, flicked off the light and told them goodnight, leaving Sophie and Keefe alone.

She wanted to keep talking, but Keefe was already pulling the covers over his shoulder. He grabbed onto a green anteater looking stuffed animal that was previously lost in the sheets and muttered, "Goodnight."

She echoed her response. Not sure what else to do after Keefe started his snoring again, she also settled under her blankets.

[victoria-vd]

OFFSCREEN POST

Laid to Rest

// tw injury, violence, death, Pokémon death, hospital

Part 1: The Calm

Part 2: The Storm

The hospital room was brightly lit, fluorescent lights shining down on the girl in the bed. Bright red swollen bruises covered the half of Esper’s face that had been struck by Barcelona, and it can only be assumed that her torso below the hospital gown was in much of the same state. She let out a quiet sigh as liquid pumped through her IV, glancing off towards the only other sound in the room: the ticking of the clock. How long had Esper been here already? Could only be but a few hours and yet she was still exhausted from the constant poking and prodding of the doctors and nurses.

But now the doctors and nurses were gone and she had been left alone. Waiting.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

Esper startled a bit at the sound, whirling her head around to look towards the sound. The girl stared at the door for a moment before answering, unsure as to who could be knocking, "Oh! Uh– Come in!"

The doorknob turned and the door was pushed open.

Victoria was the first to step forwards through the doorway. She gave Esper a once-over and nodded to her in greeting.

“Hey Esper,” Jaime waved from behind her. “How’s everything…?”

"Oh! Tori, Jaime!" Esper visibly perked up at the sight of Victoria and her brother, giving the two a small wave before shrugging, "I'm... doing okay? Could be worse, y'know?"

Maple poked her head in. "Yay! You're not dying!"

Aspen joined Maple, poking his head in right above her’s, "Yooo, you're alive, let's fuckin' go!"

"Uh. Yeah. Yay." The girl in the bed gave an awkward thumbs up.

“Geez— Y’all’re too tall for this shit. Move over, Paperboy.”

Jaime looked down and shuffled to the side to allow the voice to pass through.

A short girl with red hexagonal glasses and a gray face mask pushed her way to the front. Hands in her pockets, she stepped forwards and looked Esper up and down. “That Hat did a number on ya, huh?”

Esper blinked, tilting her head at the girl before her in slight confusion before simply nodding, "Uh... Yeah. I guess so."

The girl blinked for a moment, sharing Esper’s confusion, before saying. “Oh. Right. It’s Z.” There was an awkward pause as she shifted uncomfortably on her heels. “In the flesh.”

"Oh!" Esper gasped slightly, "Well, nice to meet you in person, Z. Probably would've been preferable under–" she gestured around her, "better circumstances."

Z clicked her tongue. “Yeaaahh… not the most ideal way to meet someone…” She shrugged. “It’s whatever though. Nice to meet— nice to see— fuck.”

"Nice to meet her in person?" Maple offered

“Yeah. That.” She flipped her glasses down, obscuring her face.

"...Epic!" Aspen said, albeit awkwardly as he stepped further into the room, "Um- Nice to meet you in person too, now that I think about it!" He gave her an awkward grin.

"Same with me!” Maple joined in, “Wish our first meeting didn't involve you getting hit with a chair like WWE, but hey, shit happens."

Esper gave a rather awkward smile, "Same..." A moment of silence lingered in the air as she stared at the others before she very quickly turned her attention to Victoria, tilting her head as she asked, "Are you okay though, Tori? Last I saw you had your own fair share of cuts and bruises."

Victoria glanced aside and rubbed the side of her arm. “Ah, well… It is nothing that I am not used to, Esp.”

The other girl just silently frowned at Victoria, opening her mouth to say something before closing as her attention was stolen by something happening outside her room.

Voices could be heard down the hall, calling out for someone to stop. The clacking of heels on the tile floor grew louder with each quick step.

Zoriah’s head whipped to the door. “Wh—“

Suddenly the door was flung wide open.

A tall woman, dressed to the nines in expensive furs and priceless jewelry, burst into the room with outstretched arms. “VICTORIAAAAAAAA,” she sobbed.

The girl in question flinched as the woman rushed to her and smothered her in her arms.

“¡Ay, mi pobrecita de mi corazoncito!” she wailed dotingly. “I came as soon as I heard!”

Victoria’s voice was muffled behind the woman’s embrace, but her embarrassment was clear in her voice nonetheless. “…Hello, Mother.”

Esper watched the scene before her unfold, her mouth slightly agape in surprise.

She let go of her daughter and put her hands on her hips as she tsk’d at Victoria, albeit affectionately, “Arceus mio, mija, at least pretend like you’re happy to see me.”

She turned to the others in the room, sizing them all up one by one. Though the pearly-white grin never left her face, there was something cold and calculating that seeped into her gaze as she eyed them all up and down.

And then her eyes landed on Esper, lingering there for a second longer than the rest.

“Oh,” Victoria’s mother smiled warmly at the girl. “You must be Victoria’s little friend.” The woman approached Esper, highlighting her massive height with every step. “Este— Esper Hargrove, yes?”

The girl in question had to crane her neck upwards as she attempted to keep her eyes on the taller woman's face as she was spoken too. "Uh, yes ma'am." Esper gave a small nod in response, "That'd be me."

The woman’s perfect grin widened. She bent down to be eye level with the girl and seized her hands into her own. “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you, Esper! I hope my little Victoria has been teaching you well!” Her strikingly bright lavender eyes bore into Esper’s. “Tell me Hargrove, what is my name?”

"Uh..." Esper briefly blinked in confusion before furrowing her brows as if she were attempting to concentrate on something. After a moment or so, she answered, "Reina Velasco-Delgado, correct?"

Reina Velasco-Delgado nodded, eyes lit up with pride. She clasped her hands together and hummed with satisfaction. “Victoria’s a wonderful teacher, isn’t she? She learned from the best, after all!”

Maple fiddles with her fingers awkwardly. "You know, there's other people in the room. We are here, by the way. Just in case you forgot."

Aspen opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, before opening it again. "Yeah, no, um-" He promptly closed his mouth again, deciding he'd be better off if he didn't say anything just then.

“Oh, no dear,” Victoria’s mother stood back to full height, towering over everyone else in the room once again. Her massive hat seemed to blot out the fluorescent light of the hospital room, casting a shadow over the others. Curiously, though her smile stayed wide as ever, the corners of her lips no longer reached her eyes as they once had before. “I haven’t forgotten you, Maple.” With a tilt of her head, she added, “How is your mother, by the way? I’m sure you miss her dearly.”

Maple looked away and didn't answer.

Reina pursed her lip into a sad frown. “Oh, pobrecita. I’ll be happy to tell her I saw you. When was the last time you spoke with your fathers? I heard Venus was stationed in Area Zero. He must be a busy man.”

"He is busy, yeah. I got to hang out with him a few weeks ago though"

“That’s good to hear,” she hummed. Bending down to meet Maple face-to-face, she asked. “Is there anything you’d like me to relay to Ivelyne for you, Maple?”

Maple turned to look Reina in the eyes wearily. "She prefers to be called Ivy."

“Duly noted.” She stood back to full height and looked down at Maple. “Then you have nothing to say to your mother?”

"You already know everything I want to say."

“Pick one.”

Aspen paused, looking between Maple and Reina, beginning to feel like he'd rather not be here anymore, but at the same time, he felt as though he needed to change the subject. He stepped to the side, closer to Jaime.

"Um- well, anyway, um-" He paused, wanting to distract her from Maple, "You haven't met me yet, my name is-"

“Aspen Sharma,” she cut him off without turning to face him. “I know who you are. You went Cyclizar riding with my son on the day of his birthday party.”

She glanced down at him out of the corner of her eye, giving him a once-over. “I take it the two of you had fun? He lost track of time and showed up late to his own birthday, you know.”

Jaime bit his cheek and didn’t say a word.

Aspen chewed on his lip slightly, suddenly feeling the weight of Reina's side eye. "Um- yeah, we did have fun, we didn't mean to lose track of time like that," he said quietly.

“Hm…” The woman studied him, stalking over to circle the boy like a hungry vulture. “Well, I’m glad the two of you enjoyed yourselves.” Eyeing him like a hawk, she hummed and said, “He quite likes you, you know. Though I’m sure you’re aware of that by now.”

He swallowed, looking away from her gaze; he felt as though he was some type of prey Pokémon, about to be ambushed. "I- I am, yeah," he said, forcing himself to look up at her, if only for a moment.

She stopped in front of Aspen and locked eyes with him. Her towering figure and wide hat cast a shadow over him and shrouded her entire face in darkness, and yet the white of her pupils glowed nonetheless.

It had become increasingly clear where Victoria picked up her intimidating mannerisms from.

Aspen took in a sharp breath, glancing up at her, before looking up properly. His gaze was unsure, hesitant, even, but he looked up at her nonetheless. He'd faced down worse, he thought.

Reina silently stared him down for a few more seconds, glowing eyes boring into his own as she raised an eyebrow at him.

After an eternity, she suddenly turned away and simply said, “Don’t disappoint me, Sharma.”

For the first time since she walked in, Jaime looked up at his mother.

Aspen brows furrowed slightly, but he nodded towards Reina. Despite being unsure of what exactly it was he was agreeing to, he had a feeling he already knew what she meant. "I... I won't.

“We’ll see.” She stepped away to the boy next to him.

Reina stared down at her son. “Mijo.”

Jaime stared back. “Madre.”

The two silently stared one another down.

And then Reina’s gaze turned to the proverbial fly on the wall. Her eyes shone with interest. “Oh. It’s you.”

Zoriah’s heart sank as a shadow was cast over her. She didn’t dare to look up.

“I’ve heard much about you.” She grinned down at the girl. “Eh— Z, correct?”

She flinched at the sound of her name falling from Reina’s tongue.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” she chuckled. “You knew long before we met, after all.”

Z’s fists clenched at her sides, resisting the urge to look the Devil in the eyes.

Reina bent down, resting her hands on her knees to meet Z in the eye. “Let me ask you a personal question.”

She felt trapped under her gaze. There was nowhere to look but back at her.

“Why the Truman Show?” Reina smiled with a tilt of her head. “You seem like more of a kaiju movie fan to me.”

“I— I’m— I don’t—“

“Madre.” Jaime warned, narrowing his eyes at his mother.

His mother stood up straight and narrowed her eyes right back. “Watch your tone, mijo.”

Esper quietly fiddled with her blanket, rubbing the fabric between her fingers in a soothing motion as she watched the interactions before her.

The sound caught Reina’s attention. She turned to Esper with a warm smile. “Oh! In all the excitement, I’d completely forgotten to ask how you were feeling.”

The young girl seemingly startled at suddenly being addressed. “Oh— Uh— I’m fine!” She answered with a small wave of her hand, “Could be better but could definitely be worse. Just going to be a bit sore and hurting for the next while, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

The woman frowned at her and clicked her tongue. "Esper, you do not have to downplay your injuries. My Hatterene hit you full force with a steel chair, love."

Esper simply shrugged, a seemingly apologetic smile on her face, "I'll heal."

She chuckled. "That you will, my dear." Placing a hand on her shoulder, Reina sighed and added, "But you very well could have died because of Barcelona's recklessness, and for that, I must deeply apologize on her behalf."

Victoria squinted and tilted her head at her mother. Apologize...? What was…

"Ah–" Esper glanced at the hand on her shoulder with a look of disdain before she quickly corrected herself and shot Reina an awkward smile, "Really, there's no need to apologize. Things happen."

"Things do indeed happen," Reina nodded with a smile. "What's done is done, Esper. All that matters now is that we move forward and take steps to ensure this does not happen again. And I can assure you that I will not allow this to happen again."

The girl raised a brow in response, "Well, yeah, I assumed you wouldn't want it to happen again after all."

Reina smiled sweetly at her. “You assume correctly." She brought a Luxury Ball out from inside her fur coat. Barcelona's Pokeball.

Jaime drew in a sharp breath. What was she—

Maintaining eye contact with Esper, she patted her on the shoulder and said, "Watch."

She then drew in a slow breath….

…and crushed the Luxury Ball into pieces in her fist…

She clenched tightly onto the shattered shards of the ball in her hands, grinding them into dust. When she was finished, she opened her palm to reveal that Barcelona’s ball was nothing more than a fine sparkly powder. With a smile, she let out a puff of air into her palm, blowing the dust into the air until there was no hint of Barcelona or the ball that housed her.

Maple stared, slack jawed. That seemed... a bit excessive.

Esper clasped her hands over her mouth with a gasp, her eyes wide like a Deerling in the headlights about to be struck by an oncoming vehicle.

Jaime felt a shudder down his spine. Barcelona was her own Pokemon…

Victoria remained stone-faced as what remained of Barcelona was scattered to the winds, shimmering in the fluorescent hospital lights. Her jaw tightened when a few bits of the powder landed on her blazer.

Aspen swallowed hard, his lips pursed and his eyes locked on the glittery dust on the ground. He could feel his hands shake at the sight of it, and he clenched them into fists to get them to stop.

Hidden behind the oversized glasses and face mask, it was difficult to visually tell what Zoriah was feeling. But the fear in her wavering breath betrayed her attempt to remain apathetic and calm.

The towering Velasco woman dusted her hands off with a smile. “There. Now Barcelona will never hurt anyone ever again!"

Esper was too stunned to respond, her hands staying firmly over her mouth as she glanced from Reina to Victoria to Jaime and then back to Reina.

Reina then drew in a sharp breath and lifted her chin, not bothering to turn to Jaime as she said, “Mijo, make yourself useful: escort your friends out of the room and fetch your father for me, por favor. I’d like to speak to Victoria and Esper in private for a moment.”

“But—“

She glared at him from over her shoulder. “Mijo.”

The boy wordlessly clenched his jaw for a moment and drew his lips into a line. He turned his head to look away from his mother, furrowing his brows as he led Aspen, Maple, and Z out of the room.

The door shut behind him, leaving only Esper, Victoria, and her mother in the hospital room, with only the sound of the heart monitor to break the tense silence that hung over them.

———

[Jaime and Z belong to @jaimemes, Esper belongs to @espers-n-espurrs, Aspen belongs to @aspens-dragons, Maple belongs to @yveltalreal]

[agaypanic]

imagine hockey player benny having a crush on reader who figure skates at the same stadium he practices at but being too nervous to ask her out, little does he know reader feels the same way about him (this can be about Ethan or Benny btw since they were both on the hockey team and you might want a break from all the benny requests) love your work hope you enjoy your vacation!! 🩷

Skating Around (Hockey Player!Benny Weir X Figure Skater!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Being a small town, the Whitechapel high school hockey team and competitive figure skaters often run into each other at the local stadium. Benny has been admiring you from afar, unaware that you’ve been doing the same.

A/N: HOCKEY BENNY HOCKEY BENNY HOCKEY BENNY RAHHHHHHH i know nothing about anything ice skating related but ive read icebreaker so that’s gotta count for something lmao

***

Joining his school’s hockey team was probably the best thing Benny had ever done. He didn’t care much for the sport itself, but he looked forward to every practice. Not to get better at hockey or because he liked being in a freezing skating rink for two hours three times a week.

It was because he got to see you practice your routine.

The Whitechapel hockey team and figure skaters had to share a rink, and for some reason, their practices were on the same days. The figure skating team was always first, and then the hockey team would practice right after. When he and Ethan first made the hockey team, they decided to get to practice early to have a good layout of what would be happening.

That’s when he saw you. Lacing your skates while your partner yelled for you, the impatient beckoning voice echoing through the stadium. You rolled your eyes and went onto the ice, making a comment to your partner that only he could hear before music started playing from the speakers.

Benny was immediately entranced by everything about you. It wasn’t just your beauty, but the fluidity of your movements and radiating confidence as you and your partner went through your routine. He fixated on every turn, every jump. It was all just so fascinating. 

“You know, you can talk to her when she’s done.” Ethan sighed as he sat beside Benny, who focused on your movements. “She won’t bite, I think.”

“Are you kidding me?” Benny almost laughed, tearing his eyes away from you on the rink to look at his best friend. “She’s so out of my league, E. She wouldn’t give me the time of day.” It was probably untrue; you seemed really nice. Benny just said that because he didn’t want to face rejection from you. Which is why he decided very early on that it was better to admire from afar.

“Sarah has a class with Y/n, says she’s really nice.” Ethan shrugged before bending over to tug on his skates. “Just saying.”

Benny ignored Ethan, opting to see the end of your routine, which finished off with a lift. As the music cut off, he clapped quietly to not draw attention to himself but still show support.

“Isn’t she amazing?” He asked while you skated off the rink.

“Yeah, she’s great. Now, come on, let’s get on the ice.” Ethan left without an answer, leaving Benny to scramble to get his equipment on and ready while the rest of the hockey team came into the stadium.

On the other side of the ice, you were unlacing your skates, glancing up every few seconds to see Benny warm up and talk to Ethan. You smiled softly when Ethan said something that made him laugh, the sound echoing through the giant room.

“All that staring isn’t gonna do anything. You know that, right?” James, your skating partner, said, smirking down at you with his gym bag tossed over his shoulder.

“I’m not staring.” You muttered, looking down to pull off your skates.

“Just talk to him! I heard he’s nice.”

“I can’t talk to Benny, and you know it.” You huff, looking up at James. “I have too much on my mind. Our competition is in a month, and we need our routine nailed down.”

“You need our routine nailed down.”

“Besides, I don’t even know what I would say to him. ‘Hi, Benny. We’ve never talked before, but I always see you during our practices, and I think you’re really cute. By the way, my name’s Y/n. Wanna go out sometime?’”

“Dude, that’s great, just say that.” You groaned, tired of this conversation that the two of you have had probably a million times. Gathering your things, you took one last look at Benny before getting up to leave. “Y/n, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you can spare one day to talk to Benny and ignore everything else.”

You brushed past James, choosing to ignore his words. You were fine with looking at Benny rather than talking to him. James watched you leave the stadium before trying to find Benny on the ice. The boy had done the same, watching your movements until you went through the door and out of sight.

***

“What do you mean our practices are overlapped?” You asked your coach, trying to contain your anger.

“It means exactly what it means, Y/n.” Your coach sighed, clearly just as frustrated with the situation as you were. “The stadium is doing some kind of skating program, so a lot of the time is being taken up by lessons and group skating. Our options were either doing practice with the hockey team simultaneously or alternating days. And the boys’ coach was very vocal about his opinion.”

“You should see this as a blessing in disguise, N/n,” James said, pulling you into the stadium and to your usual bench to get ready.

“How exactly is this a blessing, James? We have half an ice rink.”

“Guess who’ll be on the other half, smarty.” He pointed to the other side of the ice, and you followed his finger to see Benny laughing and smiling with his friend. You slapped his hand down immediately, looking away before either of the boys could notice.

“Don’t point at him!” You hissed.

“I’ll stop pointing when you start talking to him.”

“Oh my god, just get your skates on.”

Practicing a competitive skating routine in the same space as armored jocks that liked to bodyslam and wave their hockey sticks around was a lot harder than you realized. Every few seconds, you had to stop your run-through to speed out of the way of a runaway puck or some guy that was chasing after it. And this was in no way a blessing in disguise like James had suggested because although you knew Benny’s jersey number, you could never catch him with all the fast movements. And on the rare occasion you did, he was as far away from you as possible.

“I’m getting sick of this.” You muttered, getting back to your starting position. “One more time, and then I’m out of here.”

“Agreed.” James groaned, rubbing his shoulder from where a hockey player had just checked him. You knew it was an accident, but the lack of a proper apology made you decide differently. He settled into his position next to you, looking at your coach, who was waiting to start your music.

You tried to ignore all the grunting and shoving to the best of your ability, letting muscle memory guide you through the music. So far, it was going smoothly. The part you were worried most about because of your spatial situation was a lift halfway through your song.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed James’ hand and tried to stand as lightly on his thigh as possible while he stayed kneeling on one knee on the ice. Quickly, James placed his free hand on your stomach and stood, twirling you around as you tried staying horizontal. After a few spins, James set you down, and your intertwined hands separated and pushed you away from each other. Trying to keep an equal distance, you both skated backward around your half of the rink, maintaining eye contact.

“Y/n, look out!” James suddenly shouted, pointing to something behind you. Before you could look to what you should look out for, you were grabbed and whisked away to the side, face smooshed into a chest of hockey armor. You heard the music shut off, and everything seemed to calm down. But you didn’t want to pull away from whoever you were pressed up against.

“You okay?” The voice was a bit familiar, but you know you’ve never heard it from talking to this person directly. Lifting your head away from the safety of his chest, you saw Benny looking down at you. His eyes skated over your face, probably trying to ensure there wasn’t any injury. But he had also never seen you this up close before, and wanted to save the moment.

“Yeah.” You answered, albeit a bit softly. You hoped that your reddening cheeks could be written off as being in a cold environment and not trying to contain the excitement of being so close to someone you’ve secretly had your eyes on for a while. “What happened?”

“Hockey puck went rogue.” Benny gave you a cute, lopsided smile. “Figured that based on my playing ability, it was better to get you out of the way instead of going after the puck.”

“I’ve seen you at your practices. I bet you play just fine.” You responded with a sheepish shrug before slapping a hand over your mouth. “I mean, not that I watch you all the time. I just see you every now and then, you know? It’s not like I spend all my time-”

“I watch you at your practices, too.” Benny cut you off, smile becoming more shy at your confessions. “You’re really good, by the way. Like, really awesome.”

“Weir!” One of his teammates yelled to him from the hockey team’s side of the rink. He looked over his shoulder to see the kid beckoning him over. “Get over here!” 

Benny groaned, turning back to you. 

“I gotta go, but do you maybe wanna get some food sometime? I know a really good spot that I go to after practices sometimes.”

“I’d love that.” You didn’t bother to try to tone down your growing grin. You caught Benny’s teammates looking at the two of you, probably grumbling about him not practicing. “You should probably go. Don’t want the team getting mad at you.”

Benny let you go, although you could sense he didn’t want to. With a small wave and a big smile, he skated back to his team.

“Told you it was a blessing in disguise.” James startled you with his sudden presence, voice practically in your ear. You smacked his chest and laughed, going to make your way off the rink to let one of the other figure skating partners practice.

[celestie0]

a note on asking for updates

hellooo im sorry to have to make this post but i’ve been getting quite a few asks recently that have been asking me to update for kickoff and i just want to share that i don’t really enjoy receiving those sorts of asks :””) it is a part of my blog’s rules to not ask for updates, and it’s also stated that i don’t have any update schedule for my fics, but i will try to make this a bit more clear in the following:

please do not ask me when i will be uploading chapters, i’ve got no clue

please do not ask me if i’m done with chapters or for my progress on them

please do not tell me or demand me to update (yes even saying ‘please’ still feels like a demand for updates to me)

i’ve talked about this briefly on my blog before, but receiving these sorts of asks is upsetting for me n tend to make me anxious about my writing process. it takes me hours of my own personal time to write chapters, but it feels very shallow n disheartening to receive asks such as “update pls bc i can’t wait”…

my simple answer to any of those asks is

i’ve got no clue when i will update! i try not to give estimates bc deadlines or trying to stick to a schedule will only give me writer’s block n anxiety. the only time i’ll give a direct estimate is when i’ve officially queued a chapter. while i’d be flattered to hear you’re looking forward to updates, i don’t find it kind when ppl pressure me for them.

now if you’re wondering “i don’t think i’ve seen other authors have an issue with this tho 🤔” i really can’t explain why i feel pressured by these sorts of asks, but it’s just how i feel and so therefore it’s valid.

anyways, thank you for your continued patience!! i love interacting w everyone sm and the asks ive been recieving lately have been so lovely n motivational n some have brought me to legit tears i love u guys lots :”) just wanted to bring this specific rule up again because i know i’ve gotten new readers recently, and this rule is really important to me for my blog. thank you!!