#like. y'all. someone could have JUST turned 18 and only be a few months past 2 years older than their partner

[mordacitatis]

age gap discourse has rotted the brains of people on this website i cannot lie

[indolamine]

hey y'all 🤍 here's a link for INFO on jiyeon, but i'll include some bullet points here with all you need to know. in case anything here sparks ideas for your muse and you'd like to work on a plot, hmu. i do prefer dscrd, so don't hesitate to ask. oh and i'd appreciate it if you could shoot me a dm first so my account doesn't get banned trying to touch base with the likes (say literally anything, hit me with a send it to me rachel if you'd be so kind). still, if you'd rather just hit like it's fine, i'll reach out once tumblr allows me!

jiyeon is what you'd call an Interesting Girl. someone you don't call or arrange schedules with, just happen upon. someone who never calls you but can be your best friend between 11pm and 3am. a fun girl, you just don't look too long.

both her parents are dead for all intents and purposes, which's proven to be a very character defining event in her life. one of her fathers passed away before she was even code, and the other chose to virtually die to work as a doctor for terrascape when she turned 18.

as single beneficiary to both her fathers, jiyeon found herself young, alone and newly rich. she's not particularly self destructive, but choices were made. luckily? for the most part, she was too stunned by grief and anger to blow away her fortune, which now affords her a cushy life she doesn't dwell too hard on.

she's emotionally stunted, still reliving the loss of her parents somewhere in her mind at every moment. she knows a lot of people, calls them friends but struggles to connect with them, blinking in and out of their lives. death is a constant thought, not quite a morbid fascination but more of a haunting. she knows, poor little rich girl.

she writes -- tries to, anyway. she's got some essays published, wrote for a column for a hot minute, it's her definitive trade of choice. but, and not to get too meta, the thing about writing is that you do have to write. that's the tricky part. merits were a good incentive, though once they're no longer an issue, she finds herself ignoring deadlines and putting off work on the novel she's been writing for the past 4 years. she instead "gathers experiences". she has many talents that she has no interest in seriously exploring, so she entertains herself while the high lasts.

between her writing and her party girl fame, at some point along the way she amassed a following on social media that she hesitates to cut loose. they make her more interesting than she, merely human, could ever hope to be, and she doesn't know how to kill the part of her that answers to their call. it's a lie when she says she doesn't look at what they say.

adult life for her breezes by in parties with half-friends and long bouts of reclusion. she wants to be a little of everything. she enjoys reading, skiing, playing silly little meta indie games about living in hyper realities. she doesn't commit to romantic relationships, yet enjoys the hunt anyway. she takes her time, and it never seems to align with anyone else's.

& here's a rolling list of canons that could also serve as potential connections for anyone interested, will add more as they come to me:

she once got involved with a couple for some brief months and it didn't end well

one of the few things she gets competitive about is skiing

she's fucked someone's significant other purely out of spite

she has a writing group whose meetings she misses often but she isn't the only one so she feels like it's a safe space

the person she plays a random weird rpg with incognito is maybe the most consistent relationship in her life, their chats can get very personal and strange and they can go weeks on no contact but go right back to where they left off

the events surrounding gyuok pique her interest because it's the first time terra residents could potentially be hearing from a virtually deceased and because he's essentially a virtual ghost which she thinks is neat

one of her published essays focuses on a celebrity she knows personally and doesn't portray them in the best light, which soured their relationship

[donutloverxo]

Good little girl

*gif is not mine*

Note - Requested by @holacia2 and a part two to good little wife. And special thanks to @gotnofucks for all her help! I'm so overwhelmed with all the love that fic got I hope y'all like this little follow up as well❤❤

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Married life isn't always easy. Will you be able to solve your problems?

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, younger woman/older man, daddy kink, soft dark!Andy, SO MUCH MISOGYNY, housewife kink, innocence kink, (accusations of) cheating, arranged/forced marriage, spanking, possessive Andy.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 4.9k

Masterlist is linked in the bio and the pinned post!

You handed your mother the brownies you had baked, she thanked you, telling you how it was so unnecessary, before Andy placed the wine you had gotten on the way over on the kitchen counter.

“Why don’t you go keep your father in law company, Andrew?” your mom told him. He only nodded before making way to his boss.

“So? How are things going with him?” she asked. “You are positively glowing honey! Do you have any good news yet?”

“Mom!” you gasped.

Over the past seven months you had only seen your mother a handful of times. You were still a bit upset with her for marrying you off to an older man you barely knew, a man who you thought despised you so much he refused to even touch you.

You knew she didn’t really have a say in it. Your father never really valued her opinion, there was no way she would’ve been able to stop it but she hadn’t even so much as tried.

“No, I don’t. And I won’t any time soon,” you huffed.

While being a mother was something you’d like to experience someday, you didn’t know if you were quite ready for it yet. Which was good because Andy didn’t want kids for the next few years either, he had taken you to a doctor to get you on birth control as soon as the holidays were over.

He stated that he wasn’t ready to share you just yet. That he wasn’t sure he wants his kids to be a part of the mob, which you didn’t want either.

“Oh, but you have to, cookie. I need a distraction. Being a mom is all I’ve ever known and ever since you left the house has been so empty.”

“Well, what about daddy?” you frowned. He had never really liked spending time with your siblings or your mother, but to leave her be on her own like that.

“He’s always with Charlotte,” she rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been fine with it, he’s always been like that, can’t expect him to change now, but he brought her here, now, to a family dinner.” She sighed in resignation.

You had heard a familiar high pitched annoying laugh upon coming home, but you thought that to be one of your brothers floozies.

Charlotte, or Cherry, used to be a good friend of yours in college. Before you brought her home for the holidays of your freshman year and she decided to shack up with your married father, who was almost thrice her age. You lost touch with her after that.

“I’m telling you, honey, a kid is a good way of securing your marriage and starting a family. You are young now... but you will grow old someday. Andrew’s a good man... but he is still a man at the end of the day.”

You scoffed at that, “I won’t have you talking that way about my husband! We are already a family, we’re in love each other and he’s nothing like dad.”

She gave you a teary smile, “Young love--is just so innocent and beautiful. You always see the best in people, cookie. I hope I’m wrong about this. Any man would be an idiot to not appreciate you.”

“Andy does appreciate me. And take good care of me, ma...” you trailed off.

He did take good care of you. After the night you consummated your marriage he brought you breakfast in bed. He hadn’t kept his hands off of you for the past few weeks, doting on you any chance he could get, telling you he loved you every chance he got.

But you wondered... did he love you?

The kind of love you’d only ever read about in classical novels. The kind of love you’d dreamt of having ever since you could remember, the kind you thought you once had with someone, but didn’t. You didn’t love Alex the way you love Andy. You were in love with the idea of Alex. You knew Andy now. You knew how kind, passionate and fierce he was, your love for him consumed every single part of you. Where you would literally die for him.

But did he love you for you. Or was he just lonely because it was Christmas. You had avoided taking the tree and the decorations down, begging him, even dropping to your knees and making love to him with your mouth, you didn’t know much but Cherry had taught you that you could get men to do anything for you just by kneeling before them.

While he was very obviously pleased with your passion, returning the favor tenfold, till your thighs burned from his bread and you were shouting for him to stop, he still took the decorations down. He said he wanted to start anew this year. He made a resolution to be the best husband he could.

But you were going to protect your heart this time, hope for the best but still prepare for the worst.

Unfortunately, you had been seated next to Cherry. You found out that your father was living with her now and that while she had hoped he’d leave his wife for her there, but apparently there was no such luck.

“They never leave their wives do they,” she shook her head. “Oh I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying these things to you...”

“Its alright,” you shrugged. It would be hard to see your mother be unhappy but there was never any love between your parents. Your mother had learned to live without him and find happiness in other things, and other people, she was just a bit more sneaky about it.

“Well...” you hesitated “how do you keep a man?”

“What kind of question is that?” she giggled. “There are many ways to keep a man but you’ll have to be a bit more specific...”

You ended up changing the subject. The kind of questions you wanted to ask were not suitable for the dinner table, and you didn’t like the way Andy was staring daggers at the pair of you, almost displeased with the two of you chatting.

***

You smiled at him from the passenger seat when he put his hand on your knee, giving it a light squeeze. He had been quite the whole ride home so you decided to speak first.

“Can’t believe Cherry’s like my... step mom.” You laughed out loud at such a ridiculous notion.

“Step mom?” he furrowed his brows, turning his head to look at you.

“Oh I’m just joking,” you waved him off. “Dad would never leave my ma. He’ll move on to another one soon enough.”

He hummed, nodding, “Alright. I was just worried she was troubling you at dinner.”

“What would you have done if she was? Would you swop in like a knight in shining armor and save me from the big meanie?”

“You know I would,” he smiled.

You had asked for a piggy back ride from Andy from the garage to your home, he rolled his eyes and tried to say no but then gave in when you used your princess eyes on him.

He placed you on top of your bed, kissing the tip of your nose, he started unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed.

“Andy... um... Daddy?” you corrected yourself instantly.

He liked you addressing him as that whenever you both were alone, he had warned you that you would receive a punishment if you ever failed to comply.

You didn’t know what his punishment would be and you didn’t plan on finding out anytime soon. You’d withhold all affection from him if he ever dared take away the platinum card from you, or lower your allowance as your father had told him to at the dinner, ‘to tame you' supposedly.

But that wasn’t a very good plan... what if he just looked for love elsewhere.

“What is it, honey?” he asked.

“Um... do you think... you would ever take a mistress?” you gulped and prepared yourself for his answer.

“I wouldn’t...” you sighed in relief, “one woman is enough trouble.” he said flatly.

“Daddy!!” you whined, stomping your foot on the floor and folding your hands over your chest.

And he had the audacity to laugh. His laughter at your expense only fuelled your anger. “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

He finally stopped laughing, “Look at you being a big girl,” he tried to pinch your cheek but you swatted his hand away. “You don’t wanna be daddy’s little girl anymore?” he pouted.

“No... no I do!” you answered all too eager. “I’m sorry...”

“I’m sorry too, honey. I shouldn’t be making fun of you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” you hugged his hard stomach, rubbing your cheek against his undershirt. “It’s mean, and you promised not to be mean to me.”

“I was just teasing,” he cooed, stroking your hair. And while you knew that and secretly enjoyed it even, you still wanted a serious answer out of him.

“I intend to keep my vows forever. There is just no way I could ever want anyone who’s not you.”

“Really?” you propped your chin on his abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Promise.”

***

“Um... I’m here to see Andy,” you told the lady sitting outside of, what you had been told was Andy’s office, you assumed her to be his secretary Erica.

You always packed a lunchbox for Andy, always remembering to leave a sweet note for him and he would always call you to thank you for it. You also made sure to have dinner ready before he got home on the nights he wasn’t taking you out on the town. It was just your duty as a good wife.

But Andy had been working way too much the past couple of weeks. Where he would be gone before you wake up and be back when you were already in bed. You knew his job was demanding, working for your father and being a partner in a law firm, the job was like a mistress, stealing your man away...

So you simply decided to make his favorite, food pack it up and come to him to eat it together.

“Mrs Barber! It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” she gave you a toothy smile, shaking your hand.

You would’ve been happy, elated that Andy talks so much about you at work. If you hadn’t smelled her perfume. So familiar... you couldn’t quite place it at first but then you remembered.

The night you had slaved away, hoping to profess your love to your husband, when he had rejected you and smelled of chanel.

“That’s a nice scent...” you wondered out loud.

“Oh thank you! I love it as well,” she said, taking in a whiff of the inside of her wrist. “It’s the new chanel one!”

“Hmm....”

You almost didn’t hear Andy calling for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kissed your cheek.

You set the food before him, thinking of telling him what was on your mind.

Was he really so cliché to have an affair with his secretary?

Could you really blame him though? Although you had been married for almost seven months, you were strangers living under the same roof for the majority of them. He wasn’t really cheating... but what if he was still doing it?

“Honey,” he shook you to get your attention. “What’s up with you today? I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“You’re always working.” You complained.

“Well...” he grinned, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you on his lap, “I have to. If I had the choice I would never come into work, I would stay home forever, between your legs, right... here,” he snaked a hand up your leg and stroked the inside of your thigh. “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, “I’ve been so lonely without you.”

He hummed, biting the shell of your ear before speaking into it, “I know, honey. I miss you too. But you do still remember the number one rule right?”

“Yes, daddy. Never touch myself without your permission.”

“And why is that?”

You whined, to embarrassed to say the words, “Because... it’s your... pussy.” You replied in a small shy voice.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s mine to do whatever I want with,” he cupped your mould, just to demonstrate what he meant but then frowned when he felt your soft curls and wet slick against his palm.

“You’re not wearing any panties, sweetheart.” He noted, surprised to your boldness.

“Um... I must’ve forgot.”

So maybe you had ulterior motives behind coming here. Your body was used to be doted on everyday now, and to not have his touch for so long was agonising. You had hoped to maybe bend down to pick up a napkin that fell ever so conveniently and flash him, it would work, he would be driven mad.

“Forgot huh?” You nodded in reply as he gathered your slick in his fingers, tracing your labia with them. “That’s too bad, If you had left them on purpose I would’ve cancelled my meeting and fucked you right here. But since it was just an innocent mistake I wouldn’t do that,” he retreated his hand, placing a soft kiss on your hair. “Thanks for lunch.”

***

You were determined to prove your worth to Andy. If he did have a mistress, whether it be his secretary or any other woman, he would forget all about her when he saw how you could do everything for him.

You had went all out today, baking a pie and a four course meal from scratch, lighting up candles, the pink babydoll that Andy had gifted you was under your dress.

He was as always exhausted when he got home, his face visibly lighting up upon seeing you, you took his hand in yours taking him to the couch and making him a glass of whiskey, you handed it to him before kneeling on the soft rug.

“You work so hard, daddy,” you murmured as your fingers worked on unzipping his pants.

He looked at you in confusion, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do that, honey,” cupping your cheek in his plan, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you blinked at him.

He groaned, unable to say no when you looked so willing to please him, but at the same time he wanted to do more with you. To cuddle and watch a movie and talk, it felt as if he hadn’t in ages.

“Very well,” he nodded.

With the green signal from him, you licked your lips, tasting some of your minty gloss, taking his length out of the confines of his underwear, you took a minute to simply marvel at the sheer size and beauty of it.

You licked a stripe up the underside of it, suckling at the crown, you remembered that he liked that the best, at least from the way he twisted his hand in your hair, pulling at it till it caused a slight burn to your scalp.

You slurped his precum up before he pushed his hips up till his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him, didn’t take him long to come down your throat.

His neck and cheek covered in a crimson blush, his chest heaving as he threw his head back against the couch.

“You did good, honey...” he rasped. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He absolutely loved the dinner you had made for him. But when you subtly, because you were raised to be a good lady and wife, tried to coax him to make love to you before bed, he.... rejected you.

Sure, he was kind about it. He told you he was simply tired and would make it up to you. But it was still shocking how a man as insatiable as him would ever say no. You truly didn’t know what to make of it.

***

“Oh... I don’t know about this... it’s a bit too bold for me,” you bit your lip.

“Just try it on! You might end up liking it!” Cherry urged you, putting the bright red lipstick on you without waiting for an answer, “There is nothing more classic than a red lip. Or a red anything. Men go crazy for it.” She told you.

You simply hummed through closed lips as she put some finishing touches on it. “Doesn’t that look nice?” she asked, holding up a mirror before you.

You smiled, it did look different. Maybe different was what you needed. “It’s very pretty. It makes me feel... confident?” Which was strange. Because how could a simple lipstick make you feel confident?

“See! I told you. Confidence is the key to sexiness. Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

***

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes,” you heard Andy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Just a minute,” you said, perfecting your edges with a lip brush.

This was something you had never done before. You wore a lot of lingerie for Andy, but most of them were cute pastels or white nighties or babydolls. Nothing like what you were wearing right now...

A sheer black lacy body suit that clung to your body, leaving literally nothing to the imagination.

Top that off with your red lip... you looked like some kind of dominatrix. Cherry told you that most men secretly wish to be dominated. Although you highly doubted your daddy would want anything like that. Or would he?

“Alright, I’m coming out,” you announced, before shyly stepping out, your eyes trained on the floor as you twiddled with your fingers to maybe distract you from your nerves. “What do you think?”

He was speechless. His jaw almost dropping on the floor when he saw you like that. So far from his sweet girl. You were just as much beautiful and sexy, and while it wasn’t something he was used or prefer to he would welcome it if it was what you wanted.

He extended an arm to you, ready to tell you that you were sexy, that he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body, that he wanted his cock stained the shade of red you wore on your lips, that he was ready to make up for being away for weeks.

Until he saw... that.

He lowly growled your name, making your head snap up to look at him, “What did you do to your pussy?” Because from what he could see, through the sheer material, there was nothing where your pubic hair used to be.

“Uh... I uh... waxed it...” From the tone of his voice you could tell that he wasn’t too happy about it. “Do you not like it?”

“Like?” he scoffed, shaking his head. Taking a seat on the bedding, “C'mere, let me take a closer look.”

Hesitantly, you walked the few strides it took till you were standing before him.

He studied your mould, trying to take the fabric off so he could see it more properly and then tutting when he couldn’t even open the stupid thing.

“Wait, it um... opens here I think,” you interrupted his scrutiny, undoing the zipper that was on your side and taking the suit off of you.

He sighed in resignation when he saw what you had done, making you regret your ever spending so much money and going through all that pain.

He parted your lips apart, running his fingers along your vulva, acquainting himself with this new strange feel of you, “When did do this?” his blue eyes looked up at you.

“Just a couple of days ago. It’s just hair... it’ll grow back in like three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” he scoffed.

You could feel your eyes getting misty. You tried to go all out for him, to please him, be completely naked and vulnerable before him, only to have him get angry at you.

“You don’t like it,” you sniffled.

His furrowed brow softened when he saw you crying, pulling you down till you were straddling his lap, “The question isn’t whether I like it or not,” he explained, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks, “I could... maybe live with it. But I wouldn’t prefer it.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“But for you to have done this,” he touched your newly waxed skin and almost winced at the smoothness, “You must’ve let someone else see you naked. See what belongs to me.”

“Bu - but they were all women...” you stammered, squirming in his lap as his fingers toyed with your clit.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tutted, pushing two fingers inside you, “Only I get to see you. This is MY pussy. Only I get to decide what to do with it. Do you understand?”

You nodded, holding onto his tshirt as he twisted his fingers inside you. “So-sorry, daddy.”

“No, honey, since you were bad you don’t get to call me daddy. For tonight you will address me as sir. And of course you’ll have to be punished.”

“Punished?” you pouted. “Can’t you just let me go since it was my first strike? I’ll be good from now on I promise!”

“No, you have to learn your lesson. Come on,” you yelped as he manhandled you so you were face down across his lap, “What is your safe word?”

“Unicorns” you giggled. You thought you were so witty for coming up with it. Since he for some reason was jealous of your unicorn stuffie.

He hummed, stroking the soft skin of your butt, “How does twenty sound?”

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, looking at him over your shoulder, “No!” you said.

He didn’t really plan on spanking you... did he? He liked swatting your ass here and there, and truth be told you liked it too. But you had never been spanked or even hit as a punishment.

“Well, if not this then maybe we can make you go a week without cumming.”

Your gasp was louder and even more incredulous this time. You could most definitely take twenty swats, but just the thought of not being able to finish, after knowing what an orgasm with Andy feels like, made you shiver.

“You will count each one, and then thank me for it. You are grateful I’m teaching you, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“Do you know how to count to twenty? Or would I have to teach you that too?” he asked ever so condescendingly as you huffed.

“Of course I do! I was just two semesters away from graduating college!” Never mind that you learned that in kindergarten.

“That’s good. Are you ready?” he asked, cracking his knuckles as he got in position.

With a nod from you he delivered the first slap to your right buttcheek, the sound of it reverberating in the room, his palm stinging slightly as he stroked the skin he had just punished, it was already warmer.

“One, sir. Thank you, sir,” you held onto a moan, it wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be...

You jerked forward as he unceremoniously hit your other cheek, since you were unprepared for it, and he was much more brutal.

“Tw-two, sir,” you sniffled.

You considered throwing in the towel and saying your safe word by the time fifteen rolled around. Your behind was on fire, while you couldn’t see it, you just knew it was bruised. But you wanted to be good for Andy and it was wrong of you to do something that drastic without his permission.

“Sixteen...” you hiccupped. You could feel your slick running down your thighs but at this point... you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Do you want a break?” he asked, taking pity on you.

You nodded frantically, “Yes please! Can you... can you touch me? Down there?” Since the pain in your throbbing pussy was unbearable. If you didn’t receive any attention, you might actually burst.

“Down where? Here?” He had the audacity to play down, while you were suffering, and touch the back of your knee to patronise you.

“No!” you whined.

“Well then you’ll have to be a bit more specific, princess.”

“In my... between my legs... my pussy...”

“Are you sure you deserve it though?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that, “No I don’t. Not until I finish my punishment.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his hand massaging your raw ass as your heart swelled in pride.

“Nineteen, sir,” your mind was hazy. It didn’t even feel as if you were in your reality anymore... it was as if you were floating, while you could still hear and feel him spanking you, for some reason it wasn’t as painful anymore.

“The last one, doll, hang in there,” he said before delivering the last swat.

You whimpered, “Twenty, thank you, sir,” willing your nose with the back of your hand.

Andy collected your weak form in his big string arms, rocking you back and forth in his lap as he kept whispering soft praises in your hair, “My sweet beautiful doll,” he pecked you on your lips.

“Sorry about your pants, daddy...” you said when you realised what a wet mess you had made on him.

He shushed you, “Don’t you worry about that right now. Do you want to take a bath?”

You pouted, your red lip jutting out, “No.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead, “Do you want daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“We have to be careful about your butt, baby,” he said as he gently placed you on the mattress.

Your head on your pillow, besides your two most trusted stuffies--your unicorn and teddy. Andy only allowed you two in the bed after complaining they made it hard for him to cuddle you. You demanded he buy you a shelf to display them or you would go back to your old room. Which of course made him comply instantly.

You made grabby hands at him, impatient to have him closer to you, but then were glad he took the time to take off his tshirt so you could ogle the wide expanse of his chest, the light scattering of fuzzy hair over it, his numerous tattoos along with one of your name, which marked him as yours forever.

He took a hardened nipple in his mouth while his hand tweaked the other, nudging your legs apart to make room for him, he placed his length at your entrance.

Slowly pushing into you, letting you get accustomed to the size of him. Although your pussy was always so welcoming to him, he knew you often struggled to take him.

You whimpered at him, tears rolling off of your face. “What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt?”

“No... it’s just so good,” you sniffled.

“Okay, just hold on,” you held onto his shoulders as he slowly fucked in to you.

Your pussy clamping around his length, the soles of your feet digging into his ass, “Can I come, daddy?”

“Of course, baby. You earned it.” He groaned, his hips hammering against yours as you bit his neck, letting out a muffled scream.

You hummed against his neck when you felt his warm release fill you up, he pulled out of you, frowning when he looked at your naked and hairless pussy, dripping with his cum.

“From now on I’ll be picking out your clothes,” he stated, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, daddy,” you hummed.

“And no more surprise bikini waxes.”

“Mmm...” If that’s what you had to do to get in trouble and be punished, then so be it. “We’ll see.”

***

Three days later

“Lotion time, doll,” Andy said, pausing the movie you were both watching to go get said lotion.

He had rubbed your lotion on your backside when he spanked you and decided that he wanted to be the one putting your body lotion on you from now on since he had too much fun doing it. He insisted on doing it twice everyday since it was still very cold.

You followed him to the bedroom, lying face down on the bed a he squeezed some on his palms, rubbing them together to warm them up.

You winced just a little, your skin still a bit sensitive, you even had to sit on a pillow the time.

“Will you be going back to work tomorrow?” you wanted to know.

He didn’t like the sadness in your voice, “Yes,” he sighed. He hated leaving you all by yourself.

“I’ll be all alone then.”

“Didn’t you want to go back to college?” He remembered you telling him that your parents forced you to drop out so that you would marry him.

“I do actually. Hate leaving things incomplete... maybe I can even go to a law school and become a lawyer like you!” you perked up.

“You’re not working for your father though, you’re too good for that world.”

“You’re too good for him too.” You said. “Maybe I can work with you.” And you and him could be like a power couple. It would be so exciting.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[pettyvxbes]

FUCKLUST (18 +) - {COLSON BAKER x READER }

Y'all, I got a little carried away on this one. 🙈🥵💦

Warnings: Smut (18+), cursing.

FUCKLUST

Intransitive verb: an insatiable sexual desire to fuck the hell out of that one particular special someone you think about all the time.

Colson towered over you, his strong arms pinning your hands over your head. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a heated kiss. You could feel his hard cock against your thigh, making heat pool in your center. You gasped as Colson pushed his body against yours, sliding his bare length between your folds. You could feel his hot breath on yours as a groan escaped his lips.

Colson took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard. You wanted to pull him closer, but he kept a firm grip on your arms which were still positioned above your head. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you won't be able to remember another man has been inside you, you won't ever want another cock." Colson growled, reaching down to position himself. You could feel the head of his cock pressing at your entrance.

A jolt shuddered through you, making you jump. Your eyes shot open as you awoke from your accidental nap. You were immediately met with the familiar pair of baby blues that belonged to your co-star, Colson Baker.

You two had been working on a movie together for the last three months, and you were set to film your very first kissing scene, which you ultimately blamed for the naughty dream, even though you knew deep down it was much more than that. From the moment you stepped on set, the chemistry between you was undeniable, and the sexual tension was consuming. Colson was always making you laugh uncontrollably or making you wish you were underneath him. Unfortunately, you had both decided for the sake of the film that you would keep it professional. The closer it got to wrapping the first film, the harder it was to resist wrapping yourselves around each other.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Colson asked. Your cheeks flushed red, remembering the dream you were just in the middle of. Colson smirked at you once he noticed the rosy tint to your cheeks. "You were dreaming about me, weren't you?" He joked but had no idea how accurate he was.

You quickly tried to regain your composure, ignoring the intense need for his hands on your body. It took everything in you to not jump him right there in the lounge.

"Yeah, actually," You admitted, catching him off guard at your candor.

"Guys, we need you on set." One of the crew members popped their head in the room, interrupting your conversation. You got up from the chair that you had fallen asleep in, stopping in the doorway, you turned back around to face the handsome man.

"Thank you for the sex. It was mind-blowing." You smirked, making Colson's jaw drop. Although your dream hadn't gone quite that far, you knew it would have been amazing.

It sucked. Liking someone you couldn't have. Seeing Colson every day but knowing that he'd never be yours because of your stupid agreement. It was the worst feeling in the world. All you could do was dream about him and the things that he'd do to you. . .

. . . but you couldn't jeopardize the success of the film, your career, you worked so hard to get to where you were. You refused to be like all of the other Hollywood cliches. Two beautiful people playing two beautiful lovers who accidentally fall for each other in real life but eventually go up in flames. Completely ruining the on-screen chemistry in the sequels or worst-case scenario, one of them being re-casted, which you knew would end up being you.

Not long after stepping on set, you found yourself standing in the middle of a faux lingerie store next to Colson, who was helping your character pick out something to wear.

"Let me guess. You like garters and silk stockings?" You delivered your lines perfectly as you thumbed through the garments on the rack in front of you.

"Two for two, although I'd like you in anything you put on… or take off," Colson smirked, handing you a hanger adorned with a very sexy lace bustier set. You glanced towards the dressing rooms, then back at Colson with a scandalous glimmer in your eye.

"Help me try it on? Just to make sure it fits, of course."

"Of course." Colson mimicked you before following you towards the dressing rooms. After quickly switching scenes on set, you resumed filming in the tiny room.

You pushed Colson toward the bench in the dressing room, forcing him to sit. Looking him straight in the eye, you reached for the hem of your clothes, lifting slowly, exposing your bare skin inch by inch. Colson sat in front of you, clenching his fists in his lap, clearly holding himself back from reaching for you as you stepped out of the last of your clothes and into the lingerie.

"Well?" Does it live up to your imagination?" Your character asked as you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the straps on the bustier and garter belt. Colson's body was pressed up against yours in an instant, meeting your gaze in the mirror. He planted a kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hands found their way to your hips. You could feel him growing hard against you. In the moment, you almost forget that you were filming, clearing your throat to break the trance.

"I hope you like this one because I'm pretty sure I have to buy these panties now." You blurted. Those weren't your lines; You had no idea where that came from. You could feel Colson grin against the nape of your neck. Your face flushed in embarrassment, but before anyone could notice, Colson spun you around, threading his fingers through your hair pulling you into a fierce kiss.

You knew this wasn't how the scene was supposed to go, but even as you tried to remind yourself to stick to the script, you found yourself pulling him closer. After the last few months of tension and self-restraint, Colson's mouth, hot and insistent on yours, was a relief.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," Colson whispered against your lips.

"Don't." Was the only word you were able to get out before you melted into his arms. Wrapping your body around his. The kiss grew passionate and intense quickly. You both forgot where you were and what you were doing until the director screamed cut, startling both of you.

"That was phenomenal," the director complimented you two on your improv. The rest of the day was spent filming fill-in scenes with your other castmates; in fact, you hadn't seen Colson once since your little rendezvous in the dressing room. This was probably a good thing because, after that heated kiss, you were sure you wouldn't be able to resist.

Once filming had wrapped for the day, you made your way back to the dressing rooms, still replaying the kiss from earlier in your mind. You were so caught up in your thoughts out hadn't even realized that you walked right past your dressing room door, opening your co-workers as your own.

You were startled to find Colson standing in front of you. Freshly showered in nothing but a small white towel. You could see the outline of his cock through the cotton fabric. It was enough to make you salivate. His eyes locked with yours, the look of lust on your face was apparent, and he reciprocated. The desire absorbed you; you knew that resisting him was no longer an option. That no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn't be able to curb the ache you felt for him until it was satisfied.

Before you could make the first move, Colson's lips were on yours. His kiss was hard as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him. His passion was contagious and electrifying. Colson pressed his body flush with yours, sucking on your lower lip as he ran his fingers roughly through your hair.

"Stop teasing and touch me," You demanded. With a smirk, Colsons' hands found your backside lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his back as he pressed you hard into the wall.

"It's about damn time." He breathed. With his free hand, Colson wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling your head back with a slight yank. He took a second, admiring the view before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your mouth, so lingering that it made your knees week.

"If we're finally going to do this, I want to hear you say it, y/n." Colson said, looking into your eyes, and without hesitation, you spoke.

"Colson, I need you."

You had a moment to catch Colson's groan before he crashed his lips into yours. You moved frantically together, hands roaming each other's bodies and tongues exploring each other's mouths. Your dress was hiked up around your waist as Colson's hands wandered, feeling every inch of your body. His lips moved down your jaw, his hips grinding into yours. The rub of his bulge against the fabric of the lingerie you had taken from set sent a rush of need to your core, causing you to buck your hips into him.

"Do you feel what you do to me y/n?" Colson growled as he grabbed your hand, guiding it down to the space between you both. "What have you done to me every single goddamn night since I've met you?" He asked, rock hard against your palm. Colson let out an agonizingly sexy groan in response to your touch. You rubbed your hand up and down the length of him, straining hard against the fabric of the towel around his hips. You squeezed your hand around him, stroking slowly. Colson's groans quickly turned to grunts, deep and sexy, until his hand abruptly stopped yours.

"Y/n, you're going to make cum before I even get you naked." He admitted with a slight chuckle. With one smooth move Colson hoisted you into his arms, shifting your weight away from the wall. You locked your ankles around his back, and he carried you across the room. His mouth latched to the skin of your neck.

"Are you marking me, Colson Baker?" You asked seductively. Colson growled low in his throat.

"You haven't seen anything yet, princess." He avowed, tossing you on the chaise lounge. His eyes roamed the curves of your body, still covered in the fabric of your sheer dress. You leaned back on the chair, your skirt hiked up enough to show a peek of the panties beneath. Colson groaned as he dropped to one knee on the lounge so he could lean over you. His eyes were electric as he took in your body. Eyes locked with his, you slowly removed your clothes, tugging your dress over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Colson took in the lingerie that he had picked out for you, his eyes traveling hungrily over your body.

"Seeing you laid out like this in the lingerie that I picked out, it's hard not to feel like. . ." Colson trailed off in thought.

"Like you have a claim on me?" You guessed what he was thinking, and Colsons eyes darkened.

"Exactly like that. It's not a feeling I want to let go of." He remarked. "As much as I love it. . . let me see you without it."

You slipped the straps off your shoulders, watching Colsons eyes follow the movement. You slowly removed the lingerie as he watched your every move. Once you were completely naked, you leaned back on your elbows, biting your lip while looking up at him, waiting to see what he'd do. Colson leaned forward, his eyes locked with yours. His hands framing your body on either side of the lounge chair.

"I want to mark every part of your beautiful body," Colson went on, "after all of that teasing and waiting. . . I want you to think of me every time you look in the mirror." He said, running his finger gently down your neck, your chest, over your nipples. "I want you to see the places I've touched you."

"Do it." You begged.

Colson let out a deep, wild growl that sent a shiver down your body. He dipped down, running his tongue over your collarbone, punctuating the movement with a nip to your shoulder. He pressed a line of soft kisses over the line of your shoulder before his mouth slid up to leave another bite mark on your neck. You gasped at the feeling of his teeth sinking into the curve of your neck. Before the pain could register, Colson licked over the same spot, peppering your skin with kisses. You could feel the trail of marks he was leaving on your neck and down your chest. It stung with pleasure and a hint of pain. He slowly made his way down your body, biting the edge of your hip, almost hard enough to draw blood. A moan escaped your mouth, and you instinctively lifted your hips to meet him.

"Colson"

"Fuck y/n, you're better than any fantasy I could ever have." He marveled as he pulled back to look at you, his gaze full of lust and wonder. Colson tugged on your knees, dragging you to the edge of the lounge chair, your bent legs framed his hips. "I can't wait to taste you. Have you thought about that? What it'd be like to have my mouth on you?"

"I may have considered what it'd be like. . . or how good you'd be. . ." You admitted coyly.

"Trust me, I'm not one to disappoint." He promised. "I can't even tell you how long I've been waiting for this. How many dreams I've had with me between your thighs. . ." desire dripping from every word he spoke.

Colson hovered over you, connecting his lips with yours as your fingers moved down his back. He moved his lips down your body - your neck, your collar bone, your breasts - he left a trail of kisses down your stomach, over your hips, until he reached the place where you craved him most. You arched into his touch, wanting to get closer. Colson lifted his head, grinning wide.

"Eager, are we?" He smirked. Before you could even catch your breath, Colson'sColson's tongue was between your folds, licking you slowly. He looked up to meet your eyes, holding down your hips as his mouth found your bundle of nerves. He sucked your clit like a starved man, enjoying each moan and gasp that he pulled from you. Within seconds you were writhing underneath him as his tongue continued making you sing.

"Oh my god," you moaned, your hand finding its way into his hair. Colson slid a single finger inside of you, working perfectly in time with his mouth against your bud. It sent shockwaves down your body. The rush of pleasure pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck Colson!" You moaned.

"That's it, say my name." He coaxed you. Pulling back enough to speak, Colson used his hand to rub your clit in sharp circles, hard enough to drive you crazy. "Cum for me." He ordered, and your orgasm hit you like a wave, the pleasure shaking through you as you finally let go. You fell back onto the chaise lounge, spent.

Colson climbed on top of you, kissing you passionately. His fingers found their way between your thighs, teasing at your entrance before slipping, not one but two fingers inside. You gasped at the sensation. Colson rocked his hand in smooth, firm strokes, making you moan. He curled his fingers to reach the spot inside that makes fireworks explode behind your eyes. He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace leaving you breathless, hitting that particular spot every time.

You couldn't take it any longer. You ran your nails down his tattooed back, stopping at the only piece of fabric separating his naked body from yours. In one swift motion, you yanked the towel from his hips, making him grin.

"Since the day I met you, all I wanted to do was make you come undone around me," He said, sliding the underside of his cock over your wet center, giving your clit just a hint of the friction that you craved.

Colson pressed his cock over your clit one last time, making you moan before he positioned it against your entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside of you, one pleasurable, tantalizing inch at a time until you were completely full. Visibly restraining himself, Colson stayed still, letting you get used to the size of him. Both of you breathing heavily as you became familiar with the feel of each other. You rocked your hips up, pulling him in deeper. Tipping his head back in pleasure, Colson let out a groan.

"You're going to be the death of me," Colson mumbled before starting to move agonizingly slow, using all of his self-control. He slowly rolled his hips, pressing his pelvis down against your clit, making you moan.

"Do you want me to go faster?" He asked as he slowly pushed himself deep inside of you, brushing against that perfect spot.

"Y-yes," You stammered in between breaths.

"Tell me what you want," Colson demanded. You could see the tension in his shoulders; it was getting difficult for him to hold himself back. His strokes were slow and hard, sending electric sparks through your body - hot, but not enough. He was driving you crazy, and he loved it; you could tell by the smirk he was wearing.

"Want to hear your beg for it." He growled, sliding slowly into you again, stretching you, sending white-hot pleasure through your body. You could swear you saw stars.

"Please fuck me harder," You moaned. It was precisely what he wanted to hear. In a split second, Colson's self-restraint snapped. His hips moving faster, thrusting deep inside you. You let out a moan as you attempted to bring your hips down to meet his, but he set a frenzied pace, so hard that it took your breath away.

You gripped his shoulders, raking your nails down his tattooed back, hard enough to leave a mark. Colson let out a low growl as the knot in your stomach grew taut; you were so close. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Open your eyes. Look at me while you cum on my cock." Colson's nails dug into your hips, and the mixture of pain and pleasure made that knot unravel. Your eyes shot open, meeting those familiar baby blues again.

Colson slammed into you hard and deep, making you scream his name as you fell off the edge, pleasure cascading through your entire body. Colson's lips found their way to yours, swallowing every sound you gave him. The feeling of your release around him causing him to cum even harder, your mouth engulfing his groans. He pulsed inside of you, releasing himself and all the built-up tension from his body until the only thing left between you was heavy breathing.

"Fuck." Colson groaned, lying motionless on top of you for a moment, too fatigued to move. Once he caught his bearings, he rolled off of you, laying on his back next to you. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.

"What's so funny?" you probed.

"Before you walked in here, I was trying to figure out how I was going to keep myself from accidentally busting while filming our sex scene next week." He answered, still chuckling to himself. His response made you laugh out loud.

"And what makes you think you won't? The sexual tension could easily build back up by then." You challenged him.

"Oh, I have every intention of doing this again" He pointed between you two.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He responded, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, "I thought that your laugh was my favorite. . ." He continued, moving to gently kiss your lips. "but now that I've made you moan. . ." He trailed off, moving down to kiss your neck, sucking just enough to draw a quiet moan from your lips. ". . .I plan on hearing it many times before then" He smirked, and just like that, the insatiable sexual desire to fuck the hell out of Colson Baker returned.

[wandaownsthisass]

Why'd You Have to Leave? -- Wanda Maximoff x Reader

a/n: You and Wanda have a fight, she leaves, proving to you that everyone leaves eventually.

-- This fic idea was very random & I'm not sure I like the ending but what can ya do 🤷‍♀️ I hope y'all enjoy it.

Words: 5359

Warnings: Angst! Some swearing & mentions of alcohol, brief mention of a panic attack. NSFW. 18+ Only.

You knew this would happen.

I mean it always does, sometimes sooner than others. But it is inevitable really. In the end, you were always the one to blame, because truthfully it was you who drove people away.

Over and over and over, until they could not take it any longer.

Over and over and over again, you proved to yourself that no one would stay.

So really, you knew this would happen.

It didn’t hurt any less though, watching the person you truly thought would stay, just leave.

She was only supposed to be gone for a month, on a mission that required her to go undercover, no phone calls, no texts, no mail. Nothing. Silence for an entire month, which normally you could have handled but the fight before her departure replayed in your mind, like a broken record.

Except a broken record was once whole, and you’re not sure the relationship you had with Wanda was ever that.

The tears. The shouting. The door slamming. And then silence, complete silence.

And when the day came around for Wanda to come back home, you waited impatiently by the door, ears perking up at every small sound, heart racing when the distant chatter from the team got just a little louder. But then it was almost 10 at night, and worry started to flood your thoughts.

It didn’t last long before a knock came at your door, it was so light you thought you imagined it. Anxiety filling you, you held your breath before replying “Come in”.

You watched slowly as the door creaked open, almost as if the person behind it was hesitant to enter.

It was Natasha, and you felt the dread creep back up your body, reaching your throat, tightening as you held back the tears that threatened to breakthrough.

You didn’t dare speak, for the fear of cracking in front of her. Instead, you let her take the lead, as you chewed insistently on your bottom lip.

“How are you doing?” She whispered, approaching slowly, coming to a stop at the end of your bed.

You nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat. Which she did, and you sat for a moment, almost unsure of how to answer.

Miserable. Scared. Maybe even grieving.

You settled with an “I’m fine”

She disliked your response, her brows furrowed at your words.

“You’ve barely left your room this past month, we’re worried about you”

You scoffed, irritated at the sudden interest in your well-being.

“Why are you here Nat?” You spat.

Your voice breaks, and you’re not even sure if she heard the next words, “Is she coming home?”

The blonde doesn’t even need to reply, her expression failing her instantly, a look of pity directed at your sad state.

“Get out”

Natasha doesn’t bother trying to fight with you, uttering “She’s alive Y/N, I think she just needs time alone”

And with that, she leaves. Her words cut deeper than you thought they would.

She consciously decided to leave you, longer than needed for a stupid mission, not even bothering to tell you herself.

And in some dark twisted way, you thought her death would hurt less.

By the time the next month rolled around, any hope you had left started to die off. Natasha was the only one that heard from Wanda, once a week you would watch Natasha rush off to a secluded area, engaging in a hushed conversation. The calls only lasted a few minutes and although you had started to occupy yourself with other tasks, you couldn’t help but feel the gut-wrenching ache in your stomach when the blonde would look over at you.

A few more weeks passed by and it was an unbearably warm day, which you spent outside suffering through one of Steve’s grueling workouts when you heard the familiar buzz of the Quinjet approaching the compound.

Despite your condition, you noticed Steve’s worried features glance your way before running off to the approaching jet.

There it was. That dread and sadness you worked so hard to push down, came flooding back like a dam bursting.

Even from this far away you knew it was her. Her red hair glistening in the sweltering sun. You watched the rest of the team sweep her into hugs, but your interest in her was interrupted by a taller unfamiliar figure standing behind her.

You could barely make out their appearance, but they were not human. Skin coloured an unnatural red and blue. Almost synthetic-like. Their presence instantly leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

You waited for everyone to head inside before making your way to your room to shower.

You had hoped the cold water would shock the unwelcome feelings from your mind, but time alone only served to create more.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to enter the living room, where the team was catching up with Wanda and the new guest. You hesitated though, inching closer and closer to the doorway, before changing your mind, turning on your heel back the direction you came.

You had nearly turned around before a quiet voice halted your movements.

You froze just as Wanda’s voice hitched.

“Y/N?” she whispered; goosebumps forming immediately over your skin because it was like hearing her voice for the first time. Was her accent always this prominent?

You could have kept going. You could have ignored her and pretended like you didn’t care. But she was right behind you, and the desire to see her face after all this time overtook you.

You shifted your weight, taking a long deep inhale, bracing yourself. Turning around you averted your eyes, attempting to take her in slowly, hoping to warm up to see her face again after all this time.

So, you did just that and once your eyes arrived at her face, you realized no amount of preparation would have sufficed.

Her eyes seemed lighter like they were no longer burdened by the dullness of the compound and familiarity of her old life. It was as if they belonged to someone else, a person who you struggled to recognize.

Had it been that long? Did she always have that many freckles?

You shook your head, frustrated at the thoughts filling your head, and embarrassment began to creep up realizing you had yet to answer her.

“You’re back” You whispered back; afraid your voice may break if you talked any louder.

She hesitated, paused, observed you like she used to. So, you observed her back. Watched her watch you, a flitter occurring deep in your belly. Subconsciously shifting again on your feet, drawing her out of her stupor, she cleared her throat to answer, “Yeah I thought it was about time”

About time? Almost as if you were just an old friend, and it was time to play catch-up.

A dry laugh fell out of you. “Well, how nice of you to come back.”

A sigh crossed her lips, her eyes flickering down for a moment before returning to your intense gaze. “We should talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you spat back, eyes narrowing. “You said enough when you left without another word, and you said, even more, when you didn’t come back.”

Tears welled in your eyes, memories returning like unwanted guests. That’s when the tears started. That’s when you lost hold of your composure. Because her presence used to be warm. She was back, she came back. Her presence should have relieved you.

But it didn’t. It just hurt, cut open the wound you thought you started to patch back together, but just like that she ripped you open again. And you lost control, again.

You didn’t give her a chance to answer. Because nothing she would say at that moment could fix it. You weren’t sure if anything she would ever say would fix it.

So, you left. You heard her say your name one more time. It was desperate, broken. But you needed space. Tears blurred your vision as your feet carried you to the roof of the compound. You didn’t stay standing for long. The door shut behind you and you crumpled to the ground, sobs wracking your entire body, draining you of any air that was left.

You lied there, hyperventilating, trying desperately to catch your breath. Every fiber of this false control and composure you thought you weaved, just completely unraveled.

You thought you heard someone call your name, but it was so distant and all you could think of, all you felt was the gnawing at your chest.

Hands cupped your wet cheeks, stroking lightly, “Hey hey, Y/N I’m here. Take some deep breaths for me. I’m here”

Your eyes shot open at Wanda’s voice, wanting desperately to rip yourself from her hands. But you didn’t. You didn’t know if it was because you were exhausted or if you wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as you could. So, you stayed, allowing Wanda to sit behind you, taking the weight of your body against hers.

Her voice wavered, barely holding onto any stability, “That’s it, keep breathing.”

You heard sniffling behind you before her body began to shake. Her tear-stained hand coming into your peripherals for a brief moment.

Your body stiffened at the sight, anger starting to replace any feelings of anguish. You pushed away from her, standing abruptly. You swiveled around to take sight of her. The rims of her eyes were red, tears flowing freely from them.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, ignoring the concern that started to crawl into you.

She wiped another tear.

“I came to see if you were-”

“No. What are you doing back? Why did you come back?”

Anger laced itself in your voice. It took you straight back to that night. It was a stupid fight, both of you too stubborn to admit feelings, too stubborn to stop pushing one another away, too afraid to admit that you were in love. So, you snapped. You pushed to see how much it would take for her to walk away, how much she could handle. To see if she would stay.

It was wrong. It was childish. You knew that. You didn’t blame her; it was your fault after all. You pushed to prove that everyone leaves, and she proved it again.

You could see her reliving that night as well, her eyes staring hard at the ground below her. Her jaw clenched.

"I-I couldn't stand to be away from you any longer. I missed you."

“Stop. Just stop! I don’t want to hear that bullshit.” You yelled.

And you didn’t give her a chance to reply, “All those secret phone calls with Natasha, you couldn’t have just called to tell me yourself? I had to be told by Natasha that you wouldn’t be coming back. That’s all I got. How fucking pathetic. This time don’t follow me.”

The door slammed behind you. You turned the corner at the end of the stairwell and ran right into the stranger you had yet to meet. You glared up at him. His presence fuelled your anger.

“Hello Miss Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you know where Wan-”

“The roof. Now get out of my way.”

He’s pushed to the side, hitting the wall lightly as you brushed past him.

You spent that night in your room, huddled in blankets. Knocks came and went at your door. Each one met with a strangled fuck off, eventually taking the hint you wanted to be left alone.

You spent days in your room, losing track of time. The cycles of day and night coming and going like a blur, like scenes from a movie.

Once in a while, you could register a hushed voice from outside your room. You started to think you were just hallucinating them at times.

Then your solitude was interrupted by a presence entering your room. You didn’t see who it was. You were enveloped by the safety of your blankets, excluding any light that dared to enter your room.

“Y/N? I brought you some food”

It was Peter. You nearly broke at his voice, sadness lacing his words. He was by far your closest friend but being so busy at college you rarely saw him anymore. He knew of the current circumstances, but like most people, you shut him out.

You could only assume Natasha or Steve was responsible for his arrival at the compound. But it was a presence you welcomed. It surprised you. You were so sure that the past days spent alone in your room, you had officially cried out every feeling possible. You felt utterly empty. Endless nothingness.

You peeked out from the safety of your comforter, dry eyes meeting his warm gaze.

“Well, it’s nice to see you. I brought your favourite pizza. Although there is a catch, you do have to share with me,” He smiles, leaning over to grab the food.

“Thank you”

You cringed at the sound of your voice. It was hoarse. It was dry. It was so weak.

The two of you sat in silence for a while. You groaned at the taste of the pizza, finally realizing how malnourished your body was. It wasn’t long before it was gone.

“What time is it?”

“10 am and it’s Sunday”

Sunday. That meant it had been three days since Wanda returned.

“You brought me pizza at 10 am?” You laughed. The sound shocked you at first, you couldn’t remember the last time you laughed. It saddened you.

He smiled at that, “Well, who said you can’t eat pizza at 10 am? Plus, I thought you might need it. I’ve been worried about you. We all have. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I tried. I-I didn’t know how bad it had gotten”

You held up your hand, stopping him from continuing.

“Don’t apologize. Please. I didn’t make it easy”

“I want to ask how you are, but I feel like I know the answer”

You averted your eyes, taking a look around your room. Messy was an understatement. You could barely see the floor. You caught your reflection in a nearby mirror. You broke at the sight. How could you let yourself get like this?

“Hey, I’m right here. It’s going to be ok.”

Peter held you for a while, your tears eventually dying out. You pulled away from his tear-soaked shirt. Embarrassed and exhausted, you look at him, “I’m going to shower.”

You weren’t sure how long you spent washing off the dirt that built up over the past few days. You were angry and annoyed. How could you let her do this to you again?

You pushed away from the thought, instead, relishing in the warm water.

When you returned, clean and in new clothes, your room was tidy. Your bed made and the floor clear of riddled clothes and trash. Peter sat on your bed.

“Wow. Thank you for cleaning, you didn’t need to”

“It’s no problem. Really. I’m here for you. Now let’s go enjoy the day”

The team quieted down immediately at your presence, staring widely at the two of you. You hated the attention. You hated how you searched for Wanda amongst the group. You hated how disappointed you were when you noticed she wasn’t there.

Peter noticed your wandering gaze and grabbed your arm to drag you along.

The sun was blinding. Taking you longer than normal to adjust. But once you did, you stood there letting the warmth encase your entire body. You glanced over at Peter.

“She’s here still. She hasn’t left her room.”

You just stare at him.

“Sorry, is that what you wanted to know?”

You nod, “Has anyone talked to her?”

“Vision did. I don’t think it went too well though. He was thrown out of the room almost immediately. Thankfully he can phase through walls, so she didn’t do much damage.”

You breathe out, “Sounds like her”

Peter clears his throat. “Do you think you’re going to speak to her?”

“I’m not sure if I have anything to say”

You started to walk, and Peter followed. The past days spent in your room allowed you to reflect heavily on the situation. Whether you wanted to accept it or not, you loved Wanda. You’d fell for her the day you met her, nearly 3 years ago. Her presence frustrated you, made you experience things you came to believe you would never understand. She scared you, wholeheartedly.

Her presence also grounded you. Missions spent together allowed the two of you to grow closer, sharing hushed conversations about her life in Sokovia, your life growing up. Sharing painful memories but also the minor details about one another. By now, you could read each other without a second thought.

You didn’t realize the effect she had on you until she left. No one else on the team calmed you like she did. No one else could ever come close to her.

Peter cut in, disrupting your thoughts, “I think you do. I know it’s not my place, but I can see how much you two care about each other. I also know that neither of you have had it easy. But don’t you think you deserve something good? Whatever you two have is special, complicated even, but worth fighting for,”

“Maybe it’s about time you let yourself open up, let yourself have this. If it goes wrong, then at least you tried” He watched you hesitantly, knowing there was a possibility of him receiving a fist to the face.

Instead, you sat with it. Maybe he was right. “I’m scared,” you admitted, taking a deep breath at your vulnerability.

“That means you care, somewhere in that cold heart of yours.”

You shot him a glare, quickly replacing it with a smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

He was right. Not that you would admit that to him, ever. But you did care. You cared a lot. So, you stared at Peter for a moment before heading back inside. You walked right past the rest of the group for the second time, they watched you with curiosity as you headed down the opposing corridor, opposite your room. To Wanda’s.

You didn’t know how long you stood there for. You must have reached up to knock nearly ten times, and just when your fist was about to touch the wood, you froze. If you went in there you had to be vulnerable. You had to admit everything you didn’t want to. Everything you tried so fucking hard to run away from. You would have to do that for this person, and hope, just hope that they would accept all of you.

Wanda decided to be the push you needed. She had heard your battling thoughts from her chair in the corner. Where she had sat for the past days, thinking. She had wondered if you’d ever come. She had battled with just barging into your room and confessing everything. She attempted several times, sneaking out late at night. Nights spent hovered outside your door.

So, when she heard you outside her door, the tightness in her chest started to soften.

Red mist encased the door handle, and you watched as the door creaked open, it startled you at first before you comprehended what was happening. You stepped through the doorway and scanned for Wanda. And you found her, she sat in a chair across from you, she stared intently at you before her features softened, almost as if she still wasn’t sure, it’d be you walking through the door.

You cleared your throat, nervous under her gaze, “Hi”

“Hey, how are you?”

It was awkward.

"I'm go-", you stopped yourself, "I don't know. I have no idea"

She nodded. More silence.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you the other day. It wasn’t very mature of me”

Wanda shifted in her seat, “Don’t apologize. You had-have every right to be angry with me. I’m so sorry Y/N. I really fucked up”, tears ran down her face, which she swiped away almost as fast as they came.

You remained rooted in your spot. Stuck between wanting to comfort her and keeping your distance. You stayed.

“Wanda, I want to be completely open with you. I know I don’t have the greatest track record for being the most vulnerable, but I’ve realized that whatever the outcome is, I need to be honest with you”

You moved to the edge of her bed and took a few minutes to gather your thoughts before continuing, "You are the most important person in my life. I haven't made it easy for you and I didn't make it easy on us. For that, I'm sorry. I hated letting people in, frankly, I didn't let anyone in until I met you. When we met, it was like I could breathe for the first time, which now that I'm saying that it sounds so cliche,"

“I wanted to push you away and prove to myself that everyone just leaves me. I’ll admit, it’s childish and unhealthy but I can’t change what I did. But when you left, it broke me. For a moment I thought you’d be the one to stay. And as much as I hate you for it, I can’t blame you.”

You looked up at Wanda. Taking a moment to catch your breath as the familiar tightness returned.

“I shouldn’t have left. Regardless of how hard it was. I don’t have an excuse for what I did, and I don’t have an excuse for how I handled things. It was immature and I am mad at myself for it. I never wanted to hurt you, I felt that me being there was just adding to the hurt.”

It was your turn for the tears to fall. You wished yours were more controlled, but you couldn’t help the way your body fell victim to everything you had tried to hold in.

Wanda stood immediately, closing the distance before stopping abruptly in front of your legs. You looked up at her through blurry eyes, your hands reached out before you knew what you were doing. Coming into contact with her sweater, you cried harder at the warmth radiating from her body. She stepped in and grasped your hands, placing them on her waist.

Her hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears. Your knuckles nearly turned white, grasping onto her like she was your lifeline.

“It hurts me when you cry. Yet, I’m the reason for it”

Her hands made their way to yours, reaching back to release them gently from her shirt. Her thumbs continued their movements on the back of your hands. You both stayed there for some time, your tears becoming less frequent and your breath becoming deeper.

“Talk to me please”

Your eyes were closed but you felt her bend down, kneeling in front of you. Your eyes opened and her breath hitched, eyes red and puffy, but remained that bright green.

“Who is he?”

Her brows furrowed for a moment before realizing who it was you were asking about, “Vision?”

“Sure, the red dude”

She smiled briefly, “I met him on the mission, he was one of Stark’s AI’s, I guess he went off on his own for a while before making contact again”, “Why?”

“I think he likes you”

“He had to hear a lot about me while we were together. He knows my heart lies with you,”

“I wanted to wait but I realized waiting is stupid and if I don’t say it now I don’t-”

“I love you. I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since we first met. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it”

You didn’t know if you’d ever seen Wanda smile so big, the sadness lifting slowly from her eyes, that lightness you saw a few days before returning. The lightness caused by you.

“I love you too. I love you so much. I’m sorry I left, you mean everything to me, I never want you to feel less than that”

You glanced down at Wanda’s lips instinctively, she mirrored your movements before she leaned in slowly to close the distance. Just before your lips touched, you pulled back, ever so slightly, she halted immediately glancing back up at you,

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now Wan, I still need some time” You replied, hand placed on her chest.

She nodded and went back to her standing position. You cleared your throat before you stood as well, making your way to her door.

“I’ll see you around”

The next few days passed quite quickly, Wanda and you exchanged glances here and there, some turning into lingering moments, it was always you that had to break the contact.

A week later, at The Avengers Annual Charity Gala, you had a little too much to drink. You stood at the bar, gladly accepting the rounds of free drinks being supplied to you by random charity goers, each time thanking you for what you do. Each new person began to weave into one as your vision blurred, the bar counter became the only thing that stood between you and the floor.

You admit, it was irresponsible but that was quickly excused by the rough past few months you had just endured. So, you continued and tried to ignore the redhead and her companion in the corner of the room. Peter approached the bar and ended your fun once you stumbled and knocked over the barstool, apologizing after doing so, “I think that’s enough for her Natasha''

“Peter! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around him.

“You can barely stand, come on let’s sit down”

Peter led you over the couches, and you plopped down with a sigh and slumped over almost immediately.

“Oh my god, Peter, have you lied down on these couches before? This is wonderful”

“Drink some water please, Tony will lose it if you puke on these”

He shoved water your way, clearly annoyed at your antics. You sent him a glare before accepting the drink, “Let me have some fun, you know I can’t stay drunk that long anyways”

“Yeah, but you are a reckless one, and this gala is an important one,” He said, taking a seat beside you, as he placed his hand on your lap.

He noticed your eyes watching Wanda and Vision, her head thrown back at something he whispered to her.

“You’re insufferable, why don’t you two just get back together?”

“I need time. I love her but what if we just aren’t meant to be?”

“That’s ridiculous. She loves you. She’s been watching over you the whole night,” Peter admits, rolling his eyes at you.

“Take this as a second chance, God knows what tomorrow will bring, in this line of work you need to count your blessings and live while you can. You love her”

You nod and take another swig of the water. Wanda felt your eyes and twisted her head to meet your gaze.

“Hold this” You shoved the water at Peter before standing up.

You took a deep breath, hesitated for a moment before you pushed through the crowd that stood between you and Wanda. Vision stood there, entranced by Wanda as she spoke, but she wasn’t focused on him nor the conversation, as she watched curiously as you stumbled your way through the partygoers.

“Wanda. Vision” You said as you tried to center yourself after the abrupt movements.

Vision noticed your state, “Are you okay Miss Y/N?”, you stared at him doing your best to be intimidating.

“I need to speak to Wanda. Alone.”

He nodded and excused himself. You took Wanda’s hand in your own and led her behind you to the balcony.

“What’s going on with you?” Wanda spoke, once the two of you were out of earshot from the party.

“I’m being an idiot. I did it again, I pushed you away when I just talked to you about how I didn’t want to do that again. Then seeing you with-” You were cut off as Wanda surged forward, capturing your lips, your words dying in your throat.

You hummed into the kiss as Wanda pushed your body up against the wall, a gasp left you, allowing Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth.

You had forgotten how soft her lips were against yours. Her intoxicating smell filled your senses. The sounds of the party began to drown out as your hands gripped her waist, pulling her body flush against yours. One of her hands cupped your cheek, the other reached behind and pulled at the hair resting at the nape of your neck. You groaned loudly as she pulled your head back, exposing your neck to her.

She looked at you for a moment, her irises flashing red before she leaned back down, her teeth sinking into you.

“Fuck, Wanda”

Every worry, every ounce of hesitation, flew right out the window, the familiar feeling of Wanda replacing it all. You were home. She was home. And you were tired of ignoring that.

Wanda was relentless as she moved her way down your body. You clung onto her, worried that without her pinning you against the wall you would surely fall, your knees weak from the attention.

Her hand stopped at the button of your pants, fiddling for a brief moment as her eyes returned to yours. Eyes dark and a smile written across her face,

“What are you smiling at?” You whisper, half-lidded eyes watching her.

“I missed seeing you like this. So desperate for me”

Her accent was thick, lust laced her words. You inhaled sharply, chest heaving, “God-Please fuck me”

The words had barely left your mouth, before she delved back in, taking your mouth into hers while her hands worked your buttons.

One hand around your throat squeezing slightly, the other slipped into your pants, grazing over your soaked underwear.

She let out a moan, muffled by your lips, the vibration shooting right down to your core.

Her fingers ran over your underwear, before they swiftly shoved it out of the way, two fingers sinking deep into you. It was your turn to moan now, violently ripping your mouth from hers as your head slammed back against the wall.

Another moan as the fingers exited fully before they slammed back into you, she continued the movements and curled her fingers before every exit. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, Wanda entered you with three fingers, as her thumb came into contact with your clit, circling it slowly as she slowed her movements for a moment, allowing you to get used to the extra digit.

“I’m so close Wan”

“I know detka, you’re doing so well”

Your stomach tightened as she lifted your right leg around her hip, her fingers diving deeper into you, bottoming out.

“Come for me” Wanda whispered against your skin.

You let go. A wave of pleasure flowed through you as you yelled her name into the night. Your body collapsed against the wall, Wanda being the only thing keeping you standing upright.

Her movements slowed down, as she helped you ride your release. Once your breathing slowed, your eyes peeled open at her just as her fingers entered her mouth, moaning loudly as she sucked off your juices. Releasing them with a pop.

You pulled her in for a kiss, tasting yourself on her lips.

The two of you pulled away, “Sorry, you were saying before?”

You let out a laugh, “I don’t remember anymore”

Wanda reached down, buttoning your pants back up, "I want to try again if that's something you'd want as well?"

“I’d like that”

“Good,” she smiled, “Let’s get back to the party”

After that, there was no more shouting. No more tears. No more doubt. A year passed and the two of you moved into your own home, it wasn’t far from the compound, but it was yours.

You were happy. Wanda left but always came back, returning to your side.

You were home.

--

[nicole-lynne]

Pool Party Disaster

Notes: Well y'all, because I'm the worst, this has been sitting in my drafts for the better part of a year. It was supposed to be for @kayteewritessteve's writing challenge...and then I lost every single motivation I had to do anything I enjoyed. So it's 100% late and who knows how it really turned out. But I finished it so here ya go!

Description: Steve and you are in a secret relationship, but it may not be so secret anymore after some semi-public sex.

Based off the prompt: "I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one would notice."

Warnings: NSFW +18. Minors DNI.

You watched lazily as a bead of water rolled down Steve’s shoulder blade, past the dip of his back, and disappeared into his swim shorts. In a large group of people, you knew you should look away, but it felt impossible to drag your eyes away from the place where the shorts hugged his muscular thighs.

“You know you’re drooling, right?”

Snapping your eyes in the other direction, you shifted to find Bucky hovering behind your chair with an annoying smirk on his face. Folding your arms roughly, you ignored the heat in your cheeks. “I was not.”

“Yes, you were.” Bucky said as he moved to sit in the pool chair next to you. “But it’s okay, I don’t think anyone else saw.”

“There was nothing for anyone else to see anyways.” You said snarkily.

“You two aren’t discrete at all, you know? Steve practically popped a boner when you walked out in your suit. Somehow all these other idiots just haven’t put two and two together yet.”

Truthfully, you weren’t surprised that Bucky had figured it out. He was Steve’s best friend and a trained assassin. It’d been more surprising to you that it had taken him this long. You and Steve had started this, whatever this was, over a month ago and no one had mentioned it yet.

There was a part of you that wanted to deny it just for the satisfaction of seeing Bucky question himself, but the other part felt relieved that someone finally knew. And as you glanced over at Steve, laughing with Thor about something, you knew, no one denies Steve Roger. He’s the kind of guy that girls trip over themselves to get a few moments of attention.

“Look, Buck-”

“It’s fine, it’ll be our little secret.” He squeezed your arm lightly, clearly seeing all of the thoughts on your face. “Why not let you two have your fun while you can. You know Tony will blow a gasket once he finds out.”

The idea of your brother finding out about your budding romance with the supersoldier wasn’t exactly something you wanted to think about today. Clearing your throat, you gave Bucky a smirk with a bit of gratefulness behind it.

“Although, I’m still amazed you’ve been able to keep it a secret from the little play-boy genius.”

“It’s not like we’re making out right in front of him, Buck.” You said, irritated.

“No, you were just practically undressing him with your eyes like a love-sick teenager.” Bucky guffawed loudly, and you shoved him backwards futilely. He stayed planted to the chair, snorting at your weak attempt. “Okay, fine, I’ll drop it. I’m just saying, you better get a plan together before Tony stumbles upon it on his own. After the Accords and...well, you know he’s not Steve, or my, biggest fan.”

“I know...you know I don’t blame either of you for that though.”

“We know you don’t, doll. It’s still hard to live with.” Bucky said with a grimace.

“Buck, it wasn’t you. And I’m glad Steve protected you from Tony. You’re his best friend and he needs you in his life.” Reaching forward, you squeezed his hand until he looked up at you. “Besides, who else would annoy me if you weren’t around.”

“You know you love me.” He scoffed, giving you a big grin. “So what are you guys gonna do?”

“Eventually, we’ll work on a plan, but for right now, thanks for keeping it quiet. You’re a great friend, even if you are a sadistic ass sometimes.” You smiled and patted his leg before standing up and moving towards the patio door that entered into the huge kitchen.

To your back, Bucky shouted, “Baby, you don’t even know the half of it,” making you shake your head and giggle. Sliding the door closed, the rest of the noise from the backyard hushed to a dull roar.

You made your way toward the island, in search of something to snack on. Finally you located some tostitos - score! Pulling out a handful of chips, you turned to watch the party through the glass panes that took up the whole fourth wall.

You were pretty sure that Tony had invited the entire company for his barbeque and no one dared to decline. He wasn’t exactly scary or anything, but he definitely liked things a specific way and he always made a mental note if someone wronged him - in his eyes. That was the reason it was so hard to admit this thing with Steve. It wasn’t a secret that Tony didn’t like Steve and he wouldn’t be too happy to know that his little sister might be falling - hard - for the supersoldier.

The sound of the door opening and closing brought you back to reality and you looked up to find Steve watching you intensely from the other side of the kitchen. The light framed him, reflecting on the few drops of water on his chest, and his hair was spiked from where he’d run his fingers through it.

“Hey there, soldier.” You said, smiling sweetly at him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He replied, walking around the island to you. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“Yeah, it’s alright. Not as much fun since we have to keep our distance.”

“Seemed like Bucky was keeping you company.” He said curtly, his gaze focused on the solo cup on the counter.

You raised an eyebrow, “um, yeah I guess so.” Steve hmphed grumpily. “He was teasing me about being so obvious while I checked you out. He said we’re not discrete enough to be having such a naughty fling.”

Surprised, Steve lifted his eyes to meet yours. “Oh. I thought... Well, I thought he might be-”

“Hitting on me?”

“Something like that.”

Reaching forward, you slipped your hand into his. “He wouldn’t be dumb enough to do that, Steve, when I’m so obviously into you. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all afternoon.”

Steve let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “I’m sorry, doll. I guess it’s just seeing you like this has my head all cloudy. It’s hard not to imagine every guy being attracted to you looking like that.”

“Are you serious? I’ve been watching these vultures circle you all day hoping to get a shred of your attention. It’s ridiculous.” You laughed haughtily and hopped up to sit on the counter top. “I think one girl jumped into the pool in front of you like six times trying to catch your eye.”

“Really? I haven’t even noticed.” Steve said, amusement in his voice, as he moved to stand between your legs. “I was too busy focusing on how incredible you look and how much I wanted to have you wrapped around me.”

You let out a shuddered breath as he dipped his head down to press a kiss against your exposed shoulder while his hand moved under your top and pinched your hard nipple. Every time he talked like that, so different from his public image, it made you black out. There was only the tiniest voice telling you that anyone could walk in at any moment.

“You’ve got to stop talking like that or I won’t be able to control myself.” You panted, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one had spotted you through the tinted glass.

Steve’s lips trailed up your neck until his teeth nipped at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. “What if I don’t want you to control yourself?”

Lord have mercy, this man was going to kill you.

“I’ve been so desperate to have you all day, sweetheart. I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one would notice.”

“What if someone’s watching?”

“No one’s watching us. They’re all too scared of Tony to look for us.” His fingers on his free hand traced back and forth along the tops of your thighs, leaving goose bumps where he touched.

“Aren’t you?” You forced yourself to ask.

Steve leaned back to look at you, “Scared of Tony? Nah. I’ve fought him for the people I love before, and I’ll do it again if I have to.”

You couldn’t help the smile that grew from his words and shifted closer to his body, letting the heat of his skin radiate through you.

Breaking the silence, Steve’s gruff voice said, “Now do you want to explain why you snuck out of my bed before I could have my way with you this morning.”

You hadn’t meant to leave him hanging this morning, but you’d been late for your meeting already, and if the hard-on pressed against your ass was any indication for how the rest of your morning would go, you couldn’t risk being any later.

“I-I was late for a meeting that I couldn’t miss.” You managed to stutter as his mouth trailed down and sucked on the pulse point in your neck, knowing that always drove you crazy. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise.”

“I don’t want to wait until tonight,” He nudged your thighs apart more and ran his index finger along the edge of thin material covering you, rolling your nipple with the other hand. “I want you now.”

Before you could protest, he pressed his thumb against your clit through the bottoms and captured your mouth in a kiss, swallowing your moan happily. Your lips parted and his tongue slipped against yours. In just a few moments, he had you worked up and you were grateful that the swimsuit was absorbent. Then, with no hesitation, he broke your kiss and dropped to his knees, his pupils blown with lust.

“Steve,” you hissed, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ve been dying to taste you, sweetheart.” He said as he pulled the fabric to the side hastily and ran his tongue through your slit. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan and, instantly, you ran your fingers through his hair. “God you’re amazing.”

“Don’t stop.” You breathed out.

Quickly, he sucked your clit and flicked his tongue back and forth over it, causing your eyes to roll back with intense pleasure. His finger teased at your entrance and, with one look up to your blissed-out face, he pushed in one finger to the knuckle.

As slow as he could, he dragged his finger out of you, hooking it just right against your g-spot, then pushed it back in. Each time, playing with your clit in the same rhythm. You were dripping wet but Steve wasn’t letting any of it go to waste. The warm feeling was growing in the pit of your stomach and you knew this orgasm wouldn’t take long at all.

You were beginning to regret not waking him up this morning.

His other hand cupped your ass and pulled you closer to his face just in time for him to hit your g-spot and your clit at the same time, pushing you just over that edge. Fire raced through your veins as you rode out your high, his moans sent vibrations through your body that made you buck against him harder. His hands gripped you tightly to keep you sat on the counter until you started to come down, his mouth still working against you in gentle motions before letting your suit snap back into place.

Slowly, he pressed a soft kiss to each of your thighs and stood up, letting you pull him in for a kiss and you moaned as the taste of yourself hit your tongue. You let your hands roam down his chest to stop at the top of his shorts. Only hesitating for a second, you pulled them down enough to reveal how hard Steve was.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” His breathing was ragged, his lips brushed against yours, as you pumped him in your hand.

All your inhibitions went out the window and all you could do was whimper in response. With one swift motion, he jerked your suit to the side and pushed into you, both of you groaning in pleasure. He didn’t pause to give you time, instead, he began thrusting into you mercilessly.

Your head tipped back, letting him drop his lips to your exposed neck. He slammed into you over and over, rocking your body on the counter, and you dug your nails into his shoulder, desperate for something to ground you.

“Feels so good, sweetheart.” Steve murmured. “Were made for my cock.”

His dirty words made you moan, and you tightened your legs around his waist in response. Slipping his hands under your ass, he lifted you up so he was hitting a deeper angle. With the change, you slipped your hand between your bodies and started circling your clit, bringing your orgasm closer.

“Don’t stop, Captain.” You huffed.

The second you used his title, his eyes darkened with lust and his speed picked up as he stroked into you roughly. Each time, he hit the perfect spot and your eyes rolled back in your head. Your hand had stopped moving, distracted by what Steve was doing. Pushing your hand to the side, Steve moved into the spot and rubbed in sync with his movements.

“You gonna be a good little girl and cum for me?” He growled.

A few more thrusts and your orgasm washed over you and you clenched around his dick in pleasure. Immediately, he attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss and you slipped your hand into his hair to tug him closer. He pulled out of you two more times before he faltered and his own orgasm hit him. You could feel him pulsing in you and there was no stopping your own body squeezing him for everything he had.

Both of you were panting, trying to catch your breath, occasionally making eye contact and laughing about what had just happened. Gently, he pulled out of you and tucked himself back into his shorts before reaching for a few napkins on the counter and cleaned you up as best as he could.

“Thanks, soldier.” You giggled, adjusting your suit bottoms.

Steve opened his mouth to respond when FRIDAY interrupted. “Mr. Stark requests your presence in the study.” All the bliss drained from your body instantly. You whipped your head around to look at Steve but his face was already hard as stone. Sliding off the counter, you dragged yourself toward the study with Steve trailing behind you, silent as a shadow. You lingered at the door for a moment before pushing the door open and walking in.

Behind the desk, Tony sat back in his plush chair with his hands steepled together. His lips were tight together in a harsh line and he was glaring daggers into Steve behind you.

“On the counter? Really? I eat there.” Was all he said.

“H-how did you know?” You squeaked.

“I always ask FRIDAY to inform me of any... inappropriate behavior when I throw a party.” Tony raised a brow incredulously, “People are animals and can’t keep their hands off each other in public, clearly.”

“Hey,” Steve snapped, “keep it respectful.”

“Why don’t you take your own advice, Cap.” Tony jumped up. “That’s my little sister you had your filthy hands all over.”

You blanched at the thought of Tony seeing what you’d just done.

“I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, but that doesn’t give you the right to judge either of us.” Steve took a step toward Tony. “I’m well aware of some of your indiscretions in your past.”

“Indiscretions are way different from absolute betrayal.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic now, Tony.” Steve ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I think I deserve to be dramatic after my sister was being railed on my kitchen counter.”

“That’s enough,” Steve stood in front of Tony and balled a fist into his shirt roughly, “you’re not going to talk about her like that again.”

Neither of them paying attention to you, you backed up and dropped onto the couch. Tears swelled in your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. This was the worst case scenario of your brother finding out - no, this hadn’t even come up in your list of worst case scenarios. You were absolutely mortified that a moment like that had been captured on camera.

Not able to stop it, a sob slipped from you and you buried your face in your hands. Steve’s eyes moved from Tony’s face down to you, instantly releasing Tony’s shirt and moving to your side.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry.” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder and tucked you into his chest, making you cry harder, your body shaking violently.

“Ahh kid, I...” Tony trailed off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Steve glared at Tony harshly, then leaned down to kiss your head. “Baby, I need you to try and take some deep breaths. Can you do that for me?”

Lifting your chin with his fingers, he waited patiently until you made eye contact with him. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, but Steve didn’t judge, only waited until you nodded slightly. He took a deep breath and you followed his motions, inhaling deeply, holding at the top, and releasing it slowly.

Steve held your focus as he breathed with you until you stopped shaking and the tears were dried on your cheeks. He gently cradled your face, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs, before kissing the tip of your nose.

You knew, without a doubt, that you loved Steve more than anyone you’d ever been with. The fact that he’d helped you through this breakdown had just made it more clear that he was the one you wanted to be with. Your eyes fluttered shut and you worked up the courage to look at your brother. Turning to him, you grimaced at the blank look on his face.

“I’m sorry about how you found out, Ton. But I’m not sorry for loving Steve. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not going to let your own emotional problems get in the way of my happiness.” You croaked, your throat raw from crying.

Tony’s face fell and he had the decency to look ashamed. “Kid, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry for what I said. I guess I was just in shock at...”

“I know this isn’t easy for you, but believe me, this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out either.” Steve squeezed your hand in support and you gave him a small smile.

“You really care about her, Rogers?”

“No, Tony.” Steve said and your head snapped up to see him grinning at you, “I love her. I’m in love with her.”

Not having a care in the world, you launched yourself at him to give him a huge kiss. Steve chuckled but kissed you back with the same enthusiasm. Tony groaned and grumbled until you leaned back, a blush on your cheeks.

“Look, I guess this all fine and dandy, but let’s try to keep the displays of affection in front of me to a minimum. I already have to bleach my eyeballs and I don’t need any more reasons.” Tony headed toward the door, avoiding looking in your direction again. “And Cap, if you hurt one hair on my baby sister’s head, I will blast your ass all the way to Wakanda.”

You and Steve bust out laughing and you let him haul you to your feet. He held your face affectionately and you leaned into his touch.

“Since we’ve got Tony’s blessing now, you want to sneak home for round two?” He teased.

“No way, Captain. Now that we’re free, I’m planning on spending the whole day with you in the pool.” You took his hand in yours and pulled him to the door. “Besides, I’ve got to show all those girls who you belong to.”

“Belong to?” Steve darted forward and flipped you over his shoulder, smacking your butt playfully. “I think you’re all mine, baby.”

[bruhlsbees]

sweet disposition ; 3/? || modern!alex kerner x fem!professor!reader

summary: after a month of not speaking, you finally approach alex

pairing: modern!alex kerner x fem!professor!reader

warnings: wet dream, teacher/student fantasy, smut, virginity loss, almost car sex, mommy kink, this one really is just a smut fest, 18+, minors dni, nsfw

word count: 8,880

a/n: hope y'all are buckled in for this one - this one might be messy just cause i'm half awake posting this so i might go back and clean it up tomorrow

One month.

One lousy fucking month it had been since you and Alex stopped talking. He wanted to say that he had been doing good, say that he had forgotten about you and could look you in the eyes and tell you to shove off for how you reacted. But even then, even after everything, he knew deep down he still wouldn’t be able to.

Alex had kept himself busy though throughout February and the beginning few days of March. He picked up more hours at work and hung out with Denis and his new girlfriend, Lara, more. Alex never would admit it to Denis, cause he would hate to see how upset Denis would get, but he hated being the third wheel. Why was it that Denis could get a girl and Alex couldn’t even find someone attractive? Well, other than you that is.

He also gravitated towards drinking more. Alex found himself drinking at least two beers when he got home and another before going to bed. It was bad to say, he knew that, but it helped dull the pain he had in his chest. Dare he say, a heart break? No - that was just silly to say, how could he be heartbroken over someone that he hardly knew?

But whether Alex would admit it or not, he was heartbroken. He found himself becoming desperate, wandering into the English department one day and towards your office. He wasn’t going to bother you, he just wanted to see how you were doing. You were with a student at the time, a guy probably a year or two younger than himself. You were smiling and laughing at whatever the student was telling you and it sent a boil into Alex’s chest.

It wasn’t until he saw you grab the student’s hand that he was sent into a rage. Turning around on his heels, Alex headed back down the hall with a huff, his footsteps heavy as he stomped away to leave, making it to the entranceway for that side of the office before coming to a stop at the sound of his voice.

Turning around, he glared at the sight of Professor Thorne coming out of his office, looking down at Alex with a frown, “Hey, Alex. You okay?” Rolling his eyes, Alex knew that the last person he wanted to speak with then was Professor Thorne, although if he were to just turn and walk away, that would just start an entirely new ordeal that Alex didn’t have room to deal with at the moment.

“Yeah, peachy.” Alex said through gritted teeth. Before he could ask what he wanted though, Professor Thorne beat Alex to it.

“Okay…” He began, not entirely believing him, but also not caring enough to press on. “Listen, you’re the only one who hasn’t met with me yet to discuss your senior project. Do you have time tomorrow to meet with me? I gotta know where you’re at and see if there is anything I can help you with.”

There was a reason Alex hadn’t met with him yet - it was because he was still getting over whatever it was he told you back in January. Alex still wanted to beat him up, but he knew that he couldn’t - since he was his professor and everything.

But Alex knew that this was part of his grade, meeting with him to discuss his progress. He found it so painful to even answer, but finally he did.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I can come into your office hours tomorrow.”

Taking a step forward, Professor Thorne clapped Alex’s shoulder, “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Before Thorne could get another word out, Alex was already turning and going out of the department to leave for the day.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Okay class, thanks for the great discussion today! As you’re looking over your critiques from me on your past project, feel free to contact me if you have any questions, alright? If I don’t hear from you I’ll assume you’re satisfied with your grade.”

The class began to pack up, shuffling down the steps of the auditorium and out the exit doors to head to their next classes or wherever it was they went afterwards. You became distracted by your own critique grade, the bold letters in red stating ‘SEE ME AFTER CLASS’ hitting you in the face like a brick. You thought you had done so well on that past project, but it seemed as though the professor thought otherwise.

When you approached his desk, he was finishing his conversation with another student, who proudly talked about how he would be sending his film in for a contest sometime this week.

“That’s great to hear, Jaxon! You’ll have to let me know how it goes.” Jaxon nodded his head, turning towards you and smiled shyly, waving awkwardly before excusing himself from the class. When the door clicked shut, you cleared your throat to get the professor’s attention.

“Excuse me, Professor Kerner? You asked to see me about my project?” It was more so of a clarification than a question, although your timidness would make others think otherwise. You stood in front of his desk, watching as he looked up from his laptop with a smile.

“Yes, of course. Do you have time to discuss this in my office? I believe there is another class in here shortly after us and I’d hate to be interrupted.” Before you could answer him, though, he was already on his feet, packing the desk up.

“S-Sure! Yeah, I have time. I don’t have anything else going on today.” Your mouth twitched into a smile, cheeks growing red as you watched him round the desk, standing beside you with his hand on your back.

“Shall we?”

It didn’t take long to get to his office, going to the third floor where the English department resided. You kept on his heels, not wanting to get lost as classes dismissed and professors frantically went from the hall and into their offices or vice versa. You nearly ran into one of the professors on your way to Professor Kerner’s office.

But when you finally stepped through the door and into his office, you let out a sigh of relief, closing your eyes to catch your breath before the sound of the door shutting caught your attention.

Turning, you watched as Professor Kerner set his things down on his desk, motioning towards the round table in the middle, “Please, have a seat. I just need to get my laptop out.”

You sat down at the table, your backpack resting beside you while the graded critique laid in front of you. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands suddenly and found yourself toying with the corner of the paper. It didn’t take him long before he sat across from you, slipping his jean jacket off and throwing it behind him and into the open chair at his desk.

“Professor, I’m sorry if my project didn’t meet the require-”

“Alex.” He said suddenly cutting you off from your apology.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked up from the empty spot at the table and up at him, “Pardon?”

He laughed, shaking his head before opening his laptop to pull open your project. “Alex. My name. Call me that when we’re in here. I do have a name, not just Professor.” He teased you, glancing up at you to see your reaction.

He was so smooth with his words, maybe that’s why his screenwriting unit was so good - it’s cause he knew how words were supposed to flow. You nodded your head slow, blinking as you tried to recollect your thoughts.

“Okay, Alex...I’m sorry if my project didn’t meet the requirements in the rubric. I really thought I did a go-”

“What makes you think you didn’t?”

Your mouth snapped shut as he interrupted you again, this time your face growing red with annoyance rather than from the suaveness of his words. If he let you finish your sentence, maybe he’d know what you were trying to ask him.

But you didn’t get the chance to then, he turned his laptop towards you and began to play your project, continuing on while the video played in the background.

“You’re not a film student, are you?” He asked, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands. You shook your head, “No, I’m an English Literature major.”

He nodded once before moving to hit the spacebar on his laptop, pausing the video before looking back at you. “I can tell...but that shouldn’t be taken badly - what I mean by that is your work shows it. You think out of the box with assignments compared to the traditional route.”

You shrugged your shoulders, blushing as you stared at him. “I just did what I felt was right.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him, although there was a flicker of something darker that hit his eyes. You leaned back in your chair and moved your hands towards you, picking at the loose threads in your jeans.

“Is there a reason you wanted to see me, Professor?” You watched as he stared at you for another moment before standing up, walking over to the door of his office, looking out the window before shutting the blinds and locking the door. He stuffed his hands into his pockets before turning back to look at you.

“I want you to show me how you got some of those shots. Please, get out your camera.”

As he sat back down in his chair, he moved it back to sit out from under the table, his legs spreading out wide as his hands rested on his thighs. You weren’t sure where this was leading, but you had a sinking suspicion that there was more to it than just showing him how you got some shots.

You stood up from your own seat, holding the camera in your hands as you slowly made your way to him, standing in front of him while looking down at him, your face red.

“So I...um, I don’t zoom in unless I have to. If your subject works with you, you shouldn’t have a problem getting a tight shot of their face without them getting distracted.” You explained, your grip on your camera tightening.

Alex nodded his head and smiled, motioning for you to step closer, “Well then, why don’t you show me? I’m more of a visual learner myself.” He explained, his hands running up and down his thighs.

For a brief second you didn’t move, your brain not sure with what to do. It’s not that you were uncomfortable, it just felt like a weird dream - a really weird sexual fantasy that you knew you shouldn’t be having.

“I, Professor, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I have something coming u-”

“It’s Alex, remember? And you told me that you didn’t have anything after class...were you lying to me?” He questioned, sitting up straighter as he stared you down. The look he was giving you wasn’t sinister necessarily, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“No, Professor, I just forgot-”

But before you could get the sentence out, you felt his hand on your wrist, pulling you to him until you were settled on his lap, only inches from his face. You tried to get comfortable, but it was hard when you felt his obvious erection under your leg.

“Come now, don’t get shy on me now. Why don’t you turn that camera on and show me what I asked you to?” His hand was now on your waist, holding you down on his lap so you wouldn’t run off. You found yourself giving in, nodding your head as you turned your camera on and brought it up to your face, watching through the screen.

It was hard to stay focused, your hands shaking which made the quality of the shot blurry, almost impossible to identify what you were looking at. You knew that Alex could tell that you were struggling and took the camera from you gently, holding it away from you as he pushed his fingers under your shirt, running his fingertips up your side.

“Oh that’s just not going to work now, is it? You’re far too shaky,” He paused a moment, tilting his head before his crooked grin spread, “Why don’t you get on your pretty little knees for me and guide me through with what you mean, yeah?”

Whether you wanted to protest or not, he was already coaxing you down on your knees in front of him, sitting up as he pointed the camera on you, the lens right in your face. “Good, now be a good girl and help me out, yeah?”

But before anything happened, Alex was woken up by the sounds of sirens coming from outside his window. Jolting awake, Alex found himself panting from the sudden alarm that was going off outside along with the intense dream he was having. He sat up, sitting forward to look out his window and saw two cop cars sitting outside the club. Rolling his eyes, Alex fell back into his bed, not caring to watch and see what drunken fool was getting tossed out.

As he laid on his back, rubbing his face to wake himself up, he felt a sudden breeze hit his thighs. Looking down, he scoffed at the outrageous tent in his boxers, his dick standing straight up. He reached his hand up and onto the top of his dick, feeling that his precum had already soaked through.

He hooked his fingers at the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, shimming out of them before kicking them onto the floor, his dick now proudly standing up. He wrapped his right hand around the base of him, squeezing himself once before beginning to pump, avoiding his swollen head that was still leaking.

A groan escaped his lips as his head fell back, his left hand reaching down to squeeze his balls that were growing tight. God, why did he have to have such a good dream just to be cut off before the good stuff even happened? When he closed his eyes, picturing you on top of him, your breasts bouncing in his face, his mouth fell open with a moan escaping - so faint that it almost sounded like a whine. His pace quickened as he began to stroke himself harder, his hips rocking in his hands as his toes began to curl.

It didn’t take him long to finish, already painfully close when he woke up. He flinched when he felt his own seed hit him in the face, cringing at the warm feeling that now began to roll down down his lips and chin, spilling onto his chest.

“Fuck…” He breathed, catching his breath as he laid in his bed, regaining his focus before deciding that he needed to go take a shower before it dried out on him. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he held his hand at his stomach so nothing fell and hit the carpet - a mess he did not want to clean up.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Alex was dragging that morning, moving painfully slow to get around and meet with Professor Thorne that morning. It was his day off from work and the last thing he wanted to do was go and meet with him about his senior project. Alex hadn’t even begun to think of his project for class and time was running out. He had just about two months left before it was due - he knew he had time, but deep down Alex knew that he was panicking just a little.

He didn’t bother to wear anything nice - throwing on an old shirt from high school and a pair of faded jeans. It was cold that morning, so he decided it would be best to wear his jean jacket on his ride to campus. Alex could only hope that it would be sufficed.

It didn’t take him long to get onto campus, traffic not as busy as he imagined it would be that morning. He parked in his usual spot, taking his helmet off and sticking it inside the storage compartment under the seat of his scooter. He pulled out his bag, locked up the storage, and headed into the building and to Professor Thorne’s office.

By the time he arrived he noticed that Professor Thorne was just walking in. He looked tired, like he was hungover. Alex couldn’t help the smirk that came to face. He knew it was wrong, but seeing Professor Dick having a rough time only made Alex’s day better. As Alex approached his office, he glanced to his left and noticed your office light on, the door opened. His heart sank, wishing that he could be over there instead of here.

“I wouldn’t bother, she’s been in a piss mood all semester.”

Turning, Alex frowned as Professor Thorne sat at the table, pulling out a notebook while a cup of coffee rested in his hands. He took a long sip, sighing before his eyes looked up at Alex, motioning for him to come in. “Please, come in.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Walking in, Alex tossed his bag on the ground before settling in the chair across from Thorne, looking down at the notebook to see if he could read what was written. Alex failed to make out anything, noticing how sloppy the handwriting was, before looking up ahead of him at Thorne.

“So, you have about two months left before the end of your semester and your senior project is due. Have you started it yet? You can be honest.” Alex watched as Thorne began to scribble some notes down next to Alex’s name, he assumed that he would be taking notes on what his project plans were.

“I haven’t, no,” Alex cleared his throat and sat up a bit in his seat, “I’ve been busy with work and it’s just kind of slipped my mind. I planned on starting it this weekend though since I have it off from work.” He wouldn’t have been surprised if Thorne was angry with his answer, but to his surprise he wasn’t and just nodded his head, writing down what he said.

“And have you given it any thought as to how you are going to approach the project theme?”

He hadn’t. The theme wasn’t challenging, but it wasn’t something that Alex had ever worked on before. He enjoyed filming rather basic ideas - news reporters, nature...things like that. Filming something that answers the question of ‘how would your life change if you had the number one thing you wanted’ was so out there for Alex that he couldn’t even wrap his brain around what it was that he wanted.

Shrugging his shoulders, Alex crossed his arms over his chest, “Maybe something to do with school? I don’t know, graduating and getting a job.” It was this answer that Thorne stopped in his tracks for. Looking up, he frowned at Alex, his head tilted to the side.

“That’s what you’re going to do? Alex...come on now,” He set his pencil down and copied Alex’s posture, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. “I think it’s quite obvious that we don’t like each other all that much, but I would be lying if I said you weren’t one of my favorite students. You’re better than picking a path so simple that a freshman could do it. I want you to think outside of the box. It’s your senior project, I expect senior quality.”

It came to a surprise for Alex to hear that he was one of Thorne’s favorite students. Alex knew that the two weren’t fond of one another, but even so Thorne still enjoyed Alex and his work. Alex, never caring for what Thorne thought of him, felt a weird pain in his chest - was Alex for the first time actually feeling bad for letting him down in some way? No, no not a chance in Hell. Not until pigs flew across the sky.

“I’ll make it senior quality, Professor. That you don’t have to worry about.” Alex replied back flatly. At his response, Thorne nodded and scribbled something down on the notebook before closing it.

“Good, because these are going to be shown at the department celebration at the end of the semester and I expect that you will have the best one there.” Alex nodded his head in understandment, letting out a sigh before looking up at Thorne.

“Was that all that you wanted to discuss?”

Nodding, Thorne watched as Alex stood up, grabbing his bag and turning to leave before stopping in the doorway at the sound of Thorne’s voice.

“If you happen to run into her, would you let her know that I miss her?” He asked suddenly. Alex was glad that his back was facing Thorne, so that he didn’t see him roll his eyes in disgust.

“Yeah, sure.” He answered, although he had no intentions of doing so. Thorne nodded, smiling sadly before he rolled the chair over to his desk, “Thanks, Alex. If you don’t mind, can you shut the door on your way out?”

And he did. As he walked out of his office, he shut the door behind him and took a step to go down the hall before freezing in his tracks. At the end of the hall, only a few feet in front of him, was you - standing with a cup of coffee in your hand and a half-eaten muffin in the other.

It was the first time since January that the two of you had crossed paths. To say that it was uncomfortable was an understatement.

“Good morning, Professor.” Alex greeted casually, trying to not make the interaction anymore awkward than it had to be.

“Alex, hello. How has your semester been?” You felt your throat tighten at the question - you knew how it was going for him, you didn’t even have to ask, because your semester had been going the same.

He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “As good as it can be, I suppose,” At first he didn’t want to say anything more, his own anger building up inside of him. But he could see it on your face, the guilt that was eating you away. Did you feel bad for shooing him off? The next words came out so fast, that Alex didn’t even have time to stop himself.

“You look really good. I suppose you’ve been having a good year?” He asked, his mouth twitching at the sound of your laugh. Alex didn’t know how much he had missed that sound until hearing it just then.

“I’m glad to hear that someone thinks so. After my birthday it seems like I really started showing my age,” He titled his head to the side in confusion before you rolled your eyes, laughing it off. “I turned thirty-three last weekend. Trust me when I say, once you hit thirty, it all goes down.”

Alex smiled, watching as you tried so obviously to not think too much on the fact that you just had another birthday. “Well if it means anything, I don’t think you look a day over twenty-six,” His own cheeks went pink at the sight of you blushing, your eyes dropping down to the ground, mumbling a thanks. “Did you do anything fun for your birthday?”

Shaking your head, you looked up with a sigh, “Besides the bottle of wine? No, no I just graded papers, drank a little too much, and went to bed. You know, the boring adult life.”

It made Alex frown a little, knowing that your birthday had passed and you didn’t do anything fun. Would it be inappropriate to ask if you wanted to catch up over coffee? As a late birthday celebration? Probably, but he didn’t care. Right now, he was just in the moment and didn’t want to think about all the wrongs of what was going on between them, or at least what he wanted to have happen between them.

He opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, but the words seemed to get lost going out, nothing coming out before he finally clamped his mouth shut, deciding against it. “Well, maybe you and your friends will be able to do something fun this weekend? A late celebration is better than none at all…” Alex paused and watched as you nodded, taking a bite of your muffin. “Well, I should get going. It was- it was nice to see you. I hope the rest of your semester goes well.”

You smiled weakly and nodded, “You too,” You replied, mouth muffled by the muffin. Your attention turned as he walked around you, heading to leave before you found yourself speaking, “Alex?” You asked suddenly, gaining his attention to stop and turn around at you, a confused expression on his face.

“Are you free tonight? Would you want to go get a drink and maybe catch up?” You felt your cheeks grow red and cleared your throat, trying to be casual about it, “I, I realize that I was a bit brash on you earlier this semester, and I’m sorry, but I’d like to think that since you aren’t my student, that it would be fine.”

You weren’t sure if he’d agree, as his expression fell blank. He was probably thinking - but was he thinking of how to turn you down or what to snap at you? Either way, you would have deserved it. He didn’t deserve to get the short end of the stick that you gave him, he was just being a kind person - you were the one over thinking things. As far as you knew, he wasn’t the type of student to go after a teacher in that way.

But he surprised you, and when he agreed - all you could do was smile. “O-Oh! Great! Lovely, would you like to meet outside the Blue Fox around eight? It’s the club down the road from me...I sort of got banned from the Sour Apple so I’m a regular there now.” You admitted, watching as Alex’s eyes went wide, a laugh escaping from you.

“Banned? What did you do?” He asked and you shook your head. Alex grinned at you and shook his head back, “Oh no, you can’t just drop that bombshell on me and then expect me to not ask what happened. Come on, you can tell me.”

And you did, over a basket of mozzarella sticks that night at the Blue Fox. The entire time Alex couldn’t contain himself at your ridiculous story that led to you not being able on the premise. How it led to you grading papers on your thirty-third birthday.

“Wait, wait, so you jumped him?” Alex questioned, laughing as he looked at you, grinning as you shook your head, setting the bottle of beer you were nursing back on the bar.

“Not entirely...I was drunk and dancing on the bar and he kept pestering me to get down. Well something happened behind him and when he turned, I took the chance and jumped on his back,” You couldn’t hold back your own laughs now, shaking your head as Alex grabbed your arm, his head falling back to laugh. “So technically I jumped on him...but I didn’t jump him.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex pulled his hand away from you to grab another stick from the basket, pouring an obscene amount of marinara sauce on before stuffing it into his mouth, nearly choking on the cheese as he swallowed too quickly. “Either way, you got banned from the Sour Apple because you were drunk and dancing on the bar...man, wish I was there to see that. Seems like a great way to end the big thirty-two-”

Before you let him get the last word out, you sent a punch to his arm, grinning as he fake groaned, nudging you back before he licked his fingers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You weren’t sure if it was the marinara he just barely missed off his face, or the fact that he had been the first person to show you an ounce of kindness in the past month - but either way, you found yourself looking at him as something more than just a student, but Alex. Was this feeling right? No, but for once your brain didn’t try and analyze the situation and let your heart take the lead.

“Listen...again, I’m really sorry for before. I don’t know what came over me to snap at you like I did. All you were doing was showing me kindness and I freaked out. The truth is, between Professor Thorne and I - he’s been trying to get me to go out with him for a while now, and that night I snapped at him because he was accusing me of sleeping around with you,” You laughed at how ridiculous it was to say out loud, “When you took care of me that night I was so embarrassed at how bad I got that night. Usually I’m not the one who needs to be taken care of, and when I found out it was a student of mine that I had known for not even a full two days, well, you can see where I came from.”

You jumped slightly when you felt Alex touch your shoulder, smiling at you before carefully moving his hand to your face, tucking some hair behind your ear to uncover your face. “I get it...now at least. I didn’t back then, and I spent the last month so angry, but now that you’ve told me, it feels like a big weight has been lifted off my shoulders,” He took his other hand and gently turned your face to look at him, staring into each other’s eyes, “You deserve someone better Professor Thorne. That’s why I pressed on so much about him...because I didn’t want you to give in. You deserve someone better, someone like, like-”

“Like you?”

It came out so smoothly it almost felt right. You could tell Alex was taken back by what you had told me because his body retracted back slightly, although his hands still rested on your face. A sad smile spread across his face as he caressed your face for a moment before pulling away.

“No, someone even better.”

Turning back towards the bar, Alex picked his beer up and took a good few sips before settling it back down. You didn’t mean to upset him more, and you wondered if your comment about seeing someone like him made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t though, but you didn’t know, what was going through his head was how head over heels he was for you, and how he finally figured out what he wanted his senior project to be.

How would Alex’s life change if he had the number one thing he wanted? Well for starters, what was it that he wanted so badly? It was you. You. Perhaps it was love at first sight, or whatever cheesy trope this was between the both of you, but he realized that what he wanted was you. And it wasn’t just you in the sense of having drinks and going back to fuck, no, what he wanted was to share the rest of his life with you. Be there for you to rub your feet after work, cook meals together, and tell you every day just how beautiful you were.

So how would his life change? That he wasn’t quite sure on. All he knew was that he wanted you and he’d be damned if he went his entire life without you.

The music shifted from a mainstream flop that repeated every hour in the club and to a slower, more heavier bass song. Watching as those on the floor began to slow their movements, pulling close to their partners, you smiled and glanced at Alex, who was watching too.

“Alex? Would you like to dance?” You were elated when he grinned, nodding his head eagerly before standing up, extending his hand out to help you up before pulling you to the dancefloor. He suddenly wasn’t sure where to put his hands, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. However, you figured that it would just be best to take control of the situation - pulling his hands behind you, you positioned them on your lower back, running your hands up his arms to wrap around his neck.

The blue lights illuminated across his face, alternating with the white light that swayed the other way in the room. It could be a real eyesore at times, but right now, you didn’t even pay attention, all your attention went ahead of you to Alex. Even under the club’s spotlights, you could still tell his sweet face was blushing.

As the two of you rocked hips together, swaying to the beat of the song, you couldn’t help but stare up at him, your fingers moving now across his jawline and to his lips, taking in how soft his skin was. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on his face, hardly any blemishes either - he was perfect.

You suddenly felt conscious with being so close to him and went to move back but was caught to stay in place, feeling Alex’s grip on your waist to hold you in place. “Don’t...you’re beautiful.” He said lowly, moving his hand to cup the side of your face.

Nobody leaned in first - it was so insync that it was like you both mentally had said something to one another. When your lips met, it was almost perfect how well your lips meshed. It would’ve been completely perfect if Alex’s eagerness didn’t get the best of him and knocked his teeth against your’s - even then though, you didn’t care.

You only pulled away when you needed to catch your breath, and when you realized just how many people were watching, hooting and hollering you guys on, you could only laugh and shake your head, covering your face for a moment before looking back up at him. Standing on your toes, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him until your lips met his ear - at this point all teacher codes of ethics out the window.

“You wanna get out of here? My car is out back.” You pulled away to see his expression, hoping that he was on the same page as you. When his smile turned into a bigger grin, nodding his head eagerly, you pulled him behind you, him keeping up like a lost puppy.

When you got to your car you fumbled in your jacket to find the keys, biting down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning out as Alex stood behind you, pressing himself up against you as he kissed down your neck. At the sound of the doors unlocking, you turned and grabbed him by the front of his shirt again, spinning him around and pushing him back in the backseat of your car, crawling in after him and locking the car up.

It only took a matter of seconds before he was on you again, holding you down onto his lap as he kissed your lips feverishly, almost desperately. You didn’t mind though, you knew it was so sudden and in the moment that you wouldn’t be taking your time with this. Your hands rested on his neck, keeping his head tilted up as you nipped at his bottom lip, kissing down his face and along his jawline.

“I haven’t had car sex in forever,” You breathed, leaning back to unbutton your shirt. You tried to ignore how hard Alex was staring at you, his chest rising and falling. You wondered if he had ever done something like this before, “You ever have car sex?” You asked, slipping off your blouse and setting it beside you, sitting in his lap now with just your bra on.

He wished that you had nothing on, but given the location, he could get by with having you just have your blouse off. He leaned forward and couldn’t help himself, kissing the tops of your breasts that spilled out of your bra. Sucking dark bruises across your chest before he finally shook his head.

“No,” He explained, his hands moving behind your bra to try and unhook it. He was struggling and his face rested in between your breasts, groaning in frustration. Should he tell you the truth? That it wasn’t just a car he hadn’t had sex in...but sex at all. “I’m kind of...kind of a virgin.” He mumbled against your skin.

You didn’t mean to push him back the way you did, but it came off so sudden that it threw you off. Looking down at him, you held an expression of bewilderment, “You’re...you’re a virgin?”

Now he looked just embarrassed, a frown on his face as he looked down, nodding his head. Did you not want to do it with him anymore? Now that you knew he was a virgin? Of course that wasn’t the case, but you weren’t going to let him lose his virginity in the back of your car. He deserved better than that. You grabbed his cheeks and pushed his head up, smiling at how cute he looked with squished cheeks. Leaning forward, you kissed him once before pulling away.

“I don’t care, okay? But I’m not gonna take away your virginity in the back of a car in some club parking lot,” You looked around the backseat before grabbing a sweatshirt from the very back, slipping it on over you to get out without exposing anymore - not wanting to bother with the buttons of your blouse, “Come on, I’ll drive us back to my place. It’s only about a mile away.”

Climbing off his lap and into the front seat, you grabbed your keys and started up your car, laughing as Alex struggled to climb into the front, nearly kicking you in the process. When he finally was in the passenger seat, settled in and buckled up, you smiled at him and nodded, driving out of the lot and down the road towards your place.

It took maybe five minutes to get back, not even. When you did you parked out front and got out, grinning as Alex rushed out, following you close behind. You weren’t one to usually bring home guests, so this was all new for you. Your brain began to speed think at everything that could possibly be embarrassing that was lying out. You had the couple stuffed animals in your bed, but maybe he wouldn’t pay too much attention to them. Hopefully he didn’t look too long at the awkward younger photos of you with your family.

When you got up to your apartment, unlocking it and pushing the door open, you stepped off to the side to let him in, smiling shyly as he looked around, a smile on his face.

“Uh, if you could take your shoes off here that’d be great..thanks.” You cringed at how much of a mother you sounded like. The dirt wasn’t going to ruin your carpet and if anything, you probably just made him more embarrassed.

But he didn’t seem to take it too much to heart, mumbling out a quick ‘sorry’ before stepping on the back of his shoes to pull his feet out, setting them by the other shoes you had near the door. Before you forgot, you leaned over and locked the door, looking up at him with a smile on your face. You never realized how much taller he was than you until that very moment.

“So, umm, this really your first time?” You asked, smiling when he laughed. “Yeah, just...never found someone I guess.”

His confession made your heart skip a beat, and the anxiety began to settle. You knew you weren’t bad, but you were a bit out of practice. You wanted it to be good for him and you could only hope that you satisfied him enough. As you nodded your head, you took his hand in your own before beginning to pull him out of the living room and down the hall, into your bedroom.

When you got in your room, you took a step towards him, smiling as you leaned forward, pressing your lips gently to his. He took your face in his hands, holding you tenderly as he kissed you back. As the two of you kissed, you reached down and began to tug his belt off, finding the button of his jeans and undoing them, zipping his pants down and pushing them off.

Alex hissed at the cold air that hit his legs, pulling away from you before he accidentally bit you. You smiled and dropped to your knees, your face only inches away from his dick that still stood up under his boxers. “Alex? Has anyone ever sucked you off?”

He went red almost instantly, his face red as he shook his head, watching as you grabbed him through his boxers, slowly pumping him before taking the sides of his boxers and pulling them down, letting his dick spring up in your face. You sat back, staring ahead as you took him in before hearing him moan from above. You were glad to see that he was enjoying all of this.

“Why don’t you go sit on my bed, I don’t need you falling over, okay? Take your shirt off too.” You didn’t mean to come off so demanding, but you wanted him to get comfortable. You watched as he smiled, nodding before pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the ground beside his boxers and jeans, peeling his socks off too before he sat on the edge of your bed.

On your hands and knees you crawled over to him, settling down between him, grabbing his knees and spreading his legs open. You took him in your hand again and leaned forward to finally take him in your mouth before he stopped you suddenly. Looking up, you watched as he shook his head. Oh great, you were moving too quickly, now you freaked him out.

But that wasn’t it at all. He smiled and pulled at your sweatshirt, motioning at how you were still in all your clothes. Looking down, you scoffed and shook your head before standing up, pulling off your sweatshirt again and unclipped your bra, moving down to your jeans to pull the bottom half of your clothes off. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as he grinned up at you, so lusted over the moment.

When you were back on your knees, you pulled your hair into one hand, holding it back as you prepared yourself for him. Just as your lips were about to touch his tip, you felt his hands in your hair, pulling it back for you so you could have your hands.

Alex was too fucking sweet on you, it made you sick. His gentle movements - holding your hair back, rubbing your back, you almost forgot that this was about him and not you. Looking up to meet his eyes, you kissed his inner thigh before moving your face up, taking his hard dick in your hand before grasping him at the base, your mouth covering him as you pushed your head down until you couldn’t take it any longer.

The moan that escaped Alex as he fell back into your bed was almost too obscene to be real - sounding like it came from one of those horribly made adult films. You grinned around him, sucking him as you began bobbing your head, feeling his hips shift under you, trying to relieve more pressure.

Pulling away with a ‘pop’, you looked up at him as you began to pump his cock, your other hand squeezing his thigh as he sat up, looking down at you. “Fuck...it feels so, so…” He groaned and thrusted into your hand, closing his eyes tight as his hands fell from your hair and down to the sheets, clenching at them as he tried his best not to already finish.

And you knew it was wrong, but your movements began agonizingly slow so suddenly, teasing him as he whined out loud, “So what, Alex? Do you want me to stop?” You smirked a little, watching his face contorted, the feeling becoming too overwhelming for Alex, tears in his eyes.

“No...mommy...I-”

But then your movements did stop. You didn’t mean to, but just like before, he said it so casually that it caught you off guard. He didn’t realize he had even said it until he caught himself saying it again, this time sitting up and opening his mouth, mortified with what he called you.

“I-, oh god, shit, fuck, I-I didn’t mean to call you th-”

Before he had a heart attack, you stood up and leaned forward, kissing him to shut him up. You crouched in front of him, pulling away with a smile. “Alex, shh, it’s fine. Okay?” You had never been called it before, granted you never fucked anyone so much younger than you, but you surprisingly didn’t hate it.

Furrowing his brows, Alex frowned and scooted back for you to rest on his lap, “Really?” You nodded and smiled, wrapping his arms around his neck before kissing him again, “Really, now will you be a good boy and let mommy fuck you?”

Alex swore he had died and gone to Heaven just then. His eyes, lulled down in lust, nodded as you pushed him to lay on his back, climbing onto him fully before beginning to rock yourself onto him, your wet slit running up and down his dick.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay? It’s gonna be tight so just relax until I adjust before you try anything,” You coaxed, running your hands up and down his chest, watching as he nodded before you reached down and lined him up, sinking down onto him almost instantly.

You both moaned together, your head falling back at how well he filled you up. You didn’t realize how wet he had already made you until he slid into you so easily. You took a minute to adjust to his size before nodding, grabbing his wrists and pulling him to sit up, smiling at how close he was to you now.

“Just tell me what feels good, okay? It’s about you tonight, remember? Not me.” You began to slowly ride him, rising and sinking down onto him as you kissed him, holding his face close to you as his hands rested on your hips, guiding you up and down on him. The slapping noises became louder the wetter you got, and you truthfully didn’t realize you could get that wet.

You could tell he was getting close with how bad he was twitching in you, moaning into your neck now as he buried his face there, you holding his head close. “It’s okay Alex, I got you. You’re doing so good. You’re being a very good boy.” You coaxed, running your fingernails down the back of his neck and spine.

“Mmm, Mommy, I’m gonna cu-”

“Where do you want to cum, baby? Tell me and Mommy will make it happen.” You promised, pushing him back to look down at him, continuing to ride him as your hair now stuck to your sweat covered forehead.

The tears that were in his eyes were now spilling down his cheeks, everything sending Alex overboard with how intense his emotions were. He swallowed the lump in his throat and let out a whine as you asked him again, trying to get him to answer before he finished too quickly.

“I-I wanna cum…” His eyes rolled in the back of his head, grunting as you snapped his hips up into you, panting as he felt your hand on his face, forcing him to look at you and answer you.

“Your tits! I wanna cum on them.” He answered, voice muffled as his cheeks squished together in your hands. You smiled in satisfaction at the answer, nodding before you pushed off him suddenly, whining yourself at the sudden loss of weight in you. You fell to your knees and guided him to stand up, feeling his dick slip between your tits as he fucked them, one hand holding your hair, the other at his side.

You held your own breasts in your hands, pressing them around Alex’s dick as he fucked them, glancing at his free hand as he stroked your face, moving his index finger towards your lips, pushing it between your lips to have you suck on his finger.

And you did, moaning around his finger while his pace quickened, becoming sloppy as he gripped your hair tighter, a little too tight, before suddenly letting go of your hair to grab his dick, pumping it in his hand until his hot spews of cum shot out, coaxing your tits until they were rolling down your chest and stomach.

He didn’t mean to fall, but his knees locked up and he stumbled back onto your bed, panting like he had never panted before, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his focus, ignoring the white specs that danced under his eyelids. You, on the other hand, sat back on the floor, feeling your own climax roll down your thighs, your eyes falling back in your head as you caught your breath.

“That was…” You began, although Alex beat you to the punch.

“Really fucking good.” You could hear how satisfied he was and you could only giggle, nodding in agreement before sitting up slightly, “Yeah, you could say that again.”

When the silence fell over the two of you, you decided to go and get a wet rag to clean you both off with, you yourself too tired to bother with a shower. You wiped yourself off first in the bathroom, rinsing the rag before going back into your room, crawling in the bed beside him to clean him up.

He watched as you cleaned him, a small smile on his face, “Sorry if I finished too quick...it was hard for me to hold it in any longer.” What made his smile grow, however, was the tender kiss you pressed against his temple as you took care of him, “Alex...don’t worry, okay? I enjoyed myself, promise. I’m glad for your first time, it was good.”

Alex sat up fully now, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you to him, grinning at the sound of your giggle before kissing your cheek. “It was better than good. It was fan-fucking-tastic.” He leaned down and kissed your bare shoulder before resting his head against your chest, letting you hold him as the two laid in bed.

You wanted to say that it was just from the long day you had, but truthfully you knew that he tired you out. It had been too long since you had something as good as what you had with Alex that night, and your brain was still spinning. As you held him in your arms, stroking his face and running your fingers through his hair, you became tired and felt yourself drifting off.

On the other hand, Alex was still awake, thinking about what had just happened and how every crazy and fucked up dream he had led to this. He felt like a god at this point...okay, maybe that was a bit too far. When he felt your fingers come to a stop, he looked up and saw you sleeping, your breathing steady. He smiled and sat up carefully, not wanting to wake you as he pulled the blankets back and helped you under the covers.

When he placed the covers back over you, he stood up to find his clothes and go to the couch, not wanting to hover too long. Yeah, you guys had just hooked up, but he knew that probably to you that was all that was - a hookup - to him though, well-

“Alex?”

He turned from where he sat beside the bed, his jeans in his hands as he got ready to put them on. He stopped though, moving closer as he looked down at you, letting you take his hand into yours.

“Will you stay with me tonight? In here?”

The innocent plea for his company sent butterflies into his stomach. Nodding, he dropped his jeans back onto the ground before crawling under the covers beside you, freezing for a brief moment at how quickly you curled up to him, hugging him with your head pressed against his chest. Alex found himself smiling, wondering how he got so lucky. Kissing the top of your head, he rubbed your back until the two of you both fell asleep, tangled in each other’s arms.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 27: Conditions

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, violence, & a brief scene of implied assault (it's the scene in the cantina in Canto Bight!! it's over in a few lines, but if you want to skip over them, it won't impact the story at all!) please let me know if there's anything else that needs to be tagged! <3

SUMMARY: “I—what?” you ask, trying to shake away the fuzzy feeling, “what are you saying to me?”

“I’m saying,” Din emphasizes, sighing, looking down at the Darksaber in his hand, “that I don’t have a secret family, and I’m never leaving you again, but…”

“What?” you repeat.

“I accidentally became the ruler of Mandalore,” Din admits. “And I don’t know how to get out of it.”

You stare at him, speechless, and then the bacta kicks in and everything fades to black.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO AND HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! i hope you love this chapter, it's 12k+ words because i simply could not stop writing. we are getting INTO IT ;) hope y'all love the dinova makeup scene hehehe ENJOYYYYYY!!!! <3

*

When you and Din first fucked, all the way back on Dagobah, you remember how gentle he was with you, how it stood out in such shimmering, stark contrast to the man and warrior he was everywhere else. He would pause, he would revere you in the dark, he would let his mouth make sweet love to you in between your thighs for hours. It was lovely. Him being gentle, taking his sweet time with you, it was lovely.

But you’ve just spent an agonizing month apart, you nearly lost each other forever to that looming darkness, and the baby’s not here on Kicker to be quiet for.

So when you grab at him, lustful and intentioned, the big, brave bounty hunter bends at your will. Again.

“You—” Din says, strangled, the second your hands slip down his face, “you don’t have to—if you’re not ready—”

“Shh,” you whisper, and at that alone, he quiets. You let your thumb lightly graze over the length of his cheekbone, eyes darting all over his face, taking in every single gorgeous inch. “I want the man who loves me to fuck me senseless.”

Din groans, the noise strangled and low in his throat. You grin, top teeth coming down on your bottom lip. “I used to—fuck—like to be in charge. A lot. B—but you talking like this, stars, Nova, I could cum from your words alone—”

“Don’t you dare,” you emphasize, closing all the remaining space between the two of you, swinging your legs up and over into his lap so that you’re straddling him. “It’s been a month, Din, a whole month without feeling you, without fucking. Give me a taste first.”

He makes another small noise at the base of his throat, and a horrifying thought flutters into your head, foggy and heavy.

“It—” you blink at him, stomach doing backflips, “It hasbeen a month without…sex for you, too, right?”

Din’s eyes flash open, dark and dangerous. “Are you serious?”

You feel your body start to shrink against his, your knees wobbling from where you’re straddling him, sliding down into his lap. “I—”

“You think I could even look at someone else?” Din asks, his voice low and electric. You raise an eyebrow. He tangles one hand in your messy hair, and when he sharply brings your head back with the force of it, the moan you’ve been holding back escapes out of your throat, easy and loaded. “That every time I touched myself, I wasn’t regretting every second of my decision to leave you somewhere because nothing compares to your warmth?”

Maker, he sounds betrayed. Like he can’t even believe that you’re suggesting it, which, come to think of it, you can’t really believe you’re suggesting it either, considering how much of himself he gave you back on the last planet, but you have to know, even if it’s hard to hear. You swallow. “You left me there, I didn’t know if we were—done, if you were breaking off our engagement—”

“Nova,” Din interrupts, and everything in your body goes white-hot, blistering. You’ve heard him say your name before—in love, in fear, in pain, in pleasure—but something about the timbre of it right now is halving you with lightning strikes. He’s somewhere still buried in your neck, and when his tongue brushes up and flutters against your strongest pulse point, you feel like you’re melting, all over Din’s lap, all over Kicker’s floor. “Even if I was that much of a total fucking idiot, even if I were stupid enough to truly let you go, do you really believe that any pussy in this galaxy or the next would be as good as yours?”

You yelp. All of that control that you had a second ago, it’s blissfully rushed away, a river running out of you, everything concentrating between your legs, low and wet. “Well,” you manage finally, your voice shaking, “prove it.”

For a second, a single, tantalizing second, Din just holds you there. You can feel the heat, the friction between your hips, his hand on your left one, anchoring you there and pulling you against his crotch. You feel his cock jump in his pants, and it makes that flash of desire strike through you again, regardless of how many times you’ve felt it do so before. “I love you,” he whispers, tongue dancing in and out of your ear, and when he pulls away from you and looks at you in the starlight, you want that to be it. That confession, that freedom, that honesty—and you being able to look at him straight in the eyes while he gives himself to you—that’s enough for you to cum right there on the spot, but you made him promise to hold out, so you grind your teeth together, control your breathing, and try to hold out your own challenge.

“That’s not what I meant,” you breathe, your hands coming loose to land on either side of his face. He closes his eyes into the safety of your touch, and, for just a moment, you press your forehead against his.

It’s over a flash later, when his eyes open, dark and possessive. “Oh,” Din smirks, “I know.” And then you’re being hauled up and out of his lap, and when he grabs you and pushes you up against the wall, face first, you let out a gasp that could rattle every single last star in the galaxy. “Tell me,” he whispers, “tell me if I’m going too far—”

“Din,” you interject, softly, your voice still shaky and uneven, “I thought I told you to prove it.”

All you hear is the rhythm of both of your breathing, and then your clothes are being ripped limb from limb, the tank top tearing straight off your back, your pants being shoved down to your knees. The sharp intake of breath that comes out of you is partially because off the immediacy of it, the urgency, and partially because of the shock of the cold metal of Kicker’s walls against your bare skin.

“You—” you start, as Din yanks down your trousers even further, “you bought those pants for me—”

“So?” he tosses up to you, and then you feel the rough fabric of the glove slamming into the small of your back, making it arch. “I’ll buy you new fucking pants.”

“Okay,” you pant, already halfway there and way past being coherent, “yeah, sure. I didn’t have that much of an attachment to those anyway—”

“Nova?” Din asks, and you toss your head backwards as you feel his scruff on the right side of your neck. “Open your legs.”

You do. You’re pretty sure everything you’re wearing is trashed, now, but at this point, you couldn’t care less. When you feel Din’s lips travel down your shoulder blades, your spine, stopping just on the small of your back, you shudder, the cold metal in front of you already turned warm from your touch. When his lips leave you, you think that’s it, that he’s going to shove his fingers in you, but Din drops, stealthy, like the practiced bounty hunter he is, to his knees. You inhale, exhale, all of your energy on expelling and intaking air, and then his tongue starts at the very back of your slit, and somewhere between your legs, before it finds your clit, he’s turned over, staring up at you with his mouth buried inside of you.

“Oh,” you manage, faintly, and there it is, the electric feeling of being pushed right on the edge, that white-hot numbness, everything falling and rising at once, “oh—”

“This is the part,” Din hisses, muffled slightly as he moves his tongue in and out of you, “where I’d normally tell you that I own you.”

“Don’t you?” you ask as he pulls off his gloves and pushes a finger inside you, and, stars, you can feel yourself clench, the way you take him in, like you’re hungry, like you’re insatiable, and you’d usually feel your cheeks flush from all of that pure, unadulterated desire, but you barely even register all the noises you’re making because Din’s drowning it all out with his touch.

“Not anymore,” he says, simply, and then he’s in and out of you, standing back of behind you so lightning fast that you can’t categorize how his mouth went from being on your pussy to back on the nape of your sweaty neck, but your knees buckle at the feeling of him pressing up against you, ripping every connective piece of armor off his body like it’s scalding him. “You own me. Every inch.”

You moan, wriggling your hips back as if to entice him, to make him just fuck you already, and you know how impatient you’re being, and that you should savor this, that this should last through the entirety of hyperspace for all of the lost time that you have to make up, but you can’t hold back.

“Tell me,” Din whispers, his voice just as breathy as yours is, “what you want.”

You inhale, exhale. He’s behind you, and you can feel the tip pressing at you, leaking a small bead of wetness that’s trailing down your naked body, and you’re so choked and consumed with this, with how much you missed it, that you have to take a second to compose yourself. Din holds himself there, patient—writhing, but patient—until you know exactly what to say.

“I want you,” you breathe, tilting your head just a bit, enough to catch a glimpse of his silhouette, “your every fucking inch.”

Din moans again, and then, before you have a second to prepare yourself, that’s exactly what you get. Your own moans eject themselves form your mouth, completely uncontrolled, animalistic, insatiable. With every stroke, the symphony of the noises that Din’s making gets louder and louder, one hand against your hips, the other tangled back up in your hair, bringing your body closer and closer to him like rolling tides.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispers, his mouth contorting around the word like it’s holy, something divine, “oh, fuck, Nova, I—missed you.”

You throw your head back, eyes fluttering, everything dark and warm. Din’s other hand slips down to your bare hip, and he starts rocking himself deeper and deeper inside you, as if he’s trying to fuck away all the mistakes he made, as if he’s begging you for repentance.

“Cum in me,” you gasp, already shaking yourself through another orgasm as his hands tighten around you, as he buries his face in your neck, “mark me as yours.”

And, Maker fucking above, the way he screams your name as he does makes you ready to fall in love all over again. It’s like the first time. It’s better.

“I was right,” you say, finally, after both of you have sunk to the floor, throbbing and aching and delightfully exhausted.

“Yes,” Din agrees, automatically, his arm tightening around your midriff as you both try to breathe yourselves back to consciousness, “about what?”

You smile. As your vision focuses, you turn around in his arms so that you’re sitting against the wall, looking out at the stars you’re traveling past, grinning at the notion that you just had a supernova more brilliant than they could ever dream to have. “It’s not about deserving. It’s about belonging.”

Next to you, Din slowly untangles himself from the mess of your shared limbs and slides into his usual position on the floor. You smile at that, too, because regardless of how much has changed, this too, this mirror image, is still the same.

*

Hours pass. You don’t remember falling asleep, but when your eyes open lazily to the slow tilt of space around you, you’re swaddled in blankets and pillows, and your Mandalorian is cuddled up next to you. It still makes your heart jump in your chest, the knowledge that he’s yours again, that he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him. You still don’t think you forgive him, because that ache is bitter and horrible in the depth of your chest, but you feel how much you feed into one another, how much easier it is to fight off any incoming threats with Din next to you, and you make momentary peace with your broken heart.

“Hi,” he says, sleepily, his eyes fluttering open, “come back to sleep.”

“I will,” you answer, sitting back down and snuggling into Din’s bare chest. Everything else in here is dotted with luminescence—the stars outside, the lights you strung in the back of the hull—but it’s cold compared to him and his light.

You think he’s asleep again when you feel his lips moving, his chest rising and falling, the noise his voice makes vibrating where your ear is pressed against his ribs. “You said you have conditions,” Din whispers, “back there, on Takodana. I didn’t forget. What are your conditions?”

Your stomach does a small flip. You absolutely did have conditions, but right now, it’s nearly impossible for you to remember any of them. You’re both here now, where you belong, and space is quiet, and you’re not currently in any immediate danger, and you just had some of the best sex you’ve ever had—

Danger. It lights up, and you blink hard and then shoot upwards at the threats the both of you just narrowly escaped back on Takodana, the people that have been trying to catch you and hurt you for weeks. You feel the way your heart is pounding, and you immediately curse yourself from being distracted enough to not warn Wedge about the mysterious danger that’s rising from the ashes of the Empire, and Din follows you when you sit straight up, pressing the warmth of your blanket against your bare chest.

“Nova?”

“Um,” you say, holding up a single finger, “my first condition is that you come with me to tell the Alliance everything we know about these new troopers, and their new boss.”

He stares at you. “Can’t…can’t you just call your friend back on your commlink? Tell him what you saw?”

You press a cold hand to your face, and the chill grounds you. “I could,” you admit, “but the two of us just barely got out of there alive, and I think we need to literally call in the big guns. Besides, I—I have ties there. You’ll understand when you see it.” You flash him a small look. “It’s cold on Hoth. Really cold. Not a desert planet at all. You’ll love it.”

It’s still so strange seeing his face, like something out of place, but after a minute, Din’s quirked eyebrow relaxes. “Okay,” he agrees.

You nod, definitively, feeling his eyes on your naked body as you get up to point the nav system back towards Hoth, and when you slide back into your nest, he’s even warmer than you remembered.

“Din—” you whisper, and you’re not even sure what you’re about to say until he pulls you in, the low light casting parts of his face in shadow.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs back, the promise barely air but so concrete, so powerful, “I meant it when I said I’m going to follow you anywhere.”

Kicker, like the habitual monster she is, starts screeching right before reentry onto Hoth. You untangle yourself messily from Din’s arms, pulling the closest blanket you have around your bare body again, tiptoeing over to where the dashboard is blinking and flashing.

“Work with me, baby,” you whisper, turning dials and pounding on wherever you think you could get it to quiet, “c’mon, what’s wrong with you?” You turn knobs and flip switches, and when Kicker shows you she’s clearly not slowing down, you turn to throw on whatever clothes are closest, and they’re the tatters Din tore off of you last night. As you run a systems check, you trade the ripped fabric for your orange jumpsuit, which is, thankfully, still untouched. You shiver as you zip it up over your bare chest, tucking your messy hair behind both ears, studying the panel of blinking lights and the volume of your glorious rebel of a ship. “Kicker,” you try again, exhausted, dragging your hands over your eyes, the stars exploding as you press against them, “please, I am so tired, tell me what you want—”

And then you spot it. Your shields, which have consistently been locked and loaded since you left Hoth last time, are depleted and tired. They keep flashing on and off, and you hesitate, peering out the front widow to survey the open space around you, checking furiously for any immediate enemies, trying to gauge if you need to keep them on until you land, or if you want to save the last bit of power for whenever you leave Hoth next.

“What,” Din mutters sleepily from behind you, “is happening?”

“She screams,” you answer, which is honestly completely self-explanatory, “when she wants to tell me something,”

“Nova,” Din says back, groaning as he sits up, pulling on all the underclothes he has, leaving the armor scattered and strewn all over the ship’s interior like a trail of shiny breadcrumbs, “she is not a sentient being, and you have the power to shut her up.”

You do. Then you turn, staring at him, trying to look menacing. “No making fun of my ship.”

A tiny smile surfaces across his face. It’s fleeting, but glorious. “You’re a real pilot again,” he says softly, “how does it feel?”

You grin to, bringing one orange-clad knee to your chest, resting your chin on it. “Like I spent way too long without it,” you admit, reveling in your pilot’s chair, slowly swaying from side to side as you observe him. “I miss the Crest,” you say, “every day, but being able to be in charge of my own destiny, to be my own captain, to fly something I could handle in my sleep—it feels right.”

Din looks at you, slowly striding over. You grab his bare hand as you pull him in closer, tipping your head back so you can stare up at him, and even in this position, you feel the way he’ll bend to you, how he’ll do whatever you want. That sense of power, exhilarating as it is, also feels unlike you, so you let him tuck your hair back behind your ears again, relinquishing small atoms of control until you’re both back on equal ground. “Are we sticking with Kicker, then?” Din asks, and you nod, fluttering your eyelashes at him as he strokes lightly over your cheek. “I think I might need flying lessons from you, then, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim.”

You grin. “Maybe we should write that all over the ship.”

“You write that all over the ship,” Din points out, gently, “and you’ll have even more of a target on your back.”

You sigh, long and heavy, and you feel the energy shift. Din moves to the copilot’s chair, and you swing the other way as you crest through the chilly atmosphere of Hoth, shivering the second you broach through the air, even though the cabin temperature is holding steady. “I was reckless back there,” you admit, voice small. “I was spending too much time trying to give them the best vocal middle finger I could muster up, that I wasn’t paying attention to the soldiers we downed. I’m not very good at the hand-to-hand combat thing,” you say, examining the ridges of your fingers, the way your knuckles bulge slightly against your skin. “I’ve always done so much better up in the air. But now, with my new—” you cut yourself off, flipping your hands over to study your palms, trying to envision where the Force works like a conduit underneath it, “powers,” you finish, halfheartedly, “I know I need to be down on the ground more, that I need more practice. I’m not even close to being skilled enough to beat multiple people.” You glance over at Din, and then back at the wicked handle of the Darksaber. Even though you know it’s not Gideon’s weapon, that it came from Mandalore, it still carries the symbol of so much darkness, so much hatred, and you shiver. “Especially if it’s going to be you and me against these new troopers, this new threat.”

Din’s staring at you. You turn your attention back to navigating Kicker down onto the snowy path that funnels down into the landing bay, watching as the whiteness of it all jut up in mountains and valleys around you, carefully moving into the spot you had to emergency evacuate a few weeks back. “What do you think it is?” he asks, and you can tell he’s asking because he believes you, but also because he has no idea. “Who do you think it is?”

You square your shoulders, pulling your parka off the hook it’s hanging on, glancing at the armor all over the floor. “I don’t know,” you answer, honestly, “but whatever—whoever—it is, it’s coming. That’s why we’re here. I’ve had visions of it,” you say, stretching your arms back to quickly braid the top layer of your hair, “a few times, but I have no idea. I—we—are totally out of our depth.” You look out the front window of Kicker, watching as a small squadron of orange jumpsuits starts to materialize in the distance, and a grin stretches itself across your face before you can stop it. “That’s why we’re here,” you say, tying off the braid and pointing with your chin, “because if anyone has advice on how to battle back the unknown, it’s the Alliance.”

You glace back over at Din, who’s still standing there, collecting random pieces of armor off the floor absentmindedly. His eyes are still on you. Secretly, you wonder if he always stared at you this much underneath his helmet, of his eyes never leaving your body is a new thing, or if it’s been one for the last year and you just had no idea.

“Are you coming?” you ask, and you’re trying not to push him, because you know if you tell him he has to, he will, no questions asked.

He nods, clicking the last piece of armor into place. You press on his pauldron, evening it out, and when you look up at Din, maskless, helmetless, your heart catches like it always does. “Yes,” he says, finally, his gloved hand gently finding your wrist.

You look to where he has his helmet in his other hand, and the second your eyes move, you feel his do too. Even out of your periphery, you can tell he’s staring at it as intensely as he does with you, internal battle of tradition versus newness loud and unencumbered in your head.

“You don’t have to wear it,” you whisper, reassuring him. You bring your hand up, touch your fingertips to the side of his face, brushing your thumb lightly over the bow of his lips. “But you can, if that’s what you want.”

Din looks back to you, then to the helmet, then to you again. You smile as encouragingly as you can, and he exhales, pulling the rim of it over his head. Your heart drops and rises as you watch him do it, conflicted with the knowledge of how hard this is, how hard anything is, how he’s like a ship without sails.

“You’ll like them,” you say, quietly, as you move downstairs and disengage the gangplank, “I promise.”

“Rebel girl!” Wedge calls through the frosty air, and you squeeze Din’s hand and smile as your boots meet the crunchy, snow covered ground. “Welcome back. Who are we fighting?”

“That’s what I’m hoping you’ll help me with,” you sigh, falling easily into Wedge’s paternal arms, feeling Din’s eyes scour over him underneath the visor. “Listen, we don’t have much to go on, but the threats are coming, and they’ve got the jump on us. Is everyone in the control room?”

Wedge lets go of you, nodding, stepping forward to shake Din’s hand. Din, adorably, has absolutely no idea what to do, and when Wedge grabs him, you can sense the flinch before it even happens, and then something in him relaxes. “You must be Nova’s fiancé,” he says, smiling. “I’ve heard so much about you. Pleased to meet you…”

You know he’s waiting for a name, for something concrete, and you freeze, not knowing how to intervene, if Din can willingly reveal his identity, and right before you’re about to fake some sort of emergency to hurry Wedge along, Din’s hand clenches over his.

“Din,” he says, quietly, but his intention is vivid and strong. “You must be…Nova’s contact. Friend. In the Alliance.”

You nod. Wedge grins back. “I am. Wedge Antilles. We could use someone like you,” he tries, as the three of you move forward into the small gathering of people who are greeting you, welcoming you back in, “if you’re ever looking for a career change.”

You laugh under your breath, trying to imagine your calculated bounty hunter rushing immediately into battle like the rebels do, but Din’s helmet moves over towards you, then back to Wedge. “Well,” he sighs, “depending on how much of a threat these new forces are, I might be.”

“Anything associated with the Empire,” Wedge sighs, dragging a hand over his face, “is a threat worth fighting against. I should know,” he tacks on, opening the heavy door that leads to the inside of the base, “I used to work for them.”

Both of you whip around to study his face, his expression. Din doesn’t know Wedge well, but you do, and your eyebrows narrow, trying to decide if he’s joking or if he’s being level with you. Wedge isn’t someone who does anything without intention, so it seems like he’s genuinely telling the truth, but at the look at your startled expression, Wedge scratches his head. Under the faded, white light of the hallways, you can see more greying in his hair than you thought was there the last time you saw him up close.

“I’m from Corellia,” he reminds you both, quietly, as you let him go in head of you to direct your small group of people into the control room, “I didn’t have much of a choice. Got caught up in the Imperial Navy because I wanted to be in the air, flew a few missions before I realized how much death and destruction I was contributing to. Defected, never looked back, joined the Alliance.” There’s a small smile on his face. “I met Luke,” he offers, and you follow the way his mouth moves when he talks about Luke Skywalker—that same sort of urgent intimacy you detected in the flickering image of Luke on the holotable the last time you were here. For whatever reason, it makes your grin match his. You glance over at Din as you stride into the bigger room, watching how Wedge tucks his expression away for later, but you can tell his mind is still on Luke.

“Glad you got back safely,” one of the generals says. His voice is low, gruff, and he has facial hair that’s stark white. He’s intimidating, stone-faced, but he seems to genuinely be thankful for your presence, so you smile brightly over at him.

“Listen up,” Wedge calls, barely louder than his normal talking voice, but all the conversation around the room quiets almost immediately, everyone’s attention focused solely on him. “Nova’s back, not because she’s out of danger, but because it seems like we’re all about to be in a hell lot more of it. I know we’ve talked about this for years, but it seems like whatever was left in the Empire’s ashes is rising up stronger and quicker than we’ve kept our eyes on.” You nod, confirming his theory. “I know most of us are veterans,” Wedge continues, his eyes aglow, connecting with every single person in the room, “and I know that we’ve already lost so many battles, so I understand if you’re tired. If you want to walk away from this one,” he declares, leaning over the table, and you take stock of the circle gathered around, all clad in orange, determination written all over their faces, “I’ll understand. I won’t hold that against you. But if you’re not prepared to fight this next one, you need to leave this room now and go somewhere safe.” He raises his eyebrows. People exchange glances with one another, but not a single one of them budges. After a handful of seconds, making sure to account for any delayed reactions, Wedge nods. “That’s what I thought. Okay, Nova,” he says, turning to you, “for our remarkable lack of Force sensitivity and our living on the outskirts of this mess, you seem to be the forefront authority on what’s coming. Tell us everything you can.”

You swallow. You knew this was what you were coming here to do, to direct the Alliance in the right path, to give them the most explicit briefing on this new evil, but you step forward, your mouth going dry, You haven’t had to do this part in years, almost a decade, and you got used to hunting rather than defending, hiding rather than attacking. Din’s hand squeezes over yours, just once, and that fortifies you enough to open your mouth.

“I’ve seen every corner of this galaxy,” you start, wringing your hands together to try and muster up the right amount of information to give these people, these people who are fighting alongside you simply because of your word alone. “I was born into the Rebel Alliance, and I’ve spent most of my life trying to keep our world here free of evil. Even when I dropped out after my parents died,” you continue, voice shaking a bit with embarrassment at the naivety of leaving, “I shuttled people to safety, regardless of what they were running from. I got myself into a serious bit of trouble, and I narrowly escaped with my life. Then I met my fiancé,” you say, pointing to Din, “and I spent a lot of time figuring out my own power. I thought…I thought what I had was just me being me,” you say, vaguely, swatting at a loose piece of hair fluttering in your face, “but over the last year, I’ve learned that I have the Force. Like my son. Like Luke Skywalker.” You swallow, making a fleeting second of eye contact with Wedge. “I watched when General Skywalker and Wedge destroyed the first Death Star, and then I watched when the Rebels eradicated the evil from this galaxy, even though I was out on my own then.” You sigh, staring at the luminary solar system projected on the holotable, steeling yourself. “You did a great job,” you say, softly, trying your best to follow Wedge’s example by making eye contact with the rest of the generals and rebels in the room, “really, you did. You made this place safe for us to live in again, and you were brave during a time when I wasn’t. And whatever part of the Empire is left over,” you continue, voice gaining strength as you undo your crossed arms to lean slightly against the table, eyes focusing on the little locator on the Hoth base, blinking a blue YOU ARE HERE to the rest of the room, “it’s not because you weren’t thorough. It’s because the Empire was conniving and cunning, and was built upon decades of secret creation, and no matter how many parts we cut off, there’s always going to be one lurking under the surface.” You look at Din, then back to the others gathered around the table. “We thought Moff Gideon was the most dangerous lurking evil left. We were wrong.”

“Who else is there?” another woman asks. You faintly recognize her face, but you can see by the way that her laugh lines are written around her mouth that she’s at least a decade older than you are. “What did we leave over?”

“That’s the thing,” you sigh, rubbing the place where your eyebrows burrow, pinch together, “When I see things, in my visions…they’re not always exact. I saw Luke coming back to defeat Gideon’s troopers, and I saw our kid being taken, but they were always foggy, hazy. When we were back on Takodana,” you say, inhaling a deep breath, “I felt something there, too. But I could tell this time that it was a premonition, that what I was feeling was a threat in the future and not one I needed to be fighting in that exact moment. But there have been concrete examples,” you say, finding your rhythm again. “Stormtroopers, a whole regiment of them, except they weren’t like the ones that worked for Darth Vader.” You swallow. “I could tell by their uniforms that they didn’t quite belong to ones we’ve seen before, but beyond that, they’re precise. They attack with intention, and they’re nimble and fast. They daggered me with a tranquilizer dart twice,” you admit, “and nearly killed the both of us back on Takodana.”

“They kept threatening us,” Din says, and you whip around to face him. In these situations, in anything more than a handful of people in a social setting, he usually doesn’t speak a word. Even when weapons are drawn, he chooses to act rather than talk, and so you close your mouth and let him. “They told Nova they worked for a different boss. A scarier one. One more…dangerous, and formidable, than Gideon.”

“That’s what scares me,” you say softly, your finger tracing a soft line over the hairs of your eyebrow. “Usually, Empire thugs like to rule with a sense of superiority, to threaten us with specifics. But the mystery surrounding this whole thing is what’s different. It doesn’t feel like a new era of the Empire. It feels like something darker, more sinister, that they’ve been working on to replace it.”

The general, the one who welcomed you back, stares at you. “Do you have proof of that?”

You know he’s not trying to judge you, but you can hear it in his tone. “No,” you admit, honestly, “no, I don’t have any concrete evidence that this is something new coming out of the ashes of the Empire, but I can feel it.” You swallow, looking around at everyone, trying to gauge if they’ll dismiss your intuition. No one, not even the man who spoke, even lifts an eyebrow. “Look,” you say, leaning forward against the table again, “I’m not in charge here. Frankly, I really don’t know what I’m doing, except when it comes to fighting them off up in space out there. But that’s not enough, and they’ve been after me—and my family—for months, now, and this kind of defense isn’t what I’m good at. And I have almost no specifics, I just learned I was Force sensitive a few months ago, and I don’t know what we’re facing up against. I’m not Luke Skywalker,” you tack on, a bit desperately, noting the way that Wedge’s expressions shifts when you mention him, “I’m not even a real Jedi. But I’ve seen a lot,” you say, eyes focusing back on the holotable, “and this—whatever it is, whatever evil is coming—is a real threat. And I can’t face it alone.”

You press your lips together. You can feel Din’s eyes on your face from where only one cheek is turned in his direction. Wedge, finally, steps forward, meets you in the middle directly across from you. “You don’t have to,” he says, and it’s with such determination, such finality, that it makes you exhale what feels like a month’s worth of bated breath. “Look, we’re all coming from different places,” he continues, gesturing to the array of people and aliens in the room around you, “but we have one goal, and that’s making sure the Empire, or whatever this is, stays dead and gone. I can be the figurehead, if you need a leader,” he says, and you nod, relieved, “but you need to be the one keeping us updated.”

“I can do that.” You grin over at him, standing up a little straighter, “especially if I have the rest of you behind me.”

“Well, then,” Wedge says, smile spreading back across his face, so warm in such a freezing place, “consider this your official welcome back to the Rebel Alliance, Commander.”

Your smile fills up the entire lower half of your face. “Thank you, General Antilles.”

Wedge looks around the room, and when you join him, you see the brief moment of lightness being shared by the rest of you. “Nah,” Wedge says, finally, “with what we’re doing, we don’t need formalities. We’re the new legion of the Rogue Squadron,” he continues, and your eyes bloom with tears around the edges. That was your mother’s team when she flew in the Alliance, all the people she told stories of when the night crept in. “Let’s get started.”

And when everyone moves in around the table to devise a plan, you feel Din’s hand clasp in your own, and when he squeezes it, you know he’s as proud of you as your parents would be, and you stop running. It’s time to fight.

*

A handful of days pass. You and Din share an empty bunkroom, huddled up together to keep each other from freezing. He still doesn’t seem like he’s entirely comfortable here, but earlier in the night, he ate in the mess hall with you. Even though it was technically after hours, even though no one else was in the room, he kept his helmet off for longer than a second, took the time to really enjoy his food. Now, you’re both naked, snuggling, wrapping the warmth of the blankets around each other’s shoulders.

In the past three days, you and the Alliance have devised a plan. Your job—and Din’s, considering he swore to follow you anywhere—is to go out scouting for these new troopers, to try to gain any sort of reconnaissance you can gather without drawing attention to yourselves. Wedge and the rest of the fractured Alliance—the new Rogue Squadron—will fly in small numbers of three or four to the deserted Empire outposts and connect with other allies in the New Republic to try and find out anything concrete related to this new boss, this new threat. Tomorrow morning, you’re leaving to fly around the Outer Rim, trying to go as undercover as possible wherever you land next, disguising yourselves—and Kicker—enough to hopefully travel relatively undetected.

“What’s the next condition?” Din whispers, bringing your attention back to him, the way his hands roam over the small of your back as he pulls you in close to him, your bare skin pressed flush up against his.

“Condition two,” you answer, pressing your cold nose into his neck, “is that I don’t stay on the ship anymore. Neither do you. Whatever we’re fighting, we fight it together.”

“Deal,” Din says, sighing. “Nova, I hated leaving you behind. I never thought you were…a burden, or something I had to keep an eye on. I just knew how much danger you could be in, especially in the last few weeks before…” he trails off, and you know how he’s kicking himself.

“I know,” you echo, out loud. “I know you didn’t think I was a liability. But you never let me fight my own battles alongside you, and now that I’m the one who’s putting us both in the direct line of danger, I have to have an equal standing on the ground with you.”

Din nods in the dark. You feel your hair tangle in his scruff, still slightly damp from the shared shower you took together an hour ago. “No staying on the ship.”

“The third condition,” you continue, snuggling in closer, “is that you hold me until I fall asleep. No complaining, no take-backs.”

“Nova.”

You giggle, the sound a soft, melodic thing in the dark. “I’m only half kidding. But the real third condition is that we talk about things and make decisions together. Unless, of course, we’re in the heat of battle, and one of us leads by example.”

Din sighs. “That’s only fair,” he allows, and he pulls you closer. “Does that mean…?” he trails off, and even though you’re half asleep, you can feel the weight of his unasked question, so you shift under the blankets to stare up at where you think his face is, only navigating by knowledge and touch alone through the darkness. “The other day,” he continues quietly, directly into your ear, “you said that you thought that—that me leaving meant that I was breaking off our engagement.”

“Yeah,” you manage, heart hammering in your chest.

Din swallows. You can feel it, in the pitch black, the movement of his throat. You map out his movements, trying not to pull away until he’s fully asked what he needs to. “Did I?” he asks, finally, voice low, dejected.

“I don’t know,” you answer, honestly. “I mean—you said you were coming back, but you left, and I didn’t know for how long. For a while, I…I acted like you were my ex, just to myself, so that I could try to protect myself from the hurt of it all, but…you told me you’re tied to me. I think I’m tied to you, too.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” you sigh, “you don’t have to win me back, anymore, but…if you wanted to propose to me again, I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea.”

You can feel Din smile, a ghost of a thing, through the sleepy darkness. His grip on you tightens, and then he turns to wrap his body around yours, trapping all the heat in. “Is that how we’re playing this?”

You’re asleep before you can answer.

*

When you leave the base, it’s with a game plan in one hand and breakfast in the other. You and Din are heading to Cantonica. You’ve never been—its main locus, Canto Bight, was always a pit of gambling and crime, and after Jacterr, you never wanted to see anything remotely seedy ever again—but they have cantinas and loudness and clothing, and Din promised you replacements for the ones he tore off of you the other night.

Kicker’s been repainted, which wasn’t the original plan, but the planets that allied, nondescript ships are on—Dantooine, Tatooine, Naboo—have already been through the ringer, and you don’t want to implicate anyone else in this war on the new Empire if you don’t have to. She’s still very obviously a starfighter that belongs to the legion of Alliance ships, but with the remodel, everything’s been painted over with white and grey, disguising the orange. You’re still in your jumpsuit, because it’s about the one intact article of clothing you have, but when you land on Cantonica, you’re going to go in the first store you see and buy up a few sets of trousers and tops. Your other jacket, the one you didn’t wear when Din left you, is still hanging up, and you throw that on too, trying to counteract all the orange.

“What’s the plan?” Din asks as you’re taking off, and you level Kicker up and out of the landing bay.

“New clothes,” you say, winking at him, “food, reconnaissance. Trying not to die. Do you have anything else to add to the list?”

He hooks his fingers under the rim of his helmet, pulls it off. You’re distracted, almost immediately, eyes roaming over the contours of his face, trying to drink it all in. “Trying not to die should come sooner,” Din mutters, and you can trace a small smile on his lips.

“Good point,” you allow, pushing Kicker into warp. “That should always be the first thing on the list.”

For a handful of hours, you coast, kicking your feet up on Kicker’s dashboard, talking and laughing. You’re amazed at how easy it is, how it feels like everything in between, the distance, the darkness, has fallen away as you’re coasting through the stars. When you touch down, your mouth hurts from grinning, and you navigate to the northern part of the city, trying to find the cheapest landing bay. If you park on the outskirts, the loaners are a lot less demanding, so you pass over your credits, eyes scouring the ground for any potential threats.

Canto Bight is glittering, loud. The architecture here is almost all curved and chrome, and it looks like a flashier version of Coruscant, something that you didn’t even think was possible. It’s enough to keep you jumpy, make your skin crawl, but you don’t want to look dodgy, even though you know that you are far from the sketchiest figure here.

You look out the front window. “We need to get me in something that’s not orange,” you remark, wrapping your cloak around your waist like a skirt, pulling your jacket over your upper half.

Din’s looking at the armor that he took off earlier, shininess strewn over the floor. You know he’s going through another internal battle, trying to decide what the least conspicuous choice is, and you hand him his cloak.

“Here,” you whisper, draping it up over around his face, so only the bottom half is visible. “You can wear your helmet if you want, but—”

“It’s like a big, reflective beacon,” Din sighs, and you nod, biting down on your lip. “I can deal with this. I won’t wear my full armor, either, but I’d like to keep the weapons in my wrist plates.”

“Good call.” You hand him back those specific pieces, pulling your own blaster from the small armory on the lift side of the ship, and both of you make a simultaneous grab for the Darksaber.

Din stares at it. You stare back. “I don’t like that thing,” he says, voice loaded with disdain.

“Why do you have it?” you ask, tilting your head as your eyes map over the metal, dark and wicked. “Why keep something that you hate so much?”

Din sighs again, long and low. You know there’s more to the story, and you want to know it, but you don’t want to push him. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain,” he starts, as you lower the gangplank, “when we have a bit more time and we aren’t trying to stay undercover.”

You nod, slipping the hood of your jacket over your head. “I’ll carry it,” you offer softly, and as it hangs from your belt, you can feel that power, the way it burns, even when the blade isn’t ignited.

Canto Bight is loud. Everywhere, it’s loud, from the cantinas that people spill out of onto the streets, to the stores that you restored your wardrobe at, to the way noise filters in through the strange architecture. Everything here is amplified. You hate it, but there’s something alluring about it, too. You’ve stuffed your jumpsuit in your bag, sporting black pants and a black shirt, a new, heavier shawl in swirling patterns of browns. It’s warm and it’s soft and you feel like you’re wearing a blanket.

Din looks uncomfortable. That seems to be his standard mode of operation without his armor, but he’s just as shifty and paranoid as you are. Back in the shop, he got a black face covering, so between the hood and the makeshift mask, only his eyes shine through. Gorgeous and brown, flitting and concerned.

You’ve been walking around for hours, trying to pick up any clues that might lead you back to whoever’s after you. There are more sketchy people on Cantonica than there are non-sketchy ones, but all the leads you’ve followed have just lead to underground fighting or drugs, and when they look at you, you can sense they don’t have that special kind of malice and ruthlessness that the Empire thugs after you do. Your stomach grumbles, loudly, and Din takes your hand and pulls you into the newest cantina.

“Eat,” he says, immediately shoving a menu in your face. “Please,” he tacks on, after, the second he gets a glimpse of your face.

You do. You order kebabs and steamed vegetables and whatever delicacies they have to offer, and the table fills with bulbous platters and plates of food. You know Din prefers to have his face to the room, but you take over his usual position so he can eat without anyone making eye contact. He scarfs his food down, but you have a feeling it has more to do with the energy of this place than fear of being seen.

“This may have been a bad plan,” you admit, after your tummy is swelling up with the hallmarks of good food. “This planet seems to have one dead end after another.”

“You wouldn’t survive a day as a bounty hunter,” Din remarks, and you lightly kick him under the table. “Most of what I do—did—was just sitting and waiting.”

“I,” you say, with a lofty air of pompousness, “prefer not to sit and wait.”

“You love sitting,” Din counters, and you narrow your eyes. You can see his flash with mischief, even under his cloak, even in the low light, and you know he’s right, but you also don’t want to give this one to him.

A beat passes, and then the new band in the cantina starts playing a swinging tune, upbeat and jazzy, and you grin over at him, sliding out of your bench, heading straight for the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” Din hisses, hand closing over your wrist. “We’re supposed to—”

“Believe it or not,” you whisper back, nimbly plucking your hand free, “I can dance without revealing my identity. Most of these people in here are disguised. No one’s going to look at me twice.”

“Nova—”

“If you’re afraid,” you say, voice lowered, “you can just follow me out there and shield me.” This shakes him, you can tell. You wink, sauntering out onto the dance floor. You weren’t exaggerating. This place is full of people who don’t show their faces, and most of them are just swaying to the beat, moving and writhing out on the chromatic floor, spinning underneath the lights and colors. You haven’t danced in ages. Since you were first out on your own, before Coruscant became the place you almost died, you’d go out with friends you met in the cantina the day before, just to have someone to go with. When you were still traveling with Grogu, you’d spin around the Crest, trying to get him to move alongside you, but that wasn’t real dancing. Here, though, here in Canto Bight with your shawl obscuring your identity, you dance. Really, truly dance, your hips undulating, your arms moving to the beat, twirling and jiving underneath the lights, getting lost in the dance floor.

You can feel Din staring at you. A few times, you try to make eye contact with him, shimmying your hips suggestively, gesturing for him to join you, but he just sits there like he’s frozen. The tune changes, something slightly slower radiating for the band, the lead singer’s voice crooning and sultry. You close your eyes, trying to feel the music, only focus on the notes, the symphony.

Someone’s behind you. You sigh, a small groan, whipping around to face them. The man is tall, an orange tint to his skin, and you can tell he’s not fully human.

“I like a woman who knows how to dance,” he says, eyes lingering just a touch too long on the contours of your body.

“I do know how to dance,” you agree, “and I prefer to do it alone.”

“C’mon gorgeous,” he whispers, slimily, moving closer. You can feel his leg as it brushes yours, and you jerk away, knowing that your blaster is just on your thigh, that you can pull it out and knock him with it if he wants to try and touch you again. “Give me one dance. Let me take you for a ride.”

“No,” you say, heart flipping over, “I’m good, thanks.”

Quickly, before you can register, he’s grabbing your hips and flipping you around, fingers slithering into your belt loops, forcefully pulling your ass back to grind into him. The motherfucker’s hard. You take a second to respond, trying to decide between shooting him in the foot or kicking him in the groin, and when your gaze flits over to where Din’s sitting at the table, he’s not there anymore.

“Let go of me,” you say, “this is your final warning.”

“I’m just trying to dance with a pretty girl,” he whispers into your ear, and his pointer finger slips into the waistband of your pants, not quite prying into your panties, but you’ve had it. He’s going to get kicked where the sun don’t shine and you’re going to shoot his foot. You bring up your own, hard, between his legs, pointing the reinforced tip of your boot right where you know it’s going to hurt the most, and he starts yowling.

“I said, don’t fucking touch me,” you say, pulling your blaster out, trying to remain calm. The music is loud, everyone around you still dancing, without paying you any mind.

“You crazy bitch,” he says, still on the ground, trying to grab for your leg. You shoot his hand, just to stun him, and the blast gives him an electric shock. “I could have been the best you’d ever had if you gave me a fucking chance—”

“She’s spoken for.”

Din materializes, out of nowhere, and you look over at him, both relieved he’s here and annoyed that he didn’t trust you to fight this battle yourself. The man gets off the ground, swings at Din, and pushes his other hand onto you, his fingers dragging down the material of your shirt to the bare bones of your cleavage, fingernails digging over the fabric into your scar. You narrow your eyes and plant your boot on the side of his face, stomping him into the ground as hard as you can.

“I can speak for myself, you know,” you say, more to Din than the man, and when the fucker on the ground tries to grab for you again, you’ve had it. You’re exhausted from walking around, you’re tired from being chased to the corners of the galaxy, and you are so fucking sick of men trying to tell you where you belong. “But yeah, you creep, I’m taken. And if you don’t try to be a bit more respectful to other girls—if we leave you alive for long enough to hit on one again—you’re going to get hurt worse. Because I’m one of the nicer ones in this galaxy, and I didn’t shoot your face off on sight.”

He starts swearing at you, and Din moves, lightning fast, to grab a platter of fresh food off a nearby standing table, whacks the guy across the face. You see him spit out a few teeth as he’s knocked bloody and unconscious, and even though you know that it’s a better treatment than he deserves, heads turn wildly to the sound and the violence, and it doesn’t help that the band was in between songs and the only ruckus in the cantina is you and Din beating a creep into the ground.

People stare. You look at Din, who’s frozen, again, face still obscured under his clothes, but you can tell how hard this is. You don’t react, just take his hand and firmly pull him behind you, running out of the heat in the cantina into the cooler night. People are calling after you, and you know it’s probably not the wisest move to make a scene and then immediately cut and run, especially when you’re trying to stay undercover and not show anyone you’re the Force sensitive girl and her ruthless Mandalorian bounty hunter, but it doesn’t matter if Din’s not safe.

So you run, and you pull him with you. After a few blocks, you pull him around the corner of one of the strange, curved buildings, hiding in a small alley so that if anyone’s on your trail, they won’t be able to see you in the dark. Your breath is heaving, you can feel scratches over your scar, and you’re sweating, trying to cool down enough to take in air.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, and Din nods, even though he’s stiff. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Great,” you exhale, heavily, “then you can tell me why you didn’t trust me to fight my own battle back in there when we just had the conversation about us being equals out here.”

Din looks back at you. Even in the dark, even with his face still half-obscured, you can see the guilt in his eyes. “Nova, I—”

“I know you were trying to protect me,” you sigh, dropping to the ground, pulling your shawl off your neck so you can press it against the coolness of the building. “I get that. And I’m thankful for it. But I’m not the same girl that needed you to kill every single thing that meant her harm a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Din says, his voice low but clear. “I—you’re right. I didn’t think. I saw that man touch you and I wanted to drop him right there, and I wasn’t paying enough attention to you handling it on your own.”

You smile. “Thank you,” you whisper, and then he’s standing over you, and you stare up at him, glorious and gorgeous even in the low light. “What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how to make it up to you,” Din whispers, and you let him pull you to your feet. “Would you rather be bent over backwards in this alley, or be eaten out for hours back on the ship?” His lips meet your neck, and everything is warm. You sigh, a small moan of a thing, feeling him write apologies with his tongue on your pulse point.

“Is both an option?” you manage, voice all breathy and high, and when he sinks his teeth into you to leave you with a hickey, something flashes in front of your eyes. For a second, you think it’s just the blinding light of pleasure, but when you try to flutter your eyes open, something’s there, obscuring you. A figure in a long, dark robe. Then flashes of light, red and blue, and your own mouth open and screaming, even though you haven’t moved. There’s something so unsettling about watching yourself move, watching yourself strike with light exploding out from around you, unable to warn yourself there’s someone behind you, unable to make yourself run away, and you yell again, except it’s coming from your own mouth instead of the one in the vision.

This breaks you out of it, just a bit, but you can feel yourself start running. Here, in your present day, feet hitting the pavement, even though your head is still in the vision. Whoever is attacking you is ruthless, lethal. The lightsaber you have at your side is no comparison to the evil behind you, and you run and run and run, swinging your arms, trying to use the Force in any desperate way that you can, and then you run into something.

You struggle. Hard. And then your eyes clear, and you can open them, and you see Din in front of you. Immediately, you stop kicking, You can see panic in his eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, pulling you off the ground, wiping away the dirt kicked up in your attempt to get away from whatever that vision was.

“I—” you start, looking around wildly, “I had a premonition. Vision. Dream. Usually, when I have them, I’m in my own body, but I was watching myself this time. It—I’m okay. I’m sorry,” you say, looking back to him, trying to coax your hammering heartbeat back to its resting temperature. “We need to go back to the ship, I need to report this to Wedge—”

“Breathe first,” Din says, eyes darting around before he pulls his own cloak down. You stare at him, register his gentle but firm touch on your forearms, looking into his deep, brown eyes, trying to ground yourself. You nod, exhaling through your mouth, and, finally, you’re back at your baseline. When the two of you start slowly making your way back through the chromatic buildings, trying to find where you parked the skip, you take a few wrong turns and run into a handful of people.

One’s wearing brown, nondescript except for the seedy look on his face. Two are stormtroopers, one who’s pocketing a bag of spice. And the last man is the one you and Din just stomped on back in the cantina. You inhale, trying to step back undetected, but when you move, you feel the white armor of another trooper.

“We didn’t see anything,” you start, and the man who grabbed you in the club steps forward, grin evil and full of black holes from the teeth Din knocked out.

“I didn’t know you were so valuable, sweetheart,” he leers at you, moving forward. Din lunges, but he’s knocked back by the man in brown, and without his armor, he slams into the building, losing his balance. “If I had known you were worth this much money, I would have traded you straight in to the bounty hunters myself.”

“Could have saved a few teeth,” you say, cracking your neck to the side. “Shame you didn’t know beforehand.”

He moves closer to you. He’s gaunt and horrible in the moonlight, and the dried blood on his mouth looks like a gaping wound if you don’t fixate on it. You swallow. “What do you want,” you whisper, low and tired, positing it to the general group. “You want to turn me in? Get money for me? Why’re you after me in the first place?” You clock Din getting to his feet. The man in all brown strikes at him again, and Din dodges it. The troopers just stand there, holding you in place, while the man you attacked grins again, a broken smile full of venom.

“It’s not my place to ask questions,” he says, leering, “only to take you in.”

You sigh, looking up at the troopers holding you. Their uniforms are much more standard, rounded, normal. You can tell by action alone that they aren’t the ones working for whoever the new boss is, but you try it anyway. “How about you guys?” you ask, blowing a puff of air to get your hair out of your face, “why do you want me?”

You can see Din in your peripheral vision. You think he’s hurt, seriously hurt, but when you catch his eye, you know that he’s just faking it until you’re ready to jump into action. He’s righting his wrongs. You have the helm.

“Legend has it,” one says, voice strange through the modulator, “that you have the ability to use the Force. And that you,” he says, pointing at Din, “are the Mandalorian who almost died in the fight against Moff Gideon.”

“So what if we are?” you ask, and the man in front of you steps closer. Maker, he’s the worst. You can feel how hard the troopers are holding you back, so you try to relax, to get one hand free to call the saber into it when you’re ready. “What do you want with us? Why are there bounties on our heads?”

“You,” the man you attacked whispers, coming close enough that you can smell the vile blood on his breath, will be worth something invaluable to the Order.”

“Yeah?” you ask, brining your chin upward, trying to look frightened, to milk them for all the information they have. “What order?”

He grins. “With your power? We’ll use you over and over again, sweetheart.”

You’ve had enough. You sniff, hair in your eyes, and when he bends down to inspect you, you bring your head up, hard, under his chin. He cries out in pain, and you throw the Darksaber over to Din, who ignites it, cuts the man in brown down to the ground. You’re not sure if the severing of his arm was enough, but you dart and pull through the troopers, trying to use your size to your advantage. They tower over you, and even though you aren’t the nimblest or fastest, you’re good at getting on the ground and kicking the shit out of whatever else is above you. You roll and twist, and one trooper grabs you by your neck, the other one taking a crack at your knee. You yell in pain, and you close your eyes, throwing one against the wall, evading the other trooper’s arms.

“Now!” you yell to Din, and you watch as the Darksaber flies, fully ignited, through the air. You catch it like you’re built for it, and you twist around to go back-to-back, you swiping at the man in front of you, Din pulling the blaster off your hip to use on the two troopers.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” the man spits, and you cry out as you slash at him, moving him back against the wall. “Even if you kill us, nothing will change. You want to know what the Order is?”

“I have decided that I don’t care,” you seethe, swiping at his foot. He’s quicker than you are, somehow, and he’s able to predict your movement. He cracks at your hand, and you yell, tossing the saber back over your shoulder to Din, grabbing the blaster out of his outstretched palm.

“It’s going to be even bigger,” he says, grabbing at your neck, and you shoot him in the foot like you should have back in the cantina. Howling, he falls back, but he’s still yelling at you. Behind you, you hear the cries of the troopers, and then silence. Din tosses the saber back, unlit, and you ignite it in your hand. You’re not great at this. You’re making mistakes. But you’re here, fighting your own battles, and you have your weapon against the bastard’s throat, the man you love in waiting behind you to back you up if need be. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

“More thugs?” you ask, pointing the tip of the saber underneath his chin. “I think I can handle that.”

He grins at you, blood spilling out of his slimy lips. “What died didn’t stay dead, little girl,” he whispers, and Din ducks under your outstretched arm to hold your blaster up, firm and strong, looking at the guy with pure hatred. “The Dark Side is coming for you. You’re never going to win.”

“Watch me,” you say, and then Din puts a bullet through his chest. “Fourth condition,” you say, trying to catch your breath, “you don’t let me fall.”

Din stares at you. “Okay,” he starts, and then you feel your consciousness fade back out into a vision, and before you land on the ground, Din’s holding you up. You can see it—the same scene as before—flashes of blue and red light, screaming. You’re on the other side, this time, watching yourself battle against something dark and faceless.

“Go!” you hear yourself scream, reverberating, and the you that you’re watching explodes in light. It’s so bright that you have to turn away. You cry out, and when you turn around, Luke Skywalker is staring you straight in the face. Except he’s not blonde, anymore, he’s old and grey and there’s a haunted look in his eyes. “Go,” he repeats, and presses something into your hand. Your eyes fly back open before you can make sense of it.

You come back like hurtling out of a dream. You gasp, and Din lets you down, gently, onto the ground. “Cyar’ika,” he says, and you can hear how scared his voice is. He pushes your hair out of your eyes, and you stare back at him in the moonlight, trying to get your bearings. “Novalise, what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, honestly, and then you hear a noise from behind you. You duck when the first round of artillery comes. It’s not stormtroopers, at least—it looks like angry villagers, maybe a militia they’ve formed to keep outsiders in check. Din’s hand is clasped in yours and he’s pulling you behind him, throwing the saber through the air until you can catch it in your palm. When you ignite it, you see the people balk, and it’s enough for them to step back to give you both the leeway to run. You have no idea where you’re going. There’s absolutely no indication where you are in the city. Din twists and turns, but the group is gaining speed, and they’re on your heels. They’re yelling, jeering, and the only thing in your head is the voice of the man who touched you, whispering what died didn’t stay dead. You’re cold, but it has nothing to do with the chill of the night.

You’re on the ground before you realize you’ve been shot. You yelp the second it registers, a slug buried in your calf. Din lifts you up and keeps moving, until another gun points at him and sinks one into his shoulder. He yells out, too, and both of you are just moving, running wildly away from your attackers. The second you spot Kicker, you ignite the Darksaber again, slashing at the closest men on your heels. Din ducks in front of you, pulls the blaster out, and keeps shooting as you climb the gangplank and get up the ladder. For a second, a slow, agonizing second, Kicker doesn’t start. And then you hear Din get shot again.

“No!” you cry, scrambling back down the ladder, brandishing the Darksaber. “Get away from him,” you say, voice as level as you can possibly make it. Din is gasping on the gangplank, bleeding profusely out of something on his chest.

The main raises the gun and you use the Darksaber to slice his arm clean off. You gasp at what you’ve done, staring at your hand, trying to reconcile how even your pulse is, how your palm isn’t even shaking. As Kicker bursts into life, you pull Din up the gangplank, scaling the ladder long enough to punch the coordinates of open space into the navigation system, and then sliding back down with a bacta kit to fix whatever’s bleeding.

“Fifth condition,” you say, voice shaking, “you wear your armor no matter how dangerous it is, because you are not allowed to leave me again.”

“Deal,” Din manages, weakly. You wrangle off his shirt. The bullet is lodged in between two of his ribs, but it doesn’t look like he’s nicked a major artery, so you breathe a sigh of relief as you begin to clean the wound. “I’ve already told you, I’ll follow you anywhere—”

“That,” you interrupt, “doesn’t matter if you fucking die on me.”

“Well,” Din starts, hissing the second the alcohol burns into his skin, disinfecting the wound, his stomach contracting. You stare at the pockmarks of all the other scars you’ve patched up. “That’s a—fuck—a good point,” he agrees, finally, and you carefully apply the bacta patch. The second it’s secured, you look around to his other injuries, scanning for anything else life-threatening, and then Din’s pushing himself up on the heels of his hands.

“No,” you protest, “not a good idea—”

“You’re shot,” he reminds you, and your eyes follow his all the way down to the bullet lodged in the muscle of your leg.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, distantly, “I am.” Silently, you assume your regular position—staring over at Din while he works, quiet—and when you feel Kicker shoot safely out of Cantonica’s atmosphere, you breathe a tiny sigh of relief. “Condition six,” you sigh, “is that we keep patching each other up after we’re being shot at.”

“That just seems like common sense,” Din mutters, and when you catch his eyes, he manages a soft smile. “Is that the last condition?” he continues, injecting you with the bacta shot before he bandages the wound, “because that seems like a notable place to end on.”

“I don’t know,” you say, softly, feeling the buzz of the bacta coursing slowly through your veins. Your face stretches into a smile, even though you know it won’t be the last one. But here, now, after you just fought off five men together, before you’re about to rendezvous with the rest of the New Rogue Squadron to try and stop whatever evil is coming, you think you both deserve a safe place to land. “I don’t know if that’ll be the last one. But I’ll tell you,” you sigh, adjusting, pulling him in closer, “after you marry me.”

Din stares at you. “I thought I was supposed to propose again—”

“Beat you to it,” you slur, “marry me, Mandalorian.”

He laughs. A real laugh, a genuine one. Maker, it’s the most glorious sound you’ve ever heard. He bends down to kiss you. He tastes like home. “Okay,” he whispers, tipping his forehead gently against yours. “But there’s something I have to tell you first.”

“Oh, Maker,” you sigh, feeling the bacta about to take its full effect, struggling up on your hands to face him. “Do you have another family that you haven’t told me about?”

“That…depends on what you mean by family,” Din says, slowly. Even through your drugged haze, you feel the weight of it. You sit up straighter, staring at him. “Earlier, you asked why I have the Darksaber.”

“Yeah,” you answer, eyebrows furrowing down the middle.

“Well,” Din continues, sighing, pulling it off of your belt, “I have it because I won it in battle with Gideon. And much to Bo-Katan’s dismay—and mine—apparently, that means it’s mine until someone else wins it from me.”

“I—what?” you ask, trying to shake away the fuzzy feeling, “what are you saying to me?”

“I’m saying,” Din emphasizes, sighing, looking down at the Darksaber in his hand, “that I don’t have a secret family, and I’m never leaving you again, but…”

“What?” you repeat.

“I accidentally became the ruler of Mandalore,” Din admits. “And I don’t know how to get out of it.”

You stare at him, speechless, and then the bacta kicks in and everything fades to black.

*

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as always, reply here or send me a message to be added to the taglist!!!

I HOPED YOU LOVED IT!!!! this chapter spanned over so much, but it was a joy to write. i took a lot of little liberties here and there with fudging the og star wars plot/timeline, but it's all to set up the sequel, and i promise if it seems like it's moving quickly, there's going to be more plot points described in way more depth later on! <3

SOME NOTES:

1. i do not know when SM will be over (i have this last arc to finish up & stuff to introduce for the sequel) but as soon as i know when we're nearing the end, i will let y'all know here & on tiktok (padmeamydala)!

2. yes i am pushing the wedgeluke agenda. they are in love. if you guys are picking up ~vibes~ it's because they're there. wedgeluke romantic subplot because, well, i want to and i love writing about my favorite little fruit luke skywalker & it's been so fun to write my interpretation of wedge!!

3. i've gotten a few comments and messages that are very critical of Nova and the way she's acting. i want her to have depth, and sometimes being a little selfish or not immediately rushing to convey messages to the Alliance when she's dealing with heavy and/or emotional experiences comes along with that! you are, of course, entitled to your opinions on Nova/her characterization/SM in general, and it's more than okay to voice those opinions to me, but please just know that she's written the way she is because she's coming into her own (and the girl has been through the RINGER lol), and she's flawed because i want her to have depth and her own merits, more than just a reader insert character or a love interest, because she's going to have much more of her own personality in the sequel. please just be respectful of me and my work, and please voice whatever you want to say with kindness <3

CHAPTER 28 WILL BE UP SATURDAY, JULY 3RD @ 7:30 PM EST!!!!

xoxo, amelie

[chemist-ana]

Chapter 13 The Morning After— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Vivan and Mason Dalton

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N I know there are a lot of people that do not like Sam Dalton- that being said, this chapter was especially difficult for me to write, because I am trying to give him a redeeming character arc. As a person that is involved with the family business, I can understand to a degree where he is coming from with the guilt and what he chooses some of the decisions he does. BUT please do not forgot that MC is culpable and definitely at fault as well. There are definitely some cringe worthy things in this chapter- but I hope y'all love it! Also a super big thank you for @txemrn for talking me through some of these ideas and for being the queen of angst. Love you p.

Summary: In the cold light of day, will you and Ana be able to face the consequences of your actions?

Word Count: 5800

Tag List:  @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @somersetmummy @melalicious8383 @chrissythadon @shannonwrote @jerzwriter

The sound of my footsteps, my labored breathing, and the early morning traffic are the only sounds in my ears, as I push my legs faster through Central Park. I reach up and wipe at the sweat that is beading on my brow, silently cursing the wretched New York, humid, summer mornings.

I usually run with music blasting in my ears… but I decided this morning to torture myself, and I can’t decide whether its working. The sounds of Ana’s moans echo through my mind, as steady as my heart beats. I see a gorgeous blonde running towards me and I give her a crooked smile as our eyes connect. She just about trips on the pavement before composing herself mid stride and continues past me, avoiding my gaze.

Well that didn’t help.

I push myself harder in the last few hundred yards of my run, and when my building finally comes into view, I slow down to a walk, reaching my arms up to catch my breath.

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton.” The morning doorman greets as he opens the door to the lobby for me.

“Thanks, Felix.” I nod as I breeze past him, waving my keycard at the scanner to my penthouse elevator.

When the door dings open, I hold my breath as I walk quietly through the still living room, everyone is still sleeping. I stop outside of Ana’s door. Resting my hands on her door frame and closing my eyes. I take a deep breath, what the fuck happened last night… I walk into my master bathroom, turning the shower water on cold.

My brain delves into the guilt that is sitting heavy on my shoulders. The guilt that I have for the years I spent fucking off in college instead of setting myself up for my future. The guilt I have for losing Eva. The guilt I have for hiring Ana… And now to add more… the guilt that I have for fucking her last night. What the fuck were you thinking? I tilt my head up into the cold water, letting the shock send a shudder down my spine.

My life has revolved around this family business… watching the countless hours my father has spent building it from nothing into this global conglomerate. The knowledge that one day, this would all be mine. The endless chiding from my father to fit into his mold of what the perfect CEO would be. Married with children. I have truly never been in control of my life… even when I married Eva. I thought she was the one… but now that I have Ana… stop it you fool, you don’t have Ana… she deserves better than your spineless tricks. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am i doing? I reach up and rest my hands on the shower wall, letting my head lull forward.

What the fuck happens next?

***

“Good morning.” I greet the twins and Ana as I round the corner into the kitchen.

“Morning, dad.” The boys look at me with defeated looks, I’m guessing it has something to do with the beige mush in their bowls.

I cast a quick glance at Ana as a blush creeps up her neck.

“Ana? Are you alright?”

She shakes her head slightly before looking at me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about last night.” Her eyes linger on mine.

The all too clear memory of her moans and the feel of her body come flooding back into my mind again, but I quickly shove them away as I stare back at her.

“Yeah! Carter said you went to that fancy party thing with Dad!” My eyes flick to Mason as he sets his spoon down.

“Did you pull any pranks?” Mickey asks with a smile.

“Not this time. Maybe we just needed someone to show us how it’s done.” I look between them.

“I’d rather stay home and eat pizza, thanks!” Mickey’s eyes grow wide as he takes another bite of his mush, god that doesn’t look good at all.

I grab a cup of coffee and turn to walk towards my office.

“Can we talk later?” Ana whispers as she leans in close to me.

My stomach drops and I feel my body stiffen. I don’t spare her a glance before answering. “… Yes. Later.”

Without another word I head to my home office, leaving a stunned Ana behind. I can feel her gaze as I round the corner and close the door quietly behind me.

I don't know what to say to you yet, Ana…

I sit down in my Wegner chair, switching the Tiffany Lamp on. I rub my hands down my face with a sigh. The silence is broken by the ringing of my cell phone, I glance down and my fathers name is flashing on the screen.

“Hey, dad.” I set my phone on my desk and turned it on speaker.

“Sam, things in Italy are not clearing up. I need you there to fix this mess.”

I let out a sharp exhale through my teeth and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“This is pretty short notice.”

“After what happened in Milan, LEMA is having some hesitations as to our abilities to run a company that handles sensitive medical information. I don't think I need to tell you how important this deal is. We need to take care of this ourselves, unless you want me to send Robin?” I can hear the challenge in his voice as my chest constricts.

“How long do you think I will be there?” I ask, avoiding his antagonizing, my mind flashing to the boys… and then to Ana..

“Does it matter, Sam? As long as it takes. I already spoke with Sofia, she is going to go with you. I have some briefs and copies of all the contracts being sent to your office now. You will need to read them all to get caught up. I also scheduled you the jet for tomorrow morning.”

My head falls back as I close my eyes.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, yeah, dad, I heard you. I will be there soon.”

“I’ll be in your office at noon.” He ends the call.

I glance down at my watch, it's already 11.  FUCK.

I look at my office door, time to do whatever needs to be done.

I walk quietly through the penthouse, running over the words in my head. I hear the twins in their room, and I decide to start with them. When I see Ana putting their laundry away, my breath gets caught in my throat. At least you only have to say this once…

“I’m about to go into the office, but I wanted to talk to you first.” I say as I walk into their room.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Ana turns towards me. I move further into the twins room and take a seat on the edge of the lower bunk bed. Mason and Mickey stand in front of me.

“What’s wrong, Dad? You look sad…” Mason’s face drops when he notices my crestfallen expression.

“I’m not… sad. I just know you’re not going to like what I have to say.” I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

“Then you gotta just rip it off. Like a Band-Aid.” Mickey smiles.

“Right, like a Band-Aid.” I keep my eyes fixed on the twins but I can feel the heat from Ana’s gaze. “I have to go to Italy for a business trip… as soon as possible.”

A silence settles over the room as the twins look between themselves..

“What? You’re fleeing the country, just like that?” Ana breaks the palpable silence.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘fleeing’. Dalton Enterprises has been in negotiations for months, and after the Milan breach… well my dad just doesn’t trust anyone else to handle it.”

“What about us?” Mason murmurs sadly.

“Aunt Sofia isn’t staying here, is she?” Mickey's eyes are wide.

“No, she’ll be in Naples with me. But don’t worry, you won’t be alone. You’ll have Ana.” I turn to  face Ana and her gaze is focused on the twins, but I can see the hurt in her emerald eyes.

“Let’s not overreact here. It’s just a flight and some meetings, right? I bet your dad will be back before you know it.” A smile trains on the corners on her lips as she tries to brighten the mood.

I wish that was all…

“Actually… depending on the negotiations, I could be gone a couple months.”

“A couple months?” Mickey shouts.

“But… that’s the rest of summer.”  I look at Mason and see only one thing: disappointment.

“Seriously, Sam? That’s so long! For the boys I mean.” Her eyes fall to the floor.

“My parents were often overseas for months at a time when I was younger. They’ll survive.” I hate the words as they leave my lips.

“But don't you want them to do more than just survive?” She looks up at me in concern.

“I’m trying to not let emotions cloud my judgement here. I don't have a choice in the matter.” I clench my jaw.

“You always have a choice, Sam.” Her eyes hold mine.

I take a deep breath turning my attention back to the twins.

“Can we at least come visit you while you’re gone?” Mason is picking at a piece of string that is fraying from his blanket.

“Of course, buddy. I’m sure we can work something out. In the meantime, why doesn’t Ana take you two out for the day?” I rest my hands on the twins' shoulders. “I’ve got to prepare for my trip, but we’ll have a special dinner tonight before I go. Promise.” I wrap my arms around them and bring them tight to my sides. I wish I didn't have to leave you… someday you will understand. I hope.

I walk out of the twins room, avoiding the heat from Ana’s gaze as she watches me.

***

The words all run together as I sit at my desk and try to read the briefs from Italy. My office door opens and my eyes meet my fathers’s as he strolls in and sits in the leather chair in front of me.

“Did you read all of those?” He asks gruffly, his eyes flicking down to the papers that are strewn across my desk.

I collect all of them into a stack as I avoid his gaze. “I got the jist.”

A silence settles between us and I can feel his eyes trained on me. When I finally raise my gaze, he narrows his eyes and his mouth sets in a thin line. “What’s going on with you, Sam?”

“Nothing, Dad, I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Don’t insult me, I know you better than that. You are distracted, you have been since your mother and I got back from Italy. Have you been drinking too much again?”

I raise my brow at him incredulously. “Dad.”

“Is it that pretty nanny of yours?” He says mockingly.

My eyes fall to the stack of papers.

“Oh, son. Really?”

“No, dad, it-it’s not her.” Boy that wasn't very convincing.

“Yes it is. I know that look.” A long silence stretches and I avoid his gaze. “Remember Pam?”

I meet his eyes.  “Aunt Pam, your old secretary?”

He purses his lips and nods. He takes a deep breath, clearly warring with what he wants to say next. “It only lasted a few months, and your mother knows nothing about this.”

“Wait, you had an affair?”

“It’s not something I am proud of. But let me tell you something. Women like her, and your nanny…” He waves his hand dismissively. “Are only good for one thing, son.” He leans forward in his chair and arches his brow. “And it’s not making you the man that you need to be to run this company.” He leans back, steepling his fingers on his knees. “Now, a woman like Sofia, that is who is going to take you far in life, and bring you where you need to be.”

I’m fucking speechless. I can’t defend my honor, or Ana’s.  Because what if he’s right?

***

My phone dings with a text, Ana.

Ana: Heading back, ETA 20 min

Ana: You need us to pick anything up on our way?

Ana: Or do you have the special dinner all planned out?

Fuck. I’m not getting out of here for at least another hour.

Sam: About that…

Ana: Why am I not surprised? This is becoming your MO.

I clench my jaw.

Sam: What’s that supposed to mean?

Ana: You’re a smart man. Figure it out.

I whisper a quiet fuck and I see Robin’s head snap up.

“Trouble at home?” He asks, as a cocky smile spreads across his face.

I ignore him.

Sam: Ana…

Ana: I’ll take care of dinner for the boys sake. But you’d better come up with an AMAZING apology dessert for them.

Sam: I am sorry to bail on this

Sam: I will bring something home for dessert.

Sam: Okay?

She doesn't respond, and I pinch my eyes closed in frustration.

I turn back to the final pages of the contract with LEMA before sighing and throwing it to the table.

“Find anything?” Robin asks.

“No. And I need to go home. I need to spend what little time I have left in the city with the boys.”

“Go, I will make sure all of this makes it onto the jet tomorrow morning.” Robin leans back in his chair. “You know dad wants me with you tomorrow, right?”

I stop in my tracks and slowly turn to him. “No. I was not aware of that.”

He shrugs his shoulders and crosses his leg over his knee. “Now you do.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, and decide against saying anything else. Can just one thing go my way today? I grab my keys and phone, stuffing them into my pocket. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See ya.” He waves as I walk out of the door.

***

I walk into the foyer with my suitcase, setting it next to the elevator doors just as they ding open and Ana, Mason, and Mickey step out.

“Welcome back. Did you three have fun at the museum?” My eyes are locked on Ana, sadness filling her emerald eyes. My chest constricts as my thoughts are haunted by my fathers confession.

“The museum was alright but dinner was even better! We stopped at a food truck festival on the way home.” Mickey chimes.

“I tried a poke bowl!” Mason is vibrating with excitement.

“Really? Did you like it?” I ask him, surprised.

“It was amazing!” Mason cheered as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“And we got something for you!” Mickey gestures to the bag in Ana’s hands.

“That was thoughtful of you.” I look at Ana as she hands me the bag, not meeting my gaze.

“It was their idea.” She murmurs looking down at the boys.

I look inside of the paper bag, Kung Pao… god it's my favorite. “I love Kung Pao. How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.” Her tone is even and neutral. Distant.

“Right.” I take a breath, clearing my throat and turning back to the boys.

“Why don’t you two wash your hands, then head into the kitchen for your special dessert?” The boy's eyes widened.

“On it!” They race toward the bathroom, leaving Ana and I alone in the hallway. Still avoiding my eyes, she breezes past me into the kitchen. I follow her slowly, watching the soft sway of her hips.

“Ana.” She stops in her tracks and I see her shoulders tense.

“Yes?” She slowly turns towards me.

“Thank you for dinner, for both me and the boys. I shouldn’t have backed out of my promise to have a special meal with them.” My apology comes out even and measured as I watch her carefully.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She says matter of factly, her eyes finally rising to mine. She sighs softly. “And you’re welcome.”

“It really looks delicious.” I set the container on the counter, taking a big bite with a fork. My eyes are trained on hers and I can see her face soften.

“You’ve got a little…” She grabs a napkin, stepping up slowly and reaching up to wipe at my lip.

The smell of jasmine and Ana fill my senses as our breath mixes in the air between us.

“Oh…” I whisper in surprise at the intimate gesture.

“... All better.” She smiles softly up at me, her emerald eyes piercing. An electric charge lingering in the space between us.

The moment is broken when we hear the boys running towards us in the kitchen. She takes a step back, turning away from me.

“Dessert time!” Mickey cheers as he slides into the kitchen.

“What’re we having?” Mason shifts from foot to foot.

“I thought you’d like to make some s’mores…” I know they are your favorite.

“With the mega-big marshmallows?” Mickey’s eyes grow wide. God, I am going to miss these kids…

“Of course.” I match his smile and gesture towards the platter of s’mores supplies laid out on the counter.

“I’ll, uh, leave you three to it.” Ana says softly as she slowly backs out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even had s'mores yet!” Mason turns to Ana.

“I don’t want to intrude on father-son bonding time with your last night together.” She smiles softly at Mason.

“You wouldn’t be intruding.” I say hopefully. Please stay…

“Still… you should have some privacy.” She holds my eyes for a moment longer before turning and walking out of the room. What have I done?

***

I am sitting in the dim lighting of my office. My fingers wrapped around a glass of Eagle Rare Bourbon as I gaze out of the window. My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I bring the tumbler to my lips.  I hear the door open slowly and I glance over to see Ana enter quietly, clicking the door shut behind her.

“I thought I might see you again tonight.” I say as I turn my focus back towards the city lights outside.

“Sam, we need to talk about us.”

I can sense the sadness behind her words.

“Ana…” I sigh as I look at her with regret.

I see her shoulders tense as she balls her hands up into fists at her side. Red hot color rising on her cheeks.

“You owe me this, Sam. Don’t pretend like you don’t.” Anger drips from her every word.

I take a deep breath and give her a small nod, but I have no words. I get lost in my own thoughts again... You’re right… but I have no idea what to say to you. There is nothing I can do about this fucked up situation I put us in… I am so sorry that I dragged you into this mess. I am a selfish man that longs to be with you… but I have no control.

“We had sex last night, Sam.” Her voice cracks.

My chest tightens.

“I haven’t forgotten.” My eyes still trained on the city lights outside.

“It feels like you want to. In fact, it feels like you’re running halfway around the world because of it.”

My breathing gets shallow as she takes a step towards me, the anger rolling off of her in waves.

“You’re a lot of things, Sam, but I never took you for a coward.” Her voice laced with contempt as she stepped in front of me.

My eyes flick to hers as a new emotion bubbles to the surface: anger.

“A coward?” I whisper as I lift to my feet and we stand face-to-face.

“You heard me.” She tips her nose in the air. “You could have walked away last night.”

I can't help the humorless laugh that escapes my lips. How does she not understand that I cannot control myself around her?

“I wish that were true.” It would make my life a whole hell of a lot easier. God help me, I can’t resist you.I reach up and run my fingertips down her cheek, watching her shudder at my touch, but her expression remains guarded and angry.. “I’ve been trying to walk away from you since the moment we met. Yet somehow… I always end up back here.”

She steps back out of my reach, crossing her arms in front of her chest. My eyes scan down the length of her body.

“That’s not good enough, Sam.” Her eyes bore into mine.

God Dammit woman.

“Let’s get one thing straight here, Ana. The timing of this trip may seem suspicious to you, but I don’t want to go. I have to go.” I take a step toward her, narrowing my eyes. “And every time I look at you, it’s a reminder of what I’m leaving behind.”

Her eyes widen as her anger starts to slip. “Really? You aren’t relieved to have an escape?”

“No! This is so much worse.” I take a deep breath, trying to reign in my anger. My urge to control her and have her bare before me is making my cock twitch.  I watch as Ana turns and steps to the window. The war inside of my head battles on before I finally give in. I step up behind her, running my nose along the sensitive skin below her ear before grabbing her hips and pulling her against me. I feel her body melt into mine. She turns to face me, and I place my hands on either side of her head, the cold glass a welcome reprieve from the heat coursing through my veins. I press my desire against her and I watch as her eyes darken.

“Sam, you should fire me now.” She whispers. “Neither one of us has the strength to resist. Stopping cold turkey is the only answer. You go to Italy, conquer the business world, marry Sofia. I’ll move out and find something else. We both walk away, hands clean. Well… as clean as they can be.”

I can see it in her eyes that she doesn’t believe the words she is saying, but it doesn't stop them from stinging my heart.

“My hands aren’t clean, Ana. How can they be, when I think about you every time I touch myself?” My eyes flick down to her plump, pink lips. “Or when I want to murder the next man who touches you?”

“Then what’s the endgame here? What do you want?” She pleads, her eyes shining in the dim light.

“I want you, dammit.” I confess.

She grabs the lapels of my suit and pulls me even closer to her curves,

“Prove it.” She challenges, her eyes dark.

She brings her lips to mine and our lips ignite into a frenzy of heat and frustration. I bring my arms around to her lower back and pull her hips snug to mine. A sudden feeling of regret passes through my mind and I pull back, a question in my eyes.

“Ana…” I warn.

“Don’t think. Just feel.” She purrs as she pushes my jacket off of my shoulders. She runs her fingernails across the back of my neck softly before pulling my lips down to hers again. I grab her hips, spinning her around and pinning her back against the cold glass of the window. She gasps at the sensation as I grab her wrists and pin them over her head. I use my free hand to roam the planes of her curves, her body igniting under my touch.

“Sam...” She moans as her eyes flutter shut.

I find the hem of her shirt and dive underneath, finding the lace of her bra, I run my fingers along the gentle curve of her breasts. Her chest heaving and pushing her perfect body into my eager hands.

“Has it really only been a day since I last touched you like this?” I whisper against her lips. “Already feels like a lifetime ago…”

She arches her back, pressing deeper into me as I let out an involuntary moan. God the things this woman does to me…

“Can you really go the rest of the summer without this?” I can feel her smile against my lips.

“I can’t even go the next five minutes without it.” I admit as my cock hardens uncomfortably in my pants.

I reach down and cup her ass, picking her up and carrying her to my desk. I sweep everything off of my desk and lay her down. Her emerald eyes dark with desire as she watches me remove every article of her clothing, throwing them haphazardly around the room. Her chest rises and falls, and her lips are swollen with our kisses. I kiss each piece of newly exposed flesh, the soft moans coming from her lips a sound of pleasure and surrender.

“God, I want to eat you up…” I say against her hip. She looks down at me and takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’ve gotta earn that privilege.” A challenge in her eyes as she sits up and places her hands on my chest, pushing me away from her. Her nearly naked body glowing in the colored light from the Tiffany Lamp.

“Ana?” I ask.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Sam.” She purrs. “And you know what that means, I’m going to tie you up.”

“Fuck.” I whisper and her words send another surge of heat and desire through me. I watch as she gracefully slides off of the desk, motioning for me to sit down in my chair.

“Wait. Undress first.”  She leans in and skims her fingers across my chest, then tugs lightly on the flap of my shirt. “I don't want to have to deal with this later.”

You naughty, fucking minx.

I quickly strip off my clothes, my eyes never leaving hers as I take a seat in my chair, resting my arms on the armrests. I watch her carefully as she digs through a drawer in my desk, pulling two spare computer cords out. I watch as her steady hands tie my forearms and wrists to the chair. My eyes travel across her barely clothed body and I think of all the things I wish to do to her perfect ass.

She steps back, a look of pride flashing across her eyes.

“Aren’t you a sight?” She smiles as she looks at me hungrily.

“Ana…” I murmur.

I tried to move my arms, but she did a damn good job tying me down.

“This isn’t fair. I want to touch you.”

“Oh… You want to talk about not fair?” She clenches her jaw as she saunters up to me, the movement of her hips accentuated by the delicate fabric. “Everything that’s happened today hasn’t been fair.” Her eyes narrow at me as she leans towards me. She is careful not to touch me but I can feel the electricity crackling between us. Her perfect breasts are right in front of my face and I know she can feel my hot breath against them. “And now you’re being punished for it.”  She stands up and gracefully hops back up onto my desk.

She leans back, spreading her legs wide open, revealing every single perfect inch of her perfect body to me. I watch her fingers slide down her curves until they come to rest between her legs, slipping underneath her panties to rub at her center.

Fuck me.

“Ohmygod…” I moan as my cock hardens more than I even thought possible. The throbbing is almost unbearable as I watch her fingers spread the moisture that is pooling in between her legs. Her head lulls back as moans escape her lips.

“Ohh, YES!” She cries out, her body tensing.

My eyes are trained on her perfect cunt as she worships it with her fingers. My breathing is growing labored as I think about all the things I want to do. Her hips are bucking as she nears her edge.

“Ana, please…. Let me touch you.” I beg, my voice husky. I can’t help but lick my lips as I think about her sweetness.

Her eyes open and her fingers slow as she considers me.

“I don't know… Have you been punished enough yet?” She smiles.

“No… but I can’t make it up to you properly unless you let me touch you. Please.” I am not above begging at this point.

She leans forward, and I watch her untie the cords from my wrists. As soon as I can tell that I am free, I reach up, grabbing her body and hauling it into mine. I bring my lips to hers and kiss her deeply, tasting her, reveling in the feel of our tongues together. I stand up, pressing her back down on the desk and I grab the delicate lace of her panties and push them down her thighs.

“I haven't been able to think about anything else all day…” I whisper against her lips. I can feel her smile. “You drive me to distraction even when you aren’t spread out in front of me…”

“And now?” She asks as she arches her back up off the desk.

I trace a delicate line up her bare legs, slowly teasing my way to her center.

“And now… I can barely control myself. I want to devour you.” I growl.

She leans back and spreads her legs wider.

I stand up and run my eyes slowly over every single piece of her exposed flesh, she blushes that delicious color.

The most beautiful thing I have ever fucking scene.

“Yes… I love seeing you open like this for me.” I murmur as my eyes scan her body over and over again, lingering on her exposed cunt.

I drop to my knees, and lower my mouth between her thighs as I lap up her pooling moisture. I watch as her eyes flutter closed, her eyelashes laying like fans across her cheeks. Her breathing intensities and her moans echo around the room. She calls out my name in ecstasy.

“If you want me to make this up to you properly, then you can’t come yet.” I challenge her. “Can you do that, Ana? Can you hold back until I tell you?” I punctuate my question with a devilish twirl of my tongue and she gasps.

“Yes! Sam… bring it on. I can take whatever you have to give. Don’t hold back.” She is panting and her perfect cunt is dripping for me. Her eyes find mine and I can see the challenge accepted. Good girl.

I trail kisses back to her center, dipping and tasting her pooling wetness. So fucking sweet. Her body shivers as I continue to flick my tongue against her. I reach down and grab my aching cock, running my hand up and down the throbbing shaft.

“Oh god… I’m gonna…” Her body starts to tense and my pumping increases.

“Already? I thought you said you could take it.” I say, my lips moving against her.

I feel her body tremble as she moans.

“Ohmygod, that feels… Sam, don’t stop.”

Never, beautiful. I will never stop doing this to you.

I groan out her name as the pleasure in my body nears the edge, my tongue continuing to flick at her exposed flesh. I call out her name as I find my release and I feel her body tense as she cries out mine. We ride out each other's orgasm, ecstasy blinding me.

Eventually her body sags against the desk, her breathing rapid. I stand up and wrap my arms around her body, bringing her tight to me as our breathing slows.

I untangle myself from her and we both stand and get dressed in a silence that is thick with tension.

The reality of what just happened hits me hard as I watch her button up her silk blouse.

Fuck. Again. No fucking control, Dalton, you total fuck up.

Without a word she moves towards the door, lingering with her hand on the door knob.

“Sam, I-”

“I’m sorry, Ana. I didn't mean to get so carried away. It won’t happen again.” I interrupt her, saying the only thing I can think of at this moment… words I regret as soon as they escape my lips.

I watch as confusion spreads across her face and she gives me a silent nod.

“My flight leaves early. I’ll be gone before you wake up…” I say softly.

“Oh. I see. I guess this is… goodbye.” She looks down at the floor, her fingers playing at the hem of her shirt. She wraps her arms around herself and slowly begins to slip out of the door.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. You deserve so much better than me.”

My words halt her in her tracks. She looks over her shoulder at me, and I see her eyes shining.

“I can decide what I ‘deserve’ for myself.” She walks out of the room without another word, and I am left even more pissed with myself than I was this morning. I sit down at my desk and run my hands through my hair.

She’s right… you are being a coward. I am avoiding this shit storm I created for myself by running away…

I sip another glass of bourbon as I come to the only solution I can think of: postpone my trip to Italy, and even though it will probably bite me in the ass… Ana and the boys have to come with me. My stomach sours at the thought of Robin getting a hand on this before me… but I shove the thought aside.

That's it.

***

I nurse my second cup of coffee as I watch the sunrise through the windows. I hear soft footsteps walking down the hallway and I swallow my nerves. Ana rounds the corner and stops short when she sees me, a glimmer of hope and surprise flashing through her eyes.

“Sam?! What’re you going here? I heard you leave this morning…”

“I did a lot of thinking last night, but I didn’t come to a conclusion in time to cancel my car earlier.” I try to control my excitement.

“What conclusion?” She asks carefully.

“That you were right. I was being a coward and running away from my problems. I sent Robin ahead and postponed my meetings to next week so I could do this right. I’m turning this business trip into a family vacation for all of us.” Her face lit up.

“You mean…” A smile playing on her lips.

“Pack your bags, Ana. You’re coming with me to Italy.”

[twilightprince101]

Hey so for the past few months in the Bugsnax server I'm in I made like... Thirty OC questions for the dudes I hang out with. Some being Bugsnax related and others being absolutely not. And y'all seemed to like my one with the journalist OC questions, so, here ya go! Feel free to answer any amount of these in any order you'd like! (Might also update this in the future as more come out)

The Casual Set

1) What is your OC's favorite memory before Snaktooth? One that they cherish before stuff might've gone downhill?

2) If your OC was forced to fight against someone with about the same skill level as them, how would they fight? Would they win?

3) What's a guilty pleasure that your OC likes to do, but is too embarrassed to admit?

4) If your OC suddenly had no shame in doing what they loved, like all of their embarrassment was suddenly gone, what would be the first thing they do? (i.e., confess to a crush, sing karaoke at the top of their lungs, etc.)

The 1/4's heavy Set

5) What is something/someone that your OC actively hates (preferably outside Snaktooth). Not just “I don’t really like this thing, but something that they actively loathe with as much anger as they can muster.

6) Your OC gains the power to shapeshift into literally anything, real or fictional, what’s the first thing they do?

7) The Grumpus that your OC likes the most suddenly stops talking with them and gives them the cold shoulder. As much as they try to figure out what’s wrong, they won’t say. How do they react?

8) Your OC is on a mountaintop with a sick as hell echo. What do they yell for all below them to hear? (Don’t worry, they won’t know it was you)

The "insomniac mode" set

9) What does your OC do in the first week after Snaktooth? You probably already know where they’re gonna end up, but what do they do immediately after coming back to mainland? Do they hide out somewhere because of their Snakification, if so where? Do they help shelter other grumps?

10) What’s your OC’s favorite game to play? Could be a tabletop game, video game, anything. If you don’t have a good idea, focus on a general genre

11) Your OC suddenly comes across of a clone of themselves while walking through the woods, quick!! What’s their first instinct?! (And possibly what they do after)

12) What does your OC resort to in a time of crisis? Like something really bad is happening to/around them, does something resurface or is there a certain way they act only in this circumstance?

13) Tell is a joke that would get your OC to laugh as hard as they could (also how would they laugh?)

The "Proper Sleep Schedule" Set

14) If your OC had a theme song, what would be the general vibe of it? If you wanna be more specific, what would be the main instrument?

15) All of your OC’s biggest regrets are compiled into a list. What would be the 1st and 3rd biggest regrets?

16) Your OC has ghost powers! They can do anything a ghost can do, like Danny Phantom. How would they use these powers?

17) The person your OC hates the most is locked in a room with them for one hour. They’re told that anything that happens in this room will become null and void when they leave—any evidence erased, any memories wiped (save for their own). What do they do? [Also as tempting as it might be, try avoiding the whole “they hate themselves the most” response]

18) What is a “what if” that your OC thinks about a lot? Like, they imagine their life could've turned out better/worse if they did one thing different?

The Introspection Set

19) Your OC is given the chance to live the life that they truly want. They can immediately hop into the life they so desire, whether it be a world where they haven't made a certain mistake in their past or where the misfortune they had to experience never happened. The only caviat? They need to force the other version of them to trade places. What's the world they envision, and do they take that opportunity?

20) Your OC is suddenly approached by a man in an alleyway. After mumbling something about not asking questions, they dump a duffel bag full of money at their feet and run off, around tens of thousands of dollars. What do they do?

21) About a week later they find a news report detailing the person who stole that money, apparently taking it from some rich corporation. Does this complicate things? In what way?

22) Your OC has been having a reocurring nightmare, haunting them every night and making them wake up in a sweat. What do they dream of?

23) Where exactly does your OC stay in the general layout of Snaxburg? Whether it's their own hut, tent or staying with other peeps, where are they on this map?

The "Idle Thoughts" Set

24) What was a moment when your OC's got so excited and happy about something (before/during Snaktooth) that they could NOT contain themselves anymore? Like they just start squealing and waving their arms or something like that?

25) Your OC now has the power of lucid dreaming, they can conjure literally anything they want and do it while sleeping! What do they do?

26) The grumpus your OC has a crush on/likes the most suddenly walks up, kisses them on the cheek and books it. How do they react?

27) Your OC wakes up one day in their hometown and literally everyone is gone. No bodies, no traces of blood, just, vanished. What do they do? (after looking around of course)

28) Is there an idol/role model that your OC looks up to? (before/during Snaktooth). How do they try to take after them?

29) If your character was in an anime or something what sort of main weapon/power would they have?

[professional-benaddict]

i'm so excited for drug raid pt 2!

part one here!! eeee took forever before I got around to part two bUt here it is!! I hope y'all like it xx

Cop Tony, paramedic Stephen, 18+ Little Peter, Littles are known verse, police raids, drug dealing, illegal drug use, referenced forced drug use, referenced kidnapping, past abuse, withdrawal, hospitalisation, whump, angst, comfort, 1.5k

The next day, Tony waltzes into the hospital with a latte in his hand. Still riding the high of the raid from the night before, the cop feels at the top of his game. He and the rest of the department have the upper hand. The evidence and statements keep pouring in, and it’s all in their favour, which means not so much in the drug dealers’ favour. It’s their third successful raid in just two months, and yet this feels different. The stakes feel higher, and Tony feels like he should be here taking the Little’s statement. He was the one who found him after all, abused and forcefully drugged at the hands of the drug dealers, and on top of it all he was manhandled by an overly excited SWAT guy. Perhaps the SWAT guy had an aggression problem. He wouldn’t be the first. 

Tony’s intentions feel more pure than that of the SWAT guys, at least to him, and he likes to think that that was why Fury let him come take the Little’s statement out of all the other officers. To be honest, he likes the kid. He’s intrigued, and not just professionally. Tony doesn’t exactly know what it is, but he’s giddy while waiting in line at the reception to find where his informant is. 

“You can just go wait in the car if you want, honey bear.” Tony teases to Rhodey, who’s with him at the hospital. They are partners after all, and they go everywhere together. Well, maybe not everywhere since Rhodey actually takes him up on the offer, muttering something about his overly sensitive nose and the antiseptic smell of the hospital being a perfect mix for a headache. Tony waves him off and tells him to get out of there before he gets cranky. 

The receptionist is not able to tell Tony exactly where Peter is, but directs him to the neurological wing where they can show him where the Little is. So, Tony heads up and tosses his empty latte cup on his way there. After some more waiting and flashing of his badge, Tony is escorted by a nurse to see Peter. 

“He’s going through withdrawal, and quite badly too. Don’t stress him out, okay? You can always come back another time.” The nurse informs while they walk through some automatic and lockable doors. 

“How long is he gonna be here?” 

“Till the withdrawal wears off, but the doctor is planning on having him on psych hold when the withdrawal is over. The Little’s handle it the worst, you know? He’s having awful nightmares and suicidal thoughts already. Poor babe…” The nurse adds sadly. 

“Yeah…” Tony agrees quietly and steps a bit to the side to let a transporter pushing an empty bed pass them in the hallway. A bit further down the eggshell coloured hallway, the nurse stops and gestures to a door. 

“I’ll just head in first and see how he is.” The nurse smiles and slips through the door, leaving Tony to wait in the hallway alone. 

The cop resists the urge to look through the window in the door. Just what kind of shape is Peter in? Last time Tony saw him he was unconscious after a seizure. It’s almost unheard of that Littles take drugs, precisely because they can hardly handle it. Their vulnerable bodies cave in at the smallest doses, while a caregiver like Tony could take triple the dose and still get up the next morning. And that is why Littles are never legally punished for drug possession, and instead they are put into treatment to get rehabbed. Some might say that is the same as prison, if you think about the principals of each setting. Limited freedom. And yet there’s a major difference. Tony isn’t here to arrest Peter, only talk to him. 

A few moments later, when Tony is about to give in and peak in through the window, the nurse exists again and invites the cop in. The hospital room is quite sad, actually. There’s signs of attempts to make it Little-friendly, but the poorly drawn and creepy cartoon dinosaur has the opposite effect that what was probably intended. The hospital bed is Little proof though, with side rails going all around the bed to keep the patient safe. And Peter does look safe, but also absolutely terrible. 

The big, brown eyes go wide when he lays his eyes on Tony, and the cop stays back a bit. The nurse comes forward then and guides Peter to lay back again when he tries to get up. The boy’s movements are clumsy and shaky. Tony guesses he is experiencing muscle aches and fatigue. 

“No, no- I don’t- I didn’t…” Peter stutters and looks pleadingly at the nurse. The cop tries to ignore the feeling of being assigned ‘the bad guy’ role, even though he has not said a word yet. He wouldn’t be surprised if the drug dealers brainwashed the boy to never trust cops, or anyone else outside their gag for that matter. Just another manipulation tactic to keep him in check. As if forcefully drugging him isn’t enough. 

“Shhh, honey bee. The police office is just going to speak to you. It’s all right.” The nurse coos. 

“I didn’t wan’ to do it. They forced me, please…”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. That’s what the officer is here to talk to you about. Just tell the truth and everything will work out, okay? You can push the button anytime and Amanda or one of the other nurses will come, okay?” 

And with that the nurse takes her leave, but not before whispering to Tony to take it easy. The officer nods and thanks her, then turns to the boy on the bed. 

He looks absolutely terrible, that much is obvious. It looks like Peter is hollow inside, and that his skin is just a facade made of the thinest paper. It the wind where to blow, it might just take Peter along with it. But, Tony knows he is not all hollow inside. The boy’s eyes are pained, and it looks like he is aching to tell his truth, to get everything that is inside out into the world and to someone who can do something. Something to save him. And Tony wants to do precisely that, and so he sits on the chair next to the bed with a soft smile. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi…” 

“I’m Officer Stark, but you can call me Tony.” The officer starts. “You’re Peter. What’s your full name?” 

“Benjamin Parker. Peter Benjamin Parker.” 

“Benjamin, huh? That’s cute.” 

“Is’ after my uncle.”

“Is he around?” 

“Dead.” The Little deadpans, fiddling with the hospital blanket. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tony says sincerely. “Do you have any other family around? Someone we could call?” 

“No- uhm, they all dead. But, Beck took me in.” 

“Quentin Beck? Right.” Tony sighs a bit. Quentin Beck, as in the Beck who is now in custody at the station. They are still putting together the bigger picture and hierarchy of the gang at the station, but it seems like Beck is in the middle there somewhere. And it seems like Peter is very much in the middle of it all too. “Tell me what happened, from the beginning.” 

Peter talks for over half an hour. The boy is so detailed in his descriptions, like he has a photographic memory, that Tony barely has to ask follow up questions, and instead listens as carefully as he can while noting down some key words in his notepad. Sometimes, the boy has to pause to catch his breath or stop himself from crying, but by the end of it the tears finally spill over when Peter starts describing how Beck and the others would drug him against his will. At one point, the boy’s crying is so pained that Tony reaches out to hold his hand. Peter clutches back, like Tony is his anchor in the storm that is his emotional and psychological turmoil. The Little definitely needs to be on psych hold. 

In the middle of Peter’s cry, a nurse knocks on the door and enters with a concerned look. She must have been altered due to Peter’s heart rate picking up due to the crying. 

“Is everything all right here?” The nurse asks, giving Tony a look. The officer feels like she is accusing him of going too hard on the Little. Once again the bad guy. 

“Is- is okay, Amanda…” Peter hiccups and dries his tears bravely. He forces a smile at the nurse when she comes over to check on him. 

“Okay, sweetheart, but I think this is enough for today. You need to rest.” Amanda orders kindly, and once again she gives Tony a look. Getting the implied message, Tony rises from his seat and tucks his notepad, now his very precious notepad, into his jacket. 

“I’ll come back another time, then.” The officer says. 

And Tony does exactly that. 

tag list: @petersmocha @garcia-reid-lovechild @stressedboyinprogess @ikneelbeforemygod @sugar-and-spice-parker @robynofthestars @pastel-parker-bitch @tightaroundthewebshooter @puppypeter @carttorchdeatth @starkerplusstrange @starkermoodboards @smits-stuff @honeybunstarker @xsmallplum @everyonelovespetey @ihonestlydontevenknow @baly0110 @velvetjoker @starkerparkerstark @allaboutthatshowmanlife @itsrachael @holographic-starker @bisexual-spiderling @liesversusjoy @littlespaceofyaoi @spanglesandstars @avengerscollection @bennywantstogotosleep @goldenmogar @justanotherfandomthot

[tammythompson-singslikea-muppet]

Betrayal (Stan Uris x reader x Richie Tozier Reddie)

Soooo I wrote this a long time ago and put a lot of work into it but then didn’t end up being super happy about the ending and the fandom slowly dying so I never posted it. Revisiting the story and re-writing a few things I have decided to post it so ENJOY!! I couldn’t really come up with a better name if you have any suggestion I would gladly take them.

Warnings: swearing, some sexual references and mentions of sex

aged up 18/19

Bold = flashbacks 

Part 2

You walked into the dinner on a slightly sunny morning in July. It had started to get warmer in Derry but since it was still early in the day the temp was barely out of the seventies. You sat down next to a familiar mop of perfect curls at the bar,

 "I could kill a man for a coffee right about now."

 "Is that so." The boy responded sipping his coffee from his mug. You both let out a laugh. The same waitress as always came over and immediately poured you a cup of coffee without even having to ask.

 "Thanks, Josie." You picked up two packets of sugar and dumped them into your coffee along with a little bit of creamer. After taking a sip the boy looked over to you with a small smile, 

"I guess I shall live another day".

 "Lucky you."

A moan escaped your lips as you were pushed against the wall of the bathroom, basically swallowing each other's tounges. One hand was tangled in the beautiful mess of curls the other rests on his bicep which leads down to his hand at your hip, the other at the back of your neck. Heavy and passionate were two things someone from the outside might call it but you could only feel need. The door open and closed before a voice rang out,

 "I guess you're taking the break up with Richie pretty well then?" Beverly continued over to a stall. You and Stan pulled away from each other, the Uris boy quickly making his way for the door. When he opened it he was met with an older lady and immediately apologized, squeezing his way past her. A blush very noticeable on his cheeks. She walks in and glances over to you "Wrong door" You shrugged. She shook her head knowing better and went into a stall. Beverly walked out and just laughed at you. Failing to conceal a laugh you brought a hand to your mouth. Beverly washed her hands and you both exited the bathroom and walked towards the counter. "Stan took care of it all" Josie smiled. You pulled out your wallet and handed her an extra tip anyway. She smiled and thanked you. 

"Did you walk here?" You asked Beverly as you left the dinner.

 "No Bill dropped me off." She motioned over to Bill sitting in his car, it seems Stan found it first and was leaning against the car talking to Bill. 

"No Haystack today?" 

"He's still sick," She scrunched up her nose in disgust."-But he's getting better." When you looked up at the car you could see someone sitting in the backseat. Suddenly it was like you were fighting with yourself to turn around every step that you took. Beverly looked over to you and mouthed sorry. You told them that you didn't want people taking sides, and you were glad that they didn't. But that doesn't mean it hurt any less to see someone you used to be so close with, and not even have it in you to say hello. Beverly grabbed something from the front seat before joining you by Stan, who was conversating with Bill and the boy in the back seat. You didn't even want to say his name let alone look at him so you just stared at the ground.

 "Bye Bill, see ya, Eddie." You almost winced at his name. As you, Stan, and Beverly walked over to your car you could feel Stan about to apologize. He could barely get out the word 'I'm' before you pointed a finger up at him.

 "I said no apologizing," he sighed and sat down in the passenger's seat," I said no picking sides, and I meant it you do not need to apologize for talking to one of your friends." 

"But I feel b-," 

"I told you not to feel bad either." You looked over at him and showed him a smile. "Now be my DJ, we're going over to Mike's." Stan gladly turned on the radio as Bev in the back groaned, 

"But his music taste sucks,(Y/N)!" you laughed and pulled out of the parking lot.

                                               *          *            *

Mike welcomed the three of you with a smile and directed you towards the living room. Beverly walked up to Mike as you and Stan trailed behind. You could see her whispering into his ear. Being curious as to what was short-lived once Mike turned to you and Stanley.  

"So what have you two been up to today besides playing tonsil hockey in public restrooms?" 

"Subtle. very subtle." You glared between the pair on the couch. Stan looked around the room trying to avoid the question, and you just ignored it entirely. "How's your truck coming along?" 

"Yeah did you get that part Bill said you needed?" Stan butted in. Not even looking at her you could feel Beverly rolling her eyes.  Mike just laughed at your change of subject. 

"Yeah, I just ordered it this morning. Hopefully, it will be the only part I have to order and I'll be driving you losers around in no time."  The four of you spent most of the afternoon talking about a little party you guys are throwing for Ben over here at the farm. He had been gone the most June, out visiting family, and when he came back y'all did a welcome home movie night but he got really sick. So now it was your idea to just throw a whole dang party cuz why not, the kid deserves it. Although the only thing that really makes it a party is decorations. Seeing as it'll just be the eight of you as always goofing around. 

 "I think the final question is," Mike turned around to look at you. "Are you gonna be ok with Richie and Eddie here?" 

You didn't want to answer this question. Everything seemed so different the last time you were all together. It was actually that same night, that Ben came home when you caught them. You haven't spoken to or even seen Richie since that night. Although you still weren't very keen on the idea of seeing them, you weren't even sure how it was all gonna go with your dramatic little ass, but you were gonna face it for Ben. And s' mores.

 "I guess we'll see how it goes." Stan smiled at you, completely unconvinced that this wasn't going to turn into some sort of emotional disaster for you. 

"Have you talked to him at all?" Mike asked. You looked down at your feet causing Mike to put a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

"It sucks, I know. But, next to Bev respectively, you're the toughest girl I've ever met, and Richie is gonna feel like complete and udder shit for at least a month, maybe two, but that doesn't mean that you have to. We're gonna have loads of fun and you're totally gonna forget what a shitty week you've been having." A grateful smile graced your features, 

"Thanks, Mikey." Mike looked over to Stan who was talking with Beverly and leaned in closer to you. "So what's going on with you and Stan?" Mike has been very speculative over what has been going on with you and Stanley. The two of you were in vulnerable states, both going through difficult breakups. Mike didn't want to see his friends in any more hurt than they already were, which made him highly skeptical of your and Stan's, a bit, lusty escapades.

The question through you off a bit. The thing is you hadn't really thought of much about what you and Stan were doing. Neither of you treated it very seriously and were just trying to find someone to dull the pain. It wasn't a very healthy coping mechanism and both you knew that, but anyway threw caution to the wind. For once in his life, Stanley felt out of his head. He wasn't overthinking anything, because it just felt good. And at the moment that's all he really wanted to feel, same as you. Neither of you ever stopped to think that maybe it felt a little too good. So instead of hashing out all the pain and misery the both you just though it easier to get a little horny. You've never actually slept together, but you don't think the rest of the losers believe that. The other day you were at Mr. Keene's store with Bill picking up a few things and he proceeded to throw a pregnancy test at you and said

  "Here I-I'll call Stan and tell him thu-thu-the news" You started at him shocked for a second then threw it back at him. 

"Hardy har har, you want me to track down someone who's ACTUALLY pregnant then leave the test in your mother's bathroom? Hmm, I bet that would lead to an interesting conversation now wouldn't it Mr. Denbrough." You spatted out quickly and both erupted in laughter, then Bill motioned over to Greta sitting behind the prescription pick up counter. After that, you were turning heads with all the noise and loud laughter being made.

"Umm, I don't know. It's just a bit of tension release I guess. Something easy and simple between friends." The words came out of your mouth quickly wanting to move away from the subject. That seemed to be your new hobby, avoiding subjects. You could tell that Mike wasn't trying to pry. He was just worried about the whole thing. You were gonna reassure him that everything would be fine, but for one: You didn't know that and for two: The house phone started ringing. You nodded your head towards the phone and Mike went to take of it.

"This conversation isn't over."

 "Uh-huh," 

Stan walked over to you. "What's the conversation about?" Stan questioned. You sighed

 "Nothing. Just about us." At that moment Stan turned his head down towards your's then immediately stopped what he was doing. The next thing that was about to happen - that Stan stopped from happening - was something that told Stan that this whole thing was gonna come back to bite him in the ass. And that maybe Mike has a point being worried about you two. 

See the thing is, Stan is not a very affectionate person to someone other than who he is in a relationship with. When you are just a friend occasional hugs and a hand on a shoulder are about as touchy-feaey as Stan would get, unless it's movie night then he'll end up resting his head on someone's shoulder. If another loser was standing right beside you sensing your unease and possibly slight confusion, that Stan was sensing, it would be a totally normal Ben thing to just put a hand on your four-arm rubbing gently. And it would be a totally normal thing for Bill to lean down and press a gentle friendly kiss on the top of your head, of course not without a sly remark from Richie. 'But that's over now.' Stan thought to himself. But a thing like that, an innocent little kiss on the top of the head to comfort a friend was not a very Stanley thing to do. Yet there he stood looking slightly down, not being much over a head taller than yourself, having to stop and think to himself about what the heck he was doing. Because that was exactly what he was about to do, press a kiss to the top of your head. 'It's just an innocent kiss! That didn't even happen! Don't you dare overthink this Stan!! Don't ruin yet another good thing with stupid fucking overthinking!!' While yelling at himself in his head his gaze had never left the top of yours. Suddenly his eyes were no longer looking at your head but rather into your eyes. You had leaned your head up to notice that Stan was staring at you. 'Shit! Shit! Shit!' There goes Stan again yelling in his head.

 "Whatcha thinking about Mr. Boy Scout?" In what felt like years to him, Stan finally blinked, swallowed, then answered, 

"Nothing." And with that and much to Stan's luck, Mike walked back into the room.

 "Was just a telemarketer- anyway what are we talking about?" 

 "Absolutely nothing," Beverly smirked at you and Stan. The awkward silence didn't last long when Beverly spoke again. 

 "Uh, I have to drop off something at Richie's" 

"Count me out." The eye roll and tone in Stan's voice hurt you more then you expected. Another totally unexpected feeling was that you suddenly felt bad for Richie. He and Stan had been friends for ages.  It was this exact thing that you didn't want happening when you told everybody not to pick sides. And now you are standing right next Stan listening to the disdain in his voice when Bev mentioned Richie and it almost made you feel sick. 'Girl! Get your shit together! The last person you should feel bad for is Richie fucking Tozier! You lost a best friend because of him, its only fair he looses one too!' your mind screamed at you.’ But that still didn't get rid of that feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

The rest of them have been doing pretty alright with it, according to Bill, Bev has been a little snippy to them, but apologizes. Bill says he's Switzerland and honestly you're thankful for that but it must suck for him the most because of it. He tells Bev that he tries hard not to be mad at them, but he also feels like in doing so it's an injustice to you, so he really just tries to split his time with you guys down the middle. Mike is the true neutral out of them, he really doesn't like the confrontation but has admitted to wanting to punch them both in the teeth at least once. Ben says he is really upset at them and has been telling you that he's only not talking to them that much because he's sick and he hasn't been talking to anyone that much that isn't Bev. But you also once overheard Bill tell Stan that he hasn't even spoken a word to Eddie, on account of the fact that he was the one who introduced you and Richie and that just really struck a chord with him. You brought it up to him once but he faked a coughing fit to avoid it then changed the subject. He and Stan are the only two who have made an effort to avoid or not talk to Richie or Eddie, but as much as you tell them you just want everybody to get along and you don't want anyone else getting hurt you can't exactly control people.

                          *time skip to party*

"Eduardo, àndale, let's go!" You yell to Eddie in the car as you and Richie walk up to Bill's door. You were so excited to see Ben and were always happy to hang out with all the losers. Eddie gets out of the car as Richie opens the door,

 "Billiam, the threesome have arrived!!" You and Richie walk in hand-in-hand Eddie in short distance 

"Quit calling us that, Rich! It's fucking gross!!" Eddie shouted from the doorway, closing the door behind him. You walk into the living room to find Ben. Like always he's sitting next to Beverly on the couch so you venture over there 

"HANDSOME HANSCOM!!! WELCOME HOME!!" He blushes at your nickname and gives you a smile.

 "Thanks, (Y\N)" It felt nice to have Ben back with all of the losers. The bunch of you asked Ben questions about his trip and messed around for about an hour, before deciding to put in the movie. They all look at you and as you were leaning on Richie's shoulder. 

"What?" 

"The movie?" Stan questioned.

 "Oh right! It's in my car I'll be right back." 

You walked out to the car and sat down in the front seat grabbing the movie out of the glove compartment. You open the door to your car as Stan gets out on the other side. Standing in front of the car, preparing to go in, your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you see Eddie's car. Your mouth goes dry and you feel like you just want to crawl back into the car and drive home. Stan walks over to you and puts an arm around your shoulder. Suddenly he feels the same way, letting himself be affectionate like this. But when he looks down at you and sees the look on your face he throws all that aside. Stan squeezes you into his side rubbing his hand up and down your forearm. You take a deep breath and lean into him. Stan feels his heart flutter as he sees and can almost feel you finding comfort in him.  You turn your head to look up to him. You would've felt the same flutter had your mind, heart, and stomach not be so focused on your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend.

 "It's gonna be alright. Right?" You ask, the smallness in your voice pained Stan. His nervousness was gone now, replaced with anger. Not enough to present on his face, but enough for him to hear your voice ring in his ears when he sees Eddie on Richie's lap when the two eventually get inside. 

"Yeah. Yeah, it's gonna be fine. I promise." He unwraps his arm from and holds out his hand, palm up. 

"You won't start shit with Richie or Eddie?" You said lacing your hand into Stan's, the pair of them dropping down to your sides as you start for the door. Stan gives you a smile and nods 

"Promise." 

You opened the door and entered the house again, this time with the movie. You handed it over to Bill then sat down on the couch next to Ben, on his other side was Beverly at the end of the couch. Mike sat down on the other side of you at the other end of the couch, Stan was sitting over in the recliner beside the couch on Bev's side. Eddie and Richie were on popcorn duty so they were in the kitchen. Far away enough from the loser's sight Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist while he stood in front of the microwave waiting for the popcorn. 

"Stop, Rich, they're gonna see us."

 A muffled "No they're not," came from Richie who was now snuggling his head into Eddie's neck. Eddie looked around nervously for a second. When he saw no one present he relaxed into Richie and leaned his head up against the boy's who's was in his neck. The microwave dinged and Eddie jumped. Richie laughed and let go of Eddie getting a bowl from the cabinet,

 "Scared of a microwave Eds?" Eddie dumped the popcorn into the bowl handing back to Richie,

 "Take this dickwad. And don't call me Eds!" The rest of the losers heard their usual bickering as they entered back into Bill's living room. You gave a smile to Richie and he sat down on the floor at your feet. He handed Beverly the popcorn then grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders, leaning his head back. You laughed and your hands went to play with his beautiful, although messy curls.

"Stop! I worked really hard on these curls!" Stan smacked away your hand as Mike opened the door.

 "I just can't!! I'm a sucker for the curls." You whined. Mike laughed, smiling at his friends,

 "Come on Bev is trying to teach us yo-yo tricks." Stan let out a laugh. As you walk into the living room Bill is in front of the couch with one of Ben's yo-yo's failing to do a trick Bev is doing right next to him with ease.

 "You'll get it someday Denbrough." 

"H-h-how about you try it huh?" Bill sassed you, his eyebrows furrowed together, mouth in a pout. You couldn't help but chuckle at his frustration, which could mirror the frustration of a little boy or a toddler even. Your eyes move over to Ben and a smile grows big on your face as you pull Stan over to where Ben is patting the cushion next to him. As you sit down next to Ben your eyes wander toward the back of the room in reaction to your ears hearing laughter. You, obviously, didn't know Stan's eyes were following until you felt his person stiffen like a board 'It's gonna be alright. Right?' the look that you gave him and the tone in your voice haunting his brain, reminding himself to keep a lid on it. There they were right before you, Eddie sitting comfortably in Richie's lap, his legs hanging over the arm of the chair. Richie's arms holding him there securely. They were laughing at Bev doing funny tricks with her yo-yo behind Bill so he wouldn't see, still determined to get the trick right. You hadn't noticed you were staring until suddenly Eddie's eyes were staring right back into yours. Everyone else seemed to notice as a silence fell over the room. Mike coughed and you snapped your eyes down to the floor. 

"So are we gonna play a game or something?" Stan asked, putting a hand at the small of your back rubbing lightly. Ben saw out of the corner of his eye. He saw how your shoulders dropped as your body visibly relaxed. You had noticed it yourself. Ben looked over at Beverly and when she noticed he started quickly shifting his eye back from her to you and Stan. Bev gave him an 'I told you so' look. 

"Yeah, we got games in the closet who wants to play Clue?" 

"Yes!!" You yelled. You and Bill high-fived. 

Stan winced and rubbed his ear "Ow! That was my ear!" 

When Richie finally got the guts to look over in your direction he wasn't expecting to see your hand caringly rest itself on the side of Stan's head 

"Sorry" He heard you say with a soft laugh. One that he knew all too well. A little sign of embarrassment, but not too much that you would go shy. He could also hear the soft sympathy in your voice. He noticed something about it. Not that it was different. No, it wasn't different at all. That was the thing though; your tone wasn't even the slightest bit different from the way Richie remembers your voice sounding. Not when talking to anyone else, but when talking to him specifically. What he heard in your voice was what he had always heard in your voice whenever you would look at him with those eyes full of love and caring. 'But why would you have that tone in your voice talking to Stan,' Richie had wondered to himself. Then he saw Stanley's hand. Up at his ear when you had shouted, drop down to the small of your back. His eyes glued to Stanley Uris' thumb, as he rubbed it against the small of your back in a soothingly intimate way. It made an emotion surge throughout Richie. He didn't quite know what it was but he knew that he didn't like it. 

You were searching around a bit for Richie, confused when you couldn't find him anywhere downstairs. When the movie had finished up Ben didn't feel so good so Beverly took him home. You had gone along for the ride to get some more drinks for the rest of you. When you got back to Bill's, Richie was nowhere to be seen. When you first walked into the house you went to the kitchen with Bill to put away the soda's grabbing one for you and Bev. Going back to the living room you noticed it was only Bev and Mike. 'Geez, where'd everybody go?' You thought to your self. You looked over your shoulder to find Bill headed your way. You turned around and noticed Stan on the stairs face scrunched in frustration on the phone. 'Poor thing' You assumed he was on the phone with Patty, the two of them haven't been along too well recently. You turn back around, 

"Hey, Mike, you seen Richie or Eds?" He shook his head. 

"Richie I don't know, but I thought Eddie was talking to Stan over there." You gave him a small smile and muttered thanks before you went over to Stan. You felt bad disturbing him on the phone but he seemed almost relieved to get out of the conversation. You stuck your hand between the banisters on the stairs and tapped a finger on Stan's knee.

"Hey, have you seen Richie?" You hesitantly ask Bev. 

"He's over there by the stairs with Mike." She smiled reassuringly at you and put a hand on your shoulder. Richie saw you approach the two of them and put his head down expecting you to be there to talk to Mike. But when Mike walked away he looked up surprised.

"Hey, Rich." An awkward feeling settled in the air. 

"Hi" a hint of optimism in his voice. Richie felt relieved that you were actually talking to him, although you weren't all too thrilled about it, you wanted to get it over with. Maybe help things get back to normal. 

"Uh, thanks for letting me and Eds come to the party. I know you, Beverly and Mike planned it so, thanks." A pretty genuine smile mixed with a little unsettlement, not knowing what you were gonna do or say. 

"Well they're your friends too, and the party is for Ben anyway so." Your voice was small and fragile. Richie's felt his body relax. He didn't know if it was because the sound of your voice made me feel like the worst person in the world or because he was relieved that you weren't yelling at him. He supposed it was a little bit of both. 

"I'm surprised they all still talk to me." Upon hearing that, you immediately thought of what you overheard Bill say about Ben not talking to Eddie. 

"I truly don't think they would have cut you off forever, I mean they were your friends before they were mine-" 

"Yeah but your more likable" You chuckled and Richie smiled, 

"The truth is they had talked to me about it and I told them I didn't want anyone taking sides. But still, I think only maybe, Ben and Bev would have given you a real silent treatment. I'm sorry that Stan kinda has." 

"No, No you have nothing to be sorry for. It's all on me. But thank you. For asking them not to pick sides. It means a lot." The hallway fell silent again. 

"I don't want you to get offended or anything, I truly don't mean anything by this,-" Richie was now being overly cautious with his words, he really didn't want to hurt you more than he already has. "I was just a little surprised when Stan cut me off as he did. You two never really seemed that close, now he's practically glued to your hip." 

Richie's tone fell more toward anger as reached the end of his sentence, his mind thinking back to Stanley's hand on your back. A part of him added that in just to hear your answer. Had you already moved on? Is that why you were talking to him because you had moved on to Stan? Why did this upset him so much? When you answered with a little, 

"Yeah, honestly me too." Richie felt not just his confusion grow but also his anger.

This wasn't like Stan. If Stan would have wanted to be in a relationship with you he would have told you. 'Well maybe she just doesn't want to tell you?' 'No.' He thought 'That couldn't be it, she sounds just as confused as I do. What was Stan getting at with her?' Richie was snapped back into reality when Eddie came bounding down the stairs loud as usual, shouting, 

"Mike you're out of band-aids! You should put that on a list or something, do you know how infected cuts can get without the proper bandage or ointment?!" Richie laughed and smiled at Eddie. 

"Do you even need a band-aid?" Beverly asked amused by Eddie's usual antics.

"Well, no but still!" Eddie saw you and froze, but when he saw that you were laughing a bit he relaxed.

He had been extremely nervous to come to the party. It would be the first time all eight of you would be hanging out since you had caught him and Richie. Not to mention it was a party for Ben, and Ben hadn't even talked to him since Beverly told him what happened. Eddie couldn't even count how many times he had asked Richie if it would just be better if they stayed home together. But every single time Richie would reassure him that everything would be fine, even though he was asking himself the same damn question. Eddie was practically shaking about seeing you again. He felt so guilty about going behind your back with Richie, but he couldn't help himself. He had spent all that time in pain thinking Richie didn't love him back, so when Richie actually told him that he was in love with him. It was all Eddie could think about. All the voices in his head telling him how selfish he was being, were tearing at him, but they were pushed aside. He was so tired of longing for Richie on the sidelines. He deserved happiness too. Eddie Kaspbrak was not proud in any way of how he got it, but the happiness he felt when being with Richie was something otherworldly to him. How could he let it go? How could he let something so precious and important to him, something he wanted for so long, slip through his fingers?

"Well hey, me and (Y\N) could g-g-go over to Muh-mister Keene's." Bill threw a wink in your direction 

"I swear to god you throw one more fucking pregnancy test at me, Denbrough!"

Stan shouted, "What?" as the rest of you laughed. You had walked away as Richie's laughter died down when his mind had put two and two together. Richie then put his arm around Eddie and pressed a kiss to his head to try and calm himself down. 'I can't fucking believe he would do this to her!' 

You laughed with the rest of them and sat back down next to Stan who was looking more confused by the second. You explained what happened at Mr.Keene's to him. All of you laugh even more when you bring up framing Bill for knocking someone up. Stan leaned over and whispered in your ear 

"You did tell him we aren't actually sleeping with each other right?" You leaned over to his ear 

"Of course I did. He just doesn't believe me." You both shake your heads laughing 

"Bev and Ben didn't believe me when I told them either." 

"Yeah, I don't think Mike does either, but honestly it's not like we would really believe them if it was the other way around or something." Stan laughed,

 "I might believe Mike, but the others, probably not" 

"And what are you two whispering about?" Bev wiggled her eyebrows. 

"'Oh Stanley I love the way you cuddle up to me in the middle of the night!! You're such a good lover and such a strong man!!'" Bill squealed out in a girly voice. 

"What the fuck!!" You shouted in between fits of laughter. The whole room was in hysterics as Bill threw his arms around Mike. Richie stood by the entrance of the living room with Eddie who was dying laughing. Richie, however, was faking a laugh, trying his hardest to keep his cool. He put on a smile on his face and gave a little chuckle as he told Eddie he was going to get a drink. Mike then threw his arms around Bill the same, playing along. The pair was then pretending to make out, their hands foolishly caressing each other's bodies as they made kissing noises. Stan hoped you were too busy laughing to see the intense blush across his cheeks as he laughed as well. Lucky for him you were doubled over in laughter and lucky for you as well, as you were also hiding a blush behind your laughing. "Is that really how you see us?" You laughed asked Bill before he could answer Richie's voice was heard loud across the living room. 

"Hey, Stanley can we talk for a second?" 

Stan looked over to you. The soft expression on your face almost seemed to calm him.

"Hey, do you know where Richie went?" You asked softly. 

"I saw him go upstairs. I think." 

"Thanks, Stan." You walk up the stairs wondering what the fuck Richie would be doing upstairs. Your eyes immediately go to Georgie's room. You always got a weird feeling from that room ever since he had died. Forgetting about Richie for a second you take a few steps closer to the door of the, now forever, young boy's bedroom. You reached your hand to the handle of the door when you heard a noise coming from Bill's room. You're head snapped around at the sudden noise. You took a deep breath and headed towards Bill's room. 

"Why the hell are you in Bill's room, Richie?" you whispered to yourself. You opened up the door a crack deciding to peep on Richie in hopes of scaring him. You look into the room and see that Richie was with Eddie. Second, guessing whether or not you should go on with the scare, knowing Eddie will you chew your ass out for it, you heard your name in conversation, 

"Hold on I think (Y\N) and Beverly are back." You looked in and saw Eddie going for the windows. Before he could reach one Richie grabbed his wrist and pulled Eddie back next to him on the bed.

 "They went to go bring Ben home, they're totally not back yet just  relax." You notice the soothing tone in Richie's voice. Usually, when Eddie is freaking out over nothing Richie just sounds annoyed. You've never really heard him be soft with Eddie like that. Which drew you to the conclusion that he was being soft for a reason. 'But why would Eddie be so worried about me and Bev coming back?' You watched as Richie put a hand on Eddie's shoulder. 'What the hell is going on here?' You continued to watch Richie's hand very closely as it traveled from Eddie's shoulder up to his neck with a thumb rubbing gently behind his ear. Your confusion grew more and more with every passing second. Eddie then put his hand up to Richie's. 'surely to swat him away' you instinctively thought. Only he didn't, instead, he gently held the other boy's hand. You could feel your throat begin to dry, slowly becoming hard to swallow. You watched as Richie leaned in and rested his forehead against Eddie's. Everything in you stiffened as you begged for it all to be over. For Eddie to say, 'what in the world are you doing?'. Or for Richie to playfully shove Eddie over messing around. For the whole scene in front of you to fade away like some sort of hallucination. Hell!, maybe even for someone to say 'what about (Y\N)?' at that point you would take anything. Any sort of hesitation or wavering. But your internal pleas would never be answered. Probably never even heard no matter how loud they were screaming from inside of you. You were forced to watch by eyes that couldn't pry themselves away from the scene before them, almost like they were watching for answers or confirmation of what seems now to be what has been happening behind your back for God knows how long. You felt your stomach drop, your heart, and it plummeting down together. As Richie, confident as ever, took Eddie into his arms connecting their lips together with such passion. Your eyes couldn't watch any longer. Before you even knew what you were doing, your hand had balled into a fist and slammed itself against the white bedroom door. Two loud bangs echoed through the house: The first one from your fist connecting with the door, the second from the door hitting the wall of Bill's bedroom. Leaving a large dent Bill would have to explain to his mother later. The two boys jumped from the sound. So had everybody downstairs. Their eyes wide faces drained of any color, you wouldn't be able to think they could get any paler. But when they realized who was at the door, who made that noise. It was almost like they had turned to ghosts. Eddie looked into the eyes of his best friend. He didn't think eyes could hold so much rage yet so much heartbreak at the same time. It was enough to make him nauseous. He would have bet you good money that at that moment he would vomit. At that point, you had started to cry. Richie stood frozen his face-melting from shock into guilt as he watched the tears stream down your face. As if this wasn't humiliating enough, being cheated on with your best friend, when you turned around to run, you were met with the confused faces of all your friends, except Ben of course. 

"What happened?" Mike asked looking at you with sympathy. 

"They're fucking!" You stated with anger and betrayal. Beverly looked at the two with anger. 

"NO! No! We would never not while (Y\N) and I..." You couldn't hear the rest of what Richie was saying as you raced down the stairs to get out of there. Stan following in suit as Richie walked into Mike's room. Stan walked to the opposite side of the room as Richie closed Mike's bedroom door. Stan didn't know what Richie wanted with him, what he knew was that he did not want to be in that room with Richie, hell he didn't even want to be in that house with Richie. Stan didn't quite understand why he felt this fucking mad at Richie, all he knew was that he was this fucking mad at Richie. And with that much anger, he didn't know how to keep it in. Nor did he want to. Of course, Richie just wants to go back to being friends, he just wants his best friend back and everything to be back to normal. And that's what Stan thinks this whole thing is about. But boy was Stan unaware of the shit show that Richie was about to load on him. Stan stood against Mike's dresser, arms crossed waiting for Richie to spew some shit about, forgiveness or going back to normal, starting over. His eyes were almost already in the back of his head just thinking about it. Stan was starting to question just truly naive Richie was thinking things could just go back to nor-

 "What the fuck do you think you're doing taking advantage of (Y\N) like that!" 

Hold up, wait, WHAT! Stan looked at Richie like he had grown three heads, eye sharp like daggers, 

"What in the actual hell are you talking about?" his voice was cold and stern. Stan could not believe what Richie had just said to him. How fucking dare Richie of all people accuse him of taking advantage of (Y\N)! Richie flailed 

"I saw how she was with you, I heard what Bill said! How could you be so fucking carel-" Stan wouldn't even let Richie finish that last word. 

"Don't you even fucking say it." Stan may have looked calm before, but now you could see everything in his demeanor change. Sharp, anger-filled eyes, clenched jaw, clenched fists, with tall erect posture. Richie swallowed stopping for a second. There was still nothing changing his mind on what he believed Stan to be doing. 

"What is wrong with you, why would even think it's ok to just use (Y\N) for sex!?-" Stan was fueled with rage, he couldn't believe that Richie would think that. He has known Stan for years, and after all this time, this is the conclusion he makes about him. He watched as Richie shouted as he paced back and forth, spewing his mouth like a damn hypocrite, arms flying through the air and in Stan's face. Stan had just about had enough, 

"Cuz, of course, it never crossed your mind for even a second that I might actually care for her!" Richie was just about out of breath with anger, small pants were in between his words as he said: 

"If you really cared about her you would have left her alone not taken advantage of her while she's vulnerable." Stan didn't even need time to process that sentence before his mind had decided what would come out of his mouth. The truth. The last sentence to come out of Stan's mouth was something that Richie, the rest of the losers listening through the door, and LEAST of all Stan expected to hear. It was like something in him just snapped. The whole conversation, if you could call it that, Stan was able to keep his composure. He was never really one to yell, but something had just taken over him as he walked up to Richie,

"Oh really, you want to talk to me about caring about (Y\N), wake up and smell the roses Richie YOU FUCKING CHEATED ON HER!!! WITH HER BESTFRIEND!! YOU ARE THE REASON SHE'S IN A VULNERABLE PLACE! DON'T YOU STAND HERE AND TRY TO TELL ME THAT I DON'T CARE ABOUT HER YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I'M THE ONE THAT FUCKING LOVES HER!" 

They do say it makes you crazy. That's exactly what happened with Stan, over the year and a half that Eddie introduced her to the group and Richie and her starting dating, Stanley Uris had fallen in love with her. And it had made him crazy, either he wasn't able to admit it to himself, having had both been in relationships at the time of the meeting and falling for the young lady, or he was just that stupid and blind that couldn't see he was in love with (Y\N) (Y\L\N). Stan walked over to the door, twisting the handle, looking straight ahead avoiding all eye contact with anybody, walked out the door. (Y\N) trying to catch up right behind him.

[donutloverxo]

Spoiled

Kinktober day 5 - Mirror sex

*gif is not mine*

Note - this is a bit of a rushed job. Because while I like August I didn't want to end the year on him lol. It has to be our husband. Thank you so so much for all the support and love all of you have shown me this past year, it's serves as a great motivation for me. I have a resolution of writing 200k in the next year so hopefully there's a lot more hoeness and happiness this coming year for us all. Love y'all❤

This is the last part and sequel to past self and messed up. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Warnings - 18+ only, Smut (m/f), daddy kink, light anal play, hints to threesomes, jealous Steve, cum play, rough sex, general nastiness.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2k

“I am so tired. I mean time travelling is fun and all but sooo exhausting,” you mumbled into the pillow as you laid face flat on your bed. The soft plush mattress providing some much needed comfort to your sore muscles.

After the snap both you and Steve had moved into a brownstone in Brooklyn, it was much smaller than your quarters in the compound but you never really liked having that much of a distance from him anyway.

Even if you weren’t doing anything, you’d prefer to do nothing with him. Just lounging around on like a couple of couch potatoes.

It was hard for him to not have much to do. With half the world gone and the Avengers broken up he spent most of his days volunteering and leading therapy groups. Telling others to move on, that’s what their loved ones would want for them, while not being able to do so himself. Blaming himself for everything that had happened.

He told you that having all that free time made his mind go to dark places, thinking of his past, of all the lives that he wasn’t able to save. And after years of denying that he needed any, he decided to go to therapy.

They were a tough few years. But everything was fine now. As fine as it could be. His friends were back, you joked about how Bucky and Tony had matching cyborg arms now, he laughed at that but they didn’t. There was still plenty of hostility there, he didn’t exactly expect them to become ‘bffs', as you’d called it, hopefully they’d learn to get along.

He unzipped your boots, pulling them off and massaging your feet, listening to you babble nonsense about all your theories about time travel.

He always called you his sunshine. It was an apt petname for you, you brought light into his life, you were his light at the end of the tunnel. After years of being alone, it was as if he was waiting for you all along.

While you had your share of breakdowns during those five years, lots of fights with him because you wanted to move on and not be stuck in the past. He agreed with you, he didn’t want to be stuck, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t give up on those he loved.

You were always there for him. His only solace during those dark times.

He had changed a lot, when he met you he was still the Captain, then he was on the run, living in shady motels and not knowing who the fuck he was.

He became a bit more melancholic after the snap, the whole world did, a lot needier for you and your attention and love. Because he was so grateful you weren’t gone.

If you had... he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He knew it annoyed you because even though you loved him, that he didn’t doubt one bit, you also liked your independence. But he’ll always need you way more than you need him.

“Sunshine?” he called for your attention, his hands now moving up to your calves, applying just the little bit of pressure.

You giggled, looking over your shoulder to him as you felt your face heat up, “I swear, Steve, you’re so cheesy.”

“Do you...” he cleared his throat and then shook his head, it was stupid of him to even think something like that much less verbally express it to you.

You turned around, laying flat on your back, “What?”

“It’s silly,” he pressed his lips in a thin line.

“I don’t care, you still have to tell me. Come on,” you lightly kicked your legs which were on his lap.

“Do you ever wish... you were with someone closer to your age.”

He couldn’t look at you, even after all these years of being together he couldn’t be completely vulnerable--a life of rejection making him anticipate the worst.

“Why would you say that?” you sat up, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

It wasn’t just that you were younger, almost everyone was younger compared to him, but you had a young soul that would never grow old.

And he... he was no fun sometimes, how long would it take for you to grow tired of him. Did just you like the thrill of being on the run? When he was more edgier and rougher than he is now.

“I could never even imagine being with anyone but you,” you assured him.

He scoffed, “Didn’t seem like that when you were with him.”

“Oh, you mean ‘you'?” you cocked your head to the side, feigning innocence.

You knew how jealous your fawning over his past self’s beard had made him. To be honest, you would lose your shit if he acted that way towards any other woman, even if said woman was a version of you.

He shook his head, “Forget I said anything.”

“Wait,” you cupped his cheek, making him look at you, “You’re so jelly and needy sometimes, daddy.”

He bit the inside of his as you knelt on the floor before him, parting his legs, your hands fumbling with his belt but he stopped you by holding onto your wrists.

“We should get cleaned up...” he half heartedly tried to stop you but you managed to pull all his straps open and take his hardening erection out of his pants.

“We probably should...” you hummed, “But I guess I need to show daddy how much I love him,” peaking out your tongue to circle his leaking tip.

“I know you love me, sweetheart, but I just worry sometimes if I’m too old fashioned for you?” he wondered, letting out a shuddering moan as you took him in your mouth, looking up at him with your wide innocent eyes--always so full of life.

You swallowed around him, moaning at the familiar taste and scent of him, taking him deeper till he hit the back of your throat.

Steve being old fashioned did bother you a little at times. Not the part where he was an absolute gentleman, always holding the door open for you, paying for your dates. But where he always wanted to be the one protecting you. Taking care of you. Which was good, but he needs some loving too.

“Swallow it all, honey,” he instructed as he held your head down, his spend coating the back of your throat as you followed his command like a good girl.

Opening your mouth and holding out your tongue, “I did it, daddy,” you proclaimed proudly.

He prodded at your mouth with his fingers, under your tongue, to make sure that you got all of it, “Good girl,” he smiled as you suckled on his fingers, “you always need to have your mouth stuffed, honey, don’t you?”

You only nodded, letting out a pathetic whine when he pulled his fingers out with a loud pop.

“Let’s go shower, honey,” he said but then frowned when you shook your head.

“Are you done already? That’s it?” Don't say it, don’t... “Got another one in ya?”

You knew you were digging your own grave, of Steve wanted you he could literally fuck you for days, you had tried to ‘test' that on your honeymoon. To see who would give out first, your poor pussy or his unyielding supersoldier stamina.

Obviously he won and you were never able to complete your little experiment.

He gave you a fake sweet smile, dripping with--so much malice which was so not Steve. Gripping your hair he yanked you back to bare your neck to him, his other hand tracing your pulse point before wrapping around your neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure - because you were precious, he’d never want to actually hurt you, “I was going to make love to you in the shower, sweetheart.” he squeezed tighter as you choked, wrapping your tiny hands around his wrist, “But then you had to go and say that. What should we do with you?” he mused.

“Fuck me?” you sassed, while making love sounded nice, you would much rather have a good dicking down.

“No, you have to learn your lesson, honey. I maybe older but it only makes me better. I’ll have to show you I guess,” he tutted.

Hauling you up, with his hands under your arms, he manhandled you till you both stood before the dressing mirror you had gotten a few months ago, pressing your cheek against its cool surface as he worked on the seams of your cat suit.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he confessed, ever since you had bought the large mirror, he liked to watch you as he took you apart in it, sometimes making you look, somehow that seemed to suck all your sass and feistiness and you’d just turn into a shy flustered mess in his arms, refusing to look at the mirror or at him.

Which would only fuel his lust, because he still had the ability to surprise you, even after he’d seen all of you. Felt all of your caverns, and you, intimately and knew them like the back of his hand.

“Never really got the opportunity to, now’s good a time as any, wouldn’t you agree?” he nibbled at the shell of your ear, smirking as you weakly nodded.

“You’re so good at doing what you’re told.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, kneeling behind you to rid you of your tight pants before burying his head between your legs.

Nudging your intimate lips apart with the lip of his tongue, “You’re already soaked, honey,” he observed, licking his lips to savor your taste before prodding at your second hole with his tongue, just so he could hear you gasp.

“Steve!” you exclaimed, not expecting that. While Steve was more of an ass man, he never wanted to fuck you or even touch you there. But after a lot of course convincing from your side he had to give in.

He bit the flesh of your buttocks before speaking against it, “Since you like having all your holes stuffed, maybe I should call Bucky to help me out sometime...”

“Really?!” you perked up, looking down at him over your shoulder.

He didn’t give you an answer, instead fucking you with his tongue tillyou were quivering around him, crying out loud, as the mirror fogged up.

“Bucky’s nice...” you mumbled incoherently as he rose to his feet, his nails digging into your hips as he picked you up till you were standing on your top toes to meet his height. Sheathing his hard length inside you in one firm thrusts as he stayed still to let you get used to him.

“Hm. Am I not nice?” you saw him frown behind in his reflection, “I buy you whatever you want. Give you whatever you want, don’t I? Apparently it’s not enough for you. You’re getting too spoiled, I need to start saying no,” he drove each word home with hard thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix, his warm breath brushing the back of your neck.

“NOOO,” you whined, tears streaming down your face at such an outrageous prospect. Steve never said no to you. Not even when you literally asked for a threesome with his past self. “I was saying...” You tried to say but moaned as he pinched your clit, trying to jerk away from him but his firm hold on you made it impossible. “That he’s nice...” you panted, “Slow down, please!”

He hummed to make a show of thinking about it but then fastened his pace, twisting your clit between his fingers as he watched your face in the mirror.

“No.”

“He’s nice.... but he’s not you,” you wailed, clenching around him as your climax washed over you.

He had to hold onto your waist, so you wouldn’t collapse on your shaky leg, he smiled, “That’s very touching, doll.” He said.

“’is the truth.”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing it with Bucky though. He knows you’re mine.” Unlike a certain someone who was dumb enough to think he had any claim on you, “Can you hold for me?” he asked as you nodded.

Planting your hands against the mirror you braced yourself as he fucked you from behind, filling you up to the brim with his warmth.

“Okay then. You wouldn’t find me kicking him out of my bed...” you giggled.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 37

Read on AO3. Part 36 here. Part 38 here.

Summary: There are only so many ways you can deliver news.

Words: 2700

Warnings: dystopia

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: I really didn't think I'd get a chapter out today, but I did, so yay!? Sorry it's a bit short (I remember when 2000 words was normal for me!), but I must be on my bullshit, as always.

Thank you very much to everyone who reached out. I had a shitty week this week, and I anticipate things in the next few weeks will not be super great. If there is a week where an update is missed, I hope you can understand.

I love y'all very much, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3

Beyond the sheet, the doctor’s shadow worked in silence, collecting instruments to soon be used to pry and expose your pomegranate flesh. Your monthly exam would never feel routine--prior to the collapse of society, they’d already been unpleasant. But now, separated from the provider by gossamer cloth, scrutinized in anonymity while metal objects cracked you wide, they crushed you in revulsion. The doctor whirled on his stool between your legs, air whispering over your bare skin. You swallowed.

A squeaking, clacking, and the cold metal of the speculum parted your labia and pierced your entrance. You held your breath, willing away the tears that pricked your sight--you’d always cried at this part, even before it became obligatory--drifting to your mind until he was finished. 

Kylo Ren had been gone for 18 days, and in his absence, Gilead had drawn from your veins, a vampire of systemic proportions bleeding you not of life, but of the will to live itself. Without his presence, his power, his capability to extract you from bondage, you’d sunk into it like a tarpit, thick sticky ooze edging ever-closer to your throat. Sutures now removed, antibiotics completed, your days consisted of waking, walking, waiting, and, more than once, weeping, before wishing yourself into a witless slumber. Not that you were surprised. After all, before you’d fucked him in secrecy the first time, you’d asked yourself, what was life without living? 

As it turned out: pretty fucking awful. 

Pain lit up your spine when the doctor dug at your cervix for a swab--you winced, and the exam room door opened.

“Hey, we’re running behind, you do you want me to grab the next one, or--”

“No, no,” your doctor replied. “I’m almost done with this one. Did you get the urinalysis back?”

“Uh, no, sorry, I haven’t checked. I can go do it now.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Oh, hey.” Then he swiveled away--leaving you gaping, a red tunnel open for observation. “Did you hear what the director said this morning?”

The other man hummed in thought. “Something about Commander Pryde. I didn’t really care.”

You stared into the ceiling, hands folded over your stomach, tears stinging again while your thighs began to tremble. Privacy and respect hadn’t been afforded to you in three years; you had long been designated a womb buried in a hunk of meat. But something about having your cervix on display like the Hope Diamond was particularly nauseating. Your stomach groaned in humiliation.

“Yeah. Anyone who’s even spoken with Pryde in the last month is getting rounded up.”

Breath stalled. There was no way the doctor knew who you were--the sheet separating you ensured that. Dread iced over your chest.

“Shit,” the other man replied. “Really? Damn.” A pause, clanging of instruments. “Just questioning, right?”

“For now.” The doctor grumbled. “I just had the tenaculum. What the hell?”

“Isn’t it right over there?”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Wheels squeaked across the floor. “Anyway, it’s just a new round of Ren’s bullshit.” He sighed, scooching between your legs again. Something sharp and cold pinched you--you bit your lip. “Dissenters this, threats to Gilead that. I wouldn’t worry about it. Unless--”

A snort. “I hate the both of ‘em.” The man sighed. “You’d think that fixing the birthrate should be their top priority, the way things are going.” 

The doctor grumbled, and something pinched you like talons, shooting pain up your spine. “Yeah. Well. If Ren has his way, half the people in this country are gonna end up dead.”

Your heart was tumbling into a canyon. In the time without him, your belief in your Commander’s defection had dimmed. You’d believed initially that his motivation for Pryde’s capture was revenge--something undesirable, but still understandable--but the longer his campaign went on, the more you realized that there would be nothing that would convince him to release his stranglehold on his position. A gnawing despair within you whispered that whatever Kylo Ren felt for you, he felt it one hundredfold for power and control; convincing him to leave it behind would not only be improbable, but impossible. Yet, as you considered betraying what little affection he might have, sorrow shredded you. The thought of his capture, trial, possible execution--

More tears. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him not here, of being torn from him, of his existence in the past tense. And you also couldn’t sacrifice your freedom for his sins. 

The release of the speculum tugged you back to the exam, and you sniffled, clearing your throat. You’d missed the rest of the conversation.

“Whatever happens, at least we won’t be out of a job. They’ll always need someone to make sure the breeding stock is healthy.” A pause, as if to acknowledge that, yes, you were still in the room. “No offense, of course.”

Bile burned your tongue. You said nothing. 

“Shit, that reminds me,” said the other man. “I’ll go check the urinalysis.”

“Thanks.” 

The door shut. Without warning, latex fingers pushed inside of you, another hand pressing down on your belly. The inspection went on for seconds longer than you thought it should, his fingers curling, as if he was languishing there, reveling in the sensation of feeling your uterus. For a blink, every thought surrounding your Commander’s desertion of Gilead fled your mind, consumed by a venomous desire that he might catch this doctor in the act and crack his skull on the pearly tile, spray his blood, stain the grout. And then the intrusion was over, and your fury dissipated, the ache for retribution hollowing in your heart. 

It wouldn’t have mattered, really, if he had been standing in the room when it had happened--the doctor was no anomaly, but a functioning cog in Kylo Ren’s machine. As long as you both remained in clutches of his own creation, he would spend eternity defending you from its design. Even if you could be an exception, other women would suffer in forced silence. And even if he could mould it to your liking, it would still mean he preferred you to exist in subjugation instead of liberation.

Hope had been a security blanket almost three weeks ago, thick and warm around your shoulders while he’d bathed you with gentle hands. Now it clung in tatters to your ribs, the tiny scraps fluttering like tissue with every gust of reality.

The door opened again. 

“Hey,” the man said. “Got the results.”

A snap of rubber as the doctor removed his gloves. “And?”

“Look for yourself.”

Shuffling paper stifled the sad knock of your pulse in your ears. Perhaps you knew, and had always known, that Kylo might never come to agree with your perspective. You just frequently forgot to acknowledge that it would mean letting him go. Forever. 

“Hey! Okay!” A warm palm slapped your thigh, and you squeaked. “We got another one!”

When no one responded, you realized he had been speaking to you. About a result. A urinalysis. Another one...

You couldn’t speak. Or breathe. Oh--

“You’re pregnant!” 

Like a geyser, it burst from you--your sorrow, your fear, your disgust, your absolute joy--and poured in rivers down your cheeks, your hands clapping over your face. There was no one coherent thought that could be plucked from your mind, just a constant tornado of horrific exhilaration, a celebratory mourning that within you, a tangible testament to you and your Commander’s connection beat and pulsed and flourished with life, growing veins like vines and limbs like wings. 

His child--your child--a physical entity you could nourish in the wake of his reluctance, an unalterable legacy inside of your womb, one that you, if you were to be denied all else, could adore. Your child, but also his child, descendant to a despondent devil, progeny to a preserver of your own imprisonment. A child that, if born into the realm of its father’s regency, would never know normality, or maybe even you--at all. A heaving sob cracked through, and you shivered, trembling with terrified bliss.

The doctor slapped your thigh again. “Don’t stress!” he said. “According to the chart here, you’re about six weeks along. There’s still a chance for disruption. So I’d stay relaxed, all right?” 

Swallowing, you creaked out a noise of assent. There wasn’t a word you could bear to say. 

After the doctor left, you slipped back into your red dress and wings--despite Kylo’s words weeks earlier, you had been provided no other options after he’d left, and you suspected he’d meant for you to only be out of uniform in his presence, regardless. You were escorted by an armed nurse out of the clinic, where a Knight--still masked, no cloak, just in tactical gear--was waiting by the black SUV you’d seen a few of them in before. Averting your gaze, you climbed into the back and buckled in. The vehicle started, you coasted through the parking lot, and onto the road.

For the first time in several days, the sun was out--though it would need more than an afternoon to evaporate the muggy air that had accumulated in its absence. You gazed into the stark, cloudless sky, placing your hands on your belly, as if you could commune with the little being inside of you, know it before it knew you. A question, awful and exciting, lingered in your mind  as you imagined telling Kylo the news, but no answer revealed itself. You replayed the scenario over and over again, practicing it on your tongue--I’m pregnant--digging deep for his reaction. But it was useless, as initially unknowable as anything else about him. Anxiety constricted your heart, a dam about to crumble behind your eyes.

The Knight turned a corner, and you jostled in the backseat. There couldn’t have been much intimacy between them all. But still.

“How do you think the Commander would respond…” You swallowed again--hesitation kept wadding in your throat. “How do you think he’d respond to a pregnancy?”

Long, sweltering seconds ticked by without a word. Balling your hands in your lap, your palms slipped, heartbeat thumped in your clasped thumbs. You’d never heard a Knight say a word, before--you weren’t sure why you were expecting one to answer you. Lava licked at your neck, dripping down your spine, your teeth tearing at your cheeks. 

“Whatever it is,” the Knight said, shattering expectation, “anything in comparison will look like apathy.”

A rush of interminable origin raced your flesh, flushing hot in your blood. That was about as accurate as you could expect. And unsatisfying as you could predict.

When you arrived at home and stepped out of the vehicle, another realization crested over you. Johana. Though your relationship had settled into an uneasy truce since the day the Commander had left, the words she spared you had been few and far between. You knew that your pregnancy was possibly her only dream, but combined with the uncharted territory of her husband’s intentions, you worried it would become her nightmare. 

At the same time, perhaps these worries were unfounded--the threats Kylo would face by disrupting his Wife’s right to your child might be too great for him to risk his power. His concessions had been minor and in relative secrecy, affecting only his relationship with you--everything else had the secondary benefit of securing his reign. He’d said plenty, but how much had he meant? After overhearing the discussion in the exam room, you were fairly certain that if made to choose between Gilead and you, you’d lose.

You followed the Knight into the house, relieved to cross into central air. Taking a few slow steps, you drew a deep breath.

“Ms. Johana!” You paused, listening for a response. You heard none. “Ms. Johana?”

She wasn’t in the house--that meant she was likely out in the yard. In the heat. Sighing, you trudged through the halls through the back door, squinting as light smacked your face. In the weeks since Kylo’s departure, the garden had been cleared and mostly restored at Johana’s behest--the grass gleamed gold, summer flowers replanted in over-saturated swirls of color. You hopped over the stones, turning the words on your tongue, hoping to make them real in your mouth.

I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m--

“Ofkylo.”

You stalled, recognizing the moniker as yours, resentful of its familiarity to your ears. Beyond one of the hedges was Johana, prying open a birdfeeder. Heat--though whether it was from the sun or your fear, you didn’t know--sizzled the nape of your neck. You steeled your jaw, grabbing your skirts and tromping through the trimmed lawn in her direction.

“What are you doing out here?” There was a bag of mixed seed at her feet, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows as she wiped the feeder clean with a rag. “I thought you just left for your exam.”

“I did. I’m back,” you said. “I was, um. Looking for you.”

“Oh.” She flipped the top in her little hands, scrubbing it clean, too. “Well, that’s fine. What’s going on? They didn’t find out about the gunshot, right?”

You shook your head. “Oh, no no. That’s fine.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m tired of lying for your benefit. The antibiotics weren’t--”

“I know, Ms. Johana,” you sighed. “So…” The words were so simple, but so difficult to say. “The exam went well.”

She nodded, digging into the seed, scooping a helping. “Uh-huh.”

There was nothing that would make this any less nerve-wracking. You inflated your chest, and let it go. “I’m pregnant.”

Johana stopped, like she’d been shot herself, staring into the ground. The seed fell from her palms and spilled over her shoes. She rose, gaze drifting from your feet, to your hands, to your face, her chin shaking. A smile was threatening to explode across her lips.

“Wait.” She exhaled. “Really?”

Wagging your arms in admission, you nodded. “Yup.”

A human springtrap, she squealed, launching into you and wrapping you in a tight, bony hug. You wheezed from her strength--she squeezed you, pinning your limbs to your sides as she wriggled you like a toy. 

“Yes!” She jumped up and down, still holding you. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Yes,” you repeated. “It’s, um, it’s true!”

Johana released you, erupting with elation. “This is amazing!” she said. “Lord, I’m going to have to go see everyone. Yes, we’ll have to have a party.” She clapped her hands and hugged you again. “Can you let the Marthas know to clean this up? I have to get going.” A playful, devious smirk twisted her mouth as she skipped into the house, congratulating herself. “Oh, they’re going to be so jealous! I’m pregnant!”

You stood, staring down at your belly. It wasn’t obvious, yet--but it wouldn’t be long. The thought of Johana preening, presiding over your stomach like it was her work paralyzed your heart. Had it been any other Commander, any other household, you might have even been relieved to incubate your ticket out of the Colonies, but now, you felt only panic. You didn’t want to give this baby up to her--a desire you never would have anticipated.

But then, none of this had been anything you had the ability to anticipate. A Handmaid was not supposed fuck her Commander outside of the Ceremony, or kiss him, or wake up in his embrace. A Handmaid was not supposed to yearn for her Commander, feel comfort from his  voice, find companionship in his presence, or feel grateful for his brutality and strength. A Handmaid was not supposed to plan her Commander’s downfall, or plan his escape, and especially not plan his future with her in it.

A Handmaid was not supposed to fall in love with her Commander. But you were a Handmaid. And it was too late.

You left the empty birdfeeder and the bag of seed, slinking up the stairs, creeping back to your room. Throat, chest, face tight, you laid in bed, palms planted on your stomach, and breathed. Shutting your eyes, you hoped for the hundred-thousandth time in three years you would wake up in a different world--a world where the father of your child was not your legal owner, a world where another woman was not claiming it as hers, a world where you opened your eyes and you were not alone, and you were free, and you were truly, deservedly loved.

If you fell asleep, you didn’t know--the next thing you recalled was the familiar rumble of the Audi’s engine, dying as it rolled into the driveway.

[micahscowgirl]

Bite Me ~ Chapter 1

Micah Bell x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Cussing

Word Count: 2802

This is my first post and my first story. I know it’s not the best ever and I know that there are mistakes, but I enjoyed writing it and I hope that y’all enjoy reading it. Sorry in advance... Micah has my heart on a rope dragging behind him. 

Chapter 1

You have been with the Dutch Van der Linde gang for just over two months. You hooked up with them in Blackwater after a run-in with Dutch himself. He saw your life for what it was: pointless. You were working as a "waitress" in a saloon. Bossed around by the owners and your pleasure-seeking customers. Life wasn't so great for you. Dutch pulled you out of it and gave you a new one.

It had only been a month since you had joined your new family when everything went south for the gang. A heist went sour. Everyone was frantic, packing the camp and running around like ants in their tunnels. Everyone seemed so accustomed to it, but it was all happening so fast, you had to step away to breathe. It startled you when Dutch put his hand on your shoulder and, in all this madness, he smiled. "Y/N, I know this is all happening very fast and you haven't been with us for very long, but we would all be grateful for you to join us on our journey."

You had become quite fond of your new friends, but Blackwater is where you spent your entire life. You were born there, raised there, abandoned by your parents, abused, worked as a whore, taken advantaged up, spent too many nights crying, sore, and broke... It wasn't as hard as a decision as you had thought it would be. 

"Of course I will join you and your Family, Dutch. I am a part of this now, too. This has become my battle."

He smiled. "I was hoping you would say that." He stood and began to walk off. A few steps away, he stopped and turned to face you. "Y/N,"

"Yes, Dutch?"

"This isn't just 'our' family, it's your family now, too." He turned back and walked away.

~~~~~~

It was a month now since the gang left Blackwater. Unlike the other women of the camp, you were treated differently. They all knew you were stronger, tougher than the others. Dutch saw it, Hosea saw it, and even Arthur saw it. After the terrible start of spring in Colter, they saw your talents. You had signs of a leader in you, but also a beast that would fight and steal and, overall, make the gang a whole lot of money.

That is why you are where you are now: sitting at a bar in Strawberry, drinking whiskey, and working with--or more like babysitting--the biggest asshole you know. Micah Bell. He is an overall twisted person, always picking and prying at people's skins, trying to dig out the worst in them. He was one of the few people in the gang that you didn't get along with--Pearson and Molly O'Shea being the other two. He would spend evenings stirring and twisting people up, trying to catch them on fire. He must get off on the idea of someone's brain completely blocked out by rage, almost to the breaking point. 

At the moment, he was playing cards with a few guys. No one at that table seemed to be enjoying themselves. They could've been shoveling cow shit and have been a little more enthused. Wearing frowns on all of their faces and fashioning cigarettes and shot glasses either in their hands or in arms reach. No easy conversations, just harsh glares. They're only playing for money, not for sport. 

After your second beer and third shot, you felt drunk enough to get a good night's rest in an unfamiliar bed. You paid for your drinks and room and made your way up the stairs. After pulling off your hat, shirt, holster, boots, and riding pants, it didn't take long for you to fall asleep when your head hit the pillow.

You were woken up just under an hour later by the sound of glass breaking and guns firing. Jumping out of bed, you grabbed your pistol and crouched on the side of the bed opposite the door, pointing it and waiting. After waiting what felt like forever, you could hear lawmen bringing the commotion to a halt. You stayed in your position a few minutes after the saloon had become quiet again, before standing up and sliding back in under the covers. You had seen your fair share of bar fights: fists, knives, and guns, and you knew the best way to handle them was to just stay out of the way but also remain alert. Keeping your gun closer this time, you managed to fall back asleep very quickly. If you dreamed, you didn't remember them.

~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning to a beautiful stream of sunlight making its way into the room. After getting up and stretching, you slide back into your clothes and head out back to the outhouse. After relieving yourself, you made your way around the saloon to your horse. "Hey girl, how was your night?" you say, pulling an apple out of your bag and feeding it to your horse. You pull out your horse brush and begin to wipe away the past days’ grime from its brown fur. After making your way around to the other side, you see him. Baylock, Micah's horse, but instead of being hitched with yours like it was the previous evening, it was standing in front of the town's jail.

"You stupid son of a bitch." You say to yourself. As your brain starts to wash away the sleep and alcohol, you realize that he must've been part of the commotion in the saloon that past night. You mount your horse and begin to trot closer. You see two lawmen standing outside of the door.

"The man in green," --an O'Driscoll, you know-- "said the other guy wasn't in town alone." You freeze. "Says there was a woman with him. Or a girl. She was at that age it was hard to tell." You bow your hat and direct your horse in a different direction. As soon as you passed sight of the town, you kicked your feet and rushed your way back to Horseshoe Lookout. Thinking of your failed mission to find a lead, you realize that Micah has yet again found a way to make your skin burn and your fists tighten. He just had that special talent.

~~~~~~

It was a few days later when you heard that Arthur had broken Micah out, making quite a mess in the process. It was early morning, and you were helping Mary-Beth wash some clothes in a nearby stream when she told you what had happened.

"Micah just had to get his guns from some poor fool in town. Arthur says that Micah shot the guy immediately and then started shooting every lawman and even a few people who tried to get in the way of his escape." She chuckled. "I can't believe Dutch keeps Micah around. Nothing but trouble that bastard is."

"Yeah, and poor Arthur is always picking up his messes it seems." You say just as Arthur starts to walk up.

"Speak of the devil," Mary-Beth says. "We were just talking about how much trouble you are, cowboy." She has always had a thing for Arthur. You wouldn't be surprised if they'd hooked up in the past after a drunken night. If it hasn't happened yet, it was sure to one day.

"You know me, ladies, always picking fights and firing people up. I can't keep my guns holstered for two seconds without getting bored. Oh wait, that's Micah, the asshole that almost got me killed."

"How did that go, by the way?"

"Well, Y/N, I busted him out, broke the damn bars outside his cell, should've been able to get out with minimal casualties, but then our dear pal just had to retrieve his precious guns. We ended up shooting the whole damn town. Barely made it out of there alive. After we got out, he told me that he was going to hang back and try to get something to bring to camp. He called it a 'peace offering'."

"Sounds about right," Mary-Beth says as she drops the shirt she was working on into the basket with the rest of the cleaned clothes. You follow suit and stand, picking up the basket. 

"Here, let me grab that for you," Arthur grabs the basket from under your arm. "Don't need y'all doing all the work." He says with a wink. Mary-Beth giggles, you smile. "Y/N, Dutch wants you to head over to his tent. I think he might have a lead for you. Mary-Beth, I can help you hang these up." She happily skips off with him, turning her head to you to shoot you a smile.

Dutch is standing with Hosea in his tent. "If you could, Hosea, meet with Arthur later and discuss our next move. Speak with Bill as well, and I heard Uncle might have a lead, too."

"Will do, Dutch." He turns to leave, nodding at you as he passes. "Miss."

You return the gesture and walk up to Dutch. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think I got a lead for you if you're not busy that is. A stagecoach hit, near Strawberry. I know you just returned from your trip there, but I think this will be a perfect job for you since you're so good at playing the part." He's referencing your innocent damsel in distress act. It's a classic, works every time.

"I'm not busy, wouldn't mind some fresh air away from the camp, that's for sure. Washing and mending clothes isn't really my thing."

"Then it's settled." He pulls out his map and tells you his plan. Payroll coach--should be easy enough.

As soon as Dutch is done, you say your goodbyes and head to your horse.

~~~~~~~

It was mid-afternoon when you arrived at the spot Dutch told you. You hitched your horse in the woods nearby and found a tree to sit next to while you waited. It would still be over an hour before it arrived so you figured you'd get comfortable. 

It had been about 40 minutes according to your pocket watch, the sun starting to go behind some hills in the distance. It was still early spring, so the sun set earlier than you liked. Keeping yourself occupied, you picked at the grass around you, pushed your boots around in the dirt, and watched some birds building a nest in a nearby tree. The tree started hurting your back, so you had scooted to sit criss-cross instead, imagining the native Americans sitting around their fires, beating drums, and dancing. They always seemed so happy, so at peace. So lost in thought, you didn't notice the steps behind you, snapping branches and dragging the dirt. It wasn't until you felt a presence inches from your back that your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't react in time; an arm grabbed your torso, locking your arms to your body. A hand covered your mouth. Your heart was racing, your body shifted, trying to loosen yourself, but the grip was too strong, your eyes began to water in terror. 

"Aren't you a little far from home, dollface?" the voice was deep, coming from lips right next to your ear, touching just barely. You shiver, chills running down your entire body. "A damsel like yourself shouldn't be out by herself, there are sick people out there that would just love to take advantage of such a tight, young body." The hold tightens, the strength is unreal, your body crumbles, moving closer to the ground. The weight on your back is too much. You feel tears running down your face. 

You try to say "Please. Leave me be." but all that comes out is a muffled noise coming from your throat.

The voice becomes lighter and immediately more familiar. "What was that, Y/N? I can't hear you. And are you crying?" He chuckles. 

It's Micah, that asshole. He loses his grip on you, letting you fall forward onto the ground, right into the dirt you were digging at what felt like decades ago.

"Micah... you bastard!" you wheeze. You gather the strength to push yourself from the ground. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"I should be asking you the same question. You shouldn't be out here by yourself. Especially if you're going to be stealing someone else's lead."

You looked up at him, the tears had drawn lines in the dirt on your cheeks. "You can have the damn coach. And you better not try to pull any shit like that ever again. Not with me, or anyone else." You get back on your horse and begin to ride away. "Fuck you, Micah."

"I'll consider your offer." He says as you trot away. You feel heat return to your face, and your eyes begin to water once more. 

~~~~~~

The next evening is when Micah made his return. The take must have been huge because everyone was celebrating, and most of them didn't like Micah just like yourself. Although, everyone always happily invites a reason to drink and pretend that everything in the world is good. While most of the camp gathered around the fire, you stood from a distance and watched with a beer in hand. Javier was playing his guitar and Uncle was leading the others in song. Micah sat with Dutch's arm around his shoulder, holding a conversation with him and Arthur. Arthur hated Micah about as much as you did, but the fact that he was keeping himself in the conversation for as long as he was, let you know just how great that stagecoach ended up being. That should've been your prize. 

Working on your second beer, your mind started to turn. You wanted revenge on him. There was one thing you could think of that would really make him pissed, and that was confusing him, playing with his head. Turning his own tricks against him.

After everyone had started to head to their tents, you knew that soon Micah would head out. He didn't have a tent, mainly because he suffered from insomnia, but also because Miss Grimshaw refused to make him one. The fire was getting dim now, but you could still make out his figure. Once he turned to walk into the trees, you followed. He claimed a tree to lean on about 50 paces away from camp. He was facing away, so you quietly made your way up behind him, stopping about five feet behind him. He lit a cigarette and started to smoke. 

"Where's my cut?" You say, making him jump, turning to face you.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N! You shouldn't go sneaking up on people like that!"

"You're one to talk." You walk a little closer to him. "Once again, where's my cut, Micah?"

"You don't get one, you didn't earn it."

"You might see it that way, but I think I did my part. I let Dutch know what happened to you. Although, thinking back, I believe I might have left out a part." He frowns. "Yeah, that's right! I left out the part where you were playing cards with a couple of O'Driscoll boys. Maybe I should fill Dutch in on the whole story." You smirk.

Micah laughs nervously, kicking at the ground. "You know Y/N," he starts moving closer, but you hold your ground. "you really are a little twisted 'damsel in distress', aren't you?"

"Why indeed I am." He's moved so close to you, you feel his heat and smell the whiskey on his breath. His blue eyes are looking straight into your soul, but you don't let him see it."Now, my cut?"

He sticks his cigarette in between his lips and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out 50 dollars and hands it to you. "There, for all of your hard work."

You count it. Slowly. Twisting his nerves. "Hmm... I think this is a little short." You look up at him and he snarls. You reach up and take the cigarette out of his mouth and place it in your own, taking a long draw. You release the smoke directly into his face. "There, that covers it." You pat his cheek. All he does is glare at you, hard. His chest is rising and lowering faster than normal. 

"Fuck you, Y/N."

"I'll consider your offer." You say with a smile and walk away. You feel his eyes on you, but you continue to walk. Out of everything that has happened, there is one thought that surfaces above the rest. When taking the cigarette from his lips, you noticed how surprisingly soft they were. You shake the thought away, and head back to your tent to rest, a smile staying strong on your face.

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (For You) Chapter 7

Chapter 7: But you can’t love me (anymore)

In this chapter: We meet Rosa's sister. In the present, Alex and Michael find each other a little bit more, but the mystery weighs heavily on Alex’s mind. Then something happens that changes the game drastically.

A/n: This chapter starts out nice but y'all know it can't last. Sorry! And OMG we're halfway!

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

The title of last chapter was Here With Me by Daniel Blake. hmd23 guessed by Dido, which I will count as correct, because no one could ever have known I used a different performing artist. Congratulations!  (want to know where I got my titles and which music I listened to while writing this? click here)

Can anyone guess this week's title and performing artist?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

June, 1929

Rosa’s sister woke up on the day of her 18th birthday, with only one thought in her mind: I’m going to find Rosa’s killer.

Her father had always forbidden her from looking for him, and over the years, she had stopped asking. They had moved on, literally, and started over across the country, away from painful memories. But she herself never forgot.

And now she was a grown-up. And her father couldn’t stop her.

The plans had been laid out for months. She’d been planning it with her best friend, who was not yet 18, but whose mother was more than willing to take the two girls all over the place to look for Rosa’s killer.

That’s one thing the killer never counted on; people who loved Rosa so much they would do anything, go anywhere, to avenge her, even nine years later.

But willing they were, and she had had nine years to build up hatred and pain and vengefulness in her heart. She was certain that if she ever found her sister’s killer, she would not hesitate to kill him. It should probably scare her how easy that thought came to her now. She was raised as a good catholic girl. Thou shalt not kill. But someone else had broken that commandment, someone had killer her sister and had gotten away with it. She couldn’t wait till he met his end and his day of judgement. She needed to know this man was no longer out in the world, killing other young girls.

She told herself she was doing it to protect other girls. It was a good reason.

It just wasn’t true.

Her father sat at the table, looking at her with sadness in his eyes. “Are you sure about this, mija? You can still decide…”

“No. I can’t,” she said as she opened the present her father had gotten her. As the wrapping paper fell away, a compass, a swiss army blade and a length of rope fell in her lap.

“So that you can always find your way home, so you can get yourself out of tight spots,” her father explained, pointing at the compass and the swiss knife. “And,” he said, his eyes darkening and his fingers touching the rope briefly, “this is for him. When you find him. Tell him Rosa said hello.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll be back, papi. And I won’t be alone. We’ll be safe, I promise.”

Her father looked at her, his eyes misty. “You grew up too fast, mija. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from this world.”

They wrapped their arms around each other and held tight, until the carriage arrived and took her away.

Liz Ortecho looked back at the house she and her father had called him for nine years. Arturo Ortecho was on the porch, waving at them as they drove off. She didn’t know when she would be back, if she would ever be back.

But one thing she did know.

She would not return until Rosa’s killer was gone from this world.

I’m sorry, Rosa.

Present day, 22nd of October, 1935

Alex woke up to soft pressure to his shoulder. He felt warmer, safer and better rested than he had in a long while. His body still ached from the trauma it had gone through yesterday, but his mind was back to normal. Everything was back into focus, sharp.

And Michael was still there, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder. “Good morning,” he murmured softly.

Alex hummed contentedly. “You stayed.”

“Well, you know. It was late and cold, and your bed is way more comfortable than mine.”

Alex rolled on his other side, looking at Michael’s criminally beautiful face. His dark eyes were sparkling as he ran a hand through Alex’s hair. Alex ran his hand up Michael’s chest, feeling the muscles contract beneath his fingers. “That’s why you stayed?” he whispered, leaning close, their lips only a hair’s breadth apart.

Michael chuckled softly. “Well, there may have been another reason.”

“Mmm,” Alex said, closing the distance between them. The kiss was soft, warm and gentle. Alex’s stomach fluttered as if this was their first kiss all over again. Michael ran a hand from Alex’s back down to his leg, hooking it underneath his knee and pulling Alex’s leg over his hips. Their bodies were pressed flush together now, and Alex was in heaven. His hands ran up Michael’s neck into his hair and his fingers anchored themselves into those curls. “Michael,” he whimpered softly, as Michael pressed his hips forward and Alex became very aware of him.

“I know,” Michael responded, a whine in his voice. “But, God, I missed you. I missed this.” His lips nipped at Alex’s between every word, and Alex’s heart positively ached to stay here with Michael forever. To pretend this whole situation wasn’t fucked up beyond belief, to pretend they were still underneath that tree and nothing of the pain and anger had yet tainted their souls.

“Me too, Michael. So much.” Alex rolled Michael onto his back and settled himself on top of him, taking his hands and pinning them above his head and leaning into another kiss. Michael groaned, their fingers entwining as the kiss deepened. “God, I hate this case,” Alex muttered.

“Me, too,” Michael said, but they didn’t break apart. They were drawn together constantly, an invisible force pulling them towards each other, a force that had grown in strength rather than weakened over the past ten years, and it was becoming exhausting to resist it. It was the force that had pulled them together underneath that tree so many years ago. It was the force that pulled them back together on this train. It felt almost…cosmic. Fated.

It hurt his head to think about the cosmos wanting them together, so instead Alex focussed on Michael’s lips and body, exploring every inch. Michael had acquired a few new scars over the years and Alex brushed his lips against every single one. He hated that he hadn’t been there for him, hadn’t helped him work through all the pain.

He regretted more than ever running off to the military after…well, after.

“God, Alex, if you don’t do something right now,” Michael growled, as Alex let his fingers tease at Michael’s underwear.

“What do you want, Michael?” Alex whispered in his ear. He felt Michael shudder beneath him.

“You know what I want,” Michael said through gritted teeth, bucking his hips. Alex pulled his hands away from Michael entirely, eliciting a very sexy, desperate groan from him.

“Then say it, Michael. Use your words for me.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

Michael kept his jaw clenched for a few moments, then let out a piteous whine and closed his eyes. “Please, Alex. Touch me, please.”

With a smile, Alex bent his face close to Michael’s, barely brushing their lips together. “Good boy,” he whispered, and Michael moaned. Grinning ferally, Alex slipped his hand inside Michael’s boxers and wrapped his hand around him. Michael let out a drawn-out whine that was absolutely sinful and Alex knew his restraint was wearing very thin.

It was almost like muscle memory. Every flick of the wrist, every tap of his fingers…Alex remembered exactly what the surest way was to get Michael to the edge. Michael’s speech, normally so intelligent and eloquent, was blurred beyond recognition. Alex vaguely heard his own name, but otherwise it was just noises.

Alex pressed his forehead to Michael’s, their heavy breaths mingling between them as Michael’s hand searched for purchase and in the end just held onto Alex as tight as he could. “Let go, Michael,” Alex whispered, and immediately Michael complied. His entire body seized up and Alex was just in time pressing his lips to Michael’s to swallow the scream that ripped from his throat.

“Alex…” Michael gasped out. “Jesus Christ, you’re still amazing at that.” He kissed Alex hungrily, and Alex was suddenly very aware of his own raging hard-on.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve been celibate the last decade,” Alex said, pressing his hips against Michael to try and find some relief.

Michael’s grin turned positively sinful as his eyes travelled down Alex’s body. “Well, neither have I.” And without so much as a warning, he flipped Alex on his back and began to press kisses to his chest, slowly working his way down to where Alex’s happy trail disappeared into his briefs.

“Michael, you don’t have to…” Alex began, but then Michael’s mouth was already on him and his words became a long drawn out moan. Michael’s mouth did things to him and good God, the man had gotten very talented indeed. Alex twined his fingers in Michael’s curls and held on tight, the only purchase he could find in this tiny cabin.

Embarrassingly quickly, Alex was at the precipice. “Michael, I…” he choked out, but Michael just went to work eagerly, and Alex exploded so suddenly and so violently he swore he blacked out for a minute. Michael stroked his hair as Alex came back down to earth. “Jesus,” Alex muttered.

Michael laughed, pressing a kiss to his head. “Thanks.”

“You’ve learned some new moves.”

Michael snorted. “Yeah, well, 17-year-old me was not exactly knowledgeable in the sex department.”

Alex pressed a lazy kiss to Michael’s lips. “I don’t know. I remember it being very enjoyable.”

“We were both ignorant little shits.”

Alex snorted. “Probably.” He rested his head on Michael’s chest and they lay together in perfect silence, listening to each other breathe and wondering if they ever had to get up at all.

But it was becoming light, and footsteps were heard on the hallway.

They had to come back to earth, to a reality where a murder had been committed and Michael was still one of the suspects.

----

Alex was trying to focus.

It was hard, when outside, crews of work men were yelling at each other as they worked to move the snow out of the way of the train.

He was sitting on a dining car table, his back against the window, his knees drawn up to his chest and his notebook open on them. He had been going over the details for hours now, and at this point, every page was branded in his brain.

Yet he was missing something.

Something was right in front of him, something quite obvious, and he was missing it. He was sure of it.

Groaning with frustration, he slammed the book on the table next to him.

They were stuck in a snowy land of nothing, on a train with only so many places to be alone, and a murder had been committed in a locked room. This should not be so hard as it so clearly was.

Whoever had done it was exceedingly clever.

He stared at his knees as he walked through the case in his thoughts. Rosa Ortecho’s murderer. Murdered in his own bed. Stabbed 16 times. None of the stab wounds make sense. The door was locked. His wife was in there with him but claims to have been under the influence of barbital. The window was closed when they went to bed. The train stopped in Vinkovci around 3. Body temperature suggests that’s when the murder happened as well…

His mind snagged on something, an important detail that he was overlooking, that was preventing him from moving through the rest of the facts of the case. The window was open…

Before he could finish his thought, a scream echoed through the train, so filled with pain and fear Alex was on his feet at once. The thought, possibly the most important thought he would’ve had, vanished beneath his military training.

As fast as his leg would allow – it was still stiff from yesterday’s adventures and this morning…other adventures – he made his way to the cabins, where people were already congregating around Beth Otto’s cabin. She was sobbing violently, her voice pained as she yelled for help. Alex pushed Mimi and Max Evans to the side and clapped eyes on the sobbing girl.

There was a knife sticking from her back.

“Jesus Christ,” a voice behind him exclaimed and he was nearly bowled over by Kyle Vale as the man rushed to get at the injured woman. “Miss Otto!”

“What the hell happened?” Alex asked, moving forwards into the cabin.

“I don’t know!” Beth wailed. “I didn’t see! I was cleaning my cabin and then suddenly I felt this stabbing pain! It was all I could do not to crash headfirst to the floor! When I turned around, they were gone! Please, get it out, get it out!” she screamed at Kyle, who immediately grabbed his surgical gloves and went to work.

While he worked, Alex examined the knife sticking out of her left shoulder. It looked familiar. He crouched down next to Kyle. “Put on some gloves, will you?” Kyle said impatiently. Alex did as asked. He watched closely as Kyle extracted the knife. Beth sobbed louder as it slid out, and as soon as it was completely clear, her shoulder began to bleed heavily. Kyle dropped the knife in Alex’s hands and set to work on keeping Beth alive. Alex sat back, examining the knife at a closer distance.

He knew this knife.

He hadn’t seen it in ten years.

“This is mine,” he muttered, and a deadly quiet fell over the train, as every head turned to him.

“Excuse me?” Beth asked

“This is my knife.”

“Mr Manes!” Mimi DeLuca exclaimed. “Are you saying you stabbed that poor girl?!”

Alex realizes his mistake, too late, it seems. Telling a train full of paranoid people that he was holding the knife that had stabbed a passenger, possibly even killed Mr Bracken, and that that knife was his, was maybe not the best move.

But this knife hadn’t been in his possession for over ten years. “I thought I lost it. It was the first thing I bought just for me.” Everyone was staring at him. “When I was packing for the army, I wanted to take it with me, but…it was missing, couldn’t find it anywhere. I thought my father may have found it and taken it, but now…I’m not so sure.” He raised his head to the group at the door, his eyes immediately finding Michael’s. “Michael?”

Michael’s eyes widened. “You don’t think that I…?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore! Every piece of evidence points to another person! And I had this knife on me last when I – when we – well! How else would it have gotten here?”

“How the hell should I know, Alex?” Michael spat, looking absolutely pissed.

“Did you take my knife, Guerin?”

Michael just threw him a very filthy look and stalked off to the other end of the train.

The silence stretched. Alex was still holding the dripping knife. He didn’t know what to do.

“Can I see that knife, Mr Manes?” Kyle asked, pulling him out of his reverie. Alex handed it over mutely, watching as Kyle studied it as well. “That’s what I thought. This is it, Alex,” he said, handing it back over carefully, “this is the weapon that killed Noah Bracken.”

Alex felt like the knife was burning in his grip.

A faint muttering went through the crowd. In the back, Alex saw his father narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously. He could feel the mood shifting, the looks he received full of accusation instead of admiration. He never thought he’d miss those.

He was looking at the knife in shock, still not fully able to grasp the full meaning of its presence. There was only one way it could’ve gotten on this train, and Alex hated every single moment he stood there, holding the knife like an idiot.

“Alex,” Kyle said softly, wrapping his own hands around Alex’s trembling fist. “Alex, let go of the knife now.”

He sounded scared. Alex looked up and glimpsed his own reflection in the side mirror; he was looking absolutely murderous. With that realization came the emotions; fear, anger, sadness and above all, a fiery rage.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that fate had brought the two of them together only for Alex to have to arrest Michael. It wasn’t fair, it’s wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair –

“I’m so sorry, Alex.”

Alex barely spared a look at Kyle. He dropped the knife, which clattered on the floor, and positively fled the cabin, leaving Kyle and Miss Otto to deal with the aftermath.

“Michael!” he bellowed, running in the direction that Michael had taken off in. Just as he reached the door to the dining carriage, the train lurched into motion, spilling him through the doorway and sending him sprawling to the floor. Cheers went up in both carriages; the snow was dealt with, and they were moving again. Michael scrambled to his feet, barely registering the pain in his knee as he looked around. Michael was standing by the window, his hands on the windowsill, his back rigid. Alex knew Michael’s body language better than anyone else’s. Someone might mistake him for angry, but Alex saw what was underneath. Michael felt cornered, trapped, and that made him possibly even more dangerous. “Michael.”

Michael’s shoulders tensed even more. “What do you want, Alex?”

“Please tell me it wasn’t you. Give me any other reasonable explanation, I beg you.” Alex didn’t like the desperation that dripped from every word, but he couldn’t take them back. Michael shook his head, his fingers digging into the wood. Alex swallowed, his heart growing cold. “It was you, wasn’t it?” His heart was racing, his blood thundering in his ears, he barely heard Michael’s soft, clipped reply.

“I took your knife, the day you told me you were leaving. I was in pain. And I wanted something to remember you. The knife was right there on the table at the Foster’s ranch. So I took it. I’ve been carrying it with me ever since.” Every word was a stab in the heart for Alex. Michael took the knife. Michael killed Noah Bracken.

“Michael – ” Alex said, his voice constricted.

Michael cut across him, whirling around and glowering at Alex so menacingly that he took a step back. “But I lost that knife the first night. I was coming back from cleaning up dinner, opened my trunk to look at it…and it was gone.”

The tightness in Alex’s chest eased slightly, allowing him to draw a shaky breath. He didn’t dare be relieved. “Michael, I’m – ”

“I get that this case is complex. And I’m sorry for the impossible position I’ve put you in by holding on to this thing between us…but you were so ready to think I did it. Why?”

“The evidence – ”

“Bullshit!” Michael yelled and Alex winced, his heart breaking. “Any and all evidence in this case is circumstantial at best! We both know it! It’s why you haven’t managed to pin anything on anyone! So why?! Why me?!”

Alex opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t justify himself, maybe he shouldn’t have to, but this was Michael. Michael was asking and Alex couldn’t deny him anything.

“So why don’t I make this easier for you, Alex! We’re done!” Alex felt as though something was tearing out his heart with a grapefruit spoon. His eyes filled with tears. “This…whatever this thing is…is over! We’re finished!”

“No, Michael, please…” He reached out to touch Michael, to plead with him, to please don’t do this.

But Michael threw him off, nearly spitting with anger. “No! Go away, Alex! I don’t love you! Go!”

Alex stared into Michael’s face as tears streamed down his own and even though it hurt tremendously to even stand here, he had to hold on. Michael’s eyes were filled with tears themselves. “You’re a miserable liar,” Alex managed to croak out, and then he spun around and ran out, before he broke down completely.